#have enough energy to celebrate with y’all

[dolcecherub]

Don’t Cha ༊*·˚

❥ pairing: oscar piastri x female reader

❥ tags: op81, drunk!reader a little, pining and heartbreak, happy ending, angst, some other stuff lol

❥ yap: had a burst of energy and wrote this in a few hours, based on this lovely request here!! hope it’s as good as you hoped anon, and I hope y’all enjoy <3

❥ word count: 2.5k

The bar is dimly lit, the lights low and warm, filtering through cheap string bulbs, fluorescent neon lights and half-sipped cocktails. Bodies moulding against each other to the bass you felt thrumming through your chest.

It’s the kind of place that you go to pretend, escape if you will.

It had been a long weekend, the Miami Grand Prix having been exciting yet tiring for you and the rest of the McLaren team. A few people from engineering and the PR team decided it was worth the celebration, and who were you to decline?

And so you found yourself tucked into a little, off-the-curb bar in Miami, swaying your hips to the sound of a strong bass and some bad karaoke. Your cheeks flushed with heat, and the alcohol coursing through you. A velvet dress clung to your body, makeup light to avoid sweating it off in the Miami heat, and a cute pair of black heels. You told yourself you dressed up simply for your own pleasure. Your mind catches the lie as he walks in. 

You pretend not to notice him.

You’re far enough away to pretend you don’t see them.

Pretend not to acknowledge the way your chest tightens seeing his arm around her. Your hand grips your glass tightly as his eyes catch yours, dark and curious.

You feel your body flush at his gaze. You didn’t expect him to show up, but you suppose Lando told him about the group’s plans. You tell yourself it’s always about the group.

You see Lando walk up to him, hand on his back, greeting him as they chat. Taking a final sip of your drink, you place it on the bar counter before rejoining some of the girls, pushing Oscar away from the forefront of your mind, unsuccessfully.

Your eyes can’t help but wander back to him as you dance, his arm around her shoulder bringing her closer as he places a kiss on the crown of her head, your heart clenching.

She’s always there, always. The girlfriend he always brings to race weekend, who doesn’t know tyre strategy or how he gets quiet and fidgety before qualifying. The one who barely smiles for him and rather only for the cameras.

It’s torture watching them.

It’s as if he knows you’re watching him, maybe he does, perhaps that’s why he refuses to look at you now.

You pretend it doesn’t hurt.

You feel a hand grab your arm, pulling you closer to the karaoke area, one of the girls, Ella, dragging you away.

“Come on,” your friend hisses, half-drunk and fearless, holding the karaoke list in one hand like it’s a challenge. “You have to sing,” she pleads, “One song, you know, the song.” She yells over the noise of the club.

Your eyes flick back to Oscar. You shake your head, “Not tonight.” She follows your eyes, pinpointing the exact shift in your mood, and she rolls her eyes.

“Oh, don’t be boring, just do the song.” She drags, pushing you forward as she gets up to talk to the DJ manning the karaoke station. “The Pussycat Dolls one,” she says, eyes sparkling with malice. “You know, the one that makes men cry and women rage.”

Your smile is bitter, “Subtle.” You laugh sarcastically.

“And that’s what makes it perfect!” Ella giggles.

You glance back at Oscar. He’s nursing a drink as his girl chats to another, skillfully ignoring him aside from the physical contact.

Something snaps in you. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the sweet ache in your chest that never goes away when you’re near him. Maybe it’s the fact that he looks miserable, that even with her beside him, he looks utterly alone. Maybe it’s the sheer, desperate desire to make him feel something, anything directed at you.

You scrawl down your name on the paper, the pen scratching aggressively against the cheap paper as Ella cheers triumphantly.

“You’re evil,” You mutter lovingly, a subtle smile on your face.

“I try my best,” she grins. “Now make him suffer.”

When the host calls your name, you slide onto the stage like a secret. Your velvet dress clings to your body viciously, leaving nothing to the imagination as a few boys holler at you.

The music starts before you’re fully ready, but then again, you’ve been ready for months. The opening beats slink through the bar like smoke. It’s sultry and confident, everything you claim to feel on the outside, a thin veneer over the raw, exposed nerve beneath.

A few heads turn, some hollering at the song choice, and others focusing on you. His head turns, eyes locking with yours as you sing through the first verse, body swaying to the beat, hands roaming your body as you put on a show.

Oscar freezes, utterly and completely dumbfounded. The blankness in his eyes is replaced by a sudden, intense focus that pins you to the spot.

♪I know you like me (I know you like me)♪

♪I know you do (I know you do)♪

♪That’s why whenever I come around, she’s all over you♪

You bite out the lyrics, eyes still stuck on him as he licks his lips. You sing it like the truth, audience blurring around him, his arm loosening from around her shoulder.

♪And I know you want it (I know you want it)♪

♪It’s easy to see (It’s easy to see)♪

♪And in the back of your mind, I know you should be fuckin’ with me♪

The lyrics purr through the speakers, thick with implication, his jaw ticking. The words hanging in the air, undeniable, a public accusation.

♪Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me♪

♪Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like?

You sing it with purpose, a fake smile plastered on your face as you perform, only for him. Every word is deliberate, he looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

♪Don’t cha? Don’t cha, baby♪

♪Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me?♪

♪Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me?♪

You hear Ella sing alongside you, eyes still locked on Oscar. His arm drops from her shoulder, his girlfriend finally noticing, nudging him lightly.

♪Fight the feeling (fight the feeling)♪

♪Leave it alone (Leave it alone)♪

♪‘Cause if it ain’t love, It just ain’t enough to leave a happy home (uh-uh, uh-uh)♪

You watch her lean in to say something to him, lips close to his ears, trying to grasp his attention. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t hear her. Because you’re still singing, and he’s watching. His mind aches to look away, and somehow he can’t, his gaze locked on yours with a mixture of shock, recognition, and something raw and painful.

♪Let’s keep it friendly (Let’s keep it friendly)♪

♪You have to play fair (you have to play fair, yeah)♪

♪See I don’t care but I know she ain’t gonna wanna share (Ah, ah-ah)♪

The words are claws, real and cruel. Only because they’re true. It’s not just a song anymore.

It’s a declaration.

You see the tension in his jaw as she looks at him, confused, then irritated. You keep going, disregarding her actions as you sway, a few hollers coming from the dance floor.

♪…I’d probably be just as crazy about you if you were my own man♪

The lyric bites with truth, your voice dipping lower as you finish off the last chorus.

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me? (Oh)

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me? (Like me)

Don't cha? Don't cha, baby? Don't cha?

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me? (Raw)

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me? (Big fun)

Don't cha? (Ah-ah-ah), don't cha?

The final lyric lingers like a question in the air between you.

By the time you finish, the bar erupts. Whistles and applause, you see Ella cheering you and Lando cupping his mouth as he yells out encouragingly. Some guy at the front was shouting something, drunk and appreciative. You finish with a defiant smile, the mic stand your only support as your heart hammers a frantic rhythm against your ribs.

You slink off the small stage, heart pounding. But your eyes are still on him, and his are burning. With what, you don’t know. Anger? Guilt? Desire? Maybe all of it. You yell to Ella that you’re stepping out for air.

You’re outside before he can reach you.

The air bites at your skin, a slight breeze nipping at you, a sharp contrast to the smoky warmth of the club, your pulse still racing from the performance. You needed space, just a breather alone, you think, running a haphazard hand through your hair.

You barely get two minutes of it before you hear footsteps; you know they’re his.

Oscar finds you, your head whipping around to see him walking towards you, quick and purposeful. He stops a few feet away, hand tousling his hair before he crosses them.

“That was a hell of a choice,” he says, voice low and rough. It’s not an accusation, but it sure as hell isn’t praise either.

You turn completely towards him, the biting air making your eyes water slightly. “It’s just a song, didn’t think you’d really notice.” You snap.

He scoffs, bitter as he rolls his eyes, a sour smirk crossing his face. “Hard not to, you were singing it at me.”

“Maybe I was,” you say aggressively. “Maybe I’m tired of pretending like I understand what’s happening.” You admit, arms wrapping around yourself subconsciously.

He runs a hand through his hair, letting out a sigh. “What is happening, then?”

You stare at him, your chest aching to get closer. His eyes are locked onto yours, glassy and dark, his expression grim. “You tell me, Oscar. You’re the one who calls me when you’re upset or you’ve crashed. The one who finds me in a crowd, like I’m the only place you recognize. The one who looks at me like you’re drowning and I’m your last breath of air. And yet you’re still with her.” You spit, emotions wracking you as you admit your confusion,

He flinches. It’s subtle, but you notice. You always notice.

“I didn’t mean to drag you into this,” he says, breath catching. You shake your head at his misunderstanding.

“You didn’t drag me into anything, I ran to you. Every single time, I picked up when you called, let you talk to me like she wasn’t right there. I ran straight into it because it was you. It’s always been you.” You confess, voice breaking near the end as you look away.

Silence.

The air between you is thick, suffocating with unspoken words. You continue, “But you’re not mine to want, are you?” It’s a statement, not a question.

He grabs your wrist, pulling your arms away from your body as he steps closer. His fingers are warm against your skin, your heart pounding in your chest as warmth radiates off of him in the breeze.

“She doesn’t get it,” he says hoarsely. His voice is low and strained. “She never did,” He clarifies, his grip tightening. “She doesn’t understand. Racing. You. Me-”

“Don’t,” you whisper, interrupting him, heart cracking at his words. The words are a plea. “Don’t say it unless you’re going to do something about it.” Your chest rises and falls fast as you lightly gasp for air.

A beat. Then another. “Why are you still with her?” You ask quietly, as if the question will break him. He swallows, a shift in his eyes, the way something finally breaks.

“I’m not, I ended it,” He says quickly, voice shaking. The words are almost lost in the breeze, but you hear them perfectly. “Just now, after your song. She stormed out.” He spoke quietly.

Your breath catches. You stare at him, stunned. “You what?” You asked breathlessly, needing the confirmation again.

“I should’ve done it months ago,” He confesses, his voice stronger now, relief washing over him. “But I kept lying to myself. Telling myself it was easier. That I wasn’t already in love with someone else.”

Your heart trips, a frantic drum in your chest as his words settle in. “Say it again,” You plead, heart aching to hear the words, the confirmation that this isn’t just some sick joke.

He steps closer confidently, the streetlights casting a shadow across his face, emphasizing his features in a way that makes your head spin. “I’m in love with you.” He says, clear as day, as if no wind were strong enough to carry those words away from you.

“Every time I see you, I try not to. I try to pretend like you’re not all I think about. Every time she said something that didn’t fit, I thought about what you might say. All I wanted was you.” He admitted, his eyes running over your face, trying to understand you without words.

Your chest aches with how much you’ve wanted this, how long you’ve imagined those words.

Still, of course, you’d make him earn it.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You whisper, moving slightly closer to him, craving to be close.

“Because I’m an idiot,” He chuckles dryly, “I didn’t know what I was doing, I didn’t know how to. I know I was unfair, and I-I’m not asking you to forgive me right away, I just need you to know. I need you to believe that it’s always been you.” His voice filled with urgency.

A second passes, and everything is still. No music, no crowd, no noise, just the two of you and everything that was never said.

Then you move, surging forward and grabbing the collar of his shirt with both hands as you pull him down, lips crashing into his. It’s messy and careless, months of restraint snapping in half.

He kisses you feverishly, like he’s making up for lost time. His kiss is desperate and unsteady, lips and breath, tongue sliding over your bottom lip as his hands find their way to your waist. He holds you tightly as if you’ll disappear if he doesn’t. You stand up a little on your toes, trying to get more of him as he pulls you closer.

He nips your bottom lip, making you gasp at the teasing, allowing his tongue to slip in and brush against your own, tangling messily as you whine. You break apart only when the air runs out, foreheads pressed together, your breaths tangled.

His lips are glossy, a string of saliva momentarily connecting your lips before it breaks. His cheeks are flushed, eyes dark and focused on you. You’re certain you look similar.

“I’ve been waiting to hear you say that, been waiting for you to realize that I was always right here. I love you.” You say breathlessly, the tiniest smile breaking through the emotions. His shoulders sag with relief, eyes brightening at your smile, as if it lifted any weight left on his shoulders.

“I’m not saying it just once,” he murmurs, closing his eyes. “I’ll say it every fucking day if you let me.” He promises, placing a soft kiss on your lips. 

And in that moment, tangled up with Oscar in your own little world stripped down to nothing but the truth, you think that maybe, just maybe, you will.

*·˚

[clairerosetarot]

PICK A PIC: Your Future Spouses Favorite Part/Feature of You 18+ 💦

Hey guysss this was the most requested reading in my inbox, so here y’all go! :)) Also I forgot to add the cards I pulled and I forgot what they were after writing lmao pls bear wit me y’all. Anyways remember if it doesn’t apply let it fly 🪽 as this is a general and not personal reading.

Pile 1 🍒 Your future spouse is drawn to your confident and radiant energy! They love the way you carry yourself—there's something magnetic about your presence. The card reveals that they adore your sensuality and the way you move with grace. 💃💫 It’s your inner charm and the way you make them feel alive that is irresistible. They’ll always be enchanted by your vibe. Maybe you aren’t like this ow but trust- you will be when you become their wife🫣😂 ���

You have what i’m hearing is like a celebrity vibe, and they can’t believe you- their so called celebrity crush😂 is giving them all this attention. When they imagine you, they can’t help but picture the feeling of your body against theirs—your hips swaying with confidence as you move towards them, the delicate touch of your fingertips tracing over their skin. ( they also love to watch you ride🎠🐎🤭) Every move you make, every flick of your hair, only adds to the overwhelming pull they feel. They love how every glance from you makes them feel like they’re the only one in the room, and they can’t stop thinking about the chemistry between you two. There’s no denying it: your presence is magnetic, and they can’t get enough of how effortlessly you captivate them. The way you make them feel so alive with just your presence leaves them hungering for more, always ready to experience the electric connection between you two, again and again. 💋🔥

Pile 2 🍉 In this pile, the card hints that your future spouse is captivated by your playful spirit. They love your smile and the way you laugh, which lights up any room. 😏😊 It's the little moments, like the twinkle in your eyes or the way you tease them with a wink. Your playful energy is something they find truly irresistible, keeping them coming back for more.

Your future spouse is absolutely entranced by the playful, yet deeply seductive energy you bring. There’s something about the way you smile, the way your lips curl into that flirty expression, that sends a rush of desire through them. 🤤 It’s not just your physical beauty that they adore, but the way you tease them with your playful energy, making every moment feel charged with sexual tension. I’m getting that this pile’s dynamic is very grumpy x sunshine were they are more stoic and reserved and you are this lovely ball of of sunshine awww. 🌈🥰 Your smile, your laugh, the way you make everything feel lighthearted and fun, drives them wild because they know there’s a much deeper, more passionate side to you that they can’t wait to experience. It’s almost like you’re a puzzle to them—beautiful, mysterious, and always keeping them wanting more. The way you catch their eye and hold that gaze, that slight smirk on your face, it’s like you’re daring them to take things further. And they just might take the bait everytime 🤭.

Pile 3 🍓 Here, the cards show they’re entranced by your touch. Whether it’s a soft caress or a lingering hand, your future spouse loves how you make them feel with even the smallest physical gestures. 🫶💋 They can’t get enough of your affection and feel completely connected when you touch them. It’s a bond that feels intimate, electric, and oh so sensual.

You trace along their body, exploring, teasing, and sending their senses into overdrive, leaves them yearning for more. They love the warmth of your skin against theirs, the way your bodies connect and create sparks with every touch. The intensity of your touch speaks volumes to them, making them feel things they’ve never felt before, as if you’re unlocking a new layer of desire that they didn’t even know existed. The simple act of your hands on their body drives them wild, and they can’t wait to feel that connection every time you’re close. They fantasize about feeling you trace your hands over them, each touch sending shivers down their spine and igniting a passion that only you can stir. Your touch makes them feel like they belong to you, that the bond between you two is deeper and more intimate than anything they’ve ever known. ❤️‍🔥🥺

They think about how your touch makes them feel so alive, how you can communicate everything without saying a word. Your hands on their body have the power to make them feel things they’ve never felt before, and they can’t wait to be touched by you again. They love the way you know just how to touch them, whether it’s with a light, teasing caress or a more possessive grip that leaves them breathless. Your touch brings them closer to you, and with every moment, they crave the feeling of your hands all over them, and theirs all over you. P.S. I’m also getting that they love your hair, maybe you have a lot, and it’s really curly and big or you just take good care of it with a luxurious routine, whatever it is - its got them hooked. 😂

Pile 4 🍰 In this pile, the cards reveals your future spouse’s deep admiration for your lips. They’re completely entranced by the way your lips move when you speak or smile, and they often find themselves daydreaming about your kisses. 😘💋 Whether it’s a gentle peck or a passionate embrace, or even more 😏 your lips are their favorite feature—an irresistible invitation they can’t resist.

Your future spouse is utterly captivated by your lips. There’s something so magnetic about the way your lips move, the way they curve into that smile or part slightly when you speak. Every time they look at your lips, they feel an overwhelming urge to kiss you, to feel the softness of your lips against theirs. They fantasize about your kisses—how they start slow and tender, exploring, before escalating into something deeper, more urgent. I’m also getting that after a long day at work all they can think about is you using those lips to get them off🫣🍭. The feeling of your lips on theirs is something they can’t get enough of, each kiss sending waves of desire through their entire body. Can somebody say oral fixation?!?! LOL.

[holyblonded]

new beginnings | something blue

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, olga rios x teen!reader

summary: your whole life is uprooted after one fall

warnings: deadbeat and neglectful parents, arguments

notes: new series!! i am actually very excited for this one so hope y’all like it. also this is a longer one!!

You pant as the stadium lights blaze down on you, illuminating the slick, rain-soaked pitch. Your lungs burn, your legs ache, but you don’t stop moving— you can’t.

The air is thick with the scent of wet grass and sweat, and the roar of the student section vibrates through your chest, deafening, chaotic. You hear the distant pounding of the drumline, the frantic voices of your coach and teammates shouting instructions, but it all blurs together. White noise.

The scoreboard looms above, flashing 1-1, with the clock winding down. Your heart hammers against your ribs. If the streak ends here, you will never forgive yourself.

A messy clearance sends the ball bouncing, fast, unpredictable, through the center of the pitch. It ricochets off a defender’s shin and lands in your path, a gift wrapped in chaos.

For a split second, everything slows. The world shrinks to you, the ball, and the goal. You barely think. You don’t have time to. Instinct takes over.

