#like it feels like shit when it’s acting up and makes me feel like shit but also

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Okay, so you're a Nazi because you HAD to join the party to keep your government job. That was a thing that happened. A lot of people joined the party because the Nazis made it a requirement to have a job. To have social activities. To get government assistance.

Okay.

Now. All those "Not really Nazis" also ignored and downplayed the Jew Hatred all around them. They watched their so-called friends and by-proximity neighbors get rounded up and taken away and not come back. They saw the Nazis let people in the homes of the Jews to ransack them for goods. They may have even gone in and taken a few things.

"But maybe they were keeping it safe!" I've heard argued. "Why do you have to assume the worst?"

Because we always end up at the fucking worst. Every single time a group of people has joined the fascists because they "had to" or because "it was expected" or because "it was necessary to survive," they became fascists. They took property they knew was not theirs. They didn't ask where their so-called friends and neighbors went. They walked by the ghettos and pretended not to see them. They acted like they couldn't hear the mass murder behind the walls (when they finally built the walls). They didn't do jack fucking shit to actually protect the people they claim they didn't hate.

"But they were scared!"

No, they weren't. The Nazis ruled on promises of better things. Better wages. Better jobs. Better education. Better. Better. Better. And all that cost the German people was ignoring the abuse and murder of Jews. And, once all the Jews had been shipped to the camps, the abuse and murder of whoever was next on the Nazi list of undesirables. Make no mistake, the Nazis were first and foremost about Jew Hatred and then used everything they learned about the population through instigating and worsening Jew Hatred to commit their next act of hatred.

And what they learned was that the German people as a whole didn't fucking care what happened to the Jews if they could go on a cruise and go to the cinema and get a few of the nicer trinkets from that empty house that was taken over by someone who, when those Jews came back to their own fucking house, refused to give it back. Because they didn't HATE Jews. But they didn't care that they hurt them or that they were hurt.

And the current run of antisemitism is actually worse, in my personal opinion. The Germans got material gain for giving the Jews to the Nazis and not saying anything. The current run of antisemites is hating Jews because they've decided it's the most morally pure thing to do in a fucked up world. To hate this one group and do everything to destroy them because they're horribly offended that a marginalized group refuses to accept abuse and injustice and instead stands up and fights. They hate that Jews don't want their fucking pity or their poor baby head pats. They hate that Jews looked them in the face and said, "You're antisemitic, and that's your shit to unpack, not mine to ignore."

All antisemites get now is a sense of feeling better than everyone who supports Jews because they've decided those of us who stand up and call a Nazi a Nazi are "simplifying history" or some shit like that.

That's all they want out of it: To feel like they're smarter than me and others who stand with Jews. That they understand the world better than me. That they know the big secret to understanding the world is to understand how to justify Jew Hatred so it sounds academic and important when it is, in fact, just the same fucking Nazi shit over and over again.

A Nazi is a Nazi is a Nazi. There's not a fucking one who deserves consideration for not being a "real" Nazi. You do Nazi shit, you're a fucking Nazi. And swearing that you aren't a Nazi and that people are trying to misconstrue what a Nazi is to make you look bad is super fucking Nazi.

All the people arguing that there's nuance to Nazis would have made excellent good germans.

[formula-ghost]

Wildflower (OP81 x fem!reader x LN4)

Chapter 3

CHAPTER SUMMARY: You’ve reached your breaking point with Oscar, but an unfortunate grand prix changes everything you thought you wanted. 

WORD COUNT: 10.3k

WARNINGS: Conversations about sex and but no actual smut, degradation, angst. Mentions of cheating. Oscar is literally horrible. Mention of unhealthy family dynamics. Lots of cursing. Pain, so much pain. Mention of injury. I’m so sorry for all the emotional suffering this chapter will cause. 

TAGLIST: @at-a-rax-ia @henna006 @linnygirl09 @cassielikereading @judelina @supertrashbread @fastandcurious16 @widow-cevans @czennieszn @irisesinthegarden @wierdflowerpower @sweetwh0re @reginalaufeyson-holmes @honethatty12 @suns3treading @obxstiles @mimiastroos @mrs-reeves-17 @milkysoop @amalialeclerc @starksztony @llando4norris @ginsengi @angxlzinthesky

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Accept message request from Lando_Norris?

Your fingers hovered over the “accept” button, nervous but curious. What would Lando ever want to talk to you about?

He had avoided you like the plague since that night in Italy, and you hardly blamed him. But as far as you knew, no one except you and Nicole knew that Lily was no longer in the picture; still, what would have changed to cause Lando Norris, of all people, to be messaging you at night?

“Who are you texting?” 

You jumped, not having noticed that Oscar had turned over to face you, seemingly unable to sleep.

“No one,” you said. “Just scrolling.”

Oscar confirmed your suspicions. “I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither,” you said, short and annoyed. 

Oscar didn’t respond, instead just moving on top of you, holding your chin in his hands to force you to look at him.

“You can’t even sleep until I fuck you like the little whore you are, huh?” He leaned down to kiss your neck, lips grazing over where only hours before he had left dark marks in the supple skin.

“Get off me, Oscar,” you said, and he immediately pulled back.

“You okay?” he asked.

You weren’t okay. In fact, you were furious. “You realize that you never even asked me if I was okay with you talking to me like that?”

The look in his eyes said only two words: Oh shit.

“YN, I… I’m so sorry, I didn’t even think of it like that. Shit, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you to treat me with respect.”

“I thought you liked it?” he said, running his fingers through his hair out of nervousness.

You sat up, the anger burning within you. You hadn’t planned to confront Oscar so soon after what you had overheard, but now that you’d gotten started, there was no stopping you. 

“That’s not the point. Maybe I’m tired of feeling like your personal sex toy, Oscar. Oh, but I forgot. My feelings aren’t your problem.”

Oscar exhaled angrily. “Is that really what this is about?”

You just looked at him, bewildered. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” you asked.

He began, “Look, I don’t know what you think you heard—”

“I heard you talking shit about me on the phone to your own mother.”

“It wasn’t like that, YN.”

“Then what was it like? What’s your excuse now?”

Oscar tried to begin, his mouth opening with no words coming out. He truly didn’t know what to say. “It’s been a hard time.”

“I know. I’m well aware, Oscar. Because I made your feelings my problem for years.”

“I know, and I don’t know what I’d do without you in my life—”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore.”

“I’m not making excuses. I’m just trying to explain it to you.”

“Of course, you want to talk now that I won’t give you sex anymore,” you said, rolling your eyes. 

“Oh my God,” Oscar huffed, and it took every ounce of your strength not to curse him out then and there. “You act like I’m some fucking villian. You can’t get mad at me for fucking you when you wanted this too.”

“But how do you know that, Oscar? How do you know what I want? Have you ever asked me what I want?” Tears began prickling at the edge of your eyes. “You haven’t, because you don’t care.”

Oscar looked at the wall, his jaw tense. “I’m not doing this right now.”

“Am I not even deserving of an honest conversation?” you said, the tears now flowing down your cheeks. It had been years since he’d seen you cry, but Oscar wouldn’t even look at you. 

You got up from the bed and started changing from your pajamas to your regular clothes. “If you don’t want to talk, fine. I can’t make you. But I’m going home.”

“YN—”

“Leave me alone,” you said, grabbing your purse and exiting the bedroom. You heard him call for you again, but you ignored his pleas, walking ahead out of the apartment and to your car.

When you slid into the driver’s seat, you finally broke down, resting your head against the steering wheel. No thoughts went through your head. You weren’t much of a crier, so when you finally gave in, it was more of an act of your body giving up.

So you took a few minutes to compose yourself before driving the short distance home through the streets of Monaco, a place you’d grown to love. But his presence was everywhere. The car. The streets. Your apartment. Oscar was inescapable.

And when you felt your phone buzz as you sat with a cup of tea on the balcony an hour or so later, this reality was confirmed. He was calling. 

You didn’t answer the first call, or the second. But by the third you knew that your only options were to turn your phone off, block him, or answer.

Well, what did you have to lose?

“What do you want?” you asked upon picking up the call. 

“I’m sorry, YN. Can we talk?”

“Say whatever you’re going to say.”

He paused. “In person? I’m in the hallway.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please?” he asked. You sighed. Why could you never say no to this man?

“Fine. Give me a sec.” You hung up the call, took another deep breath, and opened the front door before immediately turning around to go back to your balcony. You couldn’t bear to look at him, and you welcomed the sound of the soft waves lapping at the harbor as a buffer.

He sat down beside you, and even before any words were said, you felt the tears returning. Something about this felt…final. And your intuition had hardly ever been wrong before. 

“YN, I’m so sorry. When I get frustrated I say things I don’t mean. I was really out of line earlier.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, unable to truly accept his apology.

He continued, “And you’re right. I shouldn’t have just assumed that all the rough stuff was okay. And I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

You waited a moment for him to continue speaking, but he didn’t. “Is that all you have to say?”

“I just…don’t know what else you want me to say.” You looked over to him. His head was hung low, like a child in trouble at school. Not like a man who was taking accountability for his actions.

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

“What?” he asked. 

You just stared at him for a moment, gathering the courage to ask your question.

“Did you talk to Lily like that?”

“Huh?” he echoed.

“Did you call her all those names? Degrade her?”

“Don’t ask me that.”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s…personal. I don’t think Lily would appreciate me talking about it.”

“She didn’t appreciate me being in your life, either. But look how that turned out,” you said, the malice lingering on every word. 

Your statement cut a little too deep for comfort. But Oscar finally relented, answering, “...I would, sometimes. She didn’t care for it. But I just…get frustrated a lot. It helps me get all that pent up energy out. Half the time I don’t even think about what I’m saying.”

You hummed. The implication of his words hung in the air; you were a relief for his frustration, a thoughtless passtime. 

When you didn’t respond, he got nervous. “Did I…hurt you?”

“Not physically, no,” you answered, your eyes never moving from the sight of the harbor in the distance. “But I don’t think you really care.”

“Of course I care.”

“No, you don’t.” Your lip quivered. You tried to swallow the tears that came up, but you couldn’t.

“No, don’t cry,” Oscar said, reaching out to embrace you, but you avoided him, getting up to lean on the railing. He followed you, this time not offering any comforting touch. 

“What the fuck are we doing, Oscar?” you said, barely able to get the words out. He grasped for words but wasn’t able to find them before the flood of emotions spilled from you. 

You began, “I used to think that the fabric of our lives was…like, sewn together. Like we were destined to always be in each other's lives. But ever since the breakup I’m so afraid that everyone who ever warned me about you was right. I feel like all these years you’ve just been using me, stringing me along so you could have someone there when things don’t work out. Like I’m just your backup plan. Like I’m not even good enough for you to treat me like a human being.”

“You really feel like I’m using you?” Oscar asked, his surprise horrifically genuine. “Was I just using you when I went out of my way to call you every week for 4 years when I was away in school, even during exams and races? When I got you this place because I wanted to live close to my best friend?” His tone went from gentle to frenzied—not angry, but desperate, like he couldn’t even fathom it. “I mean, YN, what, did you want me to cheat on my girlfriend with you?”

You looked up at him, and he realized again that he had messed up again.

“No, that’s not what I wanted. I’d never do that to Lily because you know it’s been done to me.”

“I know, and was I not there for you when you needed me?” In a way, Oscar was right. When you had broken things off with your unfaithful ex, Oscar was the first to your rescue, staying with you for days while you could barely even function. “YN, what else do you want from me?”

“I want you to be honest about what’s going on between us.”

“We’re…. hooking up, I don’t know.”

“Is that all I am to you, a hookup? A friend with benefits?” Your soft tears became full on sobs now. “Oscar, I am in love with you! You are the love of my life. And you can’t tell me that you haven’t known exactly how I felt, for years now.”

“Of course I knew,” he whispered. 

“Then why would you do this to me? Why would you take advantage of me like this?”

Oscar had started crying now, too. 

“I don’t know. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“This isn’t fair, Oscar.”

“I’m sorry.”

A thick silence fell over the balcony. You knew that the conversation should be over now. There was nothing else you needed to say. But you couldn’t stop yourself from continuing the pointless hurt. 

“Do you even love me?”

“Don’t—”

“Can you even look me in the fucking eyes and tell me that you don’t love me?”

“YN—” 

You didn’t even let him complete his sentence, instead walking back into your apartment and slamming our now cold mug into the sink. “Just go,” you said, your voice stern.

“YN, please—” Oscar said, following you inside the apartment. 

“Go!”

“You want the truth?” Oscar said, raising his voice to you for the first time since you’d ever known him. His eyes now flooded with tears, staining his cheeks. His hair was tousled, his under eye bags puffy and pronounced. He looked like a mess. 

“All I’ve ever wanted is the truth.”

“The truth,” he began, swallowing, his voice cracking as he spoke. “The truth is that I’ve been in love with you since we were sixteen.”

“No—”

“Yes, YN,” he said, his voice raising again.

“No, fuck you, Oscar, that’s not true!” You were both sobbing messes now. 

“Yes it is,” he begged, his voice ragged.

“Then why would you do this?”

“Because…” he paused, taking a deep breath and sniffling, trying to regain his composure. “Because we were best friends, and you lived with us, and I was so scared of fucking things up.”

“So you went and just found a girlfriend instead?”

“No, it…” he looked away from you and took a sharp exhale. “It wasn’t as simple as that. You…” He let out a frustrated sigh. “It was just…complicated. You were the girl who lived with us, like another sister, I mean, I couldn’t have feelings for you of all people. So I was so scared.”

He looked at the wall, scarating his neck, and continued. “And when I met Lily, it was all just…simple. Everyone liked her, she was nice, she’s smart. When I brought her home she fit right in, the fans loved her. She was everything I needed her to be, y’know?” He exhaled. 

His gaze fell to the floor and lingered as he continued. “I didn’t love her at first. I mean, I liked her, she was great, but it was more about just…filling a need, I guess. But I did fall in love with her later. I tried to love her with my whole heart, I really did. I thought that what I felt for you would just go away but obviously it didn’t. And then she fucking left me. As she should, honestly.”

Oscar nervously looked around the room until he could no longer avoid your piercing gaze, face frozen in disbelief.

“You’re horrible, Oscar.”

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

“You used me. You used Lily. And all of this from the very beginning was about… my family? I’m sorry you all had to take me in because no one else would. I’m sorry I didn’t go to a fancy boarding school in London. I’m sorry that my parents are two pieces of shit that didn't want to take care of me when I was a literal child.”

“It’s not that—”

“But it is. That’s what you said.”

“It’s not you, YN. I mean, it was, but we’re not kids anymore. I love you. It was just… awful circumstances.”

“And now? What’s your excuse? I cut off my parents. And Lily fucking left you. So why are you just using me now?”

“It’s just too much right now. The breakup, the championship…I know if I try, I’ll just fuck it up. I lost Lily, I can’t lose you too.”

“Why? Because then you’ll have no one to warm your bed when you’re sad?”

“You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone that you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with!”

“You’re right, I don’t. Because the person I want to spend the rest of my life with is you, Oscar. But you don’t want me. You never have. I’m your backup plan until something better comes along. That’s all I’ve ever been. I’m not good enough for you, you don’t love me. I don’t even know who you are any more.”

“You said I was the love of your life,” Oscar said, his voice lowered now. 

“You are. But I’m not yours. I don’t care what you say you feel. If you really love someone, you don’t treat them like that.”

“I’m so sorry. That’s all I can say.”

You let out a shaky breath, exhausted of all energy from the fighting. You didn’t even have it in you to be angry anymore. 

“We shouldn’t do this. We should just go our separate ways and be done with it.”

“No, YN—”

“You have a championship to focus on, don’t you?” you said. 

“You’re my best friend,” he said through his tears. “I need you.”

“I’ll finish out my employment contract through the end of the season. You can sell the apartment. I’ll pay back Mum for anything she had to spend on me when we were younger.”

“YN, please,” he begged. 

“Don’t, Oscar,” you said, your voice soft now. “Just let me go.”

“Can I kiss you?”

The correct answer should be no. You should have told him to get the fuck out of your apartment and never come back. But it was Oscar. 

You didn’t answer him, instead just walking up to him and embracing him, letting him hold you in his strong arms as his lips met yours one last time. His lips were salty with tears, but for once his touch was soft and gentle.

When you pulled away, he stayed close to you, pressing his forehead down to yours. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Go home. You’ve got a flight to catch in the morning.”

You could call in sick to the United States Grand Prix in Miami; Oscar could not. 

Well, theoretically, he could. God knows the reserve drivers would be happy to take his place and show off in front of the teams that were always scouring for new blood. But he couldn’t back down now. Not with a trophy looming so ominously over his head.

And especially not in Miami. Everyone hated Miami. Everyone except Lando, that is. 

And as Oscar mindlessly paced the paddock back and forth, praying to God that no journalists would pester him for an interview, he couldn’t escape the reminder of his teammate’s victory. 

“Well, things seem to be heating up here in Miami! The race continues between McLaren teammates Oscar Piastri and Lando Norris in this early battle for the World Driver’s Championship. Piastri is putting in a valiant effort, but who can forget Lando Norris’ first victory here last year? It’s incredible to see how far he has come in such a short amount of time—”

He really needed to stop walking past the commentator’s box. 

This is usually when Oscar would try to find you in the paddock, or send you a text from halfway across the world. But he couldn’t do that anymore; you hadn’t quite barred him from communication, but what could he say?

He just needed to focus. Perform. Drown himself in the work. That’s what he told himself as he made his way back to the McLaren garage, away from the prying eyes of the media and the haunting words of the commentators. That’s what he told himself as he slipped on a set of headphones and nodded along as his race engineer spoke, acting as if he was paying attention. 

That’s what he told himself as he climbed into the car, took a deep breath, and pressed his foot to the gas. 

Thousands of miles away, in Monaco, you were supposed to be having dinner. Actually, you were supposed to be in Miami, taking photos of Oscar in all his glory.

But you couldn’t face him. You couldn’t eat. You couldn’t even sleep.

In the corner of your living room sat a box with Oscar’s old stuff in it. You stared at it as if it had the eyes to stare back. Your hand mindlessly swirled your fork around your remaining food, now cold and mostly uneaten.

Why did this feel like a breakup?

