pandaxnienke - Tumblr blog

pandaxnienke · 1 day ago

Text

Christmas Morning | LN4

🎄 summary ━━━━━━━ Morning sex with Lando on Christmas morning

🎄 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

🎄 word count ━━━━━━━ 3.9k

🎄 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The first thing Y/N noticed was the warmth. It seeped through her skin, wrapping around her like a cocoon, and for a moment, she forgot where she was. The faint aroma of pine needles and cinnamon lingered in the air, intertwined with a scent unmistakably his—a blend of cedarwood cologne and the subtle musk she now instinctively linked to Lando. Her eyelids fluttered open, and there he was, still asleep beside her, his dark curls tousled against the white pillowcase.

“Merry Christmas,” she whispered softly, though she knew he couldn’t hear her yet. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, one arm draped lazily across her waist, pulling her closer even in sleep. She smiled, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips, marveling at how peaceful he looked. There were no cameras here, no fans or flashing lights—just them, wrapped up in each other.

Lando stirred, his nose scrunching adorably before his eyes blinked open. For a moment, he seemed disoriented, but then his gaze found hers, and a slow, sleepy smile spread across his face. “Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep but impossibly warm. He shifted slightly, his hand sliding up her back to tangle in her hair. “Did Santa come?”

Y/N laughed softly, the sound muffled as she buried her face in his chest. “I think so,” she teased, pressing a light kiss to his collarbone. “But I don’t need presents. Not when I have you.”

He chuckled, the vibration rumbling through her as he tightened his hold on her. “Cheesy,” he accused, but there was no bite to his words. Instead, his fingers began to trace idle patterns along her spine, sending shivers down her body. “But I like it.”

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the world outside their little bubble fading into insignificance. The sun crept higher, casting golden streaks across the room, and somewhere in the distance, they could hear the faint jingle of bells—probably someone walking their dog in the snow. But neither of them paid it any mind. Right now, there was only this: the softness of his touch, the way his breath tickled her ear, the lazy, contented smiles they exchanged without needing to say a word.

Eventually, Lando’s hand stilled against her back, and he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His eyes were darker now, more intense, and Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat. “You’re beautiful,” he said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Especially like this, all sleepy and soft.”

She blushed, her cheeks heating under his scrutiny, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she reached up to brush a curl from his forehead, her fingers lingering on his temple. “You’re not so bad yourself,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

He grinned, that mischievous spark she loved so much lighting up his eyes. “Not so bad, huh? Damn, I must be losing my touch.” Before she could respond, he leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that started off sweet but quickly deepened. His tongue brushed against hers, coaxing a soft moan from her as she melted into him.

Their bodies pressed together, every curve and angle perfectly aligned, and Y/N could feel the heat building between them. His hands roamed her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake, and she arched into his touch, craving more. “Lando,” she breathed against his lips, her voice trembling with need.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down her spine. His fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, brushing against the sensitive skin of her stomach, and she gasped.

“You,” she answered without hesitation, her hands gripping his shoulders as if to anchor herself. “Just you.”

That was all the encouragement he needed. In one swift motion, he rolled them over so that she was beneath him, his weight pressing her into the mattress in the most delicious way. His lips found hers again, hungry and demanding, and Y/N surrendered completely, her fingers tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

His hands slid up her sides, pushing her shirt up until it pooled around her shoulders, and then he broke the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head and toss it aside. His eyes darkened as they roamed over her, taking in every inch of exposed skin, and Y/N shivered under his gaze. “So perfect,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. He bent his head, his lips trailing hot kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, and lower still, until he reached the lace edge of her bra.

Y/N gasped as he unhooked it with practiced ease, his mouth immediately seeking out her breast. His tongue flicked over her nipple, teasing it into a hardened peak, and she cried out, her hips arching off the bed. “Lando,” she moaned, her nails scraping lightly against his scalp.

He hummed in response, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure rippling through her, before switching his attention to her other breast. His hands weren’t idle either; one slid down her side, skimming over her hipbone, while the other cupped her breast, kneading it gently as he lavished it with attention.

By the time he finally lifted his head, Y/N was trembling, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. “Please,” she begged, her voice barely recognizable to her own ears.

“Please what, love?” he asked, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he watched her squirm beneath him.

“Touch me,” she pleaded, her hand reaching for his, guiding it downward until it rested between her legs. Even through the thin fabric of her panties, she could feel his warmth, and she whimpered, desperate for more.

Lando groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against hers as he cupped her through the lace, his fingers rubbing slow, deliberate circles that had her gasping. “You’re so wet already,” he growled, his voice thick with need. “God, I love how much you want me.”

She didn’t have the breath to respond, her entire body thrumming with anticipation as he tugged her panties down her legs and tossed them aside. And then his hand was on her again, his fingers sliding through her slick folds before slipping inside her, curling in just the right way to make her cry out.

“Lando! Oh, God,” she moaned, her hips bucking against his hand as he added another finger, stretching her, filling her. His thumb found her clit, circling it in time with the thrust of his fingers, and Y/N felt the coil in her belly tighten, threatening to snap.

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, his voice rough with desire. “Let go.”

And she did. With a strangled cry, her body convulsed around his fingers, waves of pleasure crashing over her until she thought she might drown in them. Her vision blurred, her limbs turned to jelly, and it took everything she had just to keep breathing.

When she finally came back to herself, Lando was watching her with a satisfied smirk, his fingers slowly withdrawing from her body. “You’re incredible,” he said, his voice filled with awe, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was real.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, her heart swelling with love and a hint of mischief as she met Lando’s gaze. Before he could react, she placed her hands firmly on his shoulders, shoving him back. He landed on the bed with a startled laugh, his hair falling messily across his forehead as he looked up at her with wide, amused eyes.

“Your turn,” she murmured, her voice low and laced with a daring edge. Her fingers found the waistband of his boxers, curling around the fabric with deliberate intent.

Lando’s breath hitched, the playful glint in his eyes quickly replaced by something deeper, more intense. His hips lifted instinctively, a silent invitation, as her touch sent a spark coursing through him. The air between them was charged, her steady gaze trailing over him like a flame, leaving him utterly captivated.

She didn’t hesitate, her lips parting slightly as she took him into her hand, feeling the weight and heat of him. Lando groaned softly, his head falling back against the pillow as she began to stroke him slowly, her thumb brushing over the sensitive tip. His hands fisted in the sheets, the muscles in his arms tensing as he tried to keep himself still.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” she murmured, her voice low and husky, filled with a mixture of admiration and desire. She leaned down, her breath ghosting over him before she pressed a soft kiss to the base of his length. His whole body shuddered, a choked sound escaping his throat.

Y/N wasn’t teasing now. She wanted to give him everything—every ounce of pleasure she could. Her tongue flicked out, licking a slow path up the underside of his shaft, savoring the way he twitched beneath her touch. When she reached the top, she circled the tip with her tongue, tasting the salty precum that had gathered there. Lando’s hips bucked involuntarily, and a deep growl rumbled in his chest.

“Fuck, Y/N…” he gasped, his voice raw and desperate. “Just like that.”

Encouraged by his reaction, she took him into her mouth, sinking down inch by inch until she felt him nudging the back of her throat. She relaxed her jaw, letting him slide deeper, her hand moving in tandem with her mouth. His moans grew louder, filling the room, and she could feel the tension building in his body, his thighs trembling beneath her.

Her free hand trailed up his stomach, feeling the tight muscles contract under her fingertips. She loved how responsive he was, how every touch, every lick, every suck brought him closer to the edge. And she intended to push him right to that brink before pulling him back, wanting to draw out his pleasure as long as possible.

Lando’s hand tangled in her hair, not forcing or guiding, just holding on for dear life as she worked him over. He was close—so close—and she could feel it in the way his breathing became erratic, the way his grip tightened ever so slightly. His hips jerked again, and he let out a strangled cry, his entire body tightening like a coiled spring.

But just as he was about to tip over the edge, Y/N pulled back, releasing him with a wet pop. Lando’s eyes flew open, wild and disoriented, and he stared at her in disbelief. “Y/N… what are you—?”

She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she straddled him, positioning herself above him. His hands instinctively gripped her hips, steadying her as she lowered herself onto him, taking him inside her in one smooth motion. They both groaned in unison, the sensation overwhelming.

“Christ…” Lando hissed through clenched teeth, his head falling back against the pillow again. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Y/N didn’t respond right away, too consumed by the feeling of him filling her completely. She moved slowly at first, rolling her hips in a lazy rhythm, savoring the friction and the way his hands dug into her skin. His eyes never left hers, their connection deepening with every thrust.

As she picked up the pace, her movements became more urgent, more desperate. She braced herself on his chest, her nails lightly scraping his skin as she rode him harder. Lando’s groans turned into low, guttural sounds, his hands sliding up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples. The dual sensations made her whimper, her own pleasure building rapidly.

“You feel so good,” she breathed, her voice trembling with need. “I love being with you like this.”

Lando’s response was a rough, almost primal growl as he sat up suddenly, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. Their foreheads touched, their breaths mingling as he thrust into her from below, meeting her every movement with equal intensity. The shift in angle sent sparks shooting through her, and she clung to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. “I love you. So much.”

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the depth of his words and the way he was looking at her. “I love you too,” she managed to choke out, her voice thick with emotion.

Their kisses were frantic now, messy and uncoordinated, but filled with passion. Every touch, every thrust, every word was an affirmation of their love for each other. Y/N could feel herself teetering on the edge, her body begging for release, but she held on, wanting to prolong this moment for as long as possible.

Lando, however, seemed to have other plans. One hand slid down between them, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing tight circles around it. The added stimulation was too much, and she cried out, her body convulsing around him as she came hard.

Watching her fall apart pushed him over the edge, and with a low, guttural groan, he spilled himself inside her, his hips stuttering as he followed her into oblivion. They clung to each other, their bodies trembling as wave after wave of pleasure washed over them.

When they finally came down, they collapsed back onto the bed, tangled together in a sweaty, sated heap. Lando pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his arms tightening around her. “That was… incredible,” he murmured, his voice hoarse but filled with contentment.

Y/N nuzzled into his chest, her heart swelling with love. “It always is with you,” she replied softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin.

For a while, they just lay there, basking in the afterglow and the warmth of each other’s embrace. But soon, Y/N felt a familiar ache building again, a quiet yearning that refused to be ignored. She shifted slightly, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone before whispering, “Do you think we can go again?”

Lando chuckled, his fingers threading through her hair. “You’re insatiable,” he teased, but there was no mistaking the desire in his voice.

Lando’s chuckle rumbled through his chest, vibrating against Y/N’s cheek as she nestled closer. His fingers still tangled in her hair, he tilted her face up to meet his gaze. “Maybe we should open presents first,” he suggested, his voice low and teasing. “I think I got you something special.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh? And what makes you so sure I can wait that long?” she countered, her hand trailing down his chest, skimming over the faint sheen of sweat still clinging to his skin.

He caught her wrist gently, bringing her fingers to his lips for a soft kiss. “Because I know how much you love surprises,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “And trust me, this one’s worth it.”

She sighed dramatically, though her heart fluttered at the look in his eyes. “Fine,” she relented, sitting up and stretching lazily. “But if this present isn’t as good as you’re making it out to be, I expect compensation.”

Lando’s laughter filled the room, a warm, infectious sound that made Y/N smile. Before she could process what was happening, he leaned down and swept her into his arms effortlessly. She gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders as he grinned down at her, his boyish charm on full display.

“Lando!” she protested through a laugh, though she didn’t resist.

“Patience, love,” he teased, carrying her out of the bedroom and into the living room, where the soft glow of the Christmas tree bathed everything in a golden light. He gently lowered her onto the sofa, his touch lingering as he made sure she was comfortable.

“Wait here,” he murmured, winking before turning to kneel by the tree. His shoulders flexed as he reached beneath the branches, rummaging through the pile of gifts with practiced ease. Y/N couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles moved, her heart fluttering at the effortless strength he exuded.

After a moment, he straightened up, a neatly wrapped box in his hands. Turning back to her with a triumphant grin, he walked over and held out the package, his eyes alight with affection.

“For you, my love,” he said softly, his voice warm and brimming with excitement, as though he couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

She took the box, her fingers brushing against his as she did. The wrapping paper was delicate, adorned with tiny snowflakes, and she felt a pang of guilt for wanting to tear into it immediately. But Lando’s expectant gaze urged her on, and she carefully peeled back the paper to reveal a velvet jewelry box underneath.

Her breath hitched as she opened it, revealing a stunning silver necklace with a pendant shaped like a snowflake. It sparkled even in the soft morning light, and Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. “Lando… it’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

“Not as beautiful as you,” he replied softly, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her face. “Here, let me put it on you.”

She turned around, presenting her back to him, and felt the cool metal press against her skin as he fastened the clasp. His fingers lingered on her neck, tracing slow, deliberate patterns that sent shivers down her spine. When he finally leaned in to press a kiss to the space between her shoulder blades, Y/N couldn’t suppress a soft gasp.

Y/N pushed herself up from the sofa, her movements deliberate as she made her way to the Christmas tree. She crouched down, carefully retrieving a small, rectangular box tucked away beneath the glowing branches. Her fingers lingered on the neatly wrapped present for a moment before she straightened up and returned to the sofa.

Settling back into her spot, she turned to Lando, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Your turn,” she murmured, holding the gift out to him with a soft smile. Her heart raced as his curious gaze flicked between her and the box, his hands brushing against hers as he took it.

Lando’s brow furrowed slightly with intrigue, and he began to unwrap the gift, his movements slow and deliberate, savoring the moment. Y/N’s pulse quickened as she watched him, her anticipation growing with every tear of the paper.

Inside was a custom-made photo book, filled with pictures of their time together—moments captured in candid laughter, stolen kisses, and quiet mornings just like this one. Lando flipped through the pages, his expression softening more with each photograph. “Y/N… this is incredible,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over a picture of the two of them at sunset, silhouetted against the sky.

“I wanted you to have something to remind you of us,” she explained, her voice trembling slightly. “Of everything we’ve been through, and everything we’ll still do together.”

Lando set the book aside, his eyes locking onto hers. “You don’t need to give me anything to remember us,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “You’re all I think about, every day. You’re my everything.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she leaned in to kiss him, pouring all the love she felt into the gesture. His hands came up to cradle her face, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.

“I love you,” Y/N whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I love you too,” Lando replied, his thumb brushing away a stray tear from her cheek. “More than anything.”

The atmosphere around them shifted, a charged intimacy settling between them that made Y/N’s breath hitch. Lando’s gaze locked onto hers, his eyes dark and filled with intent. Slowly, his hands slid down her arms, leaving a trail of warmth that sent shivers coursing through her. His touch lingered at her wrists for a moment before he grasped her waist, firm yet gentle.

Without breaking eye contact, he guided her onto his lap, her legs straddling him as their bodies pressed flush against each other. The closeness was overwhelming, every point of contact sparking with heat. Y/N could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palms, mirroring the rapid thud of her own.

“Do you want…” he began, his voice low and husky, but Y/N cut him off with another kiss, her hands tangling in his hair as she pressed herself against him. There was no need for words; the way she arched into him, the way her breath hitched when his fingers traced the curve of her waist, said everything.

Lando laid her back against the pillows, his lips never leaving hers as he covered her body with his own. His touch was tender but insistent, exploring every inch of her as though he was memorizing her all over again. When his mouth found her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, Y/N couldn’t hold back a moan.

“Lando…” she breathed, her hands clutching at his shoulders. “Please…”

He didn’t need further encouragement. His hand slipped between her thighs, parting her folds with practiced ease, and she gasped as his fingers found her already slick and aching. He teased her slowly, circling her clit with just enough pressure to make her squirm, but not enough to push her over the edge.

“You’re so wet for me,” he murmured against her ear, his voice sending shivers down her spine. “Is this what you wanted earlier?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her hips bucking against his hand. “Lando, please…”

He chuckled darkly, his teeth grazing her earlobe. “So impatient,” he teased, but finally gave her what she craved, sliding two fingers inside her and curling them just right. Y/N cried out, her back arching off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

“That’s it, love,” he encouraged, his pace steady and unrelenting. “Let go for me.”

She obeyed, her climax hitting her hard and fast, her body trembling as she clung to him. Lando held her through it, whispering sweet nothings in her ear until she finally came down, her breathing ragged and her limbs heavy.

Before she could catch her breath, Lando shifted, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, maintaining eye contact as he slid them down and kicked them aside. The tension between them crackled like static electricity, every movement charged with anticipation. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, his hands gripping her hips as he entered her in one smooth thrust. They both groaned, the sensation overwhelming after the intensity of her orgasm.

He started slow, savoring every second, every movement. Each thrust was deliberate, drawing out every ounce of pleasure until Y/N was writhing beneath him once more. “You feel so good,” he murmured, his voice strained with effort. “I’ll never get tired of this.”

“Neither will I,” she gasped, her nails digging into his back as she lifted her hips to meet his. Their rhythm grew faster, more urgent, until neither could hold back any longer. Lando’s name fell from Y/N’s lips like a prayer as she came undone again, her body tightening around him. He followed close behind, burying his face in her neck as he spilled himself inside her.

718 notes · View notes

pandaxnienke · 1 day ago

Text

it’ll pass // mv33

pairing: max verstappen X engineer!reader

word count: 18.5k

warnings: cursing and alcohol use. this is about the 2024 season and while i tried to make things as accurate as possible some things are tweaked for the storyline. so just read for the vibes and not biblically accurate season info :)

includes: right person wrong time, childhood friends, hidden relationship, a little friends to lovers, and ANGST

summary: when you think you've finally gotten everything you want in life... it goes and shows you just how unfair it can be.

playlist for the fic: apple music | spotify

masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Not many children are certain on what they want to be when they grow up, especially at age nine, but you were an exception. Sure – millions of children say they are going to be a veterinarian or a doctor when they grow up, but how many of them actually end up being that? Life happens, plans change, and reality sets in for the majority of Earth’s population. Although you never planned on any of that happening to you. There was never a doubt in your mind that you were going to be anything other than a race car driver, but even the most determined and strong willed people get dealt a shit hand at some point in their life.

You’d been surrounded by racing your whole life – a perk of your Dad being a successful rally car driver. The sound of the engines and the smell of the exhaust were ingrained into your brain by age five. You were a wild child, a thrill seeker and definitely your Father’s child according to your Mother, but you knew even if your Dad wasn’t a racer that you would have still found yourself drawn to racing one way or another. For a good chunk of your early childhood you claimed to want to be a rally driver like your Dad, much to your Mom’s dismay, but that all changed when you attended your first Formula 1 race.

F1 wasn’t a foreign concept to you, your family watched and attended lots of different kinds of racing, but you’d never been to an actual Formula 1 race before. The atmosphere was completely different to anything you’d ever experienced and watching it on TV was nothing compared to seeing it in real life. You were enthralled by the sounds and hustle and bustle of everything. Not to mention how fast the cars actually were. The little adrenaline junkie in you was on cloud nine and by the time the checkered flag was waved and the car crossed the finish line you knew you wanted to be the one driving it.

Luckily being brought up in a motosports family meant you somewhat had an upper hand. You were blessed to have the finances to start karting and not to mention a very long list of connections. And sure having all these things help you, but you’ve still got to have the talent. Which in your case was never an issue. You were a menace on the track, a force not to be reckoned with, and your Dad taught you not to take any shit from any of the insecure little boys. Trophies and medals lined your walls and there was never a doubt in your mind that you couldn’t make it to the top, that was until you got older.

As your brain developed more so did your understanding that a lot of people and your competitors didn’t think women belonged in racing. Sure when you were younger some of the boys teased you, but it was never anything that bothered you much. It wasn’t until you were around fifteen and looking to move over to single seater racing that you faced your first real case of self doubt. Even with you being one of the best drivers in your division you still had to work ten times harder than the worst male driver to prove to everyone that you were worthy to be there. It was exhausting to constantly be ridiculed, to hear people say you only had gotten this far because of who your Dad was. It amazed you how you had won all these championships and races and people still didn’t think you had the raw talent that you so clearly possessed.

Even with spells of self doubt and days where it felt like the world was against you, you’d somehow made it to Formula 2. That Formula 1 seat that you’d dreamt about since a child was almost in your grasp and you were more determined now than ever to prove that you were one of the 20 best drivers in the world. You knew that this season was your make or break, if you didn’t put in 110% then what were you even doing here? You needed to make a statement, but even the most astronomical statement couldn’t help the fact that your fate was decided when you were born a female.

It didn’t matter that you had won basically every championship in the previous feeder series or that you were clearly on your way to win the F2 championship. It didn’t matter if people claimed that you were the future of Formula 1 or if Susie Wolff was your mentor. It didn’t matter that you had meetings with just about every F1 team about the possibility of a seat next year or that you had a well known last name. None of it mattered because at the end of the day no one was actually ready to sign a woman as a driver. Sure, they’d string you along and give you the false hope of somewhat talking about a contract and then go and sign a driver who you could lap with your eyes closed. Sometimes you just thought they liked the publicity that the team got from the news of you being in talks with them and couldn’t care less about actually giving you the time of day.

Finally accepting that you weren’t going to get a seat in Formula 1 was a devastating out of body experience. You were sat in an uncomfortable chair in between Susie and your Dad as they tried to bargain you a seat at Williams. Although it wasn’t your first choice, you had thought and prayed that with a female CEO and Susie having ties there that Williams would be your saving grace. It was your last option at this point and as you sat there their voices became background noise and the longer you studied Claire’s body language you knew this was the end. You had zoned out, your fingers bloody from subconsciously picking at the skin around your nails as your mind wandered to a place that wasn’t this meeting.

Ever so often you’d hear a statement from one of them and it only made you more catatonic.

“She’s in a league of her own, Claire. I mean she’s a million times better than I ever was as a driver.”

“Her stats alone should tell you everything you need to know. She’s more qualified than the drivers you’ve got right now. I can tell you that.”

It’s what comes out of Claire’s mouth next that brings you back to reality and what also seals your fate. “We could offer you being a development driver like Susie was or possibly a reserve.”

Your eyes focus on her as you sit up in your chair. “I don’t want to be a development driver or a reserve driver. I want to be in the car every race weekend. I want to be an actual driver and I know I’m more than qualified to be one.”

You can feel your Dad and Susie’s eyes on you, surprised at your sudden brashness, yet they didn’t reprimand you. Both of them knew you deserved better than what you were getting dealt. You watch as Claire clasps her hands together and a tight lipped expression forms across her face. “I hate to say this, but we just can’t afford to take the risk.”

“The risk?” You question, fully knowing what that risk is.

She clears her throat, her eyes darting from Susie to your Dad and then finally landing back on you. “Yes you have talent, but we can’t take the risk as a team right now to sign a female driver. We are barely holding on the way it is and signing a female– it just– we can’t be the team to experiment with that right now, no matter how good you are. I’m sorry.”

