#because the only thing i could talk about

[fagtainsparklez]

Hey I've been observing from afar through your reaction blogging, I haven't been in mcyt as much since the dsmp ended but I still care about a lot of the people in the mcyt circle and I'm interested in what goes on - care to give a rundown of what happened at this twitch rivals thing everyone keeps talking about? (no pressure only if you want to) Aside from the fact I'm sure it was terribly run like most twitch rival events are, but it sounds like there was more to it than that

okay so. i am going to be missing quite a few details because i missed a day myself + my streamer could not care less, so i heavily encourage others to add on stuff i missed

this was a multi-day competition, running for 5 days with prize rewards from 1k to 100k. it started with i think 150 players, with select numbers of people getting eliminated each round. day 1-2 are fairly normal, at least for twitch rivals. of all the games that got played through the whole event, i'd say like 1 was actually good, and maybe 2 were decent, at best. most are bad, poorly-executed, poorly thought out, or just boring in terms of both player enjoy-ability and content creation.

DAY 3 EDIT:

now, sapnap's been sapnap for this entire event already. obnoxious, a bad sport, but most notably, playing DMCA'd songs. the event ran on proximity chat, so while he was unmuted, everyone around him would also be subject to said songs, which could mute vods at worst and terminate accounts at best. most people are fed up with him at this point. while everyone's trying to come up with solutions for the glitch, sapnap spams the discord with useless shit. couriway calls him out in the discord, calling him annoying and obnoxious, then later calling him a cunt in twitch chat. sapnap uses couriway and feinberg's name in his stream title for clickbait and talks shit about them + their friends (hbg/house builder gang). he also makes some weird comment asking if couri is homophobic because sap was talking about having skeppy's dick in his mouth?? or something?? i'm unsure exactly how day 3's issue of the glitch resolved.

day 4 is also your average experience with your usual range of average to horribly painful games. sapnap continues to be a bitch and not take responsibility for his stans attacking anyone in sight, but what else is new

day 5 is. bad. the game set for deciding the final competitors can be cheesed (if you let someone else do all the work, you can punch them in the last second and steal their win) and eliminates like 20 people at once. on top of that, a glitch happens that leaves the server on standby for at least 30 minutes while admins decide what to do. firebreathman sends a picture of a bare naked ass in the discord. someone else sends a photo of their debit card. streamers entertain themselves in various ways, including growing a cactus (fulham), playing osu (purpled), collecting other people's streams for their overlay (fruitberries), playing slime rancher (badboyhalo), and building real-life furniture (couriway). tubbo (who was already eliminated at this point) starts jumping between streams and asking in chat for the tea. the game is eventually replayed, deciding the final 4 players, but it's just as broken and at that point, no one wants to be there anymore. it's revealed through multiple streamers (purpled, i believe also feinberg) that twitch rivals games are not tested before being ran. the only testing done was a stress test to see if the server could handle all original 150-some players. this explains why the games are so bad and poorly organized (some games take over an hour, others barely 30 minutes).

the final four are sapnap, shadoune, sneegsnag, and i think feinberg. it's the most anticlimatic game of connect 4 you can imagine. sneeg eliminates sapnap, and shadoune eliminates fein. notably, fein's game glitches during a throw, which despite being obviously a glitch, the coordinators brush off as being "part of the game". fein and multiple other streamers spend time analyzing every pov frame by frame and all agree that yeah, that was a glitch. shadoune and sneeg are left for the finals. they come to an agreement that this is stupid and a horrible event. tired of this bullshit, they purposefully stall the games and run a podcast for approximately 2 hours, forcing the coordinators to bend to their commands hunger games-style. essentially since the first glitch of the day people were begging twitch to just split the money, something that wouldn't be easy according to tubbo, because everything is pre-signed and delegated before the event. sneeg and shadoune give no fucks, and force the coordinators to split the money anyway, winning the day through the power of friendship. i cannot stress enough how no one wanted to fucking be there by the end of all this.

[katszumi]

silence immersed the room as the door clicked shut behind you. the ticking clock a reminder of how little time you have.

“you’re such an asshole, you know that?” you spewed to the male in front of you, your features displaying a look of anger.

katsuki rolled his eyes. “well, it’s not like i get called a ray of fuckin’ sunshine. what else did you honestly expect?” he crossed his arms over his chest, taking a seat atop of the long metal table.

“not much, yet you still seem to subceed my expectations.”

“subceed? seriously?” katsuki paused to let a scoff escape his lips. “you’re upset because i’m actually selling this story? the only one, might i add. this was your shitty grand idea!”

unknowingly, you took a step forward.

“the idea was to make it known we disliked each other. not for you to publicly shame and insult me!”

you, katsuki and a few other heroes were invited to attend a press conference. while the original topic was to discuss about the mission you all completed the day before, the topic began to stray away and focus on the relationship between you and katsuki.

japan knows of the hatred you and katsuki shared between each other, that was no unknown fact. the media described you two as fiery rivals considering both of your quirks contained fuel.

you two despised each other. or at least that’s the lie you fooled everyone with.

you were unsure when katsuki started to look appealing to the eye, how attractive he was when he was drowned in sweat, how you began to long for the small but noticeable glances he sent you in public. you couldn’t tell when it happened. but before you knew it, a small pool of desire that had katsuki’s name printed on it began to fill every minute of the day.

“which is no different than what we used to do. you want them to believe it? then don’t take my shit. suck it up and be a bigger asshole than i already am.” he was right. you know he was right. but it was so difficult to pretend as if you hated him.

even if you called him a bitch, or a cunt, maybe even call him out for having a small dick—which you know is far from the truth—that still wouldn’t deny the peace you felt whenever you were with katsuki. how the world seemed to stop still on its axis. how there were no rain, wind or time. just pure bliss.

fuck.

out of everyone, it just had to be him? his captivating, intense ruby irises. his brash, abrasive demeanor. only his words that could seem to sway you. the man the world deemed you to abhor.

instead of admitting the truth, you twist his words. “well, i’m pleased to know it’s so easy for you to do.”

“jesus fuck, y/n.” now, katsuki rose from his position, never once breaking eye contact with you. “you think this is easy for me? you think i like getting up there and lying through my teeth? doing this is the one of the hardest things i’ve ever done.”

he walks closer and even closer to you, minimizing the distance you established for good reasons. this is how it always happens; one of you forgets about the space you two have to maintain until words don’t seem to work anymore. instead, your lips weave together, forming a new way to communicate.

but you don’t move. you don’t want to.

“is it? all those insults feels like it comes pretty smooth to you.”

katsuki pauses as he takes a second to analyze you. his eyes scan your body then leading right up to your face.

“because those are the words i wish i could mean. every time, it burns me to say those things about you when i’d rather be up there claiming every single part about you.” he lowered to a whisper, but his voice maintained a fervent tone.

his hand raises, slow and steady. he cups your cheek, gently swiping his thumb across your cheek. instinctively, you lean into his palm, your eyes softening as you gaze into his eyes.

“you think i enjoy this?” you watch his jaw tighten, his hand dropping to your hip. “think i like watching you talk with those eager men? it takes everything in me to not beat them shitless for daring to come across you. do you know how hard it is to fight the urge to pull you in and show them that you’re not available?”

too captivated by his words, you didn’t notice how katsuki lowered his head. you could feel the heat of his body from how he gave you no room to breathe. he placed his lips on your soft skin, slowly kissing the side of your neck.

no. resist him. your mind was screaming. this couldn’t go on forever. at some point, you guys had to stop.

“what will make them back off? if i mark you up? think they’ll understand then?” he proposed the question, but to you, it seemed more like he was asking for permission.

you didn’t know what effect katsuki placed on you to have you like this. but in this moment, you didn’t care about the rumors, the consequences, your image. it was all pushed back in the back of your head. so, you slightly tilted your head upwards, giving him more leeway to continue.

katsuki gripped your hips. not too strong to leave a mark but strong enough to squeeze a small moan out of you.

“don’t you fuckin’ understand, y/n?” he leans away to look in your eye.

“what?” you meekly responded.

“i go insane when it comes to you. i’m not the kind of guy that drools over any woman’s attention. but, you… fuck.” he stops himself, from what you can only assume was to control himself with whatever he was about to say. “not being able to have you only makes me crave you more.”

you stay quiet.

“you know how many times i’ve tried to resist you?”

“how many?” finally, you spoke.

“too many fuckin’ times. i’m done fighting it, y/n.”

confusion struck your face. “what do you mean?”

“be mine. forget the press, forget our pr managers. be with me.” katsuki brings you closer with the hand placed on your hip, the action drawing you to one conclusion.

he leans in and interlocks his lips with yours. immediately, you drown in the feeling of his soft but chapped lips that you couldn’t seem to push away. somehow, you find the strength to pull back from him.

“not here. not in pub-”

“yes here.”

with his tone, you could mistake him to be aggressive in this moment. but over the months, you managed to be able to read his eyes from the forbidden glances he’s sent your way; how he really felt through the way he wore his eyes.

katsuki’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed, his soft ruby eyes shifted from your lips to your e/c irises.

there was a look behind his eyes. there were more watchful, more tender than usual. almost as if he was pleading with his eyes. like he was begging.

so, how could you say no to him in this state? him being so vulnerable with you?

but that was always the problem.

you could never say no to katsuki bakugou, no matter what.

your arms wrap around his neck, drawing him in with your eyes. he inclined his head and laid his lips on your mouth. the silence that did wrap the room ten minutes ago was replaced with the noise of sloppy kisses, your mouths powering over each other.

you can feel your heart rate increase from the action, even more noticeably so when he entangles a fist in the back of your shirt. he needs you closer, maybe within his skin if possible.

following his action, you guide your fingers through his ash blonde strands, sending a shiver down his spine. he nibbles on the bottom of your lip, pulling it just slightly.

“we really shouldn’t be doing this.” your murmur, yet his ears catches it. “this would be the hottest topic for the media.”

a snicker parted his lips. “we just can’t be caught. but the day you stop being scared, i’m ready.” his words vague and simple, yet still holding so much promise.

“i hate you.”

and you did. you hated that he was too enticing. too irresistible.

“thought it was hard for you to say things you don’t mean?” he referred from earlier. of course, that was just like him. the same him you mistakenly fell for.

“just shut up.” was all you replied with before leaning back in to connect his lips with yours, choosing to help him with your statement.

this was supposed to be like a forbidden love trope but i think i just revealed how thirsty i am😔

[tetsvya]

clueless, kuroo tetsuro

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  kuroo tetsuro has a thing for girls with long hair. so what if you're a girl with long hair? that doesn’t mean anything!

➼ pairing! kuroo tetsuro x fem!manager!reader

➼ warnings! none, just fluff and humor. maybe ooc because i haven't written in years??? unfortunately, because this is based on the scene of kuroo and yaku arguing about their preference, this is really for my long haired girlies 😣 i apologize to the short haired readers

➼ word count! about 1.4k

➼ author’s note! "haikyuu renassiance!" we all cheer in unison. anywho, this is my first time posting in two years. please be nice to me 🫡

"So, you prefer girls with short hair then, Yaku?" Kai asks, shedding off the white button-up of his school uniform and revealing his black practice t-shirt. The three third-year Nekoma players had found themselves in an empty classroom, deciding to use it as a makeshift changing room. Luckily for them, they had all worn their clean practice clothes under their school uniforms. Doing so allowed them to save time and cut back the number of minutes they were already going to be late to practice, thanks to Yaku getting distracted by a group of girls, which Kai noted all had short hair. Hence, his question.

Yaku paused his work of ridding himself of his tie to send Kai a proud grin, pointing towards him with both hands, “Yesss!

"And you, Kuroo?" Kai turns to him, now curious to know his captain's answer as well.

"Long." Kuroo's answer is firm, leaving no room for debate. Still, he glances at Yaku, as if daring him to try.

Yaku only snorts, shaking his head in amusement as he too turns to look at his captain, "Like that wasn't obvious."

"Ehh," Kuroo's eyes narrow, head craning down to peer at the libero, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Yaku starts, taking a step closer as he peers right back up at Kuroo, "Everyone knows you have a crush on our manager, who just so happens to have the longest hair I've ever seen!"

"Ehh?" Kuroo repeats, louder this time as he cranes his head down even more, "Who says I have a crush—"

"Hey!" The door to the classroom slides open with a shocking force, startling the boys and drawing the attention of all three of them to it. Kuroo and Yaku both grow rigid as they find you standing in its opening. Quiet pants slip past your lips, and you take a moment to catch your breath as you stare at the three of them before you begin speaking, "There you guys are! I've been looking for the three of you everywhere."

"Hello," Kai greets kindly, the only one not left in a stupor at your sudden appearance, smiling as you make your way into the classroom. "We apologize, we're running a bit late."

"Yeah," You huff, coming to a stop a few steps away from them as you cross your arms, "It was your guys' turn to set up the nets. So when you guys didn't show up in time to do so and none of you answered your phones, Coach sent me to find you guys. Didn't know I'd be going on a wild goose chase."

Your words leave you in a huff before your eyes land on Kuroo, raising an eyebrow at the captain. His shoulders tense even more at the sudden eye contact and he's quick to snap his head in the other direction. Kuroo suddenly feels warm, realizing how you could have easily heard the conversation transpiring between the three of them. Stupid Yaku, Kuroo curses the libero in his head, doesn't even know what he's talking about.

