#you're not sorry delta i know that much
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whocaresstillthelouvre · 9 months ago
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Tide
Pairing: Frankie Morales x Female Reader Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Frankie Morales is capable of almost anything... except not cumming in his jeans when he thinks about you, the pretty clerk at the grocery store he always buys his giant jugs of laundry detergent at. Warnings: Smut thoughts, Frankie's POV and internal monologue, premature ejaculation, so much cum talk, addiction recovery, laundry detergent, this is so ridiculous but I also tried to make it super sweet. Words: 1,200
A/N: I'd probably classify this as a crack fic... but with heart. This is SOOOOO indulgent and ridiculous. I don't know what @luxurychristmaspudding unlocked in me but this is what's released. I know this is my *4th* story in a week, but I couldn't help myself. Also, shout out to the JM Discord and all of the tenants who join in the luxuriousness of this level of depravity.
Masterlist
🚁👖🤍Frankie🤍👖🚁
It keeps happening to Frankie over and over and over again. Recovery has been a challenge, abstaining from all of his previous vices means he’s no longer numbing his mind… and body. 
Nobody should ever cum during a prescription commercial and yet… he does. The swimsuit hugged the woman’s curves a little too close, plus she had the same color hair as you. His mind couldn’t help floating to thinking about you in a swimsuit.
Aye dios mio, get a hold of yourself man.
He’s too embarrassed to bring it up to his doctor. The notion of ever mentioning it to the Delta Force boys terrifies him, although he knows deep down they’d lend a sympathetic ear. They’ve killed, fought wars, and climbed out of the lowest points of their lives together… but the thought of letting his secret out? Awful. He shudders at the thought of telling his fellow Narcotics Anonymous attendees: “Hi, my name is Frankie, I’m an addict and I can’t stop cumming in my pants.”
He tries to think of the worst things, mental images that should scar even the scariest of humans, thoughts about death, rotting produce, weird looking insects, and yet, it still happens.
___
“Hi, how’d you find everything today?”
He blinks towards your tag though he’s already memorized your name, it repeats through his mind whenever he climaxes… he wonders to himself how your sweet voice would sound repeating his name. 
Uh oh, quick, think of a bee sting, everyone’s going to die, burnt pizza. 
He shakes his head, the thoughts of you wrapped around him flying out of his head with each subtle knock. 
“Sir, are you okay?”
Fuuuuuuck, you really had to call me sir, didn’t you?
“Y-yeah, sorry, long day. My name’s Frankie by the way.”
Focus, don’t look at how her hand wraps around the shampoo bottle, soldier. 
“Hi Frankie, nice to finally have a name to the face.”
Of course you say his name in the sweetest way. He presses his fingers into the flesh of his palm as hard as he can withstand, he prays you don’t see the way his nostrils flare.
Be strong.
He’s been captivated ever since he first saw you working in the mom and pop market across the street from his apartment. You’re always friendly and smiling, he swears he feels your eyes on him every time he leaves yet he’s too scared to look back and confirm for himself. He wishes he knew how to small talk and somehow step over the threshold of this case of shyness he has with you. 
Why bother? I’ll just end up disappointing you, never leaving you fulfilled. 
He’s so ashamed. 
“That’s a big bottle of detergent, you must do a lot of laundry. You have kids?” 
“I do… a four year old, but she lives with her mom,” he answers, lifting the giant jug into his cart, his cock twitches when he feels your eyes on his biceps. 
Stay cool, you can do this, you’ve literally overcome worse… and cummed over less.
He wonders if you notice just how much laundry soap he buys… he’s confident that you have no clue you're the only reason why his washing machine is constantly working overtime. 
“Oh, I love that age,” you mindlessly muse scanning a cereal box. “Is she as cute as her dad?”
His spine turns to jelly… he feels the phantom getting closer. 
Trash compactors, mom and dad’s divorce, elephant seals.
“Everyone says she has my eyes.”
“Then she must be,” you wink.
Not a wink, not a wink, not a goddamn wiiiiink. 
He quickly pulls his head down, sticking his card in the chip reader, resisting the urge to think of his now aching cock pushing into you. 
STOP. STOP. STOP THINKING FRANKIE.
Focusing on the pin pad breaks his spiral. Relief spreads through his tense body knowing this run in will be over soon, he can go home in peace, his pants surviving this moment.
Your fingers brush against his hand when you hand him the receipt, his favorite part of buying groceries. He’ll stand in your checkout lane no matter the size of the line for the split second of skin to skin contact. It’s all he can afford to let himself have, any more would surely stain his jeans. 
___
“Hey Frankie!” 
He turns at your voice, his breath hitching when you walk over to him while removing your name tag.
“Want to go next door and grab a drink?”
“I’d love to… but I, uh,” he lifts his hat nervously tussling his hair, “I’m in recovery.” 
“Oh,” your voice and face falter, “I’m sorry, um–”
Don’t let this moment pass, you can do it.
“I know a really good ice cream place, a few blocks down, I can meet you there?” 
Ice cream means licking. Frankie, you're an idiot.
“Oh, um, that sounds amazing but I don’t drive.”
“I can take you… if you’d like.” 
“Yeah?” your smile grows wider. “That sounds amazing.”
“I just need to drop these off, and then I’ll meet you outside in twenty?”
“Awesome!” You squeeze his hand wrapped around the cart handle. “I’ll see you soon.” 
Your touch scorches his skin, he blinks watching your ass sway while walking through the doors to the backroom. 
1-2-3, a gush of hot liquid releases against his jeans, his knuckles turn white as they clutch the cart handle.
Jesus Christ.
Frankie picks up his bags, holding them close to his crotch and leaves the grocery store. He better hurry. Thank god he just bought more detergent. 
___
In hindsight, he’s thankful for his little grocery store indiscretion. He’s carefree and relaxed as he falls even harder for you over chocolate sundaes. You ask for extra rainbow sprinkles and laugh at all of his jokes. 
This must be what it’s like to live normally.
___
“That’s me,” you point to a small bungalow unbuckling your seatbelt. “Thanks for the ice cream Frankie."
“This was really fun,” he turns towards you, shocked at how close you’re leaning towards him. 
Kiss her. No, wait, don’t kiss her. Yeah, definitely don’t kiss her. 
“It was,” you lick your lips and lean even closer. 
He can smell you now, you smell divine. Like ice cream and floral perfume. 
You place a soft kiss against his lips and pull away.
Frankie’s body tenses, a pathetic whimper escapes his mouth, he spurts against the cotton of his briefs. Doe eyes rounded with embarrassment stare at you.
“Sorry,” whispers out of his downturned lips. 
“Oh,” your face fails at hiding a smile, “Frankie, it’s okay. Really.”
His head knocks against the headrest, face frozen in a grimace, his eyes squeezed shut. 
“Frankie,” your hand clasps his chin forcing him to look at you. “Honestly, it’s okay. It’s actually… kinda hot.”
Right then and there he knows he’ll never shop at another grocery store again. 
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eilishsmuse · 5 months ago
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the way you move on the floor
— sorority president!billie eilish x sorority president!fem reader
context. both billie and you finally meet at a SAE party after being busy with all the rushing season going on. as the night goes on, it turns out that you and the pi phi president have a lot more in common than you thought. the two of you spend the rest of the night partying, drinking, dancing, and chatting. making a deal.
cw. drinking, drugs, partying, typical frat boys, swearing, mentions of throwing up, billie is literally the biggest flirt on campus but reader is an even bigger flirt, explicit content, soft billie, lowk romantic, cutoff smut (sorry not sorry)
soundtrack. i like it – enrique iglesias ft pitbull
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Finally.
After what seemed like the longest two weeks of your life, the 2024 rushing season was finally over.
Bid Day was a hit, and you congratulated all your new sisters to Delta Gamma. After all the bumping of eager girls and accepting them into the Greek life of UCLA, you could finally wind down.
Being a Big to everyone for tonight, you decided to let all your girls in the chapter know that it was time for a night out over at SAE. As a Big you were supposed to set a standard for the underclassmen, but that 'standard’ was thrown out the window a long time ago.
Plus, you technically 'did' set the standard for them. Have fun and get drunk with your friends.
Right now, you were playing beer pong against one of the newest members of your sorority.
Kaylor? Kayla? Her name started with a K, but you both were pretty buzzed, and if you said either name, you were sure she wasn’t going to care.
As you were drinking out one of the cups, out the corner of your eye, you spotted Billie Eilish, Pi Phi’s new president for this year’s chapter.
You didn’t get to meet her the past few weeks because of all the chaos of rushing and all that.
Billie was well known around campus and even when she got to UCLA as a freshman, there were already rumors she was going to be the president for Pi Phi later on. She was also known for just being hot.
And that she was.
She was also known for just being a natural flirt with everyone on campus.
Rumor has it that she hookups with rich closeted sorority girls. But then again, just a rumor…
As the alcohol settled in your stomach, you could already feel the potent drink do its work, as your worries were all of a sudden off your mind.
"Fuck. I knew I should've pulled trig tonight."
Your tone was full of annoyance and regret. You then heard your VP, Leah, laugh from beside you.
"I literally told you three times before we left the house."
Leah has been your best friend ever since you got to UCLA, and the two of you went through multiple rushes together your freshman year before you two decided to stick with DG. She's basically been your ride-or-die throughout all of college.
"Oh shit, it's Billie."
Leah pointed out, leaning back a little behind you to get a better look at Billie, nearly stumbling over at how far she was leaning back, "You think the rumors are true?"
You then turned to look at Billie as she held a drink in her hand and chatted to a bunch of blondes who laughed at whatever she was saying with the biggest grin on her face.
"Too controversial to answer."
Leah just laughed and took her turn to throw the ping pong ball, "You need to talk to her. You're both the new presidents."
Billie took a drink out of her plastic red cup, not caring that there was definitely way too much alcohol in there, but that's how she always liked it. She was on her 3rd cup at this point and had already lost count of how many shots she's had.
She was having a conversation with Sasha, one of her closest friends and a member of the sorority, when she suddenly felt her friend's hand on her shoulder, grabbing her attention.
"Is that the new president of DG? Hopefully she isn't like Grace. Fucking bitch."
She rolled her eyes as the name 'Grace' passed through her friend's lips, and she looked in the direction where her friend's gaze was directed at. Grace was last year's president, and just an all around snobby-bitch.
Billie was leaning against the wall and watching your sisters play beer pong with you, a cup in your hand.
"Who's that next to her?" Billie asked, trying to get a better look.
"Leah. Her best friend. Also the new VP this year for DG but she's more down to earth and chill." Sasha explained.
"Hm," Billie hummed, still staring at you from a distance, noticing how much you seemed to be talking to your best friend during the game.
"Is she single?"
Sasha rolled her eyes, already knowing where this was going.
"Dude," She groaned, sipping from her drink. "Do you have to flirt with every girl that shows up on campus?"
"Hey," Billie held up her free hand in defense as she downed the rest of her drink and set it down on the nearby ledge, pushing herself away from the wall.
"I'm just making conversation." She winked at her best friend as she started walking forwards in your direction. The alcohol was starting to get to her head as usual, as a small smirk tugged on her lips.
As Leah tried to practice her throw, you looked back towards Billie's direction to see her approaching the two of you, making you double take and widen your eyes.
Immediately hitting Leah on the arm to signal her, only causing the ping pong ball to fly out of her grip.
"Dude!"
You turned at Leah's dramatic tone to see the ping pong ball roll away from the table and get trampled by the dancing crowd. A wince leaving your lips and turning to her, "Sorry."
Leah turns away from you and to the little's across from the table.
"Number one rule! Never distract your partner when it's their turn!"
You furrow your eyebrows at Leah's passive-aggressive tone and roll your eyes, tapping her again. Leah turned over to you again in annoyance.
"Billie's coming."
A small 'Shit' was mumbled from Leah's lips as she tried to make herself look presentable.
Which was not happening.
The two of you were completely buzzed and not appropriately prepared to meet the other sorority's president.
Billie had a smirk on her lips, watching as the ball went flying across the room and the way Leah was yelling, causing her steps to quicken.
She was only a few feet away from you when finally approaching you both.
"Hey." She said, casually leaning against the table, arms crossing and watching as Leah tried to 'act normal'.
Her eyes then flickering over to your form, a smirk still on her lips.
"You're Y/N right? The new president for DG?"
"Billie! Hi!"
Your voice was nice and sweet. You extended your clammy hand out to shake Billie's hand.
"That would be me, yes. It's nice to finally meet you! Rushing was more hectic than I thought it'd be this year."
There was a kind smile on your lips as you spoke, not letting the alcohol that you'd consumed so far phase you. Leah, on the other hand, was still oblivious to Billie being in front of you and still applying her lip gloss.
Sneaking a hand behind your back to hit Leah on her thigh to stop doing whatever she was doing.
Billie took your hand and shook it, noting how soft the skin on your hand was.
She chuckled, still holding onto your hand even after the handshake was done. She was also definitely checking you out, her eyes roaming up and down our body.
"I feel you dude, it's my first year being pres so I'm surprised I survived." Billie joked, letting go of your hand and now wrapping one of her hands around the side of her own hip.
Her gaze moved over to Leah quickly and silently observed your friend for a moment.
She was too busy applying on more lip gloss, completely unaware of Billie's presence and how much time she was taking.
"Who's your friend? She seems...busy."
You turned halfway to Leah to see her drunken state, whipping your head back to Billie with a half smile. Hitting Leah on the arm to signal her to stop putting on her fucking lip gloss.
"This is Leah, my VP this year."
Billie let out a chuckle as she watched you try to get your VP's attention off what she was doing. Seeing her finally snapping out of it and look up.
"Hey," Leah said, a small smile growing on her lips as she noticed Billie next to you.
"Hey," Billie gave a friendly greeting, waving at Leah for a moment.
She had seen Leah from across the room earlier and now up close, she was almost as pretty as you. It was easy to tell that the two of you were close.
"Congrats on being VP this year." Billie said, now putting both hands on her hips.
"Thanks."
There was a sudden, uncomfortable silence, the music being the only thing being heard as you all looked at each other silently.
You cleared your throat and turned to Leah, grabbing her arm and turning to Billie.
"Maybe Leah should meet your new VP?"
Billie's eyes watched as you grabbed Leah's arm, and she hummed in thought for a moment.
"Yeah...sure. Sasha's over there by the wall."
Billie pointed over to the direction where her VP was standing, sipping slowly on her drink as she talked to other members of the sorority, her eyes quickly meeting Billie's as soon as she noticed where her gaze was directed at.
"Cool!"
You gave Leah no time to protest against the idea and nudged her over toward Sasha, leaving Billie and you alone. A soft smile formed on your lips as you looked at her, her blue eyes becoming very intimidating for some weird reason,
"So…"
Billie turned her gaze back to you, the smirk never leaving her lips as her eyes lingered on your features for a moment.
"So," She repeated, still having one hand wrapped around her hip and the other still resting on the table. "How you holding up so far?" She asked, knowing damn well you had both probably been drinking more than necessary.
She tilted her head to the side slightly, a hum leaving her lips as she was waiting for your response.
She was silently studying your body language, her eyes glancing from your face to your chest for a brief moment and back up.
"A little overwhelmed. But honestly excited nonetheless for this year."
Good Y/N. Play it cool.
"What about you?"
Now it was your turn to tilt your head at her and give her a small grin, taking a swig of your drink.
Billie chuckled and nodded for a moment before mirroring the action and taking a sip of her cup as well.
"I'm a bit overwhelmed myself, to be completely honest. But I'm excited for this year too.”
She let out a weary sigh jokingly, her eyes never leaving yours.
Her gaze then lowered again to your figure, this time it seemed like she was studying you a bit more closely. Seeing the way your jean shorts hugged your body perfectly around your hips and thighs and how the top you wore showed off your cleavage just slightly.
You nodded at her statement with an all knowing smile, looking around the crowded frat party. Red cup still in hand as your eyes scanned the party, settling on a guy you used to hang around with.
Your eyes immediately widening as his tall frame walked over to you with a smile. His framed dazzled in his UCLA polo unbuttoned slightly paired with a pair of blue Lululemon shorts and with his ruffled blond hair.
“Oh god, help me.”
Muttering it quickly out your lips and quickly shimming your way into Billie’s arms, grabbing her arms and wrapping them around your waist. Wrapping your around her shoulders and looking up at her as if she was saying something interesting.
“Just go with it.”
Billie was taken by surprise as you suddenly wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled her against you. Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment in confusion but she didn't struggle against it, instead allowing herself to get pulled into your warmth.
She was about to question what you were doing until you suddenly spoke.
"Just go with it."
Not knowing what you were on about, her head turned so she could glance over her shoulders, seeing the guy that you were worried about coming closer.
"Got it." She replied in a whisper.
“What do you think people would think about this? Being two presidents and all?” You say in a fake but evident seductive tone, caressing Billie’s neck with your french tipped nails. Trying to let Aaron know to just walk away.
Looking up at Billie with a hungry look that you only use when you want something.
Billie stayed composed as best she could, watching the guy for a moment before her eyes flicked back to your face, feeling your nails graze her exposed neck.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, noticing how hungry you looked, almost as if you were about to devour her. Her breath hitched slightly in her throat and she tried to form words.
"I don't think… most people would care…" Billie said, glancing down at your lips for a brief moment, realizing how much shorter you were to her.
“I’d hope not,” You whispered on Billie’s lips glancing over her shoulder to still see Aaron there. Rolling your eyes but so only Billie could see it.
“Aaron hey!”
A fake, cheery tone seeping through your voice separating your hands off of Billie’s neck and resting them on her chest so you were still attached to her.
Billie's heart began to beat faster in her chest as she felt your hands move from her neck to her chest, and her breathing came out as sharper and quicker. She was fighting back the urge to stare down at how your hands were resting right by her cleavage.
She forced the smirk back on her lips, looking over to the guy who was now standing in front of you, his body language showing how he was annoyed and jealous.
"Hey, Y/N," He said, not even bothering to acknowledge Billie.
“Sorry I never called back,” You fake apologized with a frown, soothing your hands over Billie’s chest softly, “I got busy with rushing and everything.”
Looking at Aaron with an innocent look, he was a nice guy. He was hot and tall and athletic and rich, everything you could want in a guy, but he was bland in personality. Sex was good with him but definitely could be better.
Aaron kept his gaze focused on you, noticing how your hands were caressing the other girl's chest, something he had gotten so used to you doing to him. He didn't like the way you were touching her, but he stayed composed.
"Yeah, I saw the new girls around campus." He said, keeping his words short. He then eyed Billie, who had stayed silent up to this point.
"You look familiar, have I seen you somewhere before?"
Billie looked from you to Aaron for a moment and shrugged when he asked the question.
"Maybe around campus, I'm usually on campus a lot." She said, trying to keep her voice nonchalant as she felt your hands still moving over her chest. It was increasingly becoming harder for her to keep her cool.
“Billie here is the new Pres for Pi Phi. Isn’t that right Bils?”
Glancing your sweet eyes up to hers with a million dollar smile, your hands still on her chest which could feel her immense heart beat.
"Yep…" Billie said in response, glancing down at your hands for a moment as they continued to move across her clothed chest, and back up to your face.
She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold back the urge to press you up against the table behind you and kiss you senseless.
"How long have you known each other?" Aaron asked bluntly, his eyes still lingering on you and Billie.
You looked up at Billie expectantly so she could answer the question still giving her a soft smile, feeling her hands grip tighter at your hips.
Billie took a deep breath, trying to compose herself as you looked up at her with an expectant look on your face.
Her brain was becoming increasingly clouded as her hands continued to grip your hips tighter, noticing how small you felt under her grasp.
