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zaczenemiji · 5 months ago

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The Winning Pitch

Kenji Sato x Cheerleader!Reader

Synopsis: At college, Kenji Sato gets to know you during your trainings. When the university’s big game approaches, both you and Kenji strive for success in your respective teams. A heartwarming conclusion celebrates both victory and love.

Word Count: 1,975

Author’s Note: Kenji x reader requests are open! ⭑.ᐟ Send them through Ask (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

MASTERLIST

Kenji Sato: student-athlete and campus crush. He’s an aspiring baseball star who was very determined for that title. To add to that, hundreds of girls are pining for him. Which makes you wonder how lucky you were to have landed on this guy.

You guys met at university—in college. It started one sunny day at training. The sports field was wrapped in a golden glow as the sounds of athletes training and cheerleaders practicing filled the air.

Kenji, the star, was in the middle of a batting practice. He was focused, his eyes never leaving the ball as he swung with precision and power.

On the adjacent field, you were rehearsing a new cheerleading routine with your squad. The upcoming game was a big one, and everyone was working hard for it to be perfect.

You were on top of a cheer pyramid when your captain blew her whistle and then clapped her hand. “Almost there!” She said. “We just need to work on the trembling, (y/n).”

With that, the girls on the base helped you get back down on the ground. “And, bases, we need to work on how we’re gonna dismount that,” she added as she watched.

“Alright, team,” she announced once you’ve reached the ground. “Be back after 5 minutes for strength training.”

With that, the team temporarily parted. You walked past others who were doing stretches as you headed toward the drinking fountain.

On your way, your eyes drifted towards the baseball field. There, you saw the face everyone was talking about. You knew Kenji Sato. Who doesn’t? You guys haven’t talked to each other, though.

You watched as he hit another home run, the ball sailing over the fence with ease. Impressed, you found yourself smiling.

Kenji suddenly turned and caught your eye. He smiled back, a little surprised but pleased to see you watching. Suddenly, you see him walking over to where you were.

You felt a soft warmth rise to your cheeks. You quickly turned around to drink at the fountain as you were supposed to.

“Hey there,” Kenji greeted, now standing nearby. You turned the faucet off and wiped your lips before turning. “I’ve seen you around. Cheer squad, right?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “And you’re Kenji Sato, baseball star.” You smiled up at him as you crossed your arms in front of you.

Kenji chuckled. “I wouldn’t say star, but I do my best,” he said. His eyes drifted to look behind you where you began hearing your teammates gasp and squeal.

“You guys look great out there,” he said. “Must be a lot of hard work.”

“It is,” you admitted. “You’re pretty impressive yourself. That last hit was amazing.”

“Thanks,” Kenji said, his smile widening. “Say—“ but before he could continue, you heard your captain call. You looked behind to see your team gathering together.

“Time’s up, Sato,” you looked back and smiled at him. “See you around.” With that, you turned to jog back to training.

But Kenji didn’t leave yet. He stayed to watch a little longer. He saw some of your teammates gather around you squealing and asking you about him. You just gently brushed off their questions as you bent down to do stretches.

Those small talks in between trainings and during breaks became frequent. It had become a familiar scene to both your teams to see you two by the water fountain, chatting.

There are times he’d arrive there before you; and there, he’d wait. Sometimes, he’d be on his phone. Other times, he’d watch you finish your routine from the distance.

As the day of the game was nearing, your practices became more grueling. The captain called for a break and you sighed in relief. You headed over to the fountain to rehydrate as you’ve always done so. However, as you turned it on, no water came out. You turned the handle on and off repeatedly yet nothing changed.

Frustrated, you wiped your forehead. The heat of the afternoon sun clawed on your skin and you felt your throat dry even more. Just as you were about to turn back, you heard a familiar voice behind you.

“Here,” Kenji said, holding out a water bottle.

Surprised but grateful, you smiled and took it. “Thanks, Kenji,” you said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Gotcha,” he said with a wink. “I was here earlier for your short break. However, it seemed like practice is more intense lately and your breaks have been reduced.”

Every day, he did this. He memorized the time of your breaks so he could come over for a chat.

You took a sip of water, feeling the cool liquid refresh you. “Yeah, they are,” you replied. “How’s practice going for you?”

“Well,” he replied, taking a sip from his bottle. “Just working on my swing and some drills.”

You nodded in response before chugging the contents of the bottle down to half. Just then, the captain called for the squad to regroup.

You placed a hand on Kenji’s bicep. “Thanks again for the water,” you smiled, looking up at him. “I’ll see you around.”

You turned to walk back to your team before you could even see the small blush that crept on his face. The same goes for him; he did not see the little grin you had on as you went away.

These small moments with Kenji were becoming the highlights of your day. Each day you grew excited for it and started looking forward to where it could lead.

The next day, you arrived at the field earlier than usual. You found yourself scanning the area to see if Kenji was there early, too.

He was, practicing his swings. He stopped when he saw you. With a grin, he jogged over, holding out another water bottle.

“Just in case the faucet’s still broken,” he said with a wink. You laughed, taking the bottle, “Thanks, Kenji.”

“So hey, uhh,” he said as he did a bit of stretches here and there. “I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime? Maybe grab a coffee or catch a movie?”

You immediately smiled at the invitation. “That sounds nice,” you said. “But how about this? If you win the upcoming game, I’ll go out with you.”

Kenji’s eyes lit up with determination and amusement. “Well then,” he replied. “Better start getting ready for that date then because we’re going to win.”

You grinned, enjoying the playful banter. “We’ll see about that,” you said. “Good luck, Kenji.” You knew Kenji and his team had a good chance. Your squad makes sure you guys have, too.

Counting the time left before the game, the weeks turned to days, to hours, until it was only a matter of seconds before your squad headed out into the field to perform.

The stadium lights blazed brightly. Fans cheered for their respective teams, as the anticipation built.

You stood with your team at the edge of the field, lining up into position as you all waited for the cue to start. One signal from the facilitators and you guys were up and running to the center of the field.

As the music began, you and your squad moved into formation, executing sharp, precise motions in perfect synchronization. The crowd’s cheers grew louder, a testament to the flawless execution you and your team worked tirelessly to achieve. Every jump, every tumble, every lift was met with applause.

Kenji stood with his teammates near the dugout, eyes fixed on you. He watched in awe seeing that your training paid off. He had seen you practice from his spot in the field, but it was truly magical to see you perform under the bright stadium lights.

The music shifted, signaling the climax of your performance. Your team smoothly transitioned to the pyramid. The bases positioned themselves. The middle layer climbed into place. And finally, it was your turn. With a deep breath, you ascended to the top, standing tall and confident.

At that moment, Kenji couldn’t contain his excitement. “Go, (y/n)!” He shouted, rendering his teammates amused. You guys were supposed to cheer for them, not the other way around.

Hearing him, your smile grew bigger. You extended your arms into a high V, holding the pose with perfect balance.

Kenji continued to cheer, his voice carrying over the crowd. “You’re amazing!” He yelled. “Keep it up!”

Just when everyone thought it was done, you transitioned into a heel stretch. The stadium erupted in applause, Kenji’s voice among them.

The captain called for the dismount. With flawless coordination, the pyramid began to lower. You descended gracefully, each layer in perfect harmony until your feet touched the ground.

As the routine was concluded, you and your teammates high-fived and hugged each other. The audience’s applause was deafening.

You glanced towards the dugout, meeting Kenji’s eyes. He was beaming with pride and happiness.

As your team retreated out of the field, you jogged over to him. “That was incredible, (y/n)!” He said enthusiastically. “You guys are amazing!”

Breathlessly, you smiled. “Thanks, Kenji,” you said. “We gave it our all.”

Kenji’s eyes shone with admiration. “That fired me up, (y/n),” he said. For a moment, he cleared his throat. He leaned a little close to whisper, “I hope you’re not forgetting your end of the deal.”

You chuckled at him. “I know you’ll do great, Kenji,” you said. “We’re all cheering for you guys.” You gave a wink before running back to your squad.

Soon after, the game began. As the first pitch was thrown, Kenji stepped up to the plate. He sure was going to win this game tonight.

It had been intense. The scores were close and the stakes were high. Everyone was on the edge of their seats.

Kenji stepped up to the plate, the stadium quieted in anticipation. The opposing pitcher glared, ready to deliver the next pitch. Kenji tightened his grip on the bat, his eyes narrowing as he focused on the ball.

The first pitch flew, a fastball right down the middle. Kenji swung with precision, the bat hitting it with a satisfying crack. The ball soars through the air, heading towards the outfield. The crowd cheered as Kenji sprinted towards first base.

“Go, Kenji!” you shouted from the sidelines.

Kenji’s heart pounded as he rounded first base, watching the outfielders scramble to catch the ball. He approached second base. The ball hit the ground, bouncing past the outfielders, and Kenji knew he had a chance.

“Keep going!” his teammates yelled.

Kenji didn’t hesitate. He sprinted towards third base, his eyes fixed on the coach’s signals. As he neared, the coach signaled him to go for home. He rounded third base, heading for home plate.

The outfielder finally retrieved the ball and threw it toward the infield. Kenji could see the catcher positioning himself, ready to tag him out. He pushed himself harder, sliding into home plate with all his might.

The dust settled, and the umpire’s voice rang out, “Safe!”

The stadium exploded into cheers. Kenji’s teammates rushed towards him, lifting him into the air. He had scored the winning run, securing victory for his team.

As the team celebrated, Kenji’s eyes searched the crowd, finding you among the cheerleaders. You were beaming with joy, cheers echoing through the noise.

The team set Kenji down, and he jogged over to the sidelines. Without a second thought, he pulled you into an embrace.

“You did it, Kenji!” you exclaimed, jumping in his arms. Kenji grinned, his heart still racing. “That was an incredible game! You were so good out there!”

“Thanks, (y/n),” he said, letting go of you. He looked at you with a playful glint in his eyes. “So, how about it?” he asked with a grin. “You, me, and a celebration dinner?”

You smiled warmly, nodding. “I’d love that,” you answered.

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@lostwsoo

#kenji sato x reader #kenji sato #ken sato x reader #ken sato #ultraman: rising #ultraman #fanfiction #oneshot

1K notes · View notes

dumbass-sappho-stan · 6 months ago

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hit first and hit hard || challengers

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ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ: ᴀʀᴛ ᴅᴏɴᴀʟᴅꜱᴏɴ, ᴘᴀᴛʀɪᴄᴋ ᴢᴡᴇɪɢ, ᴛᴀꜱʜɪ ᴅᴜɴᴄᴀɴ

— fem! reader

summary: 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗻𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗶𝗿𝗹𝘀 𝘁𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝘂𝗽𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝘄𝗼 𝘁𝗲𝗻𝗻𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝘀, 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻𝘀 𝗶𝘀 𝗼𝗻𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗴𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝘀 𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗼𝗽𝗵𝘆

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴/𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘶𝘱𝘪𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘴

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ʟɪᴛᴇʀᴀʟʟʏ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛ, ʟɪᴋᴇ, ᴏʀ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴛʀᴜᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴄʀɪᴛɪᴄɪꜱᴍ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ 3 ᴛᴏ 4 ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ ᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪᴛ! ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ɪᴛ!

🇼🇴🇷🇩 🇨🇴🇺🇳🇹: 7.9k

Part Two !!

𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙊𝙣𝙚: 𝙃𝙪𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧 𝙃𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙨

It seemed almost trivial when you'd joined your middle school's tennis team as a favor for a friend. She'd prompted you with positive words and affirmations that it'd "just be for the season" and "for fun". Tennis hadn't even crossed your mind only being mentioned for the celebrity players like Billie Jean King or Andre.... well, they weren't important enough for you to remember them. Or the championship with the silly name, "Wimbledon", at first when you'd learned of it you'd thought it was made up.

But it wasn't and you were set up for tennis during your middle school career. But to the shock of yourself and others—you were a fucking good player. You sailed across the court in "gym shoes" (which were really Converse) and baggy school-issued shorts. Being a twelve-year-old girl running around the court and playing fervently was surely tiring but you worked hard and long, strenuous hours.

Every time you'd trip over yourself trying to catch a ball on the other side of the court, you'd get up. You were determined to be good at something; tennis would be it. You didn't particularly know what fired you to work so hard, especially, at a sport you'd joined as a joke.

It seemed strange but lit a deep fire when you stepped on the concrete court, staring at your opponent standing opposite. The fire nipped at your fingertips when you picked up the heavy racquet and the neon atrocity that was the ball.

It made you feel powerful when you slammed, although not the best serve at first, the ball across the court in a serve that would ensue the rally and the pure enigma that followed—the breath of life that was tennis.

You'd worked pretty hard with your doubles partner, the friend who'd invited you, and you both had managed to snag your state female youth's championships doubles title for ages 12 to 14. To say you were pleased was an understatement, you were thrilled. You'd thrown yourself into the sport for the newfound love of it, and it got your parents off of your ass about joining stupid, fucking 'extracurriculars'.

The year after, you were put into the girl's circuit matches during the year and played throughout. Your intense training paid off so much that you'd shed the doubles-only path and managed to play singles. Somehow, by the chance of something holy, you managed to get to the USTA Girls 14s National Championships just before the start of your freshman year.

𝙎𝘼𝙉 𝘿𝙄𝙀𝙂𝙊, 𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙉𝙄𝘼, 2002

14 years old and deathly terrified, you waltzed to San Diego where you were sure you'd meet your fate (death), to lose to people you were convinced were so much better than you. Even though your love of tennis had thrived, you weren't dumb.

You weren't exactly the richest girl on the block, unlike most tennis players. Tennis, you'd learned that to be extraordinarily good or at least decent, with not a lot of raw talent, required lessons; lessons (the good, professional ones) cost a lot of money. You had benefitted from the fact that your school coach was very dedicated once she'd gauged your true love of the sport and soon forced you into a training routine that you dutifully followed.

But all of that didn't matter as you stepped into the stadium. All that mattered was the talent that you possessed, not the rich girls in their juicy couture, that you wished you could steal off of their bodies, their pristine Nike tennis shoes, or their stupidly expensive tennis outfits. You had yourself and your fabulous Wet Seal white skirt that you'd hand sewn so it looked pleated, sorta.

You walked around the stadium for a while, trying to find the locker room to place your stuff down before your match started. It was against some girl with the sorta name that reminded you of the state of Idaho with how forgetful it was. Nevertheless, you sauntered around the halls until you heard a loud, distracting clamor that came from behind you.

The sound of very loud overlapping voices clouded your mind as they all repeated the same name as if gospel:

𝙏𝙖𝙨𝙝𝙞 𝘿𝙪𝙣𝙘𝙖𝙣

You had turned your head slightly back to be met with a figure. A tall, beautiful girl entered your vision. And that was the beginning of the end for you.

She walked down the hallway with the entourage of players, adults, and coaches alike following around or behind her. Every step she took felt like the world shook around her, hair slicked back into a ponytail-braid, her outfit branded with some sports brand, and her face... A face that read of more conviction and drive than you'd ever seen in your short life.

You were still walking in an awkward position, head craned backward to gaze at the girl who was a few meters behind. She enraptured you, in more ways than one. It was strange how eye-catching she was, and she must've been popular too if she had everyone following her, or that was your thought process at least. Well you were thinking until from that stupid position you were in, you made eye contact with her.

Her deep eyes had met your own quickly, a flash of confusion on her face before it shifted back to its original stone confidence On the other hand, you had let out a small gasp of embarrassment (?) or some sort of flustered emotion, and scuttled along to the nearest door along the seemingly endless hall.

To your luck, it was the locker room, and even better it was emptier than a school library. Walking to the nearest bench you set your backpack down and let out a shutter, "Jesus Christ.."

You sighed and looked at yourself in the mirror, then began to change, and then you were ready. While you were lacing up your gym shoes, ACTUAL tennis shoes, your mind wandered to that girl again.

Tashi...it made your heart clench up and your palms sweat. Everything about today was beginning to make you panic, especially that girl, but you couldn't think about it much before your coach burst into the empty room. She hollered your name and her voice reverberated throughout the room— you blinked you were on the court and the stupid, forgettable girl stood on the other side of the 24 meters, doing whatever stupid, forgettable girls could do. You started your routine, blocking out anything that was deemed a distraction.

The match soon started, and everything seemed drowned out by you and the girl's grunts. The ball sailed across the net, again and again, but it seemed to be quite the easy game. The no-name girl couldn't backhand for her life and eventually, you caught her during the second set. The poor player simply couldn't take your, albeit shaky, jump serve and the ball barely skimmed the tip of her racquet.

You nearly felt bad for the girl, she looked so enraged when she lost. A forlorn battle cry left her lips, her racquet taking the brunt of the anger as it shattered. The girl's expression wrenched, she reminded you of a wounded animal being left for dead, or already on its way.

Bled out and begging.

Nevertheless, you bustled off the court and into the locker room, your coach had already congratulated you on your way out so you were stranded alone. The vibrant cobalt blue of the lockers almost blinded you upon entry but there were more pressing matters, there she was. "Good game," Tashi emitted, standing in the far back of the room. She looked less, terrifying than before... more human. A slight half-smirk or smile on her face flourished, it appeared almost natural.

"Oh! Thank you," You beamed, your smile widening at her praise, it'd felt like winning again. "It's my first time here so I was sorta hoping to win." A laugh escaped your lips awkwardly, slowly trotting over to where the other girl stood.

"I could tell, you looked as if you were about to like to shoot yourself or some shit," She chuckled drily, rummaging through her things while you stood there, like a statue. A very graceless statue.

"Yeah," You answered meekly with a laugh, though it sounded more like a squeak. You didn't know what about this girl made you sweat, you'd never heard of her, who the fuck was this bitch—Your stream of consciousness was soon cut off at the girl's gaze returning to you.

Tashi's expression had slightly toughened, but you chalked it up to being her opponent. She spoke once more, "Well, I got my game," She slung the huge bag over her shoulder and started on her way, before turning again to face you. "See ya..." She trailed off and awaited your name, giving you an expectant look.

Immediately you complied, sputtering out your name and watching the brunette's eyebrows raise in interest? Or that's what you assumed. Your name rolled off her tongue as she said it aloud, and then a second time to you, offering you that intense stare.

"Huh, well, see ya.." Then Tashi Duncan walked right out of the room. Something sparked in you as you saw the girl leave. You didn't know if it was loathing, admiration, or absolute fucking torment. Hell, to this day you don't know what it was. What you did know was that this girl was something; you wanted to be a part of that something. To be a part of her.

So you were.

𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝙔𝙊𝙍𝙆 𝘾𝙄𝙏𝙔, 𝙉𝙀𝙒 𝙔𝙊𝙍𝙆, 2006

𝘉𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘦 𝘑𝘦𝘢𝘯 𝘒𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘕𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘭 𝘛𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘴 𝘊𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳

The sun beaded down on the courts on the day of the US Open. Unforgiving in its light as it scorched the earth's wide terrain, making sure anyone who left the house that day within the sun's climax would surely get a foul burn. But it didn't matter, everyone was there on the day of the US Open. The fourth and final title any tennis player would need to get a Grand Slam and it all took place in the 'Greatest City' in the world as some say.

New (fucking) York.

You'd finally made it, US Open. It was juniors, sure, but the US Open itself felt like a badge of honor. Being here, aged 17, was everything you worked for the past five years. You felt like it was your birthday, Christmas, and waking up to see the goddamn tooth fairy all in one day. You'd walked past your opponent upon entering the court. Something you'd mastered within the past years was the benefit of the poker face. You set down your bulky bag on your side of the court, got your racquet out, and stretched. Your mind went silent as everything was called to a hush.

There was no coin flip, everyone knew who was serving first. But the question was, who would win?

Tashi had always been the better of the both of you.

You both stood, at opposing ends of the court, staring at each other awaiting the next move. Tashi gripped the ball like a vice and gazed at you. It honestly made you feel naked but you didn't show. There was no place in your world right now to fuck this game up. THWACK THWACK THWACK

The ball took its beating as it wafted from end to end on the green concrete. The loud sounds of grunts and cries intermingled, the sheer forces converging.

When playing with Tashi it almost felt as if you were one. Just as you knew what move she would make, she'd predict yours. You gave her your backhand, and she yielded a forehand. Play after play, you both gave a fight worth seeing. At this point it became a game of endurance, to see who could persist under each other's brutal grasp.

If it was a game of who wanted it badly enough Tashi would've won every single time. But a game of spite? That's something you couldn't afford to lose.

It was the last game. Tashi had won the first one, and you had won the second after managing a dive for a ball for a drop shot, subsequently, skinning practically half the skin off your right knee. But it was all worth it. The third game started with the serve and then you played like hell. Your body was not yours in that moment, it was the games. Your legs pounded into the concrete as they sidestepped, swerving and twisting your body to keep up with the rally. It felt as if the rally had gone on forever. You just needed to tie the set and you'd have the advantage.

You could tell Tashi was starting to break, she looked undoubtedly tired but wouldn't let up. The last hit she gave, a loud THWACK was sent across the court and you plunged to get the ball, it barely touched your racquet... The stands erupted in applause for Tashi as an expression of euphoria broke out upon your opponent's features. She won. "COME ON!" A loud battle cry ripped through her as her tennis racquet tumbled to the ground and a smile broke out on her features. A grin had even broken upon yours, watching your best friend win

Rather than shaking hands as typical at the end of a game, you ran to the net, leaped over it, and enveloped her in an air-tight hug. It was returned with the same amount of vehemence, and a peck to the apple of your cheek.

You wanted to slightly cry or maybe even frown at the aspect of losing but you couldn't. Tashi's win was your win, right?

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It's getting hot in here

So take off all your clothes

I am getting so hot...

The music hovered through the air as you and Tashi danced along the dance floor. The party on Long Island seemed a bit daunting to you, going to a social event right after a grueling day full of a tournament in the sweltering sun. But you sucked it up, put on your fetching little dress with high heels, and danced your heart out next to your best friend.

The dresses swung around in tandem while Nelly blasted through the speakers, you laughed with her hooking hands together, spinning throughout the floor.

While dancing you saw the chick Tashi had played before the final, she was sobbing to her parents, looking distraught. "God would you see that chick," You muttered to Tashi's ear, a small smirk forming.

She looked back at the girl, eyebrows raised and a surprised smile. Tashi spoke your name, "I never took you for a bitch," feigning a scold to you, and held your gaze, before busting out in a laugh.

You followed suit, giggling as well. The Russian girl had cursed Tashi out at the end of their match, needless to say, she wasn't the friendliest girl.

"Karma's a bitch, Tash!" A laugh slipped out of your mouth as you practically leaned on Tashi, keeping up dance in between you two. She looked down at you, smiling at your answer with that signature Tashi Duncan grin. Not exactly a smirk, but not an earnest smile.

You returned it, getting lost in her deep brown eyes for a moment, it felt as if on the floor it was just you two. You and Tashi dancing, you didn't know, and maybe would never know, that Tashi knew how you looked at her at that moment. She merely just didn't care.

However, your moment was interrupted by her words;

"Come on, I'm thirsty," She announced, still giving you that impish smile. You only nodded, your wrist was soon snatched up by your friend and promptly yanked off the dance floor. You followed Tashi, finding a cooler nearby, she snatched up two drinks and then led you onto some chairs.

Tashi down first, sipping whatever fruity nonalcoholic drink and you sat on the arm of the chair, of course. You sipped your own drink and stared out in the crowd, but something, no, some guys entered your peripheral vision— they were walking straight toward you. At first, all you could get from the figures was that one was blonde and the other brunette. Upon further inspection, they were the two doubles players, Fire and Ice.

This caused you to nudge your friend with your leg but they'd already appeared.