"Sorry, Y/N." And of course it’s Yaku who disrupts his thoughts, pulling Kuroo's eyes to him just as he sends you an innocent smile, "We got carried away, talking."

There's a teasing tone to Yaku's voice, and Kuroo knows it's directed at him. Why is he friends with him again?

"I don't even want to know," You speak, and Kuroo can envision you shaking your head at the three of them, "Just get dressed and get to the gym as quick as possible, please."

All three boys give some noise of recognition in response to your words, and Kuroo takes the chance to glance at you then. He's quick to regret it. Your hand rises just as he locks eyes with you, reaching up to tuck some of the more unruly pieces of your hair (which most likely came undone due to your seemingly frantic search of the three third years) behind your ear and out of your face. Kuroo's eyes follow the movement of your hand, trailing downwards and taking in the long strands of hair that fall well past your shoulders. Once again all too aware of the conversation he was just having with his teammates, the tips of his ears burn as he pulls his gaze away from you once more. He shakes his head, trying to get Yaku's words out of his mind. Just because he liked girls with long hair, and just because you so happened to be a girl with long hair, did not mean he liked you.

Right?

A snort of laughter suddenly leaves Yaku, having caught the interaction, and Kuroo turns to him with a heated glare. You don't miss the exchange between them either.

"Are you two having one of your petty arguments again?" You accuse, eyes glancing between Kuroo and Yaku who are suddenly staring back at you like two deers caught in headlights. "Seriously, you've been fighting like this since first year. What topic could you guys possibly still be discussing?"

Yaku's smirk returns as he glances at his captain with an all too knowing look before he turns back to you, "Well, if you really want to kn—"

"Nope!" Kuroo is quick to interject, speaking for the first time since you entered and drawing your attention away from Yaku and back to the captain himself. Your eyes widen as he begins to take long strides in your direction. "No arguing here!"

Your lips part, confusion taking over your features at the odd behavior your captain is displaying. You don't get the chance to say anything, however, as Kuroo makes a show of glancing at the clock on the wall before turning back to you with a dramatic gasp, "Oh, would you look at the time! We should really be heading to practice."

"You still have your school shirt on, Kuroo.” You point out when he stops in front of you, pointedly glancing down at Kuroo's attire, which consisted of his practice shorts and white button-up, with his red school tie hung loosely around his neck.

"I'll just change it once we're in the gym," Kuroo responds, waving away your interjections before he drops his hands onto your shoulders and forces you to turn around and back toward the door. You attempt to dig your heels down when he begins to push you in the direction of the door, but you're truly no match for his strength. Stupid volleyball training.

"Kuroo," You voice your protests, attempting to swat at his hands in order to get him to release you. Once again, your attempts remain futile, "Let go of me!"

"No can do! As captain and manager, it's our job to be on time to every practice. What would our team do without us?" Kuroo shakes his head, clicking his tongue as if he's scolding you. He turns back to Kai and Yaku, flashing them a warning smile, daring them to say another word. Yaku merely watches on with an unamused look, while Kai holds a placid smile. There's extra sweetness in his voice as he practically chirps out, "Bring my stuff to the club room, will you?"

"I was on time!" You retort, not giving Kai nor Yaku a chance to respond to their exasperating captain as you send them a pointed look, all the while succumbing to your fate and allowing Kuroo to push you out of the classroom. After all, he did have a point. It probably wouldn't be long before Lev managed to push somebody's buttons (most likely Yamamoto’s) one too many times and ended up in hot water. "The only reason I'm not there right now is because I came looking for you guys!"

"Ah, now is not the time to deal blame, Y/N. Our juniors are waiting on us." Kuroo argues back, shaking his head as he removes one hand from your shoulder to slide the door shut behind the two of you. Still, Yaku and Kai face the door as the sound of your guys' bickering persists. It grows quieter and quieter with each passing moment, and it isn’t until they can no longer hear your guys' voices does Yaku glance away with a shake of his head.

"He's clueless." Yaku deadpans, glancing back down at his tie as he continues to work on untying it.

Kai nods, neatly folding his button-up before placing it in his bag. "Completely."

[silveredspoons]

Where Is Your Boy Tonight?

SUMMARY: Art loved Tashi. Art would do anything for Tashi. That includes leaving you alone on your birthday because she needed him. Luckily for you, you have his best friend and a bottle of champagne stashed under your dorm bed.

Patrick Zweig x Reader

3.6k

WARNINGS: P in V Sex, Fingering, Infidelity, Cheating, MDNI

You knew when you started dating Art Donaldson that you weren’t going to be his number one. Hell, you weren’t even top three, but you thought that he could at least spend one night pretending that you were somewhat important to him. That’s harsh. He did love you, just not as much as he loved Tashi, or Tennis or even Patrick.

That’s how you found yourself alone on your birthday, slightly tipsy from the drinks you had previously at the bar with your friends (drinks that Art was meant to attend but had never showed up to). You were trying to wrangle the heels strapped to your feet off and toss them across your single dorm room, but maybe it was the alcohol, or more likely the fury of being abandoned on your fucking birthday, but the tiny buckles would not budge. You could only let out a frustrated groan and throw yourself backwards on your single bed, giving up on the removal of your clothes.

You really shouldn’t be as mad you as you were, you had full expectations that something would come up that would distract Art. It was more maddening that he hadn’t even acknowledge you today at all, no happy birthday message, no sorry I can’t make it text, not even flowers delivered to your door. A better woman would probably leave him, realise that being fourth in someone’s life isn’t what they deserve and move on with their life. You were not a better woman, not yet at least, you were still young. Still making mistakes and choosing to stay with a guy who doesn’t truly love you.

You weren’t desperate. There were good things about being with Art as well, like when you guys would fuck in his dorm, and he’d hold your face in his hands and brush the hair off of your face and kiss your forehead. Or, when he would surprise you after class with coffee, a snack and the kindest eyes you had ever seen. He was kind when he wanted to be, and he gave you affection that you hadn’t received before. It was just frustrating that, that affection was only available to you when he couldn’t have Tashi. All she would have to do is look in his direction and he’d go running over to her, you could only assume that she was the one who had stolen his attention today. Usually, you could forgive her for it, it’s not her fault that your boyfriend was in love with her, but surely, she could have given you just this one day.

It was during this pity party you heard the knock on your door. Hard, quick and loud you could tell who it was before even opening the decorated door. You couldn’t help but let a small smile creep up on your face and you rolled yourself off of your bed and stumbled to answer the knocking that had yet to stop.

“You know most people text when they’re coming over” you smiled as you pulled the door open, Patrick's smug face staring back at you from where he leaned against the door frame.

“And where is the fun in that? It’s supposed to be a surprise.” You didn’t even get the chance to properly respond before Patrick had snagged you into his arms and held you close. You were sure that you smelt of vodka (which you had licked off your body by a stranger earlier that night in a wild moment of freedom) but that was nothing compared to the smell of beer radiating off of Patrick.

You groaned as you tried to escape his hold. It wasn’t unusual for you and Patrick to find yourselves alone together, despite both of you dating others it wasn’t unseen by the two of you how they usually left the two of you to talk. Which is probably why you had a tipsy Patrick at your door.

“Where are the wonder twins?” You questioned, once finally free from his grip. Patrick snorted as he threw himself onto your bed, leaving you to shut the door behind him and crawl into the small available space he had left on the bed.

“Talking tennis of course. Apparently, it’s very important that they spend the rest of the night going over Art’s new life as a lap dog.” You snorted in turn at Patrick's cruel remark, you wouldn’t usually laugh at him teasing Art but tonight you were pissed and didn’t really care about his feelings.

“I see, and that means you are shunned to the doghouse?” You joked. Patrick rolled his eyes, and he moved his body over to allow you more space on the bed, which you took greedily. The two of you laid next to each other, you bare knee brushing against his thigh as his head was laid next to your chest. You rested on your arm to look down at him and couldn’t help but frown at the crestfallen look he had on his face. You had chosen to be fourth in Art’s life, Patrick didn’t. Without thinking you reached your unoccupied hand down to his face to brush the slightly damp curls out of his face.

“Wanna drink?” You asked, quick to change the subject away from the neglect the two of you had faced.

“God yes.” Patrick moaned and you laughed before you reached down under you bed and grabbed the bottle of champagne that had been stashed there this morning. A gift from a friend, the card still attached to the neck of the bottle. It wasn’t expensive of course, which college student can afford good champagne? But it would get the job done.

“Happy birthday, hope this helps you get screwed?” Patrick read out, clutching the card that came with the bottle, eyebrows raised as he looked up at you. You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your chest, and you snatched it from his hands and thrown it across the room. The joke your friend had written quickly becoming unfunny when coming from Patrick’s mouth.

“When was your birthday?” Patrick questioned as you moved on to opening the bottle, hands clasped around the neck and thumbs pushing the cork to loosen it. You looked into his eyes and felt the blush only grow higher as you realised his eyes were trained on your hands. Hands that held the bottle much like you would hold a certain appendage. You looked away, eyes trained onto the alarm clock on your bed side table, bright red number reading ten past midnight.

“’About ten minutes ago” you muttered, hand gripping the top of the cork and pulling it off with a flourish. You barely had a chance to react the bubbles overflowing over the top before Patrick's lips were wrapped around the opening and sucking down the spillage. You shivered as you watched his tongue dart around the neck of the bottle, briefly touching your fingers before he pulled away in shock.

“Wait what? It’s your birthday?” Patrick moved into a sitting up position on the bed, joining you. There was no space between the two of you, legs tangled up together as you passed the bottle to him. He took a small swig before pressing it back into your hands. Once freed from the bottle he dropped his hands onto your thighs, bare due to the fact your mini dress had ridden up and now sat high on your legs, barely covering your lace clad ass.

“Was. It’s over now.” You replied bitterly taking a large gulp of the warm champagne. Maybe if you were sober, you would realise what position you were currently in with your boyfriend’s best friend, maybe if you were a better woman, you would remove yourself from his grip and ask him to leave. But you were not a better woman, you were angry and tipsy and all you wanted was to feel those hands all over your body.

“Shouldn’t you be out celebrating still? Where’s Art to give you a birthday treat?” Patrick's hands wandered further up your legs as he questioned you. He knew he was pushing the boundaries of what friends should be doing but he couldn’t help it. His best friend and girlfriend had kicked him out of Art’s dorm and left him to fend for himself. And how was he supposed to resist you when you had looked like that, strappy heels digging into the bed next to him, mascara smudged from where you had rubbed your eyes, lace panties peeking through the gaps of legs.

“Like you said, the lap dogs busy.” You held the bottle up to Patrick's lips and couldn’t not ogle as he let you tip it further back, forcing him to take more of the champagne. The bottle was only about halfway drunk, but you were sure that it was providing more than enough courage for the both of you. You pulled the bottle away from his lips, now glistening from the liquid and bent backwards to place it on the floor of your bedroom. Chest on display for Patrick’s gaze.

You righted yourself on the bed once more, your body now pressed against Patrick’s. It was a bad idea, to be here with him right now. But Art was with Tashi, and the way Patrick was looking at you as if you were the most divine being on the planet was enough for you to close the gap between the two of you and press your lips on his. It wasn’t even a full second before Patrick’s hands gripped your hips tight and pushed his lips onto yours in return. It was messy, you tasted of cheap alcohol and he of smokes. Your tongues both danced with each other’s, licking the backs of teeth, sliding against wetted lips. Your hands gripped his curls, and you tugged without thought, holding him in your embrace. Patrick’s moan did not go unnoticed by you, and you let the smirk spread across your face and you pushed him down on the bed.

It was a short-lived act of dominance though before Patrick pulled away with teeth pulling your lip, taking your body in his hands he flipped you around without much effort. You let out a surprised squeak as you back smacked lightly onto your bed, without even a moment’s notice you felt Patrick grip your wrists in his large hand and hold them above your head.

You were so unused to this forcefulness, with Art everything was more delicate, more worshiping. Usually, it would be you who took charge, whispering dirty things into his ear as you gripped his cock, teasing him for at least an hour before he even got to touch you. Patrick was so the opposite of this, taking your body in his hands as if he owned you, as if you were his to use as he wished.

“God your boyfriend is an idiot for missing out on this” Patrick whispered in your ear as he leaned down to kiss along your neck. You were ashamed of the heat that rose to your core at the mention of Art. You tried to buck your hips into Patrick’s, but he only smirked as he moved them away, clearly not eager to give you the satisfaction of his cock just yet.

“You like that? Thinking about Art as I mark you?” You could only nod as Patrick sucked a dark spot into the side of your neck, you knew you would be unable to hide that under a turtleneck and the thought drove you wild as you imagined Art’s reaction.

“Please” You begged, pulling your leg up his back trying to drag Patrick closer to you. You tried to give your best pleading eyes as you begged again, unsure of what you were even after. Patrick's smug laugh only further irritated you but you request was granted as his spare hand reached up to cup your breast. His hands pulled down the thin straps of your dress, fingers flicking your nipples and you shuddered in pleasure as his lips soon joined. You threw your head back against your baby pink pillows and managed to pull a hand out of Patrick’s grip allowing you to thread your hands into his dark curls and pull him closer to your chest.

