#her name is Olivia apparently

[kc5rings]

Hey monhun? Thanks for this one

[aroaceofthesea]

My uni friends want to teach me pop culture basics and im like. how do i tell you i couldnt give less of a shit

[septembersghost]

Harry's tattoo 😭

idk how to break it to people but he falls extremely hard in love, and he really seemed to love her, so i am not surprised, but it does make me a bit sad for him/them...he can say it's for the 1D song. or the cat! she's an icon

[arolesbianism]

Ok oc thoughts are back in the bin back to the Olivia Broussard thoughts grind

[lovecla]

MAKE IT TO THE MORNING ; JACK HUGHES

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader

SUMMARY being jack hughes’ girlfriend comes with a lot of hardships— but in the mornings, you realize it is all worth it.

WARNINGS unedited, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving), rough sex, p slapping, cockwarming, dirty talk, jack is lowkey a little shit, reader loves him tho, inspired by the song “make it to the morning” by partynextdoor. freaky af!!!

WORD COUNT 2,3k

FROM ME TO YOU a little late (literally, it’s like 3am for me), but this is my thank you gift for you guys because today i woke up with 700 of you!! i’m still too in shock to say anything besides thank you so much. i was celebrating 600 followers like a month ago and now this. i’ll keep working hard to give you guys good content <3 ily and pls enjoy

𖧷

don't scream or shout, i'm workin' my way down

girl, you gettin' loud, now put it in yo' mouth

THE SOUND of your heels clicking against the marble floor were enough to piss anyone off. It was annoying, repetitive and even you were starting to get tired of the little tec tec sound, but you couldn’t stop.

Dating Jack Rowden Hughes was not for the weak. And you knew that, more than anyone else. Being his girlfriend of three years— the longest time he has ever been in a relationship, mind you—, you knew that the prize was good, but the job of keeping it was tiring.

You stared at him across the room, talking to some random fans who definitely didn’t know what being a fan was, since they were all over him, with their hands on his arms and shoulders.

He eyed you from time to time, blue eyes making it hard for you to stay one hundred percent mad at him— truthfully, you knew that all it would take for you to forgive him for his playboy behaviour would be a single kiss and an aggressive make out session.

“It isn’t so fun watching from here, huh?” Quinn’s new fling, or whatever the girl standing beside you was, said, approaching you quietly. “Trust me, I know how it feels.”

You hummed, not engaging with her. You knew Jack wouldn’t actually do anything, but still, it didn’t feel nice to get painted as the dumb girlfriend who has to watch her famous boyfriend laugh and take pictures with hundreds of girls while she stands in the back.

“I’m lucky my Quinn isn’t as nearly as talkative as he is,” she continues, despite your silence. “But you know, Jack is everyone’s favorite.”

You turned your head to the side, watching the girl next to you eye Jack the same way she eyed Quinn, hungry and suggestive, and that was enough for you.

“Sorry,” you interrupted, putting your wine glass down— it had been empty for at least ten minutes— and smiling apologetically. “I have a terrible headache, so I think it’s time for me to head out.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” she pouts, and you can feel your eyes twitch. “It is pretty late too, so you must be tired.”

“Mhm.” You nod, looking at your phone. 3:46a.m.

“Do you want me to call Jacky?” She asks, expectantly, and the way she says his name makes you want to smash her face against the crumbles of cake sitting on the buffet table.

“No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry,” you play dumb. “It was nice seeing you…”

You forgot her name. It was probably something like Olivia or Madeline, but still. You didn’t remember.

“It was nice seeing you, too!” She says, apparently clueless to your lack of memory— and interest. “I’ll text you later so we can talk more.”

“Sure thing, yeah.” You walk towards Jack with long, careful steps. “Hey, babe.”

His eyes are on you immediately, his hair moving around with his abrupt move. He smiles, stepping out of the little circle the girls had made around him to wrap his arms around you.

“If it isn’t my favorite girl,” he says. “Hi, baby.”

You can feel the girls’ eyes on you, burning your skin like the fictional fairies’ whenever they touch iron. It is a feeling you are used to already, but you feel yourself shivering either way.

“Can we go?” You ask, bluntly ignoring the other women there. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, we can,” he nods, turning his head back to his little girl group before smiling at them. “See ya, ladies.”

See ya, ladies?

“Bye, Jack.”

“You’re the best!”

“See ya next time!”

You can’t hide your pout on your way home— you don’t even try to. You have your arms crossed in front of your chest as you sit in the front seat of Jack’s absurdly expensive car, listening to the quiet hum of his air conditioner and the annoying noise whenever he turns on the turn signal.

“You’re not mad… are you?”

His voice is tentative, almost as if he’s scared of asking the question.

“Are you kidding me? You spent half of that ridiculous party talking to women. Tell me I can’t be mad about that.” You hiss back, not looking at him. You know there are high chances of you folding bad if you do.

“Baby, I already told you, it’s all business,” he says, once again, because he has, indeed, told you that several times before. “I can’t have them saying I’m a rude guy, can I?”

“Sometimes I can’t believe the shit you say,” you scoff. “You literally told a reporter to fuck himself last week, on live. Talk about being a nice guy now, Jack.”

“Come on, you’re not being fair!” He exclaims, and you can hear the pout on his voice. “He talked shit about you. He was lucky I didn’t punch him in the face.”

You rolled your eyes, biting your lips to hide your smile.

Little does Jack know you jumped out of the couch when you saw the transmission and giggled while you sent texts to your best friend about how you would have to be the mother of his children.

You stayed silent, looking at the dark streets, briefly forgetting about your anger to notice how beautiful your city is. There weren't many people in the streets at that hour— it was summer, yes, but it was almost four a.m and it was still Monday, and a lot of people were still working.

When you got to your and Jack’s apartment— a two bedroom penthouse with plenty of space and a kitchen you still fell in love with every time you looked at it— you didn’t waste time before heading to the guest bathroom shower, a clear sign that you didn’t want Jack to join you, which you knew pissed him off.

You were quick even though you weren’t sleepy, washing the soap off your body under the lukewarm water; happy because it was your favorite scent.

You got out of the stall, opening the bathroom door after you wrapped the towel around your body, deciding to change inside your bedroom.

Or at least that’s what you thought you would do.

“Y/n.” Jack calls you, sitting on top of the bed.

“Fuck, Jack,” you grunt. “You scared me.”

“I can’t have you mad at me, baby,” he says, getting up and walking towards you, only stopping when your covered chest is touching his. “You know those women mean nothing.”

“Jack,” you sigh. “We’ve been here before. You can’t just say that every time you flirt with other women.”

“I wasn’t—” he starts, but interrupts himself mid sentence. “You’re making shit up.”

“Am I?” You ask, holding the towel tighter. “You damn well I’m not.”

“Listen,” he says. “I’m not proud with the way I acted but I already told you—”

“It’s all business. I know, you know, we all know.” You roll your eyes, stepping back and moving forward so you can leave the room. His hand finds your waist almost immediately, locking you in place. “Jack—”

“You’re so full of complaints, baby,” he whispers. “Every time we go out you complain about something.”

“I wouldn’t complain if you didn’t give me reasons to.”

He clicks his tongue, running his fingers over your naked arms. You shiver slightly, hoping he doesn’t see it. “You want more?”

“More what?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“More reasons to complain,” he continues, chuckling as he lowers his head and hides it in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Real reasons to complain.”

“Wha—”

“Because I’ll give them to you, if you want to,” he licks your skin, and you can feel yourself start to malfunction. He’s a little shit, you think, as you slowly start to give in. He’s a little shit and I’m in love with him. “Or I can keep your mouth full so you can’t complain anymore.”

He stands up straight again, staring at you while his fingers move to where you were holding your towel.

“What’s your pick, baby?” He whispers, removing your grip from the soft fabric around your body, letting it fall on the floor, like a puddle of water on your feet.

You’re fully naked, and he can’t even pretend he’s not looking— he is. He always is.

Jack kisses you with hungry, tender lips. He holds your neck while he licks your lips with his tongue, hot and messy. He tastes like beer and you hate it, but you cannot get enough.

You wrap your own arms around his neck, holding him so close to you you could feel his heartbeat. Kissing him never got old, and if you were to write down your top ten favorite things about Jack Hughes, his kiss would definitely be number one.

You breathe in his scent, your favorite ever since you met him, and you can feel your legs start to give in, just like the rest of your body. It’s late at night, almost morning, your body can’t keep up with your mind and you want to tell Jack to fuck off.

Yet.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers against your lips, as he guides you to the bed, laying you down with your hips on the edge of it. “Let me give you something to make noise about.”

That’s the only warning you get before he gets his knees on the floor and separates your legs, leaving you open and exposed. You feel his fingers spreading your lips open, and when his tongue finds its way to your clit, all of your previous complaints are gone.

You close your legs around his neck, holding him in place, while he puts on a show for you, his fingers tracing the wetness pouring out of you.

You let out a soft moan, holding his hair with your hands, not bothering to be gentle. His tongue found your clit again, rubbing it in slow, circular motions.

“Jack.”

You trash under him as he flicked your sensitive nub with his mouth, the wet noises making you want to disappear. Jack always seemed pleased to go down on you, but you still aren’t used to this fact about him.

“So sweet, baby,” he murmurs, the vibrations of his words sending shivers down your spine, as he dives in again.

He has you curling your toes and arching your back, moaning his name loud and proud, but still, he doesn’t stop. He slides his arms under your thighs, holding you in place by gripping your waist, hard.

He has you coming in under five minutes— it’s a shame it’s over so soon, but what can you do, really. He looks up at you between your thighs, and the sight alone has you moaning, desperate for something else.

You pull his hair, gently, signaling to him that you wanted him up, closer to you, and so he does. He kisses you again, and you get to taste yourself on his lips, moaning loudly inside his mouth when you feel his dick trapped between his body and yours.

“Jack,” you whisper again, placing both of your hands on his cheeks. “I need you.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” He says, chuckling as he gets off you and removes the rest of his clothes.

He slides inside you with no hesitation or whatsoever, knowing too well that your inside’s have his print all over it. You both moan loudly, louder than you should be moaning at four something in the morning, but you can deal with the complaint letter later.

He holds your legs together, pressing them against your chest, almost folding you in half. He is being rough, something you absolutely want to kill him for, but you let yourself enjoy the roughness for a moment; you can scold him later.

You can feel him deeper now, as your body gets dragged up and down against the mattress, making you want to scream.

“You’re wet,” he says through his teeth and you can tell he’s also giving in. “Y/n, fuck.”

You’re clenching around his length as he strokes your G spot, dragging his dick against your walls, once again making sure you can take everything he gives you.

“Harder.” You hear someone ask, probably yourself, and you also hear his low chuckle. “Not enough.”

“Still complaining?” He asks, but doesn’t give you time to answer. Instead, he removes his right hand from your waist and does the one thing he knows it will have you drooling and begging under him.

He slaps your pussy. The wet, loud sound that fills the room makes you squirm, unconsciously trying to remove yourself from his hold. But he’s stronger, always has been.

“Take it, baby.”

He then slaps you again, and again, and so many times you stop counting. The feeling of his cock throbbing inside you, and his rough slaps against your clit is enough to make you come, leaving you almost lifeless under him.

“Good girl, Y/n,” he says, kissing your lips, briefly. “I’m gonna come, fuck.”

“Inside, please,” you hear yourself mumbling, and you’re not even sure if Jack hears it.

“What was that, baby?” He asks, his thrusts getting sloppy.

“Inside?”

“Fuck,” he curses. “I’m—”

He cums inside you, the familiar feeling making you sigh with bliss. You are both panting, the room smells of sweat, alcohol and sex, and you swear you can see the sun start to rise through the bedroom’s floor to ceiling windows.

You’re just about to tell Jack you want to go to sleep when you feel him start to pull out, which has you protesting, immediately.

“No, I— sleep inside, please?”

His blue eyes are staring down at you, and now, there’s a hint of a smile plastered on his face. He nods once, manhandling you around until you’re under the sheets, with your back glued to his chest, and his length still nestled inside you.

“Well, if you’re still mad at me,” he whispers. “At least we made it to the morning, huh?”

“Shut up,” you whisper back, barely hiding your smile. “If you keep talking, there won’t be any other morning.”

He laughs, kissing the top of your head. “Very well, then.”

𖧷

NHL MASTERLIST. JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST

[littlexscarletxwitch]

── ༊*·˚⋆ 𝗳𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝗶𝘁, 𝗶𝘁'𝘀 𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗲

paring: yelena belova x fem!reader

tag(s): smut with plot but not really, a bit of angst but then again not really, nsfw, wlw sex

warning(s): MDNI, +18 ONLY read at your own risk, explicit wlw smut, wlw sex, oral sex, kinda toxic relationship, mentions of drinking alcohol, grammatical errors, unedited

word count: 3k

note: I'M SO SORRY GUYS IT SOOOO LOOOONG. College had been kicking my ass. Agh! I need a break from that shit. Anyways... I was actually going to make the smut part longer but I kinda didn't want to ruin it, so this is what you get lol. Also I literally googled the russian pet names, so please correct me if they are wrong. I hope you all like it! Lots of love, M <3

note 2: I got so many requests and I'm so glad you guys asked me to write your ideas, I really appreciate that. It's going to take me so time but I WILL WRITE THEM and I'm so excited about them. Love the way you guys think lol <3

requests are open! + check my rules here + masterlist <3

⇨ Detka: baby - Moya lyubov: my love - Malishka: little girl - Krasotka: gorgeous

You knew this whole thing was wrong, it was a toxic never ending cycle, but still you could never help yourself when it came to her. 