You wanted to scream, but you’d already gotten noise complaints from the fight days prior. So instead, your apartment was deadly quiet. 

You sighed, moving to your bedroom and collapsing in the soft covers, having decided to give up and indulge yourself with a night of bed rotting. But even your bed felt empty. The sheets held a faint trace of Oscar’s scent. It would come out with a simple wash, but laundry was the furthest thing from your mind right now. 

You needed a distraction. You grabbed your phone and immediately went to social media to mindlessly scroll. 

But in your notifications was one you had nearly forgotten about: that message request from Lando. 

You opened it without even thinking, unfortunately sending the read receipt even though you weren’t in the mood to talk to anyone right now. 

Hey, not to be weird but do you know if anything’s going on with Oscar? He’s been acting odd recently.

You groaned in frustration. You couldn’t escape your best friend. 

The message was sent a while ago—when the pair were in Bahrain, actually. You should have just deleted it and acted as if you never saw it. But you felt horribly awkward leaving Lando on read. 

Yeah, he and Lily broke up :(

Was the frown really necessary? Should you say more? You didn’t have the energy to think, sending the message without much fanfare. You locked your phone and put it back on your nightstand. 

But only a few moments later, it buzzed. Another message from Lando.

But…Lando was in Miami? At the circuit? He should be driving, not texting you. You opened your phone and clicked on the notification. 

Damn, that’s rough. I thought they were endgame. You in the paddock?

You raised an eyebrow. Why would Lando Norris, of all people, want to know where you are?

No, I’m back in Monaco. 

Another nearly instant reply. Ah, I was hoping to make a cameo on Oscar’s Instagram haha. You’ll be at Imola though?

This whole interaction felt…weird.

I will! I’ll be sure to get some good team shots lol

You tried to match his energy with your reply, but you couldn’t shake the odd feeling that this wasn’t right. But as you finally did put your phone down and retire for the night, your mind kept racing, coming to wildly different conclusions.

Maybe Lando did want to be friends. Maybe, now that Lily was out of the picture, he felt more comfortable around you. Maybe he was just trying to smooth things over with Oscar in the championship battle. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Or maybe you were so used to Oscar’s lying and manipulation that you couldn’t imagine someone talking to you just for the sake of friendship. 

You huffed to yourself as the thought crossed your mind. You pulled your blanket up and buried yourself in it, as if the thoughts were something physical you could hide from. You fell into a tense sleep.

Oscar couldn’t sleep, though. He could barely sleep back when he had you at his beck and call, let alone when you all weren’t speaking to each other.

How had he fucked up so badly? He brought his hands to his face and roughly exhaled. Like you, he had resigned himself to spend his night scrolling, until he too noticed an unanswered message. 

Except it wasn’t from Lando. It was from Lily. As if things couldn’t get any worse. 

She was brief and to the point.

I just wanted to let you know I’ll be at Imola for a company event. I doubt we’ll run into each other. Hope you and YN are well. 

Her words stung. The professionalism where there once was warmth and love. The perfectly petty dig at him and you, assuming that he had already moved on (though, she wasn’t exactly wrong). 

He wanted to throw his phone off his hotel room balcony. From the slight crack in the blinds, he could see palm trees, and the ocean far off in the distance. And he knew that back in Monaco, you’d be staring at the same moon, hearing the water in the distance as it lulled you to sleep. The miles between you during race weekends had always been numerous, but the distance wasn't—not until now, at least. 

He slammed his phone on the nightstand and took yet another sleeping pill. 

It was going to be a horrible week. 

And, unfortunately, the morning wasn’t much better. Another oh so friendly interaction with his teammate. 

“Hey, Oscar, wait up,” the Brit called, jogging to catch Oscar as they both entered the paddock. Oscar slowed his pace but didn’t stop, hopeful that this would be a clear sign that he wasn’t here for conversation.

When he did catch up, Oscar just gave Lando a small nod as a greeting. 

“Hey, I, uh, heard about you and Lily. I’m so sorry, mate.”

Oscar turned, making a confused and irritated face. “Who told you?”

“YN. Well, I asked her if you were okay.”

The Aussie made a small grumbling noise. 

“I was just worried, you know. You just seemed like you were going through some stuff. You know I’m always here if you need me, right?”

“I need to beat you,” Oscar said, but his words had no bite to them. There was no snappy anger anymore, just exhaustion. 

“Of course,” Lando said, smiling, as if he thought his teammate’s championship ambitions were nothing more than comic relief. “But for real, man, I’m sorry and I’m here for you.”

“Thanks,” Oscar said, though he didn’t really mean it. He just wanted to be alone.

In Monaco, you were breaking your first cardinal rule of a breakup (even a friendship breakup) and turning on your TV to watch Oscar drive. 

You had managed to go without watching the free practices and even quali, but you couldn’t bring yourself to not watch the Grand Prix. 

And it was good that you tuned in, because he won. 

You nearly threw your phone across the room when he finally passed the checkered flag. You had been practically holding your breath since he secured the lead in a masterfully timed pit stop mid race, beating out Max Verstappen to bring home his second win of the season. 

So, maybe he wouldn’t hate Miami as much anymore. 

Your phone—secured now on your nightstand to prevent any race-related breakage—loomed in the distance as you debated sending him a congrats text. It wasn’t like you all had gone through a true breakup; you weren’t even together. But you knew you couldn’t let yourself end up in his bed again. You knew that he was a broken man, and you couldn’t fix him. 

So your friendship had come to occupy this odd liminal space in which neither of you knew exactly where you stood. At some point, this would have to be discussed, but clearly neither of you had learned your lesson on healthy communication. 

You wanted to tell your best friend that you were proud of him. Was that such a bad thing?

It wouldn’t be, if you could ignore that voice now echoing in your mind.

Since when are her feelings my problem?

You nearly gagged at the thought. Yeah, you weren’t texting him.

And back in Miami, Oscar anxiously awaited a text that would never come. 

“Oscar, mate, quit staring at your phone and let’s celebrate!” Lando teased, patting his teammate on the back. 

Oscar just sighed, opening his phone again to find no messages from you. 

“She’s not coming back,” Lando said. “So either you get drunk enough to call her, or you get drunk enough to find someone to replace her. Either way, you’re getting drunk tonight.”

“Really, Lando?” 

“She destroyed a five year relationship over some stupid shit, and you just won another grand prix. So yes, I think you should get fucked up with me tonight!”

“Don’t talk about Lily like that, mate. And besides, I’m not even waiting on her.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Then who are you waiting on?”

Oscar’s defenses were wearing down, even while sober. “You know who.”

“And you still want me to believe that you two aren’t hooking up?”

“It’s…complicated.” 

“Spill.”

Under normal circumstances, Oscar was never the type to discuss his personal life at work, much less with his rival for the championship. But as the plan of going out was abandoned in favor of a nice bottle of Cuban rum ordered to the room, Oscar found himself spilling his secrets like a teenage girl at a sleepover.

“And then I just…” he hiccuped, “I told her everything. And she didn’t believe me, and I don’t blame her, but it fucking hurt, you know? And we were just screaming at each other, she said we should go our separate ways. What am I supposed to say to that? And I still haven’t heard from her, but her and Lily are gonna be at Imola. I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.”

“Mate,” Lando said, slurring his words, “You fucked this up worse than I fucked up the championship last year.”

The two drivers laughed—otherwise, they’d have to cry at the peril poor Oscar had put himself in. 

But the time flew by, and soon enough Oscar found himself on a flight to Italy, which he secretly prayed would crash so that he could avoid this entire charade. 

Of course, on all your respective flights, the feeling was mutual; neither you, Oscar, nor Lily really wanted to be there. But duty called, and you were nothing if not professional. 

It was an odd place to be; on one hand, you loved this job. It was fun getting to explore the world with your best friend and get paid to take pictures and make silly videos. The electric atmosphere of the paddock was one that had always felt like home, like you belonged there.

On the other hand, every time you thought about seeing Oscar again, you wanted to puke. 

Thankfully, when you did inevitably see him again, your lunch did not resurface. You operated like a robot; no banter, no friendliness, just stark professionalism. 

And Oscar didn’t know what was worse; not having you there, or seeing you act like a stranger. 

The one silver lining, at least, was that Lily was nowhere to be found. He couldn’t handle those emotions too. 

So, again and again throughout the weekend, he repeated that manta to himself: Just focus on work. Just focus on work. 

He said it to himself one last time before he hopped in the car for qualifying. Just focus. 

But he just couldn't. From the seat of his car, the chaos of the pit lane and the gaggles of photographers were just blurs, unidentifiable blobs. I had always comforted him to think that one of those was you, watching him. Now it was haunting. 

And somewhere, buried away in the paddock, Lily was there. Oscar could imagine it; her polished and professional demeanor, almost perfect, as she schmoozed up to that one executive from the company that he swore always had a thing for her. 

He wanted to scream. Instead, he had to pull the car into the garage as the session was stopped due to an accident. It was raining heavily. Extra caution was advised, his engineer explained, but Oscar couldn’t focus. Not because of his thoughts—although, those certainly didn’t help—but rather because of what he saw across the garage.

You were chatting with Lando. 

“Hey, YN!” Lando greeted as he hopped out of his car, seeing you in the back of the garage taking photos. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You too,” you said, though it wasn’t particularly true. 

“Looks like we’re going to be a while,” he said looking over his shoulder at the storm brewing in the distance, “want to walk the paddock with me and get some candids?” 

“Sure,” you agreed, though the request confused you. 

The two of you left the garage and Oscar felt like punching the wall. 

At first you walked in silence, your only emitted sound being the soft click of your camera. It was kind of pointless, though, since you were supposed to be getting shots of Oscar. You knew this. Lando knew this too.

“Can I ask you something, Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“Is there any reason that you’ve been pretty…friendly lately?” you asked, controlling your tone so it came off as genuinely curious rather than suspicious.

“Honestly,” he laughed, scratching the back of his neck with nervousness, “I felt really bad about everything that happened on the trip. I was afraid I might’ve scared you off.”

Well, that didn’t make much sense. Lando was the one who had been avoiding you since the trip. But, after dealing with Oscar, you had simply accepted that men in general made no sense. 

“You didn’t,” you said. “And, I mean, the only reason we ended up like that is because Lily was trying to get rid of me. But, you see how that worked out.” 

“Really? She didn’t have the balls to tell you to leave her man alone?”

“Not until after you left,” you said, exhaling in exhaustion.

“Damn,” he said, looking away from you. You snapped a few photos of his candid side profile, admiring how the light hit his curls just right. “You know, the only reason I ran off in the club that night like that was because I didn’t want to get involved in all that? I mean, I wasn’t about to steal Oscar’s side chick.” He laughed.  “But from what I hear, things have changed?”

You laughed. “Oscar’s side chick?”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “You weren’t sleeping together?”

“Why do you want to know?” you laughed. Was Lando…flirting with you? No. He couldn’t be. He was Lando Norris, the most notorious playboy of the 2025 grid. 

“Aw, c’mon. I want to know the drama!” he teased, flashing his boyish smile. 

“Well, what if I want to know your drama?” you teased back, taking the opportunity to snap a few photos of him as you continued walking. 

“Psh, I’ve got no drama. Just keeping to myself, trying to win.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You’re avoiding the question, YN,” he said, smirking. Holy shit, he was flirting with you. But did you really mind? It felt nice to have that playful banter, to see a man who wanted that back and forth more than he just wanted your body. What was wrong with having a little fun?

You sighed and told him the most technical version of the truth. “Oscar never cheated. But you really thought I was sleeping with Oscar and you didn’t say anything to Lily?”

“Wasn’t my business. Besides, I thought it was pretty obvious.” His comment left a bit of a sour taste in your mouth, especially knowing the fears that Lily had confessed to you so long ago.

“No, I wouldn’t do that to Lily,” you said, and it was true. After all, you were both women. 

“And what about Oscar?”

You rolled your eyes. Having a nice conversation with Lando helped you remember how not nice your time with Oscar had been recently. “Oh, fuck him,” you said weakly. 

“Well, did you?”

You paused, unsure of whether or not to confess. “I already told you that he didn’t cheat. Is what, or who, I do in my spare time really any of your business?” you playfully teased.

His lips curled upwards. “I like to know what I’m getting myself into.”

The double entendre wasn't missed on you. You glanced over your shoulder, scanning the crowds to ensure that no one was paying too close attention. “You don’t have to worry about me and Oscar. But you know I run his social media, right? So I see all the gossip pages, all the shit you get yourself into. It’s a bold claim to say you’ve got no drama.”

“Oh, darling, they don’t even know the half of it,” he smirked. You all had turned around by now, walking back in the direction of the paddock. The crows were thinner now. 

He continued, “But what about you, huh? You’re all bored with Oscar and now you want some real fun?” He let out a small laugh. “No, you’re not like that. Too much of a good girl.”

“You think I’m too good? I’m here flirting with my best friend’s rival for the championship.”

“Are we flirting, is that was this is?” he asked, as if he didn’t know exactly what he was doing. “I thought we were just having a pleasant conversation, catching up on the gossip.” Unbeknownst to you, Lando had gotten all the gossip from Oscar after their drunken celebration in Miami. But he wanted to see exactly how much you’d reveal to him. 

“Well, sure then. I’m sure you get tired of race talk all day, anyway.”

“You say that like you think race talk is boring. But I’ve seen you at enough races to know better. Don’t play coy, you love it, don’t you? You know more about racing than most of the drivers’ girlfriends.” 

It kind of unnerved you, the way Lando knew exactly how to push your buttons. The subtle you’re not like the other girls implication; both you knew it wasn’t a compliment, but rather a statement meant to rile you up and see how you’d react. And it worked.

Your voice lowered, steady yet quieter. “It’s a bit sexist to assume that women don’t know anything about racing. And knowing more about racing doesn’t make me any better than anyone else.”

“I never said that, love.”

“Hmm, but you thought it.” 

“Are you in my head now?” You playfully rolled your eyes. “So tell me about all the race talk between you and Oscar.”

“Is that a euphemism for something?” you chuckled.

“D’you want it to be?” he smirked. “No, no, really. Tell me what groundbreaking F1 opinions are inside that pretty little head of yours.” Yeah, he was definitely flirting with you. 

“I’ve got nothing groundbreaking,” you said as your smile loosened, contemplating how you wanted to arrange your words. “I think Oscar has a good shot at winning the WDC this year, if he can get out of his own head.”

“And what about me?”

“I think you’ll give him a run for his money. But you care too much about what random people on the internet think,” you said, ending the statement with that on the nose jest.

“You’re probably right,” he smiled. “God, you sounded like my PR manager for a sec there.”

“Not exactly dirty talk, is it?” you joked.

You arrived back at the McLaren garage. Lando walked in first, seeing that Oscar’s back was to you, and positioned himself so that when Oscar looked around, he’d see him instead of you. You were none the wiser. 

He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “You still haven’t answered my question. How was he?” Lando’s face was plastered with a mischievous grin. 

You playfully hit his shoulder. “Don’t ask me that!” you cooed, though you didn’t mind his closeness, the warmth of his breath on your ear. 

Oscar didn’t like it, though. And when he turned around and saw your back to him, Lando leaned down next to you, and smirking, he wanted to run him over with his car. 

Lando looked up for only a split second, but his eyes met Oscar’s, as if to acknowledge what he was doing. Or, as if to say, yes, I’m doing this, and you can’t stop me. 

Oscar couldn’t handle the audacity of watching Lando flirt with you in front of his own eyes. Thankfully, you were tapped on the shoulder by none other than the new guy, who had broken his extremely expensive camera, and you were called away to help him figure it out. 

Oscar crossed the garage to face Lando, never breaking his line of sight. 

“Oh hey, mate, what’s up?” Lando asked, innocently.

“Why are you talking to YN?”

“Oh, she wanted to take some photos—”

“Don’t talk to YN,” Oscar said, his voice plain but stern. 

“Mate, we were just having a chat. It wasn’t like that. Don’t be so paranoid.”

“I’m serious,” Oscar reiterated. “Don’t cross that line, Lando.”

“Okay, my bad,” Lando said, nervously laughing and carelessly throwing his hands in the air. Oscar still wouldn’t shift his gaze, even as both drivers were called to get back in their cars to resume the qualifying session. 

There was something up about Lando, he could tell. But it’d have to wait. Now, he had a pole to get. 

Well, he tried, but only managed to come in fourth. Lando got pole. Of fucking course. 

Another sleepless night passed with no messages from you. 

And the next morning, there you were as usual, staring at him only through the eye of your camera lens. 

But then, across the garage, you had no problem chatting it up with Lando. He threw you a glimpse of his award winning smirk and Oscar felt violent. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. 

You were doing it to spite him, that was obvious. You’d never be interested in a guy like Lando; too much of a playboy. And honestly, Oscar knew deep down that he deserved this. But it still made him sick to his stomach. 

The feeling only dissipated when it was replaced by that primitive need within him to win. The lights before him went out and reason gave way to instinct. 

Lando bottled the pole, losing the lead to Max after the first corner. Oscar fell back one place, narrowly avoiding a collision between Charles and Lewis, before overtaking them as they struggled to reorient their cars. 

So it was just him, Max, and Lando. He could do this. 

His body moved automatically. He could hear the roar of the engines, the chattering of the radio, and the screaming of the fans in the distance, but in his mind all was quiet. Laps blurred as he sped along the track, pushing inch by inch closer to overtaking Max. 

Eventually he did, getting DRS and flying past the Redbull driver, pushing hard to get a good lead over him. 

All that was left now was his own teammate. 

“Okay Oscar, you’ve got enough space between you and Verstappen,” his race engineer said.

“I want to overtake.”

“A 1-2 is our goal right now—”

“Then he can be 2nd. I want to win.”

Silence befell the radio channel for a moment. 

His engineer returned. “Okay. Papaya rules.”

Papaya rules. The phrase that haunted his dreams. 

There was really no need to use the coded language anymore. The world knew what it meant—race, but keep it clean. Put the team above yourself. Don’t do anything reckless. 

But Oscar was sick of being the good teammate, the one who always let Lando win for the sake of the team. He was tired of being gifted wins. Team orders were bullshit. This wasn’t about McLaren anymore. This was about his pride. This was everything. 