“Fuck me” You moaned and your felt Patrick smirk against your soft skin.

“I’m trying.”

You rolled your eyes and lightly smacked him upon the head earning a laugh out of the boy on top of you. You felt Patrick's body retreat from your own as he lent back to take in the sight of you. The straps of your dress had now fallen down completely, your breasts on display and purpled from his adventures. His fingers danced at the hem of dress, slowly pushing it up to reveal the lace red panties you had worn for Art, Patrick’s eyes darkened at the sight as if knowing these were worn for his best friend. Your hands pushed at the hem of his shirt a silent plea for him to take it off, which he gladly obliged, throwing it somewhere in the corner of your room.

You allowed yourself the chance to ogle at Patrick’s chest, the trail of hair that went down past his pants made you flush, and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting your hands reach out and play with the dark curls. Patrick shivered under touch, and it was your chance to smirk at his pleasure. You raked your nails down the sides of his stomach towards back, hands slipping under his pants and gripping his ass over his boxers. Patrick moaned as his body fell back towards yours and you pressed your lips into his neck and up to his ear, teeth pulling at the lobe as your hands continued to explore his body.

Before you knew it Patrick was digging his clothed dick into your heat, hand tangled in your hair as you turned your head towards his, mouths meeting in a messy make out. Your moans filled the room, and you felt your eyes roll back as Patrick’s hand found the top of your underwear, fingers pulling at the elastic band and letting it smack into your skin. It was without warning before his hand was shoved under the lace, between your legs and finger gliding up your already wet slit before he placed two fingers around your clit. He allowed them to tease the bud lightly, making you whine in desperation, before he pressed down and began rubbing circles into it. It was rough and clumsy, and you could tell that while Art would do this to get you off, for your pleasure this was all for Patrick’s. Just the beginning to the pleasure he wished to seek from you.

“I need you inside of me. Please fuck me.” You beg as Patrick’s finger dipped into your hole, they were thicker than Arts as well, though not as long, but the stretch was heavenly. The pace was fast and unforgiving, leaving you breathless as he pushed it further into you.

“What would Art do?” Patrick asked, lips pressing into your neck again, adding a second finger into your hole. You moaned at the mention of Arts name and your breath hitched as you felt his fingers curl up and press into the right spot.

“Could he make you moan like this huh? Bet he regrets leaving you here to fend for yourself, where anyone could have you.” Patrick's words only spurred you on as you felt yourself nearing the edge. Your fingers dug into his back as breathy whines left your lips.

“Only you can do this, only moaning like this for you.” You managed to sputter out, which only seemed to spur Patrick on more, pace speeding up as if he knew you were about to come. In a few well positioned strokes and dirty words about how unfortunate Art was to be missing out on your moans you felt yourself coming on his fingers, a high-pitched moan that would leave your neighbours covering their ears left your throat as you pressed your breasts into Patrick’s chest. You felt yourself coming down as Patrick slowly fucked you with his fingers, before pulling them out and holding them to your lips. It was without a thought in the world that you wrapped your lips around his fingers, tongue pressing in between them as you sucked on them. You held eye contact with Patrick and felt the way his hips pressed down into yours.

“Fuck you are such a dirty slut” Patrick whispered, and you were shocked by the way the words went straight to your core. He pulled his fingers out from your mouth, letting them drag down your lips and face, wiping the spit onto your chest. You felt dirty and used in the best way possible, something Art had never done before.

“I need to fuck you.” Patrick stated, hands reaching down to his own pants, undoing them and pulling them down enough to pull his cock out. You could feel your mouth drop as you took in the sight in front of you. Art wasn’t small by any means, always filling you up, making you feel like you couldn’t take more, but Patrick was big. While the same length as Art’s the girth was almost double.

“I think you might break me with that” You joked, and Patrick smirked as he pulled your panties down your legs. You blindly reached into your bedside table before finding a condom and tossing it to Patrick. He only winked at you as he tore open the foil packet and rolled the latex down his cock, pumping it a few times to get him prepared.

“Turn over” Patrick demanded, and you did so without complaint. Your dress was now scrunched up to your waist, with your tits on full display. Patrick’s hand went straight into your hair, pressing your top half down further into the mattress as his other hand took his cock and began teasing you along your slit.

“Are you just gonna play with it or fuck me like a man?” You questioned but the words were cut off as Patrick inserted his full length into your hole in one thrust. Your mouth fell open as Patrick began a harsh pace, his dick forcing you open in a way you had never experienced before. You felt a smack on your ass before Patrick gripped it within his hand, using it to pull your body on and off his cock.

You tried to form some sort of wording, to tell him how good it felt but all you managed were short whines and a few fucks as his hips slammed into yours. You couldn’t help but get wetter as you heard him moan from behind you, it was like listening to a tennis match only this time you weren’t bored out of your mind.

“Fuck just like that, you’re so big oh my god” You managed to mutter as Patrick pulled your body back up, your back now pressed against his chest. You could feel the sweat between your bodies and your head lolled to the side as he pressed his fingers back into your mouth, his tongue licking the side of your neck while his spare hand reached down to rub fast circles into your clit.

“How’s the princess liking her birthday present huh?” Patrick asked, as he groaned into your ear, you could only nod and moan, your hands gripping his arms as you let the pleasure take over your body. You couldn’t seem to focus on anything he said anymore as his cock slammed into you over and over again, ripping any breaths out of you,

“You wanna come again?” Patrick teased, fingers speeding up on your clit and you nodded moaned.

“Please, please make me cum” You begged, and Patrick grunted into your ear, picking up his pace. You let your body go limp as he fucked you like a toy, tears now gathered at the corners of your eyes. Patrick noticed and without hesitation licked your face of the tears that had fallen down, his spit covered your faced and with that you felt the band inside you snap and you were coming again.

Patrick let you ride out your high before he was pushing your face back into the bed, his hands now gripping your hips and fucking into you as if you were some sort of flesh light as he chased his own high. It was only a few moments before he was moaning into your ear and filling up the condom.

The two of you stayed like that for a minute, sweaty chest pressed into your back, with kisses peppering your shoulder. His hand came up to brush the hair out of your face as you twisted your neck to the side so you could kiss him, his cock softening inside of you. With slow movement Patrick removed himself from you and slid of the condom tying it in a not and chucking into the small bin you hid under your desk. You rolled yourself over as he came to lay down next to you once again, you allowed yourself to be pulled into his arms and you laid your head onto his chest. Your fingers danced across his skin as he rubbed your arm, silence over taking the room. As if the weight of what the two of you had just done finally settled.

“We can’t tell Art.” You spoke. The words hung in the air, neither of you wanting to push the topic further.

“Or Tashi.” Patrick replied and you look up at him only to find him staring at you.

“It was just a one-time thing between friends. A birthday present.” You reasoned and Patrick snorted, you couldn’t help but let yourself giggle at the absurdity of it all too.

“Pretty fucking good birthday present.”

A/N: So I watched Challengers and of course I was fucking hooked. I am honestly an Art girly but we all know that that man is obsessed with Tashi so I do not stand a chance (also he is fictional). So instead here is some sex with Patrick. I have never written smut before so I am very sorry if it is bad and clunky, its hard to write about sex without it sounding kinda cringe I wont lie. Also I haven't edited this but need to get it out there.

[cherryredstars]

hello cherry this is my first time requesting something :)))) i was wondering if you could do a miguel x reader where y/n and miguel get into a big fight because miguel hasn’t been home / hasn’t been letting the reader know when he isn’t going to be there and after their fight y/n goes out to the club to let off some steam with her friends and it turns out miguel is at the club for a business meeting and he spots her and gets a bit possessive (feel free to add anything else you’d like hehehe that’s what im mainly been thinking about )

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Possessiveness, Suggestive, Slight Praise, Dom!Miguel Vibes

A/N: Hello, love! I hope you enjoy!

Unedited

You were still fuming when he left.

Your cheeks puffed in agitation, glaring at him from the couch as he walked out the door. Horrible timing if you ask him. One second the two of you are fighting about how he barely has time for you with all these meetings, and the next he’s asking for a rain check because he’ll be late for a business conference. Really helping him out there.

It’s left him annoyed the whole meeting, resisting the urge to bang his head against the table and rub his face until it peels off. In all honesty, he doesn’t really need to be part of this meeting. He’s only here for looks, not even expected to know what the meeting is about or add any input. He could be at home, laying on the couch between your legs as he laps at the liquid gold between your thighs as an apology.

Miguel lets out a heavy sigh, the noise getting lost with the loud music that’s giving him a headache. His eyes wonder from the table of men, turning his head to peer over the railing surrounding the balcony of the VIP section. His eyes scan the mass of people, taking in the writhing mass. At his age, things like clubs have lost their appeal, but he knows this place would be something you would like. You’d love to dance to these songs, too.

Miguel hums to himself, making a mental note to take you here sometime soon. His eyes are about to go back to the meeting when he spots a familiar face in the crowd. Or, multiple faces. His eyes zero in on you, your face turned to talk to your friend behind you. The strobe lights light your face in different neon colors, and he straightens up. His eyes stay on you as you walk through the crowd, a drink in one hand and the other slapped over the top as you walk. Good girl.

Miguel is content to have you have this time with the girls, knowing after fights like this you need something to take your mind off of things. But his eyes stray to a group of men near the bar leering over at your group of friends, one of the sleazy fucks gaining courage to walk towards you. Miguel’s expression sours, and he fixes his suit jacket as he stands up. The group instantly stops talking, focusing on Miguel.

“Where are you going?” One of his coworkers ask, brows furrowing in confusion.

Miguel doesn’t spare him a glance, adjusting the cuffs of his suit. “Bathroom.”

The group continues to watch him, slowly turning back to each other and continuing the conversation. Miguel turns his back to them as he leaves, his eyes sticking to where you and your group stand. He can see the fuck walking towards you, and he grumbles when he realizes he’ll get to you first. Once he descends the stairs, it gets slightly harder to spot you. But it isn’t an impossible task with his abnormal height, and he can still make out the vague area you’re in. The crowd parts easily for his intimidating build, and soon enough he’s a few feet away from you.

As expected the sleaze is already with you, mouth moving way too much as he talks to you. Your brow is furrowed in annoyance, and you glare at the man as he talks. Miguel can’t make out what he’s saying, but he can tell you aren’t interested in his shit. Miguel’s stare hardens when the man leans forward, getting into your personal space and whispers something to you.

Miguel reaches you right as you lift your hand to slap him. Miguel’s front presses into your back, his hands acting fast as one wraps around your wrist and the other around your neck to tilt your head up. Your face shoots up to stare at him, the glare in your eyes softening slightly at the sight of him. Miguel’s thumb strokes the pulse point on your neck, calming you down as he stares at the man in front of you.

“Down girl,” he mumbles to you, slowly lowering your hand so it rests at your side.

You make a sound similar to a scoff, but you don’t resist. Your body melts into him, and you turn to hug him when he lets go of your neck. The man looks between the two of you and scoffs, walking off with an irritated grumble once he realizes he’s not getting lucky with you. Miguel watches him go, his large hand stroking your hair.

Once he’s completely gone you pull away from Miguel. That glare is back on your face, and you cross your arms as you stare at him.

“I’m not some dog.” You sass, tilting your chin up.

Miguel hums. uninterested. His hand comes to grab your cheeks, squeezing them together so your lips pucker. The furrow in your brow grows deeper, and Miguel’s mouth twitches at the corner.

“Of course not, mamí,” he agrees. “But you are a brat.”

You begin to grumble a protest but Miguel pinches your cheeks tighter.

“Ah-“ he cuts you off. “Behave and have fun, yeah? I’ll come get you when my meeting’s done.”

Your lips jut out further with a pout, and your grumble something inaudible before nodding reluctantly. Miguel hums, leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“Good girl. I’ll be back”

He lets go of your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead before giving you a once over and leaving. You watch him go, trying to ignore the ache between your thighs.

You hate that fucker.

[lnfours]

childhood bestfriend! Reader baking cookies with Lando for their family get together ( their mums are friends) but things take a turn confessions are made and it gets heated 🌶️🍪

childhood best friend!lando will always get me. anything friends to lovers, truly. alsooooo i changed this up a bit and did fewtrell!reader because.. yeah..

cleaning out my inbox

every summer, your families got together for their annual party. it had been a tradition ever since you, max and lando were kids, a thing you looked forward to the most every summer.

and you had always had a crush on lando, always falling for those stupidly adorable dimples and the way his whole face lights up whenever you ask him about one of his interests. but no matter how you felt about him, you knew it was never going to be reciprocated. he simply saw you as his best friend's little sister, one of his best friends, nothing more. nothing less. and it was a fact you knew you were going to have to live with.

but right now, as he stood shirtless in the kitchen, reading the recipe on his phone, it was all you could think about. his curls still wet from your trip down to the beach earlier this morning, his sunkissed skin on full display in front of you. it was hard not to be distracted.