With one touch, you push it forward, just enough to create space. A defender lunges in, too late. You see the keeper off their line—hesitating, shifting their weight, waiting for a pass that isn’t coming.

You pull back your leg and strike. The ball rockets off your foot, slicing through the air like a missile. You know it’s good the moment you hit it. The sound— that perfect, crisp contact rings in your ears.

The crowd collectively gasps. It climbs, spinning, curving then dipping, impossibly fast. The keeper scrambles, their hands stretching, but it’s a second too late.

The net ripples and for a second, there’s nothing. Silence. A breath held by thousands.

The stadium erupts. Your name is swallowed by the cheers, by the stomping of feet, by the chaos of bodies surging toward you. Your teammates crash into you, arms around your shoulders, voices wild in your ears. Someone grabs your face, shaking you, yelling words you can’t even process.

The scoreboard flashes 2-1. The final whistle blows. You did it. The streak lives as does your pride.

After the game, the celebration carries into the locker room, shouting, laughter, the slamming of lockers, the sharp scent of sweat and victory. You let yourself bask in it, let yourself feel it. The thrill, the relief, the high of it all.

By the time you step outside, your friends are waiting for you, still buzzing with excitement.

“That was insane!”

“Goal of the season, easy.”

“You’re a legend.”

They throw their arms around you, ruffling your damp hair, laughing, their eyes alight with pride. You try to brush it off, but their energy is contagious.

For a moment, everything is good. Eventually, one by one, they leave, disappearing into the night. The celebration fades. The stadium empties. The high starts to wear off.

And like always, you do what you’ve done after every game.

You take a slow walk along the stands, scanning the seats. Searching. Hoping.

The lights above hum, buzzing faintly in the quiet. The student section is empty now, just rows of vacant bleachers, puddles reflecting the glow of the floodlights. Your gaze drifts over every seat, your breath shallow. Maybe this time.

But the stands are empty. No familiar faces. No one waiting for you. Just like always.

You exhale, pressing your lips together. You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. You won. That should be enough. But the ache in your chest says otherwise.

The sun is dipping lower in the sky, staining the clouds gold and pink as practice stretches into the evening. The scrimmage has turned playful, full of taunts and laughter, the kind of session where the intensity is still there but the pressure isn’t crushing. It’s just fun… until it isn’t.

You’re dribbling down the pitch, slipping past defenders with ease, the ball glued to your foot. Someone shouts your name in warning, but it’s too late. A tackle comes in hard, way too aggressive for practice. There’s no time to react, no time to brace yourself.

You go down, and the impact rattles through your body, but the second you hit the ground, you know something is wrong. Pain explodes up your arm, sharp and immediate, radiating from your wrist.

You don’t scream, but you let out a harsh, shaky breath, cradling your wrist to your chest as you try to push yourself up only to be met with a wave of nausea as pain tears through your arm again.

“Shit, Azulita—”

“Is she okay?”

“Someone get the trainer!”

Voices swarm around you, overlapping, frantic. The player who tackled you hovers nearby, looking guilty as hell.

Your coach is there in an instant, crouching beside you. “Where’s the pain?”

You try to shrug it off, but even moving your shoulder makes your wrist throb. “Wrist.” Your voice comes out strained.

Someone helps you up carefully, supporting your arm as they guide you toward the sideline. The trainer takes one look and mutters, “We need to get her to the hospital.”

“No,” you fiercely shake your head, “No hospital please.”

“Ríos do not give me that bull today.” Your coach says in rebuttal. “You are going to the hospital. That is that. Am I clear?”

Your eyes start to water but the tears never fall. “Yes, Coach.”

The ride to the hospital is a blur of pain, muted voices, and the occasional bump in the road that makes you wince. Your teammates on the phone try to keep the mood light, cracking jokes, promising to cover your cast in the ugliest drawings possible.

But underneath it all, a weight is pressing down on you.

Hospitals mean paperwork. Paperwork means parents.

You barely process the check-in, the way the nurses poke and prod at your wrist, asking questions, nodding at your answers until suddenly, everything halts.

“Alright,” one of the nurses says, flipping through the forms, “we just need to get a hold of your parents for consent.”

Your stomach drops. They dial the number you gave them. You already know what’s coming. The phone rings. And rings. And rings. Voicemail.

Frowning, the nurse glances up. “Do you have another guardian? A relative we can contact?”

You shake your head, quickly, instinctively, throat tight.

She tries again. Nothing.

“Sweetheart,” she says, softer now, “we can’t give you anything for the pain, and we can’t proceed until we get parental consent.”

The room closes in. Your teammates shift awkwardly, not sure what to say. The nurses murmur to each other. You stare at the floor, fingers tightening around the hem of your jersey, afraid to move, afraid to speak.

You could lie. Say they’re out of town. Say their phones died. Say something, anything. But the truth is pressing against your ribs, clawing up your throat. You don’t know where your parents are.

The minutes stretch long. Nurses come and go, but you refuse to meet their eyes, refuse to say anything. If they figure it out, if they realize you don’t have anyone, what happens next?

Then, a new nurse kneels beside you. She doesn’t push. Doesn’t demand answers. She just speaks, voice steady, familiar in a way you can’t place at first.

“You remind me of my little sister,” she says casually, watching you carefully.

You glance at her. The way she talks, the tone, the firmness, the care, it reminds you of Olga. Your throat tightens.

You don’t mean to say it. You don’t even realize the words are leaving your mouth until they’re already out, quiet and unsteady. “I haven’t seen or heard from my parents in months.”

The air shifts. The nurse straightens. Someone steps out of the room. The mood changes instantly. Your heart pounds. You shouldn’t have said anything. Now, everything is about to spiral.

Olga groaned as the sharp buzzing of her phone cut through the quiet of the bedroom. She shifted slightly, trying to ignore it, but the vibration continued, insistent.

Alexia, half-asleep, only tightened her arms around Olga’s waist, murmuring something incoherent against her shoulder.

Olga exhaled, debating ignoring the call altogether, but something about it felt urgent. Carefully, she pried Alexia’s arm away just enough to reach for the phone on the nightstand, squinting at the unfamiliar number flashing across the screen.

Her stomach twisted. Calls in the middle of the night were never good.

Reluctantly, she swiped to answer. “Hello?”

A brief pause. Then, a voice, calm, professional, but carrying a weight that immediately set Olga on edge.

“Is this Olga Ríos?”

“Yes.” She sat up slightly, rubbing at her face. “Who is this?”

“My name is Linda Perez, and I’m a social worker with Los Angeles County.”

Olga frowned, now fully awake. “Okay… what is this about?”

There was another pause, this one heavier.

“It’s about your sister.”

Olga went still.

“She suffered an injury earlier this evening during soccer practice at Willow Canyon Academy. She was taken to the hospital, but they were unable to reach either of her parents for consent to treat her injury. After further investigation, it became clear that your sister has been living without proper parental supervision for several months now.”

Olga’s breath caught in her throat. “Wait—what?”

The social worker continued, voice measured, but Olga could hear the underlying concern. “From what we’ve gathered, neither her father nor mother have been home for quite some time. Their numbers are disconnected or going straight to voicemail. She has no legal guardian available to authorize medical care or provide support.”

Olga felt like the room was tilting. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to process. “You’re telling me she’s been on her own?”

“Yes,” Linda confirmed. “And given the circumstances, her parents are now considered unfit. Without an immediate guardian stepping in, she will be placed into the system as a ward of the state.”

Olga’s stomach dropped. “She’s just a kid,” she said, voice tight, gripping the phone harder. “You can’t—”

“That’s why we’re calling you.” Linda’s tone softened. “You are her closest living relative. If you are willing, you can assume temporary guardianship. However, this is a serious commitment. You would need to take responsibility for her well-being, provide a stable home, and ensure she receives proper care.”

Olga didn’t even hesitate. “I’ll take her.”

Alexia, now sitting up beside her, stiffened at the urgency in her voice. Olga barely noticed, too focused on the conversation.

“Are you sure?” Linda asked. “This isn’t a decision to make lightly.”

“She’s my sister.” Olga was already kicking the sheets off, reaching for the nearest hoodie. “I’ll be on the next flight out.”

“Understood.” Linda hesitated. “Before you go— her injury. It’s her wrist. The doctors believe it’s sprained, possibly fractured. She needs surgery, but without parental consent, they can’t proceed.”

Olga clenched her jaw. “I give consent. Do whatever she needs.”

“I’ll let them know.”

The call ended, but Olga was already moving.

She threw open the closet, yanking out clothes, stuffing them into a suitcase with no real sense of order. Her hands were shaking. How did this happen? How did she not know?

Alexia grabbed her wrist, stopping her frantic movements. “Olga.”

“I should’ve known.” Olga shook her head, running a hand down her face. “She never said anything. I talked to her. I checked in. She never once told me she was—” Her voice caught.

Alexia squeezed her wrist. “You didn’t know.”

“I should have,” Olga snapped, then immediately winced at her own tone. She inhaled sharply. “She’s just a kid, Ale. She’s been alone for months. No parents, no one looking after her and I didn’t know. I should have known! Our dad has always been like this.”

Guilt burned in her chest. She thought back to every conversation, every time she’d asked, How are you? and got a casual, I’m fine in response.

Alexia’s grip on her tightened. “You are a good sister,” she said firmly. “You care. You’re doing the right thing now.”

Olga exhaled shakily, nodding. Alexia let go, only to start folding the clothes Olga had thrown into the suitcase.

“I’ll help you pack,” Alexia said.

Olga blinked. “You don’t have to—”

“I’m coming.”

“You don’t—”

Alexia shot her a look. “Olga.”

Olga swallowed. The tension in her shoulders loosened slightly.

“Okay,” she murmured.

Alexia nodded, zipping up her own bag. “Then let’s go get your sister.”

The last time you saw Olga in person, you were twelve years old. She had come to visit for a month, and for the first time, you felt like you had a real family member, someone who truly cared, someone who loved you. You clung to every moment, every second of that summer, storing them away like treasures, hoping they would last.

Now, sitting in your social worker’s office, your leg bounces a mile a minute. Your fingers dig into the sleeves of your hoodie as you try to steady yourself, but your mind is racing. What if this doesn’t work out? What if she doesn’t want you? What if she sees you now and regrets coming?

The door swings open and Olga barely hesitates before crossing the room in quick strides. The moment she reaches you, her arms wrap around you tightly, pulling you in like she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go. You tense for half a second then melt into the embrace.

She smells the same, like citrus and something faintly floral. You squeeze your eyes shut, pressing your face into her shoulder, and for the first time in months, you feel something close to safe.

She pulls back, hands still gripping your shoulders, and really looks at you. Her eyes widen slightly as she takes you in.

“You’re so—” Her voice catches, and she shakes her head. “Dios, has crecido tanto.” (God, you have grown so much.)

And you have. You’re nearly the same height as her now— maybe even taller. Your hair is longer, the tips dyed blonde. There are more piercings in your ears, and a small gold hoop gleams from your nose. Olga swallows hard. Her eyes are glassy, but she blinks quickly, shaking off the emotion.

Behind her, Alexia is speaking in low tones with your social worker, nodding as she listens. The woman slides a stack of paperwork across the desk, and Alexia flips through it, occasionally handing something to Olga to sign. It all feels so surreal.

Before you know it, you’re walking out of the office, bags in hand, stepping into the cool evening air. Alexia unlocks the car, sliding into the driver’s seat, while you and Olga settle in the back.

The drive is quiet.

You stare out the window, arms crossed, fingers tapping against your knee. The weight of everything sits heavy in your chest. Olga is here. You’re leaving your home, your LA. It’s happening so fast, and you don’t know how to process it.

Olga shifts beside you, then clears her throat.

“So…” she starts, trying to keep her tone light. “How’s school?”

“Fine.”

“Any favorite classes?”

A shrug. “Spanish.”

She exhales through her nose, tilting her head slightly. “Okay… uh, football? Are you still playing with Legends?”

You nod, still staring out the window. “Well, not anymore.”

Olga rubs her hands against her jeans, glancing at Alexia in the rearview mirror. Alexia gives her a small look that says, Give her time.

But patience has never been Olga’s strong suit. “Zulita,” she tries again. “I know this is a lot, but—“

“I didn’t ask you to come.”

It comes out sharp. Too sharp. You see Olga’s jaw tighten slightly.

“You needed someone to come,” she says, voice edged with frustration.

“I was doing fine.”

“Fine?” Olga scoffs. “Zulita, you were in the hospital alone. You had no one looking after you.”

“I was handling it.”

“No, you weren’t!” Her voice rises slightly, exasperation creeping in. “You’re fifteen! You shouldn’t have to handle it!”

The words hit something raw inside you. The frustration, the helplessness, the months of being on your own, of convincing yourself you were fine—it all bubbles up too fast.

“Well, I did!” you snap. “Because I didn’t have a choice! Because no one else was there!”

The car goes silent. Olga stares at you, her expression shifting from anger to something softer. Something sad. And then, she remembers.

She remembers the way you used to be as a kid— how you would lash out when things got too overwhelming, how your emotions always felt too big for your body, how you would snap and yell because it was the only way you knew how to feel heard.

She exhales, rubbing a hand over her face. “I’m sorry,” she says, voice quieter. “I didn’t mean to yell.”

You glare out the window, arms still crossed, but the anger is already fading into something closer to exhaustion.

You shift uncomfortably. “…Yeah. Me too.”

She huffs a small laugh, shaking her head. “You’re still so hot-headed, Zulita.”

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye, lips twitching just slightly. “Takes one to know one.”

Olga snorts, nudging your knee with hers.

Alexia just smiles from the front seat, shaking her head as she drives.

Spain doesn’t feel like home. You only vaguely remember it— small flashes from the two times your dad brought you to visit Olga. The streets, the language, the way the air smelled different. But those were just trips. You were always going back to LA. Now, you’re here. Permanently. And you hate it.

The Spanish is different. The people are different. The food is different. Everything is different.

Your emotions are a tangled mess, a constant weight in your chest that you can’t shake. You don’t know how to deal with it, don’t know how to explain it, and the one thing that’s always helped, football, has been ripped away from you. You haven’t played since you landed a week ago.

Olga is smothering you. She means well, but it’s too much. She hovers, questions everything, watches your every move like you’re some fragile thing that might shatter at any second.

Alexia is different. She gives you space. She doesn’t treat you like a kid. She sees you not just some troubled teenager Olga suddenly has to take care of, but a person trying to survive in a world that doesn’t feel like theirs. She doesn’t push, just waits.

But none of that stops everything from boiling over.

You never meant to revert to your old ways. The one good thing about Spain was the fact that you had a chance at a fresh start.

But, as you’re sitting at lunch, music blasting in your headphones, trying to block everything out. Trying to breathe, you see it.

A younger kid, probably first-year, backed against a wall, shoulders hunched, eyes darting around like a trapped animal. A taller guy standing in front of him, sneering, shoving his shoulder. Words are exchanged, but you can’t hear them.

What you can see is the way the younger boy’s hands shake, the way he flinches when the older one steps closer.

And suddenly, your body moves before your brain does.

You’re up. Across the cafeteria. Pulling the guy away from the kid.

“What the fuck is your problem?” you snap.

The older guy sneers at you. “Who the hell are you, weirdo?”

You don’t think. You react. Shoving. Yelling. Someone grabs your arm, but you shake them off. A fist swings, and suddenly, you’re in it.

Then there are teachers. Hands pulling you back. Your heart pounding.

Before you even register what happened, you’re sitting in the principal’s office, hands balled into fists, jaw locked.

The secretary dials a number. You hear them say Olga’s name.

You shut your eyes and brace yourself. The car ride home is brutal.

“What the hell were you thinking? Do you know how serious this is? You just got here, and you’re already getting into fights? You’re lucky they didn’t expel you! Dios mío, do you know how hard it was to convince them not to suspend you? This is a top school, Azulita!”

You don’t answer. You stare out the window, jaw clenched, fingers digging into your uniform. You take a deep breath and bite your tongue.

Alexia is quiet for the most part, watching you through the rearview mirror.

Then she asks, voice calm, “Did they provoke you?”

You glance at her, hesitating. “…Yeah.”

“Were they hurting someone?”

Your throat tightens, but you nod.

Alexia hums but doesn’t say anything else.

Olga, on the other hand, is still going. Your breaths get more labored, “Olga. Please drop it for now.”

When you pull into the driveway, you don’t wait. You’re out of the car before it fully stops, slamming the door behind you and stalking inside.

Olga moves to follow, but Alexia stops her with a hand on her arm.

“Let her breathe,” she says.

Olga exhales sharply, running a hand through her hair. “She can’t just go around hitting people, Alexia!”

“I know,” Alexia says evenly. “But from what the principal said, and what she just said, she wasn’t fighting for no reason. She was standing up for someone.”

Olga’s shoulders drop slightly.

Alexia gives her a look. “You know better than anyone how she is. She doesn’t just get angry— she reacts. She’s been through a lot. You have to meet her halfway.”

Olga presses her lips together, sighing. “…Yeah. You’re right.”

She takes a deep breath, steadies herself, and heads upstairs to your room.

She knocks. No response.

She knocks again. “Zulita, can we talk?” Silence. Something feels wrong.

She pushes the door open to be met with an empty bed. The window is open. Your phone is on the nightstand. Panic slams into her chest.

“Alexia!”

Alexia calms her down—barely.

“We’ll find her,” she promises, already dialing a number.

The call connects.

“Lucy,” Alexia says, straight to the point. “We need your help.”

It takes a few hours, but they find you. A park, thirty minutes away. A small, empty field. You’re there, by yourself, shooting goal after goal. You don’t even turn when they approach.

Alexia watches as you line up another shot, striking the ball perfectly into the top corner. It’s instinct. You don’t even think, don’t hesitate. Your body just knows what to do.

She and Lucy exchange a look.

Alexia steps forward. “You scared Olga half to death, you know.”

You exhale, resting your hands on your hips. “I needed to clear my head.”

“So you left your phone and ran off?”

“I didn’t think you’d care,” you mumble.

Alexia frowns. “Of course we care.”

You sigh, rolling the ball under your foot. “I just—everything is too much. It’s too different. Spain is different.”

Alexia doesn’t push. She just listens. You stand there, staring at the ball as you line up your next shot, feeling the weight of everything that’s been building up inside you. The silence between you and Alexia stretches, and for the first time, you feel like you can let it out. Let her see the truth of how hard this has been for you. The truth of what you’ve been holding in for so long.

