#for yourself and the drivers around you
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risottofan7 · 3 months ago
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safety fact OTD: did you know that driving while on your phone has been shown to be just as if not more impairing than having the maximum legal BAC while driving?
(^ underlined words are sources but i am also a psych student so this was in recent notes i had to take anyways)
remember safety rules are usually written in blood! dont call or text while driving please ❤��
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kayvsworld · 4 months ago
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i do still think it's like. absolutely unhinged that tony's parents died in a car accident and he still drives like he does
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slythereen · 1 year ago
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ik the sainz camp isn't complaining about not following pre-arranged race strategies and plans...
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innanzituttoticalmi · 4 months ago
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i'm sorry if you genuinely think bozzi and leclerc "copied the other driver/engineer's strategy" i canttttttt take you seriously
#do any of you understand how this team shit works. how this pre-race strategy meetings team shit works.#or calling this win 'lucky' be for reallllllll#i dont generally go for the block button but that should be an immediate block#its just fascinating the thought processes required to avoid admitting some of these guys are just good at their jobs#possibly better than others.#there's thoughts in me about the ways fandom 'character analysis' trends intersect with the way people talk about f1 on tumblr/twitter#while just completely forgetting or ignoring not just the competitive sports of it all but the very real ways the teams operate#did you guys know ferrari has a whole 'remote garage' of engineers in italy that tune in every race just to analyse data in real time#and feed back possible strategies to the pit wall that then get discussed and acted on based on drivers feedback?#do you GENUINELY think its just bryan bozzi leaning over fred's shoulder to copy adami's homework#you know ferrari has their very own hannah schmidt? maybe not as good as her but there's a dude in there whose job is 'tell us what to do'#maybe you could learn his name it might be helpful#sorry AND ONE MORE THING#how do you call yourself a leclerc fan and then turn around to call this a lucky win#it required outqualifying his teammate#it required taking advantage of the situation around him to jump lando at la roggia#it required sticking close to both mclarens in dirty air and taking a gamble on the early pit stop#it required 37 LAPS ON HARDS THAT NEVER WENT BELOW OR ABOVE 1:23:000 EXCEPT ONCE#and yes it required required teamwork. as most wins do unless you have a rocket under your ass (and/or don't know how to use it)#the only lucky part was lando once again fumbling the first lap and george taking himself out at turn 1#but you understand he still had to drive the rest of the 52 laps himself right. god#its too early for me to be this mad
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unproduciblesmackdown · 3 months ago
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"normal" meaning "unquestionable" & the embrace of that cropping up anywhere such as an aim to be on the unquestionable side of a Normal / Weird binary, thus surely being a comfortable effortless indelible version of Good that stems from "just be normal"
ppl out here like freud 2.0 where well they had the sufficiently normal Nuclear Household family(tm) experience so they're sufficiently normal for it, versus the weirdos who had the Questionable family times so as to end up with Issues, surely unlike all those who are Family Issue free, i.e. normal, no question. like how also Going To School is Normal, so of course there's that idea that anyone who didn't go to school normal style or did but Did That Wrong are the people made Weirder with Issues. & when what's Normal is what's Good is what's Unquestionable it's like why would i need to question it when it's so normal? why wouldn't some rando asshole nepo man be Meritous & Good at business when he's so Successful at it. speaks for itself, same as Your role of being treated entirely differently does, this can't be questioned, blame it on your own failures; again how the supposedly "questionable" experiences (unlike other ones, which need no Legitimate questioning) are pathologized like. people talking about disabled ppl's lacking "social skills" being this meaningful Driver of ableism just like poor people's lacking "financial literacy" being that darn cause of classism & resource extraction, the already Questioned vulnerable [you're just doing it wrong / failing] people are the cause of their own mistreatment, Normal people who are so socially & financially successful are helpless, this victim blaming (can't question it. Normal) sure totally doesn't speak to abuse being "normal" as well
which, good thing abuse totally isn't Normal i.e. in the territory of unquestionable things (with, obviously, the idea that Abuse (Real abuse, if you like) must be Exceptional in addition to, if not to Really be, "obviously" questionable) since if something can't be questioned then surely it's also How Things Were In The Beginning, Are Now, & Ever Shall Be (catholic prayer paraphasing re: god, for referential context) & there's just nothing to do but invest in & play into it For Success & resent / punish / try to eliminate disruption, like people just existing but doing it Weird, c'mon, be a better person please, obviously....meanwhile people out here approaching queerness in a way that accepts & acts according to the unquestionable normal of abuse of queerness, such that oh the "abnormality" of being queer (that is, "normal" people's abuse in the face of awareness of queerness) is unquestionable, such that Oh No, investment in that abuse now & forever world without end amen, & now punching down on the people who are just Being Weird & Disrupting this embrace of the norm: radfems invested in "all bodies will be classed as men & women & the former abuse the latter" & hate women who already disrupt this premise; pointing out ace exclusionism as terf logic just applied in the different context where queer vs nonqueer binary is neatly detected just as the gender binary is & people who already prove that & the way it's defined is not the case are the real problems, infiltrating Unquestionable (Normal) Queerness & delegitimizing it i.e. being The Cause of e.g. homophobic abuse, which will also unquestionably exist, so if we're gonna blame someone as Needing To Change it'll have to be uhhh already also affected Weird people who are ruining things, they're the Real causes of this abuse, so they're basically men, basically cis, basically straight. boooo to trans ace bi pan aro nonbinary gnc people....hardest to be binary gender "same sex" "romantic" "visible" Truly Queer couple currently holding hands in public or in front of family, & it's You Mfs who make it harder, not, yknow, the people who were already always embracing & perpetuating the abuse bolstering Normal(tm) Cishet Just Being Normal. and of course don't forget going after poly people & others disrupting / not accepting premises about Unquestionable Relationship Structures/Requirements. so not just being normal
also the beloved concept broken out that, of course, Being Normal = Being Good, b/c hello, unquestionable?? where it's like meaningless ideas that abuse is Abnormal like ":( hurt people hurt people" (inherently a framing to counter any response to [person is hurting me] that's not silent secret sympathy forever i guess. nobody's using this catchphrase to argue for Hey Quick let's all intervene to stop someone being hurt, lest they go on to hurt anyone themselves) like & yet everyone is hurt, yet not everyone is doing shit where these arguments are broken out after they're already getting away with nonsense & we're telling others to just stop complaining, while also not everyone isn't getting shit on for being "disruptive" & perchance the real hurtful problems for trying to Stop being shitted on, or just have a little more breathing room to day to day live while it happens. everyone's hurt bitch let's get you some "what's the actual patterns & context of supported power imbalance made emergently evident by whose choices & life are constrained & undermined & made smaller" like. or the expanded idea as that well all abuse comes from Being abused, i.e. the Cycle, never mind that abuse is everywhere as per its being Normal, & nobody's intervening every time it manifests despite its supposed exceptionality thus rareness & supposed indication that someone's Being abused to cause it. just gotta roll with it, wow. & pathologize being victim to it, abuser in the making, Vulnerable People are dangerous, those insulated & given more access to systemically backed power in an oh so Normal way are surely oh so Safe as well. the very rich families are all lovely havens. the abused people are treated so well & embraced & supported by all the more Normal people they encounter, certainly not Also isolated, bullied, victim blamed by these Normal friends family coworkers new partners randos in public randos who are "professionals"
but yknow uh literally just be normal lol. aaand post. and like "lol being Anti Being Normal? just like a weirdo" like yeah of course. and what, i'm gonna try to win the heart & mind of someone like "of course you have blue hair & pronouns" & convert them, as would definitely happen if only all transgenderists were Normal about it? and the perspective of "what Unquestionable Good is ever actually coming from striving to get to point at Others as Weird" involves going like "nooo i wanna see myself & be seen as Just Being Normal" instead of like having ideas / arguments about how to be considerate towards people which can be articulated in any other way & involve effort & said consideration (ft. anything able to be questioned)
#but i think we all agree that ppl pointing & going ''ugh poly shit ruining everything'' or ''aplatonic?? lmfao'' are heroes AND le epic#always feel free to circle around too to bi ppl who are Totally Basically Cishet AND Worse Enemies Really Than. Anyone Cishet#and i'm sure the ace exclusionism never ends for plenty of ppl. keep the logic but go ''oh well it's just still not That big a deal''#the experiences of being more vulnerable & exposed to exploitation of that? are the drivers of Deviation. your weird issues#MY blessed normativity. had enough of Family Friendship Romance that was all surely pleasant enough#popular enough / not bullied enough at school. i am now a good person based on vibes b/c to be Hurting anyone? well i would Know#why not go talk to the rando who was like ''racism is over b/c i have never invoked like Hey. White Person To White Person. give me#preferential treatment >;) & in fact now white people are Dispreferred etc etc'' ohh all the Special Treatment(tm) for Others....#again like the idea Abuse happens in some ''abnormal'' situation & simply being in ''normal'' ones will show victims the light#(already with the logic that ppl are in abusive situations b/c the victims need to Know Better & Take The Correct Actions finally)#(i.e. victim blaming / pathologize the individuals) like yeah the guarantee ppl don't just keep getting shat on is not there lol#the blessed normal ppl who are i guess natural healers i presume? Totally never ostracizing bullying & further treating as ''''weird''''#like the idea ohh autistic ppl are Bad At Interactions. oh shit interactions b/w autistic ppl go great? well uhh#then It's A Two Way Street except also being nt is Normal so autistic ppl need to ''learn social skills'' so Ableism Ends. their fault#same deal like sympathy & support from the supposed Primed To Harm fellow abused ppl?? while others are undermining & ostracizing? nahh#even getting to be ''alone'' i.e. either existing amid others but not there ''with'' anyone; or certainly Left Alone; way more Validating#and just more pleasant too like. even the abstract concept of [do xyz: with a friend group] :((( vs do it by yourself :)#''oh ppl don't want to have the Social Skills & exert the Effort to have a friend group?? that's that on Moral Failure'' Lol. truly.#good people are popular & bad people are ostracized in recognition of their unquestionably Questionable Weirdo Vibe. got their ass#if you can't / won't break something down beyond Normal/Weird. why. i'm questioninnnng....And queer.#like ''sounds just like something a Weird Ruinerrr (Disruptor) would say'' uh yeah i sure hope it does &c
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iamthepulta · 3 months ago
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I have half of chapter 32, but the next half just isn't coming. I think it has more to do with not having the time or space to breathe and work than not having the inspiration, but I'm frustrated.
My advisor just mentioned another abstract and another conference. I have a review essay due on that paper I mentioned where I'd like to blow up some of their talking points; I have a presentation in a few months, which is nice, except I haven't done any of the natural mineral research to back up my conclusions. And I still haven't touched my historical work.
In the meantime I'm answering mundane start-of-the-semester logistic questions and pestering people for natural samples. I was supposed to contact this guy to plan an event but ghosted him on accident and now it's too late so I feel guilty about that. I have to send a professor a news article link with questions because I don't know anything about Nickel Laterite leaching but I'm curious. I have to make a list to get the samples from storage because they're not my samples, and ask the professor if I can chip bits out of them.
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skitskatdacat63 · 1 year ago
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Every semester, I feel like my instant thought is always "I am dropping every class. They're all horrible." but by the end usually end up really liking it so I really just need to ignore my first impressions, but god looking at the syllabi really destroys my mental state
#yet i dont remember liking the first class i took for my one major and im not excited for it this time either 😐#even tho ive spent the most time around that prof cumulatively i still dont really think i like him all that much 😭😭😭#my department sucks because theres only 2 profs and the one sucks so bad that she has a 1 star review#and the other prof who i feel lukewarm about goes so far as to tell his students to avoid classes with her#so im really stuck between a rock and a hard place 😭😭😭#i think he just gets on my nerves too easily. and he was on the abroad trip i went on so i do feel like ive gotten closer#but like you know those people who the dynamic feels very one sided with? thats him for me. i think its just a cultural difference tho tbh#but otherwise i think my other classes will be fine :D#just feeling a bit 😧 rn bcs i have to make an introduction vid for my online class and I DONT WANNNAAAAAAAAAAA#also i miss all my profs from my prev semester :<#i think i talked about it on here but ahhhh my one linguistics prof she was so nice#but it haunts me bcs she asked if she could use one of my papers as an example paper in the future#and i was of course very honored....#BUT ALSO THE PAPER I WROTE USED F1 DRIVERS AS EXAMPLES LMAO#so im so glad that the first half of the 2023 season is now just a time capsule in that class#like literally a time capsule where you can exactly tell which era it was bcs i used Nyck as an example 🌚#well anyways wish me luck i hate starting things it's like trying to cram yourself into a new skin or something#and then when youre very pleased and comfortable with it all its then over :(#catie.rambling.txt
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Someone, again, commented on me still only having my learner's permit like "you don't have your license? And you're how old?" Which I don't get often but I'm still sick of it so I just straight up said "I was too busy trying not to kill myself when I was a teenager. I had other things to worry about"
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sehnsuchts-trunken · 5 months ago
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So Much Love in Oklahoma
Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words
summary: Tyler saves you from a tornado one day. The next, he shows up at your doorstep.
a/n: absolutely no clue about tornados. or oklahoma. don't come at me for inaccuracies
also!!! i'm currently working on some tyler smut too, but you are so definitely allowed to come request things (or just talk to me)! my inbox is wideeeee open, especially when it comes to mister owens <33
masterlist | twisters masterlist
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What happens that particular Tuesday afternoon should have been impossible. That's what goes through your head about a bazillion times in the following days. The chances of what happens even happening are about as close to zero, you think, as the possibility of you discovering a cure for cancer.
(They're not. Of course. But it feels like that.)
Because you're not even really in Oklahoma. You're just driving through Oklahoma. You're not from a place where they give you a 'How to Deal with Tornados' manual in school. You're entirely, completely, wholly unprepared for what's brewing as you drive down almost empty highways with the radio all the way up.
So when suddenly, you're in the middle of a storm, with the wind picking up until it drowns out your music and rain and hail slashing against your windows, you're absolutely terrified.
It forms within a few minutes, goes from barely grey skies to a horrible, horrible whirl of almost black clouds, and the insecurity you'd been feeling turns into the gut-churning realisation that you're unquestionably fucked.
Some part of your brain tugs out a deeply buried memory of cars being sucked into tornados on the news, so with your heart racing a few hundred miles per hour and your hands shaking so badly you can barely hold onto the steering wheel anymore, you maneuver your car onto the side of the road, just in time for you to be climbing out of the passenger seat as another car comes to a shrieking halt next to yours.
You're getting drenched within half a second, you're honestly not that sure whether your cheeks are wet from the rain or your tears, and on top of that, you almost trip as you set your trembling feet onto the ground below. The other car's driver bangs their door shut with a resounding thud that makes you flinch so hard you think your soul leaves your body. Your head shoots up as he shouts at you, already three steps away from his truck:
"What the hell are you doing out here?"
He's drenched, too - his hair sticks to his face and his shirt clings to his skin and his pants are stained at least a shade darker. But unlike you, he's not shaking, he's steady as a fucking rock, steady and quick, already reaching out for your arm before you can even begin to think. Your brain lags behind, foggy and cloudy and scared, so fucking scared. You're so terrified you can hardly open your mouth.
"I-", you stutter, then he's wrapping his big hand around your arm and tugging you away from your car, away from the road already.
"We need to get the fuck down!", he calls, pulling you with him onto one of those many, many fields that surround you. "There's a ditch over there, see that?"
You're wide-eyed, shaking, basically being dragged along by him - one foot in front of the other, that's what your brain's concentrating on right now, which is easier said than done. You trip over your own feet every other step. But the guy just wraps his arm around your waist and hurries further.
"Do you see that?", he asks again when you don't respond. Your mind races even faster than your heart does, but you force yourself to concentrate on his voice. The panic doesn't lessen, but his question shifts your focus. Ditch. Ditch. Not the storm raging around you, no, you're looking for a ditch. You're focusing on finding a ditch.
"Yeah", you breathe, your eyes finally catching on the ditch only a bit away.
"Yeah?", the guy shouts. "We need to get there. We need to get low."
With that, he picks up his pace once more and you stumble along, bumping into his side, watching the ditch come closer and closer and closer until your feet are drowned in dirty, muddy water.
"Alright, get down!", he shouts, unwrapping his arm from around your waist to help you into the cold, cold water. "Hold onto the ground!"
You aren't thinking. You can't think. Your brain has shut off completely. Panic numbs every part of you. All you can do, all you can possibly do, is concentrate on the voice of the man who's crouching down beside you. It's like his words have replaced your own thoughts, and like a marionette, you stretch out your arms and dig your fingers into the grass. Which is way easier said than done. You're pretty sure you feel one of your nails break as you try your hardest to find something, anything to hold onto. And then the wind hits.
If you'd thought you'd experienced heavy winds before, you were wrong. So wrong. No vacation in a surfer's town could possibly compare to this.
"Fuck!", you scream, instinctively dropping your head onto the moist grass below. The wind pulls and pulls and pulls at you and you imagine yourself being dragged by it - dragged away, away into certain death. But then an arm wraps around you, and the guy next to you is not next to you anymore but half on top of you, securing you in his arms, holding you close, pressing you to the ground.