"Uh-" She began, clearing her throat slightly. "About a month now…yeah…"
She glanced over at Aaron, his facial expression hadn't changed, he was still looking at the both of you with slight annoyance.
"A month, huh?" He said, and crossed his arms against his chest, shifting his focus away from Billie and back to you. "We've been together for like…eight months."
"Hooking up, Aaron," You immediately butt in as the blond boy finished his sentence, "We've been hooking up for eight months."
Aaron's face immediately turned into a mixture of anger and hurt, he didn't expect you to say it out loud and in front of the other President no less.
He shot you a death glare, his eye narrowing slightly and his hands clenching into fists for a moment before he tried to regain his composure.
"Why not just give it another chance, sweetheart?" He tried to convince, ignoring Billie. "We were good together."
A flash of disgust spreads on your face for a millisecond at his pet name for you, immediately covering it up with a fake smile, patting hit chest with your hand softly.
"Goodbye, Aaron."
Sliding your hand off Aaron's chest slyly and taking Billie's hand in yours, leading her past the table and weaving through the crowds of students that danced. Halting in an instant, finding a spot on the floor and turning around to Billie, giving her an look of expectancy.
Billie was silently following beside you as you led her around the table, her hand interlocked with yours as you continued to weave your way through the crowds.
She could feel the way Aaron's eyes burned into the back of her head, knowing damn well he was pissed that you were now with her of all people.
When you halted in your tracks, Billie stumbled slightly before steadying herself, suddenly being spun around to face you, her eyes meeting yours, an expectant look on your face.
"What?" She asked with a laugh, noting the expectant look you had on your face
"I love this song," You replied with a smile, 'I Like It' by Enrique Iglesias blasted through the speakers that surrounded the fraternity house. People began jumping up and down to the music, yelling the lyrics to each other, or dancing with one another by swaying side to side.
Billie let out a low hum, listening to the beginning of the song for a moment, her eyes watching the people around her who were beginning to sing and dance. Some people were even grinding on each other.
She turned her attention back to you, a smirk on her lips as her eyes locked back onto yours.
"You wanna dance?"
A fake gasp left your lips as you laid a hand on your chest and an immediate smile formed on your lips, "Why I thought you'd never ask!" Looping your arms around Billie's neck and letting one of your hands bury itself in her soft, black hair.
Billie chuckled at your reaction, watching you dramatically gasp and pout before looping your arms around her neck. She could feel one of your hands weaving into her hair, and she subconsciously leaned into the touch.
Her own arms immediately wrapped around your waist, her hands resting just above your ass and pulling you closer to her so your hips were touching.
She let out a breathless laugh as she began to sway them together to the rhythm.
They remained at a gentle swaying motion for a while, Billie's eyes looking down at you as you pressed against her, your hips now touching firmly.
She was slightly taller than you which allowed her to look down at you pretty easily, her breath still coming out in quick pants, her hands still resting firmly around your waist, her grip being just tighter than it needs to be.
"You smell nice." She muttered suddenly, her eyes roaming over your features.
"Le Labo," You commented, not letting the way Billie's hands gripped your waist go unnoticed, flashing her a knowing smile. Looking into her blue eyes and realizing how easy it was to fall for anything she did, now fully believing in the rumors. You couldn't blame the girls though, especially with the way Billie had a way with her eyes.
You gripped her hair in the softest way that you could and leaned into her ear, "Are the rumors true?"
Pulling back away from her ear with a smirk on your lips and a tilt of your head, still continuing to sway your hips to the music.
Billie's heart beat a bit faster in her chest when you moved your head closer to her, her breath hitching in her throat to hearing your whispering voice question the rumors.
She leaned in close, her lips skimming the shell of your ear as she responded. "Which ones?"
Her eyes flicked down to your smirking lips before back up to your face, her hands still holding you by the hips, not letting you get too far away from her.
She continued to sway them together, keeping a steady rhythm as they danced to the music. Occasionally she would glance around them, noticing how a few eyes were on the both of you.
Most likely from the fact that two sorority girls, leaders of the schools sororities, were holding each other so closely and dancing so intimately with each other.
Billie didn't care though. She ignored how people's eyes lingered on them and kept her focus on you.
She hummed softly, her eyes now roaming over your face, taking in every small detail, how your hair was slightly messy from dancing, and the natural redness in your cheeks from the alcohol.
“Don’t play coy Eilish…” You teased with a smile, softening the grip you had on Billie’s hair.
Letting your eyes roam to her plump, pink lips that carried a soft look that was too inviting and enticing to the naked eye. You took in a sharp breath and looked back up into Billie’s eye with a shrug, “I don’t blame you, some of the girls from the other chapters aren’t all that bad.”
Billie chuckled at the way you teased her, hearing the way you spoke her last name, something about how you said it made her heart flutter.
Her gaze shifted back to your face, watching you look at her lips, her tongue darting out to moisten them as your eyes roamed over her features.
Her grip on your hips shifted, her hands now moving to your lower back, her hands splaying across the fabric of your top and resting right above your ass.
She rolled her eyes softly, amused by your comment.
"Oh really, you don't blame me?"
Her hands on your back began to wander, exploring the soft expanse of your skin under your shirt.
Her brain was becoming increasingly clouded as the alcohol and the sensation of you pressed up against her body began to overwhelm her. She could feel the heat from your body and it was making her head become hazy.
Her eyes were now fixated on your neck for a moment, noticing the way your skin glowed under the lights of the club. The urge to press her lips to the skin there nearly becoming unbearable.
Your heart began to beat out your chest and through every other part of your body, feeling every touch and look Billie give you, deep inside. Wetting your lips with a slow drag of your tongue across both lips, bitting your lips to restrain any feelings that were ready to fully pounce onto Billie.
Letting out a small chuckle and looking down at the necklace that rested on Billie’s chest, taking it in your hand and gently rubbing the cool metal.
“Y’know if you wanted to hook up, you could just ask?”
Billie chuckled breathlessly at your comment, her eyes following your tongue as it moved across your lips slowly. Her eyes darkened slightly as she watched your teeth bite into the sensitive skin before looking down at her necklace that was in your grasp.
She swallowed thickly as your fingers began to gently play with the metal of the chain wrapped around her neck.
Her own hands continued to move across your body, her fingers still tracing the lines of your spine. She could feel the heat growing in her stomach, burning with an all familiar want.
"Is that an offer?"
“Depends…”
Dropping Billie’s necklace back on her chest and trailing your hand on her chest and up to her neck, lightly scraping your french tipped nails on her soft, pale skin. Looking up into her beautiful blue eyes with a look she’s probably familiar with.
“What would you say?”
Billie's eyes fluttered shut briefly as your hand moved back up to her neck, her breath shuddering when you scraped your nails gently along her skin.
She shivered under your touch, her neck leaning into your palm slightly and her own hands now gripping your hips a bit tighter than before.
She let out a breathless laugh, opening her eyes to look back at you with a smirk. "You're gonna regret it if I agree to it."
A small laugh leaves your lips at her assumption before you licked your lips with a tilt of your head, narrowing your eyes in curiosity.
“Why would that be Billie?”
Billie bit down on her bottom lip, watching the way you licked your lips as you looked at her with a smirk. Her own eyes flicked over your features, her grip on your hips still holding onto you tightly, almost as if she was scared that you'd pull away from her.
She chuckled lowly as you tilted your head and looked at her with a curious look on your face. Her own eyes darkened as she looked down at you, her lips curving to form her smirk again.
"Because," she began, her breath coming out in pants. "You won't be able to walk straight tomorrow."
Your eyes widen in a sense of shock along with a laugh as you leaned your head into her chest, leaning back with a surprised smile. Closing your eyes for a few seconds to try and rid the dirty thoughts from your mind.
Opening your eyes to see Billie’s hungry gaze, “Okay then, let’s make a deal…”
Taking in a small breather and giving Billie a small, gentle smile.
“We hook up and I get to see if the rumors are true and you are as good as they all say, but if you aren’t then you have to live with the embarrassment. But if you do manage to make me not walk straight then you earn bragging rights.”
As you leaned your head into her chest, Billie chuckled at your shocked expression and laughed along with you.
Her hands still gripping your hips slightly as she watched you open your eyes, her expression slowly shifting to a look of need as she listened to your next words.
A smirk slowly formed on her lips as you gave her a smile but with a hint of a challenge. Her eyes darkened as she watched your face for a moment, listening to your words intently, her grip on your hips tightening slightly.
She nodded her head slowly, her eyes never leaving your face. "Deal."
Without warning you stopped the sway of your hips and let your hands leave Billie’s body, grabbing her hand in yours and guiding her through the party. Weaving through multiple students that were drunkenly dancing.
Finally reaching the door and bidding the president of the fraternity goodbye, Billie’s hand still in yours as she followed like a lost dog.
“Where’s your car?”
Billie followed you silently, her eyes roaming over the various frat boys and sorority girls who were drunk out of their minds and dancing up against each other, holding onto red solo cups that they no doubt filled with alcohol.
She kept her hand in yours, gently intertwining the fingers as you led her out the doorway of the fraternity house, the cool night air feeling refreshing against her heated skin.
She paused for a moment as you asked her where her car was. "Parked across the road."
Your eyes follow to where Billie motioned her head to see a black Porsche 718 Cayman and laughing softly to yourself.
“Why am I not surprised?”
Billie chuckled as you looked across the road to her Porsche, which gleamed in the street light. She rolled her eyes at your comment as she began to walk across the road, your hand still in hers.
"She’s my baby." She exclaimed as she fished her keys out of her pocket, unlocking the car and opening the passenger door for you.
As you stepped into the passenger seat, Billie shut the door behind you, making her way around the car and getting into the driver’s seat. The engine roared to life as she pushed down on the clutch and the fuel pedal, the car taking off down the street.
Billie didn’t say anything as she maneuvered her way through the traffic, her hands gripping the steering wheel, her knuckles turning slightly white.
The silence between you was deafening, but not uncomfortable as she drove the both of you to the Pi Phi sorority house.
While the drive was silent with the car radio playing in the background quietly, your heart began to beat even faster as the car passed the familiar street of sorority houses.
You’d never been nervous or anxious to hook up with anyone like this before in your life, let alone presidents to Greek chapters, but it was Billie so this was different.
After a few minutes, Billie finally pulled up in front of her sorority house, immediately putting the car into park and shutting off the engine.
The sudden silence was almost deafening as the two of you sat in the car, the only sound being Billie’s heavy breathing and the occasional car driving by.
She turned to look at you, her eyes dark and filled with a multitude of emotions as she waited for your next move.
Billie let out a small chuckle at your innocent smile that you flashed her and stepped out of the car, making her way around to open the door for you.
She offered you her hand to assist you out of the car, her blue eyes looking down at you with a smirk. “Let’s go.”
A laugh left your lips as you rolled your eyes at Billie’s chivalrous actions much different from the actions that she was going to do to you inside the house.
Accepting her hand into yours as you stepped out the car, muttering a small thank you.
As you took her hand in yours, Billie gently pulled you out of the car, her fingers lacing through yours as she began to lead you into the sorority house and through the front door.
The house was relatively quiet, with a few girls still milling around who came from parties early. Most of them were in their bedrooms getting ready for bed or already asleep.
Billie closed the door behind you both in the entrance hall, turning her gaze back down onto you as she looked down at your smaller form.
She led you through the entrance hall towards the stairs and began climbing them, glancing back every now and then to make sure you were still following her.
Billie walked down the hallway of the second floor, pausing in front of her bedroom door as she twisted the knob and pushed it open, letting you walk in first.
She closed the door behind her, locking it in the process, her hands shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans. Her eyes darted around her room before landing back on you.
There was a comfortable silence as both of you stared at one another until your hands began to trail behind your body to unzip the corset top you wore. Keeping eye contact with Billie as your top fell to the ground leaving the top of your body nude. Kicking off your shoes to the side.
The warm light of her lamp shining on your body, your jean shorts still in as well as the necklaces the decorated your neck nicely.
Billie licked her lips as she watched you unzip the corset you were wearing, her eyes glued to your every move as you let it fall onto the floor. Her eyes widened slightly at the sight of your bare skin under the warm light of her room.
Her gaze darkened as she ran her eyes all over your body, her eyes flicking up and down your figure, taking in your every detail.
"Take your shorts off." She said quietly, her eyes now looking at your jean shorts.
A smile played on your lips as you tilted your head at Billie, “Come take them off, will you?”
Studying the way her confident demeanor still held up as she let her eyes wander on your body.
As you tilted your head at her, a smirk played on your lips as you spoke, a challenge in your tone. Billie chuckled lowly in response, her eyes wandering over your figure again, her gaze darkened as she felt you staring at her.
Without any hesitation, she took a few steps towards you, her hands coming up to grab your hips. She pulled you closer to her, her hands sliding up your bare back until they reached the top of your shorts.
Her fingers began to tug on the fabric slowly, pulling them down off of your hips.
She stepped back as the shorts fell down your legs, leaving you only in your laced panties, your body still on display for her to see. Her eyes remained on your body as she took in every detail, her hands still hovering over your hips.
"Lay down on the bed."
Her voice was commanding, her eyes looking into yours as she issued the order, her tone leaving no room for disobedience.
You shook your head before gripping at Billie’s collar and pulling her in for a kiss. A kiss that was on your mind the whole night.
Her pink, plump lips finally landing on yours as you moaned in content at the soft feeling and taste of her lips. Wrapping your arms around her neck as your hands got lost in her hair as her cap fell off.
Billie exhaled a breath as she felt you pull her in, not expecting your lips to connect with hers. Her eyes widened in surprise but quickly closed as your hands found their way to her hair, her cap falling to the floor.
She melted against you, her arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer to her. Her hands gripping your sides as she felt you moan against her mouth, her tongue gliding past your parted lips to meet yours.
As Billie’s tongue danced with yours you smiled into the kiss, gripping at her hair even harder than before. Feeling Billie’s hands trail down your back and to your ass, picking you up in one swift movement.
A yelp along with a laugh left your lips, wrapping your legs around Billie’s waist as she carried you to her bed. Still having your lips on hers as she made the small walk.
Billie couldn’t help but smile against your mouth as she heard you laugh at the sudden change in position. She held you up against her, her hands gripping onto your thighs and holding you against her waist as she carried you over to the bed, her grip on you being firm but gentle.
She laid you down on the bed gently, crawling up on top of you, her body resting between your legs without any weight being applied to you. Her lips moved against yours hungrily, her lips tracing your jaw and down to your neck.
Your head tilted back to give Billie better access at your neck as a gentle moan spilled out your mouth. Pressing the back of Billie’s head further into your neck while your free hand gripped at the hem of her baggy shirt.
“Take it off…”
Billie nodded against your skin as she continued to kiss and nuzzle your neck. She could feel you pressing her head further down, causing her to moan softly against you, the sound muffled by your skin.
Her hands came up to the hem of her shirt as her mind began to register that you wanted it off. She gripped the soft fabric in her fingers and began to pull it up over her head, dropping it on the floor next to the bed.
Your hands roamed over her now bare skin, causing her to gasp softly. Her soft lips went back to the sensitive skin of your neck as she felt your palms roaming up her sides, tracing the subtle curves of her skin.
She could smell your signature scent in her bed, it was intoxicating mixed with your presence, making her want to just ravish you.
"Fuck…" She muttered against your neck, pressing more kisses to your skin as she felt you run your hands over her abs.
She could feel her body heating up as your hands continued to roam across her skin, a shiver running up her spine as your fingers brushed against her stomach.
"I'm gonna ruin you…"
She mumbled against your neck, her lips beginning to move down your neck and to your collarbone. Her teeth gently grazed over your skin, biting and sucking here and there, leaving small pink marks in their wake.
“Fuck me already Eilish…”
The words left your lips in a dirty and hot tone, a smile evident through your voice as well. Scraping your nails against Billie’s abs down to the button of her baggy pants.
Billie's breath hitched as your words sent a sharp shiver down her spine, her body tensing up from the way you spoke. She felt your nails run down her stomach towards her pants, the feeling causing her to gasp and bite on your collarbone in response.
"Jesus, baby…"
She mumbled against your skin, her hands holding your hips tightly, her fingers digging into the skin as you touched the button of her jeans.
A low moan escaped her lips as your fingers toyed with the button on her loose jeans, her brain already imagining what was to come.
Billie's body began pressing closer to yours, slowly rolling her hips against yours, causing an obvious friction between you both. As she continued to kiss and mark your neck, her breath became ragged, her hands holding you even tighter.
Your breathing became harsh as the room began to warm with all the tension that brewed between Billie and you. A pathetic moan leaving your lips as Billie sucked at your neck, grabbing her hand that was on your waist and interlacing your fingers.
Matching the rhythm of the way her hips rocked into yours to raise the pressure on your core.
As you interlocked your fingers with hers, Billie moaned softly against your skin, her tongue gliding softly across the spot she had just marked. She felt you match the movement of her rolling hips, the pressure coming from you making her moan even more as it sent a wave of heat straight to her core.
She released your neck from her mouth, her lips going to your ear, her tongue gently tracing the shell of it as her words came out breathlessly.
"You're driving me crazy…"
The sound of Billie’s words reminded you of the fact that her defenses were down and she was just as vulnerable as you making you smile softly.
Mustering the left over courage you had, you flipped the two of you over as you straddled Billie’s thighs, her breathing heavy and irregular as she looked up at you with adoration. Slowing starting to ride Billie’s thigh as you interlaced both your hands and laid them on your hips.
Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure while moaning softly, sometimes letting Billie’s name slip past your lips.
Billie's breath caught in her throat as you flipped her over and straddled her thighs, her eyes widening as she looked up at you on top of her. She couldn’t help but stare at you, her own defenses down as her breathing became irregular, her hands gripping onto your hips as you sat on her lap.
She watched in awe as you begin to ride her thigh, her name leaving your lips in moans and gasps, the sight and sounds making her own breathing heavy.
"Baby…" She whispered, her eyes dark and filled with need.
“Oh f-fuck baby…”
Your voice was whiny and desperate as you continued to ride Billie’s thigh, letting her hands go as you left them on your hips and laid your own hands on her abdomen. The friction of your laced panties against Billie’s jeans was a stark contrast, the dampness of yourself leaking onto Billie’s jeans.
Tossing your hair to the side as you looked down at Billie and the two of you spoke nonverbally through eye contact.
Billie's breaths came out in gasps as she watched you move on her lap, her eyes never leaving your figure as she took in every detail of you. Her grip on your hips tightened as she felt the dampness of your panties on her jeans, the contrast between the materials making her breath hitch.
She met your gaze, eyes locking together as you both spoke silently. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her body growing hotter as the tension in the room grew.
"S-Slow…down…" She managed to breathe out, her voice wavering.
Your hips stuttered as the words left Billie’s mouth, contemplating whether you should listen to her or not, finally coming to a halt as a whine was ripped from your throat.
Your eyes fluttering closed as you tried to gain the self control to follow what Billie said, opening your eyes to give a soft, pleading look to Billie. Your breathing heavy as you tried to recompose yourself, nails scraping softly at Billie’s stomach.
Billie's body relaxed slightly as your hips stopped, her breath steadying a little as your grip on her stomach loosened. She held your gaze for a moment, her eyes flickering over your features before glancing down at your fingers tracing patterns on her stomach.
She took another deep breath before speaking.
"Lay down for me."
The words came out more as a soft command than a request, her eyes never breaking away from yours.
As you laid down on the bed, Billie moved so she was situated between your legs, her hands on the inside of your thighs, gently pushing them apart. As you settled onto the sheets, she took a moment to look over your body laid out before her, her eyes scanning every inch of you before looking back up to your face.
"You're so beautiful…"
She whispered, her hands gently rubbing your thighs, her fingers tracing the edge of the lace around the waistband of your panties.