“I’m not used to this,” you say, your voice low but steady, breaking the silence. “It’s… it’s hard, you know? Everything back home just… made sense.”

Alexia’s eyes are focused on you, not speaking, just letting you continue.

You exhale deeply, trying to find the right words. “Back in LA, everything was… routine. It wasn’t easy, but it was my life. You know? I didn’t need to think about it. The corner store, Mr. García, that old man who ran it—he gave me free snacks if I swept the floors for him.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to hold back the emotion that threatens to spill. “He wasn’t rich, wasn’t some big store owner or anything. He was just an old man who liked to help out kids like me. And I did what I had to do. I didn’t complain about it because it meant I got to eat something I didn’t have to pay for. And I felt good doing it. Like, that was a part of me.”

Alexia’s eyes soften as she listens, and you shift uncomfortably, but keep going.

“There was also Mrs. Alvarez, the seamstress who lived down the block. She used to fix my clothes when they tore or when I just couldn’t afford new ones. She’d take the time to patch them up, make them look good as new. And she’d always say, ‘I’ve got your back, mija.’ Even when I couldn’t pay her. She’d make me new stuff too, just out of kindness.”

You pause, feeling the lump in your throat grow.

“And the grocery store? They’d let me stock the juice shelves for an hour or two, and in exchange, they’d give me a bag of groceries. It was the only way I could get some food most times. I mean, I didn’t care, you know? I was just a kid, trying to make it through. But I was making it.”

You stop and look down at the ball, trying to steady your breathing. “Everything back home was like that. A hustle, yeah, but a hustle I understood. It wasn’t perfect, but it made sense. People helped each other out, and you helped them back. I knew how to survive.”

You look at Alexia now, feeling the weight of your confession. “I got a scholarship, you know? A football scholarship to the best program in LA. And it wasn’t handed to me. I worked my ass off to get there. I had to claw my way in, beat out all the other kids who had better coaches, better gear, better everything. But I fought for it. I did it alone. No one helped me get there. It was just me, and I… I made it.”

You can feel the emotion building, the frustration, the anger, the sadness, all of it hitting you at once. “And now, I’m here. And I don’t know how to make it make sense. I don’t know how to fit in. Spain is nothing like LA. The Spanish is different. The people are different. And I feel like I’m… just lost. Like I don’t belong here.”

Alexia doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t offer advice or try to fix things. She just nods, listening, letting you spill everything.

“I didn’t know how to handle that. I didn’t know how to adjust. And yeah, I know it sounds stupid, but…” You clench your jaw, fighting the tears that are threatening to come. “It’s hard to start over. I didn’t think I’d have to do this again.”

Alexia stays silent for a long moment, letting you talk through everything. Then, when you’re done, she finally speaks.

“You’re right,” she says softly. “I can’t imagine how you’re feeling, Zulita. I’ve been in Barcelona my whole life, so this—what you’re going through—this isn’t something I understand. But I can understand that it’s hard.”

You nod, your chest heavy. “I don’t want to be ungrateful. I know this is an opportunity. But it just feels like I’m starting over in a place that isn’t mine. A place that isn’t home.”

Alexia smiles softly. “It’s okay. You don’t have to figure it out all at once. You’re allowed to feel frustrated, to miss home. You’re allowed to take time to adjust.”

You look up at her, feeling a little lighter, a little more seen. “Thanks,” you say quietly.

Alexia’s gaze softens as she watches you, clearly understanding. “But there’s something you need to do. You need to talk to Olga about this. It’s the first step in the right direction, okay?”

You’re quiet for a moment, considering it. You know she’s right, but it still feels hard. Still feels like you’re betraying everything you built back in LA. But Alexia’s words make sense.

And when you finally nod, Alexia adds, “Talking to her is the first step, but we’ll get through this together. All of us. We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

You take a breath and look back at the goal, focusing on the ball again. The frustration, the anger, the confusion—it’s still there, simmering. But for the first time since you got to Spain, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you can start figuring this out.

Maybe you can make this work, too. You sigh, staring down at the ball. “…She treats me like a kid.”

“She treats you like someone she loves,” Alexia corrects gently.

You chew on your lip, kicking the ball toward the goal again. It soars into the net.

Alexia and Lucy exchange another look.

Alexia smirks. “We’re gonna have to get you on a team soon.”

[paigesluver]

A Little Sparkle, A Little Secret

paige bueckers x fem reader

synopsis; at paige bueckers’ WNBA Draft night, a simple necklace reveals a quiet romance that had been hiding in plain sight — turning friendship into something more, one subtle moment at a time.

warnings; fluff

hi hi! i’ve had this written since draft night and finally got around to completing it. but did y’all see that necklace on azzi today? yeahhhh😽😽 i hope y’all enjoy this one🙂‍↕️

Paige Bueckers lit up the orange WNBA Draft carpet in a custom Coach suit that looked like it was made of stardust — mocha brown, dripping in over 200,000 glass crystals, with wide-leg pants, a Y2K vest top, and a blazer that shimmered with every step. Her long, wavy hair framed her face, and the black platform shoes only added to the glow she carried — part nerves, part pride, part finally.

You were right behind her — not a player, but a familiar face. You were the student manager for UConn’s team, always in the background, always around. Fans knew you. Some had noticed how you and Paige were nearly inseparable. But it was always chalked up to friendship. You’d both even played into it — “best friends,” you’d say in interviews, laughing like it was the easiest answer in the world.

But tonight, you wore something new.

Something no one could ignore.

A diamond “P” pendant rested against your skin — simple, subtle, but loud in its own way.

No one could have guessed it had been a pre-game gift. Not after the win, not after the celebration — but right before the biggest moment of Paige’s college career.

Just before warmups, Paige had pulled you aside in the tunnel. The arena hadn’t even filled yet, but the energy was already thick. Paige looked calm, but you knew better. There was adrenaline in her eyes — and something else.

“I’ve been saving this,” Paige murmured, slipping a small box into your hand. “Today felt right.”

Inside: the necklace.

“For good luck,” she added, her voice softer now. “And so you’ll have a piece of me, for when I’m not standing next to you.”

It was a good luck charm for the game — but more than that, it was a keepsake. A quiet promise. Her way of saying you’ll still have a piece of me with you, even when this chapter was over. A lowkey but loaded moment — one that hinted at the shift coming for both of you, while quietly confirming what no one else had ever known.

You put it on right then and there. They won. Everything changed after that — but one thing didn’t: the necklace stayed on.

Fast forward to draft night, and it didn’t take long for fans to start piecing things together. After Paige lit up the carpet in her shimmering mocha suit, she slipped away and changed — swapping the glittering set for a sharp black Coach power suit, braless under the blazer, the lapels catching the light with a subtle shimmer. She looked like everything the league had been waiting for.

And when the commissioner finally called her name?

You were the first person she hugged.

Not her parents. Not her coaches. Not even her teammates.

You stood first, arms already open, eyes already shining.

Paige walked straight into you.

It lasted only a few seconds. Just long enough to make fans watching at home blink twice.

Then the tweets started.

“Did anyone else notice that necklace? 👀 Same one from the championship…”

“Paige just gave her the FIRST hug. I’m not saying anything, but I’m saying something... 🤔”

“Okay but WHY does it feel like they’ve been dating for a while and we’re just catching up?”

“They’ve been dropping hints and I’m picking them up! That necklace is too meaningful to be a coincidence.”

“How are they keeping this a secret when the necklace is literally screaming it? 😂”

“That necklace didn’t just appear outta nowhere y’all. The math is mathing. 💅”

Then came the news stories.

“Paige Bueckers’ Draft Night Mystery Guest Turns Heads”

“Is Her ‘Best Friend’ Actually Her Girlfriend? Fans Think So”

Still, nothing official. No hand-holding. No Instagram drops. Just tension, shared smiles, and that necklace that kept catching the flashbulbs.

The real moment came later — at the after-party.

Away from the buzz, in a quieter corner of the room, you leaned your head against Paige’s shoulder.

“You think people figured it out?” you asked, just loud enough over the music.

Paige looked at you, her fingers gently tugging the chain around your neck.

“They’ve been figuring it out,” she said. “Let ’em.”

You grinned. “No regrets?”

Paige tilted her head. “I gave you that necklace before the biggest game of my life. You think I’m scared of a few tweets?”

You didn’t post anything. But someone else did — a snap of you two mid-laugh, your hand resting easily on Paige’s thigh, the necklace front and center.

No caption. No confirmation.

Just two “best friends,” looking a whole lot like something more.

And the internet?

Oh, they knew.

[formulaonecrumbs]

you was there before the fancy cars 🏎️

Lando Norris x hair-stylist!reader

summary: Lando Norris and his hair stylist have a close bond built over six years of working together. Over time, they realize there’s more between them.

warnings: consider it a halfway situationship (neither of them know it’s one)

A/N: yes, u read correctly. the title IS the mac miller lyric… this fic isnt based off that but the line was just TOOOO perfect not to use. hope u like this 😋😋 i’m getting a lot more comfy with writing actual fics which is nice. i was thinking i’d maybe make this a series about certain parts of his career where reader was there for him leading up to when they start dating, lemme know what y’all want. anyways, love you babies, as always ❤️

She’d been with him from the start.

Back when he was still baby-faced, barely twenty, and fidgeting like a kid in the salon chair. Lando Norris had walked in with a mop of curls and an even messier kind of nervous energy. She’d tamed both. And for six years since, she’d been doing the same — brushing through curls and calming whatever storm he brought in with him.

She wasn’t like the others. The other clients had entourages, airs, and money that dripped off them like perfume. Lando had always been different. Still rich, obviously, but he’d never worn it like armor. He wore bad jokes and overgrown hair. He wore his heart when he wasn’t supposed to. He made her laugh when no one else could.

There was one race weekend — 2021, Monaco — he had finished on the podium. Instead of going to a party, he showed up at her place with takeaway and made her watch the highlights with him, just to see her reaction. “You looked at me like I’d won the whole damn championship,” he said that night, grinning.

She had. Because she’d been there through the mess-ups too. The crashes. The P15s. The media pressure. The times he didn’t say a word when he sat in her chair, just let her fingers run through his curls, eyes closed like he needed a break from the whole world.

And maybe she needed him too. After days of dealing with demanding celebrities and influencer egos, Lando was like a breath of slightly chaotic, but comforting, fresh air. He’d talk about anything — video games, the track, the fans — and always asked how her day was, even if he was the one under pressure. He noticed things. Like when she cut her hair or wore a new pair of earrings. Like when she was quiet and needed silence more than conversation.

Then there were the little things. The way he’d wait outside her studio with coffee when her schedule was packed. The way he texted her bad puns during press conferences. How he once flew her out early for a race weekend because she said she needed a break — no words, just a flight confirmation and a note: You need this. Also, my hair is a mess. Help.

She should’ve known. Maybe she did.

And maybe he did too — that there was something sitting between them, soft and constant, something they never named.

They weren’t dating. They weren’t anything. But there was a moment — in the backroom of a garage, she was fixing the curls sticking out of his helmet after qualifying — he looked up at her, really looked, and whispered, “You’ve always been the one who gets me. I think… I only ever wanted it to be you.”

Her hand stilled in his hair. Their eyes met.

No kiss. No dramatic music. Just realization.

She smiled, small and soft. “It’s always been you too.”

And that was enough for now.

They weren’t something. Not yet.

But they could be.

[overthedeadsea]

— Press Tour Shenanigans

Pairing: Aaron Pierre x Co-star!reader x Kelvin Harrison Jr.

Summary: chaotic, flirty, and slightly unhinged interview energy between the trio. More of a Aaron x reader (wink), jealousyyyy.

A/n: since I can’t see the finish line of this obsession with the mufasa duo, I’m going to unleash all my demons here on tumblr <3

— You were seated between Aaron Pierre and Kelvin Harrison Jr.,cameras rolling, microphones pinned, and a well-meaning interviewer sitting across from the three of you. It was supposed to be a standard press junket—talk about the film, give some behind-the-scenes insight, and maybe throw in a funny anecdote.

But these two? Oh, these two had other plans.

Kelvin leaned forward first, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Okay, so what y’all need to know is that [Y/N] is actually the diva of this cast.”

You gasped, whipping your head toward him. “Excuse me? Me?!”

Aaron, sitting coolly on your other side, nodded solemnly. “Yeah, I mean… I wasn’t gonna say anything, but now that Kelvin brought it up—”

Your jaw dropped. “Not you too!”

Kelvin grinned. “Nah, let’s talk about it. The personal assistant situation? The specific snack demands?”

You threw up your hands. “I asked for one very normal, very reasonable thing—peach-flavored sparkling water! That is NOT diva behavior!”

Aaron rubbed his jaw, pretending to think. “Mmm. But when they brought you raspberry instead?”

Kelvin snickered. “You told the intern to ‘rethink their life choices.’”

“Jokingly!” you shot back, eyes wide. “It was sarcasm!”

Aaron side-eyed you playfully. “Was it though?”

You turned fully to him now, pointing a finger. “Why are you agreeing with him? I thought we were friends.”

Aaron smirked, his voice dipping into that smooth, teasing tone. “We are.That’s why I feel safe enough to call you out.”

Kelvin gasped dramatically. “Ohhh, wow. Betrayal. On camera, too.”

The interviewer, barely holding back laughter, finally cut in. “Okay, so… who’s actually the diva between the three of you?”

Aaron and Kelvin exchanged a look. Without hesitation, they both pointed at each other.

“Oh, it’s him,” Aaron said at the same time Kelvin blurted, “Oh, it’s definitely him.”

You folded your arms. “Wow. The AUDACITY.”

Aaron chuckled. “I mean… Kelvin does have main character energy.”

Kelvin gasped, hand on his chest. “And Aaron is literally the ‘mystery man with the voice that makes people weak.’”

You nodded sagely. “He does have that ‘if he speaks, the whole room listens’ vibe.”

Aaron raised a brow, smirking at you now. “Oh? You been noticing?”

Kelvin let out a loud, exaggerated “OOOOHHHH,” making you groan.

“See?” You pointed at Kelvin. “He’s the actual menace.”

Kelvin shrugged. “Listen, I’m just here to tell the truth.”

Aaron glanced at you, voice dropping just enough to make your breath catch. “And what’s your truth?”

You blinked. Oh. He was really using that voice right now? On camera??

Kelvin threw his hands up. “Nope. Nope. Not on my watch! We are NOT about to have a whole moment in the middle of this interview.”

The interviewer, officially losing it, buried their face in their cue cards. “I have completely lost control of this session.”

You sighed, shaking your head. “You know what? I was gonna be professional today.”

Kelvin grinned. “Yeah, but where’s the fun in that?”

Aaron smirked, leaning back in his chair, eyes glinting as he looked between you and Kelvin. “Exactly.”

And just like that, the interview spiraled even further into chaos.

The interview had already gone off the rails, but somehow, things were about to get even worse.

The interviewer, finally regaining some semblance of control, smiled at the three of you. “Okay, let’s bring it back for a second. We have a fun question for you all. Who’s your celebrity crush?”

You hummed, tapping your chin. “Oh, that’s easy. Henry Cavill.”

Silence.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the camera rolling. Then—

Kelvin’s entire face lit up. “OHHHH, that’s gonna be a problem.”

You blinked. “What?”

Kelvin immediately pointed at Aaron, who was suddenly very interested in the bottle of water in his hands, twisting the cap with way too much focus.

“Ayo, Aaron, you good?” Kelvin teased, nudging him with his elbow.

Aaron, to his credit, played it cool—too cool. He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, nah, I’m good.”

But you saw the way his jaw clenched just a little. The way his fingers gripped that water bottle just a bit tighter.

Kelvin wasn’t about to let this slide. “Nahhh, ‘cause why did your whole vibe just change?”

Aaron exhaled, flashing a relaxed smile. “I’m chill.”

Kelvin leaned forward, squinting. “You sure? ‘Cause a second ago, you were all ‘Oh, Y/N, what’s your truth?’ and now you real quiet.”

Aaron scoffed, finally looking at you. “She said Henry Cavill, man. What do you want me to say?”

You smirked. “You could say ‘great choice.’”

Aaron arched a brow. “Could I?”

Kelvin lost it.“NAHHH, HE’S MAD.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Relax, it’s not that deep.”

Aaron gave a slow nod, taking a sip of his water. “Right. Not that deep.”

Kelvin nudged you. “Y/N, ask him his celebrity crush. Do it.”

You turned to Aaron, challenging. “Yeah, Pierre. Who’s yours?”

Aaron met your gaze, and something shifted. His smirk returned, slow and deliberate, as he leaned in just slightly.

“You.”

Kelvin screamed. The interviewer covered their face with cue cards. You? You just sat there, stunned.

Aaron leaned back, smug as hell, taking another sip of water like he hadn’t just casually flipped the entire vibe on its head.

You cleared your throat. “I—uh—okay.”

Kelvin was wheezing. “OH, YOU FOLDED! You FOLDED SO FAST!”

Aaron just shrugged, completely unbothered. “What can I say? Gotta speak my truth.”

You swallowed, heat creeping up your neck. Damn him. Damn that voice.

The interviewer sighed, defeated. “Yeah… I’m never getting this back on track, am I?”

Kelvin and Aaron, in unison: “Nope.”

And just like that, the chaos continued.

A/n: SO HOW DO WE LIKE ITTTT??? I have a whole mini series planned down I can bomb it anytime if you guys like it ~~

[izzih22]

jealous pazzi

Safe In Your Arms

Note: Hope y’all enjoy!!

The dim lighting of Ted’s, the bar just off campus, buzzed with the energy of the UConn team celebrating yet another win. The place was packed, the chatter and laughter mixing with the occasional cheer from the students and athletes around them. The familiar faces of the team were everywhere, crowding around tables, laughing, and toasting their victories. Paige was standing across the room, a beer in her hand, talking to a couple of the guys from the team, her towering frame unmistakable in the sea of college students.

Azzi sat at the bar with Caroline, her head tilted back as she laughed at something Caroline had said. Her smile was radiant, her eyes sparkling in the soft glow of the bar’s neon lights. It was one of those moments where Paige couldn’t help but stop what she was doing and stare at her. It wasn’t the first time; Azzi had that effect on her. Her laugh, the way she moved, the way she could light up a room without even trying—Paige was so in love, it almost felt surreal.

Paige took a long sip of her drink, her gaze never leaving Azzi. She wasn’t usually the jealous type, but tonight something about the atmosphere in the bar felt different. Maybe it was the fact that Azzi was alone at the bar, and Paige wasn’t nearby to shield her from the usual crowd of flirtatious guys.

