#i had so much fun doing this one also im so glad i finally had an opportunity to talk abt cat <3 love him sm

[funnywormz]

Hey hi hello!!! for 003 of that ask game! I would like to know your opinions on either the funky cat man pls <3

im not sure if there was meant to be another character name here since you put "either"? but regardless i am happy to have an opportunity to talk abt my beloved kitty cat let's gooooo <3

003 | give me a character and i will tell you...

how i feel about this character:

I LOVE CAT i love him so so much. he's so funny and iconic and just. a pleasure to witness. it's always so fun to see what new outfits he wears in each episode hehe. im always a sucker for humanoid characters with animal traits as well, im kind of a furry/furry-adjacent so obv that aspect of him appeals to me too........ he was actually my favourite character for a while before he got beaten by rimmer and then by lister but he's still very dear to my heart

any/all the people i ship romantically with this character:

nobody! my personal headcanon for the cat is that he's aromantic so i don't ship him romantically with anyone, he's expressed multiple times that he gets confused or revolted by the idea of committed romantic relationships and i can't imagine that it would be something he'd derive happiness from. just my personal headcanon though ofc

my favourite non-romantic relationship for this character:

oh definitely his friendship with lister! i love love love how they can be partners in crime sometimes and how cat seems to have a weird kind of respect for lister (at least compared to how he feels abt rimmer lol). it's very very funny how lister is technically the god of cat's species and the whole reason why he's even alive in the first place and yet cat just Doesn't Care abt it. i love how in earlier seasons lister would treat cat more like a cat sometimes...... ik it's definitely not canon but i like to think that he still does cat stuff with him sometimes like getting him to chase laser pointers and string. i also think cat should snuggle up to lister sometimes and complain abt his smell the whole time but he also spends hours like that bc he enjoys it. imagining rimmer walking in one day to see lister playing video games with the cat just curled up on his lap and he immediately turns 180° and walks back out of the room LMAO

my unpopular opinion about this character:

call me a sap if you want but i do think he cares abt his friends. i think he loves and cares abt them deep down and idc what anyone says, even canon. if you've ever been friends with a real kitty you'll know that they can be extremely affectionate loving creatures, and although cat himself is pretty aloof i like to believe he has a loving side deep down. very deep down.

one thing i wish would happen/had happened with this character in canon:

i would love to see more of the other cats! also the whole thing of "coolness" being an expression of atheism in cats is so funny and i would have loved to see more of his fellow Cool Cats that don't follow "cloister's" teachings. i also would love to see him doing more cat-things in the modern series like he used to do back in the first two seasons especially, like playing with his food and scent marking by spraying perfume on everything and stuff like that. he doesn't do as much of that stuff as the show goes on and i miss it

favourite friendship for this character:

(see the above "favourite non-romantic relationship" answer, it's the same for this one)

my crossover ship:

not really a ship, or a crossover since they're in the same show lol (sorry i rlly am not meeting the brief here lmao), but i would love to see him hang out with dog from parallel universe again. maybe become close buddies with him despite their initial differences. their dynamic was so fun from what we got to see of it

[starlight-library]

slip (stream) into my heart | CL16 (sm au!)

pairing: charles leclerc x streamer!reader

summary: a certain ferrari driver has taken a liking to a certain streamer and sees his chance to finally start chatting with them

warnings: fluff!

fc: none

a/n: an apology for disappearing! life got hectic but im back! im gonna start cranking writings out! this is my first attempt at a smau via instagram, a bit short! texts and twitter coming in part 2

edit: yeah changed the title very slightly NOBODY PANIC

current stream | future stream

yourusername

liked by yourbffusername and 2,539 others

yoursername twitchcon you'll always be famous to me. thank you to everyone who pulled up to the meet and greet! you guys are so sweet 🥹 i have a lot of decorating to do

view all 1,459 comments

user29 IM SO UPSET I DIDN'T GET TO GO NOOOOO

user4 it was such an honor meeting you!!

user30 literally such a sweetie irl! also your panel was so fun and thank you for the tips to baby streamers!

yourusername of course! im glad you had a great time!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbffusername, and 1,305 more

yourusername being a ferrari fan is NOT for the weak 🙅‍♀️ this weekend been stressin me out rn 😔 everyone manifest a charles podium with me 🙏

view all 450 comments

user5 THEY'RE A FERRARI FAN SEND ALL THE PRAYERS

user30 god gives his toughest battles to his silliest gremlins fr yourusername liked this comment user5 FR user10 manifesting ferrari cooks this race

user29 i dont know anything but the circle will be started STAT

user23 YOU HEARD THE GREMLIN, PRAYER CIRCLE!

user43 PRAYER CIRCLE COMING RIGHT UP

yourusername posted on their stories

responses after the race

↳ charles_leclerc i didn't know you were such a fan of me it's a quite the honor

yourusername i am actually and i should be the one honored, you responded to me 🫣 charles_leclerc ma princesse, please you flatter me too much. hopefully i didn't disappoint you with only getting third yourusername you made it to the podium, so that's good enough for me 😘 charles_leclerc good 😊

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbffusername, and 1,000 others

yourusername movie night!

view all 304 comments

user10 HOWL'S MOVIE CASTLE!!!

user14 next movie for movie night! please!!

charles_leclerc howl's moving castle is my favorite movie

yourusername oh? favorite character, go charles_leclerc howl, obviously yourusername well, sophie's my favorite...so 🫣 charles_leclerc oh?

user5 OH?

user30 WHAT'S THIS?

user24 who's this charles leclerc guy? 👀

yourusername 📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, and 1,402 others

yourusername had to flex on the hoes before watching barbie 😤 reminder no stream this weekend but stay tuned for some goodies! 🤭

view all 500 comments

user40 GET THEM HOES 💪💪

user30 MONTE CARLO MONACO???

user5 GREMLIN IS IN THE HEART OF CIRCUIT DE MONACO?! DURING MONACO GP?! user30 YEEEP user84 are they going to the monaco gp?! user30 OMG OMG OMG AND BOTH CHALRES AND ARTHUR LIKED THE POST!!!! user5 WORLD'S COLLIDING?! DO WE GATE KEEP? WE SHOULD GATE KEEP RIGHT!!!

charles_leclerc welcome to monaco!

yourusername thank you 😊 user5 OH MY GOOOOOD user30 WHAT IS HAPPENING?

yourusername 📍Monte Carlo, Monaco

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 2,405 others

yourusername "money money money, must be funny, in a rich man's world" 💵🍾 monaco gp, im here ❤️

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[where-does-the-heart-lie]

Water is Thicker Than Blood Chapter 33

So neither deuce nor Yamato, im sorry to say :) but now i know NONE of you were expecting this guy (he is a canon character btw)

{Start} {Prev Next}

“Ass?” Is one of my fav gags that ive had saved up for a while, im glad its finally free!!!!

Everyone please read the keep reading :) 👇

I rigged it~

i bet you guys werent expecting i pull out one of the least known characters in all of One Piece for this silly little comic!

But~! ☝️

i do my research~~~

---

At the time of posting this, the results could not be closer, which has been a very thrilling ride for me to watch with Overseer Knowledge.

I'd say that those who voted 'Another Canon Character' get half credit, since no one guessed the character correctly. Who ever voted 'OC' also gets half credit, cuz i meann... This guy doesn't have a canon design. He doesn't even have a canon name! So even though he is a canon character, i am going to count him as a KOC (kinda Original Character)

---

Yamato Girlies, thank you for showing up [i hand you a bouquet of flowers, each] if it makes you feel any better, i already have Yamato content with design and headcanons galore in this post!

---

As for Deuce Girlies...

[i hand you guys bouquets as well]

im so sorry... but... I've never read the Ace Novels :D

I'm sure if i had, i would have put him in here somewhere as a major character, but I didnt, and i couldnt

it is very evident by the reactions i got on the post that yall are Starved For Deuce Content!

i designed a modern au look for him here just for you guys :)

---

I've put a lot of foreshadowing on who this guy is in the comic! I would love to point it all out, but i wanna see if you guys get it with hind sight :D

i will point it all out eventually though 👍 perhaps at the next SBS :)

---

Thank you all so much for being so invested in my silly little comic! it makes me really happy to see everyone get passionate about something I've been working really hard on!!!

This was all so much light hearted fun :) thanks again!

bonus unshaded/ less shaded Emmanuel design:

so you can see his colors~

[jjenthusee]

Racing Hearts Pt. 4

f1!driver!jason x reporter!reader

A/N: hello my gremlins <3 i wanted to share with u guys that i successfully moved YAY so that explains the update being slightly behind and the less responses i’ve given to comments (i read them all i swear <3) BUT HERE IT IS \(^o^)/ i took way too long to edit and rewrite the way i believe the story should go, im having so much fun with this series and i want to thank all of u who are supporting it from the beginning or saw the updates as they came. ENJOY the fourth chapter of the Racing Hearts series (ALSO THERE’S 300 FOLLOWERS WOW 🥹 THANK U TO ALL THE PEOPLE THAT LIKE MY PAGE AND CONTINUE TO SUPPORT MY CRAZY SAD WRITING AND MY DRAWINGS i love reading your funny comments, unhinged reblogs, and talking about your favorite parts of the story, it really gave me the push to write and contribute to the jason todd community) and i just wanted to remind yall…i haven’t forgotten about that hurt/comfort tag :)

Check out the Racing Hearts masterlist! It shows all the updated chapters and upcoming ones <3

Tags: banter, agonizing fluff, hurt/comfort, strangers to friends to lovers, spicy if u squint, we’re hitting halfway thru the story so let me introduce what i do best…angst HAHAHA

Word Count: 4.1k

“In all of my career, I have to say that I never thought I would be standing here wearing…these.” Jason looked down to his feet.

The camera focused on the two of you standing next to one another, the lens following Jason’s stare toward the ground. The camera woman zooming in on the bright red Lightning McQueen crocs he was wearing.

You sheepishly admired the shoes, proudly smiling back up to Jason. Bewilderment plastered on his face as he couldn’t believe you actually gifted him Lightning McQueen merch, not even in private but in an interview with multiple cameras pointed at him.

What a predicament he was in. He was definitely not offended when you told him how similar the red car and he were.

“It’s a small thanks from the company for completing your third interview with us.” You smiled brightly at Jason. “Also consider it as a way for us to say ‘good luck’ for your upcoming season.”

Jason couldn’t believe it as he laughed. No matter how much time he spent with you, you always surprised him in the best ways.

“Y’know, I thought the Cars jokes were going to fade out, but you’re a bad influence on my fans.” Jason lightheartedly teased you, stomping his foot enough to let the crocs light up.

You fought a straight face, holding in laughter and trying to stay as serious as you could, but you were about to break any second. You bit the inside of your cheeks to prevent yourself from smiling, internally promising yourself that you would make sure to get a picture of him later.

You already had his new contact picture picked out.

“I couldn’t think of any other way of showing you my support.” You nodded your head proudly.

“Really? Nothing else?” Jason’s eyebrow rose, his tone sarcastic.

“You’re the best F1 driver I’ve ever interviewed.” You smirked, watching the shoes sparkle.

“I’m the only F1 driver you’ve ever interviewed.” Jason looked at you in disbelief.

“Anyway! We’re closing this as the last part of our series, I’m glad you were able to be a guest before you get busy putting on the RedBull uniform again, I know your fans will really enjoy that—” You wrapped up the finale, finalizing the last public appearance the two of you would have next to each other. A bittersweet ending.

But you always had the Jason laying with you on your couch. Feeding each other dinners, taking motorcycle rides late in the night.

“This can’t be the last time I see you. You’re my favorite interviewer.” Jason lulled his voice, rephrasing your earlier comment back at you. “After all, you gifted me something so…special.”

You paused, shocked at Jason’s forwardness with you, the timber of his voice adding an underlying flirty tone to him.

You’ve never talked to him about the public appearance about the two of you. Could you go public?

It’s for the camera. You silently told yourself.

“You have to win for me to see you again.” You smirked, quickly playing along with his attempt to fluster you.

“That’s too easy, you could try to make this a little harder for me.” Jason chuckled lowly. “It’s almost like you want to see me.”

Oh my.

“So much talk for someone who hasn’t started his comeback season.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “You also didn’t start your last season smoothly, so don’t talk so confidently.”

“But who sat at my last press conference celebrating my win? I don’t end things so easily.” Jason tilted his head as he looked down at you, tension increasing. “I’ll come back when I win, it’ll be our little secret.”

Jason winked at you, the cameras focused in on his face and your reactions.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to decipher between the RedBull Jason on camera and your Jason.

He was his playful self, the signature half smirk trying to get you to blush, but his eyes were soft when he glanced over to you.

You calmly gave in, maybe it was for the camera or maybe it was for you.

“Aw, that’s so sweet, but I don’t think I could keep that a secret.” Your polite smile opposing Jason’s mischievous one. “I don’t think you realize but,” you leaned toward Jason, pausing to eye his figure up and down, gleefully watching him pay attention to your every word. Your smile getting wider at how easily he was wrapped around your finger. “I’m a reporter, I can’t keep that beautiful face to myself.”

“But I’m really good at keeping them.” Jason stepped closer, eyes never leaving yours.

His eyes beamed a playful hue to them.

You cleared your throat, looking at the camera woman who also stared in awe.

Crap, the office was going to get suspicious.

“You should focus on winning first before you make any promises.” You coughed, diffusing the atmosphere Jason created as the film crew watched. “Then call my business number and you don’t have to keep any secrets.”

Once the camera stopped rolling, you resumed your professionalism. Saying goodbyes and getting final pictures for the website and both social medias.

All the previous interviews went well. The fans saw Jason’s personality in action, gaining more attention and love for the racer. Jason’s management team was satisfied with you and the attraction he was gaining before the season started.

It gave him the right press he needed to put him in the spotlight.

After Jason left with his management team, you finalized the video upload that his company agreed to. Your draft for a new article about Jason to be edited and reviewed for the upcoming week. It was business as usual.

Getting work done during the day, then meeting Jason for the evening.

When you got back to your desk, you organized yourself to overlook the release date for the final interview and reviewed for the next big project to tackle now that your work with Jason was finished. Multiple meetings with project managers and your team.

Work was picking up for you, managing larger projects, interacting with larger faces.

Jason lit the hallway to opportunities for you.

Your phone lit up next to your laptop, distracting you from one screen to another.

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: pick you up at 6?

You smiled to yourself. Happy, but bittersweet.

You reminded yourself that Jason’s off-season was ending. You wished time could slow down.

—— “Gosh, you’re so clumsy.” You adjusted Jason’s helmet. All the time spent with him reflected in your familiarity with the motorcycle helmet.

“Only for you.” Jason stood there, leaning down to let you reach around his head. Watching you worry about the two of you.

Jason had kept his promise to pick you up.

Most of the time he waited on you to get back from work. Sometimes pushing the boundaries and secretly meeting you for a quick lunch. Meeting him far from where your coworkers frequented.

Your first encounters were hidden behind the idea of work, finding answers to questions for interviews, or suggesting new places to eat.

It was like you couldn’t be apart from one another.

Oh, how you can change a man.

You let Jason fake his ignorance through certain tasks, giving him any reason to get you close to him.

But you gave into his every attempt. Not fighting against his clinginess.

Your roles would switch soon, he wouldn’t wait for you after tiring days of work. You would have to watch him race lap after lap on live television like the rest of the world.

He was leaving soon, you knew he would be busy, it was inevitable, but you wanted as much time before he left.

You sat behind Jason, his body warming the front of you as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

Holding onto him close, wearing the helmet he got you, feeling his solid stomach shift the motorcycle as you rode around the city. You were getting used to your new lifestyle, despite the hidden secrets you shared.

He couldn’t announce a relationship after you were waiting for the last installment of your interviews.

The timing wasn’t right and the meetings this would cause for you and Jason were going to give you a headache.

You heard the motorcycle engine interrupt your thoughts.

Jason slowing at a red light. He stopped, placing his feet on the ground to stabilize the two of you while you waited. The red glow reflected onto Jason sitting in front of you.

The streets were almost empty. Gotham barely waking to the darkness, a city that never sleeps.

“Jay.” You hesitated behind him.

“Hm?” Jason unconsciously acknowledged, resting his hand over yours around his stomach. Rubbing the fabric of his gloves onto yours.

“I want to stay with you longer.” You calmed your voice, careful in verbalizing your feelings.

“You want to drive around more? I think we can drive by—“ Jason continued to rub your wrists. Cars passing in front of him, the opposing traffic keeping you still.

“No, I don’t want to leave you tonight.”