So he pushed harder than he should have. He was wearing his tires out, he knew, but Lando just coasted along, as if nothing was amiss. As if his teammate wasn’t out for blood and gaining on him with every lap. 

Lando glanced in his mirrors and saw Oscar behind him. 

“Oscar’s getting close,” he said to his engineer. 

“We told him papaya rules. Remember, our goal here is a 1-2.”

��He’s gonna wear out his tires.”

“Let’s just focus on keeping P1.”

But Lando knew it wasn’t that simple. This was no longer impersonal racing, just the best of the best competing against each other because it was in their nature to do so. 

No, this was personal now. 

Lando rounded the corner, feeling Oscar hot on his heels, but managed to defend his position. He knew that with DRS enabled at the next stretch, he wouldn’t be able to hold him off. 

But in front of him, he was already close to lapping the backmarkers of the grid.

Oscar could see them in the distance; the familiar teal of Lance Stroll’s Aston Martin, and an even more familiar fumble as he drove erratically due to some mechanical issue with the car. 

Lando slowed down, but Oscar couldn’t react. He swerved, hitting the barrier. 

Back in the garage, the breath left your lungs. 

You couldn’t resist the temptation of watching. You’d slid the headset on after Oscar had driven off, and you’d planned to leave before he got back to the garage and discovered that you’d ever been there. No harm, no foul. The allure of the purring engines and adrenaline-fueled racing was just too much to resist.

But now, hearing the violent scrape of carbon fiber against metal as Oscar’s car screeched along the barriers, your heart sunk into your chest. 

“Are you alright, Oscar?” you heard his race engineer ask, his voice filling your ears. 

But the silence afterwards was deafening. 

“Oscar, can you hear us? Are you alright?” 

All that came through was a metallic gargle of noise, a sign that the radio had been damaged in the impact. There was no way to know if Oscar was hurt or not.

A hush fell on the track as the safety car was brought out. Lando had effectively secured his win, with so few laps remaining. 

Your eyes were glued to the screen, praying to whatever God would listen that Oscar would be okay. You watched as the marshalls rushed to the site of the car, huddling around the lump of broken parts that stood still on the sidelines. 

Because of the force of the crash, the medical car had been deployed as well. You were frozen in place.

You had never been much of a believer in God, but all you could do now was beg.

Please, God. Please let him be okay. If he’s okay I can forgive everything he’s ever done. If he’s okay I will never let him out of my life ever again. Please, God, please let him be safe. 

You chanted the prayer over and over again to yourself as the seconds ticked by like hours. 

Finally, after an agonizingly long wait, you saw the marshalls carrying along an orange-clad form into the medical car. 

You didn’t even think. You just reacted, taking off your headset and booking it towards the medical tent. 

You weren’t the only one there, though. The tent was already swarmed with media, all craning their necks to see Oscar. You pushed your way through to the front, only to be stopped by security, since you had your media pass instead of your usual VIP pass as one of Oscar’s friends. 

You panicked—to the eyes of security, you were just another reporter who was rudely trying to cut through the crowd to get to the injured driver.

“Please let me by,” you pleaded. “I know Oscar—”

“You can wait at the media tent.”

“C’mon—”

“Ma’am, we need you to leave.” You groaned, and you were about to leave before you heard the voice of your savior from out of nowhere. 

“Hey!” he called. You turned your head to see who it was—the familiar, friendly face of Zak Brown. 

He was on the other side of the barrier, but Oscar was still nowhere to be found. 

“Oh, YN, am I glad to see you!” He turned to the security officer. “Let her in.”

“Sir, media personnel are not authorized—”

“She’s VIP, not media.”

“Sir—”

“Do you know who I am?” he said, an unusual sternness in his tone. The security officer glanced down at his pass and silently let you through. 

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Zak said, his boyish grin returning as he patted you on the back and led you along to the private area where they’d be bringing Oscar any second now. 

You sighed as he pulled the medical curtain closed. 

“Boy, was that a nasty crash,” he said.

“Is he okay?”

“Well, he’s alive. That’s as far as I know.”

Your heart sank again. But as if on cue, you heard the rumble of camera shutters and reporters chattering outside the tent as the marshals escorted Oscar into the tent. When he came up, the room was flooded with medical personnel, pushing you and Zak back to the edge of the curtained-off room. 

A nurse rushed in. “Who’s his emergency contact?” she asked Zak.

“Her,” he said, gesturing to you. You were confused. Since when had Oscar made you his emergency contact? 

“Stay here,” the nurse instructed, but even if you wanted to, you couldn’t move an inch. You resumed your prayers as Zak blabbered on and on, mainly to himself. One thing that you’d learned very quickly about Zak Brown once Oscar had gotten to McLaren is that he really liked to yap. 

As the doctors and nurses filtered in and out of the room, you caught a brief glimpse of Oscar in the hospital bed, his eyes rolled back into his head, slumped over into his shoulder. 

You wanted to wail. 

But it was only a few minutes before everyone began to filter out of the room, creating enough space for you to finally see your friend. And when you did lay eyes on him, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you feared. 

His eyes were closed; an attempt to rest, rather than a state of unconsciousness. 

A nurse at his bedside turned to you. “Don’t worry. He’s going to be fine. We’re going to sedate him and transport him to a hospital, but he’s not gravely injured. He just needs some tests done that we can’t do here.”

You nodded along, not once taking your eyes off Oscar. 

“And, yes, you are his emergency contact, so we’ll need you to come with us. He’s authorized you to make decisions in the event that he's unable to. But that is unlikely, of course.”

“Is he…?” you asked, gesturing towards him. 

“He’s still a little shaken up. The best thing right now is to get him into a calmer environment.”

You nodded. “I’ll make sure that new guy doesn’t lose all your stuff,” Zak quipped, and you threw a smile out towards him. “I’ll meet you all there when we’ve wrapped up here.”

Ah yes, the grand prix was likely still going on outside, and Lando would have to climb the podium and take his P1 trophy home. 

But as you sat in a hospital room in Italy next to your best friend, the podium was the last thing on your mind. 

Oscar was still completely out of it. The doctors had come and gone, confirming that all of his tests had come back normal. No broken bones, no concussion, nothing major. Just a shit ton of bruises and a shock to the system that left him too exhausted to stay awake for more than 15 minutes at a time.

Outside, the sun was setting, but you couldn’t sit still. You held Oscar’s limp hand in your own, tracing patterns into the cold skin. You hadn’t held his hand since you were kids—no, Oscar had held your hands above your head as he pinned you to the wall only weeks ago. 

You flung the memory away. Now wasn’t the time. Besides, you promise you’d forgive all that. 

Either way, you couldn’t focus on that now. Oscar’s eyelashes were fluttering open, his eyes squinting at the fluorescent light above him. 

“Osc!” you said, truthfully too energetic for the occasion. You dropped his hand, got up, and turned off the overhead light, leaving only the swiftly fading daylight from outside the window to illuminate the room. 

He groaned as you sat back down, but still mumbled a small thanks. 

“Where am I?” he asked, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes.

“A hospital in Imola.” 

“Shit,” he sighed. 

“Yeah. You had a pretty bad crash.”

“I remember that,” he said, his throat dry and cracked. He took a sip of water. “Lando brake checked me.”

“Is that what happened? I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah. Fucker,” he cursed, his voice dripping with contempt. You didn’t know what to say. 

“How are you feeling?” you finally said, tired of the lingering tension. 

“Awful. Everything hurts.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m just glad you’re here,” he said, reaching for his call button to request painkillers. “I’ve missed you.”

It was bold, doing this when he knew you couldn’t exactly be cruel to him. So, instead, you were honest. 

“I’ve missed you too. I’m just glad you’re okay,” you said, reaching forward to smooth his hair away from his sweat-stained forehead. Your touch felt better than any painkiller. “We were really scared.”

“Nah, you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon,” he joked as the nurse arrived and wordlessly administered his meds. He let out a sigh as he felt the painkillers enter his system. “I run on pure spite. A little wall isn’t gonna take me out.”

You gave him a small smile. “You didn’t say anything after the crash,” you said, your voice just a quivering whisper, giving away the true depths of your fear.

“I had the wind knocked out of me. And then, everything just went black, I was fading in and out.”

“I was praying you’d be okay. It was so scary.”

“Hey, I’m okay. A little busted up, but I wasn't exactly a looker anyway, huh?” he joked, a feeble attempt to make you laugh. You sniffled and smiled.

He continued, “Can I use my near-death experience as an excuse for us to make up?”

Your smile dropped and you bit your lip.  “Osc…”

“I just want my friend back,” he said, cutting you off. “Look, I can’t be the boyfriend you deserve. Not right now, at least. And I think, after all the shit I did, you wouldn’t want me to anyway. But I miss my friend.”

“I miss my friend, too.” 

Your heart to heart was interrupted by a knock at the door. The same nurse from before poked her head in. “Excuse me?” she asked in an Italian accent, and you looked up. “There is a visitor asking to be let in. She said her name is Lily?”

You couldn’t help the face you made. What on God’s green Earth was Lily doing in Imola?

“Um, yeah, let her in,” Oscar said. He didn’t react, though you scooted away and sat at the edge of your seat, ready to leave at any second. “Stay,” he whispered to you, and you did. 

A few moments later, you saw her walk in, and the atmosphere was thick. 

“Hi Oscar,” she exhaled, grateful to see him okay. He greeted her back, but she didn’t even look at you. You got up to give them a moment, but Oscar reached out and grabbed your wrist. “Don’t go,” he said, and the look in his eyes was impossible to refuse. You tentatively sat back down. 

“How are you feeling?” Lily asked, and the two exchanged pleasant conversation back and forth. You wanted nothing more than to jump out of the window that now showed the sunset over the trees. Normal visiting hours would be ending soon. 

“Well, I just wanted to make sure that you were okay,” she said, getting up to leave. “I’m glad you’re doing well. You too, YN,” she added on the end, but you didn’t believe it. You gave her a flat but polite smile. 

“Actually, YN, could we have a word?” she asked, cocking her head in the direction of the hallway. 

The look on Oscar’s face told you that this was a horrible idea. But one of you was confined to a hospital bed, and the other wasn’t. You ignored him and followed Lily into the deserted hallway.

She turned to you, voice full of venom. “How long have you been sleeping with Oscar?”

“What?”

“You heard me,” she said, plain as day. 

“I’ve told you before, Oscar never cheated on you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You turned your head in confusion. “What are you getting at?”

Lily angrily sighed. “You think that you can just waltz around the paddock talking shit about me with Lando, and that I’m not going to hear about it?”

Had Lily been at the paddock? Or even worse: had she somehow heard you?

“Well, if you actually heard my conversation with Lando, you’ll know that I stood up for you.”

“I thought you were a girl’s girl,” she said, deflecting from your defense.

“I am.”

“Then why were you in bed with my boyfriend 4 days after we broke up?”

“Your ex boyfriend,” you said, meeting her level of venom. “You left him.”

“I just thought, after all that talk, you’d have the decency not to prove me right.”

“Lily, I was honest with you. If you’re mad at Oscar, don’t take it out on me. He’s the one who suggested it. I told him it was a bad idea.”

“But you did it anyway.”

“And I felt horrible about it. So I stopped.” Your voice was sharp. “Who told you any of this?”

“It doesn't matter. I hope you’re happy.”

“I hope you are, too. Genuinely.” You lacked the words to say what you really wanted to. He treats both of us like shit. He used us. I am not your enemy. She wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. She wordlessly walked away, scoffing and mumbling to herself. 

You didn’t say anything either as you walked back into the hospital room and slumped in the chair.

“I’m guessing that didn’t go well?” Oscar said.

“Nope.”

“Well, we were in the middle of something…”

Oh, right. The conversation where Oscar was trying to get back in your pants. 

“I’m not going to fuck you, Oscar.” 

“I’m not asking you to.”

“We can let anything lead to that. Not again.”

“I understand,” he said. “I just want my friend back in my life. Like all of that never happened.”

“Could we even do that?” you asked. It felt like a line had been crossed, moving your friendship in a way that couldn’t be undone. 

“I promise. And I know my word doesn’t mean much, but really, I promise. Never again.”

Haven't you promised that you’d forgive him?

“Okay,” you said, “Okay.”

Oscar smiled at you, showing off his bunny teeth. You still loved him. You couldn’t help it. But true to form, you could never stay away.

“Oh, and by the way, congrats on Miami.”

You fell asleep in the chair, having refused to leave Oscar’s side. He’d be discharged in the morning to make his flight back to Monaco, though it was questionable whether or not he’d be able to race in the iconic Grand Prix. 

True to his word, though, Oscar got one final set of visitors in the dead of night.

The first was Zak Brown. 

“Oscar!” Zak yelled, before Oscar shushed and pointed to your sleeping form. You stirred but didn’t fully wake, and Zak placed his hand over his mouth and raised his eyebrows as Oscar let out a quiet laugh.

“Hey Zak,” he said, his voice hushed.

“Glad to see you’re doing better.”

“Yeah, I made it,” he mused. “Hey, what did the FIA say?” Oscar’s phone had died since you had fallen asleep, and his charger had been left at the track.

Thankfully, Zak had brought his (and your) belongings, and he placed the bag at the foot of the hospital bed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the penalty, from the crash?”

“No one got a penalty.”

“But, Lando brake checked me.”

“Lando barely avoided a crash with Stroll.”

“I know, but he didn’t swerve, he slowed down. He had room to swerve, I didn’t. How did no one get a penalty?”

“That's just racing.”

“He intentionally slowed down to stop me!”

“Oscar, I highly doubt that that’s what happened. It was a crowded track, and you all had to react in a split second. These things happen, you know this.” 

Oscar wasn’t at all pleased with this answer, and it was worsened by the appearance of his second visitor: Lando himself.

“Ah, there’s our grand prix winner!” Zak said, giving him a hearty pat on the back. 

Lando smiled, and Oscar wanted to throw up. 

“Had to bring it home for the team,” he said, smiling at Zak. “You doing alright, mate?” he asked. 

Oscar was already tired of people asking him how he was feeling. “I’m fine,” he said.

“Lando gave Stroll an earful after the race.”

“Oh yeah, probably getting fined for that one…”

“Why? I didn’t crash because of Stroll. You brake checked me.” The pain was making Oscar more irritable. He’d need another dose of meds soon. 

“No, Stroll was driving like an idiot out there, I had to slow down.”

“No, you had to move. You’re not stupid. You just didn’t want me to overtake, didn’t you?”

“Okay, boys, let’s save this for the track,” Zak interjected. Oscar just grumbled. “I’ll meet you outside, yeah?” he said to Lando, who nodded but stayed behind. 

The Brit glanced at you, still fast asleep in the chair by Oscar’s bedside. “D’you tire out your babysitter?” he smiled. 

But Oscar was relentless. “Don’t talk about her.”

“I thought you all weren’t on speaking terms?” 

“Lando, mind your business.”

“I don’t know what your problem is, mate.”

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to.”

“I’m not up to anything. I’m just trying to be a good teammate. Jesus, Osc, they should check that you didn’t hit your head too hard, you’re so paranoid.”

Truthfully, Oscar was bluffing. He had a horrible feeling about his teammate, but no evidence to back it up. But his intuition was hardly ever wrong. 

“I ran into Lily after you left,” Lando said. “I hope you don’t mind, but I told her you were here.” His tone of voice was so gentle that Oscar began to wonder if maybe he was being too paranoid.

“Yeah, she came by earlier.” 

Lando’s eyes glanced back to your sleeping form, and Oscar felt his anger rise again. He didn’t even want Lando to look in your direction, let alone be speaking to you. 

“Your heart rate is up,” Lando said, gesturing to the monitor that now showed the physical effects of Oscar’s anger.

“Look, Lando,” Oscar said, shifting to sit up in bed. “Stop acting like we’re friends. Stop talking to YN, stop trying to play this buddy-buddy game. We’re here to beat each other.”

“I was just trying to be kind, but I guess if you really don’t want to be friends, I can’t make you.”

“I’m serious. Leave YN alone. Don’t even go there.”

“She’s an adult.”

“And she’s mine.”

Lando laughed. “Seriously? That’s not exactly what she told me.”

The monitor beeped again as Oscar’s heart rate continued to rise. “I don’t care what she told you.”

“You can’t tell me what to do.” 

“Try it. See what happens.”

A nurse gently knocked on the door, and Oscar was grateful for the distraction and relief of pain meds. 

“Well,” Lando said, leaning on the door, “I guess I’ll see you all in Monaco.”

[leovenuslatina]

ETERNAL DESIRE⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

!!THIS READING IS 18+ MDNI!!

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

what makes your FS feel desired?

⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊✩°｡⋆˚⁺

₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊this is just a reminder that tarot isn’t permanent or set in stone YOU decide how your life goes no one or nothing else now take a deep breath and choose the pile that calls to you ₊˚⊹ ᰔ౨ৎ₊˚⊹

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

PILE 1 -

King of Pentacles & The Magician

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Your FS like to feel confident pile 1. he likes when stroke his ego make him feel good and you build him up i mean of course everyone does but he mainly likes it when you do it. it means the most to him when you do it especially when you two are making love and you whisper all things he’s doing makes you feel good he’s obsessed with that. Outside of the bedroom your FS likes knowing that you depend upon him that anytime you need him or anything that you come to him. he likes when you make him feel like a “real man” you know chopping wood lifting heavy shit and stuff like that. your FS is OBSESSED with making you feel safe protected and comfortable. whether it’s when some creep is hitting on you and making you feel uncomfortable or his just hold you in his arms. he likes knowing that you trust him completely with everything: soul and mind but especially body. Your FS does put a lot of his identity in what he does and his job so he maybe like really important where he works or in his field. he has a lot of respect which indirectly helps his confidence especially with you he likes to buy you nice things and taking you on trips and luxurious experiences. Lastly your FS LOVES ! communication and hearing words of affirmation from you it does wayyyyy more than you think it does.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

PILE 2 -

Two of Wands & Six of Pentacles

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Immediately pile 2 your FS means business! they love to get shit done they have a long list of goals and they intend to achieve everything on that list and they don’t let anything or anyone stop them. that makes them feel really desired and important and impressive. they like when you challenge them i’m getting that the chase is like a good motivation for them. in the weirdest way what makes them feel wanted is when you act like you don’t want them 🤭. when you tease them and act like a brat for lack of a better word. your FS def wants what they can’t have and when you tell them not right now or no he LOVES IT ! (side note lol): i was having a conversation with my man the other day and i asked him why he kept pursuing me even when i acted like i didn’t want him he said because he was so used to girls throwing themselves at him that when i didn’t he was intrigued and when he got me he felt accomplished. Your FS is the SAME way he’s probably like handsome or really charismatic and when you don’t immediately want him he’s obviously obsessed with you !honestly just being in a relationship with you makes him feel the most desirable. because he views you as the highest prize he could ever win. he sees you as a goal he wants to achieve (not in a bad way!!) he just knows he has to work his hardest to get you and make you happy and keep you happy and that makes him feel really good about himself. he feels like he won at life just because he’s with you 🥰. because they are very goal oriented they LOVE when you give them tasks to do for you like helping you move or helping you with some car troubles. they are a HUGE acts of service kinda guy and he’s the type to do stuff for you before you even asking like filling up your water bottle or washing your car for you or just anything to make your life easier. it’s the same thing in the bedroom. he likes when you tell him what you like and what to do and when he does that and makes you pleased he’s extremely happy with himself.