Azzi was always the center of attention without even trying—her beauty, her charisma, it was impossible not to notice her. And that’s exactly why Paige felt that knot forming in her stomach when a guy she didn’t recognize approached Azzi. He was older, with a wide grin that screamed confidence, and he was clearly trying to chat Azzi up. Paige watched as Azzi responded politely, but her posture was already stiffening. The guy moved closer, leaning in too far, his hand brushing against Azzi’s waist as he laughed a little too loudly. Azzi shifted, glancing around the room like she was searching for an escape, but the guy didn’t seem to notice the way she was pulling away.

Paige felt her muscles tense, her grip on her drink tightening. A wave of possessiveness washed over her, an unfamiliar heat rising in her chest. The guy was clearly oblivious, or worse, didn’t care, and Paige could see Azzi’s discomfort. Azzi’s smile was still there, but it was forced now, and her eyes darted around nervously.

Caroline was still chatting with some of the other players when she noticed Paige’s rigid posture. “You okay?” she asked, noticing the way Paige was staring across the room, her focus laser-sharp.

Paige’s jaw clenched. “Yeah. Just—” She cut herself off, her voice tight. “I need to make sure Azzi’s alright.”

Before Caroline could ask more questions, Paige was already moving toward Azzi, her steps quick and purposeful. There was a fire in her chest, something deep and protective. She didn’t care about the crowd or the people around her—Azzi was hers, and no one was about to make her feel uncomfortable.

When she got closer, her eyes locked on the guy again. He was standing way too close to Azzi now, almost leaning into her personal space. Paige’s eyes narrowed, her steps growing faster. She could see Azzi’s discomfort more clearly now, her body language saying everything she didn’t have the chance to.

Azzi was trying to back up, but the guy just kept talking, not getting the hint, his hand brushing dangerously close to Azzi’s body again. Azzi was too polite to push him away herself, and Paige wasn’t about to let that happen.

“Enough,” Paige muttered under her breath.

She reached them in seconds, placing a firm hand on the guy’s chest to stop him from moving closer. The guy blinked in surprise, momentarily caught off guard by her sudden appearance.

Azzi, startled by Paige’s abrupt arrival, exhaled a breath of relief, her body visibly relaxing. Paige turned to her then, her expression softening in an instant. “Are you okay, babe?” she asked quietly, her voice gentle yet firm, her hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from Azzi’s face.

Azzi’s eyes softened, her heart pounding, but there was something like safety in Paige’s presence. “Yeah… I’m fine,” she answered quickly, her voice barely a whisper as she glanced at the guy, clearly still standing too close. “He was just—he wasn’t getting the hint.”

Paige’s eyes flicked back to the guy, her expression darkening. “I don’t care what he was trying to do,” Paige said, her tone laced with protectiveness. “No one gets to make you feel like that. Not while I’m here.”

The guy opened his mouth to say something, but Paige didn’t give him the chance. She turned her body fully toward him, the protective fierceness in her stance undeniable. “I suggest you walk away,” she said, her voice calm but cutting, “before I make you.”

The guy hesitated, looking from Paige to Azzi, and then, sensing the finality in her tone, he took a few steps back, muttering under his breath as he walked off.

Azzi let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and Paige immediately pulled her close, her arm wrapping securely around Azzi’s waist. Azzi leaned into her, her head resting against Paige’s shoulder, and for a moment, the world outside of their little bubble seemed to fade.

Paige kissed the top of Azzi’s head, her hand gently caressing her back. “I’m not letting anyone mess with you,” Paige murmured, her voice full of quiet conviction. “You’re mine, Azzi. Don’t ever forget that.”

Azzi pulled back just enough to look up at Paige, her eyes sparkling with affection. “I know,” she whispered, her voice full of love. “I’m yours.”

There was a moment of silence as they shared a look that said everything they didn’t need to voice. Paige’s hand cupped Azzi’s cheek, her thumb brushing over her skin, and Azzi melted into the touch, her heart swelling with love for the woman standing in front of her.

As if on instinct, their lips met again, this time softer, more intimate. The kiss deepened, their connection undeniable, and the world around them seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of them.

Azzi leaned into Paige even more, the warmth of her touch making Azzi feel like she was home. After the brief, heated kiss, Paige didn’t pull away. Instead, she cupped Azzi’s face gently, her thumbs brushing the soft skin of her cheeks in slow, soothing motions.

“You okay?” Paige asked again, her voice soft but filled with that familiar concern. She didn’t need an answer—she just wanted Azzi to feel safe, to know that she was there, no matter what. Her eyes searched Azzi’s face, her gaze tender, like she was trying to memorize every inch of her.

Azzi met her eyes, a small, contented smile tugging at her lips. She felt the weight of Paige’s concern, the way she’d instantly gone into protector mode the second she saw her uncomfortable, and it made her heart swell. “Yeah,” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “I’m fine. You just… you know how to take care of me.”

Paige’s lips curved into a soft smile at the words, and she pulled Azzi closer, her arms wrapping around her in a tight embrace. “Always. I’m never letting anyone make you feel small, baby,” Paige murmured into her hair. She placed a delicate kiss on the top of Azzi’s head, her arms securing Azzi like a fortress. “You deserve to feel safe, to feel like you can be yourself. Especially with me. I’m not going anywhere, Azzi. I’ve got you.”

Azzi closed her eyes, breathing in the comforting scent of Paige’s cologne, and let the reassuring warmth of her embrace settle over her. The world could be chaotic, loud, and unpredictable, but in this moment, there was only Paige. The way her strength was both fierce and tender, the way she had a quiet way of making everything feel okay. It was a safe haven, and Azzi felt like she could finally breathe without that tightness in her chest.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Azzi said softly, her voice thick with emotion. She pulled back just enough to look at Paige, her eyes vulnerable but filled with love.

Paige smiled at her, leaning down to press another kiss to her forehead. “Good thing you’ll never have to find out,” she replied, her tone light but the promise in it clear. “You’re stuck with me. Always.”

Azzi laughed softly, but there was a quiet intensity in her eyes, something deep that Paige had long since learned to read. It was the kind of love that didn’t need words to express just how much they meant to each other.

Azzi’s hand came up to rest over Paige’s, which was still gently cupping her face. “You make me feel so loved, Paige. Even when the world’s got all this noise, you’re the only thing I hear.”

Paige leaned in again, brushing their lips together softly, savoring the kiss as if it was the first and last time, all at once. When they pulled apart, she stayed close, her forehead resting against Azzi’s.

“I’m just making sure you always know how much you’re cherished,” Paige said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, “because you are. You always have been. No one gets to take that away from you.”

Azzi smiled again, this time wider, her heart overflowing with warmth. “And I cherish you, too.”

Paige couldn’t help but chuckle at how sweet and genuine Azzi sounded, the words so simple but meaning everything. “You better,” she teased lightly, and Azzi giggled in response, the sound like music to Paige’s ears.

Then, just as they were lost in each other’s gaze, Caroline walked up, a teasing grin on her face. “You two are like a walking romance novel,” she said, eyeing them playfully. “Get a room.”

Paige rolled her eyes, a chuckle escaping her. “Maybe we will,” she teased, her arm tightening around Azzi’s waist as she pulled her a little closer.

Azzi just shook her head, smiling. “We’re good right here,” she said, her voice soft, as she snuggled a little closer into Paige’s side.

Paige looked down at Azzi, her heart full. No matter what happened around them, no matter who tried to come between them, she would always protect her, always be her safe place. Azzi was her heart, and she would make sure she knew it, day after day.

“Yeah,” Paige said quietly, her smile softening as she gazed at Azzi. “We’re perfect right here.”

[nickssidewitch]

I’m gonna say this once and once only.

Some of y’all are soooo fuckin big-headed and egotistical! Y’all wanna celebrities on an app where all we’re tryna do is talk about three lil white boys and some other miscellaneous stuff that we enjoy!!

So why the fuck are y’all making blogs of groupchats? It’s for clout. Nobody else does that shit unless they tryna get some damn likes for having a groupchat in the first place.

That’s like all them influencers having the damn influencer houses (Hype House, Faze, AMP, etc.) just to film and get money and clout off of it!

But the only difference between y’all and those influencers is that it’s a smart business move for the influencers— not for y’all! It’s pretty stupid and irrelevant for y’all!

If the usage of slurs is something y’all find funny enough to post as a silly goofy moment, who knows what the fuck else y’all find silly and goofy!

That’s why the apology doesn’t mean shit! Y’all justifications for it don’t mean shit! Y’all just… Don’t. Mean. Shit.

And don’t come up here being like “It’s not offensive” or “we didn’t know” or “it ain’t that deep”. Shut up. Goofy.

People can have groupchats! There’s nothing wrong with chatting to the people you feel close to or those who you wanna get close to within this fandom. However, don’t be weirdos. And don’t publicize weirdo behavior.

Have a nice day. 🧘🏾‍♀️ I ain’t giving y’all no more of the energy that y’all are absorbing from this situation. Any press is good press to some of y’all…

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What should I focus on right now for long-lasting good vibes ?

When I leave Juice WRLD, I'm back to pink hair !

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PILE 1

Sweetheart, here’s what your heart needs to hear:

This moment is about embracing the magic of you. You’re a radiant Queen, with warmth in your soul and power in your every move. Taking this time for yourself isn’t stepping away from love—it’s leaning deeper into the one you have with your own spirit.

You’ve found something beautiful, something healthy and whole, but it’s okay to let it breathe. You’re not losing anything; you’re creating space to grow into the love that feels so new. Focus on nurturing your passions, tending to your dreams, and grounding yourself in your own brilliance.

The love will wait—it’s strong enough to do that. And in the meantime, remember: you are more than worthy of all the goodness coming your way.

What should I focus on right now for long-lasting growth?

Y’all took a fat L in your finance. It could be that maybe you were born in a poor family or maybe you maxed out your credit card at a super young age. Another scenario is comin through, some of y’all were financial abuse by your own parents. You were here paying one of our family members' medical bills while paying for your school. The situation of your family was a wake up call for you because you never knew they were in so much debt (And they fucking expected you to saved them… let  me move on … I said I was going to be more gentle). Any ways most people would have scramble under so much pressure but you were determined to rise the fuck up. You motherfucking did ! CONGRATS !!!!!! Since you know how it feels to live in such a deprived state you put everything in your power not to fall back into it. You have built quite the financial literacy. Unlike your family you are sitting hoping for a miracle, you prefer having control over your own life. You let go off a good suitor that was going to give you stability. The ring, the house and the kids but you want more. You spent the last year living a basic life to save you and your family. Now you want to experiment with your looks, activities and learn more about your own desire. Don’t hate yourself because you choose’’ you’’ and sometimes choosing is not about a reason but a feeling. Believe me if they said they are going to wait… they are probably waiting. Don’t feel guilty because they are rooting for you and your happiness.

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PILE 2

Bestie, let me tell you something magical:

Focus on living in the beauty of your truth, unapologetically. Let your heart be guided by clarity, not illusions. You've grown, you've blossomed, and not everyone deserves to witness the garden you've nurtured. Some will see your glow and mistake it for something they can dim, but you know better.

Surround yourself with those who celebrate your growth, not those who sulk in the shadow of it. It’s okay to leave behind the ones who can’t appreciate the masterpiece you’ve become. Their energy was never meant to shape your future—it was meant to teach you what to protect.

Right now, bestie, the vibes are all about you. Shine boldly, love fiercely, and walk away from anything that makes your soul feel heavy. You’re stepping into your best self, and it’s time to embrace the joy of that without looking back.

What should I focus on right now for long-lasting growth?

Y’all just moved to your new house. You may be in decorating mode, making sure to buy all the essentials, making sure to organize the bills and if you need to renovate mama/papi is turning to DIY Bob the Builder. First of all, motherfucking CONGRATS! Moving in this economy is like one of the biggest achievements. You are advised to go hangout in your community doing something that resonates with you. Whether going to the movies, reading club, knitting classes or walking around in the mall or the park near your house. Because you may be feeling lonely and you hate going out on your own because it is making a matter worse but somebody is going to strike up a conversation with you. Y’all going to enter a new friend group that's going to feel like family. Head up Pile  2 the same way they are open about their emotions let them in because I swear all they want to do is know you, see you and love you. Also this feeling of wanting community may be new because you got so accustomed to being the ‘’weird kid’’ that nobody really wants to deal with but thank God you did not change because your soul family is one greeting away. 

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PILE 3

Darling, let me wrap you in some truth:

This moment is yours to reclaim. You’re standing tall, blooming in your own power like the Empress you are—creative, abundant, and unstoppable. Staying firm in your decision to hold that no-contact boundary isn’t just strength; it’s self-love in its purest form.

You’re no longer chasing love that left you questioning your worth. You’ve grown beyond that, and now you’re building a life where your heart beats freely, unburdened by the echoes of what was. Focus on your business, your passions, your empire. Every step you take is a step toward the future you deserve.

Let them wonder about your glow from afar. You’re not here to dim your light for anyone who couldn’t see it before. Keep shining, bestie. Your journey is just beginning, and it’s a masterpiece in the making.

What should I focus on right now for long-lasting growth?

First congrats on your pregnancy. Y’all always wanted a kid and you actually thought that the father had his shit together but when it comes to standing for your baby or your ex. Is always going to your bundle of joy. On the other hand I feel like y’all are never going to do it again. Like pregnancy is not a fun experience. Y’all are not living a traumatic experience but just feeling uncomfortable all the time … ain’t it baby. Also you are so ready to meet your little one.

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[the-reader-insert-gazette]

More Than Sparks (New Year Special) - F!Reader x Boothill

Honkai Star Rail

Among the chaos of the New Year Festival, Boothill’s steady charm and Readers sharp wit collide in a night of surprises.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

The streets of the Xianzhou Luofu were alive with the vibrant energy of the New Year Festival. Lanterns hung in neat rows above the cobblestone paths, their warm glow casting a golden hue over the energetic crowd. Warm-up fireworks punctuated the night sky before the main event, the simple displays illuminated the station in fleeting moments of awe. Children ran from stall to stall with sparklers in hand, and the tantalizing aroma of festival foods drifted through the air, mingling with the cheerful hum of conversation and laughter.

[Name] found herself wandering through the festivities, her usual reluctance to participate in such gatherings overridden by a restless curiosity. She wasn’t one for crowds, but there was something undeniably captivating about the Luofu’s celebration. It felt alive, in a way that made it hard to resist.

Her steps slowed as she approached a shooting range game tucked along the edge of the bustling square. A line of targets in the shape of mythical beasts spun and bobbed erratically, each promising a different prize if struck in the right spot. Standing at the booth, leaning casually against the counter, was a man she instantly recognized.

Boothill.

He held the festival's mock pistol—a gaudy contraption bedecked with glowing trim—loosely in one hand. His hat tilted just enough to shade his face, though his unmistakable grin was visible as he lined up a shot. With a casual squeeze of the trigger, he hit the center of a target, and the vendor whooped in excitement.

“Another bullseye!” the vendor declared, handing over yet another prize—a plush replica of a Cloud Knight soldier. Boothill chuckled, tucking the toy under his arm, where it joined an already substantial collection of festival winnings.

“Son of a biscuit, these targets just keep beggin’ for it,” he said, his drawl as thick as the syrup on the festival’s candied fruit. “Y’all better get some tougher ones, or I’m gonna walk outta here with the whole dang stall.”

[Name] bit back a smile, folding her arms as she approached. “And here I thought you’d stick to your trusty six-shooter. This looks a little too… neon for your taste.”

Boothill turned at the sound of her voice, his grin widening as he tipped his hat. “Well, if it ain’t Miss Sharp-Eyes herself. Fancy seein’ you here. Figured you’d be holed up somewhere scowlin’ at reports.”

She raised an eyebrow, smirking. “And I figured you’d be off sweet-talking some poor soul out of their wallet.”

“Now, now,” he drawled, setting the pistol down on the counter with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll have you know, I’m here on strictly honest business tonight. Just enjoyin’ the sights, winnin’ a few prizes, maybe lettin’ loose for once. You oughta try it.”

[Name] gestured to his armful of plushies. “Letting loose, or robbing the festival blind?”

“Hey now, these beauties were won fair and square,” Boothill said, holding up the toys with a mock look of innocence. “Can’t help it if my aim’s straighter than a laser beam on a good day.”

“And on a bad day?”

“Still better than most, sugar.” He winked, leaning against the booth as he waved her closer. “What about you? You out here for fun, or just takin’ notes for your next report?”

“Neither,” [Name] said, stepping up to the counter. “Though now I’m curious if I can outshoot you.”

Boothill’s grin turned wolfish. “Oh, darlin’, that’s a challenge I can’t let slide. Grab a pistol, and let’s see what you’ve got.”

She rolled her eyes but picked up one of the neon guns, testing its weight. The vendor reset the targets, their erratic movements promising a tough game. [Name]'s first few shots were decent, landing on the outer rings of the targets, but nothing compared to Boothill’s earlier bullseyes.

He watched with exaggerated patience, occasionally throwing in comments like, “Close, but no cigar,” or “You plannin’ to scare ‘em into submission?”

“Oh, hush,” [Name] said, adjusting her grip. On her next shot, she hit the bullseye, the target lighting up in triumph. She turned to Boothill with a smug smile. “What was that about scaring them?”

“Well, I’ll be a shirtbag,” he drawled, clapping slowly. “Looks like you might have a knack for this after all. Don’t get cocky, though—beginners’ luck is a real thing.”

“I think I’ll take my chances.” She handed the gun back to the vendor and turned to Boothill, her smirk softening into a genuine smile. “This was surprisingly fun.”

“See? Told ya.” Boothill tipped his hat again, his tone lighter now. “Stick with me, sugar, and I’ll show you there’s more to this festival than just winnin’ toys.”

“And what’s your grand plan?” she asked, following him as he began to stroll toward the next stall.

He shrugged, his grin still firmly in place. “Don’t got one. Sometimes the best nights happen when you don’t plan a dang thing. Now, how ‘bout we grab somethin’ sweet and keep this party goin’?”

Without needing her confirmation, Boothill begun sauntering toward the nearest food stall with an easy confidence that seemed to draw eyes wherever he went. [Name] followed, shaking her head but smiling to herself as he approached the vendor. The stall was vibrant with sweet-smelling treats, candied hawthorns glistening like jewels under the festival lights.

Boothill leaned casually against the counter, tipping his hat. “Evenin’, partner. What’s the sweetest thing you got on this here menu?”