Jason paused, his hand resting on yours, no longer moving. If the cars weren’t in front of you, crossing the intersection, you would have thought time was frozen.

Jason tilted his helmet back, to get a look at you.

You don’t know what he was looking for, your face covered by a protective helmet like his was, but he found what he needed when the light turned green.

It was green, but you stayed there, no other traffic surrounding you.

Just you and Jason.

“Want to come to my place?” Jason kept his black visor on you. “I have a killer TV to watch Cars on.”

You chuckled. Squeezing his waist a little more.

“Better have a good speaker for playing Life is a Highway.”

Jason smirked, hidden from your eyes as he watched you lean back into his warmth.

The humid air covering the two of you into summer clothing. Thinner fabrics and showing more skin.

Jason wore a simple fitted thin long-sleeve, matching the look of his helmet and gloves. It made a great view of his broad back.

A quiet exhale as he looked forward again, revving his engine to life to make a quick turn, opposite of your home.

You were racing the rain as Jason was taking you back, but after you spoke the magic words, how could he send you back home?

The dark summer rain clouds were no longer behind you, the two of you heading straight for them as you watch Jason take you down new streets, an unfamiliar path to Jason’s place.

“I don’t think you’ll make it to the living room before then.” Jason quietly spoke to the light drizzle hitting your bodies

“What did you say?” You couldn’t hear above the engine.

And he was right.

After you were soaked to the bone, fabric sticking to your form, water droplets falling down your skin. A glossy sheen from the harsh rain falling all around you.

Jason had pulled into his garage.

He was in the same state, wet clothes stuck to his skin. The water from you and the motorcycle dripping onto the concrete floor.

You pulled your helmet off, the only dry place.

Once Jason parked the bike, he took off his helmet, placing it on the nearest work table. Your body shivered as you threw your leg over to maneuver yourself off.

You looked down at your state, smiling in disbelief at being caught in the rain.

Maybe you could wear Jason’s clothes after a nice warm shower. You internally thought to yourself. Excited to enter Jason’s place. A new location unlocked.

When you put your helmet next to Jason’s, you could finally take in all of him.

Black shirt tight from the weight of the water, his hands littered with scars, free from the gloves. His hair dry, but messy.

All his muscles more prominent.

You stood in awe, your chest rising from the breaths you took. Humid air invading the inside of the garage, elevated from warm summer nights.

The sight of Jason reminded you of the professional pictures taken of him, leaving his Formula 1 car after a race. He was sweaty, running his hands through his hair with a towel in hand.

After all the time you spent together, it was your favorite photo of him. You secretly saved it because there was something about the look on his face, happy to win, alive on the track.

How attractive he looked was a definite bonus in your opinion.

Jason glanced over to you, finally realizing the state the two of you were in. He slowly looked you up and down, lost in the same visual you were in awe of once you saw him.

You suddenly remembered the last time you and Jason were enclosed in a garage, close to each other, messy from a hard day of distributing winter jackets and food to those who stopped by.

A slight warmth increasing on your face.

Jason stepped closer to you, hands grabbing for your waist to pull you in. His hands reaching under your chin to stretch your neck to adjust to his height.

Breaths mixing as your lips touched only from the movement of your lips unconsciously opening, ready to kiss him.

He waited.

Letting the pressure build as he spoke.

“There’s no volunteers to interrupt us now.” Jason lifted you, letting you sit on the surface of his work table. His arm swooping everything off as he cleared enough room for you.

You could hear objects fall, but you couldn’t care less as Jason stepped between your legs. Quickly, but carefully rubbing at your legs with his palms, his hands getting closer to the blurs of where your thighs met your waist.

Everywhere felt great that you didn’t know where to focus.

The feeling of your lips, your sides, his body between your legs?

You could only huff between the intensity he was igniting in you.

“Jay—inside—it’s cold.”

Despite your words, you didn’t bother to move. You kept touching, feeling everything before Jason lifted you again, the placement of his hands as he carried you, lifting the edges of your shirt.

The feeling of a mattress beneath you as you uncomfortably tried to peel the clothing off your body.

Jason chuckled at your frustration. You couldn’t bother to give him a snide remark as he also struggled to get your soaked clothes off.

When lifting the shirt didn’t work, you tried rolling the fabric, but it only bunched just below your sleeves.

You could only laugh as Jason desperately tried to get the shirt through your arms. Tangled in the mess you both created that you were left with a heavy shirt stuck around your biceps.

“Why is there always something stopping me from seeing all of you?” Jason laughed as he kneeled above you, his shirt completely off at some point along the way to his room.

“I don’t think a pair of wet clothes are going to stop you now.” You smiled at him, glancing up at his figure through the darkness. Only the city lights creeping through the blinds, illuminating his skin.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.” Jason yanked your entire shirt off your arms.

You sucked in a breath at his desperation, memorizing the look of his face as he leaned down closer.

“I want to turn you into a mess.” He whispered into your mouth, kissing down your body.

Overwhelming gasps and breaths left your mouth the more he touched your skin.

“I want to touch you too.” You exhaled, trying to coherently express yourself.

“Next time, sweetheart. I want to focus on you. Everything I want is you.” Jason moved your hair out of your face, stuck from the sweat covering your skin.

The night filled with you repeating Jason’s name, no distractions keeping that man off of you.

After a shared warm shower, Jason gave you a nice pair of his dry clothes. You walked around his place, relaxed after Jason’s…expertise.

What you weren’t prepared for was just how normal his apartment looked. It felt like yours, but bigger, a little more luxurious like it was bought with the intention of having better quality to last longer.

You hoped he had no plans of moving anytime soon.

You stood in the kitchen in awe.

“You have a kitchen island.” You whistled in excitement. “Formula 1 money is good, huh? Maybe I need to pick up a Redbull uniform.”

Jason chuckled, hugging you from behind smelling like the same soap in your hair, his face nuzzling into your neck. You continued to speak.

“No, I can’t steal your fame.” You whispered to yourself. Jason feeling the vibration of your voice the longer he leaned into your neck.

“I’m happy you’re here.” Jason mumbled into you, ignoring everything you said.

“Me too, I’ve been curious where you live.”

“I invited you before, but I guess we’ve always gone to your place.” Jason smiled into your skin. “What do you think?”

“Its very…Jason. I like it.” You glanced around.

You more than liked it. It smelt like Jason. A smell you’ll never grow tired of.

His apartment was slightly bare, the space a little too large for the one man, but that was charming too. It felt like you were able to occupy that small empty space in his life.

When you walked around, Jason following you like a duckling, you noticed the small knick-knacks you bought with him on your dates.

Matching plushies, a book you picked randomly, a bookmark you gifted him, and a tiny paper frog you made while waiting for your table before dinner.

You felt cherished, looking at the physical representations of your memories together.

He grabbed you again, wanting the closeness. You fell back into him, the small paper frog in your hand, made from old receipt paper.

Jason resumed his prior back hug, absorbing your warmth.

He was more clingy than usual tonight.

“How was your trip to the charity today? I forgot to ask you about it at dinner, it must be hard to take a break from them to race again.” You leaned into him more.

Jason buried himself further. Not a great hiding spot since he was larger, but it was the thought that counted.

“I would love to hear about it.” You put the frog back on the shelf, letting it watch the two of you.

“It was good, I got to do one final check to make sure everything would be good when I’m gone. But…” Jason hesitated, squeezing you a little tighter.

You waited, rubbing circles on his forearm.

“I had noticed a lot of stuff come in, it’s a good thing, but it wasn’t like our usual haul. I didn’t recognize it as the stuff I brought over either.” Jason breathed, agitation filling his voice. “When I asked around about it, they said Wayne Enterprises had it delivered.”

Jason went silent. He was tense.

“I always tell that old man to fuck off. He never listens.” Jason sighed.

The last thing Jason wanted was another check from Bruce. Taking over the hard work he had volunteered for months.

Another sanctuary was being taken away from Jason’s grasp.

“I can’t stand it.” Jason whispered. His eyebrows taut.

You maneuvered your head back to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’m sorry, I know that was the last thing you wanted to happen.” You soothed.

Jason leaned in for more kisses.

“Don’t worry, I’m feeling better already.” He exhaled, his shoulders relaxing. Jason smiled into your skin, his voice returning to normal. “But looking at those damn crocs every morning makes me mad.”

You laughed as he grew bolder, pushing the topic aside as you leaned to the floor buried from Jason’s affection surge.

If he was deflecting, distracting himself from his hurt then you could let him kiss you a couple times to distract himself.

Shared kisses, lost in each other’s presence, too occupied to notice the multiple buzzing sounds from Jason’s phone.

——

Once the public release of the third and final interview was released to your company’s website, the usual flood of comments embraced the look at the two of you.

You lost yourself in the positive comments, ignoring the negative ones, but that was the price of social media. It was the evils of publicity.

You read comment after comment about the excitement to watch the fresh new season. Iconic racers coming back to their playing field, excited to reveal new car designs, getting the opportunity to collaborate with anyone and everyone.

As the time for Qualifying reached you, the temperature fully warmed and Jason wasn’t next to you to enjoy it.

He had conferences, practice drives, and flights to catch. Now that he was past elimination, it was time to test his fastest time.

It wasn’t even the peak of the season, but you were missing him.

You sighed into your phone, a small vibration felt in your palm. A message from Jason appeared.

It was a photo of his Lightning McQueen crocs on the plane. A big contrast to the fancy carpeting, expensive seats, and an up-to-date screen playing the children’s movie.

You smiled to yourself in your desk chair, but a small prick to your heart struck you.

The difference in your lifestyles hitting you. He was a rich racer, traveling the world in one of the most expensive suits in modern racing.

You felt…small.

The two of you hadn’t talked about what would happen once he started racing full-time again.

How far was this relationship going?

Would you follow him to his races around the world? Should you follow him?

Would you officially announce anything?

Was this an off-season romance? Only an off-season romance?

What about your job?

“Hey, we need to be there by one. Should we grab a quick lunch?” Your coworker called out to you, interrupting your pessimistic thoughts to yourself.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there. Meet you in the lobby?” You locked your computer, grabbing your key badge, ready to go out of the office.

You quickly typed out a message, taking advantage of Jason still on his phone.

You: Hey slow down try to give the other guys a chance

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: fast is the only way I go. you, especially, should know that ;)

You blushed, quickly putting away your phone to catch up with your team.

——

Jason’s performance during qualifying went as expected. He performed in P1, claiming and boasting as he usually did. His time seemed to be getting faster, raising the competition standards for everyone.

You only shook your head as you looked at the results on your phone, a small smile on your face.

Jason was busy going to opening days, press conferences, driving on the racetrack. His replies were becoming sparse.

You: I knew those crocs were good luck charms

No read receipt. No reply.

You kept yourself busy at work. Falling into a routine.

You checked your phone again during lunch. No messages.

Your apartment felt empty when you came home, no lovable man standing in the kitchen.

Still no reply from Jason. It would’ve made you sad if you weren’t so tired.

Your phone rang as you got ready for bed. Letting your head hit the pillow as you heard Jason’s voice in your ear.

“I just saw— paper frogs that—vendor—the street and—grab some.” Jason’s voice went in and out of your mind, fighting the urge to sleep.

His voice was too soothing.

“That’s nice, Jay.” You slurred.

“Sweetheart? Are you awake—“ His voice started to get farther and farther.

You couldn’t keep your eyes open and your dreams filled with you sitting in the stands, watching Jason race.

Wind hitting your skin, watching the flags fly in the air, engines roaring past you.

He was so far away and kept driving further away from you.

You jerked awake. Looking for your phone in the blankets.

You had fallen asleep while on your first phone call with Jason since he left.

“Shit, I wanted to hear his voice.” You shook the blanket in the air until your phone fell from it.

You looked at your call history. Apparently, it had been a video call, but you hadn’t realized after you woke up this morning.

Jason not only heard you embarrass yourself, but he saw it too. You quickly opened your messaging conversation.

You (Yesterday): I knew those crocs were good luck charms

You (Today): i’m sorry I didn’t know it was a video call

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: don’t worry about it, I got to see u when your phone fell off your face

“Nooo!” You screamed to yourself.

Your face fell in your hands as you read the messages coming in.

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: I got something out of it HAHAHA

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: let’s talk next time

(Handsome) Mr. Todd: I wanna hear your voice

You sighed.

Getting up to start your weekend, putting Jason’s live race on the TV screen.

Putting on the shirt that smelled like Jason.

Tag List: @jaybirdstreet @gallusstuff @meowkn @velvetberries @i0lovepink00 @rayaskoalaland @spidernuggets @janybabyy @deimks @yasmin-oviedo @bigraga-sk @indulgentdaydream @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @idontknowanythingsblog @xakilicious @livvyliv15

[aluciahaz]

Omfggg ur writing is SO unbelievably good i love it sm 😭🙏🙏

I got kind of a prompt for a sub!vox x gn (maybe afab) reader ✨ Okay so what if, since we all know vox is OBVIOUSLY a bratty bottom, the reader fucks the brattiness out of him? And he goes from trying to be a dom, to resistant bottom, to bratty bottom, to just begging to come with all his life, maybe even crying cuz the reader won’t let him

TYSM!!!! im glad you think my writing’s good ❤️ALSO FINALLY A VOX REQ AGHH

i have like 50094949 drafts for like all of the other stuff in my inbox but i just have to write this vox fic first ok im self indulgent i apologize 😭

—vox x gn!reader

—includes : sub!vox, dom!reader, light bondage, edging

vox is so obvious.

he clearly has a thing for control. a need, a desire. it was practically his core personality trait. yet, he’s most certainly not made to wield it.

sure, he can try and sweet talk you, saying sultry things and bragging about his power in order to get you to feel below his level. but you know how frail that persona is. a single slip up, and it would all come crashing down into deafening static.

which, was almost impressively easy to do.

his claw-like fingers runs up your neck, one of them stopping at your cheek as he smirked. if he wasn’t careful, he could fuck up and draw blood. he was tip-toeing the small line here.

a small line that if he crossed, you’d switch up this silly little game immediately, taking the control of the show and making him the contestant.

live only for you.

but, you entertain his farce of dominance, a smile playing on your lips as you see what he has in store…if he had anything, that is.

“you’ve been waiting for me all day, haven’t you?” he asks, clearly rhetorical as he caresses your cheek gently, his voice steady as he speaks. he leads you down to the bed with teeth raking your neck as he crawls over you. there’s something fun about watching him try and fluster you, to get you to say the things he wants. but you were no people pleaser.

“perhaps. unfortunately i can’t say the same for you,” you respond, your smile forming into more of a smirk at the ends of your lips as your hands snake around his delicate waist, tightening around it like a corset.

you can already see the hesitation in his eyes, the brief moment of surprise at your sudden grasp. it was too easy to surprise this man. it’s a wonder he hasn’t exploded yet.

“what do you mean by that?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowing in both nervousness and curiosity, almost like he didn’t want to know. the fingers on your cheek seem to barely just get too rough as he looked at you.

“don’t act like i didn’t hear you in the office this morning, moaning my name like some prayer,” you mock, your knee slotting between his legs with ease. vox keels over at the sudden feeling, a sharp gasp getting punched out of his system with little effort.

“impatient.”

“what’s the big deal? am i not allowed to jerk off anymore?” he complains, bringing himself back up to his hand and knees over you as he glares with indignation.

“i told you to wait.”

“and i don’t remember needing to!” vox snarled, the grasp on your face tightening until you saw him pull it away, a droplet of blood adorning his finger.

simply unacceptable.

instantly, with a loud yelp of complaint and confusion, he hits the mattress with a thud, cursing in annoyance as he looks up at you. his face, once filled with irritation, shifted into one of almost astonished fear as he gazed upon your expression, cold and unforgiving.

“i’ll make you remember.”

his screen flickers before going back to normal, his face scrunched up in anger as he spat out his unwise words.

“i’d like to see you try.”

so, try you did.

his hands were cuffed with plush handcuffs to the bed-frame—you know he wouldn’t be able to handle real ones—and of course since he was never good with self-control, he had a cock ring on as a ‘treat’.

you’re delighted by how much of a fight he puts up though. considering how fragile his ego is, you were sure that he’d melt into your hands the moment you bound him to the bed.

“this is your plan?” vox rolled his eyes, watching you pour lubricant on your fingers with an unimpressed look. “not very impressive. you’ll need more—ngh! shit! give a guy some warning—!”

“beggars can’t be choosers.”

“i don’t fucking beg—!”

“you will.”

there was no mercy from that point forth. one finger after the other, shocks of electricity would course through his veins, mouth agape as your quick hand inside kept making him feel sparks of pleasure through his entire body.