“So a woman can run a racing team, but just can’t drive for one? Got it.” You’re trying to be professional, but you’d already heard that sorry excuse so many times before and your dreams were literally getting crushed right in front of you, so who can blame you for being a little shitty.

“It’s not just me making this decision Y/N. There’s a million other factors and people that go into this decision. If it could be different I promise it would be.” The strained look on Claire’s face does nothing to ease the ache in your chest, if anything it makes it worse

There’s an awkward silence that fills the room and you want nothing more than to be out of this suffocating room. Your emotions are starting to bubble over and the last thing you want is for someone to spot you looking less than thrilled. In society a man is allowed to react and a woman can only overreact. There’s been countless times where your quote on quote emotions after a difficult race are used against you in an attempt to prove you shouldn’t be racing.

The wooden legs of your chair screech across the floor as you get up and even though you don’t want to, you reach your hand out towards Claire. “Thank you for your time, it was nice talking with you.”

“My offer still stands. I think it would be wise to think it over.” Her grip on your hand is firm as she speaks, but it does nothing to change your mind.

You give her one last thank you before swiftly exiting the room and making your way out of the building. It’s not until you’re in the safety of the blacked out SUV that you finally let yourself fully feel your emotions. And once the first tear falls there’s no stopping the ones that come after. You’re angry that even with the talent you so clearly possess, no one will give you a chance. That you’d worked this hard, gave up your childhood and the possibility of having a normal one to do this. Spent hours, days, months training and being away from home just to get to this spot in your life. Your one dream in life was almost in your grasp, your fingertips could brush against it, that’s how close it was. Yet on a sunny afternoon on a random Monday it was ripped away from you.

Sobs echo through the empty car and you’d never felt more hopeless than you do right now. You spot your Dad talking with Susie outside the building and a short minute later he’s walking towards the car. You try to pull yourself together, you don’t want your Dad to see you like this, but when he gets into the driver's seat you lose it all over again. You somehow feel like you’ve let your Dad down, he’s been your biggest supporter during this whole journey and you not getting a seat felt like the equivalent of you being the worst child ever.

Your Dad couldn’t be more proud of you though, he’d never seen someone work so hard to accomplish their dreams and he was always going to be in your corner no matter what happened. His heart breaks when he gets into the car and sees you so upset and defeated, he’s half tempted to march back in there and demand that they sign you. But right now he knows you need him more than anything. He reaches over the center console and pulls you into him the best he can. His little girl deserved so much better than what you had been dealt and he only wished he could take that hurt you were feeling right now away from you.

“Darling I know this hurts right now. If I could, I’d make a whole racing team from scratch just so you could fulfill your dreams, but this isn’t the end for you. Maybe you could try different kinds of racing? Indycar? Endurance? Maybe follow in your old man's footsteps?” His hand gently rubs against your arm as you sniffle into his chest. “You never know, maybe if you take the reserve spot you could get a seat the following year.”

You lift your head up, your eyes bloodshot as you make eye contact with him. “Dad, we both know that's not true. They’d just string me along.” You lean back into the leather seat as you close your eyes, already feeling a headache coming on. “I know life isn’t fair, but this is some cruel level of unfairness. I wish I had been born a boy because I know I would not be in this situation right now if I was.”

“You’re correct, if you were a boy you wouldn’t be in this situation right now. But that is only because you wouldn’t be half the racer you are as a guy. You’ve gotten this far and you’ve got the talent you do because of who you are and that includes being a woman. I like to take credit for your skills, but honey all your will power and strength and smarts and hell just about everything else you get from your Mother. The guts to be in love with dangerous racing I will take credit for though.“ He tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear before resting his hand on the side of your face, gently wiping away your tears. “Listen, people may be blind and ignorant now, but when they finally realize just how good women can be in motorsports and stop being pussies and take that risk, they are going to regret waiting so long.”

His words do nothing to calm the raging storm in your mind. “I know, but I wanted to be that person. I wanted that realization to happen now. I worked so hard and what did I get in return? To be passed over by someone who’s absolute shit? It hurts so bad.”

His hands reach back over to yours, enveloping your much smaller ones in his as he tries to comfort you in any way he can. “That feeling will pass. It hurts now, but it’ll pass. I promise you.”

The feeling never truly passes.

You learn to deal with it, trying to find the positives in life, but the ache is still there. It's like a bad knee that hurts when it’s cold outside. It’s not there all the time, but certain moments take you back to that awful day. It hurts when you win the F2 championship and still don’t have a seat in F1. It hurts when interviewers ask you about what your future holds. It hurts when you see people you raced with as a kid be that one of twenty that you want to be so bad.

Once the F2 season ends you honestly have no idea what you are planning on doing with your life. You really don’t want to dabble in other forms of racing, but you know if you take a year off your chances of getting that golden seat become even more slim.

It’s not until the FIA Gala that you come to the conclusion that maybe you should take up the offer of being a reserve driver. You know you’re going against every word you’ve previously said and every stubborn bone in your body doesn’t want you to do this, but there’s nothing you want more than to be a Formula 1 driver. And if there is even a .1% chance that you could get that seat by doing a year as a reserve first, then you’d be dumb to not try. You know all the odds are against you and maybe you’re betting on a losing dog, but you needed to at least believe in yourself if no one else was. It’s a choice that you’ve mulled over for what seems like an eternity, but it’s a certain Dutch driver that makes you take the final leap off the edge.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

You’ve known Max since you were kids in karting. The two of you were pretty close friends as kids, often seen attached at the hip around the track during race weekends. He’d found solace with you and your family, something that looking back now, you were glad to have been able to give him. He was the only other person who you truly considered competition back in those days. It was always a fun time when you raced against Max, mainly because he treated you like an equal, but also never downplayed your talent. He knew you were good and he expressed that many times– something that meant a lot to you back then and still does today.

As you two got older your friendship started to fade for no reason other than taking different paths. When he skipped F2 and went straight into F1 you were pissed, but he had the talent, you couldn’t deny that. You’d sometimes see him on weekends when F1 and F2 raced together, a few short words spoken in passing, but it was never like the old days. Your lives didn’t necessarily coincide anymore, he was making waves as the youngest F1 driver to exist and you were stuck in F2. So when he approached you at the Gala you were surprised.

You’d been playing good racing driver and making small talk all night, talking to sponsors and random rich men who loved to hear themselves talk. You’d finally escaped the tortuous sea of networking and found yourself at a somewhat secluded table with a flute of champagne in front of you. You hadn’t been at the table for very long before you heard a familiar Dutch accent coming from behind you.

“Is this seat taken?”

You turned to see the one and only Max Verstappen standing there with his hand on the back of the seat next to you. Your eyes scanned across the white linen tablecloth to the several empty chairs surrounding the table and then back to Max. “I think they all might be spoken for, but I’m sure they can find another table to sit at.” He lets out a little chuckle as he sits down and you notice him fidgeting with his tie, clearly trying to loosen it. “It’s weird seeing you in anything other than your race suit or team kit.”

His movements halt as his eyes comb over you and it makes you squirm slightly in your seat. “Could say the same about you.”

He’s not wrong though, the dress you’ve picked out for tonight is nothing shy of stunning, but it’s not you. You always felt like these events were a form of torture more than anything and having to get all dressed up was just the cherry on top.

“I saw that you had a good season.” You state before taking a sip of your champagne.

Max’s eyebrows raise in surprise towards you, like you’ve just said the craziest thing. “I don’t think we should be talking about my season when you’ve just won a championship.”

You lean back in your seat, crossing your legs as you adjust your dress. “It’s only an F2 championship Max.” There’s still a part of you that’s slightly bitter about him leaving you behind and you wonder what this night would be like if you were an F1 driver like him.

“It still means something.” His baby blue eyes narrowed at you as he spoke.

The remaining champagne in your glass is gone in seconds, this isn’t where you wanted this conversation to end up, but somehow you knew it was inevitable. “It doesn’t mean much if it can’t even grant me that seat I want. I won that championship basically halfway through the season, but can’t get anyone to offer me anything higher than a reserve driver. How does that mean anything?”

Max shifts in his seat, he knows this is a sensitive subject to you and he knows what he’s about ready to tell you will probably get him slapped, but he has to at least try.

“It could mean something and I came over here to talk to you about it.” Your eyebrows furrow at his words, confused as to what he could possibly mean. “I want you as my teammate.”

You can’t help but laugh slightly at him, the Dutchman had clearly had one too many glasses of champagne tonight. “Did you think to express that to Red Bull before I had that world shortest meeting with them months ago? We all have dreams Max and yours is nice, but it’s a pipe dream.”

He shakes his head and scoots his chair closer to you. “It’s not a dream. It can happen. The team wanted to see how the rest of your season played out, but they for sure want you now.”

“Where is Daniel going then?” A waiter comes past and you snatch another flute of champagne off of their tray. “And why is this not being discussed in a formal meeting setting?”

“The team thought you might be more willing if you heard about this from someone you knew pretty well first. You know I’ve always been in your corner.” Max knows this is where the conversation will either go south or you’ll hear him out and he fears the latter isn’t the most likely scenario. “ And Daniel isn’t going anywhere”

It takes you a moment to understand what Max’s words mean, your glass of champagne hovers near your lips as you slowly realize what he’s insinuating. And this time you actually do laugh at him because how could he think that after your disgruntled conversation just moments ago that you would want the one thing you were dissatisfied with?

“Max, you've got to be kidding me.” You feel like this is one big prank and your tone is more defeated than upset at this point.

Max on the other hand is trying to figure out how to convince you that this is your best option without making you throw that glass of champagne in his face. “Just hear me out ok? I know being a reserve is the last thing you want, but I also know that you’re one of the best drivers out there right now. And yes– you should have that seat already and it sucks that they are making you jump through so many hoops, but I’m trying to help you out in any way I can. So please just take Red Bull’s offer. You’d be a reserve for a year and then when Daniel’s contract is up at the end of the season you’d be the number one contender for his spot.” The only thing you can find yourself to do is blankly stare at him. It’s not a guarantee that you would be getting Daniel’s spot, you’d just be a contender and to you that means you would be just used for headlines and never actually considered.

“You really think this is the best thing for me?”

A sigh escapes past his lips, he should have known this wouldn’t be as easy as he hoped. “What are you really going to do if you don’t take this offer? You can’t do another season in F2. I mean, you’re driving laps around these guys for fun. You’re wasting your talent here and you’re also wasting it by being so determined to not take this opportunity.”

Your arms defensively cross over your chest and you want what he’s saying to not make sense, but it is and it’s making you even more irritated. “I could seek out other forms of racing.”

Max can’t help but roll his eyes at how stubborn you’re being. “You won’t though. You love rallying and yes it’s in your blood, but you lack the experience that you need. Endurance just isn’t you. Indycar is the closest thing to F1, but at the end of the day it’s not Formula 1, so I know you won’t actually seek it out. F1 is what you want Y/N and I’m trying to help you get there.”

You know what he’s saying is true and it’s a tough pill to swallow, but you still can’t bring yourself to actually accept that this is your best and to be frank your only option at this point. Max can see the gears turning in your head, your teeth chewing on your bottom lip. “Y/N.” He’s trying to get you out of your head and bring you back to him. His hand reaches out and gently lands on your knee and that simple action has your eyes focusing back on his blue ones.

“How do you know for sure? How do you know that I’ll actually be considered for Daniel’s seat?”

A heavy sigh comes from Max and you know he’s not going to say what you want to hear. “I don’t. You know the racing world – just because something is said doesn’t mean it’s true, but there’s a high probability. And I think if there’s even a slim chance and you don’t take it then you’d be dumb. You know I’ll always be in your corner and I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted you as my teammate.”

You still don’t know what to say to him, you’re torn between staying true to your values and not taking anything less than what you deserve and realizing that you may have to accept that this is the only way to even get close to your dream. “Stop making the guys in F2 cry and come join Red Bull, please.”

A small smile finds its way onto your face when you realize Max is recalling all the boys you used to make cry when you beat them when you were kids.

“Think you’re the only one I haven’t made cry yet, Verstappen.”

Max mirrors your smile, the memories of old karting days also replaying in his mind. “Don’t see it happening anytime soon either.” A small chuckle escapes past his lips as he speaks.

The atmosphere between you two had lightened and as you stare at the smiling Dutchman in front of you there’s really only one thing you can say to him.

“I’ll think about it.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

After much deliberation, a handful of meetings, and finally accepting that this was unfortunately your best option, you found yourself dressed in a Red Bull team kit three months later in Australia.

Being a reserve driver was not where you expected to be right now, but you were trying to be more positive about the situation. If it wasn’t for Max you’d probably be sitting at home wallowing in self pity. At least with being a reserve you get to still be around the one thing you love. It was tough though, to be a part of the race weekend, but not actually be able to race. You’re in the team meetings, you occasionally do media, you train like a driver– you do everything that a driver would do on a race weekend except actually drive the car. You sometimes feel like you’re just being taunted, like an animal with a treat just out of its reach. It's hard mentally sometimes, but you push through with the help of a therapist and the hope that this suffering now will be worth it in the end.

Being a reserve meant you spent basically all of your time on race weekends in the garage. It wasn’t a foreign place to you by any means, but you’d never really been in the garage while the race was happening. You were more accustomed to being the one out on the track and not in here, but you’d grown to love the behind the scenes work. The one thing in particular was the role of race engineer. You were very familiar with them, your own engineer had been with you all through Formula 3 and 2 and you had fully planned on taking them with you into F1 if it was possible. The bond between racer and engineer is a special one, you’ve got to have the utmost trust with one another, know how eachother thinks and trust that they are doing everything in their power to help you. It sounds a little dramatic, but truly what is a racer without their engineer?

Throughout the season you’d found yourself lingering more and more around the engineers. The occasional times where GP let you sit on the pit wall during practice sessions or qualifying you found yourself glued to the seat next to him. To see how effortlessly Max and him communicate and the level of trust is amazing. It’s a completely different atmosphere and there’s somehow a calm adrenaline that comes over you when you’re on that pitwall. GP makes it look like a piece of cake— looking at data, having multiple people in your ear at once, thinking about strategy. It sounds like a nightmare to some, but you grow to love it. The analytics make the gears in your head turn and the little racing nerd in you can’t seem to get enough.

You seem to be focusing more on the engineering side of things more than racing at a certain point in the season and maybe it’s because subconsciously you know you aren’t going to get Daniel’s seat so you’re trying to distract yourself with something else. There are some moments during the season that give you hope that perhaps you will be considered, like the couple times you get to drive Max’s car in FP1. That hour you get where it’s just you, the car, and the track in front of you makes you realize why you fell in love with this sport to begin with. It’s just that when that hour is up you’re brought back to reality and you don’t want to get out of the car, but the proud look on Max’s face and his insistent rambling about how it was a no brainer that you finished with the fastest time each session made it a little easier.

But even with the slivers of hope, Max constantly advocating for you, and not to mention just your raw talent– the team still decides to go with someone else. They don’t come right out and tell you, but you hear the whispers around the paddock and online that Pierre Gasley is who they want. Your name is barely mentioned in talks and when the announcement finally happens at the end of the season you aren’t even surprised. In all honesty yes it hurts, but you knew when you signed that contract that there was the tiniest chance that you’d get that seat and so throughout the season you built your walls up and prepared yourself for the inevitable.

If it was even possible Max seemed more upset than you about it, but when you tell him over winter break about the other deal you struck he seems to forget all about how you once again had been wronged. Somehow by not getting a racing contract you managed to sign a different one. It was a long depressing month during the end of the season of coming to terms with the fact that your racing career very well may never go any further than F2, but you’d realized that you can still experience your love of racing, just differently, by becoming an engineer. You’d fallen in love with the behind the scenes work during your year as a reserve and GP had somewhat taken you under his wing.

So when the two of you had an actual conversation about you possibly taking the steps to become one it just seemed to click. You’d signed a contract alright, but it wasn’t the one you’d imagined to be signing. The little girl with a dream of being nothing other than a race car driver couldn’t believe that this is where she was headed, but here you were. You were no longer Red Bull Racing reserve driver, you were now a Red Bull Racing apprentice engineer. Even with your knowledge from being a racer for some time, you’d still need to go to school and you somehow managed going to school while working under GP. How you managed that work load you’ll never know.

Max was thrilled that you two still got to work together and was proud that you’d seeked out a new path for yourself. He’d still be holding out hope that one day you’d get to be teammates, but for now he couldn’t be more happy for you. Especially because you seemed happy with how your life was turning out.

As the years pass you only grow closer with Max. It’s like you’re joined at the hip sometimes, but you come to realize there’s no one else you’d want to spend the majority of your year with. It feels like your old karting days, he gets you and you get him and for you two that’s just enough. You’re there for his first WDC and you don’t think you’d cried as much as you did then, seeing the boy you raced with as a kid win such a prestigious title. But you also cried for yourself, because as much as you were so proud of Max, you couldn’t help but still mourn the fact that it could have been and should have eventually been you winning a championship. It stings a little less when he wins his second, but that’s mostly because you got so drunk you couldn’t really remember much of it. When you graduate with your degree in engineering Max is there cheering you on, dressed in something other than his team kit for once. You don’t remember much from that night either, but you can’t seem to forget how genuinely proud he seemed of you and how he couldn’t seem to be anyplace other than right next to you.

The following year with a degree and years of experience now under your belt you get a promotion, mainly because GP got poached by another team for the following season. So for the 2023 season that is truly an iconic one for Max you’re practically his race engineer, but GP is still there right next to you offering his knowledge when needed.

When it’s finally official that you’ll be taking over the role as Max’s race engineer in 2024 the news is mostly positive, but of course there are some people that think you couldn’t possibly be capable of taking on the role. That a three time worlds champion shouldn’t have a woman as an engineer, let alone one that was around the same age as him. It was funny truly, you were more than qualified to be an engineer. You’d done the schooling and had the experience, yet once again because you were a woman people thought you didn’t deserve the job.

Max on the other hand was ecstatic that you’d be filling GP’s shoes. He’d had a good run with him, but he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t sure that you two would make an incredible duo.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“So maybe this wasn’t how I’d imagined us being teammates, but I did tell you I wanted us to be teammates didn’t I? And I think it’s safe to say I always get what I want.” Max stated as the two of you tried to hide in the corner of this end of season/Max's WDC party/your promotion party. Well technically it was Max’s WDC party, but of course he had to bring you into it and show his appreciation to the team as always.

He’s clearly had one too many gin and tonics and the goofy smile on his face only got wider as he spoke.

“Cocky much huh? I think that third championship is getting to you.”

He leaned in closer to you and those pretty baby blues narrowed in on you. “Well when we get my fourth title next year I’ll show you just how cocky I can be.” That was gin and tonic talking and you knew it was time for Max to retire for the night.

“Alright champ. Think it might be time to call it a night.” Your hand wraps around his bicep to try and guide him towards the exit, but he’s a solid man and he doesn’t even budge.

“No, it's still early! We haven’t even begun to celebrate you yet!” He’s being loud and pouty and all up in your personal space, classic signs of drunk Max. And truth be told you don’t want the attention on you whatsoever, hence you hiding in the corner. Which of course Max had invaded as soon as he could. “Come on just one more drink?”

You know one more drink is never just one more, but for whatever reason tonight you can’t tell him no. And so hours later when you’re both making your way down the fancy hotel hallway towards his room you don’t even recall wanting to leave early. Both of you tipsy are always giggling messes and when Max can’t seem to get his key card to work to get into his room it’s apparently the funniest thing on earth to you. Which in turn has Max laughing and you don’t realize how loud you two actually are until the door across from his opens and a disgruntled elderly man is stood there in his robe.

“Sorry!” You barely squeak out to the man as Max finally gets his key card to work and you’re pushing him into his room before the old man can respond. When you hear the door click behind you, the both of you are stood in silence staring at each other for a moment and then laughter erupts out of both of you.

Max plops down on his bed and you take that as a sign that he’s safely made it back to his room and you’ve fulfilled your duty as his friend tonight. “Alright. You’re safe and sound which means I’m gonna head to my room. Goodnight Max.”

He quickly sits up on the edge of his bed at your farewell, his teeth gnawing at his bottom lip as he wonders if he should go through with the idea that’s been consuming his brain for some time now. He had enough liquor in him now to justify even considering it. It’s not until your hand touches the door knob that he finally speaks up. “Y/N. Wait.”

Your head whips around at the sound of his voice and by the time you’re fully turned around he’s inches away from you. “If this is you trying to convince me to rally and head back out I’m convinced you want me dead, Verstappen.”

“No no, it’s nothing like that.” His voice is soft and you can almost feel the energy in the room change.

“What is it then?” You throw him a questioning look.

He’d cracked the can of worms and if he didn’t fully open them soon he doesn’t think he’ll ever get the chance again. “Um- there’s something I-” How was he supposed to tell the girl who in less than a month is going to be his official race engineer that he has feelings for her? He’d been somewhat harboring them since they were kids and as he got older and the feelings seemed to lessen he figured it was just a silly little childhood crush. He’d only then realized since becoming as close as the two of you have ever been these past couple years that those feelings were not just ones of a silly little childhood crush.

Sure it started out as that and yeah his feelings may have just gotten pushed down when your lives started to go in different directions, but now that he had you with him all the time and your relationship had blossomed into something more than just two kids on the kart track. He’d come to the conclusion that those feelings never actually went away. And he knows he should have said something sooner because this new phase in your relationship and your work relationship takes priority over his romantic feelings, but Max can’t help but be greedy. The three time world drivers champion surprisingly wants to have his cake and to eat it too.

The alcohol coursing through his veins isn’t really helping him in thinking that clearly, he can’t seem to muster up the words in the order he wants, it’s all jumbled up and he starts speaking in Dutch without realizing it.

“Max, you're making no sense. You’re drunk, just talk to me in the morning or guess I should say afternoon by the way you seem to be sounding.” He’s tipsy, not drunk. He could hold a conversation, but apparently not when it came to confessing his feelings. The liquid courage he thought he had possessed was clearly no longer working in his favor. It’s only when he feels your hand touch his forearm that he pulls himself together. “When I signed that contract to be your race engineer I didn’t think it would include babysitting.” You slightly teased him as you tried to guide him back to his bed, but like back at the party his feet stayed planted to the plush carpet.

You knew drivers and their engineers were close, you had to be, but there was something definitely different about Max and yours relationship. Maybe it was because you had known each other since you were children, but you two were for sure closer than the average duo. Case and point– the situation you two had currently found yourselves in. You didn’t know of any engineers and drivers who went out and hung out outside of work like you guys do or even party like you two do, but for you guys it was normal. So perhaps things would have to change when the season officially started.