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By some form of charm and fascination, you found yourself on the beach, smoking a cigarette and captivated by two young men. You came to find that their names were Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig and that they were undoubtedly head over heels. You had a sneaking suspicion they were already members of the Tashi Duncan Fan Club just based on their awestruck faces.

You sat on the rock next to your friend, legs crossed and head turned toward her before shifting to the ocean. A little smile had been laid on your features since meeting with them. They were so.. appealing. If that was a word to describe them. When asked earlier by Tashi, "Who was fire and who was ice?" There was no straight answer so you made one up yourself. "Y'know, I think I've figured you two out." You declared, turning your gaze to them. They both tore their gaze away from Tashi to you.

"What have you figured out?" Patrick inquired playfully, raising his brows unanimously.

"You're fire," You pointed directly at the brunette, "And you're ice." Then pointing to the blonde, a smug smile replaced the other as you took a puff of the cigarette. "Am I wrong?" Art chuckled at the assumption and shrugged, "I don't know is she, Patrick?" He asked his friend, matching your 'matter-of-fact' tone.

Patrick stared at you for a moment, his eyes sized you up, almost the way Tashi did. Confident, all-knowing. From the tips of your heels to the hilt of where your dress dipped into your chest, all the way up to meet your fierce eyes. He readjusted himself in his chair.

"That's up to you, Art." He replied, never breaking the eye contact. This time, Art didn't respond to anyone and only chuckled at the stupidity of the conversation. Though this didn't satiate you, before you could reply with another quip, your phone buzzed.

This caused your face to change as you whisked your shiny light pink Motorola Razr out of the strap of your heel to see who would be calling you—Your mother. "Damnit," You huffed, screening the call and clutching the phone. "Tash, it's my time to go." You started to stand up from the rock, as Tashi turned her head to gaze up at you.

"Your Mom?" "Yeah, who the fuck else." You muttered in annoyance, brushing off the sand that stuck to your leg. Tashi sent you a sympathetic look but she already knew this routine, it wasn't any new to her that your mom would want you back home. Especially, if she knew you were out with random boys.

"Hey, I gotta go, my mom's calling me." You announced to the rest of the company with an awkward grin and some weird hand motion where you limply pointed past them. "Aw really," Patrick whined playfully, "We'll miss you so much," He took a sip of his Coke with a smirk. "Do you really have to go?"

Art joined in, "Yeah, are we that terrible?" He asked teasingly, his lips upturning into a grin that mirrored his friend.

A slight flush had flitted across your face, the awkwardness replaced with a sense of sheepishness. Your reply died on the tip of your tongue as a familiar hug enraptured you from behind. "Oh don't scare her, she's shy. Aren't you?" Tashi jested, giving the boys a flippant glare, her head leaning on the crook of your neck.

You scoffed lightly and rolled your eyes, "No, just tired." A small huff left your lips as you leaned back into your friend's grasp, before turning around and hugging her back tightly. You loved your best friend deeply, she'd chosen you from the start and you still were in awe.

Pulling away from the hug, Tashi kissed the apple of your cheek as always and you grinned.

"Bye Tash," You chirped, finally leaving the sandy rock and onto the beach, passing by the boys before you were stopped by their silly farewells.

"Rude, no goodbye?" Patrick shouted, incredulously with a grin.

Art called out your name, "Bye, I'll see you at Stanford!"

You let out a small giggle to yourself as you skipped off back to your hotel. The boys stared at your figure as it got smaller and smaller, away in the distance.

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Later that night, while lounging in your room, watching stupid mindless late-night television there was a knock at your door. Perplexed, you walked over to the door and opened it to reveal your best friend.

"Tashi?" You asked tiredly, "What the hell are you doing here?" Your eyebrows drew together at her devious smirk, the way she looked at you made you think she was about to tell you something you really weren't gonna like.

"Well, you remember those two boys?" She inquired with her Cheshire smile, and you nodded slowly. "They want us to go to their room!" Tashi squealed, grabbing you by the shoulders happily.

Your expression shifted to one of confusion, "You mean they want you," You corrected with a thin, wiry smile.

Tashi scoffed, "No, they said 'Bring your hot friend too', " She moved her hands from your shoulders to connect with your own. "Please? It'll be fun I swear! They have beer!"

"Tash, I don't know about this," You pouted, trying to appeal that you didn't want to go, "Maybe we should think about this, I mean-" You were unfortunately cut off by her hauling you out of your room by your wrists.

"No, we're going, it'll be fun," Tashi stated with vitality as if it were fact rather than opinion. She pulled you through the corridors of the hotel, which conveniently, you learned, the boys were staying in the same one.

It seemed never-ending, the red and green carpeting looked dirty, and looking at the skeevy carpet did not help the unsettling feeling you had in your stomach. It just didn't make sense that they both wanted you there or maybe the idea of being desirable by guys that hot threw you off a bit.

"Tashi, please promise me that I'm not just being brought along so one guy doesn't hide in that bathroom while you fuck the other?" You look at her desperately, trying to search for an answer that registers in your brain. Tashi only ignored your question by giving you an expression that read, 'Shut up, you'll be fine'.

You've gotten that look throughout your friendship but it felt more militant now. So, you did shut up and kept on walking until eventually the red-carpeted trail ended at room 206, that was when Tashi released you from her iron grip and you two stood at the door.

The sound of the knock echoed throughout the empty hotel halls. There was silence and no one opened the door. The second time you knocked, more like pounded, but a knock nonetheless. Rustling and hushed voices were heard on the other side of the door, causing you and Tashi to both giggle a bit to yourself before the door was opened.

"Hi,"

"Hey,"

They welcomed you into the room, though they both looked reddened and disheveled. The room smelled like cigarettes and looked sloppy as fuck, but what would you expect from two teenage boys?

You and Tashi both took seats on the carpeted floor, and you brought your legs to a criss-crossed position while the boys took the spots across from you two.

"So, did you take like Mommy and me classes together or what?" Tashi asked teasingly, earning chuckles from around the circle. "You guys just seem like brothers."

Art laughed, "Well that's what the Mark Rebellato Tennis Academy will do for you," A laugh simmered once more and you quirked your eyebrow.

"Shit, you guys went to boarding school for tennis?" A curious grin blossomed across your face, "I didn't know they had actually had those."

Patrick nodded his head, "Yep, I've been bunkmates with him," he pointed a finger toward Art, "Since we were 12."

You bobbed your head, "That makes sense," The beer can was finally passed to you and you took a sip. "You both definitely have a gayness to you."

Tashi laughed at your words as the boy's faces dropped, not expecting those words to spill from you. It was deathly silent other than you and Tashi's giggling.

"Well, are you?" Tashi asked between laughs, earning another loud laugh from the two of you at Patrick's smirk and Art's panicked spluttering to defend himself and his friend.

"No, we're NOT gay," He corrected with a nervous smile, "Just because people go to boarding school doesn't mean they're gay. It wasn't even all boys, there were girls too." Art seemed pleased with his own explanation but that didn't stop the onslaught of giggles between you and your friend.

"Okay, sure," You snorted, taking another sip of the beer before it was snatched out your of grasp by Patrick. You shot him a playful glare to only be met with one back.

"Though, does this happen often?" Tashi questioned the boys with a flirtatious gaze, "You bring back two girls to your room?" "Or do you usually..?" The words died on the tip of your tongue as you finished the sentence, giving them an expectant expression. A few seconds passed by with no one speaking until...

"Well..." Patrick started, making you and Tashi wheeze in amusement as Art immediately cut him off.

"No."

That was the beginning of the tale of how Patrick taught Art to jerk off. Though you didn't find the conversation all that interesting, hearing about juvenile masturbation wasn't the topic you wanted to listen to. So, you began to space out until the question was turned on the both of you.

"What about you two?" Patrick asked sleazily, a permanent smirk written on his face. "Ever get lonely so you both..." The sentence hung in the air as you and Tashi glanced at each other. You didn't want to answer that question as that was truthfully some personal information that may or may not be true; luckily, Tashi was better at these things.

"That's for us to know and for y'all to find out," She passed the beer to you and you graciously took it from her hands. You resolved to be a bit of an asshole and finish the beer.

"We're out of beer," You put the can down on the carpet and looked at the rest of them, smiling thinly. Internally you were hoping this meant going back to your hotel room and returning to watching infomercials, but unfortunately, that's not what happened. What happened is something that truly signals the beginning of the intertwining between you and these individuals.

Tashi stood up first, her gaze as heavy as lead as she looked down upon the rest of you. The mood of the room had unmistakably shifted into one you weren't sure of, she sauntered to the bed and sat down on it. Her eyes settled on you first as she used her finger to signal you to the bed. You stood up and followed her command senselessly, not knowing what exactly was going to occur.

The two boys had watched the interaction intensely, you hadn't noticed but Tashi did. She always did. Her eyes darted to the boys and then you and a mischievous glint highlighted in her eyes.

She grabbed you by the cheek and stared strongly into your eyes. Your already skittish smile turned to one of confusion as you were confused about what exactly your friend was planning.

Tashi leaned really close to your ear and whispered, "Let's give them the show of their fucking lives," and so you did.

Her lips crashed to yours and before you knew it you were making out with Tashi Duncan. One of her hands had slipped from your face to your ass, and she seized it causing you to exclaim slightly into the kiss but nothing to stop you from it. The intense kissing and touching went on for a while, and her soft hands slid on your exposed thighs as your own hands stayed stationary on her own cheek and waist.

Tashi had pulled away first, her lips pouted from the kissing, to look at you with that same bold gaze but it soon left you in favor of the people who were still on the floor. Your eyes followed her gaze until it landed on them as well; they looked absolutely hungry.

The way they both looked at you reminded you of ravenous lions hunting their prey in the wild. Your hand clutched at Tashi's hair when your mind came to the revelation that the way the boys stared at you made your body feel hot. Hotter than it already was from your make-out session with Tashi.

"Well, are you gonna sit there and watch or join us?" In a flash, the boys clumsily ran to the bed, Art on yours, Patrick on hers. As soon as Art could even lay his eyes on you, his hands and lips followed. Hot kisses were laid on your jugular, but it didn't feel too lascivious, it felt pristine. His touch was soft and once he had dipped his head all the way to your sternum (thank god you had won a tank top), he pulled it away and laid his lips onto yours.

Art's lips were soft and moved rhythmically against yours, you kept up fine and collected his downy blonde curls in your hands. You managed to obtain dominance in the kiss, legs slipping together and locking in with his, your body soon taking precedence over him. His hands moved up and down the small of your back, subtle sounds emitting from his lips that one could classify as moans. It made you feel hotter inside, a deep pool of something warm had clouded your entire bloodstream, only fueled by every movement from the boy who so desperately kissed you. It felt nice to be wanted.

With the eagerness of your own fling you'd forgotten there was an opposite party within your midst, and they were getting it on in the same manner. But what you didn't expect was for Tashi, over the lewd noises, to say anything during the liaisons.

"Okay, switch."

Soon after you removed yourself from Art, begrudgingly, and were snatched up by Patrick. Patrick proved to be the rougher lover, skipping the foreplay and immediately rushing into raw, teeth-clashing kisses that shook you to your core. His hands felt like hot wax over your body as he palmed your breasts and the other slipped into your shorts and onto the smooth skin of your ass, delightfully exemplified by the shortness of them. His kisses were desperate and borderline depraved, you'd never been kissed so passionately before you practically didn't know what to do. Yet you'd let him take the lead after a while, his hand had slipped up from your ass to beneath your shirt, toying with the back of your bra.

Unfortunately for Patrick, the moment was cut abruptly by Tashi, with her ever-persisting smirk, pulled away from Art and nudged him toward you and Patrick, seeing what would transpire. The blonde had slid toward your left and started attacking an open space left at the arc of your neck, leading the brunette to sway to your right side of your neck.

Your whole body felt like it was ablaze, the touch of them both was overwhelming, and the skin-on-skin contact from both boys discerned a deep feeling being dug from you. Your eyes had been wired shut since your switch over to Patrick; they fluttered open for a wink to see one of the most erotic scenes that wouldn't even be found in the chasms of your mind.

Tashi stood a few feet away drinking in the sight with an unreadable but smirking expression. You couldn't tell if she loved the sight because it turned her on, or if she loved that she had this much control over the three of you. Faces and bodies tangled and lips slowly traveled up to your earlobes, and your eyes shut once more as the sensation of the boy's lips traveled to your own within their trail. However, you soon pulled away as the sensation of two people kissing you at once wasn't really a turn-on.

Regardless, by the power of your two open hands, you pushed their heads together as they soon mindlessly locked lips, hands leaving you and they pawed at each other. Leaning back, you watched the scene unfold with ardent interest. This was almost as hot as experiencing it, you suspected as your own smirk spread across your features.

Their kissing continued for a while, you and your best friend watching the boys thoroughly lock lips. But, the moment was not to last, Tashi stepped over and took your wrist, drawing you away from the sinful scene and back into reality.

"Okay, we're done," Tashi announced, a quaint smile on her face while you appeared positively confused and flushed, "It's been nice."

The boys stopped their kissing shortly after to give you both a baffled expression. They both glanced among the two of you, their eyebrows drawn in a line as they tried to configure what the fuck just happened. Patrick always assumed, to this day, that Tashi was just jealous of not being the 'center of attention'. Art, on the other hand, found Tashi to be envious but not about what Patrick presumed about.

"But what about your numbers?" Art asked, sitting up and looking very alarmed. Patrick assumed the same position and expression, they almost looked like twins, if it weren't that they were distinguishable in every way possible.

Tashi paused for a moment, she looked to be in deep thought to the naked eye, but you knew her—she'd planned this. "Well, you'll play for them of course," The words rolled right off her tongue, a glint of something unreadable in her eyes. Expressionless, you turned your gaze back to the boys as they looked stunned.

Tashi looked at you to continue, "Oh, uhm...Yeah, may the best player win.." Your cheeks started to burn once more from the mortification from whatever this tryst was finally setting into your brain. The other girl seemed pleased with your answer and toted you along to the door.

She opened it partly, looking them over with that stare, before saying, "We wanna see some good fucking tennis."

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𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙁𝙊𝙍𝘿, 𝘾𝘼𝙇𝙄𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙉𝙄𝘼, 2007

𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘯��𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘜𝘯𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘺

Hunger hurts

But I want him so bad

Oh, it kills...

Fiona Apple spilled from the shitty iPod you'd set up in a glass cup as a speaker, working on whatever homework was given to you in your classes. Outside of hitting a ball with a stick, you would like some life skills, so... well your major was something you could worry about later. All that mattered now was two things; Tennis and your friends.

Surprisingly, you weren't a complete social reject and you did have friends outside of Tashi and Art, but they weren't actually welcomed. Tashi could fake many things but fake friendliness? She couldn't bring herself to that low level.

Speak of the devil, Tashi waltzed into your room, clad in athleisure. "God why are you listening to wrist-slitting music," She inquired humorously, an impish smile playing on her face, "Lighten the fuck up, this is California."

"What the fuck do people listen to in California?" The slam of your textbook echoed in the small room while Tashi sauntered to your bed. You leaned back and soon your head was in between her knees and you looked up to her.

"I don't know Pitbull?" Her finger flicked at your nose and you flinched, groaning in the process. "Really?" You asked warily, finally standing up with a crack to the back, "That's news to me..."

The girl giggled at your fatigue and let out a sigh, "You're so lame," Rolling your eyes in response you sighed yourself and trained your vision on her. "So, what's up? Why'd you come from your 'precious time with Patrick', " You mocked, "To see me?"

Tashi scoffed, "You're so damn dramatic," She uttered your name with gusto, moving to make space as you dropped onto the bed. The silence was comfortable, the two of you laying there and staring at the popcorn dorm ceiling.

"I think Patrick is in love with someone else."

Sitting up on the bed, your eyes shot down to Tashi's face. Her expression wasn't even of sadness, anger, or anything you could gage as negative. She just looked bored. "What do you mean, 'in love' with someone else?"

She shrugged and looked away from you, "That's just what Art told me the other day after practice," The bed shifted as she turned her whole body to face you. "He mentioned something about Patrick just wanting this to be a sort of fling, or that he wasn't 'committed' enough for me."

A small scoff left your lips, and a skeptical look passed over your features. "How could Patrick not be in love or committed? It's you, Tashi, he's not gonna do any better." You proclaimed affectionately, trying to present a sense of hope for your friend but you knew the dramatic irony of all of this.

Tashi took in your words with a thin smile and nodded, then yawned. "I don't truly care, you know that," Your name fell from her lips, "I just want to rest now if that's fine with you." A reply didn't come from you as you watched her slowly descend into an unprompted nap.

The music still played softly through the room while you were left alone with your thoughts. You knew two things now; One, Art Donaldson was a shady bitch. Two, now he had made it your problem and you were keen on solving it.

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"Art!" The echo of your voice thundered across the Stanford Tennis Courts, provoking the boy to look your way. You stormed into the court with a dynamic expression and at first Art had waved to you with a grin on his features but soon gauged that you looked like you were about to bash his head in.

The distance between you two lessened and lessened, quick strides made til you were feet apart. "Art Donaldson, what the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

"Playing... Tennis?" He replied in bewilderment, a gesture to the empty court was made with his racquet that was still in hand. "What's up?" He seemed genuinely confused, which only fueled the wrath you held.

"No, Art, you're not playing fucking tennis, you're playing damn mind games!" Spitefully, you slapped the racquet out of his hand and maintained his gaze. A gloss of paleness overrun Art and his confused expression shifted to one of bitterness.

"Listen, whatever you've heard about-"

You cut him off, "No, what I've heard about is that you're spewing bullshit to both of my friends and I don't fucking like it." Art scoffed and rolled his eyes at your statement, "What bullshit is that?" He challenged, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That Tashi doesn't love Patrick and Patrick doesn't love Tashi," You replied with vigor, narrowing your eyes at his aloofness about your remarks. The blonde gave you a thin smile, "And?"

It took a great amount of restraint to not punch his face in as being an asshole is something you'd never taken Art for. "And? What do you mean and?" You paused for a beat to see if he'd respond, it stayed quiet. "You're fucking up both of our friend's love lives," You continued, "That's, oh I don't know? Wrong?"

He had looked like he was listening but still said nothing to you. "Well? Have you anything to say for yourself? About your actions?" This did cause Art to let out a long sigh and meet your eyes.

"I mean, what do you want me to do?" He asked you tiredly, "Watch my best friend basically leave the girl of my dreams for weeks at a time, to come back for only 5 seconds to then leave again?"

It struck a despairing chord within you when he uttered the phrase 'girl of my dreams' but tried to not let it phase you. It wasn't about you, it never was, it was about Tashi.

"Yes, Art! That's exactly what I want you to do," You groaned with annoyance at his selfishness, it amazed you how selfish this boy was. "You're supposed to push your feelings aside for your friends, Art," Admonishing him finally seemed to make him look even smaller in front of you as his shoulders slightly sagged.

He looked up at you for a beat, with those sad teardrop-blue, puppy dog eyes begging for pity. You almost gave in like last time, quarreling and then awakening up to find yourself in his bed the next morning, but it wouldn't be like last time. You were soft back then, you had to stand on business.

When you didn't budge he looked even sadder if that was possible but you kept your gaze on him, "I know it's hard to think of what would've happened if you'd won that match. At this point ask for a rematch if you're this desperate," You grumbled, but this caused Art to perk up a bit with, finally, a passionate look in his eyes to match yours.

"Oh, shut up," Art snarled, "You're so fucking hypocritical as if no one sees the way you look at Patrick. Or the way Patrick looks at you," A nervous flush soon reddened your face, you couldn't deny he was right.

There were flirtations here and there from Patrick but that was just his natural manner, or that's at least what you told yourself. It was normal that he'd walked onto you changing one too many times, or commented on every single fling you'd had since meeting you, or how... You stopped listing the reasons that his actions were 'normal' in your head as you were met with Art's harsh gaze. Which was quite frankly terrifying to be under.

So, you broke first and in one swift motion your hand was on his face and your lips crashed onto his.

Safe to say there was no more discussion.

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Waking up in Art Donaldson's bed is not one of your proudest accomplishments. It's transpired too many times for you to count but every time it happens you feel a little shred of your self-respect wither away. His body was partly laid on top of you and his head was buried in the valley of your chest. You observed how peaceful he looked as he slept, blonde curls tousled and messed up from the night before and pink lips perfectly pouted.

Everything seemed peaceful in these moments, it was even better than the pillow talk Art always seemed to have while you were attempting to get your sleep. Though in your mind everything was but peaceful. You couldn't seem to shake the ache of what Art had said the day before.

The girl of his dreams, eugh, it made you want to crucify yourself on a burning cross. You always knew the two boys were wrapped around Tashi's finger but you had convinced yourself you fit in somewhere right? That you were liked by Art? I mean he had to, you'd been both fucking for about a year since you'd gotten to Stanford! He'd always gotten jealous when you had other men around, he had to love you just as much...or at least a little? You were a person who existed outside the realm of Tashi's Tennis world... Right?

Clenching your eyes shut you let out a shuttering breath before reconnecting back to reality. You had to get out of this damn dorm room. You tried to slip out of the bigger boy's grasp upon you but it worked to no avail. He only whined and pulled you closer.

"5 more minutes," Art muttered and buried his face further into the skin. Sighing you drove him off of you harshly, leaping out of the bed and starting the search for your previously discarded clothes. This action caused an even louder whine from the male as he finally awoke from his tranquil slumber to observe you. He pouted at the sight of you leaving.

"Do you really have to go?" Art asked as if the events of yesterday had never happened, "I know your schedule you don't have any classes today." Throwing on whatever clean shirt of Art's that was available you didn't respond to him, too busy with your own thoughts. The lack of an answer only made the blonde pout more and he sighed dejectedly.

"You know I love you right?"

The blood ran cold in your veins, "Excuse me?" Your head whipped toward the bed-bound boy, an indecipherable expression on your face. This compelled Art to smile, taking this as a sign of you being shocked that he could love you, that this was the shock of happiness. Oh, how the blonde was so wrong.

"I love you," He said your name tentatively, every syllable dripping from his lips like sweet honey, "I've loved you since that day at the beach."

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you felt yourself consumed by an indescribable misery from inside. What sick joke was he playing on you? Lamenting on the lack of Tashi's love to express his to you? He was definitely playing with you.

"I... I don't know what the fuck you're playing at Art," Your voice trembled with rage, "But it has to stop right now." Art's once joyful expression shifted to one of confusion, something he seemed to love to do these days.

"What?" He asked, "I'm not playing at anything, I love you?" It sounded like a phrased question that caused you to scoff. You snatched up your shoes from the door and angrily put them on, ignoring the way he had started to call your name.

"No, the fuck you don't Art!" You shouted, silencing the boy in front of you, "You think you're always fucking winning and that you're the good one! That you're not fucking around with other people because no one would ever expect that of you!" Your voice quivered under the overwhelming amount of emotion you felt.

"God, I feel like I'm fucking shadowboxing here, you drive me fucking crazy." The tears felt cleansing against your dried face, "I can't keep playing this game anymore, Art. You're too much."

The room went noiseless for a beat, when you finally turned your teary eyes to Art he looked speechless. It stayed like that for a few minutes, the both of you staring at one another. His mouth finally opened:

"Are we talking about Tennis?"

The door slammed on your departure from Art Donaldson's dorm and you didn't see yourself coming back anytime soon.

🇪🇳🇩 🇴🇫 🇵🇦🇷🇹 🇴🇳🇪

Part 2 is here! Please read it!