“let me—cum! ass—zz—hole!” he shouted, tugging at the handcuffs to no avail. he wanted to touch himself so bad, yet you were adamant.

“if you ask nicely, maybe,” you tell him, circling your fingers before pressing deep onto that electric spot again, making him cry out in frustration and enjoyment.

all he could do was shoot you a disgusted look before yelling once more, kicking the blanket underneath him in exasperation. his anguish crackled through his veins like a current, trying to fight the urge to just submit.

but it was all too much. he was weak, even if he convinces all of hell that he’s not, he wouldn’t be able to fool you. the bucks of your fingers were replaced with the movement of your hips, making him wail for more.

an hour had passed, and his indignant claims of “i don’t feel anything!” or “you’ll never get me to beg!” shifted into more pleasant glitching screams of “don’t stop!” and “please, more!”

finally, he was using his manners.

“let me cum—ple—zz—se! i c-can’t—!” vox cried out as you quicken the pace, thrashing underneath you with his legs now wrapped around your waist, holding for dear life as you drive into him.

“i—hic—mm! ‘m s—zz—sorry! ‘msorry-AH! sorry!” his back curves off the bed as he squirms, crying in earnest now. tears fell his face with broken pixels blinking in and out underneath, his screen cutting at random points to an error warning from the overstimulation.

“pathetic,” you spit out, your hands digging into his hips as you practically manhandled the man, making him move once he lost all the energy to match your movements. “you listen to me. you do what i say, and you don’t talk back.”

you hear him shriek desperately as you grab his cock, red and weeping as you overwhelm him with pleasure, but never letting him over the edge.

“do you understand? you’re mine.”

you run your finger underneath his tip, and you see him glitch out into an expression you truly loved.

his screen was tear stained and his were graphics broken, yet it was clear enough to see the hypnotizing hearts that pulsated in his eyes as he yelled in defeat, small whimpers leaving his ruined throat as he babbled on and on.

“yours! your—yours! ngh—! please! pl—let me cum! plea—zz—oh, FUCK!”

his whole body trembles from need like electricity burned his skin. his legs fall from your waist, too weak to hold them around you anymore, yet you catch them, pushing the underside of his thighs until he was folded in half.

“cum for me then.”

instantly, vox does as you say as you slip the cock ring off of him, his wails loud enough to shake the room as he finds his release. his screen completely blanks out for a second as a shock flitters around his wrists, frying the cuffs and making them break into two before slumping back down to the bed.

you can’t even scold him for letting his powers go rampant before he pulls you over him, wrapping his arms around you as he sniffles into your ear.

“thank you—hic—thank…thank…”

this big baby. you sigh, rubbing your hands on his sides gently as you kiss his cheek. “yeah, yeah. just remember this the next time you think about acting out, okay?” you said quietly, feeling him nod into your shoulder as he starts to slowly relax.

but as per usual, he apparently forgets what you taught him in the next week.

fortunately, you’re a patient teacher. and you’ll remind him again and again about the lessons he foolishly dismisses.

sorry that this is shit 💀 i tried my best but the writing juices arent flowing this week😭 hopefully this weekend i wont have writer’s block and will blast through all yall’s reqs!! trust me, im working on them <3

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @drlucichen @mvskedxrtist

[imaginesig]

"I think he knows... he's gorgeous"

Paul Aron x singer!Reader

SMAU

I had such a hard time hunting down f2 wags so only Estelle is mentioned despite me wanting others-- sorry! Also the timeline doesn't fit reality but I do what I want and I made up a new gp for my own personal gain

Inspired by: Eras Tour Stockholm Night 1 Mashup

All songs mentioned are tagged at the very bottom

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, paularon_, user54, and 829,938 others

yourusername: I've taken my final bow on the eras tour stage today... I'm so upset it's over but so so happy to have had the experience. Taylor, you've been such a fantastic mentor and supporter! Thank you for bringing me along 🫶🫶🫶

tagged: taylorswift

taylorswift it ws an honor to have you!! Can't wait to work with you in the future 🫶🫶🫶

user1 omg collab????

paularon_ you were incredible! now hurry up and get to Melbourne

yourusername otw 🏃‍♀️‍➡️

taylorswift thank you for letting me borrow her on off season!!

user2 my fav opener!!!

user5 lmao Paul's comment 💀

user6 they're literally my fab couple on the grid

user7 same!! I need more songs about him

user3 im so glad I got you for my show!!!!

user4 ugh you put the rest of us swifties to shame

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Paularon_

liked by yourusername, kimi.antonelli, dinobeganovic, and 927,838 others

Paularon_: "I remember how we felt sitting by the water, and every time I look at you it's like the first time"

tagged: yourusername

yourusername you did not need to expose me playing mermaids

paularon_ you looked to cute, what's a man supposed to do 🤷‍♂️

oscarpiastri enjoying Melbourne then??

paularon_ you know it

hitechgp our fav couple 😍😍

user1 the rings 😭

user2 ok Paul with the Taylor caption

user3 he's every girls dream man

user4 I need to know where Y/n got her swimsuit-- I love that color

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yourusername

liked by lettiemng, olliebearman, taylorswift, and 783,939 others

yourusername: 🏄‍♀️🌺

tagged: lettiemng

paularon_ so nice to see you left me out of all the fun

olliebearman right

yourusername you guys had gp stuff

lettiemng plus being a surfing wag was way more entertaining and I got to work on my tan

lettiemng please teach me soon!!!

yourusername ofc ofc

user1 Aussie surfing is the best

user2 this post is to Pinterest

user3 you look gorgeous

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paularon_

liked by user5, user58, hitechgp, and 968,976 others

paularon_: thats P1 in Melbourne!! My good luck charm is back baby🍀❤️

tagged no one

yourusername THATS MY MAN

yourusername WHOOOP WHOOP

yourusername CELEBRATION TIME!!!!!!!

yourusername I LOVE YOU MY CHAMPIONSHIP LEADER

paularon_ I LOVE YOU TOO

user5 I love that they match each others energy

user1 Y/n is the gf we all need

hitechgp there's no way to beat Y/n, but congratulations anyway 👏

user2 yes sir 💪💪

user3 not him calling her his lucky charm 🥹

user4 ugh Pauls out here raising relationship standards one post at a time

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Time Skip: a few races later, about midseason

yourusername

liked by paularon_, danielseavey, user54, and 928,938 others

yourusername: I've spent these past few weeks traveling the world with the love of my life and the best group of friends I could've ever asked for!! I've enjoyed our endless lights of exploring, partying, and racing 🩵 To celebrate, my newest album, "Little Calm," will drop next Friday!!

tagged: no one

taylorswift so excited!!! I can't wait to hear the rest of what you cooked up, Enchanted is already so special 🫶

yourusername thank you for adding you special sparkle to the mix 🫶

danielseavey best writing season ever, thank you for reaching out

yourusername ofc!! It was magical to see how closely our experiences were and how they shaped into such a beautiful song

paularon_ so so proud!! I can't wait to hear it ❤️

yourusername I love you much ❤️ but you've def heard all of these to some degree

paularon_ but I can't wait to hear them all put together

lettiemng ugh the perfect soundtrack for our epic summer ☀️

lettiemng I say we have a windows down in the car listening session

yourusername yesssssss

user1 oh please have songs about Paul!!

user2 right I've listen to Gorgeous so much we NEED more

user3 and they weren't even together when she wrote it, imagine the stuff now!!!

user4 AHHHHH TAYLOR COLLAB

user5 yk its a good summer when Y/n covers One Direction and Billy Joel

user6 duality of man

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paularon_

liked by yourusername, hitechgp, user84, and 244,937 others

paularon_: wonderful album, kullakallis 🩵

tagged: yourusrname

yourusername ma armastan sind 🩵

dinobenganovic wonderful album, me and my gf love it!!

user1 Im not crying you are

user2 who's cutting onions in here 🥹

user3 "we can follow the sparks, ill drive"

user4 not Paul beating all of us (including Y/n) with the post

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yourusername

liked by user4, lettiemnd, user5, and 928,389 others

yourusername: "Little Calm" out now!!

tagged paularon_

user1 omg I NEED surfer Paul content

user2 this IS the summer of Y/n with this drop

paularon_ so so so amazed by you

yourusername so so so amazed by YOU

danielseavey on repeat 🔁

taylorswift adding to the pre-eras playlist now!!!

user3 this album is gonna own my sporty wrapped

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paularon_

liked by yourusername, user5, user9, and 893,039 others

paularon_: "Feels like I'm falling and I / I'm lost in your eyes / You make me crazier"

tagged: yourusername

lettiemng I just looked at my boyfriend and signed

olliebearman HEY

yourusername LMAO ESTELLE

username awww baby 🥹

paularon_ ❤️❤️

user1 God its me again

user2 yes marriage is scary, what if he doesn't treat me like Paul does Y/n

user3 live laugh love PaulY/n

user4 the paddock pic 😭 she's so us

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yourusername

liked by user3, taylorswift, lettiemng, and 829,093 others

yourusername: I'm going on tour!!! Dates/tickets on my website 🩵🩵

tagged: no one

user1 not the tour dates lining up so she can be at Paul's races

user2 we praise him for being the ultimate boyfriend, but Y/n is the ultimate girlfriend

lettiemng do I like that you'll be away from me, no, am I still so so happy, yes

yourusername 💋💋

paularon_ so proud!! You're gonna kill it

yourusername with your support?? Yes I am!!

taylorswift brb grabbing tickets now

user3 just got my tickets!!!

user4 im so excited

user5 wdym Y/n's going on her own tour?? Didn't she just drop her first album?? She's not popular enough for her own?? She's still out little secret??

user6 me fr fr

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Time Skip- a few more races

paularon_

liked by yourusername, hitehcgp, user54, and 839,928 others

paularon_ so blessed to win at my home race!! Thank you to my family for supporting me

tagged: no one

yourusername so so proud baby!!

paularon_ ❤️❤️

user1 this was enough to make me cry

user2 more points closer to the championship

user3 I love this!!!

user4 first I get to watch Paul win and tomorrow I get to see Y/n perform

user5 what a life!!

load more

paularon_

liked by user3, yourusername, aronralph, and 827,720 others

paularon_: ma armastan sind ❤️

tagged yourusername

yourusername ma armastan sind ❤️

user1 estonia won best show

user2 right im so jelous

user3 a Paul win and a love mashup?? I can't take it

user4 when will it be my turn

user5 looks like ill be sleeping in traffic tonight

load more

yourusername

liked by taylorswift, paularon_, olliebearman, and 823,929 others

yourusername: Estonia you've been my favorite show, but im a bit bias ;)

tagged paularon_

comments have been disabled

Bonus, sometime in the future

paularon_

liked by auroralf, dinobeganovic, lukebrownracing, and 983, 938 others

paularon_: "Home was a place, now home is a person and you're looking at rings 'cause you swear that you're certain"

tagged yourusername

yourusername ❤️

aronralf I've waited too long for this, congrats!!

lettiemng ahhhh im crying!!!

olliebearman congrats!

dinobeganovic so happy man!!

lukebrownracing party time!!