Billie slowly pulled the fabric of your panties down your legs, her breathing becoming shallow as she took them off and sat up on her knees, tossing them to the floor.
"You're not gonna last long…"
She muttered, her eyes darkened as the sight of you completely nude and spread out before her. She looked back up at your face to check on you before moving down to position herself between your legs, crawling over you slowly so your faces were level.
A small chuckle left your lips as you rested your hands softly on her shoulders, “Moment of truth then?”
Billie couldn’t help but chuckle a little at your question, her nose brushing softly against yours, her warm breath fanning across your lips as she hovered above you.
"Yep, but I’m gonna make this good for you, baby." She murmured, her voice sultry, as her hands ran up the length of your arms to where your hands rested on her shoulders.
"Just tell me if you need me to stop, okay?"
Once you nodded in agreement, Billie returned your hands to her shoulders and began to move down your body slowly, pressing soft kisses to your collarbone and down your chest. She kissed everywhere her lips could reach, leaving a trail of soft, warm kisses in their wake, her destination becoming very clear.
Once she was eye level with your stomach, Billie took a moment to look up at you, her eyes meeting yours as she paused above your center. She didn’t move just yet, her eyes flickering between yours and your core as she spoke with a hushed voice.
“Is this alright?”
“Yes,” You spoke with a soft nod and gentle smile, taking her hands in yours and interlacing them.
A regulated, unspoken gesture between the two of you now…
‧₊˚✩彡
fer yaps!!!
ho i’m back from the grave… lmk if u want a part two 🤗
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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago
Text
please don't kill me mr ghostface (part 1)
(AO3 Mirror), (Main Masterlist), (Kinktober '23 Masterlist)
(Part 2 - coming soon!)
pairing: stalker!Miguel x f!reader, slight yandere undertones. (he's a murderer lowkey but very gentle and sweet and scary hot that's all guys I promise.)
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summary: murders on campus. the odd toothbrush goes missing. what's new, honestly. life keeps ticking and you end up at a Halloween party somewhere you shouldn't. there, you meet a gorgeous man in a strange mask. he seems sweet, and all you're looking for is a bit of fun. what could go wrong?
warnings: 18+ , fingering, anal play (mig eats ass, send tweet!) , rimming, p in v, soft dom mig, some switchy + needy behaviour, mild threat of violence (not by mig), alcohol consumption. Minors DNI
a/n: 5k words of ignoring red flags. girl get a grip!
wc: 5.2k
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You look too good to feel this shitty. 
That's the thought you're left with, picking at flimsy spiderwebs draped on a sofa. Sandwiched between two couples making out like their life depends on it, of course, but that's beside the point. 
“Someone said there's CCTV of a guy walking out the building at 3am… seems a little convenient, if you ask me…”
There's a TV on in the background, barely cutting through the dense chatter. By this point, your eyes have glazed over, trying not to let them rattle around in your skull. Drunken conversation around you, and it's the same thing as always; long, winding tales of a campus killer - the kind out of a cheesy slasher. What the news says, officially, is that there weren't any links between those 3 bodies that turned up out on the playing field, an empty dorm, a supply closet; but it hasn't stopped people from indulging in wild speculation. 
“No, no, she just didn't turn up to my Econ class….I swear–” 
Stay in pairs. Don't walk alone at night. Whilst you think it's all tangential at best, you're not one to tempt fate. The gossip, you could do without. But it doesn't hurt to keep yourself safe, pepper spray nestled in your usual bag. 
Tonight, however, you've left it at home, thinking the friends you came with would be enough. Somewhere, somehow, they're off chugging shit beer and you're milling about the place and sinking into couch cushions. There's something sticky by the seat, and there's a crackle as you're jostled - the sharp edge of a stray elbow almost knocks your drink away. 
Fuck.
For one night only, you're a cheerleader. A short, short skirt and little top; it has you feeling overdressed. Even though you've left the pompoms at home, next to your taser; seemingly, you've read the mood wrong - stupidly assuming people would dress up for a Halloween party. As you make your way to the kitchen, tugging down your skirt here and there, that's all you can see; half-hearted costumes - cat ears, white sheets and flimsy masks. It feels like you stick out in comparison. You've gone all out, with nothing but the threat of a beer sodden lap for your trouble. 
It's a big house. Alpha-delta-phi, kappa-something-or-the-other; a frat with too much money and too much time on their hands. With all the doors you walk past, shallow thuds and thumping ringing out behind them, you're as good as lost. The best ragers this side of campus - as raved about by one of your friends. It feels like bucketfuls of horseshit right now, wandering around packed halls - and oh. Is that the same staircase? 
“ Fuck, watch it!” You clatter into the side of an arm, a t-shirt with a superman symbol emblazoned at the chest. He's pretty, but his features curl into a sudden sneer. 
" Sorry –" You start but he doesn't let you finish, wagging a thick finger in your face. 
There's a girl draped on his arm, merely watching as he shouts; loud over pumping music from the next room over. 
"Hey, dipshit , you gonna keep staring? Mouth open like a fucking fish– do you know how much this shit costs?" Your eyes are wide, as he gets closer - stinking of alcohol and pot and God knows what else. You're not drunk enough to entertain this, shirking away from confrontation. The room is hot, his breath is sticky , and–
He grabs your arm. Immediately you're trying to wrench yourself away, not daring to look into blown pupils. Clammy, his grip tightens on bare skin and your stomach churns. He's solid, bigger than you and unable to keep the anger out of his voice…. and fuck. You're scared. 
Fear, rising like bile at the back of your throat. Bitter and sharp, fear at the fact that there isn't anyone to help; that everyone else looks away and pretends that this isn't happening. Fear at the spittle that sprays from his mouth like poison, stinging skin. You screw your eyes shut, expecting a slap, a blow, or something worse and then… 
Thud. The hand around your wrist is no more, replaced by a gentle pat on your shoulder. Nothing lingering, just a light touch to get you to open your eyes; to see that guy on the floor, clutching at a swollen jaw and split lip. 
"You okay? " 
It's deep, muffled by a mask, and the figure in front of you has to crouch to be heard over incessant chatter. 
You're nodding, sheepishly, not trusting yourself to keep that edge out of your voice. 
Ghostface, the masked man, the only other person at this party properly dressed up; he only cocks his head in a gesture that says a thousand words. His robe pools around his wrists, thick fabric that you grab onto without thinking, grip just as tight as your would-be assailant. You don't even want to think about it, what could've happened if someone hadn't stepped in. It has you biting back tears, more shaken than you'd like to admit. 
"H-Hey, hey, easy…" He's rubbing little circles into your shoulder, hesitant. Your lip wobbles, ever so slightly, but he catches it, gently pulling you aside. 
There isn't a crowd. The stragglers, those that saw the display, barely look at the guy on the floor, scrambling to his feet and far away. In the meantime, you fight off tears and force yourself to flash a shaky smile. 
"Good. " You croak, taking his hands off your shoulders. "F-Fuck , I mean… I'm good. Thank you."
He doesn't quite budge, giving you that strange look again. At least, you think so, rearing up to his full height to cross his arms. Quiet incredulity, almost cartoonish, and it almost makes you laugh. Almost. 
"Let me get you a drink… some water, or something." He says, stretching out a gloved hand. Sensing your hesitance, he quickly adds, "... Please ."
Chewing your lip, you only have to think for a second before taking it, and you're led out through double doors. Your masked man is big; broad shouldered and hulking, cutting through the writhing mass with ease. It's just as well, you think, unable to sort through the tangle of things that rattle around in your head. You hate this fucking school, sometimes. Boys will be boys. Wear more appropriate clothing. Well, wasn't she just asking for it?  A culture of inaction; of hand-wringing and hand-waving… passing on the blame until three dead bodies show up on campus. 
That's one thing you have to thank the so-called serial killer for, at least. At least something might actually change around here. 
Empty, the kitchen is a mess, but nothing you wouldn't expect. Drink long gone; a distant memory spilled on a carpet, somewhere; you perch awkwardly around a counter, not knowing where to put your hands. Rattled, you've resorted to a glassy stare; stewing and festering and thinking so intensely it might frighten off your masked man. 
It doesn't. He merely taps you, a gentle elbow to your side and he offers you a glass of water. Weakly, you give him a smile, gulping up the liquid. 
"You here by yourself ?" He asks, muffled by plastic. 
You can't help it, eyes wide at the implication - a masked man, a killer on campus - and he must realise the way it sounds. 
In no time at all, he clarifies, "I just mean… fuck … is there someone I can call? So you're not alone."
It's a kind gesture. Kinder than you'd expect from a stranger. Slowly, you shake your head. 
"They ditched me about an hour ago." You give a bitter laugh. "Just me and you, Mr Ghostface."
And with that he laughs; deep and sonorous, causing heat to bloom at your chest. Despite yourself, you smile, and you swear you see a glint of something behind the mask. 
It has you itching for a drink. All of a sudden you make your way across the room, swiping at empty beer bottles and cans, rummaging around for some hard liquor. When you find it - a half empty bottle of something that smells like carpet cleaner and acetone - you're taking a swig, and offering it to the man across from you. It's sneaky, but you don't think he clocks your paltry attempt to see what he looks like under that mask. 
He shakes his head, hands up in defeat. 
"You sure?" Your voice is lilting, hazy around the edges. Creeping up closer, you press your body to his, taking another unceremonious gulp. Under that cloak - heavy, somewhat well made - you can feel him, lean and cut muscle that tenses as you get closer. 
Batting your eyelashes, you make full use of the cheerleader get-up, snaking a dainty hand to his side, and then up to the counter. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was ogling you, chest taught and tight at the way you feel against him. 
Or maybe, he's bored as shit. You wouldn't know - with the mask, and all. 
Wobbly, you clamber up onto the counter, helped up by a gentle hand at the small of your back… and oh. You like that: big, thick fingers that press into you, carefully tracing your waist… and why won't they go down a little further? Grab handfuls of the flesh at your thighs, your ass, everything in between? 
He's too conservative for that, you think. Nervous, too. Nevertheless, he slots between your thighs, big palms flat next to your ass. 
"I… I don't mind watching." He says, voice low. 
It makes you giggle as you drink, sweet and soft, and liquid dribbles past your lips, down to collarbone. Mr Ghostface is gentle, tracing a finger across the juncture of your neck, light pressure on the vein that sits nice and pretty at its side. 
It goes to your head. The alcohol, the large man of few words with a hand on your neck. When he finishes swiping at the liquid and pulls his hand away, you curl your hand around his, bringing it to your lips. Pert lips wrap around his finger, tongue swiping over leather, and you swear you can hear his breath hitch - heart clearly skipping a beat. 
"Careful…" You say, leaning forward to press your tits against him, brushing away imaginary fluff from his shoulders. "I really like this costume."
"I like it too." He clears his throat. "You look nice."
"Nice? Is that all I get, Mr Ghostface?" You're teasing, tracing up his broad chest to his neck and then just under his chin. Carefully, you hook a finger under the thin strap of his mask, tugging ever-so gently. 
Quickly, he stops you. 
"Not yet, sweetheart."
You pout, flashing him a frustrated look - and God , does he want to kiss it off of you. 
"But soon?" 
"If you're good." You swear you can hear him smile, hands wrapping around your waist. 
You get a bit bolder, hand tracing up his sleeve, clutching at thick, corded forearm. Watching intently as he keens, pushing you to the edge of the kitchen counter with only one hand at your back. This close, you even like the way he smells, like rust and oil and earth, the way he feels around you; strong arms caging you in, protecting you. You feel safe, for some reason. 
When he sighs into you, exposing a sliver of tan neck, you feel your knees go weak - unable to stop yourself from mouthing at it, pressing little kisses into the skin. He seems so sensitive, rocking into the counter for some pressure already, clutching you closer and closer until there's a hickey blooming just under sharp jawline. 
"Fuck- " He hisses, pawing at your waist a little more desperately. 
Suddenly self conscious, you separate with a wet smack, and inspect your handiwork. 
"Shit." Eyes wide, you press a finger into the flesh. Your masked man winces. "M'sorry. Got carried away."
He heaves, placing his head on your shoulder for a moment, trying to catch his breath. 
"It's fine," He strains. "Don't worry… s'fine."
Admittedly, he doesn't seem too fine, adjusting what feels like a painful hard-on beneath a loose cloak. 
Cradling his head so he can look at you, you whisper something bold, even for someone who's downed more than a couple shots worth of cheap liquor. 
"I know somewhere… I-I think … that we could go if you wanted to…" His head lolls, and you hear him swallow roughly. "Somewhere quiet . We'd be alone. Just us."
A beat passes and you think you might've read this wrong, much too forward for your own good. It’s why he surprises you by nodding - slowly, at first, and then with more conviction. Taking your hand, he snakes it under his mask, and you almost gasp when you feel soft, plump lips at your knuckles and palm, pressing shaky kisses to the skin.
“I need to do something first.” He says it so quietly, you almost miss it under the mask. “Where can I meet you?”
You don’t ask questions. 
“Pool house.” You nod towards the windows, overlooking a sizable pool. People mill about its edges, but you know the little house is off-limits for the night. “Side entrance. They… leave it unlocked, sometimes.”
He doesn’t ask questions. 
Before he goes, he snakes a hand under your skirt, giving your ass a sizable squeeze - leaving you breathless. 
You don’t feel the cold as you slip out, playing with a loose thread at the hem of your skirt. The side entrance is stiff but unlocked, and you duck past a screen, head on a swivel. Like a good girl, you sit on plush cushions, thighs pressed together to relieve a pressure that has been building since you met your masked man. And you want to touch yourself; to circle that little bud with clumsy fingers, imagining it was him.
You wait. And you wait. You settle between the cushions, adjust your skirt, look at your hair through a makeshift mirror - the glossy surface of windows overlooking the pool. Not wanting to risk turning on the lights, you wander past what little streams in from across the pool; flashing and pounding with the heady bass of music. You can't help but wonder where he's gone, if he's even coming, and what he had to do so desperately that he'd leave you wanting more. 
At this point, you don't even care if he takes off his mask. You don't want to know a name, or see the real man underneath the costume. You just want him; writhing underneath as you bounce on his fat cock. 
"Hey." 
That voice makes you jump, swiveling to face him. How did he get in without you noticing? He was so quiet, so–
"Missed you." He says it so soft, it makes you melt, walking slowly towards him. Shrouded in shadow, as you get closer you notice he's shed his cloak, donned in a white t-shirt and straight leg jeans. Big boots, thick with fresh mud, thud onto the tile. When you meet, two figures cut by bright light, you almost gasp. He's taken off the mask. Instead of Mr Ghostface, you're met with a man - and he is so, so beautiful . 
Tan skin. High cheekbones, a jaw that could cut glass. His hair is haphazardly slicked back, fluffy and curly in all the right places. But it's his eyes: mischievous and glinting and serious all at the same time - absolutely gorgeous. You could look at him like this forever; chest heaving, messy, out of breath. 
Your hand comes to his chest. He’s hot to the touch, clasping his great big hand atop yours. Squeezing, he pulls you closer, other hand creeping up bare thigh, before hooking under your ass in a move that makes you squeal.
From this close, his lashes look so pretty; wispy and romantic and yearning.
"You look beautiful.”  He doesn’t kiss you, not yet, content with only watching - studying you with sharp eyes. “Always do."
All you hear are the compliments, too tipsy to notice what the stranger implies. You're not usually one for a one night stand, but he is intoxicating - intense in a way that's hard to explain. 
Carding one hand through the curls at the nape of his neck, you press your lips to his in a kiss that starts off sweet and quickly deepens. He is hungry and devouring; licking up your moans with plump lips. 
You lead him to the sofa, only separating for fleeting breaths. Eyes low, illuminated by a flash of light here and there; you force yourself to concentrate on him , shuddering breaths and all. He’s hard, rocking into your lower half splayed out beneath him and arms caged around your head. It’s sly, but you snake a hand past his t-shirt, across his back and then fumble with the belt. It makes him smile, soft laughter spilling into your parted lips; before he sits up above you.
“You want it that bad, huh?” Windswept, he croons, batting away your hands to unbuckle the clasp himself.
You groan, shifting upwards. You don’t notice the way his eyes dart down, eying up the peek of thigh that spills out of little shorts. 
“Say it f’me, sweetheart.” He hikes up your skirt, exposing your covered cunt. He’s gentle, pawing at the flesh, pressing the heel of his palm right above your clit.
“F-Fuck!” The pressure is delicious, and you roll your hips up, up, up; chasing some semblance of relief. When he stops, you whine - clutching at his forearm, frustrated. “Want it, please .”
“Want what?” He prompts, lifting his shirt over his head in one quick movement. You’re met with the wide span of his chest, muscle taut and tight above you.
“Want you in me. I want… I want you to fuck me ‘til I break, pound my fucking hole so hard I can feel it in the morning. I want– ”
You’re babbling, now, spurred on by the way he tugs off black shorts, lifting up your legs to slip them off. He’s too slow, clearly enjoying watching you squirm and writhe. 
“You can have it, sweetheart.” He coos, before capturing you into another kiss. This time, he separates and you follow him up; finally parting with a wet smack. “I’ll give you whatever you want, however you want it… but you gotta do something first.”
“ Anything .” You breathe.
“Fuck yourself, for me. I…I–”
“You like to watch.” You finish it for him, breathless.
“Please.” His head dips low; big, red-brown eyes never leaving yours. 
The way he says it leaves you panting, hung off of every word. And you croon, leaning back into couch cushions, already hot at the way he kneads his thumbs to the flesh near your pussy. This close, he can see the way your cunt pulses, eating up a tiny thong between glistening lips. He’s kneeling on the floor, now, snaking his body around to get a perfect view, flashing looks between both your pretty lips. 
More than willing to oblige, you pat at your clit, sending sweet pleasure coursing through your lower half. Even though your legs tremble, he holds you down, placing gentle kisses to your inner thighs. Slipping your thong to the side, you dip two fingers past your slit, gathering up slick to press carefully into your hole.
“So… so pretty. ” He sighs, not daring to close his eyes despite the pleasure he feels. When you notice how his other hand is buried in his pants; jerking up and down to match your pace. You start slow, for now, pumping two fingers in and out, heel of your palm snug against your clit. The sounds are obscene, the wet schlick-schlick ringing out in the quiet room. 
“Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever s-seen.” Your stranger moans, slathering over your thighs with sloppy kisses, occasionally swiping at your knuckles. Lower and lower, as you get faster and faster, his tongue makes you feel amazing. You’re close - entranced by your spot in the limelight and the sharp eyes that watch every ministration. 
It’s only when you’re knuckle deep, well and truly fucking yourself ; chasing something just out of reach with his help; when two things happen, catching you by surprise. The first, the one that sends electricity down your spine, that makes you jolt and shiver and almost cum right then and there…
…is a wet kiss pressed to your asshole. He slathers and slobbers and licks large stripes up and down; ripping a great moan out from you. He doesn’t stop there, spreading the globes of your ass to delve deeper, tongue-fucking you as your hand stills - unable to concentrate on anything else. Pornographic, he humps his lower half to the same pace, sealing his mouth over your hole. With the vibrations of his moans sending pleasure straight to your clit, you finally cum - a rolling, bubbling orgasm that ends just as intensely. 
The second thing that happens, just as you fall off the edge, is that you’re plunged into darkness. The lights from across the pool, once bright and flashing; are cut off. The music stops, and chatter dies down. Your stranger holds you through it, licking up cum from your neglected cunt, whispering sweet things into the skin.
“There it is, baby. Nice n’ slow.” He soothes as you whimper, hand tight in his hair. 
In the dark, you’re heaving, feeling him slow down as your cunt clenches around nothing, empty. Shaky, you sit up on your haunches as he follows you up.