You and Yelena were together for three years, three years filled with love and lust and happiness; but then your relationship became hateful, bitter and full of anger, still the lust between the two of you remained the same.

Allegedly, the two of you had broken up 5 months ago. Allegedly, you resented her for the shit she put you through. Allegedly, you didn’t even want to see her face. 

Nevertheless, she always found her way back to you, —back to your bed—. The moment her lips made contact with yours, you knew you had lost all sense of reason. How could you restrain yourself when her hips grazed against yours in a slowly almost painful yet divine pace that had you arching your back and curling your toes?

“Fuck,” you breathed out, as her hands thighten the frim grip on your waist.

You always promised yourself it would be the last time, that it was just your body reacting to hers, that you would be strong the next time and would turn her down. It took you a couple more slips to finally understand that you and Yelena were done, that the two of you were through. But you finally came to your senses.

“You do know this is the last time, right?” you said breathless, feeling your quick heartbeat in your eardrums. 

You sword to yourself that would be the last time you let yourself give in to her. Just one more night of pleasure, just one more night of kisses and whimperings and moans, and the next day it would be over. 

“Yeah, I know,” though her voice was muffled by your cunt you could still make out the sarcastic tone in her voice. 

“I mean it, Yel,” you tried to sound serious, and apparently you did because she lifted up her head for her eyes to find yours.

“I know you do,” and she did know. She knew that you meant it, at that specific moment. 

But she also knew your statement wouldn’t last long, that you would soon change your mind and her lips would find their way back to your neck, hips, thighs and cunt. 

So she allowed you to think it was over, but it will be over once she decided so. 

[...]

It’d been a year since you had last seen her, you thought that was it, that the two of you had moved on at last. But maybe you got it all wrong, maybe all the things she made you feel enhanced by being away from her, maybe you forced yourself to forget about her. But there was no point in trying it, for she had made a mark on your heart. Like a tattoo, always under skin even when it gets removed.

But tonight was supposed to be different, you were supposed to have fun, drink and dance with your girl friends. But for some odd reason you couldn't stop thinking about the blonde. You would mess around with some people, but you found yourself thinking that it wasn’t her hands roaming around your body, or her lips leaving kisses and bites all over your neck, it wasn't her scent and it most certainly wasn’t her hoarse voice reaching your ears.

As you and your friends made your way to the bar, you heard your phone ringing. Even before you took a look at the screen you were 100% sure that it was her calling you, who else could it be then? 

Your heart picked up its pace as you looked at the ID caller and your suspicions were confirmed. It was at that moment that you realised that you had never blocked or deleted her contact number. 

Before you could answer or decline the call, it stopped. You swallowed down the lump that hard formed on your throat, unsure of what would be next. And soon after it stopped you got a text from her, you were about to read it when you noticed that someone was calling out for you. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” you said, quickly putting away your phone, trying to focus on your friend’s words over the loud music.

“We have to use the restroom. Let’s go,” she said, reaching out for your hand, motioning for you to tag along. 

“No,” you step back, away from her reach. “I, um,” you felt your phone burning your hand. “I’m going to get some air, okay?” you noticed she wanted to say something against it, so you quickly added: “I’ll be right back, I promise,” you smiled at them, before making your way out of the club before they would follow after you. 

Once the cold air of the night filled your lungs you felt like you could finally breathe properly. You looked at her missed call and her text message on your phone screen, it was simple: an address. You knew what that meant, but you weren’t sure of what you should do. As if sensing your doubt, she called you again. The phone kept on ringing in your hand, as you made up your mind.

Seeing her tonight was a bad idea, right? Yes, you might not be really drunk but the alcohol was messing with your brain and you were not thinking straight. Plus, your friends were going to kill you for meeting her.

Seeing her tonight was a bad idea, right? You weren’t just going to throw away the last year and pretend like nothing had happened.

Seeing her would be a bad idea, right? But your mind had other plans as the memories of her soft lips and her rough hands and her raspy voice all came rushing to your brain, and suddenly it was all you could think of.

Seeing her tonight…? Fuck it, it’s fine, was your only thought as you picked up the call. 

“Hello, detka.”

The old pet name sent a silver up your spine, still you were yet to form a coherent thought. 

“I missed you,” she paused, waiting for you to say something. “Did you miss me?” she tried again. Still, you weren’t answering her, but she knew you were listening carefully to every word. “You know? I’m all alone right now. I wouldn’t mind some company.”

You could sense the undertone she was using, you were no fool to her tactics, even though you would always fall for them. That was the kind of power Yelena had over you, everytime you would do so much as think about her your brain would just shut down and you wouldn’t be able to hear your own thoughts. 

“No,” you stated firmly. Shaking your head even though she could not see you. 

“Oh, baby. What’s the matter? You want me to pick you up?” you could hear the jiggling of some set of keys. Your heart stopped for a second, was she really that desperate to come and pick you up? You felt your stomach burning. 

“This is… This is not right, Yelena. I shouldn't have picked up the call. I should probably not—.”

“Oh, come on, moya lyubov,” again with the russian nickname that would make your knees weak. “How about this, I pick you up, we get some coffee and we just have a quick chitchat?”

You knew that it never was so simple with Yelena, but you felt your walls crashing down. 

“I’m not sure, Yel…” it felt weird to pronounce that nickname after so long. 

“Look up, pretty girl.”

You felt your stomach sink as you did as you were told. And there she was, in all her glory. You didn’t even question how she knew exactly where you were, Yelena just knew stuff. You knew she was your ex, but she said it was just a quick chat, can’t two people reconnect? You knew you were stronger now to her advances, you were pretty sure you only saw her as a friend. But, in all honesty, you knew you were full of shit. 

Without a word, you sent a text to your friends, put your phone in your purse and got into the car, wrecking all your plans. You knew you should just stop, but you couldn't. You cursed yourself for that, she knew you too well and you hated both yourself and Yelena for that.

As soon as you took the passengers sit, Yelena sped up the car and the two of you left the building and your friends behind. 

“I did miss you, Y/n,” was the first thing she said as she rested her hand on your thigh. 

She knew how much you loved it when she did that.

“Mmm,” you muttered, unsure of what your answer should be. 

“Didn’t you miss me?” she jokingly asked as she gently squeezed your skin. 

“What do you want, Yel?” 

“I thought I told you,” she quickly took a look at you before looking back at the road. “I just want to chat, that’s all.”

“It’s never that simple with you.”

“Well, maybe this time it is. Maybe this time I want things to be different,” she smiled at you, making your heart skip a beat. She still had that kind of power over you and you hated her even more for that. But not really.

You gently shook your head. It was bad, you shouldn’t have picked up the call, you shouldn't have gotten into the car. You should have thought things more clearly before letting her into your life again. 

As you were mentally cursing yourself you didn’t realise that the two of you had already made it to whatever place she had driven the two of you. Realisation hit you as you now had now idea where the fuck you were, you had no other choice but to follow her. Or so you told yourself. 

Yelena opened the car door for you and stretched her hand out for you to take. Which you did, you didn’t even fight it, you longed for the contact of her skin against yours. And maybe, just maybe, you thought it would be enough, just by intertwining your fingers in between hers. But, god, you were wrong. 

You knew the moment you would step through her front door all sense of reason would leave your mind, and it would only remain the lust and feel of belonging you always felt around her. And you were right, the soon you stepped in, it was like you were that same person a year ago and you had no intention in fighting your feelings, not anymore. You thought maybe you deserve it, as a reward for being all this time apart from each other.

As soon as you entered it was as if you could feel Yelena everywhere. It wasn’t just the fact that she was there next to you with her hand in between yours, but you could all also smell her scent all over her place, you could see her in the furniture she had chosen, hear her in the music that was playing, and even though you had yet to taste her lips you were so overwhelmed by her entire being that it felt as if you already had. 

“So, um,” she cleared her throat as she closed the door behind the two of you, getting your attention. “Would you like some coffee…?”

“Fuck it, it’s fine,” you mumbled to yourself once more before dropping your purse and shortening the distance and crashing your lips against hers. 

Yelena’s hand quickly found their way to your hips, gently squeezing your flesh earning a low groan out of you. She pulled away gasping for air but the next second her lips were back on yours. You moaned into her lips as her tongue easily slipped into your mouth and found yours to mess around with. 

You felt a warm feeling in your stomach as her hands roamed all over your body leaving goosebumps on their way. Then they rested on your ass, grabbing the muscle motioning for you to jump on top of her, which you did without a second thought. The feeling became a small fire in your stomach the moment your chest was pressed against hers. 

“I knew you would come back,” she mumbled in between your lips, feeling her grin into the kiss. 

As a response you bit her bottom lip, not really sure what you meant by that but it felt good when you heard a low moan escape from her lips. 

“Don’t push your luck,” you said once you let go of it, earning a small chuckle from her. 

“Yeah, you’re right, krasotka,” her thick russian was only fuel to the growing fire in your stomach. 

Her lips found the crook of your neck and she left as many bites and kisses as she pleased, leading the two of you to her bedroom. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your fingers found their way in between her hair. 

Once in her bedroom, Yelena gently laid you on her bed. As her lips made their way down to your collarbone, her hand tugged at the hem of your dress slowly and painfully bringing it up to your waist. 

On command, you spread your leg open letting Yelena’s head take the place in between your thighs. She kissed and bit them, her lips ghosted over the area where you needed her the most, but all you got was her hot breath which sent a shiver up your spine and made you groan out her name. 

“Stop with the teasing,” you begged her, as your legs rested on her shoulders. 

“Tell me what you need,” she breathed out. 

“I need you… I need your lips on me,” it almost came out as a moan. 

And she did as she was told, but it wasn’t quite what you wanted. Her lips kissed and licked your core, but it wasn’t enough since the area was still being covered by your panties. You wanted more, needed more. 

“Yelena, please…” you begged her once again. 

“Shh…” she cooed as her fingers tugged at the hem of your underwear and slowly pushed it out of the way. “Is this where you need my lips, malishka,” her hot breath over your now uncovered cunt ripped a moan out of your mouth. 

“Yes, yes, just please do something. Please, Yel, I—,” a whimper cut you off as you felt her tongue licked up your slit. “Fuck,” you could feel your heartbeat going a mile per hour. 

Her tongue went up and down a few times, tasting your juices, loving who wet you were for her. She then made sure to give your clit as much attention, so she wrapped her lips around it and sucked hard. You felt your leg trembling on her shoulders as she worked her magic on you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you were a moaning mess, the fire in your stomach felt like it was taking over your entire body and you only wanted to give in, to let it consume you whole —to let Yelena consume you whole—.

You wrapped your legs around her head, bringing her even closer to you. The thought of her suffocating on your count scared you for half a second, but then as she ate you like a starving woman, the thought only added more to your arousal. 

Yelena took a quick look at you: eyes closed, lips slightly trembling and parted, brows furrowed, your leg around her head, your hand flying to meet her hair. She wanted that moment to last forever, she wanted to be forever buried in between your legs if it only meant she could see you like this. But she could not stop time and live forever in that moment, so she could only moan at your sight. And that was what it took for you to finally come undone in her lips.

You cried out her name as your leg almost squeezed her head too harshly, but she could take it. A few curses followed her name as her tongue and lips helped you right out your high. 

“I missed this, malishka,” she said breathlessly as you unwrapped your legs around her. 

Her nose, lips and chin were glistening from your release, you felt something like a match lighting up inside you once again. Much to your dismay she used the back of her hand to clean some of it, which she noticed that it had bothered you since you slightly frown. She chuckled at just how cute and precious you were. 

She crawled on top of you, placing her knee in between your legs and her lips found yours. You moaned as you tasted yourself on her lips and tongue, feeling the fire coming back to life. 

“I missed you… so much,” she said in between kisses. “Tell me… you missed me too…”

Drunk on her scent, lips and words you couldn’t think properly. But still the words you blurted out were the truth: “I did… I missed you too…”

“Then we should… make up for… the time we lost…'' she said as her hand expertly tugged down the cleavage of your dress, she smiled to herself as she realised you weren’t wearing a bra.

She trailed a path of kiss from your neck, down to your collarbone to finally end with her lips sucking your right nipple. 

“Yeah, we should…” you breathed out. 

“Then, we are going to be here for a while,” she said, her words were muffled by your tit inside her mouth. 

You giggled at her words but then it turned into a moan as she went on sucking. 

You knew the whole thing would fire back eventually, but your head was empty, blank, no reasonable thoughts. Just one that it keep you going and that was the only thought you were willing to listen to: ‘Fuck it, it’s fine.’

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! <3

-M

[iwoulddieforher]

Softball to the Ribs (Kiss it) | Casey Novak/Alex Cabot

Inspired by something @jeongonion posted, the idea that Casey and Alex are going against each other, but combined with the personal idea that Casey might struggle with mental health. This is a two-parter: Alex's side will be posted soon :)

!!! CASEY IS AN UNRELIABLE NARRATOR !!! Olivia is a lot more adversarial than she actually would be because that's what Casey perceives her as- similarly Alex during the climax. Don't trust Casey's descriptions of herself or the people around her.

Warnings: TW for depictions of exercise dependence as a means of self-harm, disordered eating & sleeping patterns, canon-typical case descriptions (martial sa, bdsm overtones, sexual gratification through injury), implied use of the f slur

Summary: Casey's going through the ringer- when her... when the woman she has a complicated history with shows up as the defense counselor for a case Novak is prosecuting. Casey especially vulnerable, something has to change.

Informal summary: Casey is adamant no one cares about her, and Alex is content to argue with her over that for the next decade if it means she'd sit down for a second.