The vendor grinned, gesturing to the array of treats. “Can’t go wrong with the candied hawthorn. Sweet, a little tart—crowd favorite.”

Boothill tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, that does sound temptin’. Let’s do one of those, then.”

[Name] raised an eyebrow as Boothill handed over the payment and accepted the stick of glistening red fruits. He turned to her, holding it out with a sly smile. “For you, sugar. Since I don’t exactly dabble in the whole ‘eatin’’ thing.”

She blinked, caught off guard. “You don’t eat?”

“Not in the traditional sense, no,” he said with a shrug, the easy grin never leaving his face. “All this metalwork comes with some trade-offs, y’know? But that don’t mean I can’t live vicariously. So, go on—enjoy it for me.”

[Name] hesitated, then took the candied fruit with a small smile. “Fair enough. But if it’s terrible, I’m blaming you.”

He let out a low laugh, leaning back against the stall. “Trust me, darlin’, I wouldn’t steer you wrong on festival food.”

She took a bite, the sweet and tart flavors bursting on her tongue. It was better than she’d expected—simple but satisfying. As she savored it, Boothill watched her, his expression softening from his usual cocky grin to something quieter.

“Good, huh?” he asked, his voice lower now, almost reflective.

[Name] nodded. “It’s… really good.”

“Well, I’ll be,” he said with mock astonishment. “Looks like I might’ve done somethin’ right tonight.”

Boothill’s grin lingered as he leaned back against the counter, his eyes catching the soft glow of the lanterns above. The usual cocky air around him seemed to ease, his drawl taking on a warmth that settled into the space between them.

“Y’know,” he began, his voice low and contemplative, “I reckon this is one o’ those moments you don’t forget too quick. Quiet, just enough sweetness… kinda makes a fella think.”

[Name] tilted her head, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. “Think about what?”

“Hmm.” He tapped the brim of his hat as if mulling it over, his grin turning lopsided. “Well, sugar, I s’pose it makes me think about how even a man made of parts and pieces can still feel somethin’ mighty real.”

Her lips parted slightly, unsure how to respond to that. There was something in his voice—a sincerity that didn’t come with his usual flair for dramatics. For once, Boothill wasn’t putting on a show.

“And what exactly are you feeling?” she asked, her voice quieter now, almost teasing but not quite.

He looked at her then, his eyes catching the lantern light in a way that made them shimmer with a peculiar mix of mirth and vulnerability. “Reckon I’m feelin’ like this here festival’s got a little more magic to it than I figured.”

[Name] huffed a soft laugh, looking down at the last bite of the candied hawthorn in her hand. “That’s a bit poetic for a cowboy.”

“Well, darlin’,” he said, straightening up and tipping his hat, “ain’t no law says a cowboy can’t get a little poetic when the moment calls for it.”

There was a pause as the noise of the festival seemed to quiet around them. She looked up at him again, and for a moment, neither of them spoke. The space between them was filled with unspoken words, the kind that didn’t need to be said to be understood.

[Name] broke the silence first, clearing her throat as she turned to dispose of the stick. “You’re full of surprises, Boothill.”

He followed her with an easy stride, the faint clink of his spurred boots punctuating the gentle hum of the festival around them. “And here I thought I was an open book.”

“Hardly,” she said, glancing at him over her shoulder. “You’re more like one of those books where the pages are out of order and the cover’s missing.”

He laughed, a low, genuine sound that sent a strange warmth curling through her chest. “Ain’t that a compliment if I ever heard one.”

They strolled together through the festival, pausing here and there to take in the sights. Boothill’s presence was steady, his usual flamboyance tempered into something quieter but no less magnetic. When they passed another vendor, he bought her a small paper lantern, handing it to her with a grin that didn’t require words.

By the time they reached the quieter edge of the plaza, the main event fireworks were being prepared. They found a spot on a low stone wall, the perfect vantage point for the display lighting up the sky. [Name] felt her breath catch, realizing their closeness at this moment.

“Not bad, huh?” he murmured, his voice low enough that she almost missed it over the sound of the crowd.

She turned her head slightly, her eyes meeting his. “Not bad at all.”

Boothill smiled, softer this time, and shifted closer—not enough to be imposing, but enough to let her know he was there. The metallic gleam of his cybernetic hand caught the light as he set it on the wall between them, a quiet gesture of trust.

“You ever think about moments like this?” he asked, his voice quiet and steady. “How they don’t come ‘round too often?”

[Name] tilted her head, studying him. “Sometimes. But I think the real question is what you do with them when they do.”

Boothill’s smile deepened, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well, I’d say you make ‘em count. And I don’t know about you, but this feels like one worth countin’.”

Her breath caught as the words settled between them, heavy with meaning. Before she could second-guess herself, she reached out, her hand brushing against his. The contrast of her warmth against the cool metal was striking but not unpleasant.

“You might be right,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He turned his hand over, his fingers curling gently around hers. For a man who usually swaggered through life with loud, brash confidence, his touch was remarkably gentle. “Darlin’, I’d bet my last circuit on it.”

As they enjoyed themselves in their moment, the rhythmic chant of voices rippled through the plaza, growing louder as the New Year’s countdown began to take over. All around them, the energy of the festival surged, the excitement building with every passing second.

“Ten! Nine!”

The first firework shot up, a piercing whistle that silenced the crowd for a heartbeat before it erupted into a cascade of gold and crimson, painting the sky in brilliant hues and imagery. [Name] tilted her head back, the light reflecting in her eyes, but her focus wasn’t entirely on the fireworks.

“Eight! Seven!”

Boothill stood beside her, his hat tipped back just enough to reveal his face, the faint glow of the fireworks catching in his eyes. His usual grin softened as he glanced her way, his expression open in a way that made her heart flutter unexpectedly.

“Six! Five!”

She hesitated, her hand moving to cusp his more intently. The usual sharp edges of her thoughts dulled, softened by the warmth of the moment. Boothill noticed her gaze and turned fully toward her, his grin shifting into something quieter, more sincere.

“Looks like the big moment’s comin’ up,” he murmured, his voice steady and low, though a faint smile lingered at the corner of his mouth. “You ready, sugar?”

“Four! Three!”

[Name] didn’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, she leaned forward, the movement quick but deliberate, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was a brief gesture, enough to catch him off guard.

“Two!”

Boothill froze for half a second before his grin returned, slow and lopsided, a faint tint of something warmer in his expression. “Well now, ain’t that a surprise.”

“One!”

The plaza erupted into cheers as the main fireworks show reached its peak, bursts of vibrant color exploding in rapid succession overhead. Before she could pull away, Boothill reached out, his cybernetic fingers brushing against her cheek as he leaned in, his movements deliberate and unhurried.

His lips found hers, warm and sure, the noise of the celebration around them fading into a quiet hum. It wasn’t rushed or bold for the sake of it—it was steady, sincere, and carried a kind of weight that made her breath catch. The light of the fireworks bathed them in shifting hues, framing the moment in brilliant golds and blues.

When Boothill pulled back, his grin returned, though his gaze stayed locked on hers, softer than she’d ever seen it. “Happy New Year, darlin’.”

Her pulse raced, but she managed a faint smirk, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. “You didn’t waste any time.”

“Reckon when it comes to you, I don’t see much point in waitin’,” he replied, his drawl light but edged with unmistakable sincerity.

[Name] shook her head, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her. “Happy New Year, Boothill.”

As the fireworks continued to crackle above and the cheers around them roared on, his hand lingered in hers, a quiet anchor amidst the vibrant chaos. And for the first time in a long while, [Name] found herself stepping into the new year with more hope than she’d expected.

✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦✦

Surprise Boothill for the New Year! I was planning on posting at EST New Year but--I lowkey feel asleep and missed it by 30 mins LOL

[adventuringblind]

Cheering From Heaven

Charles Leclerc x Senna!Driver!Reader

Genre: sad but also fluffy

Request: yep! I hope you like it! I actually cried a little writing it. My requests are still open for like... half the grid at this point. So please send me your ideas, I am begging, don't be shy. :)

Summary: reader never got to meet her father, but thanks him everyday for the racing in her DNA. When she overhears a conversation about her over dramatic celebrations, she becomes more reserved. Charles immediately takes notice and is determined to restore the energy she once had.

Warnings: Talks of death and crashes, not proofread (if I ever proofread call the police because it’s not me someone stole my identity).

Notes: written in second person. For the purpose of this fic, the Ferrari strategists know how to do their job.

Y’all have been giving my fics so much love. Thank you all so much 🥺❤️

Masterlist

You were the first female driver on the grid. You worked your way up the ranks just like everyone else. Your mother doing her best to support you despite it being just you and her.

She always said you have racing in your blood. Your father died before you could meet him. The fatal accident of Aryton Senna rocked everyone.

Especially your mother, who had just found out she was pregnant with you.

You were determined to continue his legacy. Knowing he was cheering you on from the afterlife.

When you started competing more often and moving up through the stages. You decided to go by your mother's last name. Not wanting your fathers name to have anything to do with how people saw you as a driver.

You wanted to race for him, not because of him. Nepotism in this sport can make or break someone's career.

When you got up to Formula 1, you cried tears of joy. Knowing that your father was looking out for you.

You were relatively accepted among everyone. You and your teammate Charles got along better than anyone could imagine.

Competing and pushing each other, but still remaining close at the end of the day.

What you didn't know was that some on the grid found you annoying.

You had found fast success and with it came rituals. You wanted to cheer loud enough for your father to hear you. Celebrating enough for the both of you.

It hurt having not known him, but you felt like you did at times. Hearing his name still being praised. You’d watched his races on YouTube repeatedly. You knew he would be ecstatic to see you here.

Everywhere else you were very down to earth and chill. On the podium, however, was a different story. There you let everything go, enjoying yourself for those who couldn’t be there with you. It was your ritual and you loved it. Charles found it entertaining despite not understanding it. You worked hard for your success, why shouldn’t you enjoy it?

You were going to run up and join a group of the guys walking and talking after a race one evening. Charles being one of them. You’d grown feelings for him and even if he didn’t return them, having him as a friend was still great.

They didn’t hear you approach, continuing there conversation without remorse.

“I don’t know man, I find her annoying.”

Charles was immediately confused at this. “Annoying? How so? I find her the least annoying out of everyone else.” He chuckled at his own funny remark.

“I agree. She seems very cocky when she wins. Rubbing it in everyone’s faces.”

A course of similar comments and agreements strung from their mouths. You didn’t stay to hear everything, quickly finding your way back to your hotel room.

Charles had left the conversation not long after. Leaving them the group with one last statement before walking off. “Who cares how she celebrates? Anyone that wins wants to enjoy it, so let her have this.”

While you became quieter and more reserved, Charles became more concerned. You weren’t the sunshine everyone enjoyed having around. You weren’t offering soothing words when someone had an off day. It was strange and he didn’t like it. He became determined to help you through it.

Everyone started talking after your next win. You smiled but said nothing. You looked unfazed by the champaign chaos. You were hardly celebrating.

Everyone else assumed your were sick, but Charles had the feeling there was something else at play.

He’d immediately given into his crush on you. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to escape it since you spent tons of time together. If only he could help you through whatever fought patch you were in. Maybe he could get the confidence to ask you out.

It was now time for the Brazilian Grand-Prix. Imola. The track Ayrton Senna lost his life.

You were hoping to win today for him, and you had a good shot at doing so after an amazing qualifying.

In the evening you decided to visit your father’s memorial. The track was clear like the sky. Pink and orange hues shining down in rays. You dropped to your knees, placing the flower you brought in front of the memorial.

“I hope you can forgive me for not cheering loud anymore.” You cried. Failing to notice the footsteps behind you. “Mom says you’d be proud of me. That you would’ve come to every race. I wish I could’ve known you.”

Charles crouch’s next to you. His hand rubbing circles on your back in a soothing manner. He didn’t say anything, just let you talk. He knows how it feels to miss someone.

“I cheer loudly so that he can hear me. I just know he’d be celebrating with me, so I do enough for the both of us.” You confessed, leaning into Charles’ touch.

“I understand.” He guides your face to look at him, gently wiping your tears with his thumb. “Your dad would be proud of you. I am also proud of you.”

No other words needed to be said. You leaned in, your foreheads now touching. Somehow, that did all the talking for you.

The next day brought excitement and anxiety. You and Charles fighting hard to be at the top. You nearly cried when you won. Charles right behind you in second.

When the cars were parked, you jumped into his arms. Adrenaline flooding through your veins. She the interviewer came to ask you about the race, you looked at Charles. Him nodding at you and giving you a thumbs up for reassurance.

“I just want to say that I’m dedicating this win to my father, Ayrton Senna. I hope to continue his legacy.”

Everyone stared at you before the chanting of your name started. The name everyone knew you by now changed.

You were hesitant to celebrate on the podium. Until Charles took your hand in his and yelled at the top of his lungs. Bathing you in the alcohol. So you finally let loose again, the fans screaming with you.

And when you two were alone again, you realized your father had been watching you. He sent you Charles. A soft ‘thank you’ falls from your lips before kissing Charles Champagne covered lips.

[fuckitpossumorb]

I’ve already talk about how much I love the presence of music in the Rhapsody, so why not talk about music’s partner, dance!

Dancing is beautiful! It’s everything! The sweet pattern of bodies moving is a perfect match to the melodies coming from instruments, in fact! Playing an instrument is like a dance of its own! Idk, I love it so much and I’ve been thinking about it.

So the rhapsody crew? Can they dance? Do they enjoy it? Um,,, well,,,

In my brain they’re divided in three pairs, the ones who technically know how to dance, the ones who just vibe and cartoon dancing.

I think Kavir and Rett do know how to dance.

Kavir knows folk dances from his planet, a simple waltz and could even do a nice salsa with the right partner. I can imagine he generally enjoys dancing in party settings or celebrations but otherwise is just chill with listening to music.

Rett also knows how to waltz (and taught both Dandy and Pyke to waltz), he also knows old timey styles like rockabilly and swing, for him dancing is more about the partner. With the right person any place can be a dance floor.

Leboosh and Chuckles are the ones that do the silly dancing, kinda like the dances you see in the peanuts cartoons.

It’s simply in Chuckles blood, he does funny silly dances or full blown musical numbers, no in between. For Leboosh it’s a bit more complicated, his limbs don’t move or bend like a humanoid’s would, so his dancing it’s a bit more like that dancing squidward meme.

Finally my two sillies, Pyke and Dandy. When I say “just vibe” I mean they don’t have a specific style they know or follow, rather than they let the music just flow with them and they move along with it.

Normally I picture the Prismatic Pathway as this vibrant night life place, lots of neon signs and stuff, the only example Pyke would have for dancing would be clubbing (and I don’t think that would’ve ever been his scene).

I don’t think he’s particularly interested in dancing, but as an elf sometimes he just loosens up when there’s music involved.

Dandy is similar, she doesn’t know any dancing except what Rett has taught her and she’s not particularly interested in the stiff structure of a waltz, but enjoys just moving along with the rhythm the music she enjoys.

Curiously enough, Pyke and Dandy are the only ones who can follow each other’s rhythm, they just let the music flow like energy through them and end up matching each other quite easily.

I can vividly see them dancing together in the kitchen while the rest of the crew is asleep,,,

Anyways,,, what do y’all think?

[dirtysvthoughts]

Hi! Thoughts about hard dom!jh and soft dom!sc for 3some? 🫢

wow wow wow wow wow wow wowwwwww bestie, this is so hot and my jeongcheol heart soared at this ask 😩🤍 also y’all again, i’m super sorry for the unannounced radio silence - things have been busy and i really didn’t have the energy or motivation to write tbh :( but we’re back so i hope y’all enjoy! ALSO, merry christmas if you celebrate! i hope you all have a happy and safe holiday! 💖

hard dom! jeonghan and soft dom! seungcheol in a threesome would be an insanely gratifying experience for everyone involved. both of them will pleasure you to your heart’s content, but the differences in how they do so sends shivers down your body. the foreplay would be so sexy too, being sandwiched between them as their hands roam across the valley of your chest 🤤

dom! jeonghan who would surprisingly start off first, does not give you time to process everything. he just wants your clothes off, craving to see you naked and writhing like his needy little princess. would kiss you roughly as he walks you to the edge of the bed, your body immediately falling backwards when your legs feeling the wooden frame. you gasp as you feel the mattress press against your back and because jeonghan refuses to waste time, fingers in your cunt, roughly going at you as you feel the wind in your lungs nearly knocking out of you. he continues fingering you until he feels you clamp your thighs against his digits, knowing your first orgasm was coming. when you barely can whisper that you’re about to cum, he pulls his fingers out and you whine loudly at the loss of contact. “jeonghan? what was tha-” you protest, but it quickly turns into another loud whine as he speedily gets his pants and belt off and puts his tip inside of you.

again, jeonghan only gives you a few minutes to adjust to his size, and when he knows that you’re ready, he begins to thrust into you - roughly. and while he’s roughly fucking you, seungcheol can’t help but palm himself over his underwear from the other side of the room, the sound of skin slapping and the whines you let you nearly sending him over the edge.

you finally get to come and a wave of relief flows through your body. however, seungcheol clears his throat quickly your attention to him as he walks across the room, kneeling on the bed, pulling his jeans down.

“cheol..” you hold your breath as you bite your lip, his beautiful dick beholding your eyes. “you’re so hard, honey..” he smirks as he lines up center to your entrance, sitting you up so you can be closer to him as he whispers in your ear: “gonna take it nice and slow with you my angel.. have you slowly convulsing on my body as you moan my name so prettily.”

he gently pushes you up so you can ride him out, feeling the tip of his dick enter your continuously wet holes. he holds you by your back, his gentle thrusts greatly contradicting from jeonghan’s near ruthlessness, but still sending you to cloud nine. you grip onto seungcheol’s biceps as he continues to guide you to ecstasy, your second orgasm of the night coming quicker than you thought.

you gasp for air as seungcheol laughs, rubbing the small of your back lovingly as he kisses the shell of your earlobe. “think you’ll be ready for a round 2?” jeonghan smirks, admiring your state of wonder and daze.

you nod sleepily, knowing that even if your body was tired - you could never get enough of your boys.