"do you know if we have chocolate chips?" he looked up from his phone, his eyes meeting yours. you hummed, turning towards the pantry behind you. he took the opportunity to take you in, smiling as you stood on your tippy toes to reach the bag on the top shelf.

you turned around, a smile on your face with the bag in your hand. he laughed softly, "perfect,"

he wasn't only talking about the fact that you had chocolate chips.

the both of you gathered the rest of the ingredients, making small talk, "so, anything new with you?" you asked, smirking and playfully rubbing against his shoulder, "any girlfriends?"

he laughed, shaking his head as he poured in the flour, "no," he looked over at you, watching as you concentrated on pouring the right amount of vanilla extract, "you? any boyfriends i need to know about?"

you shook your head, laughing softly with him, "no, no one's into me,"

"oh c'mon, i doubt that."

"i'm serious!" you laughed, "they all avoid me like the plague!"

"well, they're idiots," he shrugged, "they don't know what they're missing out on."

you looked over at him, taking in his side profile. he wore a small smile as he noticed you from the corner of his eye, still busying himself with the cookies in front of you.

"if you say so."

"i do," he said, wiping his hands on his sweatpants before speaking again, "alright, i think we're ready for the mixer."

you nodded, plugging it in and handing it to him, "do you know how to use it?"

"it's a mixer, it can't be that hard,"

"yeah, but you have to start it on the-"

he didn't let you finish your warning before he turned it on, the max speed making the whisk ends send cookie dough flying all around you. with a yelp, you reached over, turning it off before it could make a total mess.

"-slow setting." you finished, letting out a sigh, looking over at him as he held back a laugh. you bit onto your lower lip, suppressing your own laugh before it became impossible and the two of you were laughing next to each other.

"this is why they never let you in the kitchen," you said, starting to pick pieces of the dough off your clothes.

"i think you're right," he said, wiping himself off. he noticed the small piece of dough that had landed in your hair, speaking softly, "wait, c'mere,"

you didn't have a chance to react before he was reaching towards your face, lifting your chin up to let him get the small piece. you sucked in a nervous breath, the feeling of his hand on your chin and being this close to him making your stomach do flips.

he looked down at you, tossing the small ball onto the counter with the others as he met your eyes, "got it."

you nodded, breathing out softly, "thanks,"

he nodded back at you, swallowing as he took in your face. his eyes scanning over your features, the glow from the sun making you look heavenly. he was captivated, and there was no denying it now.

he moved the stray piece of hair from your face, his hand coming back to cup your cheek. you weren't sure when he got so close, his lips nearly touching yours.

you breathed his name softly, followed by a whispered, "please,"

he was happy to oblige, wasting no more time in placing his lips on yours. you kissed him back, your hands moving to wrap around his neck. he deepened the kiss, moving the both of you as you pressed up against the edge of the counter. the hand that wasn't holding your cheek grabbed at your hip, his mouth moving away from yours as he breathed against your lips, "y/n,"

your noses bumped as you tried to regain the air in your lungs. he didn't have to say it, you knew it now. you were the only one he wanted to be with, and you the same with him.

"i know," you mumbled, bringing him closer to you by his neck, "you don't have to say it, just please keep kissing me."

he smiled, dipping his head back down towards your lips, "gladly,"

[princessbrunette]

boxer!rafe had his anger mostly under control. thats what the boxing was for. but no one’s perfect. there were times he’d slip up.

he’d developed the knack for being able to ignore the other men in the locker room at the fighting grounds. he had his own upcoming fights to worry about, his own family to feed — whilst he used to be a sucker for a good argument, it had become the least of his concerns. they knew that about him, therefore they knew what would get under his skin.

“ayeee, it’s pretty boy!” one jeered as he stepped into the locker room — sore, toned body trudging over to his usual locker to retrieve his stuff so he could get out and go home to you. he was used to the nickname, infact it had even been self proclaimed at some points on the ring. girls held up ‘pretty boy’ signs during his fights, upon winning multiple fights and climbing the ranks he was gifted a chain with ‘pretty motherfucker’ engraved on the pendant. it was nothing new to him.

the chatter continues in the room amongst the men, and he figures he can let his guard down now, knowing they wouldn’t be testing him. they’d heard of his rage through stories, rumours that he’d been in jail for killing a cop in his past. it intrigued people, wanting to see how far they could push him. just as the cameron boy is getting his gym bag together to leave, he’s brought into the conversation once more.

“right? i wanna start seein’ some newer faces in the crowd i’m gettin’ tired of the regulars.” the same douche that addressed rafe when he entered speaks, eyes flickering over to the younger guy in amusement. “hey cameron, got anyone you can bring to spice things up around here? how ‘bout that pretty wife of yours? maybe she can motivate me before the fight—”

he doesn’t get to finish his taunt, before in a flash rafe had pinned him the locker with a crash, doors rippling and padlocks clattering. he presses his arm into the man’s neck, jaw clenched and vein popping out his neck.

“fuck you say? huh? nah, go ‘head repeat yourself.” rafe threatens, practically growling through bared teeth at the man. the other fighter goes to shove him back, but the cameron man is unmovable. if there’s one thing he doesn’t play about, it’s you.

rafe stumbles back slightly, but it’s only to wind up and slam his fist into the man’s face when he dared to smile. the other men start to get involved now, trying to pull rafe off but it only made him angrier. “think that’s funny? yeah?” he yells, and punches the man again, the time harder. his skin cracks and blood splashes onto his knuckles as he continues. he knew this was going to result in at least a week suspension from the gym, and that was with the gym owner being fond of rafe. he shoves himself off eventually, the man groaning on the floor in pain.

full of adrenaline, rafe picks up his bag and heads to leave, but not without spitting out a venomous “lemme hear you talk about my wife again. i’ll kill you. a’ight?”

he’s not proud of himself by the time he’s arrived home. it’s been a while since he’d gotten angry like that, violent outside of professional boxing. it’s so soft in your shared home when he arrives, and it makes him feel ashamed. it smelled like you’d been baking fresh cookies, the house clean just for him. it melts him, because sometimes he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still the monster he used to be. something that didn’t belong here.

he stops in the doorway to see you napping on the couch, looking delicate like a petal that had fallen off a flower, drifted in the wind and had just landed there perfectly. the small bump that had only just begun to show through your dress strains ever so slightly against the material and he scratches at his cheek. he shouldn’t be acting like this. not when fatherhood is approaching.

he busies himself off to the shower, hoping to wash the day from him. not long later, the sound of the water woke you — and you appear in the bathroom quietly, stripping yourself of your clothes and climbing in behind him. you press a soft kiss to the centre of his back because you could tell it’s tense, a telltale sign that he’d had a rough day. you don’t need to speak, not yet anyway as he relaxes slightly at your touch — feeling your tits press against him from behind and your swollen tummy when you lean forward. he lets out a long sigh, head running beneath the water.

hugging him from behind, you peer round to see his bruised knuckles. he hadn’t come home with those for a long time, he’d usually wrap them if he was going to spar or whatever.

“what happened?” you can’t help yourself, curiosity getting the better of you.

he presses his lips together, caught. he doesn’t wanna tell you what they said, make you uncomfortable. it’s not necessary and it would only make him mad all over again. he runs his knuckles under the water, ridding them of any of the left over dried blood that he wasn’t sure was his.

“ah i uh… i lost my temper… a little. s’not important.” he huffs, peeking briefly over his shoulder at you. you don’t question it, knowing it was potentially a sore subject. he feels another kiss on his back.

“s’okay.” you’re so nurturing, so gentle. your hands slide around his hip bones, caressing the veined skin on his lower stomach above his cock. the appendage jumps once realising what you were after. maybe it didn’t take long because of the soft kisses and your body pressing to his, paired with the day he’d had — but he’s hard in no time when you start palming at him.

he tips his head back under the water, the droplets racing down his toned back and shoulders as you slowly tug at him from behind, doing your best to relax him. “s’okay rafe.” you whisper once more. “you’re home now.”

he certainly was.

[dcxdpdabbles]

I was thinking about Danny talking about Dan to the Justice League and all it would take would be a little slip of the tongue for Danny's "he's my evil future self" to be heard as "he's my evil future son." Because it's one thing to have futures where You turn evil, but another thing to have futures where your family members, your KIDS, turn evil.

Phantom was new to the Justice League team. He had been inducted only three months ago and could be seen coming and going at odd hours. No one really knew much about him.

Phantom was recommended by Wonder Woman during the last selection. Apparently, she knew him due to a mutual acquaintance, a woman named Pandora, who had asked the princess to meet the boy—teenager? Man? It was hard to know what to call him because his physical appearance was that of a youth when he was immortal. She rarely nominated anyone for membership, but the person was precious to the team when she did.

And the ghost was.

Although he needed some formal training, Phantom had an excellent grasp of his powers and the cleverness to pull off moves with them, which Batman even praised. Many of the members adored Phantom's willingness to take on any role in a team.

He never complained about letting someone else take the lead, followed orders without much trouble, blended well with anyone as a teammate, and, most of all, had compassion for civilians. Phantom was often the hero who lingered after a battle to help clean up and provide relief aid.

Civilians adored him, and his fans were growing in numbers.

Despite all of this, Phantom wasn't really close with anyone. The ghost rarely lingered after his missions or monitor duty. He flew in, kept to himself, and left out once he was done.

Phantom never started or helped the conversation progress if it was not mission-related. He wasn't as bad as Batman, but he made it hard to connect to him. Diana assured everyone it wasn't because Phantom did not like them—he was only shy.

It was hard to put the being who single-handedly held off Superman the last time he was mind-controlled next to the word shy. Yet they've seen it.

They saw him nervously play with his gloves as someone spoke to him, struggled to think of what to say in conversations, and even ducked his head when he got too anxious.

It was like whiplash to see the ghost go from a shy, nervous teenager to the one that stopped and held Superman in a taekwondo hold until Batman could stab the needle to get him free of mind control.

Then, that same powerful fighter drags himself to the crowd and the smocking city, ready to assist in any way.

Despite being exhausted and covered in wounds, Phantom helped the crew in charge of clearing the debris by lifting heavy objects and scanning the building for people needing medical attention.

Phantom had been more than willing to follow emergency services' commands, personally thanking the EMTs and firefighters once the chaos was over. When a little boy asked for a photo, Phantom told him they could take one when everything settled.

No one expected the ghost to keep to his word, finding the boy and his mother later at a hospital for that photo. He has been awfully apologetic that the camera could only catch a blurry outline of him with his glowing green eyes.

The little boy hadn't stopped grinning despite suffering a broken leg.

He was literally the sweetest little hero—Bruce had to remind himself that he was not an actual child and was, in fact, thousands of years old whenever he saw the ghost fidgeting with something while on monitor duty.

That's why, the day Phantom threw himself into one of the lounges couches with a distressed sigh, everyone in the area surrounded him.

"Everything alright, Phantom?" Asked Oliver as the ghost's glow flickered in and out of his usual glow.

The immortal did not remove his hands from his face but nodded. His glow lowered again as if reacting to his lie.

The heroes gave each other loaded looks before Diana stepped forward. "You seemed troubled, dear friend. Are you willing to allow us to lead an ear to your woes?"

"Dan is just giving me trouble," Phantom mumbled, his words muffled by his hands.

Wonder glanced at the others, but when they shrugged in confusion, she sat next to the teenager. Placing one supporting hand on his shoulder, she rubbed it gently and leaned towards him. "Who is Dan?"

"Me."

Barry blinks. "You?"

"Yeah, the evil me of the future."

Phantom becoming evil? That was inconceivable.

"Did something happen to make you think you're going evil?" Barry asks gently, taking the other open seat on Phantom's left. He places a warm hand on Phantom's hunched-over back and is violently reminded of how tiny the boy must have been when he died.

It breaks his heart. He's smaller than Wally.

"The ancient of Time showed me that he destroyed the world. I helped create him, so I had to be the one to stop him. For the good of the world."

Diana sucks in a gasp, making Oliver, Hal, Barry, and Dinah weary at once. She made the hand motion, signaling that she would explain later, making the other heroes nod. "I know you may blame yourself, but that was merely a warning from the gods. You still have time to change the outcome."

Phantom glances up from behind his fingers. "You really think so?"

"Yes, of course."

The ghost offers everyone a small smile before vanishing from sight. There are gasps and a desperate cry for his name, but eventually, they realize the ghost has left.

"What was that about?" Hal asks after a moment.

Wonder Woman stands, striding over to the large windows of the watch tower. Her eyes turn to the brightest star visible with a small, sad smile. "Clockwork is the name of the ancient- one of the gods- that controls time. He rarely has champions, but when he does, he often gives them glances of their future. Many claim it's more of a curse than a blessing, for they often see the worse of what is to become."

Dinah straightens. "You're saying Phantom really will go evil?"

"No." Diana closes her eyes. "Ghosts are formed in three ways. The first is death. Someone or something dies, and they are formed from the souls getting attached to ectoplasm. The second is that they are bestowed a duty and are created to keep that duty alive. It often governs a part of our reality- space, dreams, wishes, and even plants. The last is the least common due to how rare it is for ghosts to have powerful enough cores. It is to be born from a stronger ghost, taking pieces of their core and growing into their own person."

Diana turns back to the confused-looking heroes to deliver her blow. "Phantom said it was himself that turned evil, but referred to himself as "Dan". Ghosts do not change their names, for their names are part of what holds their cores together. This means Dan is not him but came from him. His son will grow to be evil, and Phantom will likely have to put him down per Clockwork's instructions for the good of the world."