“Is everything…? What happened?” You’re a little panicked, shaken up from your orgasm. 
“You’re okay, you’re okay. ” He rubs little circles into bare skin. “Too much?”
You shake your head, nuzzling into him. He gives your forehead a kiss, and you feel warmth bloom across your chest.
He shifts. “Just give it a…”
As if on cue, a generator whirs to life, flooding the little room in red light. Something similar seems to happen across the pool, as you take a quick glance to the window.
Your head is a little fuzzy. It aches as you catch his eye, looking at you intently.  
“Do you want to stop? We don’t have to–”
“No.” You say it resolutely, with so much force it even catches you off guard. “I want to.”
“Fuck.” He mutters, brows pressed together imperceptibly. 
For someone you’ve just met, he still looks at you like ice about to melt, like he’s bearing witness to the last breaths of a dying star. He looks at you like he knows you; like he knows how many half-truths and one-night stands you’ve had to endure. It makes you shiver; here, bathed in crimson light, pressed against one another.
He starts with your lips, a gentle thumb pressed flat, and then deeper, deeper, deeper. It’s like before, you realise, the taste of liquor and leather long gone. He keeps his eyes on you, careful as he pops the thumb out, groaning at the length of spit that comes with a flash of your pink tongue. You splay yourself out underneath him, drinking in the sight above; your stranger, your masked man once upon a time, shirtless and breathless and rock hard against your cunt. Now, he tugs down black boxers, its band cut across his torso just so. Thick hair; dark, curly, neatly trimmed; and you reach to trace down his happy trail, to get a hand on his pretty cock.
He just watches , eyes dark, leaning forward to rock into your soft palm and put his mouth on the skin that pillows out from a tight crop top. To give him more access, you tug it down, exposing sensitive nipple. And then that tongue; searching, inquisitive, precise; wraps itself around the flesh. You keen - a pretty moan that has his heart fluttering and eyes clasped shut.
“Inside.” At first, it’s a whisper, said in the throes of deep pleasure. You repeat it, slowing your hand at his cock. 
When he doesn’t answer; still slathering at your tits, pawing the flesh that spills out from your costume; you tug, a sharp thing that has him moaning and sitting up on  his haunches.
“Said I wanted you inside, baby.” You say - and his breaths are deep, his eyes are wild. “Do you want it? Do you want me?”
“A-Always….course I— ” He stops himself, chewing at the inside of his cheek. Finally, he nods and you continue, satisfied.
“Watch.” You titter, reaching down to line him up; carefully gathering slick up at the head of his cock. His tip weeps; shuddering like your stranger does above, getting close and hitching up you up to stay flush against you. His eyes stay trained downward. Inside, he mouths at your neck, groaning once his cock sinks into your fluttering hole.
There’s a tightening grip at your hips, big hands bunching up the skirt to keep you close, with a careful pressure at your clit. That sends heat coursing through your veins, tasting deep crimson in the air. He fucks; up close and humping like he wants to crawl into your skin, with a fervour you’ve never encountered before. It has you hot and sticky, desperate for that biting edge that keeps slipping from dainty fingers. You start to put a hand at your clit, tracing between your bodies when a strong hand pulls it away. Firm.
“No, no, no…” He whispers it, putting your wandering hand to his face, kissing the palm.
“Please. ” You whine. “M’close. So close.”
You feel him twitch inside, hips stuttering at your tone.
“No.” He says it again, resolute. “I’m going to make you cum. Gonna make you feel so good, sweetheart… just… just be patient. Please. For me .”
You’re reaching up for a kiss, of which he obliges. This time, it stays sweet; pink tongues swiped over lips.
“Look at me.” His hips shift, changing angles to hit that sweet spot like you’ve been moulded to his dick - like he knows just where to touch you to make you fall apart. “Look at me, hermosa. Ohh f-fuck, you take me so well… so pretty. You gonna milk my cock? Feels so good around me, sweetheart, like you were made for me. Like we’re ... L-Like–”
You groan, unable to tear yourself away from his writhing form: strong, lean muscles, tensing in the red light. And oh, isn’t he pretty, mere moments away from release, from spilling thick cum inside you.
“M’gonna–”
“I know, I know, hermosa. ” You like the way he says it, rolling off his tongue like honey; treacled and sweet. “Cum f’me, sweetheart. Want to feel you clamp around my cock. Cum for me. ”
And just like that, you’re gone; nails digging into his back as you careen off a steep cliff’s edge. Your stranger quickly follows, pulling out to wrap a tight hand around the base of his cock, spilling onto your stomach as you clench around nothing.
You’re whining, getting ready to complain; why hasn’t he come inside? why doesn’t he want to stay?; when he stills, settling by your side. Propped up by one arm, he crouches down to stroke at your cheek, to touch your jaw, moving your head this way and that - as if he’s looking for something hidden behind bright eyes.
In the red of the emergency lights, you suppose you’re looking for something too. A beat passes, and then another. The generator splutters, whirring and coughing. The lights turn off; replaced by the noise and white lights from across the pool.
So lost in one another, you hadn’t quite noticed; everything else falling away. 
He clears his throat, clambering off of the sofa and tugging up his trousers. Quickly, he returns, a bundle of towels draped across his bare shoulders, and then he wipes off the cum - gently, separating sweaty limbs. Your costume is more or less intact, but you’re unable to do more than just lay there. He’s diligent and patient, not in any sort of rush. When you sit up, he pulls on a shirt, kneeling by your legs to play with a loose thread at your skirt. Too intimate, you suppose. With his head on your lap, you don’t think you care. 
“We should leave.” You say it first, what’s been left in the air for someone else to pick apart. 
“We should.” 
“Can’t leave together.” You say simply, curling a hand in his hair. 
Humming, he looks up lazily, with a hint of a smile. “You go first.”
Neither of you make a move to get up.
“Mr Ghostface,” You start, giggling. “What happened to your mask?”
“Lost it.” He’s cryptic. Finally, he stands. 
Your stranger stretches out a rough palm, and you take it, getting up on shaky legs. You almost collapse onto his chest, but he’s there; solid, stoic. Looking up, and it catches you off guard: the intensity of his stare, how he watches in a way that makes you feel stripped bare. 
“You first.” He repeats, still holding on.
He’s pretty. Of course he is, but the shadow and light makes his features even more pronounced. In the quiet, you take the opportunity to catch him off guard; standing on tip-toes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Jaw tight, he doesn’t react the way you want him to: ever-still, passive. Fuck. You’ve read it wrong: not used to the intensity of this kind of foray. After all: a one night stand seems too reductive, doesn’t quite span the depths and furrows of how your stranger has taken you apart. Finally, you leave the strange man still standing in the pool house. You don’t dare to look, but you can feel him; the weight of his stare at your back.
You can feel his hands, too; the ghost of his touch lingering as you make your way back to the house, mingling with the crowd.
~~~
You don’t tell your friends. You make your back home after the party, bundled into a taxi with a hand tight around your own wrist. It doesn’t feel like his hand on yours - not even close.
“I didn’t actually fuck him yesterday!” Your friend tugs on your sleeve, giggling into your shoulder as she recounts her night. A debrief with the girls turns into hungover breakfast-bleeding-into-lunch at your dorm. They’re bundled onto the sheets, some eating greasy takeout and others nursing bludgeoning headaches. 
You’re fine, mostly. A little bit of liquid courage, but your hangover pales in comparison to some - catatonic on your rug and scrolling through their phone in a limbo-like state.
“You didn’t fuck him, but you wanted to.” Someone pipes up, and the conversation devolves into raucous laughter.
You laugh, tucked into yourself. The wonders of a half-dozen sophomores during Halloween - able to grin despite the shit storm that’s been mounting. Campus killers notwithstanding - they make you smile, at least.
“Were you there towards the end?” Someone asks, poking an elbow at your side. “When there was that blackout?”
You nod, simply - not trusting yourself to say more.
“I-I mean…” Her voice is suddenly shaky, thrusting a phone into your unsuspecting hands. “Well… they’re saying it must have happened then, or around that time.”
You squint, confused.
“And it could’ve been anyone, I suppose. There were like, what, a hundred people there? More? ”
“What?” 
“A body. They found a body - by the pool house, or something…”
_
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destiny-fics · 1 year ago
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12:00am - Myung Jaehyun
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Pairing: Myung Jaehyun x Fem!reader
Warnings: suggestive content, swearing, making out, grinding, talks of marriage, frat boy Jaehyun, reader gets called baby, talks of feeling neglected in a relationship
A/N: this is not me saying I will be starting to write for boynextdoor’s Hyung line, but this is me saying Myung Jaehyun and Park Sungho have taken over my brain. And that I might start writing for at least BND's '03 line
Suggestive content. Minors DNI
“Shit!” 
You giggled at the man's barely whispered curse. Jaehyun turned to grin at you, tilting his head playfully as he pulled you into his chest, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips. “You think my pain is funny?”
“Oh you'll be fine you big baby, you have other toes.” 
He scoffed, blindly reaching behind himself to flick on the lights to his room, tugging you inside and out of the upstairs hallway of the Beta Nu Delta frat house. He walked backwards, leading you towards his bed and then sinking into the plush mattress, looking up at you expectantly an eyebrow raised. “Well? Aren't you going to join me?” 
You rolled your eyes playfully before swinging a leg over his hips, placing yourself in his lap. “Sorry Mr President.” 
Jaehyun raised an eyebrow, hands smoothing up your thighs and skimming across the hem of your skirt. “Don't let the boys hear you calling me that, I'll never hear the end of it.” 
“I don't plan on letting the boys hear us at all Myungjae,” you smiled as he shivered at your nickname and looped your hands around his neck so you could play with his hair. He huffed out a soft laugh, leaning up to capture your lips in a sweet, passionate kiss. Ever since he had become the president of his fraternity, moments like this were rare with your boyfriend, reducing to quick dates and sneaking into each other's rooms after hours. You sighed into the kiss, adjusting yourself on his lap and pressing closer, your torsos touching. Jaehyun wasted no time slipping his tongue into your mouth, grinning at the whine which left your lips. He broke the kiss, grin widening when you chased after his lips. 
“You missed me that much baby?” 
“Oh shut up,” you smacked his shoulder, rolling your eyes when your boyfriend yelped. 
Jaehyun rolled his eyes back at you before he lifted your chin with the tip of his finger, kissing your lips again. “Because I missed you,” he pushed his hips up into yours, grinning when you gasped. “I missed so much baby.” 
“Well maybe if you weren’t so busy, you wouldn't have to miss me.” 
You didn't mean for it to come out so harsh, but Jaehyun winced, kissing you softly. “I know. I'm so sorry my love, I've been neglecting you.” 
“It's okay Myungjae, I understand, this is important to you.” 
“But you're important to me too. I can't be neglecting my wifey now can I?” 
Your breath caught as the world left his mouth and you shook your head. “I'm not your wife Jaehyun.” 
He shrugged with a grin, kissing you again. “Future wifey then.” 
You laughed softly, shaking your head “is that your way of proposing to me Myung Jaehyun?” 
“Nah. That's my way of promising to propose to you,” he let his fingers skirt up your thighs, pressing into the muscle. He grinned when you shivered and kissed you again, slipping his tongue into your mouth immediately. You shifted on his lap and he groaned into your mouth. Your kisses became more messy and desperate, Jaehyun’s fingers dipping into your underwear to swipe through your folds.
“I'd say yes,” you whispered against his lips, breaking the kiss. “If you asked me to marry you I'd say yes.” 
“Yeah?” He grinned, kissing you desperately once more. “Fuck I love you.” 
“Wanna show me how much?” You hummed softly, biting his lip as you pulled away from the kiss. Jaehyun’s eyelids fluttered and he let his head tilt back as a low groan escaped his mouth. He was grinning when he looked at you again and wasted no time flipping you both over so your back was against the mattress. 
“Of course baby,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your stomach. “Let me show you how much I love you.” 
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oddlydescriptive · 1 month ago
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Reset, Chapter Five
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*Content Warning* Getting into some more mature stuff towards the end (not explicit yet, self-pleasure, not concerning Max, sorry!!). Time to drop out if you're not of age or not into that stuff.
Series Masterlist
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August 26, 2022- Belgian Grand Prix, Q2
P11.
The pressure isn’t just in your head- it’s in your chest, in your fingertips, in the way the car thrums through your entire body like a second pulse. The world outside the cockpit narrows to pure instinct, to the flashing of the delta on your wheel, the distant, urgent murmur of Mattia’s voice in your ear, to the rhythmic crush of your heartbeat against your ribs.
Your AlphaTauri surges through Malmedy, the tires biting into the asphalt as you dance the car on the edge of grip, feathering the throttle, skimming the curbs with razor-sharp precision. Every movement is deliberate, threading a needle at speeds most people can’t fathom. You don’t have time to think about the weight of it- don’t have time to think about the cameras, the murmuring doubt of the boardroom, the history unfolding second by second under your hands.
P11 is not good enough.
Your foot stays flat. The car, despite everything, wants this as much as you do.
The broadcast feed splits- on one side, your live onboard, gloves tight around the wheel, visor reflecting the slate-gray sky. On the other, the timing tower flickers, numbers shifting, milliseconds dictating futures. 
Green. Green. Green.
"And she’s still improving!" Croft’s voice rises, excitement edging into the broadcast as the tension mounts. "66 is on a flyer here, just outside the top ten- this could be the lap that changes everything!"
Brundle is leaning in now, voice measured but no less engaged. "She’s right on the bubble, and she needs a perfect final sector. She’s got time to find- question is, can she hold it together?"
The crowd noise is swelling, the energy palpable even through the feed- not in the feverish, full-throated roar reserved for championship fights, not in the partisan chants for Verstappen or the Ferrari faithful- but in a slow-building, rippling kind of awareness. A collective tightening of attention. Fans who hadn’t even registered the AlphaTauri’s number before now are nudging their friends, pointing at the screen, heads tilting toward the live timing as something clicks.
It’s not about you, not really. It’s about this. About witnessing something they haven't seen before. Motorsports fans- real, well-oiled fans- the kind that spend a three hour drive and six-hundred Euros to sit in a grandstand under a rain poncho for three days- have a sixth sense. 
They recognize a moment for what it is- something new, something unknown, something happening. The rare kind of development that makes people straighten in their seats, turn to the person beside them and say, Are you seeing this? 
A quiet understanding passes through the grandstands, through the fans glued to their screens- whatever happens next, this is something worth watching.
Not because they care. Not because they’re invested. But because someday, they might want to say I was there. I saw that.
The track blurs, the car sings, and for a split second, it’s almost like you feel the lap before you finish it. That has to be good enough, even if just barely. P10?
No. P9.
"And there it is!" Croft practically shouts over the roar of the crowd. "AlphaTauri moves up to P9 with that lap, and if she can hold it, she’s through to Q3!"
Brundle exhales, a low, knowing hum. "That is a big, big lap. And let’s remind everyone- she only got the call-up earlier this week. This was never part of AlphaTauri’s original plan- and yet, here she is, punching into the top ten in Q2."
The broadcast cuts to a slow-motion replay- your earlier lap, threading the car through Eau Rouge, full throttle, no lift, just commitment. The car sticks. No hesitation. No fear.
"Look at that," Brundle muses. "That’s a driver who trusts what the car can do. Who trusts herself. No second guessing. No nerves. Just execution. And AlphaTauri needed a win like this- they haven’t seen Q3 in over a month. You’ve got to think Franz Tost and his crew are watching this with their hearts in their throats right now."
Brundle lets out a thoughtful chuckle. "You know, it does remind me of another debut weekend. Back when this team was still Toro Rosso- Max Verstappen’s first time in the car. That same kind of raw pace, that same sense of something unexpected unfolding."
Croft chimes in. "If she can convert a top-ten start into points tomorrow, she’d be the first woman to score in a Grand Prix since Lella Lombardi back in 1975."
"That’s a long time. Nearly fifty years," Brundle agrees. "But let’s not get ahead of ourselves- she still has to make it through the last leg of qualifying- figure out where she will start before planning on a finish. Spa is a cruel circuit, and conditions can change in an instant."
"Still," Croft says, a smile in his voice. "What a story this is turning into."
When P11 turns to P9, you can practically feel the exhale from the entire pit wall. The math changes in real time- the team, who came into this weekend expecting nothing, now has a car in Q3. Your car. A hail-mary rookie, slotted into a seat they never planned to keep warm for more than a session.
"Okay, that’s P9. P9. We are through to Q3."
Mattia’s voice is perfectly measured, controlled- but on the other side of the radio, his knuckles are white where they grip the desk, and his eyes are wide as he stares at the timing screen. He doesn’t let it show. Not yet. But there’s a pressure in his chest like someone’s sitting on it.
Across the pit wall, the garage is frozen for half a second- like the data hasn’t caught up to their brains.
Then- 
"No fucking way," one of the mechanics breathes, breaking the silence.
Mattia’s grip tightens on the pit wall as the finalized qualifying times flash on screen. Franz stands just behind him, arms folded, eyes glued to the monitor, his jaw flexing. He should be panicking. He should be worried about Pierre’s ego, about the headlines this is going to generate, about the uncomfortable questions this could spark. But none of those thoughts stick. They slide off, replaced by something far more rare.
Awe.
It’s been a over a month since AlphaTauri had anything worth celebrating in qualifying. Not since France, when Yuki barely clawed into Q3 only to wad the car into the barriers before the first pit window opened. This? This isn’t supposed to happen. Not with a stand-in. Not with a rookie. Not at Spa.
The feed inside the garage flips to your onboard, and there you are- gloves loose on the wheel, helmet nodding slightly as Mattia talks you through the cooldown lap. The car isn’t perfect, but it’s yours, and for once, the thing in your hands is a weapon, not a handicap.
The stunned silence hangs in the air for less than ten seconds before the adrenaline kicks back in. The window for celebration is gone almost before it arrives. Tires. Visor wipe. Cold water. Hands gesturing, poking, adjusting you the second you roll in, getting you ready to go back out and fight again.
There’s no time to process. No time to breathe. No time to even look at the people who just fought to put you here. There’s only Q3. Only one last chance to lock in your place for Sunday, to determine whether history- real, actual history- is within reach.
And that’s when it really hits you.
You’ve been so careful. So measured in your expectations. Conservative in setting goals- keep the car clean, run a solid program, be respectable, don’t embarrass yourself. You set the bar low and worked yourself to death to exceed it. That’s the only way to survive here. That’s what’s kept you sane through the past four days of absolute insanity.
But you’re here now. Here.
The AlphaTauri isn’t a race-winning car, isn’t a front-runner. You knew that coming in. You never expected to light the world on fire, never let yourself believe you could really matter. And yet, here you are, a Q3 contender on debut, staring down a real chance.
If- key word, if- things go well, if Sunday shakes out the right way, there’s a legitimate shot at points. And that means a legitimate shot at becoming the highest-scoring woman to ever race in Formula 1.
That record- that pathetic, embarrassing record- is within reach. Half a point. The highest-scoring female driver in history earned a single, half-point, in a race that never even ran its full distance. Lella Lombardi. The only woman to ever break into the points in F1 history.
And now, you? You could do it. You could wipe that stat clean. Not because you’re a woman, not because of PR, not because of rain or safety cars or circumstance, but because you are fast. Because you belong here.
It’s almost embarrassing that the title of female open-wheel GOAT is available this easily. That the bar is so low that a single, solid performance on debut could rewrite the record books.
And that’s why it has to happen. You have to do it.
Franz watches the scramble, arms still crossed, mind racing faster than the car. Whatever happens next, they’re in it now. For better or for worse, they’ve thrown their lot in with you.
Whether they deserve it or not, you give them for better. 