"Stay down!", he shouts as you cling to the grass. "I got you."
I got you.
You replay that in your head like a mantra - he's got you, he's got you, he's got you. You're trembling, you're shaking, you're cramping, you're trying to hold onto the ground with all your might as the wind grows and grows and grows and pulls and pulls and pulls at you.
You want to scream. You think you're screaming. But it's so loud. It's deafening, the roar of the wind and the thunder. You can't hear yourself scream.
He can, though. He can. And he tightens his arms around you and repeats "I got you, I got you, I got you". And you believe him. You have to.
You're crying now, you're sure of that. Some part of you hurts. Maybe all of you hurts. You're scared. You're not just scared, you're terrified. It's loud, it's loud and it's everywhere, all around you.
And then suddenly - there's nothing.
It disappears within seconds.
There's no sounds. None. There's silence, deafening silence. Forget the calm before the storm - this is the silence after the tornado.
You take a few shuddering breaths. You're trembling, trembling from head to toes. You're soaked. You're cold.
"Alright, it's gone", the guy says - the guy that's still got his arms wrapped around you, who's still on top of you. "You did it."
He pulls his arm away from you and rolls onto his back next to you. Water sloshes around as he goes.
You don't move an inch.
You can't move.
You're stuck, you're frozen in place. Your fingers are cramped into the dirt and the grass and you're frozen.
The guy sits back up again and reaches out for you. He smooths his hand down your back, surprisingly warm against your ice-cold skin.
"Hey", he says softly. "You're okay. You can get up."
You pry your fingers from the ground one by one, flex your trembling hands and push yourself upright. It takes a few seconds for reality to sink in - you're in a ditch. In a ditch. You're soaked, soaked with muddy ditch water. Your shoes are drenched, your legs splattered with dirt, the hem of your dress soaked in brown. And you're cold. Ice-cold and trembling. And your legs hurt, your arms hurt, your fingers hurt. Three of your nails are cracked.
You're sitting in a ditch in the middle of Oklahoma and you'd just been through a tornado. A fucking ditch in Oklahoma and a tornado.
And a guy, a guy who's brushing his hand down your arm and eyeing you up.
"Alright, let's get you out of here, you're shaking", he says and for the first time, you turn your head and look at him. Actually look at him.
He's tall and he's blonde and he's drenched, too, drenched in that same dirty, muddy water as you. His hands are big, big and pleasantly warm as he grabs softly onto you and carefully maneuvers you towards him.
You don't really remember the next minutes. Not what you're doing, at least. It's a hazy, fuzzy passing of time - you barely remember that you're moving. You're cold and scared and still in shock and somehow, your eyes have locked onto him, onto this guy who you realise probably just saved your fucking life. Because when you come back to reality, he's wrapping a blanket around you - a dry, warm blanket - and the spot where you'd parked your car is empty.
Empty.
"My car", you whisper, staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing. The guy wraps the blanket tighter around you before he looks over his shoulder and glances around.
"Your car's not that important", he reassures, even though his voice is heavy. Heavy and raspy, you realise. He's got a certain Southern twang to it that you hadn't noticed in all the chaos before. "Much more important is that you're alive."
You nod half-heartedly (he's right, some rational part of your brain shouts, while the practical part mourns the shit ton of money you'd just lost) and settle your eyes back on him.
You don't know what it is, exactly, but something about this, something about the warmth of the blanket and the way he's rubbing your arms, something about him, about his voice and his words, slowly peels away the layers and layers of terror that are clinging to your pounding heart.
You swallow hard, reach up to tug the blanket tighter around yourself and shift your focus. Not the car or the tornado or the fact that you're drenched in dirty ditch water - him. This guy in front of you, who's looking you up and down to check if you're hurt. It's easier that way. It's easier to calm down when you're not thinking about any of it. It's easier when you're staring at him, counting to ten, slowly regaining your sanity. And what's suddenly also easier is realising that this guy in front of you is very much easy to look at. Even though his hair sticks to his head, even though his jeans are stained brown. He's what you'd expect as a reference picture next to the word "handsome" in a dictionary.
All of a sudden, you're not as cold anymore. All of a sudden, you're rather flushed. Because if he's drenched and dirty, you must look about the same. And you don't think you want him to see you like that. You'd much rather meet him in a bar or something, when you're dressed up and clean and preferably not terrified.
"Thanks", you get out, a little too quickly as you tighten the blanket further around yourself. "For, uh, for saving my life."
The guy's lips quirk up and he grins, a lopsided, half-cocky grin that makes your heart leap.
"Anytime, sweetheart", he drawls, then reaches up as though he wants to tip his hat - just that he's not wearing one, so instead, he settles for brushing his hand through his hair, just a second too late to seem intentional from the start. "Why were you out here anyway? Half a mile back is a gas station with a basement."
"I didn't-", you start, hesitant to admit just how unprepared you'd been for what had happened. "I didn't know it was a tornado. I thought it was just a bad storm or something, I'm... I'm not from around here."
He nods at you, his lips already parting when you suddenly twitch away from him and sneeze - once, then twice. His grin has dropped by the time you look up at him again and excuse yourself. God, is this embarrassing.
"You need dry clothes before you catch a cold", he says, his eyes travelling down your soaked dress and your bare legs. "I've got a shirt in the trunk, give me a minute."
He walks towards the back of his car and opens up his trunk and you're hit with two thoughts at the same time. The first is more along the lines of goddamn, are his shoulders broad, but the second - arguably the one that should be more important - is why the fuck his car is still standing in the very same spot he'd parked it before the tornado had hit.
Especially when your car is absolutely nowhere to be seen. Your car and all your things inside it. Oh, god-
"Here you go", he says, holding out a dry copy of the shirt he's wearing, red checkered cotton. He's about to go on when you blurt out:
"Sorry, why's your car still... you know, there?"
His lips pull into that impossibly charming grin once more and he points at the underside of the truck.
"Tornado-proof", he explains, just the slightest bit cocky. You follow the invisible line he's drawing to two... what looks like giant screws? twisted into the ground below.
"Oh", you let out, not too intelligently - but really, what are you supposed to say?
He just chuckles and holds the shirt out for you again. You take it carefully, your fingers grazing his. He's so warm, so fucking warm. Meanwhile you're shaking even underneath the blanket he'd given you. Though that's also starting to get soaked.
"You can change in the car if you want", he offers, already pulling open the door to the passenger seat. You don't really have to think hard about it. You're drenched in the middle of nowhere, with no way to get home, and this guy has just saved your life. So you unwrap the blanket and give it back to him with a smile and a thanks.
It's tight and cramped inside the car, even as you roll the seat all the way back. You pry the drenched dress off of your body and only then remember to turn around and check if the guy is watching you (as handsome as he is, he's still a guy). But no, he's turned away, has his hands rested against his hips and is staring intently at the slowly clearing sky.
You turn back with a smile and get rid of your soaked bra, too, before you pull his shirt on over your head.
Damn, it smells good. He smells good. And it's very comfortable, you have to admit. Plus, it's dry, which is most definitely an improvement.
You take a few seconds to consider whether or not to pull off your shorts... but they're drenched, too, and the guy seems respectful enough to not risk a bladder infection for. So you take your shoes off, and your socks, and your shorts. And then you crack open the car door again and knock softly against the window.
"I'm done", you call out, loud enough that he can hear. He turns back and his eyes drag down your body - or what of it he can see through the open door - and even though he looks right back up at your face, you can't help but feel flustered. You ball your wet clothes up in your hands nervously.
"Alright then", he says, takes a step closer and reaches for the door handle. "You said you're not from around here, where were you driving?"
Ah, right, that part.
Honestly, with so much happening in so few minutes, you'd about blocked out everything else. Everything normal.
"My parents, uh-", you start, trailing off when you realise that's not much help for him. "About three, four hours from here."
"That's quite a drive", he chuckles. "I live maybe half an hour from here, how about I take you with me so you can eat and drink something? Maybe you can borrow a pair of Lilly's pants. And you could phone your parents."
Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and you narrow your eyes at him, taking a second too long to even understand all of what he's saying before taking another second too long to sort how you'll respond. Then you start with what you find most important.
"I've got my phone", you tell him, pulling it out from where you'd just deposited it in the centre console. "I had it in my pocket."
You'd taken it with you more reflexively than consciously when you'd stumbled out of your car - but truly, what self-respecting adult didn't take their phone with them when they left anywhere?
The guy just raises his eyebrows and glances at your phone.
"And it still works?", he asks, a little incredulously.
"Yep", you smile - for the first time, you realise, since the tornado. "It's waterproof."
More because you'd been scared you'd drop the love of your life into the pool or the ocean on vacation, but a tornado in the middle of Oklahoma worked as well. At least you now knew you'd spent your money wisely.
"Smart", he grins. You can't help but grin right back.
He's charming and he's respectful and he looks so goddamn good.
"Who's Lilly?", you ask then, because that had been the second thing you'd wanted to say. He hesitates for a half a moment.
"A friend", he says. You squint at him. He doesn't look like he's lying, but he does look like there's something you don't know about. God, if he turns out to be a cheater- "I'll introduce you if you'd like."
You raise your eyebrows. Alright, so not a cheater. And, if you're interpreting correctly, another invitation to come with him. Not that you'd been about to refuse the first one.
"Sure", you say, as casually as you can. "I didn't really feel like standing around half-naked on the street anyway."
...
A few minutes later, he's driving his weird car/truck with the screws on the bottom down the empty highway. Though 'empty' is the wrong description, really - here and there, trees, road signs and utility poles are scattered on the pavement.
You're driving in silence. Well, silence as in neither of you talks, not as in actual silence. Alongside the motor, the radio had turned on, playing one country song after the other.
"You never told me your name", the guy says suddenly. The very much stranger, who's very much right - you'd never told him your name.
"You never told me yours", you counter, because that's also the truth. He'd never told you his name. You knew his friend's name, but not his.
"Didn't think I'd have to", he mutters under his breath, so quietly you barely catch it. "It's Tyler. Tyler Owens?"
He says it like it's a question. You don't know why. So instead you just answer with your own name and Tyler, as you'd come to know, repeats it with a smile on his lips.
God, you don't think it's ever sounded that good.
"Pretty name", he says, all casual like that doesn't get your heart racing again. Pretty. He'd called you pretty. Almost unconsciously, you brush your hands through your hair.
"Thank you", you mutter. As if to distract yourself, you add: "So, Tyler, what do you do?"
...
Exactly half an hour later, Tyler takes your hand in his and helps you out of his car. His house - the one he's sharing with Lilly, you'd found out, with Lilly and the rest of his Tornado Wranglers - is big and inviting. It's a little way off from any other houses, which you personally think is quite nice. Not that you say that, though.
Tyler walks you inside without having to unlock the door. He takes two steps, then he calls out "Guys, we've got a guest", which immediately results in a surprised shout of "whoops" and the sound of a set of feet scurrying up the stairs. Tyler has barely pulled off his shoes (after politely asking you to wait just a second) when a head pops through the doorframe at the end of the hallway.
"Boone was naked", the woman grins before settling her eyes on you and throwing you a wave. "Hey there, I'm Lilly."
She glances down at your bare legs.
"A little cold there?", she asks and even though her words are sarcastic, her voice is anything but.
"A little", you answer truthfully, smiling at her as she steps out into the hallway.
"You want a pair of pants?", she asks, seemingly without giving a single thought to who you are or why you're standing half-naked in her hallway.
You glance at Tyler, but he's grinning and only shrugs at you, so you turn back to Lilly and nod at her. She seems sweet, really sweet, and very kind. She takes you with her to her room (up two sets of stairs, the fucking house has three floors and a basement) and shows you her closet, the very definition of unbothered even as you nervously rummage through her clothes.
"Hey, you can take a shirt too, if you want", she says, flopping down onto her bed and rolling onto her side to look at you.
"Oh", you let out and glance down at the shirt you're wearing - Tyler's shirt, that very country, checkered shirt that's way too big for you. "I'm fine, thanks."
Honestly, if it were up to you, you would never wear anything else ever again. Tyler's shirt is soft and comfortable and - most importantly - it smells like him. You really just want to tug the hem up to your nose and breathe in his scent (but that would be weird, so you don't).
"Alright", Lilly drawls. "Your choice."
...
Lilly shows you the bathroom, gives you the wifi password and tells you to come down whenever you feel like it. You realise half a second too late that you haven't told her your name yet and crack open the bathroom door to call out for her.
Honestly, you like her. You really like her. And you really like Tyler, too. He's handsome and he smells good and he's respectful and he's nice and he saved your fucking life today. You don't even want to think about what would have happened to you if he hadn't driven by.
In the bathroom is the first time you can really breathe. You throw some water at your face and blowdry your hair. Ten minutes later, you're walking down the stairs into the hallway again - this time, when you stroll through there, you're wearing comfortable pants, fuzzy socks and take your time to look around.
You'd already called your parents back in the car with Tyler. They'd been about as shocked as you'd expected, had needed a few minutes to even understand just what you were telling them, but then they'd offered to come pick you up immediately. Tyler had provided them his address and now here you are - knocking at the open door to the kitchen, where all of the Tornado Wranglers sit around the table. All of them, except for Tyler, who's leaning against the countertop and looks up at you with a grin when you step in.
"Hey there", he drawls, his eyes raking down your body once more today - you've tucked his shirt into Lilly's pants and you could swear his eyes linger on your waist. "Warm and dry?"
"Very", you grin back, then nod at Lilly. "Thanks again."
She shakes her head and waves you off.
"Hey, no big deal. Do you want some pasta?"
...
It's comfortable there, in the kitchen of these strangers who are feeding you pasta and lending you clothes. You've settled onto the countertop next to Tyler and now and then, when you're dangling your feet or he's taking a bite, your legs graze his arm. He's changed into dry clothes too, you realise as you brush against him for the first time, and he's even warmer now than before.
"Tyler's told us all about you", Boone says after a few minutes of easy conversation. You raise your eyebrows and turn your head, staring at Tyler from the side.
"Has he?", you ask, because you hadn't even told him enough about yourself to warrant any use of the word 'all'. Sure, you'd talked on the ride here - but mostly about him, because - as it had turned out - what Tyler Owens did wasn't a normal job like doctor or lawyer, but instead professional Tornado Wrangler. Which, of course, had then dominated the conversation for the rest of the drive.
"Yeah, like how you were driving to you parents and didn't know what to do in a tornado so you just kept on driving", Boone grins, scraping the rest of his pasta off his plate. "And how he made you go in that ditch and-"
"Alright, shut up, Boone", Tyler interrupts, even though there's no real malice behind his words. "She knows the story. She's in it."
"I'm just saying", Boone goes on, entirely undeterred as he puts his now empty plate down on the kitchen table. "If you'd filmed that, it would go viral for sure."
You have to snort at that.
"Yeah, because of all the indecent exposure."
...
When your mother rings the doorbell three hours later, you're in the middle of the second round of a boardgame Dexter had pulled from a drawer. You'd been paired with Tyler for the first round and - somehow not surprisingly - that had worked quite well. You'd won just so against Dexter and Dani (Lilly and Boone hadn't been too much competition) and Dani's "We never get to play this right 'cuz we're always five people" after Tyler had high-fived you with a victorious cheer had warmed your heart. At least they'd enjoyed themselves - at least you hadn't been a burden.
"I call dibs on her", Lilly had declared when the second round had begun, so Tyler had teamed up with Boone instead.
"Oh, oh, botany!", you call out, just as the doorbell finally rings. Lilly jumps up and high-fives you.
"How in the hell did you guess that?", Dani asks, sounding all but exasperated at this point as Tyler pushes out of his seat and walks towards the front door. You shrug.
"Pure talent", you joke, then you climb off the couch as well. "Alright, it was so nice meeting you all, but I think my taxi's out front."
They all hug you goodbye and tell you to come around again anytime - Boone even hands you one of those t-shirts Tyler had told you about in the car. You can hardly hold back a snort. Though Tyler had told you about the shirts existing, yes, he must have accidentally forgotten to mention that his goddamn face is printed on them, paired with the very... comedic phrase "Not My First Tornadeo".
You thread through the hallway with the shirt and your phone in your hands, only to be hit with the sight of Tyler hugging your mother on the doorstep. Or your mother hugging Tyler, more like. Either way, you're suddenly frozen in place.
But then your mother opens her eyes and sees you standing there and she lets go of Tyler with a sharp cry to come running at you instead. She throws her arms around you with so much vigor you're almost knocked off your feet. You meet Tyler's eyes over her shoulder - crinkled with lines of laughter as he smiles at you. Your eyes dart away again just as quickly.
"It's fine, mom, I'm okay", you reassure.
"Yeah, thanks to Tyler", she mutters into your hair. "I already told him we'll pay him whatever he wants for saving our daughter."
"And I already said I don't want any money", Tyler clarifies.
...
The next morning, you wake up comfortably late in a warm bed. You walk down the stairs in fuzzy socks and start the day with a simple cup of tea.