Denial and rejection at every turn was the only thing Casey Novak had experienced for the past three months, and she was starting to believe the universe simply had it out for her.

She had been forced out of her job as a white-collar ADA to work for the sex crimes unit while their ADA was recovering from being shot, apparently, and it was supposed to be temporary- god, she had really wanted it to be temporary from the way the brunette detective had glared daggers into her back from the moment they had met- except now said recovering ADA had up and quit her post entirely and was now more or less missing.

When she had gone to the head he had refused to allow her to switch back out for some fucking reason. She could feel the mental toll prosecuting each of these depraved acts was starting to take on her sanity, each of the victims too sympathetic for her to maintain the facade of cold fury she had decided to set for the detectives' benefit. Each perpetrator stared at her with eyes that reminded her eerily of someone who she would rather not waste time or memory on.

And in her attempt to ease the growing stress building up in her bones, she ran straight into more brick walls.

It started with a screaming match between her and the thorn in her side that called itself Olivia Benson, and if Stabler hadn't grabbed the brunette by the arm Casey was sure she'd be making frequent stops at a convenience store to pick up concealer for a shiner. Her own arms had itched to lash out, and she felt disgusting in her skin after listening to the comments made- her demeanor, her manner, her skills and her language, all under constant scrutinization simply for not going to be the name 'Alex Cabot' and being a blonde shark in the courtroom who she'd bet Olivia had slept with at least once in order for this kind of ridiculously unprofessional loyalty.

Don't even get her started on Alexandra Cabot. God, that- that bitch. Insufferable, rich brat.

A cold shiver went down her spine and Casey tried real hard not to think about how that woman's lips had felt on her pulse point, sucking softly, sharp blue eyes with blown pupils when she had resurfaced. She shook herself out of it quickly.

It had continued with her new favorite way to cope- lashing out her anger, the swings she couldn't take out on perpetrators, on Olivia, or at herself, at softballs. In a cage with the bat she still had from high school, all the anger and stress were physically burned out of her as her muscles pushed back the weight of what her brain couldn't carry. She tried not to note how she had stayed longer than anyone else she had seen go to that batting cage, tried to forget the employee that had at some point asked her very gently to get lost because she had been there for nearly four hours and they wanted to close.

Restless nights of hours of sleep she could count on one hand for weeks straight, skipping meals and neglecting hydration, the only real care she put into herself as of late being cold showers for an hour as she stared blankly at the wall from where she had seated herself on the floor of the bathtub. That counts as self-care, right? Cold showers are supposedly good for you. And with all the muscle strain she had started feeling from her only method of coping, freezing herself to shivers was the only way she didn't have to feel what she was doing. Feel the ache underneath her skin, the burn of exhaustion.

But still, exercise was healthy. And she was showering. And yes, she skipped meals, but she bought sandwiches from a vending machine in the courthouse and that should be enough, right? It's not like she was depressed or had some kind of anxious disorder. She was fine, just pissed.

But still, the rejection she faced continued. The cold glares the squad gave her when they heard a 'not guilty' verdict sent her straight to the cages, where she swung and swung until she felt nauseous and dizzy to the point she couldn't focus on the guilt, she could only focus on the employee's face as she tried not to throw up on his shoes.

Pain seared through her whenever she lay down, which didn't help the fact she was pretty sure her new job was causing her to develop insomnia, her arms aching no matter what position she tried to put them in, and a purple bruise blooming like a decrepit flower across the space of skin right above her wrist. She had to uncuff all of her blouse sleeves to cover a portion of her hand for good measure. Olivia commented that it made all her clothes look ill-fitting.

She had assumed- and served her fucking right for assuming, she'll never assume shit anymore with these people- that once she had procured a streak of 'guilty' verdicts read loud and clear for the court, and turned around with a small, relieved smile, she'd meet the eyes of the people she was supposed to be on the team of and they'd be happy. But they never were, and they only become more mad, then, when she fucked up and a perpetrator got off, no matter how hard she tried to fight the political dynamics that influenced court decisions or their own faulty evidence or whatnot. It was never enough, and her amount of exercise started to feel similarly. She never got tired anymore. She only left when she felt appropriately battered or when a well-meaning employee suggested lightly she might take a break. She tried not to meet the eyes of the desk manager whenever she passed him on her way in and out of the batting cages.

Her life has started revolving around a steady rhythm of waking up, going to work too early, leaving work too late, going to the cages till her reactions were too erratic, and then crashing home.

It got worse, still, when the man Elliot Stabler noticed. She had gotten up while he was badgering her for an arrest warrant. Her spine had ached for hours, and she got up to stretch out, only for her blouse to pull more than she had meant it to and for him to catch a glimpse of the purple and grey and disgusting yellow she hid under layers of clothes and a facade of a bitchy ADA. The look of concern on his face made her even more irate, added to the adrenaline of stress coursing through her with every second she spent working in this job.

"I'm single, Stabler." She had chuckled dryly, "So, there's no bad guy for you to lock up. Sorry to disappoint. I'm just clumsy."

Maybe if she had let someone lock up Charlie all those months ago she'd be less of a wreck- but that was blaming the poor man she must have somehow fucked over for her own issues, so she felt guilty seconds after thinking it.

He left without a word, but she caught Olivia staring at her coldly that evening, and the next day she had another bruise overlapping the one Stabler had seen in a way that made her stomach churn when she looked at it. She couldn't help it.

What else did she have to turn to? No one's arms would encompass a raging witch like the squad thought she was, and the last person who had held her honestly had since then tried to kill her.

The last person who had held her apparently not so honestly she did not want to think about.

The burn and the satisfaction in the cracking sound the ball made when it hit the bat was enough to soothe her enough to choke down late dinners over files she was too exhausted to read during the day.

She realized, after three weeks of the same cycle, that the employees at the batting cages would soon force her out. To negate this, she signed up for a gym membership. It wasn't as good, but the burn in her arms felt almost the same as the burn in her legs when she spent a straight hour on the stair master, or longer on the treadmill. The movement was repetitive, also, and that was soothing. That was good. That could keep her together.

At some point, her hushed manifestations of 'it feels good' and 'this is healthy' and 'this is what I need' started to convince her. When she stumbled trying to stand up to hear a verdict, the pain shooting through her spine in a way that made her jaw snap clenched, she coaxed herself into believing the pain felt good, and at some point when it became a regular occurrence it was normal.

The only places she got bruises were when her reaction speed was fucked over and she got hit in the arm or the abdomen, especially because some of the machines at the batting cages acted vaguely irregular, so it was fine. Other than Stabler and whoever Stabler told- and, Casey thought slyly- Olivia probably didn't consider her human enough to take what he had told her seriously- no one knew, or would ever know.

She had to quit wearing heels. She had forced herself to as long as she physically could, but when she could barely walk and barely stand with agony cursing through her calves she resigned to buying flats.

It wasn't as bad as she was describing to herself, she mused, or at least, that's what she thought until about a week ago.

"I'm sorry," the pharmacist had said gently, "but- I've seen you here a least five times in the past month. I don't think I can sell you more of the extra-strength Tylenol. We have policies for repeat customers. I have to advise you to go to a doctor and get a prescription."

"Please-" Casey had tried, gritting her teeth, but the pharmacist had shaken her head, looking at her sympathetically but firmly, and Casey wasn't willing to humiliate herself by begging for painkillers. She wasn't able to break from her routine long enough to find a different pharmacy or bike to it, either.

She hadn't realized how much she had been relying on pill-popping to make the nausea of the pain more tolerable until it was absent and she felt every spark of her nerves in her gut and in her mind like the laughter of vultures who circled above her spinning head.

And that's why she was now thinking this entire situation over while cursing to herself, waiting with a judge whose eyes were fixed on some paper or other for the defense counselor to show up to go over something for the upcoming attempted prosecution of a domestic abuse charge- a man had accused his wife of raping him.

It was always complicated to prosecute such cases, as the jury always leaned to be sympathetic towards women in these situations, and it didn't help that the husband was a working-class man who had married into the family of an esteemed heiress who was now bringing identical charges against him. Classic he-said v. she-said situation involving fetishes and sexual fantasies that Casey believed she wasn't being paid enough for. Initially, she had been rather dismissive of this case, but upon a minor screaming match with Olivia and a sit-down with the victim- a pitiful man- she had become committed to tearing this woman to shreds.

And then the defense attorney showed up, and Casey had another woman she wanted to rip to shreds.

"Good to see you, Alexandra," the judge greeted warmly- fuck, of course, Casey had known Alex had had close bonds with several judges, of course, everyone loved Alex, and of course, she could never measure up to her predecessor.

Alex's hair, which had been a bit shorter the last Casey remembered, was swept up in a ponytail that showed off the delicate curve of her neck. The bite mark Casey had left on the curve where said neck met her collar was long gone, but Casey could see where it would've been above the dipping neckline of the black top Alex had on. Paired with an unbuttoned black blazer and dress pants, Alex had cleaned up nicely the way she always did. Casey tried not to hate her so hard she thought maybe she was trying to convince herself she did.

"Your Honor," she heard that crisp, feminine voice say, returning the warmth that she had been greeted with, and then, "Miss Novak."

"Alexandra Cabot," Casey turned her head, and although her vision had started to worsen over the last couple days with exhaustion, the figure of that woman was something she was not likely to forget. "You're working defense, now?"

Alex opened her mouth, then pursed her lips and smiled calmly, "apparently so."

That lack of a real response irritated Casey only further and she swiped her tongue along her teeth, wishing she had a bat in her hands and the looming shape of a pitching machine in front of her.

"You two know each other?" The judge looked over her eyeglasses, looking back and forth slowly as Alex set her bag down and settled in the armchair identical to Casey's opposite the judge's desk.

"No," Novak bit, and Alex glanced at her at that, emotions unreadable. "But I've heard good things from the detectives who used to work with her. I trust we'll have a productive session."

The judge seemed pleased with this response, nodding to Casey's apparent professionalism.

"It's not every day we have an ex-ADA going up against the ADA who replaced her," the judge mused, "so I appreciate that, Miss Novak, I urge both of you to keep things clear and just."

"We will," rang Alex's reply, her turn to dictate the response, and Casey chewed her own teeth.

"I've called you both here because I'd like to urge a settlement." The judge said flatly, "It's to my knowledge that this case is both high-profile and incredibly complex, and I'm worried it's not in the interest of justice for this to be disputed in front of a jury. I've reviewed all the submitted evidence and testimonies, and I've seen cases like this play out before, and it's never pretty. A long, drawn-out trial is not what is best for anyone in this case. I'm giving you a day to discuss with your clients and see if something can be mutually arranged."

"The People would affirm that due to the complexity of this case, especially the imbalance in the spousal power dynamics, a settlement might not adequately ensure justice for the victim." Casey spoke, her voice firm although her heart inside her chest was anything but.

Alex was staring at her coldly, studying every inch of her as though through an MRI, and Casey wanted to shrink away, or she wanted to hit her, and she wasn't sure which one she wanted to do more, so she just dissociated. She was a good attorney- good enough that she could make it through this conversation without being very mentally present for it.

The rest of the meeting passed briefly, the result a simple agreement to speak to both parties and then reconvene, and Casey slipped out, speed walking through the halls as fast as she could to escape the feeling of Alex's eyes, as sharp and cold as glaciers, piercing her spine.

"Thank you for meeting me," Casey had murmured in a low tone as the skittish, thin man settled into a couch across from her, hours later in her office. He seemed like a strong wind could blow him over, in dress pants and a dark blue turtleneck. His voice sounded vaguely accented, and Casey placed him from somewhere in southern Europe.

"I understand this must be difficult on you."

"It's worse on my daughters," he sniffed, looking uncomfortably away from her, and she tried her best to look encouraging, softer, the way Olivia kept chastising her to be, except she knew full well on the outside she still looked judgemental.

"I want you to know," she said carefully, "I will do everything possible to win this one. I don't want you to be discouraged. But you need to understand that cases like yours have a very low success rate in court. Juries are sympathetic to women, and your wife's lineage holds a reputation. I can work out a deal with the defense, and hopefully-"

"Will she accept some sort of deal where she's guilty?"

Casey hesitated and then shook her head. "I really doubt it. She's pulled allegations against you. A deal would probably involve a mutual dropping of charges, or a cash settlement."

The man looked at her shoes, his eyebrows furrowing, and Casey realized he was shaking slightly.

"I want custody," he said finally, "of our daughters. Sole custody, because I'm taking them far away from this god-forbidden city. This abuse it's- I've- I've dealt with it, I could man up, but- I don't- my girls aren't stupid and they're old enough that they started catching on. I don't want them growing up with this."

Casey swallowed. The feeling of knowing the extent of the injuries a person held beneath their clothes while talking to them about their suffering was something she had not gotten used to in the few weeks she had been doing this for. She had seen the pictures taken during the rape kit- the red marks from a whip, bruises from slaps or punches. A collection of small cuts on his neck and down his stomach.

"I thought, if I managed to get her arrested, it would- I wouldn't have to fight for custody." He said breathlessly, "I want my girls and I want them to be safe and I work my ass off- even though she comes from money, I pay for everything in the household, and I can barely afford her tastes- and I know I can be the dad they deserve. But a court would place them with her because of her assets, I'm sure."

He laughed dryly and Casey pursed her lips, listening to him continue with, "I need it to be set in stone that she's a sadist. That she does this-" he pulled the collar of his turtleneck down, revealing the cuts- in the pictures Casey had seen, they were fresh, newly scabbed over with little ruby pearls. Now they were outlined with bruising in the stage of healing that seemed nauseating to look at.