Hal bites out a curse. "That's sick. How could the time god ask Phantom to kill his own kid? Even if he is evil, Phantom doesn't deserve to have that duty placed on his shoulders. He's just a kid."

"But he isn't," Barry sighs. "Phantom is older than ancient Egypt. He just looks like a kid."

"It does not matter." Wonder Woman declares. "Clockwork's warnings can be overturned. We just need to help Dan off the road of darkness while he is still young."

They call for a Justice League meeting, one that only includes the original team that founded the league, to discuss a strategy plan. At first, some want to change the meeting to discuss how to put down Dan, wondering if being Phantom's son made him just as powerful before Batman stands up.

Bruce does not like the idea that the boy will end up destroying the world, but he is the most outspoken about Dan's innocence in the present day. His scorching words make a few ashamed of themselves for giving up on saving the boy before even meeting him.

The meeting drags on for hours until they eventually agree that they will monitor the child. If they realize he is too far gone to save, they will be the ones to end him. Phantom did not deserve to be the killer.

Clark asked Phantom to bring Dan around and introduce him. They dress the indentation as a league-wide party for the member's family (those in the know). The ghost looked spooked before he agreed to bring his child to meet the team.

A week later, every hero smiles politely at the six-foot-tall man with flaming hair who introduces himself as Dan. He's as bulky as Bane, and his low, dark voice echoes through the room. It's comedic compared to the cracking voice of his father, who has to flout to make them the same height.

As soon as the pair of ghosts fly away to speak to Supergirl and Robin, Barry grabs Bruce's cape. "That's a full-grown man."

"I know"

"Bats, that man is built like a brick house. "

"Yes"

"I thought Phantom said he was three? How in the Speed force is that man three?"

"It seems ghosts age differently. Or they are formed to take on the age they desire. I need to do research."

While the surrounding founding members whisper to each other, more heroes arrive at the makeshift party, some in their costumes and some in their civilian identities.

There are various reactions to Dan. A few consider him Phantom's father or brother, but both ghosts quickly make faces. Phantom reminds someone no less than five times that Dan is his future self.

Wonder Woman has to follow the pair whispering to confuse members about the cultural differences between ghosts and children. She doesn't have to explain that to the magic users or those who have worked with ghosts before.

There were a few who had vastly different reactions.

The members of Young Justice, including Secret, all backed up the claims that ghosts did not change their names and were treating Dan as a Phantom's son without blinking an eye.

John Constantine looked at Dan and cooed. "Aw, a baby core. How old is he?"

Phantom cracks a smile while Dan scoffs. "Three"

"Adorable." He raised his flask in salute, "He's powerful. You must be so proud."

Phantom's smile becomes strained. "Thank you."

Across the room, the founding members swear they will save Dan no matter what, as the larger ghost rolls his eyes and crosses his arms.

[paigebueckersmommy]

maybe not enemies pt.1 - p.b

paige bueckers x fem!roomate! reader

warnings: enemies to lovers, drinking, mean paige kinda?, 1st person

a/n: i am well aware the team rooms togther but act like they don’t for this fic 🥰 also i hate this with every bone in my body.

you and paige had met briefly a few times. all you knew was you two weren’t into the same things.

it was the start of my senior year of college, and i had always taken my academics seriously, but i needed to take them more serious this year, and geting roomed with the schools biggest party animal, caused problems.

i began unpacking the suit case on my bed, waiting for my roomate to arrive. they sent an email with dorm assignments, which your roomate obviously hadn’t seen.

when i heard the door open, i snapped head. “fuck.” you heard a attractive voice say, which you didn’t wanna admit was attractive. “i’m not happy about this either.” you say making eye contact with the blonde.

“how’d you know?” paige says setting stuff down on her bed, “they sent an email.” i say looking back at my stuff.

“well, the best way to handle being roomed with the most boring person on earth, is if we agree to not talk unless it’s needed.” paige said, with an look of annoyance on her face. “agreeed, just please don’t be loud.” you say rolling your eyes, “k.”

time skip to a couple months later

you could tell paige was a little confused by your style when she mostly only ever saw you wearing hoodies, sweatpants and leggings, but tonight was diffrent.

you were standing infront of the mirror on a saturday night, putting lipgloss on. wearing a mini skirt and a mesh long sleeve, a black lacey bra underneath.

“where you going? shouldn’t you be studying or sum shit.” paige said looking you up and down from her bed. “why would it matter to you? but for your infortntion i’m going to a bar with my friends.” i say, looking back at her.

“oh my god!!! she has friends everyone!!” paige says acting suprised, not very good acting. “just because i care about my academics more than you doesn’t make me a nerd.”

“oh please, admit you’re just stating and don’t have any friends.” paige says cocking her head, when jsut then you heard a knock on your door. you opened it, your friends head peaking thru the door. “you almost rea- hey. wanna come?” your friend says, making eye contact with paige mid sentence.

“oh? inviting me? fuck it, yea lemme get dressed.”

you step out of your dorm room, shocked by the interaction. “damn. she barley talks to me i don’t know why she’d wanna come out with-“ you stopped mid sentence when paige walked out of your dorm. she was wearing white pants and a pink crop top, you had only ever seen her wear basketball gear so you were a little shocked at this.

“mm.. she knows how to dress everyone.” you say matching paige’s pace in the hallway as two of your friends were a little in front of you.

“oh i know your not talking. this is the 3rd time ive ever seen you not wear a hoodie. probobly why you don’t have a boyfriend yet.”

“b-boyfriend? i’m sorry, what makes you think i like men?” you say crooking your head words paige, curious. “o-oh i’m sorry, i just-“

“your good. i get a lot that i look straight.. but im lesbian.” you say with a soft smile making eye contact with paige, as you realize she’s also smiling.

“hm. good to know.” paige says, looking your outfit up and down, and that’s whe your mind began spinning.

did i like paige? was she trying to tell me something? were we, not enemies?

you put those thoughts to the side as you reached the doors of the bar. it was a saturday night, so it was crowded but not as crowded as it is on fridays. you, paige and your two friends found spots at the bar, paige sitting next to you as she ordered a round of shots for you two without even asking what you wanted.

“oh? thank you? your not being mean to me for once?” you say out of confusion before downing the shot. “mmm. you don’t look half as bad tonight.”

“could say the same about you.”

pt 2 soon!!!

[cuubism]

Found this old fic concept in my notes, I doubt I'll ever get around to writing it or that I could do it justice if I did, but it still makes me laugh so I wrote it up as a little blurb. Perhaps it will make you laugh too.

Mega Popstar Dream and Hob, his extremely non-famous celebrity crush

So in this universe Dream is an extremely famous musician. He's like Taylor Swift level of famous, if you walk up to any random person on the street they would know who he is. Meanwhile Hob is an actor but really not very well known, he was in a few small projects and is in the core cast of one TV show that's well-regarded but not super popular.

It's Dream's FAVORITE TV SHOW and Hob is his FAVORITE ACTOR that he's ferally OBSESSED WITH. Everyone knows about this too, Dream is really obvious about it. In interviews people will ask him what he likes and he's like "this is my favorite TV show" "have you seen Hob Gadling in that show isn't he incredible", They'll ask him if he has a celebrity crush (as a joke) and he's like "YES HOB GADLING 😍" like it's become a meme in Dream's fandom how much he has a crush on this random actor.

They've never met though, probably Dream was afraid to -- 'never meet your heroes' and all -- and never let his team book any overlapping events. So he's never seen Hob in person, only watched his favorite TV show 65 times in a row and memorized every inch of his face. Like a stalker.

So then a Buzzfeed-esque YouTube channel is running a special edition of their usual challenge show, "People Meet Their Celebrity Crush", except this time it's "CELEBRITIES Meet Their Celebrity Crush." Dream's entire team conspires against him to book him on this. Dream doesn't know what it is until the very moment since the whole point is to surprise people with their crush. Needless to say, Hob was REALLY dubious when the channel reached out like "do you want to come on as Dream's celebrity crush" but what's he gonna do say NO? say NO when Dream is so pretty and cute? So yeah he goes.

Anyway during the moment in the video when they revealed his celebrity crush to him -- aka Hob just looking like a totally normal and random guy -- Dream literally tripped over a chair and fell on the floor and then fainted. Instant meme and it became the thumbnail of the video. When Dream woke up to find Hob crouched by him all concerned asking if he was okay he nearly had a panic attack, he was never more flustered and nervous in his whole life not even performing for crowds of millions.

Hob fell in love instantly. He doesn't even know much about Dream, he hasn't even listened to Dream's music other than what's just playing ubiquitously on the radio all the time but all it took was watching Dream fall over a chair and then look up at him with his huge starry eyes and he was like 'This one's mine forever idc. I gotta protect this nerd he won't survive in the wild.'

Anyway they did start dating after that and Dream never leaves the honeymoon phase for the rest of his whole life, he truly thinks Hob is the most handsome man and best actor in the entire world and will tell anyone so at any opportunity, he goes around saying things like "see if you believe really hard you too can marry your celebrity crush 🥰" with zero irony, he might have skipped the Grammys to go to the premiere of season 3 of Hob's show (Hob didn't ask him to do that) (Dream won the Grammy but had more fun staring at Hob's face for 2 hours than he would have had at the awards show). Meanwhile Hob never talks about Dream in public because Dream already has negative 500% privacy in his life, he's extremely protective of him, and he allegedly punched one of the paparazzi in the face when they tried to take stealth shots at their wedding which was supposed to be a private affair. ALLEGEDLY. No charges were filed.

Dream did post one photo of the wedding on insta for his adoring fandom in which he described Hob as his knight in shining armor and then denied any knowledge of any 'alleged' events when asked about it in the future. Because Hob was so much more private about their relationship than Dream, for a while Dream's fandom had been like HOB DOESN'T DESERVE DREAM but after the (alleged) story about Hob punching someone in the face came out they were all obsessed with him. So that solved that problem.

(Despite Hob's efforts a paparazzi photo did come out of them the morning after the wedding, Hob sitting on the terrace drinking coffee, Dream sitting on his lap wearing Hob's shirt and looking thoroughly ravished. Dream might have framed it.)

Then they lived happily ever after. Dream put Hob in every one of his music videos regardless of whether it made sense for the story. Hob got one of Dream's songs put in his favorite TV show which made Dream's whole entire year. The end :)

[incognit0slut]

Much Ado About Nothing (Act 1, Scene 1: The Silent Agreement)

Ever since that night, you and Spencer had always been at odds, but there was one thing you both agreed on.

Part warning: just two idiots bickering nonstop Words: 1,6k A/n: so nervous about starting this but welcome to the first part! It's a short introduction though I'm trying to make longer chapters in the future

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

Hate was too strong of a word, too intense and dramatic for the subtler, more nuanced disdain you felt toward him. It was more like a persistent itch you couldn’t scratch, a pebble in your shoe, or a fly that wouldn’t leave you alone.

You didn’t hate him. You didn’t even dislike him all the time. But there were moments when you wanted to shake him, or yank his tie hard enough to shut his smart mouth. Because every time he started throwing around statistics and facts, he made it sound like you couldn’t possibly understand, as if you weren’t on the same intellectual level as him.

And right now was one of those times you wanted to wipe that smug look off his face.

“You’re wrong,” you argued, not breaking eye contact as you leaned across the cluttered map with pins and photos of various crime scenes. “The Unsub doesn’t fit the profile of someone who strikes randomly. Look at the pattern, the meticulous planning in each location—it’s obvious they selected victims based on specific criteria, not opportunity.”

Spencer scoffed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “The victims have nothing in common. Different ages, different backgrounds, different cities. How do you explain the randomness of the victims if it was planned?”

“It’s the chaos that’s planned, the seeming randomness, each victim is at a pivotal point. The Unsub is not just killing; they’re sending a message through the timing.”

“A message? Or is that just what you want to see?”

You frowned, not liking the condescending tone in his voice. “Reid, not everything has to fit into your neat little boxes of logic. Sometimes, you have to look beyond the obvious.”

“You mean baseless assumptions?”

“How about intuition?” you snapped back. “How about pattern recognition that isn’t immediately visible but becomes clear when you consider the psychological aspects?”

“You mean your hunches?

You gritted your teeth. “It’s not about my hunches. It’s about understanding the Unsub’s mind. They’re choosing victims who are at turning points in their lives for a reason. Maybe it’s symbolic, maybe it’s personal."

“Or maybe you’re just reading too much into this.”

Your frustration bubbled over. You knew if he weren’t talking to you, he might actually agree—No, he would definitely agree. You had enough experience working with him to understand his analytical style and to know that he valued well-reasoned arguments. Yet now it felt like he was purposely dismissing your perspective.

He wasn’t being fair.

“You know what? Sometimes I think you’d argue with a freaking wall if it meant you could prove a point.” To me at least. "Not everything is a textbook case, and not every answer is in your precious statistics.”

You saw him raise an eyebrow. “And you’d dismiss all logical analysis if it meant you could rely solely on intuition. How is that any more valid?”

“It’s not about relying solely on intuition,” you defended. “It’s about seeing the connections, the human behavior that your statistics can’t always explain.”