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PILE 3 -

Knight of Pentacles & Six of Cups

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Your FS prides himself on being who you lean on. He’s ambitious and he’s a GOOD man savanna!!! he’s loyal and faithful if you care about that stuff he is a religious man (only of that applies). What makes your FS feel desirable is knowing that you see him and that you know all he does. he’s the type of guy that doesn’t brag he’s not boastful about all he does. he’s very humble. he’s not in it for any type of praise or recognition. but you truly see him and you’re thankful and appreciative of everything he does for you and that makes him happy literally he’s a simple kinda man it really doesn’t take much to make him happy or feel. your FS is an extremely patient and supportive man he’ll do anything for you even if you have trauma or past experiences that cause you anxiety he’ll be right by your side. this FS is the perfect person for someone who needs a lot of patience and attention and love. he’s very caring and soft and loving. and the look on your face when he hold you or when he sees you happy that is the ultimate compliment to him. like all he wants to do is be a good MAN for you !

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[dadvans]

without a base, without a trace

bucktommy (9-1-1) :: 5 medical emergencies buck has after breaking up with tommy + 1 he has when they get back together

slightly based on this post by @epiphainie. for @rcmclachlan. art by @wortwood. verging on crack fic. this is the dumbest thing i have ever written.

ONE.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

It’s a rare day that Josh is working the lines, not that he cares. It’s important to not get rusty in a job like this. And if he’s being a little too honest with himself, the rush he gets on certain calls make his shift fly by way quicker than when he’s supervising or working breaks.

“Josh?”

This is close to his thirtieth call of the day, so it takes him a second to place the familiar vocal fry on the other end of call.

“Buck?”

“Shit,” Buck says, “well, this is embarrassing. Uh, hey. Can you not tell my sister about this?”

“Your sister who is sitting across from me?” Josh glances up, catching Maddie’s attention. Her eyes double in size when he mouths Buck to her and gestures to his own headset.

“Yeah, please, I—Josh—“

“Hey, hey, of course, don’t worry, Buck, I’m still a professional.” He rolls his eyes as Maddie peers over her monitor, and he mouths again I’ll tell you later, before returning his attention to the line. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Buck sighs on the other end. “I have a Coke can stuck up my ass.”

Josh almost chokes. This wouldn’t even be the first call this week where someone “tripped and landed on something wrong,” but the mental image of one of those calls being Buck practically knocks the wind out of him.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that.”

“Coke can,” Buck repeats, and there’s something to be said that his bitchy tone could be genetic the way he sounds so much like Maddie on her last nerve, “stuck up my ass.”

“Oka-a-a-y,” Josh says slowly, logging rectal foreign body and Coke can appropriately. “Can I ask how this happened?”

“How do you think, Josh? My boyfriend broke up with me, I missed him, and Tommy was—he was big, you know?”

“Sure,” Josh replies, trying to keep his tone neutral as possible. “Have you ever heard the adage ‘without a base, without a trace?’ Without a flared base, nearly ten times out of ten you’re bound to—“

“Look, I know, okay? I’ve responded to plenty of these calls myself, I just thought I had a good grip and was feeling desperate, and with all the lube, it slipped, and—“

“You know what, I think I get the picture. Are you at your home address?”

He hears another sad sigh from Buck’s end of the line.

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well, I’m dispatching paramedics to your location, okay? And for future reference”—he lowers his voice—“there are plenty of places online, or The Pleasure Chest off of Santa Monica that can provide you with a more appropriate, uh, instrument to help you with your needs, got it?”

He hangs up shortly after, and Maddie immediately rounds their desks to sit on the lip of his. “So?”

“Let me just tell you that you don’t want to know,” Josh says, shaking his head. “But if you piss me off someday, I might tell you.”

TWO

It’s barely a week after Josh takes Buck’s call that another one comes in. Josh is the supervisor on shift when he hears Maddie’s tone go from a measured neutral to thin and tight in seconds.

“Buck?” She says. “Buck, are you okay?”

There’s no possible way, Josh thinks. But just in case, on a hunch, he pulls up a chair and connects himself to her line.

“Buck, this is Josh, I’m acting shift lead.”

Maddie gives him a weird look that he ignores, but Buck says, “Oh, thank God. Maddie, can you let Josh just take this?”

“Um, n-no, no. This doesn’t work like that. What’s going on, Evan?”

“Maddie,” Buck groans, “please?”

“Please, sir, I need you to state your emergency,” Maddie continues, voice settling. Her hands, which had been starting to shake, still on her keyboard.

“It’s an eggplant,” Buck says. “I have… an eggplant.”

“An eggplant?” Maddie repeats.

Josh chokes past a cough so he doesn’t laugh out loud. Real fucking amateur hour. “Buck, what did I tell you last week? Did you completely ignore my advice?”

Maddie turns to him, frowning. “What’s going on?”

“Your brother has an eggplant lodged in his ass,” Josh replies, shaking his head. “Am I right, Buck?”

“Look, I did take your advice, or I thought I did. I thought if I started at the smaller side, the other end would act naturally as a flared base, but I got uh, carried away.”

Josh closes his eyes, listening, and counts to three. Maddie may have stopped breathing next to him. “And Buck, uh, what kind of eggplant was it? I’m assuming—“

“Italian,” Buck confirms, “the big kind.”

Damn. Josh is kind of impressed. Buck sure isn’t doing things by halves.

“This time it may require, uh,” Buck continues, “surgical assistance. It feels really deep.”

“Buck, I can’t assure you of anything, but you’d be surprised what the human body is capable of. Just stay calm, and we’re dispatching help to your area. Are you still at home?” Josh asks.

“Yeah,” Buck admits. Josh has had years of faceless conversations across a wide range of disasters, emergencies, human experiences. Someone else, even Maddie, would probably say he sounds embarrassed, but Josh knows sadness when he hears it.

He doesn’t call any attention to it, just nods. “Okay, thank you. Help is on the way.”

When the call disconnects, Maddie turns to him, face distressed. “What did he mean, ‘This time?’”

THREE

Josh is supervising a new trainee’s line when Buck’s third call comes in. It’s been maybe a week and a half, and the first to come so late, almost three in the morning. Josh has just come back from a break, having closed his eyes in the back for forty-five minutes, and is wondering if he’s still dreaming when Buck’s unmistakable voice cracks over the line. Unlike the first two calls, he slurs from the first word and Josh is pretty sure he’s been crying.

Josh rolls his eyes and unmutes his side of the line. “Hi, Buck.”

His trainee almost jumps a foot when he does it. He covers his mic with his palm and turns to her.

“Repeat callers, you’ll get used to them. This one is kind of my regular,” he assures her, hoping she doesn’t work with Maddie anytime soon.

Buck hiccups on the other end of the line and moans. “Josh, I did something stupid.”

“Wait, what was that? Buck, can you tell me what’s going on? Are you safe?”

“I dunno. Did something stupid. Dumb,” he repeats. “Wine bottle.”

Jesus Christ. “Wine bottle?”

“Wine bottle. With wine in it. Neck not big enough. Stuck. Wine is—izza—fillin’ me up but is, it’s, doesn’t feel right.” Half of his words are slurred together. It sounds like he’s saying Dozen-fee-ruh. He says, “Mucus membranes. I looked it up. Too much.”

“Got it, got it, you home, Buck?”

“Yeah,” Buck admits softly. “Alone.”

“I’m sending help to your location.” Josh takes over his trainee’s dashboards and dispatches a team accordingly.

“Not the one-eighteen though, right?” Buck asks. But with the way he sounds, it takes a second for Josh to decipher.

“No, not the one-eighteen,” he says, then sighs. “But Buck, I can’t guarantee that they won’t be dispatched to you next time. And if it’s me on the call, that’s who I’m definitely sending. I don’t expect you to remember me saying this, but if this happens again, you might force my hand if that’s what gets you to stop.”

“Okay, okay. Just miss him. Miss him so much. The way he filled me up—“

Josh abruptly ends the call. Which isn’t great. Help has already been sent out, but still.

“What just happened?” She asks.

“Something,” Josh says on an exhale, “totally normal in the broad scheme of things. But for my sake? Please pretend this call never did.”

FOUR.

Josh was supposed to be off tonight, but dispatch has been busy, busy, busy since a low five-point-something and several aftershocks slammed everything sideways from Puente Hills. Sue called him in hours ago, and the only thing that’s keeping him alert through the hours-long queue of anxious callers is the promise of that sweet, sweet, time and a half overtime pay.

He’s ready to lose it by the time the calls start to finally die down only to have Buck end up on his line.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” he sighs. He pulls

Buck, on the other end, grumbles what sounds like There have to be more than five dispatchers in all of Los Angeles, right? away from the receiver, before he says closer and direct across the line, “I’m stuck.”

“What do you mean, ’stuck?’” Josh asks, fingers flying over the keyboard. He hasn’t heard of any infrastructure damage near Glendale, but maybe he’s making assumptions. “Are you trapped?”

“No, I’m—not exactly.”

“‘Not exactly,” Josh repeats. “Buck, where are you?”

“My apartment.” Buck doesn’t sound scared, or even urgently in danger. He sounds resigned. “I got a toy, by the way. Like you suggested. Flared base. Suction end, even, so I wouldn’t have any more accidents.”

Josh stopped believing in God a few decades ago, but he finds himself sending out a quiet prayer anyway that none of his calls with Buck have randomly hit the auditor’s desk. “Is that relevant to the call, sir?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t—shit. I was riding it when the earthquake hit.”

“Okay,” Josh says, when Buck doesn’t elaborate. “And?”

“I had it suctioned to my coffee table. And I’d been riding it for a while, so my legs were already shaky and I slipped—you know what, not important. What’s important is that I’ve been glued to my coffee table with a dick in my ass since noon. I can’t get up without the table—everything pulls, I can’t feel where the silicone ends and wood begins.”

“Jesus,” Josh says. Again, he really hopes this call doesn’t get audited.

There aren’t enough first responders to get to Buck right away. Josh lets him know that, in between asking a series of invasive questions where he learns that Buck is also somehow upside down, struggling to reach the poppers bottle he wants to swat out of the line of sight when someone inevitably rescues him.

“We’re experiencing a high volume of emergency calls at the moment, but I’ll get someone to you as soon as I can. But Buck,” Josh continues, “you have my number. Let me know when you’re okay. And then we can talk. Because I never, ever want to get one of these calls again.”

FIVE.

Josh watches as Maddie suspiciously sidles up to him in the locker bay several days later. She’s half-dancing, hips swaying and arms circling in a sad attempt at salsa.

“Do you have bedbugs? Did Howie give you bedbugs?” He asks her. “Because if you have bedbugs and you give them to the rest of us, I swear to God, Maddie.”

“No!” She says. Even when she doesn’t laugh out loud, she laughs with her eyes sometimes, wide and alive and catching all sorts of life. Had he been straight in another life, he would have been in so much trouble. “Okay, remember how we discussed Evan’s, uh, recent maladaptive coping strategies?”

“If by ‘discussed’ you mean ‘completely evaded the subject,’ and I gave him the number of a man whose penis defies God—“

“Yes, yes, anyway. They’re on a date!” She whips out her phone to show Josh the text message confirmation from Buck that not only had he’d reached out to Josh’s friend a few days ago, but was also now on his way to a dinner and movie. “Look!”

Josh’s eyes close with relief. “Oh, thank God. I can finally rest easy for a shift and not worry your brother is going to end up on my line with something stuck up his ass.”

Maddie’s smile fades and her shoulders slump. “Tell me about it. I’d do anything to go back to a time where he was just baking too much and I didn’t have to worry about where all the candles in his apartment went.”

“Stop.” He closes his eyes and throws his head back. “End of conversation. Even if I’m happy you told me, so I won’t have to spend the next twelve hours worried your brother is going to finally puncture his colon and die. Because the past few weeks have been so much.”

“Well, maybe your Prince Charming is the one who will finally break the curse,” Maddie replies, squeezing his shoulder.

Josh really hopes so. He needs Big Dick Eric (the guy’s Christian name, according to how Josh had saved him in his phone after a slightly overwhelming Grindr hookup) to seal the deal with Buck tonight. It doesn’t have to be forever, just as long as it takes for Buck to stop trying to fill the hole in his heart with dick. For Josh’s own mental health.

He wants to be optimistic.

The first two hours of his shift are as normal as normal can be for a seven-to-seven night shift. He handles an ugly domestic call, several drunk teenagers, a broken skate park ankle, and multiple people reporting the same car alarm going off at their apartment complex. His heart rate picks up when a new homeowner calls to report a squatter in her attic, but it just turns out to be a bat infestation.

And then, as if even thinking the word “quiet” is a thought crime that welcomes chaos, Josh takes his next call and is greeted with screaming.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?” He asks, voice slightly elevated to challenge the screams warping the call.

He’ll give Buck credit later: when the emergency isn’t necessarily specific to his own bad decisions, the guy is effectively, professionally cool in a crisis, to a degree that Josh doesn’t immediately recognize him.

He requests an ambulance immediately to a residential address for a single adult man who he believes has fractured his penis.

“Can you tell me what happened that has lead you to believe this man has fractured his penis?” Josh asks, trying to discourage his own balls from shrinking back up inside him.

“We were, uh, in flagrante,” the guy on the other end responds, and that’s when Josh knows it’s Buck, because the pitchy, worried waver in his voice haunts Josh’s dreams. “We were—well—there was a popping noise while he was still inside me, and everything got hot and wet different from lube, you know, and I looked down and there was blood everywhere. And then he started screaming.”

Yeah, that sounds pretty fractured. Poor Big Dick Eric.

“Oh-kay, sir,” Josh replies, “Well, I am dispatching help to you right now. While you wait, you should try to treat the afflicted area with ice—“

“—Already on it,” Buck replies, harried, and Josh can hear him roughly digging ice out of a freezer, he thinks.

“Great. Help will be there soon, Buck,” Josh confirms, and then the shoveling sound stops briefly.

“Josh?”

“Yup,” Josh replies.

“Of course, God—hey, please don’t tell Maddie about this one, please? I’ve already traumatized her so much.”

Josh sighs, and professionalism be damned, he can’t stop himself from saying, “Buck, I won’t tell Maddie, but I’m absolutely telling all of Gay Los Angeles to steer clear from you until whatever sex curse you’re dealing with is fixed”

Buck hums sadly. “Yeah, that’s fair.”

Josh listens to him return to Big Dick Eric’s side, equal parts miserable and beguiled at the soft, direct way Buck offers a baggie of ice to a wailing Big Dick Eric. He finds himself feeling bad, though he’s not sure who for. All parties involved, maybe. Himself especially.

Despite all his years as a dispatcher, he still ends the call with a migraine.

PLUS ONE

“I think,” Maddie had said between several sips of decaf, halfway through their shift, tone light and bubbly, “that they might get back together. They’ve been talking.”

“‘Talking,’ huh?” Josh had replied, shutting his locker. “God, I hope so. Spare the rest of Los Angeles from whatever in the Grey’s Anatomy that’s become your brother’s life.

The look Maddie had given him, six months pregnant, patience thin, emotionally volatile and absolutely not amused, shut him up immediately.

That was hours ago. Seventeen calls ago. Their shift ends as the sun starts rising outside their windowless floor. Josh shrugs his jacket on thinking about the Egg McMuffin he’s going to get before he returns home and passes out in a sodium coma for approximately seven hours. Maybe he’ll dig through the graveyard of Trader Joe’s meals in his freezer to get the frozen bottle of Absolut that sits in back and make himself a Screwdriver to wash it down with.

“Plans for the rest of your day?” He turns to Maddie, only to find her distracted and scrolling through her phone.

“Sorry, I—I have like, several texts and five voicemails from Evan and I’m trying to read the transcripts first,” she says, brow knitting together with worrying familiarity. “Let’s see, it sounds like—oh. Oh. Oh wow.”

Josh commendably does not scream. “What now?”

She turns the phone to him, expanding the first message.

Hi Maddie, it’s Tommy. We’re—me and Evan—are headed to the ER. Nothing huge, just thought you should know, he said you had plans tomorrow. He kind of got carried away tonight, and, you know what? Doesn’t matter. Not a big deal. He’s having a little trouble speaking right now, but wanted me to call you so you don’t worry.

“What,” Josh says.

She thumbs open the transcript for the next voicemail.

Hey, Maddie. Tommy again. Buck’s voice is still out of commission. He, uh. It sounds like he ruptured his airway. He’s being given the good drugs, but will not be able to meet you tomorrow, and is definitely going to be on a text-only basis for at least a week. At the very least it isn’t bad enough for him to need surgery, so we’re getting discharged soon. I’ve got him for now, and I’ll keep an eye on him for the next couple of days while we’re off. Feel free to give me a call or swing by if you have any questions.

“Did he really—?”

“Yup, yes he did,” Maddie says, swiping over to her texts to open up a selfie from Buck, looking smug and high as a kite while reclining in a hospital bed.

“Jesus, how big is Tommy,” Josh says, before he can stop himself.

“At a certain point it just has to be uncomfortable for everyone involved, right?” Maddie frowns down at the picture of Buck grinning back up at her from her phone.