Please like or comment, and thank you for reading <3

#patrick zweig x reader #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson #challengers #challengers x reader #tashi duncan #tashi duncan x reader #challengers 2024 #tashi donaldson #x reader #fem reader #angst #art donaldson smut #challengers fanfic #patrick zweig #love square

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flowerbunnyboo · 11 days ago

Text

RIDE OF VICTORY | back

starring: jake x male reader

summary: having sex in the car after your boyfriend hits the winning shot is a great way of celebrating his victory, right ?

nsfw

As the sun began to set, casting an orange glow over the campus, Jake made his way out of their shared dorm room, already dressed in his athletic gear. "Hey babe," he called out to Mn, who was lounging on the bed scrolling through his phone.

Mn looked up, flashing Jake a warm smile. "Hey yourself. You heading out now?"

Jake nodded, ruffling Mn's hair affectionately before leaning down to capture his lips in a quick, passionate kiss. "Yeah, gotta get to the gym early for some extra practice. Coach wants us to be at our best tonight."

Mn pouted slightly but understood the importance of preparation. "Alright, be careful out there. I'll see you after your match, okay?"

Jake winked at him. "You know it. Love you, beautiful ."

"I love you too, babe,"

With that, Jake headed out the door, his mind already focused on the upcoming game. He spent hours at the gym, honing his skills and visualizing every possible scenario on the court. Throughout the day, his thoughts kept drifting back to Mn - imagining how proud he'd look cheering Jake on from the stands, the feel of his strong arms around him after a win.

As the evening drew closer, Jake could barely contain his excitement. He showered and changed into his uniform, the familiar fabric feeling like a second skin. As he arrived at the arena, he scanned the crowd, his heart skipping a beat when he spotted Mn waving enthusiastically from the bleachers.

"Fuck, he looks amazing," Jake thought to himself, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him as he took to the court. The game was intense, with both teams giving it their all.

Just as Jake prepared to serve the winning point, his gaze locked onto Mn once again. Their eyes met, and in that instant, Jake felt a rush of emotion so powerful it almost threw off his focus. He grinned widely, putting everything he had into that final serve.

The ball sailed through the air, landing perfectly on the opponent's side of the net. Jake pumped his fist in triumph as the crowd erupted in cheers. His teammates rushed over to congratulate him, but all Jake could think about was getting to Mn.

"Let's go!" he exclaimed, practically sprinting off the court with his teammates trailing behind. He burst through the tunnel leading to the exit, not stopping until he reached Mn in the stands.

"I did it! We won!" Jake shouted, pulling Mn into a tight embrace as the crowd continued to chant their names.

"I'm so proud of you, baby," Mn said, beaming up at Jake with adoration. "You played incredible."

Jake leaned in, capturing Mn's lips in a searing kiss, the taste of victory mingling with the sweetness of their love. The world around them faded away as they lost themselves in each other's embrace.

After a moment, Jake broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Come on, let's get out of here," he urged, taking Mn's hand and leading him towards the parking lot.

Once inside Jake's car, they couldn't resist the urge to touch, to claim each other after such a high-stakes performance. Clothes were shed hastily, bodies entwined as they found solace in the heat of their passion.

"Fuck, I need you,"

Jake growled, his hands roaming over Mn's sweat-dampened skin as he pushed him down onto the passenger seat. Mn wrapped his legs around Jake's waist, pulling him closer.

"Me too, baby," Mn moaned, nipping at Jake's earlobe. "I want you so bad right now."

Without another word, Jake lined himself up and thrust deep inside Mn, groaning at the exquisite sensation of being buried to the hilt. They moved together in a frenzy of lust, the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh filling the confined space of the car.

"Oh god, yes," Jake panted, his hips snapping rapidly as he chased his release. "You feel so good, Mn. So fucking perfect."

Mn clung to Jake, his nails digging into the muscular planes of his back as he met each powerful thrust. "Harder, Jake! Fuck me harder!" he cried out, his voice raw with desire.

Jake complied eagerly, pounding into Mn with reckless abandon. The car rocked violently, the sound of the engine drowning out their primal grunts and moans. Sweat dripped down their faces, mingling as they kissed fiercely, tongues tangling in a dance as old as time.

"So close…fuck, I'm gonna come," Jake gasped, his movements becoming erratic as he neared the brink. Mn's inner walls clenched tightly around him, urging him onward.

"Do it, baby! Fill me up!" Mn begged, his own climax building rapidly.

With a roar, Jake drove deep one last time, his cock pulsating as he spilled his seed inside Mn. The sensation of Mn's body milking him dry sent Jake over the edge, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over him.

"Oh fuck, Mn…yes, just like that," Jake managed to gasp between shuddering breaths, still buried deep within his lover's heat. Mn's body convulsed around him, drawing out Jake's orgasm even further as he filled him completely.

Finally, Jake collapsed on top of Mn, their chests heaving as they struggled to catch their breath. Jake pressed soft kisses along Mn's jawline, murmuring words of love and praise.

"That was incredible, baby," Jake whispered, slowly withdrawing from Mn's spent body. "But we're not done yet."

Mn smiled lazily, reaching up to stroke Jake's cheek. "I wouldn't have it any other way, stud. Take me home and show me what else that mouth can do."

Jake chuckled, a wicked glint in his eye as he helped Mn sit up and straighten his clothes. "Oh, I plan to, baby. And maybe later, if you're lucky, I'll even let you return the favor."

With a playful nip to Mn's earlobe, Jake started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, already looking forward to round two. As they drove, Jake reached over to rest his hand on Mn's thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"You know, I never thought I'd find someone like you," Jake said softly, his thumb tracing circles on Mn's skin. "But I'm really glad I did."

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fantasywater · 3 months ago

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Octavia WILL bend the knee

Here I will go in-depth into why Octavia will not be given the same grace in the fandom as Blitz did when she has her Full Moon Reckoning with Stolas.

NOTE/WARNING: I have seen and read the leaks, and they will be part of the reason why I feel this way.

What I mean by Full Moon Reckoning:

This is when the writers finally allow a victim of Stolas to be fully and rightfully angry at him for all the transgressions he has done to them, and more importantly when the FANDOM treats the actual victim's pain as the take back my power moment that it is.

The reason for this distinction is that I have noticed that Stolas is the fan favorite, and therefore it seemed all his wrongdoings got default reasons for not being that bad.

However, when Full Moon aired an odd and swift negative wind hit his character, and it has not abated.

Even with the newer ep the wind didn't lessen it got stronger.

It's like some spell broke.

It feels like a genie that can't be put back in the bottle.

He has gone from the fan-favorite to the most criticized.

The fandom is pretty unanimously on Blitz's side and has stayed on it.

However, as I've stated Octavia will not get this.

Octavia's pain in Sinmas is going up against:

Blitz and Stolas are male

Octavia is female, and a female in a Yaoi series at that. The women exist only as one-note plot devices for male pain, and that's even when said women themselves are technically leads(Loona, Millie).

2. Blitz and Stolas are main characters

Octavia is a side character who has barely been in two episodes spanning two seasons.

3. In the leaks Octavia takes up for her mother twice

Basically, she goes to bat for the fandom's hatesink.

4. Two other fan favorites(Fizz and Asmodeous) are written to be Team Stoliz

Plus, apparently, they are going to be against Octavia's mother and therefore Octavia.

5. THE MOST IMPORTANT REASON why Octavia is going to get it both barrels from the fandom is that Blitz and Stolas are canonically a gay couple by Sinmas.

Viv said an important arc will be finished by season's end, and I saw a post from her patron where she point-blank says they are a couple by the end of season two. Also more proof to me is that Blitz is very affectionate to Stolas in the trailer and in the leaks.

Speaking of, if you go to YouTube pretty much every comment is praising the ship sailing. A daughter is painfully estrangling herself from her beloved father, while he cries and begs for her mercy, and all everyone can talk about is getting wet over a toxic ship flying into her pain.

Recap TLDR:

Blitz got fandom grace because he is THE main character and was at the time rightfully against Stolas.

While Octavia will get to have her say she is also a woman bit player up against Blitz THE male main character who is now with Stolas THE male fan favorite in a gay romantic relationship.

She will also make the unforgivable sin of taking up for her cheated on mother Stella the hatesink.

Blitz and Stolas will also have the backing of two other favorites Fizz and Ozz as well as the rest of I.M.P.

The YouTube comments ignoring her anguish for the now canon ship are simply a taste to come of what the fandom as a whole is going to do.

Basically, this poor girl doesn't stand a chance.

I WANT to eat crow.

I realllly do.

That's why I employ the fandom to give the same grace they gave Blitz these last two episodes to Octavia as well.

However, this show is made by a fujoshi for fujoshi and that's why I know in my heart of hearts she will be damned instead.

Now, I've stated that the fandom is probably going to kiss the Stolitz ring against Octavia, but let's go into what I think the show is going to do.

Yes, after a year in the show and two seasons overall, Blitz finally got to angrily reinsert his personhood to Stolas, and yes it was cathartic and I'm glad it happened.

However, that doesn't change the fact that four episodes after Full Moon his fate is to be his abuser's boyfriend.

Also, if the merchandise is said to be hints of the creator's thoughts then his final destiny is to be his husband.

Basically, if the main character ultimately bent the knee then so will Octavia.

While the fujoshi in charge does allow them to assert their pain their ultimate fate is to comply.

Essentially it's just lip service to shut critics up.

She, and apparently his voice actor, has said don't worry everything will be alright, and by everything it's obvious they mean Stolas.

She has also said she likes happy endings so you can bet there will be none given to Stolas that doesn't have Blitz and Octavia by his side.

Also make no mistake Blitz's own daughter is also there to help the story ignore their pain. The seed was planted in Seeing Stars when Octavia warmly hugged, hung out, and was gaslit by a complete stranger. It's also why she's her ''sister' now in the pride poster.

Yea, Loona has a big part to play in season three alright, and it's to brainwash Octavia's distress so Stolitz can reign supreme.

Realistically if a fujoshi fangirl weren't writing this show this is what would happen:

Now that he has the crystal; Blitz would completely cut ties with the guy who sexually extorted and depersonalized him for a year. Not become his boyfriend/husband.

Sometime in season three Octavia finds out about her father's (poorly written) abuse and attempted murder attempts by her mother. However, instead of seeing him as a martyr, she states that Stella's actions toward him DON'T NEGATE HIS toward Octavia.

He still broke his own daughter's mental health with his infidelity and abandoned her as a consequence of his own actions i.e. illegal grimoire lending.

She then states she still wants him, and her other toxic parent, out of her life for good.

Her final words are Goodbye Dad... No.... Stolas.

Stolas for his part should be having some serious self-reflection by season 3. He should be strongly asking himself if Blitz was worth Asmodeus's self-fulling prophecy of losing his title, wealth, home, and daughter.

It should be NO, but a fujoshi is steering.

What she is going to do instead is make them use Octavia's pain to trauma bond into domestication.

Then Loona and the writing, in general, is going to make sure Octavia solely blames Stella: The Convenient Stolas Trump Card so they can all just be a family already.

Bonus: We will even get to see Octavia kick her mother from the palace with Stolas' signature GET OUT this time.

Ultimately Blitz and Octavia's misery will not mean anything. As the official car sticker merch states they will be a blended family and their suffering by Stolas be damned.

However, I do have a small (delusional) theory that Ms. Fujoshi could throw a curveball:

Apparently, she has been liking a lot of Vassago and Stolas romantic fanart, but with a of course jealous Blitz.

What if Vassago is Disney Princess Stolas's true endgame.

The guy who gets to show him what an actual healthy relationship looks like, and for a romantic like him this would be his true Prince Charming.

Sure Stolas ending up with a prince(and therefore getting everything back through him) just drives home that dirty, poor, broken, baggage-having, hypersexual Blitz was ultimately never going to be good enough for Purity Angel Stolas in the first place.

However, on the bright side, he's finally away from his abuser...

So on that note, Blitz's true endgame is Fizz.

His real first friend. His real first love.

The correct star-crossed lovers.

The person who actually knows the true Blitz and can meet him blow for blow when he gets messy instead of running away crying with self-pitying gaslighting.

However, since she seems to hate her own main character Blitz's true endgame is going to be tainted.

Foreshadowing Number 1:

I've always found it curious that right after the can we make-out line the very next scene is Fizz coming back to Ozz wiping his mouth.

Why even put that thought in the audience's head unless....

Foreshadowing Number 2:

When Blitz shoots the stalker the mirror that Fizz and Ozz are kissing in front of breaks right down the middle, splitting them, with Blitz's face the last thing seen in the fracture.....

Basically, she is going to have Blitz and Fizz get together by cheating on Ozz, and the fandom is going to blow them both up for it.

Other Tidbits:

Blitz still very much has feelings for Fizz.

Even how he acted when he met him shopping in Full Moon showed this, and he fully blushed in the storyboard.

This is something he has never done for Stolas.

You know the endgame we should be rooting for and all that.

Also Fizz full-on blushes(cage) in the Opps storyboard.

Of course, the show properly erases those because we can't have anyone shipping Blitz or Fizz with their true soulmate.

Apparently, in a leaked script bit, Blitz falls in love with Stolas because he reminds him of Fizz. I mean my dear Stolitz shippers it should be a yikes on a bike for that alone.

#helluva boss critical #anti stolitz #anti stolas #stolitz #helluva boss octavia #helluva boss stella #helluva boss blitzo #helluva boss

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primaviva · 11 months ago

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PUCK YOU

featuring. hockey!ellie williams x fem!reader synopsis. after winning the final game of the season, ellie wants you to join her in celebrating in the locker room. warnings. descriptions of the female body, suggestive content, hardcore making out ( i. e. breast play, grinding, hair pulling…) read at your own discretion

eighty six—the number that defined your girlfriend's prowess on the ice.

it was the number you witnessed gliding effortlessly across the frozen surface, scoring goals with a mighty grip on the hockey stick. it was the number you saw when her frustration reached its peak, her helmet flying across the room, marked unmistakably with that bold eighty six.

and now, as you watched the game unfold, you proudly donned the same number on your back. the vibrant red jersey draped your frame in a comfortably oversized, boyfriend-style fit. originally ellie's, she had lovingly given it to you, fully aware of your affinity for wearing her clothes, with the added sentiment that it’s her team jersey adorning your figure as you cheered her on during games.

in the highly anticipated matchup against the seattle krakens, ellie found herself facing off against her arch-nemesis, abby anderson, who always seemed to harbor an unspoken animosity towards her. perhaps it stemmed from abby's envy of ellie's successes in the industry, or maybe it was fueled by a longing to occupy the same position. whatever the reason, their encounters invariably generated newsworthy headlines.

ellie was well aware of the power of making headlines, understanding that the public loved a good rivalry. the crowd, amused by the tension between ellie and abby, eagerly absorbed every moment of them clashing on the monitors. well, everyone but you. unlike the spectators, you knew the toll it took on ellie. while you delighted in witnessing the furrow of ellie's brows and the intensity in her evergreen gaze, you understood the weight of her anger, knowing how overwhelming those emotions could be for her during gameplay. ellie also just didn’t like getting angry, as she knew how terrible she could get when succumbing to the emotion.

as the game against the seattle krakens reached its exhilarating climax, the scoreboard displayed a tense deadlock. "ellie" and "abby" reverberated through the arena, transforming into a fierce battle of vocal support among the spectators. the names echoed through the crowd, each fan fervently chanting for their favorite player to emerge victorious.

you leaned forward, leaning over the barrier that separated the passionate crowd from the icy battleground. eager to catch a glimpse of the unfolding spectacle, you yearned for a front-row view of the action.

"kick her ass!" your voice rang out, carried by a surge of adrenaline as you fervently waved your hands in the air, willing ellie to triumph with every fiber of your being.

with each stride, ellie's instincts took over. in a swift, fluid motion, ellie seized control of the puck, effortlessly maneuvering past defenders with her unmatched skill. among the sea of opponents, her eyes locked onto abby, her greatest rival, who relentlessly pursued her, driven by a desire to strip ellie of the puck. with precision and agility, ellie danced around abby's relentless advances, her stickwork a symphony of finesse. the crowd watched in awe as the two players engaged in a thrilling duel, but with a burst of speed, your girlfriend left abby in her wake, weaving through the defense.the crowd held their breath, captivated by the scene before them.

the ice seemed to tremble beneath her skates as she closed in on the goal, her heart pounding in her chest. time seemed to stand still as she unleashed a powerful shot, puck sailing through the air and evading the outstretched glove of the goaltender, finding the back of the net. satisfying, it reverberated with a resounding thud as the puck found its mark, securing victory for ellie's team. the arena erupted in a chorus of thunderous cheers, the crowd's jubilation mirroring the euphoria in ellie's own heart.

as the final buzzer echoed through the arena, signaling the end of the intense match, the spectators began to disperse, their cheers fading into the background. ellie along with her team members, elated by their hard-fought victory, eagerly made their way to the locker room to celebrate.

that was the routine of those games. the teams would go to the locker rooms to change out of their gear until they come back out to wait for their bus which left a little later as the coaches made sure the media got some press with the stars of the teams. you would wait for ellie outside of the lockers to greet her with a well deserved kiss and hug before it was time to hit the road.

however, what wasn’t apart of the routine was ellie taking much longer than her teammates, to the point where everyone had left the lockers to go outside and get some fresh air in the dark night sky. usually ellie was eager to get out of her sweaty uniform and lay flat on the floor in relief that it was over, one time she had practically taken her shirt off before leaving the rink.

as you contemplated walking inside, dina, one of ellie's teammates, approached you with a knowing look.

"dina, where's ellie?" you inquired, crossing your arms over your chest as you eagerly awaited her answer.

the raven-head sighed softly, her eyes conveying a sense of understanding to your anxious state. "she's still in the locker room," dina replied, voice laced with empathy. "she needed a moment to calm down. it got pretty intense out there."

your heart skipped a beat as you took in dina's words. you knew all too well how overwhelming emotions could be for ellie, especially in the aftermath of a fiercely contested game like this one. without a second thought, you made your way towards the locker room.

as you entered the dimly lit space, the air was heavy with exhaustion. and there, in the corner, you spotted ellie, her figure slumped on a bench, her equipment scattered haphazardly around her. the sweat glistening on her forehead and the lingering fire in her eyes showed you all you needed to know.

her distant expression revealed a mind lost in deep contemplation, seemingly oblivious to the world around her, including your presence at the doorway.

"ellie," you softly called out, breaking the spell of her introspection.

in an instant, her head snapped up, the fog of her thoughts dissipating as a radiant, toothy smile graced her face. it was the kind of infectious grin that only ellie, with her unique brand of endearing quirkiness, could effortlessly rock. rising from the bench, standing tall as she strode purposefully towards you.

closing the distance between you, ellie enveloped you in her strong arms, lifting you up effortlessly off the ground. her face nestled into the crook of your neck, her warm breath sending gentle shivers down your spine.

the world outside the locker room faded away—as she held you, you could feel the weight of the game lifting from alongside her.

"there you are," she murmured against your neck, her voice muffled but happy nonetheless.

amidst stifled laughter, you attempted to speak. "did you hear me cheering?" you managed to ask.

"how could i not hear you, baby? you were the loudest one out there," ellie retorted, another smile gracing her face. she loved how supportive you always were of her. "thank you for always being there for my games. it means a lot to me, having my beautiful girl cheering me on."

tenderly, she tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her pale green eyes brimming with warmth and love. on the field, ellie exuded toughness and fierceness, but with you, her armor melted away, revealing a softer, caring side that you brought out in her.

you couldn't help but chuckle at her remark about being the loudest, preferring to describe her as passionate. "you good?" you asked, your gaze fixed on her as your vision readjusted from being taken to the ground. "i know how much it gets to you when abby tries to rile you up during games."

ellie let out a sigh at the mention of abby. "i'm fine, don't worry about her," she replied, her voice laced with frustration, her hand absentmindedly rubbing the back of her neck.

but you could see the tension in her jaw, the way her body seemed to hold onto the irritation caused by abby's actions.

"thanks for checking on me," she expressed, her voice softer now. ellie leaned down, resting her forehead against yours, and released a deep sigh. it felt as if she were fully surrendering her body weight onto you, relying on your support. she was exhausted, both mentally and physically.

you weren’t buying tickets to her act.

as you studied her face, you noticed her tightly shut eyes and the creases forming around them. "i find it hard to believe you're okay. you look exhausted. sit," you firmly stated, placing your hands on her shoulders and gently guiding her back down onto the bench, encouraging her to rest.

ellie sighed and didn't resist as you made her sit back down on the bench. as tough as she was, she knew better than to argue with you when you used that tone.

"you know me too well,” ellie noted as she relaxed her shoulders and leaned back, closing her eyes. you always seemed to see right through her facade of being fine. the game had taken more out of her than she cared to admit.

you sat there, quietly observing her presence. the sheen of sweat adorned her forehead, causing strands of stray hair to cling to the sides. her skin appeared moist, a clear indication that she had recently stepped off the rink. your eyes remained fixed on her, capturing the gentle rise and fall of her chest with each inhale and exhale, a rhythmic cadence that grew slower and more deliberate. as you watched, your mind couldn't help but wander, envisioning the strength and definition of her abs concealed beneath her jersey. surely, the intensity of her performance left her core muscles taut and sculpted.

"will you sit with me for a bit?" she questioned, opening one eye to look at you hopefully. ellie just wanted a few quiet moments with you before the crowds dispersed. your presence alone seemed to ease her fatigue.

you nodded silently, a wordless affirmation of your unwavering support, before settling down beside her. her eyes attentively followed your every movement, capturing each subtle motion as you took your place next to her. she kept her gaze fixed on you, her emerald eyes shimmering in the softly lit room, as if trying to memorize every detail before finally closing them, her head finding solace against the wall.

"i really do appreciate you," she spoke amongst the silence. reaching for your hand, she brought it to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss upon it.

ellie, the dominant force on the field, always had a calm vulnerability in your presence. you provided the equilibrium she needed, a balance that no one else could offer.

you couldn't help but giggle at the sensations elicited by her tender kiss on your hand. "don't thank me," you playfully responded, a mischievous glimmer in your eyes. "come on, let me help you get undressed." as you rose from your seat, you noticed a devilish smirk on her face. "i didn't mean it like that, so don't even think about it," you emphasized, walking between her open legs as she sat, firmly grasping the bottom of her jersey.

she teasingly placed her hands behind your thighs, as if mockingly trying to keep you in place, before finally relenting and allowing you to proceed with removing her from her sweaty uniform.

"you know i can’t help myself around you," ellie playfully remarked, punctuating her words with a wink. however, as you tended to her, ellie surrendered herself to your caring touch, feeling the tightness in her muscles melt away.

she raised her arms, a silent invitation for you to remove her jersey. with gentle and skillful movements, you carefully pulled the fabric over her head, revealing the glistening sheen of perspiration on her skin. moving on, you deftly unfastened her shoulder pads, followed by her elbow pads. the expression on her face spoke volumes, a mixture of relief and gratitude as the weight of the protective gear was lifted from her.

ellie grinned up at you, thoroughly enjoying teasing you even when exhausted. you were just so cute when you got flustered. but she resisted making any other suggestive comments as you helped remove her pads and gear. she could tell you were going into protective girlfriend mode to take care of her.

as the last piece came off, ellie sighed in relief. "god, that’s so much better, thank you. i feel lighter already." she pulled you closer between her legs so your bodies were pressed together, though mindful not to squeeze you too tightly in her tired state. the tension began to ease from her muscles.

you just had that calming presence which soothed ellie's nerves. just being close to you helped her unwind after the stress of competition. she leaned back and closed her eyes contentedly.

"come here," ellie beckoned, extending her arm towards you, her desire for your closeness evident. "i just want to hold my girl before having to sit through a three-hour bus ride," she joked, a bit of truth in her statement.

with hesitation and curiosity, you placed your hand in hers, uncertain of what she had in mind. but before you could fully anticipate her next move, ellie swiftly pulled you into her lap, enveloping you in her embrace.

the suddenness of the action surprised you, but as you settled into her lap, you felt a wave of warmth and security wash over you. nestled against her, you could hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat.

ellie wrapped her strong arms securely around your waist as you settled into her lap. she rested her chin on your shoulder and breathed you in deeply.