A simple cup of tea and Tyler Owens' YouTube channel.
You'd looked him and his Tornado Wranglers up the very second you'd sat down in your mother's car. Then you'd subscribed to every channel you could find. And then... you'd kind of got obsessed. You'd watched so many of their videos that by one am, you'd simply fallen asleep to one of them.
"Aunt May's gonna be here in half an hour", your mother informs you casually, a stack of plates in her hands as she rummages around in the kitchen. You're still sitting at the table in your pajamas, a spoonful of cereal in your mouth, your phone propped up against a water bottle in front of you, playing a Tornado Wranglers video from a year ago.
"Seriously?", you get out, chewing on your cereal before you can swallow it down. "Mom, I still have to shower and get ready and all."
She throws you one of those eyebrows-raised glances that immediately let you know she's judging you for something.
"We only let you sleep this long because you almost died yesterday", she says matter-of-factly, then she eyes your phone. "And if you weren't watching Tyler's videos so obsessively, you would be done by now."
"Really, mom?"
You let out a resigned sigh. She only shrugs and grins at you. She's a little bit right, anyway.
"He's good-looking, I get it", she says, then she strolls out of the kitchen, chuckling to herself while you curse at her. He is good-looking, fuck this. You need to get it together before the rest of your extended family arrives.
...
The doorbell rings for the umpteenth time that day, just as you step out of the bathroom and smooth down the front of the red-checkered shirt you're wearing. You call some version of "I got it", down the hallway, not too sure if anyone even hears - they're all in the backyard anyway. Then you open the door with a smile on your face, a smile that instantly pulls into a wide grin when you see just who's standing there.
Because it's not another aunt or uncle or cousin. It's no one in your family, not even close.
It's Tyler.
Tyler Owens.
"Hi", he says. Just that. Hi.
You lean against the open door and cross your arms. Your grin only grows.
"Hi", you echo.
His eyes rake down your body and it seems like whatever he'd wanted to say gets stuck in his throat as he realises that the shirt you're wearing isn't your shirt, really. You can't help but bite down on your lip.
Look, you hadn't expected this. You hadn't expected him. None of this was a scheme or a plan or anything even close. You'd just seen it lying there this morning, right next to Lilly's pants on your desk, and you hadn't been able to help yourself. It smelled so fucking good.
"Nice shirt", he grins, eyes snapping back up to yours.
"Thanks", you grin back. "I got it from this guy after he saved me from dying in a tornado yesterday."
Tyler chuckles.
"Seems like a great guy."
"So great", you agree. "Even though he prints his face on t-shirts."
Tyler is just about to retort something - all toothy grins and laughter lines - when your mother calls out his name, very obviously pleasantly surprised as she comes down the hallway. She smiles at him, big and wide.
"What are you doing here?", she asks, stopping next to you to ask the very question that had been on the tip of your tongue too when you'd opened up the door.
"Oh, I'm just bringing these back", he says and holds up his hand to show a stack of neatly folded clothes with your bra right on top. You have to bite down on your cheeks to stop from outright grinning.
Okay, so even if wearing his shirt hadn't been a scheme, and even if you hadn't expected to see him... You might just have done something to ensure you would see him again. But hey, he's about the most handsome man you've ever laid your eyes on, you'd be damned if you'd have to watch him on the screen of your phone for the rest of your life. So yeah, you may have accidentally 'forgotten' your wet clothes in his bathroom after you'd hung them over the heater to dry. You just hadn't thought he'd find them so quickly.
"And you drove four hours for that?", your mother asks, more baffled than you are. Tyler only shrugs. Your mother reaches out for your clothes, grabs them from him and puts them on the cupboard in the hallway. Then she looks at him.
"You're coming in, yes? We're having barbecue now and cake in a bit. I'm not letting you drive four hours here just to deliver her clothes."
...
Twenty minutes later is when you get Tyler alone for the first time. Your mother has schlepped him with you through the whole garden and introduced him to every single person there - "He's the guy who saved her yesterday!" (because, obviously, your story had been about the only topic anyone had talked about so far) - your father first and foremost, who hugs Tyler so tightly that for a moment you're afraid he'll break him.
You catch up with Tyler just as he finishes loading his plate with food, finally on his own after your mother has excused herself to go cut up more bread.
"How'd you find me?", you ask, sipping at your ice-cold coke and eyeing him up. It's the one question that had been burning in your mind for the past twenty minutes. How in the hell had he managed to find you? It's not like you'd left a note with your address next to your clothes (though in hindsight, you don't remember how you'd meant for him to bring them back to you).
He looks almost bashful for a second.
"Boone noticed you'd followed our account", he explains then. "He figured out your last name from your handle and searched the phone book of the city on your mom's license plate. And then he read out all the names until I recognised your mom's because she'd introduced herself to me yesterday."
Your eyebrows raise, further and further the more he speaks. You swallow. Silence falls for a second, then two.
"You know, some people would call that creepy", you say, but your lips tug up into an involuntary grin that gives away more quickly than you'd wanted that you aren't one of those people. Tyler grins right back at you.
"Personally I think it would've been more creepy if I'd kept your bra."
...
It's 9:20 when your mother comes over. You've long since switched from barbecue to cake, then to snacks. Your feet are tucked underneath Tyler's legs, propped up against the side of his garden chair and he's running his fingers up and down your calves.
You'd spent the afternoon chatting away and laughing, barely talking to anyone but him. Your 'family get-together' had turned into more of a date. You certainly aren't about to complain, though.
"Tyler, you're staying the night, right?", your mother asks, a fresh plate of chips in her hands that she puts next to the almost empty one on the table in front of you.
"I don't want to overstay my welcome", he says, all gentlemanly even as your mother rests her hands against her hips and stares him down.
"Young man, you're welcome in this house any time, for however long. I'm not letting you drive home four hours. You're staying the night." Then she points at you. "She's still got a couch in her room that you can sleep on. I'd offer you a guest room, but half the family's staying here and we're already out of air mattresses."
So an hour later, you're rummaging about your room, picking up clothes off the couch and stuffing them in your closet to make room for Tyler. He's leaning against your doorway, looking around, taking in the mess that is your childhood bedroom.
"Nice posters", he says, and you throw him a look over your shoulder that could be deadly. He's grinning all sarcastic, only chuckling as his eyes meet yours. "You could put up one of my shirts here."
You have to snort at that and before you can even really think about it, you've pulled the shirt Boone had given you yesterday from where you'd put it down on your desk. You throw it at him carelessly and he catches it with no effort at all, which - paired with that fucking grin - shouldn't be as attractive as it turns out to be.
"Knock yourself out", you say, then you turn back around to your closet and tug out bedsheets for him. "My old poster glue should be in one of the desk drawers."
You don't think he'll seriously do it, but you seem to have misjudged him. Badly. Because he gets to work immediately.
You watch him for a few stunned seconds before you decide to just leave him to it. So while you turn the couch into a makeshift bed for him, he glues that goddamn "Not My First Tornadeo" shirt to your wall.
"Fits perfectly if you ask me", he declares eventually, barely concealing the amusement dripping from his words. You smooth down his sheets before you look up at your wall. He's put the shirt up in one of the few empty spots, right between your Maroon 5 and Destiny's Child posters.
"Yeah", you snort. "Perfectly."
You give him a toothbrush and let him use your bathroom. While he's gone, you change into your pajamas, fold his shirt carefully and put it on a pile with Lilly's pants and her socks. Honestly, a little part of you already mourns the loss of it - but another part of you already has hope for another shirt. Maybe in a different context.
"What're you doing?", Tyler asks, shutting the bathroom door behind him. You don't look up as you fold the other clothes you'd thrown onto your desk yesterday.
"I put Lilly's things and your shirt there, you can take it back tomorrow", you explain, starting a second pile of your own clothes next to his.
"Keep my shirt", he says. That finally makes you look up at him.
Which isn't a good idea. Not at all. Because he's standing there in nothing but his briefs and good fucking lord-
You'd known he's handsome. You'd known he's broad. But you hadn't known he's fucking ripped. You shouldn't stare. You're very aware. You definitely shouldn't stare. It's incredibly rude to stare. It's very inappropriate to stare. But goddamn, this man is built so perfectly god himself must be jealous.
You have to forcibly blink yourself back to reality. You're definitely red in the face when you finally manage to meet his eyes again. And he's raised his eyebrows in a way that tells you he's reading your every emotion right off your face.
"Sorry, come again?", you croak out, brushing your hand through your hair and realising just a second too late that your eyes have travelled down too far again.
"I said you should keep my shirt", he repeats, a very, very obvious grin on his lips. "It looks better on you."
"Okay", you agree, a little too quickly. The heat in your cheeks comes from more than just the half-naked view of him now. He thinks his shirt looks better on you. You don't even care if that's a line. "I'll... I'll go brush my teeth real quick."
When you come out of the bathroom a few minutes later, Tyler has made himself comfortable on your couch. It's a little too small for him, you realise, but he doesn't seem bothered. He's pulled the covers up to his hips - you can still stare at his chest, to your delight. And he's put one hand under his head, flexing his bicep in a way that has you hurrying over to your own bed so you won't jump him right then and there.
"Alright, goodnight, Tyler", you breathe, adjusting your pillow and wrapping your blanket around your body as if grabbing at it will somehow ground you.
"Goodnight", he echoes, and then you turn off the light.
It's quiet. The only noise is the laughter of your family a floor below, all settling into bed themselves. It's quiet and it's dark.
And you're staring wide-eyed at absolutely nothing.
Oh, god. He's so fucking hot. He's so fucking hot you want to throw yourself out of the window. He's so fucking hot and he's on your fucking couch, barely ten feet from you. He's so fucking hot and he'd driven four hours here just to bring your clothes.
"Tyler", you say, barely two minutes after you'd turned the light off. He hums in response - still awake. You don't know what you'd expected. "Thanks again. For, you know, for everything."
"Anytime", he replies, and even though you can't see his grin, you imagine you can hear it. You nod into your pillow. Then silence falls again.
It lasts maybe another two minutes.
"Your family's nice", he says then. You can't help but smile.
"Thanks", you mutter.
"I like your mother", he says. Your smile only grows. You turn onto your back and stare at the dark ceiling.
"She likes you too."
It's the truth.
Tyler stays quiet. You don't even try to close your eyes this time - you can hear him breathe, deep and relaxed. It's calming. You're sure it could lull you to sleep. If you were anywhere near tired, that is. This way, you just blink at black nothingness.
"Were you really a Destiny's Child fan?", Tyler asks eventually, his sheets rustling.
"Yep", you say.
That's it for that conversation.
You don't know what it is, the darkness or the silence, but something pushes on your chest and weighs you down, warming your skin as it settles on your body. It's a tension, thick and heavy, one that had grown with every scrap of conversation.
"You know-", he starts again, but this time, you've got enough.
"Tyler", you interrupt, turning onto your side and pulling your covers with you. "Get up here."
You can't see him as he throws his bedsheets off himself, can't watch as he heaves himself up, can't look at him as he strides over to your bed - but you hear the rustling of his covers, you hear the couch creaking, you hear his steps on the floorboards. And you feel the mattress dipping when he finally sets his knees on your bed.
You don't wait until he's actually in there. You don't think you could possibly wait until he is. You just push yourself up, grab onto the first part of him you can get your hands on (his shoulders), cup his face in your palms and pull him into you.
Right into your kiss.
Tyler Owens kisses you for the first time in the darkness of your childhood bedroom. For the second time in the morning light in your bed. For the third time in your parent's kitchen, right as your mother walks in. For the fourth time in his truck, after your parents all but throw you out of their house and force you to go home with him. For the fifth time in front of his own house, where his crew watches through the window.
And after that, Tyler Owens loses count of just how often he kisses you. Because he kisses you every day for the rest of his life.
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sttoru · 3 months ago
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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: your boyfriend comes to pick you after a long day at uni. sensing your jealousy about the attention he’s getting from your classmates, he makes it up to you in his own way.
tags. olderbf!gojo x female reader. fluff, tiny bit of angst, suggestive [make out sesh]. age gap — reader above 20, gojo early 30’s. jealousy. reader gets called ‘princess, baby, beautiful.’ not proof read !
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satoru’s arrival, as per usual, serves as pure entertainment for many students. it’s not often that they get to see such a tall and handsome man around campus after all.
you patiently stand there, waiting for that said man to come and get you. the increase in giggles and whispers around you can only mean one thing: he’s nearby.
your boyfriend’s car comes to a stop in the distance. satoru steps out of the driver’s seat a second later, one of his hands running through his fluffy, snowy hair.
‘. . damn, he’s fucking hot,’ ‘yep. heard he’s in a relationship though. sucks,’ ‘girl— do i look like i care? need him so baaaaddd.’
it’s infuriating to hear those words while you - his girlfriend - are standing close to them. you decide not to give those girls any attention nor do you try to speak up. it’s not worth the effort.
satoru closes the car door behind him, his hands in the pockets of his slacks while he strolls up to where you’re standing. it’s as if he’s walking down a runway - graceful, confident, every step executed with perfect balance.
he can hear the murmurs from the students around, but he simply does not care. his steady gaze has been fixed on you the moment he spotted your figure from across campus.
“cute,” satoru mutters under his breath with a small smile, blue eyes taking in the sight of you standing there against a wall. the way you’re fiddling with the strap of your bag while pretending not to have noticed him is quite endearing.
you look down at the ground until a pair of black oxfords come into view, stopping right in front of yours. you slowly tilt your head back until you’re face to face with the man himself.
“hey, beautiful,” satoru greets, his voice smooth and slightly deep, a faint smirk playing on his lips. his knuckles brush against your cheek whilst he admires your every feature, acting as if he hasn’t seen you in days.
you nod in response, whispering a small ‘hi’ before your eyes dart around campus again. your bottom lip pushes forward just a tiny bit to form a small pout.
. . and there it is; satoru knows that look in your eyes like the back of his hand. he’s seen that same pout before, along with the hint of jealousy lurking behind your gaze that you try so hard to hide.
he understands why you’re feeling that way.
the other girls on campus, the way they ogle him and whisper, it would make any woman insecure. but to him, there was no need for that. satoru is yours, and he’s made that known to every single soul around you a million times before.
perhaps they need to be reminded once more.
satoru wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, his touch gentle and possessive. he can see how you’re trying to act normal, though he knows you way better than that.
the pad of his thumb rubs small circles into your hip as your lover leans in and speaks in a low yet intimate voice that only you get to hear, “oh? look at you, acting all tough with your little pout.”
“tell me. what’s up, princess?” satoru whispers, his breath warm against your ticklish skin. he lowers his head to your face and plants a small kiss on your nose, gaining a mix of delighted yet irritated whispers of the people around you.
“usually you jump right into my arms after seeing me— y’know, like a lil’ bunny,” the white-haired man starts sulking as well, pressing your body flush against his. “where’s my cute ‘n clingy babyyyy?”
satoru’s over-exaggerated whine makes your nose scrunch up, though you can’t deny the truth. he knows you better than you know yourself. he can see right through your attempt to disguise your jealousy, yet you’re still too stubborn to admit anything.
“whatever. come on,” you roll your eyes before grabbing his arm and tugging him forward. you want nothing more than to escape your surroundings. you’re getting tired of the continuous and unwanted attention satoru is getting.
it’s irksome. you know satoru doesn’t give them the attention they so desire - he never will - yet you still feel this pang in your chest whenever you see those girls shamelessly ogling your boyfriend.
satoru, being naturally observant, notices your sudden eagerness to leave campus. he can tell that your jealousy is growing worse because of the other students that keep on eyeing him. while he is used to the attention, he hates seeing it affect you.
the whispers and giggles from the other women are like white noise, insignificant background fodder that barely warranted his notice. you’re all he sees and listens to— no matter what.
your presence, your voice, your body, your soul. . . you’re the only one he cares about. he just wishes you’d realise that.
satoru wordlessly allows himself to be dragged off. his gaze is fixated on the back of your head, a mixture of amusement and worry glinting in those blue eyes of his. he can’t help but feel guilty. even if he didn’t really do anything wrong.
he wants to make it up to you, somehow.
once you reach the car, satoru gently shoos your hand away from the door handle the moment he catches you try to get in yourself. he reaches around you and pulls it open with a soft ‘click’.
satoru then surprises you by kissing your forehead— his free hand coming up to cup the back of your head. his fingers bury themselves in your hair. a subtle smirk tugs at his glossy lips as he senses the envious glares from the other, irrelevant onlookers.
that’s exactly what he’s trying to accomplish. to make it known to the world that he’s your man. he’ll gladly do it over and over again, until all of them finally take the hint.
“ladies first,” satoru gestures, his voice gentle and loving. he pulls back and smiles at you with his dimples showing. you’re slightly taken aback by the smooth gesture before thanking him in a small murmur.
“thank you.”
it’s silent for a good couple seconds after satoru gets into the driver’s seat. he settles his keys into the ignition switch, though doesn’t turn them. instead, he faces you with a small sigh.
your lover already recognises what’s up. you probably won’t talk to him until the jealousy subsides. but that isn’t how he wants to fix this situation— he wants you to communicate with him.