Josh sighs. “They really found love in a hopeless place. I think this is one of those situations where two people belong together, if only for the public safety of everyone else.”

“I just hope it sticks this time.”

“If it doesn’t, I might just have to quit my job,” Josh says. “Anyway, tell them congratulations for me. I’m going to go drink celebratory screwdrivers until I pass out.”

Maddie’s nose wrinkles and she turns her pout on him, one hand moving to her stomach. “You’re a cruel man, Josh Russo.”

His looks down at the phone she still holds with the other pointedly. “I think you and I both know I could be much, much worse.”

[darlingdaisyfarm]

It’s so sad how mullet Stan lacks content of him 😭😭I wish there would be more fics of him so that’s why im gently asking you to give us more mullet Stan crumbs, it can be anything, headcanons or fic 😔 I will eat everything you’ll serve

⤿❝ Mullet!Stanley x reader headcanons (sfw & nsfw)⭑

a/n: agree i agree just yeah 10000% ! traumatised guys with mullet, bad habits and abandonment, daddy and mental issues are my weak spot

sfw

ᯓ★ he’s terrified of commitment but more terrified of being alone. he’ll push you away just to see if you’ll stay. he wants to trust you, but he doesn’t trust himself

ᯓ★ when he finally realizes you’re not leaving, he clings hard. like, once he’s in? he’s all in. but the idea of starting a family? he wants it so bad but so scared of it. he doesn’t want to turn into his father. he’s aware of his emotional instability and the last thing he wants is to pass that onto a kid. he doesn’t even trust himself to be a good partner, let alone a parent

ᯓ★ despite everything, still has a soft spot for kids but refuses to admit it. will grumble and complain but the second a little kid looks up at him with big, teary eyes, he’s sighing and handing over the last piece of his candy bar

ᯓ★ he is a literal stray, a stray dog that growls when you first bring him home but now follows you everywhere. you don’t date mullet!Stanley, you accidentally adopt him. this man has no home, no direction, no plan. he crashes on your couch “just for a few days, toots, promise” and then six months later he’s still there, wearing your robe, drinking straight from the juice carton

ᯓ★ acts like he doesn’t care but is secretly the most doting boyfriend. will fix your car, carry your groceries, give you his jacket when you're cold, all without asking. he just does it

ᯓ★ he doesn’t take care of himself. showers once every few days, drinks too much, smokes too much, eats like shit. if you ever cook for him it breaks him, he just stares at the plate because it’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever done to him, “you made this? for me?”

ᯓ★ road trip king. you wanna run away? hop in, sweetheart, we’ll figure it out on the way. the kind of guy who drives with one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. he’s got half a pack of smokes, a cassette of shitty rock ballads and a mouth full of sweet-talking bullshit

ᯓ★ as i said, he acts like he doesn’t give a fuck but actually gives too many fucks. will pretend he doesn’t care when you get mad at him, but the second you turn away, he’s overthinking. “fuck what did i say? shit, why am i such an asshole?”

ᯓ★ if you tell him you love him, he always hesitates before saying it back. not because he doesn’t feel it, but because he doesn’t think he deserves it

ᯓ★ literally stunned when you take care of him. like, someone is doing something NICE for him??? with no ulterior motive???

ᯓ★ absolutely a ‘leaning’ boyfriend. leans against walls, leans against doorframes, leans against you. big strong arms wrapping around your waist from behind, head dropping onto your shoulder with a sigh

ᯓ★ survives off diner food, gas station snacks, and whatever you make him

ᯓ★ gets nervous when you’re nice to him. he’s been kicked down so many times, he doesn’t know how to handle kindness. the first time you tell him he looks good, he scoffs, says something self-deprecating, but then stares at himself in the mirror later, touching his face trying to see what you even saw in him

ᯓ★ secretly loves being babied. if you push his messy hair back, clean his cuts when he gets into a fight or tuck yourself into his side when he's sitting down, he fucking melts. “psh, ya don’t gotta do all that,” but his ears are bright red

ᯓ★ will steal anything for you. “ya like that necklace, sweetheart? consider it yours.” he’s a walking, talking, petty thief boyfriend who just wants to see you smile

ᯓ★ lets you play with his mullet when he’s feeling lazy. sits between your thighs while you brush it and if you’re gentle enough, he’ll doze off right there, resting his head against your stomach

ᯓ★ loves his car more than he should. will drag you to the garage to show you how he’s fixing up some old junker, but he looks so proud, you can’t even complain. bonus: he makes you sit in it for a “test drive” (he drives too fast just to see you scream and laugh)

ᯓ★ hands always busy. even when you’re just sitting together, his hands are moving, tinkering with something, rubbing circles on your thigh, tapping on table. he's anxious stressed guy

ᯓ★ he falls asleep anywhere instantly. he’s had years of shitty, uncomfortable sleep, so at this point he can knock out in two seconds flat. the first time you see it happen, you’re stunned. “Stan, are you seriously asleep right now—?” he is. sometimes, he falls asleep sitting up, mouth slightly open, arms crossed. if you try to move him, he’ll grunt, shift slightly and keep sleeping

ᯓ★ he’s a sucker for physical affection but doesn’t know how to ask for it. please, just hold him. run your fingers through his hair, rub his back, let him rest his head on your chest or stomach. sometimes, he’ll just stand behind you and wait until you notice and pull him into a hug. he won’t ask, but he needs it

ᯓ★ this man does not know how to handle being desired

nsfw

ᯓ★ he’s big. everywhere. broad chest, thick arms, a cock that barely fits. “c’mon, baby, you can take it. just a little more, there we go.”

ᯓ★ he’s a messy kisser. tongue, teeth, biting, groaning, he devours you. Stanley makes out like he’s trying to fuck you with just his mouth. his hands are always gripping your face, your neck, your hair, he’s desperate

ᯓ★ he loves fucking in places he shouldn’t. against the car, in an alley, in the backseat, behind a bar, on some random motel dresser, doesn’t matter. the risk of getting caught gets him off. zero patience. too horny to wait, too desperate to care where you are

ᯓ★ if you ever scratch his back? he fucking loses it. he wants you clawing at him, gripping his arms, pulling his hair. especially loves it when you bite his shoulder

ᯓ★ fucks like a guy who doesn’t know if he’ll ever get the chance again. so overwhelmed by how good you feel

ᯓ★ he groans and grunts. loud, unashamed. you know exactly how much he’s enjoying it because he never shuts the fuck up. if you try to shut him up, he just moans louder out of spite

ᯓ★ this man talks during sex. a LOT. filthy, filthy, filthy mouth

ᯓ★ but if you try to stifle your moans, oh, he won’t have that. “uh-uh, lemme hear ya, baby. don’t go all shy on me now.”

ᯓ★ he has an oral fixation, always has something in his mouth. a cigarette, a toothpick, his own damn fingers. pussy? oh, he’ll eat for hours if you let him. he’s enjoying it more than you are. his nose is pressed right against your clit, his tongue is buried deep inside you, his big hands are holding your thighs open so you can’t squirm away

ᯓ★ but what he REALLY loves? your fingers. if you put your fingers in his mouth, he’ll groan and suck on them absentmindedly. don't try to pull away, you’re not going anywhere. he’ll grab your wrist, keep your fingers between his lips and just look at you with those dark, needy eyes

ᯓ★ loves when you pull his hair so make sure to always grab and yank his mullet while he’s between your legs and he’ll groan into your pussy like he’s getting off on it

ᯓ★ the kind of man who will fuck you dumb just to make sure you don’t even remember anyone else’s name

ᯓ★ absolute menace with that tongue + so so messy. will spread your legs, settle between them and go to fucking work. licking, sucking, slurping, spitting on your clit, growling against your folds. doesn’t stop until you’re begging. “c’mon, sweetie, one more for me”

ᯓ★ absolutely gets off on how loud you are. doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of the night or the middle of the day, he’ll fuck you so good you’re screaming his name, he prefers it “Stanley” tho, not just Stan

ᯓ★ smokes like a chimney, including during sex. he’s the type to take a long drag of his cigarette while you’re riding him, exhaling the smoke lazily as he watches you bounce on his cock. “fuck, baby, keep goin’. look so pretty takin’ me like that.” then puts it out against the nightstand right before flipping you over and fucking you senseless

ᯓ★ smoking during foreplay too, pulls cigarette out of his mouth and presses it into the ashtray, muttering, “gonna put this out and focus on you, sweetie.”

ᯓ★ if you complain about him smoking too much, he’ll smirk, tilt your chin up, and say something like, “well, maybe if you keep me busy enough, i won’t need to smoke, huh?” such a brat tbh

ᯓ★ grabs whatever’s closest to tie you up. belt? works just fine. an old rag? perfect. (also wants to be tied up too)

ᯓ★ a tipsy Stan gets handsy, real handsy. he’s already got no shame sober, but when he’s had a couple of drinks, he can’t keep his hands to himself, your thighs, your waist, your ass

ᯓ★ praise him in the most filthiest way possible, call him big, tell him he’s stretching you out, tell him you’ve never had anyone fuck you like this. tell him how much you love his cock, how deep he is. he thrives on that shit, loves being told how good he feels. “fuck, baby, keep talkin’ like that and i might not last.” but he also LOVES teasing you. “poor thing, already dumb from my cock?”, “look at you, makin’ a mess all over me. filthy little thing.”

ᯓ★ i 100% believe that mullet!Stanley is a bratty switch who acts tough but turns into a desperate, whiny mess the second you take control. i think it needs its own post but ok

[bunny-jpeg]

heart-pounding satisfaction

max verstappen

tags: smut/pwp, teammates au, driver!reader, mean!reader, (implied) sub!max, reader is a bitch (affectionate), mean & degrading language (also dirty talk), face sitting/masturbation

a/n: i can imagine fans hating the reader for being so vocal, especially towards max, but in the world of formula one, it's do or die. i need these fuckers to get nasty!! this fic is also nasty as hell, don't look at me....

max had fucking lost it. he was convinced he had lost it. you two had been teammates for close to six months now. three months of off season, three months of the twenty-twenty-five season. and you drove him up the wall.

this was a teammate up in the making, red bull's savior, their prince and the princess plucked from haas and placed in a car next to him. it should all be roses, singing birds and happily ever after.

but you couldn't be more disinterested him. almost hostile. as you said to the press, "i am here to win. i respect max's previous teammates, but i won't fumble because someone needs a fifth title." not even glancing over at your teammate.

after that, other women felt boring. any city on the globe, he could easily find a lovely lady for the evening. someone to spoil with orgasms and a rocking bed, a tale for her to tell her friends the following afternoon. but lately it had felt like the only thing that got him excited was you. when you were mean.

it had been a long time since someone was mean to him. aside from comments online or snide comments from other drivers. everyone knew he was in charge, and his teammate should be second on command. but you had zero interest in that. he hadn't complained, and instead played along with the niceties of teamsmanship. he only did it because he didn't want it to stop.

he liked it, he liked it a lot.

and while max was in a self inflicted dry spell. you were taking a liking to the new found fame you've acquired. max had gone to get you from the hotel room a few times and every time a man had sheepishly left your hotel room.

"sorry, mate." they'd often say. that or, "holy shit, it's max verstappen." and only scurry off when max glared at them. willing to give these guys some action, but not your teammate? cruel woman.

regardless, he let your words tumble off your tongue. venom that turned into honey in his brain. the more you spoke, the more he wanted to jerk off. you had ruined him without a second touch.

as you lazily held the trophy for the canadian grand prix in your hand on the way back to the hotel in montreal. you leaned up against the wall of the elevator and laughed, "fourth, verstappen." your tone mocking, "i'm pretty sure if you were less of a bastard on the second turn you could've given stroll the podium he wants. he could've over taken piastri... you could've as well, but you've become comfortable."

max swallowed and the elevator door opened. he didn't exit until you did first. you reached around him and pulled him close to you. you looked marginally up at him and he said, "i...i'll win next time." he could already feel the red in his face.

you laughed, "sure, sure, verstappen. why, is daddy coming to visit?" you gave him a mocking look. you acted like you weren't heavily scarred with your own daddy issues. you at least had the option to never mention the man who pushed you until you broke through any barriers to get into f1.

he hated that he was getting aroused. that he could feel the spike in his soul as his heart skipped a beat. it could be cute if another woman was mean to him. but when you did it, it blew a fuse in his mind.

you laughed and looked at him, "you gotta get over it one day, max. if you don't that fucking bastard is going to outlive you." there was a moment of honesty, "if i want to beat you, i'd like you alive." then squeezed him for a moment more.

he swallowed then asked, "do you hate me that much?"

you pulled away and stalled in your step for a moment, you collected yourself quickly and said, "no... as much as you'd love to hear it. i don't hate you." you looked at him briefly, "you love being the villain. the lion, mad max, whatever else they call you. i'm just giving them the drama they want." you looked at the trophy, "beating you is just half the fun." you went to open the door to your room and max pressed himself up against you which made you drop the trophy and get squished between his solid body and the harder door.

"be mean to me. fuck... be fucking nasty with it." the words poured from his mouth, "just, be brutal." he swallowed, "but please, just give me a taste of you. i hate those bastards that get to fuck you every weekend. get to feel and taste you." he pressed you further, "give me a hard time and let me have my way with you."

you exhaled deeply and felt a quickening of you heart rate. you were quick to respond, "well then, verstrappen. why don't you make yourself useful and help me get my key out."

you could already hear the cheering in max's head as he helped you open the door. that you only assumed grew louder when you two started kissing. your arms wrapped around him as you got into the room backwards, your trophy left behind in the hallway. almost tripped over your shoes, but clothes were of little issue once max got your red bull branded t-shirt of you.

clothes tossed variously throughout the room before you two ended up in bed together. you rank your fingers down his chest and exhaled deeply. "you're a pain in my side, max. from the moment i met you. you were always the golden boy, the champion. god's gift to racing." you pinned him down on the bed and he shuddered.

"k..keep going." the heat was high in his face. he could feel the stagger of his heartbeat. it felt good. your words sounded like heaven, but yet it sank him down to the pits of hell.

"oh my god, you're pathetic! do you hear yourself, max? four championships and you're still chasing a prize that you'll never get." you straddled his chest and put your hands on his jaw. you looked down to stare in his eyes, "but yet you live in my head rent-free."

he exhaled, "imagine what you do to me." grabbed your hips and pushed your cunt over his mouth and nose. he gripped your ass and pressed your sex against his face and groaned loudly.

you had to brace yourself with your hands so you didn't go nose-first into the wall. his pace was brutal on you, his licks were sloppy. he was messy with his movements in a desperate attempt to bring you pleasure.

he was less like a lion and more like a desperate dog. you moaned loudly and held your position against the wall as he desperately ate you out. like a man starved.

you really had burrowed into his brain and invade every empty space in his skull until his thoughts were swamped with you.

"jerk yourself off, you useless idiot." you spat, "you're so used to girls getting you off. if you want to get off, you actually have to work for it. can you do that? actually work hard for something." you clenched your thighs around his head.

max kept one hand on your hip and the other around his leaky, achy cock. he groaned as he pleasure himself. it was hot, to see a sort of moral collapse on a four time world champion. that even a man with power, could be reduced to a moaning slut. you wondered how wet you could get lips.

if your wetness could stain his mouth as he made pleasure shoot through your body. you held onto the wall with one hand and a his short blond hair with the other. you shuddered and felt your nipples grow hard, "this feels fucking wrong." you yanked on his hair which only made him jerk himself off faster, "you have driven me crazy. everything you fucking hard, most would kill for. i at least want to give you a run for your money. actually make the wins feel real, because when i take over. when i beat you, it'll only make the victory sweeter." you arched your back a little more and moaned loudly.

the movements only continued and you felt the pleasure course up your body. the heat in your breathing as you closed your eyes for a moment to compose yourself. you croaked out through an intense feeling of pleasure, "fuck, max. i didn't know honestly that you got off to it." you panted heavily, "if i knew, i would've been nicer. but knowing your perverted ass, you would've gotten off to it. you would've loved if i was gentle and mean to you. a firm yet cuddly hand." you let out a sharp exhale and a small moan.

max would easily admit that any attention from you would go right to his cock. he continued to tease the blunt head as he orally pleasured you. the feeling of your thighs on his face and head. your pussy right up to his mouth and nose. he could feel the lack of oxygen, but it only increased the pleasure in his body. he felt like a live wire, he felt like a hurricane. it was an intense feeling that pounded in his chest. it left him sexually starving, a lion without a feast as he devoured you. and the way you tugged on his hair only drove him more mad.

"you love being used like that. hoping that i'll give you praise one day. but you're just a stupid, stupid boy. a toothless lion, a failure to your country. and your fucking family. you're a failure to me and that stupid trophy we left outside was evidence of that. do better, be better and maybe you'll be someone worth being on the same track at me." your words laced with venom, but held heavy sexual want as the pleasure continued to course through your body. your chest heaved and your pulse pounded. it felt hot, you felt hot. it was erotic in a way that would make most disgusted.

how dare the world champion be used like for your sexual gratification. while he pathetically jerked himself off. you allowed him to breathe out of his nose and his pants were heavily as air allowed blood to be pumped to somewhere other than his cock.

you hissed through a tense jaw as he continued to orally pleasure you, "you deserve to be some low-level job. get off the track and make yourself useful by picking trash off the stands." it only made him jerk his cock off harder. you panted heavily as the words tumbled out as pleasure near hit its peak, "get out of my way, i refuse to be second fiddle to you. i refuse to be in your shadow." you clenched your thighs around him tighter, "i am better than you, max verstappen." your voice toxic.

but yet, it made max cum all over himself. he groaned loudly and panted against your cunt as he continued to stroke himself to overstimulation while he continued to lap at your cunt hungrily. max had lost it, he had officially lost it.

it was the most erotic thing that he had ever been a part of. and years and years of a life like this had made him experience many interesting things. this topped everything. you groaned once more and felt the pleasure curl up inside of you.

it was becoming too much, with one more slew on words, "you cum to me calling you weak.. huh? interesting. i guess the great max verstappen is weak just like every other man. why call you a god of racing when i can make you whine and beg like a dog." you coursed under your breath. and then you came. you admitted to yourself, it was the closest to heaven you had ever be. damn max verstappen, damn him. you slowed your pace down and got fully off of his face before you got into bed.

he wiped his face with his hand and tried to go in for a kiss, but you put a hand over his mouth. you looked at him dead in the eyes. he looked at you quizzically.