Casey sighed, rubbing her temples, but then nodded. "I understand, but this is a very heavy risk. If your allegation is dropped by the court, then hers is open, and she can try to frame you for assault, lock you up, and take your daughters for the hills. Really, I-"

"Please." He muttered, "I just need to protect my girls. I know I'm a man, but I- I need you to help me protect them. From her. I can't settle for less than that."

She didn't bother going back to the DA's office, or to the precinct to update the detectives on the fact she now knew there was no way to avoid a courtroom debate. She called in and told them she had been called out in an emergency, and walked out the turbulence inside her organs on the treadmill until she felt as though she could not take another step without blacking out.

And then she rode her bike all the way home.

This case was a fucking mess, and everyone involved knew it, but that never helped anything at all. The plaintiff seemed completely sympathetic when one was speaking to him, but several aspects of his story didn't hold water the way she needed them to and Elliot was starting to doubt the story altogether, concerned that he was only filing to give himself an advantage for a later divorce and custody sentencing. Casey half-thought to agree. Plus, there'd be at least several jurors who'd assume it was just a disgusting fetish instead of a 'real' assault. And the fact they were married made everything even worse.

Olivia and Casey had been bickering like children for days, always about the same details of the case, and the victim was now not cooperating very well out of fear his grandmother would get deported and Casey couldn't figure out how to fix the situation despite Olivia's superduper helpful suggestions of 'just let her stay here'.

Casey was not immigration. Did Olivia know that? Casey was not immigration? This was getting fucking ridiculous.

At least, in court, Casey had someone to take her anger out on because she ended up really despising the defendant and it worked well for her because the defendant apparently couldn't handle that.

"So," she started in clipped, curt speech, "How long have you two been married?"

The woman, a tall, slim statuesque woman, with smoothed back hair, young eyes, and a permanent crease between her eyebrows and in the sides of her cheeks as though she was permanently disgusted with everything around her, glared.

"Five years."

"Isn't your eldest five?" Casey glanced at the jury, already knowing Alex would object to that line of questioning, which she did and Casey moved on smoothly.

"In what month did you meet your husband?"

"October."

"Where did you meet your husband?"

"Objection, relevance." Alex barked, and Casey smoothly tilted her head at the judge, stating firmly, "Laying proper foundation, Your Honor."

"I'll allow it," the judge said after a second, "the defendant will answer."

"He was a ball boy. At a tennis court I frequent."

"So, when you met him, there was no way to know if he would or wouldn't be into your sexual fantasies, correct?"

"I- they're not my-" Casey could tell her anger had flared, and she narrowed her eyes predatorily. She was getting somewhere.

"Ripping your husband apart wasn't your fetish? People's evidence 5B, Your Honor."

Casey paced to her desk, selecting a piece of paper, before handing it over to the defendant.

"Can you explain what this document is?"

"It's- it's a receipt from a credit card."

"Whose credit card?"

"Mine."

"What did you buy?"

"I- I only bought that because-"

"Please answer the question, Mrs. Connings." The judge said smoothly, looking sternly over at her from over her glasses. The defendant looked stiffly furious, like a trapped animal, and almost as though she wanted to lash out at the judge. Casey knew that she hated, beyond everything else, feeling as though she was below someone. In her mind, she saw Casey as her equal, but the judge was not.

"It's for an online subscription to a- to a fetish site."

"Why did you buy this?"

"I wanted to learn what my- what my whore of a husband wanted me to do."

"But this is dated as being from October, five years ago. How soon after meeting him did he ask you to start playing into what you're claiming is his fantasy?"

"Objection, badgering the defendant." Alex snarled, and Casey didn't have an override, so she let herself be scolded by the judge with a bite to her lip and then switched tracks. What she had said wasn't stricken, though.

"How did acting on your fetish evolve, then?"

"It's not my fetish. We were just in bed together, and he asked me if I'd cut him, so I did."

"So, what exactly is he into? What does he ask for?"

"I- I don't even know how to" She didn't know how to come up with a convincing lie, more like.

"Did he ask you to buy the subscription?"

"Yes."

Casey glanced at the plaintiff, who was staring at the desk, but in their conversations, she knew it wasn't him who asked that. She willed very hard for him to look up at her, for him to look less guilty. He did not.

"So, what's your safe word?"

The woman looked positively affronted, recoiling. "Excuse me?"

"This site has a constant disclaimer that it mandates participating partners should ensure open communication and a safe word be established so both partners can opt-out immediately whenever boundaries are crossed. What safe word did you two establish?"

"We didn't need one-"

"How would he tell you if he wanted to stop?"

"He wouldn't, he wanted everything I could dish out, and worse-"

"So he always submitted to your fetish whenever you wanted him to?" Casey's eyes flicked over to the jury, some of who looked mildly concerned. They had already been presented the exhibit of the wounds on the plaintiff, the old scars that had been raised, and the new ones that had bruised over. It seemed hard to wrap one's head around the defendant's words.

"Yes. But it's not my fetish."

"So when it came to acting out on your fetish-" Casey started, only to feel as though she was being physically knocked backward by the explosion of anger from the witness box. She prided herself on the fact she didn't even flinch- but maybe her muscles were just too strained to employ any motion that wasn't deliberate. They could barely handle the deliberate ones, anyway.

"It's not my fucking fetish!" The woman snarled, standing up, slamming her hands down in a way that made the judge wince. "It's not! It isn't a fetish, it's just making my bitch so exactly what I fucking want because that's what he fucking deserves and I won't let a whore like you-"

The judge slammed the gavel, a cold loud sound that rang out equally as loud as her voice as she barked, "That'll be a five hundred dollar fine, Mrs. Connings, do not use such language in my courtroom-"

"You think I can't pay that?" She laughed with some twisted, furious version of glee, before pointing directly at Casey. "This fa-"

Casey's eyebrows shot up at the slur, and she glanced at Alex coldly, who thankfully wasn't looking at her but instead in shock at her client. Casey knew it was somewhat known she was bisexual, she had entertained an interview about it once when she was still in white collar, so if the defendant had done any research she would've found that out on her own, but a voice inside her snarled that Alex must have told. But Casey knew, despite how much she hated the blonde, Alex would never be that unprofessional. She was a god in court, and a god would never stoop that low to gossip.

A god would never stoop to run her fingers along the hair of a stray dog like her, either. Not again.

Casey knew she was on a fine line with the judge's good graces, but watching the defendant be sentenced to spending a night in the lock-up because she had screamed a homophobic slur at her in the courtroom was satisfying enough that she managed to regain a bit of her lost appetite. She ate a portion of grilled chicken with rice, on the table this time, not at her desk, and felt very good about that.

But then the case took a turn, and everything became a mess of garbled wires that reminded Casey wryly of the mess inside herself in the way that she'd probably die trying to fix either of them. Still, though, despite it being grueling and thankless work, she wanted to see justice served. Kids were involved.

Alex was a god in the courtroom, Casey had already known that from the rumors, and it was only proven through the way she fought tooth and nail, dismantling her witnesses and objecting to every third sentence she said, stalking around on those long legs of hers like she owned everything in sight. She shot Casey looks the woman couldn't begin to start reading constantly, and Casey always ignored them.

Alex effectively disabled two experts Casey had put on the stand, and the case started to seem like it was riding exclusively on speculation. The defendant's explosion at her had seemed like enough to show she had violent tendencies, but Alex was determinedly convincing that fetishes and such rage issues weren't correlated in a way that mattered, and Casey was starting to lose arrows.

"Did you tell her to stop?" Alex's voice soothed, not a bark like Casey's was but a clear pitch that sounded undeniably convincing.

"I did. Many times." The plaintiff shrank away from her instinctively, similar to how Casey felt now.

"But she thought it was part of the game?"

"She- I guess so, yeah."

"And you never thought to bring charges until now?"

"My daughter asked me about the cuts. She walked in while I was changing. I realized I needed it to change, that I couldn't- I couldn't handle raising my daughters in an environment like this."

"So, filing these charges had nothing to do with your recent discussions with a divorce attorney?"

"I-"

"Objection-" Casey spoke, standing, a bolt of pain down her sides as her legs screamed at her for the sudden movement. Alex spared her a glance, a look that lingered too long, time seeming to freeze for a moment as Casey stared at the judge and Alex stared at Casey.

Then, court proceeded as usual, and Alex refused to look at her for the rest of the day.

At some point, Casey's ability to work had started to fray, while Alex had only been building up, this being her first case back since being shot- well, she wasn't working for the state, so one couldn't say she was 'back' more so that she had resumed working to some degree- and she had something to prove. Casey had something to prove to the squad by beating her. It wasn't a good combination.

Her sleep reduced to naps consisting of a few hours, the time she spent awake instead being spent at the cages, and on the day before what was going to be the final day of court Casey had managed to slip up something fierce.

Squinting through itching dry eyes at the pitching machine, she had lost her footing as her vision blurred, stumbling to the side and when the softball came rocketing out she had failed to swing entirely, the ball hitting her directly in the center of her left ribcage. She stumbled back, hard, and managed to hit the button to stop it before any more damage was done, dropping to her knees and staying there for a long second, unless she wanted an employee to come running over and force her to stop coming. Through gritted teeth and burning, frayed nerves she managed to change, spotting the dark red and purple mark through a mirror as the bruise began to claim her pale skin, pack up her things, and make to go home. She called a cab- she'd come back for her bike when she went tomorrow.

She wasn't exactly sure how she made it up the stairs, but she had, and she curled up on the floor next to her bed, so close to blacking out from the pain and the stress and the exhaustion of it all that she felt tears began to prick the corners of her eyes, which she angrily swiped away, feeling disgustingly juvenile. She just stayed there, fighting it, head bowed, arms clinging onto the sheets while the rest of her body lay limply on the floor, and eventually, she got too tired of trying to stop herself from sobbing.

"It hurts," she whispered to herself out loud, "it hurts."

"It's okay," Casey cooed the next day, one arm around the eldest daughter of the couple who was sobbing into her shoulder, while Olivia glared at her suspiciously as if Novak was about to bite a five-year-old's head off. "I'm here, and I've got you. It's going to be okay," she continued regardless. Because a five-year-old didn't deserve to have to realize how life really feels just yet. The agony of knowing what living was and what that entails should come later.

They were all waiting to hear the verdict of the trial- Olivia and Stabler were here personally on their break, and Alex was standing with the wife, her lithe hand on the woman's shoulder- great, the two women who infuriated Casey to a phenomenal degree were comforting each other- and the husband, as well as the two daughters, were bundled next to Casey as if they trusted this insanely broken shell of a woman to provide them with comfort she had no clue on where to even begin trying to give.

The large courtroom doors swung open, and everyone was invited back inside, Casey counting her breaths in a manner she had grown used to doing recently so she wouldn't limp, wouldn't appear damaged. She could feel Alex watching her out of the corner of her eye as the other attorney took her stance across the courtroom.

It was a very normal proceeding, and Casey was entirely prepared for the not-guilty verdict until the judge read the slip of paper given to her and nodded to herself.

"In the case of The People v. Connings, this court has found the defendant-

Guilty."

Casey's eyebrows knit over her dry eyes and she stood, frozen, for a long second until she felt the plaintiff's arms slam around her in a grateful hug that only infuriated the injury she was hiding. She gritted her teeth so hard she thought her molars would burst but held him back, patting him on the shoulder, and she felt his tears soak into the fabric covering her shoulder. Relieved tears mixed with the already damp fabric from his daughter's terrified ones. Casey had won.

This was a historical case. Martial rape was hard enough to prosecute when it was a woman against a man, and a man winning in court like this was entirely unheard of. Maybe she was lucky it was a man against a woman. Ms. Connings wasn't careful to ensure her marks weren't permanent, and wasn't careful enough to sugarcoat her abuse the way male perpetrators did because she relied so heavily on her gender and her status to give her the automatic societal out. Casey wasn't entirely sure why it hadn't. She had no clue why it worked. She knew Ms. Connings would most likely win on an appeal. It must've been a miracle jury.

The man didn't let her go for a long moment, and Casey stared forward, glad her face was hidden in his shoulder so she didn't need to face anyone- she didn't want to see anyone, she didn't want to face these people anymore, she was so done, she needed out- god, she needed out, it was well-meaning but his arms around her ribcage hurt so bad she was worried she was going to start crying too, and that was a shitty look on a lawyer.

He let her go and she nodded at him, hoping the tilt in her eyebrows from pain and the haze clouding her mind seemed like sympathy to him, patting the five-year-old's head- she hadn't realized that the little girl had latched onto her waist- before excusing herself, brushing past the thrum of people getting up and talking to each other to dart out.

She vaguely noted Olivia watching her leave, Stabler's eyes narrowing with concern, and the ice-cold eyes of Alex on her back was something that cut through her overwhelmed senses like a dagger to the neck, but she ignored all of it, scurrying off like a wounded animal.

If she had food in her stomach, she would've thrown it back up the second she slammed the door of the courthouse restroom behind her, but all that came out was saliva marring the porcelain bowl of the sink, hands gripping it tightly as if it could save her.

She won, she should have felt eased, but the tension had built in the blood vessels surrounding her heart and she felt like everything inside of her was snapping, everything was breaking, and god it hurt.

Her ribcage really fucking hurt.

She released the edge of the sink with one hand so she could slide a palm to cup the injury, trying to ease the burning, savage flesh with the sensation of cold, shifting all of her weight to the other arm which shook under it. It hurt. It didn't help, not enough, anyway. She wanted to choke down a bottle of Tylenol she wasn't allowed to have. She wanted to swing even harder, despite the injuries, or walk until she actually did black out this time. Her head whirled and she choked again, coughing, as if she had anything to give back up.

"Casey."