"mmm, there's my girl,” she whispered. holding you always made ellie feel centered. like the rest of the world faded away and it was just the two of you. she nuzzled softly against your neck, placing gentle kisses along your skin. "i love you so much," she spoke while holding you tighter, hoping you knew how much you meant to her.

ellie's tired muscles relaxed further as she embraced you. your presence alone seemed to ease the strain from her body. she rocked you gently in her arms, enjoying this quiet moment of intimacy.

"i love you too," you whispered in response, your words filled with nothing less of love. ellie's gaze locked onto yours, her pupils dilating as she immersed herself in the depths of your eyes. in that intimate exchange, she sought to discover every shade, every intricate detail that made your eyes uniquely yours.

her hand, which had secured your waist, embarked on a slow and agonizing path up your back, sending a tantalizing shiver along your spine. it finally settled at the nape of your neck, her touch both gentle and possessive. with a firm grasp, she guided your head towards hers, closing the distance between your lips.

ellie kissed you softly yet deeply, savoring the feeling of your lips against hers. all the anxiety and frustration from the game seemed to melt away in your affectionate embrace.

she gently traced her tongue along your bottom lip, asking for entrance in a way that was loving yet dominant. her hand cradled the back of your head tenderly even as she pulled you in closer.

kissing you always made ellie feel possessive yet protective at the same time. like she never wanted to let you go. she loved you so fiercely it sometimes scared her. but she knew you were the only one who truly saw her for who she was—not just an athlete but a person.

as your lips moved in perfect harmony, a sensuous dance of desire, you became lost in the intoxicating rhythm. the magnetic pull between you seemed irresistible, drawing you into a world where nothing else mattered but her body. the wetness of her mouth and the mingling of saliva heightened the intensity, an unspoken language shared between you both.

when you reluctantly parted to catch your breath, a thin strand of saliva lingered, connecting you both momentarily. ellie leaned her forehead against yours, her breaths heavy and labored. her pale green eyes bore into yours, radiating warmth and unbridled desire. “i need you,” she expressed with a raw simplicity, her voice husky and filled with need. in your embrace, ellie found solace, the only place where true tranquility resided.

ellie craved an outlet, a means to divert her frustrations and escape the overwhelming demands of the game. and in that moment, there was no better distraction than being consumed by thoughts of you, her mind freed from pucks and goalies.

with a swift gesture, she wiped away the saliva from her chin before firmly gripping your jaw, drawing your lips back to hers. the kiss intensified, akin to the crashing of rough waves against a sailor's vessel. each crash left an imprint, and you could sense the tender fullness of your lips bruising under the passionate onslaught.

a deep, resonant moan escaped your throat, merging with the union of your mouths. your hands found purchase on her shoulders as you adjusted yourself, straddling her waist with a sense of urgency.

ellie growled low in her throat at your moan, arousal spiking through her body in an instant. she gripped your hips tighter, grinding you against her as your movements stirred her growing need.

kissing you deeper, ellie dominated your mouth with her tongue, possessing you completely. one hand slid up your back, fingers clutching possessively. the other tangled in your hair to hold you right where she wanted.

she kissed like she played—with a fiery intensity and competitive drive to claim victory. ellie poured all her pent up passion and longing into the kiss, asserting her dominance yet caring for you completely.

when you finally broke apart again, panting heavily, ellie gazed at you with lust-darkened eyes. "fuck, baby, you're so hot,” she groaned, nipping along your jaw and down your neck, leaving her mark.

ellie was throbbing with want, craving the intimate release only you could give her after a game.

"ellie, did you forget we're in the locker room?" you began to protest, but ellie's touch interrupted your words, cupping your clothed boobs and giving them a slow yet tender squeeze. you hated how flustered she got you, especially when there were other people around. “cut the shit," you pleaded, but deep down, you knew that you were just as eager to help ellie find release from her stress.

ellie chuckled low in her throat at how easily she could rile you up. your flushed cheeks and dilated pupils told her exactly how turned on you were despite your words.

with a mischievous grin, ellie met your plea while giving your breasts another b squeeze. "aw, come on, baby, don't pretend you don't love it when i get you all hot and bothered," she teased, her voice low and seductive.

ellie lived for the challenge of pushing your buttons and claiming your body as her own, even with others so close. the thrill of potentially getting caught only served to heighten her arousal.

she leaned in to nibble your earlobe sensually, "bet i can make you cum before we even leave this room." ellie's hand slid down your stomach to cup your clit through your jeans.

"what do you say? want to put on a little after show for me?" she gripped your ass firmly with her other hand, grinding you down against her. ellie knew all your secrets and weaknesses, and was more than willing to exploit them.

you couldn't help but mumble, "fuck," as your hands gripped on her hair. you moved in for another kiss without thinking twice as you were too needy to keep her mouth to yourself.

ellie kissed you hungrily, all her earlier arousal igniting into an inferno. she moaned against your mouth at the feel of your hands gripping her hair firmly. oh, how the girl loved it when you took charge and matched her dominance with your own.

it was as if she was starving for you, devouring your mouth possessively. she grounded up against your core, feeling how wet you were already through your jeans. ellie delighted in unraveling your composure and leaving you a panting, wanting mess.

her hands roamed your body possessively, gripping your ass to grind you down harder. ellie sucked your bottom lip between her teeth, nipping teasingly. she wanted you aching and desperate for her. your girlfriend loved how responsive your body was to her touch, how you melted under her.

breaking the kiss momentarily, ellie gazed up at you with eyes dark with lust. "god, you're so fucking hot. think anyone would notice if i made you come right here?"

she traced delicate patterns on your warm skin, teasing ever closer to your core. ellie lived to unravel you, reduce you to a flushed, quivering mess before claiming your pleasure as her own. she rolled her hips up in a slow, deep circle, applying delicious friction directly against your clit now. ellie was determined to push you over the edge before letting you leave this locker room.

ellie groaned at your nails scraping across her scalp, spurring her desire higher. she kissed you back fervently, delving her tongue between your lips to tangle with your own.

your desperate little noises only served to spur her on. ellie was going to thoroughly ravish you right here, right now, and to hell with anyone who might catch them. you were hers.

"you're gonna make a mess of your uniform," you managed to gasp out, your words challenged by hushed breaths and the rapid beating of your heart. in the grand scheme of things, her uniform should have been the least of your concerns, but your mind was clouded, rendering you unable to think clearly.

ellie chuckled low in her throat as you panted and squirmed in her lap. you were always so cute when she had you this worked up.

"that's what the showers are for, baby." she rolled her hips up in another slow, deep grind against your clit. ellie nibbled along your neck hungrily, branding you with love bites. "don't care about the uniform, i just want you,” she declared while kissing you hard, refusing to break eye contact as her hand slid under your low waisted jeans.

ellie knew exactly how to unravel you, where to touch to draw out your pleasure. she could feel your arousal soaking through your underwear as you ground yourself down against her hand. your girlfriend swallowed your soft moans, owning your mouth completely as your hips began to ride her expert fingers.

her hands slid under the famous eighty six jersey she lent you to caress and squeeze your breasts skin on skin. ellie tweaked your nipples between her fingertips, rubbing them into stiff peaks.

"bet you’re close already," ellie muttered. she kissed you fiercely, tongue plunging into your mouth in time with her grinding hips.

ellie was throbbing with her own needs but lived for your pleasure above her own. she would push you over the edge a thousand times just to see your blissful expression.

the hockey player took such pride and satisfaction in reducing you to a quivering mess so quickly. and she hadn't even fucked you properly yet. by the time she was through, you'd be putty in her hands.

she smirked, loving how close she had you already. you began subconsciously grinding yourself on her through, back and forth as you sucked her tongue in your mouth. your moans of pleasure were like music to her ears.

"that's it baby, ride my thigh. feel how wet you're making me?" she continued to talk you through, emphasizing her words by grinding up against your core once more.

ellie captivated your lips in another searing kiss, swallowing your cries of ecstasy. her hands gripped your ass possessively, helping lift and lower your hips.

“ellie,” you mumbled, the intensity of the moment consuming you, as rational thoughts and the ability to express them struggled to break through the haze of desire.

the brunette's head quipped up as soon as she saw your beautiful visage. it was one of her favorite things to do at these times, to simply observe the obscene looks on your face that she made herself, tight with pleasure.

ellie took such pride and satisfaction in reducing you to a quivering mess so quickly. and she hadn't even fucked you properly yet. by the time she was through, you'd be putty in her hands.

“yeah? if you have something to say, you gotta use your words (y/n). so if you want it, then tell me you want to cum all over my hand while i fuck you right here,” ellie taunted, now nipping at your bottom lip, her husky voice dripping dominance and desire.

the words that escaped her lips left you stunned, rendering you momentarily speechless. your eyes watched her intently as she adjusted her stance against the wall. her every movement seemed deliberate, commanding your attention.

with trembling hands, you reached out to steady yourself against a nearby surface, the weight of her words sinking in as you opted for the wall behind ellie. as she moved her arm once more, your gaze followed. her strong fingers dipped past the fabric to tease your entrance eagerly. "come on baby, don't leave me hanging,” ellie ordered gruffly, knowing the sound of her voice could send you over the edge.

she held you flush against her body, grinding up to meet your every roll of hips. you swallowed each other's moans with deep kisses, tongues tangling erotically. ellie was determined to push you over the edge right here in this very locker room.

all of a sudden, a disruptive knocking sound echoed through the locker room door, shattering the fragile bubble of intimacy that had enveloped you both. a voice, belonging to joel, ellie's hockey coach, seeped through the other side, brimming with impatience.

"ellie, hurry up! the bus is outside, and our asses will leave you here to hitchhike if you don't come out in the next five minutes," joel's voice boomed, giving his last warning to your girlfriend.

you exchanged a knowing glance, the disappointment and longing apparent in your eyes. ellie growled in frustration as joel's voice interrupted your intense moment. of course, right when she was finally forgetting her problems, the problem came knocking on the door.

"shit," she muttered under her breath. ellie rested her forehead against yours as you both panted from being out of breath, the rhythm of your heartbeats gradually slowing, but the desire within you remaining unquenched.

"we're not done here," ellie whispered huskily, giving your ass a possessive squeeze.

louder so joel could hear, she called out, "yeah yeah, we're coming!" you tried not to laugh, but ellie giggled to herself, a sly smile on her face at the double meaning which caused you to roll your eyes.

ellie's lips pressed against yours for one final, ravenous kiss, a bittersweet taste that left you yearning for more. "we’re gonna finish this later, i promise,” she declared in a hushed tone, fueling what already thrummed between you.

with a playful slap on your ass whilst she got off the bench, ellie teased you, her touch electric against your skin. time was of the essence as you swiftly assisted her in changing out of her hockey gear and into more comfortable clothes.

the weight of disappointment settled upon both of you, and with mutual understanding, you tenderly brushed each other's disheveled hair back into place. gently, you attempted to wipe the sweat from each other's faces, trying to look as unsuspecting as possible. Not to mention, it was also severely embarrassing.

leaving the confines of the locker room, you stepped outside and joined ellie's teammates on the bus. taking your places among them, you immersed yourself in the multiple topics that would usually take place, ranging from animated discussions about the game to reflections on personal improvement and snippets of their everyday lives. or, they simply just talked shit about the other team and how stupid their name was—it could even go as far as saying how ugly and mismatched the team colors would be.

ellie knew you'd be aching for her touch until then. it would be a long, frustrating bus ride for both of you back to jackson. but the anticipation would make the payoff so much sweeter.

she knew she would get her after-game reward.

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upat4amwiththemoon · 1 year ago

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Heyy can i request a wanda x fem reader oneshot where r is the queen of a nation which is similar to Wakanda and the avengers need this nations help for something (sitting on the throne looking badass moment ) and she is graceful and so badass like: sitting at dining table uses knife to point towards empty seat, “oh. sit, please.” R has powers and helps them out. Wanda being head over heals and finally them dating. I am sorry for the long request 😭

Mother Nature

Summary: A queen so powerful, myths have been written about her. An island so mysterious, no one knows where it is.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x female!reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 2505

a/n: listen…this got a little out of hand

Tags: @thought-of-you-and-me @rafecameronswhore @sayah13 @wandsmxmff @emsmultiverse @natashamaximoff69

masterlists | guidelines

Dragonstone is a volcanic island in the North Atlantic Ocean, just below Greenland and Iceland, but it’s not visible on any maps. Not many know of its existence, as the island is surrounded by such powerful magic, making it invisible to the naked eye. If anyone were to sail towards it, violent storms and currents will make even the strongest of ships sink. It has become a myth to the outsiders, an area such as the Bermuda Triangle, where everyone disappears into the nothingness. This keeps the island, and its population, in safety and peace. They have fought no wars, nor have they suffered in the hands of man made concepts.

However, the fights have started to get bigger, sometimes having the faith of the whole Universe in their hands. That much they figured out after Thanos. Which is why the Avengers know of Dragonstone, and its Queen, and how to get her help.

Everyone holds onto their seats as the Quinjet’s autopilot navigates through the dark clouds, often going through turbulence. “Are we sure this isn’t actually just some freak of nature spot? Is there anything here?” Tony grumbles as he tries to fasten his seatbelt impossibly tight. “We have very expensive cargo on board, and by that I mean me and my suit.”

“Fury seemed confident in his knowledge.” Steve reminds, slightly more calmly, though he is also nervous.

Wanda has her eyes closed. She tries to stay inside her mind, ignoring everything going around her. Air traffic has never been her favorite, but this is next level. The Quinjet does sudden dives and turns, throwing anything loose around. This is why Fury said to fasten everything to the walls and roof, but like usual, Tony didn’t take the advice to heart.

She can feel Natasha’s hand holding her own, calming her down slightly. Wanda doesn’t personally know Fury that well, but she knows Natasha thinks very highly of him, so she is pretty sure he wouldn’t lead them to their certain death. However, she can’t be sure, as this is starting to feel like a wrong way to the supposed island.

“Why couldn’t Fury come here himself? Or the Queen to us?” Kate almost shouts at a particularly violent spot.

“Because when we ask for help from royalties, we show them respect.” Steve states, his *all the younger generations have forgotten respect* personality every old person has shining through. “Did none of you learn this in Wakanda?”

No one gets to answer him, as the Quinjet starts going up, up, up full speed, making everyone yelp. After it has reached the correct altitude, it goes down headfirst. For a moment, the team is sure something has gone wrong, that they are plummeting towards their death. But right before it hits the water, the Quinjet turns the right way and continues flying forward, now in a completely calm climate.

They instantly calm down, letting out breaths of relief and relaxing their tense muscles. Natasha is the first one to get out of her seat, going to the cockpit and looking out the window. “Well, at least the island is real.” She calls out. The others start to pile up in front of the window.

At first glance, it looks like they’re flying towards a big pile of rocks, but at a closer look, they can see the rocks form big walls and even a bigger castle on the island. They’re in awe of the view. The water and air are so calm now that they’ve gotten past the barrier.

They stare out the window while the Quinjet lowers itself to the ground, right outside the walls. Once they step outside, they see two people waiting for them. “Welcome to Dragonstone!” One of them smiles. “My name is Sylvia and I’m the Queen’s advisor. And this,” she gestures to the person next to her, who is wearing an armor, “and this is Calen, they’re the head of protection in this island.”

They bow their head down as a greeting, not saying anything to the guests. The look on their face is serene and their posture is straight, like a proper soldier’s. Sylvia on the other hand shows more excitement through her body, even though her hands are behind her back, they’re still wiggling around, and the smile on her face is one that can light up a whole room.

“Thank you for granting us access to your island.” Steve speaks up, being the unofficial spokesperson when it comes to formal situations.

“Fury is an old friend of Gaia, any friend of his is a friend to us. Now, if you’d follow me, I’ll take you to the castle to meet our Queen.”

They start trekking the land towards the castle, first walking on the bare land and then moving to narrow walkways as they go inside the walls. Most of the walk goes by in silence, the team taking in their surroundings. They’ve never seen anything quite like this.

Wanda drags her hand along the stone fence, her fingers going along the bumps and ridges of it. She smiles. The magic of this island feels different than her own, but not in a threatening way, it feels like it’s dancing with her own.

Finally they get to the castle’s entrance. The huge wooden door opens inward, two other soldiers pulling it. Calen and Sylvia greet them as they go past them. “The Queen is in the throne room.” The latter tells the group, leading them through hallways before stopping in front of a door.

The door to the throne room is also wooden, but it’s a lot more decorated compared to the other ones. It’s carved from top to bottom with different pictures, making it look like a story. Calen pushes the door open, letting everyone walk through it before closing it again. At the end of the room, the Queen sits on her throne. The royal seat has been made out of purely white stone. The backside of it is tall and the sides are wide enough for the Queen to lay her arms there comfortably, but it still looks delicate.

“Gaia.” Sylvia lowers her head in respect and Calen goes down to one knee to bow. The Avengers, quite hesitantly, bow in some way too, bot sure of the island’s customs.

“There’s no need for that.” The Queen’s voice makes all of them rise. Sylvia and Calen take their respective places near the Queen, while the team stop in front of the stairs to the throne. “I hear you are friends of Nicholas Fury.”

Wanda stares at her in amazement. The way she looks so soft yet regal makes her heart pound faster than normal. She can see her chest moving up and down as she breathes, the armor like steel plate moving with it. The dark blue fabric is thick for colder weathers, but flowy enough to move easily. Wanda’s eyes move up to the top of her head. The crown on her head looks like it’s made out of steel as well. It makes her look sharp and strong. She looks majestic sitting on her throne.

“We are,” Steve smiles, “thank you for agreeing to meet us, your Highness.”

“Please, Y/N.” She states. “That’s the name my mother gave me.”

“Y/N. I’m sure you’re aware of a recently defeated threat from space called Thanos.” He continues once she nods, “unfortunately the other worldly threats don’t stop there. We’d like to ask your help to prevent these kind of attacks more efficiently.”

“Certainly.”

Wanda shudders from the way Y/N says the word. Her pronunciation, the slight rasp of her voice and how she rolls the letter r, make her feel dizzy. She is sure the look on her face is stupid, and lovestruck, her eyes wide and mouth slightly parted. The whole conversation going on is going past her. Only thing in her mind right now is something she really shouldn’t be thinking about, but she just can’t stop herself.

“Would you give me the honor of joining me for dinner today? We even have enough guest rooms if you wish to rest before your trip back to America.”

“We would be honored to join you.” Natasha answers. She has been glancing at Wanda during the conversation with a grin on her face, she can read her face easily, knowing what the witch is fantasizing about.

The Queen stands up, her dress falling perfectly to her feet. “I’m glad to hear that. I shall see you in the dining room in an hour, in the mean while, Sylvia will show you where you can refresh yourselves.” Sylvia nods and gestures for them to follow her. Wanda keeps her eyes on Y/N as she walks away, noticing a small smile growing on her face.

After an hour, the Avengers gather into the dining room by Sylvia’s lead, where Y/N is already waiting for them. “Gaia.” Sylvia says before leaving the room.

Y/N stands up, pointing towards the empty chairs. “Please, sit.” She says with a smile, sitting down once again when they get around the table. Wanda sits next to her. She can see the small details of her breast plate from this close.

The table is already fully catered with different foods and desserts. It works like a buffet, everyone takes what they like to their plates. “Can I ask you,” Wanda starts when her plate is full, “why do they call you Gaia, if your name is Y/N?”

“Gaia is a title of sorts. Every queen before me was called that as well, because we keep this island alive and safe. It means Mother Nature.” She explains with a gentle smile on her face, holding eye contact with Wanda as she talks to her. “It is an honor to be called Gaia.” Wanda nods, not able to look away from her stormy eyes.

“How does the next queen get chosen?” Tony asks.

“It’s more faith than decision making,” she pauses, looking for best words to describe how their queens get their role, “we’re born to it, but not in a traditional sense. We are born from the previous Gaia, they mold us from magic.”

“So, there’s no…” he moves his fingers around in a promiscuous manner, which makes Steve look at him disapprovingly. They’re in front of the Queen after all.

But she only finds the situation amusing. “No. Children born in a traditional way are random, and our queens need to be precise. They’re all women and they all have powers. They need to be born from magic.”

Although they don’t really understand the process, and none of them want to ask about the specifics of it, they still find it fascinating. It’s a whole new country with completely different customs compared to theirs. Wanda especially listens to her intently. Her smooth voice practically drilling its way into her brain.

“Can the queen have relationships? Even if they don’t have any part on the next generation of rulers.” The question makes Wanda’s head snap to look at Natasha, who has a wide grin on her face.

“Yes. There are no rules on relationship. The partner just has to know they have no rule over the island.”

Satisfied with the answer, Natasha nods, sending a discreet wink towards Wanda. Her cheeks turn a shade of pink. She tries to hide it by eating the food.

They keep a light conversation going while they all finish their food. Once the plates are empty and the stomachs full, they start leaving the table and go to their rooms. The Queen doing the same. However, she isn’t alone for long.

There’s a knock on her bedroom door.

“Hello, Wanda.” Y/N smiles, the door now open wide. “Would you like to come in?”

“Yeah, thanks.” Wanda steps into the room, the door closing after her. She looks around the room, trying to keep her eyes off of Y/N’s thin night gown. A big bed is in the middle of the room, it has light blue veil over it and a white fur on top. A window, almost the size of the wall, is on the right side of it, but it’s already covered with dark curtains. Otherwise the room is quite plain. A wooden dresser. Mirror with steel decorations. What catches Wanda’s eyes are the tapestries on the walls. They’re bright and colorful, each one having its own story. “Beautiful.” She mumbles.

“They tell our history.” Y/N steps beside her. “Every queen makes one. These are the oldest ones, the rest are in the library, visible for everyone. One day mine will be there too.” She sounds proud when she speaks of her ancestors.

“Your mother, is she still alive?”

“No. The crown passed down to me when I was thirteen.”

“I’m sorry.”

Y/N turns to her with a smile. “Nothing to be sorry about. She’s with her mother and grandmother, and so on. And one day I will see her again, until then, I will make her proud by keeping the people on this island safe.”

However beautiful the idea is, Wanda still feels sad for her. She knows what it’s like to lose your mother young. But she doesn’t comment on it more, clearly it’s not something appropriate to discuss now. “The magic. It feels different here.”

“Yes, it’s not the same as yours. The magic is part of me as much as it is a part of the island. We’re connected. We can sense each other. I can control it and it can influence me.”

“That’s why they call you Mother Nature?”

“Sort of. There’s a long history there. But yes, my ability to control the sea and the air around us is a part of it.”

“Maybe you’ll be able to tell me some day.”

Her smile widens. “Maybe.”

Wanda smiles too. She notices how Y/N’s eyes twinkle in the dim light, as if they had their own light source. “You’re beautiful.” The words stumble out of her mouth. She had no intention on making any mind of move this soon, but she couldn’t help it. This felt like a right moment.

With a small giggle, Y/N looks down, trying to cover her warming cheeks. She doesn’t usually get nervous, but Wanda sounded so sincere. “I’m flattered you think so.”

“Do you think you could go on a date with me? Later, of course. Do you have any rules on that?” The nervousness starts growing at the bottom of her stomach again, the lapse of confidence leaving her body quickly.

“There are some rules, but nothing major. I could definitely go on a date with you, I’d actually really like to do so.”

Letting out a breath, Wanda nods. Her hands are moving her rings around. “Great. I- uhm, that’s great.” She laughs quietly. “I’ll leave you now. See you tomorrow.”

