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jzprncess · 5 months ago

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the neighbor effect

pairing : oscar piastri x reader

oneshot

word count : 9,449

summary : Y/N moves to Monaco for a fresh start, thinking it’s just gonna be her, baking, and figuring things out. Then there’s her neighbor, Oscar—super chill, always around, but completely mysterious. They bond over cookies and muffins, and Y/N has no idea that he’s actually a Formula 1 driver. But when the Monaco Grand Prix weekend rolls around, everything goes haywire when Y/N realizes she’s been living next to someone way more famous than she ever imagined. Between all the confusion, a surprise kiss, and the chaos that follows, Y/N’s not sure if she’s in over her head—or if she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.

note : i had to rewrite parts of this over and over again. this is my longest fic so far, lets clap it up. i actually cooked with this one, please like it.

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Moving to Monaco in the middle of December sounded a lot more glamorous in theory. In reality, I spent my first night huddled under three mismatched blankets, seriously debating whether the heating in my shiny new apartment was broken or if this was just what Mediterranean winter felt like.

I’d moved here for a fresh start, something about leaving old baggage behind and stepping into the next chapter of my life. Except no one tells you that starting over often means spending a lot of time alone, wondering if you made the right decision.

That’s how I found myself in the hallway on my second day, struggling to carry a too-large box labeled Kitchen Stuff & Regret. I hadn’t realized how much I’d overpacked until I was halfway to my door, my arms trembling under the weight.

“Need a hand?”

The voice startled me, and I nearly dropped the box. I turned to see a guy standing a few feet away, wearing a black hoodie, gray joggers, and a curious expression.

“Uh, no, I’m good,” I lied, immediately regretting it as the box tilted precariously.

“Right,” he said, clearly unconvinced. Without waiting for permission, he stepped forward and took the box from me like it weighed nothing.

“Show-off,” I muttered, but I couldn’t help but smile.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Just being neighborly.”

“Thanks,” I said as he followed me to my door. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“Oscar,” he replied, setting the box down inside my apartment.

Up close, I could see he was probably around my age—early twenties—with sharp features and an easy confidence about him. He glanced around my half-unpacked living room, taking in the mess of boxes and furniture.

“Just moved in?” he asked.

“Yeah. Trying to figure out where I want everything before I give up and let chaos take over.”

He smiled, nodding toward the box. “Well, good luck with that. I’m right across the hall if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” I said, leaning against the doorframe as he stepped back into the hallway.

“See you around,” he said with a nod before disappearing into his apartment.

And just like that, I had my first real interaction with the mysterious neighbor across the hall.

After he left, I stood in the doorway for a moment, staring at the closed door across from mine like it might open again. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. With a shrug, I kicked the box into the living room, officially declaring it a problem for Future Me.

The next few days were a blur of unpacking, assembling furniture, and discovering that Monaco in December was a lot colder than I’d prepared for. Gone were my delusions of sipping coffee on the balcony in the morning sun. Instead, I huddled inside, bundled in my coziest hoodie, and watched the world outside through the frost-slicked windows.

Oscar, true to his enigmatic vibe, was nowhere to be seen. A part of me wondered if he was some kind of ghost who only materialized to save clumsy new neighbors and then vanished into the ether. But his sporadic comings and goings proved otherwise—sometimes I’d hear the ding of the elevator late at night or the faint shuffle of footsteps in the hallway. I never caught him, though.

Until one particularly cold Saturday morning.

I was juggling a steaming mug of coffee, my phone, and a box of garbage bags as I headed for the trash chute at the end of the hall. The scene was already precarious, but things got worse when my phone buzzed with a notification. I glanced down instinctively, and that was my fatal error.

One wrong step, and my foot caught on absolutely nothing because I’m just that talented. I stumbled forward, my coffee cup slipping from my grasp in a glorious slow-motion arc.

“Oh, sh—”

A hand shot out, catching the cup mid-air.

“Impressive,” came the familiar voice.

I turned, my face hot with embarrassment, to see Oscar standing there, coffee cup in one hand and an amused smirk on his face. He was in the same casual uniform as before—hoodie, joggers, and sneakers—but this time with a beanie pulled low over his head.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking,” I said, trying to play it cool despite the very uncool way I’d almost face planted.

“You’re welcome,” he said, handing me the cup.

“How do you keep showing up exactly when I’m about to embarrass myself?”

“Great timing, I guess,” he replied, leaning against the wall.

I could tell he was holding back a laugh, which only made me more flustered. “Do you just hang out in the hallway waiting for me to trip over thin air, or…?”

“Caught me,” he said, deadpan. “It’s my new hobby.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Well, thanks for the save… again.”

“No problem.” He glanced down at the garbage bags I’d dropped in the chaos. “You planning to carry all that to the chute by yourself, or should I brace for round two of Disaster Neighbor?”

“Ha, ha,” I said, handing him a bag. “Since you’re offering, you might as well help.”

third pov

By the time they made it to the trash chute, Y/N had successfully recovered from her near wipeout—mostly. Oscar, on the other hand, seemed far too amused by the whole thing.

“So,” she said, trying to fill the silence as they walked back to their apartments. “Do you just live in the gym, or are you naturally good at catching falling objects and lifting heavy things?”

He shrugged. “Bit of both.”

“Not much of a talker, huh?”

He glanced at her, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I talk when there’s something to say.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Mysterious and vague. Classic.”

They stopped outside her door, and for a moment, there was an awkward silence. She fiddled with the sleeve of her hoodie, suddenly hyper-aware of how close they were standing.

“Well, thanks for the help. Again.”

“Anytime,” he said, his tone casual but warm.

She opened her door, stepping inside. As she turned to close it, she caught him glancing down the hallway, like he was debating something.

“See you around?” she offered.

“Yeah,” he said, meeting her gaze. “See you around.”

The door clicked shut, and Y/N let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She leaned against the door for a moment, her mind replaying the interaction like a movie montage.

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

And for now, that was enough.

y/n’s pov

It all started with a craving and a little too much confidence.

Baking had always been my go-to for stress relief, but I tended to overestimate how much one person could realistically eat before things got weird. Case in point: the mountain of oatmeal walnut cookies currently cooling on every flat surface of my kitchen.

“Great job, Y/N,” I muttered, surveying the sugary battlefield. “Really nailed the whole moderation thing.”

The smell of warm cinnamon and toasted walnuts was amazing, but even I had limits. Unless I planned on eating cookies for every meal for the next week—which, tempting as it sounded, probably wasn’t the move—I needed a plan.

That’s when my eyes flicked toward the door across the hall.

My neighbor hadn’t been home much, but when he was, he seemed nice enough. And if anyone looked like they could put away an entire batch of cookies without breaking a sweat, it was the guy who casually caught flying coffee cups and lifted trash bags like they were empty.

Grabbing a plate, I stacked a neat pile of cookies on it, covering them with foil. I debated for a second, wondering if this was too random, but then I thought, What’s the worst that could happen? Worst case: no one’s home, and I keep the cookies. Best case: I earn brownie points—or, well, cookie points—with the mysterious dude across the hall.

Balancing the plate in one hand, I opened my door and stepped into the hallway.

third pov

Y/N hesitated in front of Oscar’s door, suddenly hyper-aware of how quiet the hallway was. For all she knew, he could’ve been halfway across the world. But before she could talk herself out of it, she raised her free hand and knocked lightly.

There was a pause, long enough for her to start retreating, but then she heard the lock turn.

The door opened to reveal Oscar, looking a little rumpled but still effortlessly put-together in a hoodie and sweats. His hair stuck up slightly, like he’d just rolled out of bed.

“Uh, hey,” Y/N started, holding up the plate like an offering. “I, um, baked too many cookies and thought… maybe you’d want some?”

For a second, Oscar just blinked at her. Then a small smile tugged at his lips, softening his usual stoic expression. “Cookies?”

“Oatmeal walnut,” she said, suddenly feeling a little ridiculous. “Unless you’re allergic to walnuts. In which case, I’m so sorry, and I’ll just—”

“I’m not allergic,” he cut in, stepping aside. “Come in.”

y/n’s pov

I followed him into his apartment, still holding onto the slightly awkward feeling of standing at someone’s door with a plate of cookies. His space was immaculate—like a showroom. Sleek black counters, stainless steel appliances, and not a single thing out of place. My own apartment, with its half-unpacked boxes and cluttered surfaces, suddenly felt like a war zone by comparison.

“Wow,” I said, glancing around. “Your place is… ridiculously clean. Do you live here or just visit?”

He smirked as he placed the plate of cookies on the counter. “I’m not here much. It’s easier to keep clean when you’re gone half the time.”

“Fair,” I said, leaning against the counter as he peeled the foil off the plate. “Meanwhile, my place looks like I’m hoarding cardboard boxes and random piles of clothes. Maybe I’ll just hire you to organize for me.”

He glanced up, an amused glint in his eye. “I’ll pass. But thanks for the offer.”

I laughed. “That was fast. I didn’t even get to bribe you with more cookies.”

“Speaking of,” he said, picking one up and turning it over in his hand like he was inspecting it for quality control, “what made you bake… this many?”

“Stress,” I admitted, crossing my arms. “Unpacking is the worst. Plus, I’m a chronic over-baker. I think I made about sixty.”

He raised an eyebrow, taking a bite. “Sixty?”

“Give or take.”

“You know there’s only one of you, right?”

“That’s why I’m here,” I said with a grin. “I figured I’d share the wealth.”

He nodded, chewing thoughtfully. After a moment, he swallowed and said, “These are good.”

“You’re not just saying that, are you? Be honest.”

“I’m serious,” he said, reaching for another. “If I didn’t like them, you’d know.”

“Good to know you don’t sugarcoat things,” I said. “No pun intended.”

“Sure it wasn’t,” he said with a small smirk.

I rolled my eyes but smiled. “You’re lucky I like honesty. Anyway, I hope you’re hungry because I’ve got a whole army’s worth of these across the hall.”

“I can tell,” he said, grabbing a second cookie. “You ever thought about selling these?”

“Selling cookies? No, not really,” I said, a little flustered by the compliment. “I mean, it’s just a hobby.”

He leaned against the counter, taking another bite. “Could be a profitable hobby.”

“Oh yeah? Think I could make it big with oatmeal walnut cookies? Maybe I’ll start a cookie empire.”

“Could be worth a shot,” he said, his tone completely serious, though I could see the hint of humor in his expression.

“Alright, well, if I go global, I’ll make sure to mention you in my TED Talk about chasing my dreams,” I said with a laugh.

“Appreciate it,” he said, deadpan.

I shook my head, still smiling. “Alright, I should get going. Don’t want to interrupt your… whatever you were doing before I showed up.”

He glanced toward his living room, where a laptop sat open on the coffee table. “Wasn’t doing much. Just catching up on some things.”

“Well, now you’ve got cookies to keep you company,” I said, pushing off the counter.

“Thanks for these,” he said, walking with me toward the door. “They’re seriously good.”

“Anytime,” I replied. “And if you ever need more… or, you know, want to start organizing my apartment, just let me know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, opening the door for me.

I stepped into the hallway and turned back to face him. “Enjoy the cookies, Oscar.”

“Thanks, Y/N. See you around.”

As the door clicked shut behind me, I couldn’t help but smile to myself. It was such a simple interaction, but it left me feeling lighter somehow—like I was finally settling into this new life, one cookie and awkward conversation at a time.

third pov

The morning light streaming through the kitchen window felt different today, like a fresh start. Y/N stood at the counter, stirring a bowl of banana bread batter with a slight smile on her face. She had a steady rhythm, something she had found comfort in since moving to Monaco. Today, however, was different. She wasn't just baking for herself or because she had nothing else to do.

After dropping off the cookies to Oscar yesterday, she’d felt an odd rush of excitement. Oscar hadn’t said much—just thanked her and ate them right there—but there was something in the way he seemed genuinely happy that had sparked an idea in her head.

Maybe I should actually consider this...

She’d been thinking about it all night, the thought gnawing at her in the quiet moments before sleep. A job. Something more than just living off her savings while she figured out what to do with herself. The idea of working in a bakery, helping people start their day with something sweet, didn’t sound half bad. Maybe she’d make some friends along the way, too.

She paused mid-stir to glance around her kitchen. It was quiet—too quiet. Her move to Monaco had been a whirlwind, and while the city was beautiful, the loneliness had crept in unexpectedly. She had only met Oscar three times, and those encounters hadn't been enough to spark a friendship, though he had been kind enough to compliment the cookies she’d given him. But she still didn't have his number. She had no way of reaching out to him for anything beyond another casual greeting if their paths crossed again.

With a sigh, she refocused on her muffin batter. The oven was preheated and ready for the batch of banana muffins she had planned. She didn’t even need the muffins for herself—she simply needed something to do.

She scrolled through a few ads on her phone for bakeries and cafes around Monaco, her fingers flying across the screen as she filled out application after application. Maybe, just maybe, this would be the start of something new.

The smell of ripe bananas filled the room, and Y/N smiled. There was something simple and grounding about baking. She didn’t need anyone else to validate her, but a small part of her wished she had someone to share the muffins with. Maybe she would take a batch to one of the cafes she’d applied to, just to show that she could bake more than just cookies.

The timer went off, signaling that the muffins were done. She pulled them from the oven, their golden tops warm and inviting. As she arranged them on a cooling rack, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a step in the right direction.

Oscar’s casual suggestion about working at a bakery had lingered with her since yesterday. She hadn’t really considered it before, but now, with a fresh batch of muffins in hand, it felt like the right time to take action. She’d send some applications today, maybe stop by a few places, and see where it led.

Even if it was just a way to get out of the apartment, maybe it would help her feel a little less alone.

After a few hours of cleaning up and putting away the last batch of muffins, Y/N sat on her couch, scrolling through her phone. She had sent a few applications and gotten a couple of quick responses asking her to come in for interviews. The thought made her feel lighter, like she was moving in the right direction. But, as she scrolled through her messages, she found herself wondering about the cookies she'd given Oscar yesterday.

What if he didn’t even like them? she thought for a second, gnawing at her lower lip. She had never done something like that for a neighbor before. It was a little… weird. But then again, they had barely talked, and she'd barely known anyone here. He probably just thought it was some random act of kindness, nothing more.

Still, she couldn't help the little spark of excitement that lingered in her chest.

With the muffins cooling on the kitchen counter, Y/N decided to go for a walk to clear her head. She tossed on her coat, scarf, and gloves—layers that were necessary with the December chill in the air—and left her apartment. The streets of Monaco were quieter now, the city settled into the crisp stillness of a cold winter evening.

As she made her way down the narrow streets, her breath puffed out in little clouds in front of her. The air was freezing, her fingers cold against her gloves, but the walk felt necessary. It was good to get out, especially with how cooped up she had been lately. The familiar feeling of solitude wrapped around her as she passed by boutique storefronts with their windows adorned for the holidays, the twinkling lights reflecting off the damp cobblestones.

She stopped at one of the cafes, the warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries pulling her inside. The door closed behind her with a satisfying jingle, and the warmth hit her face immediately. She smiled, relieved to be out of the cold.

“Coffee?” the barista asked as she walked up to the counter.

Y/N nodded, pulling off her scarf. "Please. A hot cappuccino, if you’ve got it."

The barista gave her a warm smile as she prepared the drink, and soon enough, Y/N had a steaming cup in her hands. She found a small corner table by the window and sank into the chair, basking in the warmth of the café. It was a cozy little spot, the kind where time seemed to slow down.

She stared out the window as the temperature outside dropped even further, the last few people hurrying by in layers of coats and scarves. The city felt almost otherworldly, peaceful and cold, a strange mix of quiet stillness. Y/N took a sip of her cappuccino and leaned back, letting the warmth seep into her bones.

It was then that she heard the door open again, a jingle sounding through the cafe. She glanced up, her eyes scanning the new arrivals. Her gaze landed on the familiar figure—Oscar, her neighbor, walking in with his coat zipped up tight against the cold.

He spotted her right away and waved with a grin. "Hey, Y/N!" he greeted her.

Y/N smiled back, a little surprised to see him here but pleased. “Hey, Oscar. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah, I just needed a quick coffee break,” he said, walking up to the counter. He ordered something quickly, then turned back toward her. “How’s your day been?”