She didn't manage to hold back the groan that bubbled in her throat at the sound of Alex Cabot arriving in the small space, trapping her. She had come to gloat- but she didn't have anything to gloat about, right? Maybe she just wanted to remind Casey what a decrepit wreck she was.

She didn't meet the blonde's eyes when she shakily raised her head- but that was partially because she couldn't find them. She must look utterly stupid, still leaning over the sink, her face scrunched up with her eyes squinting. Everything was blurry, everything was spinning.

Alex moved closer and Casey wanted to scramble back, but she knew if she tried for it she'd fall, so she just stood there as Alex crept closer, slowly, like one might approach a snake that one was worried would bite them if they made sudden movements.

Alex reached out, freezing fingertips along the skin on her arm, and Casey hadn't realized she was burning up until she felt it. Alex was trying to free the hand Casey was using the clamp over her rib, trying to see what the problem was, and Casey didn't have the energy to fight her, so she just stared at Alex blankly as Alex pulled her arm to the side, still holding it by the wrist then she used her other to nudge Casey's blouse up.

"Jesus Christ, Casey." Alex exhaled when she saw it, dark eyes darting up to try to find something in her eyes that Casey knew she wouldn't find.

Casey chuckled, a low, biting sound, turning her head back over the sink. As much as she wanted to spit at Alex, she wasn't going to.

"Did someone do this to you?" Alex breathed, her voice so, so quiet, and Casey rolled her eyes inwardly.

"You think you have a right to know?" She snapped back, indignant, "You think you have a right to ask me anything?"

"Casey," the blonde sighed, trying to scold her for her disrespect, but Casey just shook her head resentfully, and she knew she wouldn't get anywhere. Alex let go of her wrist.

The younger woman pawed loosely at the side of the sink with her now-free hand, trying to grab onto it while her other arm shuddered erratically, head dipping further and her eyes squeezing shut, and then she felt Alex nudge her away from the sink, accepting Casey's weight onto her as she forced her backward, slightly, until Casey was leaning on her instead of her sink, Casey's forehead on her collar, stuck in a perpetual state of falling.

Alex helped her to the side, holding her against the wall so Casey could slide down it to sit- not a second too late, because her screaming, burning legs gave out quickly- and then stood over her while Casey balled herself up, aching knees to her shaking chest.

They stood in an uncomfortable silence for a long second, and Casey realized Alex was waiting for her to talk, so she did the best she could. If she argued and fought, Alex must give up on her eventually and get the hell out, leave her the fuck alone. Stop pretending to care about things she knew the blonde didn't.

"You left me." Casey looked up, glaring, and she regretted that being her leading phrase the second it left her mouth because holy shit did it sound beyond juvenile.

"You fucked me- in my office, no less- and then you left me."

"I got shot," Alex corrected her reprimandingly, and Casey barked a harsh laugh.

"You know how I found out? No texts, no calls, and you know I don't listen to rumors. I only found out when they called me in to force me into your job."

"I got shot," Alex repeated again, harshly, "I'm not sorry I didn't make that about you."

Casey bit into her cheek, tucking her knees even closer to her chest, biting her lip, and glaring to the side instead of up at her. Alex hissed softly- after a second Casey realized she was protesting Casey's agitation of her injury. Alex lowered herself to her knees to push one of Casey's legs away, not letting her push against the bruise. Her eyes seemed softer than Casey wanted to let herself admit.

"Do you think I'm a whore?" She snapped, instead of the apology that was heavy on her tongue.

"I have no idea where you'd get that from," Alex responded, smooth and cold as her fingers as she checked Casey's temperature, not meeting the redhead's eyes.

"I don't have sex with just anyone-" Casey continued, seething, but she didn't shake Alex's hand away as the blonde pushed sweaty strands of hair out of her face, "I don't- It means something to me. You thought that was just a quickie with some colleague you could toss aside?"

Alex's nostrils flared and she pursed her lips. "I'm surprised you have such a low opinion of me."

"You haven't given me much else to think", she muttered, but a portion of the fight had left her body. Alex was right, of course. She had no right to be so angry. She had no right to take out the swings she couldn't make at a softball at Alex verbally. Alex was not someone she could hurt.

"I courted you," Alex said with an emotion Casey couldn't distinguish through her blurred vision, creeping a bit closer to unbutton four buttons on Casey's blouse, pushing the fabric to the side to get a better look at the injury, and Casey did not fight her, so she rewarded her by continuing, "I did not sleep with you out of convenience."

Casey growled in the back of her throat, swiping at Alex's wrist with a grimace when she felt the pads of the fingertips tracing her ribs. "Stop, stop-"

"Can you take a deep breath, Casey?"

"You're not a doctor." Casey bit, and Alex arched an eyebrow at her.

"Would you let me take you to one?"

Casey let out an angry huff of an exhale, and then straightened her spine slightly, taking a deep breath, gritting her teeth in pain once she reached a capacity of her lungs at which she thought she'd throw up if she tried to increase. Alex clicked her tongue, but pulled back, resting her body on the heel of her foot, still on her knees.

"Are you trying to avoid the hospital to protect the person who did this?" Alex murmured, and Casey snorted in response.

"Don't act so concerned, Alex, you aren't the Sex Crimes ADA anymore, you're the defense now- for some reason- and no, this wasn't a person's fault, other than mine. I got hit with a softball."

By now Casey's vision had returned enough that she could see the sharp look Alex shot her, but Casey was unrelenting.

"I'm the defense because I thought I was helping," Alex said after a pause, rubbing the space between her eyebrows with her middle finger to soothe the tension there, "god knows I needed to do something."

"So now that that attempt failed you're getting your savior complex fix with me?"

"Casey." Alex warned her, gently, a flex of the eyebrows that told the redhead to quit pushing.

"Don't pretend to care about me," Casey retorted instead, and now that the tremors had subsided she was more than thrilled in a depressed sort of way to grab onto the edge of the sink from the floor and pull herself up to her feet again, feeling every muscle in her body scream at her in the process. She just had to make it home. Just home, and she could go to the gym tomorrow, she'd let herself skip today. Alex was still in her way, thought, and the defense attorney casually pushed herself up too, and despite them being the same height she was in heels that allowed her to look down at the redhead incredulously.

"Casey," her tone was admonished now, "tell me you don't mean that."

"Did I mean anything to you?" Casey snarled back, but it sounded more like a whine which she hated herself even more for.

"Yes." Alex barked, "Yes, you did. And you still do. And I don't like watching you hurt yourself so please sit the hell back down."

"I want to go home," Casey argued instead, trying to walk away, but Alex grabbed her wrists as gently as some could and pushed her back against the sink, pinning her against it with her body, Casey's arms suspending in the air as they went rigid trying to fight with her.

"Then I'll come home with you. I'm not letting you get away from me, not when you're like this."

"Like what?" Casey scoffed, wriggling, which rewarded her only with the feeling of cold porcelain pushing firmer into her spine. The second she stopped moving, the confinement lessened. Alex was trying very hard not to hurt her. "You don't trust me to take care of myself?" She snarled instead of the 'thank you' she should've.

"I just saw your ribs," Alex snapped, her face suddenly closer to Casey's as though proximity would in turn snap Casey out of her protest, "I just saw your ribs, and they did not look like that before."

Casey froze, eyes flashing, and Alex's grip loosened considerably.

"You're not eating- god, I'm not sure if I should be glad I can tell your rib isn't actually broken because the only way I can tell is because it's so prominent if it was broken it would've just cracked out of your skin- you weren't this thin when we slept together-" Alex babbled, suddenly seeming almost frantic, and Casey tried to shrink back like a shameful toddler.

"Please. I understand that I need to regain your trust after leaving so suddenly. But we were somewhere, weren't we? Don't I have at least a little stature with you?"

The redhead's teeth clamped together, muscles in her jaw going rigid, and she looked away, before realizing Alex really did mean it. She wasn't going to let her scramble off. Casey wouldn't be able to bite or insult her way out of the sympathy.

It's because she cares about you, stupid, a voice inside her said, one she hadn't heard in a while. Stop arguing. It won't help.

"Let me help you," Alex coaxed, as if she could hear the thoughts play out in Casey's mind.

Casey let her arms go limp, held up only by Alex, who slowly let them move down to her sides, before she took a step back, giving Casey room to breathe.

"I'm sorry," Casey said after a second, gaze fixing on Alex's shoes. She didn't know what to say after that, so she just blankly offered up another "I'm sorry," so she wouldn't start crying.

"I don't want you to be sorry," Alex leaned down slightly, trying to catch Casey's eye, but she just looked to the side instead. "I want to make sure you're okay."

"I will be." Casey muttered, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"What can I do to ensure that?"

Casey bit her lip, and Alex instinctively moved her hand up to soothe over her cheek, trying to make sure in her mess of emotions the redhead didn't break her skin. Casey let her lip go obediently.

"We can get dinner." She said finally, letting air out of her lungs.

Alex nodded, straightening, and motioned for Casey to lead her out of the bathroom. The redhead sucked in another pained inhale and began walking, before faltering slightly, her hand pausing on the doorknob.

"Alex," she started, her voice low and heavy with exhaustion, but her mind still had fight written on it, and she knew Alex could tell. "Do you actually care-"

She turned around while saying it, hearing Alex's incredibly exasperated sigh, expecting her to be mad but greeted by the now-defense attorney's lips on her's instead, her hands cradling Casey's cheeks to coax her face upwards to do so.

It lasted barely a second, but it was enough to shut Casey up. Alex released her quickly, but another small kiss was placed gently on Casey's forehead, before the attorney let her go with a small huff.

"Casey," Alex started, and then stopped.

"Yes?"

"Do you regret sleeping with me?"

The blonde's voice was small in a way that Casey wasn't used to- she sounded almost timid. It caught her off guard more than the kiss did. Casey was surprised when the answer surfaced so easily, but it was entirely honest. She had spent the last three months brooding over it, cursing Alex again and again for making her feel used. She had wished she could write it off to herself as a mistake, a hasty move by Alex that she had agreed to thoughtlessly. But it wasn't.

"No." She answered her, "I don't."

Casey watched Alex swallow, and the blonde's chest move as she exhaled, letting out a sigh Casey hadn't realized she was holding.

Alex stepped around her to open the door, inviting her out, and the two began walking side by side towards the exit of the courtroom, and Casey was glad she had her by her side when Alex shook her head quickly at Olivia who tried to approach her, and the detective obediently directed her attention elsewhere in a way that Casey thought bitterly she would never do for her.

"Let me take you somewhere nice." Alex murmured, "And then you tell me what's been happening, okay?"

Casey nodded, and she felt her hand be enveloped by another's. She hadn't realized her hand was shaking until it wasn't anymore.

↓↓↓

To read Alex's perception of these events, please continue:

[cumulo-stratus]

Hi!! Could you do a Spencer Reid x male reader where reader comes home upset about Strauss (or someone else at work) yelling at them about something so Spencer comforts reader as he breaks down? PLEASEEEEE

Home is with him[s.r]

Spencer comes home to find you struggling, and does his best to help

WARNINGS- angst, villainizes strauss, talks about being yelled at, crying

Spencer Reid x male!reader ][ hurt/comfort ][ masterlist!!

a/n- this was such a cute request!!! sry it took so long

1.65k

Your feet felt like lead blocks as you trudged up the too many stairs to Spencer's apartment.

The bag on your shoulder felt just as heavy as it weighed your shoulder down even more than your posture had already sagged. 

You felt like you didn't even have the mental energy to be annoyed when you couldn't get the key into the old jinky lock that was always hard to open.

But it felt particularly annoying today as you grimaced to yourself and flared your nostrils slightly while jimmying with the key

When the door finally jimmied itself open, it creaked with the age of the building through the empty corridor.

You were met with an equally empty apartment in front of you. 

Even though you knew he wasn’t there, there was some part of you deep down that still hoped to call out his name and hear a response from somewhere deeper in the apartment.

”spencerrr! i'm home! Are you in the bedroom?” you called out hopefully. The phrase was followed by a pang of disappointment when there was no response, just the quiet creaking of the old building settling. 

you had known that your boyfriend was on a case, and you knew that he rarely came home before 10 pm on cases. 

but a small part of you still hoped, maybe being the amazing genius of a boyfriend he is, he'd solved it in hours and flown back to take you right into his arms. 

you imagined Spencer encasing you in his embrace, the way he always does, and used it to give yourself the strength to put your things away. 

By the time your work bag and shoes had been left by the door along with your keys and your grimey work clothes had been shed there was a lump in your throat that you couldn't swallow down. 

You shoved the aforementioned work clothes at the bottom of your hamper, trying to push away the bad joojoo lingering on the pieces of cloth. 

It felt impossible to not keep recalling the harsh reprimanding and even harsher insults that Strauss had thrown at you. She had decided that today was the day to rip into you over something as simple as some paperwork. 

According to Strauss, she won't accept idiocracy or carelessness in her employees. Apparently, this ‘moronic’ mistake could've caused miscommunication, which could've caused a field agent to be injured or killed. 

her harsh words clawed at your thoughts as you leaned against the counter in the kitchen, lost in thought. 

when you finally forced yourself to make some dinner, you couldn't bring yourself to make an actual meal. So you opted instead to munch on a bag of trail mix. 

without the distraction of figuring out what to eat you felt the lump rise again in your throat, strauss’ words ringing in your thoughts.

the lump grew to a burning behind your eyes as you sunk down into the old leather couch that smelled like worn pages.

Spencer's whole apartment smells like old books, that was one of the things that you'd always loved about your boyfriend's apartment.

Usually the smell was a comfort, but today it only furthered to remind you of his absence. Everything reminded you of Spencer when he was gone. 