“See you.” Y/N gives her a small wave, smiling widely even after the door closes.

918 notes · View notes

lucybellwood · 1 year ago

Text

Sharing another longer comic I made for The Nib back in 2016, since they'll be shutting up shop at the end of this year. This piece was such a great excuse to dig deep into the world of sail-powered cargo! I particularly loved talking to the team behind Ceiba, who are now years into their build and documenting the entire shipbuilding process along the way.

(Dig this? There's always room for more passengers aboard the good ship Patreon.)

#sail cargo #ceiba #tres hombres #age of sail #tall ship sailing #boat stuff #comics #lucy bellwood #the nib #personal work #sailing #climate change #timbercoast #avontuur #dynarig #comics journalism #container ship #container shipping

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supercap2319 · 7 months ago

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Y/N looked around the room in confusion as he was disoriented. He glanced to the left and saw his fellow teammate and friend: Spiderman. Along with five other people he didn't recognize, but one of them looked vaguely like Steve, only with a buzzed head and dressed in a blue suit with the number 4 on it. "What happened?"

"That's my fault, I guess. I'm the one who brought you. Y/N, I—"

Peter was cut off by a stranger looking man or creature made up of rocks, wearing blue pants with that same number 4 symbol as the other three. He grabbed Peter by his suit, lifting him into the air. "Tell us what's goin' on, or I'm gonna squash ya flat." He raised a fist.

Y/N went and grabbed his arm. "Stop! I know Spiderman. You can trust him."

"Hey! Don't wrinkle the rocks, ya little brat." The creature of rocks sent Y/N flying back with a powerful throw, knocking the young Avenger into a wall. Y/N shook his head as he recovered before looking at the Thing or whatever it was called and blasted it with a hex bolt.

The rock creature went sailing back with an audible "oof." The guy who looked like Steve glared at Y/N. "Bad move, Kid. That's my friend you just messed with. Flame on!" The Steve look-alike erupted in flames as they licked all around his body until he was covered in flames head to toe. He flew into the air.

He flew towards Y/N as another member of their team stretched his body out to ridiculous proportions and stretched after him. "No, Johnny! Stop!" Y/N flew at Steve's doppelgänger, dodging fire attacks as he sent his own blasts at Johnny, but before either of them could strike again, Peter's webs shot out and encased Johnny in their silky threads.

"Hey!"

"Hold on, hothead." Peter said.

The stretchy man caught Johnny in his arms and safely put him on the ground. "Reed! Let me outta this!"

"Everyone calm down." A woman with dark skin and white hair said. She had x symbols on the front of her shoulders.

#x male reader #male reader insert #male x male #peter parker #Peter Parker x male reader #tom holland #johnny storm #the human torch #the thing #the fantastic four #ben grimm #chris evans #michael chiklis #marvel's secret wars #secret wars

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charles-leclerizz · 8 months ago

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EPISODE 01 : Start your engine

🏁 EPISODE AGE RATING : U/A 16+ [contaings swearing]

🏁 GENRE : Drama, Action, Sports, Romance

🏁 WORD COUNT : 10 K [ 10 , 366 WORDS ]

🏁 MUSIC SUMMARY : THE GREATEST BY SIA, PUMPT IT - BLACK EYED PEAS

🏁 CREDIT [S] : "BEHIND THE SCENES" BANNER, NETFLIX PLAY BAR BY ME [@charles-leclerizz], TEXT DIVIDERS BY @cafekitsune

🏁 TAGS : MUTUALS GET INSTANT TAGS [@vroomvroomcircuit, @disneyprincemuke, @verstappen-cult, @starkwlkr, @sailing-with-100-ships, @foreveralbon], OTHERS [@weekendlusting, @woozarts, @mellowarcadefun, @paintedbypoetry, @33-81, @kazuha-pista-badam, @inejghafawifesblog,d3kstar], IF YOU WANT TO BE TAGGED, PLEASE SEND IN AN ASK !

DIRECTORS CUT : first episode children, better get soome snacks and a drink, and i highly reccomend looking at the masterlist, aisha's profile and the porsche f1 team links, since they will explain everything. It is also recommendeed you first read the trailer, which is once again found on the masterlist below.

Masterlist · 🪷 Aisha · 🪷 Porsche F1 Team · 🪷

The opening credits of the series begin to play, revealing bold block letters reading,

“Bahrain 2025”

And in the background, the black fades to reveal an aerial view of the landmark circuit, a staple of the history that defines Formula One. As the shot zooms in, we see the morning mist rolling over the grey, freshly re-laid tarmac of the track leading up to the garages of each of the 10 teams, most of them shutdown and blocked away from prying eyes. Though, as the camera moves forward, the view widens and we can see at the very end of the line, the Porsche garage emitting a yellow glow.

The acrylic entrance leaks hues of gold whilst we finally approach the opening where we see Aisha jumping in place, a set of Bose x Porsche headphones sat on her ears, the white body and metallic automobile logo on the muffs bouncing with her movements.

She looks up from her focussed point beneath her, facing the camera that zooms in and captures the determined flare within the pools of her eyes.

The music, already beginning its powerful bass bursts, dims and briefly we can hear her laboured breathing as she stretches her hands above her and unzips the tight athleisure jacket that she had worn previously for warmth. The adidas logo crumples as she throws it away, revealing a cropped sports bra, white with grey stripes at the sides containing an embroidered Porsche logo on her left breast.

Soon enough, the music comes blaring back and the camera merely turns to follow her body as she begins to run away from the safety of her team enclosure. The scene ends with her exiting the shot, running down the initial straight of the first ever track she will race as a formula one driver.

“Aisha, what drives you in the world of Formula One?” A deep, cryptic voice off camera asks the driver sitting in shot. She smiles menacingly and leans back against her seat, her hands planted on her elegantly crossed legs as she adjusts the low cut, ‘V’ collar of her waistcoat, the colour matching the iconic Porsche guards’ red, of the rest of her risqué pantsuit.

“What drives me?” She chuckles, a low, raspy amusement that reverberates against the stormy backdrop behind her, “The competition, the domination, it runs in my blood;” She leans forward, as if the camera crew were privy to her obvious need to achieve. Aisha’s thin, golden bangles on each of her wrist’s jingle as she goes to adjust her volumous hair, “it’s not about the winning, it’s about obliterating the finish line.” She shrugs nonchalantly, despite the aggressive competitiveness that crackles in the air.

The voice chuckles at her threatening demeanour, yet continues, “Some media outlets commented on your driving style, since F2 and F3. They say it’s violent. What’s your response?”

Aisha bites her lip, thinking on the best way to diplomatically answer the question, despite her need to curse the people who doubted her.

Instead, she sighs with faux disappointment and her wide, mascara rimmed eyes move down to her rouge and gold nails whilst one of her fingers comes to slip beneath the platinum stud that sits comfortably on the left of her nose.

“Violent?” She asks, her voice barely above a murmur, “They could’ve been more descriptive.” She rolls her eyes once before inhaling, “Try...relentless. When I’m on track, behind the wheel, it’s war. And I aim to be the last one standing, if you can’t get with the program, move out the way. Cause I’m here to win.”

Her promise of no mercy is palpable as she shifts minutely in her seat, tapping her nails against one another whilst waiting for next question.

“What about the rest of the grid?” The interviewer prompts, treading carefully with his words, “Any words for them?”

Aisha scoffs under her breath, uncrossing her legs and flipping over the golden dainty necklace that rests within her exposed cleavage, the glinting logo of her team catches the light whilst she adjusts herself.

“Why words? They’ll know what I’m here for when I pass them. They’ll feel it, the fear, the resignation. I’m a whirlwind, all they can do is get swept up in it, this season, I am not racing against them, their teams or even their car; I’m racing against their hatred of losing to me.”

She smiles at the camera, eyes crinkling at the sides as her nose scrunches, a pure juxtaposition to the threat that peeled out of her mouth like scalding, hot water.

“Before we end. For your fans, what do you want them to know?”

“Hold on for your life, they’re about to witness history on the track. Cause I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to fuck shit up.” Aisha grins wickedly and laughing loudly at the flurry of reactions off camera from the crew that stood behind the myriad of wires.

Three different scenes are overlayed one another, the first being of Lewis Hamilton, giggling at someone off screen before focussing his large doe eyes onto the interviewer who also sat behind the large camera.

The second being 3X world champion Max Verstappen, who sits heavily onto the provided stool and sips at the can of the sugary energy drink in his hand, Max stared at the camera, a bored sheen coating his crystalline blue irises as the third, and final driver’s scene overtakes his.

This time Charles Leclerc enters the identical set, the Ferrari golden boy had narrowly escaped his fans-who’s screams of joy could be heard in the background as he waved a final time and pocketed a bright red, branded Ferrari pen whilst sighing, glancing around haphazardly.

“Lewis”

Hamilton perks up at his name, smiling serenely, prompting the interviewer to continue.

“The world of Formula one is ablaze about new entry, Aisha Patel. Do you think, as a seasoned professional, she has what it takes to compete?”

Lewis whistles lowly, leaning back against his seat and wraps his arms around himself, “Damn- starting strong huh?” He snorts once before re-adjusting his posture, “Y’know, we’ve heard of her up here. And she’s talented, but obliterating F3 and F2 does not directly auto-translate to domination on our track.”

“Is that scepticism that I hear?” The interviewer chases after the hesitation in the driver’s voice, like a dog after a juicy bone.

“Call it...” Lewis arches an eyebrow as he mulls over his words, “Healthy cautiousness. I’m waiting to see how she handles the pressure after the lights go out.”

“Max”

Max hums lazily, as though he had one too many bubbling seltzers that sat, pristine on the refreshments table, “Yeah?”

“Aisha Patel.”

Max clenches his jaw at the sound of her name.

“She’s said to rival your aggressiveness on track, what are your thoughts on her joining your world?”

Max scoffs at the seemingly preposterous statement, “What about her? She’s aggressive, so what? It’s skill that matters here in the big leagues. Give a baby a steering wheel to a supercharged car, that’ll be aggressive. I’m not holding my breath for her. “

“That sounds like someone who’s threatened?” He probes the already on edge driver.

“A threat?” Max chortles as if someone had offered him a mere penny for his thoughts, “I haven’t been threatened since kindergarten. I’ll let her have her try at the status quo, take one for the team and all.”

“Charles”

The alarmingly red adorned man tilts his head inquisitively at the interviewer, his gentle smile popping his dimples.

“Miss. Patel has been said to be relentless on track, throwing caution to the wind. Your thoughts on her violent debut?”

Charles hums as he nods his head, “It’s nice to see fresh blood on track, bonne, she’s certainly caught people’s attention. Let’s see if she’s all bark and no bite.” He mummers the French praise before shrugging at the end of his sentence.

“You’re excited to compete against her?”

“Of course- who wouldn’t be? New team, new driver. The more varied the sport, the more interesting.” He answers neutrality laced into his words, despite the excited glint in his eye.

“Thank you for your insights.” The interviewer thanks the men in their tapes, each of them reciprocating with equal politeness.

“Of course,” Lewis grins and claps his hands, turning to start chatting once again as he dismounts from the chair, already walking away.

“No problem,” Max nods his head once, stepping down from his seat whilst receiving a fresh can of Red Bull.

“Cheers mate,” The camera captures Charles leaning forward to shake the interviewer’s hand whilst patting his shoulder, before detaching to go and talk to the gaggle of Ferrari personnel who had gathered within the filming shed.

The 2025 drivers had gathered onto the Bahrain track, the relentless mid-day sun beating down on them as a few of them had the pleasure of black umbrellas being held above them, whilst other’s held small hand-fans in the large palms, basking in the cool breeze that the battery powered trinket provided.

Aisha walked out, her racing shoes tapping against the tarmac as she made her way towards the others. A few Porsche employees trailed behind her, one of them stayed closer behind her, offering her a metallic, grey hand-held fan along with a chilled bottle of water.

“Thanks,” She murmured, brushing the hair that managed to escape her ponytail, “It’s fucking boiling.” Aisha complained, tugging at her fireproofs whilst another employee came up to her, patting her face with a setting powder as an attempt to dry her skin.

“Can’t really help it, love.” The media admin, Sarah, pointed out removing her focus from one of the jittery interns to the driver, “Now- you’re going to walk out, fans are going to see you. Are you sure you don’t want to hide your face right now?”

Aisha cracked open the bottle in her hand, having pressed the condensation coated plastic against her forehead long enough. She faced away from 2-3 people surrounding her to peak past the acrylic barrier, onto the track, where the rest of the drivers stood haphazardly scattered around the starting position boxes that had been freshly painted onto the concrete polymer.

“It’s fine, I think I’ve already heard all their opinions on me.” Aisha groaned, fanning her face again as she kicked a non-existent pebble beneath her toe, “What could go wrong?”

She peaked out again, like a tense meerkat, only to be surprised with her teammate, Pierre chatting with his former partner, Esteban Ocon. His racing suit was already zipped up fully as he basked in the fan’s unintelligible shouts and squeals, the thick, grey fabric stretched over his body nicely as the different sponsor logos morphed to the wrinkles and dents of the cloth.

“He’s already out there.” She hissed, “Making me look like shit.” Aisha banged the back of her crown against the wall that provided her with the much-needed shelter, from both the sweltering rays and the assessing gazes of the crowd above.

“Nonsense lovey.” Sarah assured her, picking at the hem of her fireproofs and pressing a few of the sweaty, stray strands of hair back into position, “Pedro’s just catching up with some friends.”

“Pierre.” Aisha corrected, pulling up her identical suit from hanging lowly from her waist to her shoulders, thankfully she still had time to leave it unzipped.

“Whatever.” She flapped her hand dismissively, “Baguette man isn’t doing anything you won’t have to.”

“Okay,” Aisha breathed out, keeping her lips taught and still as her rouge lipstick was touched up by another Porsche jersey adorned worker, “My helmet?” She looked around, patting herself, as though it would appear out of thin air.

Sarah looked around her surrounding, panicked, before snorting and pointing to the ledge behind the group, “There ya go babe.” She leaned past Aisha to knock on the head gear.

“I’m a mess,” Aisha whined, picking up her helmet whilst rubbing the glossy exterior with an open palm, she runs her fingers over her last name that’s printed on the back.

“A hot mess.” Sarah corrected her, hooking their elbows together whilst ushering forward the teenage interns next to them- their hands shaking with apprehension as they gripped the phones in their hands, the gadget recording each moment.

Aisha stilled slightly as her foot contacted the tarmac, the crowd already hushing with undivided interest on her mere shadow. She could feel anxious sweat begin to build up on the nape of her neck, flushing her face and glistening against her skin.

Finally, after a few minutes of inner turmoil, she allowed Sarah to guide her out within the crowd of other team’s media escorts and her fellow drivers. The grandstands erupted with chaos, the rushing of footsteps- scrambling to take the first photos of her in her debut, the unravelling of flags, the patriotic colours burning against the pristine plexi-glass barriers and multiple little girls shouting happily at her image.

Aisha forced a smile onto her face, the unexpected praise soothed her blushing ears as she waved up at the viewing boxes.

“Well, well. Nobody’s ever screamed like that for me.” A voice creeped up behind her, causing Aisha to whip around with a cautionary hand on her chest.

A cheeky grin greeted her, “Lando” Aisha breathed out, leaning to the side of his stature to acknowledge the rabid paparazzi behind of them with a tight-lipped nod.

“Hey,” He greeted her, bouncing on the balls of his feet and tapping the top of his helmet that sat squeezed between his arm and waist, “You nervous?” Lando tipped his head boyishly, his curls falling over his forehead, hazel eyes softening as he watched her.

“Not really,” Aisha lied, “do you need to pee?” She looked at him anxiously, watching as he stopped bouncing like a full bladdered toddler, and stood still. Lando chuckled under his breath and opened his mouth to answer, until he lurched forward under the weight of a heavy arm that hung from his shoulders.

“Little Lando Norris.” Daniel chuckled, rubbing his knuckles over the younger’s head, and snorted when Lando pushed his hand away stumbling out from his hold, “Already chatting up the newbie?” Daniel looks at Aisha with a smirk, “I think his pubes finally grew in.” He faux whispered, his voice gritty as he winked.

“I’m not chatting up anyone,” Lando smacked Daniel between the eyes before walking backwards, next to Aisha, “Just catching up.” He shrugged, side-eyeing her, gauging a reaction from her steely expression. Luckily, he got one, Aisha’s eyes widened slightly, her eyelashes fluttering to match her hearts faster pace as she slowly turned her head to meet his eyes.

“Catching up?” Daniel inquired, suddenly interested, “You guys know each other from before?”

“Yeah, we karted together.” Aisha crossed her arms over one another, before accepting a cold can of thumbs up from a staff member, “Still remember how he shit his pants.” She mumbled.

“I did not!”

“What the fuck.”

Both men exclaimed at the same time, Lando blushing a furious red and Daniel cackling loudly- leading to not only the attention from the other drivers that stood in a 200m vicinity but also Aisha snorting out her drink from her nose.

“I did not shit my pants.” Lando gritted out the last part, to stop prying ears of the other men approaching to become privy to his humiliation.

“You did though?” Aisha arched a brow at him, “I passed by you on the last lap, therefore winning-“ She poked her outstretched pinkie from her can into his puffed up chest, “And that made you so mad, that you shit your pants.”

“Oh god,” Daniel wheezed, taking support on his shorter teammate who had trotted up to join the conversation. Yuki scrunched up his face, tilting away from the force of the elder before looking at Aisha sympathetically,

“You excited?” He grinned slightly, showing off the gap between his front teeth.

“Definitely. How could I not be?” Aisha looked down at Yuki, shifting her weight slightly as an attempt to lower herself, “The crippling pressure? The thousands of viewers? The weight of both of my country’s on my shoulders?” Aisha blew a nonchalant breath from between her lips whilst waving her hand in front of her face, “No biggie.”

The three men stared at her, blank expressions on their face, one of them pressed their lips together, smacking them and creating an equally awkward “popping” noise for the group to bask in.

“I meant more like, the race and stuff..” Yuki mumbled, scratching the back of his head before yelping when Daniel smacked the nape of his neck, “But yeah, what you said works too, fo sho, no doubt, no doubt.” He corrected himself hastily.

“Fo sho?” A fourth voice chimed in, this time with a French lilt to his words, “Who’s got yuki talking like that?”

Aisha looked away amusedly from the smaller driver to the voice, her eyes widened at the blaring red that adorned the man in front of her.

“My period wasn’t due until after the race.” She commented, meeting the man’s intense gaze, “Are you here to ask if I’d like to continue watching?” She tilted her head innocently.

“Ah, I see.” He scrunches his nose at her, “You’ve got our baby Yuki talking like that.”

“Hey, fuck you man.” Yuki protested, throwing his arms up with a huff.

“I know you want to,” The seemingly french-man retorted back with a shameful wink,

“You wink like you’re trying not to cry.” Lando pointed out.

Aisha clapped her hands at her revelation, “That’s what it looked like!”

Lando shrugged, as though it was obvious.

“Okay I’m sorry, I’m not here to start the next French revolution or whatever-“ She mumbled, holding out a polite hand as a civil greeting.

Though, she was not met with his acceptance immediately, instead the three men surrounding her grimaced and hissed through their teeth- Daniel shook his hand out like he had just burned himself. Aisha looked around, oblivious to the reason for their reactions and jolted her hand out to the man.

“I’m from Monaco,” He snarked, accepting her hand begrudgingly, “Not France.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She shrugged in reply.

“Charles” he gritted out, squeezing Aisha’s hand tightly- a poor attempt to veil his distaste, “Charles Leclerc, Ferrari driver.”

“Really?” Aisha squeezed harder, taking a step back to roll her eyes over his bright red suit, “Couldn’t tell.” She snorted.

“Right, well” Lando coughed, reaching forward to peel away both of their hands simultaneously, “This was fun. Meeting new people.” He took Aisha’s hand in his but dropped it quickly when she looked down at their conjoined fingers. Lando coughed, the tips of his ears blushing a furious scarlet, before he shifted to glance at his oh-so-interesting boots.

Luckily, the situation was saved by one of the administration workers clapping their hands and speaking robotically into a megaphone, “drivers, please make your way to your positions.”

The seasoned drivers around her began to exit their conversations and walk towards the bleachers style setup at the start line of the circuit. At least 12 black, metallic chairs sat in a row behind a small plaque, displaying bold white font that detailed the circuit name and the iconic formula one logo sprawled along the edges of the display board.

“Didn’t need this fucking helmet.” Aisha hissed to herself, jogging to one of the Porsche employees that stood at the edge of the camera shot, handing off the piece of equipment, before making her way back to the crowd.

She zipped up her suit and removed the piece of elastic from her hair, letting the noir waves fall down her shoulders as she scanned the already in place men in front of her, thankfully Pierre waved at her and ushered for her to take place next to him, standing behind the pair of Mercedes drivers who were snickering at some joke the other had just told.

Aisha huffed, clasping her hands behind her waist whilst jerking her head side to side due to odd strands of hair tickling her eyes and nose, before she could exasperatedly wipe her face with her hand, a pair of fingers had come and brushed against her nose. Aisha minutely followed the soft pads across her cheek before trailing her gaze up to the origin, Lando met her eyes, his own irises blown out as his hand lingered by her cheek- his thumb twitching across her skin before he coughed and re-took his position.

“Thank you,” She murmured beneath her breath, neutralising her face against the onslaught of obnoxious camera shutters and piercing sun rays.

“No problem,” Lando nodded slightly, his eyes flicking back to her face, tracing her features with his shy stare, “You did great in qualifying, yesterday.” He hastily complimented.

Aisha tried to fight against the blush that made its way up her neck, “thank you,” she snipped, pressing her lips together as a futile attempt at hiding her girlish smile.

Lando huffed out a laugh, turning his neck to grin at her, “anytime.”

Finally, the pictures had come to a stop, and the long-barrelled cameras were packed away and the grid were herded to a large, open roof truck. Another admin worker trailed behind the last driver into the pen-like vehicle, stepping up the stairs to hang back from the railing after locking the gate, “everyone’s here?’ she asked, giving a once over the flocked in men, and woman.

“Aisha, you’ll be first to talk to Lawrence,” She met eyes with Aisha, who was already waving to the rowdy fans who had collected at the banisters of the grandstands, “And then it’ll be whoever’s closest.”

The lady nodded once when the drivers thanked her, then she caught Aisha’s gaze again and she smiled reassuringly, “See you guys around.” She waved and dismounted from the railing with a jump.

The large platform began to move as the truck silently hummed to life, Aisha moved from her comfortable position at the back of the area-leaning against the matte, black railing towards Lawrence who smiled excitedly at her approaching figure. As she knitted through the small groups of 3 drivers littered in her path, she continued to wave at the fans who shouted and screamed at each subtle view they managed to glimpse of her.

“Aisha! Hi!” Lawrence greeted her, offering his hand for her to shake and swivelled around to collect a microphone.

“Hello, hello.” Aisha grinned back, accepting the long piece of tech from him, comically rotating it in her hands observing the porous black material that had been painted with a flaring red to create the F1 logo.

“So, you’re finally here! The big leagues, and yesterday’s qualifying must’ve been very exciting. We’ve all been so blown away with Porsche’s car, and your performance. P5 ! Amazing. Walk us through what you’re feeling right now?”

“I mean, it’s a confidence booster of course, qualifying top 5- but I think that along with that it’s proving to myself and other little girls like me that it isn’t about who you are, but what you can do, regardless of gender or background.” Aisha nods once, leaning her elbow against the railing to crane her neck around and take in the track that lay ahead of the speedily moving vehicle.