“If you’re going to be so stubborn then you can put yourself back to bed.” Your hand drops from his arm as you turn towards the door to leave when you feel his much larger hand wrap around your wrist, pulling you back towards him. “Max-”

Your faces are inches apart and his pupils are so dilated that those pretty blue eyes that always stare back at you resemble something more of a black hole than a spring sky. “I may regret doing this, but I think if I don’t I’ll regret it even more.”

And it’s in this moment that everything between the two of you changes and your lives are forever altered.

You don’t even get to question what Max is talking about before you feel his plump pink lips against yours. Your brain short circuits and it takes you a second to realize what is actually happening, but by the time your brain catches up with your lips he’s already pulled away and cursing.

“Fuck I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Clearly you don’t feel the same-”

Max doesn’t even get to finish his rambling before your grabbing at the material of his shirt and pulling him back towards you. Your lips crashing into each others and this time he’s the one surprised. His hands reach up to cradle your face as he deepens the kiss, your lips moving in perfect synchronization. The night's drinks linger heavy on your tongues and they begin to mix as his tongue slips its way into your mouth. He’s dominant yet soft with his actions and you find yourself becoming enthralled with them.

When you two finally pull away you’re both breathless with rosy cheeks and giddy smiles on your face. There’s a silence between you, no one wants to be the first one to say anything. To bring you back to reality and ruin this moment, but Max is the first one to burst the bubble. “I hadn’t really planned on kissing you. I actually had a whole speech planned out, but guess this did the trick just as well.”

“A speech?” You question.

“Was gonna tell you that I may have had a crush on you since we were kids in karting and how I thought it was just a childhood crush for the longest time, but then we became so close ever since you joined Red Bull and I realized that I’ve always been enamored by you. We just get each other and being around you is so easy. You’re my person Y/N.”

You weren’t going to lie to yourself and say you didn’t have a crush on Max when you were kids too or that you’d perhaps sometimes in the middle of the night when your mind wandered thought that there may be something a little more between Max and you than what you let on. But you’d always pushed those thoughts aside as quickly as they arrived. You didn’t allow yourself to be distracted with silly crushes when you were racing let alone now when this new dream was at your fingertips. But the fact was that it wasn’t just a silly little crush. Max is just as much your person as you are his. He’s your biggest supporter and embarrassingly the person you think about the most. And perhaps you do find yourself staring at his pretty blue eyes or the way his eyes scrunch up when he’s really happy or laughing hard. The way his lisp becomes more prominent when he gets excited or how you love to hear him “maxplain”.

So perhaps you were more down bad than you had let yourself believe, but it was no use dwelling on it. You were colleagues and soon you would be his race engineer. This was just a drunk mistake and Max was only caught up in the moment– at least that’s what you kept telling yourself. This couldn’t happen right now and you know you know you shouldn’t have kissed him back, but god kissing resembled the same feeling of when you overtake on the track. That adrenaline rush that starts in your stomach and travels up to your chest. It’s addicting and as he stands there in front of you, those swollen pink lips of his keep shutting down everything in you that tells you to not let this go any further.

Max gently reaches up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering as he tries to figure out how you feel. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung this on you. It’s alright if you don’t feel the same, but I mean after that kiss… there’s got to be something.” The sly smirk on his face only has you rolling your eyes at him, but he knows from the small smile your donning that the eye roll was nothing of significance. “I just had to tell you. It’d been eating at me.”

His hand moves to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across the top. You practically melt into his touch and as your eyes flutter shut a deep sigh escapes past your lips. You know this can’t continue, you know you’ve got to be the one to set the boundaries, but god damn if this wasn’t something like a dream.

“I’m not going to lie and say I don’t feel the same because I do. Perhaps even more than you at times, but this was absolutely the worst time for you to do this. Before you know it the season is going to start and I’m going to officially be your race engineer. We can’t mix pleasure with business.”

He knows what you’re saying is true, but to hear you say you feel the same as him has him willing to risk it all. “I know I should have told you sooner, but I think we could make it work.”

“Max.” You’re trying to get him to think rationally for just a second.

“We don’t have to put a label on anything and no one will know until we are ready. We will just take it slow. Nothing would have to change between us or the people around us. Work will always come first.”

His hands move down towards yours and your fingers intertwine as you try to make sense of all the things flying around in your brain. You’ve never felt this way about anyone before like you do Max. You’d been burying it, trying not to let it get in the way of your job, but it had been there subconsciously the whole time. Now that you’ve come to terms with it and found out he feels the same, how the hell were you two going to move forward with this?

“Things will change Max, even if you say they won’t we both know they will. We’ll have to be careful about how we interact and sneak around. This isn’t some little make believe play time kind of thing. This is real life Max.” You squeeze his hand as you speak, trying to convey just how serious you’re taking this and how he should be too. “I also have a lot more at stake than you do Max. I’ve gone through hell and back to get where I am today, I don’t want it all ruined in the blink of an eye.”

Max so badly wants to make this work. He understands your apprehension regardless of how strong your feelings are for him, but he thinks you guys should at least give it a try.

“I understand what you’re saying. I also think what we’ve got here is pretty special. It would be a shame to not pursue it.”

Your brain is telling you to choose your career and your heart is telling you to choose both your career and Max. Everything could work out fine and he could be the guy you end up marrying and living happily ever after with or it could all blow up in your face and you could lose your career and your man. But if you would have never taken the risk of becoming a reserve for Red Bull then you wouldn’t be here in this position. So you take the risk and decide to go with your heart.

“Alright let’s see how this plays out Verstappen.”

His eyes light up at your words. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And for the third time that night you feel his soft lips pressed against yours.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The 2024 season starts out with a bang. Max puts it on pole in quali and wins in Bahrain and the same thing happens in Saudi Arabia. You’d been practically shitting yourself in the weeks leading up to the start of the season. There was an insane amount of pressure from the public and media for you to do well, but also an insane amount that you had put on yourself. You wanted to prove to people that you were good at your job, that you deserved to be there. So when the first two weekends went smoothly and your communication went well with Max you couldn’t have been happier.

Not to mention how well it was going with Max. You two had been nothing but careful when it came to your radio messages, but also your behavior in the garage. The fleeting glances or smiles thrown your way only mean that much more considering you two are the only ones who know their true intent. And the evenings spent in each other's hotel rooms are like your own personal getaway. It’s just you two once that door is closed behind you and it makes the kisses even sweeter.

Although the following week in Australia you weren’t expecting to be dealing with a hiccup so soon, but that’s the world of Formula 1 for you. It started off normal, Max took pole in qualifying and the race started great. Everything is normal on the pitwall and then you see Carlos overtake Max on lap two. It of course is not what you want to see, but it was only the second lap and you weren’t that stressed at the moment, but then you hear the dial of Max’s radio.

“I just lost the car. Really weird.” Max’s voice fills your ears through your headset.

“Yeah no problem Max. Still early.”

You watch the data closely as the race continues and you can see his time dropping ever so slowly.

“Fuck. The car is loose.”

“I know. Try and hold on, we are working on it.”

His time keeps dropping and you're combing through everything trying to figure out what could be going on. As you glance at the monitor with the race coverage you notice smoke coming from the back of the car and not a second later his voice comes through your headset once more.

“I have smoke. Fire fire. Brake my brake.”

“Copy. Try and make it back to the pits.”

Fuck. This could not be good. You’re first real issue as an official engineer and it’s only the third race of the season. You turn in your chair as you see him rolling down the pit lane, his rear brake on fire. Your stomach drops and you know it's a DNF for him. Thankfully it wasn’t a crash, you think you would have been going to the medics with him if that was the case.

Your headset is off and you’re making your way across the pit lane as soon as you see him get out of the car. You’re nervous considering this is the first race issue you’ve dealt with while being “together” or whatever you two are calling it and you aren’t sure how Max is going to handle it.

He’s in the garage taking off his balaclava as you walk up to him and you want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him, but you know you can’t do that. There’s clearly signs of disappointment on his face, but he’s trying to keep a poker face when he spots you. “You alright?” You question as you lean against the counter.

“I’m fine. Car isn’t though.” He’s short with you and you probably should have let him decompress on his own before coming over here, but you couldn’t help yourself. It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve seen him in a less than cheerful mood, but it’s the first time since coming to terms with how you felt about each other and you being his engineer.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

He shrugs his shoulders at you, his hand running through his dirty blonde hair. “Wasn’t your fault.”

You feel like it is though. “Are we good?” You ask with a low voice.

Max could barely hear you with the sound of the mechanics and when he sees them moving the car into the garage he grabs you by the elbow and leads you towards the back of the garage towards the paddock entrance hallway. It luckily was empty for the moment, the garage too busy dealing with the car.

“Why would we not be good?” He lowers his voice too.

It’s your turn to shrug your shoulders. “I don’t know. It’s just that it was the first issue of the season and I wanted to make sure you weren’t upset with me or something.”

“Schatje.” The term of endearment always has butterflies fluttering about in your stomach, no matter how many times you hear it. “It was not your fault. It was a mechanical issue.”

He can see the worry across your face and he knows the amount of stress you’ve been feeling about everything. The last thing you need is to be worried about how your relationship is going. He quickly checks both directions and when he sees the coast is clear he pulls you into his arms. It’s what you both needed after the shit show that was this race and even if it was brief his actions told you everything you needed to know. “We’ll talk more tonight, yeah?”

You simply nod at him, both of you knowing you have to go back to your respective roles in the team before someone comes around the corner. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze before disappearing behind the corner and back into the garage. You lean your head against the wall as you let out a deep sigh. There was something in you that had a feeling that this season wasn’t going to be an easy one.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Japan and China have you guys back to regularly scheduled programming and then Miami comes and turns everything upside down. When Max wins by the skin of his teeth in Imola the following race week you know something is not right with the car, but you can’t seem to pinpoint it. You know Max and you know he’s driving the car to its full ability and he somehow manages to secure the win in Canada and Spain, but not without being vocal about how shit the car is over the radio, to which you can only reply copy that Max.

It’s clear to you and probably everyone else that this season is not looking to be a dominant Red Bull season and it makes your stomach churn to think about the headlines about you. There’s not a doubt in your mind that everything will be blamed on you, especially after the horrible weekend that is the Austrian Grand Prix.

It doesn’t start out bad, Max puts it on pole in qualifying and he holds the lead throughout the majority of the race. It’s not until lap 48 that things start to fall apart.

“I can’t hold this much longer.” Max’s voice sounds through your headphones.

“A couple more laps Max.”

“The tires are fucked.”

You don’t want Lando to undercut Max and you know if you don’t time this pitstop right that it may very well cost Max the race. On lap 52 you call Max into the pits and McLaren pits Lando also. You need this pitstop to go well and of course — it doesn’t. A stubborn left rear wheel nut is what brings the gap between Max and Lando down to two seconds.

There’s not a bone in your body that wants to relay that information to Max, but you’ve got to, it’s your job.

“Gap to Lando is now two seconds Max.”

“Fuck.”

“I know, but you can hold him off.”

As the time began to shrink between Max and Lando your confidence in Max holding him off was dwindling and you knew he wasn’t going to just let Lando pass him. He was going to hold Lando off for as long as he could and when the racing started to get sketchy you were sure you wouldn’t have any fingernails left by the time this race was over.

“Keep it clean Max.” You tell him after a particularly close call.

“Something is wrong with the car.” He replies. You can tell he’s got no grip, but he’s also trying to defend like his life depended on it.

As the laps go by the two drivers seem to be getting more desperate as both of them are pushing track limits and each other. You know it’s not gonna end well and you can only do so much from the pitwall. It’s Max who makes the final decision out there regardless of what you say.

It’s been a tiring back and forth game with them and when they finally make contact on lap 64 your stomach drops for the man you care for, but you shake your head as his engineer. Both of them have punctures and somehow Max is able to make it back to the pits and still finish fifth. It’s quiet on the pitwall and the cheers from the Mercedes team drown out anything that might have been said. You don’t know what to say to Max when you see him. As his engineer you know he was defending (rather recklessly in your opinion) but as his ‘girlfriend’ you want to slap him for being so reckless.

You know it’s better to just let Max decompress on his own and at this point you somewhat need to also. He’s got media duties to deal with and you’ve got your own responsibilities. You don’t even bother in waiting around for him like you usually do after a race. Once your tasks are done you’re making your way back to the hotel and for the first time that weekend you actually go to your room. Nothing sounds better at the moment than a nice long hot shower and so you let the water help wash away the stress from this weekend. That is until you hear a rapid knock on the door as you’re wrapping yourself in the hotel branded fluffy white robe. You know exactly who it is, but considering you’re dressed in nothing but a robe– you check the peephole. To no surprise there on the other side stands a disheveled Max Verstappen. His hand runs through his hair obsessively and you can tell he’s not in the cheeriest of moods. You open the door and he wastes no time in coming in.

“Why aren’t you in my room?” He immediately asks, his tone almost reads as offended that you were here instead of three rooms down.

“A girl can’t use her hotel room?”

“You know what I mean.”

You sit down on the edge of the plush bed as Max remains standing.

“I just wanted some alone time. To decompress after this weekend, specifically today. Figured you could use some too.”

He’s standing in front of you now, his fingers lightly toying at the collar of your robe. “All I wanted to see when I came back to my room was my girl waiting for me.” His voice is soft and you can tell this weekend has taken a toll on him. He plays the tough guy act during racing, but at the end of the day he’s just a man who wants and needs love and comfort. And so without a second thought you're sneaking off to Max’s hotel room like a couple of teenagers trying to not get caught.

The warm embrace of Max’s arms is one of the places you feel the most safe and tonight is no exception. Austria is clearly a weekend to forget, but you know the media will be dragging it out for weeks to come. “The only thing I’m gonna say about today is that you’re lucky all that happened was a puncture. As your engineer and girlfriend you put me through the fucking ringer today Verstappen.”

He doesn’t even register you somewhat scolding him for his driving today, all he can seem to focus on his you referring to yourself as his girlfriend. Of course you’ve been nothing less to him in his mind, you were exclusively his and no other woman would compare. But with the somewhat tricky situation you’d found yourselves in you’d never really put a label on it and that was fine to him. In fact he’d been the one to suggest it in the beginning, mainly because he knew how nervous you were about exploring the relationship between you two. But to hear it nonchentaly come out of your mouth that you’re his girlfriend is perhaps the best thing he’s heard in a good while.

“Girlfriend?” He questions, his tone somewhat teasing you.

Your head leaves its home on his solid chest and moves to look up at him. You hadn’t even realized you’d referred to yourself as his girlfriend, but after six months of you two just going with the flow or whatever you wanted to call it. There was no doubt that you two were exclusively one anothers.

“I mean– that’s what I am right?” You pray you haven’t just made a fool of yourself, but you know he feels the same.

His hand cups your cheek and he looks at you like you’re the most breathtaking thing on the planet. You can feel the butterflies erupting in your stomach and just by the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, there’s no way he doesn’t feel the same.

“Yes, but only if I’m your boyfriend.” His voice is sweet like honey and the butterflies are about ready to escape your stomach at this point.

“We sound like two 13 year olds right now.”

Your laughter is like music to Max’s ears and he can’t ignore the swelling feeling in his chest. It’s terrifying, but thrilling at the same time and it’s a feeling that he’s sure he never wants to be without.

“Well ok then I need to know if we are actually boyfriend and girlfriend.” Giggles fill the hotel room and you would have thought you two had been drinking with how ridiculous you two were acting, but you were really just lovesick fools.

As the laughter dies down you can sense a shift in the atmosphere as you two lay there and stare at each other for a moment. In what seems like no time at all your leg swings over his waist and a second later you’re straddling him. His hands instinctively move to your hips and your hands lay flat on his chest as you lean forward. “I think it’s safe to say that you’re mine huh? My boyfriend?”

Your lips hover just above his as you whisper to him and you can see his pupils dilating and feel the grip on your hips getting tighter.

“I like hearing that.” He whispers back, his lips jutting out to connect with yours, but the tease in you has you pulling back ever so slightly.

“Hearing what?” A playful smirk adorns your face as you sit up with your hands still splayed across his chest.

He sits up too, but it’s clear you’ve ignited a fire in him. His hands snake around your waist as he holds you close to his chest. Your hands now resting on his shoulders. “That I’m yours.”

And in one swift motion he’s flipped you onto your back as his large biceps bulge while he hovers over you. His head leans down towards your ear and his breath tickles your neck. It’s like every nerve in your body is heightened and you’re aware of every single thing he does to you and himself. “And that you’re mine.”

A shiver runs up your spine as he whispers into your ear and by the look in his eyes you know it’s going to be a long night.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To say you were looking forward to summer break was an understatement. The mere idea of having a month off was the only thing that got you through those last three races. Silverstone wasn’t horrible, but Hungary and Belgium were nothing to write home about. The team had figured out that the upgrades that were brought to the car weren’t working correctly, but now it was trying to figure out why they aren’t working and how to correct them. But even with potentially corrected upgrades it still seemed like the car would be a pace behind McLaren or Ferrari. You’d been stressing trying to work on a new strategy with Max and trying to figure out how to make the car faster with basically nothing to work with. Not to mention the headlines that had your head on a spike claiming “Red Bull’s downfall” was because of you. It was truly tiring and so when the checkered flag waved in Belgium you were one happy girl.

It’s not everyday that you get to send a week on a private island with your boyfriend, yet here you were. When Max had mentioned something about getting away during summer break you had figured Saint Tropez or Bali or really any typical F1 driver vacation spot. You had also figured you’d be spending some time apart considering it would be a little weird to be spotted on vacation together. The last thing you wanted was for rumors to start flying around, but Max surprised you with the unexpected.

When Max told you this was a private island you figured there’d be maybe a handful of other people, but it was literally just you two and the staff for the villa. It’s truly paradise on Earth and you have to pinch yourself sometimes to see if you’re dreaming. Days spent on the beach and in the ocean. Nights spent tangled inbetween the sheets and mornings spent waking up to the gentle lull of waves crashing onto the sand and alright sometimes it is spent tangled in the sheets. Decadent food at the snap of a finger and the feeling of the sun on your skin everyday. It’s just what you needed, what you both needed to help you recharge for the second half of the season.

On one of your last nights on the island Max and you find yourselves cuddled up on one of the giant loungers outside. The ocean had calmed for the night and the moon’s light cascaded over the water and onto you two. For once Max had sought out comfort in your arms and you thought you had put him to sleep from running your fingers through his hair until he spoke up.

“I’m glad we found our way back to each other.”

Your movements stilled, you weren’t expecting him to say that. Sure Max is a lot more loving than people would expect, but he isn’t one to be overly sappy. “Me too.” There’s a beat in the conversation and your hand finds its way back to his hair. “I don’t think as kids we saw our lives ending up like this though did we?”

“Career wise or us being together?” Max questions.

“Both I guess or at least it was that way for me.” You can feel Max slip his hand under your shirt and his finger start to mindlessly trace patterns on your abdomen. “If you would have told the girl who hated your guts for a while after you left me behind in F2 that I would be on a romantic getaway with you years later, I would have laughed in your face.” You can sense the shit eating grin on Max’s face. “I also fully believed that I was going to be a Formula 1 driver. There was nothing that you could have told me back then that would have changed my mind. Hell even five years ago I was still holding out hope. Guess I should have known better.” You’d turned the conversation in a different direction, but it was Max and he was the one person who you could have these kinds of talks with in confidence.

Max knows this is still a very sore subject for you and how could it not be? He couldn’t imagine having gone through all the shit you have just to be denied over who you were. He may have had his fair share of shit to go through as a child and some other things, but in the end he got to achieve his dream and no one denied him of it because of who he was. He knew you had to look at him with envy more times than not and he wished he could only go back in time and somehow by the grace of the racing gods get you a seat. “There’s no such thing as “knowing better” you had a dream and the talent to back it up. There was no reason you shouldn’t have been able to achieve it schatje. Life is just one cruel fucker sometimes.”

“But I guess without that happening we probably wouldn’t have ended up together then?” You try to change the subject to something less depressing than your failed racing career.

“Everything happens for a reason.” Max states.

You nod in agreement, it’s something you’d told yourself quite often to try and cope with your dreams getting crushed.

“I do love my job now and however shit my luck may be it can’t be that bad. I still get to enjoy racing and I’ve managed to acquire you in the process.”

Max lets out a small laugh at your statement. “Didn’t know I was some prize to be sought after.”

“You were like an added bonus that came with the job.”

Max playfully scoffs and after a few moments of silence he changes the subject.

“Maybe we should just stay here for the rest of the season.” He doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s been dreading for summer break to end and to go back to driving a car that wants to disagree with everything he does.

“It would be nice, but we have a championship to win.”

Max looks up at you and even with the moon as your only light source those baby blues of his still sparkled. “You really think we still have a shot at it?”

You know this season has been weighing him and the whole team down and as much as you’ve been stressed you still have faith that you guys can pull off the WDC. ‘I’m gonna tell you something my Dad used to tell me. Whenever I had a difficult race or was upset or even when I was getting rejected for an F1 seat he’d always tell me ‘it’ll pass’. You may be feeling like shit right now or hopeless, but after some time things get better and eventually that feeling of despair will pass. This rough patch we are in right now– it’ll pass Max. You’re gonna win again, especially if I have anything to do with it.”

The overwhelming desire he has to tell you he loves you right now is something he can’t ignore. He’s never had someone in his corner like this before. Had someone that he cared about so deeply and loved be so involved in securing his success, but also reassuring him and instilling confidence back in him. It’s something you were good at as kids too, he couldn’t recall how many times he’d snuck off and hung out with you and your family during your karting years. If he hadn’t had a particularly good race he always knew you’d be there for him no matter what others in his life said or did.

But as much as he’s confident in his true feelings about you and the fact that he really hadn’t felt this way about anyone before, he decides to keep it to himself for the time being. If you by some chance don’t feel the same he doesn’t want to ruin this nice moment or vacation by blabbing his mouth about how he feels. So for now him pressing his lips against yours and the feeling of your hands on him will have to suffice instead of ‘i love you’.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The first race back after summer break is Max’s home race and you both want nothing more than for him to win this one. The usual cool and collected Max has some nerves to him this weekend. You’d been nothing but reassuring and supportive this weekend because you truly think with the little tweaks the team had made to the car and some new strategy techniques that you may have this weekend in the bag, but Max can’t seem to shake the doubt in his mind. He’s of course thrilled to be racing at his home race, but the fact that he hasn’t been winning and that his family is going to be here has his mind working on overdrive. The little boy who hated to be a disappointment is still inside of him no matter the size of the nonchalant facade he tries to put on.

When Max qualifies P2 you know he’s going to be upset, but you know you guys can work with P2. You two go over the best possible strategy techniques Saturday night and come Sunday morning you’re both feeling good about the race.

“Alright Max twenty seconds until the formation lap. Be smart and safe.”