comments have been limited

~~~

Songs mentioned:

I Think He Knows by Taylor Swift

San Franciso by 5 Seconds of Summer

Fearless by Taylor Swift

You, Me, and the Beat from Liv and Maddie

Crazier from Hannah Montana

You're On Your Own, Kid by Taylor Swift

The Older You Get by Daniel Seavey

Enchanted by Taylor Swift

Live While We're Young by One Direction

Vienna by Billy Joel

Gorgeous by Taylor Swift

[softcitrus2345]

HERE IT IS!! The long awaited finale for the Dirty Bulk comic!! >:DDDD I don't know how I managed to do all this in just a few hours but IM SO GLAD I DID Absolutely worth staying up until nearly 3am 💀 Thank you all for your support with my art! I've noticed this comic has been really popular so I'm glad I could make a satisfying conclusion for it! :3

also this isnt super important but this is one of several deliveries he ordered to his place

he thought it might be too sus if he ordered too much from just one delivery service at a time… Good thinking man, you almost gave yourself away 😌 Also considering making the delivery guy a new oc.... I had a lot of fun drawing him... 👀 But AAANYWAYS As I said before, I'm so glad I could share this with you all, and I hope yall enjoyed getting to know Matt a bit more through this comic XP

[randombush3]

revocate animos (with or without me)

alexia putellas x reader

part one, part two, part three, part four

the second half of this part (it didn't fit in one post lol)

words: it's over 14k. i had lots to say.

summary: the final part, which originally had a different ending but i was told it was evil so i changed it.

warnings: it's mainly just sad, there's a bit of smut though

notes: i could give you so many excuses as to why this is being posted now but no one wants to read that so i'll just say sorry x

anyway, i got very lost along the way at points and had some serious plot crises that had me tearing my hair out. i researched children's behaviour to the point of needing an honourory qualification, and i spent the last three hours ignoring my girlfriend while i finished this off.

for as much as i put these two through (and myself tbh), i'm sad to finish it off. BUT ALSO NOW IM FREE.

have fun reading! and sorry about the length of it

London smells of dirty rain and exhaust fumes, of a homelessness crisis and inflation attempting to impersonate that of the Weimar Republic; greyish streets, cracks in the pavement, thousands of spices from all over the world. Grubby patterns, hidden by the smudging of millions of bottoms, coloured poles that used to match the train line but no longer do. You breathe it all in, eyes closed as the motion of the underground jerks you sideways, the train leaving London Bridge just as you left Barcelona. Without looking back. 

You had laughed when they told you they’d send a driver to get you from the airport. The luxury of some shiny black car held no appeal when compared to the familiar Northern line, its blackened route well-travelled and your own brick-road home. 

Part of this choice to ‘slum it’ is borne of your desire to return to the past; a time before the fame and the fortune, when camera flashes came from your parents’ Sony Cyber-shot and not paparazzos with a hunger to splash you across the front page of a slimy gossip magazine. There was no Alexia, then. The extent of Spanish in your life was Anya studying for her A-levels, and you’d spend time writing songs without it feeling like pulling teeth. Without having to relive some of the worst moments of your life. 

Those hadn’t happened yet.

God, you were so naive then back then. 

Your London shows are in Wembley. Two nights, two journeys through your album, through your heartbreak. Both are sold out. 

“See it, say it, sorted,” you mouth along to the voice, pushing the handle of your suitcase upwards, rising from your seat. The doors of the tube swoosh open, the yellow line of the platform attacking your tired eyes as Highgate station is revealed to you. You hear a whisper of ‘is that Y/n L/n?’ but you don’t turn around. 

The wheels of your suitcase gurgle against the bumpy pavement leading up to your house, but they grow quieter as you approach. They must sense the tension, glad to have the smoother surface of your driveway to move across as you force yourself to continue walking forwards. 

A woman is standing on your porch. Her body swivels around as she hears you stop just behind her. 

Leah takes in the sight of you, deciding that you definitely did not enjoy Barcelona. “I was just about to ring the doorbell, but I guess you wouldn’t have answered the door anyway,” she says with an awkward chuckle, not sure if you want to talk about how rough you look. You cried the entire flight, and refused to contact anyone once you had landed, hoping they assumed your plane had crashed and you had drowned somewhere in the English Channel. 

“I got here in the morning.” Your voice is unused. It croaks, shattered. 

“Let me get your bag?” asks Leah, rather firmly, leaving you no room to decline her request before she has stepped off the porch and into your personal space. She looks up at you, wondering how you manage to look so beautiful even now, hand blindly reaching out for the hard shell of your suitcase as she stares. “How’re Nico and–” 

Your lips silence her before she is finished. Leah freezes, surprised this is the moment you have chosen to kiss her.

But she misses you as soon as you pull away. 

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and she cringes at the self-loathing that drips from your words. A tear rolls down your cheek, but you are unsure whether it falls because you have kissed her or because you want to kiss her again. “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

You must have argued with Alexia. Leah’s realisation weighs heavy on her heart. Something has to have happened for you to have made your move, because Leah had been starting to accept the idea that you were still in love with your ex and she was nothing more than a friend. She had been looking forward to your concert tonight, in all honesty, and was excited to see you again, glad to have you in her life in any way, shape, or form.

“Because,” she starts hesitantly, “because you didn’t like it? Or…” 

“Leah.” 

“If you wanted to kiss me again, I wouldn’t mind.” 

“Leah,” you repeat, the vowels almost failing to drop from the tip of your tongue. This is a dangerous game, but the look in Leah’s blue eyes tells you that she is happy to play it. “Leah, I… I shouldn’t have kissed you?” 

“Is that a question?” 

You blink. “I’m not sure.” 

“If it’s a question, I’d say that the answer is the opposite. And that we should go inside.” She slides her hand over the metal handle of your suitcase, warm skin covering your fingers where your grip is still curled around it. “But only if you want to.” 

Do you want to? 

You value your friendship, you really do; Leah has been there for you many times since you met her, never asking too many questions. She means something more than what you crave from her, and doesn’t deserve to be the woman you use to detach yourself from reality. 

But Leah is looking at you with desire that has been missed, relentlessness promised by her toned muscles. Leah is looking at you as though you are the only star in the galaxy or the sun on a rainy day. Leah is looking at you like she wants to devour you, and you, with no soul left to give, resign to letting her have your body.

“This won’t change anything, right?”

It’s a mean question. You know that. 

“Course not,” Leah lies. 

You let it convince the both of you. 

Pink glitter covers the dining table at one end, and shiny green stars are scattered on top of the brown grain of the wood on the other.

“She might be at soundchek,” Alexia explains to Nico, who is finished with his Mother’s Day creation and is now intent on FaceTiming you to show you the card he has made. “And cards are supposed to be a surprise. That’s why we made envelopes!” 

“But you said my card should be put in a museum,” he replies with a frown, his nose crinkling in confusion just as yours does. “So we show her now.” 

“Mi amor, that’s not how it works,” laughs Alexia, reaching out to ruffle his hair. With Elena settled comfortably on her healthy knee, gleefully pushing piles of glitter around so that it mixes with the glue smeared on her card, it is safe to say that this year’s cards are going to be successes. “Mama has promised to call when she gets home, and you can tell her that you have a surprise for her. That will build up the excitement, and make it even better when she gets to open it.” 

Your son has become a cynic. “And when will that be?” 

“Mother’s Day is on the 19th, so we have three days to wait.” You have purposely chosen a chartered route to Tokyo that flies via Barcelona so that you get to spend the day with your children before your fortnight in Asia to end the first half of the tour. “Do you want to write the words out for Lela once the glue has dried?” 

“I don’t know what Lela wants me to say,” he explains with great concern, turning to his sister with a very serious expression. He speaks to her in English, because he knows that this card is for you. He understands that there are two Mother’s Days, though he thinks it’s because he has two mothers, and that Alexia’s day is in May. When Alexia opens her mouth to speak, Nico is quick to shut her down. “Calla, Mami, no sabes nada de inglés.”

Your legs slam together but find no available route with Leah’s body in between them. 

It feels… good. 

Liberating.

You haven’t brought her into your bed, which she notices but doesn’t comment on. It’s excusable to be on the sofa, to have stayed downstairs for the hours she has spent trying to make you feel better, because the clock has only just ticked its way to lunchtime. You laugh to yourself at the thought of that, amused by the notion that you have already eaten.

Leah is curious when it comes to you. That much you had expected, having been aware of her lingering gazes long before the sores on your heart had calloused into tougher muscle. She has been waiting for this resiliently, and you present yourself to her as though you are a new toy she finally gets to play with. She kisses you slowly at times, to memorise the warmth of your tongue or the jut of your chin, but she often grows impatient, wanting nothing more than to end her torture and find out what it is like. 

What is it like to have a woman like you? To wake up next to you, kiss you, touch you? 

How does your mind work? What do you smell like just after getting out of the shower? Does your accent ever slip, or is it really that posh? 

The air in the living room is hazy now, and your eyes close in bliss as you let your sweat seep into the grainy fabric of your white sofa. Leah doesn’t crawl into your open arms as you assume she will. 

She wipes her mouth. 

Although Leah has enjoyed this very much, she knows that this instance has not been you allowing her to start to love you. It has been for her to help you forget how much pain you are in. Somewhere deep down, she cares, but she doesn’t try to search for the emotion.

“So,” she says with a giggle, as if you are two teenage girls, best friends who have decided to kiss so that they can practise for the real thing, “do I need to send an apology present to your makeup artist?” Sitting back on her knees, she swipes one hand down to pluck her t-shirt from the floor, pulling it on top of her naked body before sending you an exaggerated smirk and prodding the developing bruise on your neck.

“Fuck,” you groan, batting her hand away. “I completely forgot I had that thing tonight.” You also need to call your children before Alexia bans your name from her household (if that hasn’t happened already). 

“That ‘thing’ being your concert at Wembley?” 

“I’d have thought selling out Wembley is the norm for you now, Captain,” you tease, clearing your throat. “England have done it, Champions of Europe for the very first time.” 

“You’re freakishly good at a commentator’s voice.” 

“Gotten used to being my own commentator. Only Spanish streams in my house – even United matches!” You smile at your own frustration but it quickly sours as awkwardness drops on top of you. You bring your arms up to cover your bare chest, but Leah clears her throat with softened eyes and you no longer feel so exposed. 

You feel safe.

“What happened in Barcelona?” You shake your head at her question. “That bad, huh?” she presses. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you tell her, grey clouds hanging over you as your voice darkens and lowers. “Like, at all.” 

“I think you should. It’s better it comes out now than later when you’ve had lots to drink and no idea who you’re ranting about it to, isn’t it? And it’s just me; I’m not going to judge you.” 

“But you know her. You know her friends.” Your hands move to cover your face. Leah can have your body, but you don’t want her to have your tears. “Thank you for caring, babe, but I think I’m going to handle this one on my own.” 

“Well, you know that–” 

“You’re always a phone call away.” You smile, tears sucked back inside you, bottled away in glassware you store in crates labelled ‘VERY FRAGILE’. Desperate to change the subject, you adjust your position on the sofa, sitting up. Leah tries very hard not to stare at the curves of your chest. “You know, Lee, I never thought you’d be that good in bed.” 

…

Alexia is in desperate need of advice. 

Her muscles contract and relax, the tissues pulling on her bone, which, in turn, pulls her. She is strung along, driven perhaps by her leap in recovery and impending comeback. She almost breaks out into a jog, but the church she has dragged herself to comes into view before she can gain speed. 

She had not expected this from herself. 

It’s nothing special to her, though she will admit that the architecture of the building does hold some sense of divinity, but the heavy wooden door is propped open and she is drawn inside. 

The Sacrament of Reconciliation, Fridays, 17.00-17.30. 

Alexia checks her watch, the golden links gleaming on her wrist, catching the sunlight that filters in through the glass windows. 

She catches a glimpse of white behind the doors of the Confession booth, becoming acutely aware of how empty the church is. The curtain has been pulled back, bunched to the left-hand side carefully, as though the previous handler had moved with peace. 

It can’t be that bad, can it? 

It’s just like therapy. 

Her feet carry her forwards once more, leading her into the wooden booth. It smells old. The cushion she kneels on is blue, she thinks, but she cannot tell because it goes dark once she pulls the curtain shut. 

Alexia is not a religious person. Sure, she signs the cross before stepping onto the pitch, and, like most people she knows, she is baptised, but her faith is limited to that. When she tore her ACL, she spent evenings trying to pray, trying to force her to believe in Him. It would have been comforting to know that someone had a plan for her, was watching over her carefully with the knowledge of how it was going to play out. It was to no avail. 

But somehow she knows what to say, and so she does. 

“In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.” She recites the words like lines from a play, head bowed in shame as she writes her next sentences in her mind. “This is my first and, probably, my last confession.” 

Silence. 

She rests her hands in her lap, shuffling around to ensure she is not pressing down on her knee in any way that is harmful. It would kill her to have to push back her return to the pitch because of some stupid thing she has spontaneously chucked herself into. 

“I messed up.” She laughs. “No, that is actually an understatement. I know this is a church and I really shouldn’t swear, but I fucked up. Father, I had Heaven in my hands and I threw it away as though it were meaningless. Was it greed? Was it greed that led me to do it?” 

“Do what, my daughter?” 

The priest sounds younger than she’d thought he would be. 

“I had an affair with a woman whom I am certain I do love a little bit, but, by doing that, I destroyed a life that was perfect. Was it greed?” 

“I think you know the answer to that.” 

“Was it temptation?” Alexia tries again, desperately. Part of her yearns for the priest to tell her it was the Devil so that she can shed the responsibility. “I love my wife. More than anything, I love her. I do not think my own life is worth living if it is not in service to her, to our children, to the smile she reserves for her favourite people. I… I didn’t attempt it, but I thought about killing myself.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “Only once, but I thought it all the same. My sister called me selfish.

“It’s just – forgive me – fucked, isn’t it? I got carried away. I got lonely, I was alone. I craved something to make me forget, to pinch the gaping hole in my life shut. I relied on it to make me feel better, and it did for a time. But now it has made me feel much, much worse.

“And I am sorry! I am so, so sorry. I have grown sick of the word; I’ve used it so much that it holds no meaning anymore. It doesn’t do my regret justice, nor my quest for forgiveness, and I’m really on that quest, Father, I want to stress that to you. I lost my temper and said things I should not have said – things I don’t even believe – but I did not mean them then, and I do not mean them now.” 

“You are not religious,” accuses the priest, very gently. His voice washes over Alexia’s ears like a wave of warm saltwater from the Mediterranean, and she feels comfortable enough to swim into the expanse in front of her. “Our God is forgiving, but it is not His forgiveness that you seek. I cannot give you a prayer that will make her absolve your sins, because our holy words are not spells.” 

“Father,” croaks Alexia. As her lips part, she tastes the saltwater of the sea, dripping down her cheeks as though the tide has come in and there is no other option than for her to be flooded. “Please help me. I don’t know what to do.” 

The priest speaks, but she assigns the voice to someone else. 

The first thing you forget about a person is what their voice sounds like. It lingers like a feeling you can’t quite name; distant, distorted, enhanced by fantasy.

Alexia does not remember her father’s voice. 

The realisation is crushing. 

She knows his words – they are her prayers – but, like Catholics do not know the voice of their God, she can no longer hear the voice of hers. 

What would her father say if he saw her like this? On her knees in a Confession booth, backed against the wall with nowhere to hide?

This is not the girl he was proud of. Alexia, of course, is not that eighteen-year-old anymore; she hasn’t been for a decade. But, recently, the legacy of that unknown Levante player has disappeared. 

Alexia is so very lost. 

She does not know where she is in her own city. In her home. 

She does not know her place in her life, much less her place in yours – if you will still grant her one. 

She has not felt the thrill of football for months, has driven herself to Hell and back, and considered giving up enough to be on the brink of actually doing it. 

She has seen countless meals hit the water of her toilet, never digested, never deserving of the very thing that keeps her alive. 

She has counted your sacrifices, memorising the digits of an ongoing figure so that she can punish herself with the knowledge. 

She has tried to forget English, tried to improve her English, and taken vows of silence. 

She has cried and cried and cried until the only thing left for her to excrete is her hot, red blood. 

She has searched for a way out of the maze. She has failed every time. 

Alexia is lost without you, and she knows it. Everyone knows it, perhaps even you yourself. Do you revel in that fact? Do you enjoy it? 

You have a right to watch her suffer. You do, you do, you do. 

Alexia runs a hand through her damp hair, sweating as she sobs in the booth next to some stranger who she will never meet again. Her mouth is dry but her cries are wet and raw, and they scrape her throat as she chokes them out, losing her breath and falling silent only to catch it and begin again. The cushion burns her knees as though she is trapped in an inferno, the darkness blazing against her skin. 

The priest talks to her for a long time, not letting her leave until she has calmed down. She sniffles, wiping her nose with the back of her palm before softly pressing her thumbs to her blotchy cheeks to clear the final tears from them. 

When he is finished, he instructs her to take a few deep breaths, which she does. “You are not entitled to her forgiveness,” he reminds her. He begins the Prayer of Absolution – he insists for the sake of closure – and Alexia walks away from the church no more than five minutes later. 

She is still stuck in the maze, but she has restored that voice in her head that she knows will help her find her way out.

…