“It’s great that you can showcase your talent and inspire young minds, but with that said- there’s obviously a pressure that comes with entering such a male-dominated sport.”

Aisha stilled slightly, her eyes wide and unblinking for a beat, “I mean, there’s always going to be extra expectation on you when you’re breaking barriers. The way I see it, this is an opportunity to pave the way for future generation, so really, its fuels my success and goes to show that gender or race, doesn’t correlate to your ability on track.”

“Well said, and while we’re on the topic of your determination, whilst being in the spotlight almost 24/7 and the battles on track, how do you maintain focus? It must be overwhelming.”

Aisha chuckled, turning to look at the other drivers, a few of them had tuned into her interview not-so-subtle whilst others were still deep in conversation, “I mean, when you’re battling against jumbo sized toddlers, and then being put under the loving spotlight of the media, I agree, it can be pretty overwhelming sometimes. But then I remind myself, why am I here? What am I here to do? And at the end of the day, it’s just me, the car, and the track, so I really don’t mind it too much.”

She shrugged at the end of her sentence, flipping her hair over her shoulder before unzipping the thick race suit. Revealing her tight, fireproofs beneath, the Indian flag sat proudly on her shoulder whilst her team logo lay sprawled across her chest along with the sponsor logos littered across the rest of her front.

“You make it seem so easy Aisha,” Lawrence laughed, oblivious to the tension that had gathered in the young woman’s shoulders and the tightness of her eyes that had increased tenfold throughout their conversation, “Last question before I let you go, to all of your young fans gathered here today-“ he pointed up to the bleachers that came into view on the straight that the truck was approaching, where multiple younger children stood, jumping in their spots as their Porsche hats bobbled on their heads, “-what would you tell them? Especially those who are most likely facing challenges in their racing journey?”

Aisha smiled serenely, imagining herself in the seats that sat so far away from her, what her younger self would long to hear to make her racing career just a little bit easier, “To all the younger dreamers, never let anyone else tell you your limits. They may say to stop, but you need to believe that you can keep going. Chase your passions relentlessly because if you do, then the only barriers will be the ones we allow ourselves to see. Keep fighting, because one day, you’ll see that you’re right where you need to be.”

“Wow” He sighed, hand on his heart, “That inspired me.” Lawrence laughed heartily, “Finally, maybe just a few words in your native language, now from what I know you spent at least 3 years living in India? For your education?” He looked at her questioningly, waiting for her response.

Aisha nodded happily, “Yes, I did! so you want a message in Hindi? There are so many languages in my country, but sadly I’m only fluent in Hindi, despite being Gujarati myself.”

“That would be great, please do.”

“Sabse pehle, main apne sabhi fans ko bahut saara pyaar dena chahti hoon. Aap log mere liye inspiration ho, aur main hamesha aapke saath hoon. Aap sabka support mere liye bahut important hai, aur thank you kehna chahti hoon.”

[First of all, I want to give a lot of love to all my fans. You are an inspiration for me, and I am always with you. All your support is very important for me, and I would like to say thank you.]

“Amazing, thank you so much Aisha,” Lawrence gently took the microphone away from her and offered a grateful smile before looking towards Fernando who had made his way towards the pair.

“No problem,” Aisha stepped away, patting the eldest driver’s back once before turning away and making her way towards Lando, who had already been looking towards her, waiting for her to approach him, along with Oscar and Logan who were engrossed in conversation.

The scene fades away from the three seasoned drivers and in the blackness another title appears, “RACE DAY” and following this the Porsche garage is finally revealed for the first time, much like the other teams the hard acrylic surfaces were decorated with the team colours and many engineers, technicians and workers were rushing around whilst other’s begaan to detach the hydraulic tubes from the cars in preparation for the first race of the season.

Before the first car revved up with anticipation, the halo was shown displaying the driver number and surname, “GASLY 10” and with that, the tubes were removed and the driver’s engineer pulled away, removing the iPad from Pierre’s gloved hands, allowing him to speed off towards his starting position.

The camera pans over to the second car that is yet to exit the garage, the driver within seemed to be hurriedly re-reading the car statistics, consuming that data over and over again, the scene rotates from the back of the car towards the front, where from beyond the middle column of the halo we get a glimpse of the large helmet following her heads sporadic movements, the Indian and British flag printed onto the front side of her head gear, peeped in and out of view as she handed away the tablet and she pulled on her gloves that lay waiting on the chassis in front of her.

With a confident thumbs up, she followed one of the Porsche employee’s guiding movements towards the other racers who sat in their cars, waiting for the start. Maintaining an even pace, she passed by the other cars, the exposed carbon fibre of Esteban’s Alpine in P10 and bright orange of Oscar’s McLaren in P7. She found her box waiting for her car as she pulled in and slowly removed her foot from the acceleration as she joined the grid in waiting for the formation lap.

The music faded away, to allow Aisha’s monologue to play over the still of the onboard camera, “This is it, I thought to myself, all the years of hard work and sacrifices have led up to this moment. This isn’t like F3 or F2-“ the live replay of the sleek interior of her F1 car is replaced by exhilarating moments of on track battles from her previous racing leagues, “- this is F1, where dreams are trampled on and shattered if you can’t keep up.” Her voice trembles slightly as we hear her take a deep breath in and the cars are overtaken with a new scene.

We see Aisha, in the same deep red sultry pantsuit, her side profile contrasted in the shadows as her chest rises and falls, “I remember the moment exactly, I told myself ‘Aisha, soak it in, the cheers and the feeling of other’s dreams, their expectations, cause it can make or break you.” She laughs incredulously at herself, “dramatic I know.”

“But it was electrifying, the whole thing, the thrum of the engines, the anticipation. I have never felt anything like it. But it’s everything I’ve trained for and everything I’ve wanted since I was little and racing go-karts.” Snippets of the raging, overwhelming sound of spluttering go-karts overtake the screen as one after another, we see young Aisha, drowning in an oversized sponsored uniform cut through the chequered ribbon.

“To the other drivers on the grid, it’s just the first race of the season, but for me, it’s my debut, it’s the first and only chance to prove that I’m meant to be here.” Aisha claps her hands, and the bursting flashes of her karting days cease, and we’re brought back to her, sitting in the tall stool, legs crossed over elegantly as she waves her heel back and forth, “The countdown began, and it’s lights out and away we go.”

The red lights above the Bahrain track fade away one by one, Crofty’s voice is matched with hers, and just as the sound of the engines crescendo, the scene ends.

“Right Lando- “

The young British man makes his way into the stool, wobbling slightly as he flails his hands before rocking back to stability. He lets out a relieved breath and crosses his arms over his chest, his fingers absent-mindedly playing with the golden, volt bracelet on his wrist the Luis Vuitton logo glinting in the light from his absent-minded movements.

“Hi, yes, I’m here.” Lando looked up at the interviewer, his eyes bouncing between the 3-4 different camera’s capturing him from odd angles, “Which-“he pointed at one of them, “-which one am I looking at?”

The interviewer laughed before leaning forward and tapping the lens of the middle-most camera, “This one.”

Lando breathed out, “great” before adjusting the pillowing fabric of his hoodie and stared straight into the glass barrel in front of him, “I’m Lando Norris, and I race for McLaren Formula one team.”

“We ehm we didn’t need that. It- it’s different from Drive to Survive,”

Lando cringed and rubbed the back of his head, causing the bracelet to ride up beneath the sleeve of his hoodie, “My bad- “

“Don’t worry about it, Now-“The sound of cue cards being shuffled could be heard, “Onto the first question, we’ve heard rumours about you and Aisha, especially during your karting days, care to elaborate?”

Lando sucks air through his teeth as he smirks, “Me and Aisha…” He looks down to his hands, fingers finding purchase on the angled charm of his bracelet, “We go way back, I mean, it was either me or her who were winning the races, she was,” He sighs heavily, his eyes starry as he looks back up to the camera, “She was, no, she is everything.”

“Can’t help but notice the bracelet that you have on, anything significant?”

“It’s symbolic, I guess?but nothing too big.” He shrugs it off, hiding away the jewellery from prying eyes.

The interviewer presses their lips together, humming whilst shuffling the cards once again, “Right, of course, but some fans have already started to notice that you and she are…close.”

“Close? We’ve always been close, it’s like electric with her, it’s hard not to be attached to her talent.” Lando smirks playfully, winking at the camera, “Karting with her was so intense, we pushed each other to the limit, and I will always hold her and those memories close to my heart.”

“Seems like obsession,” They laugh.

“Oh, it most definitely is, I mean, have you seen her?” Lando flourishes dramatically with his hands, as though the woman was sitting right next to him.

We are brought back to the first driver’s briefing of the season, mere days before the Bahrain Grand Prix, Aisha had just sat down next to Pierre and began to chat amicably with her new teammate, bouts of laughter erupting from the pair momentarily.

The camera pans from the bonding partners to Lando, still hiding his head between his palms in embarrassment, though from between his ringed fingers we see his emerald irises peeking through the gaps, staring thoughtfully at the enrapturing driver who was currently fiddling with the van clef, indigo bracelets that shimmered around her wrist.

Oscar, who was also curiously watching the woman jogged Lando, snapping the man out of his trance, “Mate- you’re drooling,” He poked his teammate’s cheek.

Lando slapped away the finger that prodded his face, “I am not.”

“Whatever you say,” Oscar hummed, turning his attention back to the administrator who was flipping through a few data filled papers, bringing their mouth closer to the bendable microphone. Oscar leaned into Lando, bumping their shoulders together, “Just be careful.”

Aisha breathed out a sigh, capping the black, matte Bulgari pen, slipping it into the awkwardly small purse that hung from her shoulder. She slammed the driver’s door of her car, having just finished a load of signing and smiling with fans, her main objective was to get through the security scanners peacefully.

“Hey stranger,” A voice came up behind her, tapping her arm.

“Lando,” Aisha tried to contain the quiver in her voice, “I thought you already got in.” She adjusted the neckline of her top, the tight sleeves hugged her shoulders and left her skin exposed to the warm sun.

“I did, I just needed something from my car and then I saw you,” He grinned at her, tapping his key card against the scanner, walking seamlessly through the rotating barrier, “You look like you’re about to walk a runway.”

Aisha laughed, tucking a straightened lock of hair behind her ear, “Thanks, you look…” Aisha assessed his outfit, a pair of light blue baggy, Levi’s and one of his own merch hoodies, “normal.” She cringed at her unnecessary honesty.

Yet, Lando just laughed and nodded his head in agreement, “Yeah- compared to you.”

Aisha continued to walk through the paddock, the British driver at her side whilst she waved to those personnel that passed by. She looked down at her own clothes, a neat, navy, off-the shoulder top that hugged her chest in all the right places was tucked into a grey mini-skirt, compliments of one of the many brand ambassadors of her team, the item was paired with a thin brown, gold buckled belt along with knee-high go-go boots.

“You could say that” She conceded, adjusting the golden Porsche chain that clung to her neck, “I was wondering…”

“Yeah?” Lando pocketed his hands.

“I you wanted to get dinner. For old times’ sake?” Aisha leaned forward on one foot, tilting her head hopefully before coming to a stop and waiting for his response.

Lando beamed widely, his eyes sparkling, “Definitely, I would be an absolute idiot to turn you down.”

Aisha blushed and looked down at the bracelets on her wrist, multiple layered golden chains which reflected light against her face in the most euphoric way, “Great, I’ll ju-“

“AISHA, oh my god it’s really her, AISHA!”

A shrill, young voice erupted from behind the pair, and a group of 3-4 young girls came running up to the pair. Aisha laughed to herself, plucking out the pen once more.

“Hello,” Aisha greeted the pre-teens who surrounded her, two of them dressed in a signature papaya orange whilst the other two sported metallic, silver Porsche merch, “You guys look so good!”

She accepted the hats and odd poster that the girls shyly handed her, “We’re so excited to see you race! You’re the only one who looks like us.” One of them spoke, her copper toned, youthful cheeks bobbed up with her smile as her long, black ponytail weaved with her excited movements.

“That’s so sweet, I think I might just win the race for you.” Aisha opened her arm for the girl to step into as they took a photo.

“Ehm, Lando, could we get an autograph as well,” Another one asked, already unfurling a second poster along with presenting the enraptured male with a sharpie.

“Absolutely! How could I resist?” Lando accepted the pen and began to sign the poster along with some newly presented items that the other two girls had produced.

“Thank you, guys, so much!” Aisha waved off the girls and turned back to Lando, already handing over her phone for him to enter in his number.

The young fans were squealing on their way back to their parents, who were just as excited for their young daughter’s interaction, “Did you guys see the bracelet?”

“What bracelet?” Another one asked, carefully rolling up her poster and handing it to her father, who tucked it under his arm and offered his hand for her to take.

“Lando’s, the one he wore for the whole of last season…” She adjusted her cap, looking confusedly at her three friends.

“Oh…I didn’t.”

“Neither did I.”

The screen faded away from Lando, sitting with his teammate whilst gawking at Aisha and we’re brought back to the present, the on-board camera of the Porsche is aimed at the lights that have just gone dark and all at once, a symphony of rubber against concrete fills the scene.

Aisha navigated turn one with ease, emerging from the throng of cars still in P5, her grip tightened on the steering wheel as she focussed every ounce within her body on the track ahead. The bright spotlights above her cast a blinding hue over the grandstands, illuminating the eager fans from around the world, their flags waved in their air as they watched with anticipation when she approached Lewis from behind, pressuring the world champion ahead as they weaved into the next turn.

Aisha aimed for the apex, seeing the slightest gap for her to slip past, as she pointed the head of her car towards the opening, she held her breath and pressed on the throttle. Aisha lurched backwards as she could feel the crackles of her under-board hit the track with each increase in speed she made, yet she managed to dodge the Mercedes car and fly down the straight, maintaining her tyres as best as she could.

The radio thrummed to life in her ear as her race engineer, James, began to speak, “Great work with Lewis, already around 1.15 behind you. Take care of your tyres for now and defend.”

Aisha breathed heavily as she continued to meet the corners and walls with barely an inch to save herself as a highly effective attempt to prevent more overtakes, “Got it.”

She continued her pace throughout the laps, the continuous build up over 20 rounds had inched her closer and closer to Carlos who was struggling in P3, his braking getting worse and worse with each sharp turn.

“James- how much closer do I need to overtake?” Aisha gritted out, flitting her eyes to the large, white metallic DRS sign that entered her limited field of vision.

“Only a bit more Aisha, it’s time to push.”

Aisha stepped harshly onto the gas, her engine thrumming all around her as she charged closer to the bright red Ferrari ahead. She could see the rubber of the tyres in front burn and smoke with every swerve. The roar of her engine filled her ears, drowning out the noise of her own heartbeat as she braced herself for the challenge, “Here we go,” she murmured, voice firm and steely with determination.

She surged her car forward, pushing her machine to the limit as she matched Carlos’ pace with precision and determination, the desert heat bore down in mirage-like waves as the two drivers danced on the razor’s edge of competition. One by one measly lap, the distance shortened until they were wheel to wheel, and all Aisha could do was grit her teeth until she could taste the tangy calcium as she continued the precipice of a wipe-out, the promise of a podium too good to lose.

Aisha’s heart pounded with exhilaration as they hurtled down the straight once again, soon enough the pair were met with the sharpest corner yet, Aisha pushed further and Carlos relented, edging away meekly to allow her to slip by. The crowd’s cheers washed over her, a wave of euphoria crashing over her senses as her heart swelled with triumph.

“WOO! P3!”

“Amazing work Aisha, halfway there. Get some distance between you two.”

“I can take on Checo,” Aisha promised, her aggressive spirit burning deeply within her core as her eyes narrowed into the back of one of the red bulls.

“Go for it, but be careful, your tyres aren’t that good.” James warned her, his voice crisp with caution.

“I got this.”

Aisha revved up once her power had flashed a promising green on the screen in front of her, “It’s time to pounce.” She promised herself whilst flicking the DRS button with her thumb, letting the flap behind her quiver open, the force launched her forward like never before as the lap count leached into the 40’s, Checo hadn’t yet pitted, neither had she, and suddenly, it was a battle of the wills.

She tried all that she could, nudging her nose into the smallest of gaps and backing out when he had angled himself predatorially, grazing her front wing enough for her heart to jump into her throat, “What the fuck is he doing? Fucking cocksucker, he wants to kill me or what?” Aisha had to remind herself to lower her voice.

“It’s within regulation, keep pushing you’re approaching DRS again.” James assured her.

The car trembled beneath her, like a jaguar waiting to pounce again after one failure, she pressed again. This time she nipped Checo’s wheel, causing for him to quickly move out of the way, narrowly missing a spin-off and allowing Aisha to speed into P2.

“FUCK YES! HOLY SHI-“

Aisha’s celebration was cut short when a dangerous thrum approached her rapidly, she attempted with all her might to duck and weave into and out of his path, but Checo was relentless, continuously rubbing against her wheels and forcing her to utilise her power.

“Fuck, fuck what the actual shit?” Aisha screeched as she continued to sloppily defend, her anger bubbling up like hot water.

The red bull growled and pounced in front of her, clipping enough of her front wheel to send her spinning. Aisha shouted with malice, throwing up her hands as her wheels began to rotate rapidly, “BASTARD!”

Her vision blurred as the world around her continued to haphazardly shift, the fans above stilled with trepidation as they watched her strangle her wheel with both hands and wrangle the car back into position.

“Okay, so that’s P5- P5, Piastri, Sainz, Perez and Verstappen in front of you,”

“Copy.” Aisha grumbled darkly, manoeuvring the vehicle so that she could continue to viciously speed down the final lap, murderously defending her position as her stomach finally settled and head stopped pounding with adrenaline.

The race ended with Crofty heartily congratulating her over the commentary,

“And Verstappen has won the Bahrain grand prix! with Checo in P2 and Sainz in the Ferrari in P3. Now the fans have spoken, and new-comer Aisha Patel has been voted driver of the day, rightfully so, securing a solid P5 finish after a challenging battle on the track. it's fantastic to see her scoring valuable points in her debut race. And let's not forget the incredible debut of the Porsche F1 Team! It's clear that they're a force to be reckoned with in the championship.”

A view of Max passing through the finish line is shown, sparks flew behind his car as he speeds through and turned into the parc ferme. Aisha is also shown, her eyes steely from within her helmet and as she stops her car she clambers out of the cockpit and rips of her headgear, a scowl evident on her usually cool face.

She pushes open the gate to the media pen, narrowly avoiding Max, who spared her a dark glance from over his shoulder before turning back to the interviewer.

“Yeah, people make stupid decisions sometimes,” She heard him answer the unintelligible question. Aisha could already feel the anger burn her throat as she whipped her head around and met Max’s eyes, he stared back, an inferno raging within his blue iris’. She opened her mouth to speak but was stopped by her Media manager, pulling her away gently, Aisha followed tearing her eyes away from the Dutchman. Yet, she could still feel his heated gaze on her.

Aisha scoffed passing by Carlos and Checo, who were conversing in fast Spanish, and headed towards the common media area, where eager and ravenous reporters began to clamber on top of one another as they caught sight of her sweaty face and stringy hair.

“Aisha! Aisha!” They called, loud voices breaking through the microphone and blowing through the audio.

Aisha huffed and went towards the tell-tale white microphone, the sky sports logo sprawled all over the foam cover,

“Hi Aisha, congratulations on the P5 today,” Mark started, holding the microphone out for the visibly annoyed driver.

“Thank you,” She snipped, but blinked a few times before forcing herself to continue, “Y’know could’ve been a P2 finish for Porsche today, but I’m happy with both Pierre and I’s finish, at least we scored some valuable points.” Aisha robotically recounted her PR training.

“Definitely a tough break for you out there,” He nodded solemnly, “Care to walk us through what happened with Checo on lap 43?”

Aisha sucked in a breath, looking behind her where her PR person stood, arms crossed over her Porsche shirt as she shrugged, “Yeah, of course, it’s disappointing end to my race, P2 would probably be a dream, but Checo made a-“ Aisha bit her tongue momentarily, looking into the few dozen camera’s pointed at her, until she noticed Checo’s reflection walking behind her, heading to the cool-down room, “-a dickhead move absolutely dangerous, there was contact because he couldn’t use his eyes, and that caused me to spin out. It’s racing, I know, but you don’t see race winners or legends making moves like that.” Aisha hissed.

Mark stared at her, mouth agape before he recollected himself and forced a flabbergasted laugh, “Well, that’s one way to put it.” The other surrounding reporters were close to drooling at the mouth, their own mics pushed further through the gaps as they imagined the debaucherous headlines they could create from her outburst.

“How were you feeling during that moment?”

“Truthfully?” She tilted her head, “Pissed, but you probably didn’t you marky-moo, my radio probably told you that. But after I managed to regain my original position, I was more determined to just finish the race with a solid end.”

He laughed at that but stilled when Checo emerged once again from the cool-off room, “Checo!” Mark called, oblivious to the thunderous haze that overtook Aisha. She checked behind her shoulder, and her upper lip curled with malice,

“I’ll let Checo say his bit- “She murmured, “Excuse me.” And left the pen, heading towards the Porsche garage whilst avoiding eye-contact with Lucy, her fuming PR manager.

“Hey! Checo!” Aisha called out, throwing down her headphones, leaving her race engineer in concerned confusion as she approached the red bull driver, amid his team, oblivious to the storm about to hit him.

“Oh, hey Aisha-“

“Do not, hey, me.” She snarled, “What the fuck was that on track? Were you trying to kill me back there? You could’ve overtaken me in so many other ways.” Aisha approached him, prompting Checo to take a simultaneous step back, hands raised.

“It’s racing Aisha, I had to make a split-second decision.”

“We all make decisions, Perez,” She snarled, hands balling up into fists, “You don’t see Charles or Carlos or anyone with half a brain doing what you did? You messed up my race!” Aisha’s voice begins to raise, drawing attention of the red bull personnel, since the pair had manged to slowly move up to the entrance of the garage, and prompting a few camera men, who were following around Lando and Oscar to pan over to her.

Aisha groans, smacking her palm against her head a few times as a display of aggression before turning back to a very sweaty, nervous driver, “Never mind my race- you had fucking so many other options, why? Why did you decide to clip my wheel? Is it because being overtaken by a woman was so embarrassing, for red bull’s number two, you couldn’t handle it?” Aisha mocks him, before starting to approach his frozen form, a violent fire burning in her eyes and spreading to her limbs, igniting them with her fury.

Just as there was merely a centimetre between the two, a pair of strong arms hooked themselves around her elbows, holding her hand away from Checo, who had started shouting about his “personal safety”.

“Are you fucking stupid?” A gruff voice whispers into her ear.

Aisha kicks out, a futile attempt to free herself, “Let me go,” She whips her head around, her hair flying,

“Can you stop? I will literally knock you out.” The voice continues, grunting when her foot narrowly misses his groin.

“Fine-“ She huffs, going limp as she shoots daggers into Checo’s retreating back being escorted by a flurry of blue clad workers, “Fine, let me go,” She mumbles.

The man drops her onto the floor instantly, allowing her to stumble over her feet. Aisha finds her footing once more and spins around to meet his eyes, “Max?”

Max stares down at her, his eyes squinted with annoyance, “Who else? You’re in front of the red bull garage.” He rolls his eyes and steps a large stride away from her.

Aisha blinks once. Twice. Before scoffing and crossing her arms, “Yeah. Thanks.” She snarks before walking away from him, leaving the dutchman standing, fuming in his spot. She manages to skip over the McLaren crowd but had attracted almost half a dozen cameras on her, the large intimidating lens’ were pushed into her face haphazardly, narrowly missing her face a few times.