She shrugged, feeling a little shy now that they were actually talking. “Good. Just baking and applying for some jobs,” she said, gesturing to her cup. “Needed to get out for a bit. It's freezing out there.”

Oscar nodded, his expression sympathetic. “I know what you mean. It’s cold enough to freeze your breath. I was just out getting some stuff for my place.”

The small talk felt comfortable, and Y/N found herself a little more relaxed with him standing there. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy—just a neighbor.

“Well, it’s nice to see a friendly face,” she said, smiling. “Monaco's a little lonely for me right now, to be honest.”

Oscar smiled back. “I get that. I moved here for work, and it's not always easy to adjust. You’re not alone, though. Everyone here’s pretty friendly.”

Y/N appreciated the sentiment and nodded, taking another sip of her drink. “Thanks, Oscar. It’s good to know.”

As he grabbed his coffee, Oscar gave her a wave before heading to a table by the window. Y/N returned to her thoughts, a warm feeling lingering in her chest. They hadn’t exchanged more than pleasantries, but something about the simple, easy conversation made her feel a little less isolated.

Y/N took another sip of her cappuccino, her eyes still lingering on Oscar as he settled at a table by the window. She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was a weirdly comfortable interaction, like one of those moments where you just feel like you clicked with someone—even if it was just casual banter about the cold.

And then, as she sat there thinking about how chill the whole thing had been, something inside her clicked.

A rush of confidence hit her like a wave. She wasn’t gonna sit here thinking about it for another second. She stood up, grabbed her cup, and made her way over to Oscar’s table like she owned the place. No hesitation. She slid into the seat in front of him without asking, crossing her arms with a mischievous grin.

“Well, well, you’re sitting so far from me. I was just telling you how lonely I was, and here you are, acting like you’re too cool to sit with me,” she said, eyebrow raised, voice teasing.

Oscar blinked in surprise for a second, clearly not expecting her to come over. But then he chuckled, clearly amused. “Wasn’t trying to be rude. Just thought I’d give you some space.”

“Oh, no space needed,” Y/N shot back, pretending to think for a second. “But if you want, I did make some banana muffins. 25 of them, actually. So, uh, you can have some later, I guess… if you’re lucky.” She leaned back, her tone playful.

Oscar’s grin spread wider, and Y/N could swear she saw his eyes light up a little at the mention of food. “Banana muffins, huh?” he said, leaning forward in his seat, the playful energy between them clear. “You’re really trying to tempt me, huh?”

Y/N smirked. “Maybe. Maybe not. I guess you’ll have to find out later.” She took another sip of her cappuccino, looking around the cozy café for a moment before her eyes landed back on him. “So, what’s your story, anyway? Besides buying coffee and sitting by windows, I mean.”

Oscar leaned back in his chair, clearly comfortable now. “Not much to tell,” he said casually. “Just trying to survive this cold. What about you, Y/N? What’s your deal?”

Y/N just shrugged, feeling more at ease with each passing second. “Oh, you know, baking muffins, trying to find a job, avoiding getting too lost in the city…” She shot him a quick look. “Honestly, though, Monaco’s a little weird, but I’m getting used to it. It’s quiet, but not the fun kind of quiet.”

Oscar nodded, his smile softening. “I get that. I felt the same when I first moved here.”

They both sat there for a few seconds, enjoying the unexpected company in a way that felt surprisingly easy for a random Tuesday afternoon.

Y/N leaned back in her chair, letting the conversation with Oscar flow naturally as they both sipped their drinks. The winter air outside had only gotten colder, but the warmth from the café made it all feel like the perfect backdrop for the two of them to talk.

“So,” Y/N began, her eyes catching his, a sudden boldness hitting her again. “Since you’re clearly not going to accept my muffin offer until later, how about we do something else next time? You know, before I leave Monaco to escape all the cold?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Escape the cold, huh? Where would you even go?”

Y/N shrugged, tapping her cup with a playful grin. “Maybe I’ll find a place that has better heating. Monaco’s nice and all, but a little more sunshine wouldn’t hurt.”

“Fair point,” Oscar chuckled. He paused for a moment, then looked at her with that signature, easygoing smile. “I could show you around sometime, if you wanted. Monaco’s got some hidden gems.”

Her heart gave a little skip at his suggestion, but she played it cool. “I’d like that. But I’m not one for getting lost in tourist traps, so it better be good.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not taking you to the usual spots,” he said, leaning back slightly, amused. “I promise. You’ll actually see some of the cool stuff here.”

She smiled, feeling the conversation shifting toward something a little more personal. And then, almost as if it was the next step, Y/N caught herself hesitating, but quickly brushed it off. “Well, if we’re going to plan that, we should probably exchange numbers. You know, in case I want to text you to stop you from taking me to any tourist traps.”

Oscar reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He handed it to her without a second thought.

“Good call,” he said with a teasing grin. “Here you go.”

Y/N took the phone and entered her number, her fingers flying across the screen. She handed it back to him with a smirk. “There. Now you can’t ghost me when I ask for your ‘hidden gem’ suggestions.”

Oscar laughed, saving her number with a nod. “Not planning on ghosting. I’ll make sure you get to see all the cool spots in Monaco.”

Y/N took a sip of her drink, the buzz of the conversation still lingering between them. It felt weirdly easy, and she liked that. “Alright then. It’s a date,” she said with a wink.

“Not sure if it’s a date,” he teased, “but I’ll take it.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, the connection between them feeling a little more real. “Fine, not a date,” she replied, “but when it happens, I’ll hold you to that promise.”

few months timeskip

Over the next few months, Y/N and Oscar settled into an unspoken rhythm. They didn’t see each other often, but when they did, it felt easy. Whether it was quick coffee breaks at the café or a casual text exchange about the best banana bread recipe, they managed to keep in touch.

Oscar, as expected, was always on the move. Y/N had asked him once what he did for work that kept him jet-setting around the world, but his response had been vague. Something about traveling for events and having a packed schedule. She didn’t push for more details, assuming it was some high-level corporate gig or freelance work that required constant relocation. Either way, she didn’t mind. They had their moments, and that was enough for now.

As for Y/N, she had settled into Monaco in a way that felt almost surreal. After a few weeks of relentless job hunting, she’d landed a position at one of the coziest bakeries in the city. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was exactly what she needed—a place to bake, to create, and to lose herself in the comforting scent of fresh bread and pastries.

Her days were now filled with kneading dough, piping frosting, and experimenting with new recipes. The bakery had its quirks, from the slightly eccentric owner who insisted on playing 80s pop music all day to her coworkers who ranged from quiet and reserved to downright chaotic. Somehow, it all worked. Y/N found herself laughing more, learning more, and slowly but surely, calling Monaco home.

Outside of work, Y/N was finally starting to build a life for herself. Some of her coworkers had become fast friends, dragging her out of the kitchen and into the buzzing nightlife Monaco had to offer. From late-night drinks at chic rooftop bars to dancing under neon lights at clubs tucked away in narrow streets, Y/N found herself embracing a side of life she hadn’t tapped into before.

It was one of those rare free days where Y/N could relax and enjoy the slowly warming Monaco weather. The gentle breeze carried in through the slightly cracked window, and the temperature hovered at a perfect 65 degrees—just cool enough to make the indoors cozy but warm enough to remind her that summer was around the corner.

Her kitchen counter was a controlled chaos of melted chocolate, parchment paper, and a vibrant pile of freshly washed strawberries. She’d decided on a whim to make chocolate-covered strawberries—a light, summery treat that felt perfect for the day. At first, it had been fun, methodically dipping each strawberry into the glossy chocolate and adding a drizzle of white chocolate for flair. But somewhere along the way, she’d gotten carried away.

When she stepped back and looked at her work, she let out a soft laugh. “This is... way too many strawberries,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. She grabbed one and took a bite, the sweetness of the strawberry perfectly balancing the richness of the chocolate.

As she finished the last one, her gaze fell on a smaller bowl she’d unconsciously filled. Without thinking, she began packing it up to bring to Oscar. It had become second nature by now—whenever she baked, she always set some aside for him. But as she made her way to the door, bowl in hand, she paused.

Her mind caught up to her actions, and she froze, staring at the door. “Wait... he’s not even home,” she muttered, groaning softly. Of course, she knew Oscar was traveling. He always was. So why had she automatically prepared something for him like he’d just be next door?

She stared at the bowl, her cheeks burning as the realization hit her. “Oh my god, I miss him,” she whispered to herself, the words making her cringe as they left her lips. She set the bowl down on the counter and groaned louder, pressing her hands against her flushed cheeks.

The thought swirled in her head, undeniable now that it had surfaced. She liked him—more than as just her friendly, quiet neighbor. She liked him in a way that made her heart race and her brain short-circuit.

She groaned again and began pacing the room. “No, no, nope. I am not catching feelings for a guy I barely know,” she muttered. But even as she said it, she knew it wasn’t true. They’d been building something—small moments of connection over the past few months that had left her looking forward to every knock on the door or text message.

With a huff, she grabbed her phone and typed out a quick text:

y/n : when are you coming home??

She hit send before she could overthink it, tossing the phone onto her couch and flopping down beside it. The May breeze drifted in, carrying the scent of spring flowers, but Y/N couldn’t shake the storm of emotions swirling inside her. “This is going to be... complicated,” she muttered to herself, covering her face with her hands.

Y/N’s phone dinged, cutting through her spiraling thoughts. She sat up quickly, snatching the device from where it had landed on the couch. Her heart did a little flip as she saw Oscar’s name pop up on the screen. She unlocked it to read his response:

oscar : I’ll be back in like 2 weeks but only for a bit—what’s up? 👀

She stared at the message, a small smile tugging at her lips. Of course, he’d throw in the eyeball emoji—it was such an Oscar thing to do, always mixing casual with a bit of humor.

For a moment, she debated how to respond. She couldn’t just say, Oh, nothing, I just made too many chocolate-covered strawberries and realized I might like you—that would be mortifying. Instead, she opted for something neutral, a safe middle ground:

y/n : Oh, no reason. Just wondering! Hope it’s not too hectic for you.

As soon as she hit send, she groaned softly, leaning back against the couch. That was a lie, but what else could she say? She put her phone down and rubbed her temples, trying to ignore the sudden burst of warmth in her chest. Two weeks wasn’t that long, right?

Still, the thought lingered in her mind: she’d never been this excited for someone to come home before.

two week timeskip

Two weeks had passed in a blur, the days slipping by faster than Y/N anticipated. The Italian Grand Prix had wrapped up over the weekend, and Monaco was buzzing with excitement for the upcoming race. The city had been transforming in preparation—barricades going up, streets morphing into a circuit, and the harbor becoming a sea of luxury yachts.

Y/N hadn’t seen or heard much from Oscar since his text, but she’d been counting down the days. He’d said he’d be home this week, and while she wasn’t exactly waiting by her door, she had taken it upon herself to have some baked goodies ready. Just in case.

A tray of brownies sat cooling on her counter alongside a tin of lemon cookies, and she was busy wiping down her kitchen counters when a knock echoed through her apartment.

Her first instinct was casual curiosity—probably her neighbor asking to borrow something or the package delivery guy. Without overthinking, she grabbed a towel to dry her hands and headed to the door, opening it mid-yawn.

And there he was.

Oscar stood on the other side, casual as ever in a hoodie and jeans, his hair slightly messy, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His expression was warm, a soft smile playing on his lips as he raised a hand in greeting.

“Hey,” he said, his voice calm, like it hadn’t been two weeks since they last spoke.

Y/N blinked, gripping the door frame for a second. She’d spent days prepping treats for his arrival, imagining this exact moment, and now her brain decided to freeze. “You’re here?” she blurted, as though he wasn’t standing directly in front of her.

His smile widened, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly. “Yeah, I figured I’d drop in unannounced. Hope that’s cool.”

She shook off her surprise, stepping aside to let him in. “Uh, yeah, obviously. Come in!”

Oscar stepped inside, glancing around her apartment like he always did, his eyes eventually landing on the counter full of baked goods. He raised an eyebrow and gestured toward it. “You bake for me, or is this just, like, an everyday thing?”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up as she quickly shut the door. “I mean... maybe a little of both?” she admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “I wasn’t sure when you’d show up, so I figured better safe than sorry.”

He laughed, dropping his bag by the couch. “You’re unbelievable. You know that, right?”

“Is that a thank-you?” she teased, crossing her arms with a smirk.

Oscar plucked a cookie off the tray, taking a bite and humming dramatically. “That’s me saying you’re way too nice to me. This is amazing, by the way.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but a smile tugged at her lips anyway. Seeing him standing there, relaxed and happy, filled her with a warmth she didn’t quite know what to do with.

Oscar finished the cookie and grabbed another without asking, leaning casually against her counter like he belonged there. “So, what’ve you been up to? Still baking up a storm every day?”

Y/N smirked, grabbing the tray of brownies and cutting them into perfect squares. “Pretty much. Got to keep the bakery stocked and the bills paid somehow. Plus, it’s Monaco—people are weirdly obsessed with pastries here. Speaking of, how was Italy? Or wherever you were this time?”

Oscar hesitated, his chewing slowing down. “Uh, yeah. Italy was... busy. Lots of... work.”

She raised an eyebrow, catching the slight awkwardness in his tone. “Work? You’re always traveling for this mystery job of yours. You must be a spy or something.”

His laugh came a little too quickly, and he avoided her gaze by grabbing a brownie. “Yeah, something like that. I’d tell you, but then I’d have to... you know.” He made a mock gun gesture with his fingers, winking playfully.

Y/N snorted. “Very convincing. Totally not suspicious at all.”

Changing the subject, Oscar gestured toward the goodies she’d prepared. “You’re going to spoil me, you know that? Showing up with treats, stocking your place with more of them... You’re setting a dangerous precedent.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Y/N teased, nudging him gently as she carried the brownies to a tin for storage. “I only bake extra when I’m bored.”

“Or when you miss me,” he added, grinning mischievously.

Her hands froze for a split second, her cheeks heating up as she quickly turned back to the brownies. “In your dreams,” she muttered, but the way her voice wavered slightly made him chuckle.

Oscar didn’t press further, instead grabbing a glass of water and perching on the armrest of her couch. “So, the monaco grand prix coming up,” he said casually.

“Yeah, the whole city’s already turning into one big construction zone,” Y/N replied, plopping down onto the couch next to him. “Feels like everyone’s losing their minds over it. What’s the big deal? Is it, like, a festival or something?”

Oscar blinked, his lips parting slightly in surprise before quickly recovering. “Uh, yeah, kind of. It’s... a big event. Happens every year.”

She nodded, leaning back into the cushions. “Well, hopefully, it’s not too crazy. Are you staying for it?”

“Yeah, I’ll be around,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “At least for a bit. But it gets hectic, so I might disappear again.”

“Classic Oscar,” Y/N said with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Hey, I’m here now, aren’t I?” he countered, nudging her with his elbow.

“You are,” she admitted, glancing over at him. Their eyes met briefly, and for a second, the air between them felt heavier, like something unspoken lingered just beneath the surface.

Before she could dwell on it, she cleared her throat and stood up. “Anyway, brownies are cooling, cookies are packed, and now you have snacks for however long you’re staying.”

Oscar smirked, leaning back and stretching his arms behind his head. “And here I thought you just liked having me around.”

Y/N grabbed a pillow from the couch and lightly tossed it at him. “Don’t push your luck.”

He caught the pillow effortlessly, laughing. “Fine, fine. But seriously, thanks. It’s nice being back. Even if it’s just for a bit.”

Her smile softened, and she nodded. “Yeah. yeah.”

The evening carried on in easy conversation, the kind of flow Y/N had come to enjoy when Oscar was around. He had a way of making the hours slip by without her even realizing it.

At some point, she found herself sitting cross-legged on the floor while Oscar took up most of the couch, recounting a chaotic story about a “work trip” that involved a delayed flight, a misplaced bag, and someone accidentally ordering 40 sandwiches. He was animated as he spoke, using hand gestures and exaggerated expressions to emphasize every twist and turn.

“So, there I was,” Oscar said, his voice growing serious, “stuck with 40 ham and cheese sandwiches at 3 a.m., wondering if this was some kind of cosmic punishment.”