“So you went to church?” Olga asks with an amused smile, taking the first sip of her latte, relishing in the gentle burn of the liquid. She needs this coffee; she stayed up late last night because she knew Alexia has been struggling. There is nothing worse than being asleep when Alexia calls her for help. 

“I have no idea how I ended up there,” Alexia explains, somewhat defensive about yesterday’s catharsis. “Confession is way better than therapy. There is too much accountability in therapy.” 

“You have a lot to account for.” 

She huffs out a breath, taking a sip of her own drink. “I know, Olga, but I cannot change the past, so what would you like me to do?” Olga doesn’t reply. The brunette parts her lips, but promptly closes her mouth when she sees Alexia’s slight discomfort. “Mama wants you to come to dinner tonight. I… I do too.” 

Olga’s smile is big and genuine. “I’d love that,” she answers. “Eli is the best cook out of our friends’ parents. Everyone knows that.” 

You’re in London, childless, and are watching the grand old Arsenal play (reluctantly, forced to by Leah if anything). Alexia has seen the pictures of you at the match on Instagram; she has already felt the frustration that you are most-likely never going to watch Barcelona play again unless it is to support the other team. Like clockwork, Alexia seeks to fill the gaping hole you have left in her life. Somewhere, somehow, the lines of friendship between her and Olga have blurred. 

…

It takes just over a month for Leah to crack. 

You appear in London every two weeks, attending meetings and events, but she has decided, once and for all, to see through your excuses. You come to London for her. She knows that, and so do you. Leah’s ego has not reached a size where she believes she is enough for you, but the facts (and Lia Wälti) tell her she is wrong. 

Except, what Leah tends to leave out is that no matter how many times you let her sleep with you, she still is unable to access a certain part of your mind. 

She has never been upstairs in your house because you always prefer to go to her place in St. Albans. She has never slept in your bed, nor woken up next to you. 

You talk to her like she is still the same old Leah, the captain you befriended during the tournament of her lifetime, your entrance in her life intertwined with the ecstasy of winning the Euros. She closes her eyes and thinks of how you looked that summer; white England shirt, sunglasses pulled down over your eyes. Smiling, cheering. For her, she greedily claims to herself.

Sometimes, in her mind, you lift your sunglasses – you always seem to be crying when she pictures this – but Leah is only vaguely familiar with the timeline of your divorce. This is the issue.

There is a door that you have locked and refuse to let Leah find the key. It leads to heartbreak, to Nico and Elena, to a family you once had. 

“I wish you would let me in,” Leah says one day. (The day she cracks.) She tears her ACL two days prior, something that makes you feel guiltily nauseous, and you have come to visit her. She knows that you had flown over the minute you had swapped custody with Alexia. 

Your legs curl into your chest as you try to reduce the amount of space you are taking up on Leah’s sofa, cautious of her injured knee. Leah misses the warmth of your thighs, and wants to revoke her conversation starter instantly, pained that she has to even ignite the fire of this forbidden topic. “What do you mean?” comes your quiet reply, unwilling to disturb the peace of her living room. The peace of existing side-by-side. 

“Exactly what I said.” Leah nods to emphasise her agreement with herself. “I wish you would let me in, because how do you expect me to love you if I don’t know you?” 

She sees the bullet fly through the air; she sees the moment it hits you, the way you go rigid. Dead. Dying? 

“It’s crazy because it usually takes years for me to feel about someone the way I feel about you, and I just… I just wanted to tell you that it’s okay to let me in. I want to hear everything, to know everything.” 

“Oh.” What had you expected when you kissed her? “Oh, Leah.” 

“You don’t have to apologise.” She assigns your guilt, the tears in your eyes, to your distance. Perhaps you hadn’t realised, perhaps it is a coincidence Leah has never slept in the bed you used to share with Alexia. Maybe you are unaware that Leah has never heard you speak Spanish, and doesn’t know a single thing about your life in Barcelona. 

You’re a busy person, after all. 

“No, no,” you dismiss quickly, shaking your head. Leah can’t help but wonder if the paranoid voice in her head is right; has she been reading too much into this? “Fuck, I am such a twat.” 

But you don’t elaborate further, asking how she’s feeling, distracting her from your realisation about her realisation. Before Leah knows it, you are making her laugh harder than she has in a month, and soon, like most good things, your visit comes to an end. 

Returning to Barcelona is a little weird. 

You feel as though you have done nothing but check over your shoulder the entire journey, staring the past straight in the eye and wishing you could change it. 

You hadn’t meant to make her fall in love with you. (But she has. Oh, she has.) 

This week’s swap is no different; the same park as usual, the same pleasant weather to undergo an unpleasant task. 

On the bench usually occupied by Olga, a different, blonder head comes into view. 

“Irene?” you ask in surprise, wondering if she has been sent in Olga’s stead or just so happens to have brought Mateo, her son, to the very same park. You sit down beside her, somewhat pleased to not see Alexia’s henchwoman today. “Where’s the free childcare?” 

The defender’s eyes narrow, as though she is debating whether or not she should tell you. 

Irene has known Alexia for a long time, and, by extension, has known you for a long time too. She is calm, level-headed, and mature, much like Alexia. Except Irene hasn’t ever thought to cheat on her wife. 

You are clearly in a lot of pain, and you have a right to be; Irene does not rise to your comment. “Olga has gone on holiday,” she states with practised neutrality. 

“Ah, they’ve broken up.” 

Eyebrows raised, she turns to you, breaking her line of sight that encompasses Nico, Mateo, and Elena. The playground is small enough, and very safe. “They were never together.” You wait patiently for her analysis of whatever the fuck was going on between them. “Olga said she wasn’t what Alexia needed. She’s on holiday with Carla, and I guess she is quite upset.” 

“And Alexia?” You know Irene does not like to gossip, nor stir the pot. So you can be nosy about how she is doing. 

“I think her ego was bruised, but she sees Olga’s point. She has been… better recently. She’s focused on getting back onto the pitch, and Jona is only saying good things about it.” Irene’s eyes brighten at the thought of her captain’s recovery, and her tone soars through the air. The entire team has worried for Alexia, spending their own nights tossing and turning, wondering if the old version of her will ever return. “I know you two don’t speak, but if you did, you’d get a glimpse of what it was like before.”

You can’t help your smile, and Irene does not make you feel pathetic for wearing it. “Good.” 

“I heard you were in London?” 

“Visiting a… friend.” Irene is not a gossip, you remind yourself. “I think I might have to stay in this country for a bit and let things cool down over there.” 

She chuckles. “Whose heart have you broken?” She won’t tell Alexia, when Alexia inevitably asks about you, that you are seeing someone. Not that you have confirmed that to her. 

“I’m yet to break it,” you tell her, sighing, “but I know I will, and that is much, much worse.”

“Hey, at least you have two weeks of being endlessly busy to keep your mind off it.”

Children change a lot in two weeks, so Irene then launches into an update on school, clubs, and everything else. She gets the information from Alexia, of course, who writes out a list every time you switch over. No one has ever handed you the piece of paper before, worried that her handwriting will be an unnecessary reminder of the pain she has caused you, but, for some reason, Irene does today.

You are not put off by the swirling Spanish in front of you, instead choosing to study it. You have spent hours in Alexia’s lap as she scrawls out football notes upon football notes, scribbling prompted by footage or, freakishly, her own memory. From the lightness of the indentations of the pen, you figure that Alexia is exhausted. From the half-finished sentences, you decide that she was rushing when she wrote this. 

But, as much as you delight in your brief analysis of the evidence in your palms like Sherlock Holmes solving a mystery, you can’t ignore just how greatly you have missed the letters that swim between the lines (and the hand from which they were written). 

Irene spares you your dignity by standing from the bench and checking on the children just as your tears begin to fall. 

…

You take one last look in the mirror embedded in the sun visor, ensuring your hair is perfectly in place and your earrings match your cream, sleeveless turtleneck to poise you just between casual and smartly-dressed. A quiet grumble from the backseat draws your attention away from your reflection, though your last glimpse at your concealed eyebags and red-rimmed irises leaves you feeling a little dejected and mourning the days you’d actually get some sleep. (Or wouldn’t, smoking cigarettes on the balcony while talking Alexia’s ear off.) 

“Mama, we go,” decides Elena with a huff, tugging on the buckle of her car seat. 

It’s Nico’s first-ever recital tonight. 

He started playing the piano in September, when his teacher at school had mentioned how he boasted to the children in his class that he was a musician: ‘if I am Catalan because my mami is Catalan, then I am musician because my mami is musician’. You felt guilty. His teacher says he is naturally talented, voice lacking surprise but praiseful nonetheless, and is proud to name Nico his youngest student at tonight’s show. 

The bouquet of daisies you ask Elena to hold makes her look like a miniature carnival float, and she toddles into the venue by your side while you do mental gymnastics between the knowledge that Alexia will be here tonight and the nerves for your son’s performance. It’s nothing complicated, but you worry he will hate it. This is the only thing he does that is a nod towards you; his one deviation from his worship of Alexia. 

“Mami!” squeals the walking flowers as soon as you make it to the half-full hall. You direct your gaze to the three rows your daughter refers to, every seat lined with either professional footballers or family. With a sudden rush of blood to your head, you feel out of your depth.

You’re not sure whether the hazel eyes that find yours help or worsen that. 

“Keep it moving,” you mutter firmly, holding her hand so she does not make a break for it and tumble right over to the cohort of FC Barcelona and Seguras. Not wanting to get too close to them, you take your seat in the penultimate row, knowing Nico will not be able to see you over the grand piano set up on the stage wherever you sit. “You can talk to her later, sweetheart.” 

She is in an obedient mood, most-likely intimidated by the tension in the air. You tell yourself it’s the stress radiating from the line of performers sitting on the front row. Nico stands on his chair, waving first to Alexia and then to you (it’s your turn with them so you are a lot less exciting right now), before he is lightly scolded by his teacher and the first child walks up the steps and onto the stage. 

Five uninspiring children later, Nico is finally led up onto the stage. His teacher sits down on the piano stool and nudges him forwards. He smiles brightly at the room. You reciprocate, encouraging Elena to do the same to keep her engaged with an admittedly boring event. 

“Bona nit a tothom! Jo sóc en Nicolau i tinc quatre anys i ara aniré a tocar ‘Brillia Brillia Estel Petit’.” The audience melts before him. “Mama, that means ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’,” he whispers loudly. 

You send him a thumbs up. He sends you a grin back, before giggling as he climbs onto the piano stool beside his teacher. 

Situated comfortably, feet dangling adorably far away from the pedals, his chubby, little fingers hit the ivory keys once, then twice. 

You pray this goes well. 

It does. 

He plays with two hands, something you hadn’t expected, and Elena holds in her noisy yawn until after he is finished so she must have been invested in the performance. Your own hands sting after you clap with such prideful force that you are the loudest in the room, and the hoots and hollers from Alexia’s territory only make Nico even happier as he bounces down the steps and back to his seat to wait for the others to do their pieces. 

After the recital has finished, you walk down the aisle separating the seats in half to get to Nico, daughter-less courtesy of a squadron of football-playing kidnappers. 

“How was that?” you ask him smugly, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hug. “I knew you would be brilliant, even when you were scared you weren’t going to be. Do you know how proud I am of you?” 

“This much?” He holds his hand about thirty centimetres apart. “Mami says this much.” 

When he widens his hands, you gesture something even bigger. 

“‘Immensely’ is the word I would use.” 

“Im-men-lee?” 

“Es que nuestro orgullo llena una casa sin techo. Hasta el cielo.” 

“Up to the sun,” you amend, ignoring the way the voice has made you stiffen. You don’t read too much into her misuse of the collective pronoun. There is no ‘our’ in ‘affair’.

Alexia’s hand hovers by your waist for a moment, muscle memory getting the better of her before she draws it back into her body. Nico gives her a matching hug, telling her how much he has missed her. 

You try not to blame yourself for his derailed childhood. 

“You were amazing, petit,” Alexia says, picking him up with one strong arm and settling him on her hip. You grip the wrapper of the bouquet you are holding. “Did Mama get you a gift?” 

He peers at the daisies in your hand with curiosity. Shaking his head, his confusion deepens as he studies the bouquet you are extending towards him. “They are for Mami? Flowers are for love.” 

“I love you,” you tell him, not trying to make a point but instinctively prickling in the presence of Alexia.

The silence is awkward. 

A few metres away, whilst entertaining the sleepy toddler on her lap, Mapi is excitedly talking to Alba. “Y/n hasn’t killed her yet,” says the defender with glee, one of your admirers. The team respected you before, never questioning their captain’s judgement nor family, but when word got out about the affair amongst the older girls, most of them began to see you as more than Alexia’s wife. A new layer to your character was revealed; you are a strong, independent, and successful woman. Football nerds sometimes forget success comes in more forms than blaugrana kits. “They made such a beautiful couple.” 

“They did.” Alba watches as you talk to your son, your eyes actively avoiding the woman in front of you. “Our mother has sent Alexia over there to invite her to dinner. It killed me to see her sit alone.” 

You are too used to the feeling of eyes on you that you no longer notice the weight of people’s stares, but, if this were not the case, you would know that most of the heads attached to the bodies sitting in Alexia’s rows had been swivelled towards you for majority of the recital. Pity is never a desired emotion to have offered to you, but the Barça girls can’t help but feel that way whenever they see your forehead crinkle in an attempt to understand Catalan, presuming you only speak Spanish as you have more than enough on your plate. (And, as most of the players will admit, your children speak better English than them, so one can only assume that it is your main method of communication.)

“She’s a very good mother,” Mapi comments with a small nod, sucking a sharp breath in as she begins to sympathise with you even more. Not a day goes by where she witnesses the suffering Alexia’s idiocracy has caused – as Ingrid, her girlfriend, knows very well – and does not fail to scream in frustration about her best friend’s stupid mistakes.

“She’s a very good person.” 

They fall silent as they see your head tilt up, jaw clenching as Alexia begins to speak to you. 

“Can you hear what she’s saying?” whispers Eli to her daughter, equally invested in the conversation. “I knew I should have sent you; Alex is too socially awkward.” 

“Mami, she is talking to her wife,” replies Alba, though she remembers what happened the last time Alexia and you had spoken and the outcome of that. Maybe that commences her increasing agreement with her mother… “I guess you– Are they coming over here?!” 

Even you seem surprised by how your legs carry you towards the Barcelona clan, a step behind Alexia and Nico. Hesitant would be an understatement, but most of them are too preoccupied with congratulating the four-year-old they have come to watch to notice your tight-lipped smile and trembling hands. 

“Hola,” you say shyly. 

Eli pulls you into her strong embrace without missing a beat. “Te he echado de menos, hija.” 

You try very hard not to burst into tears. 

They take you to dinner; a plan you had known about but not envisioned yourself included in. Although it’s your fortnight, Alexia (through the conduit of Alba) had previously arranged to drop Nico and Elena over to yours before midnight. 

You blow off your FaceTime call with Leah.

The restaurant is on the lower level of fine-dining. It’s chic, but it does not make your children feel unwelcome. The table is set for five places, though Alba informs you that the reason for this is because the reservation was made before she broke up with her girlfriend. 

“Mama, what are you going to eat?” asks Nico, slipping back into his old life seamlessly, mixing his English with the Spanish he knows everyone can understand, his legs swinging underneath the table with an enthusiastic energy. He is still too young to pick up on how far apart his parents are sitting, or how you refuse to let your eyes linger on Alexia’s tanned skin, far too much of it shown off by the tank top she sports in the humidity of the busy restaurant. 

You glance around the room, searching for those who have recognised you. Under the weight of at least four curious stares, you motivate yourself to enjoy your meal. 

“Not sure yet, babe,” you answer. “Alba, do you fancy sharing something?”

“Yeah, of course.” The younger Putellas smiles. Alexia knows who has lost the war.

Dinner passes with light conversation centred on very neutral topics. No man’s land is clearly the children, and you had never expected to be so desperate to continue a conversation about school lunches until the other options are how Alexia had an affair with her teammate or that your song with her favourite singer is topping the charts and explicitly about being cheated on. 

Although you and Alexia both watch how many times your wine glasses are refilled, Alba lets loose, as does Eli (probably to ease the stress on her heart that her girls force upon her). Their cheeks redden and Nico begins to yawn, Elena already curled into your side halfway between dreams and reality. 

“Should we head out?” you ask it to the table, but the only functioning person is Alexia, really, and so you close your eyes to avoid having to make eye contact. 

“I should probably get Mama and Alba into a taxi.” 

“If you call one for them, I will call one for us?” Your suggestion is instinctive; an old habit reminiscent of many similar nights, back when there was love and happiness and a relationship that didn’t feel like walking on a floor made of broken glass. “Or did you drive here?” 

“No, but you drove,” comes Alexia’s reminder. Internally, you face-palm. Parking the car before dinner seems like years ago; something feels different now. “But if you don’t feel up to it, I could drive you home. I haven’t had much to drink and I have nothing else planned for tonight. Elena is practically in a coma anyway.” 

You laugh – a softened version of it so as to not rouse the dead weight of your daughter. 

“Are you sure?” 

It’s late.

“Yes, I’m sure.” 

I don’t care. 

“Mama,” Alba slurs, pulling her mother in close. “The saint has given her sinner a second chance.” 

It may not be as quiet as she thinks it is. Alexia, occupied, is deaf to the comment. You are not.

This is not a second chance. 

This is a lift home. 

The last time all four of you sat in a car together was the day you found out about Alexia’s affair. 

You had suffered then – are still suffering now – but your anger was hot and sharp and new. Fresh wounds. 

Now, though more scabbed-over than healed, those wounds no longer seem to gush blood; you entertain Alexia’s stiff small-talk. 

She asks about the tour, never veering too far off the road of practicality and shared custody. When does it resume? Which has been your favourite show? 