Your voice travels through the headset and Max smiles at the last part. It had become a habit of yours to always tell him to be smart and safe over the radio. It’s your way of telling him you care and perhaps subconsciously that you love him and he wants to tell you he loves you back every time, but he knows everyone can hear what is being said, so he settles for the old stand by.

“Copy.”

When the lights go out you don’t realize you haven’t taken a breath until Max overtakes Lando on the first turn and you’re breathing out a giant sigh of relief. This is what you guys needed and now all Max needed to do was get some distance between him and Lando and pray for it to be a boring race and he’d be taking that top step.

“Beautiful Max.”

You know the reassurance over the radio will have him smiling like a fool under his helmet.

It doesn’t take long though for your confidence about the race to start to diminish. Lando wastes no time in trying to gain his position back and you can tell Max can’t hold him off much longer. He eventually overtakes him and the gap that Lando starts to create is making your stomach turn. You knew if Lando got out in front and into the clean air it would be game over and that’s exactly what happens. With only ten laps left you don’t even want to tell Max how big the gap has gotten, but from his radio silence and him not outright asking, you figure he already knows.

22 seconds.

That’s the gap between Lando and Max when the checkered flag waves. Your stomach is in knots as you take off your headset and make your way towards the crowd already forming for the podium celebration. Max still ended up with P2, but to be beaten with a 22 second gap at your home race has got to be killing him. You watch him from below and you can tell his mind is going a mile a minute, the adrenaline still coursing through his veins and the disappointment from losing the race is written all over him.

After the podium celebration and the team debrief and every other responsibility that you have on a race weekend, you finally find yourself back at the hotel. Usually you’d be flying back home on his private jet, especially on a weekend like this, but Max opted to fly out first thing in the morning. So while Max finished up the last of his responsibilities you opted to torture yourself some more and go over countless amounts of data from this weekend.

Technically this isn’t even your main job, but if you can somehow figure out what the hell is wrong with this car then you’ll take on whatever job you have to. You don’t even realize how long you’ve been sat at this small hotel room desk, papers scattered everywhere as you hunch over your laptop. The sound of the door opening and closing doesn’t register in your mind and it’s not until you feel two strong hands on your shoulders that you are brought back from the world of tire degradation and sector times.

“Baby, come on, let's go to bed. We can’t solve this in one night.” His fingers work slowly into your tense muscles and a sigh of relief comes from you as you lean back in the chair, eyes fluttering closed as he continues to work his magic.

And as good as this feels, your brain wants to talk about the elephant in the room. “So we are gonna pretend like you didn’t get beat with a 22 second gap at your home race?“ His movements halt and you realize you probably could have worded that better.

“Well I’d actually like to forget about it if that’s alright.” He moves away from you and chooses to sit down on the edge of the bed. His body language is nothing shy of defeated and you could kick yourself for how you spoke.

“That’s not what I meant to say. It came out wrong. I was just trying to say that I’m trying to figure this out so it doesn’t happen again. We can act like it didn’t happen but it did and there’s clearly a reason here in this data.”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you blankly.

“I’m sorry if this isn’t what you want to be hearing, but I’m trying to get you a winning car again Max. I mean this is my first year as your actual engineer and I feel like I’m gonna lose my job if you aren’t winning races. The car is shit and we can’t seem to figure out a good strategy to work with the shit car. I don’t know what the fuck happened from last year to this year but I’m losing my fucking mind. People already think I shouldn’t be here and by not cranking out wins I’m just giving them more ammunition to use against me.”

You hadn’t realized you’d started crying until you feel Max’s thumb wiping the tears from your cheeks. “Fuck I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go on some rant and have a breakdown.”

You bury your head into his chest as his arms wrap around you, enveloping you in his strong warm embrace. “It’s fine. It’s good to let it out.” One of his hands moves to gently stroke your hair and when you finally pull your head back to look at him, he’s pressing a kiss to your forehead and it tells you everything you need to know.

“I know we’ve both been under stress, but I didn’t know it was this bad baby. I wish you would have talked to me sooner before it resulted in this.”

You shrug your shoulders at him. “Didn’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re never a burden to me. We are a team, remember? Regardless of actually working for the same team, at the end of the day it’s still you and me. Don’t ever feel like you have to bottle things up because you’re worried it will stress me out. We’re in this crazy ass world together yeah?”

A sniffle comes from you, but your tears had subsided. You find yourself just staring at him, getting lost in those ocean blue eyes and you know you’re so eternally grateful to have a guy like Max in your life. If only the world could see just how compassionate and loving he actually was.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Probably be miserable.”

And there was the smart ass Max that you knew all too well.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The season was coming to an end in a little over a month and you and Max and the whole team had been working overtime in trying to get the cars back up to the normal Red Bull standard that everyone had come to know. Max hadn’t won a race since Spain in June and with only four races left in the season the media had been in a whirlwind over a possible title fight between Max and Lando. You tried not to pay it much mind, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Max wouldn’t win his fourth championship this season. Even with a less dominant car he still went out there and gave it everything and his talent truly showed this season, to see him pulling that car up to podium level multiple times told everyone what they needed to know

Brazil was this weekend and it’s always a fun race in your opinion. Rain is always expected at least once throughout the weekend and the teams prepare for it, but this weekend it seemed that mother nature didn’t want this race to happen. Qualifying had gotten moved to Sunday morning which made things a little more complicated. If Max wrecked it didn’t give the mechanics much time at all to make any repairs. To make things even worse he was already starting with a five place grid penalty due to power unit change, so he had to make the most of this qualifying.

The garage is alive preparing to send the cars out for qualifying, but you can see how wet the track is and you can’t lie– you’re nervous. Usually you’d be on the pitwall by now, but you’re lingering in the garage waiting for Max. When he sees you he’s surprised and when you pull him to a somewhat less busy spot of the garage he’s worried that something is wrong.

“Everything alright?” He asks.

“Yes. Just wanted to tell you in person to be safe. It looks nasty out there.”

A smile creeps its way onto his face and before he can tease you about being a softie his head mechanic comes up asking him a question. You take that as a sign to get your ass over to the pitwall before anyone overhears anything else. With your headset on and your nerves at bay for the moment you turn around in your chair to see Max getting into his car.

“Alright. Green light at the end of the pitlane. Be smart and safe Verstappen.”

“Always am.”

You roll your eyes at him and prepare yourself for what could be an interesting qualifying session. When the first cars go out you know there’s going to be multiple crashes, you can just tell. Luckily Max makes it to Q2, but that's where everything goes wrong. A late called yellow flag has Max qualifying P12 which is actually P17 and you know when you hear the static in your headset that what comes out of his mouth is not going to be pretty.

“What the fuck? Why did they wait that long to pull out the flag? Should have been red to begin with, he went into the wall!”

“I know Max. We will discuss it later.”

You’re trying to not let himself get more community service, so the less he talks on the radio the better.

Max is raging as soon as he exits the cockpit of his car and you can tell from the pitwall that he has a bone to pick, but the race is in a few short hours and you have work to do. He can rant all he wants later, but you’re on a mission to somehow get him to win this race all the way from the back of the grid. He doesn’t come and find you for some time, but when he does you two don’t even mention the drama from qualifying. He’s clearly cooled down and you two know it’s now time to lock in and make this strategy work. You two go over three possible strategy plans, but you can tell from the fire in his eyes that he’s planning on pulling out a little bit of Mad Max today.

There’s maybe a half an hour until lights out and you take that time to go and find your parents who had been invited to attend the race this weekend. You like to think their very cool race engineer daughter is the reason they are here, but unfortunately you are a nepo baby and your Dad was invited because of who he was. Unsurprisingly you find Max and your parents chatting in the garage, Red Bull lanyards hanging from their necks. They greet you with a hug and kiss and Max and your Dad continue to talk while your Mom and you head out into the paddock.

“How’s the engineer life been treating my baby?” She asks as you two stroll down the paddock.

“I can’t lie, it's been stressful, but I love it. Helps that I’ve got such a good driver to work with though.”

“It’s nice to see you two reconnect.” There’s an inflection in her voice and you know there was a totally different meaning behind her words.

“What is it Mom?” You groan.

“Nothing. All I said it was nice to see you two reconnect. You two were close as kids and I’m not surprised that you found your way back to each other.”

You stop in your tracks, turning to face her. “Mom.”

“It’s truly nothing. It’s just a little bit of Mother’s intuition.” You stare blankly at her– waiting for her to continue. “I’ve heard how you talk to him over the radio, how you two look at each other in pictures, and I’ve witnessed firsthand how you two have acted today. You’re in love with him aren’t you?” Your heart starts to race and you don’t know what to tell her, of course your Mom would know this. She links her arm with yours and you two head back towards the Red Bull garage.

As you two walk through the entrance you find your Dad and Max still talking. Your Mom lowers her voice as she speaks to you. “Your silence tells me that I’m correct.” When Max spots you his whole face lights up and he’s waving for you to come join him and your Dad. “And I’d say it’s pretty safe to say he’s in love with you too.” She whispers to you before heading towards the two men.

You’re dumbfounded as you stand there in the middle of the busy garage, but the sweet sound of a familiar Dutch accent hollering for you has your legs moving before your brain catches up.

In what seems like no time at all you’re back on the pitwall and the cars are lined up on the grid. After a mess of a formation lap the five lights finally go out and the race is underway. Max wastes no time in making his way through the field and you’re crossing your fingers that this rain on the radar goes around the track, but as the first few droplets fall you know this is about to get interesting.

Max had made it up to second thanks to a combination of VSCs, other teams pit stops, and then by the grace of the racing gods a red flag. Which gave you guys a free pitstop and allowed for him to hold his P2 position. Things were looking up, but when the red flag lifted it seemed like the rain was only getting heavier. You knew at this point that this was the ultimate test of trust between Max and you. He was blindly following your orders and praying that what you were telling him wasn’t going to have him end up in the wall like so many others.

“No red flag? This is getting dangerous, even for me.”

“No red flag.”

“What the hell?”

“I know. Anything can happen out there. Please be careful.”

Your fingernails are non-existent at this point and you’re sure you’ve aged ten years from this race alone, but eventually Max overtakes Esteban and after more safety cars and yellow flags it’s down to the last lap. Max has got this and you can feel the happy tears starting to well up in your eyes. And when that checkered flag waves and he’s the first person to see it the whole pitwall and garage erupts into cheers. You would have thought he’d won the championship the way everyone was acting, but he was just reclaiming his spot at the top.

You can’t make your way over to the barricade fast enough and to see the pure joy on his face as he climbs out of the car makes your heart swell with happiness. It had been a long time coming this season and of course his first win in what seemed like forever was one hell of a drive. He comes running over to the team and when he spots you you’re the first person he’s hugging and practically pulling over the barricade. You can feel the happiness radiating off of him and you know that after this that he’s got the championship in the bag.

The podium celebration was one for the books and to see him radiating up there and smiling down at you had you forgetting that you’re keeping this relationship a secret. But the one thing you know you won’t forget is how in love you felt and what you don’t realize is how bad it’s going to hurt.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The two week break before the triple header that ends the season has you spending some time at headquarters. It's just the usual end of the season stuff, but when an email pops up from HR wanting to schedule a meeting you’re a little concerned. You don’t mention anything to Max, figuring it’s just maybe something silly, but when you walk into the HR office you can sense that it’s not something small.

“Y/N, so glad you could work this meeting into your schedule. I know you’re a busy woman so I appreciate it.”

You sit down in one of the plush chairs in front of her desk and you try to calm yourself, if it was something so bad then why would she be so cheery towards you. “Of course. What did you need to discuss with me?” God, could you sound any more robotic?

Her cheery demeanor turns more serious and when she clasps her hands together on her desk you know this is the moment that someone has found out about you and Max and you’re about to be canned.

“I don’t know how to really go about this, but I’m just going to come right out and say it. There was someone who got into contact with us and claimed to have pictures of you and Max engaging in less than professional activities after his win in Brazil.”

You’re stunned for a moment and don’t know what to say, you’d been mentally preparing yourself for this moment, yet when you actually hear it you realize you didn’t actually believe that this was the reason you were being called in. You two had been so careful about maintaining professional boundaries while at work and out in public, but apparently not that weekend.

“I can assure you that’s not the case with Max and I. Did they actually have the photos to back up their claims or is this all just hearsay?” You weren’t going to immediately give it up in case this was a test, but when she pulls out an envelope and slides it across the desk, you know it’s over.

The envelope though it weighs virtually nothing – feels like the heaviest thing in the world.

When you finally work up the courage to open it you feel like you’re going to throw up. Your palms are sweaty, mouth is watering, and you feel light headed. There in your hands is the thing that is going to ruin your career– pictures of you and Max kissing outside his hotel room in Sao Paulo. How could you two have been so dumb? You aren’t sure if you want to cry or scream or throw up.

“There’s no denying that it’s you in those photos, but I’m here to give you your options.”

“Options?” Your eyes are still locked to the photos that are still being held in your shaky hand.

“Listen. I admire what you’ve accomplished as a woman in a fully male dominated sport. I also know what happens to women who let things like this go public. Their hard work is diminished to becoming their partner's significant other or your hard work could only have been accomplished by selling your body in exchange for promotions. Luckily, I was the one who saw that email and I squashed it early enough to where we won’t have a scandal on our hands, but I need something from you in exchange.”

You’re like a deer caught in headlights and there's so many things going through your brain that you can’t even communicate with her.

“I get that this is overwhelming and the last thing you wanted to happen, but right now it’s only you, Max, and me that know about your relationship at Red Bull and we want it to stay that way. I also know that you’ve gotten offers from McLaren and Ferrari to work for them next year and you’ve ignored them.” How did she know about that? You hadn’t told a soul, not even your parents. You’d been mulling over it for some time. You didn’t want to leave Max and you had made a home at Red Bull, but McLaren especially had been so adamant about getting you to join the team. Your contract with Red Bull was only for a year, but you figured they’d resign you, now it doesn’t seem that way. “So, you’re only real option here if you want to continue to make a name for yourself in this world is to break things off with Max and accept one of those offers.”

Your eyes snap up towards hers and you can feel your heart about ready to beat out of your chest. “I know this isn’t what you want to hear, but my higher ups will not want to deal with this scandal if you two continue to be careless. There will be no workplace romance, you will be gone and your hardwork will be for nothing. I followed your journey Y/N, you deserve to be out there racing with all of them, but life gave you lemons and you somehow made some damn good lemonade. Now don’t let them drink your lemonade.”

She takes the photos and the envelope out of your hands and you hear her put them through the paper shredder. You feel like you’re frozen in time, like how you felt back in that meeting at Williams all those years ago. “I’m sure it’s nothing too serious between you two anyways. So this shouldn’t be a hard decision.”

You’re brought back to reality and the words are slipping past your lips before you even realize it. “It’s not serious.”

Yes it is.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The following days leading up to Vegas are a blur, you try to drown yourself in your work and Max can’t seem to leave you alone. It’s not that you don’t want to see him, it’s just that you’re waging a war in your mind right now and he’s at the root of it.

You try to ignore the impending doom hanging over your head and actually enjoy this weekend. If Max finishes one place ahead of Lando this weekend he’s going to be a four time World’s Driver Champion. It’s the thing you guys have worked towards the whole season and to see it finally come together might be one of the highlights of your career. Vegas as always is a spectacle, the lights, the parties, the celebrities. It’s nothing like any of the European races or really any other race if you were being honest.

When the sun sets and the track lights come on your mind only focuses on the task at hand and not the ultimate ultimatum you’ve been given. Qualifying goes somewhat to plan, Max didn’t manage to get pole but he does qualify ahead of Lando, which puts him in a great spot for tomorrow. He’s buzzing once he gets out of the car and when he finds you he can tell there’s something slightly off with you. Your energy isn’t necessarily what it usually is, but he figures maybe you’re cold and tired, so he doesn’t press the matter.

You try to follow the script the following night, but the longer this thing festers in your brain the more you can’t keep on your poker face.

“Twenty seconds till formation lap. Be smart and safe.”

“Copy.”

The race thankfully is pretty unremarkable. The main goal tonight was to just beat Lando, if you managed to score a win also that would be great, but the Championship was what you were going after tonight.

And that’s just what Max does.

The roars from the crowd and the team as Max crosses the finish line before Lando are deafening and you can feel the mixture of happy and sad tears streaming down your face.

“Max! You’re a four time champion!”

It’s nothing but pure glee back from him across the radio and you can’t help but laugh at the simply lovely through the tears. You managed to pull yourself together and accept the congrats from the rest of the pitwall and make your way through the crowd to see if you can find Max, but he’s already trying to find you. The crowd makes space for you to get to the barricade and when Max spots you there’s nothing but love in his eyes and it absolutely kills you. He pulls you up over the barricade and envelopes you in the most bone crushing hug you’ve ever experienced. There’s millions of cameras around so you have to be careful, but you savor the moment for as long as you can. “We did it!” Max exclaims and you can see the happy tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.

“We did! I told you it was gonna happen, didn't I?”

Seconds later you two get into a Rolls Royce with a cameraman that takes you along the track. You look over at him and he’s radiating with happiness and the ache in your chest only seems to grow. “I’m so proud of you Max.” That smile that you love so dearly beams back at you and you want to reach out and caress his cheek, but you know you can’t.

“I couldn’t have done this without you. This championship is as much yours as it is mine. I hope you know that.” He goes to reach for your hand, but then remembers the cameraman and quickly snatches it away. Silence fills the luxurious car and you know Max is trying to take in being a four time back to back champion, while you’re coming to terms with the fact that not too long from now you’re going to not only break the man you love’s heart, but your own.

That little girl with a dream is still inside of you, she’s with you every race weekend. You love Max more than you should, but you know if you continue on with this you’ll be the one losing your job and not him. It’s not fair, but you learned that life isn’t fair early on and you’ll be damned if you allow yourself to lose something else that you worked so hard to achieve. So if that means losing Max and moving teams then you guess that's how it has to be. Your Dad’s words replay in your head ‘it’ll pass’ and you know that nothing ever truly passes and that all you do is learn to live with it. The ache gets weaker over time, but it never truly goes away.

Even though you found a new dream to pursue you still have moments of truly missing racing. Like when you see the pure excitement and joy on Max’s face when he wins a race or when you see the adrenaline radiating off of him when he gets out of the car, you can’t ignore that ache in your chest. You can’t help but sometimes still think that should be you and you know you shouldn’t feel like that about the man you love, but you’ve never been able to live through him. He’s told you so many times that his wins and now this championship are as much yours as they are his because without you he wouldn’t be able to win. But those words do nothing to heal the teenage girl who got her dreams shattered just because she was a girl. You want to be able to have your dream and keep the man you love, but the career you chose doesn’t allow for you to have both. So for that little girl that still lives inside of you, you choose your dream.

You attend all the team celebrations and end up getting soaked in champagne more times than you can count and you try to savor every last moment you have with Max and that includes going out and celebrating and coming back to his hotel room and celebrating some more. You savor it all fully knowing this is the last time you’re going to make love to him and kiss him and be held by him. And when he finally decides to fully bare his heart to you as you lay in his arms that night, you stick your knife right through it.

“I love you.”

You don’t answer him for a moment and you know this is how it’s got to happen. The longer you wait the harder it’s going to be.

“It’ll pass.”

Max isn’t sure he heard you right and he’s choking on his own words trying to form a coherent sentence. “What are you talking about schatje?”

The tears are already falling down your cheeks and you know there is no coming back from this. “Please don’t call me that.”

Max removes you from his grasp and sits up in bed. “Why not?”

“It makes this harder than it needs to be.”

He’s more than confused at the moment. His heart is racing and you’re crying and he doesn’t understand what is going on. He just won his fourth championship and finally told the woman of his dreams that he loves her and she replies with it’ll pass? “Y/N what the hell is going on? I love you and I know you love me back. I see it in your eyes when you talk to me or when you look at me. I hear it when you tell me to be safe as I line up on the grid. Am I a fool or something? Have I been blind this whole time?”

“I love you more than you could imagine.”

“Then why are you sobbing and telling me it’ll pass and asking me to not call you schatje?” In the back of his mind he knows, but he doesn’t want to come to terms with it.

You just want to pull him back into your arms and kiss him and take back everything you’ve said so far, but you can’t and you wish this wasn’t your reality at the moment. “We can’t be together anymore Max.”

He furrows his eyebrows at you, he really can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. “Are you being serious? Like are you being totally honest with me right now? Because we have something special here Y/N. I want to know why you’re throwing this away so easily.”

You take a shaky deep breath and sit up next to him in the bed. “Someone got a picture of us kissing outside your hotel room in Brazil and Red Bull’s HR got wind of it. I got called in and she showed me the pictures. They squashed it before it got out, but Max, she basically told me that if we were to come out as a couple that I’d lose my job. I can’t afford to lose out another dream of mine Max. You don’t understand what it’s like.”

He grabs your hand and the simple feeling of his skin on yours has more tears rolling down your cheeks. “Listen, I’d give away every championship every wi-”

“You don’t mean that Max.”

He’s up out of the bed at this point and you fear it’s only going to escalate from here.

“For fucks sake yes I do! I know we’ve made things a little complicated, but we can make it work. I mean I’m Max Ver-”

“Exactly, you’re Max Verstappen. You won’t have to worry about losing your job over this. You’re F1’s golden boy, world famous Max Verstappen. It’ll be a little slap on the wrist for you, but for me in this boys club? It’ll be hell. I’ll be painted a whore, a girl whose only way to have gotten into this position was to have had sex with every guy I had to. You don’t know what it’s like to be one of the best drivers of your generation and not get to follow your childhood dreams simply because no one wants to take the chance on signing a female driver. I’ve had to give up one of my dreams and I’m not about to have to lose another one. So yes, I love you and it’s fucking killing me inside to do this, but sometimes we have to let go of the things we love. This horrible heart wrenching feel we are both experiencing will pass. I promise you. You deserve to be with someone who can give you their all.”

He sits down at the end of the bed, your words finally sinking in and he feels like the wind has been knocked out of him. Like he's gone into the wall at full speed. “I don’t want anyone else but you Y/N.” You crawl to the end of the bed and wrap your arms around him and it’s at that moment you realize he’s crying too and the last little bit of your heart that’s intact finally breaks. “I’m not gonna be able to convince you to stay am I?”

You press a chaste kiss to his bare shoulder. “No.” You whisper. “I’m probably always gonna love you Max, but this is how it has to be.”

His hand reaches up and grabs yours and a shaky breath escapes from him before he speaks. “Guess you finally made me cry didn’t you?”

FIA Gala 2025

The black gown you’ve chosen to wear tonight is stunning, but you’ve still not grown accustomed to wearing them. And you haven’t grown to like these fancy Galas either, but you’ve got to go to it though. You’re being honored for being the first female engineer to win back to back WDCs with two different drivers on two different teams . Your season with McLaren this year was nothing shy of spectacular and people actually started to recognize your talent.