“hey,” satoru tries to get you to look at him. your body is slightly turned away, your eyes looking out of the car window. it’s painfully obvious that you’re upset with him, even when it isn’t specifically his fault.
“don’t hide from me, c’mon,” he chuckles and tries to make you feel better by bringing your hand up to his lips. satoru leaves small kisses on your palm, eyes peering over the rims of his sunglasses to gauge your reaction.
you still don’t turn to face him. you’re too caught up in your own feelings— too stubborn to talk about the jealousy and insecurities that are bugging you. you know it’s unfair to your partner, but you currently can’t fix your own emotions.
sensing your insistent reluctance to face him, satoru places his hand gently under your chin. his fingers curl around your jaw and gently guide your gaze to meet his. the sight of your downcast expression - plagued with insecurity - tugs on his heartstrings.
“oh, my sweet little baby,” the white-haired man sighs once more.
without another word, the gap between you quickly closes as satoru leans in, his lips meeting yours in a firm but soft kiss. a soft gasp escapes your lips at the suddenness of his kiss, but the tension in your shoulders slowly starts to dissappear as you melt into his embrace.
the touch of his calloused fingers on your jaw is a wordless command you cannot resist. the kiss is a silent form of reassurance, a way for him to remind you of his feelings for you.
his want and need for you.
satoru can nearly taste the jealousy etched into your initial resistance, which he seeks to silence with his touch. thus, he deepens the kiss with renewed vigor. his free hand cups the back of your head and gently tilts it upwards to gain a better angle.
“mh. sweet,” satoru’s tongue swipes over your bottom lip. he eagerly swallows the faint taste of candy that you had eaten earlier. his tongue delves into your mouth the moment your lips make way, memorising every part of it.
he doesn’t let go of you until you’re both breathless. the sorcerer pulls back, though keeps the distance between your lips at a minimum. his cheeks are painted a soft pink, eyes half lidded and lips even glossier with your saliva now coating them.
“haah— fuck,” satoru catches his breath while his free hand rubs up and down your waist. he resists the urge to pull you into his lap and ravage you right then and there. he’ll leave that for when you’re home.
his gaze is on your parted lips once more. he simply cannot hold himself back from leaning in. his body moves closer to yours, caging you in between him and the passenger seat.
“i’m all yours,” satoru murmurs against your soft lips. he cups your face as he places a quick peck on your mouth. “only yours,” another chaste kiss causes your smile to find its way back onto your face. “don’t you forget,” and a third kiss finally makes you giggle.
your lover hums in satisfaction. he nuzzles his nose against yours, grinning widely as he successfully managed to coax the jealousy away— to gain his beautiful, happy girlfriend back. “there she is,” satoru coos and squeezes your cheeks together.
you huff at the feeling of your lips forced into a deformed ‘o’ shape, yet the bright smile tugging at your lips doesn’t disappear. “sorry for acting so childish,” you apologise for your own behavior. if it wasn’t for satoru taking the initiative to make it up to you, you would have given him the silent treatment.
the white-haired man shakes his head. he ruffles your hair affectionately while his lips settle on your cheek. he tenderly nibbles on the plush flesh, “no need to apologise. ‘t was cute,” he replies in a muffled voice.
satoru pulls back and his thumb brushes over the subtle mark that his teeth left on your skin. “besides,” he pinches your cheek before cocking his head to the right. your eyes follow the direction he’s looking at— which is your car window.
“i think everyone finally realised that y’re the one ‘n only girl for me.”
your heart drops as you only then remember that satoru’s car windows aren’t tinted. that means that everyone on campus probably has seen the little make out session you had with your boyfriend just now.
your eyes quickly dart around the crowded area. the way your fellow students are glancing at you - some with envy and others with embarrassment - tells you more than enough. . .
you clear your throat and try to hide your face with the sleeves of your top. you don’t know how you’re going back to university after today without facing the humiliating consequences of your (satoru’s) actions.
your shameless boyfriend sits there and grins from ear to ear, proud of his accomplishment and oblivious to your embarrassed state until you speak up again;
“. . satoru, please drive away as fast as you can.”
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cj-theyoungling · 1 month ago
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Simon Riley x Reader
cw : Being drunk. This is pure fluff soooo.
synopsis : Simon goes to a pub after a mission and ends up getting a bit more drunk than he bargained for. After asking for you incoherently Gaz finally gets you on the phone.
author's note : This was inspired by this work I read while I was on the train and I had to put my two cents in. Simon might be OOC in this but it's my story so I get to decide how he acts drunk.
The sound of your ringtone fills your bedroom and wakes you up with a start. You fumble around the empty sheets looking for your phone, you squint at the brightness of the screen and answer once you see Simons contact photo.
"Hey! I think Ghost is asking for you. He's a little bit wasted right now." I man in a baseball cap says to you. You watch as he hands the phone over to Simon.
Simon's face fills the screen, once he catches sight of you the fabric of his balaclava folds in a way you know means he's smiling. "Hi baby." You coo at the screen. His eyes light up as he brings the screen closer to his face. You can tell he's drunk when he leans against Price as he replies.
"Hi doll. I miss you." He slurs his words together, between that and the usual muffling of his mask you can barely make out what he's saying.
"I miss you too Simon." This elicits what you can only assume is a frown from him.
"You don't call me that." He grumbles, you giggle in response and the sound of Price chuckling comes through the phone.
"Damn! You're whipped LT!" A Scottish accent shouts, also clearly drunk.
"Where are you love? I'm gonna come get you." You start putting on your sweatshirt and shoes, you laugh as you hear Simon ask Price the name of the they're at. You hang up, much to Simon's dismay, and drive to go get him.
You enter the mostly empty pub and quickly catch sight of the table full of burly men who all seem to be arguing over something.
"Well is she your wife Ghost? You have their last name saved as Riley." The one who answered the call says, now having shed his cap from earlier.
"Why didn't you tell us about her." Another man says, his hair is sticking up in a mohawk.
Price chuckles at their antics, having caught sight of you walking towards them. "Nice to see you again." He greets, giving you a quick side hug.
"Again?!" The mohawked one says incredulously. You chuckle and introduce yourself to the two men. Simon, suddenly alert once you start speaking stands and wraps his arms around you tightly.
"I missed you doll." He mumbles into your neck, ignoring the laughs from Gaz and Soap.
"I missed you more baby. Now let's get you home, you're wasted." You chuckle as you lead him away from the table. You wave at the men and get Simon into the car.
Once you get into the drivers seat Simon grabs your hand and holds it tightly. You smile as you begin to drive home. Making sure to take a few pictures when Simon falls asleep in the passenger seat.
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no-144444 · 4 months ago
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my girl- (o.piastri no.81)
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summary: fans made an edit of oscar and you being in love since your prema days.
pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x fem! driver! reader (no.28)
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Oscar Piastri being in love with Y/n Y/l/n for 15 minutes straight, and vice versa  (F2 -> F1)
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Clip 1: Prema video 
Bahrain Airport, F2 season beginning, March. 
“And here we have the 3 year reigning champion of the Indycar Junior series, making her F2 pivot, Y/n Y/l/n!” Rob cheered as he woke you from your nap on the plane. 
“Shut up,” you groaned, pushing the camera away with a chuckle. “I'm tired, leave me be.”
“The plane is landing, idiot!”
“Hush!” you laughed. “That means ages until we get off, get your camera away Rob!”
Rob and you had gotten the same flight from London, and you’d become fast friends. He was eccentric and overtop, but a good laugh. You were sure you looked crazy. 6 hour flights do that to a person. You and Rob chatted to the camera about the weekend, and you introduced yourself to the Prema fans. Not many people gave a shit about Indycar, and even less cared about Indycar junior. 
As you disembarked the plane and got through security, people stopped you and Rob for photos and whatnot, then you finally got out of the airport. Angelina was standing there with a camera and a big ‘welcome’ sign, and another two very tired teenage boys beside her. 
“Y/n!” she cheered, pulling you both into a hug. “Rob!” 
Little did you know, Rob’s camera was pointed at Oscar, who turned to Fred with a shocked expression and whispered: “She’s gorgeous.” 
Beside him, Fred chuckled. “Go for her.”
“No way I have any chance with her, I-”
“I can hear you, y’know?” you cut in, coming over to introduce yourself. 
He went redder than a tomato, and you all just laughed. 
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Clip 2: Sky Sports channel
Bahrain International Circuit, 27th of March 
“And it’s No. 28 who sees the chequered flag first, the rookie, and the only girl on the grid, Y/n Y/l/n! Pole position in her first race!” 
“That’s P1 Y/n, congratulations,” your race engineer, Pedro, beamed as you crossed the finish line. 
“Motherfuck Guanyu is fast mate, we need to watch out for him- oh, and the other Alpine boy that was trying to flirt with me, what’s his name?” you answered. The Prema garage was full of laughter as you outed Oscar. 
“Oscar Piastri? No.2,” Pedro chuckled. “He failed to flirt with you?”
“Well, bless him, he tried to,” you chuckled as you parked the car. “He’s cute though.”
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“That’s P6 Oscar, and just to let you know, Y/n Y/l/n has outed you on the radio and on live television saying that you tried and failed to flirt with her,” his race engineer said. 
Oscar laughed, finding the situation funny. “My mum’s going to tweet about that.”
“She also called you ‘cute’, if that helps with any bruised ego?”
Oscar’s face lit up under his helmet. “It definitely does,” he chuckled. “Thanks mate.”
“I’d wingman you any time,” he chuckled. 
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Clip 3: Prema video
Prema Headquarters, Grisignano di Zocco, Italy, April.
“Hello everyone,” Robert smiled at the camera. “Today we will be going for a drive, I’d better call Oscar in.”
Oscar sat in the passenger seat and did his belt as they caught up and told the viewers what they’d be watching. 
“So, today, you will be joining us for a drive around the Italian countryside,” Rob smiled. “And we will be answering your questions.”
“Let the questions begin,” Oscar added. He pulled one out of the bowl and read it aloud. “Who’s your favourite Prema team member?”
Rob smiled. “That’s hard, I love the whole Prema team so much, but… yeah, that’s hard. Maybe my race engineer, Fred? I get along quite well with him,” Rob giggled as Oscar nodded.
“What?” Oscar laughed.
“I know your favourite,” Rob smirked. 
Oscar looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Who?”
“La tua ragazza,” Rob chuckled as Oscar rolled his eyes. “What? It is true! You love her!” (La tua ragazza = your girl in Italian)
“I’ve met her once, mate!” Oscar laughed. 
“So you don’t like her? I can ask her out?” Rob deadpanned. 
“Well, no, you can't-” Oscar was cut off by Rob’s laughter and he decided to stop trying to fight him about it. Everyone on the team knew that Oscar Piastri was infatuated with you. 
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Clip 4: Georgie O’Hara’s deleted youtube video. 
Haileybury and Imperial Service College, England. 
“Ok, that’s an awful idea!” Oscar yelled over his friends. “They already know you’re the ones doing it!”
“It’s fine! It’ll be fine!” Elijah, a good friend of his, smiled. They wanted to set off the fire alarms again, for the third time that week. Deodorant and stupid teenage boys did not mix, especially when they refused to put it on themselves and waste it on fire drills instead. 
Georgie turned to his phone, addressing the viewers "Oscar's a goody-two-shoes, if you couldn't tell."
Suddenly his phone rang from an unknown number, and before he could leave it ring, Anthony (another friend of his) answered. “Oscar Piastri, incoming F2 champion’s phone, how may I help you?”
Oscar laughed, but suddenly stopped when he heard you. 
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” you chuckled at his friend. “Anyways, can you just ask him to ask Elijah not to do the fire alarm thing between 11pm and 2am? The girls in my room and I are sneaking downstairs to watch a film and we don’t really want to get caught.”
Oscar covered his face and groaned, then took the phone off Georgie. “Hey-hi, Y/n. Yes, of course, we won’t do the fire alarm thing, ever again. Sorry.”
He turned his back as his friends made kissing noises and certain gestures at him. 
“All good, thanks Osc,” you smiled. “You and your friends are welcome to join us if you want.”
Oscar could’ve sworn his heart stopped beating. “I’ll ask them,” he smiled. He turned to his friends. “Y/n’s inviting us all to a movie, we’re sneaking out tonight,” he informed them. 
“I don’t want to-” Anthony started, but Georgie silenced him with a kick to the shin. 
“Mate, this is Oscar’s one fucking chance with his girl, shut up,” He scoffed.
“Is that a yes?” You asked over the phone.
“Yes!” they all answered. 
---------------------
As the night went on, you found yourself getting more and more tired. Oscar was beside you and you could tell how he was trying to play it cool, but failing miserably. You could practically see the way his heart leapt out of his chest when you held his hand. As ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ ended, you squeezed his hand before getting up and letting go. 
“Alright, I’ll clean up, everyone else go back upstairs before you get caught,” you whispered. The ‘movie room’ as the students called it (it was technically the staff room but no one really cared) was a mess. Blankets, cups, wrappers and pillows were everywhere. The group slowly shuffled out as you were left with only Oscar. Georgie had forgotten about his camera and it was still recording where he’d put it down to get some shots of everyone watching the film. 
“I can help,” Oscar whispered. 
You shook your head. “Seriously, you go ahead. They already hate me at this school anyways,” you chuckled. 
“Please let me help?” he asked again. You couldn’t exactly say ‘no’ to his puppy dog eyes, could you?
“Fine,” you smiled. 
You two chatted quietly as you cleaned up the room, and finally met at the door to leave. 
“I really enjoyed tonight-” You started, but you were cut off by Oscar kissing you. His arms wrapped around your waist and your arms wrapped around his neck once the initial shock wore off. You both pulled away after a few seconds. You stared up at him as his usually-blank face turned to one of panic.
“Sorry if that was forward, or-or weird- or-” He started, but now it was your turn to cut him off with a kiss. 
He pulled back smiling, and he didn’t move his hands, or try to move away from you. There was a moment of silence. “Can I take you on a date?”
You chuckled. “Yes.”
Oscar was elated. 
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Clip 5: Sky sports channel and Prema footage
Circuit de Monaco, Monaco, Monaco, May 22nd. 
You were excited as you stepped onto the podium, victorious. It had been a difficult few laps at the end, Guanyu overtaking, then you overtaking, and over and over, but you got the chequered flag first. You were breaking records, breaking barriers as a woman in motorsports. You’d won Monaco, your first time racing there. In the Sprint, and the feature race. You were on top of the world. As you raised your trophy, the crowd cheered and Oscar was cheering the loudest. 
You looked to your left, him standing on the podium for the first time this season, and you smiled. 
“Feels good, huh?” you smirked. 
“Feels great, but I’ll be coming for your step next,” he smirked.
“You wish Piastri,” you scoffed, then uncorked your champagne bottle and sprayed it on him and Zhou.
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Clip 6: Sky Sports channel, Prema footage
 Autodromo Nazionale di Monza, Monza, 17th of July, Sprint Race. 
“And it’s Y/n Y/l/n into the wall in a bad collision with Liam Lawson, only 2 laps till the end!” 
Everything was in slow motion, one second you were in control, the next you were flipping into the wall. 
“Red flag, red flag Oscar, huge crash in sector 3, come in, come in,” his race engineer said. 
“Who was it?” He asked, slowing his pace. 
“Y/l/n and Lawson, straight into the wall.”
“Is she ok? Is she out of the car?” he asked calmly. 
“Not yet,” he answered grimly. The Prema garage was eerily silent as they watched the stewards struggle to get you out of the car. 
As he came up on sector 3, he saw you. The car was upside down leaning against the barrier, they were putting out the fire. Shit. Shit. Shit.
You and Oscar had been dating for a few months now, and he really liked you. He passed by in horror as he saw that you weren’t out of the car yet. He was getting more and more nervous as the moments went on. He caught sight of Liam. He was out of the car. He beckoned Oscar over and he obliged, letting him hitch a ride back to the pitlane with him as he drove slowly. As they got back to the pitlane, they both jumped out as the race was finally deemed as cancelled, and the boys walked off, waiting for news. 
“What happened?” he asked. 
“It was a total mistake, my car had mad fucking oversteer and I just hit the throttle too hard, and then she was in the wall,” he answered. “She’s not even out yet.”
“She’ll be ok,” Oscar said, trying to convince himself as well as Liam. “She’s strong.”
Liam nodded, and went off to the RedBull garage with his head held low. Oscar walked into the Prema garage and his mom immediately pulled him in for a hug. Beside her was your parents, looking terrified. 
“You’re ok, thank god,” she whispered. She didn’t care about the multiple cameras pointing at them, her son was alright. 
“Is there any news yet?”
“They’ve pulled her out of the car,” your dad answered, eyes glued to the screen. 
“Is she responsive?” Nicole asked. 
“Yes!” You race engineer answered, happy that you were alive. There was a collective sigh of relief throughout the garage. “Complaining about lower back and leg pain, as well as a definite broken arm. She won’t be racing for a while,” he added, his tone becoming more and more sombre. Oscar watched as your mother broke down in your father’s arms, and he felt like throwing up. You wouldn’t be racing, you wouldn’t get to do the thing you loved. 