“But you’re assigning meaning where there might be none.” He gave you a pointed look. “Not only is that dangerous, you’re being reckless.”

Red. You were seeing red. Your retort was on the tip of your tongue when a sharp clearing of a throat suddenly interrupted. You both turned to see Hotch standing at the corner of the room.

"Let's redirect this energy towards something productive," Hotch interrupted, you could almost feel the weight of his stare. "Both of your insights are pointless if you keep arguing like this.”

“I wasn’t arguing.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, you weren’t.”

Your boss sighed, the kind of deep, exasperated sigh that seemed to pull the oxygen out of the room. “Just... work together. Please.”

The plea was simple, filled with the tiredness of having had this conversation more times than anyone cared to count. He then turned to leave and the room suddenly felt too big, the silence too loud.

You glanced over at Spencer the same time his eyes fell on you. But before either of you could say anthing, the door jerked open, and you watched as Derek sauntered into the room.

“Did you two fight again? Because Hotch asked me to babysit you.”

You scoffed. “Really? Those were his exact words?”

“Of course not, he asked me you needed supervision because you can’t stop sniping at each other.”

“Supervision,” you muttered under your breath, the word sounding ridiculous because it was the last thing you needed. “We don’t need supervision.”

“Exactly. What you both need is a babysitter.”

“We’re also not kids.”

Derek chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “Could’ve fooled me. Given how loud you were, I half-expected someone to start throwing toys.”

Spencer was quick to defend himself. “We were having a professional disagreement.”

“A professional disagreement?” Derek mocked, pretending to be deep in thought. “That’s what they’re calling it these days?”

You huffed, crossing your arms. “Yes, Morgan, some of us prefer to call it that instead of ‘arguing like toddlers’.”

The grin spreading across his face was so annoying that you wondered whether you should’ve put your frustration on him instead. Derek pushed himself off the doorframe and walkes over to Spencer, casually draping an arm around his shoulders.

“Alright, Pretty Boy, let’s hear your side of this professional disagreement.”

Spencer shifted uncomfortably under his arm but managed to maintain his composure. “We were discussing the Unsub’s choice of victims. I believe the randomness is genuine, while someone,” he glanced pointedly at you, “Thinks there’s a pattern.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “What pattern?”

You stepped forward, determined to explain. “Look at the victims’ timelines. They were all at critical junctures—new jobs, big moves, major life changes. The Unsub isn’t picking them randomly; they’re choosing people going through something significant.”

Derek nodded thoughtfully, removing his arm from Spencer’s shoulders. “Alright, I see where you’re coming from. And you, Reid, think it’s just a coincidence?”

“I think the Unsub might be targeting randomly to avoid detection. Patterns can be dangerous for them.”

You sighed. “Can we at least agree to look at both possibilities? If we cross-reference the victims’ life changes with significant dates in the Unsub’s background, we might find a connection.”

You held his gaze as he studied you. You were right, you both knew you were, but you could tell admitting he was wrong was the last thing he wanted to do. There was a tense silence as he considered your suggestion, his eyes flicking between the evidence board and you.

Finally, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Fine. We can analyze both angles and see if there’s any overlap.”

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Derek chimed in with a smirk, clearly enjoying the moment. “You know, you could’ve gotten more work done if you two still got along.”

Derek’s words hit harder than you expected, a bittersweet reminder of a time when things were simpler. He was right, of course. There was a time when you and Spencer were more than just colleagues locked in constant debate. You were friends—good friends, even. You could almost hear the echoes of shared laughter that had once come so easily.

You remembered late nights at the office, the two of you working over case files and tossing ideas back and forth. Back then, your debates had been lively, yes, but never tinged with the frustration and competition that seemed to color your interactions now.

And to make matters worse, Derek suddenly voiced out the question neither of you dared to ask out loud.

“You guys used to be inseparable,” he mused, glancing at the two of you with an amused smile. “Wonder where it went wrong.”

You knew he was joking, but his words carried an uncomfortable truth that you couldn’t ignore. You could also tell it affected Spencer because his eyes met yours silently.

You both were thinking the same thing. You were sure of it, because everything had changed after that night, that one night you wished to forget. That one night when you thought your friendship would change for the better, but instead, it turned into a moment of clarity, a freaking slap to the face.

The change was immediate, like the abrupt silence that follows a sudden, jarring noise. What had once been effortless and natural now felt forced and awkward. The distance between you grew. The ease with which you once communicated had been replaced by a strained formality, as if both of you were trying too hard to pretend that nothing had changed.

It was as if you had made a silent pact to never speak of that night, an unspoken agreement to bury it deep and carry on as best you could. Both of you were too proud, too scared to address the elephant in the room.

You looked away, unable to hold his gaze any longer. The weight of the unspoken words pressed heavily on your chest, and sure, it seemed childish to harbor such disdain at your big age, but you couldn’t help it. It wasn't just the loss of a friendship that stung; it was the betrayal of knowing someone so close could cause you such pain.

Because Spencer Reid had hurt you deeply that night, so much so that a small, spiteful part of you wanted to hurt him too.

[malwaredykes]

well. here she is. miss Leigh Stasik.

trans woman. stubborn, incorrigible, eccentric. communist; she has leftist in-fighting with herself on the regular. a cannibal; she has no moral qualms about this, and its both a bit of a spiritual thing and a bit of a pragmatic thing. medic (not a doctor. no medical license). she knows for sure she had some kind of significant personality change from being shot in the head, but she doesn't remember what she was like exactly before it happened, it all became this kind of distant memory soup. shes originally from west new cali, but she grew very attached to the mojave. and has a lot of contempt for the ncr. She Will Serve Crack Before She Serves This Country. thank god the army discriminates against transsexuals etc. zero tolerance for the legion, obviously.

she firmly believes she is not nice, or kind, or compassionate, but instead her actions and her general sense of justice stem from her simply doing whats the most logical and objectively beneficial. it may be true to some extent, but she might also have a wee bit of ocd of the "i am a horrible person whos at all times like 2 seconds away from committing atrocities" variety.

shes a SCIENTIST. unofficially. she doesnt have a degree nor a chosen field of study. she makes her own hrt and other mysterious concoctions, including designer chems. which she claims she ingests injects etc not for recreational purposes, but to Enhance Her Powers And Possibilities. she reads old world books about psychology so she can manipulate people better. and makes weird contraptions and doohickeys while high. shes a HACKER of course and hacks terminals and systems for fun and just to see if she can.

her stats are out there due to implants and intense training, originally they were rather average. in-game she wears combat armor mk 2, but i see her having spruced it up like this. her main weapon is the ycs/186, the unique gauss rifle, but before that she used a modded plasma pistol. which she very much enjoyed the silly appearance of. because it was so small and with so much shit tacked on and she could just hold it in one hand like a mutated revolver like Hands up motherfucker bang bang bang lol. her melee weapon of choice is the machete gladius, but she's been training to be able to wield a thermic lance.

in my head the trajectory of her actions and the fate of the mojave that follows is different from what you can do with the game, because leigh could only go for The Secret Leftist Route Which Was Supposed To Be In The Game But We Were Robbed Of It.

boone was the first friend she made after leaving goodsprings and their relationship is particularly notable. they are Comrades, Siblings-In-Arms, Worsties (like besties but fucked up). theyve seen each other at their worst. they annoy each other on purpose. theyve had serious ideological clashes with each other and some ways in which boone perceives the world drive leigh absolutely nuts. they're ride or die for each other. theyre the kind of comfortable around each other where she'll be on the toilet and smoking a cig with the door open and talking to him, while he's naked sitting on the floor removing stitches from his leg. she's done surgery without anesthesia on him. he's projectile vomited blood on her from being poisoned by cazadores. she strongly encourages him to become a traitor to the ncr and to take part in the revolution and the formation of the new independent mojave alliance. somehow, it works on him in the end. shamefully they kinda like snuggling... boone bro come to bed man its nighty night man its beddy bye time.

shes in love with lily bowen. i havent decided yet whether she actually makes a move. but she thinks lily is sooooo dreamy. and shes right. if you dont think the enormous 203 year old blue mutant woman is dreamy thats your problem. outta her way

[moonstruckme]

can i request a doctor!remus fic where maybe reader comes into the er and is very panicked by doctors and hospitals and they call remus in to help because he’s like known for putting people at ease….this may or may not be based on when i freaked out over a needle and they had to bring in a special doctor :l please and thank you and i’m obsessed with your fics <3

Thank you sweetness <3

cw: hospital, needle

doctor!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Your heart is in your throat. It’s pounding so hard you can feel its beating in your teeth, and no matter how you try you cannot get tears to stop leaking from your eyes. 

“Wait,” you say again, the word a wobbly, tight-voiced mantra. You keep thinking that if you can just calm yourself enough to seem credible, you can reason with these people. Convince them that you’re actually fine, so there’s no need to touch you, or poke you, or try to move your already agonizing shoulder. 

There are already three people in your tiny curtained-off room with you, so when the curtain pulls back and a fourth enters, you angle your hurt shoulder away from him unconsciously. 

“Hello,” the new doctor says. His voice is low and velveteen smooth, cutting through the thrumming panic in your brain like a warm knife through butter. The other doctor and the nurses who have been trying to pacify you fall quiet, seemingly relieved this other man is here. He glances quickly at a clipboard. “Y/n? I’m Remus.” 

“Hi.” You feel pathetic and a bit wild, tears still trudging down your face as you try to keep an eye on everyone in the room, especially the nurse with the needle. They’ve promised you several times now that they’re not going to do anything until you agree, and it’s not that you don’t trust that but you’re wary of anything happening without your notice. 

Remus walks over to you as though this scene is completely normal for him. He takes a seat on the edge of your bed and sets the clipboard down. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, looking as though he’d really like to know. His expression is kind and concerned. 

You give a little laugh, using your good hand to wipe under your eyes. It comes out sounding pitchy and stilted. “I’ve been better,” you admit. Remus’ lips curve in a small, sad smile. “I just, I’d really rather not be here.” 

“That’s understandable,” he replies patiently. He seems the least urgent of anyone you’ve interacted with since you’ve been here, and there’s a tranquility about him that’s contagious. You feel your tears slowing. “This isn’t really somewhere people end up when their day is going according to plan. What is it that’s making you nervous, sweetheart?” 

All of it, you want to say. The doctors and the nurses and the machines and the hair-raising sound of a baby crying a few rooms over. You hate hospitals and you always have. The idea of needing to be in more pain to relieve the one you’re already experiencing makes you feel like you’re trying to breathe through a straw. 

“I don’t like needles,” you say. Understatement of the year. 

Remus nods, seeming to mull this over. “Well, you have a dislocated shoulder,” he says, mouth pinching sympathetically. “The only way to fix that is to put the joint back into its proper place. It’s not the sort of thing that takes care of itself.” As he talks, his hand moves to rest on top of yours, forefinger stroking a slow back-and-forth across the back of your hand. “It can be fairly painful,” he tells you, “and if you move you could make things a lot harder for yourself. So, we’re going to give you medicine to help you calm down and alleviate the pain.” 

In his steady, dulcet voice, the thing that’s been explained to you twice over already sounds a lot more sensible. His thumb works over your hand, light brown eyes gently coaxing.

“The good thing about this procedure is, both parts are done with fairly quickly. And if you’d like me to, I can hold you while Dr. Michaels works, if that’ll help you at all.” 

The other three people in the room are moving again, somewhat slowly, but Remus doesn’t seem to notice. He holds your gaze. 

“Yes, please,” you say tightly. You know it’s an acquiescence. Even as you say it more tears are blurring your vision. 

“Alright, it’s alright.” Remus wastes no time in moving to your side, his hip pressed to yours while he wraps one arm around your middle and uses the other to turn your face into his shoulder. “You’re fine, sweetheart.” 

You feel childish and embarrassed, wetting his scrubs with your tears, but he only sweeps his thumb over your ribs, shushing you compassionately.  

“We’re going to give you the medicine now, try to stay relaxed.” 

You tense when you feel the cold wipe, and a quiet whimper slips past your lips at the bite of the needle. 

Remus’ hand tightens on your head. “You’re okay,” he murmurs. The needle slips out. 

“Breathe,” Remus instructs. You hadn’t realized you’d stopped. You let out a tremulous exhale, and he brushes some hairs away from your face, your forehead still resting on his shoulder. “That was good,” he assures you. “You’re halfway done now.” 

“Thank you,” you say, more than a little humiliated as you swipe the wetness from your cheeks, sniffling. 

Remus offers a small smile. It’s absurd how much it relaxes you. “Don’t mention it.” He looks to the other doctor. “How do you want her for this next part?” 

“Lying down, please.” 

He turns back to you. “Okay? You want help?” 

Your good hand has gone back to holding your shoulder, so he uses a hand on your back to help ease you horizontal on the bed. Once you’re settled he coaxes your hand away, taking it in his own. His skin is warm and scarred in some places, cruel lines that feel like a violation to touch. He doesn’t seem to mind. 

Remus gets you talking, about the fall that landed you in here, your day before that, your life in general. His responses are understanding and amused at times, seemingly genuinely invested in what you have to say. As you speak his thumb is moving over the side of your hand, down to your wrist and back again, slow and hypnotic. A few minutes later, your eyelids and limbs are heavy, the movement of Remus’ thumb the center of your focus as he tells you about one of the many scrapes his ostensibly reckless friends have gotten into over the years. 