For all of the intention you had to hold on to this, for all the mindfullness, and surrealism and the way you swore you would soak up every last second like a sponge- Q3 is gone before you’ve processed it ever came. The final lap was a blur, all of it was a blur, quite hoenstly- every turn, every shift, every braking zone fused together in your memory like your brain simply hadn’t had the bandwidth to hold onto the details. No time for anything except the task in front of you. So you drove. You dug deep. You wrung every last ounce out of the car, of yourself. And now?
You can’t even remember if you saw the clock run out. It did, obviously, but all you remember is the last corner, the last snap of the wheel, the final lurch of acceleration down the straight and then the call in your ear.
“P7. That’s P7, bring it in. Beautiful work.” Mattia’s words barely register. 
Your car rolls to a stop outside of the garage, and for a few seconds, you just sit there, hands still locked around the wheel. You can hear movement, voices, but it’s distant, almost warped, like you’re underwater. A hand taps the top of your helmet, then another, then another, the motions firm but careful, like the pit crew isn’t quite sure how to celebrate you yet but is instinctively trying to as they wheel the AlphaTauri back in. Like you’re a dog who’s done a particularly good trick. Good job. Well done.
You want to grin, to acknowledge it, to be in it.
But the second the engine had cut, silence slamming down like a guillotine, you had felt it.
Everything.
The weight of your helmet pressing your skull into the headrest. The ache in your shoulders, in your neck, in your forearms where the muscles have been clenched so tightly for the last hour that you’re not sure they remember how to relax. The tightness in your core from holding yourself steady through high-speed corners, from resisting the G-force that wanted to snap you sideways through every braking zone.
Your lungs drag for air inside your helmet, amplified in your ears, a too-loud, too-close sound that you don’t recognize as your own breathing at first. And then, slowly, slowly, you recognize something else too.
You’re locked up.
You’ve given everything- because you didn’t know not to, because you’re not used to this car, this track, this level of endurance- and now, sitting still, the exhaustion is slamming into you like a freight train. You flex your fingers on the wheel, testing, assessing. Each knuckle creaks open like a rusty hinge- but eventually you manage to let go of the wheel entirely. Okay- you can move. Your body just doesn't want to.
Nobody talks about this part. Not in a way that sinks in. You can run every neck harness known to man, can crank the resistance bands until your muscles scream, can sweat it out for hours in the gym, but the sim? The sim doesn’t prepare you for this. This thing, this car, this beautifully cruel machine- she’s more than you’re built for right now, even if you love her.
You force your shoulders to unclench, but it takes conscious effort. You’re absolutely certain your head is being held upright by the HANS device still. Everything is tight. So fucking tight. Even your ribs feel locked, like the Gs folded you in half and forgot to let go.
It takes everything in you, but you manage it- helmet off, belts undone, hands bracing against the side of the cockpit. You haul yourself up with careful, deliberate movements, pretending the process is slow because you mean for it to be, not because your body is dangerously close to saying fuck you and folding at the knees.
You don’t have near the luck with your dismount. Your knee catches the halo, your left foot doesn’t quite clear the sidepod, and for half a second, you think you might just lay down in the pit lane like a casualty of your own ambition. But you don’t. You get your boots on the ground, even if only just.
P7. Your race starts from P7 tomorrow.
You should be happy. Should be celebrating, basking in it.
Instead, as you finally step away from the car and take your hand off the halo, all you can think is- holy fuck, you need to sit down before you fall down. Before you can even process the weight of your own body, before you can take stock of which trembles are superficial and which ones might present an actual issue, there’s someone grabbing your elbow, steering you away from the car like you’re a malfunctioning machine that needs rebooting.
Yuki’s trainer- now yours, apparently- has you in his grip like he’s been expecting this. You’ve never had a personal trainer assigned to you, never been the kind of driver who gets their own dedicated fitness guru hovering around with electrolyte mixes and recovery schedules. But this weekend, you’re a Formula 1 driver. And in this world, drivers don’t make their own post-quali plans. They get managed.
He says nothing as he steers you toward the grassy back corner behind the motorhome, where the portable recovery tent sits- white canopy, zippered panels flapping in the breeze. There’s a firmness in the way he handles you, like he almost expects a protest and is pre-emptively letting you know it’s non-optional. You have a feeling you know what’s coming. Your stomach sinks.
Ice bath.
You hate these. You hate them with a passion you reserve for very few things. The cold. The shock. The way your muscles seize before they relax. You hate it more than a race leader hates slow backmarkers dirtying up their air.
The tent walls flutter gently in the breeze, a little pocket of solitude carved out just for you. Not for your comfort, of course- nothing about this is comfortable- but for the sake of modesty, privacy, and the PR nightmare it would be if someone managed to snap a photo of you stripped down to your fireproof underwear and scowling like a feral cat being lowered into a bathtub.
Which, coincidentally, is exactly what’s happening.
You lower yourself into the ice bath with a quiet, hissed “fuckfuckfuck” under your breath, breath catching in your chest as the cold water clamps down on your legs and back. It’s immediate and relentless, sharp-edged agony that makes every muscle you just overworked in qualifying seize up even harder before they can even think about relaxing. 
You glare at the water like it’s personally wronged you, teeth chattering hard enough to rattle your skull as Stefan- Yuki’s sadistic, vaguely cheerful trainer- stands over you with all the compassion of a drill sergeant.
"All the way," he says, his voice maddeningly calm, like he’s asking you to pass the salt instead of submerging yourself in hell itself. He watches with an expression so flat it might as well be a road surface test. He doesn’t seem particularly impressed with your dramatics, but there’s no malice in it either. Just the quiet, resigned look of a man who’s seen this reaction a thousand times before and knows better than to waste breath commenting on it. As long as you sit there, as long as you do the time, it’s no skin off his nose if you grumble the whole way through.
And you might have made it through in silence- miserable, shivering silence- if it weren’t for the voice in the next pod over.
“Well, that’s dramatic.” Your head snaps to the side, pulse jolting with adrenaline you absolutely do not have the energy for right now. There’s no mistaking the voice-  slightly accented, lowland, cocky with a sheen of dry amusement. Max fucking Verstappen.
You can’t see him, but you know he’s there, just on the other side of the thin tent wall. Probably in his own ice bath, though he doesn’t sound half as affected as you, and you despise him for it. 
Of course. Of course you meet The Max Verstappen through a fucking tent wall, at your very worst. Of course you’re sitting here in your fireproof underwear, shivering and stripped of every ounce of dignity you’ve ever had. You sink a little lower into the tub, hissing through your teeth as the water laps at your jaw.
“Can’t handle a little cold?” he adds, and you can practically hear the smirk. It’s not cruel- there’s no venom to it, just the playful ribbing of someone who’s been here before, who knows the ritual and is delighted to find someone suffering through it for the first time.
You should ignore him. You should stay professional, measured. But you’re cold, sore, and cranky in a way that’s chewing through the last of your patience.
“Bite me, Verstappen,” you mutter, eyes screwing shut again.
“You’re not my type,” he shoots back immediately, and god, you hate how fast he is with it.
Stefan barely flicks his eyes toward you, silently warning you to let it go, and you do- barely. Because as much as you’d love to snipe back, this is the reigning world champion. Something close to a temporary teammate. The guy whose direct boss just suggested you for the single biggest opportunity of your life.
From the other side of the wall, Max laughs, more to himself than for anyone else’s benefit. It’s not cruel. If anything, it sounds almost entertained. “Well, welcome to Formula One. Get used to it. Or don’t. I don’t really care.” You want to tell him fuck off, you wish, or your girlfriend is my type- the ice licking up the nape of your neck is practically begging you to be a bitch. But you just sink even lower into your frigid hell, until your mouth dips below the frozen waterline, where it can’t say something it doesn’t mean out of cold-fueled spite. Jesus Christ, fuck this ice bath. 
Eight minutes feels like a goddamn lifetime, measured carefully by Stefan, who levels you with a look that says he’s not letting you get out a heartbeat before your time is up. You don’t even ask. You spend every second of it cataloguing all the ways you could get revenge on someone- anyone- for putting you in the care of this tyrant. 
And then, finally, finally, Stefan sighs like this has been just as painful for him as it has been for you and relents. “Alright. Out.” 
You take it the towel he offers with all the grace you have left in you- that is to say, none at all- and yank it around your shoulders like armor, scowling at him as though he’s the one who personally sentenced you to this suffering. You know it’s not his fault. He’s doing his job. And in a few hours, when you don’t wake up feeling like you’ve been beaten with a tire iron, you’ll probably even be grateful.
But right now? Right now, Stefan is the face of your pain, and you cannot stand him.
Dripping onto the grass, still trembling, you turn away, shoulders tight, jaw clenched, scowling at nothing, at everything, at the universe itself for allowing this to happen to you. You look, in every possible way, like an alley cat that just got hosed down for digging through someone’s trash.
Fuck Ice Baths.
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Whatever goodwill you’d managed to scrape together today, whatever invisible hands had shifted things in your favor, you weren’t entirely sure. Maybe Stefan had gone to bat for you, insistent that if they wanted you to perform at a high level, they needed to at least pretend to take care of you. Maybe P7 had been enough to kick you up into another tier of treatment, an automatic shift in accommodations for a driver who’d outperformed every expectation placed on them. 
Or maybe Mattia had just put his foot down and said if they didn’t get you out of the fucking paddock, he was going to quit on the spot because there was no way he was spending another night fighting you off the SIM at ten o’clock when you inevitably crawled out of your driver room and asked him to run laps with you.
Whatever it was, whatever string got pulled, you hadn’t been sold on it. Not entirely. A part of you liked being in the thick of it- close- like if they wanted to pinch you out, remove you, they were going to have to come into that room and do it physically. Force you out. You know it’s not rational, not entirely, not after the performance you delivered, but digging your claws in any way you can is a learned instinct that doesn’t quiet easily.
But then you step inside, and… yeah.
This is alright.
The hotel room isn’t anything special, not by the standards of the world you’ve just stepped into. You know that. Mid-tier, probably. There’s nothing extravagant, no private terrace or marble bathtub or champagne waiting in a silver bucket. But to you? It feels like fucking Versailles.
The bed alone is enough to make you forgive almost everything- the FP2 bullshit, the ice bath, the fact that your body is currently one giant clenched muscle. It’s huge, layered in the softest, crispest sheets you’ve ever felt, piled high with pillows that feel like clouds and a duvet so thick you could disappear under it entirely if you wanted. Which, honestly, you might.
The room is quiet. Utterly, perfectly quiet. No hum of industrial air conditioning, no mechanical noises from the sim two doors down, no footsteps echoing through thin walls. Just silence, thick and luxurious, wrapping around you like the comforter itself. It’s almost disorienting- your body so used to always being on, always attuned to the sound of something happening just out of sight.
You take your time exploring, even though you know there’s not much to see. A bathroom stocked with towels so soft they almost squeak, tiny little bottles of expensive-smelling shampoo and conditioner, and a mirror so spotless you have to lean in close to confirm it’s even real. You end up sitting on the counter, bare feet swinging, picking at a blemish on your chin just because you can. Because there’s time. Because nobody’s knocking, nobody’s yelling, nobody’s waiting for you to go back to work.
And the stupid thing is, you know this is probably the least impressive room any driver here has stayed in. This isn’t luxury. This is logistics. This is the hotel where they put people they don’t know what to do with yet- important enough to not leave in the dorm, not important enough for the suite.
But you don’t care.
It’s yours for the night. A kingdom made of high thread count and soft lighting and water pressure strong enough to take your skin off if you wanted. It’s not fancy, not really.
But to you, it’s magic.
An assigned room in the team motorhome was fine- great, even, compared to some of the shitholes you’ve stayed over the years. A clean twin, a place to stash your gear, a door that locked, and a commute to the sim so short you could roll out of bed and be at work in ninety seconds. But this? This is luxury. This is unnecessary comfort. This is a space designed for rest, not survival.
And after the day you’ve had- after the week you’ve had- you’re almost inclined to forgive Red Bull for the Liam shitshow. Almost.
You flop down onto the bed, limbs starfished wide, and for a moment you just exist. No data to crunch. No press to charm. No pit boss screaming your name. Just you and this ridiculous, princess-tier bed in a room that smells faintly of lemon cleaner and the kind of soap you can never justify buying for yourself.
You’re alone. Blissfully, totally, perfectly alone. No one watching. No one knocking. No schedule demanding you peel yourself out of bed at some ungodly hour to chase tenths in a sim rig. Just you- and the knowledge that you fucking killed it today.
You burrow under the comforter, letting yourself sink deep into the mattress, arms stretched wide, fingers digging into the sheets just to feel them. It’s the closest thing to girlish, unbridled joy you’ve felt in… you don’t even know how long.
You should unwind, you tell yourself. You’d had the whole thing planned out in your head on the drive over. Order some overpriced room service, queue up a handful of film reviews, finally put your hand between your legs and take the edge off the week. You could almost taste it- the slow build, the release, the sheer satisfaction of reclaiming your own body after days of stress and strain and ice fucking baths. It’s been a week of pure adrenaline, no time to breathe, let alone touch yourself, and you can already imagine how good it’ll feel to get off in this perfect, private cocoon.
But you don’t even make it that far.
You barely lay down before your body cashes out completely, like your bones have been waiting for permission to sleep. No film. No food. No orgasm. Just the immediate, absolute surrender to rest so deep you might as well be dead.
And if you could see yourself- sprawled out under that ridiculous comforter, mouth slightly open, one hand still loosely holding your phone like you might have actually done something useful with it before you passed out- you’d probably laugh. Because you’re just a girl tonight. Not a driver, not a story, not a headline. For the first time in what feels like forever, there’s no anxiety humming beneath the surface, no knot of tension between your shoulders, no fear gnawing at the edges of your mind.
You did it.
And tomorrow, you get to do it again.
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August 26, 2022- Belgian Grand Prix, Race Day
The hotel room is quiet in the early morning, the heavy curtains drawn tight against the first light of the day. You’re awake- not because of jet-lag, or nerves, or the alarm you’ve set that won’t go off for at least another half hour- but in that slow, syrupy way that only comes when your body wakes itself for something. You stir, shifting under the sheets, warm and drowsy, only half-awake as your body stretches and presses into the pillow that’s worked it way between your legs in sleep. It feels nice. 
For a second, you just breathe through it, indulging in the lazy comfort, letting yourself exist in the moment before the weight of the weekend settles back onto your shoulders. It’s funny- your first Formula 1 race, the moment you’ve been fighting for your entire life, is just hours away, and yet right now, all you can think about is staying wrapped up in the warmth of your bed, chasing a feeling that has nothing to do with pressure or expectations.
You shift slightly, pressing a little more deliberately into the pillow, and exhale slowly. Yeah. Maybe you should blow off some steam.
You don’t really know if it’s a normal thing or if it makes you a little weird, but you’ve done it this way since you were young- long before you understood why it felt good, before your body even had the language for pleasure. Before you learned how to use your hands to get yourself off with toe-curling efficiency, before you knew how to unfold with someone you trusted, before you bought your own small collection of toys to guest-star in your indulgence. Even now, with a whole lifetime of experience in between, you still come back to this sometimes. It’s familiar. It’s easy. It’s comforting, almost.
You don’t really have the kind of girl friends you could ask about things like this. That’s just the way it’s always been- a consequence of living among men constantly, of growing up in a world where there was never really space for softness, let alone for curiosity about your own body. 
You’ve got female friends, ones from home, that you’ve collected along the road sure, your cousin- but you weren’t there they way they all were in their formative adult years, giggling over cocktails and dick-pics and Tinder swipes. Hell, most of them have kids and husbands and not enough time to see you anymore, even if you managed to be in the same city at the same time.
You missed all the wine-drunk Thursday nights where girls might curl up on the couch and giggle about their best, worst, and weirdest experiences that way they do in the chick flicks. The kind of nights, the kind of friends, where you might be able to blurt out Hey, does anyone hump their pillow? No?
But what the hell. It feels nice. Why stop?
For just a moment, before the world wakes up and demands its pound of flesh, before the car and the team and the press and the endless stream of men with their opinions claim you, this belongs to you. This body, this moment, this feeling. Yours, and no one else’s.
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Series Masterlist
76 notes · View notes
reashot · 1 year ago
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Red Like Roses... (It's period 🔴)
Warning: fluffness inside. Also really long.
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At Beacon during a more peaceful time.
Pyrrha: Hmmm it's quiet, too quiet.
Ren: I agree. It's never a good sign. We should be ready for something.
Jaune: Ready for what?
Nora: Oh you know usually things never stay quiet for long especially when we're right next door to the main characters.
*yang burst into the room*
Pyrrha: And speaking of the devil.
Yang: Quick hide! *brace the door behind her*
Jaune: Oh Shi- okay gangs we trained for this! Quick initiate Pattern Delta Phi.
Nora: Aye, aye dear leader, let's initiate plan hiding under our bed's like cowards.
JNPR: *Bracing for Impacts.*
*Yang holding the door with all her might*
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Ren: Wait what are even hiding from in the first place?
Yang: No time to explain. Here it Comes!
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A large sounds resembling explosion came from across the hallway. The door starts to violently shakes and rose petals soon violently burst into the room. Even with Yang putting all her strength into the door. Some rose petals still managed to get inside.
Yang: .... I think we're in the clear now.
Pyrrha: What just happened?
Yang: Eh, promise not to freak out?
Jaune: Okay, I guess...
Yang: Good enough. *shows team JNPR the source of the roses*
Ruby: Huee~ *sniffs* huee~ 😭
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Jaune: Ruby?
Ren: It seems to be her.
Pyrrha: Wait. Where are Blake and Weiss?
Nora: Found them. They're buried under all of this Rose petals.
Blake: *coughing up a bunch of petals* Eww I got some of it in my mouth.
Weiss: .... I just saw my grandfather.
Jaune: Okay, can someone now please tell us what is going on....
*Cardin burst into the room*
Cardin: Why the Fuck are there Roses all over the damn hallways!?
Russel: Don't try to lie we know it's coming from team RWBY!
Yang: Wow, wow! False accusation, much?
Dove: Well we can't help it. Because whenever something bad happened It's usually always you four.
Sky: Fucking Main characters shit...
Nora: I know right!
Pyrrha: Nora! Which sides are you on?
Nora: Oops my bad... (I mean, I'm not wrong 😒.)
Ren: *shrugs his head* Nora...
Jaune: Can all of you please stop being aggro for just one second!
You're upsetting Ruby for brother's sake.
Ruby: Wah! Wah! Wah! 😭
Jaune: Also can someone please tell me what just happened?
WBY: *looking at each others*
Yang: *sigh* (I guess I'm the one that should tell everyone.)
How do I gently put this? Ruby is in her special time of the month...
Jaune: Oh...
Cardin: The fuck does that even mean?
Russel: the month?
Dove: I see... (Maybe if I silently nod people will not think I'm dumb.)
Sky: (okay, she had her period. What does that have to with anything?)
Blake: Typical.
Weiss: Can you guys be anymore of a dudebros cliche?
CRDL: Hey!!!!
Yang: Let me put it this way. Every time Ruby has her "special month" her semblance's goes all haywire for some reason.
Jaune: Okay I get the gist of it. Team CRDL go outside and clean the hallway.
Cardin: What! Why the fuck should we clean up their mess?!
Jaune: Because I fucking said so. Now go!
Cardin: Geez... Whatever. C'mon boys, we better clean up team RWBY's mistakes. Again!
*slams door*
Blake: Thanks Jaune.
Weiss: Geez Arc, when did you grow a spine?
Yang: I gotta say Vomit Boy. I never knew you had it in you.
Pyrrha: *blush* (So manly.)
Nora: That's our Jaun-Jaun.
Jaune: Blake, Weiss. Please help Cardin & his team with the clean up outside.