Y/N burst into laughter, clutching her stomach as tears formed in her eyes. “You’re kidding. Please tell me you ate at least one.”

“Of course, I did,” he replied, grinning. “I ate five. And then I passed out on a bench because there was nowhere else to sit. Absolute rock bottom.”

Y/N shook her head, still laughing. “You live such a weird life. Sandwich catastrophes at 3 a.m. while traveling the world for your super-secret job? Must be exhausting.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’s a lot sometimes. But I guess I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

There was something in his tone, a fleeting moment of vulnerability that made her pause. She wanted to ask more, to dig deeper, but she hesitated. She didn’t want to ruin the lighthearted mood.

Instead, she grinned and teased, “Well, if you ever need someone to help you through another sandwich crisis, you know where to find me.”

Oscar laughed, tossing a couch cushion at her. “Noted. You’re officially on my emergency sandwich team.”

The sound of their laughter filled the room, and for a while, everything felt easy and uncomplicated.

A little later, after the plates were cleared and the leftovers tucked away, Oscar stood by the door, his duffel bag back in hand.

“Thanks for letting me crash your evening,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Crash? Please, I basically invited you the second I opened the door,” Y/N replied, smirking.

He smiled, lingering for a moment. “I’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said softly, leaning against the doorframe opposite him. “Don’t forget to grab some of the cookies on your way out. And the brownies.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to fatten me up or something?”

“Maybe,” she teased. “It’s part of my evil plan.”

He chuckled, reaching out to ruffle her hair before stepping into the hallway. “See you soon, Y/N.”

As the door clicked shut behind him, Y/N stood there for a moment, her heart fluttering in a way she wasn’t quite ready to admit.

The week passed quickly, the anticipation of the Monaco Grand Prix hanging in the air. The city was buzzing with energy, but Y/N kept herself busy at work, focusing on perfecting her recipes and keeping her mind off the person who had quickly become a constant presence in her thoughts.

But no matter how busy she kept, she couldn’t help but wonder when she’d see him again—and if things between them would ever shift into something more.

As the Monaco Grand Prix loomed closer, Y/N found herself noticing the increased buzz around the city. Banners and posters for the event were plastered on every available surface, and crowds started trickling in. Y/N had no idea what all the fuss was about, aside from the fact that everyone seemed excited.

Oscar had been texting her throughout the week, and she’d been looking forward to catching up with him again. She was in the middle of prepping a new batch of pastries when she heard a familiar knock on her door.

“Hey,” she greeted, opening the door to find Oscar standing there, looking casual in a tee and shorts, clearly just back from a training session.

“Hey yourself,” he replied, stepping inside. “How’s it going?”

“Busy as always,” Y/N said, wiping her hands on a towel. “But I’m managing. The bakery’s been crazy with all the tourists. You’d think I was selling gold instead of cookies.”

Oscar chuckled. “Yeah, Monaco gets a little nuts this time of year.” He glanced around, then looked back at her with a grin. “You know, with the Grand Prix coming up, I was thinking—you should totally come with me this weekend. I’ll be around, and I could use some company. I’m pretty sure you’ve never seen anything like it.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued but not sure what he meant. “The Grand Prix? What is that, like, a huge concert or something?”

Oscar blinked, surprised by her response but quickly recovering. “Uh, no, not really. It’s... um, a big race.”

“A race?” Y/N echoed. “Like cars?”

“Yeah, like super-fast cars,” Oscar explained, trying not to laugh. “Formula 1 cars. It’s kind of a big deal around here.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait, so this race is happening in the city?”

“Yep,” he said, nodding. “And it’s one of the biggest races of the season. You should come check it out. It’s a whole experience.”

She hesitated for a moment, trying to process the idea. “I mean, sure, why not? I could use a little break from the bakery chaos. But I’m warning you, I’ll probably get lost in the crowd or something.”

Oscar grinned, clearly pleased. “I’ve got you covered. You won’t get lost, I promise. Plus, I’ll introduce you to a few people, show you the ropes. It’ll be fun.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a little bit nervous but mostly excited. “Okay, okay. I’m in. This better be worth it though. I still don’t quite get why people are so obsessed with fast cars but... I’m trusting you on this one.”

Oscar laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get it once you see it. It’s kind of... a big deal.”

Y/N chuckled along with him. “Alright, Mr. Big Deal. I’ll be there. Just try not to get too race car driver on me while I’m there, okay?”

Oscar flashed her a teasing grin. “No promises.”

grand prix weekend

As Y/N walked toward the spot where she and Oscar had agreed to meet, her eyes wandered over the bustling atmosphere of the Monaco Grand Prix. The crowds, the cameras, the fancy cars, and the buzz of excitement around every corner... it was a lot to take in. But then her gaze landed on something that made her stop in her tracks.

A massive banner stretched across the track, featuring none other than Oscar Piastri. His face was larger than life, his cool expression and trademark cap making him look effortlessly slick.

Y/N blinked twice, then rubbed her eyes to make sure she wasn’t seeing things. But there it was, Oscar in full glory, with the words "Oscar Piastri: Formula 1 Driver" plastered across the banner in bold letters. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she felt her stomach drop.

She stared at it, mouth slightly open, her brain short-circuiting as the pieces finally clicked together. “Wait… Oscar? Formula 1? That Oscar?” She repeated the words in her head like a mantra, trying to wrap her brain around it.

Her eyes darted from the banner to the people around her, and suddenly everything clicked in a dizzying rush:

Oscar Piastri... was a famous Formula 1 driver.

That meant—wait, no—that meant she had been casually baking cookies, banana muffins, and chocolate-covered strawberries for someone who was literally famous?! She had been living next door to a real-life celebrity and hadn’t even known it?? And… she was actually crushing on him?

Her mind was doing a full-on loop-de-loop. How had she missed this? How did she not realize that this guy who always wore cool clothes, who was constantly traveling, who had fans… was the same person she’d been baking for like it was no big deal? Was this… was this a dream?

She started internally panicking. What do I do now? She had been baking for a guy who was in the public eye—what did that even mean for them? Did she just like someone who everyone else liked too? Is that even a thing? Was she seriously living next door to someone who raced for real in Formula 1?! She was losing it.

At that moment, she felt like she might spontaneously combust from the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Her stomach flipped, and she had to press a hand to her forehead, trying to keep it together. “Oh my god, Y/N. Get it together,” she whispered under her breath.

Just as she was trying to regain her composure, she spotted Oscar coming into view, looking effortlessly cool as usual, his sunglasses perched atop his head as he walked toward her. His face broke into a grin when he saw her.

“Hey, you okay?” Oscar asked, noticing the slightly shell-shocked look on her face. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Y/N blinked a few times, forcing herself to smile, but her mind was still reeling. She barely managed to get out a normal response. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, her voice a little too high-pitched for her own liking. “Just… uh, just saw something… interesting.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, looking at her with mild curiosity. “Interesting? What did you see?”

Y/N panicked for a second. She couldn’t tell him she just discovered he was basically famous and was now spiraling over it, right? She gave herself a quick mental shake. “Uh, yeah, just, uh, a banner,” she said, gesturing vaguely toward the giant image of him from earlier. “And, um… I just realized that… I, uh, live next to someone famous. Which is, like… wild.”

Oscar blinked, clearly not expecting that response. “Ohhh, yeah, that’s a thing. I mean, you’ve been living next to a race car driver. That’s gotta be weird, huh?”

Weird didn’t even begin to cover it, but Y/N just laughed, even though it sounded a little forced. “I guess? It’s just... a lot to process. You really are famous, huh?”

Oscar chuckled at her expression, clearly amused. “You could’ve asked, you know. But yeah, I guess I am,” he said casually, as if being on giant banners was just part of his daily routine.

Y/N groaned, feeling a rush of heat on her cheeks. “I feel like such an idiot,” she muttered, half to herself.

Oscar laughed, clearly oblivious to the full extent of her internal freakout. “Nah, you’re good. I’m just glad you’re here. Let’s enjoy this whole thing together.”

But Y/N could barely focus on anything except the fact that she had been baking for someone famous. This was too much.

As they continued toward the track, Y/N’s thoughts swirled in a thousand directions. She liked him, but now she had to figure out how to deal with the fact that she liked someone who was literally in the spotlight. Was it even okay to have a crush on someone who had so many eyes on him? She didn’t even know what to do with that knowledge yet.

And as they entered the paddock, Y/N had a feeling this weekend was going to be a lot more intense than she ever expected.

Y/N had barely been able to wrap her head around the fact that she was actually sitting in the heart of the action—inside Oscar’s team’s box in the garage, watching the practice and qualifying sessions unfold in front of her eyes.

Oscar had been in and out, prepping for his runs, chatting with the team, and making sure everything was in top condition. He had that natural, focused energy about him, and it was hard to look at him without being amazed by how effortlessly cool he was under pressure.

Y/N, on the other hand, was absolutely blown away by everything. The speed of the cars, the noise, the sheer intensity of it all—it was like nothing she had ever experienced. The walls of the garage were lined with equipment, the hum of activity filled the air, and people were buzzing about with headsets and clipboards, all focused on their roles. But even with all the chaos, Y/N's attention kept drifting back to Oscar.

“Don’t worry, I won’t crash,” he joked, noticing the look on her face as he grabbed his helmet and prepared to head out.

Y/N managed a nervous laugh, trying to calm the fluttering feeling in her chest. “You better not,” she teased, though she was pretty sure it was more for her own peace of mind than anything else.

Oscar shot her a grin before heading out to the car, and Y/N couldn’t help but watch with wide eyes as he slipped into the cockpit. The cars revved to life, the unmistakable sound of the engines vibrating through the garage. Oscar’s car was a blur as he took off down the track for his first practice lap.

She couldn’t help but feel a weird mix of awe and pride. That’s Oscar, she thought, barely able to keep her jaw from dropping. He was out there on the track, racing like it was second nature. The guy who had been chilling in her kitchen, eating cookies, was now doing something so epic, it didn’t even seem real.

As Oscar tore through the circuit, Y/N’s eyes stayed glued to the monitors in the box. His lap times popped up in front of her, and she felt a nervous, excited energy pulse through her. She didn’t know much about Formula 1, but she could feel the intensity of it all.

“Look at him go,” she muttered to herself, completely captivated by the raw speed and precision. It was like watching someone glide on air—only way faster, and way more intense.

The minutes flew by, and soon enough, Oscar’s car zipped back into the pits, and he jumped out, helmet off, a grin on his face. Y/N couldn’t help but smile back, her heart racing in sync with the adrenaline of the day.

“You’re amazing,” she said as he walked over, still catching his breath from the run.

Oscar gave a modest shrug, though the grin never left his face. “It’s all in the details,” he said with a wink. “But, yeah, it feels pretty good.”

Y/N shook her head, still processing how cool the whole thing was. “You’re insane,” she laughed, feeling a mix of admiration and a bit of disbelief at the whole experience.

Oscar leaned against the garage wall, looking at her. “You’ve got the best seat in the house, you know?”

She smiled, feeling her chest tighten at the compliment. “Yeah, I can’t believe I’m actually here. It’s… it’s all a bit much, honestly.”

Oscar chuckled. “Well, get used to it. You’ll be seeing a lot more of this.”

Y/N just nodded, still wide-eyed. There was so much she was still processing—how she’d gone from living next to a normal guy to sitting in a garage at the Monaco Grand Prix watching him race. It was wild. And somehow, incredibly thrilling.

Then, without any warning, Oscar took a small step closer to her. The next thing Y/N knew, his hand was on her cheek, pulling her into a kiss that was both unexpected and electric.

She froze for a split second, her eyes wide in shock. Her heart pounded in her ears. It was quick, but it was enough to send a wave of dizziness through her. The kiss was soft, lingering just a moment longer than she could’ve imagined, before Oscar pulled back with a mischievous smile.

Y/N stood there, stunned. Her heart was racing, and her mind was reeling. The cameras around the garage had caught the whole thing, and within seconds, a replay flashed across the monitors, broadcasting the moment live for all to see.

Oscar’s grin widened, clearly aware of the reaction. “Guess I’m full of surprises,” he teased, his voice low, his eyes never leaving hers.

Y/N blinked, still processing what just happened. Her cheeks were burning. “What the—”

But before Y/N could say anything else, Oscar's grin grew wider as he looked up at the screen. "Well, that's gonna be on TV now, huh?"

Y/N's eyes snapped to the monitors, and her stomach dropped. The kiss, clear as day, was playing across the screens for everyone to see. Her face turned beet red.

"Seriously?" Y/N muttered, still trying to process it. "That just... happened. On TV. Wow."

Oscar chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Well, that’s out there now. You good with that?”

Before Y/N could answer, she leaned in, surprising him with a kiss. It was quick but full of impulse, a way to make things feel less chaotic and more... real. When she pulled away, she didn’t flinch or apologize—she just gave him a small grin.

Oscar blinked in surprise for a moment, his lips curling into a grin. “Guess you weren’t planning on waiting, huh?”

Y/N shrugged casually, unfazed. “Guess not.”

Oscar let out a low laugh, his eyes never leaving hers. “No going back now.”

Y/N shook her head, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Guess not."

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

taglist : @heluvsjappie @awritingtree @steamy-smokey @alex-wotton @ssarqhxo @rainy-darling @mymilkshakefun @hs2016 @linnygirl09 @akulici

#f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #formula 1 x you #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x y/n #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #jzprncess #op81 x reader #op81 x you #op81 x y/n

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maybege · 2 months ago

Text

Lessons Learned

Summary: Someone accuses you of the most horrendous crime possible. Paz makes sure to prove them wrong.

Pairing: alpha!clan leader!Paz Vizsla x omega!fem!Reader

Wordcount: 6.0k | Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics, marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers vibes (but really it is just idiots to lovers), (unfounded) accusations of child harm, fluff, yearning, scenting,

Big shoutout to @mostly-megan who helped me bring this story to life! I am so excited to share more about etl!Paz, it really is one of those AUs that I constantly think about but very rarely do I actually write about it. I hope you like it as much as I loved writing it! Please let me know what you think in a comment or a reblog – they are the best things about sharing it with you. Happy Sunday!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

Had anyone ever told you that you not only would wed Paz Vizsla, leader of your enemy clan, but you would live a somewhat happy life in the covert, you would not have hesitated to call that person a liar. Yet here you were, living a somewhat solitary but not necessarily unhappy life.

Sure, the mountain halls had needed some getting used to. You missed the sunshine on your face whenever you roamed the hallways, but the tunnels and rooms carved into the mountains kept you nicely cool in the summer and allowed the nature above to grow freely. You had heard from many people, independent of their clan, that the Vizsla territory was well-kept and well-protected. The flora and fauna were thriving and you had never seen so many butterflies as when you spent a few minutes outside.

Sadly, the glimpses you got from nature were through carved windows or courtyards that allowed you to gaze at the colours of the sky. You could not remember when you had simply lain down in a meadow, allowing the sounds of nature to soothe you to sleep. Your guards were quite strict, and though you had a feeling that they would not keep you from going outside, surely, they would report back to your husband and you were not ready to have to justify your comings and goings.

It was a pleasant surprise, then, when Maudii from the foundlings’ nursery asked you if you would like to help out in the classrooms. Teaching little ones was something you knew from your time back home and you enjoyed reading stories to them, teaching them the old legends and helping them improve their reading and writing.

However, your favourite part by far was when Maudii announced an excursion out of the covert and into nature. The trips to the outside were an absolute success. You got to wander through the meadows, along the edge of the woods, carefully crossing small streams as the children took in everything with big eyes and even bigger grins. You knelt down in the bushes, showing them the difference between the delicious berries you could put in cakes and the ones that were only meant for birds.

Each night, you lay in your little guestroom, tired out from spending the day in the fresh air and sunshine and finally felt like you had found a place where you could belong. Your husband might not love you and your body might betray you whenever you saw him, but finally, you had people in the covert who did not sneer at you whenever you crossed their paths.

Of course, that was only wishful thinking.

“What is going on?” you asked the guard who had suddenly appeared in the midst of your lesson the next morning. Kroks was not a stranger to you. Dieko had introduced him as one of the warriors in training and the young man was always very cordial towards you. Which is why his worried gaze set you on alert.