"oh, you're not shutting me up until i can make you squirm with my words, verstappen. now get yourself hard again, i'm not done with you." <3

[melosliving]

I have a request. First real hook up session with Aaron. Just sexy sexy making out, grabbing and etc. Both breathless. Nothing much

so sorry for the delay !!!! I felt free to begin the ask with an argument, I hope you’ll like it bb !

Aaron pierre x reader

warnings : argument, heavy make out session, sexy sexy

The argument had been brewing all day, and you’d finally had enough. Aaron leaned against the counter, his broad shoulders tense, arms crossed, jaw clenched so tight it looked like it might crack. He hadn’t said much during dinner, just short responses and sharp glances, and you could only take so much of the passive-aggressive energy.

“Do you have a problem, Aaron?” you snapped, slamming the cabinet door shut after grabbing a glass. You filled it with water, taking a moment to steady yourself before you turned to face him. “You’ve been in a mood all damn day. If something’s wrong, just say it.”

He scoffed, a short, humorless sound that immediately set your teeth on edge. “It’s Aaron now ? It’s not like you’d actually listen, though, is it?” His British accent made the words sound calm on the surface, but the sharp edge in his tone cut deep.

You froze, your glass pausing halfway to your lips. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means exactly what I said,” he bit out, his eyes narrowing as they met yours. “You’re always so quick to jump in with your opinions. Can’t ever just let me talk without getting defensive.”

A bitter laugh escaped your throat before you could stop it. “Defensive? Aaron, you barely talk at all. You shut down, brood, and act like I’m supposed to read your damn mind. And I’m the problem?”

“Because every time I try to tell you something, you act like it’s my fault for even bringing it up!” His voice rose slightly as he pushed off the counter, his tall frame towering over you now. “It’s exhausting. I’m trying to have a real conversation with someone who won’t even meet me halfway.”

Wow. Your eyebrows shot up, your anger rising with every word. “Meet you halfway?” You slammed the glass down on the counter. “You never say what’s on your mind, Aaron! You hold everything in, and then when you finally let it out, you act like you’re doing me a favor.”

“And you don’t make it easy!” he shot back, stepping closer. The heat in his voice was matched by the intensity in his eyes. “Every time we argue, it’s like you’re trying to win. You don’t even stop to think about what I’m saying. It’s always about proving a point with you.”

“Because you make me feel like I have*to,” you fired back, the words coming faster now, fueled by the frustration bubbling over. “You walk around with this whole ‘I’m too cool to care’ act, and then the second I call you out on it, you flip the script and make it about me!”

His nostrils flared, his chest rising and falling as he stared you down. The air between you was thick, electric, like a storm about to break. “You think I don’t care?” he said quietly, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I’m just walking around here not giving a shit about you, about us?”

“You sure as hell don’t act like it!” you shot back, your voice trembling now. “Half the time, I don’t even know what you’re thinking. You just shut me out, Aaron. And then you stand there and blame me for not knowing what’s going on with you.” There was a long pause, the two of you locked in a silent standoff. His jaw ticked as he stared at you, and you could feel your pulse pounding in your ears.

“You drive me mad,” he said finally, his voice rough. He took a slow step forward, his eyes locked on yours. “You push every single one of my buttons, and then you wonder why I can’t just sit here and smile like everything’s fine.”

“Maybe if you didn’t bottle everything up until you exploded, we wouldn’t have to argue like this,” you shot back, but your voice lacked the venom it had before. His presence was overwhelming, his warmth radiating off him as he closed the space between you.

“And maybe,” he said, his voice dropping to a murmur as he stepped closer, “if you stopped trying to control every damn thing, you’d see how much I’m trying.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could get a single word out, his hands were on your waist, pulling you into him as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was hard, almost bruising, and it stole the breath right out of your lungs.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard, but then your body melted into his. Your hands gripped the front of his shirt, tugging him closer as the kiss deepened. His tongue slid against yours, hot and demanding, and a low groan rumbled in his chest when you tugged on his curls.

His hands slid down your waist to your hips, gripping tightly as he backed you against the counter. His body pressed firmly against yours, and you could feel the heat of him, the hard lines of his chest and the way his muscles tensed under your touch.

“Baby,” you whispered when his lips left yours to trail down your jaw and to your neck. The soft scrape of his beard sent a shiver down your spine, and your head tilted back, giving him more access.

“I’m baby again now ? What do you want ?” he murmured against your skin, his hands slipping beneath your shirt to grip the bare skin of your waist. His thumbs stroked slow, teasing circles, and your breath hitched as you arched into him. “We’re still arguing,” you managed, though your voice came out shaky.

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rough in your ear. “Doesn’t feel like it,” he muttered, his lips brushing against the sensitive spot just below your ear before biting down gently.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he lifted you onto the counter, his body slotting between your legs. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing your legs apart as his lips found yours again, this time slower, deeper, like he had all the time in the world.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard, his forehead resting against yours. His hands stayed on your thighs, warm and steady, grounding you.

“You make me crazy,” he admitted, his voice soft but raw. “You’re the one making me crazy,” you shot back, though your voice had no heat left.

His lips twitched into a small smile, his teeth still appearing as he leaned in, his breath brushing against your lips. “Guess we’re both mad, then.”

And as his lips met yours again, softer this time but no less consuming, the tension between you melted away, leaving only the heat of the moment and the undeniable pull between you.

@ melosliving 2025

[ippipo]

self aware caleb

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | slight smut chapter

it's been around a month now.

you come back home from a long day and open the game immediately, wanting to talk to your now self aware.....friend? what is he? whatever. to caleb.

"hey, y/n," he greets you blankly. something about him seemed off though, a little speck of anger looming over his face. "what's wrong? you look annoyed," you point out.

"the storyline just doesn't make sense! why did they make me so weird and creepy?" he whines, making you laugh. "i found you a little hot because of it but yeah, you were......well," you scratch your nape with an apologetic smile.

"you need some help if you find that hot," he states making you snort. "say, why'd you pick this game?" he asks you.

"just wanted to feel less lonely and now i gush over five hot guys," you respond with a little shame in your tone. "pick one," he demands scrutinizingly.

"hmm..." you pretend to think for a while just to tease him. your amusement increases when his frown deepens. "definitely not you," you answer, the playful tone giving it away. he flicks the screen to show you his disappointment. "such a big liar."

you talked to caleb all night, letting the conversation lead its way to random topics. it was easy and comfortable, not having to restrict or conform yourself to fit into a mold of norms.

"gee, your fingers are so long," you remark absentmindedly. "yeah, you would get a first-hand experience if you were here," he says with a smug smile while remembering that one time he heard you doing.....things, trying to elicit a reaction out of you. "huh?" you let out, dumbfounded. you gasp in realisation of what he meant and your cheeks warm up.

"if you were here, i would've smacked the living shit out of you," you say with a playful threatening tone. "oh, really?" he teases.

"are you seriously doubting my ability to demolish you?" you fake-gasp. "what do ya think, missy?"

"from this day onwards, peasants like you shall not possess the right to freedom of speech, you will only speak when spoken to and the rest of the time, you shall shut the fuck up," you say with an authoritative tone, making him laugh in amusement.

"alright, alright. check your messages," he urges you, snapping his fingers. "huh? in-game chats?" you question, confused at the sudden demand. "no, silly. your actual chats."

you quickly exit the game to check. "do it faster, slowpoke," you hear him say. "you look like an angry hamster right now," he teases you, making you relax your face.

'hey y/n'

'guess who'

you stare at the texts blankly. you blink after a while of silence. "what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fu-" "don't start that again," he interrupts you.

"holy shit, you can text me?" you were so close to hitting yourself in the head. "mhm, just had to work a little harder," he sings.

he pops up onto your screen and you watch him as he shifts from his seat to adjust to a more comfortable position.

"i don't even wanna ask how," you close your eyes and sigh. a little happy, a little exhausted, and very much in need for sleep.

"caleb," you call out. "hm?"

"can you wake me up in an hour? i wish i could talk for longer but i'm so close to passing out and i have to complete some assignments," you request him.

"of course, lemme see your face while you sleep. i'll take pictures and obsess over it creepily for the next ten years so you'll never feel safe again," he says nonchalantly. "that sounds like a dream come true," you remark sarcastically. "that's what they made me to be," his face twists in slight disgust.

he rambles a little longer before finally shutting up when he noticed your drowsy state.

"sleep well, loser," he flicks at the screen. "mhm, g'night," you smile lazily before turning the lights off.

something about you felt liberating to him. after being controlled his entire life by a script, being forced to act clinically insane, a break from it all was what he needed.

he pondered over it after he became self aware. his feelings, that is. for so long, he believed that he loved that girl from his childhood, but the sudden realisation that it was all not in his control brought him more comfort instead of fear.

but the worst part of it all was the attraction he felt towards you. so familiar but so far away from what he would consider knowing someone. he was afraid of what was coming for both of you. if he couldn't control his feelings from spiralling against him, he's unsure if he could make you happy.

"you are really something, huh?" he whispers while staring longingly at your sleeping form in the dark room. he quickly covers his mouth when he hears you shuffling in your sleep. "y/n?" he calls out, wanting to make sure you were asleep. with no response from your side, he sighs in relief.

he doodles random things in his notebook while listening to your soft snores.

he hears the sound of a notification, making him straighten his back in alarm before realising it was on your phone. he notices it was a text from someone.

(an actual conversation between me and my best friend's boyfriend from when we were 15)

ne-andy-thal 👅

baebee

pls answer

our children miss you 🥲

caleb's brows furrow in annoyance. who was this guy and why was he texting you?

you

shes sleeping

ne-andy-thal 👅

gasp.

who is this

my baby done left me

for some dumbass dummy

you

its not what you think

ne-andy-thal 👅

who are you? whats ur name? why are u rextinh from my bbgs phone? fight me

you

im no one. none of your business. because we're studying together. no, i will not fight you dude, i have better things to do.

ne-andy-thal 👅

lame. rude. since when did she get another study buddy. yes, u will, dUdE.

you

im her boyfriend, we've been dating for a year now

caleb laughs to himself at the absurdity of the message. crafting up a lie to make you a little miserable.

ne-andy-thal 👅

GASP.

WHY DIDNT DHE TELL ME

SHE WONT ESCAPE ME AFTER THIS

you

your baby done left you

ne-andy-thal 👅

OH NO YOU DID NOT

you

oh yes i did

ne-andy-thal 👅

THATS IT, IM ON MY WAY

caleb panics at the text and quickly comes up with something else.

you

we are at my house

no point in going to hers

ne-andy-thal 👅

FINE. SHES GON GET IT TOMORROW

you

😵

he gets off the app, feeling bad for putting you in trouble.

"wake up, sleepyhead," he calls out after realising an hour had passed already. you groan and shift from your position. "five more minutes....please," you whine softly. 'adorable,' he thought to himself.

"your friend texted you, and i might have caused some trouble," he says, not even a single hint of regret in his tone. "what?!" you spring up. "i think his name is andy, fun guy," he remarks. you quickly check all the texts and groan.

"caleb! i'm so close to detonating, he's gonna kill me," you whine out. "first human i talked to other than you, worth it," he smirks.

"you have zero sense of boundaries for a game character so handsome, i hate you so much," you say with a frown. "ya think i'm handsome?" you wanted to wipe off that smug grin on his face with a slap.

"please don't do this again, i have no energy to deal with the buttload of questions i'm gonna face tomorrow. like boyfriend, really? is that the most creative thing you could come up with?" you nag him. honestly, it didn't bother you much. it's not like you had a great sense of boundaries either. you kinda may or may not like it when someone's so fully and absolutely involved in every part of your life, or maybe it's the loneliness talking.

"aw, thought you would find it funny. sorry, won't happen again," he says with actual regret laced in his voice. "is it really that serious?"

"no, not really. just- just make sure to speak to people whom i won't have to go through hell with right after," you tell him. "i'll introduce them all to you before you decide you wanna ruin my life."

he snorts before smiling at you. your dishelved hair and slightly puffy face looked adorable to him. he kept staring at you as you moved your phone a little further away to show yourself more to him.

he took in your features, his eyes trailing down from your forehead, to your eyes, to your nose, to your pretty lips that were slightly parted, to your collarbones, and finally stopping at your chest.

his cheeks turned red when he noticed your nipples poking out from your thin shirt. not wanting to oversexualize every part of you, he looked away. but he couldn't help but remember that night, your soft moans echoing through his mind.

it didn't help when you sucked on your lower lip to get rid of the dryness. the boner in his pants was ever so visible now, and you were doing nothing to make the situation better. he groans in discomfort, wanting to get rid of his jeans.

"is everything alright?" you ask him with concern. "oh- yeah, i just stubbed my toe," he quickly replies. you wince at the thought and go back to getting your books out.

"i'll finish my assignments, is it okay if i read my material out loud?" you question him. he looked at you before nodding, noticing how your eyes looked so pretty.

he sneakily removes his pants and boxers, unable to contain his neediness inside. he slowly rubs along his shaft while looking at you intently. oh god, the moment he hears your voice, he couldn't help but remember that night again. he bites his lip, trying not to groan.

his movements accelerate as he imagines your fucked out face, so pliant, just for him. the way he would kill to see you taking all of him inside you, tears staining your cheeks while he goes rouge on your pussy. the thought of you being completely unaware of the sinful thoughts he was having right now made the atmosphere all the more unbearable.

he could imagine your back arching, writhing in pleasure as he pounds into you, hickeys scattered all over your chest. he would take you over and over again until you see stars. he was getting closer and closer to his climax.

just as he was about to cum, you let out an 'ow' when you hit your hand to your desk when you were stretching which sounded awfully similar to a moan, and boy did he cum so hard. thick spurts of white liquid squirted onto his screen, and he felt so dirty. he continued fisting himself, drawing out his orgasm before stopping.

then it dawned upon him the realisation of what he had just done. and he didn't feel a single bit sorry for it. he cleaned everything up, making it seem like he didn't just masturbate looking at you.

[gh0stly-mp3]

ego destruction

sae x gn!reader -> +18

synopsis: sae has been treating you badly, so you decide its time for you to teach him a lesson

warnings: mdni, nsfw, sexual content, mature language, begging, metaphorical degradation?, punishment?, might have grammatical errors

tags: bottom!sae x top!reader, no genitalia mention, not too explicit, sae being sae

a/n: my first time doing nsfw, forgive me if its bad 😓

There was Sae, sitting on the edge of the couch, scrolling through his phone with an impatient flick of his wrist. You, perched on the opposite side of the couch, observed him, your jaw clenching. It had been weeks of this – the short and dry answers, the constant air of superiority.

You were both working on a new project for your house backyard, something that had turn into a frustrating dance of Sae’s dismissive nature. He treated you more like an underling than an equal, his words sharp and clipped, making you feel like you were constantly walking on eggshells.

Tonight, something snapped. You had spent hours perfecting a piece of the project, pouring your heart into it, only for Sae to glance at it dismissively and declare it “ugly.” No explanation, no constructive criticism, just a flat-out rejection that had your blood boiling.

You stood up, the movement sudden enough to make Sae briefly look up from his phone, his brow furrowing slightly. - "Do you need something?" - He asked, his tone dripping with the air of someone interrupted in the middle of something important.

"Yes, Sae," - You responded, your voice low and dangerously calm. - "I need you to stop acting like an arrogant bitch."

Sae’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, the shock quickly replaced by a mask of icy displeasure. - “Excuse me?” - He said.

You walked towards him, and when you reached him, you didn't stop, instead, you pulled him up so abruptly that he stumbled, his phone falling to the floor with a soft thud. His eyes blazed with anger, but you didn't give him time to speak.

They pushed him backwards, forcing him onto the couch, your knee pinning him down. Sae gasped, not in fear, but in furious disbelief. - "What do you think you're doing?" - He growled, his fingers clenching on your arm.

You ignored him. Leaned down, your breath ghosting across his cheek, eyes locked on his. - "You've been treating me like shit, Sae." - You whispered, the soft tone a contrast to the violence of your actions. - "I'm done with it."

You put his hands on top of his head, and with a swift movement, began undoing his belt. Sae’s eyes were wide now, the anger slowly morphing into an unnerving mix of shock and something else...

You peeled his trousers down, your gaze never leaving his eyes. The air in the living room crackled with tension, the silence broken only by your ragged breathing. You didn't need to say anything. Sae understood. He understood with a visceral jolt, the way you meant to take him apart, piece by piece, until nothing remained of his carefully constructed ego.

And then, you were inside him, pushing deep, the initial shock giving way to a building wave of raw, primal sensation. Sae’s hand gripped your shoulder, knuckles white. He fought back, wanting to assert control, to reclaim the dominant position, but you didn't let him.

He started panting, the sounds escaping his throat. He tried to deny what was happening, tried to push them away, but there was a weakness growing within him, a surrender he desperately fought against. He was loving it.

You pushed further, forcing him to acknowledge that, at that moment, you were the one in control, and he felt vulnerable beacause of it. His grip on your shoulder loosened, his head falling back, his lips parted in a moan. The words he'd never say, the admissions he was so stubbornly withholding, were forced out of him with every breath.

"Please... please…" he begged, his voice rough and broken, the arrogance gone replaced by a desperate pleading. His eyes, usually so cold and distant, were wide with a mixture of shock and pleasure. "Don’t…don’t stop. Please…"

You broke him, his ego was shattered, the carefully constructed wall around his heart crumbled. Underneath his hard exterior, there was need, a raw desperation that he couldn’t hide anymore.

You continued, penetrating him relentlessly, your eyes admiring Sae’s face, watching as every layer of his pride was stripped away, leaving behind a vulnerable man. And as you two reached your climaxes, you couldn't help but feel a sense of wicked satisfaction.

The cold, arrogant man was gone, replaced by a broken, pleading mess. It was only then that you understood: Sae’s pride wasn't just a shield; it was a challenge. And you had just won.

[cupcakeslushie]

actually the last ask you answered for kendratello AU got me wondering, how do the boys navigate it if they actually get mad/upset at Donnie about something post-recovery? like obviously in the aftermath they're all going to be as patient with him as they can be, but I'm talking down the line when Donnie has had a lot of healing time. Donnie can definitely be a little shit from time to time, and even unintentionally, four siblings living in the same space are gonna get on each other's nerves.