Aisha had to hold herself back from stealing the cameras from their holders and smashing them onto the ground. She could feel a self-depreciating throb begin to build in her head, the memory of all the idyllic children watching her, and those who had felt represented by her made tears prick at her eyes. In that moment, with too many lens’ focussing on her quivering lip, she hoped that they wouldn’t catch the salty sadness that threatened to stream down her face

The post-race interview scene fades away, and a familiar red bull jersey is announced into the scene, the dark blue merging pleasantly with the dark grey background. We’re introduced to Checo’s frame, a placid smile on his face.

“Hi checo,” The interviewer greets the driver, who nods in acknowledgement, “Well, Bahrain was an intense time for you, especially the on track accident with Aisha, would you care to talk us through the whole thing?”

Checo clears his throat briefly, “Yeah, uhm, it was a tight battle with her, and she was holding her ground y’know, but I saw an opportunity to make a move and I took it.” He shrugged once, reverting his gaze away from the camera, “And, as an unfortunate by product, she ended up spinning out, but it’s racing, these things happen.”

“I think everyone knows that she seemed quite upset about the incident, did you have a chance to speak with her afterwards?”

“uhm, people say things when they’re angry, and Aisha was frustrated but I’m here to win races, that’s what I’ve been hired to do. Once again, it was a choice that I had to make, and it’s hard to consider everyone’s emotions while I do it.”

“Max, we recently interviewed Checo, and he had some…words to say about the situation in Bahrain, specifically with Aisha after the race. Now, we saw that you had intervened just in time, what was going on during that moment?”

Max shifted in his chair, slipping down slightly, and crossing his arms over his chest, “Yeah, I could see that the situation was escalating, with Aisha getting increasingly angry, it would’ve ended pretty badly.”

“You sound so sure about that.”

“Trust me, I know anger when I see it, and I know that races can get heated especially when avoidable occurrences aren’t avoided, but I also think that emotional regulation is crucial to compete.” He distractedly runs a thumb over his bottom lip.

“Does this change your initial views on Aisha entering the sport? Since you were pretty, pessimistic.” The interviewer cringes just as the words escape their mouth.

“I wouldn’t say I was pessimistic,” He quickly rejects, “But I think she had something to prove, just like any of us, she isn’t exempt from it. And she, raced like any of us would’ve in the moment, so do I suddenly think of her as a saint? No, but do I think that she’s building up to something? Maybe.”

“Aisha!” A voice calls from behind her, Aisha smiles at the fans who had offered her a notebook to sign, she watched them walk away before responding,

“Yeah?” She tucks away her pen into the silver, Porsche gym bag that hung from her shoulder.

Lando jogs up to her, tapping his card against the scanner before pushing through the gate and reaching her side, “Great race, you handled it...well…” He trailed off, unsure of how to spin off his compliment.

Aisha laughs at that, throwing her head back, ”It’s okay Lando, you don’t have to say anything” She tugs at the sleaves of her tight black jacket, the hugo boss label stretched over her chest as she pulled at the fabric, “I- I can get pretty mad,” Aisha shrugs, kicking an imaginary pebble with her shoe, rustling her oversized tracksuit bottoms, the three parallel lines on both her legs fluttered with the airy clothing.

“Yeah, that probably didn’t go down to well on camera,” He itches the back of his head, “I actually came to ask if you’re staying at the same hotel as the rest of us, Oscar took my car and I’m stranded.”

“Lando…” She sighs, adjusting the strap of her bag, “If you wanted to ride in my Porsche, you could’ve just said so.” Aisha gestured to her silvery 918 Spyder, the high-end sports car shimmered beneath the spotlights of the private car park.

Lando hissed through his teeth and grinned, “You caught me.” He held his hands up, “It’s the only way I can be photographed in the car without causing an uproar.”

Aisha tilted her head at him, “Oh, so nothing else is convincing you?”

“Hmmm, that, and maybe the very beautiful and scary woman who drives it?” Lando offered, holding out his hand for her to take.

She looked down at his open palm before searching the area around them, the rest of the grid had departed long before, leaving just her car and another in the parking. Aisha squinted her eyes at the remaining automobile, a Honda NSX, the only owner being none other than a certain grumpy blonde, who was more focussed on his back seat than on the couple who still stood in the middle of the concrete.

Accepting his hand, she revelled in the feeling of her fingers intertwined with his, soft skin against coarse knuckles, a warm aura enveloped her being as she guided them towards her car, pulling out the flat fob to click open the expensive machine.

Yet, as she watched Lando retreat into the passenger’s seat with an amazed, “oh damn.” and went to unlock the trunk to slip her duffel bag into, she felt an icy gaze glued to her back.

Aisha turned once behind her to where Max was sitting in his driver’s seat, eyes glued at first on Lando, an unrecognisable expression painted on his face before he slowly slid it up to her face, and his once oddly neutral gaze turned into an annoyed squint.

With that, the dutchman tore his eyes away from a now, slightly agitated Aisha, towards the open road and pulled out of the car park, speeding away to what she assumed would be the hotel.

“Hey,” Lando leaned over the dash, reaching for her hand that rested on the headrest of her seat, the other braced on her car door as she watched the retreating Honda, “You okay?”

Aisha jumped out of her disturbed haze, and back to where Lando was now rubbing his fingers over hers that had tensed enough to turn her milky brown skin into a pale white, “Yeah- I’m fine, just checking for reporters.”

“I’m that embarrassing?” He teased, watching her intently as she fastened her seatbelt and smiled at the sound of the purring super engine.

Aisha snorts, “No- not at all, just making sure that McLaren’s golden boy isn’t photographed inside a Porsche- with the grid’s certified crazy woman.” She pressed on the gas.

“Yeah, but…what if I want that?”

“What?” Aisha’s eyebrows knitted together; eyes still glued to the unfamiliar roads ahead as the GPS stopped squawking at her for a brief moment.

“I don’t care if you’re the crazy woman…You’re just, you. I don’t care about the rest.” Lando smiled lazily, his eyes studying her quickly flustered face.

“You’re a horrible flirt Norris.” She grumbled.

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gallaghersgal · 27 days ago

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tell me about baseball because I know nothing but would like to learn!

FEVER PITCH pro baseball!lip headcanons

TAGS & WARNINGS: mature, 18+. sexual content but non explicit, drinking mention, emotional angst, pregnancy. but also fluff!! silly shenanigans, second chance romance, lip is stupid in love.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this is my brain child omfg. tysm for sending this ask, honestly. i yapped!!! there was also more to this but i've been adding to it for days and its getting long for hcs so. lmk if anyone wants part 2 teehee

WC: 1.4k

when he was younger lip always played shortstop, his arm was powerful but not quite precise enough to pitch, but he never minded. pitchers have to remember too much, shortstop just falls into the rhythm; watching the pitch, listening to the crack of the bat, and tracking the ball as it rocketed through the field. the two of you met in college, lip played two seasons at university of chicago before transferring to a better athletic program. there was a mutual breakup before parting ways, but whenever he's in town you can't fight the urge to see each other.

he's picked up on the MLB draft straight out of college, after captaining the national championship team, and sent to an affilliate somewhere warm in the south, georgia or maybe louisiana. he calls you often to boast the climate, while you complain about the stress of your masters degree. over time the calls come less frequently, but each conversation feels like no time has passed at all.

it takes three years for lip to work his way up to the big leagues, where he joins the chicago cubs for his rookie season. now, lip plays centerfield. he's a quick runner, and his powerful arm sends balls to their respective bases at record speed. he's efficient, most teams don't stand a chance.

he doesn't know how to tell you he's coming home again, back to chicago. and back to you. you find out from your best friend, who overheard fiona talking about it at patsy's. you two along with fi & veronica find the money for tickets at centerfield, right where lip will be.

fiona whistles through her fingers the second she reaches her seat and waves down her brother, whose cheeks immediately turn bright pink. if a teammate pointed it out he'd surely brush it off as the chilled march wind, but you know him better than that. he greets the four of you nervously, opening up as he gets sight of the smiles you wear. no one cares he didn't tell, your joy at his homecoming tops any negative in your minds.

after the third inning a guest services rep brings the four of you a handful of meal and beverage vouchers, a gift from lip. later you'll learn he'd tried to have your seats upgraded but was denied, too low on the totem pole for that sort of request. so you pile your arms with hot dogs, pretzels, cheese fries, diet coke and fancy ipa brews.

the game flies by, you and fiona sit side by side and shout teases down to lip, watching his face light up. this is the first time you really see his talent, how he's developed as an athlete. he finally has somewhere to put all of that pent up energy he keeps inside, using it to jump up in the ivy wall for a catch, to react as quick as the ball and sprint in the same direction. when he catches the game-winning out, a fly ball straight to centerfield, he tosses it up into the stands. it sails directly to you, tipsy giggles spilling from your lips as you scrawl your phone number onto the white canvas before throwing it back down.

lip wants to fog up the windows of your honda right there in the parking lot but you have the presence of mind to drag him towards his own parked car while he trails sloppy kisses down your neck. the sex is amazing, it always is, but there’s something different in the way he holds you this time. you pretend not to notice it, until you have a reason to bring it up.

three weeks later, two pregnancy tests sit on the gallaghers bathroom counter. you'd only brought one along, but fiona dug another out of her bedside table drawer when you became anxious at the two pink lines. when the second test reads positive, v offers to call lip for you and you let her.

it's hours before he can get to you, even without a game there's still training, a players meeting, and dinner afterward with franchise sponsors. he's busy, you get it. fi gives you the spare key to his apartment—a studio unit in a high rise downtown, somewhere you couldn't imagine a gallagher living—and lip pays for a cab to take you there.

once you lay eyes on the space it becomes a little more believable that lip gallagher lives there. a box spring and mattress are stacked together in one corner, topped with the classic navy blue sheets and two pillows. he has a small couch (loveseat, more like) that you decide to wait on, favoring it over the bed. his tv sits on the floor against the wall, with the remote balanced precariously on top. flipping through channels is a nice, mind numbing activity to soothe you, and you fall asleep after landing on old sitcom reruns.

the sun has long set when lip comes in the door, eyeing your sleeping frame. he decides to let you sleep while he washes the grime of the day from his body. he kneels by you when he's clean and fresh, clothed in nothing but blue gingham boxers. "'ey kid, wake up," he mumbles, smoothing your hair away from your brow. when he sees you blink up at him he continues softly, "y'can live here with me, until the baby is born, m'kay? an' we can decide what we want to do." "about?" "about us."

you smile up at him, he offers you the bed and insists on taking the couch, not allowing himself too much of a good thing. he's already over the moon you want to keep the baby, his baby. he doesn't want to scare you away. he only makes it a week cramped up on that tiny couch. later in your relationship you have something funny to look back on, old photos of lip with his knees tucked up and one arm hanging awkwardly off the cushions.

when he can't stand the couch anymore he orders you a pregnancy pillow, and you order a bedframe, all on his card of course. you don't even need the pillow yet, most nights of your first trimester you're up and down, in and out of the bathroom. each time you come back to bed lip is on his stomach, arms curled around that damn pillow as he rests on it. he says it helps his sore muscles. whatever the reason is you don't really care, the toned expanse of his back makes a good pillow anyway.

you get into a habit of ordering furniture, decorations, and other home goods while lip is away. he doesn't mind, always makes sure you use his card, he wouldn't know what to do with all that money anyway. little by little the studio apartment starts to feel like home, and lip starts to feel more like a serious boyfriend than a hookup turned baby daddy, for lack of better wording.

before you know it the season is over, lip receives a large bonus after the cubs make the playoffs, and the two of you are kissing over a bottle of sparkling cider as you christen your new two-bedroom townhouse, complete with a downstairs office space and large backyard. october turns the leaves beautiful hues, and the calmness of this new neighborhood soothes your mind, your due date in december rapidly approaching.

between the new place, increased proximity during the off-season, and your pregnancy hormones, you find yourself bickering more and more with lip. it comes to a head one night when he shouts at you, and you feel the baby kick in response before you break down completely. the fight was about something small, insignificant. it had started with you talking about baby names. lip isn't sure how he let it spiral this way.

dutifully, with regret painted on his features, he kneels down beside your crumpled form on the bed. he takes your hand, muttering an apology and promising to make things work. then he says softly, "i like lucy. as a name for the baby?" you just stare at him, and he continues, "could be short for lucille. an' you liked olivia for a middle name, yeah?"

"lucille olivia gallagher. it's so pretty, lip, i love it." you smile in awe, reaching out to cup his cheek. "i love you," you say, and now it's lip's turn to stare. but a moment passes and he smiles, gathering your frame into his arms to pull you into his lap. "love you too, pretty girl."

by new years day you have a healthy baby girl in your arms, and a pretty diamond ring on your left hand.

#lip gallagher x reader #lip gallagher fluff #lip gallagher x you #lip gallagher x y/n #lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher smut #lip gallagher headcanons #maggie’s musings [blurbs]#baseball!lip #EEEEEEE IM SO EXCITED

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somanyratsinthewalls · 7 months ago

Text

Kinktober Special Part 8

Mo’s Kinktober Special

The Crew’s Whore (Part 8) (+18)

!!!!!!MINORS DNI!!!!

Summary: You are the former owner of the Grand Line’s most popular brothel. Your powerful fighting abilities got the attention of the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates. He had asked you to join their crew but what would you bring to the team? Your battle skills were hardly comparable to many of the other Straw Hats… but you actually had a great skill. Your years working as a high end escort had prepared you to become the private plaything for this pirate crew. You joined the Straw Hats as their personal sex toy.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

WC: 2600 lol

TWs: IT’S FOOT TIME! FOOT FETISH WARNING! Man I am not even into feet but this kinda did it for me. In my brain Law is canonically into feet in a weird way. Unprotected sex, p in v sex, table sex, alcohol consuption, toe sucking lmao, just fetish shit yeah.

——

The trip to the next island was turning out to be longer than anticipated due to poor weather. The Straw Hat pirates had allied themselves with now-warlord-of-the-sea Captain Trafalgar Law and were harboring him on their ship as they sailed towards the next part of their plan as an alliance. The weather had finally turned pleasant so of course Luffy ordered Sanji to prepare a huge feast, complete with piles of steaming food and barrels of cold booze.

Eating and drinking were two of you favorite activities, second and third only to fucking, so you were thrilled at the prospect of a little party. No one had approached you yet and asked you for your time tonight, everyone being so busy setting up for the party and all… but you expected that to change as the night went on. Because you anticipated being taken for your services tonight, you took the time to bathe and clean yourself up a little extra nice.

You curled your hair into soft waves and spent half an hour caking your face and painting your lips a glossy sheer crimson before heading to your closet and picked out an outfit. You settled on a flouncy little baby pink dress, the layered fabric sheer and light. The soft pink hem swished high up on your thighs, leaving very little of your legs to the imagination. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you decide to play it up even further and crouched down to grab a pair of red high heels from under your bed. You slipped on the pumps and with a final twirl in the mirror headed out to the party.

The deck of the ship was buzzing with the sounds of your crew mates enjoying themselves. Brook was serenading the party with a jaunty tune to which Chopper and Nami were dancing, Luffy was busying himself with the sumptuous spread Sanji prepared, all while Zoro was ahead of the game and drinking himself into oblivion. Law was seated at the same table as Zoro, seemingly having much less of a nice time. The mysterious doctor was hunched over and stared emotionless into his drink, puffy brim of his hat shielding most of his face.

You noticed your friend Robin leaning up against the back wall of the Sunny with a glass of red wine in hand and bit of a scowl on her face.

“You don’t look pleased with the festivities.”

“See that target they put up at the end of the ship?” Robin nods behind you.

You turn and do indeed see a large target placed near the head of the Sunny.

“Yeah?” You inquire.

“Usopp and Franky keep having shooting contests. Franky keeps losing but he won’t give up. I don’t think they’ve sat down all night, and his face is as red as a tomato. Kind of embarrassing…” Robin giggles a little.

“Are you surprised? I guess they’ll be out of our hair for the rest of the night then.” You laugh.

“That’s my point.” Robin rolls her eyes. Your brows raise in realization.

“Ohhhh… you were trying to get laid! I get it now! Well no one’s approached me if you’re still up for it later…” You wink.

“Thank you sweet y/n, always so thoughtful!” Robin sips her wine. “I’ll see if I can find you later if I’m still feeling up for it. Go get a drink and enjoy the party, dear!” Robin waves you on to the kitchen.

You enter the galley and are immediately met with a very sweaty, stressed out Sanji.

“Hi handsome.” You purr as you approach the blonde at the stove.

“Oh, hello my love. I’m afraid the voracious appetite of our captain has rendered me incapacitated for the rest of the evening, the fucking glutton…” Sanji sighs.

“Aww, my poor, tired, love cook.” You coo as you push his bangs out of his eyes. You place a kiss on his cheek. A droplet of blood escapes Sanji’s left nostril. “Well I’ll leave you to it then.” You grab a bottle of cold wine from the fridge and a glass from the shelf and carry them both out to the deck with you.

You stroll over to the table where Law and Zoro were seated, now joined by Luffy whose cheeks were stuffed to bursting with various meats and cheeses.

“You gentlemen mind if I sit with you?” You ask while already sitting down across from Law.

“Not at all, pretty thing. Come have a drink with us.” Zoro smirks at you, holding his hand out to take the wine bottle from you. You oblige and he unsheathes a single blade to pop the cork off for you in dramatic fashion.

“My hero.” You chide as the swordsman fills your glass to the brim. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to get me drunk, Mr. Roronoa.”

“And what if I am? You say the filthiest shit after you’ve had a whole bottle of wine and it’s fucking incredible.” Zoro shoots you a hungry look as he downs another cup of sake. Luffy giggles. Law straightens up and gives Zoro a confused look.

“Not much of a talker, are you, Trafalgar?” You turn your attention to Law.

“I didn’t know the two of you were a couple.” He states blankly.

“We’re not. I’m seeing everyone.” You smirk across the table at the foreign captain. He looks even more confused. “It’s what I do. I love making my crew mates happy, you can understand that, can’t you?”

Without time to answer, Luffy interjects.

“Haha you should give her a try, Traffy! She’s really something hehe!”

Law’s eyes widen.

“Yeah why not, Tra-Guy? You’re already here eating our food and drinking our booze, why not sample some of the other amenities we have here on the Sunny.” Zoro chuckles as he pours himself another cup of liquor. Zoro must be quite fond of Law, as sharing you is never something he likes to bring up.

“I’m sorry… are you offering me… her? Shouldn’t she be doing that?” Law looks a bit offended.

“Would that make you feel better? My services apply to guests of the Straw Hat pirates as well, and I assure you I can meet whatever needs you may have.” You swirl you wine in the glass and take a long sip.

“Um… No.. that’s.. that’s quite alright, thank you.” Law stutters out his refusal.

“You don’t know what you’re turning down, man. Whatever you’re into, and I mean whatever, she can do it. Sweetest pussy in the Grand Line.” Zoro leans back in his chair.

“Zoro! Don’t be so vulgar around our guest.” You scold the swordsman.

“Whatever, his loss.” Zoro shrugs and slams another drink.

— —

After hours upon hours of dancing and drinking, the party had thinned out quite a bit. Now that things were winding down, you notice the painful ache in your feet from wearing high heels all night. Most everyone had headed to bed and you were considering doing the same until you spy your unfinished bottle of wine on the table with Law still dated at it, alone now.

You sit down across from Law and take a swig from the bottle directly, your glass having been lost several dances ago.

“Classy.” Law remarks from across the table.

“Never said that was part of my resume.” You smirk and take another swallow of alcohol. You pull your feet up into your lap and groan. “God this is the last fucking time I wear these heels.”

You slip off one of your shoes and behind massaging the heel of your foot with both hands. You pause your ministrations to grab another sip of wine when you notice Law’s eyes on you. They weren’t on your breasts close to spilling out of your low cut dress, or your plush thighs squishing against the wood of the bench you were sitting on… they were on your foot in your lap.

There it is.

Ideas filled your head on how to finally break this stoic stranger.

“You’re a doctor, right?” You ask innocently.

“Huh?” Law responds, having been snapped out of what seemed like a trance. “Um, yeah.”

“Could you maybe feel right here? I think it could be swollen.” You extend your nearly naked leg across from you and push the table to the side so that there was nothing between the two of you.

“It..i-it doesn’t look swollen… but if you really want I could… I could take a closer look…” He hesitantly up at you before returning his gaze to your perfectly pedicured foot.

“I’d love that. Thank you.”

Law gingerly takes your foot in both hands and presses firmly into where you were pointing. You squirm a bit, feet incredibly sore from dancing all night. Law starts to rub up and down from your toes to your heel, intently examining every inch. You couldn’t help but notice how his mouth was now parted and his breathing quickened as he stroked your foot.

He stopped abruptly and released your foot from his hold.

“I-it seems fine. You should be fine.”

You drop your foot directly into his lap and push it firmly against the crotch of Law’s jeans.

“Are you sure, doctor? I think you should check again.” You flash him a devious smile as you take another swig from the bottle.

“W-what are you doing, y/n?” Law sputters out, sweat forming on his temples. You feel his cock begin to stir under the sole of your foot.

“You know, Traffy, we could have a lot of fun together…” You push harder against his erection with your foot.

Law winces but he doesn’t respond.

“Y-yeah?” He manages to pant out.

You begin to slowly stroke your foot over his denim clad member, feeling it from base to tip, hot and aching to be freed.

“Mhmm… Why don’t you take him out so we can play? You’re so hard Traffy, must hurt… We’re the only ones left out here, no need to be shy anymore…” You giggle.

Law sucks in a breath before eventually undoing his belt and jeans buttons. His cock springs up as he pulls it out his pants and briefs, laying rigid against his abdomen.

“Wow… you have such a pretty cock, Traffy…” You coo at him as you slip your left shoe off your foot and allow it to join your other foot in his lap.

“D-don’t call me that…” Law whispers out.

“Sorry…” You begin rubbing both of your feet up and down Law’s now exposed length. He watches your movements in awe as his mouth hangs farther open than before. “You’re just so cute I can’t help but tease you…”

Law pays your words no mind as he is mesmerized by the sight of your pretty little feet stroking his cock. Soft pants leave his lips as you continue working him over.

“You wanna cum like this, or do you wanna fuck me, Law?” You ask as you slide the ball of your right foot over his leaking tip.

Without responding verbally, Law grunts and leans forward to pick you up by your waist and lay you down roughly on the table you had scooted out of the way earlier. He rips his shirt over his head, keeping his hat in place. He wastes no time and flips up your frilly pink dress to expose your panties that had grown wet from merely giving a powerful man a foot job.

“I’m not waiting-“ Law says as he pushes your panties to the side and slides the head of his cock from your hole to your clit and back again, coating himself in your wetness. He pushes himself inside of you quickly, causing you to moan and arch your back. After a few experimental thrusts, Law picks up a quick pace and rams his hips into yours, curved cock hitting all the right places inside of you.

“Oh, fuck, Law that’s so oh-!” Your eyes snap open at the foreign feeling only to see Law standing between your legs with the outside few toes of your right foot in his mouth. Eyes slammed shut, he doesn’t falter in his thrusts as he savors the taste of your skin on his tongue. He uses one hand to rub at your clit as he caresses your ankle with the other.

“Dirty boy…” You coo up at him as you rake your nails down his abdomen. “You like sucking on my toes, you filthy boy?”

“Mmmm” Law manages to groan out as he peppers wet, sloppy kisses to the sole of your foot now, making sure every inch gets his attention.

“Make me cum and I’ll let you blow all over them.” You demand as you wrap your other leg around his waist and pull him closer.

“Fuck… swordsman wasn’t kidding…” Law grunts out as he picks up the pace of his hips, plowing into you with an ungodly force. He untangles your legs from his body and pushes them up to your chest, allowing himself the perfect angle to heighten your pleasure.