You’ve been nursing this glass of champagne for some time now, listening to the team talk about the season while all you can think about is taking this dress off later. They get called over to a different table to talk with some sponsors and you take the alone time to scroll through your phone. You’re just about ready to go and see if there’s anything here other than champagne when you hear him speak from behind you and that all too familiar ache blooms in your chest.

“Is this seat taken?”

991 notes · View notes

pandaxnienke · 1 day ago

Text

first christmas with trucker ari levinson

pairing: dark trucker!ari levinson x female reader

summary: you ask ari if you can hang up some christmas decorations in his truck cab, and after his initial refusal, he starts to come around to the idea—and has some fun making you beg for it.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, slightly dry/painful sex, creampie, cock warming, bondage, choking, breathplay, dirty talk, degradation, some praise, daddy/dad kink, begging, pet names (sweetheart, baby, kiddo), some aftercare, a mean hot man

word count: 2.0k

a/n: based on this ask from @veltana: Are trucker Ari's and trucker Jake's readers gonna decorate the rigs for the holidays? since Ari's canonically jewish, i wanted to work that in while still showing what he's willing to do for his girl. (also apologies if there's any tense switching in this one, i'm not used to writing in present tense 😬)

trucker king masterlist & dirty filthy truckers universe masterlist

Trucker Ari Levinson isn’t the type of man to decorate for the holidays. By the time Thanksgiving rolls around, you’re well aware of this fact about your trucker, but you think it would be nice to put up some decorations in the rig, just to make it feel a little bit festive.

When you broach the subject, the two of you have just set off on a six-week stint of driving, which means you’ll be on the road through the new year. Already, the vast, snow-covered plains of the midwest have you feeling melancholy, so you’re really hoping Ari says yes to some Christmas cheer.

However, your trucker shuts you down with a curt, grunted, “I’m Jewish.”

You try not to show your disappointment, but you haven’t quite gotten used to the way you can never hide anything from your deceptively observant trucker. So while you think you do a good job of playing it off like you don’t care that Ari doesn’t seem willing to let you decorate, he knows he’s struck a chord—and it doesn’t sit well with him.

At the next rest stop, Ari’s grabbing snacks while you’re in the bathroom and he catches sight of a small display of Christmas decorations. They’re all cheap and plastic and poor quality, but before he can stop himself, he’s swiping one of the bright red Santa hats and adding it to his haul.

Ari shakes his head to himself, wondering what his mother would think of him if she could see him buying a Santa hat when he hasn’t worn a yarmulke or stepped foot in a synagogue in over a decade. But then he pushes the thoughts aside, reminding himself that his mother was gone, she’d left him, and she had no fucking right to judge what he was doing.

You’re settled in the rig by the time he gets back, an e-reader in your lap, and already engrossed in some smutty Christmas romance when Ari hauls himself into the driver’s seat. You don’t look up until a bag of Christmas candy lands in your lap, and you’re so taken aback, you glance at your trucker in surprise.

It’s then that you see the Santa hat pulled down over Ari’s slightly greasy brown hair. In his dirty red flannel, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Ari looked like the hottest, filthiest Santa you’ve ever seen, and your core quivers with eagerness as you suck in an excited breath.

Ari’s staring at your mouth, his eyes dipping lower to the way your tits are trembling as your breathing speeds up. You’re wearing nothing but one of his flannel shirts, the buttons undone an almost indecent amount, and nothing underneath. (You’d worn leggings into the rest stop bathroom, but taken them off as soon as you got back in the truck—Ari doesn’t like you wearing too many clothes and, truthfully, you don’t either.)

“Why don’t you come sit on Santa’s lap, kiddo,” Ari rumbles, his voice low and smooth—the charming tone of the man who’d coaxed you into his truck that first day. His hand pats his thigh enticingly as he spreads his legs, the fingers of his other hand deftly undoing the button and fly of his jeans. “Tell daddy what you want for Christmas this year.”

Your pussy is already wet with desire, so you toss your e-reader onto the bunk in the back and quickly navigate the space between your seats so you can throw a leg over Ari’s thighs and slide into his lap. Your ass lands on his legs, your pussy already slick enough that you whimper with the need to be filled.

“Beg for this cock, sweetheart,” Ari rumbles, stroking his thick length, his knuckles brushing against your damp slit and making your hips buck forward, seeking more friction. “Beg me to use your cunny like my own personal cock sleeve.”

“Please, use my pussy, daddy,” you beg breathlessly, fingers twining around the hair at the nape of Ari’s neck, careful not to knock the Santa hat off his head. “Use me to keep your cock warm, please—I want nothing more than to be your perfect little cock slave.”

“Good cock whore,” Ari purrs, one of his big hands grabbing your ass and urging you to lift up. Then he was notching the head of his dick at your tight little hole and helping you sink down on him.

A lewd moan slips from your lips as you take Ari’s cock. Your pussy isn’t quite wet enough to take his thick girth, but you don’t care. You’d take Ari dry if that’s what he wanted, and you both know it.

There’s a delicious sting as your pussy protests the thick intrusion but you push past it, forcing your hips down until your ass meets Ari’s strong thighs. You sigh with contentment, swaying a little in Ari’s lap, your eyes half-lidded as you stare into your trucker’s ungodly handsome face.

For some reason, the Santa hat is really doing it for you, making Ari even hotter than normal and you think, dazedly, you might have a Santa kink—so long as Santa is your dirty, filthy trucker.

“Feels s’good, daddy,” you slur, pleasure making your tongue feel thick and clumsy in your mouth.

Ari chuckles and gives your hip an affectionate pat before he removes his hands from your body and starts up the truck, the engine growling to life.

He’s pulled his rig back onto the snowy midwestern roads before he reminds you about why you’re on his lap in the first place.

“I wanna decorate the cab for Christmas,” you murmur, laying your head against Ari’s shoulder and enjoying the feeling of the truck rumbling beneath you, the warmth of the rig surrounding you.

Your eyes slide closed and you relax against Ari’s chest, letting the soothing vibrations and the perfect feeling of being filled by his cock lull you. Your whispered plea is spoken into the hollow of Ari’s throat, right above where the star of David he always wears is nestled beneath his t-shirt.

“Please, dad.”

You feel your trucker’s cock twitch inside you, and a second later he lets out a tortured groan. It joins the soft moan you bury in the shoulder of his flannel shirt, your hips rocking lazily on Ari’s lap. Your juices are soaking his cock already, dripping down to his balls, and his cock is throbbing inside you, both of you equally turned on by what you’d called him.

“Fine,” he grits out through clenched teeth, though you know he’s not angry, just trying to hold back from coming inside you so soon. He always reacts that way when you call him ‘dad’ instead of ‘daddy’. “You can have one string of lights, baby, but I’m going to test ‘em out before we hang ‘em up.”

Sucking in a sharp breath of surprise, you lean back and look up at Ari to make sure he’s serious. You find his jaw clenched tight and ticking, but when his eyes meet yours, there’s a sparkle of something like affection in them. Before you can be sure, though, he looks back to the dark road.

“Thank you, Ari, thank you,” you cry, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing kisses to his scruffy cheeks and burying your face in his thick beard to nuzzle his jaw. Happily, you lick and kiss down his neck, sucking on the spot at the base of his throat that makes his cock throb inside you.

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” he grumbles, one of his hands falling to the small of your back and urging you to settle. “Now be a good cock whore and sit still while you keep me warm, we’ve got another couple hours of driving before you can properly thank me.”

“Yes, sir, daddy,” you purr sweetly in Ari’s ear as you settle down on his lap. You lay your head on his shoulder and press your mouth to his neck, licking and sucking on his skin idly while you do your best to stay still and let him drive in peace.

When Ari finally pulls off for the night, you’re practically vibrating with a need to show him how happy he’s made you and as soon as he puts the rig in park, you’re riding his cock hard and fast.

Your hands are planted on his bare chest—since you made him strip out of his flannel shirt and t-shirt—and you lift your ass up before slamming it down hard, the tip of his cock pushing against your cervix with every thrust and making your cunt squeeze the life from his hard length.

Once he’s let you take control for long enough, Ari’s hand wraps around the front of your throat and he pins you back against the steering wheel, not caring that the horn blares while he fucks up into you ruthlessly.

All you can do is watch your trucker king, wearing a cheap rest stop Santa hat, fuck the hell out of you while your tits bounce and your mouth falls open in a moan.

Ari comes with a rough shout, yanking you down hard on his cock and making you grind your pussy on him, rubbing your clit against the coarse hair at the base. His hand squeezes your throat, choking you just hard enough to make your pussy spasm, and then you’re coming too, your scream of pleasure stifled by his grip on your neck.

After, Ari helps you into the bunk and tucks you into his big body beneath the blanket. He falls asleep wearing that Santa hat and some boxer briefs, while you’re naked in his arms. With your back to his chest, you can’t see the faint smile that curves his mouth as he drifts off.

When Ari finally buys you that string of lights he promised, you learn that the ‘test’ he wanted to do before you strung them up was to tie you up in them. He winds the cord around your calves, then your thighs, binding your legs together before he plugs them in to make sure they’re all working.

Ari takes a long moment to look at you like that, naked on the bunk in the back of his rig, save for the thick socks keeping your feet toasty, and the warm, golden lights of the Christmas decoration he bought for you.

It makes him want to buy you more, to see how you’d look laid out beneath a fully decked out Christmas tree while he fucked your pussy, or how you’d feel curled up in a blanket covered in reindeer while he held you on his lap, his cock buried in your ass. He wants to see you wearing a Santa hat that matched his own, sucking his cock on Christmas morning while he made you coffee.

Ari reminds himself that the two of you are spending Christmas in his rig that year, driving around the country until well into January. But he saves those ideas for another time, tucking them into a box in a corner deep in his mind reserved for all the softer, more domestic plans he has for you—the ones you’ve started to inspire in him despite the fact that he’s never thought of himself as a man with soft or domestic side.

To distract himself, Ari digs out the Santa hat he bought at that rest stop and puts it on your head, pulling it down over your ears and giving you a satisfied little grin. Then he folds your body in half, pushing your bound legs up to your chest and off to the side so he can watch your face contort in pleasure while he sinks his cock into you.

The string of lights are digging into your skin a little painfully and you’re bent in an almost uncomfortable position, but you can’t help but enjoy it when Ari plunges into your cunt and sets a fast, merciless pace.

You’d never expected a conversation about Christmas decorations to end up with you tied up in a string of lights, but then, nothing about your trucker was ever what you expected—and that was part of why you loved him so much. You couldn’t wait to spend that Christmas and many more with your trucker king, Ari Levinson.

trucker king masterlist & dirty filthy truckers universe masterlist

296 notes · View notes

pandaxnienke · 2 days ago

Note

ong yes!! lando gotta loveeeee doggy and taking her against a wall!! But imagine her on top for the first time and not knowing how to ride him and him teaching him and telling her what to do! im asking this to santa !!

kill me now!!

Oh, Christmas treat | LN ⁴

💌 INSPIRED by anon ──── Why ask Santa when I'm literally right here... enjoy 💋

⤿ We're yapping about this ask.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

𐙚 summary ──── It's a quiet winter night, and Lando notices that his girlfriend seems a bit distracted. After some playful coaxing, she admits a secret desire to try something new. With his gentle guidance, they explore new paths together, each step bringing them closer.

𐙚 pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

𐙚 rating ──── explicit

𐙚 category ──── F/M

𐙚 warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, established relationship, fluff & smut, descriptive language, light teasing, themes of vulnerability, unprotected sex, reader's first time on top, bit of swearing.

𐙚 word count ──── 2.5k

𐙚 date ──── Dec. 24, 2024

𐙚 a/n ──── I know this wasn’t a request per se, but I wanted to share this one-shot with you since it was already mostly ready to go. I’ve been dealing with some health issues recently and couldn't get myself to get anything done, so thank you for your patience. The rest of the requests are still on their (admittedly slow) way, but I promise they’re coming 🤞🏻 Wishing a very Merry Christmas Eve to everyone who celebrates, and who knows, I might have another little treat up my sleeve 👀

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

THE DAY HAD been nothing out of the ordinary, but that was exactly what made it special.

Lando had woken up late, groggy but grinning satisfied when he caught her padding around the kitchen in fuzzy socks and an oversized sweater, humming along to Christmas songs. She loves the holiday season, because she likes it when he's home, and Lando doesn't have to be anywhere but their own apartment. That's exactly why she can't get upset when he streams with Max for hours in the night, and ends up sleeping in the next day. The simple fact that he's there is enough.

Maybe she conditioned herself to accept that, but then she sees his sleepy face and thinks she'd accept worse in order to share her mornings with him.

It's Christmas Eve, so they’d decided to bake cookies, mostly because she insisted it was a winter tradition, and Lando, ever the competitive spirit, took it as a challenge to see whose decorations would turn out better. As expected, chaos followed. By the time the cookies were ready, the kitchen looked like it had been through a snowstorm of flour and sugar. Lando had a streak of frosting on his cheek, and she had somehow ended up with sprinkles in her hair. In reality, they spent more time laughing and teasing each other than actually baking, but that was always the way it went with them.

Now, their cookies sit patiently on the counter, forgotten as the two of them relax on the couch in the living room. The Christmas tree lights glow warmly in the corner, and a cheesy holiday movie plays on the TV. They’re snuggled under a thick blanket, her legs curled up and tucked into his side. Lando’s arm drapes around her shoulders, his fingers playing lazily with her hair. It’s peaceful and comforting, but somewhere in the quiet, she feels a sudden pull in her chest.

In all the time they've been together, she never took the lead — not willingly, at least — feeling more than happy to surrender. She's been thinking about it for a long time, but she's never had the courage to do it. She doesn't feel intimidated or inhibited by her boyfriend, but rather by how it could all go wrong for both of them if she, somehow, ends up doing something she’s not supposed to.

Suddenly, her arms tighten around him, her nose nuzzling into his shirt. There’s a weight in her heart, not sadness exactly, but something tender, something raw. It makes her extra clingy, but she doesn’t say anything. She just holds him closer, hoping he won’t notice.

But Lando always notices.

His fingers pause in her hair, and his brows furrow slightly as he glances down at her. “You good, baby?” he asks, his voice soft and curious.

She hums nonchalantly, her face still buried in his chest.

“You sure?” Lando insists, his tone teasing but gentle.

The girl freezes for a moment, debating whether to brush it off, but before she can decide, he tilts her chin up with his fingers, making her look at him.

“Come on, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?” he asks, his eyes scanning hers.

Her cheeks heat under his gaze, and she sighs. “I don’t know. You just… feel extra nice to hold tonight,” she says quietly.

Lando blinks, then his grin widens, teasing again. “Didn’t know I had levels of cuddliness.”

“Oh, shut up,” she mumbles, hiding her face against his chest again.

His smile softens, and he wraps his arms around her fully, pulling her tighter against him. “Hey, you don’t wanna talk to me?”

She shakes her head and, at that, Lando stops pushing, knowing that whatever it is, she’ll come to him. Eventually. When she’s ready.

A few hours later, their movie marathon ends in a comfortable silence, the glow of the TV instantly muted by the credits rolling on the screen. Lando stretches, groaning softly as he shifts from the couch.

She gathers the blanket, folding it neatly before turning to him with a small smile.

“Bedtime?” she asks, her voice soft, almost reluctant to leave the warmth of the evening behind.

“Bedtime,” he agrees, though he watches her carefully as she heads toward the bedroom.

She moves through her usual routine, brushing her teeth and slipping into one of his hoodies, paired with sleep shorts. As she pulls back the covers and sits on the edge of the bed, he hears it again — the same quiet sigh that makes his chest tighten.

Lando leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, frowning in her direction. “Alright, that’s the second time tonight,” he says, his tone light but edged with curiosity. “Should I worry?”

“What?” she replies quickly, too quickly, as she gets ready to tuck herself under the duvet. “No, baby. It’s nothing.”

“Right,” says Lando, stepping closer, his lips curving into a mischievous grin. “If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to get it out of you another way.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “Lando…”

Before she can finish, he lunges, playfully grabbing her waist and threatening to tickle her sides. She squeals, trying to wiggle away, but his grip on her is firm.

“Last chance, I'm serious,” he warns, his laughter bubbling up as she giggles uncontrollably.

“Okay, fine, stop it!” she pleads, breathless, her face flushed.

Lando stops, pulling back just enough to sit on the edge of the bed. Then, with a gentle tug, he pulls her onto his lap. His arms wrap loosely around her waist, and he tilts his head, watching her with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Now,” he says, happy that he managed to break her wall, “What’s going on?”

She hesitates, her cheeks turning pink as she avoids his gaze. Instead, her fingers find his curls at the back of his head, twisting them gently as she takes a deep breath. “You know, it’s not even a big deal. I’ve been thinking about something, but I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Mhm,” he nods, leaning in to press a lingering kiss to her lips. It’s deep, slow, almost as if he’s trying to reassure her without words. When he pulls back, their foreheads touch, and he whispers, “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

She knows. Still, that doesn’t make it any easier. The heat rushes in her cheeks as she finally meets his eyes. “Look, I like when you’re on top. I mean, I really like it,” she says, stumbling slightly over her words. “But I was thinking, maybe, I’d like to, you know...”

Her voice trails off, and she looks away again, clearly embarrassed.

Lando blinks, letting her words sink in. His mouth opens slightly, but no sound comes out as a flush creeps up his neck. Then, a grin spreads across his face, equal parts flustered and excited.

“Yeah?” he asks, his voice soft, his hands tightening slightly on her waist. “You want to ride me, baby?”

She nods quickly, still twisting his curls nervously. “But I’ve never done it before, and I’m not sure I’d be good at it. It's just that—”

He exhales a chuckle, leaning forward to kiss her forehead. “Slow down,” he murmurs against her skin, his tone so tender that it makes her stomach flip. “You don’t have to worry about being good at it, baby. If you wat to try it, I can guide you, and we’ll see what works for us as we go.”

Her cheeks flush as she processes his reassurance, the tender way he’s looking at her making her feel bold and seen. And listened to.

She smiles, shifting on his lap, searching for some friction, and the slight brush of her core against his growing hardness has her letting out a soft gasp. Lando notices immediately, but he doesn’t say anything yet. Instead, he lets her take the lead at her own pace, on her own terms.

She shifts again, this time deliberately pressing herself against him, and the soft sound she makes has Lando’s self-control slipping. “I suppose we can try now?” he murmurs, his voice thick with heat.

She doesn’t reply — at least not with words. Instead, she grabs his hoodie, pulling it over her head in one swift motion, leaving her in nothing but her shorts. Lando’s breath catches as he takes her in, his hands immediately coming up to palm her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples. He's seen her naked so many times before, but somehow, every time she gets rid of her clothes she uncovers something new.

“So beautiful,” he mutters, leaning in to press open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. She tilts her head back, giving him more access, and the heat between them builds until she pushes him gently onto the mattress.

Lando goes willingly, a grin tugging at his lips as she leans over him to kiss him again. His hands move to her hips, holding her firmly as she presses herself against him, grinding slowly. He groans into her mouth, his hands sliding lower to grip her ass, then he spreads her slightly, pushing her down against his growing length, making both of them gasp at the feeling.

Her hands trail down his chest, and she tugs at his shirt. “Off,” she breathes, and he obeys, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. For a moment, she just looks at him, her hands tracing the defined lines of his chest.

The tension between them builds rapidly, their breaths mingling as they press closer. It doesn’t take long before she’s tugging at the waistband of her shorts, her nerves creeping back in as she pushes them down. Lando sits up slightly, watching her with darkened eyes, and when she glances at him nervously, he reaches out to stroke her thigh gently.

“You’re perfect,” he says softly, his voice full of sincerity.

Her nerves ease at his words, and when he pushes his joggers down, freeing himself, her anticipation drowns out her doubts.

He sits up fully, pulling her closer until she’s straddling him again. “Alright, love,” he murmurs, his hands steadying her hips. “Go slow, yeah? Just sit on me first. Take your time.”

She nods, biting her lip as she lines herself up with him. Slowly, she sinks down, feeling the stretch as he fills her inch by sweet inch. Her breath hitches, and Lando groans, his hands gripping her hips tighter.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasps. “You always feel so good.”

She pauses once he’s fully inside, her hands braced on his chest as she adjusts to the feeling of being so full of him. Sensing her nervousness, Lando rubs soothing circles on her hips, letting her take her time.

When she finally starts to move, lifting herself up slightly before sinking back down, a soft, shaky moan escapes her lips. Lando watches her with a mix of awe and hunger, his hands guiding her gently.

“Just like that, baby,” he encourages her, “Easy. You’re doing so well.”

Slowly but surely, she manages to build a rhythm, her movements tentative at first. But as the pleasure starts invading her senses, she becomes bolder. She opens up more, craving all of him at once. Her hands slide back to grip his thighs for support as she leans back slightly, the new angle sending sparks of pleasure through her body.

The taste of power it's rather interesting in this position, and she can’t afford to be shy anymore. Not when his cock feels so good inside her, and not when she decides how to take him.

“Fuck, Lando,” she breathes, her head tilting back.

She begins to move more rapidly on top of him, her hips following a predetermined path that she wasn't even aware of before. Lando watches her in amazement, feeling every pulse of pleasure every time she comes back for more, her walls hugging his cock so tightly that it leaves him breathless.

He groans, his hands sliding up to her waist to steady her. “That’s it, baby. Keep going. God, you’re going to make me cum so fast like this.”

The sight of her riding him, her body moving with such confidence now, nearly breaks him. Somehow, he resists the urge to thrust up into her, letting her stay in control, but his grip tightens as his restraint begins to fray.

He hears a silent cry, getting ready for every scenario in his mind, while his eyes study her frame by frame.

She whimpers, her movements becoming more erratic as the pleasure overwhelms her. “Lan,” she gasps, her voice shaky. “I can’t go—too much.”

He sits up slightly, pulling her towards him and pressing his forehead to hers. “Of course you can, baby,” he says softly, his voice steady despite the fire coursing through him. “I’m here. Just a little more, yeah? You’re doing so good.”

She feels his cock twitching inside her as she shakes her head weakly, “Lando, please…” her hands desperately clutch his shoulders, and that's when he understands what she needs from him.

Lando's hands land on her waist again, gripping at her firmly, and he starts to guide her harder on his cock while thrusting up into her simultaneously, meeting her halfway. The sudden change in rhythm makes her cry out, her nails digging into his skin.

“Yes,” she moans, her head dropping onto his shoulder as he drives her higher. “It’s so good, fuck. I’m—”

“That’s it,” he growls, his voice tinged with exhaustion. “Let go, baby. I’ve got you.”