Weiss: What! No way. Why should we help those dunderheads in the first place.
Jaune: Because they're right that the mess was started by your team.
Weiss: I'm sorry, our? For the record it's just Rub...
Blake: We're on it Jaune. C'mon Weiss let's help clean up all this roses. *drags Weiss away*
Jaune: Pyrrha, Ren, Nora. I also want you to go out side and help them.
Pyrrha: I understand Jaune. I will do as you ask.
Nora: Oh c'mon Jaune, why us too?
Jaune: Because they're our friends, Nora.
Nora: Well I'm about to go back to my room... *gets yoinked*
Ren: It's okay Jaune. I will get her to help us.
Nora: *grumble* (Fucking Main characters....)
Jaune: Thanks Ren. And Yang I want you to stay and find Ruby's "hygiene" products.
Yang: Wow, wow! Settle down cowpoke. I don't think you being a man is qualified to be the one to help with Ruby's "issue."
Jaune: I have seven Sisters...
Yang: Sweet brothers in heaven!
Uh, I take that back you're clearly overqualified.
At least I don't have to help clean up. But what're you going to do Jaune?
Jaune: I'm going to go back to my room to make a tea for Ruby.
A few minutes later.
Jaune: Here you go Ruby. A sweet herbal tea with plenty of honey and sugar.
Ruby: ... *sniffs* Thank you Jaune. 😢
*sips*
Jaune: It's okay Ruby you don't have to thank me.
Ruby: But I caused so much problems for everyone. *sniffle*😞
Jaune: *headpat*
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There, there Ruby it's okay that what's friends are for. And you didn't troubled me one bit. In fact I'm happy to be of use to you. It reminds me that I'm still useful to someone.
Ruby: Jaune please don't think like that. You always were important to everyone.
Jaune: *kiss forehead*
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It's nice of you think that Ruby. But I'm not. I'm not special like you. You're destined for great thing while I'm.... Just me.
Ruby: 0-0
Jaune: What's the matter... Ohhh, ohhh no. I'm so-so sorry Ruby I didn't realize that... I usually did that to my little sister whenever she's sad.
Ruby: *blush*
I-I don't mind it at all Jaune. It's just that if you want to do it to me again a little heads up would be nice. 😖
Jaune: I'm so-so sorry Ruby I promise that I... Wait, what do you mean by again?
Ruby: Uhh....
Yang: *clears throat*
I seems to have interrupted something here.
Jaune: Y-Yang!
Ruby: Sis!
Yang: Look Rubes I don't need to say this but remember what dad said. No boys. And Jaune please don't take this the wrong way but please for your sake please don't get any idea with Ruby. It will not end well for you.
Jaune: O-of course. I will never-ever think of Ruby like that. We're just friends after all.
Ruby: Friends... 😭
*starts crying*
Jaune: Oh, what's the matter Ruby?
225 notes · View notes
elbiotipo · 1 year ago
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Holy shit, the US Artemis program is even worse than I thought. The Orion spacecraft doesn't have enough delta-v to go to the Moon. If you're not gasping when I say that (sorry, read too much Atomic Rockets) it means that they're trying to go to the Moon with a spacecraft that CANNOT reach the Moon in the first place and was NOT designed or modified for it, that's why they they have to do the whole "dock with the Gateway lunar station (which doesn't even exist and who knows if it will exist) and land from there" fuckery instead of just LANDING on the Moon like in Apollo. And that Gateway station also has (will have, if it ever happens) a screwy unstable orbit planned because the Orion CANNOT go to the Moon not even TO LUNAR ORBIT, IT DOESN'T HAVE THE GAS
This is because Orion and the SLS (the big orange rocket) were forced by the US Congress to be made from Space Shuttle parts to keep the US military-industrial contracts going on. So they made a lot of screwy stuff because they DON'T have a working spaceship, just something that feeds contracts.
A lunar orbital station is not a bad idea on itself, I think China and Russia also proposed it, but oh no, this is so badly designed. I don't know where to start if you're not a space junkie like me but trust me, it's bad. They made a Moon mission with a spaceship that CAN'T GO TO THE MOON
156 notes · View notes
hopepetal · 9 months ago
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Art of my DND character Ruven's death, drawn by the wonderful Bee @applestruda! This moment was so crazy in game.
Fic under the cut!
Ruven sighs in relief as Tarnish strikes the sculk thrall down. He pockets his wand, looking down at Lil Buddy, who winds around his legs purring loudly.
They're annoying, his familiar comments. Sorry I can't help more.
Ruven giggles at the sensation of Lil Buddy's long fur tickling his skin. It's alright. Just stay safe, okay?
I'm safer than you are, Lil Buddy responds.
Ruven rolls his eyes and scoops Lil Buddy up. “Whatever,” he says out loud. Looking around, he realizes Dragon isn't there– probably hiding somewhere. “Where's...?”
Before he can finish his sentence, Windsor's voice interrupts him. “Hey guys, you should come see this!”
Slowly, the party makes their way into the room Windsor had called from. Ruven sets Lil Buddy down to let him explore, his hand going back to his wand as he looks around.
The room overlooks an enormous cavern. Ruven takes a few steps forward as he gazes at the area, the rest of the party chatting quietly behind him as he descends the first few stairs, following Lil Buddy.
His familiar sniffs the ground before looking back up at Ruven. There are strange aberrations here. Be careful.
Ruven raises his gaze, doing a quick sweep of the cavern. His eyes land on a tall, spindly creature with bony, spider-like legs. He tenses up involuntarily– spiders have always scared him. One time, Rhel had bought a plastic spider and put it in his bed, scaring him so much he cast a fire spell on it.
Rhel...
Ruven bites his lower lip, clenching his fists. Pull yourself together, Ruven. Now's not the time.
He tries to focus on something other than the memory of his sister's body.
Lil Buddy looks concerned, which is a little strange for a cat. ...we should rejoin the rest of the party. I don't like this.
As Lil Buddy says that, Ruven hears Windsor's voice ring out over the cavern. “Delta, are you seeing this shit?”
The spindly sculk beast turns around slowly with a low, chittering, creaking noise. Ruven remembers the sounds he heard in his dream, ears twitching as he freezes up. His hand tightens around his wand.
Darkness descends upon the party. Ruven is once again reminded of his dream as the rest of the party yelps in shock. Even with his darkvision, Ruven can't see through– magical darkness, then.
He feels his breathing begin to pick up as his chest tightens. He's always hated the dark and it's all-encompassing nature. His darkvision made it easier to ignore his fear, but he can't do anything against magical darkness.
A low rumble emanates from the creature. Ruven can't move as it builds and builds in intensity, into a terrible otherworldly scream.
The only thing that Ruven can see through the darkness is a neon teal beam of concentrated energy as it pierces through his chest and shatters his eardrums simultaneously.
For a moment as he stumbles back, Ruven is in more pain than he thought was possible.He chokes on the blood bubbling up in his mouth as he raises a hand to his chest. There's a bloody hole where his skin should be, and the only mercy Ruven is given is dying before he can feel the full extent of his agonizing death.
And then...
Then...
He's floating.
Floating? How strange. He didn't... he didn't know he had Levitate.
He can't hear the rest of the party. Shouldn't they be fighting? What was happening? Did the creature manage to deafen him as well?
He can't feel his body.
Why...?
Why can't he feel his body? Where is everyone? Why can't he move?!
All his senses come back in an instant.
“What...?” He manages to get out, his entire body screaming in agony as he tries to move.
Dragon's face lights up with relief. “You're okay! Were you... were you dead?”
Ruven blinks. “Uhhh... I think so? Maybe? Yeah…” He suppresses a shudder. So that was death...
Vel turns and runs without a word, and Ruven remembers that they're in the middle of combat. He goes to stand up, but Dragon stops him. “You are not going back into combat like this.” He cuts Ruven off when he tries to protest. “Nope. No buts. You need to get out of here.”
Ruven sighs. “Okay, well–” He realizes that his head is lying in Dragon's lap, and he scrambles up with a yelp of shock. “Oh! Oh gosh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!”
Windsor runs past the two. “CAN WE DO THIS LATER?!” they yell, eyes wide. “WE GOTTA GO!”
The next few moments are absolute chaos. The party begins to retreat, but to their horror the creature begins to follow. Before anyone else is able to attack, it lets out another scream.
Goodnight. Lil Buddy's voice echoes in Ruven's mind as the familiar disintegrates, the half-orc passing out for a moment before dragging himself back to consciousness.
He’s deafened again as he drags himself back to his feet, his ears ringing. Dragon glances over at him before dashing toward the sculk creature with his axe, managing to land a hit.
Ruven stumbles back as Tarnish hands him a potion, saying something he can't hear. Pain shakes his every step as he stumbles after Vel. The worst of the pain starts to fade as he quickly eats the berry Dragon gave him, washing it down with the health potion.
His ears still ringing, he collapses at the top of the staircase Vel had run to. He takes in deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart. Emotions threaten to overwhelm him as he rubs his chest.
There's a soft pressure on his legs. Ruven looks down to see Miri standing there with her paws on him. The cat tilts her head, tail flicking back and forth. Ruven's breath hitches as he goes to reach out to pet Miri, before hesitating. Was it really alright for him to...?
Miri sniffs his hand before rubbing her head against him. Ruven can't help it; he begins to cry, his hands shaking as he gently pets the cat. “Thank you,” he whispers, though he can't hear himself say it. “Thank you.”
The rest of the party slowly gathers in the room after Delta finally kills the sculk beast– all looking worse for wear. This had been one of their hardest fights, being down a wizard from the start and half the party deafened by the screams of the enemy. Ruven doesn’t want to think about how close they all came to dying. 
He summons his familiar back during the long rest. Lil Buddy says nothing, and climbs into Ruven’s lap.
Ruven closes his eyes and rests.
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carionto · 1 year ago
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The duality of Man, or triality? quadrality?
Alien to Human about New Human: Correct me if I'm wrong, but they appear abnormally large for your species?
H: Yea, he's a biggun alright, even without the EV suit I'd say... 7'3'', 310 pounds, bet he power lifts.
A: Umm... not to be rude, but, uhh... he seems, well... how should I put this...
H: Intimidating? Terrifying? Evil? Yea, if this station didn't have high screening standards I'd be totally pissing myself if he started walking towards me. The mohawk and eye tat totally make me believe he could snap me in two with a single glare.
A: I feel ashamed that my instincts are telling me to flee. I wish nature were easier to change.
H (shouting at NH): Hey buddy! Could you come over here for a minute please? You look awesome by the way!
A (whispering nervously): what are you doing?!?
H: Gotta overcome those fears somehow, I believe the best way is a direct confrontation.
NH approaches, somewhat slowly, looking around at all the other aliens in the station that are chatting, waiting around, or doing some work. He finally approaches A and H, and in a very deep and husky voice says: Um, hi, hello. T-thanks for the compliment, I, uh, was a little worried I would stand out too much here.
H: Oh you totally do, my friend over here is practically about to pass out from how much like a gothic viking of death metal you look.
NH: Oh no, I'm so sorry, I-I just grew up in Sweden-Delta and both my parents were huge into classic local music, so I just, uh... it's complicated. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare anyone.
H: Hey, relax pal, we're all good people here. Anyway, what you here to do? I'm planning on starting a bakery, still testing out what kind of flour most species here can actually stomach. My friend here is on the team working on Moon theft preventative measures.
NH: Oh, that's cool. I'm here as an exchange student with the department of applied astrophysics. If all goes well, I can finish my Bachelors degree remotely and stay here as an intern with the head researcher.
H: Oooh, that's cool. (so cool yea that you're apparently half my age but oh well guess I'm a big fat time waster like my father before me and oh god change the subject before I get depressed in front of strangers) That's a real big bag you got there, carrying some super secret science things, eh?
NH: Oh, that... uhh... guess it can't hurt to tell, security vetted it already anyway.
NH proceeds to unzip the bag and hold up a large white piece of clothing with light blue rings and accents, alongside a strange white cap with what looked like small fins, and a curious little backpack.
NH: It's uhh... um... my... Ika... musume... cosplay.... (oh gods I can't believe I said it out loud again)
After a moment of awkward silence, NH slowly puts on the backpack and presses a button on it's strap, and suddenly numerous light blue colored tentacle-like appendages sprout out from the backpack and move in line with NH's movements.
NH: I, uh..., got my engineering friend to make them articulate and interface with my contacts. I can make them do all sorts of things, like make various shapes and animals with them, though works best as a shadow theater.
H:...
NH:...
A now frozen out of confusion than fear:...
H: That's so
NH: (oh I know it's so lame, but I love that show)-
H: COOL! I don't know what a ika musume is, but those things look amazing. You said articulate? How precise can they be? I'd love to have something like that instead of my useless assistant. Poor lad can't make a piece of toast if his life depended on it...
NH: Y-you like it?
H: I LOVE those things. My daughter does cosplay too sometimes, but she makes her Dreadnought suits herself from scraps. One time the military came to our house and installed a limiter on the gauss cannon she found in a crash site, said it would otherwise start to generate small doses of radiation if used too frequently. But she replaced it with a handmade rail gun before the next convention. Do you go to those? Did you see a 7 meter tall hulking metal monstrosity with a bunch of candles all over? That was her.
NH: Oh, I think I've seen video of that, but no, not in person, I go to smaller events. I don't really like big crowds.
H: Oh yea, I get ya, you do seem a bit on the shy side now that we've been talking for a bit. Hey, no worries, like I said, we're all good people here.
NH: T-thanks, but I think I should be going now, the teacher is calling me over.
H: Oh yea, go ahead, didn't mean to take up so much of your time. Have a fun stay and I'm sure you'll ace that paper or theory? Or whatever astrophysicists do, you seem like a solid kid.
NH: Oh, uh, thanks. Good luck with your bakery. And you with stopping those weird people from stealing more moons. Bye.
H: Bye bye, come visit, don't be a stranger now, I'm set up just a short bit from the main lift on floor 14.
NH: R-right, I'll, uh, be sure to stop by soon.
A is finally able to process what they just heard and says: What was all that just now?
H: What? Just a friendly chat with what is apparently basically a kid. Man, this kid's got so much going on, while I'm almost 50 and I have an oven. Life, man, it can go in so many ways. Anyway, let's go grab a drink, I'm parched.
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dseval · 7 months ago
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ArchiveVerse Cross
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(sorry if the quality is butchered everyone Ibis paint is uncooperative today)
Finally, i'm able to work on ArchV content, with my favourite character, Cross. More under the cut.
Cross is the first one to get a 'reference sheet' or a character intro, since he's the first one to kickstart this AU too. Expect more ArchiveVerse charcaters to receive the treatment in the future.
(though for now Delta is next, because i absolutely hate his current archv design, and i'm redoing it. If you had anyone you're interested in seeing next, please tell me.)
I actually don't know how to format this post, though, so sorry if the information is all over the place (or if it's too much information). To understand most of the things I write here, please refer to my ArchiveVerse post.
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★Info★
Cross, a student from the Omega Public School (OPS), used to be a normal student. That is, until he got caught in trouble along with Ink and a student from Juvie, Error. Ink was let off scot free, but Cross wasn't so lucky. Due to the troubles he caused, he was quickly arrested and thrown to the Juvenile Containment. Much to his own displeasure.
There, as much as he distances himself, he made friends with the other students contained there (Dust, Killer, Horror, and Nightmare). Though, it doesn't deter him from grinding hard for credits and speedrunning his community service to be released fast and quick from Juvie. He succeeded.
After graduating from the Juvenile Containment, Cross returned to OPS, and swore to just become a normal student, avoiding having himself thrown into Juvie again. He tries his best to steer clear from trouble, though the other Juvie students seem to bring that trouble to him, often dragging him along to their mischief.
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Quick facts:
His height is 180 cm (probably he's the third tallest character in archv)
Cross's powers are Lightning, and on the side, he has small matter manipulation powers, able to break down molecules, though he hasn't explored his capabilities with this yet.
His powers are volatile, and he still had difficulties controlling it. Occasionally he'd accidentally zap someone when he touched them. Purple sparks of lightning also fizzle out of his fingertips when he's flustered or nervous.
He wears at least three layers of clothing.
Cross has been described as handsome, with long legs.
He rides his bicycle everywhere, often going for rides in the weekend too.
Cross always brings his school bag whereever he goes, in it are chocolate energy bars, and other utilities.
His eyelights are starry whenever he's overjoyed (this is his swap sans trait guys)
Every student in OPS has their own house, Cross makes sure to keep his living space tidy and neat.
Character relationships:
(These are only the ones i can mention off the top of my head)
Cross and Dream hangs out sometimes. To drink latter or get breakfast. Cross really admires him.
He often hangs out at the arcade with Delta, Epic, and Color. Delta seems somewhat hellbent on beating him at anything, Cross felt like he can't lose. Epic and Color plays a cooking game.
Dust, who was banned from entering most merch stores and malls, often sent Cross for fetch quests to get him any new Ice-e merch. Cross finds this annoying but obliges.
Killer and him often zap each other back in juvie, he still have black spots and bruises in several parts of his body. Nowadays, they still zap each other sometimes, Killer mostly for teasing— and Cross, on accident.
Horror and him often went to all-you-can-eat events together, they also exercise together occasionally.
Even out of Juvie, Cross still calls Nightmare by 'boss'. Nightmare finds it embarrassing of him.
Cross rarely met Ink, still somewhat wary that Ink will drag him into some sort of trouble. Though, he doesn't hate him.
Credits (please tell me if I missed anyone!):
Cross Sans by Jakei
Artstyle inspired/taken directly from Mx2j, one of the artists for Blue Archive. The character intro format itself follows Blue Archive.
Mentioned characters: Dream & Nightmare Sans (Joku), Dust Sans (Ask-Dusttale blog), Killer Sans (Rahafwabas), Horror Sans (SourAppleStudios), Ink Sans (Comyet/Mye bi), Error Sans (CrayonQueen/LoverofPiggies), Epic (yugogeer012), Delta (AnimatedZorox), Color (superyomna)
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sophie-frm-mars · 19 days ago
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What are your thoughts on the SWP? I want to get more involved in activism (climate, gender, you name it) but I don't know of any anarchist organisations local to me and the only group I'm aware of which has a real presence where I live is the SWP
The SWP is awful, I've heard a lot of people call it a cult.
There are several reasons to avoid the SWP, the first is the rape allegations scandal
If you don't know about "comrade delta", you can google it but basically in 2013 the SWP leadership basically covered up rape allegations by a 19 year old and another woman against their highest ranking organiser and then when the issue was forced after months or I think years of discourse and deflections they pretty spectacularly blew up, accusing the people who were outraged about it of "creeping feminism" and shit like this.
I think when something like this happens with an org, it's always going to harm the org from the outset, for which you can blame the person responsible for the harm directly, but then how the org responds is absolutely vital, and the SWP had basically one of the worst imaginable responses. Not just condescending, conspiratorial and arrogant but also openly reactionary, it just sucked so much shit. They had a long long time to deal with things responsibly through internal processes and enact any kind of protocol from full transformative justice accountability process through to like mega punitive maybe even involving the cops but what happened just showed they had absolutely no process in place for dealing with a situation like this and basically exposed the party as a hive of misogynist old boys club mentality
The second reason to avoid them is that I think they're out of touch in mutliple ways. First relates back to the above - after that all happened and hundreds of their members quit they probably should have disbanded. Plenty of their activists could be doing great work in orgs that are worthwhile and could have been for the past decade, probably even working together, without being constantly dragging the millstone of being in the SWP. But I also think their democratic centralist old school ML attitude is just very dogmatic in a way that doesn't interface with the world we actually live in today.