[anthroarctosa]

Wine tasting <3

word count ! ; 3,322

A/n This is purely inspired by the song ankles by Lucy Dacus fully aware that’s a gay GAY song but I have Harvey brain rot and this lowk reminds me of him sorry y’all this is also not proof read at all fuck proof reading , i haven't written anything in a very uber long time (my last post on here being almost 3 years ago) but what better than old man smut to bring me back out of it who knows maybe i'll post again in another three years

Warnings(?) : SEX!!! WHAT!!! Unprotected too please be safe guys, dom Harvey but soft dom as it makes me go loopy!! Not rot dubious consent but they are tipsy from wine, this may be a horrible mischaracterisation of Harvey to you guys but I like to imagine sex Harvey and non sex Harvey are like two different people , this is written with female readers in mind , very badly written first pov I hate first pov, take a shot every time I put “I” or “he” at the start of a sentence ,

Pull me by the ankles to the edge of the bed

And take me like you do in your dreams

I'm not gonna stop you

I'm not gonna stop you this time, baby

I want you to show me what you mean

Then help me with thе crossword in the mornings

You are gonna make mе tea

gonna ask me how did i sleep

I feel a strong , heavy arm wrap around me it awakens me from my slumber and sudden flashes of the night before flood back to me.

I had only moved to pelican town under the pretence of easy farming and a free house , spending many summers here as a child it felt integral to keep such a large part of my childhood alive and running even if I didn’t know the first thing about farming. It was hard work but it proved fruitful with end of first autumns harvest being a huge success and allowing me to have an easy winter making my jams and brewing wine.

Now the wine making definitely had ulterior motives, never being much of a romantic back in zuzu city but having met the town doctor my first spring here after (embarrassingly enough) passing out in the mines we ended up striking a rather lovely unexpected friendship. Harvey was similar to me a fish out of water in a small town but making the best of it we spent most town celebrations together and found we have surprising amount in common. With similar films and agreement in how things always taste better once pickled I’d even managed to coax him out to the farm a few times to act as a vet almost if I ever had a sick cow or chicken which I always repaid in wine.

But recently I’ve been feeling a shift in our dynamic , as the seasons go on and the more time I spend with him wether it’s all evenings talking over wine and watching shitty taped movies I had found in a box in my grandpas attic or just a brief hello to drop him off some coffee on my way to the mines our eyes seem to linger more. I feel more weight in his words especially his pleads to make me be more careful in the mines.

“I’m just saying, every time I have to patch up some horrible gash you got doing yoba knows what down there I get worried! I think I’m warranted to being a little bit worried about you from time to time-“ he says exasperated with how much he’s being having to drill this into me recently but what else can I do in winter than mine? I roll my eyes half dismissing him with a wave of my hand “it’s really not that serious Harv, I’ve never been seriously injured—“ “yet! You’ve never been seriously injured yet!” He cuts me off his gaze looked so soft and heart struck it felt like sad begging puppy dog eyes almost full of worry, it gave me a pang in my heart he knew how to get his way with those big brown eyes of his.

“I’ll try to be more careful okay? I just- I wish I had something else to put all this pent up energy into now! I’ve never just not done anything before I mean all summer I- I just don’t know Harv but I’ll try okay” this brought a smile back to his face as he nods , clearly appreciative , he has good intentions of course he does there is not a mean bone in that poor man’s body he couldn’t be mean even if he tried but there’s nothing wrong with that I’ve learned.

“Now drink up I still need to get your opinion on this crystalfruit wine!” ushering my hand up to insinuate he has to finish his drink which he hastily does as he puts up a thumbs up grinning his lips stained a gentle purple it was a nice look on him being so relaxed I had gotten use to seeing him like this. Flushed cheeks from the wine his green pressed jack hung loosely on the back of the rickety kitchen chairs that had been in this house for yoba knows how long his shirt sleeves gently folded up to his forearms. That was something that surprised me when I first got to know him ; how BUFF our town doctor actually is! not to sound callous but it was really something he always seems so much smaller in memory to in practice but I think that’s more so to how he try’s to make himself seem smaller usually hunching or sitting down the few times I get to see him for the beast of the man that he is , (6’2 but let’s be real people that’s big) is when I get to force him into manual labour on the farm.

But now looking at him like this I didn’t know if it was the wine talking but I felt almost flushed myself , I didn’t realise how long I must’ve been quiet just staring at him till he laughs an almost nervous laugh waving a hand jokingly in front of my face “earth to (y/n) ? Helllooooo—“ he trailed off but I cut him off with a small giggle shaking my head “sorry i just got lost in thought didn’t mean to stare—“ standing up quickly trying to play it off which only caught his attention more , it’s no surprise I’ve been feeling it all brew up especially over the last few weeks he just seems different every time I’ve seen him he gets more confident around me and it feels like it ignites some strange kindling inside of me making me realise oh shit I like Harvey.

Spending the first few weeks of finding out this deliberation I wanted to tell my best friend but having that also be Harvey was a bit of a struggle so I settled on spilling my heart out to the town poet who I assumed was a fellow romantic. Elliot helped a lot surprisingly with helping me be able to summarise my feelings and how perfectly natural this all was and how he probably likes me too and blah blah blah but this was different from all my other flings and crushes I’d had been involved in before this wasn’t just carnal it was something that was real with feelings something that made me feel almost nauseous with how much I actually enjoyed his time and presence.

“We’ve still got the rest of the bottle to get through— I also think I have some jam and crackers that would go nice with this make it like a little meal cause I don’t know bout’ you but I am definitely feeling it go to my head already”

Making my way to my kitchenette pouring another two glasses , I could hear Harvey approaching me it made the hairs on my neck stand. Glancing to look back at him he was leaning himself back on his hands against the sink just watching me, this made me noticeably feel the shift between us I could feel his eyes staring at my lips which only made the heat rise to my face.

“I don’t say this enough (y/n) but I’m really glad you moved here, to pelican town. You make places good” it was such a simple sentence but it made my stomach flip almost, it wasn’t even out of the ordinary for Harvey to compliment me but like this? Here? It made me flush a noticeable flush only drowned out by the dim lights of my cabin had it already gotten dark outside? He was usually gone by now but tonight I didn’t want him to leave.

Looking over at the glasses of wine on my counter I felt some primal urge flip in me almost if I was going to make a move it would be tonight grabbing one and chugging it I could see the confusion arise in his face before I pulled him into a hasty kiss. He practically melted into it which definitely upped my confidence wrapping my arms around his neck pulling him flush against me his hands finding a quick quiet comfort on my hips the taste of crystal fruit wine both stain our mouths but I didn’t care it tasted better on him anyways.

Pulling away for small breaths before going into another hasty kiss he half hazardly leads me to my sofa he knows my floor plan by heart now pushing me gently against it pulling away from the kiss “oh yoba— you’ve no idea how many times I’ve imagined this” he muttered in between rough kisses against my neck feeling his moustache against the sensitive skin I could only imagine what that would feel like between my thighs. I let out an embarrassing whine almost gently bucking my hips up against nothing which brought out a small chuckle from Harvey.

I had never pictured him being like this so confident in such a situation but it must be the buzz from the wine and me initiating it that seems to have given him such a boost it was a nice change of pace “you look so good like this, so beautiful” a soft murmur as his kisses grow more frantic tugging at my colour to go lower making me instinctively move my arms to hastily pull up my thick knit jumper happy I’ve had the fireplace roaring all night the cold didn’t shock me. He takes this as his opportunity to move one hand from my hip to my chest rolling his thumb over my nipple shallowly poking through the thin (rather flimsily made) bra his kisses going further leaving darker marks.

“Please— please Harvey-“ whining out he lifts his head getting close to my face again “please what huh? What do you need me to do? Use your words” I could tell he was getting off on the rather submissiveness of my attitude I’m usually so confident I don’t know what this man had done to me but I know he’s gonna take care of me “touch me need you to touch me so— so bad-“ bucking my hips up his hand leaves my chest going back down to my hips helping tug down my jeans hooking his fingers in my belt loops to give him more control flinging them across the living room. “Wrap your legs around me” he says quickly and I don’t hesitate to think otherwise doing so.

With a swift motion he sweeps me up feeling sturdy in his arms I can’t imagine the amount of times he’s had to drag me unconscious to the clinic but this is different , I felt so small being carried so easily. He gently pushes the door to my room open and making a beeline to the bed placing me near the edge, my legs still wrapped around his waist thighs shaking in anticipation he quickly strips himself of his dress shirt practically popping the buttons tugging off his tie throwing that elsewhere. His chest was broad and littered in dark brown chest hair trailing down my eyes couldn’t help eyeing up where it leads a very obvious tent in his dress pants. He looked good , so good , practically looking at him with star eyes only being brought back to reality when his hands wrapped around my ankles pulling me back towards him . I hadn’t even noticed my legs had dropped but moaning at the sudden sensation of him flush up against me I could feel him even more now through his dress pants as he grinned hard against me the two of us letting out desperate small moans.

I wanted to whine , wanted to beg , wanted to flip him over and take control being able to take him fully in me now but I could tell that wasn’t his plan and something about the way he was moving me himself taking so much control had me almost brain dead. He pulled away rather harshly making an instinctive whimper fall past my lips which he gently shushed falling to his knees at the foot of the bed pulling me even closer I felt my face flush with embarrassment “oh you- you don’t have to-“ I called out, in all my past hookups I’d never let a man eat me out , I didnt see the appeal of someone pretending to make out with me down there but all my thoughts rushed quickly out my head as he pressed a firm kiss to my clit making me almost jump out of my skin.

Of course he knows the anatomy down there ! He’s a doctor for yobas sake a firm hand on my thigh as the other hooks his fingers in the waist band of my underwear “I want too, huge difference”

Pulling them down quickly tossing them with the other pile of clothes he feverishly went back down his tongue found its home kissing and licking at my clit made me quickly arch my back practically letting out a howl ever so thankful the farm was so far out from people now his free hand lathering itself up in my wetness I had no idea where this all came from with Harvey. Harvey who got embarrassed teaching the safe sex seminar to the youngsters in town , Harvey who covers his eyes at sex scenes in movies , Harvey who started his very own swear jar for me. yoba knows what I did different with this wine but I am ever so thankful for it as I moaned and mewled at his lewd actions.

I felt short of breath my stomach felt tight I was clasping at his lose brown curls which only encourages him speeding up curling his thick digits against that beautiful sweet spot my thighs clasp around his head as I reach my climax which he happily coaxes out of me his fingers still fucking me through it my head felt dizzy I could barely think as I see him gently pull away a small smug grin on his face his moustache wet pushing his now rather messed up hair back he pressed a gentle kiss to my thigh letting me calm down a little “you did so good, we can stop if you’re too tired to continue” he says his palms gently massaging my thighs I carefully sat up to look at him shaking my head slowly “no I- I want to well- I want you please I can take it-“ gasping out as he gently nods in understanding slowly standing up from the floor “we can stop at any point okay? Your comfort is my top priority” he speaks as his hands unbuckle his belt finally sliding his dress pants off leaving him in his forest green boxers , if I was in a more coherent state of mind I would’ve made a witty comment about the leaf pattern that covers them making them seem almost juvenile but all I could focus on now was the bulge ever so prominent in them. My hand immediately finding home palming him through them making him let out a groan, I wanted to slide them off him take him down my throat I’m no expert but I’ve never heard any complaints but there would be other times for that right now I needed him in me, his hands hastily pull down his boxers throwing them in the same pile the rest of my clothes have been tossed to he was a lot more impressive than I was expecting even at his large stature.

He gently grinned against my entrance helping slick himself up, I was still embarrassingly wet from my previous orgasm I still felt the light headed thrill from it as he gently pushed in filling me to my hilt in one swift motion practically knocking the wind out of me. Peppering my neck in kisses as he started off with gentle thrusts moaning against my neck this was better than I could’ve ever imagined “so perfect” he muttered being practically drowned out by my own embarrassingly loud cries and moans feeling so vulnerable and exposed had never been so good.

All the build up seemed to have gotten to Harvey too whose now using one arm to hold himself up as he thrusts another rubbing my already abused clit to help coax another orgasm out of me “I know you’ve got another—another one for me darling cmon— cum on me want to feel you” groaning against me as he said this my legs locked around his legs tightened as I came him yet again fucking me through it this felt like a religious experience I knew the universe was right for sending me here in the first place now after this as this was so right brought out of my spaced out thoughts by the feeling of him pulling out finishing on my stomach his face flushed his chest rises and falls as he tries to catch his breath and his thoughts, glasses practically fogged up. He sat on the edge of the bed pushing his hair back again the hair on his back (scratch that his whole body) coated in a thin layer of sweat from the excursion he had just put out . Slowly catching himself he fished his boxers off the floor sliding them back on “ill— I’ll go grab something to clean you up with give me a second” he says I do a small nod too out of it to make the proper movement.

He returns a few moments later with a large plastic bowl and a wash cloth , the water was warm as he dipped it in wringing it out using it to gently wash the spilled cum on my stomach and down my thighs to at least make me slightly less sticky . His touch was so gentle now compared to the rough fucking my brains out attitude he just had this was the Harvey I was used to, attentive and sweet , he seemed almost to be catching up with himself now his face flushed “I’m so sorry if I was too rough I just— I’ve thought about how this would go if it would even happen so many times and I just lost myself I’m so—“ cutting him off before he can apologise I place my hand on his face shakily sitting up as I shushed him softly shaking my head “that was— that was so incredible Harvey I don’t even know what to say, just perfect”

This settled his nerves slightly as he nodded continued to wipe me down whilst admiring his handiwork marking up your neck. Hickies were such a juvenile thing to do but he just lost himself in the moment thank yoba it’s winter. He placed the rag back inside the bowl placing it on the bedside he lifted the duvet up and over me helping tuck me in pressing a kiss to my forehead “you’re not leaving are you?” I ask trying to hide the desperation in my voice , I didn’t want him to leave after that. He seems surprised but shakes his head “no no I’m just— I’m tucking you in, I’m just gonna go get you some water and join you” and he did just that placing the fresh glass on my bed stand and gently climbing in the other side I cuddle up to him like it’s second nature which he gladly accepted. This all felt so natural and it didn’t take long for me to drift off only being awoken at the crack of dawn by my chickens and cows stumbling around outside the pros of a free range farm. Feeling the heavy arm around my waist and the gentle snores I turn around to face a sleeping Harvey . He looks so gentle even more so than normal, it was nice seeing him without his glasses so at peace in his sleep, my movement (along with my loud animals) gentle wakes him, he smiles a bashful smile as he asks “how did you sleep?”

Ya girl idk what this was I was supposed to wash my work uniform but Harvey brain rot has cursed me!!!!!

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Vivace

Chapter Twenty Five

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean/Bela

Other characters: Bobby, Tiny, Lee, Kevin, Annie, Pamela, Sam, faceless fans and support staff

Word Count: 2900

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, jealousy, grief, musical backstory and hope

A/N: The band played on.

Series Masterlist

You held your breath as Bobby gathered the band backstage. Two dozen roadies, stage crew, and security stilled as he looked past the boys and Pam to their support staff, only Charlie and her team were missing, already in place in the booth. You shivered and waited. Jody’s voice echoed behind the bend thanking the crowd and promising a great show from Phantom Traveler to come. Andy slinked around and continued to snap pictures, despite the glare it earned him anytime Bobby caught the lens pointed toward him. The ragtag group buzzed with excitement and you silently prayed that it would go off without a hitch. 

Finally, Bobby began to speak, “I know a lot of you are nervous about tonight, ‘bout this tour— hell about this band. But it means a lot that y’all signed on for another round of nonsense with these idjits. It means you believe in them, that you’ve got faith they can pull together and get it done. Well, I’m here to tell you it’s not a time to worry, because ain't no other band that can do what these guys do. It’s a time to celebrate. Let’s get out there and fuckin’ rock’n’roll.”

Lee hooted and people cheered, you couldn’t help but clap and shriek along. Then everyone crowded in for the circle of hands and chanted “Phaaaaaantom TRAV-ler!”

The band and crew maneuvered in the dark, letting the interim instrumentals keep the crowd distracted as they set up. You scurried back to where you had left Bela in the wings, under Tiny’s care.

“Everything alright?” Bela asked out of the side of her mouth, shifting in place as she tried to clock Dean amongst the many moving shapes.

“Aces,” you replied, bouncing on the balls of your feet as the crowd started to clap with an increasing beat.

You spotted Sam and Kevin’s silhouettes high five and then Lee strummed a teaser chord. Walkie talkies crackled around you as the all clear was called. You kept an earpiece in, but without much left for you to do, you turned it to the lowest setting besides mute. 

It was go time. 

“Bring ‘em up, Charlie,” Bobby prompted over the line and the Forum erupted. 

Lights and wavelengths of sound shot off in every direction and Phantom Traveler took off.

You wouldn’t have stopped yourself from screaming bloody murder even if you had remembered you were directly beside your very posh best friend and her security detail. 

It was happening. They made it back home.

“Good evening Inglewood!” Dean greeted, pointedly accurate. Plus you could tell he was grinning from where you stood, from just the sway of his head and a glimpse of his profile.

There was no other chit chat, no grand speech thanking them for coming out, it was just the band, the music, and the audience.

They started off with ‘Woman in White’, their first major single and something high energy enough to get people out of their seats. Then on to the B side of their first EP, which was a cult favorite called ‘Playthings’ that featured something affectionately referred to as ‘the beat off’ between Sam and Pam.

But at the time it was written, it was played by Sam and Cas.

Pam did it better.

It was like someone was racing up the stairs or against time itself as the two rhythm setting musicians fought for dominance. The crowd ate it up. And you could tell they both were already dripping sweat by the time the song ended and they tuned it back and finally jumped into their last fateful album.

‘Scarecrow’ was haunted and foreboding, reminiscent of early 90s metal that you knew Dean adored. It was also Cas’ favorite track off that entire album. And Kevin killed the bridge as the keyboard turned into an ancient organ chasing the crows away with the dawn. Charlie even added a cackling Vincent Price at the end that couldn’t be topped.

“How’s everybody doing tonight?!” Lee took the words out of Dean’s mouth, which earned him a kick in the ass. They were having a blast up there and it was infectious.

The crowd roared.

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Dean bellowed. “I hope you don’t mind, but we’d like to bring somebody out for this next number.”

Shrill ruckus pierced the air, they knew what was coming.

“She’s our very dear friend and we just so happened to convince her to tag along with us this tour. You know her, you love her, please— give a very warm welcome to the incomparable Ms. Annie Hawkins!”

Everyone screamed and stomped, watching as the spotlight followed Annie from the farside of the stage towards the standing mics centerstage.

“Oh, she looks amazing,” Bela spoke for the first time since you’d gotten back. And she wasn’t wrong.

“The girls probably had a blast with her in their dressing room,” you tacked on thoughtfully.