“Will you come with us, please?” Kroks looked uncomfortable but the guard next to him did not wait for your reply. His grip on your arm came as a surprise and it hurt, the physical pain overshadowed by the betrayal that even after months in this clan, you were still treated like an enemy. Maudii looked on with helpless fear and shock as you passed her, but you knew there was nothing she could do.

The walk to the throne room was not an unfamiliar one but it felt longer than usual now that you were dragged through the hallways like you had committed murder. No one spoke to you, no one told you why you were summoned and you could not help the panic that rose in you. If you were summoned by the guards, it could only mean that Paz knew about it. And what could possibly cause your husband to summon you like a common criminal?

Images flashed in your mind of wars and battles, all of them involving Paz and your family at home. What if your sacrifice had all been for nothing? What if it had not been enough to broker peace between your clans and now you would be the first victim of the new wave of battles?

But even as you thought it, there was a trust in you that Paz would not harm you.

The heavy doors to the throne room were pulled open, and your eyes immediately settled on him. Your husband was sitting on his throne, legs spread, chin resting on his hand and your heart skipped a beat at the memory of how, not too long ago, you had joined him there.

The moment he spotted you was clear because he sat up, back straight and a deep frown on his face. Like he had not expected to see you. That was a good sign, right?

You were not the only ones in the room, of course, and after you finally ripped your eyes away from your husband, you recognised a few council members and some guards standing around the room. Right in front of your husband was a man you did not recognise.

“You interrupted my council meeting with empty accusations and now you drag my wife here,” Paz’s voice boomed through the room, sounding very bored, “Please enlighten us to what end you interrupt my very day, Roalm.”

“I am here because our guest,” Roalm spat out the word, “has committed the most treacherous and spiteful of acts.”

It took you a minute to realise he meant you. You were the guest. You were the one who had committed something so horrible, you had been dragged here to face the consequences. The frown on your face did little to also cover the anxiety that surged up. Your heart beat loudly in your chest and you got nervous.

What did he mean? What had you done? You were more than aware that although you were all Mandalorian, there were differences in your culture that you had not caught up on completely. All in all, though, you got the impression that you hadn’t done something completely stupid. Yet.

“It brings me no pleasure to say this,” Roalm continued gravely before pointing his finger at you, his eyes full of hatred, “She has poisoned the foundlings.”

His accusation sat in the empty room for a moment, the shock following soon after. His words kept echoing in your head as you tried to determine if all this was real or if maybe you were still dreaming. Maybe you were still asleep, curled up in your bed with blankets, and at any moment, you would hear one of Paz’s advisors enter his room, updating him on his daily schedule. Maybe you were close to your heat? You always had the most absurd and scary dreams then.

None of that happened, though, you were still standing on the stone floor, your eyes wide as you watched Paz sit up straighter, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees. The guard behind you seemed to understand what had been said earlier than you, because your knees suddenly met the floor as you were pushed to kneel in front of Paz.

“What?” you breathed, wincing through the pain, “No, I – I would never – I haven’t …”

“She's been taking the foundlings out to the fields for weeks now,” the man interrupted you, sounding so sure of himself, “And several of them have said they were being fed berries by her. Poisonous berries! Clearly, she has been sent here by her pack of traitors to cause us the most possible harm. Not only is she infiltrating us by being married to our leader, she is jeopardising our entire future.”

Tears gathered in your eyes. You wanted to be strong. You needed to be strong. But stars, you were so tired. You had done everything to make a good impression, to make sure that you were polite and kind to everyone. And you had been so happy to finally find a place where you could do something. Where you could be happy and useful and –

“I would never …” you sobbed, “I would never harm them. I didn’t harm them. Paz, please,” you looked up, finding your husband’s gaze on you, "Please. Please, believe me.”

Your husband always looked imposing on his throne. It was hard to believe that it had not been too long ago that you had joined him on his lap, letting his fingers explore parts of your body that resulted in ecstasy and now you were kneeling on the floor, teardrops forming a little pool in the grooves of the stone beneath you. Oh, how the mighty could fall.

“You know,” Paz’s voice was cool but it had an edge to it that you could not identify, “One might say that everything my wife does is a reflection of me. Would you suggest that your own clan leader has been conspiring to kill foundlings?”

“N-no, no! Of course not, m’lord. I was merely suggesting. I-it was –“

“Then you had better have proof of such things,” you watched with baited breath as the alpha rose up, towering over everyone in the room, even more so now that you were kneeling, “I hope you’ll be able to back up those claims when me and my guards join the trip tomorrow. Or else you’ll have not only insulted my wife, but you’ll have threatened her well-being. Now, everybody leave.”

You had never slept so badly, tossing and turning all night as you tried to give your panicked thoughts a rest. Not even the night before you had snuck out of your clan’s quarters to offer yourself to the scary enemy alpha, you had been this nervous. Maybe because you knew there was nothing keeping you from being killed if people thought you actually poisoned the foundlings.

You frowned, staring at the dark ceiling. None of the foundlings had been sick in the last few weeks (with the exception of one case of a cough which had turned out to be from too much dust in a carpet) and you trusted your abilities enough to know poisonous from edible berries.

Surely, your excursion today would prove your innocence.

Because if it didn’t …

Tears threatened to spill onto your cheeks again.

Hearing Kroks enter Paz’s room, greeting up, felt like a relief then. The day was starting and so was your chance to prove yourself.

You chose your prettiest dress to wear, made of long linen that had been dyed with flower petals. The children loved to find the flowers in the wild that had been used for the colours on your dress and with all the excitement of today, you wanted them to have as much fun as possible.

The sun was shining as your larger-than-usual group finally reached one of the hidden exits of the caves. There was not a cloud in the sky and you were greeted with a cool breeze that rustled the trees and made the meadows look like green oceans. Everyone was in a good mood, chattering happily as you made your way along the edge of the woods.

Well, not everyone.

The only people who were more serious than you were the few council members and guards that Paz had ordered to accompany you. Roalm was one of them.

You tried your hardest to ignore the man as you knelt in the grass, letting the children explore and run around to their heart's content. You had been scared that the unannounced guests on your trip would throw them off, but you should not have worried. The little ones were very happy with the extra attention they got, running this way and that way and picking berries to show the guards which ones were for them and which ones were for the birds.

The council members stayed back but you did not let yourself be tricked by their silence. You knew they were watching every move you made and listening intently to every word that left your mouth. There was no room for mistakes. No room for ambiguity.

Luckily, the children did not share your predicament and instead let themselves be distracted whenever they deemed the lesson too boring.

One of the distractions they found was their clan leader.

You would not have expected Paz to be as relaxed as he was. He let himself be tugged along by tiny hands, climbed on by the toddlers, all with the biggest smile and a deep laugh. You watched in awe as he carried them on his shoulders, making sure they did not fall, even as they hung from his arms with happy squeals.

Paz Vizsla, for all his talks about the importance of foundlings, had not made a particularly child-friendly impression on you. Clearly, you had been wrong.

The sight of him surrounded by the children made your heart flutter and you found yourself able to take one deep breath after another as you and Maudii pointed out new plants to your students. Your eyes met your husband’s on more than one occasion and there was a strange expression on his face, with just the hint of a smile on his mouth.

Maybe everything would turn out to be okay.

Lunch was taken on a meadow. No one had arrested you yet, which you counted as a win and when Maudii and some of the guards opened the baskets full of food, you had the first moment of today to just relax.

You were all alone when you sat back against a tree, right underneath the shade, and bit into a delicious berry bread. In front of you, you watched the children play with Paz, their little forms almost hidden by the tall grass as they tried to escape from the “monster”, a role your husband impersonated surprisingly well.

His roars and laughter and were interrupted by the children’s giggles as, one after the other, they were plucked from the ground and put on his shoulders. You could barely see him by the end, with all the children clinging to him as he slowly made his way to where all the adults were waiting. Maudii greeted them with a smile as Kroks helped her distribute the packed lunches the kitchen had prepared for them.

“But we are not done,” Lia pouted, “The monster hasn’t caught us all yet.”

“Of course, I did, little warrior,” Paz laughed as he lifted another kid off his shoulder, “I caught all of you hiding in the grass, didn’t I?”

Lia took a big bite of the bread, her words muffled. “You need to chase her, too,” she pointed to you and you could see Paz’s gaze darken as he followed her arm.

“Um, I don’t know …” you trailed off, highly aware of him now mustering you.

But Paz did not seem to share your worries. Your husband stood up, seeming taller than usual. “C’mon, ‘mega,” he chuckled, putting his helmet on, “It could be fun.”

Chancing a glance at the council members, you realised that no one really was paying attention. And it did sound fun, it certainly sounded like a distraction. Maybe that was exactly what you needed, right now?

You carefully stood up, smoothing a wrinkle out of your dress and looked up to find Paz's face fixed on you. Through the black visor of the helmet, you could not see his eyes, but you knew he was watching you. You could feel it, the tingle in your spine whenever this alpha focused on you.

One tentative step backwards by you was followed by one step from him, following you. The grass was soft under your shoes and the sun was warm on your skin as you left the shade of the tree.

There was something stuck in your throat that made it hard to swallow when he took another step.

Before you could debate your decision, you hurled around and ran.

The children cheered, and you swore you could hear one or two of the guards whoop as you raced around the meadow. You could not remember the last time you had run around freely, much less because you were playing catch. The wind in your hair felt freeing and you could feel a laugh forming in your chest.

However, you weren’t as fast as you thought you were because only seconds later, you could hear thundering footsteps behind you. And they were getting closer.

Paz really was chasing you and although you had simply wanted to indulge the foundlings’ wishes, you could not bring yourself to just … lose. You wanted to make him work for it, maybe even win, and you certainly did not want to put on a weak performance before the council.

Your hands gripped your skirt tighter as you lifted it higher, allowing you to lengthen your strides and you could hear Paz’s puffs of air as he ran behind you. Chasing you. Hunting you.

A shiver ran down your spine as you tried to ignore how your body reacted to him. Panic and something thrilling coursed through you when you could feel him at your back. The anticipation made your pussy pulse which had nothing to do with the fact that it was your husband behind you. Nothing at all.

There was a brush of fingers on your back and your heart lurched.

I’m not ready to go back, your head screamed, I’m not done yet.

And so, you did the only sensible thing: You stopped suddenly before sprinting to the sharp left, right into the woods.

Paz’s chuckle behind you made you feel all sorts of things (most of them which you tried to ignore because, again, your husband had no effect on you, whatsoever).

“You’re really making me work for it, huh?” he called behind you as you twisted around the trees, the trunks getting thicker the more you ventured into the forest.

Your response was only a laugh, jumping over a little stream that Paz must have just stomped through from the sounds of it. If you could just stay in this moment forever, maybe then everything would be alright. The kids would be safe and so would you because even if the council decided against you, there was no way they would find you here in the midst of –

“Oof!”

All the air left your lungs as you crashed against a tree trunk. You waited for it to hurt but nothing followed the slight discomfort of your sudden stop. Your back was against the tree but there was something between your head and the wood. His hand.

Paz had cushioned your crash, crowding you in with no means of escape while also cradling you to him like you were the most precious thing in the world. His body was huge, shielding you from your surroundings but instead of intimidating you, all you felt was safe.

Like this had been the goal of your run all along.

“Got you,” he rumbled and you watched as his chest rose and fell evenly. He wasn’t even out of breath, that bastard.

“And now?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He tilted his head and you hoped he would not ask you to elaborate. You didn’t want to admit that you like being this close, that you wanted to stay like this for as long as he would allow. The embarrassment would kill you, surely.

But then he tilted his head the other way and you realised he was listening for something.

When he heard (or didn’t hear?) what he wanted, you watched with baited breath as he leant back, putting an unacceptable amount of distance between the two of you, and lifted his helmet.

You knew what your husband looked like. You always had. For the longest time, you had convinced yourself that he was as ugly as your family had made him out to be. That his evil personality translated into an appearance that made him just as repulsive.

But now that you had spent time with him, that you endured his teaching and his cocky self-assurance and witness his joy with his friends and the foundlings and had him touch you – intimately – in ways no one ever had, you had to admit: Your husband was the most handsome man you knew. Inside and out.

(He was still annoyingly cocky, though.)

Watching his face be revealed to you once again, made your heart switch to an unusual pitter-patter, skipping every second beat and pumping so string, it almost hurt. The lines on his face, the crease between his brows, the crinkles next to his eyes, it all made your pulse run faster. And then he smiled at you, so softly, you were done for.

“Seems like I caught my prize,” he rumbled, his nose brushing against yours, “Wonder what I’ll do with her.”

“Oh,” you gasped, shifting against the tree, your hips bumping against his. His scent washed over you and you wished he hadn’t worn his full training get-up. You wished he had worn the soft pants he had worn that night, the ones you had been able to feel his hard flesh through.

Your husband seemed to be just as unhappy with your position because his helmet landed on the ground, cushioned by the grass, and his hands grabbed yours, lifting them above your head.

“Stay still and let me scent you,” he rumbled, one hand closing around both of your wrists, the other landing on your hip. His touch was hot, making you squirm even more. When his nose brushed over your scent gland, coating you in the smell of pines and smoke, you had a whole-body shiver. The kind that made you very aware of how wet your underwear was getting.

“Paz,” you gasped, tilting your head back so he had more access.

The only response you got was a growl. His hand around yours tightened and then his mouth opened against your neck and he sucked.

Was it possible to come from just this?

You wanted to touch him, you wanted to be closer to him, but his grip on you was steadfast, only letting you move however he wanted you to.

“You smell afraid, omega,” he praised you, the tip of his nose brushing all the way up to you just under your ear, “Am I scaring you?”

“No!” you protested quickly, eyes widening with fear that you had just pushed him away, “I’m not – not of you, I promise!”

“Shh,” he calmed you, dark eyes looking at you so warmly, “I know the only person you’d ever want to kill is me, love”, he whispered against your neck, “You’d never hurt any of the children and I believe you.”

You hadn’t realised how high-strung you were until his words registered in your head. Paz believed you. He had never doubted you. Even if everything went horribly wrong now, he was the one person in your corner whom you could trust.

The knowledge that he believed you lifted a weight off your shoulders you had not quite realised you were carrying. But now that it was gone, you could feel the fear and panic of the last 24 hours crashing over you.

“Oh, ‘mega,” he breathed as your body started to shake with tears. Paz did not loosen his grip. He stepped even closer, his front completely pressed against yours until he was close enough that you could tuck your head into the crook of his neck.

His hold on your hands went away and seconds later, he had you wrapped up in his arms, holding you while you sobbed into his neck.

“I didn’t do it,” you whimpered, “And I – I don’t understand what else I need to do to get them to trust me. I – they’re kids, Paz! I’d never hurt the kids.”

“I know,” he rumbled, “Let it all out, love. You’d never hurt anyone, I know. We’re proving him wrong today, you’ll see.”

“I’m just so tired of it,” you admitted, feeling your chest calm down, “I’m so tired of having to prove myself and no one believing me.”

Paz started moving and you realised he was slowly swaying you back and forth. “I believe you.”

And in that moment, it was enough.

This time, when you were called to the throne room, you felt hopeful.

Paz was sitting back on his throne, dressed in more casual clothes, and you could feel your cheeks warm at the heat in his gaze.

“Omega,” he greeted you, his voice filled with fondness that made your heart clench, “I called you here to convene with the council before Roalm comes in.”

You looked up, realising he had spoken true. The only people here were the council members who had accompanied you on your trip and Paz.

“Do,” you swallowed and shifted your feet, “Do you want me to defend myself now?”

“I see no reason for you to defend yourself,” Dieko said, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “The children seemed to have fun and were quick to identify which berries were good and which ones weren’t.”

“And when they were unsure, they approached you or Maudii to consult,” another one added, “And received the correct answer. You did a good job at teaching them, m’lady, and I am sure I am not the only one who would support our foundlings to have more trips to our lands.”

It was one thing to know that you would not be in danger of execution from the council; it was another to actually be praised by them. You were so stunned, all you could do was look at him, trying to find words of gratitude.

“C’mere, omega,” Paz called and you turned around, “I want you here for this.”

His hands rested on his thick thighs and you hoped no one noticed how nervous his request made you. Sitting on his lap wasn’t that extraordinary for them. You had learned from Maudii that that was how previous leaders had held court in this clan.