“Seems like it’s working,” he says with a little smile. You blink, not having realized he’d finished his story. “How do you feel, love?” 

“Sleepy.” Your voice sounds stretched and lazy. “My arm still sorta hurts, though.” 

Remus makes a sympathetic tsking sound. “Unfortunately, we can’t make all the pain go away, but it will be a lot easier than it would have otherwise.” He trades hands, taking your hand in his other one and using the first to make sure your face is angled towards him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right here with you.” 

Somehow, that makes everything seem a lot more manageable. 

[thoughtsforsoob]

Hii! I was wondering if you could do beomgyu fingering you under the table at a restaurant? Tyyy!!

a/n: hehe thank you for this anon! im going to try my best to make this good! inbox is always open!

beomgyu had invited you to dinner with the boys on this particular night. you agreed because you were excited to see the boys again and hang out with your boyfriend at the same time. so, when time rolled around to get to dinner, beomgyu had told you to get ready and that he was going to pick you up from your apartment. Having been told that, you immediately pick out your cute outfit (whatever you wanna wear) and start to do a little hairstyle and some makeup. beomgyu never expected you to dress up or even do any kind of makeup but it made you feel happy so you did it anyway. 

When you were done doing all your steps to get ready, you met him outside and you both headed down to the restaurant together. nothing seemed different or out of place on the way so you were greatly surprised when you felt a hand on your thigh while appetizers were coming to the table. sure, beomgyu had occasionally rested his hand there but it only meant one of two things. 1, it was just a coincidence or 2, he was going to finger you. you were really hoping for it to just be a coincidence since everyone was surrounding you. you continued to make conversation with the boys despite this action. your face hadn’t changed in expression so you were good.

while finishing up your appetizers, you were talking to soobin about a bread recipe you wanted to try (you were asking if he wanted some when you eventually made it). suddenly, you feel a slim finger tracing up and down your slit, stopping at your clit to add extra stimulation, you bit your lip just a bit. soobin raised an eyebrow with concern, “are you okay?” you nod and let go of your lip. “sorry. im getting a cramp in my thigh.” you looked down at your legs and then back up at him. “I'm sorry.” he shook his head and frowned, “don’t apologize. you can’t help it. Are you going to be alright?” you nod and with that, you two continued your conversation. you left feeling the gently finger rubbing up your slit through your panties until beomgyu finally pushed then aside discreetly and slid a finger in. you looked over at him with wide eyes and leaned closer to his ear. “why?” you whispered lowly and he just gave you a smile, kissing your forehead. you felt dizzy from the whiplash his actions were causing you. He was completely disrespecting you under the table and being such a gentleman above the table. The boys hadn’t really been suspecting anything until you started to fade out of the conversation, eyes fixated on beomgyu. Taehyun was the one to speak up and ask if there was something wrong between you two. You immediately snap out of your daze and shake your head. “Oh no, he’s just really handsome.” They all playfully gagged at your answer and Taehyun was the one who remained suspicious. He didn't want to say what he was thinking but he gave beomgyu ‘the look’ and beomgyu gave it back to him. This made you suddenly extremely shy. 

Beomgyu’s movements did not falter as he locked eyes with taehyun. You didn't know what to think but you felt yourself teetering over the edge of an orgasm. You looked to beomgyu and he looked down at you. He knew exactly what you wanted because of the squeezing of his fingers. He just nodded and you leaned against him, letting yourself go. You tried to not make it so obvious but at this point, everyone at the table was watching you look absolutely blissed out. They didn't even want to ask what had gone on because they more or less had an idea. They just stared at you two as beomgyu raised his hand back up, trying not to draw attention to himself from the rest of the restaurant as he licked his drenched fingers.

(part two with a gangbang???? Guys i'm so tempted please make me do it)

[martian-astro]

D9/ Navamsa chart observations - Part 4

Sun in 3rd shows that your spouse will either have a business of their own or even if they work for someone else, they'll be in a managerial position. As a result of this, your spouse will be focused more on their career than the marriage, and it could make you feel a bit lonely. (Jupiter in fire and water signs can balance this out)

Moon in 7th is a really good placement, i have seen this in the charts of female celebrities who have a handsome husband. so if we're going just by looks, then it's good. Your partner can be emotional and sensitive but they can also be moody, this placement is better if you have more earth signs in your chart. (i know a woman with this, and her husband is like okay but he can also be quite whiny sometimes, and also he acts like his hands are gonna fall down if he puts them inside the dirty dishes water, so, i just find him very annoying, so just make sure that there are planets in earth signs)

Mercury in 1st... I love it. A lot of "happily" married couples have it. This is a placement that makes you address the issues in your marriage. If you guys feel like there's something wrong, you're gonna approach your partner and talk to them about it. (i think that even if the conversation ultimately leads to divorce it's still better than just staying in a dull and loveless marriage, and if the problem gets solved, then great). I really have a soft spot for this one because a lot of strong women in my life have this and i just love the fact that they were brave enough to go against the society's rules, so if you have this placement, you're very very lucky and you'll have a good marriage, you know what you want and that's great. (this can also cause late marriage)

Venus in 1st, this one is not for your partner but for yourself, the number of celebrities that have this is just....shocking. If you want to work in the entertainment industry and you have this, go ahead, seriously, just give auditions, put videos on youtube, make reels, do it, you WILL be famous. (talking about the people that i know personally that have this placement, they're really creative as well, one of my sister's friend has sun conjunct Venus in 1st house and she's such a charismatic speaker and like really persuasive, this is helpful to her in regards to career, so even if you want to work in some other field, this placement makes you the best in that)

Mars in 4th.. I love this one as well. This makes your partner really protective of you and your kids (if you wish to have them). I used to think that this would make your spouse more protective of their parents (especially mother) rather than their partner, but I've been proven wrong, many many times. I have seen it play out right in front of my eyes, a lot of times, so I'll give examples. (if you're a woman, and your husbands family is talking shit about you, he won't like it at all and in some cases, may even move out of the house cuz they can't stand seeing you being humiliated. Another example, if you're being harassed then.. They're gonna get physical, and not because, someone touched THEIR wife, but because someone touched YOU, there's a huge difference. And if you're a man, you are LUCKY, your wife's gonna be like 5'1, but if someone's hurting you, she's gonna stand in front of you and be like "stop hurting my man, get the fuck away from him" and having that kind of support in your life is really rare)

Jupiter in 5th... DUDE, every person i know that has this have more than 2 kids, if its well placed then you're gonna be great parents and your children are gonna love you. Your partner is gonna love kids and that's why... More kids. If you're a woman, then please make sure that you marry someone who loves you just as much, because this is one of those placements that can cause "good parent but bad partner" thing. (I've also seen this placement in a lot of men's charts, who only marry a woman because they think she would make a good mother, which is not good, so be a little cautious of men with this)

Saturn in 10th, now if you're a woman and you have this, then please please marry a man who's okay with having a wife who's more career oriented (every woman should marry a man like that) but sometimes you'll see that a woman is forced to become a SAH wife and she's unhappy but she does it (even though she shouldn't) but women with this, they won't, they'll just get divorced instead, they DO NOT like staying at home (valid), a partner who encourages you to pursue your dreams will be the best. (i know a couple where the wife has this, he's a house husband but a good one, he actually does all the household chores and doesn't just laze around while his wife works, and they also love each other, and i love them 🥹)

Venus in 9th, i read on a lot of websites and books that these people should marry after 30 and i agree. An early marriage with this will lead to separation or an unhappy marriage. (i also noticed this to be true, but i couldn't find out WHY, like the reason). This is also an indicator of marrying someone from a different culture or background. Even more so if Venus is in movable signs.

Saturn in 5th, (bro my memory is so bad, i feel like I've already written about this but i can't fucking remember 😭😭), okay so this placement also delays childbirth, or you may end up having just one kid (which is not wrong), you may also have a kid after 30, Ranbir kapoor, priyanka chopra and deepika padukone have this. Even if you have ketu in 8th, this will happen because saturn has a stronger effect.

Mars in 2nd, this placement is like a double edged sword, your partner is gonna be a spendthrift but they manage to earn back that money just as fast, but here's the thing, it's like, you have to pay your rent on the 1st of a month, your partner uses that rent money to buy something for themselves, now you're stressed AS FUCK and on the 31st, out of nowhere, they're gonna give that same amount to you. I've seen this happen a lot. So you're just gonna be constantly stressed out. (this works well for people who themselves are spendthrifts, cuz none of you give a shit, so whatever)

[formulawolff]

xi. larger than life - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 3.6k

warnings: cursing, banter, teasing, flirting, mentions of sex, a teeny bit of angst, THIS IS PROBABLY THE MOST DOWN BAD TOTO HAS EVER BEEN, lewis being a little shit, alcohol use, marijuana use, yadayadayada

prev. | next.

“hey, there’s someone here to meet you. i think you’ll shit your pants once you see him.”

alex stands beside you, beaming as you wave goodbye to ben. it was early friday morning, around nine-thirty in the morning. since it was a more relaxed day, with the practice session the only obligation in your schedule, you had your parents stationed at the lounge area.

they were seated with lily, who was very eager to spend some time with them. after all, since alex was busy, she had no one to talk to. so, you figured it would be nice if they all had one another for company. 

however, tomorrow was qualifying, where it would determine your place on the grid. 

which, to you, that lap tomorrow was everything. 

the defining moment of the weekend. 

“who?” you raise a brow, “who could it–”

as you glance over your shoulder, your heart skips a beat as you see james engaged in deep conversation with him, the team principal chuckling, pointing to you. the visitor is dressed in a cream suit, a white button-up underneath, jet-black sunglasses resting on the bridge of his nose. swallowing the lump in your throat, you stroll towards him, running an absentminded hair through your hand. 

“good morning!”

the words are almost a squeak, and you internally kick yourself. 

the visitor’s lips curl upward, flashing a pearly white grin, “¡buenos dias! ¡bienvenida a miami!” 

standing before you was none other than pitbull, mr. worldwide, mr. three-oh-five. rather than shaking your hand, he opens his arms, pulling you in for a warm embrace. you were probably sweating from the nerves and the humidity, but you didn’t care. 

while you had met celebrities in your brief time as a formula one driver, most of them were european. so, you weren’t really quite familiar with their fame or starpower through football, rugby, television, and well, business. there were so many wealthy moguls who came through the paddock at the races, james and alex recognizing them in an instant. 

on the other hand, you felt awkward, as you usually had no idea who that person was or what exactly they did. 

so, to finally meet someone you were familiar with and recognized, in your home country, was a moment to cherish. 

and well, you were a little starstruck. 

“i’m going to admit, i don’t know much about formula one,” the singer shrugs, “but i figured i would come through and say hello.”

“well i’m honored,” a giggle bubbles up in your throat, “have you met with any of the other teams?”

“not yet,” he shakes his head, shooting you a wink, “this is my first stop. mostly because there is a very beautiful woman who drives for this team. do you know her, by chance?”

your eyes widen as you realize he’s referring to you. heat rushes into your cheeks, your palms clamming up, “oh my gosh – um, –”

“my apologies señorita,” he places a tender hand on your shoulder, “i know you have much bigger things to worry about. i wish you the best of luck today! make miami proud!” 

“i will,” relief ripples as he leans in, pecking your cheek before waving goodbye, strolling away from the entrance of the paddock, security team in tow. 

“jesus christ,” alex’s voice sounds from behind you, “he would fuck anyone, wouldn’t he?”

“stop it,” you hiss, swiveling on your heel, “he was just being nice.”

“yeah, yeah,” alex scoffs, rolling his eyes, “anyways, i noticed the other day you posted another set of photos on instagram. one of them had that mystery man in it. who is he? why hasn’t he come to the paddock yet?”

“because he’s been busy,” that wasn’t a lie by any means. the team principal was quite busy this morning, merely a few paddocks over, “i will see if he come to the next race. i doubt it, though.”

“what does he do again?” alex inquires, sitting on top of some equipment, “i think you told me but i forgot.”

“he’s in management,” well, that was half the truth, “he manages a sports team.”

“what team?” 

“the new soccer team in st. louis,” firing back, you shrink a little under alex’s intense gaze, his lips pursed, brows furrowed, “since it’s only their second year, he’s been busy with promotional stuff. events, traveling, you know.”