The apartment smelled like him, the kitchen had remnants of Spencer's rushed breakfast that you hadn't the will to clean. And of course every book littered on almost every surface.

You almost hoped the leather would open up and swallow you so you wouldn't have to think anymore. But when no matter how much you willed it to happen and it didn't, you instead opted for the tv. 

Friends almost immediately became static. And in this static you felt a warmth on your cheek. A tear. And then another one, and another. And another. 

Soon the floodgates were open and your lip wobbled. The only thing you could do was pull your knees up to your chest as you leaned to lay sideways with your head on the pillow, and hope that Spencer would come home soon.

Soon the mixing of the TV, the AC unit, and the dehumidifier all became one collective static noise to your ears. 

It felt like moments later when you blinked your eyes open from a sort of half sleep half trance. But then you realized what had woken you; the door unlocking and creaking open across the small mudroom area.

You could hear the faint sound of shoes sliding off, and a bag slumping on the floor as you tried your best to rub off the tear tracks and rub the redness from your eyes away as Spencer approached. 

When your boyfriend had arrived, the first thing he noticed as the door closed behind him was that most of the lights were turned off, and that friends was playing faintly on the tv. 

All this led Spencer to deduce that you had fallen asleep by the tv waiting for him. It was only 9 pm, but he assumed you'd had a long day at work. That was an understatement. 

As he rounded the couch, where he expected to find your sleeping frame, he instead found you, with eyes reddened from tears that had long since been shed. 

Spencer's face immediately twisted into a concerned frown, a knot between his brows forming as he took you in. 

You looked,, tired. Spencer could see the obvious rementants of tears on your reddened cheeks and in your tired, tired eyes. 

When you finally looked at Spencer, he cupped your face in his hand, using his thumb to softly brush away the tears. 

No words had been spoken yet, your lip only wobbled the tiniest bit. That was when Spencer finally spoke, “oh honey,”.

Spencer spoke so softly if he hadn't been inches away from you, you wouldn't have heard him. His voice was murmured and gentle.

The sound of Spencer's voice is what caused you to break. You're pretty sure your body was aware that it was finally safe, now that your boyfriend was here. With Spencer you were safe.

The wobbling lip turned to broken sob, and a new round of tears streaking your cheeks. Spencer could feel them hitting his fingers and wetting them. 

You needed to be held, and Spencer knew that. So he moved from standing in front of you, to sitting with you in his warm embrace finally.

With you in his arms, you could finally let out the tears comfortably. Their warmth wet Spencer's work shirt, the thin material becoming darker. 

You had immediately buried your face in his neck, allowing his scent to overtake you. He smelled like the worn pages of a book and coffee grounds. 

It filled your nostrils and made you breath in a deep sigh. Spencer had inadvertently helped to stop you from crying. 

He had that effect on you, bringing peace. “You wanna talk about it?” Spencer asked, again speaking with a murmured and ever so gentle tone. 

Spencer could feel you sigh into his neck, it was the only response you gave him. Spencer took this as you needed to talk about it, but refused to.

So he asked again- “darling you should at least tell me what happened- please?” Spencer spoke with the biggest puppy dog eyes you’d ever seen. 

The only reason you could see the puppy eyes Spencer was so good at was that he had forced you (gently guided your head with his hands) to look at him. 

But he was right in doing it, as the look on his face made you cave. You just couldn't not- it was Spencer after all. 

Spencer noticed this shift almost immediately. His face softened more than it already had if that was even possible. 

“Come on love,”

The furrow between his brows was so tight with worry for his boyfriend you thought they might become one conjoined eyebrow. This thought made you let out a little chuckle through the tears. 

With a final sigh, you begin, “well Strauss yelled at me today in front of everyone over a filing error, she said that- that idiotic mistakes like that get agents killed in the field..” you trailed off, not wanting to continue the story as your voice had cracked. 

Spencer could tell there was more, but he didn't pry. He just went into helpful boyfriend mode and started rubbing your back gently, allowing you to rest your head back into the crook of his neck.

“My darling I'm sorry-” His voice had a slight gravel to it from how low and soft he spoke. 

You watched the way his Adam's apple bobbed when he spoke, and the way the soft skin under his jaw moved in tandem. 

You tried to use this to distract yourself from the tears still making their way down your cheeks. It didn't work. 

Instead Spencer took your silence as a cue to keep talking. “Would you like some tea, I got a new one you might like at the shop the other day” Spencer said hopefully. 

You nodded pitifully, your shoulders still heavy. Spencer just pecked your temple as he stood up. 

Only minutes and the sound of a whistling tea kettle later Spencer came back with two mugs. They were a matching set that had Mr. on each, reminiscent of Mr. and Mrs. mugs. Penelope had gifted them as a half joking present a couple years ago.

He placed both on separate coasters on the worn coffee table before pulling you back into his lap. His lanky arms wrapped around you gently and brought you close to his chest. 

You relaxed back into him as he gently played with your hair. He spoke calm, soft, and reassuring words to you.

He also peppered small kisses against your hair and behind your ear and anywhere else he could find as you eventually fell asleep against him. 

The End

Taglist- @spencers1wifey | @mvndfvelds | @mindfullycriminal | @luce-reid I @ferrjulie | @khxna | @ilovebeingdelulu | @lover-of-books-and-tea I @jaden-reid | @eli-chris | @multifandomsimp69 | @Multiversejumper | @shadoesx| @luvkatryna | @gnrswife | @pleasantwitchgarden

Join my taglist here!

[sweetcherrybmb]

FEAR FOR NOBODY//FA14\\ part two

pairing: fernando alonso x soldier/military!reader

description: When the Circuit of the Americas joined the list of races for the 2012 season, no one expected it to be such a monumental day for a certain Spaniard...

faceclaim: Olivia Cooke; various pinterest girls

2021 user y/username has gone public

y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 5,467 others

y/username back in austin <3

y/bro/user aaaahhh, i can't wait for you guys to come to huston, i miss the three of you so muuch

y/username since when are you this whiny?? y/bro/user omg, you're sooo annoying

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fernandoalo_official

liked by kimimatiasraikonen, y/username and 978,451 others

fernandoalo_official feels good to be back

lewishamilton welcome back, mate!

sebastianvettel welcome back to the grid, nando!

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y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 15,467 others

y/username No.4 <3

y/bro/user congrats idiots, tell little theo i miss him!!

y/bff/username congrats!! can't wait to third wheel again!!

y/username gurl, you have your own husband y/bff/username yeaaah, but i preffer third-wheeling my parents (jk baby i love ya)

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2022

y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 16,512 others

y/username the boys like it when they go vroom (but it seems theo preferred running around)

y/bro/user little man had more fun than you, it seems

user1 honestly, her life seems to be so much fun

user2 how fun can it be when you're a part of the military??? user1 well, i'm just going off of her insta

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y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bff/username and 17,512 others

y/username tbt -> our prep for the 2012 USA Grand Prix can't belive it's been 10 years

officer_friend1 girlie I remember the way you looked at that one driver, can't remember his name tho

officer_friend2 👀 officer_friend3 👀 y/bff/username 👀 y/username ya'll... nvm

y/bff/username still remember my moms excitement when she saw you, she almost cried

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2023

y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 17,512 others

y/username green has always been my color 💚

y/bro/user rb is better

y/bff/username agreed y/username both of you are wrong, aston martin is the best

user3 uhmmm, why is this random lady popping up on my feed??

user4 omg same, but hey, she's an aston martin fan so she's welcome to stay on my feed user5 not only a fan, but it seems nando is liking her post

user6 that second pic is sooo cute

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y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 19,572 others

y/username on break and he still drives like there is no speed limit, but he bought me coffee and cake so i forgive him for the heart attack <3

y/bff/username a BMW? disgraceful... tsk tsk

y/username its your car.... y/bff/username shhhhh...

user7 why is she on my feed and why is nando in the likes???

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2024

y/username

liked by fernandoalo_official, y/bro/user and 190,572 others

y/username i am apparently married to a war criminal???

fernandoalo_official te amo mi hermosa reina <3

y/username i love you too, criminal <3 fernandoalo_official please don't, love y/username ok, i won't <3

user8 MARRIED??!! YOU'RE HIS WIFE??!! i think i might pass out

user9 this was honestly so unexpected, tf is happening??

user10 is everybody just ignoring the FACT THAT THEY HAVE A KID TOGETHER???

user11 i was just about to say, but honestly, they're cute together, the three of them

astonmartinf1 thank you for providing new pictures of fernando, one of them WILL be our new contact photo, also welcome!

y/username you're very welcome, will provide more if needed astonmartinf1 i'll DM you a number for you to send them to us fernandoalo_official NO! ABSOLUTELY NOT!

user12 not y/n and aston martin admin teaming up to embarrass nando LOL

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fernandoalo_official

liked by kimimatiasraikonen, y/username and 972,751 others

fernandoalo_official my piece of heaven, te amo hermosa <3

y/username i love you too <3

fernandoalo_official <3

user13 the DOG, ITS SO GOOFY I LOOOVE IT!!

user14 i like how all the pics of her are candids of her just drinking

user15 what can we say, a girl likes her drinks y/username i second that user15 OMG YOU ANSWERED??!!

user16 imma start calling her mother now

user17 me too user18 me three astonmartinf1 me four user16 admin is wildin' out here astonmartinf1 i'm being honest and real out here user17 based fr

lance_stroll can't wait to meet her!!

fernandoalo_official next race, kid!

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TAGS

@yllomhej @walldemons @shelbyteller

if anybody else wants to be tagged, send me a DM or an ask!

I have also made a Google form to fill out if you want to be added!

[luvhughes43]

because i liked a boy | jack hughes x reader

summary: reader gets hate comments from her ex-boyfriend's fans, saying she's a homewrecker and a slut, all because of the fact that she dated jack hughes.

lyrics: "now i'm a homewrecker, i'm a slut, i got death threats filling up semi trucks, tell me who i am, guess i don't have a choice, all because i liked a boy"

word count: 0.3k

note: something short! also i am not shading olivia i love her!

yourusername posted three months ago !

yourusername

liked by jackhughes, yourbff, and others

yourusername think i only want one number in my phone

Tagged: jackhughes

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jackfan01 HOMEWRECKER!!!

jackhughes ❤️❤️

jackfan02 two hearts only? oh he hates her😭😭

jackfan03 ur such a slut like… broke a whole relationship up and for what?

jackfan04 i think they were already broken up tho? 

yourbff cuties💓💓

Liked by yourusername

jackfan05 SLUT! you’re so disgusting.

your dms were filled to the brim with death threats, people calling you names such as a slut and a homewrecker. all because you dated jack hughes… it was ridiculous. by the time your pictures started circling around the internet, blown up on tiktok and strewn across twitter, you and jack had already called it quits. You were only together for a few months, and that was a while ago. 

you sat on your couch trying to understand his fans' messages. you went through jacks instagram, and found nothing. so you turned to twitter, where you found out that jack and his new girlfriend had just broken up… and people were blaming you for it. it literally made no sense. apparently she was posting things on her insta that made it look like he cheated on her with you? you didn’t even know what the truth was at this point. all you knew was that people were very angry at you about a situation you didn’t have any part in.

a few days went by and the rumours were still circling. people were going absolutely crazy in your dms, and you debated reaching out to jack so he could get his “fans” under control but you knew he wouldn’t. it wasn’t his fault either though! how was he supposed to get people to stop sending threats? asking for kindness never works.  so you vowed to not to post anything on social media for a few weeks, slowly watching the threats and name calling trickle down as the days went by.

finally after everything had settled, you decided to finally post something to break your silence. the whole thing was so ridiculous that you’d laugh if you weren’t a little concerned over some of the threats.

yourusername just posted !

yourusername

liked by yourbff, jackhughes and others

yourusername all because i liked a boy

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[connormccafferyhater]

do any of y’all know anything about an affair caitlin had with a red hair? apparently her name is olivia and she follows her on instagram! just heard someone from my friend group saying that she hook up with this olivia last year

this is the first i’m hearing of this, she follows two redheads on insta named olivia.

[ladylaviniya]

Lassoed In Love

Chapter 1 || Masterlist || Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: You and Clark are caught by none other than Miss Lara Clark, the person you had originally come for. You learn the girl has a hidden dream.

Pairing: Farmer!Clark Kent X Teacher!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Adults Caught Kissing (No Sex In This Chapter), Slowburn, Teenage Angst, Mentions of Military Pathways.

Word Count: 3k

Author Notes: Please leave a comment about your thoughts, it helps me with continuing or adding ideas. I know the ending and main plot but I don't mind hearing theories and new ideas.

I intend to update every Saturday 10am AEST

Inspiring Song: "Brutal" by Olivia Rodrigo

"I guess I’ll come back later then?” Came a new, young and feminine voice interrupting your blood rushing thoughts, “You could’ve told me you were trying to get laid...I could’ve gone to Jonathan’s house.”

You jerked away from Clark totally at the sound of another person standing at the end of the hallway. She was tall and lean with well rounded muscles on her biceps and calfs, her hair was cut short in a pixie cut, her hair was dark but in the sunlight behind her there was a shimmer of Auburn and reds. Her skin was covered in freckles. She was holding a bucket. It swayed by her side. She wore denim overalls and a collared shirt, around her neck were a pair of headphones connected by wire to a small walkman tucked inside her breast pocket.

She was licking her teeth and scoffed at the look of your surprised expression.

“Anyway...guess I’ll be off shovelling more horse shit.”

She turned to leave before Clark yelled out, “Lara, stay. She came to see you.”