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Clip 6: Prema video
ASST Brianza - Vimercate Hospital, 18th of July.
You woke up in blinding pain a few hours earlier. Everyone had worked so hard to make everything ok, to make you comfortable, but all night all you did was sob. The pain was unbearable in the car, you thought you were going to die, you thought you weren’t getting out of the car. 5 fractured vertebrae, 3 broken ribs, a fractured hip bone, and a broken arm apparently wasn’t a joke. No racing for the rest of the year. Your life was over. 
“Fuck,” you whispered as you sat up and pain shot up your back. 
“Hey,” Oscar’s soft voice brought you out of your upset, and back into the room. He took your hand. You felt bad, he’d been there the entire time, and honestly, he should probably be at the track already, ahead of today’s race. You’d tried to shoo him but he wasn’t having it, much more in favour of being with you and cluing you in on how your parents reacted to him being your boyfriend. Awkward. “Take your time.”
You nodded, grateful that he was there, then turned your attention to the camera Angelina had brought with her and set up to take a ‘statement’ video. “Hi Prema fans, and my fans. Yesterday was pretty rough, and with a heavy heart I have to tell you that I won’t be able to continue this season in F2. My back was badly damaged yesterday in my collision with Liam, which was a complete accident and not anyone's fault, and I definitely don’t blame Liam. I love racing, and I’ll still be at the majority of the races to support my teammates, and my boyfriend. This is just a very unfortunate event that pulls me out of the game for a while, but I’ll be back. I hope you miss me on track, and just know that I’m alright. Thank you for the support, bye for now, Prema family.”
Oscar wrapped his arms around you and smiled. “I’m the boyfriend,” he added, making you laugh. 
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Clip 7: Prema footage
Jeddah Corniche Circuit, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia, 4th of December
“And Oscar Piastri sees the chequered flag first! Winning a sprint race and the feature race this weekend!” 
You jumped up and down beside Chris, his father, as he came into the pitlane. He was the lead of the championship. He was going to win F2. No doubt about it. 
The past 5 months had been difficult. You’d been back at school for a while, only now cleared to travel again, but you were happy to be back at the tracks. It felt good to watch Oscar win in person. 
Chris wrapped his arms around you as you both celebrated. Oscar’s radio came on. 
“God guys, good drive. Looks like Y/n is my lucky charm,” he laughed over the radio. The last races hadn’t gone so well for him, but he was straight back to winning with you here.  
You were smiling the whole way to the barricade, but that ended when about 50 people were against your back, pushing violently. Chris and Mark were trying desperately to get them to back off, but they couldn’t stop them. You promised them you’d be ok, but the pain was getting unbearable, and Oscar hadn’t come over yet. 
“Guys, move back!” He shouted as he ran over, just finished taking off his helmet. “Make some space!” The team obliged, but he still decided to be dramatic and lift you over the barrier. “You alright?” he asked, but you just wrapped your arms around him.
“You’re incredible Osc,” you smiled. “I love you so much.”
And there it was, out in the open for the first time. Too bad you forgot you both had microphones on. 
He smiled wider than you ever thought possible for his face. “I love you too. So much baby,” he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You should be up here with me,” he added and you nodded, it still being a sore subject. “And you will be. Next year.”
You nodded, grateful for the hope and support he offered you. “Go! Go to your team!” you laughed, pushing him on. Before he let you out of his grasp, he grabbed your waist and stole a sweet, quick kiss. 
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Clip 8: Prema footage
Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi, 12th of December 
He’d done it. He was the F2 champion. Sadly next year he would only get to be the Alpine F1 reserve driver, which meant no consistent racing, but that was still incredible. 
You waited by the barricade as he came in, and he went straight over to you. He pulled his helmet off, then his bandana, and pulled you in for a kiss. The rest of the team ‘ohh’ed and ‘aww’ed but neither of you cared at all. He’d won. 
“Congratulations F2 winner,” you smirked, pulling away. 
“Thanks baby,” he smiled. 
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Post-race interview
“So, how does this feel, Oscar?” she asked. 
“It feels amazing, y’know, we’ve all worked so hard at this for the whole year and it’s just really special to have everyone here, especially my girlfriend Y/n. I’m missing her on track, so it’s good to still at least have her in the paddock,” he smiled, and the camera cut to you, beaming up at him.
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Clip 9: Prema footage and Sky Sports channel 
Bahrain International Circuit, Sakhir, 19th of March, Sprint 1. 
“We’re in the Prema garage,” Oscar explained to the camera in front of him. He was in full Alpine gear, being a reserve driver meant being a marketing machine, but this wasn’t for Alpine, this was for you. “And my girlfriend is about to go and do her first race back since the accident last season. Let’s go interview her about it!” He walked through the garage, searching for you, and finally found you. “Y/n! Any time for an interview?”
You turned to him and smiled. “I always have time for you,” you wrapped your arms around him, hugging him close. His grip on you was tight but you didn’t mind. You pulled away and turned to the camera.
“So, how does it feel to be back?” He asked.
“Amazing. I thought my life was over when I was told I wasn’t allowed to race for half a year.”
“And who helped nurse you back to health?” He smirked, batting his eyelashes at you. 
“Your mom mostly,” you chuckled. You’d spent the entire off-season in Australia with Oscar and his family, and Nicole had been so considerate and careful about your healing injuries. 
Oscar rolled his eyes. “Yeah… that’s probably true,” he chuckled. “How do you feel being on Pole?”
“It feels good. We just have to stay quick this season. I didn’t rush my healing just to lose,” you smiled then pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’ve to get in the car now, love you,” you smiled. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pressed his lips to yours with a ‘good luck’, then let you go. 
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“And can she do it? Yes she can! Y/n Y/l/n is coming in with a bang! A Sprint Pole and a Sprint win! That is a statement, ‘I never left’!” 
“That’s P1 Y/n, well done!” Pedro called over the radio as the Prema garage went crazy. 
“Thanks for everything guys, great car, great drive-”
“Great driver,” he added. 
You pulled into the pitlane and got out of the car, celebrating as they got the photo of you on the car. You ran over to Oscar at the barricade as you pulled off your helmet and balaclava.
“That’s my girl!” he cheered as you pulled him in for a hug. “See? Nothing's changed.”
You pressed your lips to his. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” he smiled and pressed his lips to your cheek. “I’m loving this WAG lifestyle,” he chuckled. 
You laughed. “It suits you.”
He chuckled. “Alright, you’re being called for the interview. Love you,” he smiled as you walked off, giving your hand a squeeze. You blew him a kiss back. 
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Clip 10: Prema video 
Prema Headquarters, Grisignano di Zocco, Italy. 
You were laughing with Logan, doing a ‘Who knows who best’ challenge and both of you were failing miserably. 
You put the headphones on and the music started, making it impossible to hear him. You watched as the room erupted in laughter, then Logan nudged you to take the headphones off. 
“What is the most annoying thing about you?” He asked, holding back giggles. 
“I know what you’d say,” you chuckled. “Me and Oscar.”
The room erupted in laughter as he nodded. “Exactly!” 
“You’re just jealous,” you chuckled. 
“Why? ‘Cause I don’t have a girlfriend?”
“No, because I have Oscar and you don’t,” you shot back, and everyone started laughing again. 
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Clip 11: Sky Sports Channel
Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi, 20th of November 
“And after a season of domination from the woman in red, Y/n  Y/l/n sees the chequered flag first with a staggering 425 points! This F2 season will go down in history!”
You’d done it. You’d done it. You were an F2 champion, and next season you’d be in an F1 car fulltime, racing alongside Oscar, Logan, and Nick. You’d made it. 
You jumped out of the car, amazed at your season. It’d been win after win, fastest lap after fastest lap, pole position after pole position. You’d worked so hard. 
“You did it baby!” Oscar shouted as you ran over. You jumped into his arms, and let him hold you up. He looked at you like you held the sky up, like you were the greatest thing on the planet. “You’re incredible.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you,” you smiled. “ I love you so much.”
“I love you so much more,” he pressed kisses to any inch of skin he could, more than proud to be yours. 
You chuckled as he tickled you with his kisses, before you realised that you needed to go fulfil your duties. He put you down, but before you could leave, he grabbed your waist again. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Osc.”
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Clip 12: Sky Sports channel, McLaren footage, and RedBull footage
Bahrain International Circuit, Sakhir, 2023. 
“A disappointing result for Oscar Piastri, but an incredible run for Y/n Y/l/n, P1 in her first race! I’m sure he’ll be pleased with that for his long-time girlfriend!” 
 Oscar was pissed off, but his mood was lifted by your result. You were incredible. He cheered in his own garage, happy for your win. You’d won your first race. Who else did that? The first woman to ever do so. 
He was in awe of you. 
He exited his garage, ready to see you after your win. He saw you getting out of the car and running straight into the arms of your team and he smiled. He finally caught your eye after some time, and you ran over, wrapping your arms around him. 
“I’m so sorry,” were the first words out of your mouth. “If I could trade our cars, I would Osc, I really would,” you sighed.
“Don’t even joke about that. Don’t make your first win about me. This is about you, my brilliant, incredible, winner,” he pressed his lips to yours in a short, victory kiss. “I love you, yeah?” “I love you too,” you smiled. 
“You were amazing out there,” he smiled. 
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Clip 13: McLaren video 
Jeddah Corniche Circuit, Jeddah, Saudi Arabia 
“Who is your teammate's favourite person?” Lando asked, then looked at the camera and rolled his eyes. “Oscar’s is Y/n because he’s a traitor.”
Oscar burst into laughter and looked at Lando. “That’s not fair! We started dating as teammates!”
“Oh sure Osc!” Lando sighed, playing up the drama. “That’s what they all say.”
“But it’s the truth!”
“Anyways, moving on from Oscar and his traitor girlfriend, who’s my favourite person Oscar?” 
“Max Fewtrell?” 
Lando thought about it for a moment, then nodded. “Him or my parents or siblings.”
Oscar took another question out of the bowl and chuckled. “What’s the other person’s red flag?”
Little did he know, you’d come in to visit him and were actively sneaking up behind him. 
“Yours is your refusal to ever use a hairbrush,” you answered for Lando, and Oscar jumped, making everyone laugh, especially Lando, who fell off his chair. You chuckled and wrapped your arms around Oscar's neck from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Came to say hi,” you smiled, kissing his cheek. 
“Came to air out my business online?” He questioned, laughing. He took your hands and led you around his chair, sitting you on his lap. “When did you get in?” he asked, resting his head on your shoulder as Lando tried to compose himself. 
“Just now, came straight from the airport,” you nodded, leaning back against him. 
“Bad flight?”
“Nah, I was on Max’s jet. He’s offered me to ask you two if you want to go back to Monaco after this weekend with him. I am,” you answered. He nodded, gently playing with your hands as he listened to you. 
“Sounds good to me,” he smiled. “Tell him ‘thanks’, yeah?” 
You nodded. “‘Course,” you got up to leave but he pulled you down by the arm and pressed your lips together quickly, then let you go. “Love you,” you called after yourself. 
“Love you too,” he called back, ready to get back to the interview. 
“Can we keep that in?” Ellie, their marketing manager asked. 
He shrugged. “Sure, why not.”
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Clip 14: Hattie Piastri’s tiktok vlog
Piastri residence, Melbourne, 2023 
“Y/n’s over there with Oscar, and Addie is with May and mum and dad are with Tim over there,” she explained to the camera pointing everything out. In the video you and Oscar were laying on the grass in the setting sun, utterly exhausted from your weekend of racing where you’d gotten p2 and Oscar had gotten p8. His arms were wrapped around you as you lay on top of him, smiling. 
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Clip 15: Sky Sports channel, RedBull footage and Nicole Piastri’s instagram
Circuit Zandvoort, Zandvoort, Holland
“And can she do it? Yes she can! Y/n Y/l/n beats teammate Max Verstappen to first place, and she sees the chequered flag first! What an incredible season this has been for the rookie!”
As you crossed the finish line, you almost felt sick. You’d beaten Max, giving you a lead in the Driver’s Championship. He’d been 10 points ahead. Now, you were 15 points ahead of him. 
“That’s P1, P1 Y/n congratulations,” Pedro smiled. 
“Thanks Pedro, and thanks everyone, really well done. Car is perfect, thank you all so much!” 
“And Oscar’s P9, if you're wondering.”
“When I get my fucking hands on Zak Brown I will rip his fake fucking toupée off for giving him such a shit car,” You groaned. “Great drive guys, thanks.”
---------------------
You walked into the paddock as they all cheered both you and Max on. Max had gotten P2, unhappy with not winning, but not mad that you’d won. He saw what you were doing for motorsports all around the world, how much pressure you were under as the first female driver in a long time, and how hard you were working. He wasn’t going to make your life harder by being an asshole off the track too. He gave you a celebratory hug and moved onto his driver’s room, as you stayed out with the engineers, chatting and celebrating with them. 
---------------------
Nicole Piatri’s instagram live 
“Hi everyone, Osc and I are right now, trying to sneak into the RedBull garage to see Y/n,” Nicole explained and behind her, Oscar smiled and put both thumbs up. 
“I’m going to be told off for this by Zak, so, sorry Zak. I want to see my girlfriend, my bad,” he chuckled, his apology only half-assed. 
Nicole and him continued faffing around the paddock for a while, until Nicole caught your eye through the window. You ran over to the door beside them and let them in, pulling Nicole in for a huge hug as Oscar waited behind her with a wide smile. 
He spoke to the live. “Apparently my girlfriend likes my mum better than me-" 
You cut him off with a kiss as you laughed at his antics. “Shut the fuck up,” you chuckled. “You’re such a baby.”
“I missed seeing you in the conference,” he shrugged, holding you close as his mum took the phone and documented this moment between the two of you. “I love you,” he smiled. 
“I love you too,” you chuckled, kissing his cheek. “P9? Not bad.”
He rolled his eyes and smiled. “P1? Not bad,” he lifted you into his arms making you squeal. 
“Osc! Put me down!” You squealed. 
“Let me win next time,” he chuckled. “Then I’ll put you down.”
“What do you want me to do? Switch our cars?”
“Ideally,” he chuckled, kissing your cheek and putting you down. “But I guess I’ll settle for watching you be gorgeous on the podium every week.”
“The fans are loving this!” Christian joked as he watched over Nicole’s shoulder, seeing how the chat was going crazy.
You both turned to Nicole with confused faces. 
“You’re still filming mum?!” 
This live has now been ended by the host. 
---------------------
Clip 16: Sky sports channel
​​Lusail International Circuit, Lusail, Qatar 
“Oscar Piastri has done the job brilliantly, the Australian driver will see the chequered flag first! Oscar Piastri wins the sprint to take McLaren to the top step once again!” 
“That’s P2 Y/n, Oscar P1,” Pedro announced. 
“WOOOOO!” You screamed, elated for him. “Fucking legend!” 
“I said P2 for you,” he reminded. 
“Shut up and be happy for him, just once,” you chuckled, pulling into the pit lane to park. You watched as Oscar got out of the car as you got out of your own car. Immediately, he ran over to you, wrapping you up in his arms as you celebrated together. 
“You did it!” You shouted, jumped around in each other's arms. “You’re fucking incredible.”
“You put up a good fucking fight,” he chuckled, smiling like a kid. 
“You’re going to look so sexy at the top of the podium,” you smirked and he blushed hard. 
“I wish you wouldn’t say stuff like that in public,” he chuckled, then hid his face in your neck as you laughed. 
---------------------
Post-sprint conference 
“So, this is a question for Y/n and Oscar,” an interviewer started. Both of you looked up, exhausted from the late night race. “Does your relationship prohibit you from racing to your full potential? I believe Y/n, you could’ve caught up. Did you give him this win?”
You scoffed, appalled that anyone would have the audacity to ask such a thing. “For fuck’s sake,” you sighed. “No. I couldn’t have. You know how you know that? Because I would’ve if I could’ve. I love Oscar, and I’ve loved him since I was about 14 years old, but that doesn’t mean that I let him win. He’s a ridiculously talented driver, and a fucking genius with strategy. His car is great too. But out there today? That was pure talent. I can love him, and wholeheartedly race him too,” you answered, getting annoyed at the comments like these you two constantly got. “And another thing, I’m getting really fucking sick of the questions about our relationship. Do you really think we’d be together if we couldn’t race each other and not come back to each other and be proud of each other? Seriously? Where is your critical thinking?”
The room was full of whispered conversation as you dropped the last diss, and beside you Oscar was looking at you with huge heart eyes. Anyone could see it from a mile away, he loved you. He chuckled, wanting to add his two cents as well. “Yeah, exactly. The only thing she lets me win in is chess, right?” He looked at you with a smirk and you rolled your eyes. 
“You won once, asshole,” you chuckled, pushing his hand off your thigh. 
“Then we stopped playing,” he shrugged, a cocky smirk very-present on his face. 
“We ran out of time,” you shrugged, feigning innocence. 
He cocked an eyebrow. “Sure.”