“Her top though,” Bela continued. “I want it.”

You chuckled at Bela’s priorities and quickly got sucked back into what was happening barely thirty feet away.

“You sure you’re ready over there?” Annie teased as Dean adjusted his mic after rushing to set down his guitar.

The crowd laughed in unison.

“I’m ready, do you think they’re ready?” Dean asked coyly, gesturing to the crowd.

All around you camera screens glowed and flashed burst through the darkened arena. Concert security lined the stage and guarded the partitioned areas for the crew and band to navigate the area. Until that moment you really hadn’t been able to pull any single response from the cacophony. You hadn’t been trying anyway. But when Annie goaded Dean a cluster of women in the pit got your attention.

“And here I thought you were out here warming them up for me?” Annie teased.

The crowd loved it, but one catty comment made it feel like you and Bela were right there up on stage with them. “Bela needs to get her man before that cougar gets too cozy up there.”

They eyed your little corner below the VIP suspiciously. You missed whatever Dean said in response, instead watching the women glare and Bela adamantly ignore them in equal measure.

But then the song began. A slow and slinking start reminiscent of Springsteen’s Fire. Which you clocked the first time you heard it, but that was just the intro. The lyrics started up as a quick conversation, a compromise even and then they were harmonizing into the chorus. 

The band hadn’t done many duets, even with such talented singers in their ranks. It wasn’t their style. But this song felt like it had always existed, it was timeless and familiar and really fucking catchy. Annie beamed at Dean when he slipped closer on stage and they belted out the final lines.

It made you feel like they were performing only for you, for their people. It was honest and intimate, but this wasn’t rehearsal or karaoke and the audience would not be forgotten.

Everyone cheered. Even the judgy bitches that kept watching Bela at your side.

Dean hugged Annie and made sure she got the reception she deserved, egging the crowd on and bowing in homage to her talent.

She rolled her eyes, did a snarky curtsy and waved her way back off stage.

“You guys seem to be digging that one. Maybe we could play some more new stuff for y’all tonight?” Lee asked. “I mean— the album isn’t out yet.”

Naturally, the crowd shouted and begged for more.

Bela turned to whisper to you. “They’re not gonna get in trouble for this are they?”

You shook your head. “They’ve got permission to do a few songs until the album is actually out and then they’ll change up the set list to cover more of the new stuff.”

“Got it.”

“Yeah, bootlegs always exist, but this way they’re building excitement but not giving away the farm.”

“Lee!” Dean admonished playfully. 

“What?!” Lee spat back, smirking.

“Sam— tell him.”

Sam shook his head, always stoic on stage.

Dean kept up the ruse. “I don’t know if we should. Pamela?”

Pamela thudded the bass drum and hit the crash. 

“Okay! Pammy’s in— Kevo?” Lee kept the momentum going.

And without any warning or time for Kevin to actually respond, they burst into the opening of 'Prophet and Loss'. 

“I would kill for a drink—- is there somebody we could send to concessions?” Bela asked midsong. And you looked around, wondering if any of the staff could actually leave their posts without getting in trouble. 

You suddenly felt like a bad host. “We’ll get you a box for Vegas. I know this isn’t as fun as it sounds standing for two hours straight.”

“Y/N, I’m fine. Promise.”

“Okay, well I’ll go after the next song. You want anything, Tiny?” you asked your silent companion.

“All good, boss.” He replied and straightened his stance, clasping his hands in front of him.

Kevin silenced the space with the burst of chords at the beginning of his solo, showcasing what Julliard training could do and how rock’n’roll could still be classy as hell. The key changed, turning the mood broken and lamenting as they stumbled into the bridge where Dean pelted out about losing Cas without so much detail.

 Dean let the note hang in the air. “'Prophet and Loss', everybody.”

Whistles filled the air, keeping the mood somber but with enough reception to know that small offering was gratefully accepted.

“Thanks— uh, I, we really appreciate being here tonight and being able to share some of the new album with everybody. But we know you wanna hear the stuff you know, too. So we’re gonna hop back to it and have a kick ass night. How’s that sound?” Dean checked in.

The crowd cheered.

“Did you hear something?” Dean asked Lee jokingly.

The crowd got louder.

“I don’t know if they’re up for much more,” Lee taunted back.

You rolled your eyes and turned to Bela. “Okay, I’ll be back, text me if you think of anything besides drinks.”

The crowd continued to take the bait, howling behind you as you made your way out of the off limit areas and up a side stairway towards the general admission cavern-like hallway. For the first time it felt like all day, you exhaled. Your pass flapped against your chest as you strutted quickly towards the concession area, bypassing the VIP lounge because you didn’t want to get distracted by Madison or any of the mid-level suits that might be milling around.

You could have stolen something from the dressing room, but that wouldn’t have taken nearly as long and you needed some time off of Bela duty tonight. Which made you feel guilty as hell. She was your best friend! She didn’t do anything wrong. And yet you were incredibly frustrated with even the thought of her.

So you waited in line, ordered two extremely overpriced and depressingly weak cocktails, and put them on your expense card. 

The thing about regret is that it isn’t a one time experience. There might have been a moment in the process of you contriving this scenario for Dean’s redemption where you second or third guessed yourself. But the biting sting of seeing him play happy with Bela online and even in person had come at you in waves.

Regret was bearable if it meant it worked, if Dean could have some peace.

But this wasn’t just regret, it was petulance and jealousy and injustice.

Because Bobby had asked all the way back in the beginning, why couldn’t it have been you playing arm candy? And the fact that people could see what you had tried so hard to bury and ignore plain as day, well, it made you feel incredibly small and even more pathetic.

There was no reason for you to be the one at Dean’s side. But damn did you want to be.

And somehow you had managed to keep that from one of the most important people in your life. So it wasn’t just that Bela was getting a part of Dean that you’d never have. Or parts. You shuttered at the thought of where his mouth had been. It was that your best friend hadn’t even clocked the elephant in the room.

Like she didn’t even know you at all.

Or maybe that was on you too. Maybe you hadn’t been honest with yourself until it was too late. How could you put that blame on her too?

You slammed your drink and got back in line for a replacement, not wanting to return with only Bela’s cup like some kind of maid. You could hear the crowd singing along with Lee on ‘A Reaper’s Offering’, a bluesy cut from their second studio album. 

You probably had another two songs before you’d miss anything else new. But you also knew Bela was waiting and the longer the show went on, the more drunk and ballsy random fans could get. You couldn’t leave her with the forever nonplussed Tiny for backup. You smiled at the woman working the bar cart apologetically and ordered another husk of a cocktail.

After another stream of applause, the opening bars of ‘Abandon All Hope’ started and you knew you had to book it. This was Jo’s song, you couldn’t miss it. You never left Dean to get through this one alone. Huffing down the service steps with two drinks in hand in heels was something that you managed only from practice, but you made it in time for the first chorus.

“Oh aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Bela murmured to her drink before sipping it and wincing. “It’ll do. Took you long enough,” she teased and winked, hip checking you as you struggled to get your breathing under control as you mouthed along with Dean’s words.

“Trapped by your side with no exit, we had to let you go—”

Bela quickly picked up on your shift in mood and reeled in the playfulness, for which you gave her a grateful glance before turning back to try and lock eyes with Dean on stage.

“Defending that night while trying to give comfort, we should have known—”

“To abandon all hope,” you sang out, the last lyric rising up to hover in the air. 

Dean turned and glanced in your direction and then looked again once he finally saw you. He nodded and tapped his heart and you returned the gesture, you both kept her safe as you could now. He blew a kiss to the ceiling and bowed.

The crowd continued to echo around you, suffocating yet as distant as thunder. 

“Alrighty, folks, we’re gonna take a short break for Sammy to find another shirt and we’ll get you one last sneak peak,” Dean explained. “Kevin? Think you and Pam can keep ‘em busy for me?”

“Aye-aye,” Kevin said and saluted, out of range of his mic stand.

Pam started in with the count and Kevin peeled in down from the upper registers, like he was sliding in from Heaven and crashing a party. The instrumental interlude was a mesmerizing feat of jumping genres and killing time while showcasing just what all each of them could do. But you weren’t even paying attention. Dean made a beeline for the back of the stage and he wound around security until he could find you. 

He gripped the ball of your shoulder and leaned in. “I didn’t see you until the end— had me worried, Trouble!”

He had to talk over the crowd, his back firmly towards the nearest wedge of fans.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!”

He stared at you, sweaty and down to a single layer, earpiece still in his left ear. 

“You’re killing it up there,” Bela said, making you both stop and blink. Dean grinned and pulled her into a hug, a boyfriend hug, arms tight around her waist so her arms can loop around his neck. She even kicked a leg back for balance. 

God was she good.

“You keep an eye on her, okay? She’s gonna need tissues for the next one,” Dean warned playfully down his nose at Bela about you.

She rolled her eyes. “You are a menace on the emotional, aren’t you?”

“All in a day’s work,” Dean shrugged and set her back on her own two feet.

The crackle of a nearby walkie made Dean look around for whoever was sent to find him. “Sam’s looking for you,” an unimpressed lackey of Benny’s pointed out from ten feet away.

“Yeah, I bet he is. Alright, well, see you ladies later— Tiny,” Dean stepped back nodding. He soon disappeared only to hop up on the wing of the stage, grabbing an acoustic and sliding it on.

After the chaos of the crowd dissipated from Pamela’s and Kevin’s antics, Dean and Sam walked on stage and sat down on a pair of stools that had been left out for them. They didn’t look at each other or even the crowd and you knew in that moment that Dean hadn’t been lying. You weren’t gonna survive the next song live with a dry eye.

‘Brothers Keeper’ nearly took down the entire venue. 

Cell phones and lighters blazed in the dark, enraptured space as Dean and Sam sang about each other, about family, and about forgiveness.

Tagging:

@deans-spinster-witch

@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

@leigh70

@globetrotter28

@winharry

@lastactiontricia

@rockhoochie

@brightlilith

@coldhearted93

@djs8891

Chapter 27: Polyphony

[flightlessangelwings]

Mando M.C.

Biker!Din Djarin x fem!reader Word count- 6.1k Prompts- AU fic, hurt/comfort, “Do you trust me?” “You can’t go until I tell you” “I can’t stop thinking about you” Warnings- s.mut (18+ ONLY!), biker au, hurt/comfort, pining, feelings, protective!Din, attempted kidnapping, nondescript violence, minor character death, reader is a sex worker and uses “Amarilis” as a fake name (it’s explicitly said so), same no removing helmet rules, no use of y/n Notes- Written for @pedrostories 1k celebration, congrats you guys y’all deserve it!! The fake name "Amarilis" is a nod to my good friend @olliwan-kenobi  own biker!Din au which I have a cameo in under that name, so it's something special to me! I had a lot of fun with this one, and I just can never get enough of biker au's!! And we respect sex workers in this house (and so does Din and the rest of the Mandos)!! Enjoy!! @flightlessangelwings-updates is my update blog so feel free to also follow that and turn on post notifications to stay up to date on when I post new fics! Moodboard made by me! The Din vibes in that right pic are immaculate omg!

~

The roar of the motorcycle echoed in the wind as the Mandalorian drove down the open road. It was a crisp, bright Nevarro day, and the long winding road was the biker’s for the taking. On the sleek black and silver bike, he could go anywhere, do anything, see anyone. But right now, there was only one place he wanted to be.

“Welcome back, Mando,” the lady of the house greeted his helmeted form as he stepped through the familiar doors.

“Madame Luna,” he nodded his head in a friendly greeting.

Neither of them knew the other’s true identities; no one used their real names behind the doors of the brothel. Madame Luna, the beautiful, tall and commanding mistress was in charge here, and she always made sure her girls were safe, protected and taken care of. It was the place to be, both as a worker and a client.

“I’m here to see…”

“I know who you’re here to see,” Madame Luna interrupted, “You always see her,” she bat her eyelashes at the leather-clad and helmeted biker, “Are you sure I can’t keep you company today, Mando?”

“I’m sure,” his tone was firm yet kind.

Before either could say anything, your hushed voice came from behind the mistress of the brothel, “Mando…” Although his chapter was well known for never removing their helmets, you recognized his silhouette anywhere.

He turned his helmet towards you and you saw his shoulders visibly relax, “Amarilis.”

No real names.

Mando looked you up and down and his fist involuntarily clenched at the sight of you. You were draped in a black silk robe and you leaned against the frame of the doorway. Like all the others who worked at the brothel, you were styled to perfection to attract those who patronized there, but there was something different about you. Something about your energy that no one else possessed drew Mando in.

“Mando,” you repeated in a more sure tone as you reached your hand out to him, “Follow me.”

Madame Luna smirked as she watched the two of you pass by, “Enjoy yourself, Mando.”

The brothel itself was dimly lit, but clean. It was frequented by many different motorcycle clubs in the area, but it was also a designated neutral space. Even if rivals were seen in the halls, it was a no-violence building. Mando himself was the one who put the deal together so that no one who worked there, no one who wasn’t involved, would ever be caught in any crossfire. 

It kept you safe.

Your hand felt warm in the Mandalorian’s gloved one as you took him into your room. It was simple, yet the space’s purpose was as plain as day. The bed sat on the far end of the small space and it was adorned with silk sheets that matched your robe. A small dresser sat on the other end, and he knew what the drawers held. Light in the room was minimal, yet it was just enough to highlight your silhouette. With the door closed and locked, you let go of his hand and looked him up and down as you fiddled with the sash of your robe.

“It’s been a while since you’ve been by, Din,” your voice was soft as your robe opened to reveal nothing but tiny lace black panties underneath, “Everything ok?”

Din’s breath hitched in his throat as he took off his gloves, the only piece of clothing that he ever removed, “Fine,” he replied as he reached out and caressed your body gently, “Guild’s been busy lately,” his gruff voice echoed from under his helmet as he felt his pants tighten. No matter how many times he saw you, it was like the first time, and his heart pounded in his chest every time.

“I was worried,” you looked into the darkness that was the visor of his helmet and imagined his eyes looking back at you. You opened your mouth to say something more, but you left it unspoken… I missed you.

Din breathed your real name as he pulled you flush against him, “Are you alright?”

Your smile lit up the room, “I am now,” your voice was raw yet hushed as you backed up both your bodies towards the bed, “But you’re here on business… So let’s get to it,” your tone turned more sultry as you bumped into the bedframe.

A single soft chuckle escaped his lips as his hands ran up and down your slides, memorizing every dip and curve of your body. Your skin warmed as you felt his eyes devour your figure, even if you couldn’t see them. Both of you let out harmonizing groans as Din hooked his fingers on the elastic of your panties and coaxed them over your hips and down your legs, dropping down to his knees as he did so.

Din’s eyes landed on your pussy, already wet for him, and he let out a low growl. His eyes ran down the length of your legs as you stepped out of the small piece of fabric. But, as you were about to use your foot to fling them aside, he grabbed your ankle, caressing you as he reached down and picked the panties up off the floor. Without looking, Din tossed them over his shoulder, and you let out a laugh as they landed right on the door handle.

“You know how I like you,” Din purred as he stood and guided your body onto the bed.

You let out another soft chortle before you rolled over onto your stomach, comfortable on the plush bed and silk sheets. You let out a whimper as you felt his calloused hands roam over your back. Din’s touch was always surprisingly tender for how strong and tough a man he was on the outside. Goosebumps erupted on your skin as he cupped your ass and gave it a firm squeeze, and you heard him groan as he kneaded the soft flesh.

A contented sigh escaped your lips as you buried your face in the sheets and Din positioned himself behind you. You heard the faint sound of his belt clicking and you felt the mattress dip by your legs. Shifting yourself so that your knees propped your ass up a bit, you heard Din let out a low growl as you presented your dripping pussy for him.

“Good girl,” the words slipped out before he would stop himself, but it only turned both of you on more.

“Din…”

He ran his fingers across your folds, savoring the wetness he felt there before he pushed two fingers inside you with little resistance. You moaned into the sheets as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of you, getting you ready for his cock. Din was always so soft with you, as if he was worried he would break you if he went too hard. You almost would have wanted him to be a little rougher, but you also craved the way he handled you so tenderly.

Din groaned as he pulled his now soaking wet fingers out of you, and if it weren’t for his helmet, he would have licked them clean. But, his aching cock demanded his attention first, and instead he used his slick-coated fingers to pump himself a few times before he lined himself up with your pussy.

Slowly, Din pushed his cock into you, making both of you gasp at the same time. You clutched into the sheets as you felt his thick cock stretch you out inch by delicious inch. And Din could not look away as your pussy lips wrapped around him as he felt your warmth engulf him more and more. It was a connection unlike anything else either of you had felt, yet neither of you spoke the feelings out loud. To both of you, this was just business, At least that was the lie you both told yourselves.

“Fuck,” Din growled as he bottomed out inside of you and leaned forward so that his leather-clad body covered your bare one.

He held onto your hips as he positioned himself to thrust in and out of you. But, Din frowned from under the helmet when you hissed in pain.

“You ok?” he asked in a whisper.

“Yes,” you replied instantly, “Please, keep going.”

Din released his grip so that only his body weight kept you pinned underneath him as he slowly rocked back a bit. Gently, carefully, tenderly, he thrust forward, feeling your tight muscles around him once more. When you only moaned in pleasure, Din kept his slow yet precise pace.

With your face buried in the sheets, Din used the leverage of your back against his helmet to tilt it up just enough so that his lips were exposed, allowing him to place a series of open mouthed kisses on your back. You moaned loudly as you felt the tickle of his little hairs, his soft lips, and the sharp angle of his nose against your bare skin, and it almost made you cum then and there.

“You…” you moaned, “You can go harder… If you want… Din…” you breathed heavily as he thrust into you over and over again.

Din’s cock twitched as you begged for him. And though he never wanted to hurt you, he also couldn’t deny your request. He groaned your name as he wrapped his arms around you, propping himself up on his knees so he would pound into you harder. As he adjusted your bodies, his helmet slid back down, covering his face entirely once more. 

You cried out in pleasure as you suddenly found yourself in Din’s lap, his cock buried even deeper inside you at his new angle, as his arms held you firmly against his chest. With the new angle, your moans echoed freely in the room as he thrust into you harder and faster. And all you could do was hold on to him whenever you could grasp. 

And you loved it.

Skin slapped against skin as groaned from both of you filled the room. Din kept his grip on you tight, yet not painful. And he was careful, even lost in his bliss, not to grab onto your hip where it caused you pain. As he thrust into you at his new angle, Din again used your shoulder to push his helmet up enough to free his lips so he could nibble on your skin. It was the closest he would get to kissing you.