The girls dark brows connected, she sarcastically chuckled and turned back to face you, glancing you up and down, “Why? Does she need a tampon? Got a nose bleed Sweetie?”

Clark cupped your shoulders unexpectedly and seethed over your head, “Don’t be using no sass girl, you know how to properly address a guest. Just cause you’re grounded don’t mean you get to keep acting like a brat.”

You were a guest?

She rolled her eyes. You could hear her father click his tongue. “This here is Miss Y/N Y/L/N, the new schoolteacher. Miss Y/L/N, my daughter, Lara.”

Her mean streak washed away in seconds, “oh...” she put the empty bucket on the floor, she sheepishly asked, “I ugh um...wha-what can I do for you miss?”

Even while battling overwhelming embarrassment of being caught kissing her father, you couldn’t help but be jolted by the way Clark had called you by your last name after that lustful kissing embrace. He was different, instead of being affected by it, he appeared composed and in control as if it hadn’t even happened. Your entire body still quivered with every sensation from the moment, making you want to surrender yourself to the all-enveloping flames that seemed to be licking at every pore of your body.

Instead of succumbing to your desire to fall back into his arms, you remained rigidly still with your arms stiffly at your sides while your face burned. You directed all your attention on Lara Kent instead, reminding yourself that she was the reason you were there. Her resemblance to her father gradually became more apparent as the seconds ticked by.

Her brows, eyes, scowling lip and high cheek bones were a copy paste depiction of his own. Her other features must be that of her mother’s you figured. Lara was also tall like her father, maybe half a foot shorter.

As her pale, gleaming blue eyes met yours, you were struck by something in them unlike anything you’ve ever seen before – a mixture of untamed power and bitter acceptance that gave her a wise yet jaded expression. There was no doubt, she was his daughter.

You extended your hand towards her, eager to have a chat, “I’d really love to chat with you, Lara.”

Her expression remained flushed. She crossed the hallway rug to shake your hand anyway, albeit enthusiastically. “Don’t know why,” she stated bluntly.

“You’re only a sophomore, made it in the top of your KAP and you then you just dropped out of school.” The facts hardly needed to be confirmed by the teenager, but Lara shrugged and nodded. You took a lengthy breath, “Dare I ask why?”

The corner of her lip pulled downwards, she looked at her feet and toed the floor, sweeping invisible dust along, “I just... There ain’t nothing there for me.”

You felt increasingly frustrated by the calm, flat statement the girl made, as you couldn’t discern any hint of uncertainty in her demeanour. It was clear from the way she spoke that Lara had already made up her mind and wouldn’t be swayed. You tried to devise another way to approach her, but Clark’s deep, steady voice cut you off before you could find the words.

“Miss Y/F/N, you can finish talkin’ when you get into some decent clothes. Lara, can you find one of yours or one of my old shirts or coats, something to cover her?”

To your astonishment, the girl looked you over with her old soul eyes. “Why? Where are you goin’ off to?” For a moment amusement sparkled in her blue-diamond gaze, and you chewed your lips together worried about the sinister smirk on her face. Fucking teenagers. Absolutely terrifying.

“Miss Y/L/N crashed her car just out on the roadside, see if I can pull it out of the gulley...get it to the mechanics in town,” Clark added to the list.

“I can look at the car Dad, see what I-”

“Lara,” her father said sternly, “Do as you’re told.”

Your eyes widened, you turn fast and quickly regretted it. You touched your forehead with a soft groan. With a wobbly determination you stated, “Mr. Kent, I really don’t need extra clothes and I am fully capable of calling a tow bar. I really need to speak with your daughter, Miss Kent.”

“No,” he chuffed, “Frankly I don’t trust your expertise in cars or maintenance. I also ain’t lettin’ you leave my damn property covered in blood, and,” his hand snuck around and cupped the small of your back, you could have swooned, “...I’ll gather you need to have a sit down again soon..”

His dark eyes flashed up to his daughter, his voice sharp in authority, “Lara, shirt, now.” Without even glancing at you again, he left your side, put on his broad brim hat stalked out the front door.

With Lara dropping the bucket carefully to the ground, she put her hands on her hips as if ready to draw invincible pistols. She smirked and walked passed you, “This way Miss Y/L/N.”

You continued to follow her into a room down the right at the end of the hallway, passed the stairs.

“Our old clothes are boxed up at the top of my wardrobe, but it won’t take long for me to find something to fit you. You can wait and then change in here though. It’s my room.”

Lara opened the door, and you were surprised by what you’d discovered. You had expected makeup, posters, maybe even a stereo and a messy on the floor or bed...instead you were welcomed by a room you swore was devoid of any teenagers inhabitants.

Just like the living room, the bedroom exuded a old charm with its floral wallpaper and thick wooden walls. The absence of modern music equipment or adolescent clutter served as testament to the maturity of its dweller. A neatly made single bed adorned with a homely quilt stood in one corner, accompanied by a simple straight chair. Next to the bed, a collection of bookshelves stretched upwards to the ceiling, their sturdy construction showcasing expert craftsmanship. The shelves were brimming with books, piquing your curiosity, and you idly glanced over the titles, admiring the interesting collection of reading materials. Maths, mechanical engineering, car model histories, science, and the history of transportation were the biggest themes on Lara’s shelves.

As you perused the shelves, you suddenly realized that most the books had a theme: automobiles. From pioneers like Karl Benz to modern innovators like Tesla, the collection covered the entire spectrum of automobile history. There were books on cars, race cars, motor cycles, military tanks, ambulance vans, and trucks. War-related books detailed battles fought in each conflict since tanks made their debut in World War I. You also noticed books on experimental automobiles and driving techniques, as well as delving into internal design and engine capabilities.

Lara stomped over and shut her curtains, maybe for a sense of privacy in case her father returned and got a peep of something you wished you had shown him before Lara interrupted.

In the centre of the room was a brass metal bed. And before you fell face forward you choice to sit at the edge of the mattress.

Lara glanced over her shoulder, “So whatcha do to your car?” her fingers peaking through the curtains. Perhaps she sore her father and your cat.

Your fingers dug into the blanket on her bed as you awkwardly scratched your chin and mumble, “I accidentally crashed it...in an attempt to avoid hitting a rather big bull.”

She held back a laugh and swayed to the wardrobe, the sound of the rail screeched, “Let me guess...Chief? Odin would’ve ran, he’s a scaredy cat, but Chief is half cow, half dumb brick wall.”

She tore out a thick blue flannel shirt with sleeves that would’ve made you look like a child, it was huge while she held it up on the hanger. She held it out to you.

“Thankyou Lara,” you pawed it close and over your head and torso. You slipped into the oversized flannel shirt, fastening the buttons before rolling up the sleeves that hung past your hands. As the fabric brushed against your skin, you couldn’t help but notice the oversized nature of the garment. It felt as if you were enveloped in a warm embrace, a subtle reminder of Clarks presence even in his absence.

While you struggled to poke your arms through the scratchy material sleeves, you tried to continue the point on why you’d grace the Kent’s doorstep.

The scent of Clark filled your nose as you fiddled with the sleeves. It may have been clean and washed, but his cologne was a powerful scent.

You looked around the room again. On the walls were rows of different family photos. A repeat was of a young girl with a missing tooth smiling pushing a toy truck in the dirt. Another photo for her, she was sitting on a old man’s lap watching a race on a big tar road. And finally one of the same girl bent over, staring at awe at the mechanics of a old ford truck, her face and clothes, covered in grease.

You smiled, the little girl was Lara.

The collection on her shelves was not merely an indication of an interest in cars and the like, but rather, it was a testament to a hyperfixation, an obsession. Obsessions, in general, could either harm or uplift people, as some could lead to ruin, while others could elevate individuals to greater heights and make them shine brighter, burn hotter, and live life more fully. However, when those obsessions were not satisfied, the individual would suffer, their soul starved and their life blighted. If your suspicions were correct, then you might have a way to reach out to Lara and potentially help her return to school.

“So...you like cars?” you asked, then winced at your own pedestrianism.

Lara paused, hesitation in her face. Her eyes glanced at her feet.

“Yea...I like ‘em”

“Have you thought about having driving lessons?”

She blinked at you before snorting with amusement as if you said something truly funny.

“Miss Y/L/N...most kids ‘round here know how to drive by the time they’re ten. I’ve been driving since I was six. Sure, grandpa had to reach the pedals for me but, I grew into them eventually.”

“Oh, right, of course you would...” Where were her grandparents and mother? “Anyway, so why did you decide to quit school?”

She shut the wardrobe harder than you’d like. Her nose flared a little as she breathed. Was she embarrassed? Annoyed? Maybe you weren’t the first teacher to have asked her? Despite this Lara gazed at you pointedly and provided the same stark reply as before.

 “There was nothing for me there.”

Your brows came together, “Nothing else you can learn from or...?”

“Miss Y/L/N, everything I know, I taught myself.”

That shouldn’t have been possible. It sounded unlikely...but...what if..

You paused. “Miss Lang did not-....” you stopped, unsure of how to phrase your own thoughts or inquires.

“I was always ignored,” she stated sourly, “From the first day of grade four I realised that none of the teachers wanted to help me anymore. I wasn’t included. It was like I was outcasted. I wasn’t allowed to ask questions. I am surprised anyone even marked and graded my work.”

It didn’t make any sense to you, “But you were number one in your class? The top KAP. How is that possible?”

“I read, a lot,” Lara explained, her voice filled with passion. “My dad even buys me cassette tapes that are audio books. I’ve learned more here on this farm than I ever did at Smallville middle and high school. Besides, I know the dairy and maize industry better than anyone else around here, perhaps except for my dad. I didn’t learn that in school. This farm will be mine someday, and this is my life. Why should I waste my time in school when it doesn’t involve what I love?”

You took a deep breath and insisted, “Because you love cars more.”

  She couldn’t prevent the avid gleam that shone briefly in her blue eyes, but it was quickly extinguished, “Yea, well, I can’t exactly learn about mechanics and engineering at Smallville High School. Maybe in another life.”

You rubbed the tip of your fingers along the bruise rising on your chin, “How about in this life? Have you thought about taking on an military ASVAB to apply as a diesel mechanic? They can teach you more on hands skills with their vehicles I am sure.”

Lara paled. This time you couldn’t see a gleam of eagerness, but a deep, anguished need so powerful it shook you, as if she’d been shown a glimpse of heaven. Then she turned her head, and abruptly she looked older. “Don’t try to make a fool of me. There’s no way.”

Lara’s face drained of all colour, her eyes widened, replaced by a deep and tortured longing that seemed to consume her entire being. It was as if she had been granted a glimpse of some sort of utopia, something that promised to quench her soul’s desperate thirst. But suddenly, a flicker of doubt crossed her eyes as she turned her head away. She shook her head, her voice filled with a mixture of hope and bitterness. “Please, don’t feed me false hope. I would prefer to be realistic.”

“Why isn’t it realistic Lara? From what I saw in your school folder, the records, your grades are above average. That is more than enough to get you into their programs when you turn eighteen.”

“I dropped out,” she glumly mumbled.

“You can always return.”

“As far behind as I am? I think I would need to repeat this grade, and sorry but, I refuse to sit around and be bullied for it among the other things.”

Other things...it was unclear what those other things were. But every teenager has their own problems and social issues, so you decided not to press any further.

“I doubt you would be that far behind. You will need to catch up and I could tutor you. I’m a licensed teacher, Lara, and I believe I could help you in the classes you need and how to access these supportive programs that could benefit you.”

She chewed her bottom lip and wiped a little sweat from her forehead, “Okay, so, what if I do it?” she muttered. “Dad would be all alone on the farm. What would I do? Join the army and then retire when he croaks?”

You came to her side and touched her shoulder carefully, “Lara, I think your father wants whatever is best for you. If that is your choice, then you can do that. But wouldn’t you like to at least try? Say you tried and gave it a shot, instead of never knowing and always wondering about the ‘what ifs’?”

She straightened, her dark blue eyes fierce, “I guess.”

“Then it’s time to find out, isn’t it?” You smiled.

Lara heaved a sigh, her slender fingers combing through her tousled auburn locks. With a restless energy, she moved to the window, her gaze fixated on the billowing curtains. The rhythmic sway of the fabric seemed to match her inner turmoil. Her eyes, filled with a mixture of longing and resignation, watched the dance of the cloth, as if searching for solace or an answer to an unspoken question.

“Do you really think it’s possible?” she glanced back at you, awkwardly standing in the centre of her bedroom

You nodded, “Of course it’s possible. It isn’t guaranteed, but it’s possible. Can you live with yourself if you don’t try? If we don’t try?”

“If I agreed,” she said, rubbing her hands on her legs, breathing hard, “It would have to be at night. I got my chores around here that have to be done. I can sleep through parts of the day.”

“Night time is fine with me if it will at least get you back in school.”

She gave you a quick look. “You actually mean it, like... You actually cared that I dropped out of school?”

You were dumbfounded, “Of course I care. Lara, teaching is part of my soul,” you began, your voice carried a soft, sombre tone. “When I am unable to teach and know that I’m making a difference, I lose a part of myself. Just as you feel the compulsion to know about vehicles and their inner workings. Isn’t it the same for you? Your fascination with vehicles isn’t just a hobby; it’s a deep-seated need, a part of your identity. If you were to lose that knowledge, to be unable to tinker and understand the machines that you adore, wouldn’t that make you feel like a crucial part of you had died?”

The silence was thick and heavy. And for a shocking moment, you could see the glassy tears gleaming in Lara’s eyes.

“I want it so bad it hurts,” she admitted, her voice raw, her throat bobbed, “so fucking bad Jesus Christ. Sorry for cursing. When can we start?” Her face was blushed and her arms hugged herself.