Are they nervous about getting mad and triggering Donnie again? Do they ever seem like they're being overly patient to the point of condescending in Donnie's POV? (do my questions even make sense lol)

I think far, far, far down the road, Donnie would be the first one to kind of hit a breakthrough and wish to move on. Because for sure, Donnie hates feeling like he’s being condescended to, and once he kinda gets more of himself back, that returns as well.

But when the others are still too worried about upsetting him, Donnie might try to up the obnoxious behavior, to test them. I think the first one to lose control of their tone would probably be Mikey. Leo and Raph are way too paranoid, and used to controlling themselves/holding themselves back—be it, Raph with his anger issues, or Leo with his masks and humor. Meanwhile, Mikey is emotionally empathetic. So if Donnie is trying to be a little shit, Mikey would match him, without even realizing until too late. It would be just a little bit of good natured bullying from Mikey, but it’d still freeze everyone in their tracks. But Donnie would take a deep breath, smile, laugh, and try his best to play up his theatrics like he used to. It’s an awkward stage, for sure. Sometimes Donnie pushes harder than he’s comfortable, and doesn’t realize until one of the brother’s tries to playfully tease back, and he panics. Even just simple snarking can trigger Donnie pretty badly. And sometimes, it feels like he’s is forcing himself to play a character that he only recognizes from vague memories. It’s an act that the family tries to convince Donnie isn’t necessary to force. But Donnie wants that old familiarity, even if he regrets pushing more than he’s ready for. It’s a slow growth of just learning new boundaries and pushing a safe amount from everyone.

But it’s a phase that needs to happen! It’s growing pains to a healthier normal.

[midnightsmusings]

-Kneel, Alpha- Pt. 2

I did it! This was harder than expected, getting the dynamics right with Ghost's reluctance to accept his submission. Nevertheless! Smut is here: (although I apologize I didn't mean for it to be this LONG I just had so much to say about these two)

This is WAY different than the wip I posted so enjoy that as a little peek into how my brain works I guess?

-CW: 18+ MDNI, handjob, top omega Soap, bottom alpha Ghost, Ghost's a little mean to himself

Ghost swallowed, groaning as Soap's hand squeezed. He was waiting for the laughter at the way an alpha was acting needy from an Omega snarling and shouting at him.

Yet when he glanced up after the silence became too agonizing he didn't find disgust. Instead Ghost watched as the realization on Soap's face quickly turned to pure want.

Ghost let out another sound, embarrassingly whinier than the last one as that dark gaze trailed down to his lap. Flushing under his mask Ghost squirmed knowing even through the humiliation and stress of this whole ordeal his pants were still tight. Straining up against the warm palm.

"I can't be anything like what an alphas supposed to be" Ghost muttered through a clenched jaw. Still trying to save face even with the omega's hand squeezing his clothed cock. His voice was tight as everything he'd been holding back was now out. Ghost felt flayed open and exposed now, seen as the sorry excuse for an alpha he was.

"You're everything I want in an alpha ye old fashioned git" Soap finally said, his own voice lowered and equally strained. This was how Ghost chose to explain? Make him feel up his bulge? God Soap was hopelessly in love with him.

Soap couldn't resist giving another squeeze, just to hear that low groan again, to see those eyes roll and feel Ghost's length twitch.

"Ye think..after a life of me being told to quiet down, to be more submissive I'd fall for a partner who would want ta' tell me the same thing?"

Soap sighs fondly, anger flooding out of him. He figured the man brushing him off was another part of that front he put up, gruff and unapproachable. Figured Ghost was wary of letting his guard down after the shit he's been through. Soap never guessed it was because the alpha would melt so easily at a sharp tone and a some rough handling. Would hate that side of himself.

Soap knew a talk needed to happen. The stubborn alpha wasn't in a place to voice his wants, probably wouldn't be without a lot of work.

So, he leaned back and lifted his hand off the cock that was just begging to be rubbed raw. Soap's own length hardening at the low pained whine Ghost let out from the full loss of touch.

"Och I know" he cooed sweet and teasing at the halfhearted glare sent his way before turning more serious, gaze sharpening and taking in each minuscule reaction.

"Now yer gonna go shut and lock that door" Soap said with a commanding tilt as he jerked his head towards the still wide open door of Ghost's office.

Ghost sat, mind whirling as he looked up at Soap, thinking of nothing but his ache for relief and the man's commanding tone. Eventually his mind cleared in understanding.

It was an out. Soap was giving him an out.

A subtle one, but one nonetheless.

Ghost stood and walked stiffly to the door, body tense warring with himself between using this option and walking out that door...or shutting it and accepting he was a soft and shite alpha.

Soap watched with bated breath as Ghost hesitated, gloved hand tight around the knob before the man finally shut the door and locked it with a loud click. Soap watches with a grin as he turned, looking surprisingly bashful.

"Good lad, come sit that pretty arse back down" Soap commanded kicking the chair out towards him with a smirk. His blood was thrumming and scent deepening with arousal at the sight of the large alpha following his orders so well, even if he was still putting up that bratty act.

Ghost let out a soft growl, irritated the way his cheeks heated up at that praise but stomped over. Sure he shut that door, signaled he wanted this but that didn't mean he could stomach acting like an obedient welp.

"Isn't that what you are though?" His mind helpfully supplied.

As soon as Ghost slumped back in the chair Soap reached his free hand up to grasp his angled jaw, tugging at the fabric of his mask.

Ghost felt the fabric sliding over his skin, only reacting with a snapping of teeth just shy of Soap's fingers but otherwise letting him tug it up.

He couldn't hide the flush deepening on his half exposed face at Soap's teasing chuckle from his halfhearted attempt.

"Bite me if ye want but I'm fuckn kissing ya" Soap said eyes dark and blood thrumming in his veins.

Ghost paused, cock throbbing as Soap leaned down. The words weren't a growl or a warning, they were said with a casual acceptance that had Ghost melting back into the chair and his scarred lips slipping open in answer.

Soap hummed as the man went pliant under him, soft pants escaping his mouth. Soap didn't actually worry about being bit the closer he got to the Alpha.

He would wear Ghost's teeth marks proudly and knew he was just struggling to accept Soap wanted this. Wanted him

"I'll bite you if you don't kiss me" Ghost grumbled pressing his teeth into Soap's thumb impatiently as the omega just looked.

Ghost was completely undone, aching and getting exactly what he's been missing for so long. At least he would if Soap hurried up.

With a narrowed yet fond gaze Soap finally sealed their lips together and twin groans of relief rang out. They moved together desperately, teeth clashing and desperate sounds being swallowed as Ghost shifted forward in the chair as far as he could. Soap smiled against his lips and pushed him back down, a warning squeeze to his cock as a silent command to stay still.

"Ye didn't think I was holdin back too?" Soap growls against Ghost's mouth once he finally pulls back. He bit at Ghost's notched upper lip before diving in for another sloppy kiss. Soap was more confident now that he's put it all together. Licking into the alphas mouth unashamedly while keeping his grip on Ghost's cock just shy of enough.

"I didn't-you never...fuckn hell" Ghost stumbled over his words, panting and reeling. His mind stuck on the hand torturously squeezing his cock and the tongue in his mouth. His head was blank, any hope of defending his choices going out the window under Soap's ability to make him feel so small.

The scent of the omega was saturated around him, it wasn't like the usual sickly sweet scent that made Ghost's stomach roll. No, Soap's scent was harsh and smoky, like a wildfire.

Soap just chuckled down at the man, delighted to see his walls crumbling.

Instead of going back for more, flooding the alphas mouth with the taste of him Soap stood back up. He stroked Ghost's spit slick lips his fingers. The touch reverent and savoring this moment despite the heat and need thrumming between them.

He felt the clenching of Ghost's jaw, saw the war of emotions in his eyes and decided to keep prodding. Knew it wouldn't end how it did last time based on the length under his palm only getting harder.

"Didnae not think I might be worried an alpha wouldn't want some hardheaded omega who wanted ta take control?"

Those words finally got through to Ghost, his squirming ceasing as he blinked up at the man dumbly for a moment. Soap wanted control?

Ghost groaned a low pained noise at the confirmation. There was still a tinge of irritation in Soap's scent but under that Ghost scented want and desire. His gloved hands clenched on the arm rests of his chair as he took a deep breath in, his hips immediately jerked up into Soap's hand, rocking with intent now.

"Shite-god Johnny" he panted out, eyes lidded as he looked up at Soap. None of his swirling thoughts would it past his clenched teeth.

"I'd give it to you, anything you asked for" he wanted to say, but the words were choked back by another rumbling moan leaving his lips.

Ghost's actions always spoke louder anyways.

Soap just clicked his tongue at the needy motions, his own cock throbbing at the sight the alpha made. Ghost's thighs clenching as he practically humped Soap's hand. While it took a lot of force to take his hand away when all he wanted to do was take, he had to teach a lesson here.

"Ah ah, greedy" he chided, humming at Ghost's irritated growl from the loss of stimulation. He caught Ghost's thick arm as it shot down to his lap, intending to finish what Soap stopped. Soap just shook his head with another click of his tongue.

"Cmon now Ghost, ye gotta start asking for what you want"

Ghost let out a drawn out groan, head dropping back as he keeps getting denied stimulation. He worked his jaw for a moment, fingers trailing up Soap's arm that held his own back from giving himself the relief the omega was drawing out.

"Fuckn 'ell it's been so long just do anything" Ghost got out finally, skin buzzing and flushed hoping desperately that was enough for the touch to resume. He would die before admitting his tone was begging.

"There's a good lad" Soap hummed far too pleased and smug as he pressed a smacking kiss to Ghost's lips.

"We'll work on mannners aye?" Soap chuckled tone full of promise as he tilted his head down at Simon, delighting in the alpha's clear desperation for him. It was heady, having the elusive Ghost groaning under him, hard and dripping.

"Been achin for it huh?" Soap rumbled, hand moving from his arm up to squeeze over his bicep and finally to his neck.

Ghost arched up, nodding desperately along to the man's words and wanting the touch on his neck to tighten, to claim.

However, what came out of his mouth was a shaky, barely convincing rebuttal.

"No, take care of m'self fine" Ghost grunted his head arching into the long fingers sliding under the mask at his nape.

"Oh aye that so?" Soap retorted with that damned teasing and knowing chuckle that had Ghost sure he was going to burst untouched in his pants.

"Go on then, show me how good ya take care of yerself" Soap ordered close to his ear, giving a silent tug to the bottom of his mask but otherwise leaving it alone.

Ghost didn't even hesitate before ripping the fabric off, body shivering at the command and almost completely coming out of his chair to rear up and claim Soap's mouth, silencing the words that had him crumbling too fast.

"Bloody hell stop teasing" Ghost growled and bared his teeth when Soap pulled away again after a lick to his lips, pressing down on his broad shoulders to settle him in the chair again.

"Shh cmon lemme look at ya" Soap huffed grinning at the low guttural whine that left the man's lips as his hand tangled in his blond hair and tugged. "There's my bonnie alpha" Soap cooed eyes raking over Ghost's face unabashedly, watching how the pretty flush over his cheeks highlighted the various scars cutting through the pale skin.

Soap wanted to lavish each deep mark on his body with a kiss. Ached to replace each memory of pain with the softness of his lips and gentle nips of his teeth as he left his own loving mark over them. Ghost shifted in his chair, growing impatient as his hips twitched up in need. He felt fuzzy at the way Soap was holding his chin tight, casually staring at him as long as he wanted.

Usually it would make Ghost's skin crawl but right now he just felt..adored. It was a feeling an alpha should balk at, should puff up at but instead it made Ghost melt a little. He yearned for this, to be lavished with attention and praise.

Ghost's gloved hands trailed mindlessly down to his lap, a gruff moan slipping past his parted lips as he finally pressed into the bulge there but didn't allow himself to go any further, instead looked up at Soap with wide, pleading eyes. He wouldn't, couldn't ask for permission but needed it all the same.

"There's a lad go on" Soap urged, drinking in that desperate and needy gaze. It took a lot of restraint to not wrap his own hand around the red and pulsing cock as Ghost finally undid his pants, both of them groaning as it was freed.

Even for an alpha Ghost was big, uncut and twitching. Ghost wrapped a gloved hand around the base, as he squeezed his head fell back against the chair. Eyes shutting tight with a choked off moan.

"Steamin' Jesus beautiful fuckn' thing look at you" Soap groaned stepping even closer into the alpha's space, forcing his thick thighs open and tightening his hold in his blond hair.

Soap's eyes were stuck on Ghost's cock, the way it leaked with each upstroke of his hand, still gloved and surly adding a rough texture that Ghost didn't seem to mind.

The prominent vein along the bottom just begging to be licked. Soap's mouth watered, he was transfixed and utterly gone.

Ghost was reduced to pants and moans, words gone to him as he kept his eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to acknowledge the omega standing over him, praising him, fuck guiding him through this.

His hips jerked up as Soap's words kept tumbling out of his lips, hand tugging his hair and forcing his head back up for a kiss that was all teeth.

Ghost knew he shouldn't like this. Shouldn't be leaking precum like an omega leaking slick at being under Soap's control but here he was, already on the edge after just a few strokes and growled commands.

"Soap fuck-I'm gonna" Ghost gasped, words cutting off with a choked moan as the omega slid from his wide open lips to his neck, harsh bites combined with soft kisses were making him dizzy and Ghost shuddered as his knot grew. Pulsing and an angry red.

"Tha's a good alpha, now cum for me" Soap said with a commanding growl. Ghost shook his head for a moment, a low hesitant whine leaving his lips as he struggled against the overwhelming rush of pleasure.

The second he spilled over this would become all too real. Soap stoked this side of him, the side he's been ignoring for decades and Ghost wasn't sure how to just let it happen.

"Be good and cum" Soap rumbled. He noticed Ghost getting lost in his head and that wouldn't do.

He reached down, wrapping his calloused hand around the alpha's pulsing knot and squeezed, relishing in the snarling moan Ghost let out.

Ghost's orgasm was wrenched from him as soon as Soap touched his cock. Their hands bumping as Ghost's worked furiously now, immediately responding to Soap's demand.

Ropes of cum landed on the front of Soap's pants embarrassingly fast. Ghost worked himself through it, panting heavily and open mouthed, the orgasm feeling like it lasted hours as cum steadily leaked out.

He'd never had such a satisfying release, his body slumping boneless in the chair and face nuzzling into the omegas neck after finally softening.

"Bonnie thing ye are, how copy?" Soap murmured tone soft as he guided his face out of his neck, gaze raking over him and taking in his lax posture. The alpha flushed and looking fucked out.

Soap felt pride surge through him, reducing Ghost to this with barely a touch had him clutching the man tighter. Determined to never let him go now.

Ghost couldn't get words out, simply pressed a tired kiss to Soap's wrist that was near his face, the omega's hand still holding his hair in a grounding grip.

Soap hummed, smile turning soft as he stroked the sweaty strands away from Ghost's forehead, leaning down and running his nose from cheek to neck and back, scent marking him greedily.

"Theres a good boy under all that growlin aye?" He teased softly before leaning back to gently tuck him back into his pants, shushing his overstimulated growls.

Ghost just watched with lidded eyes as Soap grabbed his hand and licked his glove clean of the cum. Ghost was sure if he didn't just have his soul drained out of him, he'd cum again from the sight.

"Shite I think love you I love you I-" Ghosts brain chanted like a broken record as he watched Soap's soft lips suck over his thumb, the leather shiny with spit now.

"Up ye get Ghost, we're gonna get clean 'n talk" Soap said after a moment of them basking in the silence and the scent of their combined desire. He pat Ghost's thigh expectantly.

Ghost quickly took his silent declaration of love back and narrowed his eyes up at the omega with a grumble, refusing to move and espically refusing to talk.

"No" he grunted simply sitting and admiring the sight of his cum staining Soap's own pants, the man would smell like him for a while now.

Soap let out a huff, hand tangling roughly in the back of his hair and forcing his gaze up at him.

"Yes or yer not cummin for a week" he retorted sternly with a raised eyebrow and well-

Ghost immediately stood up on shaky legs and followed.

Taglist <3 : @toons-boop-boop

[suempu]

caleb blurbs because this text has me twirling my hair

-> minor spoilers for his interactions, jealousy (is it really a surprise atp lol), he's a bit petty, typical yandere caleb -> no pronouns used for the reader, not proofread (scratches head)

<3

yeah you might think he’s some kind of mean hard dom 24/7 (and he’s definitely capable of that based on the situation) but first and foremost, all he wants is to good for you.

caleb’s always been a giver. he’s someone you’ve relied on ever since you were both young and he’d be damned if you ever stopped coming to him for help.

he wants to drink your tears, eat your skin, and live from each beat and pump of your heart. everything about you consumes him, you're his entire world— of course he'd do anything and everything for you.

from every miniscule muscle twitch of your face, he can read and dissect whatever you're feeling and thinking. he prides himself in knowing about your wants and needs.

so how would he feel when he finds you strolling around Linkon with what looks like if a bunny grew human legs. he feels a twitch in his eye.

or when he hears your heartfelt laughter in Meows Cafe with a suspicious looking man with platinum hair, who looks far too serious to be caught in such a cutesy place. his hand curls into a knuckle, eager to interrupt your outing where it not for the look of your face. and for the fact that he died.

it happens numerous times, different occasions of him spotting you in the most random locations. his squad member talking about a recent gallery of her favorite artist, caleb's about to tell her off about work until he catches the sight of your figure on the photo of her phone.

caleb's shaking his head with a frown. he's gone. he's been dead for a year... and he finds out you've been frolicking the fields with these men. holding hands with these people as if his fake body wasn't buried deep into the ground of the cemetery you visit each week.

post homecoming wings, he's crashing the party no matter the place and time. he keeps up the charming and boyish, childhood best friend act and tries to compete with the others. he does not give a fuck, he'll do what it takes to make you realize that he's much more capable than your replacements.

"oh, and who might this be?" his smile is so shiny and bright as if his chest isn't bubbling with anger. caleb traps you with a side hug, arms resting against your shoulder. "don't remember you introducing this face to me yet, sweets."

you'd have to drag him away after that, nagging when you get home that he couldn't just try and intimidate every person he sees you hang out with.

he's crossing his arms, watching you pace around your apartment with a sour look on your face. he only smiles condescendingly.