The tension in the room had been dissolved in the comedic moment, and you were thankful for Oscar’s calm exterior. You moved closer to him on the couch, and he wrapped an arm around you, smiling wide as you pressed a kiss to his hand, the one closest to your face. 
---------------------
Clip 17: Drive to Survive 
Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi
“How are you feeling?” Oscar asked, sitting in your driver’s room with you before the race. He knew how worried you were, how much you wanted this. You had to win. You and Max were neck and neck. You just had to get more points than him, starting from P2. 
You sighed, standing between his legs and messing with his hair, favouring trying not to think about it rather than talking about it. He grabbed ahold of your waist and pressed his face into your torso, pressing kisses to wherever he could reach, trying to make you laugh. 
You chuckled and pushed him away, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I’m alright, I promise. Just stressed.”
“You won’t be stressed in a week,” he smiled. “We’ll be in Melbourne.”
You smiled, and kissed him again. “We will. Waves and relaxing. Nothing else.”
“Well, and Logan,” he chuckled. “So… ‘Merica and all that,” he smiled as you laughed at his bad joke. He got you down to his lap and he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You’ve got this, don’t worry.”
“Wow, anxiety cured,” you replied sarcastically, making him laugh. 
---------------------
Clip 18: Sky Sports Channel
Yas Marina Circuit, Abu Dhabi
“And it is an incredible season for the first female in modern F1, Y/n Y/l/n sees the chequered flag first, with a Driver’s Championship 1-2 with her teammate Max Verstappen! This makes her the first female ever to win the F1 Driver’s Championship title! What an inspiration!” 
You’d done it. You won your rookie season. You were World Champion. You were a legend. 
“WOOOOO!” You screamed as tears rolled down beneath your hemet. “We did it! We did it!”
“We did it!” Pedro screamed. You knew the entire RedBull garage was going crazy right now. “You did it Y/n!”
“Thank you, everyone! This would’ve been impossible without you all! Amazing year! Incredible work!” you beamed. 
---------------------
“That’s P6, P6 Oscar,” his race engineer announced. 
“Did Y/n get it? Did she win?” 
“Yes, your girl is a World Champion,” he smiled. 
“YES! YES! THAT’S MY FUCKING GIRL!” he screamed, elated at the news. He knew you could do it. He’d always known you could do it. 
He rushed to get to the pit lane, ready to celebrate with you. He jumped out of the car and pulled off his helmet as fast as he could, watching as you ran over to him. 
“You did it!” He cheered. “My fucking girl.”
“I did it!” You cried, over the moon. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” you smiled. 
His eyes filled with tears as his heart swelled with pride. “You’re amazing. I love you so much Y/n.”
Neither of you cared about the cameras around you as you went in for a kiss. You didn’t care about how sweaty and gross you both were, you didn’t care about the grief that the pr team would give you, you didn’t care. 
You were a World Champion. He was your everything. You were his everything.
---------------------
navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)
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toji-bunny-girl · 4 months ago
Note
Toji with a puppy girl👀
Nah cuz puppy!reader…x wolf!toji‼️⁉️ GOODBYE YALL🫡
Alright imagine wolf cop!Toji and puppy!reader who accidentally got caught speeding and acting all fidgety and nervous when he made her roll her window down. Wolf cop!Toji’s leaning against your car door, merely asking for your driver’s license and you’re already shaking in your seat.
The first thing you did was trying to explain why you were speeding just a little, to buy some heat suppressants and Toji could see that you weren’t lying about that. Puppy girl is all sweaty, your eyes are droopy with indecipherable lust and your aromal pheromones were begging him to breed you. He is a servant of the law, supposedly having to be professional on his job, but fuck did he want to help you with your heat.
He doesn’t know the extent of his self-control and he has no interest in testing it today—so he promptly sends puppy off with a warning, he’d better not catch you speeding again.
The next time he saw puppy was a few seasons later—when he was passing by an alley on the way home from dinner with the chief. There was a little yelp of desperation, and what seemed to be someone calling for help. He could smell the scent fraught and despair, along with a familiar whiff of feminine pheromones.
Stalking into the tenebrous alleyway, he found you cowering all scared over the corner, ears back and tail between your legs as a hooded male prowled closer to you. 
Without much thinking, Toji hauled the male away from you, smashing his frame against the wall before locking his hands behind his back. 
The man tried to fight back but it was all simply in futile. He could try all he want but Toji would still have him subjugated under his strength. Ripping the hoodie off of him, and as his features were described; it was the serial rapist around your area. 
“Oi!” he called for your attention, sobbing as you shut your thighs tight together. “Get my phone outta my pocket.”
You did as you’re told, dialling the number he chanted aloud and soon the cops were there to bring the male under custody. 
“Thank you for saving me, sir,” you spoke to the intimidatingly huge wolf. And Toji returned with a terse ‘welcome’, noting the crimson blush you wore underneath your cheeks and your strong intoxicating scent; it made his head heavy and the world seemed to whirled in his sight. 
“Yer’ alright?” his voice was comfortingly deep, the grizzly pitch scratching the nerves in your ears. You’re practically sweating, and acting like how you were the first time he saw you. “Why are you out here alone this late?”
“I was going to get some heat suppressants and my car was getting fixed. So I had to walk…” you embarrassingly cried. Fuck, he swore in his head, not again. The officers were busy with the rapist bastard and letting you continue your walk alone seemed unsafe. So, he’d better send you back as quickly as possible and get on his merry way home. 
Or so he thought. 
“Please, please, please…!” you tearily whined, rubbing yourself against his knee, nose buried deep in his neck, breathing in his manly essence. Toji was beating back a groan, your scent punching his nostrils and messing up his heartbeat. He was supposed to drive you home, and somehow you’re straddled on top of him just as he has reached your home.
“Hey—”
“It hurts s’much, sir!” you’ve balled his shirt into your fist, staring at him with those wet puppy eyes. It’s your hormones against his instincts, and he has to put himself under control no matter what. “The toys are no use, I can’t do it anymore!”
“Where’s ya suppressant?” Toji sighed as he rummaged through your bag, his thigh began to dampen and the bulge in his pants pumped against the restraints of his brief as it grew in size. You didn’t manage to buy it, did you?
“Please, save me,” your voice broke as you cried, desperation oozing out of your eyes along with your tears. He could feel your pulse through his pants and your drenched panty, and fuck were you pushing him towards the edge of his limits. “It’s just this once, please…!”
Your words were the breaking point that wrenched the very last of his self-control out of his wavering self. But rules are still rules, and he worked quickly to call his partner, instructing him to help log out of his shift system for him. You were practically all over him when the phone call ended, your little teeth nipping and licking over his saliva-coated neck.
“Bad girl,” Toji clicked his tongue, his voice was low, almost predatory with a growl. You let out a yelp when he grabbed your face, forcing your head to the side as to expose the supple skin of your neck. It wasn’t fair for you to mark him without expecting him to imprint on you. Especially when you’d let out your adorable gasps as he sunk his sharp teeth into your flesh, your skin threatening to break and blood ready to flow under the subjugation of his canines.
He would only learn more of the sound you’d make when he pressed a finger against your pulsing clit through your embarrassingly wet panty, teasing and rolling your bud until your body shook and voice begged him to touch you more.
You were all he could smell and hear, his mind and body nearly drunk off of your pheromones that bubbled into the sizzling hot air. And it took the rest of a pathetic amount of restrain left in him not to eat you whole. He would have to compromise on the honey that seemed to coat your skin, sucking and biting the sweetness off of you.
Your gasps turned to whines when he stuffed a finger into your heat, a single digit of his large enough to please your squeezing cunt. But he expected you to take more than that, stretching out your slick-dripped pussy with two of his thick fingers. Your cavern squelched as he slipped them in and out of you, your head growing heavy and your eyesight turning hazy.
“Feel so—nnh, good…!” you slurred through the pleasure that shook your nerves. Your movements did nothing but agitated the bulge in his trousers, and Toji hated being edged of all things. So he had your wrists bounded by his cuffs, your arms raised above his head and your motions then restricted to your hips as you buckled them from the tingles in your core.
Toji smirked through one of the bite he was marking on your chest when he pumped his digits in and out of your sloppy cunt faster, his thumb reaching your clit and stimulating both of them at the same time. You burst into heightened cries as you felt your orgasm coming close, your hips rolling with his thick fingers as they curled over the gummy part of your wall, your eyes rolling to the back of head as pressure started building in your core.
“Mmnh—I’m cummin’, I’m cummin’!” you repeated into a chant, your features twisting to his enjoyment as he watched you come undone from his mere fingers.
From the look of it, Toji knew you haven’t had enough. You were at the height of your heat, any coherence long melted into your innate desires to mate, for hours at least. You tried to free yourself from the cuff he’d locked you in, your eyes raking over his body down to the pumping size in his pants, a spot of pre-cum damp from your doings.
“Please, sir…” you whined through your adorable doe eyes, your craving for his cock to fill your cunt catching up to your limit. “Please fuck me.”
“That’s what I wanna hear,” Toji smirked, nipping the end of your sensitive ear, causing you to shudder from his touch. He loved the fact that he doesn’t have to ask for you to beg for him, his animalistic ego stroked by your adorable neediness.
Your eyes nearly popped out when you watched him unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down to release his fat cock, veiny and pulsing and ready to pump you full. You were almost too eager to fit him inside of you, your hips sinking down a little too quickly. But Toji was quicker to grab you before you hurt yourself. You were already well prepared, your body releasing all the hormones necessary but still, you were built a little too small for him.
“Someone’s impatient,” Toji chuckled as you wriggled in his hold. Just as he thought, your lips paused open when he slowly sank you halfway down his length, his thick cock pushing against the wall of your tummy, a little bump from the shape of his bulging from the inside of your stomach.
The both of you swore underneath your breaths, and you threw your head back when Toji started shifting into your hips. You were so damn tight and warm and wet that his carnal need to breed hit him like a fucking truck.
His jaw clenched as he forced his whole length into your pulsing hole, your eyebrows furrowed and teeth sunk into your bottom lip from how full you felt. Your breaths left your mouth as dragged moans when Toji began to draw his hips out and into your weeping cunt, slow but deep.
His thumb drew circles upon your hardened clit once again, attempting to ease your clenching hole but it did nothing but tightened your grip around his girth. “You gotta relax, pup,” he groaned into the sultry air, and you cried as you shook your head.
“M’ can’t! Please!” you mewled, rolling your hips for the least bit of friction, itching to ease the tingle between your thighs.
“Fuck,” Toji growled as tears of frustration began forming in your eyes. You weren’t the only one starved for sex, he’s been holding on for so long just not to hurt you. But you’re an eager one, can’t even wait for his cock to start moving and you’re sniffling your tears aback. “You better not regret this,” he clicked his tongue before drawing his hips back, slamming them up into your weeping cunt.
The car shook from the force and a scream lodge itself in your throat, your pussy ached with his cock dragging against your walls, and a pulsing warmth began to swarm all over your belly. “Haah—it’s s’good!” you mumbled unsteadily, your back arching into him and eyes turning crossed.
“I need you to be, shit—clearer, sweet.”
“Your cock f-feel s’good, sir!” you could feel the way Toji twitched inside of you, his pace relentless and rough. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the crack of the pressure in your core, and your released gushed all over his lap and car seat, the scent of your essence making his head heavy.
He doesn’t stop even when your lips spewed nothing but rambles, your drool slipping down your chin and onto your marked chest. Instead, he began to fuck himself into you, harder and faster. Your thighs shook for the way his cock spurred up your insides, it was as if he was trying to bring you apart then and there.
Toji bellowed out a low growl as his nails sank into the flesh on your hips, using your body like a fleshlight and messing up your sore cunt. Your slick cavern hugged his cock tight as he twitched, the nerves on his tip dancing upon the fire of pleasure before you feel a rope of his velvety semen paint your insides white, a wave of orgasm crushing down over you soon after.
You’re too drunk and dumb off his cock to stop him, your eyes rolled to the back of your head and tongue idly lolling out. Toji had spent too much of his time enveloped in your mating pheromones, his hormones raging all over his body, twisting the levels until he was down to nothing but a hulking body of a male intending to impregnate.
Unbeknownst to you, it would take days for a wolf’s rut to wear off.
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briefinquiries · 5 months ago
Text
Tyler Owens x Reader: Where You Belong
Prompt: you're caught in the middle of a tornado, tyler's there in the aftermath.
Word count: 6k
Warnings: angst, blood mention
A/N: surprise surprise, & not what i usually write, but twisters has recently been consuming my entire life. so here's an angsty lil imagine of hurt reader being comforted by the wrangler himself.
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You made it about fifteen minutes down the road before you realized that you’d forgotten your phone… Again. 
After patting down your pockets and digging through your tote bag the best you could without crashing the car– you straightened yourself in the driver’s seat and sighed defeatedly. 
Stupid, you thought. Although you weren’t really that surprised by your mistake. You’d never been particularly attached to your phone, and this certainly wasn’t the first time you’d left it behind. 
But you’d been trying to be more mindful about remembering it. And just like that, Tyler’s voice popped into your head– no doubt scolding you for your carelessness. ‘What if something happened and I had to get a hold of ya?’ 
Thanks to another wild storm system brewing all over the midwest, Tyler was out chasing again today. And although you’d checked in on him earlier in the day, you knew there was always the possibility that things changed. Storms shifted– gained power, sometimes his team (although rarely) got things wrong. A pang of guilt spread through your chest at the thought– what if something happened to him out there and he needed to reach you? 
You could turn back and get your phone, of course. But you were already so close to town. And all you needed was a bottle of shampoo and a birthday cake for Tyler. You could be in and out of Lawton in less than half an hour if you were quick– home before he even knew you’d left your phone behind again.
What could really go wrong?
“Talk to me, Dani– what do you see?” Tyler asked into the walkie. They’d been tracking a handful of storms for the past few hours– Tyler watching the clouds, and Dani studying the radar. Right now, there were two that had peaked his interest– One was formulating south, the other to the northeast. 
“The storm south has higher wind speeds, but I think it’ll fade if it shifts. The other one has a weaker wind shear, but higher pressure. Either one has the chance to form or go, so I say trust your gut,” they answered.  
Tyler shifted his grip on the steering wheel, studying the dark, circling motion in the distance. 
“What’re you thinkin’, T?” Boone asked, camera trained on Tyler. 
He sunk his teeth into his bottom lip– trying to focus.
“Less moisture, less potential for an updraft, but way higher winds if we go south. Northeast though… she’s already got the motion and momentum, she just needs the winds to shift...” 
Boone stayed quiet– he knew that when Tyler talked out loud, it was generally rhetorical. 
Tyler took his eyes off the sky to study the world around him for a moment. 
“No pressure, T,” Dani said through the walkie. 
“Yeah,” Lilly chimed in. “We just spent all damn day chasing these things–”
“South,” he said suddenly. “I say let’s chase south.”
Less than thirty minutes later, Tyler was standing in the middle of a wheat field with his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. 
The storm had fizzled with the shifting winds, leaving them with nothing but a few scattered showers that mixed in with the sweat already pooling on his skin. 
“S’alright, T,” Boone said encouragingly with a shrug. He clapped him on the back. “We can’t catch ‘em all.”
Tyler sighed before joining Dani where they sat on the edge of the truck, scanning for other potential storms in the area. 
“What’s that there?” Tyler asked, pointing to what appeared to be a storm system heading west. 
Dani frowned. “What the hell… I think that’s the storm from earlier– the one moving northeast.”
“So it shifted?” 
“Shifted?” Boone said, lowering his camera for a moment to glance towards Tyler. “Where to? Can we make it in time?”
Tyler frowned, studying the movement. 
“That’s strange,” Dani mumbled under their breath. With a few clicks, they expanded the screen, showing a wider radius.
“What’s strange?” Boone asked.
Ignoring him, Tyler scanned the system, trying to trace the path without actually calculating it. “You don’t think–” 
Dani glanced his way. “Holy shit–”
“Hello?” Boone said. “Y’all gonna share with the rest of the class?” 
“I think she’s headin’ for Lawton,” Dani finally whispered. 
And although he’d been thinking it, all the color drained from his face when it was actually spoken out loud.
“Lawton?” Dexter asked, voice laced with concern. 
“Oh shit-” Lilly whispered.  
Lawton was the closest city to where the two of you lived– if it hit there, thousands of people could be in danger. And if it shifted again, even the slightest bit– it could head right for your small town instead.  
Despite the humidity, everything inside of Tyler went cold as he imagined you at home– puttering around the garden, blissfully unaware of what might be coming. 
“Will you uh, pass me– pass me my phone, Boone?” Tyler stammered, standing up from the truck bed. 
Boone reached into the backpack scattered near his feet and handed over Tyler’s cell phone, placing it in his outstretched hand. Tyler muttered a quick thank you before walking a few strides away as he pulled up your contact information.  
The call rang five times before making it to voicemail– your sweet voice asking him to leave a message and you’d get back to him. 
“Hey, baby– it’s me. Call me back as soon as you can. Alright, love ya.”
He clicked the phone off before immediately trying again. 