So she does, her body trembling as the pleasure crests and crashes over her. He follows seconds later, his movements growing erratic before he stills inside her, holding her tightly against him as they both ride out their highs, breathing each other’s air. They stay tangled together, bodies still pressed close as the intensity of their orgasms fades away.

Lando brushes a strand of her hair away from her damp forehead, his lips curling into a soft smile. “You okay there?” he asks, his voice a gentle rasp.

She nods against him, her body still warm and buzzing. “Mhm, ‘m okay,” she murmurs, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

He grins, leaning down to kiss her forehead. “You did so well, baby. Made me proud.”

She lets out a breathless laugh, her head dropping back onto his shoulder. “Cheers,” she trails off, playfully groaning. “But that was so much work. My fucking thighs are on fire.”

Lando laughs, the sound deep and rich. “Oh, you poor thing,” he teases, stroking her back soothingly.

She swats at his chest, unable to hold back her grin. “I’m serious! It’s a full-body workout being on top.”

He hums thoughtfully, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on her skin. “So what you’re saying is…” he starts, tilting his head with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “I get to be in charge again next time?”

She pulls back to look at him, her cheeks flushing, but there’s a playful sparkle in her eyes. “You won't hear me complaining,” she quips, biting her lip to suppress her laughter.

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

796 notes · View notes

pandaxnienke · 3 days ago

Text

Little Miss Wingwoman - LN4

With baby Verstappen-Piquet on the way, Penelope's nanny needs a place to move into as she becomes an almost full time employee of the family. No better place than Lando's spare bedroom, only a few floors down from her job, right?

warnings/notes: none particularly? this might be like five parts or two parts, im not sure yet :D!

Penelope's plan to get her two favorite people to fall in love begins to fall into place.

See, Penelope was smart. Kelly made sure she was creative and book smart while Max made sure she had the confidence to speak her mind. Penelope got all she wanted, within reason, spoiled just enough, worked for what she had to. Danced, played, sang, baked... she was kid, but she was smart. She could do it all herself if she wasn't a huge momma and daddy's girl. (Bonus-daddy's girl? She hadn't worked out the wording on that one yet.)

But, on the busy days, you visited.

Taking a summer gig to nanny in your last years of school, you didn't expect to be placed within the Verstappen-Piquet household. Two days in, you never wanted to leave, and Penelope--so so young back then, had refused to let you go. Now, a few years later, you traveled around with the family when needed. Most of the time, staying back to look over the apartment and the cats while they went around.

You were more so an extra set of hands for Kelly, someone who could run and get groceries before dinner, run Penelope to and from practices or accompany her to weekends with her father (the Kyvat's adored you as well), or someone who could stay back with Penelope for date nights or take her out for nights in.

After a few years of steady rhythm, everything was shaken up with baby Verstappen-Piquet on the horizon. A lot of changes needing to be made to prepare for the child, especially the further along Kelly was getting--appointments and classes and errands. A set of helping hands, especially when Max had to go off for work, was almost necessary.

But it was impossible to find apartments in Monaco on your budget. And with the spare room you had been using turning to a nursery for the little bugger coming along, you didn't have the luxury of sleeping in your employers home much longer.

And so, the hunt began.

Penelope had heard the news from Max, offhandedly mentioning it to Daniel during a padel game. The Australian didn't have space for you, as much as he'd grown to love your presence. A week later, he'd run into Charles while out getting dinner with P, and asked if he or Alexandra knew anywhere while Penelope pretended to be distracted by Leo. A week after that, Kelly had gone out to lunch with a bunch of her friends in the and discussed it openly.

A month in, Lando visited to watch Penelope while Kelly and Max went off to a doctor's appointment. Usually, you would stop by, but you were off on an early holiday vacation with family. The way Lando joked with Max, the easy smile on his lips, the awkward stumbles and laughter through his words... it was just like you could be.

Then, when Max asks, Lando mentions having a spare room he'd have to clean out. And the way Lando smiles when Penelope makes her way over to give him a hug, promising Max he'll keep her in line while the two of them are gone makes an idea flare in Penelope's head.

Lando needed a roommate, and you needed a place to stay. So, obviously, you were an absolutely perfect pair, right? It wasn't a new idea to her, you and Lando had met a few times over the course of the years you'd watched her. Mainly for short moments at whatever grand prix she'd begged you to come to, and the two of you seemed to get along...

And, she thinks you're both single. So, Penelope enacted stage one of her master wing(wo)man plan: getting you to move in with Lando.

While Penelope was scheming, browsing through YouTube for videos full of cutesy RomCom ideas, Lando was saying goodbye to Max and Kelly--wishing them luck, and then shutting the door behind him. He made quick work of sneaking a popcorn bag out of his backpack, popping it in the microwave while he scrolled through the countless movies on their smart TV--finding the perfect one for Penelope to watch.

The girl was engrossed, headphones shoved over her ears, watching a 'my top ten romantic moments in movies' compilation, but the smell of buttery goodness made her lift her head.

Lando smiles, holding out a bowl for her, "Too busy watching that for some old fashioned Disney?"

Glancing to the screen, Frozen 2 was paused on the opening screen, and Penelope tutted, "This came out in 2019."

"But thats like forever ago. Were you even born yet?" Lando smirks and Penelope takes the bowl from him with a scowl, but obliges to sit next to him on the couch, putting her iPad away for now, as Lando started the movie up.

But as Elsa is working to tame the Nøkk, Penelope lets out a soft sigh. Popcorn gone, and interest ruined. She wants to get back to studying. She has all winter break to make this love story happen, and with Lando and Max possibly going back for testing as early as January 3rd, she needs to act fast.

Lando glances over from where he's been idly answering emails between watching the movie, his own bowl empty. Penelope pouts while watching the movie, and he hums, looking at her.

"You're not even watching the coolest scene," Lando chimed softly, remembering the countless times little Mila would screech at the TV when she was really young. Penelope just huffed again, and he found himself curiously laying his head on his palm, "isn't this your favorite part?"

"No." Penelope deadpans, sighing again and dramatically slides off the couch onto her back and groans. She knows its a bit overkill, but its also Lando. He was a bit dramatic too. Penelope ends up closing her eyes for more drama as Sassy jumps off the couch and sniffs her head before trying to sneak a bite of corn kernels.

Lando reaches out and waves Sassy away, earning him a hiss and a sulk from the bengal as she stalks off to a far corner in the room. He slides the rest of his way out of the chair, hovering by Penelope's side before asking softly,

"What'sa matter, P?"

Penelope blinks open one eye at his approach, muttering, "The horse thing is Yn's favorite part of the movie."

"Yn?" Lando pops down on the floor next to her, pausing the movie on the TV, "is she one of your friends from dance?

"No, Yn is my nanny." Penelope sits up, a mischievous thought entering her mind, "but she doesn't have a place to live, so she's not my nanny now. Because she can't live in Monaco."

"Oh, that's a shame. D'ya miss her?" Lando asks softly and Penelope nods, leaning over to grab her iPad, pulling up a photo of the two of them squished together into the camera. Lando's smile tells Penelope all she needs to know, obviously he's totally in love with her, that's why he's grinning like that.

"That's a cute photo, P." Lando says. Jackpot. Shifting to lay on his stomach, Lando shuts his laptop on the couch and Penelope spends the rest of their three hour time talking non-stop about you to Lando. Practically making you sound like a damn angel rebirthed onto this Earth, shoving photos of you in his face, giggling like a mad man whenever he asks a question.

Penelope makes sure to have him follow your Instagram, grinning like a madwoman when he agrees to do so. When Max and Kelly come back, Lando stays for dinner, where Kelly informs Penelope you'll be visiting for a few days to do some apartment hunting.

Max seems to remember Lando lives alone and asks once more.

"I could clean the room out if she needs it," Lando says a bit more enthusiastically now. Penelope pats herself on the back as he says, "When Yn gets here, she can come over and take a look--just, just--just remind me to clean up. It's a bit messy."

"Wouldn't expect anything less from you, mate." Max grins and Lando sheepishly tries to defend himself while Kelly watches with a small smile, looking over to where Penelope eagerly grins.

A few days later, you fly in to Monaco. When the Verstappen-Piquet family stops by to visit, you greet them with tight hugs. Maneuvering around your big suitcase laying on the floor, you surprise Max and Kelly with a gift of a few baby items as well as some other much needed items for the couple. Namely, a gift card to Penelope's favorite store, which Max prompty hands back to you with the words, "she'd prefer shopping with her older 'sister'" tossed over his shoulder. The two don't stay long, having a flight to catch to the FIA Awards ceremony. So, Penelope stays in your hotel room while Max and Kelly go off, and you give her free reign to do whatever she wishes.

It only takes about ten minutes into you two being alone for Penelope to ask about the apartment search, almost bursting at the seams with a sense of excitement thats rare--even for her.

"Who told you that?" You spin around to poke your head out of the doorway, hands on your hips. You've spent the last twenty minutes trying to organize the tiny bathroom counter to fit most of your cosmetics and other items for the next few weeks you'd be staying here.

"I heard Maxie talking about it." Penelope looks up with big eyes, emphasizing her sad tone, "You aren't gonna live with us anymore?"

Sighing softly, you make your way across the room, sitting down next to a pouting Penelope on the bed, snatching her bottom lip between your fingers and lightly pulling it to make her giggle and roll away as you call, "keep your mouth like that and your face will freeze there forever!"

"It's gonna stay like this because I'm mad!" She groans, forcing back her smile and giggles, and sitting up and crossing her arms. Now overkill pouting to get her point across, "You aren't gonna live with me!"

"P, I don't fit in your place anymore." You sigh softly, laying across the bed and holding out an arm so the child can crawl over to lay against your side, "we gotta make room for the baby."

"We have to change everything for the baby!" Comes the sharp reply you were expecting. Max had warned you Penelope seemed a little snippy recently. While excited to have a little brother or sister, it was obvious Penelope was also feeling left out.

"Penelope," You soothe, rolling onto your side to prop your head up on a hand, "babies are a big change and unlike you and me, they can't take care of themselves. That's why your Momma and Max have to do all these classes, and appointments and everything. They've gotta make sure they're ready for the little thing."

"But the baby isn't even here yet and it's ruining everything!" Penelope laments, curling into your side, "Momma doesn't play anymore, Max is always busy moving stuff around, we haven't even had a movie night recently because Momma's been so tired!"

"I'm sorry, baby." You sigh. Totally unknowingly feeding right into Penelope's carefully laid trap, "you're allowed to be upset, but you have to also understand this is what has to happen."

"Will it go back to normal when the baby gets here?" Penelope looks up and you give her a little shrug, running a hand through her hair,

"Not for a while, baby."

"Can we go back to normal? Even if you don't live with us anymore?" Penelope sits up now, dragging you to join her and you smile, lifting her up to sit right on your lap as you fix up her unruly hair--another sign of Kelly's growing baby bump, the lack of Penelope hair-dos.

"We'll always be the same, and I'm looking at staying nearby. It'll be an adjustment but it won't be awful." You smile, tucking her hair up into a braid, securing it with a little bow at the end, "Wanna go get something to eat? Max gave me back the babysitting allowance card..."

Hook. Line. Sinker.

"Please!" Penelope gasps, standing up off your lap and jumping off the bed to grab her bag. A little stuffed cat Jelly Cat bag you think hearing Lando had snagged on a trip recently for the little girl. It's cute, and Penelope smiles when she sees you eyeing it.

"Lando got me this!" She proudly exclaims, holding it up as you slip on your shoes.

"Yeah?" You ask, walking to the door as Penelope bounces behind you, grinning wide enough her cheeks puff up, "you two seem to get along."

"He's really cool! You guys could be friends," Penelope laments, dragging you out of the hotel room once you have your shoes, jacket, and purse securely fastened for her little rollercoaster of a personality, "He thinks you're pretty."

Which, isn't exactly true, but it makes your face warm enough for Penelope as you step into the chilly air.

"Well, thats very kind of him," is your reply as you turn towards the coastline, hosting Penelope up into your arms so you don't have to worry about the curious five year old scurrying off.

You end up at one of Penelope's favorites, Costadoro Social. The place is downright adorable, and you manage to snag a window table. While you order, Penelope gets out only the best pages from her sticker book for the both of you to put together. Once you're both settled in, sandwiches and drinks (yours a coffee and hers a hot chocolate), the crowd mills out of the building. Leaving you and a somewhat familiar couple off in a corner, a third chair at their table yanked out like it's expecting someone to swing by.

As you two start on some winter scene in this very exact ticker book, Penelope rattles off countless stories to you about the weekend in Abu Dhabi. When she gasps, asking to show you the stickers she gave to Lando, you notice the curly headed man at the other table peeks over before turning to his girlfriend to ask something.

She shrugs, and the bell dings on the entry door. The woman behind the counter cheerily greeting the newcomer as you look down to where Penelope proudly shows you a picture Kelly had taken with her and Lando, showing off his stickers.

"They made him go fast and win," Penelope happily says, settling back in her seat. You nod, of course it was the stickers. Not because Lando was a professional, but Penelope looks smug like she'd been the reason for the McLaren WCC, so you let it slide. It's cute.

A Laufey cover of 'I've Got My Love To Keep Me Warm' begins to play as you pull out your phone to show Penelope your mothers cats back home, as well as some other photos of the short trip back home.

The man at the table stands, walking over, and the motion catches Penelope's watchful eye as the two men give a short hug to one another--wishing happy holidays. You set your phone down, looking over as you sip your drink, and the dimpled smile of one of the men catches your eye.

He's cute.

He turns, as if feeling your gaze, and before you can jerk back he grins widely, "Hey Pen!"

"Lando!" Penelope squeaks, wiggling out of her chair and bounding over to give him a hug. The two share quick pleasantries and an introduction to Lando's friends--Max and Pietra, before Penelope gasps and runs over to you, "Lando, it's Yn!"

You stand at the mention of your name, hustling over with a sheepish smile as Penelope grabs your hand and drags you over like she'll die if she doesn't get the chance to.

"Hi," you squeak, shaking his awaiting hand, "It's nice to meet you, Penelope talks about you a lot."

His cheeks are rosy as you shake his hand, and a tiny grin pokes at Lando's lips as he nods, "she talks about you a lot, too."

"I told you she was pretty!" Penelope chimes, making Max nearly snort out his coffee while Pietra laughs softly. You and Lando are a bit closer to mortified at Penelope's insistence, and you manage to get her to say goodbye so the group can enjoy their lunch together since she does have dance rehearsal soon.

About two hours or so later, you get back to Max and Kelly's post rehearsal. And while Penelope curls up all about tuckered out from running amuck down the shopping districts, learning new ballet moves, and endlessly mentioning Lando like a lovesick teenager, you pull up your phone and scroll through your feed as Penelope fights off a nap.

It's due time for an Instagram post anyways.

liked by maxverstappen, kellypiquet, landonorris, and others...

yourusername: back home for the holidays <3

kellypiquet: the absolute best!

user: YESS YN AND PENELOPE CONTENT WILL RETURN

user2: omg that DRESS i need

⤷ yourusername: its an innika choo dress but im not sure if they're even open anymore :( kelly got it for me for my birthday last yr!!

⤷ user2: OMG THANK U ill keep an eye out!!!

maxverstappen: so thats why theres beads all over the carpet?

⤷ yourusername: i wasnt the cat who decided to try and eat them (jimmy)

⤷ maxverstappen: unsurprising

lilymhe: omg !!! we need to meet up! alex and i have been dying to update you on The Lore

⤷ yourusername: please!! ive been dying to see you guys again :(!!

user3: SO CUTE!!

user4: i would die to be living ur life yn

landonorris: penelope seems to keep you busy

⤷ yourusername: you saw her shenanigans today, it only gets worse

⤷ alexalbon: lando what r u doing

⤷ landonorris: ???????

⤷ maxverstappen: 👁️

⤷ landonorris: ???!!!!

You're halfway through helping Penelope with wrapping a christmas present for her dance teacher when Max knocks on the doorway. You turn around, standing when he beckons you over.

"How's Kelly?" You ask softly, knowing she's trying to sleep off a bout of morning sickness. Max shrugs, sipping his Red Bull.

"A bit ill, but she seems to be getting better. Penelope's fine?"

You nod, looking back as Penelope crosses her arms and scowls at all the options for the bow she could put on the bag.

"Lando's cleaned his apartment, finally," Max watches Penelope with a soft look, before turning to you and leaning on the wall with a tired yawn. He's still adjusting from the season, and the early sun dipping behind the buildings wasn't helping his sleep cycle.

"You should go over, take a little tour." Max hums, "You deserve a break from watching P all day."

"It's quite literally what you pay me to do, Max." You laugh softly, but with a few more pushes of insistence you finally agree. He shoots Lando a text to let him know you're on your way down as you grab a pair of Uggs you wear indoors, and your keys so you don't get locked out.

The elevator ride down is short, and you walk into the warm hallway to see Lando down the hall peeking out. He smiles at your approach and holds open the door for you.

"Nice to see you again," He chimes as you enter. It's been about a week since you've seen him, now teetering close to Christmas, and you smile at him.

"Nice to see you too, Lando." You hum, and he brings you to the spare room. It's spacious, with a big window that looks over the entire Monaco bay. You're drawn to it like a moth to a flame, it's perfect. Everything you could've dreamed of and more. Lando makes sure to show you the ensuite bathroom and large closet.

Everything feels too good to be true, so you quickly ask, "How much would you want me to pay you in rent?"

"Rent?" Lando pauses in the kitchen where he'd offered to get you a soda from his sparse fridge. He shakes his head, leaning on the counter and taking a sip of his water bottle, "Max told me your budgets quite small. I figured I could pay rent and you could pay like... utility?"

"That's gotta be like a quarter of what you pay for this place, Lando. I have a good amount saved up!" You protest and he shakes his head, a tiny smile on his lips.

"Listen, you're honestly doing me a favor. You probably know how to make a house a proper functioning home. I barely know how to not burn leftovers when I reheat them." He chides himself and you break into a tiny laugh, missing the way his face gets rosy at your giggles, "I need a bit of help making this place look... homey. And Max told me you'd be good at that."

"So I'm helping you learn to adult to pay my rent?" You ask and your bluntness makes Lando flush as he rubs the back of his neck and looks down with a shrug.

"If that's okay..?"

"I mean... I'd like to pay, but if you wanna do it this way, fine... But if I end up staying here for a long time, you have to let me help with rent." You hold a hand out like this will seal the deal and Lando grins, his embarrassment forgotten as he darts over to happily shake your hand. You try to ignore how warm his hands are against your cold ones.

"Welcome home, then--oh! I have a spare key for you!" He tries to flash you a charming smile, but the excited expression taking over just makes his face go through far too many expressions in a row. You can't help but laugh, looking around the bare but clearly well loved apartment.

It could use some work, sure, but thats your job now... you suppose.

general tag (open!)

@d3kstar @justalittlejess (jess ur on here now enjoy LMAO)

series specific tag (open!)

@nikfigueiredo

2K notes · View notes

pandaxnienke · 3 days ago

Text

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐅𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐃 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: the racing season is finally over and lando is more than excited to have you all to himself. or in which lando prefers his breakfast in bed with you as the main course.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minor dni), breastplay, grinding(?), teasing, oral sex/eating out/cunnilingus, fingering, pure moments of fluff because bf!lando is the sweetest, discussion of lando mentally struggling at the start

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: bf!lando norris x fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k+

𝐀/𝐍: i promised a post before the end of the year and it happens to coincide with a holiday of giving ;) merry christmas and happy hanukkah to those who celebrate it! and happy new year! // as usual poorly proof-read ♡︎ (sorry if it's shitty, i haven't written a full-piece in a while)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆ •°. 。 .°• ⋆

The season was over. Finally.

Not to be offensive or anything but you had been waiting for this moment for what, this year, felt like forever.

Yes, it was action packed–largely due to the fact that a certain RedBull wasn't winning every race. Yes, McLaren had whipped up the fastest car on the grid to shake things up. And yes, the same team had clinched their ninth World Constructor's Championship.

And while that made you absolutely over the moon, all you had wanted was for some peace and quiet on a random Wednesday morning so you could (maybe creepily) ogle your handsome boyfriend.

Was that too much to ask for?

It had been a tough season for Lando and naturally, as you promised from the very start of your friendship alone–that you would stick by his side no matter what–you had also been through the thick of it.

Convincing Lando to not look at the comments after every session or race had been difficult. You tried your best to remove any negativity that clouded his mind. Some days it worked and some days it didn't.

But that was life. And that was then.

Now you were wide awake at some odd time in the morning, laying comfortably on your stomach with your head turned towards Lando. There was about one degree of separation between the both of you, allowing you to carefully observe him.

Lando was never an early bird. If he was, it would be by some miracle or your upper arm strength pulling him from the sheets. A small smile crept onto your face. You had been friends for years now and together for even shorter. Yet you still couldn't believe that the sleepy bird next to you was yours entirely.

His dark tousled and recently cut curls, the stress lines on his forehead you were always aching to smooth out and comfort with the pad of your thumb, his "perfectly normal sized ears" that you definitely never made fun of, his lovely lashes you were jealous of, and the soft pink lips you couldn't decide whether to touch or kiss.... all yours.

Behind all the stupidity, humour, and claimed 'indifference' Lando sported on camera and with others, you always knew his heart. It was open for everyone and had more than enough love to go around. You were in love with the biggest sap you had ever known.

And on top of all of that, he made it out of that car to you... alive... every goddamn time.

You were luckier than you could ever imagine.

"How long are you going to stare at me, love?" Lando's voice queried, thick with the rasp of the morning and the events of last night.

You slightly widened your eyes, watching him open those beautiful baby blues and land on you. An flustered flush of heat wavered up your skin. You bit your lip before slipping beneath the covers, feeling the warmth envelope your skin entirely. You started with a muttered curse.

"How long have you even been awake, Lan? That's so embarrassing," you chided with a muffled tone.

Unbeknownst to you, Lando couldn't help but grin at your sudden shy demeanour. It was hard for anyone to imagine you as shy but he had seen every side of you. How enjoyable it was that even after all these years, he could tease you and see how flustered you could get. If he had met you when you were kids, this is exactly how he imagined you'd be.

He stretched out his taut arm, grabbing you by the waist. His skin swarmed with heat as he felt your bare waist under your shirt as he pulled you over him. He moved your knees so you straddled him.

He pressed his lips to prevent a full blown smile at what he was seeing.

Your hair was fully covering your face, head down and hands hovering over to hide the tinges of pink and red on your skin.

"Baby... come on, love. Show me your face," Lando encouraged, nudging your hair lightly with the side of his finger. "Come on, baby."

You groaned, lifting your head, feeling all your tresses go back. You blankly stared at your boyfriend with burning cheeks. "I hate you," you mumbled, giving him a small glare.