“Wembley is like playing El Clásico in Camp Nou,” she determines, not needing to ask about that because she knows you too well. 

Your memories of the London shows involve a naked Leah Williamson. (If only she knew that!) 

“Yeah, London was great.”

Awkwardness is part of Alexia’s personality; something you are fairly certain you still love. She is shy, though it perhaps comes off as stoicity, and she has never been good at making conversation. You know she hates it, and you know that her eyes, Alexia’s eyes, are gazing at you every time she thinks you are not looking. 

She is weary about the desire darkening her pupils, but she does not do well to hide her hunger nonetheless. 

“Go into the carpark,” you instruct as you approach your building.

Wordlessly, she presses the correct pin into the pin-pad, never having forgotten it. 

She parks the car beside a new-looking Mercedes. It’s not a car for children, and she imagines it reeks of cigarettes – there is no way you have stopped smoking. 

It belongs in the carpark; in your little world of celebrities and male footballers; of money and fame and fortune. (One could argue you lack the latter, what with your current situation.) Alexia’s life has never moulded with yours. 

Perhaps it never will. 

Perhaps she slept with Jenni because they are equals, you think. Because Jenni understands Alexia in a way you cannot. 

“Mami,” cries a quiet voice from the backseat. You stop staring at the grey, concrete walls, snapping back to reality as Alexia shifts to turn her attention to the source of the whimpering. “No quiero que te vayas.” 

“Lela, me tengo que ir.” 

“Pero–” 

“You could always come up to say goodnight to them?” 

It starts off innocently. 

Of course it does. Of course you are nowhere near forgiveness, more likely to forget about the crushing affair before you excuse any of her actions. Sometimes, you wish for amnesia. Sometimes, you refer to the tab open in Safari – ‘is there a drug that makes you forget?’. 

Alexia is granted a tuck-in and a story for each child, glad that their rooms are separate so that her time in her home is prolonged. The walls are familiar, the floor is the same. There are new pictures in new frames, but the old ones have not been removed. If you had ever wished to take photographs of your relationship down, you have never acted on it. 

She realises you must not spend a lot of time here alone. Maybe you cannot bear it. Maybe your life in London is more important to you than she had thought. 

Anyway, for as much as she subtly noses around and draws out the night, she has no intention of overstaying her welcome, sure that she probably did that the minute she stepped inside. 

In fact, she is on her way out, under the assumption that you will not want to speak to her.

“So you’re back to playing?” 

“Sí.” 

A doorway conversation. 

You’re English. You’re very polite. Alexia knows this, tries to not get her hopes up. 

“Does that mean you don’t want a taste of this ‘97?” You hold the bottle up to her, the cork lying on the granite worktop with the incriminating suggestion that you have already had a glass. 

“We play the day after tomorrow.” 

“Oh, Ale, this is a good one.” 

How many times have you said that to her before? The same tone, the same look in your eye; red tinting your lips, one hand on a lighter because you smoke when you’re drunk, even if you refuse to touch the cancer-sticks when you are sober. 

“Was this a gift?” she asks, drawn into your magnetic field like a flimsy paper clip; thin, worn metal trying to piece the pages of her life back together. “Or have you been making ridiculous purchases again?” 

“I can assure you that it is not ‘ridiculous’.” You moan in delight as you take a sip from a glass you subsequently hand over to her. “Gosh, that is divine, and you are simply going to dissolve when you taste it.” 

Dissolve she does, but one can attribute that to the company. 

The contents of the bottle dwindles quickly, paired with a vulnerable retelling of her ACL recovery (sans suicidal thoughts and huge, huge regret about the affair – she doesn’t want to bring that up, seeing as you are clearly trying to forget about it), and the warm breeze of the Barcelona nighttime. The salty air from the mediterranean mingles with cigarette smoke, though Alexia softly says that you really should stop. 

You hesitate on your next puff, but you inhale it all the same. “I like my wine smokey.” 

She opens the next bottle for you. 

The wine glasses are soon discarded, pouring becoming shaky and difficult. 

“They sleep all the way through the night here,” observes Alexia, surprised that no little hands have knocked on the glass door leading to the balcony. The last time you had reached for the wine, you’d moved closer to her. You have not yet returned to your original seat on the other side of the rattan sofa. 

You raise your eyebrows, under the impression that they were both sleep trained. “They don’t at yours?” 

“Elena keeps trying to sleep in bed with me.” 

“Maybe she likes you more,” you suggest with a light, alcohol-infused laugh. “She must have been upset to find her place filled by your friend.” 

“No,” murmurs Alexia, “it has never been filled. Though I don’t think you can say the same.” 

You swallow the stickiness of the wine running down your throat.

“Not in our bed. My bed.” You fight yourself. “Our bed.” 

“In Highgate?” 

“Anywhere,” you breathe. 

“It’s been months,” croaks Alexia, your hand pressed against her stomach as you slowly lean into the feeling only she can give you. “Months.” 

You kiss her. Time folds in on itself, and you are transported back to when every touch was electric; when nothing was tainted. The pain of the past months, the heartbreak, momentarily fades into insignificance as you lose yourself in Alexia’s warmth.

Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, afraid that this moment might slip away too soon. The taste of wine lingers on your lips, and she craves the softness of them – she has been craving them since July.

“Well, now it has only been seconds,” you whisper as you pull away. 

With a sense of urgency, she chases your mouth once more, strong arms pulling you on top of her, manipulating your body against her with no hint of uncertainty. 

Alexia knows you well.

Her touch lacks curiosity and exploration. Her hands are experienced and confident in their movements, and she has hoisted you up and brought you to your bedroom without needing to have been told that this is what you want. 

“Is this what you want?” she asks anyway. 

“Please.” 

And she really doesn’t make you beg. 

Your hands roam her body with a primal hunger, instinctive touches to the most sensitive parts of her, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her back is tense, muscles flexing as she pushes your clothes off your skin, her own following their path soon after. 

Parted legs and soft moans. 

She slots herself between your thighs. 

Her tongue is determined, fierce. Sloppier because she is drunk, but, then again, so are you. 

Your fingers repay the favour. 

“More,” you request just as she pulls away. 

“Is it in the same place?” 

You nod, panting.

There is a playful glint in Alexia’s eyes as she finds the strap just where she left it. As she secures it in place, you wipe the sweat from your brow, forcing your mind into the dirtiest of thoughts to ward off the building regret.

The room is dimly lit, and the air heavy with desire. Your heartbeat pulses in the silence, the thrum of the organ drums that guide Alexia’s slow, deliberate steps back towards the bed, kneeling atop the scrunched sheets. 

She positions herself between your legs once more, and you can feel the heat of her body radiating against your skin. She leans in closer, her breath hot against your neck, sending shivers of anticipation shuddering down your spine. 

With trembling hands, you reach out, nails digging into tanned, taut skin. You pull her closer to you, urging her to take whatever she wants. 

You want her to have you. You want her to make it hurt less. 

As Alexia presses inside, a jolt of pleasure courses through your body. You cry out, the sound igniting a blazing inferno within her that grows hotter the moment you ask her to move. Feverishly, her hands move over your chest, finding purchase on your breasts with a dormant possessiveness as her hips begin to drive the strap in deeper. 

Your breath hitches in your throat as you surrender to the overwhelming sensation, encompassed by someone so divine that you begin to separate yourself from all things wrong with this situation. The headboard thuds against the bedroom wall as she pounds her thrusts into a rhythm, and you shut your eyes as you quietly ask her to kiss you.

Tears cascade down your cheeks, but you do not know to whom they belong. Her tongue smothers your moans, and her hips begin to snap into yours more urgently, with more desperation. The pressure builds inside of you, and you feel as though you might explode. 

You feel as though this is the end, and you are glad that here is where your misery terminates. 

You’re glad, you’re really glad. 

Your back arches, your chests pressing together, large hands holding you close to her. 

And then it all comes crashing down. 

Everything. 

You wipe your eyes once the orgasmic bliss subsides, seizing your wine haze as the tide goes out and destroying the blindfold that had deprived you of seeing things straight. Right now, with the pleasant ache between your legs, you can’t quite bring yourself to regret it, but you know you will. You haven’t forgiven her; you’re not sure that it is possible. 

“You can shower, but you can’t stay here.” 

…

Nico knows that he is special. He is lucky, and he is loved, and he gets to go to a very nice school that Mateo (his ‘cousin’) claims is fancy. 

He likes his teacher. She reminds him of someone he once knew – you have suggested the nursery helpers back when he lived in London. He is not sure if you are right, but he doesn’t remember what London was like so he tries not to think too hard about it. 

Nico’s friends, like Pau who is sitting beside him, all think it is really cool that he can speak English. Pau says she hears his mother on the radio sometimes, but Nico hasn’t yet grasped the concept of fame past the annoying camera flashes and big, sold-out stadiums. He dislikes fame as he knows it, anyway, because the cameras hurt his eyes and the stadiums are so loud that he has to wear ear-defenders that squeeze his skull a bit too much. 

“My mum is from Bilbao. My dad is from Barcelona,” states Paula as she swipes a crayon over the sheet of paper her drawing is on. Green wax slowly stains the white to form ‘grass’. Everyone is drawing their family today, although Nico hasn’t yet started, waiting for his teacher to circle their table so that he can ask for another piece of paper. “And this,” Paula carries on, squiggling brown hair onto a smaller version of the stick-figure father, “is Ander, my big brother.” 

“Who is that?” Nico asks, pointing at the fifth figure on the page, guessing that the fourth and Pau-sized person is, in fact, Pau. 

“My sister! She’s called Nerea, and she plays basketball.” Pau promptly makes an orange circle the size of Nerea’s head, which floats in the air between her and her sister. “My mum says Nere is going to be a lesbian, but I don’t know what that means.” 

“My mums are lesbian!” he blurts out, excited enough to garner the attention of his teacher. When she appears, he grins at her sweetly; the kind of smile that has melted many hearts, though Nico is unaware of how many people know he exists. “More paper, please.” 

“Nico, you haven’t even tried with your first one.”

She isn’t harsh at all, but he has slowly learnt to stop asking follow-up questions. Six months of exasperated ‘I don’t know, Nicolau’s has taught him that. 

He shrugs. “Okay.”

He learnt what a shrug was the other day, when Mapi told him off for doing it to her. (“Don’t shrug your shoulders at me, Nicolau Putellas!” she had chided playfully. “All I asked was which of your mamas’ houses we need to go to.”)

“Nico, what’s ‘lesbian’?” 

“Mama says football is lesbian. Basketball might be lesbian! That’s why your sister is lesbian.” 

“My mum says that lesbians kiss girls.” 

“Mama kisses girls! And Mami. And they used to kiss each other but now they don’t speak and me and my sister swap houses.” Nico begins drawing it out for Paula when she peers at him, befuddled. “Here is Mama’s.” A big square, a glamorous-looking woman inside of the blue shape; a stick with a circle on the end of it; the notes he sees in his piano music floating in the air. “And…” he says, tongue sticking out as he concentrates on the opposite half of the page, “here is Mami’s.” 

He draws a football. He picks up the red crayon too, and uses both the blau and the grana simultaneously. “Mami plays football for Barça.” He draws two lines on Alexia’s t-shirt. 11. “Mami made me get 11 at football.” Nico had originally worn the 10, but then the affair had come to light and Alexia was suddenly deep in conversation with his coach and apologising to the boy Nico then had to swap shirts with. 

Then, he drops the crayons in his hand and searches for the stack near Paula. He selects the purple one, gripping it tightly, his friend still listening to him with intrigue. 

“This is me and Lela.” Two stick figures are drawn in the middle of the page; the middle ground between each of the squares. 

Nico sometimes feels stuck between it all. 

When Mami got very sad, he and Elena went to stay with Mapi and Ingrid for a few nights. He held his little sister’s hand as much as he could. He always tries to remind her that he is right there with her. 

Mami once told him that it was his turn to protect Elena. Nico hasn’t forgotten that. 

“I keep Lela safe.” He has encouraged her, slightly selfishly, to call him ‘skipper’, which he has picked up from the Lionesses. Luckily, Alexia has not told him off for it because she doesn’t know what it means. “Lela is my little sister. She is a baby. She doesn’t remember what it was like when Mama and Mami loved each other, but I do.” 

The purple crayon scrapes on the page as he presses it into the white, colour rubbing out in the shape of a heart. “Lela and I are together tot el temps. Mami tries to take me from her sometimes, but I don’t let her.” 

His story – and ability to make Paula pay attention for longer than ten seconds – has already attracted the quiet attention of his teacher, but she moves closer as Nico continues. The four-year-old leaves out how Alexia is usually inviting him to training with her. Since Elena has yet to show any interest in football, it remains her and Nico’s special thing, and, of course, his mother misses him when it is not her turn. 

You benevolently give your permission if you have no prior plans. It is upsetting that the only hindrance to extra time spent together is the little boy who once worshipped Alexia Putellas like a god. 

“Nico, why did you want two pages?” asks Paula curiously, assuming he is finished now that his whole family is displayed on the piece of paper. 

He frowns. “Because now I have to do this.” And with that, he tears the sheet in half. 

Paula’s mouth drops open in surprise, as does his teacher’s. 

“What’s wrong?” comes a mature voice, a hand placed on his shoulder just like it is when the other children in his class cry. Nico doesn’t cry. He is strong and brave, like a little soldier. “Did you not like your drawing?” 

“No,” he replies neutrally, “half can live with Mama, and half can live with Mami.” 

“But now you are ripped down the middle.” 

He traces the jagged edges of the halves of his life. One of his legs is on your side, the other on Alexia’s. 

“I know, but it’s okay. I don’t cry.” 

Alexia does, though, when his teacher talks to her that afternoon. 

…

“I slept with Alexia,” you confess quietly, comforted by the sound-proofing of Anya’s home-studio. She asked for help with her album; your success might be contagious, she insists. “Last week, when Nico had that recital.” You clutch your mug protectively, as if she will strip you of the right to drink your tea to punish you for your crime. 

Anya is unsure what you would like her to say. You search her face for anger, but do not find it. 

“If Gio were here, she’d probably slap you.” 

You snort, almost spilling hot liquid all over yourself. “You two are like my mothers, and you’re the nicer one by far.” 

“God, you are such an idiot.” 

“And a slag.” She waits for your next admission with excitement. “I also slept with Leah Williamson.” 

“Do you think you and Alexia are just destined for polyamory?” Her amusement is quite pleasant, but one thing wasn’t dulled by the wine that night and you have been dying to tell someone about it.

Your knee bounces up and down as you gear up for it, having thought it through 

“I think we are destined for each other.” 

Song-writing be damned, Anya fully removes her headphones, placing the equipment beside her keyboard before letting out a small, exasperated laugh. “You are in love with Alexia again,” comes her accusation, with no real malice behind it. 

“I never stopped being in love with Alexia. She just made it a lot harder to love her.” 

Is that an understatement? 

“Hey,” you say with sudden energy, sitting upright and grasping at your phone, tea wobbling over the lip of the mug and running down your wrist. “Should we go to Bali in August?” 

…

You avoid both of your footballers right until the World Cup camps roll around. 

Leah doesn’t get to go, subjected to the ACL curse. Alexia’s call-up is not necessarily unexpected, but you do find yourself wondering how many more betrayals her friendship with Mapi León can handle. (Mapi is on her last straw, but she knows her friend really needed the win after her hellish year. The Champion’s League was never going to sate Alexia’s hunger to be the best at football – possibly an overcompensation for her terrible relationship skills.)

Your children, this time, are delivered to the park by their very own mother. Alexia beats Leah in this sense, because she has a valid excuse to see you without confessing feelings you do not want to hear. 

“I have something for you,” she says just after she has finished her goodbyes, pressing a small box into your hands. Her voice is filled with nerves and you are intrigued, hating yourself for being so. “Don’t open it until you get back home.” Her eyes meet yours for a moment. I’m sorry, they seem to say. “Alright, have fun in Bali, and don’t forget that I legally have custody but I am not going to go to court to battle you for it as long as you put them in Spain kits for Spain matches.” 

She could, if she wanted to be difficult, have you send Nico and Elena to New Zealand during her weeks. It would be very unreasonable, but the contract your lawyers drew up still stands. 

“They were delivered yesterday. I think it’s going to be a struggle to convince them to put on the worst kit ever.” You still don’t forgive Alexia for cheating on you, but there has come a point where acceptance replaces the animosity. Nico’s teacher has been the catalyst in this step forward. The developmental pamphlets she had thrust in your faces were enough for the two of you to come to a mutual agreement of increased civility (that maybe, maybe was only made possible by the fact that you have very recent memories of each other’s orgasms). “But, yes, I agree to your terms. Don’t forget that his favourite player is Alessia Russo, however.” 

“He is in a phase where I am ‘uncool’! It’ll pass.” 

“If you say so, Alexia.” 

“Anyway,” she carries on, rolling her eyes. “Open it when you get home.” She… presses a kiss to your cheek? “I’m so sorry, mi amor.” 

You blink back your surprise, but she is gone before you can reply. 

The small, neatly-wrapped box sits in the palm of your hand, the corners edging off your skin and sticking out as you stare at it. Nico and Elena continue their (unsupervised) playing, but you manage to call out a warning for ‘five more minutes and then we’ve got to pack’ while you examine Alexia’s gift.

Is this how Pandora felt? 

If you open it, what will be unleashed?

Alexia, before now, hasn’t actively pursued your forgiveness. She has given you the time and the space you had broken-heartedly requested, nodding as you communicated your wishes to her through someone else, never before able to confront the face that tore up your life before your eyes. 

There was a time when all you ever wanted to do was talk to her, but she tried to forget about that when she realised the extent at which you went to avoid an interaction. When she had understood your desperation to be left alone fully, she began to breathe. The step backwards gave her room to examine just how royally she had fucked it all. 

She now feels a bit more capable of tackling the clean-up, working with a much clearer mind. Everyone is relieved that she hasn’t killed herself, or, at least, that she is keeping those thoughts at bay. 