For you, it felt oddly intimate.

“This is less fun than the last time we sat like this,” he joked quietly as he helped you settle on his lap. Your ears burned at the memory of how his fingers felt inside you. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Oh, hush,” you hissed and he chuckled, his big arm wrapping round your back until you sat sideways on him. It was so much easier to focus on him than on the rest of the room.

“Let me tease you, love,” he rumbled, his nose brushing over your jaw, “It’s my favourite part of the day.”

You were about to retort something very smart, you were sure of it, when the doors opened and you were faced with Roalm. He looked worse for wear than the first time you had seen him in this room but his presence still made you tense, your spine stiffening until Paz’s nose was on your neck again.

“Oh,” you breathed, pines and smoke filling your nostrils, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, love,” his mouth moved against your sensitive skin, “Anything to keep you calm and happy, hm?”

You ignore the flutter in your heart in favour of melting against him, fully relaxing against his chest and letting yourself be encompassed by his scent.

“M’lord Vizsla,” Roalm started, his voice wavering as his eyes darted between you and your husband and the guards surrounding him, “I am so –“

“Since you did not give my wife the benefit of speaking in her defence, I will return the favour,” Paz’s voice cut through the hall and you flinched in surprise. Where did all that anger come from?

Your hand settled on his chest and you could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady. But there was something sharp and acid tickling your nostrils and you swallowed. Paz wasn’t only angry. He was furious. And all of this on your behalf.

“Did you see my wife poisoning the children?”

“Uh … well, not exactly, but that doesn’t mean –“

“Did any of the children feel unwell?”

“No, but …”

Paz’s hand squeezed your hip gently and you heard his sharp inhale, breathing you in. “So, you mean to tell me that my wife has been trying to murder innocent lives without having seen anything, without having any proof and even after seeing how beloved she is by them?”

“I am so sorry,” Roalm whimpered, cowering before you. You knew he must be scared. Stars, you would be, too, if Paz were this furious with you. Still, you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel sorry for the man who had accused you of the most heinous crime.

“It’s too late for apologies,” Paz hissed, “You implied my wife deserved to be executed for her crimes. Do you think you deserve that same fate?”

Your head whipped around, seeking your husband’s gaze. You were angry, yes, and you were not ready to forgive him yet. But did you want him to die in your name? No. You didn’t want anyone to die because of this.

Paz met your gaze, his frown softening. “He’ll be unharmed, my love,” he whispered, quiet enough for only you to hear, “But he will regret the day he dared to put you in danger.”

The determination in his voice made your heart sing and you turned around just in time to see Paz motion for the guards. “A few days in a cell should give you enough time to think about the consequences of your actions,” he announced, “Now leave my sight.”

Roalm’s wailing lasted only for a few seconds before the heavy doors closed behind him and the guards and suddenly everything returned to its usual business. People filtered through the doors, talking in small groups and you could see a few of the guards leave while the rest took their posts by the entrances.

Everyone acted like nothing happened at all but you could not bring yourself to it.

“Can … Can I stay here for a while?” you asked, not trusting yourself to look at Paz to face his rejection, “Just for a bit?”

His response was immediate. His hands pulled you even tighter to him and you could feel him shift in his seat until your head could comfortably lie against his chest. The way your body relaxed into him was not lost on you.

“You can stay here however long you wish to,” his fingers gently circled your scent gland, “And you can return tomorrow, too, if you like.”

“I want you in my bed tonight.”

The announcement came after dinner when you both had retired to your rooms. You were sitting on your bed, trying to subtly arrange the many blankets into a nest, discreetly sneaking your dress in there as well. Only because it was soft, of course, and not because his scent still clung to it.

You squeaked at his appearance in your doorframe. Paz usually spent his evenings in the parlour, sitting by the fire and reading notes before going to bed in the bedroom that was meant for the two of you.

Ever since you had married, Paz had made it clear he wouldn’t force himself on you. But maybe after the excitement of the day, he had changed his mind? Maybe his protecting you was bound to some sort of expectation that you now had to fulfil?

The fear on your face must have been obvious because the grin he sent you made your knees weak. “Not for any marital duties,” he winked, “Though I’m not opposed to it if you decide you want to know what a knot feels like.”

Do not think about taking his knot. Do not think about what taking his knot would feel like. Do not think about how he would praise you for taking his knot.

“Why then?” you asked, hands folded in your lap as you avoided his gaze, “Why do you want me … with you?”

Silence followed and you prayed to the stars that he could not smell how wet you were for him.

“I need to know you are safe,” he said, finally, “I would sleep better when you are close by.”

You would never admit it but it was the first time someone had voiced genuine concern for your well-being. The thought of it made your heart ache. After all, you had lived your entire life trying to serve your family’s – your clan’s – best intentions and all it got you was their rejection and life in a covert that you had been taught was enemy territory.

It was easy, then, to follow him back to his bedroom and carefully settle on one side of the giant bed while Paz settled on the other.

Despite its size, it did not take long until you reached your hand to the side and found him under the blankets.

“You probably need to visit the foundlings more often after today,” you said, a smile on your lips as you remembered how they had used him as a playground, “they really enjoyed themselves.”

“And did you?”

You turned to the side, finding him already looking at you. There was something so gentle about seeing him in the dim light of the embers, the lines on his face all smoothed over, the thin sheet pulled up only to his waist. “I did, too,” you confirmed, feeling out of breath for no reason at all, as you looked over his broad chest, “Although the thing you said today …”

“Which one?” he enquired, his hand reaching out to pull you closer. A warm feeling started in your chest when you cuddled up against him, his large hand swooping up and down your back, “I say many things when the day is long.”

You smiled. “You said, uh, you said that you know the only person I’d want to kill in the covert is you,” you recalled, rubbing your feet together for warmth, “Do you really think that?”

“Is it not true?”

The casualness with which he said it broke your heart. Did he really think you thought so little of him? Had the past few months not affected him at all, so he thought they hadn’t affected you either?

“I wouldn’t want to kill you,” you said firmly, needing him to hear you. “Maybe there was a time when the thought brought me comfort but it’s been a long time since then. I … feel comfortable here. With you and the foundlings and Kroks and Maudii.”

Hu hummed in acknowledgement and in a matter of seconds, you went from feeling like you needed to share your feelings to feeling like you had overshared once again. Paz may not be interested in you in that way … Were you even interested in him in that way?

The answer to that was clear.

“Can I scent you?”

“Yes.”

He rolled you around so he was on top of you, his eyes serious. Just like in the forest, his hand found your wrists, pinning them into the soft mattress. Your foreheads rested against one another and your breaths mingled-

His eyes searched for something and you wondered what it was, wondered if you could give it to him.

“I need you to know, little wife,” he murmured, his thumb brushing steadily over the scent glands on your wrists, “Everything I do these days is so you feel safe and comfortable. If I can’t offer you that,” you watched his throat bob, “Then maybe I do deserve to killed by you.”

Your brows furrowed in protest. Trying to free your hands was futile because his grip was so tight, so you did the only thing you could. You lifted your face up, right to his jaw and started scenting him. The shudder that went through his body made you smile and you continued, brushing your nose to the point right behind his ear.

His entire weight was resting on you now, making moving impossible but you didn’t care. You didn’t want to move anyway. You wanted to stay here and breathe him in – the familiar scent of pines and smoke making you feel at ease.

“I am right where I want to be,” you admitted into the quiet of the night, your eyes drooping closed, “And I want to be here with you, alpha.”

#maybege writes #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla x fem!reader #etl!paz vibes

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nottsim · 4 months ago

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— ᴡʜᴀᴛ’ꜱ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ʙᴀɢ 𝒽𝑜𝑔𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓉𝓈 𝒹𝓇 ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ

⊹ ࣪ ˖ my dr consists of a mix of old and new. it’s got parchment for the vibes and a phone for when the vibes are too slow.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

୨୧ bag alert: strictly post class essentials ୨୧

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐦𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐝𝐢𝐞 - 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐠

before we start let’s not forget to give credit where credit is due: to my partner in crime and my lover (don’t tell Theo). my shoulder bag aka..me in bag form — scratched, worn and somehow holding way more than it should. it’s a love child made with leather and chanel and ofc much love from its doting mother.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 - 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝

my sturdy willow wand is the overachieving intern who’s carrying the whole operation..literally. it’s the ultimate multitool. works as a weapon, light source, impromptu back scratcher and occasional toothpick..just kidding kids.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐨’𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 - 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐬

magically enchanted to stay flawless even after inhaling a concerning amount of pumpkin pasties. priorities, right? making out with Theo? never heard of it. anyway...nude is my everyday go to, gucci to line and chanel to make for very expensive kisses.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧 - 𝐜𝐢𝐠𝐬 & 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫

ciggy wiggies and a lighter — strictly for aesthetic purposes, like dramatically flicking the lighter open while contemplating the meaning of life..aka Theo’s. he stashed them in my bag and i left them there because i value my sanity more than i value lecturing him on lung health. pick your battles ladies. the lighter is engraved with “𝒯.𝒩“ because subtlety is for peasants and gold is prettier. it was a gift for Theo but he insisted on stashing it in my bag, convinced it’d be safer there than in his pocket. too fancy for his usual chaos but somehow its always within his reach. his fingers are always on it, flicking it open and closed. moan.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 - 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫

mirror, mirror..expensive? yes. worth it? also yes. tiny but mighty, just like me and makes you feel like you have your life together..sigh #this mirror gets me

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐜𝐤 - 𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐦 + 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐢𝐝

a polaroid of Theo? essential, because yes i’m that person who stares at it after five minutes apart (guilty). a reminder that i’m dating peak perfection while barely holding it together…just kidding, i’m the hot one in this relationship. my pink digicam? it’s my way of making sure i don’t forget a single second basically. from the snowflakes on my ravenclaw scarf to that one time Pansy accidentally poured her entire drink over Blaise. my digicam’s practically my personal time machine, making sure i never forget how perfect it all is. it’s the sound of footsteps echoing in the corridors, the flicker of candlelight in the common room, the faint scent of parchment and ink…but then, Theo’s laughing with Mattheo and just like that I’m reminded. yeah, this is real :’)

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲 - 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐮𝐝𝐬

for when i’m trying to focus in the library but instead, quill in hand, i’m scribbling random thoughts on my parchment (definitely not taking notes). the wooden chairs creak in that oddly comforting way and the soft whispers of students pretending to study fill the air. but instead of getting anything done i’m blasting my playlist..productivity? who is she?

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞 - 𝐠𝐮𝐦

for when Theo’s around and i need to make sure i don’t smell like a snack before i become one. the fear of bad breath is a lifelong battle that follows me into this reality too like an eternal nemesis. i scripted fresh breath but don’t mind me..chewing on my minty armor like i’m preparing for battle. #toungefight..what?

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝐦𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 - “𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞”

the magical artifact of modern sorcery: my phone. it’s the muggle relic of my bag, my emergency lifeline per se. texting? sure. calling? if absolutely necessary. it’s a modern day crystal ball, except it only predicts when i’m about to run out of battery..right. social media? it exists, just somehow tucked away from muggles. don’t ask me how it works, i just curated my instagram.

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

that’s it. nothing too wild…unless you count the 20 receipts, a handful of bobby pins and enough hair ties to start a collection. but yk? aesthetic.

from the bottom of my bag, 𝐣𝐚𝐬 “𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐢” ୨୧

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forever-rogue · 9 months ago

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It's a Lifestyle

AN | Hello, its me! Back from the dead for my favorite time of the year. It's just a sweet little scene with Eddie and his angel and their love of Halloween! 🥰

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.1k

Masterlist | Main, Eddie

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Eddie looked forward to coming home every day. So much. Like so much.

Because he always knew that you'd be there, excited to see him, even if it hadn't been that long since you'd last seen each other.

He parked his truck in the driveway of the small house that now belonged to the two of you.

A very own home for you both.

He noted your car in the driveway as well, but when he came inside the house, you weren't there to greet him. He took off his boots and set them by the door, reaching down to pet Pickles as she wound herself around his legs. The small black cat purred loudly before giving him one final rub and heading over to the window to sit on the ledge and stare outside. People and animal watching had become a favorite pastime of hers.

"Angel?” he called out, wondering where you had managed to disappear too. He poked around downstairs but found nothing but the delicious smell of fresh brownies. It was like you'd known that he had been craving them. You definitely made the best brownies…not that he was biased or anything.

When you didn't answer him, he climbed up the stairs, assuming you were in the bedroom or office or…somewhere. Hopefully.

As he got to the top of the stairs, the floor squeaked slightly. That alone was enough to alert you to his presence, “Eddie?”

He followed the sound of your voice down the hall and around the corner, finding the stairs to the attic pulled down, “its just me. What're you doing up there?”

“Hi my love,” your pretty face appeared and made him smile, “I'm just going through some boxes to find the Halloween Decorations! I know I have some from the years past-”

“It's not even September yet,” Eddie raised an eyebrow, amusement written all over his face. He was trying not to laugh, but it was all in good fun.

“Halloween is a year round tradition, Edward!” You beckoned for him to come up the stairs, “its not my fault that my year round decor just happens to be Halloween appropriate. Halloween is a lifestyle.”

“I thought it was a holiday?” He started to make the short climb, quickly standing up next to you. He gently took your face in his hands, beaming at you.

“It's a lifestyle,” you repeated, putting your hands on his forearms, smiling back at him, “hi.”

“Hi,” he leaned and kissed you softly, pulling away much sooner than you would have liked, but you knew you'd get plenty more later, “Halloween being a lifestyle choice makes sense considering your skull collection.”

“It is an impressive skull collection,” you mused before kissing him again. When he had first met you he was surprised to find that you collected all sorts of different replica skulls. You didn't give off the vibe immediately but he found that they did suit you, “wanna help me decorate, handsome?”

“For you? Anything,” he agreed, heart swelling at the pure joy on your face, “you want to decorate now? We'll decorate now.”

“And maybe go shopping for some new decorations?”

“Sure baby,” he promised, “you never decorated our old apartment much.”

“It was small,” you shrugged softly, “and that only felt like a home because of you. But this is our home now, one we worked hard for. And there's no one else I'd rather be here with. Now we have the freedom and ability to make it our own, however we want.”

“Yeah,” fondness colored his voice as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I love you, you know?”

“I love you,” you threw your arms around him and gave him a cuddly, tender embrace, “now, my love, will you help me bring the boxes downstairs?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed dramatically before immediately getting ready to bring everything down the ladder. You could have asked him for the moon and stars and would have gotten them for you, “I hope you know I'm only being nice because you made brownies.”

“I knew I made them for a reason,” you grinned at him, “you're not a hard sell, Eddie Munson.”

“You're lucky I love you!”

“I love you lots and lots,” you promised, moving the first box towards him so he could bring it down, “and then some!”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I'm not sure about this,” Eddie frowned at the coffee currently nestled in your hand, eyebrows almost disappearing into his dark curls, “why do you want a drink that tastes like pumpkin?”

He was, meanwhile and as usual, holding a cup of hot, black coffee. You grinned and shrugged your shoulders before talking a long sip, “because it's delicious and the right amount of sweet and spicy. Besides, it doesn't taste like pumpkin, it's the spices. Try it.”

“What if I die?” He scoffed dramatically before taking the cup of your hand taking a tentative sip. You watched his face go through several emotions before he finally swallowed.

“It's good, huh?” You knew him well enough by now to know when he liked something. He mumbled something under his breath before handing the coffee back to you, “and you didn't die.”

“It's…acceptable,” he tried to play it off but you could see him struggle to hold his laugh back. He quickly grabbed it again and took another sip, “I wouldn't try it again.”

“Whatever,” you kissed his cheek before taking your coffee back and looping your arm through his, walking him in the direction of the home goods store you'd dragged him to. Not that he was really complaining - he loved Halloween too after all, “you don't have to admit I'm right.”

“You wish,” he rolled his eyes dramatically, eyes widening when he noticed all the Halloween items in the shop’s window display, “wow. That's so much Halloween…and it's still so early in the season.”

“That's how it is nowadays,” you shrugged, “but it's to my advantage!”

“What exactly is that you're looking for?”

You moved to step in front of him, looking ridiculously cute in your sweater and scarf and boots, all bundled up to stay warm, “we are looking for whatever speaks to us. You gotta feel it in your gut.”