Lando snorted, putting his hands firmly on your waist. His fingers edged up behind the hem of your shirt, rubbing small circles into your bare skin. "You love me. Someone who hates me wouldn't stare at me so lovingly."

"I–" You tried to open your mouth to retaliate but to no avail as you quickly came to the realisation that he was indeed correct. As Lando usually was with these things.

"Fine. You got me," you sighed admittedly, "I just missed waking up next to you in the morning. Is that such a horrible crime?" You dramatically asked, tease heavy in your voice.

In any other situation, Lando would've narrowed his eyes at your teasing but all he could do was gaze softly at you. You weren't able to travel with him all the time and he wasn't able to spend every day with you. You both knew that. And while it sucked, you had both gotten used to it, cherishing when you were together.

But this year... Lando had spent every living second wishing you were next to him. He wanted you to tell him your god awful jokes. To look at him from across the room and take his entire breath, mind, whatever, away. To drop the fake smiles and rest in your arms with all the time in the world.

"No," Lando whispered, warm eyes travelling over your face, trying to find anything new to memorise. Anything he had missed since seeing you. "That isn't a crime. If it was, I'd be guilty as charged."

Your breath hitched while a small shiver trickled down your body as Lando pushed back a lock of hair behind your ear. You chewed down on your lip before breaking into a smile gently. "I love you, Lando Norris. Forever," you murmured, placing a brief kiss onto his lips.

Lando stared at you hard, far more awake than he had ever been. He lifted his head slowly, holding you close to him. And without a second thought, he brought his lips to yours.

This kiss was different from the others you had shared. Perhaps it was the atmosphere or context that accounted for that different but the need, the love, the softness and the brutal passion was poured into every fibre of your being

Your hands curled around the back of his neck, pulling him tighter while your nose glided against his as Lando only just begun ravaging your mouth. He sucked on your lips with a small nibble here and there, relishing the muffled moans passing your lips.

His own hands continued to travel the path of your body he had committed to memory. He knew as he traversed your heated back exactly where the dark freckles he had come to love were.

Your soft moans became more audible and pleasing to Lando's ears as he curled his lips to your neck, leaving the sloppily yet controlled path of possessive kisses down base of your skin. He could feel your pulse against his skin and God, he wanted to burn it into his brain and save it.

"Lando," you gasped as you felt a sudden jerk underneath you, feeding into the pooling wetness between your thighs. Your teeth sunk into your pillowy bottom lip, your hips automatically responded by grinding down onto Lando's bulge.

"Ah, fuck," Lando cursed, feeling his cock throb in his underwear. His eyes fluttered shut, hands immediately returning to your hips to continue the stimulating pleasure.

You were driving him crazy.

Both of your skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat as you felt Lando's clothed cock rut into your poorly covered pussy. You rocked your hips harder into him, feeling a slight jolt against your clit. "Oh, fuck, Lando," you moaned his name in his ear, fingers curling into his skin.

Lando opened his eyes, drawing back to capture your face. Your dazed eyes, glowing skin, panting lips, the way your hips bowed towards him... he had missed you. So. Fucking. Much.

"I want breakfast," Lando blurted with a slight gasp as the pleasure rocked through his body.

You stopped moving your hips, body shuddering from the halt. You raised a brow at the sudden desire but shrugged it off considering you were way past breakfast hours and you were only human. "Okay," you responded, about to move off of Lando to head to the kitchen.

Lando reached over, hand pulling your body back towards him, rolling your body so he hovered over you between your legs. "Where are you going?" he tutted, "Breakfast is right here."

You seemed to lose the ability to speak with Lando's hand kneading the flesh of your thighs, implying exactly what he wanted. You breathlessly watched his head move over your body. His tongue lapped at your skin, travelling to any bare patch he could find as though he wanted to feast on you. His warmth made your core tingle as you arched into his touch.

You were positively going to lose your mind.

His hands slid under your shirt, burning your skin until he could fill his palms with your breasts. "Oh baby," Lando moaned, fingers teasing your soft mounds. "I love your tits so fucking much."

A choked cry broke through your lips upon hearing his confession, fingers brushing against your hardened nipple almost painfully slowly. No matter how many times he said it, it set you alight.

"Lando," you moaned loudly, hoping he could read and hear the sound that beckoned him towards your aching core.

He paused, allowing you to take in the heavenly sight of Lando's bare chest, decorated only by the necklace you had gotten him on his birthday last year. In turn, his gaze was only focused on your core.

You tested your lung capacity, taking in a sharp inhale as he pressed his knuckles against your panties, purposely pushing harder against on the ball of your clit. You faltered at the smile sprawling on his face, your hips jolting forward and mouth unable to contain a desperate yelp.

Lando was every inch as desperate as you were, taking no time to waste. His fingers hooked onto your panties and removed them in one swift motion, leaving you bare from the waist down.

Your stomach churned at the sight of Lando nestling his head into your inner thigh, his once light blue eyes now dark and heavy with desire as he inhaled the scent of you. The moan escaping his lips made you shiver.

You were sure you were dripping. You could feel the slick trail down your pussy, glistening in a patient wait to be touched just like you were.

Your eyes fell back to Lando who groaned your name. "I promise to God, I'm going to make you cum so hard that breakfast in bed will be the only option you have," he stated so surely against your skin as his fingers slid from the seam of your entrance to your clit, bundling all your wetness onto his hand.

Oh god.

"Lando, please," you begged shamelessly, legs aching to clench together to relieve the pain of being untouched.

Your legs trembled around Lando's head, his hot breath nearing your pussy while his mouth drew closer. You watched him take you in for the last time before his lips firmly sealed over your aching clit.

The burst of pleasure cut through your body so sharply. Your cry of joy echoed in the late morning, hips bucking against his mouth.

Lando's hands travelled to the outside of your thighs, grasp tightening to keep them spread open on his shoulders. "Keep them open, baby," he ground out.

It took everything in your power to keep your legs from collapsing, particularly as he made his point with another hard to suck to your clit, but you body seemed to follow his command. His mouth returned your wet folds, tongue swirling around every crevice before coming back to the most sensitive part of you, turning you into absolute mush.

Your hands had found their way to those mop of curls you cherished so much, legs trying to conform around Lando's shoulder to welcome any better angle of pleasure.

Your gasp at the sudden dismissal of his mouth was short lived, any chance to complain gone as his fingers pushed into your slick folds, stretching your clenching muscles out.

"Fuck yourself on those pretty little fingers for me, baby. I need you ready for me," Lando encouraged breathlessly as something feral inside of him emerged.

His fingers stroked your swollen walls from the inside, ensuring you felt every inch of them along the sensitive front wall of your pussy while his tongue glazed over every puffy slick fold like you were golden honey.

Lando watched in torture as he pushed his fingers in and out of your walls, your body jerking forward at the sheer pleasure. "That's it, baby," he continued to praise you.

"Doing so well for me, hmm?" He asked, a gleam of your wetness coating his lips. Moving his free hand down your thigh, he gathered your flesh in his fingers before reaching the small bundle of nerves, thumb going in small firm circles.

You were beginning to feel numb. A cold yet hot tightness coiling within your core, waiting to be unleashed. "Lando," you gasped, struggling to keep your head up, "fuck, I–I think I'm going to cum."

"Yes, baby," Lando coaxed, fingers speeding up with every action they had entailed, "Cum for me, please. Keep your eyes open. Look at me, love."

You fought the urge to squeeze your eyes shut, forcing your eyes to travel to those familiar baby blues. All the trillion nerves in your body felt like entangled knots tied by Lando's tongue while his fingers found the sweetest spot of your pussy and held to you that pinnacle.

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip while Lando held your gaze, tongue sliding, curving up, and pushing in and out of every crevice. Your pussy finally succumbed to the hard pressure, clenching muscles squeezing hard at the sharp pinch of pain.

The pain was explosive, searing, and all-consuming.

You cried.

You cried so loudly you were sure your neighbours would be complaining any minute now.

It didn't matter. Not when the pleasure shooting through you was disproportionately and literally blowing you out of this world as though it had been seated and waiting to be released since the dawn of time itself. Your hips bucked and stuttered while you squirmed and writhed against the bed, the fabric of your shirt sticking to your sweaty skin.

Lando's mouth had never left you through your orgasm, tongue still deep in your folds, savouring all the convulses, shudders, and clenches of your body.

Even better yet, he had watched every second of you falling apart.

And it absolutely drove him crazy.

Lando's hand rushed to catch your falling body, holding you up as a small wave of exhaustion crashed into you. You stared at Lando shiftless, still seeing the faint image of floating stars across his face.

Oh my god.

Lando had broken you with his tongue.

You watched Lando lick his fingers clean as you slowly removed your legs from his shoulders. You lifted your head, pressing a long kiss onto his lips.

Lando grinned, cradling his arms around your body as he pushed you both into the bed yet again. He pushed back your slightly greased hair, caressing your cheek gently. "You okay?"

His query made you feel soft all over. You smiled into his hands and nodded. "Perfect," you chirped, hands hanging over his neck.

"So... breakfast in bed?" Lando offered knowingly as he massaged your thighs gently. You were not walking to that kitchen.

You furrowed your brows. "What about my breakfast?"

Lando wanted to question you but as his eyes followed your gaze, the answer became as clear as the aching bulge underneath his boxers.

"Oh."

1K notes · View notes

pandaxnienke · 3 days ago

Text

the mistletoe tradition

pairing: intern!bucky barnes x boss!female reader

summary: the young intern in your office catches you under the mistletoe for the fourth time during the office holiday party, and it leads to both of you confessing to the feelings you'd been hiding.

warnings: age gap romance (ages aren't specified, but reader is older—i imagined late 30s to Bucky's mid-to-late 20s), power imbalance relationship (but not really because of reasons explained in the fic), fluff, kissing, making out, some dry humping, some dirty talk, some dirty thoughts, implied/referenced sex, pet names (doll), happy ending

word count: 4.5k

a/n: here's my last entry for @the-slumberparty's december daze challenge, using the prompt: "How is the mistletoe following you around?" i wrote like three different versions of this fic and i wanted to include smut but i just ran out of time and energy. this month has been a lot harder than i thought it would be, so this is gonna be my last holiday fic. hope y'all enjoy ♡

december daze challenge masterlist

The cheerful chords of some pop star’s Christmas song filtered down the dim back hallway of the office building. The jaunty, joyful tune was the soundtrack of your awkwardness as you stared up at the little bundle of mistletoe that hung above your head.

You looked back down at the person who, moments ago, caught up to you to wish you a final merry Christmas, and had then noticed and pointed out the mistletoe.

If it had been anyone else in the office, you would’ve laughed off your annoyance at being chased down when you were on your way home—because leaving the company Christmas party early was less of a faux pas when you co-owned the business—and given them a quick peck on the cheek.

You’d been practically ecstatic to leave your employees to enjoy the festivities without you, even if all you had waiting at home was a bottle of wine and a cozy winter romance novel. But that joy had twisted into something else, something too tangled for you to decipher, when you saw who’d caught up with you.

Because it wasn’t your fellow co-owner Natasha Romanoff, or the rising star of the art department, Steve Rogers, who you’d been half-certain was flirting with you over the spiked eggnog earlier. It wasn’t even the obnoxious playboy that was Tony Stark, who only kept his job because he was a genius.

No, the person who caught you alone, in the dark back hallway near your office, under some traitorous mistletoe, was the worst person in the office who could have—the intern, Bucky Barnes. The decidedly young and egregiously handsome intern, the one you had a little crush on, the one Nat teased you ruthlessly about finding insufferably attractive.

“How is the mistletoe following you around?”

The whining words slipped from your lips before you could bite them back, your tongue loosened by the half glass of wine you’d sipped throughout the evening. The petulant tone of your voice should’ve been embarrassing, but you were too twisted up inside to care.

Bucky had caught you under the mistletoe no less than three times in the few short hours you’d been at the company Christmas party, and if Nat hadn’t been conveniently across the party on each occasion, you would’ve thought she was setting you up to make a fool of yourself with the young intern.

As it was, you’d demurred each time Bucky had found you under the mistletoe, offering him your cheek while your employees looked on and chanted for you to kiss. You’d thought a kiss on the cheek from the handsome intern would be fine, but it was anything but.

Each time Bucky had brushed his lips to your cheek, his rough stubble rasping against your soft skin, you’d lost your mind a little bit. When he kissed you, your heart rioted in your chest and your body went warm all over. When he was close, you breathed breathed him in; he smelled of bourbon and vanilla, and all the constant anxieties in your head went quiet.

Each kiss on the cheek from Bucky Barnes had been delicious and intoxicating and wildly inappropriate. And you’d had to endure it three times. So you felt your petulant whine was entirely justified when he caught you under the mistletoe again.

But Bucky only chuckled, one of his hands finding your lower back while the other caught your hand. He reeled you into his hard, firm chest, holding you close beneath the mistletoe.

Something about the embrace reminded you of an old couple slow dancing in their living room, and you almost smiled before you remembered you were annoyed and excited and curious about what Bucky was about to say.

“Just lucky, I guess.”

Mischief sparkled in Bucky’s blue eyes, the corners of his mouth curling up in a playful smirk, and you suddenly, desperately, wanted to kiss the expression off his face.

But, of course, you didn’t.

Instead, you forced yourself to press your lips into an unamused line. You glanced over your shoulder and down the long hallway, where the rest of the company was laughing and talking and, if you weren’t mistaken, singing along to the Christmas music playing from someone’s bluetooth speaker. Then you turned back to the young intern.

“I’m going home, Mr. Barnes,” you said stiffly, knowing exactly what you were doing by referring to him so formally—creating some figurative space between the two of you. It was needed since your body seemed reluctant to pull away from his warmth and create actual physical space between you. “You should go back to the party.”

Bucky cut his eyes over your shoulder, giving the party a dismissive glance before returning his focus entirely to you. There was something heady about having the attention of the younger man, something you stubbornly wanted to ignore until you were home alone.

“I believe I’m still owed a kiss, doll,” Bucky murmured, the pet name rolling off his tongue so deliciously, it should be criminal, especially since you’d never heard him refer to anyone else with such an endearing nickname.

A fierce heat ignited between your thighs, spreading through the rest of your body like you’d just taken a big gulp of hot chocolate, and you gasped. At the last second, you tried to fix your face into a glare and make the sound come off as affronted, but somehow you knew you weren’t fooling Bucky. You certainly weren’t fooling yourself.

“You shouldn’t call me that,” you huffed, attempting to hide the breathiness of your voice with annoyance. But your protest felt feeble when your hand had come to rest on Bucky’s bicep, which felt firm and nice beneath the bright green cardigan he’d worn to be festive for the party.

“Maybe I shouldn’t,” Bucky conceded, tilting his head to the side as he considered you. Then, so casually—like he thought if he did it casually enough, you might not notice—he brought your joined fingers up and settled your hand on his shoulder, leaving his arm free to wrap around your back. He held you close and stared into your eyes while he said, “But I think you like it.”

Another soft, sharp inhale sounded in the back hallway as you gasped. Heat rose to your cheeks, and you were forced to confront your body’s reaction to Bucky when he’d used the pet name. You had liked it, but you couldn’t tell him that.

“It’s unprofessional,” you muttered, because you couldn’t deny his observation without lying.

But you couldn’t meet his eyes, your gaze lingering on the dark stubble dusted across his jaw like fresh snow. You could still feel the rasp of his scruff against your cheek and, for one wild moment, you wondered if it’d be just as wonderful to feel that delicious scrape against other parts of your body…

Bucky chuckled, and the low, mirthful sound took you by such surprise, you didn’t even think to protest when he spun you around and backed you up against the wall. His big body pressed in close, and when you glanced in the direction of the party, you found that you were shielded from sight by the large ficus you’d gotten to brighten up the hallway.

“You know what’s unprofessional, doll?” Bucky asked, the rough, nearly desperate tone of his voice dragging your attention back to him.

The young intern’s blue eyes were heated, intense, and just a little bit melancholy, the mixture so tortured, it surprised you enough that you didn’t know what to say. He seemed to take your silence as your only response, and continued on.

“It’s the way I can’t stop thinking about you,” he rasped, his eyes drifting down your face to alight upon your lips, his already darkened gaze deepening into the even more pitch-black of lust. “It’s the way I can’t stop wondering what it would be like to kiss you—really kiss you—the way a woman like you is meant to be kissed…”

Bucky’s confession settled around your shoulders like a cozy sweater, so sweet and comforting that you wanted to bury your face in it and giggle as giddily as some lovestruck girl—and just as suddenly as you had that urge, you stopped your thoughts in their tracks. What were you doing, Bucky was too young for you!

But…was he really? He was younger, sure, but he was a grown man. You were both adults.

Of course, there was the issue of you being the boss of the company he worked for. But, actually, you couldn’t do anything without Nat’s input. So it wasn’t like you could abuse the power you had over him.

But you and Bucky getting together would still be wrong…wouldn’t it?

The silence dragged out while you warred with yourself, and Bucky pulled back a little, his eyes darting around your face like he was trying desperately to read your thoughts.

Somehow, that little bit of space he gave you felt like a whole gulf, which meant that this—whatever this was—had gone on too long. You gathered your professionalism around you like a coat of armor, sucking in a breath to let Bucky down easy.

“Y’know what’s really unprofessional?” Bucky murmured, his tone turning teasing as he lifted a hand to cup your face gently.

His thumb tapped your lower lip and you watched his eyes darken for a second before he shook his head and shot you a playful smirk. Then he answered his own question.

“The way I can’t stop thinking about your pretty mouth when I’m supposed to be showing Fury how to convert a document into a PDF file,” he said, giving you an exaggerated, exasperated eye roll like he was asking, Can you believe my life?

A surprised laugh burst from your lips, taking you off guard. You caught a glimpse of the way Bucky’s eyes softened, and the grin that began to bloom as he took in your reaction, before you buried your face in his shoulder to muffle the sounds of your amusement.

“I swear, I’m not laughing at you,” you managed to huff in between hysterical giggles, your voice nearly inaudible between your snorting and the cotton of Bucky’s sweater pressed to your mouth.

You’d realized almost immediately how it must’ve looked for you to laugh at what Bucky said, and you didn’t want him to take it the wrong way—you just couldn’t get over the image he’d painted of your gruff, no-nonsense head of security, Nick Fury, trying to figure out how to save something as a PDF.

“I know,” Bucky murmured, his lips grazing your temple softly. You could feel his smile against your skin, and it sent warm tendrils of delight curling around your heart. “Fury’s so intimidating, no one would ever expect he’s completely hopeless with technology—the guy barely knows how to send an email.”

You snorted and laughed harder even as you tried not to, because this was the worst part about your attraction to Bucky Barnes—you genuinely liked him.

You didn’t cross paths with him too much, since his role was to help others around the office with odd jobs, and you had your own dedicated assistant. But when you got a moment with him while he was setting up the projector for a meeting, or fighting with the office copier, he never failed to make you laugh.

He also never failed to make you question your resolve to never show him your true interest, even with Nat whispering in your ear that you should go for it. Most days, you didn’t waver from the decision you’d made not long after Bucky had joined the company to keep things professional.

But in that moment, with half a glass of wine mixing with his scent of bourbon and vanilla, making your mind feel fuzzy and light, you teetered on the edge of confessing everything you’d wanted to say to Bucky for months—how you thought about him all the time.

How, especially after that evening at the party, you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to let him kiss you. Really kiss you.

The thought sobered you, and you straightened up, leaning back as much as you could with Bucky’s arm still wrapped around your waist. You forced yourself to look him in the eye, prepared to put an end to the inappropriate moment you’d allowed to go on for too long.

But your breath caught in your throat when you saw the sweet affection mixing with the sincere desire in his sparkling blue eyes. He was looking at you not like some young intern chasing after their older boss for the fun of it, but like a man who truly enjoyed your company and wanted to get to know you better. It was more than a little terrifying.

“You should…” you started to say, trying to tell him to go back to the party again, but the words died a quick death on your tongue.

You couldn’t do it. You were so tired of pretending you didn’t have chemistry with Bucky, that you didn’t want to see where things could go with him if you just took the leap.

Bucky’s brows furrowed in a question while he waited for you to finish your sentence. When you didn’t, he began to pull away, like he was worried that he was crowding you too much—only for your fingers to dig into the soft fabric of his cardigan, halting his retreat before it had barely begun.

For a moment, Bucky froze, looking down at your hands clinging to him, a pleased smile spreading across his face when he realized you didn’t want him to pull away. Instead, you tugged him back against your smaller form so he was caging you in against the wall.

Carefully—so, so carefully—he slotted his body against yours, his knee pushing between your thighs until your bodies were lined up perfectly, pressed so tightly you wondered if he could feel the way your heart was beating a hard, staccato rhythm against your ribs.

“You keep trying to tell me what I should do,” Bucky murmured, picking up the thread of your conversation as he ducked his face close enough to yours that you could smell the hot chocolate on his breath. “But until you tell me you want me to stop, I’m going to stick to the mistletoe tradition and kiss that pretty mouth of yours, doll.”

The word ‘stop’ was on the tip of your tongue. It was what you knew you should say, just like you knew you should extricate yourself from him and put an end to the inappropriate moment. But that wasn’t what you wanted.

What you wanted—desperately, hopelessly—was for Bucky Barnes to kiss you.

The man’s eyes roamed over your face, bright and eager for your response. When you didn’t say anything for a long moment, his gaze dipped to your mouth and a rough noise sounded in his throat that was half growl, half moan—and all yearning. But he still held himself back.

“Tell me, doll,” he begged, his voie ragged like he’d just sprinted to you through a snowstorm. “Tell me you want this just as much as me.”

Instinctively, you angled your face closer to Bucky’s, so your mouths were almost slanted together. You could taste the sweet richness of the hot chocolate he’d drank at the party, and your lips tingled with the need to close the distance between you.

You held out as long as you could, but the truth was, you’d somehow always known it would come to this. So you said the words that would condemn you to your fate and make your wildest dreams come true.

“Please, Bucky, I want this so bad,” you rasped in a voice husky with the depth of your desire for the man who had caught you under the mistletoe four times that evening. “Just kiss me already.”

Then, what you would’ve thought was the impossible happened—Bucky Barnes kissed you.

And, boy, did he kiss you.

Bucky’s mouth crashed down on yours, stealing the breath from your lungs as his lips pushed and pulled against yours, dragging you into a steamy dance that had you gasping and opening for him. A groan rumbled in Bucky’s chest and vibrated across your tongue as his own plunged into your mouth.

His hand cupped your face, tilting it exactly where he wanted you so he could kiss you harder, deeper. He kissed you like he’d been dreaming of it his entire life, and he was worried you were in danger of ripping it away from him before he was ready.