I was actually talking with someone who's in the RMT and Communist Party literally yesterday and he was saying the SWP puts out a lot of "fronts" - this is well known - to focus on specific issues while also trying to recruit more people into the party, and one the hand this is fine as long as any given org is actually doing the work to change things, but apparently the central committee just regularly decides "nah we're done" and they just order one of these front orgs to just shut up shop and stop all work
In circles I'm in the issue of working with SWP "fronts" has come up a few times and when it comes to orgs that are a bunch of SWP members focusing on one issue like I'm pretty sure Stand Up To Racism is an SWP thing and they organise the biggest antifash demos around, the line is always "it's good that they're pulling big numbers, just keep them at arm's length when you're working with them"
Sorry that this answer isn't providing you with more organising options, but I can't recommend working with the SWP itself in good conscience
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dreamauri · 2 years ago
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‧˚⊹ 𝗱𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗶 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 ଓ :: 𝗠𝗩𝟭 ‧₊˚⤾
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you are reading :: part five !!
╭╯ pairing . . . max verstappen x fem! driver! oc! ) ┊ summary . . . its over, its all over ) ┊ genre . . . angst) ╰╮ warning . . . illusions of mental breakdown, bad mothering [sorry lei], lil sad )
☆★ finally getting to the good part :') kind of a filler, sorry ━━━━
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( fic masterlist | general masterlist ) ( requests )
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MEDIA DAY Saturday July 27 2023 — Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps, Belgium
A-Z WINNERS
"This should be quiet fun considering I have no life outside of racing." You joked, putting your hands on your hips. "Is there a time limit, yes? Great."
"OK, A for Alonso. Duh. B, for Jenson button. C is for c*nt." You said with a straight face making several people around the room laugh. You couldn't help the smile the creeped on your face.
"Wait. Who has a name that starts with C? . . . Caucasian man. Thats who- OH MY GOD CLARK! I forgot." You chuckled moving on. "What comes after C? A, b, c, d! D stands for d*ck.  E stands forrrrr-"
"G, would've been nice to say my mom's name but she was slow." You joked wiping your face giggling. "Gasly."
"K, . . . Who? Hint?" "Three on the grid." "There's three on the grid? What the— ME! FUCK! thats me." You laughed face palming, falling on the floor laughing your ass off. "Leon Kraus, Ashton Kraus, Felix Kraus, Alexander Kraus, Fritz Kraus, Y/N Kraus and of course Killian Kraus . . . Killian those bitches . . . I think he's getting married actually." "He already did." "Oh yeahhhhhh." "He's got a kid." "No." You gaped at her, jaw on the floor. "When was this? I'm an aunt? No body told me."
"You're the only one who didn't get it right away." "Oh nooooo."
"S issssss, who's name starts with s. Give me a hint." "On the grid" "who?- Oh! SAINZ!" You smiled brightly giggling. "Oh shit, I could've said Schumacher, sorry. Two Schumackers, no?"
"V, Verstappen but we know which one. Maximus of course."
YOUNGEST TO OLDEST
"Dinosaur." You slapped Fernando's on the top of the board. "He was born 2 seconds ago— he wasn't even born yet." You joked slipping Meike's name on the bottom of the board.
A giggle came from your mouth as you looked at the board, you had only two names down from the 20 drivers you were supposed to rank from age. "I won." You decided nodding, a few laughs came from around making you relax and smile.
"I'm here." You placed your name above Meike. "And he's old as fuck." You placed Killian name under Fernando. "And him, I don't even know. He looks like he could be a dilf, but acts like he's three three." You places Max's name in the middle, with Lewis above and Lando below.
"He . . . Danny phanton is like three mentally, you can't convince me other wise." You chuckled placing his magnet above Max's. " . . . I- I know Magnussen has a daughter no?" "Two." "He has two daughters? Wow. Good luck with that. May the odds forever be in your favor."
"How good is that?" "Very good." The interviewer chuckled making you laugh." "You've got the bottom half right." You hid your face leaning down laughing. "Good enough, no?" You giggled watching someone take away the board and place a flip board instead.
WHO SAID THAT
"Oh no. What is this?" You flipped the first page, looking at the written text. "You have to guess who said that." "Not easy peasy lemon squeezy." You stretched you arms clearing your throat.
"Not me." You put a thumbs up smiling. "Is that a point? . . . Oh come on." You whined trying to think.
SURPRIZE
"Oooh, what's this?" You take the plaque handed to you. "Oh that's khofo." You turned board, pointing at the sfinx. "He looks way prettier in person." You chuckled, looking back at the photograph you admired the other famous landmarks and views from your home.
"Am I supposed to name all of these places? I haven't been that much around. Just luxor and delta." You chuckling looking confused. "Not Cairo or Giza?" You shook your head.
"You can see them next year then, when F1 goes to Egypt." You could feel yourself starting to smile as you looked at her unsurly. "What are you talking about?" You chuckled looking around the room confused. "I don't- wait no. You're not serious." You dropped your hands, jaw falling.
"Your joking." Your ran your hands through your hair. You could feel a wave of excitement rush through you as you jumped in your spot happily, fangirling. "We're going home! Yes yes yes!" You cheered throwing your fist up giggling happily.
"Oh my God. My family can come watch me." You covered your mouth as the idea dawned on you. "Oh my God. Yes yes yes yes! Yesss!"
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
f1
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f1 BREAKING: Red Bull will no longer have a second driver for the remaining races this season. oh no 🫣
user YES YES YES YES
user am i dreaming? GOD HAS BLESSED US
user about time
user fucking finally, she was making it a shit show
user am i the only one in the comments here to complain about this? this is not fair ↳ user bro no one gives q fuck. Shut up and eat ↳ user she was so annoying etf you complaining about? ↳ user yeah the only good thing about her is her looks
user bye bye, dont come back. we're not going to miss you ❤️
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
"Lei— okay." Max pulled the tween up on his lap, continuing with his stream while she laid on his chest quietly. "Mate! You still have her?!" "She's my good luck charm." Max smiled weakly patting the girls back.
That wasn't the reason Leila was still with Max though. Max kept one if his hands free at all time, patting the French-Egyptian's back or stroking her hair to give her the most amount of comfort he can offer.
Max could feel Leila's hug tighten every few minutes and it made his heart ache. She's going through too much and she's just a child.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
A jingle came from the carton box as you practically threw it on the floor next to the front door. Your shoes were kicked off and your travel bags flopped on the ceramic as you trudged into your home.
It was too quiet for your liking. And with the prime summer heat, you felt like you were going to melt.
Dings started to sound from your phone as soon as it connected to the wifi, and you could already hear the comments and posts, the tweets, the videos, articles, the memes, the drawings, you could hear of people making fun of you. It was buzzing in your ears. And you couldn't get it out of your head.
And in a moment of rage you threw your phone into down the hall, through the dinner table and salon, across the living room. SMASH. It wasn't going to bother you anymore. You dragged yourself upstairs, pulling the door to your room shut.
"Your tense." "OH WOW! I COULDNT TELL!" You turned to face your uncle's figure, tears welling up in your eyes as your hands visibly started to shake. "I have been working my ASS OFF. I PUT MY WHOLE LIFE INTO THAT GOD DAMN SPORT. I PUT YOUR TIME AND YOUR MONEY INTO THIS WASTE." You shouted, turning around your fist meeting the body mirror, panting heavily.
"Relax, nunu." "How can I relax?!" You turned into Marawan's body, hugging him tightly. "It's over. No one is going to want me now." Sobs escaped your mouth as you felt him softly brushing his fingers through your hair.
"Y/N— " "I'm just a stupid girl. I should've never even tried." "That's not true." "It is. I wasted my time. My effort. My childhood. My life!"
You collapsed on your knees struggling to wipe your vision clear. "What am I doing with my life?" You cried to no one, gripping your hair as you emptied your feelings on the ground.
"That's not true." You heard you mother assure, her cold hand gently caressing your back and she kneeled down beside you. "You made a friend, Max. You got closer with Leila. You baked, Y/N. When was the last time you baked? You took off your mask, how brave was that?"
"It wasn't on purpose." You muttered, chocking on your cries. "But you continued to be brave. You faced on your dad. You faced the world. And you raced with your brothers, you always wanted to do that."
"I raced against them. Not with them." You corrected her. "And it was Killian too. Your golden son crashed into me. And now I have a hole in my hip."
"You choose the sport, Y/N." You pushed her away before she could caress your head, turning away from her, hugging your knees. "No. You did."
"You're the one who got that stupid scholarship. You're the one who went to germany, met dad and married him. You're the one who got in that stupid car. You're the one who smoked. You're the one who put all your expectations, gave me all your dreams to complete. You're the one who died."
"And I was such a bad daughter." You sobbed to yourself. "I couldn't complete your wish. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Leila is going to live with that stupid woman—"
"Your mom's here." Leila shook her head wrapping her little arms around Max's neck. "No." She held him tighter. "I stay with Max." She begged in the little English she learned. "Yallah." The older woman pulled the tween from his wrist dragging her away. "Stop being a pain in my ass. Let's go."
"Red bull is going to lose a lot of points—"
Max was carrying the whole team on his back, struggling to stay in p2 and p3 through the races with the other teams taking his broken defence to their advantage.
"All because of me."
You cried in the dusty pink room alone. All alone.
★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
2007 — El GAMAZI ESTATE, FRANCE
"Killian? Sho bete3mel hena?" [what are you doing here] The rain soaked boy looked like a deer caught in headlights. He could only shrug, he himself confused qbout his where abouts. "Ana . . ." [i] He sighed shakily, pulling his late mother's helmet from his back pack.
Tears started to well up in his eyes, as he held out the ancient egyptian themed hear protection. "It belongs with the El-Gamazis." He sniffed wiping his eyes. "Mom would have wanted you to have it."
"Oh Killian." The boy was pulled into the household, wrapped in a towel and given hot chocolate, the helmet by his side. "Nunu maogoda?" [is nunu here] He asked quietly watching his grandparents and uncle rush around the room.
"Meen? 'Nubis? Betsou2 barah." [who? 'nubis? she's driving outside] 'but it's raining outside' he furrowed his eyes looking out the window. There you were indeed, perfecting your driving skills in your new kart, probably freezing to death but to concentrated to know.
"I want Nunu to be at the track on Sunday for mama's moment of silence." Killian, took a hold of Marawan's shirt, stopping him in his tracks. "El 7ad? . . . Mashi. 7ader." [sunday? ok, we will be there]
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( taglist ↳ @lorarri @benedikwonn @mycenterfold @ironmaiden1313 @iamahallucinationnn @hockeyboysarehot @tsnataly @iloveyou3000morgan @lpab @jetless @inas-thing @folklorelvrr @fdl305 @lifesuckslife @loveofmylife12 @chasing-liberosis @peachiicherries @lizzieolseniskinda @chelseyyouraverageluigi @michellekstyles
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pimosworld · 2 years ago
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The story of us
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Pairing: Triple frontier boys x f!reader
Summary: Set before reader and the boys are officially together and how it all came to be.
CW: 18+ MDNI, eventual poly relationship mentions of ptsd,verbally abusive boyfriend, cursing,threats of physical violence,alcohol consumption,mentions of past drug use,flirting,mentions of sex, smut in later chapters,minor character death, angst,fluff and happy ending.
Notes: I’ve taken some liberties with their lives after leaving delta but nothing too ooc. Frankie doesn’t have a kid and he lives with Benny and Will. Reader is a nurse for her occupation and her call sign is honey. The story will go between readers pov and the boys throughout. The boys have a group chat without reader named The golden girls, and a group chat with the reader named DF4L. It starts off heavy on the angst but it gets better I promise. No description of reader.
Chapter summary-The boys are concerned since you’ve grown distant and decide to surprise you. They find themselves in a compromising position.
WC-2k
Not beta read
Chapter 1 Boundaries
——————————————————————————
Saturday
  Your hands are shaking as you place your phone face down on the kitchen counter. You can already feel the splitting headache forming that always follows the tears steadily streaming down your face.
  Why do you keep putting up with this? Just leave him. 
  But his words constantly echo in your thoughts. 
You’re going to be alone, and then what? 
  You're pulled from your thoughts when your phone vibrates on the counter. Hopefully he’ll just leave a voicemail apologizing like he always does after a fight. You don’t have the energy to argue anymore. 
  Your phone vibrates again and you think you might as well get the apology over with. It’s almost as if you crave the fight because you're showered with affection once it’s over.
  What is wrong with you? 
  You flip your phone over and curse under your breath. Shit
  “Hey Santi”, you try to hide the quiver in your voice and the constant sniffling. “I’m so sorry, I can’t make it tonight I’m just not feeling well”. You stammer out hoping to end the conversation as quickly as possible. 
  “No,no not again, this is the third time”, he says sternly yet his voice is laced with concern. “I’m not
above begging, but you can’t tell the guys or I’ll have to kill you”. He chuckles nervously on the other end. 
  You can’t hide the barrage of tears that start to flow because you know how much he cares and you feel so guilty canceling on them-again. 
  “Cariño, I was just kidding, please don’t cry, you can tell them I begged if it means we get to see you” his voice now laced with obvious panic.
  You’re trying desperately to calm your breathing and push down the guilt that you feel for lying yet again to your best friend. “ I know you were just joking, I just…” hiccuping between words trying to stave off a horrible panic attack. “I had a long week and work was so stressful, I don’t want to put a dark cloud on the night”. 
  He knows you're lying but he’ll never push you. 
  “Okay cariño, you said that last time but I won’t push you”. 
  There’s a brief moment of silence and you wonder if you should hang up first. 
  Santi takes a deep breath and you're preparing yourself to hear the worst “You know I would do anything for you”,Just say I love you another brief moment of silence passes over you. You know he’s not expecting a response. 
  “I know” Just say I love you 
  End call.
  ****
  Santi enters the bar alone-again. He does not want to have this conversation-again. He plasters on the best wide grin he can muster as he approaches the group. 
  “Long time no see hermañ-” Frankie is cut off by Benny’s obnoxious groan. 
  “AGAIN”, Benny can’t hide his annoyance, though he’s never been much for subtlety. 
  “Nice to see you too Ben” Santi hangs his head not wanting to look amongst the men he’s known for his entire adult life. “I tried,” he says sincerely. 
  “Not hard enough obviously”Ben grumbles under his breath. 
  Santi flips him the middle finger “Fuck off”. 
  Between the conversation he had with you and Ben's warm welcome Santi is at his end. 
  Always the voice of reason Will chimes in “Can we all cool it please?”. Santi pulls up a chair next to Frankie and slaps his friend on the back as a silent hello. 
  “I know it’s that fucker Mike, she just won’t say it”. Benny says still unwilling to drop the subject . Your boyfriend of 6 months wasn’t a fan amongst the boys. They tried in the beginning to like him, all with the exception of Ben. He always had an uneasy feeling about him. 
  “We haven’t seen her in weeks” Ben says almost in a whisper. 
  Will rubs the back of his neck nervously and looks to his brother, “ Ben you gotta stop, you’re gonna drive yourself crazy”. 
  “Oh I KNOW you’re not calling me crazy” Ben says almost at a shout inside the bar. Some patrons have started to raise their eyebrows at the heated conversation taking place amongst the oddly handsome men. Ben leans in real close so that only the boys can hear his taunting tone. “ Will drives by her house everyday, even though it takes an extra 15 minutes to get home”. 
  “You never shut up do you?” Will grumbles at his brother. 
  Santi chuckles to himself, finding some reprieve in the Miller brothers' bickering. He glances to his left to see Frankie deep in thought. His arms crossed tight across his chest and his brows furrowed, his eyes boring a hole into the table. 
  Frankie knows how long it’s been-37 days. At first you still came out with them and saw them as often as you could but over time the excuses started. You didn’t stop by the house as much, and then you missed a few barbecues. Once you stopped coming out for drinks he knew things might be changing for good. He didn’t want to think about that for too long, it hurt too much. 
  You used to spend so much time at the Millers you had your own drawer for extra clothes in his room. You kept your Vanilla body wash in his shower for when you would stay over and had a spare toothbrush in his bathroom. He missed the smell of your lavender shampoo lingering in your hair when you would curl up next to him on the couch for movie night. 
  Moving in with the Millers felt like a step back at first, when he struggled with his addiction but you started spending more and more time there. As time went on he felt like a part of the household and not so much a burden or an unwanted guest. You started spending so much time there that the three men had a conversation about you moving in. You paying rent at your own house didn’t make sense when you practically lived there 5 days a week. 
  They knew you were so fiercely independent that you enjoyed still having a place to call your own. Once you started seeing Mike the entire idea was out of the question. Frankie regrets not having that conversation everyday. 
  “Fish” Santi calling his name brings him back to his current reality. You’re not here with them
  “I’m gonna grab a pitcher while they finish bickering” Santi gestures his fingers between the two brothers. 
  “Nope” Frankie slams his hands down on the table and abruptly stands up. “We’re gonna go keep our girl company if she’s not gonna come out with us”. 
  “Hell ya”, Benny whoops and stands up as Will shrinks in the chair hating the eyes of the bar patrons once again focused on them. 
  “Will?” Santi looks to his comrade hoping he’ll be the voice of reason. 
  “As much as I think she deserves her privacy, I’m starting to get worried”. Benny grabs the arm of Santiago and all but yanks the poor man out of his seat. “So it’s settled, we’re going to get our girl”. 
  The boys make their way out of the bar as if they're  on one of the most important missions of their career. 
  Santi is buzzing with nervous excitement. “You boys head over and I’ll grab some beers and her favorite snacks from the store”. 
  “You might want to grab some of the hard stuff too,you know she loves tequila when she’s sad”, Benny yells across the parking lot to Santi. 
  ****
  Benny is practically bouncing as they walk the short path up to your cottage style home. He spent months helping you find this house when you finally had enough money to leave your apartment. 
  He realized how much he missed you as he took in all the little details of your home that made you who you are. Not being offered much individuality in the military it was important to you to make your home special. 
  The wooden bench with cast iron frame that Will and Frankie built for you as a housewarming gift sits perfectly on your front porch. The honeysuckle growing over the lattice has finally provided you with enough privacy to enjoy your morning coffee before work. 
  He’s taking in all the surroundings except for your boyfriend's truck parked across the street from your house. 
  Will makes it up your steps first and begins to knock when he hears shouting coming from inside. 
  “YOU'RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!” they can clearly tell it’s Mike and Benny all but knocks his brother over to bang on the door. 
  They anxiously wait for an answer but no one comes to the door. Ben goes to bang on the door again but Will grabs his arm. 
  “What the fuck are you doing, I’m not just gonna stand around and wait for an answer”. Ben practically has steam coming out of his ears as he stares down his brother. 
  While the brothers are bickering Frankie is counting down the minutes since they knocked. He’s picking at his jean pocket out of nervous habit,wishing he had at least one beer before heading over here to calm his nerves. Are you okay on the other side of that door? 
  “I know man but I just need you to think for a minute, take a deep breath”. Will looks at his brother with pleading eyes. Ben takes a long exaggerated inhale and exhales. “Okay, I took a deep breath and now I’m gonna kick the door down”. 
  “BEN” Frankie pushes past him to the door. “What Frank , you guys can just fix the door later”. 
  Frankie turns around and huffs as he digs through his pockets glancing at both brothers as if they've grown two heads. “We all have fucking keys to her house”. 
  As Frankie begins to unlock your door with his spare key he hopes you won’t be upset with them, of course you won’t be. 
  ****
  Santi was hesitant at first, this has to be crossing a boundary. He thought about you while perusing the candy aisle for your favorites(and Bennys).