He couldn't help but laugh as you reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his, “whatever you say, angel.”

“We don't have to do this,” you whispered softly, “if you don't want to, I don't want to make you do this, or to make you feel obligated-”

“I want to do this,” he promised, “I love spending time with you, whatever we do.”

“Me too,” you relaxed, smiling shyly at your boyfriend. You reached over and tucked a rogue curl that had escaped from his bun behind his ear, “c'mon on then! Oh - you get to pick what we do next. Wanna go to Guitar Center maybe?”

His eyes lit up as he nodded. He knew that you weren't a music nerd like him, but you always listened intently when he spoke about it, often getting very passionate. You always supported him and his music and he couldn't ask for more.

“Hell yeah.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That afternoon you spent several hours walking around and looking for the perfect Halloween and fall decor for the house. It was, admittedly, a lot more fun than Eddie could have imagined.

Plus, the two of you had gone to Guitar Center afterwards. Which hadn't hurt. You always felt like you were lost when Eddie got really into talking about music, but you loved how passionate he was about music…everything really.

The only thing that was left to do was to get pumpkins for the front porch and maybe some pie. But that you wanted to do closer to actual Halloween so the pumpkins wouldn't rot. Although Eddie had insisted that would look metal as fuck.

The two of you had decided to make it a date day and by the time the two of you were heading home it was later into the evening. Eddie was driving your car, one hand on the wheel and the other one was holding yours.

Music was playing quietly as the two of you talked about anything and everything that crossed your mind. After a while, a content silence fell over the two of you as you stared out the window at the passing scenery.

“What're you thinking about, angel?” He quickly turned his head to look at you, his face illuminated by the passing street lights.

“Nothing,” you felt your cheeks warm up, and keep your eyes turned from his. he squeezed your hand and you knew better than to think he would leave it alone. That wasn't his style at all. You turned your head to face him, squinting your eyes before sighing, “Alright, its something. But it's silly and you're going to laugh.”

“I wouldn't laugh,” he insisted as you raised an eyebrow at him, “fine, I won't laugh unless it's very laugh worthy.”

“You're such an ass,” but you were laughing now, the sound full of adoration and affection, “I was just thinking about how much I love this.”

“This?”

“Us,” you watched a smile tug up the corners of his mouth, “I love being with you. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he turned the street to your house, effortlessly pulling into the driveway and parking the car. You unbuckled your seat belt and turned to him, looking at him sweetly, “what? You're looking at me all funny.”

“I'm not looking at you funny,” you leaned over the center console and traced your fingers gently along his jaw, “I just really love you.”

“And…? I know there's something else you're not saying,” he took your chin in his hand and tilted your face up towards him, “out with it angel.”

“It's just that,” you bit your lip, sucking in a slow breath, “I can't wait to marry you one day. I mean. I know this is all real, that what we have is real. But I also can't wait to call you my husband one day. It's like an added little bonus.”

“Oh,” his pale cheeks turned bright pink as he tried to control his excitement. At first you were worried that he wasn't going to share the same sentiment but any worry that popped up quickly disappeared, “I can't wait for that either. I can't wait to call you my wife one day.”

“And you'll be my husband,” you whispered as he nodded eagerly, “you want to marry me too?”

“Of course I do,” he admitted shyly, “and I'm going to propose. You'll just have to wait and see when that is. It'll happen but you'll never know when.”

“Until it happens…”

“Until it happens,” he agreed. Eddie held out his hands and motioned for you to shuffle over the center console, “c'mere.”

“We're in the car!”

“Don't care,” he insisted, helping you over and onto his lap, “just wanna be close to you.”

“Even better,” you whispered as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him close to your lips so you could kiss him. He sighed softly against your lips, his warm and sweet smell overwhelming you in the best ways possible, “I love you so much, Eddie. Thank you for always dealing with me and my shenanigans.”

“I've never dealing with you,” he nudged his nose against yours, “I love every bit of you. Plus I also enjoy all of your so called shenanigans. We just have…adventures. Silly ones, but good ones. and I happen to love Halloween as much as you. It's a win-win for me.”

“For both of us,” you pressed your forehead against his, “do you wanna go inside and put up some of the stuff we got?”

“Yes,” he agreed eagerly, “but I want to enjoy some more of you first.”

“What…oh,” you grinned, “I would very much like that.”

“Let's go then,” he opened the door and gently helped you out of the car, “no time to waste, m'lady.”

“You're such a dork!”

“So are you,” he countered, “but I love you regardless.”

“And I love you, Eddie."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #joseph quinn #stranger things

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rileythelonelyalien · 6 months ago

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What? don't you recognise me?

A/N: soooo Caleb's trailer recently came out and it been living in my brain ever since I'm actully so excited to see how the story will unfold with Caleb coming back! I was feeling a little inspired by the trailer so I wrote this short little fic just to scratch that Caleb itch in my brain lol I hope you enjoy it! Whilst the reader is meant to be MC i have kept the gender as vague as possible to make sure that anyone can enjoy this fic!

TW/CW: stalker vibes, yandere?

word count: 655

fic is under the cut :)

“Ah… I see you’ve not changed much huh?”

Words are mumbled as a looming figure stands in the shadows, always watching yet never reaching out. Not yet. The time to touch will come eventually… skills honed from various experiences that are far too much to spend any time ruminating on give him the best advantage of overseeing the activities of his most prized possession. Although she doesn't know that yet, in due time it all won’t matter anyway. What they don’t know won’t kill them after all, he wouldn't allow it to.

Hours would pass by like minutes, so enraptured he observed his obsession… an intense set of eyes fixating, analysing, admiring taking in their figure move freely within their apartment like they were the only thing that kept the world spinning. Distinct squeaks emanate from the leather enveloping his hands, fingers tightening the pendant gradually getting nestled deeply into the glove far enough to feel the pressure of it pushing against the skin of his palm painfully through the gloves. The delicate silver chain glinting within the moonlight, a memento of a time long gone, of a man he used to be… the man who would roll over and play nice at their every whim because he loves them so dearly. That man was long dead now, in fact maybe he didn’t even exist in the first place? This feeling of deep desire, the wanting, the need, the overwhelming all-consuming urge to possess… take… own. Always there simmering beneath, deep in his skin, beneath the flesh or what was left of it digging deeper into the very bones of his body. He was no longer the puppy dog left yearning and pining all for just a drop of attention, to have their gaze linger, to want the same way he wants so desperately.

Well, he's done waiting now, there was no reason to keep it dug beneath a smile and facade of tenderness. He knows what he wants and he won’t stop until he finally has what is rightfully his.

Slowly his hand still clenching the necklace in his palm unfurls exposing the pendant and the little charm teasing him, tormenting his mind with all sorts of delicious ideas for when he obtains his greatest possession. His uniform rustles quietly as he brings his hand up to his lips pressing them against the pendant lightly a shiver running down his spine just at all that his mind was conjuring up. Alas this momentary slip is quickly hardened once again as the distant sound of a door clicking open alerts his senses.

You step outside of your apartment into the small balcony needing some fresh air as you take in the night air just collecting your thoughts on the most recent case you have been dealing with at the Hunters association. A gentle nightly breeze brushes over your skin cooling the surface as goosebumps become more prevalent over your skin. Time seems to pass so slowly in the night, it's so quiet and almost tranquil with the rest of the world seemingly asleep at this moment save for the glow of the stars above. Twinkling so softly in the distance they shine so bright despite how far away they are you lose yourself to your thoughts, ruminating over the past few days thoughts barely staying for a few moments before another takes its place. How has your life become so complex and convoluted? So many trials and tribulations that you have faced in what seems so little time when will it all come to a still? Will it ever be ‘normal’... things you can’t dwell on too long to fight off the inevitable spiral a mindset like that could lead too. Completely absorbed in your own world you would notice the sense that there are a pair of eyes not too far away staring at you.

“Oh, Pipsqueak… I wonder if you’ve missed me”

#love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace #lnds #love and deepspace caleb #loveanddeepspace #lads #lads mc #lads caleb #lads caleb x reader #lnds caleb

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miri-tiazan · 5 months ago

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Fresh from the archives, new unhinged 00Q chatfic!

So, @cicerfics and have been writing unhinged 00Q chatfics and headcanons back and forth in DMs for uh… going on two years now, and it seems like perhaps the time has come to unearth some of these from the archives and dust them off for sharing. Accordingly, here is the very first chatfic we did, inspired by this comment thread on Ch. 7 of cicer’s delightful fic the warmth of your doorways!

tags: omegaverse, mpreg, weird omegaverse hormone nonsense, menopause

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miri-tiazan: Oh God. Cicer. Doesn’t even have to be mpreg but…

Omega Bond going into his first heat in decades and just spontaneously deciding that Q’s flat is the Only Acceptable Location to nest in. They’re not even dating! Bond’s just broken in a few times! Q has no idea why this is happening!

Q just gets an alert from his home security system one day and Bond is There and he’s like, refinishing the window trim in the second bedroom or something. And also he won’t leave. Surprise, Q! You have a roommate, and he’s hormonal! Enjoy your new home improvements!

cicerfics: ...Okay, now that we're talking about this, you know what I'm a little bit obsessed with right now? The entire question of menopause in omegaverse. I don't think I've ever seen an a/b/o fic REALLY explore that concept, but now it's fascinating to me!

Like, what if nesting is a thing omegas only do when they're pregnant OR going through menopause? What if Bond (having never been pregnant) never experienced any of these instincts/urges and thought he was impervious to them? What if he hits 44/45, enters perimenopause, and is absolutely BODIED by the urge to:

a) Acquire a nice house b) Renovate, refurbish, and redecorate it c) Learn to cook d) Start a lil herb garden or something and maybe make some pesto??? e) Acquire a lover/companion to feed up and care for f) Acquire some pets/babies/random houseplants/literally anything that requires his protection and nurturing

Poor dude has ZERO experience with these types of urges. But when they appear, they hit him like a TRUCK. And his own flat is way too cold/sterile/crappy/lonely for proper nesting. There aren't even any cats or quartermasters in there!!

So, yes: one day Q gets home from work and Bond has simply annexed his flat/cats/kitchen. There are already overflowing bags from the hardware store scattered around the flat, because Bond has made up his mind that three different rooms need to be repainted, the bathroom needs a complete reno, and oh yeah, he's replacing the sofa because this one simply Isn't Right. The vibes are Bad. Bond Doesn't Like It, so it's gotta go.

Also, there's pasta sauce simmering on the stove and probably a trifle waiting in the fridge, and the cats are wearing new designer collars.

And sorry Q, but if you didn't want a hormonal new housemate/husband who is going through The Change...too bad. You got one anyway! He's here to stay...and no, he doesn't understand what's happening to his body/mind, either. Good luck, everybody!!

Continued on AO3 here:

00Q Chatfics and Assorted Headcanons (2391 words) by cicer, miri_tiazan Chapters: 1/? Fandom: James Bond (Craig Movies) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: James Bond/Q Characters: James Bond, Q (James Bond) Additional Tags: Omegaverse, Mpreg | Male Pregnancy, weird omegaverse hormone nonsense, Menopause Summary: Lightly edited chat transcripts between cicer and miri_tiazan: some live-written fics, some random headcanons, some plot-free fluff, all 00Q!

#miri and cicer 00Q chatfics #00Q #omegaverse

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holistic-girlhood · 6 months ago

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How to Tap Into Your Inner Aphrodite (Yes, You Have One!)

Okay, babes, let me guess — you’re craving a little more oomph in your life. Maybe you want to feel more beautiful, magnetic, or just a little less like a potato in sweatpants. (No shade to sweatpants, but you get me.) Enter: Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love, beauty, and unapologetic sensuality. And spoiler alert — she’s not just for the “traditionally feminine” among us. She’s for anyone ready to claim their softness, charm, and big “I’m the prize” energy.

But how do you actually call in goddess energy without sacrificing your entire paycheck at a crystal shop? Don’t worry, boo — I got you. Here are 5 easy (and actually fun) ways to channel your inner Aphrodite. No experience necessary. Just you, your vibe, and maybe a rose-scented candle if you’re feeling fancy.

e a rose-scented candle if you’re feeling fancy.

1. Create a Space Where Beauty Lives (AKA An Altar, But Make It Cute)

Why it works: Imagine if Love, Beauty, and Self-Worth had a little VIP lounge in your home. That’s what an altar is. It’s like giving Aphrodite a key to your apartment — except she’s not gonna judge your dishes in the sink. This space serves as a constant reminder that you are that girl (or that person, if girl doesn’t fit).

How to do it:

• Find a small, sacred spot (windowsill, nightstand, shelf — whatever you’ve got).

• Decorate it with things that feel lush, sensual, and a little indulgent. Think: shells, fresh flowers, candles, pretty trinkets, or anything that makes you feel like a goddess.

• Once a week, light a candle here and say, “Aphrodite, I welcome your love, beauty, and grace into my life.” It doesn’t have to be fancy or formal. Just be real with her. She’s not gonna ghost you if you mess up the words.

Pro tip: If your roommate or partner side-eyes you for having a “goddess altar,” just tell them it’s “art.”

2. Turn Your Self-Care Routine Into a Sacred Ritual (Yes, the One You’re Already Doing)

Why it works: Listen, you’re already showering (I hope), brushing your hair, and putting lotion on your legs. The only difference here is intention. Aphrodite loves intentional beauty. When you start treating your body like a work of art instead of a “project to fix,” you’re moving in goddess territory. Bonus? You’ll start feeling hotter — and not just from the water temperature.

How to do it:

• While you’re moisturizing, brushing your hair, or doing your skincare routine, say:

✨ “My body is sacred, beautiful, and worthy of love.” ✨

That’s it. No chanting required.

This simple shift turns a basic, everyday task into a full-on “main character moment.” You’ll feel less like you’re going through the motions and more like you’re starring in a soft-focus perfume commercial. Hot girl energy: activated.

3. Hype Yourself Up With Aphrodite-Approved Affirmations

Why it works: Confidence isn’t something you just wake up with one day. (If only.) It’s something you build, word by word, thought by thought. Aphrodite embodies this energy naturally, and she’s more than happy to lend you some. When you use affirmations with intention, you’re essentially telling your brain, “Hey, we’re not doing self-hate anymore, okay?”

How to do it:

• Look at yourself in the mirror (I know, scary sometimes, but stay with me).

• Meet your own eyes. Not your hair, not your undereye bags. Your EYES.

• Say an affirmation out loud, like:

✨ “I am magnetic. I am worthy of desire. I am a literal masterpiece.” ✨

Do this for 30 seconds. If your brain starts yelling “Liar, liar, pants on fire,” that’s okay. It’s just resistance. Do it again tomorrow. Aphrodite didn’t become that girl by listening to the peanut gallery.

4. Offer Her Gifts of Pleasure (AKA Indulge Without Guilt)

Why it works: Aphrodite lives for indulgence. She’s not about that “hustle harder” life. She wants you to experience pleasure, joy, and sweetness — not as a “treat” you have to earn, but as your natural state of being. Every time you let yourself fully enjoy something, you’re tapping into her energy.

How to do it:

• Next time you treat yourself — dessert, a bath, a solo dance party in your kitchen — dedicate it to Aphrodite.

• Literally say, “This joy is for you, Aphrodite.” (Yes, out loud. No, you will not sound weird.)

That donut you’re eating? It’s a sacred offering. That slow, hot bath? Aphrodite worship. That 15-minute break where you scroll TikTok and giggle? Boom. Goddess work. Enjoying life isn’t lazy — it’s divine.

5. Call Her In During Moments of Pure Beauty (Sunsets, Music, Hot Makeout Sessions — All of It)

Why it works: Aphrodite isn’t just hanging out on Mount Olympus; she’s everywhere. Her vibe lives in music that gives you chills, in golden hour light, in art that makes you stop scrolling. Every time you pause to savor something beautiful, you’re basically sending her a spiritual “u up?” text.

How to do it:

• Each night before bed, think of one beautiful moment you experienced that day. It could be as big as a pink sky at sunset or as small as the way your coffee smelled that morning.

• Say, “Thank you, Aphrodite, for showing me love in the world today.”

That’s it. Easy, right? But watch — the more you do this, the more you’ll start noticing beauty everywhere. And when you start noticing beauty everywhere, you naturally start feeling more beautiful, too. It’s science.