You realise that she has bought you a ring, and regardless of whether you wear it or not, she wants to tell you that she is sorry.

...

IT'S NOT OVER YET! THIS WILL TAKE YOU TO THE SECOND HALF

[1onelypoet]

stuck by the glue pt3 || op81 smau

a/n: yes the kitties are named simba and monet, i have a vision. also sorry this one is later than usual, school is taking up wayyy too much of my time

paring: oscar piastri x singer!reader

fc: beabadoobe

warnings: very mild cursing

yourusername

liked by lilymhe, yourbff, oscarpiastri and others

tagged yourbff

yourusername woke up on the beach 🐚🌊☀️

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laufey aaaand the mystery man appears again

hugs4y/n LAUFEY TELL US WHAT U KNOW 🙏

yourbff the white boy has grown on me

yourusername he says hi 🫡

y/nupdates ur literally drop dead gorgeous

lilymhe me and alex are coming with next year

yourusername @/alex_albon get ready alex_albon I don't don't have a choice do I? lilymhe no ❤️

yourusername posted to their story

[caption: warm welcome from the children]

seen by oscarpiastri, yourfriend1, taylorswift and others

oscarpiastri give lots of kisses to simba for me and monet yourusername ofc they miss their dad oscarpiastri their dad misses them

oscarpiastri

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oscarpiastri Back to work now 👍

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v.bot_ass stoppp this is so cute

leclercbrothers his gf looks so pretty too lola-sainz ikr, idk if i want to be her or be WITH her

daniel3.jpg he lives!!

logansargeant ngl I was getting a little concerned too

dr3andmv33 LMFAO DANIELLL

mclaren Glad you had fun!

itsfridaythennn im picturing admin typing this while their eye twitches 💀💀 c_squared wait im confused, why would they be upset? itsfridaythennn he softlaunched his gf c_squared wouldn't he have to tell them before he does that? itsfridaythennn idk it was just a joke

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tagged williamsracing, logansargeant, alex_albon, lilymhe

yourusername zandvoort ft. p8 for alex 🗣🗣

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lilymhe STOP I LOOK SO GOOFY

yourusername wdym, u look amazing?

lilymhe P8 FOR ALEXXX 🎉🎉

yourusername AA23 🔛🔝

williamsracing Loved having you!

mclaren You free next week? 😉

yourusername yes... 🤓 op81updates WAR IS OVER 🙏🙏 landoscar FINALLY OMFGHG

landonorris wag life

deleted by landonorris

simplylovelyyy did u guys see landos deleted comment 😭😭

[wintersera]

roommate au g!p chaewinter x fem!reader

notes: i fear i may have half assed the ending DONT COME FOR ME IM SORRY </3 but anyways my two favourite bob girls deserve a good dick sucking. also gaht damn reader 100% has an oral fixation

cw: g!p idol, oral (reader giving), blowjob, handjob, threesome (both idols receiving), definitely not proofread. i think thats it? lmk if i missed anything

word count: 1.8k

sunday afternoon and everything is slow as hell today, nothing is really going on and it’s just so…. boring. your roommates were nowhere to be seen, so you can’t even whore yourself out of boredom. ning was hanging out with some of her friends, aeri is out partying WITHOUT YOU? and jimin is out at a cafe. as for minjeong, she hasn’t even come out of her bedroom yet and it’s 2pm.

so what do you do? well, you knew a few friends that could help with that boredom of yours.

scrambling for your phone, you leap outta the couch and scurry towards your room. the door was already open so you didn't have to worry much about accidentally slamming it and possibly waking minjeong up. as soon as you get your hands on your phone, you immediately open up your contacts to call the one and only kim chaewon, waiting eagerly for her to pick up.

“is there anyone at your dorm right now?”

“not even a hello? a ‘good afternoon how are you’? you’re calling because you want my dick right?”

“um… yes… also good afternoon. anyways answer the question quick quick quick” on the other side you could hear laughter erupting from the girl.

“nah sorry everyones here today, even eunchae so... give me 5 minutes and i’ll be there, see you!”

with that, your very rushed conversation ended. you were glad to know someone was gonna come and fu- i mean take care of you. excited, you decide to wear your best set of lingerie for her. it’s been a while since you last saw chaewon and you wanted to make things fun for the both of you. however, unexpectedly minjeong had caught you changing through your opened door. looking cute in her oversized pyjamas and a blanket draped around her shoulders, there she stood with her mouth agape.

“oh you’re finally awake. i was so bored, minjeongie come and help me will you?” sorta forgetting that chaewon was about to come over.

“huh? i-i just woke up.. also why are you wearing just lingerie”

“oh, about that-”

didn’t seem like 5 minutes had passed, but she was already here, right outside the door. a big ass knock echoed three times as you stare at minjeong. “um… i may have asked someone else to come here, oops sorry minjeongie” she couldn’t help but pout at you, she’s just woken up and seeing you with pretty lingerie on has her thinking many thoughts. but now you’re gonna let someone else see it? she’s a little jealous, but really she wants to let you have your time alone with her if that’s what you really want.

“i’m gonna freshen up. i’ll be out in a minute” waddling towards the bathroom door.

anyway, you open the door to meet a shorter girl. of course you knew it was chaewon, so you dragged her in with urgency “i won’t lie, i need to make out with you right now” pulling her in by the collar

“fuck, is this what you’re like when you haven’t seen me in so long? are you this needy for me?” checking you out with a wide grin on her face. you hadn’t put any clothes on; just you and your lingerie. wrapping her arms around your neck, her lips almost meeting your own. you could feel her getting harder against your leg, seeing you so needy for her got her going and it made sense for her to react like that. it had been so long since she’s last seen your face, and it had been so so long since she’s had you at all. her actions alone shined through her innocent demeanour, pressing her hot body against yours to purposely rile you up.

“go on, kiss me”

her words were intoxicating, like poison it took over your body and pulled you into her embrace. no minute was wasted, her top priority was fucking you even if it was in the hallway. all clothes on her disappeared within seconds, forcefully dragging you to the couch and tearing off what remains on you so now you’re both naked.

desperate would be an understatement. there was a certain connection between the two of you and it was like electricity. every kiss she gave you felt like something new and refreshing, and it grew passionately. her lust, hunger, desire- everything; it was consuming her mind and body. she wanted nothing more than you in the moment and you let her have you. now you were on the couch with her above you. swooping down, she kisses your lips again, finding that your lips were already parted for her entry.

if your eyes were sharp enough you would’ve been able to see what was going on in the corner of your eye, but alas, you thought it was something falling or maybe something strange moving. but you didn’t care for it in this moment, your only thoughts were of the shorter girl about to dick you down. a couple of unknown groans were heard from the bathroom, and it both caught you off guard, yet you laughed, unlike chaewon who was startled “who..? come out the bathroom, creep” door opening slowly, minjeong panicking as her hands were fumbling on the door knob “..wait what the fuck minjeong?”

“my bad- i thought you guys were gonna go into the bedroom and not the couch… and i was kinda stuck in here so you know” quickly shoving her cock back inside her briefs.

“pause.. your cocks massive what the hell? join in. it’ll be fun, right y/n?”

“y-yeah that sounds fun” huffing as you catch your breath “minjeong~ come here”

yeah you’ve seen this exact scenario acted out before, but seeing minjeong bashfully drift towards you will always be your favourite thing ever. covering her face with a hand she whispers something into chaewons ears. chae nods with a grin on her face. what exactly are they planning?

hoisting herself off of you, giggling with the other bob haired girlie. no wonder why the both of them are very good friends “y/n baby, kneel down here” you nodded at her as she signalled for you to kneel in between them.

zero words were exchanged after that, but you knew what was going to happen. two women towering over you, chae who was fully stripped and minjeong who was in the process of taking off her briefs again. fuck, it was quite a view. both of their cocks were out, fully erect and ready to be sucked, but unfortunately you weren’t blessed with two mouths. however, you do have two hands that could be used.

but it’s you, you wanted something in your mouth and there’s nothing better than having minjeongs massive cock filling up the empty space. having one hand on minjeongs thigh and your other wrapped around chaewons shaft, pumping it slowly which also mirrored the speed of your blowjob. a low groan reverberated deep in minjeongs chest followed by your own muffled moans overlapping her own.

she looked down at you, seeing the way your eyes shined while you were giving her head. something in her just snapped and her hands flew to your head, pushing you down, choking around her shaft. the action causing you to moan louder. the vibrations from your throat sending shivers down her spine. your pride grew and so did your pace, bobbing your head up and down, coating her cock with your saliva.

and of course you didn’t forget about chaewon, like your mouth, your hands began to move faster. her slick coated your hands making it much easier for her to buck her hips into your fist. chaewon bit her lip in a flimsy attempt at trying not to let her whimpers out in front of minjeong and you, but she obviously failed to do so. covering her face in embarrassment only because she’s never been so riled up in front of minjeong before.

your hand felt great around her cock, rolling it all the way down her length made her feel like her body was on fire. as if it wasn’t enough you suddenly played around with her tip, swiping your thumb over it. god she was simply melting in your hands “more, more. move your hand f-faster i can’t take it anymore, fuck” a series of begs and squeels tumbling out of her mouth.

you could tell by the way she was begging that she was close to cumming, feeling her hand reach out for your arms as she squeezed them. indicating that she was about to release “good, too good. fuck y/n cum- i’m gonna cum”

toppling over as she was still standing up, she releases her load literally everywhere, her cum splattering all over the side of your face, your hand and some even dripping onto the floor.

she felt somewhat guilty for cumming way before minjeong did, so what could she do for her best friend? well of course she’d help you out by grabbing your head and pushing you faster than how minjeong had “come on. that’s a good girl, take minjeongs entire length. make her cum in your mouth”

your face began to grow hotter and hotter, eyes rolling back as you can feel minjeongs grip on your head become tighter. hollowing out your cheeks and pressing your tongue flat against the bottom of of her cock, you could feel her legs tensing as you drew her even closer to the edge “pleasepleaseplease don’t- don’t stop, i’m close pleaseee” all said while tears began to roll out from her glossy eyes.

her unending pleas and screams for you could definitely be heard by the next door neighbours, but her shame didn’t stop her from calling out for you in a manner that could only be deemed as whorish “cumming- oh god it feels too good”

rolling her head back in ecstasy, she lets out a guttural moan, gripping onto your hair for dear life. she gives one final thrust into your mouth, filling it to the brim with her cum. and she came a lot- swallowing it all and smiling innocently at her.

you watched her come down from her high, chest rising up and down rapidly. panting heavily while she’s staring at the ceiling “…are you okay there minjeong?”

“yeah, nah i almost lost my mind for a second. that was too good, i almost blacked out”

your knees starting to feel the pains of kneeling for too damn long, you spring up wobbling as you try to walk to the kitchen to grab a handful of kitchen towels.

“you guys came so much…” catching a glimpse of the wall. how the fuck did it get on the wall.. “okay now chae that’s just crazy because i know you cum A LOT ,but seriously how is it on the wall?”

yeah ik the ending is kinda abrupt but my mind ran short so… LMAO

[leclercinvegas]

FEARLESS - instagram au

who: mick schumacher x vettle!reader

author's note: tbh he is the whole reason i'm starting this series. tbh idk what era mick is in for this imagine, but just go with it. also some of my fav other people are in this cause i thought it would have been cute. pretend the last pic is mick instead of pierre

summary: everyone can see the spark between the childhood best friends.

warnings: none

mickschumacher posted!

liked by ynvettle, kevinmagnussen, and 273,466 others

mickschumacher: being home means angie playtime

view all 859 comments...

user1: awww his dog is so cute!

user2: i want to steal her

ynvettle: please tell angie i miss her so much.

mickschumacher: you were here literally 15 minutes ago

ynvettle: your point? im coming over again.

ynvettle posted!

liked by sebastianvettle, mickschumacher, and 12,348 others

ynvettle: cause she doesn't get your humor like i do

view all 237 comments...

landonorris: you got a dog, any reason why?

user3: shes literally so gorgeous

yourbestfriend: you're my dorothea

mickschumacher: where are my photo credits for 3 of these pictures.

ynvettle: up my butt

mickschumacher: very mature yn

ynvettle: why thank you mr schumacher

jackhughes: come back to the lake house

ynvettle: ill be there in 2 weeks dont worry and im bringing a friend if thats okay

jackhughes: most definitely, the more the merrier

user4: jack and mick meetup? are my worlds colliding?

trevorzegras: you better visit soon

ynvettle: well if you're at the lake house ill see you then you silly goose

jamie.drysdale: i miss you y/n

ynvettle: i miss you more jamjam

user5: since when has y/n known all these hockey players?

mickschumacher posted!

liked by ynvettle, jackhughes, trevorzegras and 341,436 others

mickschumacher: made some new friends and new memories too

view all 1253 comments...

jackhughes: please come back next summer

mickschumacher: @ynvettle look i made a good impression! i would love to come back!

ynvettle: i figured you would make a good impression. i dont know why you were so worried

user7: oh my god. lake house. mick and y/n. with y/n's friends. things are happening. idk what things are but they're happening

ynvettle: i had the time of my life with you. im so glad you got to meet everyone :)

user8: please tell me thats y/n in the firework picture. please.

sebastianvettle: staying safe i hope

mercedesamgf1: hope you're having fun mick!

trevorzegras: come back mick mouse please.

yourbestfriend: hm interesting choice of pictures mick

ynvettle added to their story!

ynvettle: wild hockey boys at candian gp

ynvettle posted!

liked by mickschumacher, jackhughes, and 23,698 others

ynvettle: come feel this magic i've been feeling since i met you, can't help it if there's no one else <3

comments are restricted

mickschumacher: its been years in the making

jackhughes: oh my god finally.

sebastainvettle: i knew this was going to happen at some point. @mickschumacher treat her well.

trevorzegras: please tell me mick mouse asked you and you didnt ask him

ynvettle: thats a secret that ill never tell

jamie.drysdale: i miss you again

ynvettle: ill come back soon or you could always come here jamjam

yourbestfriend: your friends to lovers dream has come true

mickschumacher: what??

ynvettle: why did you have to say that.

[foxieee-bee]

the longest I went with a full accident in my pants was probably a full day almost i guess, and I filled my pants twice (once in public) and peed them so it was quite the ordeal…

i woke up late and had to get from my dorm to college to have a meeting with someone, I knew from the moment i stood up out of bed that i was going to run into bathroom problems at some point… i already had to go for both reasons but I had no time! Classic scenario!

so I rushed to get dressed and brush my hair so it was somewhat presentable and ran out the door to catch the campus bus. Sitting on that bus I knew I was close to my limits and could feel my tummy pushing. My need to pee wasn’t too bad but it made itself known for sure…

i got to the stop, I was doing that awkward leaning thing just to idk keep my butt occupied lol i wasnt about to mess myself but was certainly not far off if i pushed a bit.

so I head to my meeting walking mostly normally, was only 10 minutes late so quite good for my standards! (time keeping skills are about as good as my potty skills)

the meeting was about an hour but oh. my. god. It felt like an entire day. And idk what it is about when i have to go potty for both reasons but if I try to hold one the other feels like it’s on the verge of losing control and if I swap then im suddenly feeing like I’m about to pee so it’s just a back and forth game of desperation and seat-potty-dancing

im sure the college person knew there was something up but they never said anything probably because im already a bit weird and twitchy anyway lol

by the end though I had my hands in my crotch holding back the flood while my butt was firmly pressed into the seat holding back the other potential accident waiting to happen. Thankfully I didn’t lose control of either and the meeting ended and i got up

i nearly lost it right there though 😅 wow that would have been embarrassing and i probably would have dropped out on the spot lol

so that’s fine and done and I have no classes so time to go home. One thing I must admit is that I enjoy making messies in my pants because it’s just easier to hide most of the time as long as you don’t completely lose control no one will notice as it’s not like a bit wet patch all down your pants hehe

so my priorities shifted to holding my pee in and i awkwardwalked to the bus stop. That’s when the first part of my prediction in the morning came to fruition, i think my muscles were super tired at that point because as much as I tried to hold it in I could just feel myself having an accident very very slowly as I walked and as much as my instinct was to prevent it the kink side of my brain was all just “ok we doin this” and the first part of my accident slowly pushed up to the seat of my pants and I probably started to turn red from embarrassment… 🥺

so I get to the bus stop and sit on one of those stupid half-seat-bench-lean things which helps my hold the rest in. At this point there’s a small mess in my pants but no pee accidents yet so I’d call that a successful venture so far!  just one bus ride to go and a short walk and I’m allllll good!!

obviously my body has other plans, the bus finally arrives and I sit at the back because that’s where cool kids who poop themselves go 😎 im thinking I’m on the home straight and my body goes haha nope ur gonna fill these pants and my stomach cramps up and i can’t help but lean forward as a significantly larger mess pushes it’s way out while I start to also pee my pants too so that’s great!  sat at the back on this bumpy bus ride with my butt squished on my accident filled pants and a nice big wet patch underneath, so glad I was wearing black 😣

at this im shifting from “hehe this is fun innocent kink play” to “fuckfuckfuck ive had an accident in my pants and im still desperate to go potty”

bus arrives at the dorm and I literally walkrun off, up the road and into my dorm building, stairs are an absolute killer when you’re in this state

at this point im already losing it so i just give up while unlocking my door and we’ll and truly *fill* my pants while my black jeans soak up my unstoppable peeing 

I stayed in my messed pants for basically the rest of the day and just kinda got myself all feeling cosy and warm and relaxed and watched videos and ate snacks.

by the evening my pee soaked pants had mostly dried off (well not like actually dry as they’re jeans but like yknow not soggy) and I had to go again so I got on my knees in the puddle i had been in for most of the day and just pushed the rest out, I re-warmed my pants, made the puddle bigger and most importantly filled the seat of my pants up so much they … uh, overflowed a bit 😞

messy fun js not usually my thing but it was fun to just completely lose control and go potty all over myself like that… 

i probably stayed in my soiled soggy pants and jeans until midnight before finally going through all the clean up…

anyway that was probably the longest i have ever stayed in pottied pants!

[sugar-omi]