“C’mon,” he muttered as the line continued to ring. “C’mon, baby, c’mon,” he hummed nervously, kicking the grass with his boots when he heard your voicemail. “Hey– me again. Listen, I’m not trying to scare ya, but there might be a storm comin’ and I just wanna make sure you’re safe. Give me a call please.”
He paced back towards the group, sending you a quick text just for good measure as he did. 
“Alright, what’s the plan here?” Dexter asked. 
But Tyler wasn’t paying much attention as he obsessively dialed you for a third time. 
“What’s wrong, T?” Boone wondered. 
Without looking up from his phone, Tyler exhaled a frustrated breath. “She’s never got her damn phone on her– that’s what’s wrong.” The second he heard your voicemail for a fourth time, he chucked his phone towards his bag. “Damnit!” 
Boone swallowed thickly. “I’m sure she’s fine–”
Tyler hung his head. After a moment, he nodded, although he wasn’t entirely convinced that would remain the case if he didn’t get in touch with you fast. He ran his hands through his hair and tried to breathe– 
You were fine, he told himself. You were home, you’d hear the alerts if they were necessary, you knew to get into the basement. 
Tyler took a long, steadying breath. “Dani, what’s the speed of this thing?” 
“Uh, it’s moving– thirty-five miles per hour directly west. I think she’s gaining speed, though.”
“Alright, she’s fast,” Tyler remarked. “We have to be faster. Let’s head home, ladies and gents, we can take cover at my place once I know everyone’s safe.”
“You got it, T,” Lilly said. 
“Stay safe everyone,” Dani replied as they all dispersed to their respective vehicles. 
Tyler and Boone climbed back into the truck, tires screeching as they sped west towards Lawton, and home towards you. 
You were inside the bakery on Lowell Street– Tyler’s favorite place for any and all pastries, when you heard the thunder. 
Although thunder in Oklahoma wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence, it was enough to make you turn your attention outside, just to see what kind of storm you might be up against on the drive home. 
“It’s gettin’ dark out there,” Gloria, the owner, said. She glanced at you over the counter and blew a strand of graying hair out of her face. 
You nodded in agreement, jumping slightly when another crack of thunder rang through the air. “Sounds like it’s getting closer,” you noticed. 
“I still can’t believe that boyfriend of yours goes out of his way to chase these storms. And his friends, too.”
You scoffed. “Yeah, me either. Bunch of adrenaline junkies.”
“Not me,” Gloria smirked. “We get enough chaos in this life, I don’t need to be chasin’ it.”
You returned her smile, recognizing that you might have more in common with the sixty-something year old baker in town than you did your own boyfriend. But you supposed that your differences were what drew you to Tyler. He was brave and thrilling and so alive. Although what he did scared the absolute shit out of you, there was nothing better than watching him exude excitement and just pure joy after he got home from a particularly powerful storm. 
“Was he and his crew trackin’ anything out here?” Gloria asked, using the tube of blue icing to write the birthday message you’d requested on top of Tyler’s cake. 
“Not here,” you replied. “He was south of OKC last I checked in.”
Which, you realized, had been far longer than you anticipated thanks to not having your phone. You mentally kicked yourself again for leaving it behind. If you’d brought it with you, you could have just given him a call now. Because unless he was smack dab in the middle of a goddamn tornado, he always answered your calls. Just a few reassurances from him could’ve calmed your fears about the storm brewing outside– told you that it was just a thunderstorm passing through. 
Not every thunderstorm means a tornado, he had said, you didn’t even know how many times by now. And each time allowed you to relax a little. Because unlike your boyfriend, you didn’t enjoy weather in quite the same way. In fact, after an EF4 had ripped through your home when you were just a child, you did your best to stay as far from tornadoes as Oklahoma allowed. 
“I’m sure it’s just thunder,” you began. 
But before you could finish your sentence, you heard the sudden pitter patter of hail beginning outside. Gloria lowered the icing tube while you took another step closer to the window to peer out. 
Dark, gloomy clouds swirled through the sky. 
That was when you heard the sirens. Loud and clear, they echoed through your ears in a terrifying, grim warning. 
As the storm tracked faster and faster the closer they got, Tyler’s first stop was your shared home just outside of Lawton. 
He didn’t even bother turning the truck off before he was hurling himself across the lawn, towards the front door. But before he even looked inside, his stomach dropped when he noticed your SUV wasn’t parked in its typical spot. 
Regardless, he practically ripped open the front door before running into the house, calling your name loudly into each room he searched, hoping that maybe you’d lent your car to your mom again– or magically parked it in the garage that was stuffed full of his gear. 
But it was no use– you weren’t there. 
He knew that for good as soon as he flung open the door to your shared bedroom. The bed was neatly made, pillows arranged perfectly– and your phone sitting on the nightstand table, plugged in and clearly far away from you. 
“Damnit!” he yelled, kicking the door frame frustratedly. Chest rising and falling rapidly, Tyler pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to think. Frustration and anger brewed inside of him, but he knew that underneath all of that was fear– for you and your safety. All he wanted was to have you in his sights again– although preferably wrapped up in his embrace, the only spot he could ensure you were safe... Where you belonged.
Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. Tyler made his way across the room and picked your phone up from the nightstand. Your background– a picture of you and him taken during your trip to Texas last year, lit up the screen. Accompanying it were the slew of notifications you’d missed– the first was the severe weather alert, the next few were all the missed calls from him. But at the very bottom of your screen was a reminder notification– one that allowed him to finally exhale the breath he’d been holding since he burst into the house. 
Get Tyler a bday cake. 
Sliding your phone into his back pocket, he raced back down the stairs to find Boone standing on the front lawn. 
“She’s in town,” he said, rushing towards his truck. 
Boone followed close behind. “How do you know?”
“If nothing else,” Tyler said, climbing into his truck, “she follows her schedule.”
“Gloria, you gotta listen to me–” you pleaded, hurrying around the counter to grab her hand. “If the sirens are goin’ off, it means we don’t have much time. Does the bakery have a basement, or– or a shelter?”
Gloria’s watery eyes met yours. Your heart sank the moment she shook her head dreadfully. 
“Okay,” you said shakily, trying not to panic. What would Tyler do? You looked around the bakery– with its old walls and sagging roof, you knew it wasn’t safe to stay here. 
“Gloria, we gotta go,” you said urgently. “We gotta find somewhere safe to be.”
With that, you tugged her towards the exit. 
As soon as you were outside, you felt the fierce wind whip your face, along with a few staggering pieces of hail. There was debris– leaves and sticks flying around in every which way, making it hard to see past what was right in front of you. 
Although you were trying to be vigilant, you didn’t even see the scrap of metal fly by your face.  “Shit!” you exclaimed, feeling it graze your cheek. Ripped skin was quickly followed by the feeling of warm blood trickling across your skin. 
“Are you alright?” Gloria asked, grabbing your arm. 
You used your free hand to press against your cheek before nodding. “We gotta get out of here,” you said. 
But just as you turned to try and gauge your surroundings, hoping to come up with a shred of a plan, you froze at what was looming in the distance. 
Winds whipped rapidly, the sky boomed, and a dark, wide funnel had formed– it’s tip already touching down on the ground. And it was coming straight for you. 
“Gloria, we gotta go–” you cried. “Now!” 
Tyler drove as fast as he could– foot nearly pressed down on the ground. He drove like his life depended on it. Because yours did– 
The truth was– he’d never given much thought to losing you. He was generally too preoccupied with wondering what you’d do if you lost him. He was the one putting himself in danger all the time, he was the one forcing his way in the middle of these storms. 
He didn’t know what he’d do without you– except be a shell of who he was now. 
“Holy shit–” he heard Boone say from the passenger seat. 
Tyler refocused his attention ahead, his eyes widening the second he saw what Boone was fixated on. 
It was hard to miss the giant, fucking tornado barreling right for Lawton’s array of buildings. 
“We’re too late–” Tyler croaked. “We’re too fucking late–”
“She’s smart,” Boone assured Tyler. “She knows where to go and what to do.”
Tyler’s knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. He pressed his foot down on the accelerator and drove faster. 
In retrospect, the laundromat probably wasn’t the best place for you to be. But there were few windows and the back room was lined with secure piping, all which jetted deeply into the ground, creating a solid anchoring point. 
There were a few other people huddled in the same room, already low on the ground and clutching onto one another. 
“Hold on to that!” you cried, practically pushing Gloria towards the corner of the room. She wound her frail arms around the piping before crouching down. You were right beside her, arms locked tightly on the piping as you felt the building start to shake. 
The storm outside was deafening. Winds whistled and boomed. You were pretty sure the woman beside you was screaming– but you couldn’t hear her above the noise of everything else. You tried to be brave– the way you knew Tyler would be if he were here. 
Once, about three years ago, an EF3 hit his parent’s ranch while the two of you were staying there for a long weekend. You remembered the way he stayed so calm, so collected through it all. After ushering everyone into the storm shelter, he wrapped his strong arms around you, anchoring you to him. The ranch didn’t shake like this though… And even though you’d been scared that night, it paled in comparison to what you felt now. 
This building was weak– the structure was unsound. You had no idea how close the tornado actually was, but you knew this thing wasn’t going to stay put. It was just a matter of if the pipes went deep enough into the ground and if you could hold on to them. Because you didn’t have Tyler holding on for you this time. 
You hoped he was somewhere safe– maybe tracking the storm that was about to kill you from a reasonable distance. 
“Everything’s going to be okay,” you told Gloria, sweaty palms making your grip slip. “Just hold on–” 
The building began to shake harder– the very foundation rocking beneath you. Shortly after, pieces of the roof began tearing off, exposing the thunderous storm raging above. 
“I don’t–” Gloria cried. “I don’t think I can hold on!”
You tried loosening your own grip– hoping you could wrap your arms around her like Tyler had done for you before, or do something to help. But then you heard another ear splitting roar, and suddenly, the entire roof was being ripped off from the building. There was nothing you could do. You weren’t strong enough– 
“Hold on!” you screamed, tucking your head into your elbow and squeezing your eyes shut. “Just a little longer!” 
But as the words left your lips, even you didn’t believe them. 
By the time they finally reached town, the tornado had already moved on. 
Part of the reason why Tyler loved tornados so much was their power and speed. In his eyes– it was nothing short of an act of God to see what damage a simple funnel of wind could do in just a matter of minutes, sometimes seconds. 
Until he was faced with the inevitable tragedy of it all. 
Because it was one thing to see trees uprooted, or tractors rolled over. It was another to see an entire town had succumbed to a pile of debris– vehicles thrown this way and that– metal and siding and bricks scattered over every inch of the flat land– To know that people, his friends, his neighbors, you could be buried underneath piles of rubble– bodies broken and bleeding and hurt if they were lucky enough to be alive at all.
Tyler brought his truck to a screeching halt, not even hesitating before he was ripping off his seatbelt and hurling himself out of his seat. The second his boots hit the mud, he screamed your name as loud as he could. 
Eyes whipping around, he tried to process the scene before him. But it was hard to gauge where anything used to be– there was practically nothing left. 
“Tyler!” he heard someone scream in the distance. Head whipping to the side, he saw Lilly, waving her arms frantically. 
For a moment, Tyler let himself get his hopes up. He raced across the distance between them as fast as he could, despite all the obstacles in his way. But when he finally reached her, he was devastated to see that you weren’t there at all. Instead, Lilly was staring at a vehicle, flipped over and crunched like it’d been hit head-on by an 18-wheeler. 
And although it was damaged beyond repair, Tyler recognized it as yours immediately. 
He felt his chest tighten. “Christ–” he stammered, unable to fight back the tears burning behind his eyes. He ran his hand through his hair before hunching over, hoping the motion would allow him to finally catch his breath.
“Oh God,” he panted. “God, no– please, no–”
“She might not have been in it,” Lilly said quickly. 
But Tyler barely heard her. He was too fixated on the pounding in his ears–  
A wave of hopelessness washed over him, flooding his insides. He was too late– he couldn’t save you– he was too fucking late. 
“We’re gonna find her, T,” Boone’s voice was suddenly peaking through the fog. 
“Yeah, we won’t stop until we do,” Dani added. 
Tyler forced himself to take a few, steadying breaths. When he could, he straightened his back and glanced around. 
His whole team hadn’t given up on you. 
Neither could he. 
When you finally gained the courage to open your eyes, you were met by a fierce brightness. You coughed– lungs heaving as you struggled to breathe. 
“Gloria?” you tried to speak. “Are you okay?” 
You were met by an eerie silence– the calm after the storm. Blinking harshly a few times, you tried to gather up enough strength to sit up. But as soon as you did, you had a chance to look around… And boy, do you wish you hadn’t. 
There was nothing left– the entire town was gone… destroyed, buried in rubble and debris. 
“Gloria?” you called, groaning as you pushed the thick layer of roofing off from your legs. You grimaced once you saw the deep gash down the side of your thigh, oozing blood. 
Breath shuddering, you continued to scan the area– trying to wrack your brain for what the hell you were supposed to do next. The second you moved to turn your head, you winced, vision blurring. Slowly, you grazed along your forehead with your fingertips. When you pulled them away, you grimaced to see them coated in crimson liquid. 
You stared at it for far too long– unsure what else to do. You were hurt– probably worse than it felt, too if adrenaline had anything to say about it. You didn’t know if you could walk on your leg, or if you’d pass out the second you tried to stand up. 
You felt hopeless– completely and utterly alone. 
Until you faintly heard the sound of your name being called in the distance. 
It was enough to make you snap out of your trance, head whipping around to see Boone throwing aside a piece of siding. He called out a second time before turning and locking eyes with you from across the way. 
“Boone,” you said under your breath, like you couldn’t quite believe he was real. Because if Boone was here– calling out for you, that meant Tyler couldn’t be far behind. 
Boone yelled your name again before turning. “I found her!” he screamed, waving his arms. “Over here!” 
You fought back the guilt you felt for still not finding Gloria and moved to stand on shaky legs. 
“I’ll come back for you,” you promised her. 
Wobbly and weak, you limped towards him, trying your best not to fall in the cracks and crevices beneath the debris. You looked down, intending to watch your step, but instead you caught a glimpse of your leg and all the blood now coating your entire thigh and calf. Just the sight of it made you lose your balance. 
“Shit,” you gasped, as you landed harshly on the ground. You looked back up and saw Boone heading your way– only fifty yards or so from you. But then– right behind Boone, was a sight that made everything else melt away. 
“Tyler,” you exhaled, like it was a prayer tumbling from your lips. 
His long legs moved fast– practically running despite everything in his way. 
He’d make it to you– he’d get you. But if you got up and kept moving… he’d get there sooner. So, with whatever you had left inside of you, you pushed yourself up. Ignoring the pounding in your head and the throbbing in your leg, you limped forward. 
“Tyler,” you said again– not loud enough for anyone else to hear. It was like you just needed a reminder that really was right there. “Tyler–” this time, when his name tumbled from your lips, it came out as a sob– every emotion inside of you bubbling to the surface of your skin. Tears slipped down your cheeks, your vision blurred. 
He was so close now– you could hear the rubble shift as he stepped on it. 
He called your name… and God, if his voice wasn’t the sweetest sound you’d ever heard. 
“Tyler–” you cried again, throat choked from dust and tears. 
And then, just like that, his body was colliding with yours. Arms winding tightly around your shoulders, a familiar scent enveloping you, he cradled the back of your head with his hand, anchoring you to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his middle, face buried in his button down shirt. 
“Oh, God,” he whispered above you, lips grazing the side of your head. “I got you,” he said. 
You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came out– only a guttural, uncontrollable sob that made him hold you tighter. 
“I got you, baby. I got you,” he whispered into your hair. 
“Tyler–” was all you managed to choke out. 
His thumb trailed up and down your hair, matted with mud and your own blood. “I’m here. I’m right here. I got you.” 
He held you tight, steadying your shaky frame. It was like he was the one thing keeping you from completely falling apart. Which was why your body almost recoiled when he finally pulled away. You needed him wrapped around you like that forever. 
You tried to resist, to pull him back, but you didn’t even have the energy for that. All you could do was stand there weakly while his wild, concerned eyes scanned the length of you. 
“I’m fine–” you tried to say. 
But he shook his head instantly. “You’re not fine. You’re hurt, we gotta get you out of here. Get an ambulance!” he yelled to Boone, who was lingering nearby, looking like he didn’t quite know how to help. Boone nodded instantly before hurrying off. 
“Tyler–” 
“Okay, I see the leg– what else?” he asked. “What else hurts?”
“My head,” you whimpered. “And my ribs–” you admitted, although you hadn’t quite managed to look at those yet. “But Tyler–” 
Before you could finish, Tyler’s hand gripped the hem of your tank top, pulling it up slightly. You winced as the fabric brushed over your ribs. But when Tyler pressed a hand on the bare skin, you almost screamed out in pain. “Sorry,” he said gently. “I gotta look though, baby. I gotta check it.”
You nodded, fingers squeezing the fabric of his shirt as he did. The pain was excruciating– enough to make your already-dizzy head start to spin. 
“I think they’re broken– at least a couple. Can’t say for certain.”