"come on, they aren't even all that. its not that big of a deal, pip. if he can't handle it then.... i guess he's just not good for you."

he's gonna downplay shit while wearing the most trustworthy smile ever and you're not stupid enough to believe half of the stuff he's saying, leading to squabbles.

but if caleb's being honest... he loves that you're fighting back. it reminds him of your childhood arguments and he's relishing in every moment he can spend with you.

he's too proud and sure that your rightful place is in his arms. he's not even worried that you're defying him. that's how big his head is, he's not even worried. (spoiler, he is very worried.)

"hey, come over to mine, i cooked your favorite ;)"

throughout the meal, he'll act like a mom chastising your boyfriends. always criticizing them, questioning their motives. you huff and puff, defending your... friends(?) with a determined look on your face.

caleb reaches a hand out and wipes the corner of your lip. "got a lil somethin' there, sweets." he murmurs before licking his finger off, maintaining eye contact. "they take care of you right?" he half chuckles— half scoffs. "bet they don't even know how you like your food prepared." "caleb..."

but no matter, he'll let you spread your wings, run around with these boys to god knows where. he'll cement his place in your life, being with you ever since you've been kids, and the heavens will have to drag his bones to get him away from you.

you'll understand soon enough that in the end— its always and only going to be him.

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - There's 3 Good Shows Holding a Ton of BL Cr*p on their Shoulders

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Jan 2025 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Your Sky (Sun iQIYI) ep 10 of 12 - So darn adorable1 I love the whole shopping trip thing: Mom out with the gay boys is great.

GIVE ME MOAR OF LEE AND HIS PHI. Pretty please?

ThamePo (Fri YT) ep 7 of 12 - I love the way Thame is basically like, in my head we are totally dating and acts that way with Po. Yet he hasn't actually discussed it with the poor man. Thame is such a pouty babygirl. Jun is a little shit. All in all, this installment was a little slow but I remain charmed. 

The Boy Next World (Sun IQIYI) ep 3 of 10 - I’m actually quite enjoying this. I really do just wanna spend most of my time with this pair watching them kiss (please don't make Noeul act mmm'kay?). So I’m really glad we’re on episode three and the show seems invested in supplying us with kisses already. Thank goodness.  

The Heart Killers (Weds Gaga) ep 9 of 12 - mostly I just feel sorry for Fadel. boy is so tired of everybody else’s gay drama queening. 

Perfect 10 Liners (Sun YT) ep 13 of 24 - I actually like how they are portraying Yotha’s character in this (with relation to his mother). It’s pretty authentic to that kind of situation and personality type, I enjoy that. I also like that Wa dumped Klao for being too jealous. good healthy decision, should have stayed that way.

Sangmin Dinneaw (Sun iQIYI) ep 4 of 10 - it just keeps moving through absurdist and ridiculous to gratuitously sexual to mind numbingly dull. I never know where I am with this show. At least it’s not boring... until it so much is. Also my cancer danger signaling is going off hard core. Beware.

I'm like one of those dogs that can sense and epileptic fit, only for death in BL.

Flirt Milk (Sat YT) ep 1 or 10 - Star hunter is back this time with terrible facial hair. I’m putting it on the no fly list right up there with wigs. Apparently Thailand and fake hair are mutually exclusive. The lead ingenue looks a little bit like Yim, and I think they mean to give him a similar personality to Yim’s usual characters, but frankly I found him insipid, dim, and boring. Literally every other surrounding character and couple-to-be is more interesting than the mains. The linguistic bit was cute tho. 

Ossan‘s Love Thailand (Mon YouTube) ep 3 of 12 - heavy sigh.

Fourever You (Thurs YT) ep 17 end? - supposedly still coming

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

When it Rains it Pours (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 2-3 of 10 - I’m enjoying these second 2 eps a lot better than the first ep. It’s leaning into the premise and I like a quazi Cyrano de Bergerac thing. It’s got that chewy Japanese “who knows where this is going?” seasoning. But one thing we can be sure of is Japan can always veer sideways given the right pothole. Or should I say plothole? Anygay, I like the way they’re different with each other via text than in person, I like that we’ve already had some language discussion and negotiation, I like the cool banter between these men. And they are men. I like how very adult this is. I’m interested to see where it’s going. Color me suitably intrigued, in a refined manner.

Eternal Butler (Taiwan Fri Gaga) eps 7 of 12 - Ooo I love the side couple!!!! They are soooooo cute. Kissing to seal a debt? Adorable. Also, yes please keep Ever 4 shirtless forever. I applaud his design, functionality, ans aesthetic choice. Rah rah rah. More manual labor in BL! Pun intended.

Impression of Youth (Taiwan Weds Viki) eps 3 of 9 - I like the secondary couple a lot more than the primary. Shocker.

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YT) ep 16 of ?? - I bit the bullet and finally watched the 2 parts. It really did not need to occupy that much of my time. I did watch it on 1.5, which is not normally what I do with foreign language shows, but I’ve lost patience with this damn thing. I didn’t actually mind the student teacher side pairing, I didn’t like it either. I thought this was the final episode, and then I saw that there was an 2 part ep 17 announced. So i guess not. Have mercy.

Oh yeah and trigger warning all round.

It's airing but......

I Will Turn Back Time (China Gaga) 6 eps - It’s Chinese, no idea if it will end well or not. But it’s the stepbrothers trope. Still, I’m not gonna watch it until it’s done.

Winter Is Not The Death of Summer (Thai) - It's done. Did anyway watch it? Thoughts?

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Love a lift and kiss. Show me your muscles by picking another boy up and smooching him silly. (Your Sky)

(last week)

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

[mimi-fy]

Why these scenes are so important to understand the relationship between j*mmy and curly

(Ik the quality is shit, sue me.)

In another theory i wrote there is a re-up game of mouthwashing called how fish is made, there is a special relationship between a fish and a parasite. There is a dying fish as seen above, the thing in its mouth isn’t its tounge it’s a louse. The dying fish being curly and the louse being jimmy, what the louse does is that it attaches itself to a fish. It eats away the fishes tongue and becomes the new tongue for the fish, it basically now freeloads off the fish. Eating all of the food for the fish and leaving only scraps for the main body/fish to eat causing the fish to slowly die. This can easily be interpreted as the true friendship of curly and jimmy. Curly is responsible has good reputation, got the job for jimmy, but jimmy just freeloads off of curly. And takes advantage of the fact that they’ve known each other for along time. Jimmy becomes curlys tongue because jimmy can easily manipulate curly and put words in his mouth, his manipulation is proved successful when curly still trusts him after what jimmy did, and trusts him to take care of it. Jimmy becomes curlys new tongue after curly is unable to be captain. He puts words in curlys mouth and gives the words to others ‘hes the one who crashed the ship’ ‘he’d want me to be captain’ so jimmy steps in as captain. But hes just a tongue, hes all say and no do. And the things he says are horrible and not even kind or comforting to anyone. The fish and parasite are seen as friends and go way back (said by the parasite) that the parasite ate his tounge and they’ve been coworkers ever since. Also jimmy and curly have known each other for a lengthy time. The eating of another tongue, can mean that the parasite now acts for the body that the parasite is incharge and the fish doesn’t know it. Meaning that, jimmy is incharge, its jimmy world and not curlys. This is a very logical relationship as we get a scene where we are crawling through curlys mouth, meaning that we (jimmy) are a parasite that latched onto curlys mouth and have came out after along time. To the point where jimmy has ruined his mouth and curly can no longer talk or choose something for himself. He has came out to finally take charge and responsibility and can no longer free load. He came out and now sees the rotting corpse of the fish (rotting body of curly) and sees how he deprived curly, how he caused this. So why did Jimmy become curlys ‘tongue’? At the end of the first part of how fish is made we get a unique dialogue that can be assumed as jimmy talking. ‘I always hated hearing.(jimmy)’ ‘Alot of people are going through the same thing. You’re not alone.(curly)’This is possible that curly is comforting jimmy after jimmy committed a crime/has addiction problems. To which jimmy replies ‘no! My pain is more tragic, grander! Deeper! If only you knew.’ Jimmy acting like a victim. Then follows up in his own head or in voice ‘that’s not true of course. I hate talking about it. Because i hate people who talk about it. And that’s not very nice, that’s not okay, that’s not how you can be about all this (this crime or mistakes)’ jimmy hates people who talks about his mistakes. That can be curly. Curly knows about jimmys mistakes but still sees him as his friend. But curly comforts him and talks to him about it to which jimmy hates. So jimmy uses it to his advantage and acts like a victim, clinging to curly. And curly who feels too bad to let him go after seeing jimmys ‘struggle of a life’. Jimmy became curlys tongue, so curly couldn’t speak about his mistakes. To also take power over others and make curly take responsibility instead of jimmy taking responsibility. Which explains why he snaps as curly can no longer take charge for him after the crash.

Edit! This theory can be really back up because at the party scene jimmy is seen putting words in curlys mouth when he says that hes trying to leave them behind in the dirt but that’s not what curly meant at all but jimmy was just putting bs in curlys mouth acting like his tongue.

Thx for reading if you like my content i have another analysis’s about the connection from how fish is made to mouthwash down bellow! (The ending also mentioned something about a usp but i cant find out what i stands for)

[echo-riot]

✞⛧ 3 A.M. Ramen and window brake-ins (Loser!Ellie x reader) ✞⛧

Warnings: Mild language, Break-ins via window (Ellie-style), Excessive amounts of clingy girlfriend energy

The sound of a thud against your window makes you nearly choke on your ramen. Your heart jumps into your throat as you freeze, the warm noodles halfway to your mouth. For a second, you convince yourself it’s just the wind or maybe a stray branch brushing the glass—but then you hear it again. A soft, deliberate tap, too rhythmic to be random.

Grabbing your phone, fingers trembling slightly, you inch toward the window. Your room is dimly lit, your bedroom TV softly playing one of MoistCr1TiKaL’s streams, but the shadows outside make it impossible to see clearly. You pull back the curtain just enough to peek out, and your breath catches in your throat.

There she is. Ellie Williams, your disaster of a girlfriend, crouched on the roof outside your window, her face illuminated by the faint glow from your lamp. She looks cold, wearing that same ratty hoodie she always wears, her hair a mess, and her expression somewhere between sheepish and guilty.

“What the fuck, Ellie?!” you whisper-yell, sliding the window open just enough for her to hear you. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Her lips quirk into a half-smile, and she rubs the back of her neck, her other hand clutching the window frame to keep her balance. “Hey… uh, surprise?”

You step aside, exasperated, and motion for her to come in. “It’s 3 a.m.,” you hiss as she hoists herself through the window, nearly knocking over your lamp in the process.

“I know, I know,” she says quickly, brushing off her jeans and shoving her hands into her hoodie pocket. “I just… I couldn’t sleep. I missed you, and I was lonely. So, here I am.”

Your irritation softens as you take her in—her slouched posture, the way she’s avoiding your gaze like she’s not sure if you’re mad or just tired. It’s impossible to stay annoyed when she looks so earnest, like she couldn’t help but show up. It’s so Ellie to pull something like this, to act on impulse and throw logic out the window (literally).

You narrow your eyes at her, but your lips twitch into a small smile. “Next time, maybe text me instead of scaring the shit out of me,” you mutter, turning back to your bed and plopping down with your ramen.

Ellie steps closer, glancing at the TV where MoistCr1TiKaL’s familiar voice fills the room, then at the steaming cup of noodles in your hands. Her eyebrows raise, a teasing smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Ramen at 3 a.m., huh? Bold choice.”

You roll your eyes, twirling your fork in the broth. “Bolder than climbing through someone’s window uninvited.” You pause, holding out the fork to her. “Here. Since you’re already here, might as well share.”

Her eyes light up as she takes the fork from you, leaning in to steal a bite. “Thanks, babe,” she mumbles around a mouthful of noodles, flopping onto the bed beside you.

Before long, Ellie’s stretched out on her back, her head resting in your lap. Her legs dangle off the edge of your bed, and her fingers toy absentmindedly with a loose thread on her hoodie. The stream plays in the background, but you can tell her focus isn’t really on it. She’s quiet, more than usual, her gaze fixed somewhere near your TV but unfocused.

Your fingers find their way to her hair, combing through the messy auburn strands. She lets out a soft sigh, her body sinking further into the mattress as her eyes flutter shut.

“You’re the best, you know that?” she murmurs, her voice low and a little raspy from the cold outside.

“Damn right I am,” you reply, a playful smirk tugging at your lips as you twirl another forkful of noodles.

Ellie chuckles, a quiet sound that makes your chest feel warm. She shifts closer, her arm draping over your waist as her other hand rests lightly against your thigh. The weight of her is comforting, grounding, and you can’t help but smile down at her.

“Sorry for scaring you,” she says after a moment, her voice softer now, almost hesitant. “I just… I don’t know. I needed to see you.”

You pause, glancing down at her. There’s something vulnerable in the way she says it, like she’s worried it’s too much or too clingy.

“I’m glad you’re here,” you say quietly, your fingers still threading through her hair.

Her lips twitch into a small, grateful smile, and she nuzzles closer, her cheek pressing against your thigh. The stream continues playing in the background, but neither of you is paying attention anymore. You lean back against the pillows, the warmth of Ellie’s body against yours and the soft sound of her breathing making the late hour feel a little less lonely.

And as her grip on your waist tightens just slightly, like she’s holding onto you in her sleep, you think to yourself that maybe she wasn’t the only one who needed this.

[lesbianalanwake]

Severance S2E2:

--holy shit. I see why the season is 10 episodes instead of 9. two episodes to resolve the S1 finale and wind up to the pitch. there was so much legwork in this episode, and so much tension that I could barely sit still.

--I hope they paid Milchick a big overtime bonus in addition to his new salary!!! man did all that in 48 hours!!!

--Mark and Devon.... Mark being in denial about the possibility that Mark S could have been talking about Gemma, when we later see that it's been weighing on him heavily and he needed to talk to Cobel to confront it. it's such a small, small hope.... if he believes in the possibility that Gemma is alive, and it turns out that she is not, it would destroy him completely, and he's already come so close to destroying himself while grieving the first time. but Devon! Devon is so sharp! she knows her brother, and she glimpsed a younger, lighter version of her brother that she hasn't seen in a long time, and she clocked his tone and body language and everything about the situation correctly! and she can't live with the unanswered question of whether Gemma could be alive, because she misses her sister-in-law and misses who her brother used to be! she can't stop thinking about it while Mark is doing everything in his power to not think about it! aaaaah!

--Cobel bookending this episode by being as unhinged and mysterious as ever. we don't even know if she accepted the advisory council position! what is she up to! the final scene is so fucking good because I was like "I bet she's thinking about hitting Mark with her car," and then she screams like a bat out of hell and almost does just that LMAO. and she's still telling him to quit, even though Lumon is doing something significant with Gemma and "Cold Harbor," enough that they need Mark back to finish it, and Cobel knows what it is and wants something from it, and now Mark knows for sure that Gemma is alive because he needed to look Cobel in the eye and ask. I love their weird fucking dynamic. she's so fucking mad at Lumon, but maybe cares about Mark in her own unhinged way?? and his feelings were HURT that she lied to him because he went straight for the only thing that could maybe hurt her feelings a little bit in turn ("I ate your shitty fucking cookies").

--makes me hope that Cobel gets a "villain turned weird ally" arc, and that Milchick is right behind her, because he's already getting a taste of how thankless the severed floor manager position is, getting no guidance beyond "let Kier guide your heart" and having to defend the feat he managed to pull together in 48 hours.

--which brings me to: HELENA. HELENAAA. class traitor arc INCOMING. the "behind the scenes" bit reinforced this too: she is living in a gilded cage (the shot of her on the top floor with the windows acting as bars!) and seeing that her innie of all people gets affection and respect in a way that she never has, and she is enthralled. you can do it baby! I hope you kill your dad!

- I'm glad they clarified that the correct term for complex innie/outie romantic dynamics is "throuple" because Mark/Helly is finally compelling. by itself = eh. as part of Helena's development and possibly some kind of villainous fixation that can't possibly end well no matter how you slice it because Mark/Mark S is also going through a throuple thing with his dead wife who is actually alive, and don't think I've forgotten whatever thing that Helena and Milchick had going on in S1 (which is the only thing I was missing from this ep and hope they revisit) = now we're cooking with gas. not to mention Burt spying on Irving! throuples for days.

--tentatively believing that it really is Helena down there, and they sent her to play the part of Helly R to keep Mark complacent so that Cold Harbor gets finished, because Helly is too much of an unpredictable wild card but Helena is controllable (for now!). which would add another juicy flavor to Mark/Helly. they really did it, they really made the ship pop.

--it is so, so compelling how innies/outies are opposites. Helly is bold and rebellious, Helena is calm and subservient. Mark S is sweet and mild-mannered, Mark is cold and sarcastic. Dylan G is confident and driven, Dylan George is nervous and hesitant. Irving B is obedient and proper, Irving Bailiff is defiant and unconventional. and yet! bits of the other shine through, and we see it more and more, and they're slowly but surely on a collision course.

--the Good Doors interviewer says "you remind me of myself" and looks like Dylan, and I love this show because I can't tell if it's to continue the visual motif of doubling/reflections and show a "what could have been" path for Dylan, or if it's because there is truly something FUCKED going on across this whole town. or both.

--Lumon is in such a precarious position. they're a major global corporation, and they have politicians in their pocket, but there is also a lot of hostility and mistrust from the general public, enough to make a severed employee unhireable. (which further entraps their employees and keeps them dependent on Lumon.... Dylan. 😭) Lumon has to walk a fine line to continue, uh, whatever it is they're doing, without turning the public against them in a way that they couldn't recover from, hence the placating attempts at damage control. but all it would take would be a sufficiently strong spark to light that powder keg.

--because like, man.... I hope Helena and Cobel and Milchick all get their "fuck you Lumon" arcs. god. so many threads poised to unravel out of control and snap with the right push because the line that Lumon is walking is THIN. they do the most to try to control their severed employees, but they seem to take their non-severed employees for granted, and I'm wondering if that will be their undoing.