Just some brainrot because we love Cove. (Also, your fics are soooo good. Thanks for sharing it with us. I mean omega! and rockstar!cove :o )

So, we have Step 3 Cove in hand some time after Patreon's nsfw moment. MC is obssessed with giving him head, of course. He's so cute when you do...what can I say ? I'm a simple human. So yes they do it often, like casually saying : "Cove, I'm hungry." while you two are casually hanging out. At first he doesn't understand but the look in your eyes convey your message to him.

Most of the time, you'll be totally satisfied with just leaving him all red, dishevelled and flustered. Just having him putty in your hand makes your day. But at some point, when you ask Cove to come to your house (without kinky ideas in mind for once) he asks you if your just horny. While it makes sense, I like imagining that MC decides to not get him off anymore. Obviously until he begs, all red and pent up, for a release.

In the meantime, MC just spent their time teasing him. Light touches, flirty remarks and maybe getting him all worked up while making out only to purposefully stop. The poor guy, will clearly snap if show up at his door, anklet on.

This was a bit long and I'm sorry if there's any mistake as english isn't my first language.

I LOVE YOU ANON IM SO GLAD YOU LIKE ROCKSTAR!COVE TOO HEHE 🙈🙈🙈(omega!cove too, im having sm thoughts abt him lately...) also dw your english is perfect n i feel like you took an exert outta my head LMAO

tags : NSFW, hc's, gn reader, multiple choice dialogue, this just a really big ramble bc i've been a zombie thinking abt this shit n now we're here...., mmm overstim, oral (cove/reader receiving), reader's a TEASE, mind break honestly, ooc but idc 🏌️

he's confused when you first make subtle hints/advances, but i think realization hits him like a truck a millisecond later

for the longest you two wouldn't be able to keep your hands off each other

late at night sneaking into the others room so you can suck cove off, trying to keep all the slurping and gagging noises to a minimum

cove's moans are another struggle, but i say climb on top of him and let him eat you out / suck you off while you suck him off too

ohh his head would SPIN with that

he almost woke up your mom's last week because he moaned a little too loud when he finished

so now you're on top of him, your lovely ass and sex in his face

ahhh he'd be so fucking cute. teary eyed and whining into and drooling all over your cunt / cock, pulling you down onto his face so he can get more of you

also i loveee the thought of sucking him off in his car

realistically, i don't think step 3 cove could even handle the thought, he'd probably faint and hit his head n die LMAO

but arghh it'd be so hot

you went on a nice date, and now you're sitting in the parking lot of a beach far from home late at night, and tonight was so much fun.

shopping, movies, you even got some nice food from a hole in the wall restaurant

and now you're finally alone, no one around to see your boyfriend throw his head back, claw at the steering wheel and moan and babble and try not to thrust up into your mouth because he doesn't wanna hurt you

he's so whiny, and so loud

you've been sneaking around for awhile now, you can't blame him for wanting to be vocal because fuck your hot, wet mouth around his cock is so hot

and definitely doesn't help he's probably overstimulated, his cock so sensitive because you've been touching n sucking him off so much

let alone when he's rubbing one out in the shower before a date/event or in the middle of the night because he had a wet dream about you<333

mmm idk about yall, but i would break him <333

of course he doesn't interpret every touch or invite as sexual, but i also you've ruined him so you can't blame him, its your fault 🤭🤭

so now whenever you rub and squeeze his thigh, or give him a hot kiss, or say something like "cove, i wanna leave now... " or "come over, i miss you <3"

or send him a spicy text, "i had a dirty dream about you, can i come over, please?"

z

also omfg i would be so satisfied with just teasing him too…

i love it so much. it’s the best actually

mm i like having long nails, i’m always thinking about getting a new set/doing your nails all pretty and you’re showing them off to cove then you tell him “i wanna see how they look around your dick”

he’d love that omfg

imagine dragging your nails over his chest, teasing his sensitive nipples before you move down, pulling out his dick and giving languished strokes while you kiss him breathless, only moving onto leaving love bites all over his neck n chest once he’s a drooling, blushing mess <33

i think he’s gotten used to your late night/midday booty calls too

so when you invite him over, he can’t help but anticipate sex

but instead you’ve set up some snacks and a movie you’ve been waiting to come out set up on the TV and now cove looks like a fool with a half hard dick and with how fast he rushed over here

when you ask what’s wrong he’s mumbling, stuttering out how he thought you had ulterior motives for inviting him over…

so now it’s his fault because now he’s set up on your couch with him on your lap, teasing him about how he’s too horny to even imagine his s/o would want a normal date, no ulterior motives whatsoever

how he probably can’t even hold your hand without thinking about how you jerked him off in the bathroom of his workplace

and you’re so fucking right

because some days he can’t even kiss you without remembering his taste on your lips, can’t forget how your legs were trembling on either side of his head and now you’re having lunch with your families

how you’re sharing ice cream and jokes with your friends like you didn’t pull him aside before you left and got him off, begging him to cum, that you need to taste him to get by

omfg i also love the reverse/the consequence of breaking cove this way

because either way, he’s obsessed with you too

needs to taste you, have you… he’s just dying every day to have you under his hands, on his tongue..

and i can’t decide which i love more.. teasing cove bc he needs to have you, or teasing cove bc he gets so wound up from you needing him often

bc both is so delicious, and both of them scratch my brain so much

cove eagerly eating you out / sucking you off at the beach, he can’t even focus on teaching you surfing/surfing with you or building sandcastles, etc. because all he can think about is you n having his mouth on you…

you’ll show him a new outfit or sit in his lap or cuddle up next to him, etc. and now he’s thinking about ruining you in those clothes or sinking onto his knees giving you head while you lay back on the couch, still focused on your show

i love how in the ORCA dinner moment cove gets tense when you touch his thigh

i think he’d definitely be obsessed with you teasing him, working him up, dirty talking him especially

oh fuck i almost forgot. in the first patreon nsfw moment, he loves when you pull away before he finishes and you “don’t want it to end”

so technically this is canon <3333

so he’d definitely love is you pulled up to your date one day, anklet on and looking so lovely

n you’re touching his thigh, telling him how good he looks, kissing him suddenly and then pulling him into a deeper kiss when he gets it together

at some point you end up in his car, too busy swapping spit and slipping your hands where you can to get a feel of each other under those clothes, to even make it home

of course eventually you do, but even then your teasing doesn’t stop

ohhh sitting in his lap, rolling your hips into his, kissing him breathless until he’s babbling

you try to pull away, partially to tease cove but also because its late and his dad will be back any time now

but he convinces you to just get each other off, that you’ll have enough time so please?

and while you’re jerking cove off, you hear cliff’s car pull up and cove has not been quiet whatsoever, you couldn’t possibly risk it

but he’s so desperate, he’s so close to finishing, you can’t stop now!!

on the verge of tears prbly, all blushy and hot and a total mess

babbling about how he’ll be quiet so please make him cum, he’ll be good so please.

he’s such a doll, and he does keep his promise, even if it means shoving your undies in his mouth or muffling him some other way, like with your hands, lips, or sex

or you can let him bite/hide his face in the pillow, messing up his bed from all his squirming…

fuck this turned into such a big ramble tysm for sending this, im sorry i used this as a chance to unleash my apocalypse of horny brainworms LOL

[milktian]

I think despite everything I still really like the dlc. it's amazing, the music and the boss fights are gorgeous and I'm going to keep cycling through the soundtrack. I'm also just glad there's more elden ring content out with new weapons and npcs.

also messmer and his lore are super interesting and is definitely not what I expected. I won't go super into detail as to avoid spoilers but he truly is just a guy.

I think a part of my disappointment is partially cause i had so many like ideas of what could be in the dlc that, realistically, it wouldn't have held up and I'd always be just a bit underwhelmed regardless. like that's completely on me for setting my expectations so high.

however (spoilers)

miquella's whole Deal feels incredibly rushed, and kind of contradicts the base game? this isn't even like a 'I have a theory I like and this game doesn't match' like no it just straight up is illogical. there are posts that talk about this better so I'll leave it to them.

another thing is, looking back, all the promotional material suggested that miquella would be guiding us and that messmer would be the final boss. but that wasn't what happened. it feels like something changed in-between the trailer and the dlc release? I don't know if that's me misunderstanding the trailer but??

I think I would've preferred a dlc where we sided with miquella and had him guide us almost like melina, in order to free the lands of shadow from the eternal war that messmer has brought (on marika's orders it seems).

also I feel like the best thing they could have done with miquella is keep him kind. I am definitely leaning towards the theory that miquella was misguided in his attempts but was genuinely good natured (I reblogged a post a little bit ago that explains this idea which is the one I'm leaning more towards) but that doesn't change the fact that it feels like they retconned alot of miquella's previously established character details.

everything about the lore in the dlc feels cheap and frustrating and the 'easy' path for this character, which is honestly boring. I wish there was better writing for miquella, radahn, mohg, and malenia (who, as well as the rest of the haligtree, just got completely shafted). it's frustrating.

I'm also coming at this from a "Don't know shit about berserk" perspective as well so the argument that 'this actually makes so much sense because miquella is based off of griffith'.

like ok? elden ring isn't berserk. I don't want to be another franchise. I want it to exist outside of its influences. sure references are fine but if you know jack shit about them, then it makes for a lackluster experience.

this'll probably be the last time I make a ranty post about the dlc. I do still really enjoy the game, but I think im gonna treat Elden Ring Miquella and Shadow of the Erdtree Miquella as completely seperate, because it really feels like they are.

again: I STILL LIKE THE DLC. ITS STILL FUN AND IM NOT SAYING YOU'RE A BAD PERSON FOR LIKING IT.

(also radahn was totally just there for fanservice cause it makes literally no sense that miquella would choose radahn to be his consort like???? they have very little connection in the base game. I feel like they just wanted radahn cause he's such a popular character)

[sgnjimmy]

Hey can you do something about Owen Knight and the Black Reader to help Owen Reader study for a math test and be fluff thank you

𝓞𝔀𝓮𝓷 𝓚𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝔁 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

≛ 𝙰/𝚗: so sorry for taking so much time with your request ((one year of delay is crazy, im terrible sorry)). I had so much fun starting this but then I just got stuck, so my bad. If you have any complaints or if you want something fixed let me know, I'll see what I can do. also, he might be a bit OOC, but that's bc he's mesmerized 😍.

≛ 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 999.

Owen has his eyes fixated on you as you're explaining the same math problem for the third time today. You probably would be mad at him if you knew he's paying more attention to your pretty lips, rather than your lovely voice. But the blonde couldn't care less about school stuff when you were sat, prettily, right beside him — at an arm 's length of distance. He's so glad you agreed to help him with this, and even more so for coming to his house to do it.

He should feel guilty, and if he stopped to think about the whole situation for a minute, he is.

The truth was that Owen didn't really have any problems with math, you see. He just saw an opportunity to get close to you and the boy took it without blinking an eye. At the end it was all worth it, he can finally admire you up close, and…

God, what a sight, Owen thinks smiling.

Your skin looks so soft, he wishes to touch it but, of course, he refrains himself. He doesn't want to scare you off when he just now got you alone in a room with him.

Owen entertains himself by smelling the perfume you have on. He wonders which brand it is and where he can get it… Maybe he can sneak a question about it later.

Owen’s so lost that he's daydreaming about buying clothes like yours and spraying your perfume on it so he can pretend it's you.

Your voice brings him back to reality.

“Hey, hey. Owen?” You wave your hand in front of him. “You there?”.

“Sorry, so sorry. What were you saying, pretty?”

There. Pretty. Owen always drops pet names when talking to you, and it sounds so effortless that it has your heart skipping a beat. You only hope Owen doesn't notice the way you quickly pursed your lips in response.

“Mm, I know it's a lot. We can take a break if you want.”

A break? Great! Owen thinks. Now he'll have the chance to actually talk with you instead of just staring.

After making up his mind Owen gets up from his chair.

“Yeah, sure. Do you want anything? A drink? Snack?” The blond asks you with a smile.

The kind of smile that had you daydreaming of him. The kind of smile made you say fold when Owen came up to you between classes to congratulate you about your latest score. All the teachers were talking about it, and one even mentioned it in Owen's clase. Since you two weren't in the same class it was hard for Owen to talk freely with you but he still didn't want to give up.

So when he heard the news it was like a sign from heaven, telling him to ask you to tutor him since you were such a good student.

“I'm good. Don't wor–”

“No, it's fine. Just ask away.”

You don't reply right away. Still contemplating what you should do. After a couple of breaths you figure that Owen is trying to be a good host. You should just accept his kind offer, after all maybe when he sees you're taken care of he'll concentrate on the actual task in hand, math.

So you give in, and tell yourself it got nothing to do with his pretty smile.

“Just a sandwich will do, thanks.”

“Great” Owen starts to turn to leave but when he sees you're copying him, the blond stops in his tracks. “No, no. Wait here, I'll be back in a second.”

Owen is not back in a second. Instead it looks like he's taking his sweet time making that sandwich.

You began to question if you should go down the stairs and check what's going on but before you can get up from your chair, Owen walks through his bedroom door. You notice he holds a wooden tray with two plates, cups and a jar of juice.

As you watch him approach you make room on his study table.

"Here." He says, placing a plate in front of you.

You guys fall into a comfortable silence while eating. After the food is gone, Owen decides to make a move, asking you things to get to know more of you. It starts with what lotion you use, he compliments it's smell and told you it suited you.

As the minutes went off, you got more comfortable chatting with him about anything and also answering the questions he threw now and then. The sun was already setting and you two didn’t even notice.

A ring from your phone interrupted you as you spoke in reply to Owen's latest question.

“It's my parents.” You explain as you read the messages on your phone. “Shit, it's 9 already… Sorry, but I should get going.”

You get up from your chair to gather your things from the table.

“No, i'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep you here so late. I didn't even notice it got so late.” Owen hands you the books you brought, helping you pack your things.

“Don't stress about it. Is just that my parents are worried about me walking home late.”

“I'll walk you.”

You make a noise from surprise.

“What? It's fine, you–”

“I can walk you.” Owen opens the door of his room and makes a gesture for you to go first. “It's only fair, since it's my fault that you're here at this hour.”

“You don't need to trouble yourself, I'll–”

“I insist.” Owen simply says, but what gets you it's that on his face lays that damn smile. “Please, angel.” He adds, and you give in for the second time today.

You just might do so for the rest of your life if he keeps this up.

Owen isn't aware of it but since he met you he's been playing dirty. Those heavenly blue eyes and soft smile. The pet names and light touches. He had you since day one.

But he didn't need to know that…

© 𝙨𝙧𝙜𝙣𝙟𝙞𝙢𝙢𝙮 2024

[zyonsay]

Hii! I love your works! I wonder if you could write Fernando Alonso x Male reader fluff? There´s almost no content of him (with a male reader). If you decide to do it, thanks then! ily <3

La côte française FA14

Fem aligned people may read but not f3tishize my work!!

Summary: Nando decides to interrupt your interview

Warnings: one (1) ass smack, an overwhelming amount of bubbles

Now playing: F1 Thirst traps on my Insta feed

AN: Hey there dear anon! Im SO sorry for taking so long to write this, but i have never written for Fernando before. This was difficult because i don't really know much about him, also this is kind of short for the same reason, but i hope you can still enjoy it!

Fun fact: i speak broken french

i probably won't deliberately write for Nando again (unless requested), but for this time im glad to help a fellow male reader out. Lots of love to you anon <3

“Uhh, yes. I did have some trouble there, but ultimately, everything went well! I’m looking forward to Sunday to- “, your Interview was cut short by someone giving you a hefty slap on the bum. Turning around, you saw none other than the man, the myth, and the legend: Fernando Alonso.

“Oi, Cabron”, you mimicked his voice as both of you smiled and laughed at his antics. The reporter smiled awkwardly, probably because they wanted to continue interviewing you about your Q3. “You two seem to be good buddies, any plans together for the summer break?”, this made you shoot a knowing look over at Nando, who was now clinging to your shoulder.

You were about to open your mouth to speak as the man in Aston martin green spoke up.

“We actually planned on going on holiday in France, to go surfing and swimming!”, though he didn’t mention the next part. Fernando had rented a fancy sailing boat, with which you planned on travelling around the coast of France. This voyage wasn’t for a random occasion too, of course not.

The both of you have been dating for almost two years now and just recently Nando had shared the idea of going on a trip as a sort of anniversary gift. You were very happy with him, he always made sure to bring a smile, even if only a faint one, to your face. He was like the warm sun in your blue sky. He was the pristine, blue water at the coast of France, and he was the wind in your sails. The race season has been tough for you and your team, but a little bit of a break will be good for your sore, overworked muscles. And just in case you had a silly Spaniard by your side to help you relax.

The interviewers face lit up at the mentioning of your plans and interrupted your train of thoughts by asking another question, “Amazing! So, if you don’t mind, let’s get back on topic: Q3!” This was Fernando’s cue to leave, but not before giving your shoulder a hearty squeeze and whispering something along the lines of ‘see you later.’

Well, later was now, as you finally arrived at the Hotel you’d been staying in during the race weekend. Nando had slipped into your bathroom to run a bath, while you were peeling off your clothes in the bedroom.

You walked in, not expecting to be greeted by giant heave of bubbles in the bathtub. Fernando was completely covered in the foam, slyly grinning at you. “I added a bit too much...”

Giggling quietly, you slipped into the bubbly mess of a bath.

"Thanks Nando"