“right,” alex sucks in a breath, “also, i know it wasn’t anything serious, but i was a little nervous when you posted those photos of the mercedes campus. i know there have been some rumors, but i would hope that you would talk to me if you were ever thinking about leaving williams–”

“oh, she’s never leaving us!” james’ voice chips in, the team principal coming up from behind you, “she’s stuck with us till 2026!”

at the sureness in james’ tone, your heart sinks. 

fuck, this was getting complicated. 

as you stood with james and alex, the topic shifting to the newest modifications on the cars, your heart thumped, pounding against your rib-cage. inside your mind, it was a tumultuous, chaotic mess. 

your heart yearned to be with toto, yet you were so comfortable with williams. you were happy here, really. you had an amazing relationship with james, alex was like an older brother, and you couldn’t be any more grateful for the support your team had given you. since the beginning, they had made it very clear that they were one hundred percent confident in your capabilities, often reassuring you that were a talented driver with a very successful future ahead. 

how could you just abandon williams like that? leaving them high and dry like that? with no warning either? 

you could only picture the disappointment, the confusion, and the bitterness that would plague james’ features as you inform him of your decision. 

god, that thought alone was enough to tear your heart into two. 

sure, there were rumors. since that post with the mercedes headquarters, fans were buzzing with suspicions that there were contract talks. that you were going to announce your departure from williams any day now. that you were going to join toto wolff at mercedes. 

since it was friday, there were only a couple of days before toto would ask about your decision. in that time frame, you needed to speak with james regarding the subject, fill alex in, focus on the practice sessions, make the most out of your qualifying lap, spend time with your parents, and most of all, focus on driving. 

with less than forty-eight hours until then, time was of the essence. 

and fuck, were you running out of that precious time. 

a few paddocks over, a team principal raises an arm, waving to fans as they shout, a driver on his left, the other on his right. 

“are you going to see her tonight?” 

lewis’ question is innocent as they enter the garage, members of the pit crew swarming and flurrying about. they chirp greetings as the three gather around the cars, examining them. 

toto exhales, inspecting the right wing, “you two are worse than the wags. i have never met people more invested in someone’s love life the way you two are.”

“well now that the cat’s out of the bag,” george crouches by a tire, “we get to pester you about it.”

the casualness of the conversation as the entire team was in earshot sent the team principal spiraling, his jaw clenching as bono approached them clipboard in hand, “you two also need to learn the importance of time and place.”

“we’ll just talk more about it later then,” toto curses as he notices lewis bearing a smug smirk, “after the practice session, we’re going to do a deep dive addressing your feelings–”

“good morning,” bono clears his throat, “did i walk into something important?”

“no, not at all,” toto shoots lewis an icy glare as george bites on his lip, stifling a chuckle, “let’s get to business. how are the cars?”

as peter began his report, toto couldn’t help but let his mind wander. 

besides, it was not like he could focus these days anyway. 

the team principal absolutely despised the hectic schedules of the race weekend. how he was constantly rotating between briefings, meetings with the engineers and mechanics, promotional events, sponsorship talks, and well, managing the two juveniles otherwise known as lewis hamilton and george russell.

then, there was the reason why they were all here. the race itself. 

now, he had another pressing matter weighing on his mind. 

three people were aware of his developing relationship with a certain williams driver. while he knew that two of the three would protect his secret, he was extremely cautious about the third. after all, the girl was only nineteen years old. she was young and impressionable. lewis’ little stunt with the cash proved that the girl was easily influenced. 

however, as much as he wanted to fire the girl, he knew that he couldn’t. 

at least, not during race weekend. that would be downright cruel. 

monday would probably be a different story. 

yet, if he fired her, would she just blackmail him? would she threaten to release the information involving him and his golden girl?

just the thought of her leaking that information to the press was panic-inducing enough. 

he could offer her a hefty sum to stay quiet. but he couldn’t do that either. down the road, she could end up exposing him for paying hush money. 

being romantically involved with a woman thirty years younger than him and offering his former assistant hush money to keep quiet on the matter? 

that would send his entire world crashing down, bursting into flames in the process.

he would lose everything. 

for the time-being, toto would just have to hold onto shreds of hope that his assistant would remain silent on the matter. maybe if he didn’t mention it, she wouldn’t either. 

he would be okay with that.

on the other hand, his drivers were adamant that they wouldn’t say anything, swearing up and down that if preserving this little secret was this important to him, then they would abide by his wishes. at first, george was hurt that he was excluded from the conversation. he was angry that out of anyone toto could have chosen, he chose her. 

yet, as toto recalled every little detail of his relationship with the williams driver, george’s bitterness dissolved, transitioning to some sort of understanding. toto thought he kept things brief as he explained his feelings, but the three were cooped up in his office for nearly three hours discussing the matter. 

besides, it wasn’t like he chose the williams driver.

it just sort of happened. 

now, here he was, pacing back and forth in the paddock, aching for even a glimpse of her. the rift between the two was driving him utterly insane, the team principal resisting the urge to take an impromptu visit, popping in for just a moment. just hearing the sound of her voice would be enough.  

yet, he knew he couldn’t. it would raise too many eyebrows. it would stir up too much gossip. 

“look at him,” lewis elbows george, “looking quite pitiful once again.”

“i feel bad for him,” george exhales, “i can’t be away from carmen for too long before going absolutely mad. i can’t imagine how he feels.”

“being so close to someone yet so far?” 

“exactly,” george nods, “do you think he’s in love? he wouldn’t say it directly, but whenever he was talking about her, i could just tell. i saw the way his eyes lit up, the way he was giggling like a schoolgirl, and the way he couldn’t help but fight a smile. and not just any old smile.”

“oh he’s totally in love,” lewis remarks, “do you hear how he talks about her? he speaks with this softness. it’s cute, really. it makes me want to throw up but it’s cute.”

“do you think he’ll tell her?”

as the driver shifts his attention back to the team principal, he tuts, “not now, but soon.”

“how soon?” george presses, “because he looks quite pathetic over there, like a little lovesick puppy.” 

“i’m willing to bet by the time we’re in monaco, he won’t be able to hold it in any longer.”

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

“i feel the need, the need for speed!”

letting out a shaky breath, your fingers grip the steering wheel, so tightly you were sure your knuckles were white underneath the fabric of your gloves. 

this was it. 

the miami grand prix. 

as you sail through the track, surprisingly, you feel nothing but peace, james’ voice over the radio barely audible. you felt like you were enduring an out-of-body experience the way your mind raced yet your body remained still, acting on pure instinct. your foot on the gas, tapping on the brakes every so often. 

this was lap fifty-six out of fifty-seven. 

the final stretch. 

you were almost there. so close now. so close you could taste it. 

behind you was lando norris of mclaren, max verstappen closing in quickly. charles leclerc tails max, desperate for the thrill of a podium. 

the anticipation was growing as you near the finish line, the checkered flag waving in the distance. 

was this a dream? were you really here?

squeezing your eyes shut, you blink, in a desperate attempt to distinguish reality from fantasy. yet, there’s a moment of silence as you make out the stands in your field of vision, as if everyone was holding their breath at once. 

then, it all comes bursting in your ears. the roar of the crowd. the thundering of the engines. the booming of fireworks. it was almost deafening as your car slows, foot easing on the brakes.  

“and she’s done it again! we just witnessed a moment in history!”

oh god. 

you did it. 

you won. 

euphoria fills you to the brim as you scramble out of the car, climbing on top of it. pumping your fists in the air, tears flood your visor, blurring anything and everything all around. members of the williams team come sprinting towards the car, hollering and shouting. adrenaline courses through your veins, a tingling sensation buzzing from your fingers to your toes. 

cameras flash as you raise your index fingers, members of the team following in suit. 

you were one-of-one. 

and by god, were you going to show the world that you were just that. 

the world was going to know your name, whether they watched formula one or not. your name was going to be broadcasted all over sports channels for weeks to come. your name was going to printed on merchandise, jerseys, on everything and anything related to williams racing. 

you made history today as the first american driver to win the miami grand prix. not only that, but you were the first american female driver to win two grand prixes consecutively. 

and god, did that taste so sweet on your tongue. 

jumping down, you’re greeted by james’ arms, the team principal rattling your helmet. 

“great fucking job! great fucking job! you are fucking insane!”

ripping off your helmet, you catch your breath, taking in the moment. this felt larger than life. like a dream come true. 

this was one of the best days of your life. 

if not, the best day of your life. 

and god, were you going to savor every moment of it. 

each and every second. 

the hours following the race were a blur. although you typically shied away from the press, you lost count of the number of journalists who approached you, answering each one of their questions with genuine, thoughtful answers. fans of all ages snapped photos with you, congratulating you with nothing but sincerity in their words. you signed some jerseys, some caps, and one woman even asked you to sign across her chest.

how could you refuse a photo worthy moment like that? 

your parents were immensely proud, tears streaming down their cheeks as they wrapped their arms around you. although you wanted to spend the rest of the evening with them, they urged you to go out and celebrate. there was always time tomorrow, as they were flying out early in the morning tuesday.

so, when the boys offered to take you out to a few clubs across miami, you accepted it. 

now, the bass pounded as you sway back and forth, screaming along with lando, oscar, carlos, charles, and alex as the music plays. lily tagged along, hovering alex, giggling as you chug another drink, the taste of alcohol lingering on your tongue.

“how does it feel to be a winner-winner?”

“pretty fucking good,” a few drops trickle down your chin, and you quickly wipe them away, “do you think i could win the next one?”

“ummm, let me think,” lily brings a hand to her chin, pausing momentarily, “yes!”

“you’re absolutely unfuckingbelievable,” lando nods enthusiastically, “you will probably win the world championship if we don’t up the pace!””

all of you were extremely tipsy, cheeks burning from the buzz of the alcohol and packed space. lewis and george came too, but they kept their distance, remaining at the bar while the rest of you were on the dance floor. 

not only were you tipsy, but someone had offered you a few puffs of a joint while you were in line outside of the club. actually, they offered you the entire joint because the second they saw you, they immediately recognized you.

at that point, you had already pregamed at the hotel with the boys beforehand. so, how could you refuse a few hits of a joint? that would have been downright rude. 

across the dance floor, lewis hamilton sits, perched at the bar, drink in hand. 

it’s not like he came along to purposefully watch the williams driver. he just wanted to ensure that you would make it back to your motorhome by the end of the night. 

cause god knew how fucked up the others were. they weren’t in any state to help you get home, safe and sound. fuck, none of you were in any coherent state to even call an uber. 

plus, god only knew if you would run into anyone from the press or media. and who knows what you would possibly say if you were asked about a certain team principal. 

“should i call toto?” george leans over, his voice slightly raised, “she looks gone.”

“hmmm,” lewis hums, his eyes following your every move as you stumble a couple of steps, “i don’t think a call would hurt.”

“now?” 

“now,” lewis’ jaw clenches as he sets his drink on the bar, “call toto and get my card, would you? i’m going to wrangle our newfound friend.”

“should we have toto come get her or what should we do?”

rising to his feet, lewis surveys the crowd. it was packed beyond belief, inches between bodies as they moved to the rhythm. toto meeting them here would be far too risky. too many eyes and ears. 

“call him and tell him that we’re going to help get her to the motorhome. or we can take her directly to his hotel room. i imagine she would prefer to sleep in her own bed. you know what? just have him meet us at her motorhome.”

“will do,” george nods, “i’m going to step outside to make the call. meet me out there once you find her?” 

“sounds like a plan,” lewis suppresses a groan as the lights in the club are dimmed, more so than they previously were. everyone blended together, forming one giant mass. 

this was going to be fun. 

in his hotel room, toto wolff lays in bed, laptop resting on his nightstand. although he was oh so happy for you and your accomplishments today, there was this aching feeling gnawing away at him, nearly consuming him whole. 

out his window, the lights of miami glitter, casting a soft glow over the city. the view from his room was oh so beautiful, especially at this time of night. however, it wasn’t nearly as stunning as you were. 

fuck, he missed you. 

more than anything. 

he longed to hold you against his chest. he yearned to pepper your forehead with kisses. he wanted you, desperately. 

actually, he needed you. 

but he wouldn’t admit that. 

suddenly, his phone buzzes, startling him slightly. plucking it off the mattress, the screen is illuminated with a photo of george. 

hmph. that’s odd. 

tapping on the green icon, the team principal brings the phone to his ear, “hallo?”

in the background, he hears a voice. not any old voice. your voice, barely audible, but enough that he knows it's yours. 

“hey it’s george. she’s absolutely obliterated right now. we’re going to call for an uber, and bring her to her place. can you meet us there? i think she really needs you.”

“is she okay?” almost instantly, he sits up, “how long will you be?”

“are you calling toto?” his heart flutters as she giggles, the sound oh so angelic, “oh my gosh! is he on the phone right now? can i talk to him? pleaseee george? can i? please?”

“put her on the phone, george,” toto brings a hand to his temple, momentarily embarrassed at the desperation dripping in his tone, “please.”

there’s a shuffling noise as the phone is transferred, her voice, so delicate and sweet, pours into his ear. 

“can you come over? i miss you so much. please, daddy. come over.” 

“oh shit,” toto squeezes his eyes shut as he hears lewis’ chuckle in the background, “i’m not letting that one go.”

“i’ll be on my way soon, schatzi. do you need anything? it sounds like you need some water and some rest.”

“ummm yeah,” god, she was going to be the death of him, “i do need one thing.”

“and that is?” he’s on his feet now, shoving clothes into an overnight bag, “what do you need, schatzi?”

“your dick.” 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

taglist: @younxii @toldyouitwasamelodrama @kravitzwhore @persona1lies @pucksandpower @k3ira13 @prettiest-at-the-party @martwll @annewithaneofthegreengable @zoeyjadetice2010  @sinners-98-world @laura-naruto-fan1998 @nebarious @joalslibrary @swifth0lic @statuewoman @strangegirl974 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @m-1234 @whoisss @msbyjackal

as always, if you would like to be added, or forgot to be added, please let me know! thank you for all of the support on this series! i love y'all so much! <3