#spirituality

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fandomsfordays21 · 7 months ago

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Unlikely Sans AU friendship idea I CANNOT get out of my head...

So... I've been thinking about these two for a while and I've finally decided to post it on Tumblr.

Hear me out... Fresh and Lust as besties.

Now, I know what you're thinking, "Fresh would be disgusted by Lust or he would avoid him!" or something along those lines and/or another type of excuse as to why the wouldn't get along, HOWEVER! I disagree.

I actually think they could get along despite their differences and that the dynamic could be really interesting. Fresh is overall a chill, family friendly guy, right? We know that he hates swearing (Cause one of his powers is to literally censor it when he's around) and that he hates things like drugs and alcohol, right? But he's also a kinda flirty guy, and canonically has a list of people he has kissed and loves to add to it. I definitely think Fresh would be against dirty talking and stuff like that, but the overall idea of sex wouldn't really bother him. I mean, he wouldn't have any interest in it, but it's just a natural thing some people do. As long as they keep that behind closed doors, he wouldn't care. This is the reason I think him and Lust would get along.

Their relationship would definitely not be good at first, with how incredibly vulgar Lust is and how much he talks about sex, but I think that is actually how they would learn to get along. You see, my version of Lust is an Angel Dust like character. He's used to being seen as nothing more than "The sex fiend" and is probably used to people thinking that's all he is, so he acts like it. Lust is used to being seen as just a pretty face and body, but Fresh literally wouldn't care. Fresh wouldn't be all over him, nor would he be particularly disgusted by Lust, he just would want the guy to stop talking about sex all the time.

I think that, at some point, they would both reach a point of understanding about each other, and Lust would become more comfortable around Fresh. Maybe even comfortable enough to act a bit more like "himself" instead of the front he puts up. Lust would grow to like the nonchalant nature Fresh has, because he knows it's genuine. Fresh isn't pretending to have emotions he doesn't have, Fresh isn't pretending to be nice because he wants to get a discount on Lust's services. Lust wouldn't have to check every food or drink he's given, wouldn't have to analyze the tone of Fresh's voice to see if he's being lied too, because Fresh genuinely has no interest in Lust outside of friendship.

I headcannon that, even though Fresh doesn't really feel or understand any emotions, he will listen to other people vent about theirs, 'cause it'd be unrad of him if he didn't listen to his pals when they needed him to. I also headcannon that Fresh is the type of guy to tell when a person or place has bad vibes and will keeps his friends away from there. He's walking down the street with Lust and a guy is looking predatory? Lust is getting covered with a jacket three sizes too big for him because, "It's windy broski, ya need to learn to cover up." and then Fresh will give the guy a look that you never want to get from him. Lust wants to go to a club and/or bar? Fresh won't go due to the unrad substances inside, but he will be right outside the door waiting for Lust to come out and/or on high alert for any signs of distress from inside. Fresh would be the kind of bodyguard friend who no one realizes is a bodyguard friend because he's so casual about it.

I feel like Fresh would also be really understanding of Lust's hypersexuality, and that Lust can't help how he feels sometimes. Imagine Lust having a really bad Hypersexuality episode, the kind I sometimes have where it gets physically painful and you feel so ashamed about it where you just want to cry, and Fresh just covers him with a blanket and sits next to him so Lust feels safe having someone he trusts nearby so he's not so vulnerable. Lust doesn't have very many of those people, and I think it'd be great for him to have someone he's 100% sure won't take advantage of him.

I have so much more I want to talk about with this that I can't fit into this post since it's already so long, BUT DO YOU SEE THE VISION???

#undertale #undertale au #lust sans #fresh sans #underlust sans #underfresh sans #sans aus #sans au #friendship #i am cringe but i am free #please don't call me crazy you have to get it #ramblings #rambles #sans au rambles

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erwinsvow · 1 year ago

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I know this isn’t the usual speed around here but slightly pathetic whimpery s1 Rafe is to die for!! He’s obviously cocky and entitled but it’s in a more spoiled and almost bratty way so he throws his little temper tantrums when he doesn’t get his way… I think s1 has seriously overlooked toxic Rafe potential

- 💓

wait i know im allllll about season 2 rafe like hes loml seriously but i just started rewatching season 1 and i dont like his hair lol but hes so toxic and gross. i know everyone on here has been talking more about him and like fratboy rafe and i usually refrain but something about being his gf through all of season 1..... im hornee.

in particular im thinking of like how he acts so douchey with everyone in public but its so visible he has a huge soft spot for you.. waves you over when he's just hanging out with his friends to check in that you're doing okay, goes and gets you a fresh drink before giving you a kiss and sending you off back to ur friends.. makes some gross comment about how you were screaming for him in the back of his truck last night after you walk away... kelce is like bro. i always sit in the back.

you'd be lurking in his bedroom when he goes down to 'have a chat' with his dad, like when he gets yelled at about the generators. comes back all angry and literally folds you in half and fucks you until you cry because you are his favorite way to calm down <3 ... (i have no idea what the vibes on this blog are and i dont wanna make people mad but he gets so manipulative... esp if you're just like i don't feeling like fucking again right now or esp in public!!!! which he looooves.... starts going on a tangent about how he provides for you and takes care of you and he's the man of the house and if he needs to relax you should be on your knees already.... sorry omg if ur reading this n youre starting to hate me i apologize in advance. i never talk about scummy scummy rafe but hes real and hes so hot. fully wants you to be like a hyperactive horny bunny just waiting for his dick at all times.... i would 110% start doing it too... ANYWAYS)

he's so spoiled so he likes spoiling you with anything you want... most of the stuff he gets you is pretty much for him tho... gets hard because you wear an RC necklace.. lots of pretty lingerie and babydolls that he likes to rip up...handcuffs because duh.. it's almost always you in the handcuffs but every once in a while he can be convinced to get in them lol

but the temper tantrums are soooo real like especially if you're out with friends or made plans with your parents. like he seriously loves making you abandon your plans to come see him. but then youll show up and hes at a party and selling or ignoring you and ofc you cry because it's like he made you come here and not even giving you any attention... then he'll drag you out by your hair and fuck you SOOO mean in the back of his truck talkin about "just needed this dick, yeah? s'okay, dad's gonna give it to ya hard. then you'll be good as gold won'tya?" ugh. hes so mean.

im still in my rewatch but the scene where him and topper beat up pope:( this especially hits sooo hard w my pogue reader but i can just imagine that being the cause of your first real fight, like you're so upset he can be that cruel but there goes his manipulation tactics.. telling you he needs to be a proactive man to protect you and his friends and his turf. he's not letting anyone walk all over him, regardless if you like them or not. fucks you until you forget all about your pogue friends, and then you end up bandaging his bloody hand for him.

ooohh and when they go to that movie showing.. can just imagine curling up on a lawnchair with him under a blanket, him n the boys are on high alert for jj and pope but he keeps a tight arm around you, goes and gets you a soda and popcorn which you two share.. you don't want him to leave and you whine when he does.. can just imagine the scene where jj and pope turn back to look at him when kie tells them rafe is right behind them. rafe is staring so hard at them while ur tryna feed him a piece of popcorn. LOL

#waiiiit i love you babe you just made me actually want to write for s1 rafe. bye HAH #do you prefer like these long winded explanations or a real full on drabble in reply?#love u !#📮 asks #💓 anon

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calia23 · 29 days ago

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The agent of chaos is coming! To help people complete the RPF Summer Camp challenge, I decided to come to your inbox with the next question:

If the MotoGP riders were fruits, what would they be?

Please share these ask so we can all get more badges and make this more fun. Also, feel free to ignore this if you want.

Agent of chaos says goodbye.

OMG GOD! Thank you so much, anonymous! I actually wanted to write something specifically about fruit to participate because, although I like the topics, I don't feel ready to tackle any of them, and fruit was the safest bet. So, thank you, because I've been putting it off, but this question has put me on alert again.

So here we go! I hope this counts as a summer camp entry because I'm really excited.

If the MotoGP riders were fruits, what would they be?

Marc Marquez: I've always associated him with red, so maybe an apple or a strawberry (searching for red fruits, I discovered the red Pitahaya). So I definitely consider Marc a Pitahaya, hard on the outside and soft on the inside. That doesn't mean I consider he soft, but I think he's softer than it looks.

Alex Marquez: would be a peach, soft on the outside, but with a firm core. At first glance, he seems calm and discreet, lacking Marc's charisma, but he has determination, perseverance. Like the peach, he has a natural sweetness reflected in his calm demeanor, but also a "hard core" that means he won't let anything get to him. He's not always the most outstanding fruit in the basket, but when he's at his best, he can be one of the tastiest.

Fermin Aldeguer: could be a mango the freshness and youth he possesses and the energy he displays. And you can also see that he's a very sweet guy who wears his heart on his sleeve, like a mango; he doesn't hide anything.

Pecco Bagnaia: On the other hand, I definitely consider Pecco a more classic fruit. Something like a pear or an apple. He doesn't attract much attention, but he's always there.

Fabio Quartararo: It's definitely the opposite; he draws attention. he would be a visibly striking fruit, like a pineapple. I don't know, but I also associate pineapple with something modern. I'm reminded of Marco from One Piece. They may not have the same personality, but I definitely think they have the same vibe.

Johann Zarco: I think he could be a banana. You never know how ripe it will be until you cut it open, and the skin is often deceiving.

Jorge Martin: I guess it could be a watermelon. Everyone expects it to be sweet, but you might find that it doesn't taste like anything, it's all water.

Maverick Viñales: It has a Kiwi vibe, it may seem boring, but it definitely surprises.

Enea Bastianini: Like grapes, maybe? They may seem like a small thing, but you can definitely never take them for granted.

Jack Miller: He's like a chili, you don't know when it's going to explode, but when it does, you feel it.

Brad Binder: He's a blueberry, small but powerful. He's that driver who doesn't always seem like a star until Sunday comes around, and he proves he's still there (sometimes).

Marco Bezzecchi: would be a strawberry, young, vibrant, and with a freshness that's hard to ignore. He's striking, and he knows it. Although he might be a dream that needs to reach his full potential (in terms of riding).

Pedro Acosta: could be consider him a lemon, because even though it's young, it has a sour taste, or an intense and competitive personality. Also like a lemon that needs to ripen.

Luca Marini: could be also be considered classic, but a bit more specific, as a green apple. This fruit is known for its tangy, refreshing flavor, which may symbolize his analytical and detailed approach to racing.

Franco Morbidelli: could be a plum, discreet and elegant in appearance, but with a sweet, complex, and characterful interior, perfectly reflects this fruit that surprises those who take the time to get to know it well.

Raúl Fernández would be like a grenade: on the outside, he seems serious and reserved (Honestly, I don't know much about him, so I'll go with that)

Ai Ogura: could be a mandarin small, agile, and full of energy. And always ready to surprise with its intense flavor.

Somkiat Chantra: could be a melon with a surprising sweetness, big in presence and with plenty of energy to offer.

Miguel Oliveira: It could be a pear, simple and discreet, but with a sweet and pleasant flavor. It doesn't immediately attract attention, but you know it's there.

Fabio Di Giannantonio could be blackcurrant: small and acidic, with an intense flavor that stands out for its freshness, character and aggressiveness.

And that's all my comparisons. Of course, some are more detailed, while others are more superficial. And I'm not shying away from the subjective nature of my opinion. The amount of things I've read about the meanings of fruits will remain with me.

#motogp #motogp summer camp #I don't know how to tag this to make it count #I'll probably come back to it later #Topic of relating fruits with pilots or motogp #I think #rpf summer camp #motogp rpf

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muddyorbsblr · 1 year ago

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dodgeball challenge :: 08 june 2024 (gifs)

He looks like he's gone full on big bro here giving his siblings a pep talk 🥹💖

I haven't got a clue how dodgeball works exactly, and I'm not about to take the time to find out because literally all I can focus on in this bit was ✨thigh✨

Now see here's where I'm conflicted because on the one hand I am a whore going "mango alert wee woo wee woo" and pulling out the siren but also on the other I'm just going "this man really chose violence and stood his ground on his 'free the mango movement' while playing fucking dodgeball"

And then immediately after we get the "proud big bro" vibes again in a blink and you'll miss him shot…

Brb googling how to be Jill Scott…

I'm off to go and cook up some more gifs from the other videos while waiting in thirsty fear over what fresh chaos this man's gonna be putting us through this fine Game Day

@lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @michelleleewise @mochie85 @fictive-sl0th @xorpsbane @ladyofthestayingpower @maple-seed @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @acidcasualties @liminalpebble @alexakeyloveloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @mischief2sarawr @simplyholl @vbecker10 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @lokiprompts @give-me-a-moose @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @wheredafandomat @caffiend-queen @km-ffluv @kikster606 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @littlelokilad @glitchquake @gigglingtiggerv2 @november-rayne @trickster-maiden @viv-annelore @five-miles-over @gruftiela @coldnique @smirkingkitten @raqnarokr @jaidenhawke @mrs-illyrian-baby @tallseaweed @chantsdemarins @cabingrlandrandomcrap @jiyascepter @cl-0-vr ++

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hottiewatch-stories · 1 month ago

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Pharah x Mercy oneshot ♡

༺ ˖࣪ ∗ 𓆩♡𓆪 ∗ ˖࣪ ༻

contains: nsfw, strip club, eating out, lap dance, praising, mentioning of other overwatch characters

hope you enjoy <𝟯

༺ ˖࣪ ∗ 𓆩♥︎𓆪 ∗ ˖࣪ ༻

Fareeha was a businesswoman, through and through. Meetings, flights, tailored blazers—her life ran on coffee, silence, and calendar alerts. She was always somewhere: Tokyo, Paris, now Zürich. This week’s stop came with a sleek Airbnb in the city center and a coworker who had no concept of “quiet evenings.” Her coworker—Ashe—sauntered in while Fareeha was on the couch, scrolling mindlessly through emails she wasn’t planning to answer. “Hey,” Ashe said, leaning over the back of the couch. “Wanna go to a strip club with me tonight?” Fareeha didn’t even blink. “No.” Ashe huffed, flopping down beside her like she owned the place. “Seriously? When’s the last time you got laid?” Fareeha didn’t respond. “Exactly,” Ashe grinned. “This place is cute, though. All-girl dancers. All-girl audience. I found it earlier—it’s called Peach. Isn’t that adorable?” That earned a glance. Fareeha raised a brow. “…Peach?” Ashe’s grin turned wicked. “Yup. Thought it’d suit your taste.” Fareeha set her phone down slowly. “What time?”

The night air in Zürich was cool, crisp, whatever — but inside the Airbnb, it was warm and low-lit. Fareeha stood in front of the mirror, quiet. Her hair was still a little damp, curling soft at the ends where it brushed her jaw. She barely ever wore it down. Too soft, too relaxed. But tonight? It felt right. A little casual. A little dangerous. She pulled on a fitted black tee — simple, tight enough to hug her chest, smooth where it tucked into her jeans. The denim was worn in, high-waisted, sitting right on her hips like they belonged there. She added the belt, thick black leather with a silver ring buckle, cinched tight. Over it all, the blazer: pinstriped, tailored, sleeves pushed up to her forearms. A clean silhouette, sharp lines. Nothing loud. Just confident. Like she knew exactly what she was doing. Low-top Jordans — black and white, fresh, solid. Something about them made the outfit feel grounded. Not trying too hard. Just cool. She leaned in to fix her necklaces — three gold chains layered over her collarbones, catching light when she moved. Her lip gloss was subtle, but it hit under the right light, and the mascara made her lashes pop without doing too much. She looked… effortless. But every part of it was intentional. From the doorway, Ashe was watching her, grinning over the rim of her drink. “Goddamn,” she said, eyes dragging down her frame. “You trying to pull all the dancers tonight, or just the hottest one?” Fareeha didn’t even look back. She just adjusted her chain, calm as hell. “I’m just going to see the vibe.”

The street was quiet, save for the soft hum of distant traffic and the warm glow spilling out from the sign above them: Peach. Neon pinks and corals pulsed gently, casting their faces in candy-colored light as Ashe pulled open the door like she owned the place.