“Tyler,” you tried to repeat, tears still streaming steadily down your face. 
“It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay,” he said once he saw the shift on your face. 
“It’s Gloria,” you finally spit out. “She’s out here somewhere, Tyler. We have to find her–”
Tyler’s gaze softened at your words. He pulled his eyes away from you long enough to quickly scan the scene. 
“Did you see her? Or know where she went?”
You shook your head, more tears spilling down your cheeks. “No–” you cried. “No, I don’t know where she went. Tyler, I have to find her–”
“Easy,” he soothed, winding an arm around your middle so that he could brace the majority of your weight. “You’ve lost a lot of blood. We gotta get you checked out.”
“I can’t leave her–” you protested. 
“Listen to me,” he said, voice gentle but stern. “You bleeding out on a pile of rubble isn’t going to help her, okay? Let me get you somewhere safe, Boone and Dexter can search for Gloria, alright?” 
After a moment, you nodded solemnly. “You promise?”
“I promise, baby. Now c’mon.”
Before you could protest, you felt Tyler’s arm swoop around the backs of your legs, while the other supported your back. In an instant, your feet are lifted off from the ground. You didn’t have the energy to do anything but lay your head against his chest. 
“There we go,” he soothed. “I got you.”
His thumb trailed along your back gently as he began navigating the pile of rubble around you. 
You felt safe nestled against him– and for the first time since you’d emerged from the rubble, you felt safe enough to allow your eyes to fall shut. 
“Hey, stay awake now, okay? We’re just a short walk to the ambulances– keep lookin’ at me.”
You tried– honestly you did. You opened them up, despite everything inside of you that screamed to close them. And then you fought like hell to keep them trained on Tyler– to study the lining of his jaw and the tan shade of his skin. But Tyler’s embrace was so warm, and his voice was just so soft. And you were so, so tired. There was nothing you could do when they fell shut again. 
Tyler pleaded for you, but unconsciousness got there first. 
… 
Even after the doctors assured him you’d be okay– that it was just exhaustion and blood loss from the trauma you’d endured keeping you out for so long, he couldn’t settle down. 
You looked so goddamn frail– so broken in that hospital bed. He couldn’t stand it. 
It was nearly ten at night before the rest of his team packed up to head back home, making him promise to call them as soon as you woke up. 
“We can stay if you want,” Lilly offered. There was no hint of sarcasm or malice in her tone. She was being genuine. Which was how Tyler knew he must have been an absolute mess. 
“That’s alright,” he croaked, speaking for the first time in nearly an hour. Even he could hear the pain in his voice. 
Boone clapped him on the shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Love you, man.”
“Call us if you need anything,” Dani said. 
Tyler nodded, promised he would. But the only thing he needed was for you to wake up. 
His watch read midnight when you finally stirred. 
Tyler was sitting in a chair, pulled all the way up to your bedside, and was clutching your hand with both of his. He had his forehead resting against the hospital bed, but the second he felt movement, he shot up quickly, all the exhaustion fading instantly. 
Your face contorted into a frown as you squeezed your eyes shut once, twice, three times before they fluttered open. 
Scooting forward in his chair, he studied you as you glanced around– clearly trying to take in your surroundings and place where you were. The second you started to shift– like you were sitting up in bed in a panic, he squeezed your hand. 
“Hey, you’re okay,” he said. “You’re in the hospital. You’re okay.”
Your head turned towards him, confusion and fear plastered all over your cut up, bruised face. Just the sight made his chest ache. 
“You’re safe.”
You fell back against the pillow and nodded slowly. 
“Tyler–” you began shakily, he could already hear the sob lodged in your throat. “I– I’m…”
“You’re okay, baby,” he assured you. 
“No– I’m- I’m so sorry–”
He froze, brow furrowing in confusion. “Hey, what’s this? Stop- you got nothing to be sorry for, baby.” 
“I didn’t have my phone. I didn’t hear the alert until it was too late. It was stupid– I just–” your face crumpled as you struggled to find words. “You always tell me not to forget it and I forgot it.”
“It’s okay,” he soothed. “Don’t worry about that.”
“I just– I wanted to get you a birthday cake– I should have gotten it sooner, but I forgot– and…” your voice continued to crack and break with each breath you took. “I know you don’t love birthdays, but I love your birthday–” Tyler leaned forward in his seat, releasing your hand so that he could cup your cheek. He brushed a loose strand of hair from your face before his fingers traced your jawline delicately. 
“I think your cake got destroyed.”
He couldn’t help the soft smirk that spread across his face. “I’d say that’s probably a fair assumption.”
“I’m sorry–”
“Hey,” he soothed. “Fuck birthday cakes– I didn’t want one anyway. I was thinkin’ we could get a nice pie this year. What do ya think? Blueberry? Peach cobbler?”
“But Gloria made it–” 
Suddenly, your face fell and you were back to sitting up eagerly. “Oh my God, Tyler. Gloria– she–”
“She’s safe,” Tyler interjected quickly. “Thanks to you. Boone found her not far from where you wound up, clutching to some pipes. She had a few scratches, but that was it. She said the pipes were your idea.”
A rush of pride flowed through him as he beamed at you. His girl– getting people to safety in the middle of a tornado, despite how scared you must have been. 
Your watery eyes met his, lip quivering as you tried to speak. “Tyler– I didn’t think…” he could hear the tears in your throat before you even let them out. “I didn’t think we were going to make it. God, I don’t know how we made it.”
Your voice broke on the last word, a sob escaping your lips as you doubled over. Instantly, Tyler was out of his chair and sliding into the tiny, hospital bed beside you carefully avoiding your cracked ribs and stitched up thigh. 
Without even hesitating, you curled into his side, fingers grasping as his shirt like your life depended on it. 
“Shh,” he soothed, hand rubbing up and down your arm. “You did make it. You and Gloria both. You made it because you thought on your feet– I’m so proud of you,” he hummed, pressing his lips to the side of your head. 
He had no idea if you believed him or not– no idea if his words were sinking in at all. You clutched his shirt and cried against his chest– frame shaking with each breath you took. Tyler felt so helpless in that moment. All he could do was whisper reassuring comments and words of affirmation in your ear and hold you tightly against him. 
After a while, your breathing started to return to normal. Your grip on his shirt loosened as you let out a sigh. “You came to get me,” you said quietly, voice sounding so tired– like it was moments away from drifting off. 
Tyler pressed his lips to your hair, eyes squeezing shut. “I’ll always come to get you,” he promised. 
You nodded. “I know.” 
Tyler ran his hand up and down your arm a few more times soothingly. “The laundry mat was a good idea– especially with the pipes,” he murmured into your hair. 
With what little energy you had left, you pulled away from him to glance up. With a raised eyebrow, you asked. “Does that mean I can be a tornado wrangler now?” 
He smirked playfully. “That depends, do you want to be?”
You bit your lip, like you were really thinking about it. After a moment, you scrunched your nose up. “And face one of those things nearly everyday? Not a chance.”
Tyler smiled, pulling you gently against his chest– right where you belonged. “There’s my girl,” he said lovingly. 
4K notes · View notes
incorrectbatfam · 2 months ago
Note
Can we get the event that caused the driver ejector button to be removed?
Bruce: You should've called me. You should've done ANYTHING other than—
Bruce: *keeps lecturing*
Robin!Dick: *ejects him*
———————
Bruce: How are you liking the Batmobile, chum?
Robin!Jason: It's awesome! What's this button do?
Bruce: No don't that's—
Bruce: *gets ejected*
———————
Robin!Tim: Can I change the radio station?
Bruce: Sure.
Tim: *fumbles around in the dark*
Tim: *hits eject*
*Batmobile automatically comes to a stop*
Bruce: *walks over and gets back in*
Tim: ...My bad.
———————
Robin!Steph: I'm sick of this guy.
Steph: *ejects Bruce*
———————
Bruce and Cass: *on a long drive*
Cass: I'm bored.
Cass: *hits the button*
———————
Damian: Father, may I drive the Batmobile?
Bruce: No, you're too young.
Damian: *hovers his finger over the button*
Bruce: Don't even think about it.
Damian: Tt, I was merely joking.
Bruce: Hng.
Damian:
Damian: *ejects him*
Damian: Element of surprise.
———————
Bruce: Oracle, coordinates?
Barbara: Sending them over.
Bruce: These directions will take too long. I know a shortcut.
Barbara: I'm looking at the traffic cams and you really shouldn't—
Bruce: I know what I'm doing.
Barbara: *remotely ejects him*
Barbara: Jackass.
———————
Bruce: Before you drive the Batmobile yourself, you need to familiarize yourself with the controls. That's the emergency light button, that's the Bluetooth connection, and these two are for the cupholders.
Duke: What about this big red one?
Bruce: *sighs*
Bruce: *gets ejected*
Duke: He's got to start labeling these.
———————
Bruce: Good news, everyone. We got a new Batmobile.
Alfred: What was wrong with the old one?
Bruce: *eye twitches*
3K notes · View notes
skywalkerslvt · 6 months ago
Text
Rough Ride (so rough)
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❥Pairing: RE2!Leon x AFAB!Reader
❥Summary: What happens when you have to sit on Leon's lap for a very long and bumpy car ride? Leon's pants get soaked 😍
❥CW: 18+, smut, sub!leon, dry humping, cumming in pants, overstimulation, crying kink, semi-public sex, sorta non-con at first? but both parties are consenting, 1.6k words
❥a/n: can you guys tell how much I like dry humping from the amount of times it shows up in all my fics? anyways RE2 Leon is so subby i need to make him cry so I wrote this. Also my requests are open if any of u leon sluts wanna request something 👀 Hope you guys enjoy! <3 pics are from pinterest
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Leon Kennedy was utterly fucked. Both literally and figuratively. He was approximately one hour into the grand camping trip that your shared group of friends had planned, and it was already off to a bumpy start.
It started with the excessive amount of luggage you and Claire had decided to pack. The trunk was bursting at the seams, and the backseat was already crammed with more than it could reasonably hold, leaving the driver seat, the passenger seat, and a single seat in the back free for its intended use.
With Chris driving and Claire staking her claim on the passenger seat, that left you and Leon with the single seat to share.
And when you whispered a seductive “I guess we’ll have to make do,” with a mischievous glint in your eye, Leon knew he was done for.
Before he could respond, he was shoved into the car, barely even registering that you were manoeuvring yourself into his lap, carefully trying to find a comfortable position.
At first, Leon was awkward. It wasn’t every day that the girl he had a massive crush on was situated on his lap, and especially not for a 2 hour long drive like this one. But as you leaned against him and whispered a soft “Relax,” he eventually settled in, wrapping his arms around your waist and propping his chin on your shoulder.
The first hour was fine, enjoyable even. Leon had managed to stave off a massive boner, and everyone had been happy despite the luggage situation. But issues started to arise as Chris turned the car onto a bumpy gravel path in the woods.
“We’re gonna be on this trail for about an hour and then we'll be at our camping spot. It might get a bit bumpy,” Chris muttered quietly, not wanting to wake up his sister who had dozed off against the window.
As the car drove deeper into the forest, the road became more uneven, causing you to bounce slightly in Leon’s lap. His cock started to twitch, the boner he managed to avoid coming to as all his attention was focused on that single point where your ass was softly bouncing on his cock.
Leon was flushed head to toe, his teeth worrying his lower lip as the rate of his breathing increased. His cock was now fully hard and leaking pre-cum in his boxers, and by some miracle, you hadn't noticed. Needing to feel more friction, he pushed his hips up slightly, softly grinding his hard dick against your ass, playing it off as shifting to a more comfortable position. He felt like such a pervert, getting off against your ass while you were completely oblivious, but the weight of you on top of him felt too good to stop.
He had managed not to make a sound, harshly biting down against his surely bruised lip any time he felt like moaning, but when Chris hit a particularly hard bump, causing you to bounce harshly back into his cock, he let out a barely audible whimper, right against your neck.
Leon stiffened, panicking as he was sure he got caught. You were going to realize what he had been doing, and you'd think he was a disgusting pervert, never wanting to see him again.
But as you turned your head slightly, concern etched on your features, and asked him if he was okay, Leon went lax with relief. You didn’t know.
“Y-yeah- Sorry I was just startled by the bump,” he stammered out.
You smiled softly, seemingly unaware of the turmoil raging inside him. “It's okay. These roads are pretty rough. Just hold onto me if you need to, okay?”
Leon swallowed hard, nodding. “Sure, thanks.” You leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, then turned back around and shifted your hips, moving in a more comfortable position. Leon’s hold around your waist tightened and his dick twitched at the feeling of you moving against him.
The car continued to jostle along the uneven path, each bump sending another wave of sensation through Leon’s body. He tried to focus on anything else–the trees whipping past outside, the sound of Chris humming along to the radio, the soft snores of Claire asleep in the front–but his mind kept coming back to the warmth and pressure of you against his twitching cock.
Desperate to maintain some semblance of control, Leon shifted slightly, trying to find a position that would ease his arousal. It was useless. Every movement, every slight adjustment only heightened the friction, the pressing of your body against him his own personal torture.
Minutes felt like hours as the car bumped along the trail, each jolt a reminder of the situation Leon found himself in. To make matters worse, you began shifting, unknowingly pushing your ass against his cock continuously, and Leon couldn't help himself. He just had to cum, so he began grinding against you again, timing his thrusts with your shifting.
He closed his eyes as his thrusts got sloppier, the building heat in his gut reaching its peak. He knew he couldn't hold out for much longer, and he was careless with his sounds, his heavy breathing against your neck becoming louder and louder.
Leon's body tensed, and with a muffled groan, he came, his cock twitching as he spilled into his pants. Relief washed over him, but it was short-lived as the car continued to jostle along the path, your ass still bouncing in his lap, overstimulating his already sensitive cock.
His breathing grew ragged, and tears began to well up in his eyes. He couldn't take it anymore, the friction becoming unbearable, and he bit his lip hard, trying to stifle his whimpers.
Despite the overstimulation, the continued friction of your ass bouncing against him caused his cock to twitch and harden once more, much to his confusion and frustration. The sensations were too much to handle; his body was a mess of sensitivity and arousal, and he couldn't stop the tears that began to spill down his cheeks.
Leon's mind was a haze of pleasure and pain, the overstimulation blending into a desperate need for more. His hips involuntarily thrust upward, seeking more friction, even though it was torturous. Each bounce of your ass pushed him closer to the edge again, and he couldn't understand how he could be this turned on despite having just cum.
Minutes felt like hours, and Leon's body was on the brink of collapse. The continued friction, combined with his heightened sensitivity, pushed him to the edge once more. He tried to stay silent, but soft whimpers escaped his lips, tears streaming down his face as he clung to you, desperate and needy.
Just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, you turned your head slightly, a smirk playing on your lips.
The realization hit him like a freight train—you knew. You had known all along. Your smirk widened as you watched him, your eyes dark with arousal.
You leaned in, your breath hot against his ear as you whispered, "You've been such a good boy, Leon."
Leon's breath hitched, his body trembling as your words sent a jolt of pleasure straight to his cock. He was overwhelmed, his senses on overdrive as you licked the tears from his face, your tongue tracing a path along his cheek.
Without warning, you began grinding against him, your hips moving in slow, deliberate circles. The friction was maddening, sending shockwaves of pleasure through his overstimulated cock. Leon's hands tightened around your waist, his nails digging into your skin as he fought to hold on.
"You like this, don't you?" you murmured, your voice dripping with teasing amusement. "Getting hard again so soon after cumming. Such a needy boy."
Leon could only nod, his voice failing him as you continued to grind against him, each movement sending him spiraling further into a state of desperate arousal. He was completely at your mercy, and he loved every second of it.
Your pace quickened, and Leon's breath came in short, ragged gasps. Each grind of your hips sent jolts of pleasure through his overstimulated body, and he clung to you as if you were his lifeline. His tears mingled with sweat, his entire world narrowing down to the intoxicating friction and your teasing whispers in his ear.
With a final, deliberate roll of your hips, you sent him over the edge again. Leon's body convulsed, his cries muffled against your shoulder as he came for the second time, his cock throbbing and spilling more cum into his already-soaked pants. His tears of overstimulation turned to tears of overwhelming pleasure, his entire being consumed by the raw, intense sensations. You held him tightly, a satisfied smirk on your lips as you licked away his tears, savoring the sweet taste of his submission.
As the last waves of his orgasm subsided, you continued to move gently, coaxing every last bit of pleasure from his exhausted body.
Leaning in close, you kissed him tenderly, a silent promise of many more games to come. In that moment, Leon knew he was utterly and completely yours, and he wouldn't have it any other way.
When they finally pulled up to the cabin, Chris hadn't even fully parked before Leon threw you off his lap and bolted for the door. His face was a deep shade of crimson, and he mumbled a halfhearted excuse about needing to use the washroom, doing his best to conceal the completely soaked front of his pants. As he disappeared inside, you couldn't help but laugh softly, the image of his flustered expression etched in your mind. You exchanged a knowing glance with Claire, who raised an eyebrow in silent question. Smiling innocently, you shrugged, already anticipating the next opportunity to tease Leon further.
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