“Fuck… Din… I’m…”

He moved his hand and rubbed at your clit, and he growled when he felt your inner muscles clench around his cock, “Cum for me, mesh’la…”

The room spun and you saw stars as your climax hit hard. You felt so wonderfully helpless in his arms as he pounded into you over and over again, hitting your sweet spot with precision. You moaned his name as a string of curses flowed from your lips as you rode out your orgasm on his cock.

Din loved to make you cum. Feeling you fall apart in his arms, knowing how vulnerable you were in that moment, and seeing how beautiful you looked, turned him on like nothing else. And as he held you tightly in your high, Din’s own climax soon followed and he bit down on your shoulder to stifle his own groans as he spilled himself deep inside you.

Once both of you were spent, Din rolled your bodies forward and you both collapsed onto the bed. His helmet dropped back down as your body bounced on the mattress while his own stayed over on shaky arms. Heavy breaths filled the room as neither of you moved for several long moments. You lied on your stomach, your eyes closed in contentment as you caught your breath and tried to calm your pounding heartbeat. 

It was Din who broke the silence as he cupped the side of your face, “You ok?” he asked in a raspy voice.

You grinned before you opened your eyes, “Never better,” you replied as you finally opened your eyes and were met with his familiar figure hovering over you. Having never seen his face, you imagined what he looked like under the helmet. You imagined soft eyes and a kind smile. And something in you said that his eyes were brown. You had caught a slight glimpse of his hair a few times when he obviously needed it cut, and your heart fluttered at the thought of being able to run your fingers through those soft brown waves that stuck out from under his helmet.

Unaware of your internal conflict, Din extended a hand to help you up, and both of you almost gasped as a jolt pulsed through your connected hands. He cleared his throat though, and bent down and picked up your robe before he stood and strode over to the door where your discarded panties lay. You slipped your robe over your shoulders and held it closed as you watched his fingers nimbly slide them off the handle.

You studied the broadness of his back, covered completely by the leather jacket of his motorcycle club. On the back was a large skull, the Mythosaur, with the words “Mandalorian Motorcycle Club” around it. On his shoulder, Din had a patch with a mudhorn- his personal emblem. From being with Mandos from other chapters who did remove their helmets and jackets, you guessed he had both tattooed on his body. You were sure he had other tattoos as well, but the only one you ever saw was the little bullseye on his hand.

As Din turned back to you, instead of handing your panties back like you expected, he let out a mischievous exhale and balled them up before stuffing them in his leather jacket pocket. You practically saw the smirk that laid hidden behind the visor from the way his breath hitched. 

You smirked, “I usually charge extra for that you know,” your tone was playful. Another Mandalorian, who always dressed in blue and silver and had a very handsome face, a sexy accent, and flirty demeanor, was actually one of your best customers in that regard.

“I know,” Din’s voice matched yours in friskiness. And you could tell he smiled back at you with a little gleam in his eye. Without another word, he came back and settled on the bed next to you, and you were sure your heart would burst from your chest as you listened to the sound of his breathing from under his helmet. 

“I always look forward to your visits, Din,” you broke the silence with a light tone.

He let out a single amused huff, I do too…

Silence once again came over the two of you as you sat side by side on the bed. Your eyes looked around the room as you suddenly felt nervous at his side. The roughness of his leather jacket rubbed against your skin, yet it was a feeling you craved. Ever since the first time he came to you, there was something about Din that made him different from anyone else. You even trusted him enough with your real name, and he did the same.

That had to mean something, right?

“So…” you cleared your throat, “How’s Grogu?”

That made Din let out an amused chuckle, “That kid is gonna eat me out of house and home,” he laughed softly, “But he’s good. The covert is watching him right now.”

You sat in a comfortable silence before you burst into laughter.

“What is it?” Din asked, secretly savoring the sound of your laugh.

“Nothing,” you covered your face, “It’s just…” you tried to calm yourself before you continued, “I was just thinking about the first time you came here,” you snorted, “In all my years of working here, I’d never seen a man come by with his kid before.”

Din let out an amused huff, “Ok, yeah laugh it up.” But, he also couldn’t help but remember that day too. He was on the hunt for a bounty, and Grogu stayed with him in a little sidecar that Din had made for him. He had come by looking for information, and you were the one who had what he needed. Din was taken with you from the moment he laid eye on you, and he made a silent promise to return without the kid to see you more. And it was a promise he kept over and over again.

“No, no,” you waved your hands, “I didn’t mean anything by it,” you rested your hand on his knee, “I just mean you’re different… In a good way.”

“Thanks,” he huffed as his heart pounded in his chest from the way you held onto his leg.

After a few moments of calm silence, you spoke up again, “I have to say, Din,” you chuckled, “Your MC sounds more like a family than any other group that’s ever come around here.”

Din turned to you but said nothing.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way,” you raised your hands in defense, “It’s just funny how a group of bikers who have a reputation for never showing their faces and being the toughest out there are actually the easiest to get along with.”

Many members of Din’s covert came by this brothel, and he was sure that others he knew had also been with you. He wasn’t jealous, though, even if he wanted to be. He had to claim to you, and you were both free to do what you wanted and needed when the other wasn’t around. This was your job after all, just like he had his line of work. Din was only concerned for your safety, that was all. And at least he knew the other’s in his covert would treat you well. 

“That really big guy had been here a few times actually,” you continued, “He wears blue…”

Din nodded, knowing you meant Paz.

“Want to know a secret?” you leaned in with a grin on your face, “He puts on a big macho guy act… But he’s even gentler than you,” you couldn’t help but burst into laughter, which Din joined in, “Please don’t tell anyone though. He would kill me!”

“Your secret is safe with me,” Din promised. Although it amused him to be privy to that information. As the laughter died down, though, Din turned more serious, “There is something I do need,” he said plainly.

“There always is,” you sighed as you turned to face him, “Who is the unlucky bastard this time?”

It was what brought him to you in the first place. Being the most sought after brothel in Nevarro, many came by here looking for the same thing Din did. But, it also proved advantageous for his job as a bounty hunter, and the two of you struck a deal that you would help him find his targets in exchange for a cut.

Din pulled out a photo and handed it to you, and his face morphed into a deep scowl under the helmet when he saw the way your face dropped and a gasp escaped your lips.

“You know him?” he asked in a low tone, “Did he hurt you?” every muscle in his body tensed.

You swallowed hard and nodded, “His group asked for a girl for a party two days ago and it paid well so I volunteered,” your hands trembled as you clenched the photo, “They weren’t too bad, just a little rougher than I expected.”

They just unknowingly signed their death certificates. “Where can I find them?” he growled.

A gasp escaped your lips at his sudden change in tone, and you weren’t quite sure what to make of it. You turned to Din and saw the way his fists clenched and his posture stiffened. You had become good at reading his body language over the time he had been coming to you, and you could tell he was pissed. And yet, it made your heart beat even faster.

Before you answered him, you grabbed his shoulders and straddled his waist, facing him as he remained seated on the bed, “How about another round first,” you purred as you rocked your hips against his and let your robe fall open, “On the house…”

Din groaned as he immediately rested his hands on your hips, careful not to hurt you but still hold you securely, “Yeah?” he asked with an obvious smirk in his tone.

“Yeah,” you whispered as you leaned in closer, your pulse running wild as he rested his helmeted forehead against yours. 

*

It was dark by the time Din reached his destination: a rival MC’s clubhouse. He didn’t tell you the whole story; you didn’t need to know. But, his target, and the others in the group, were part of a new club that had been terrorizing the borders of Nevarro. They were a threat to the Mandalorians, and to everyone who lived closeby, so they had to be taken care of. Quickly and quietly. And being the best at what he did, Din volunteered to be the one to take the job. But, since he found out that they had hurt you too, it suddenly became more personal for him. 

By the looks of the clubhouse, most of the group was there, and they all passed out after another night of heavy partying. Din rode his bike close enough that he would walk towards the dimmed house without being heard or spotted. His breaths came out in short, heavy bursts as he fastened a silencer on his gun and readied himself.

Without a sound, Din made his way through the back doors, taking out the two prospects that slept on the porch on the way. The floors creaked softly as he stepped inside, but he quickly shot three more men who were passed out drunk nearby. He crossed the doorway into another room where he fired on more unsuspecting, sleeping bikers.

But, as he got into the main room, one of them stirred and shouted as he recognized the figure in the shadows as an intruder. The rest of the men who snored on the floors and couches quickly snapped alert and reached for their guns.

“Shit,” Din cursed under his breath as he ducked for cover.

He easily took out two of the five men who fired at him before he ran towards another. Din evaded fire from the drunken men, shooting one of them dead on his way towards his target. With an angry growl, he tackled the man in the photo he showed you to the ground, punching him and nearly knocking him out as they collided with the floor.

“How…” the man wheezed, “How did you find us?”

“A friend,” Din answered in a voice that even he barely recognized, “Someone you hurt… And you will pay for…”

“Fuck,” he coughed as the realization became plain on his face. He didn’t have time to worry about it too long, though, as Din punched him several more times until the red on his face matched the rage that pulsed though Din’s veins.

With a heavy sigh, Din finally leaned back and surveyed the room. Bodies laid scattered all over the place, and the smell already started to invade his senses. But, before he could relax his tense shoulders and call the job done, a gunshot rang through the air, and Din quickly launched himself behind one of the couches for cover.

“You’ll pay for this, Mando!” a voice screamed over another gunshot, “I know there’s only one person who could have told you where to find us,” he sneered darkly as he holstered his gun and ran towards his bike, “I’ll have to pay her a visit…”

“No…” Din breathed as he bolted towards the man who already mounted his bike. Din pulled out his gun and fired several times as he started to ride away, but he missed every time. “Shit,” he spat as his heart pounded in his chest. He ran in the opposite direction toward his own bike parked in the shadows and he prayed to the Maker that he would reach you in time.

*

The sun was just starting to set the next day as you bid farewells to the others inside the brothel and stepped out back. You closed your eyes and took in a deep breath, savoring the fresh air as the sun warmed your skin. Turning to lock the door behind you, you faintly heard the sound of a motorcycle in the distance, but you didn’t think anything of it. Bikers came by almost daily, and you were confident that Din wouldn’t be back so soon. 

Suddenly, a gloved hand clasped over your face, covering your mouth while another strong hand grabbed your arm and yanked you against a strong body. You tried to scream, but your cries were muffled by the hand over your mouth, and your struggles were useless since the stranger who grabbed you was bigger and stronger than you.

“You think you can tell your Mando fuckbuddy where to find us and get away with it? Huh?” a familiar voice sneered in your ear, “Well I’m going to make you pay for that, bitch!”

You gasped as you knew that voice: the vice president from the group that Din was after. The same one that you entertained at a party just a few days prior. Realizing just how dire your situation was, you failed your body and tried to fight back. But, he only laughed darkly at your attempts to free yourself.

But, just as quickly as his hands were on you, they were suddenly ripped away and you fell forward towards the door. Turning around, you saw Din’s figure blocking you from your attacker. He acted so fast, pulling out his gun and shooting the man twice in the head without a second thought. You gasped as you saw the blood pool underneath the other biker’s now lifeless body and your eyes went wide. It wasn’t until you heard your name in Din’s comforting voice that you pulled your eyes away.

“Hey,” he cupped your face and guided you to look into his helmet, “Don’t look,” he breathed your name again as he looked you over, “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

You looked at Din wide-eyed for several moments before you swallowed hard and shook your head, “No,” you whispered, “I’m… I’m ok… But Din…”

“Listen to me,” the urgency was clear in his voice, “Go back inside and stay there until I come back,” Din tightened his grip on you, “I have to get rid of the body. I’ll be back in one hour. Do not leave until I come for you. Ok?”

You nodded as you trembled in his grip, “Ok.”

Both of you knew why he had to act fast. The truce that Din himself helped to create to make the brothel a safe and neutral zone had just been violated. If anyone were to find out, it could be all out war between the MCs. But, none of that mattered to Din. He would break a thousand truces if it meant keeping you safe. 

So many thoughts ran through your head as you sat inside waiting for Din to return. But, at the same time, the hour went by in an instant and before you knew it, he knocked at your door once more. 

“You alright?” he asked again as he took your hand.

“Yeah…” your voice sounded vacant, as if you weren’t fully there.

“Come with me,” Din helped you up and led you to his bike, “I’m getting you out of here until we know it’s safe again. Here,” he handed you his spare helmet, “I’ll keep you safe.”

Your gaze dropped down to the helmet in his hand and for a moment you felt like you weren’t in your body. But, Din’s words kept you grounded and brought you back, “I know you will,” you replied as you slid it on and got on the back of his bike, wrapping your arms around his strong torso.

“Hold on,” he said over his shoulder before he took off.

The wind in your face wasn’t bitter, but calming. With each gust of air, you smelled the scent of his leather jacket and the warmth of his body remained a comfort for you as he drove you far away from the brothel. If it were any other circumstance, the bike ride would have been exhilarating, but the mix of emotions almost drowned out the excitement of finally getting to ride the bike with him. You buried your face in his board shoulder as he revved the bike to go faster down the long, winding road.

“We’re here,” Din shouted over the roar of his bike.

You looked up and saw a small house in the middle of nowhere. There wasn’t much to it, but you noticed a small pond in the front and a lot of trees surrounding it. It looked tucked away and hard to find, but it also felt warm and welcoming at the same time.

“Where are we?” you asked as Din helped you slip the helmet off.

“A safe house,” he said plainly as he led you inside. 

Your heart fluttered in your chest as you took in the surroundings. The house wasn’t anything special, just a small kitchen and living space, with doors for a bathroom and 2 small bedrooms. But it felt comforting… and familiar. Not as if you’d been there before, but you knew who it belonged to…

“This is your house isn’t it?” you asked in a breathless tone.

Din turned to you and stared at you for a long moment, “Yeah,” his voice was just as soft, “Grogu likes to play in the pond outside… He’s good at catching frogs,” he tried to lighten the mood a bit. When you looked at him and smiled softly, it made his heart skip a beat.

“It feels like you,” you replied as you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“Are you cold?” Din sounded concerned as he pulled you close and guided you to the couch on the far end of the room.

“No… I’m not sure why I did that.” You felt nervous all of a sudden, like you did the first time you were alone with Din. Before you knew his name, and he knew yours. Something about being in his home made things feel different. You felt safe, that wasn’t the issue. What you weren’t sure about was what this meant for the two of you now. The way he didn’t hesitate to kill a man, to break a truce, to protect you. The way he held you so tenderly and let you into his home. It had to mean something…

“Hey,” Din said your name so sweetly as he cupped your face, “You’re safe here,” the resolve in his voice sent a shiver up your spine as he held you, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You swallowed hard as you looked at him wide eyed.

Din rubbed his thumb across your cheek as his own heart pounded in his chest, “Do you trust me?”

You looked into the darkness of his helmet and swore you saw his eyes looking back at you, “Yes,” you breathed without hesitation.

He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a bandana, something his people always kept in case their helmets came off, and gently rolled it before he brought it up to your eyes and securely fastened it.

“That ok?” his low voice felt louder in your ears as your sight was completely blocked.

“Yeah,” your voice trembled as you sat in the darkness and listened for his next movement.

Din slid his helmet off and set it down with a soft thud. He blinked his eyes to adjust to the soft light that the low sun illuminated the room with as you let out a deep breath. You looked so beautiful in the setting sun, and Din couldn’t help but reach out for you once more, tracing your face with his hands.

You gasped when you felt his breath on your face for the very first time. “Din…” you breathed as you reached out and clung to his leather jacket.

With a low murmur of your name, Din closed the gap between your faces with a deep and passionate kiss. You immediately parted your lips to allow him in, and the taste of his tongue on your made all the emotions you felt bubble to the surface and explode. He groaned into you as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in as close as possible while he explored your mouth. Din swallowed the whimper you let out as he kissed you even harder, allowing the kiss to voice all his unspoken feelings.

But, neither of you could stay locked together forever, and eventually you needed to break away for air. With a gasp, your chest rose and fell with deep breaths as you heard Din do the same. Without another word, he grabbed the back of your head and yanked you against him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. The leather of his jacket engulfed your senses and you rested against Din’s shoulder and settled into his arms.

“Listen… I…” Din started but stopped with a sigh as he struggled to find his words.

“Din?” you tried to push yourself up, but he kept you pinned against his broad, strong body.

“You can’t go until I tell you,” his voice wavered for the first time since you’d known him.

“What is it?” you asked in a whisper as you clung to his jacket.

“I was afraid,” he admitted with a sigh, “I… I didn’t know if I would get to you in time…” It was the first time in a long time something like this happened. The last time Din was this scared, Grogu had been taken to be used against him, and the rage he felt carried him until he got his kid back. It was a similar feeling to today, and it wasn’t something he ever wanted to feel again.

Before you could say anything though, Din continued, “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he brought his thoughts back to the present, “You and Grogu… You’re my world… You’re my everything,” he sighed, “I don’t know what I would do without either of you,” he paused as he felt you tighten your grip on him, “What I’m trying to say is…” Din let out a deep breath, “I love you.”

You choked back a sob as tears filled your eyes and dampened the bandana around your eyes, “Din…” you could’t believe the words you were hearing, but you also didn’t want to pinch yourself if you were dreaming, “I love you too,” you whispered.

Din responded by holding you even tighter, as if he couldn’t get you close enough. Having you here in his home, in his arms, was more than he could ask for. The two of you stayed like that until the sun completely set, leaving the world to be illuminated by the moon instead. And you looked even more beautiful in the light of the moon.

After some time, Din murmured in your ear, “Why don’t we go get the kid and bring him back home?”

“Home…” you echoed with a grin, “I like the sound of that.”

Din smiled against your face, and you felt the muscles in his cheek against yours, “I do too.”

Carefully, he slid his helmet back on and untied the bandana from your eyes, wiping away a stray tear as he did so. You blinked your eyes open and gave him the warmest smile as his hand cupped your jaw once more in his usual affectionate gesture. 

“Want a ride?” he asked with a jovial tone in his voice.

You chuckled, “Yeah.”

Taking his hand, you went back to his bike and this time you both took your time setting onto it. You weren’t in a rush this time, and you could really appreciate the feeling of the motor beneath you and the strong, capable driver in front of you. Wrapping your arms around his waist again, you rested yourself on his shoulder, making yourself comfortable. Din touched the tip of his helmet against yours once before he revved the bike and took off. Together, the two of you flew down the road, towards your future.