The place was pink and dim, soft in that hazy, sticky way—velvet seats, rose-colored lights, and the sweet scent of vanilla hanging in the air. The walls curved softly, lit by golden sconces shaped like fruit—pears, cherries, peaches. Low music played from hidden speakers, a slow, syrupy bassline that wrapped itself around the room like perfume.

It wasn’t sleazy. It was curated. Feminine. The kind of place where heels clicked against hardwood, where laughter was warm, not forced. The crowd was entirely women—some dressed to the nines, others in denim jackets and sneakers. A few sat alone, sipping cocktails that looked like works of art. No one looked uncomfortable. Fareeha took it in silently, arms crossed. She didn’t look overwhelmed, just… observant. Ashe leaned in close enough to speak over the music without yelling. “Cute, right?” she said, smirking. “Told you it wasn’t weird.” “It’s definitely… curated,” Fareeha said, eyes scanning the soft lighting and minimal-but-gorgeous decor. “Very peach-forward.” Ashe snorted. “Exactly your brand.” They moved toward a small booth near the stage—low-backed, cozy, and just far enough from the main action to feel private. Fareeha slid in first, sitting with that same precise elegance she wore like armor. Ashe tossed her jacket on the back of the seat and flagged a server down for drinks.

On stage, a dancer emerged through the curtain, slow and confident. The spotlight caught the shimmer of rhinestones at her hips and the glint of metal threading through her braids. The crowd responded with whoops and finger snaps, not leering but celebratory—like they were cheering on a friend rather than consuming a performance. Fareeha watched with her arms still crossed but her expression softening. “She’s good,” she said quietly. Ashe leaned back, sipping from a drink that had a tiny edible flower floating in it. “They all are. It’s an art form, babe. Don’t sleep on it.” For the first time that night, Fareeha smiled—small, but real.

The lights dipped again, and the music shifted—darker, thicker, with a bassline that slithered across the floor like smoke. The crowd fell silent without a word. Something was coming.

She stepped through the velvet curtain like a shadow pulled into candlelight. Tall. Eyes sharp and brown, piercing right through the haze. Her hair was electric blue, pulled high into a fierce ponytail. Her bodysuit was matte black, catching just enough light to shimmer when she moved—cut high at the hips, plunging low in the back like it dared you to look. Thigh-high boots wrapped her legs in sleek stiletto leather, no platform, just sharp as a secret. A thin black ribbon wrapped around her throat, tied in a delicate bow. No smile. Didn’t need one.

She danced like she was bored with the laws of gravity. Like her body was liquid draped over an invisible beat. She climbed the pole without effort, spun slow and low, her legs a slow scissor that made the air ripple. Her expression never changed, but somehow, it made you want to beg for her attention.

From their booth, Ashe sucked her teeth and let out a soft, reverent “Damn.” Fareeha didn’t respond, but her fingers tightened slightly on her glass. “Okay, who let Morticia Addams be French and fine as hell?” Ashe whispered, eyes wide. “Like. She could just step on me and I’d say ‘thank you, miss.’” “I think everyone here feels the same,” Fareeha murmured, unable to look away.

And then—the lights changed again. Softer now. Glowing amber, like sun through honey. A second dancer stepped through the curtain. And the whole room changed. She wasn’t loud. Wasn’t flashy. She moved like a secret—something soft and golden you weren’t supposed to touch but couldn’t stop reaching for. Her outfit shimmered with a soft, golden glow, the fabric barely held together by thin gold straps that framed her curves like art. Her heels were nude—simple, elegant, almost invisible. Her long blonde hair curled down her back, loose and tousled like she’d just come from someone’s sheets. And she glowed. Like the light loved her. Fareeha blinked. Her heart did a weird thing—skipped, then surged. Because the woman on stage looked like something out of a dream you don’t admit to anyone. All soft hips and long limbs and those eyes—blue, deep, curious. Like she wasn’t just dancing for someone. Like she was searching.

And then, impossibly, those eyes found hers.

For a beat too long, they held. Fareeha’s breath caught. Ashe elbowed her hard. “HELLO? Babe, she’s looking at you. You’re about to get chosen like a prize goat.” “She’s not,” Fareeha said, low. “She’s just—working.” “Oh sure. That’s what everyone says before they get the hottest lap dance of their life and black out.“ The dancer moved down the steps of the stage, hips swaying slow, shoulders back, eyes never straying. She didn’t look at anyone else. She walked straight up to Fareeha like gravity wasn’t real.

She slid into Fareeha’s lap with the same smooth, deadly grace she’d carried across the stage—quiet, confident, and owning every inch of space. Her thighs pressed firm against denim as she settled, knees parted just enough to frame her. Fareeha’s breath caught, shallow but undeniable. Her hands hovered, unsure—like her body was scrambling for a new script, short-circuiting at the touch.

Then the dancer moved. Not hurried. Not showy. Just a slow, deliberate shift that rolled her hips back—real slow—until her ass pressed flush against Fareeha’s jeans, warm and demanding. The room could’ve burned down and Fareeha wouldn’t have flinched. She froze, lips parted, eyes locked on those electric blue orbs. The dancer leaned in, hand sliding onto Fareeha’s thigh for balance, the other ghosting over her shoulder, starting to grind. Soft. Deep. Controlled. Every movement a secret language only their bodies understood. Fareeha’s hands twitched, hovering, fighting to stay put. Then the dancer rolled her hips harder, pulling a low, ragged exhale from Fareeha’s throat. Her hands finally obeyed—tentative but sure—landing on the dancer’s waist, fingers splayed and trembling like she needed proof this was real. The blonde dipped her head, strands of gold falling across her cheek, voice low and amused but never mocking: “You can touch me.” The words hit like fire. Fareeha’s grip tightened—firm, grounding. Her hands slid down, cupping the dancer’s ass slow and deliberate, as if willing herself awake. The dancer sighed softly, never breaking her rhythm. Beside her, Ashe whispered, stunned, “Okay. I’m so sorry for ever clowning your taste in women. You win. This? This is insane.”

But Fareeha didn’t hear. Her world shrunk to the woman pressed against her like sin wrapped in silk, to the heat, the weight, the reckless dare in every glance thrown over a shoulder. Chemistry? No. This was combustion.

Angela pressed a quick kiss to Fareeha’s cheek, then slipped away into the shadows. Just a step from the booth, she turned her head slightly, voice low — only Fareeha could hear. “Room Five,” she breathed—soft, commanding. No question asked. Then she turned and walked away. No glance back. Just hips swaying slow, gold catching the low light, swallowed by the curtain. Fareeha sat frozen. The words hung heavy in the air—like a match waiting to strike.

Ashe blinked. “Oh my god.” Fareeha didn’t respond. “Are you gonna go?” Ashe pressed, voice a mix of scandalized and thrilled.

Fareeha reached for her drink, hands shaking, downed the last swallow in one fierce gulp—and stood. Ashe’s jaw dropped. “YOU’RE GONNA GO.”

The hallway led her in slow, like the whole place was holding its breath. Lights low, pink and gold glowing along the floor, each step quieter than the last. Everything felt muffled, like the world had gone underwater—except her pulse, which pounded steady and strong in her throat. Room Five. She pushed the door open. The room was pink—soft pink, warm pink, all kinds of pink. The walls were velvet, the bed low and wide, covered in satin sheets that looked way too fancy to mess up (but were definitely meant to be messed up). There was a mirror across from it, angled just enough to catch the bed without being too obvious. Everything felt soft, private, kind of ridiculous in the best way—like stepping into a dream that didn’t care about being subtle. And in the center of it all—Angela.

Her back was turned. Light spilled down her shoulders, catching where the sheer gold fabric clung to her body. She was already peeling it off, slow, like she knew she was being watched. One strap fell, then the other, and the bodysuit slipped down her hips in one long, fluid motion. It puddled at her feet. She didn’t step out of it—she let it stay there like a fallen crown. Naked. Her skin was smooth, glowing, touched everywhere by soft pink light. Her waist dipped in like a sculptor’s line. Her thighs were thick and strong and the curve of her ass caught the light in all the right ways—soft, full, impossible not to follow with your eyes. Her hair spilled down her back in loose waves, soft and a little messy.

Fareeha stood frozen. Watching. Breathing her in. Angela turned. And her eyes—blue and burning—locked onto hers like they’d always known where to look. She didn’t say a word. Just walked, slow and bare, across the room, the carpet barely sighing beneath her feet. When she reached Fareeha, her hands found the lapels of her blazer—soft touches, fingertips ghosting down like she was tasting fabric with her skin.

Then she leaned in, close enough to kiss, but didn’t. „You’re even more beautiful up close.“ Her voice was a low, gravelly tease that scraped deliciously against Fareeha’s nerves. The words sent a shock straight to Fareeha’s pussy, a heat blooming hot and fast. Fareeha didn’t answer with words—just closed the distance and claimed Angela’s mouth in a kiss that left no room for hesitation. It was rough, hungry, all heat and need. Their mouths crashed together, all heat and hunger. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t sweet. It was messy, desperate—tongues sliding, lips parting like they’d been holding back for way too long. Breathing didn’t matter. Nothing did, except the way their bodies pressed together, the throb between them growing sharper with every second.

Fareeha’s fingers threaded into Angela’s hair, tugging her in like she couldn’t stand even an inch of space. Angela groaned, hands already under the blazer, running over muscle and skin like she needed to know every part of her—right now. The jacket slipped off in a blur, forgotten before it hit the floor. Angela pushed her back against the wall—not rough, just certain. Her knee pressed up between Fareeha’s thighs, slow and steady, and the heat of it made Fareeha’s breath catch. Her hips moved without thinking, chasing the pressure, chasing her. Their breathing tangled, fast and shallow, lips pulling apart just long enough to gasp before finding each other again.

“Get on the bed,” Angela murmured against her neck, low and rough, her voice thick with want. Fareeha didn’t need to be told twice. She moved without looking back, tugging off her shoes with quick, practiced kicks before climbing onto the bed. The cushions sank beneath her weight as she leaned back, legs parting just enough. Angela followed with that same hypnotic confidence, climbing over her like a storm on the verge of breaking. Her bare pussy hovered above Fareeha’s face, slick and glistening, the heat of it impossible to ignore. “I’m gonna ride that pretty face,” she whispered, voice low and thick like honey dripping off a knife. “Gonna grind my pussy against your mouth until I’m shaking.” Fareeha’s heart slammed in her chest, her cunt clenching so tight it almost hurt. She looked up with dark, hungry eyes, hands already moving to grip Angela’s thighs.

“Do it,” she said. Her fingers tangled in Fareeha’s hair, tugging just enough to pull her closer, deeper, making the heat spike sharp and wild. The scent of her skin—cinnamon, sweat, something dark and addictive—flooded Fareeha’s senses, stealing her breath.

“Open your fucking mouth,” Angela whispered, her voice rough with need and control. The words wrapped around Fareeha’s mind like a velvet noose.

Fareeha obeyed, lips parting, tongue flicking out to taste that wet, pulsing cunt waiting just above her. She pressed her mouth to Angela’s slick folds, slow and deliberate, tongue tracing the tight ring of muscle, tasting the raw, sweet heat. Angela’s hips began to move, a slow, grinding rhythm that drove straight to Fareeha’s core, every slick slide of skin on skin making her cunt tremble with need. The pressure, the friction, the slow burn of Angela’s body rocking over her face—it was pure fucking heaven. Angela leaned back, letting out a low, guttural moan that rumbled through her chest, shaking the room with its heat. “Fuck, you‘re so good” she breathed. Fareeha’s hands clutched at Angela’s thighs, holding on tight as her tongue worked every inch of that wet, needy pussy. She lapped, flicked, and sucked, savoring the taste, the sounds, the feel of Angela’s body trembling above her. Angela’s hips rolled harder now, grinding deep into Fareeha’s mouth, riding every slick movement with wild, hungry desperation. Her nails now dug into the curve of Fareeha’s hips, marking her territory as she rode the delicious, filthy waves building inside her. „I‘m gonna cum on your pretty fucking face,” Angela warned, voice thick and broken. “You‘d love that, huh?” Fareeha’s breath hitched, the world narrowing to just this—just her mouth on Angela’s cunt, her hands clutching tight, her tongue coaxing every moan, every shiver, every needy gasp. And when Angela finally tumbled over the edge, her cunt clenched tight around nothing but air and raw sensation, her cries spilled out—a mix of sharp, broken moans and filthy promises. Fareeha held her steady, swallowing every drop, her mouth burning with taste and fierce desire as Angela rode out her climax. Angela ground herself against Fareeha’s face, slow and relentless, until she finally stilled, collapsing back onto the bed with a satisfied breath.

“You ate my pussy damn well,” Angela teased, a wicked grin playing on her lips. “But now? It’s my turn.” Fareeha only smiled softly, eyes dark and unblinking. She didn’t say a word — mysterious as always — and Angela found herself fucking drawn to that silent power.

Angela slid down to hover over Fareeha’s legs, fingers deftly unbuckling the wide black belt. Fareeha’s gaze followed her every move, heavy with lust and anticipation. The belt came loose, then Angela tugged down the zipper of Fareeha’s jeans, peeling the fabric—and panties—away, revealing smooth, bare skin, soft and shaved, glistening with want.

Angela’s lips curled into a hungry smile at the sight of that slick, dripping cunt. She shifted back just enough to get the perfect angle, spreading Fareeha’s legs wide and exposing her swollen folds slick with need. A soft, satisfied “mmh~” escaped Angela’s lips before she dipped her head low, taking Fareeha’s sensitive bud into her mouth. She sucked relentlessly, hard and worshipful, her tongue working magic, tracing every inch of the tender flesh with steady, eager pressure.

Fareeha’s hand tangled in Angela’s blonde hair, gripping tight as a low, breathy growl spilled from her throat. “F-fuck… yeah, just like that,” she murmured, voice dark and dripping sex. “Mhm, good job,“ Angela’s cheeks flushed pink—her pussy flamed hotter hearing that praise from Fareeha’s mouth, that sexy, commanding voice she never expected. “Faster, baby,” Fareeha commanded, her eyes blazing. Angela worshipped the cunt beneath her with even more devotion, her tongue moving faster, harder, tasting every drop of desire. Angela moaned against the wet heat, the vibrations of her voice sending shivers straight through Fareeha’s core. The room was thick with lust, and they were both drowning in the raw, filthy fire they’d ignited. Angela’s tongue slid faster, relentless and skillful, drawing desperate moans from Fareeha’s lips. Her mouth was a warm, wet prison, and Fareeha didn’t want to escape. She grabbed Angela’s hair tighter, pulling her closer as waves of pleasure crashed through her body, every lick and suck pushing her closer to the edge. “God, you’re such a fucking goddess,” Fareeha groaned, voice rough with lust. “You’re doing so well, baby,“ Angela’s cheeks flamed even deeper, but she didn’t stop. If anything, the praise only made her more eager, more hungry to please. Her fingers traced circles on Fareeha’s inner thighs, inching closer, teasing the soft, trembling skin just beyond reach. Fareeha shifted, letting out a low, satisfied hum as Angela’s mouth moved with hungry precision. “You don’t even know what you’re doing to me,” she breathed, voice thick and broken. “I’m gonna fucking lose it.” Angela’s eyes flicked up, glazed with want but filled with adoration. “Then come for me. Come all over my filthy mouth.“ That was all Fareeha needed. She arched her hips, pressing her slick pussy harder into Angela’s hungry mouth, letting the waves rip through her in wild, ragged gasps. The sound of her own pleasure—raw, filthy, uncontrollable—filled the room as Angela drank her down like a prize, her tongue working magic until every last tremble had passed. Angela pulled back slowly, her breath uneven, lips swollen and glistening. She blinked, like she was trying to come back to herself—but her eyes never left Fareeha’s.

The taller woman laid sprawled against the couch cushions, chest heaving, hair tousled, lips parted in a dazed smile. “Holy shit,” she muttered, voice low and wrecked.

Angela laughed softly, surprised by the sound of it. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Same.”

There was a pause—warm, a little awkward, but not uncomfortable. Just the quiet that comes after too much heat, when everything starts to settle. “I should probably say something charming,” Fareeha said, running a hand through her hair. Angela tilted her head. “You could just tell me your name.” That earned a small, genuine laugh. “Fareeha.”

Angela’s smile widened. “Angela.”

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