With hands under the crooks of your knees, Law brings you tumbling over the edge of your high and you cried out his name to the starry sky above you as your orgasm overtakes you. With your cunt still pulsing, Law pulls his aching, throbbing cock begging for release from your tight hole and begins stroking it in front of you.

Law grabs both your ankles in one hand and proceeds to blow rope after rope of hot white spend all over your delicate, pink painted toes.

Breathing heavily still, Law takes a few moments to admire his handiwork.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You quip from your exposed state on the table.

Law shoves himself back into his pants and puts his shirt back on. He surprisingly takes the time to gently put your panties back into place and pull your dress down before helping you off the table.

“You aren’t.. going to tell anyone about this… right?” He asks, hiding his eyes again with the brim of his hat.

“About what? You liking feet?” You smirk.

“Y-yeah…”

“You’re secret is safe with me, Traffy.” You say with a wink.

*A/N ........ sorry :)*

#one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece anime #one piece fanart #one piece live action #one piece netflix #one piece fandom #one piece smut #law x reader #trafalgar d law #one piece law #one piece trafalgar law #trafalgar law #law x y/n #law one piece #torao #traffy

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 10 months ago

Text

Mora makes Teyvat go round

Self-Aware! BSD x SAGAU Imposter crossover

Self-Aware! Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald x GN! Reader

Description: Ningguang and Pantalone are proud of being of Creator's good side. With power of mora and buisnesses, they will gain more strength, gaining even more favours from Creator to their nations.

Unfortunately, mora is low due to attacks on caravans.

But, this new possible partner, who wants to offer organise trades between nations, peak their interest.

Warning: OOC. English is my second language. Slight mutilation (non-descriptive). Dehumanisation (Reader called 'it'.

______

Mora is stability.

Mora is power.

Mora is respect.

People need mora to get food, clothes, houses. Everything.

People need mora to build shrines for Creator.

Ningguang and Pantalone use mora to give Creator respect and happiness.

______

Pantalone's eyes twitched.

Another ship was sailed, another caravan was attacked.

And nothing can be done about it.

Dottore tried. And look, where he is now? Went completely mad, tried to kill Creator, and now is locked in a cell.

It became another hit on Snezhnaya's reputation in the eyes of other nations.

And in the eyes of Creator.

Their Holiness, after Dirty Imposter disappeared, were wrecked with sorrow.

Each day, nations brought gifts to the ivory throne.

Each day, people were searching for an Imposter.

Both of these actions were focused on bringing back Creator's smile.

And both actions required mora.

Mora, that Snezhnaya start becoming low.

Pantalone breathe in.

The situation was bad.

Yes, he has enough mora to spoil Creator for the next hundreds of years.

Yet, in this situation, he needs more mora.

Much more.

Pantalone looked at the pile of open letters he had on his table. Offers, coming from different groups. Travelers, mercenary, wanderers.

All of them offered their help in moving goods from nation to nation.

All of them failed.

Pantalone took another unopened letter.

He read through it.

Another offer. And he has no other choice, except it.

__________

Ningguang read through the contract one more time. It was written on a fancy paper with an ornament around the edges. Pantalone, who was sitting next to her, read through his own contract.

Pantalone spoke, looking at possible businesses partner above glasses.

"I must say, Mister Fitzgerald, it's quite an interesting offer."

Blonde businessman smiles politely.

Pantalone cast an interested gaze on the gems, that were laying in the middle of the table.

Gems looked stunning. They looked almost perfect, they varied in sizes.

"Are you sure, that you could transport all the goods safely? You are aware of the situation, right?"

Fitzgerald took one of the gems.

"Mister Pantalone, Miss Ningguang, I assure you, My Team and I are more than capable of doing it. As you can see."

Fitzgerald pointed at the gems. "We have this gems here. From Fontaine. And we did a great job transporting them."

Pantalone and Ningguang looked at each other. Everyone said that. Everyone failed. Ningguang and Pantalone don't have any other choice.

Ningguang spoke.

"True. Let's try to do it. We spent a lot of mora on the Imposter Hunt. All these rewards and mercenaries."

Pantalone chuckled.

"But it was worth it. I even got a precious relic from it."

There were envy in Ningguang's eyes. She also has a little souvenir from the Hunt. Yet, in comparison to Pantalone's, her trophy was simpler.

"Anyway, It's a deal, Mr Fitzgerald."

Both contracts were signed.

Francis broke a tree trunk, when he left Liyue.

Pantalone lost a lot of jewelry because of it.

_______

The first trade was from Liyue to Mondstadt.

If someone saw a new trade caravan, they would think, that they have gone mad.

First, instead of a horse or ox, a white tiger was (somehow) harnessed to the cart. Atsushi chuffed from time to time, but did his job perfectly.

Fitzgerald was walking beside white tiger, looking around. He spoke out loud.

"Look, Weretiger boy, a dangerous monster."

Francis points at the hydro slime, that was more interested in berries, then caravan.

Meanwhile, Francis activated his ability.

"This beast can be defeated only with 100000000 mora punch. Mister Pantalone and Miss Ningguang were so generous, agreeing to give away all their mora, all their possessions to us, right?"

Atsushi scoffed.

Fitzgerald's punch left just a few hydro droplets from the slime.

Somewhere in Snezhnaya, in one of Pantalone's safes, 100000000 disappeared.

"We are saved... Oh, no! Another one!" theatrically gasped Fitzgerald, pointing at lizard, that was staring at the cart.

"This one is more deadly! I must double the effort!"

When the caravan arrived at Mondstadt (Atsushi turned back before someone could notice his tiger form), Ningguang's and Pantalone's safes became more spacious. And Teyvat wildlife get some damage.

______

Fitzgerald's plan was risky, to tell the truth. According to you and books Jouno and others have brought from Teyvat, there was only one language in Teyvat. At least, the only official language. There was no information, if other languages existed. But Francis decided to take this risk.

With some help from Poe, Natsume, Rimbaud and Fyodor, Fitzgerald created an 'ornament'. A synthetic language, that was made from mix of English, French and Russian alphabet and grammar. With Poe's writing, new words looked like an ornament.

The ornament, that proclaims, that person, who sigh the contract, will give away all their money and possessions to Fitzgerald.

And he has a nice little ability to use with new finance help.

_________

Francis stared at what was before him.

He proved, that he can be trusted. And, his businesses 'partners' show them, what their trophy's from the Imposter Hunt were.

_____

Ningguang had four bloodied canines....

****

Dirty Sinner were put in stocks in the middle of Liyue's Harbor. It looked half dead.

It wasn't enough. Tommorow it will be executed. It still have too much dignity.

Rocks, dirt, rotten fruits, manure...

Everything were thrown in Imposter.

It wasn't enough.

Ningguang stare at Imposter.

Its mouth were in blisters.

Its teeth were intact...

A dagger and her fingers weren't the best instruments for a dental practice.

But, Ningguang managed.

*****

And Pantalone had two pinkie fingers in the jar....

*****

It screamed, when its injured feet made contact with snow. Pantalone grinned.

He got a great trophy.

First one, who did it.

Soon, Imposter will lose even more.

Acolytes needs mementos from their great victory.

_______

Fitzgerald saw the mountains of gifts. Gifts for that beast, who ordered to hunt after his treasure.

And he, Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald, must be the one, who delivered it.

Francis can't stay here. In Teyvat.

He needs some real world.

He hopped, that he would reached Lowecraft 'waiting' place, before the sunrise.

_______

Fitzgerald stumbled from the portal, back to their world. He wasn't looking, where he was going. He needs to see you. To make sure, that you aren't in pain.

"What have you learned about, Fitzgerald?" Yosano's voice was sympathetic.

Francis looked at her. She was waiting for his answer.

She was the only one, who knew everything about your injuries.

Before that night, Fitzgerald only knew about burns.

He finally found his voice.

"Teeth... Toes..."

His voice was muffled, when Yosano hugged him, pressing his face to her shoulder.

She let him cry.

________

Pantalone was happy. Fitzgerald did a great job. Trades between nations slowly start anew.

Slowly, mire mora will come to Snezhnaya and his vault. And he will spend it to make Creator happy.

Suddenly, his mansion starts shaking.

The next moment, Pantalone was sitting on the Shezhnaya's snow. His home was nowhere in sight.

_______

In Guyun Stone Forest some of the stone spears, that Morax threw during Archon War, collapsed. Fitzgerald was sure, that crystalfly was a dangerous predator.

________

Ningguang grabbed the table, trying to stay on her feet. She was having a conversation with other Qixing, discussing, what other things they could trade with other nations, to use new mora on gifts for Creator, when half of the pillars in Guyun Stone Forest collapsed. Before anyone could react, a second earthquake came, destroying the rest of the stone pillars.

Outside, people of Liyue saw, how Jade chamber disappeared right before the earthquake.

______

Fitzgerald saw a second crystalfly.

______

Both Ningguang and Pantalone have a headache.

They have lost their houses. And, somehow, almost all mora they owned. There were no sighs of treasure horders or weasel thieves. Both Ningguang and Pantalone knew, how to be careful with spending mora.

Yet, both now have one thousand mora each.

The knock on the door made Pantalone and Ningguang turned their heads towards the exit.

Baisi noticeably flinched. She looked terrified.

"We finished looking through taxes declarations... And..."

Baisi put the documents on the table and left.

In a few moments, two loud shouts were heard.

"WHAT DOES IT MEAN, THAT HALF OF TEYVAT POPULATION BECAME BROKE?!"

______

Spa was quiet. Spa was good.

And this spa was completely yours and Fitzgerald's for today.

Fitzgerald announced, earlier today, that you two will have a self-care day. And 'drag' you here.

You had some sweets prepared for you.p

"Now, try this, Treasure" Fitzgerald put a sweet roll right to your lips. You took a generous bite.

Francis secretly smiles.

All your teeth were intact.

He cast a quick glance to your feet.

Currently, you two enjoyed foot massage.

Francis smiles. Your pinkies were here.

He squeezed your hand.

And promised to himself, to keep you safe and sound. And make sure, that no one will even think about taking something from you as a trophy.

____

Bonus

You raise an eyebrow, looking at all the mora Mark, Steinbeck, Dazai, Anglo, Fyodor and Sigma brought in the house.

You took one of the coins. It glimmered in daylight.

Without looking away from the coin, you asked.

"Okay, I will ask. How?"

Twain looked pleased with himself.

"We rob one of the banks, that belonged to that one, in glasses."

Steinbeck added.

"Fitzgerald won't be the only one, who could rob Mr Pants."

Dazai looked extremely proud.

"Ango and I are scumming people. We put some fake donation boxes. People are glad to spare some mora."

Ango, who was counting mora coins, spoke carefully. He was looking at you, observing your reaction.

"We tell everyone, that this mora will be used for a new shrine."

You didn't need an effort to not flinch. You spent enough time with Hawthorne to stop flinching every time the topic of religion came up.

Fyodor spoke next.

"And Sigma and I created a casino. Cards, some machines with toys for kids. Some prizes are unique and appealing to many. And almost impossible to win. But, as you know, everyone wants to play again."

Sigma shrugged.

"The prizes for everyone were my idea."

You dropped the coin back to the pile. Your mouth moved, before you can think.

"It reminds me of an anecdote. Want to hear it? A funny short story?"

Everyone immediately perked up. They took it as a sign of your recovery. It was good, that you start recalling something funny.

"Okay, [Y/N], we are ready for the story!" Naomi pretend to be impatient.

Well, there is no going back. You cleared your throat and started.

"One day, American man, Japanese man and Russian man decided to have a competition and see, who will make cat eat mustard by its own violation. American man immediately grabbed a jar and force mustard down cat's throat."

"Hey, that's violence!" Russian man objects. “You have failed!”

A Japanese man spread mustard between two pieces of fish and wrapped it in bacon.

“Hey, that's a hoax!” Russian man objects. “You have failed!”

“Well, your turn!” Japanese man and the American man grin.

Russian man, without thinking twice, takes the jar and smears mustard under the cat’s tail. It, of course, immediately starts to lick mustard, trying to get it off. Cat licks and licks, even though she is yowling.

“Do you see that?!” - Russian man rejoices “Voluntarily and with a song!”

"You have an interesting taste in jokes, Myshonok." corners of Fyodor lips slightly raised up. On the background, Nikolai and Pushkin were howling with laughter.

Actually, everyone was at least smirking. Even Natsume look a little bit amused.

Francis scoffed.

He was making sure, that Ningguang and Pantalone will rot in slums.

And, it was a good thing, that no one would be able to help them.

______

Tag list: @withered-blossoms , @myluckymoon @cocodrilofeliz @c4xcocoa @vvyeislazzy @whisperingwinters

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #imposter sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau #sagau impostor au #imposter au #Self-Aware Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald #francis scott key fitzgerald x reader #bsd fitzgerald

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samasmith23 · 9 months ago

Text

How Goro Akechi effectively serves as a dark foil to the Phantom Thieves' brand of rehabilitative justice

So... I understand that Goro Akechi is a pretty divisive character within the Persona 5 fanbase (especially his pre-Royal incarnation), but I have to admit that I honestly found his backstory and role as a sinister foil to the Phantom Thieves to be legitimately intriguing. Elements which are revealed during his boss fight in the game’s “Cruiser of Pride” arc!

When the Phantom Thieves infiltrate the Meta-Verse to confront the Shadow of the corrupt ultra-nationalist politician, Masayoshi Shido, who’s palace takes the form of a gigantic yacht sailing through the ruins of a sunken Japan, they are suddenly confronted by Akechi in the ship’s engine room. Having just betrayed the team during the previous arc, Akechi is revealed to not only be the true culprit behind the mysterious wave of mental shutdowns & psychotic breakdowns (which included the deaths of two Phantom Thieves’ member’s parents, Futaba Sakura’s mother Wakaba Isshiki & Haru Okumura’s father Kunikazu Okumura respectively…) that have occurred throughout the game’s narrative as part of Shido’s conspiracy to get elected as Prime Minister, but that he is also Shido’s illegitimate child. Essentially, Akechi was the product of a dubious affair between Shido and a sex worker whom the former later discarded when he discovered that she was pregnant, driving her to depression and suicide shortly after Akechi's birth. Akechi spent his entire childhood being passed around as a “problem child” between various foster homes (highlighting Japan’s problems with how the country treats its orphaned children) before later being granted the power of a "wildcard" persona-user, as well as knowledge about the existence of the Meta-Verse by the false god of control, Yaldabaoth.

While Akechi was a societal outcast similar to the members of the Phantom Thieves, he took the wrong message from his experiences. Akechi misguidedly believes that the only way to truly oppose the status quo that looked down upon him is to not only become a part of it (i.e. caring only about his good grades & celebrity status) but to destroy everything that he hates by reducing himself to Shido's right-hand assassin in the Meta-Verse, perpetuating mental shutdowns & psychotic breakdowns on Shido’s political enemies simply to get some semblance of recognition & validation from his abusive father before exacting revenge on him (whilst exploiting his "ace-detective" celebrity status to "solve" the crimes that he himself committed).

Essentially, once Shido finally became prime minister Akechi planned to whisper the truth about being the former’s illegitimate child, telling Shido that he was only able to get where he was due to the son he abandoned and labeled as a potential “political scandal” before murdering him.

Despite Akechi and the Phantom Thieves' mutual dislike of Shido, the former is so fixated on vengeance that he does not care about the innocent lives he ruins and destroys in the crossfire to satisfy his own personal bloodlust. Instead of legitimately trying to reform society like the Phantom Thieves do, Akechi becomes a pawn of the very same systemic corruption that was responsible for his initial suffering. Akechi cares only about his own hatred & jealousy instead of empathizing with others who were also victimized by society’s ills. This contrast is visually reflected through the juxtaposition between Akechi and the Phantom Thieves’ leader, Joker, when they confront each other in the engine room of Shido’s yacht. While Joker is portrayed as standing strong alongside his teammates & friends, Akechi stands alone in the opposite end of the room, confused & angry. While there is a part of Akechi that regrets his horrible actions and even recognizes the potential for him & Joker to be friends due to their similar backgrounds, he's too far gone into his obsessive vendetta against Shido that he refuses to turn back and now desires to kill the Phantom Thieves in a misguided attempt to ease his internal conflict.

During the boss fight with Akechi in Shido's Palace, the detective prince repeatedly dismisses the Phantom Thieves' efforts to appeal to his common senses, believing that concepts like friendship and teamwork are foolish "cliched bullish*t... in this eat or be eaten world."

While this attitude of Akechi's might seem unrealistically cartoonish on the surface, it actually makes sense when considering his background of being unfairly labeled as a "throw-away child" by Japan's foster care institutions. YouTuber LadyVirgilia goes into far greater detail about this in her excellent The Truth About Goro Akechi analysis video. There, she states that an overwhelming number of Japanese orphans are incapable of being legally adopted due to impoverished parents voluntarily relinquishing them from their care while still maintaining legal guardianship over them. Additionally, LadyVirgilia discusses how violent hierarchical power structures often form among the children within these foster homes, with younger orphans sadly being subject to bullying & abuse by their older peers.

While these facts are not explicitly stated about Akechi's backstory within P5 Royal itself, they can easily be heavily inferred due to the game's heavy emphasis on exploring themes related to Japanese sociocultural issues. It’s implied that the institutional failings of Japan's foster care system (combined with Shido's abandonment of his son while he was still in the womb), ultimately contributed to the development of Akechi's warped perception of the rest of the world. Due to being dismissed as a "throw-away child" and being forced to grow up in an institution that is unfortunately subject to high rates of systemic abuse & neglect, Akechi spent his entire life feeling unwanted & loved. Ideals such as friendship & companionship became foreign and unrealistic concepts to him due to having experienced nothing but society's cold & uncaring apathy.

Essentially, Akechi became deeply jealous & hateful toward the rest of the world, misguidedly compelling him to want to prove his superiority over the rest of society by manufacturing his status as "the celebrity ace-detective and honors student who ultimately brought down Shido." But when Akechi encounters the Phantom Thieves and befriends their leader Joker, he begins to experience his first genuine bond of companionship. Despite developing a legitimate appreciation towards Joker, Akechi is simultaneously confused & unable to fully process these newfound feelings. Akechi becomes envious of Joker's ability to rise above his similar status as a societal outcast by befriending & protecting others like himself. Consequently, Akechi projects his own failings & inability to legitimately rise above his tragic upbringing beyond his false celebrity status onto Joker & the Phantom Thieves, cruely dismissing them as "the trash of society" and blaming them for interfering with his revenge plot against Shido. This empty & hollow existence that Akechi chooses to live is further reflected by the sole two personas that he utilizes during his boss fight: Robin Hood, who represents Akechi's false celebrity & justice-abiding gentleman facade, and Loki, who embodies Akechi’s true personality as a deceitful trickster & psychotic murderer.

I personally couldn’t help but find all of these elements to be rather interesting & insightful about Akechi’s role as an antagonist/rival to the Phantom Thieves. It honestly highlights the tragic nature of Akechi's situation, since while he had the potential to utilize his deductive knowledge & skills as a "wildcard" Persona-user similar to Joker, he instead allowed himself to be consumed by his own hatred & madness.

The parallels between Akechi & Joker are further evident through the latter also being a victim of Shido’s abuse. Specifically, the corrupt politician wrongfully sued Joker for “assault” when he tried to stop Shido from drunkenly forcing himself upon a woman. In contrast to Akechi however, Joker is motivated by his negative experiences to fight against the unjust status quo that figures like Shido represent to prevent similar abuses of power from ever occurring again to others. Additionally, we also see dualistic parallels between Akechi and other members of the Phantom Thieves, such as Makoto Nijima who similarly previously upheld the misconception that “good grades and following orders are all that truly matters to be a worthwhile member of society.” Whereas Makoto outgrows this mentality by instead choosing to utilize her status as student council president to help her suffering peers rather than for her own academic career, Akechi conversely exploits his intellect as an “ace-detective” to perpetuate societal injustices for his self-centered vendetta against Shido.

In essence, if the Phantom Thieves embody the potential benefits of rehabilitative justice then Goro Akechi embodies the dangers of retributive justice (aka, revenge). To reference two of my favorite movies, Batman Begins and Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi, not only is there a strong difference between justice and revenge (one is about altruistic harmony whereas the other is about personal satisfaction), but the most surefire way to victory is by fighting to protect what you love rather than fighting to destroy what you hate...

The distinction between justice & revenge is made abundantly clear at the end of Akechi's storyline in the baseline game (i.e. before the Royal exclusive Third Semester new content), where following his defeat at the hands of the Phantom Thieves Akechi is suddenly approached by a cognitive duplicate of himself that dwells within Shido's palace. In addition to the Cognitive Akechi emphasizing the futility of Akechi's quest for acknowledgment & vengeance against Shido by revealing that the latter always intended to dispose of his right-hand assassin once he was elected prime minister, the cognitive duplicate also reveals the true depths of Shido's depravity when he states that he only ever viewed Akechi as a puppet to fulfill his own ambitions. While it is true that Akechi was so obsessed with revenge that he allowed himself to become a pawn of the corrupt status quo, it is exceptionally cruel to learn that this is how Shido has always viewed his own son (which is further punctuated by Shido later revealing to the Phantom Thieves that he secretly always suspected that Akechi was his illegitimate child due to how much he reminded him of his mother). It is this revelation in particular that allows the Phantom Thieves to better empathize with Akechi's tragic upbringing & circumstances. Even though they still seek to hold Akechi accountable for the murders that he committed at Shido's behest, the Phantom Thieves simultaneously recognize that in a sense, Akechi was also a victim of both Shido's cruelty and the systemic injustices of larger Japanese society.

This effectively culminates in the bittersweet resolution to Akechi's storyline in the base Persona 5 game. When the Cognitive Akechi duplicate offers his real-world counterpart one last chance to "redeem" himself in Shido's eyes by killing the Phantom Thieves in his stead, Akechi for the first time in his life decides to be his own person instead of being defined by the labels Shido and society had imposed upon him since birth. Choosing to no longer be a puppet of Shido's corrupt machinations, Akechi rejects his cognitive duplicate's hollow offer by instead turning his gun on the duplicate and his Shadow minions before sealing the engine room's watertight doors between himself and the Phantom Thieves. At the very end, Akechi was finally able to acknowledge that his desire for false appreciation from both his abusive father and larger society was ultimately worthless. Akechi ultimately sacrifices himself to allow the Phantom Thieves to escape, recognizing their true justice while entrusting them to do what he was incapable of by holding Shido accountable for his crimes & reforming society.

From a certain point of view, one could argue that the Phantom Thieves indirectly inspired a change of heart in Akechi by proving to him the validity of their sense of justice.

Overall, while I was initially indifferent towards Goro Akechi at the start of my playthrough of Persona 5 (and even outright skeptical & suspicious of his motives given his vocal opposition to the Phantom Thieves), by the time I got to his boss battle in Shido's palace I ended gained a deeper understanding and appreciation for what the developers at Atlus were attempting to convey with his character. Akechi effectively functions as both a cautionary tale about the dangers of allowing oneself to be consumed with thoughts of revenge, as well as a dark parallel to the Phantom Thieves who seek to legitimately reform society for altruistic rather than self-centered reasons. It was these elements that ultimately elevated Akechi into becoming one of my personal favorite members of P5's cast (right behind Makoto, Futaba & Ann...) from both a narrative and character writing perspective (especially with the Royal edition's overhauled confidant line for Akechi, which better fleshes out the latter's rivalry with Joker, and the player now has to progress manually instead of it being automatic)! And I am definitely curious to see how Royal's exclusive "Third Semester" content further fleshes out Akechi's character since I'm aware that he plays a major role in the new story content.

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