Checking on you after you asked for space  is not crossing a boundary. The years you’ve all spent together in delta force and after should tell him that, this is necessary. Killing people together wasn’t crossing a boundary, huddled up for warmth on a mission with no clothes between you because it was life or death wasn’t crossing a boundary, the boys all but forcing you to move to a city you've never been after leaving delta because they couldn’t bear the thought of being away from you. 
  You might get mad at first but you always get over it, he thought to himself as he finished paying for the insane amount of drinks and snacks because he was sure once you calmed down you would welcome them with open arms-like you always did. 
  As Santi rounds the corner to your street he can see the obnoxious camo wrap lifted truck parked adjacent to your house (this can’t be good). Your boyfriend's truck always bothered him; he wasn't even military. 
  Panic sets in as Santi puts his car in park and doesn’t see anyone outside your house. He decides to ditch the snacks to assess what might be happening inside. As he runs up the path to your house he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees you and Benny sitting on the wooden bench Frankie built for you. 
  His relief is short-lived when he sees your blood shot eyes and Benny cradling you in his arms as if you’re going to run away any moment.  
  Mike is a dead man. 
Next
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jacobstonewriter-blog · 27 days ago
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DOAYS - Chapter [Two]
As I stood under the showerhead, scalding hot water danced down my tired back. If only the soothing water could melt away my fears. Call me childish if you want, but I didn't want to be an omega. Not that it was shameful or anything, but I didn't want to end up as a trophy. Omegas were rare. The Moon Goddess granted only a handful of omegas to a pack at any given time. For example, Luna was the only omega.
"You're overthinking things," Orion said. "Who said you're about to turn into an omega wolf? You could as well turn into a submissive beta."
I froze at his words. Maybe. Betas were the only class with fluidity. Betas could be submissive and dominant. It gave me hope. Alphas, however, were always dominant, while Omegas were submissive. But don't let the title fool you. Omegas were known as submissive alphas. They were a tad weaker than an alpha but stronger than a beta. However, omegas were too gentle to throw their weight around.
As for the deltas and werewolves without ranks, they were not as influenced by pheromones. Or maybe they didn't give a shit about whipping their dicks around to display their dominance.
"Just go with the flow, Cal. You're driving me crazy."
I scoffed at Orion before turning off the shower. The heavy blanket of steam soon dispersed as I dried myself off. I wrapped a towel around my waist before I gathered up all of my belongings. I then exited the stall and stepped into the chaos of the crowded locker room. Swallowing heavily, I lowered my head toward the black and white tiled floor before I embarrassed myself by getting an erection. The locker room was bustling with naked men strutting their stuff around without inhibitions. I rushed over to my locker and started changing into my jeans and a red T-shirt.
A large hand slapped me on the back of my back, causing me to squeak out, much to my humiliation. Several chuckles rang out. I glared at Justin as he smirked at me, but my glare faltered when my traitorous eyes landed on my best friend's chiseled chest.
"Sorry, Cal," Justin chuckled, removing his pants. I quickly averted my eyes. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"You didn't," I replied sheepishly while slipping on my sneakers.
"Yeah, right..."
I retrieved my backpack before slamming the locker door. Hesitating about leaving, I swayed on the spot before sinking down onto the bench. I didn't want to go home. Most likely, my father was waiting for me with another lecture, locked and loaded.
Justin sat down beside me and said, "You can't avoid your father. You have to tell him."
I scratched the imaginary itch on my stubbled chin before replying, "Yeah, I know. But I don't have the strength for one of his lectures. He always compares me to my brothers."
Justin slung his arm around my neck. My face warmed at his touch. "Just ignore him. He's too wrapped up in his own glory to see your worth." He pulled me closer, pecking me on the side of my head. "You are not your brothers. You're smarter than they are and you have other skills that could benefit the pack in the future. That is why my father agreed to send you to college."
That is why I had a crush on my best friend. He was always there for me when I needed him. My lips curled into a smile. I patted his hand before saying, "Thanks. You're a great friend to have in my corner."
Justin laughed, giving me another hug before standing. I nearly fell off the bench when his massive dick came so close to slapping me in the face.
"What the hell?! Get your dick out of my face, you idiot!" I grabbed my bag and retreated to a safe distance. My face must have been red as a tomato.
Justin held his stomach while his laughter filled the locker room. "Oh, come on. It's harmless." The idiot touched his placid member, fondling it.
"Jeez! Stop touching yourself in front of others! You're a pervert!"
Justin roared as he laughed. He enjoyed embarrassing me whenever he got the chance to do so. And being depraved at the most inappropriate time made things even worse. It took all of my willpower not to take a peek at the monstrosity.
"Fine! Fine..." Justin raised his hands in the air while backtracking toward the showers. "My dick is probably too much for a virgin such as yourself, anyway."
His laughter died down when his sexy ass disappeared around the corner, leaving me hot and bothered. I had to shift my erection before it became apparent just how much I enjoyed his show, much to my dismay. Asshole...
I grumbled under my breath while I ran out of the locker room and toward my car. The orange glow of the setting sun stretched across the sky, bathing the parking lot in its embrace. A flock of birds chirped overhead as they flew home to rest in the forest that surrounded the school. I quickly reached the silver SUV and unlocked it. After throwing my bag in the passenger seat, I inserted the keys into the ignition. The car gurgled to life before driving out of the parking lot toward my childhood home, where my father undoubtedly waited for me.
**********
Ten minutes later, I drove through a wrought-iron gate and parked next to my brother's black Camaro. You see, the rest of my siblings were the sparkles in my father's eyes, while my mother tried her best to love us all. My father showed his love by buying brand-new cars for my brothers and younger sister, while he handed my mother's old SUV to me. Not that I complained, though. My mother looked after her car and the SUV still looked brand new but with a couple of thousands of miles under its belt.
You would have guessed I'd be mad at my father's antics, but I wasn't. I gave up a long time ago on gaining his approval, which was never going to happen. There was no pleasing him. Don't get me wrong. My father wasn't abusive, and he didn't throw me in the basement of our house because I wasn't as good enough as my other siblings were. He was just a grouchy old fucker who had his emotions scrambled through years of service to the pack. 'For the good of the pack' was his motto. And he lived by that creed.
Since I wasn't as strong and a kiss-ass, my father didn't pay that much attention to me. Only when I fucked up did he love reminding me of it. Now you're wondering about my younger sister. She was the baby of the family and my father's princess. So, whenever she cried wolf, he trampled anyone into the dirt to serve her every whim. And Goddess, did she know how to manipulate him?
The cherry-red BMW she got a few months ago told you everything you needed to know. Not to mention all the designer clothes my sister wore while I had to buy my clothes at Target most of the time.
I sighed at all the thoughts that mulled around in my head and exited the SUV. I slowly made my way toward the front door of the Mediterranean-style mansion we lived in. Eight spacious bedrooms (en-suites included), three additional bathrooms, a dining room, a grand kitchen, a living room fit for a king, a gaming room, and a library. That doesn't even cover the backyard and its long list of goodies.
I opened the front door silently and peeked into the foyer. It was quiet. Stepping onto the white marble floor, I closed the door and sneaked over to the winding staircase. But as luck would have it, my father called my name from the living room.
"Caleb!" My father's voice boomed throughout the house. "Get your ass in here now!" My siblings' snickers rang out afterward.
Great... a captive audience.
My bag hit the marble floor as I made my way into the spacious living area. A large, beige L-shaped couch took up most of the living space, snaking around the room with a glass coffee table sitting in the center. Several empty bottles of beer littered the red shaggy carpet underneath. My mother was about to freak out when she saw the mess my father and brothers had created. The three beasts lounged on the couch while watching, you guessed it—football.
Just as I reached the back of the suede couch, my father said, "Tell me why coach Simmons called me and said that he has kicked you off the team?" His brown eyes glared back at me while he drank his beer.
My brothers' heads rose from their nests and stared at me. Their lips twitched into a grin, anticipating a fight between me and my dear old dad.
I rolled my eyes and replied, "My heart's not into the game anymore... I have—"
"I don't care if your heart isn't in the game anymore. When you start something, you finish it to the fullest extent of your ability. Haven't I already told you this?"
And there you have it, another speech on how to act. My father believed in a strict moral code. One that he constantly shoved down our throats. While my brothers followed his creed like puppies, I was the only one to vomit it up. I wasn't my father.
I glanced at the TV, trying to avoid his judgmental stare reserved only for me. At first, when I was younger, I always tried to gain his approval. But I soon realized there was nothing to be earned. If you didn't follow his teachings to a letter, he had no time for you. In a couple of weeks, I would graduate from school, and hopefully unshackle myself from his oppression.
The blare of the TV filled the silent room for a minute before his father said, "Has your tongue run dry, boy? If you're not willing to speak, then you'll listen."
My father rose from the couch, rising several inches higher into the sky than me. His bulging muscles flexed under his green polo shirt. "You'll return to school tomorrow and beg your coach to give you another chance. Even if you have to beg."
"No," I replied. My body froze in shock as I realized what I had done. Darn mouth!
A growl escaped my father's mouth as his eyes glowed blue for a second. The word my father hated the most was hearing 'no' from his children. He demanded absolute obedience. A few strands of his salt-and-pepper hair flopped down onto his forehead. My brothers snickered as my father strutted toward me.
"Repeat that..." His beer-drenched breath fanned my face. Eww!
I took everything in me at that moment not to flee. But I knew better. He would have beaten me to a pulp before I could have reached the safety of my room. From the corner of my eyes, my father flexed his fingers into fists. I gulped while my heart threatened to short-circuit.
"Man up!" Orion yapped. "We can't let him intimidate us like this."
"He'll kill us!"
A calloused hand grabbed me by the chin and lifted my face. "It appears you're not as dominant as your siblings. Such a disappointment... I had hoped that Justin's influence might have rubbed off on you, but it seems I was fooling myself."
Disappointment? One word. How could such a simple word cause such damage? My heart broke when the word slipped out of my father's mouth. I had always suspected that I disappointed him, but he never said it out loud. The corner of my left eye itched as tears pooled there. However, before it could fall, my mother intervened.
"What's going on here?" My mother's sharp voice cut through the living room. My brothers quickly lowered their heads from view while my father's anger evaporated on the spot.
I pulled my chin free and whipped around, rushing toward the foyer. My mother and sister stood in my way, but I snaked past them without lifting my head to meet them. My mother called out to me, but I ignored her. I wiped the tears off my cheek before grabbing my bag off the ground and hauling my ass up to my room.
Fuck my life.
PS: Chapters 1 - 34 are available on my Patreon page: patreon.com/user?u=51308804.
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creekcoffee · 1 month ago
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It ain't me (Rick Sanchez/Fem!reader)
You and rick had a confusing relationship. You were in your late 20’s and he was pushing 70… it was weird but you had a thing for older dudes, especially rick. After youre last bender you went on with rick he said some vile things and you had enough of his shit so youre gone for good. He spirals and expects you to be there but you wont budge (as much as you want to) based on the song It ain't me by Kygo and Salena Gomez.
Tw: Sexual assault, drug use, abuse, age gap.
I don't know what day it is anymore. I've been venturing out into the cosmos with Rick ingesting every drug we came across. We had just stopped at delta-a106 and drank a k-lax smoothie on the highest floor of the most prestigious club. The richest of the rich would hang out there 24/7. I was high as fuck and everything felt amazing. Me and Rick laid out on lounge chairs watching the sky glow and sparkle with a purple and pink hue. I really needed to pee so I went in search of a restroom as Rick laid on the patio dozing in and out of consciousness. I stumbled into the building looking for anything that resembled a bathroom sign but everything was in an alien language I had yet to learn. I finally found a door that looked like it could be a bathroom so I entered in quickly. As soon as I entered I ran into a stall and had instant relief. I finished peeing and what not and went to wash my hands but as soon as I opened the stall door I was met with a bunch of galorpians foaming from all three of their mouths and their slimy tentacles slithering towards me. I then knew that I stumbled into the wrong bathroom and now I'm surrounded by a bunch of aliens and I can't tell if they're rageful or horny…. or both. I tried to ease my way around them muttering a string of sorrys and excuse me but they stood in my way and backed me into the stall. I was horrified as I started crying and yelling for Rick to help me. There were tentacles trying to undo my blouse and slithering up my long sleeves and I just wanted to die right there. A few moments pass as I'm being violated by these fucking galorpians and the bathroom door slams open and i hear rick angrily call out for me. I start screaming for him and he realizes what the fuck is happening. He blasts through the herd of aliens with ease and drags me out of the gut covered stall. He's pissed. I started explaining that I just had to pee and wandered into the wrong bathroom and how I didn’t mean for this to happen. When I got to the car he started tearing into me. “Why the fuck did you wander off without me, you know these fuckheads can smell you from miles away!” Tears slowly prickle my eyes as I try to explain that it wasn’t my intention to ruin the night and get myself into trouble but he disagrees. “I can’t deal with your shit anymore y/n. all you do is make me question why the fuck did I bring this whore with me. You're so unbelievably helpless and needy! I bet you wanted that to happen in the bathroom didn’t you?” I was in shock… I didn't know how to react to what he said except start crying aggressively. How could he say that I wanted something like this? It wasn’t my fault.. I pulled myself together and gathered my thoughts on what he just said. “make me a portal.” I said. “what?” “MAKE ME A PORTAL… I’m done here you can enjoy your time here I'm going home so I won't ruin shit for you anymore” I replied. He scoffed and opened up a portal to my home “Gladly! I don't know why I spent so much energy on you.” I walked through the portal as pain radiated through my chest. It hurt. All of this hurt.
read chapter two here
this is my first fic but I've read so many fics for the last 10 yrs and figured it was time to write my own. also I posted this on my Ao3 under the same title.
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bluecottenswab · 1 month ago
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Dottore x N!by/n.
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This y/n as Dottores assistant 
Also the Dottore known as Prime is the Dottore in the title. 
There is a little cussing in this chapter
This might be super cringe, so sorry abt that!
__________________________________
YOUR POV 
"General Y/n Lord Dottore has called for your presence immediately" 
Look up as I see a Fatui Skirmisher waiting for me to  follow him. Standing, I mumble in annoyance.
'ah, what must he need now?'
 Heading to Dottores office, I spot Delta (one of Dottores clones) leaning on a wall waiting for my arrival.
"Ah Y/n it's nice to see you again" 
Delta spoke, he was clearly annoyed.
As the both of us walk together into the lab, I look around for any signs of what I might be needed for. A chill runs down the back of my  neck, hesitantly turning around, nothing is there. Closing my eyes, I turn back around.
"I know it's you"
"Hmm"
Opening my eyes, Dottore hands me a paper.
" You must be wondering why you are here. Well anyway, go get me some ruin parts. Oh and while you are at it get some Slime concentrate, three will do." 
He clearly wanted this to be done fast.  Waiting for anymore information, Delta was quick to speak.
" Get this done in less than three hours. Well what are you waiting for? Time is ticking!"
And with that I bowed to the both, and quickly took off running. The cold doesn't bother me anymore. Walking deeper and deeper into the heart of the Snezhnaya tundra, I spot a group of cyro slimes. Rushing forward, I dodge the attacks with ease. My sword slides though the monster, blowing it up in the process. The only thing I need now are the ruin parts. As I continue walking through the thick snow, a noise can be heard in the  distance. When I arrive, I'm met with a little boy in the middle of 4 Ruin guards. Covering the he boy with my back, a missile hits. Blood runs down my back. Using my pyro vision I set a Ruin guard on fire. As for the others I block their attacks. 
"What an inconvenience." 
I mutter, right now and the kids life doesn't matter, I was already late. I shove the kid out of the way and kill the last two Ruin guards, out of nowhere I feel a hard object hit my back. I head smash's into a near by tree, blood goes down my face and the whole world goes numb. Struggling to get up, I am met with a rouge clone. Dottore said they were all killed. But clearly not. 
"I thought all of you died, how are you alive?"
It stays silent. The clone holds up a syringe. 
"Why would you care? You're gonna be dead anyway. I can't wait to kill you!"
"Hmm, I don't think so"
My vision glows brighter, a spark going through my body. Grabbing my sword, me and the clone attack each other. Swords clashing, dodging left and right. Kicking a the clones side, I send him flying.
"So you think you can beat me, just wait"
The clone yells. A foot slams into my stomach. My body gets launched through trees. I struggle to stay up. Reaching up to my head, blood covers my  hand. 
'I've lost way to much blood'
"You are weak"
The clone yells, picks me up my the neck and injects me with the liquid. 
"I should crush your head... no, I can experiment on yo-"
A shot rings out. I let my arm fall. The gun was actually useful, and here I thought it was stupid. Picking up the clone, I throw him over my shoulder and finish collecting the materials. 
*Back at your room a couple hours late*
Giving the dead clone to a soldier, I tell him to take it down to the lab.
"Oh god" 
The clone hit pretty hard, lifting  up my shirt, I am meet with a massive bruise starting to form. Realizing what time it was, I quickly put your shirt on, and try to get all the way down to Dottores lab, he is probably going to kill me for being late. Knocking on the metal door a couple times, Delta answers. He looks at the condition I'm in, he grabs hold of my arm in support. 
"Stop touching me, I can walk"
"Y/n  what happened to you? Oh my, you have blood running down your head! Come on let me give these materials to Prime. Don't worry I'll be back." 
Wow. He ignored me. Grabbing at the near by surgical table, my adrenaline has gone down and pain consumes me. My muscles start to loosen, making me wobble. The world darkens to fast, arms quickly wrap around me.
DOTTORES POV
As I caught Y/n in my arms I start to worry seeing the state they are in. Pulling them up in bridal style, put them down onto the surgical table. I curse myself for not making Delta go with them. 
"Fuck, the bleeding is getting worse. DELTA get me bandages now!!" 
Delta runs off, I check for any other injuries. Lifting Y/n shirt up to the middle part of Y/n's chest, I see a massive bruise. With Delta returning I bandage where the bleeding is, and add healing oil to the bruise and the many scratches scattered around. Pushing their hair up, I rub oil on the massive cut on their forehead.
"Next time I promise I won't let anyone or anything hurt you again. Please dear don't fail me now, I need you in my life. Just stay with me that's all asking."
I mumble to myself as I lean my head onto their lap, I slowly start to feel my eyes close ever slightly, and I fade into sleep
* Hour later and Y/N'S POV*
"Where am I?"
I grunt as I am awoken to having a heavy feeling on my lap. I try to see what it is only to be shot with a painful feeling. Using the little strength I have left to try to see what is on me. As look I see Dottore laying his head on my lap. Taking a  closer look at his face I blush to see a very handsome face under his metal mask. But also tears?? 
" Are you to just stare at my face or what "
Dottore mumbled. 
" uh I'm s-sorry Lord Dottore"
I look at him in shock as he just stares back at my face. I watch as he slowly gets up and checks my wounds. As he pokes at the bruise on my stomach I wince in pain as I feel like passing out again. 
" Y/n what did happened on your mission? Did someone attack you?" 
"What the real answer?"
"Of course"
"Ok, ok. So you know when you killed all of the clones that escaped. Wellll... one was still alive and it attacked me. I mean part of it was the Ruin Guard, but likeee 99% was the clone." 
I was quickly shut up by Dottore putting a finger to my mouth as he started talking again.
" Don't do that again, I know it weird for me to say it but... you made both me and all clones very worried when you were over 5 hours late."
He ended with a sigh as he cupped my face and kissed my forehead ever so slightly. I blushed so hard I could feel my own body heat. Dottore then spoke
" I think you know what that means" 
He said as he walked away with a genuine smile. I had to say something. I liked him too but, what if it was all joke? But I took the risk.
"Dottore I like you too"
"Ah, don't worry I already knew. You look cute with that flushed face of yours." 
He just laughed it off, while my face was turning brighter at the moment. All the pain I felt disappeared and embarrassment took over.
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This story comes from my Wattpad
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