The bubbling of joy could not be contained. You clapped your hands excitedly, “We can start Monday after school hours. You’ve already wasted enough time.”

You couldn’t help but notice the transformation that was taking place before your eyes, as if the burden of a thousand weights were gradually falling away from Lara’s slender shoulders. She appeared younger, more like the little girl in the photos, and yet, there was an undeniable maturity in her that set her apart from her peers. If working with vehicles truly held such significance for her, you couldn’t help but wonder how it must have felt to have chosen a path that seemingly contradicted her deepest desires.

  TO BE CONTINUED....

    HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

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[deepmochi]

Lilith in the 3rd house 👅⛓️

What you need to learn: to listen and learn, be intelligent, and adaptable. Edit: Learn to accep your faults.

What you need to avoid: don't exaggerate, gossip, and blame other for your mistakes.

Celebrities with these placements: Rosalía, Bill Clinton, Bruce Willis, Olivia Rodrigo, Kendall Jenner, Elizabeth Taylor, Grace Kelly, Nicole Rochie, Kate Hudson, Virginia Wolf (apparently), and Jackson Wang. (to name a few)

Lilith in Gemini ♊️ can read it too. It could resonate to a certain extent.

🗝 Easy way with words and at the same time is an issue. People pleasing tendencies that can be damaging.

🗝 An immature native has the syndrome of "I'm different that you because I say so". This could be due to have many siblings.

🗝 Issues with siblings or neighbors, they could feel less than them.

🗝 They like to gossip about others, but they hate to hear things about them.

🗝 Their tones of voices are nice and powerful, so use them wisely.

🗝 They have distinguished words or phrases. Their voice belong to them.

🗝 Artists with these placements have a way with words, in a creative way. For example, Rosalía and Olivia Rodrigo have creative titles and wording.

🗝 Her personal life is very "gossip worthy" to others. People really like to opinionated about it, look a Olivia Rodrigo's issue with Sabrina and Josh. (Note: that wasn't cool for any of them).

🗝 Ironically, sometimes these natives seem to speak something others don't understand.

🗝 Whenever they are insecure, you may notice it when they try to show "how special they are" from the rest.

🗝 The way they damage themselves is through gossips. If they put bad energy towards others, it would come back to them.

🗝 Some give "pick me vibes" since they force the "I'm different discourse". They cannot stop talking about how special they are 😮‍💨. They want you to see it and say it.

🗝 Some can be very annoying about things. Like whining when thing don't go as they wanted.

🗝 They're very intelligent, but they may not appear like that; they feel frustrated at times.

🗝 They have a sibling rivalry. If they are only child, this may translate to peers or neighbors. The truth is that you don't need to compete with anyone. You are you.

🗝 This Lilith is very vocal; she could be very passive aggressive with other and even herself.

🗝 The type of person that says is joking, but it isn't really joking completely. Regina George's style. Her anger will be masked.

🗝 Her words have power.

🗝 This native tend to have many friends or is part of a big social circle. However, they feel alone at times, but they prefer to be with others than alone.

🗝 They know what to say. It clears to them that people believe whatever they say easily.

🗝 They could be the teacher pet or class clown...you name it. They are known in academic settings anyways.

🗝 An undeveloped native is like Gossip Girl, always talking of others and hiding.

🗝 Journaling is very useful; they may have a black list somewhere 🧐✒️.

🗝 The issue with an undeveloped native is that women would avoid them. Why? Is not because she is better than them? No, it's because they cannot trust her. She would use them when she need to. How? Through gossip or lies. I would not trust my deep secrets to a "friend" like that sorry.

🗝 They give me Regina and Gretchen (mixed) vibes from Mean Girls.

🗝 They my overthink about life or academic, prone to anxiety and stress. Also, don't need to be perfect about your performance (school related).

🗝 Overachiever in some cases. Burnout student syndrome. Perfect grades dilemma. This could extend to workplace.

🗝 This is the type of girl that says one thing and do the other. For example, she may text you she is feeling sad; next, she is in party looking happy. 🧐

🗝 She will try to climb in the social game. So, she will not care if she need to steal your bf for the matter. She doesn't want your bf, she needs him for the status.

🗝 They could very detach with others. Be careful with your words. Sometimes, they lack empathy and compassion.

🗝 Good with words, Lilith is so good at gaslighting and manipulating people, even herself. They see feelings in a logical way.

🗝 Deep down, she just wanna feel valuable for her merits. She wants the attention that they didn't give her when she was a kid.

🗝 Professor or teacher humiliated her in some way. She likes academic matters, so don't ever subestimate her abilities.

🗝 She may downgrade herself in other to fit her role.

🗝 Easy to jump from place a to b, but it's hard to stay and establish herself.

🗝 People will try to seal her work, or they don't give her the credit she deserves. Writers and musicians be careful. You need to protect your work.

🗝 Siblings are a threat from their reputation or admiration. I mean, she is jealous about them for x or h reasons.

🗝 Her social circle can be wishy-washy. She does have inner circle, but she's the only one who knows.

🗝 🔞 she enjoys dirty talk, sexting, quickies, and probably very loud or likes a loud partner. However, don't send nudes. People would expose.

🗝 I was writing and writing, so I believe writing ✍️🏼 could work for you as a way to release stress and intrusive thoughts, bb. Also, you use social media a lot.

🗝 Social media, be aware of what you post.

Credit to @deepmochi

Take care, bbs 💓

[thegreatimpersonator]

What happened with Olivia and Taylor and the credits/royalties thing?

literally nothing happened and everyone freaked out for nothing. i swear no one actually knows and just pretends to. 2 bad people caused all the nonsense and neither are taylor or olivia. Taylor didn't do anything, and Olivia didn't do anything. I'm gonna break it down so people can finally actually understand how it all works (i took music law/copyright classes in college and actually learned about what happened in this situation from professionals not just stan Twitter like other people apparently)

it all started when good 4 u came out and people online said it sounded like misery business by paramore. an ex-member of the band, named Josh- who wrote on misery business, saw that and wanted to take advantage of it. Josh is a terrible person with a flop music career, Paramore fans hate him. he saw how popular good 4 u was getting so he 'saw money signs' when people were accusing it of copying misery business (he literally said that in an interview... to look at a teenage girl and 'see money signs'... gross) and threatened to sue her for copyright. He's bad person number 1.

Bad person number 2 is Olivia's legal team/record label. Because we all know how the music industry works, they protect their money before their artists. Olivia's team saw the copyright threat and immediately folded and gave Josh the credit (and because he got the credit and was a member of Paramore at the time the son was written, all of Paramore gets a credit including Hayley). Olivia's label and legal team got scared that others would come after them with threats so they decided to just throw Olivia under the bus and be overly preemptive. Olivia said publicly that the bridge to her song deja vu was inspired by the bridge to cruel summer. Her team thought that was a loose end they needed ti tie up so they just gave Taylor and others who worked on the song a credit.

Here's the most important thing that I cannot stress enough. Both Taylor and Olivia have absolutely no control over songwriting credits in this situation. Taylor did not ask for the credits, did not need to approve getting the credits, and could not give them back or refuse (same with Hayley for the good 4 u issue). Copyright and credits are all internal issues with the legal teams of the respective parties, they have the conversations and hand out the credits, but the artist is never involved because again, they don't care about the artist they care about money. Jack Antonoff (who wrote on cruel summer) said he just woke up and had a songwriting credit for deja vu, so he wasn't even notified beforehand or remotely involved in any way. That's how it works, you just get one.

Anyone who says 'Taylor threatened to sue Olivia' is wrong and just has no idea what they're talking about. The only person who threatened to sue was Josh, the ex-member of paramore, and he started a chain reaction of preemptive moves. That's all that happened.

[lilafunger]

Overly Specific Headcanons about the Religious Sect Olivia and Reila grew up with!

I am Terminally autistic about both cults and generally just Intense and Not So Good For People sects of Christianity and I enjoy thinking about my blorbos' upbringings, so I thought I'd do some Research on real life religious stuff and come up with some headcanons based on all that. I might do the same thing with some of the other characters, because thinking about this is super fun to me, but tbh, doing it with the (ex) Alll-merian guys is probably going to be easiest, because I can lean moreso onto Christianity as an inspiration for practices. anyway yapping under cut V Discussion of some real life religious stuff and also of ableism down there.

FIRSTLY I had to figure out which subdenoms I wanted to take inspiration from, so naturally I started by looking up which ones were most Popular in Germany during the 1930s, around the equivalent of where Olivia and Reila were growing up. It was pretty split between Catholicism and Protestantism, in this particular timeframe of WWII and a short while during the buildup toward it, there seems to have been a sect called The German Evangelical Church, which was much too intertwined with the state and injected much too much Nazi propaganda into its preaching. I'm not gonna go into that too much! Mostly because that's a wildly upsetting topic for a LOT of people and not really necessary, as Funger's own Kaiser has his own slew of horrors he's been getting up to. The German Evangelical Church was sort of a mix of denominations, one of the key figures of which was Lutheranism!

SO. Basically, the Church I'm imagining the Haas family as having grown up with would be a fairly extreme sect of Lutheranist-inspired Alll-merianism with a REAL healthy dose of Kaiser Propaganda in there. I ended up researching a mixture of the German Evangelical Church, hyperconservative and apparently quite cultlike Lutheran sects like WELS.

I think I'll call it the Bremen Evangelical Alll-merian Synod or BEAS...

I don't think the sect is very uh... Pro Science at all. Reject Fallible Human Reason and Embrace Only the Most Literal Interpretation Of Our Alll-merian Texts! Don't look for information from outsiders, you have to be careful of getting caught up in False Doctrine! (In fact, just don't trust other people.) But yea, I think the rejection of human reason and of science fits well with the twins' parents utter reluctance to get her actual help for her condition. and ALSO imagining it having been that way makes the fact both of them grew up to be so academic very satisfying to me.

Very very literal about their Interpretations of The Texts. Very Very Very Literal.

At WELS schools at least, it sounds like there's quite a major culture of No Privacy!!! We just come into your room! Which reminded me of how Ever-watching Olivia and Reilas' parents are described as having been. So I think I can mentally expand on that and make a Thing of it.

I wonder what the Alll-merian equivalent of Luther's Poop Covered In Snow analogy for his ideas on Original Sin is... I'm not actually sure, I'd have to figure out more about the in-universe ideas about sin and stuff. But humans are nasty poop covered in the righteousness of the ascended one. Don't become too self loathing about that.

NOW. Keeping in mind Le'garde's goal of "Uniting" the world, I think one way his nonsense leaks into BEAS is through Mission work!! Good Deeds won't save people, proselytising will! Kinda like the Mormon approach to mission work perhaps? Veeeeeery heavy on the importance of getting people ALL OVER THE PLACE baptised in Alll-mer's name. Just Alll-mer's, definitely not the Yellow King's.

Man this is less about Religion headcanons and more about the twins' upbringing in general but I am Quickly beginning to imagine the parents favouring Reila faaaaaaaar too much. On top of how people can be about disabled people in general, which I could talk about so so much but I won't right now. But I think between her having spent so much of her youth bedbound (she wont be able to grow up and EVANGELISE :( ) and the lack of respect for her particular interests and talents, I think it would be very easy for her to be reduced to being sort of a burden in their eyes. Radiating and Shadowed,,,,

On that note, I did some looking into the real life beliefs about disabled people. What I found was that there's a lot of referring to it as A Way For The Works Of God To Be Displayed In Them and as A Manifestation Of Original Sin. I am... Less sure of how this would be translated to this universe through an Alll-merian lens. Also Martin Luther Himself I believe was a little too pro Murdering Disabled People, identifying at least one kid as a changeling, so the vibes around disabled people in a religious sect partially inspired by WELS can only be... Just. Great. I've heard at least that it's not great to be disabled in that group, but it's hard to find any specific info.

Because of the intensity about the scripture being the only infallible thing, I imagine the Bremen Evangelicals reject Enki's writings of Alll-mer as a creation of Vitruvia, much preferring the original Virgin Mother story.

Leaning into the WELS inspiration and what little I know of that, I think the community can be sort of a popularity contest so to speak...

Maybe Le'garde's goal of uniting the land to bring about a new era is twisted into something wholly unrelated for BEAS, like We All Have To Bring About The New Era for The Second Coming! or something along those lines.

Lutherans in general are in favour of secular healthcare, but Olivia and Reilas' parents notably and canonically are Not... Maybe it's because it's a much more intense group. Don't trust the fallible knowledge of random outsiders, no matter how many degrees they have! We Trust In Alll-mer!

SHAME SHAME SHAME SHAME SHAME

I think the Lutherans are fairly unique in that they do a Last Supper type sacrament that other denoms don't?? idk. But maybe BEAS has some fucked up rituals they do based on that... Considering the nature of Fear and Hunger's setting, maybe in the most most most closed off scary places (Probably not on the kinda scale where Olivia would have seen or been involved in it) some shit like Crucifying your local Sin Eater and then eating THEM! This not wine blood actually is a symbol of Alll-mer's divine blood and this not bread flesh actually is a symbol of Alll-mer's divine flesh! :) yummy

I might think More on this another time but I'm getting tired so this is what you get for now. Feel free to add onto this if you have any ideas :0

i might well be onto NOTHING here but it is fun to think about

[arolesbianism]

Ok so I just realized that there's stuff I haven't seen yet in the datamining thread of the oni forums my work is never complete </3

Ok so good news I have finished unlocking all the oni lore, bad news there wasn't as much left as I was hoping. But on the bright side, Jean and Nails got to do more stuff hell fucking yes