But you weren’t going anywhere. You kissed Bucky just as fiercely, months and months of desire rising up in your body and spilling free in the moans that fell unreservedly from your lips. Your hands raked through his hair, grabbed his shoulders, tugged on his cardigan—anything you could do to bring him closer, to consume him just as he was consuming you.

With a rough sound, Bucky fell against you, pinning you to the wall at your back while the arm he’d wrapped around your waist pushed you down onto his thigh between your legs. Your hips rocked against him on instinct, and it was so delicious, warm, greedy pleasure surging through your body, that you did it again.

“Yeah, baby, take what you need, make yourself feel good,” Bucky rumbled against your jaw, where he was busy pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses that were making you feel practically feverish with desire.

“You’re making me feel good,” you murmured heatedly, turning your face into the column of his throat and sinking your teeth unrepentantly into a spot just beneath the edge of his jaw. Bucky’s big body shuddered in your arms and you felt something like pride surge inside you.

“Careful, doll,” he teased, his voice ragged as he kissed his way back to your mouth, sucking on your lower lip hard enough to wring a soft, keening sound from your throat. “You almost sound like you like me.”

You huffed a laugh, but then a thought occurred to you and you curled your fingers into the hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck, pulling his head back so you could look him in the eye when you spoke.

“I do like you, Bucky,” you said, and once those words were out, you couldn’t seem to stop the rest. “I’ve liked you since I met you, I just—it was my job to keep things professional.”

“I think we’re a little past professional now,” Bucky pointed out, but a grin was spreading across his face, the expression delighted and not the least bit smug. “And it’s all because you like me,” he teased, capturing your mouth in a sweeter kiss.

You hummed an ‘mhmm’ and pulled him closer to deepen the kiss.

That time, Bucky’s kiss was slow and precious and devastating—the beginning of something real instead of the culmination of so many months of repressed desires.

You could feel the surety in the way Bucky held you, the way he took his time learning you, his mouth exploring yours and discovering what made you sigh and moan and whine.

When Bucky finally pulled away again, both of you were breathing hard and your mind was fuzzy around the edges in the best way possible. You were so lost in the hazy, delicate pleasure of the moment, you almost missed Bucky’s question.

“So, what are you doing for Christmas?”

For the first time since Bucky wrapped you up in his embrace, you jerked against his hold, more out of surprise than a desire to get free. But you still had to shake your head to clear the lust from your mind and focus on what he’d asked.

“What?” was your brilliant response.

You were stalling and you knew it, but you didn’t exactly want to tell the man who’d just kissed the hell out of you that you were planning to spend your Christmas alone with some wine and a holiday-themed romance novel. Or that, maybe, if you were feeling wild, you’d bake some cookies for yourself—but that was a strong maybe.

“My family’s back home in Brooklyn, and I can’t make it back,” Bucky explained, ducking his head so he could catch your gaze, which had drifted away from him in your silent musings about your sad Christmas plans. His expression was tentative, but hopeful. “I heard from Nat that you’re on your own, too.”

A sound huffed out of you that was half sigh, half laugh. Leave it to Natasha Romanoff to make sure you didn’t spend Christmas alone even after you’d turned down her invitation to spend it with her and her sister. Your business partner and best friend could always be counted on to meddle—you were surprised you hadn’t seen this coming somehow.

“I am,” you finally confirmed, knowing there was no way to get around the fact that Bucky already knew you’d been planning to be alone on Christmas. There was some relief in it though, and you found yourself smiling as you told him, “I have some wine and I was thinking about baking some cookies…”

“That sounds perfect,” Bucky jumped in, giving you what you could only assume were his best pleading puppy dog eyes. He looked so happy and excited, even as you could tell he was trying to keep a lid on it. “I love wine and—it might surprise you—I’m pretty handy in the kitchen.”

“Handy how?” you asked, fighting the smile that wanted to spread across your face. Based on the way Bucky’s eyes were dipping down to your lips, though, you figured it was a losing battle.

“Oh you know, I’m great at licking cookie batter off spoons and whisks, and…” Bucky trailed off, dropping his voice to a smooth whisper that sent shivers down your spine. “I can lick other things, too.” The innuendo was thick in his tone.

“Mr. Barnes!” You faked an affronted gasp and swatted his chest playfully, but you couldn’t keep up the act and burst into laughter.

When you’d gotten yourself under control and looked back at Bucky, his expression had softened. His blue eyes were sparkling with so much warm affection in his gaze, he looked like he was thinking about a day when he’d be able to teasingly call you Mrs. Barnes.

For some reason, that idea didn’t scare you as much as you would’ve thought it might. Your feelings for Bucky must’ve run deeper than you thought. Besides, Mrs. Barnes had a nice ring to it, you decided as you leaned into Bucky’s chest, brushing a kiss to the underside of his jaw.

“Come home with me,” you murmured into his skin, breathing in the bourbon and vanilla scent of him and knowing you’d never get tired of it. “Let’s start celebrating Christmas tonight.”

A grin spread across Bucky’s face and then he was pulling you in for another kiss, even longer and sweeter than the last one you’d shared.

By the time you separated, the sounds of the party down the hall had dimmed and you could tell it was winding down, or moving to a bar so the office could be closed up for the holiday break.

Once you’d gotten your coats, you and Bucky slipped out the back door and he followed you home in his car. The two of you were in agreement that everyone in the office could find out about your relationship after you’d figured it out yourselves, and you planned to spend the holidays doing exactly that.

That Christmas, you spent your days laughing and talking with Bucky, getting to know him while you baked cookies and he kept himself busy hanging more mistletoe around your home, which he used at every opportunity to steal a kiss.

True to his word, Bucky was good at licking spoons and whisks and other things—to the point that you nearly burned more than a few batches of cookies. Bucky ate all of them happily, claiming he preferred his cookies to be nearly burned, which made you smile and kiss the powdered sugar off his cheek.

In the evenings, you’d curl up with Bucky on your couch, reading together or watching a movie by the light of the Christmas tree. He’d lay his head in your lap or you’d put your feet in his, or you’d lay entwined together under a cozy blanket until you fell asleep.

Between all the holiday celebrating, you’d take Bucky to bed, where you’d learn each other in more carnal ways. It turned out, the two of you were a better match than you ever could have believed, fitting together in ways that had you seeing stars and coming apart beneath him, on top of him, beside him…

By the end of Christmas, you were happy make your relationship with Bucky Barnes official. You could both see a future together, and you were excited to see what a life together would look like.

Of course, that didn’t stop you from giving Natasha a stern talking to for her meddling. Bucky admitted that she may have hinted to him about your crush, and that she’d made sure Bucky was able to catch you under the mistletoe those first three times during the office Christmas party—though the final time had been all his doing.

He’d always planned on confessing his feelings to you, even if it wasn’t in exactly the manner he’d done it, while holding you under the mistletoe for the fourth time during the office holiday party. But he was just as glad as you were that things worked out.

And he backed you up when you talked to Nat, who was just thrilled the two of you had gotten together. So much so that she immediately started telling Bucky about what kind of rings and jewel cuts you liked while you could only roll your eyes.

The next Christmas, at that year’s office holiday party, Bucky caught you under the mistletoe a new record of five times. The mistletoe tradition was his favorite, he reminded you. Which was, of course, why you made it easy for him to find you under the mistletoe.

Besides, you enjoyed it too. Each time Bucky caught you under the mistletoe, he wrapped you up in his arms and gave you a soft, sweet kiss on the lips. He kissed you proudly in front of the entire office, and neither of you worried about how it might look.

After all, it seemed silly to care about your colleagues seeing you kissing Bucky Barnes at the Christmas party when you wore his ring on your finger. Everyone knew you loved him, just like they knew he loved you more than anything else in the world—even more than the mistletoe tradition.

december daze challenge masterlist

182 notes · View notes

pandaxnienke · 4 days ago

Text

morning sessions | ln4

author's note: ahh! finally getting around to cleaning up some of my fics which means actually posting them!! so excited, please enjoy. feedback is always appreciated, come chat with me and lemme know your thoughts about this fic (or any suggestions for future fics!) [reuploaded from yesterday- i fear i am super specific with making sure the tenses and stuff work and i found wayyyy too many typos 😭, but the fic is back!!]

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni), oral (fem receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, degradation AND praise, name-calling, creampie, rough sex, sub!reader, slight humiliation

word count: 5.4k

sun streamed through the thin blinds of your bedroom, casting a glow on the scene unfolding. what had begun as a normal morning between the two of you had quickly turned into a lazy makeout session, your body perching on top of his lap. lando’s hands tighten their hold on your waist as you snuggle in more, his pulse hammering in his chest at the sight of your bare shoulder from your night shirt slipping to the side. he leans forward, pressing a tender kiss to your collarbone before he pulls back, his eyes scanning your face. "look at me, love."

you look at him, his gaze intense and warming as you smile at him. "what?" you ask quietly, a soft flush coating your cheeks at your shared proximity. it never seemed to get old, no matter how many mornings you woke up with your legs tangled together, your fingers carding through his curls.

a smile appears on his face, his thumbs brushing soothing circles onto the bare skin of your waist. “i want to make this morning all about you. wanna make it good for you, love.” he watches your reactions as his hands explore your body, slowly mapping out your curves as you shiver from the touch. his touch is unhurried and gentle, as if he has all the time in the world to worship you. “you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, voice still rough with sleep and a building desire.

"lando..." you breathe out, eyes sliding shut as his fingers caress you gently, swallowing thickly at the tenderness of the action.

his touches become bold as he feels your body practically melt against him, his hands sliding up to cup your tits fully. he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. your hands slide up over his bare chest, wrapping around his shoulders as you kiss him back. you can’t help the small noise that leaves you as you felt his tongue against your lips, opening up to let him in deeper. he breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against your skin. “tell me what you want. what do you want me to do?”

"anything." you whisper, feeling goosebumps rise on your skin at the intensity in his eyes. "just touch me."

he grins against your collarbone, his hands squeezing your tits gently before he finds your nipples, rolling and pinching them between his fingers until you’re squirming in his lap, breath coming in short little gasps. “you like that?�� he purrs, his voice low. you let out a whimper, whining quietly as your hips make contact with his, the little bit of clothing you have between your bodies feeling like it was in the way at this point. “what do you need, sweetheart?” lando asks, pressing another kiss to your neck, sucking the skin into his mouth to leave a small bruise.

"need you." you mumble against his lips, rolling your hips down languidly into his. "keep touching me, please..." you plead softly, arching into the touch.

“i’ll keep touching you, love. just tell me what you need from me.” lando’s hands leave your body to tug at your shirt, pulling it over your head before tossing it haphazardly across the room. he leans back to admire you, drinking in the sight of your flushed face and the goosebumps rising as the cool air met your heated skin. “you’re so fucking pretty, blushing all for me,” the air in the room was cool, and you couldn’t help the soft whines that left you as his fingers continued to knead the soft skin of your breasts, thumbs dragging over your nipples.

you blushed at the praise flowing from his lips, pressing your bare chest to his as your fingers dug into his back, a silent request for him to be as close to you as possible. he complies with the request, wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. he buries his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent deeply as he continues to grind up into you, the friction making you both whimper. "such a pretty girl, being so good for me, hm?"

you let out a desperate keen as he continued to shower you in praise, feeling how hard he was pressed against your core. "lan.."

lando brings his teeth to nip at your neck more, his hands sliding down to grip your ass and pull your hips against him. “tell me what you need…” he says again, the vibrations of his voice making goosebumps rise as he licked a line up the side of your neck. “whatever you want, you’ll get. i promise, darling.” he flips your positions, laying you down underneath him, pressing kisses onto your chest and torso as he makes his way lower.

your eyes roll back and you arch up into his teasing crawl up your body. "fuck..." you breathe out, whimpering as he kisses up to your breasts, sucking a hardened peak into his mouth as his fingers tease the other. lando's touches become gentler, his fingers slowly trailing down your body to reach the hem of your underwear. he looks up at you, silently asking for permission as he pauses his touches. "can i take these off, love?"

"please." you beg quietly, heat flaring through your body as he grins, pulling the thin fabric down your legs with trails of kisses down your thighs.

he tosses your underwear aside, his hands parting your thighs to settle between them. he looks up at you from between your thighs, his breath hot against your core as he speaks. "so ready for me, love..." his fingers gently part your folds, slowly stroking a single digit over your dripping heat. "so wet..."

you let out a hitched moan, head falling back onto the mattress as his fingers touched you everywhere you needed him to. you knew you were practically pleading for his touch, eyes flying open as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your clit, choking on a cry. he quickly sucks the sensitive bud into his mouth, his tongue swirling in maddening circles as his fingers tease your entrance. his eyes lock onto yours as he eats you out, his free hand pressing against your stomach to hold you in place.

"lan..." you gasp out, one of your hands going to tangle through the mess of curls on his head. "please, fuck, i..." you ramble, legs trembling at the feeling of him eating you out.

lando ignores your rambling, his mouth never leaving your clit as he worships you. he slowly pushes two fingers into your pussy, curling and scissoring them inside as he eats you out. the sound of his hungry eating and your desperate whimpers fill the room, a lewd and sinful cacophony.

"please, i.." you choked out, arching up into his fingers and mouth as you pull on his curls, feeling him moan deliciously against your core. "fuck lan..." lando's free hand reached up to pinch your clit between his fingers, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger as he continued to finger fuck you with his other hand. you let out a desperate cry, his hands everywhere you needed them to be, legs shaking as they tried to close around his head. "i-i'm close, please don't stop, baby... please..." you plead, head thrown back as your breath hitches.

he hums against your core, his tongue pressing flat against your folds as he eagerly laps up whatever you’ll give him. his fingers curl up to stroke against your front wall, his rhythm unchanging as he continues to push you closer to the edge, practically grinning against you as he felt your legs shaking. you couldn’t help the noises that left you as his fingers caressed your inner walls, hips twitching against the hold he kept on your legs.

"lan!" you cry, the groans and movement of his head driving you wild as you tugged more on his hair, grinding up onto his tongue and fingers. "so good to me.." you whine, feeling your orgasm at its tipping point, desperate to get off.

lando sucks your clit back into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive bud as his fingers continue to curl in you. he looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire as he feels your legs tremble and your body tense up, knowing he had you right on the edge, so close to crumbling beneath him. the sight of your eyes squeezing shut, legs shaking and hands gripping whatever they could never failed to make him turned on, rutting lazily against the mattress to get some relief for his aching length.

you let out a loud moan as your orgasm barrels into you, legs trying to squeeze against the sides of his head as you came hard, your juices flooding onto his fingers. his fingers and mouth never let up, working you beautifully through your release.

as you came down from your high, he pulls back with a satisfied grin, his face practically dripping with your juices. he brings his soaked fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean as he admires you, panting and boneless below him. "you taste so good for me, love." your hips twitch slightly as you stare up at him, licking your lips at the sinful sight of the wetness on his face from you. you let out a whine at his actions, watching his fingers disappear into his mouth as he sucks them clean.

lando's eyes never left yours, his thumb brushing against your sensitive clit. he could see the desperation and longing in your eyes, and it only fueled his hunger for you. "you look so pretty for me. all blissed out from just my mouth and fingers, hm? wonder how you’d look getting fucked dumb on my cock.” you couldn't imagine how you looked below him, mind still reeling from your first orgasm as his fingers lightly brushed over your core. the soft touches made your head spin, feeling yourself clenching around nothing as he observed you, a lazy grin on his face.

"y-yes..." you respond, breath hitching as you watch him dry his face with a part of the disheveled sheet, leaning down to kiss his way up your body again. "lando, please..."

lando smiles against your skin, his lips tracing up to your neck as he murmurs, "please what, love? tell me what you need." his hands roam your body, teasing your thighs and stomach as he waits for your response, his own arousal making him want to slide right into your wet heat.

"i wanna feel you." you whimper, laying your head to the side as he kisses and nips at your skin, a shiver running through your pliant form. a low groan rumbles in his chest at your words, his hands coming to grip your hips possessively. "i want to feel your perfect little body wrapped around my cock." he presses his hardness against your thigh, letting you feel how much he wants you, how much you turn him on.

you nod desperately, breath hitching as you feel him shamelessly grinding into your thigh. "please, lando..." you beg, moaning as his thumbs crested over your tits again, teasing you with light touches.

lando's hands continue to roam your body, his touch firm yet gentle as he continues to tease and taunt you. "please what, hm? tell me exactly what you want from me. wanna be good for you, baby." your breathing hitches as he speaks, his admission that he wanted to be good for you making heat flare through you. his soft dominance in the moment was overwhelming your senses, licking your lips as your hands curled into his hair, pulling him further into the crook of your neck. "want you to roll over, wanna ride you..." you whisper, arousal flaring through your body as you hear him whimper into your neck.

"fuck... ride me, then. sit on my cock and show me how much you need it." he rolls onto his back, pulling you with him, his length sliding against your drenched folds. you moan openly at the feeling, grinding your hips up and down on the length of his dick, coating him in your arousal. you can’t help the whimpers that leave you, hips stuttering desperately as the thick head of him keeps nudging against your clit with every roll of your hips.

lando watched through hooded eyes as you writhed on top of him, his hips lifting to meet yours lazily. "you look so beautiful like that, babe... grinding on my lap like you just can't get enough."

you whine at his words, the push of his cock rolling against your clit sending thrums of pleasure through you, your hands digging into the bed by his shoulders as you lean over him. when his hands reach to tease your nipples again, your hips jolt forward, a strangled cry leaving you. his hands continue their caressing touches until they settle on your hips again.

lando's hands grip your hips tighter as he guides you, encouraging you to grind harder against him. "that's it, love, use me. take what you need from me." his head falls back against the pillow, a low moan escaping him as your soaked heat slides along his aching length. you let out small whimpers as you feel yourself clench around nothing, another orgasm creeping up on you as the rhythm of your hips stutter, collapsing onto your elbows as you kiss him desperately, a hand going to tangle in his hair again. he could feel the way your body was tensing against him, your little moans filling the space between kisses. "come for me... keep grinding that pretty little cunt down on me. such a dirty girl for me."

you let out a high-pitched sob, continuing to roll your hips as your orgasm slams into you, your arousal coating his length even more as you chase the pleasure, head resting against his as your eyes squeeze shut. your hips continue to roll and grind down into him, riding the intensity of the moment out.

his hands roam over your back as you ride out your release, tracing up and down your spine as he soothes you through it. his own body tenses as you coat him, his cock twitching with desperate need at the sight of your shameless grinding against him. "look so pretty rubbing that pussy on me, does it feel good, darling?" he purrs. he was so turned on it was hurting, but wanted nothing more than to keep making you fall apart for him over and over again.

"yeah..." you breathe out, slowing your hips down as the pleasure bordered on overstimulation, swallowing thickly. you kiss him through your little pants of breath, gasping as he runs his hands over your body, letting one rest lightly around your throat.

“such a good little slut, falling apart so pretty for me..” lando tightens his hand around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you feel his dominance as he keeps his eyes locked on yours. "now, i want you to stay like this, hm? keep those pretty hips pressed against mine, and don't move until i say you can. can you do that for me?"

you let your eyes roll back at the pressure on your throat as you nod wordlessly, not knowing what to anticipate as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth. he holds you in place, his hand still wrapped around your throat, his other hand sliding between the two of you, grabbing his cock and pressing the thick head against your entrance. you inhale sharply, eyes snapping open to look down at him, whining as you see the hunger in his eyes and the grin on his face.

"just feel it, baby," lando whispers, his hand around your throat tightening slightly as he pushes into your sensitive cunt. he wanted to savor every inch, wanted to watch your face as he stretched you around his length, inch by agonizing inch.

your eyes slip shut as you feel him slide into you, inch after torturous inch. "lando please..." you choke out, trying to push your hips down to make him sheathe himself inside you quicker, gasping as he slaps your thigh.

"patience, darling," he muses, slapping your thigh again before giving your hip a gentle squeeze. he pulls back until just the head of his cock was inside you, then pushes back in slowly, his grip on your throat and hip unyielding as he sets a torturously slow pace. the slow drag of his length inside you was brutal as you tried to keep still, hips wanting to grind down onto him desperately. "fuck, please," you whine, head dropping back as he continued to push himself in and out of you.

lando grins up at you, his pace unhurried as he continues to stretch you inch by inch. "so needy, hm? you sound like an absolute angel begging for me," he hums, his thumb still stroking over your hip. "what do you need, darling? want me to slow it down more for you?"

you cut your eyes down at him, nostrils flaring. "don't you dare." you choke out, the air leaving your lungs when he suddenly slams fully into you, your back arching deliciously. one of the many things you loved about him was that he could go from worshipping your body to treating you like you were nothing more than a sex toy for his pleasure, the two extremes making you dizzy.

"there's my girl... such a pretty face scrunched up in frustration," he taunts, his voice low as he slowly pushes in, his hips rolling upwards to meet yours with slow deliberation. your pleas were strained as he bottoms out again, holding you firmly against him.

“please, i need you,” you beg, eyes looking down at his grin, his movements unhurried.

"need me to do what, love?" lando's grin widens, his eyes locked onto yours as he finally begins to thrust into you. his pace is slow, measured, and designed to drive you mad with want. he feels your fingers tighten in his hair and your breathing hitch with each slow push forward into your heat.

you cry out, the slow drag of his length in and out of your cunt maddening, making you squirm on his lap to try and get anything more, anything to dull the intensity of the moment, wanting to just be fucked senseless.

"told you to be patient, darling," lando purrs, his thrusts gradually picking up speed. he could feel your resistance melting away, your body beginning to accommodate his pace as he starts to fuck you with long, slow strokes. "look at you, squirming so pretty on my lap..." he mutters, his own breath coming a bit heavier as he struggles to maintain his control, wanting nothing more than to flip you over and fuck you hard into the mattress until you were screaming.

you let out a hum at the rhythm picking up slightly, squeezing around his cock as it moves in and out of you, still not nearly fast enough to be satisfying with the intensity of the moment. "thought you said you were going to take care of me, not fuck me to sleep." you got bold as your frustrations built, talking back to see his reaction.

the payoff was instantaneous, his expression immediately darkening as his hands tightened their hold on you, his pace not changing. "oh, you're playing a dangerous game, darling..." he growls, his voice low and menacing as his hand tightens around your throat, pulling your face to his.

"yeah?" you muse, a breathless grin on your face as you stare down at him with a slight challenge in your eyes. "what're you gonna do about it, darling?"

you loved riling him up, the ruthless pounding you got as ‘punishment’ making your whole body shudder in anticipation. teasing him was your way to disobey, loving when his dominant side would rear its head and fuck you into submission underneath him.

"keep testing me and you'll find out... i can keep you like this, desperate and bratty, all day and night, you know," he murmurs, one of his hands roaming up and down your side, his touch gentle as he continues to slowly thrust into you. his hand on your neck never left, and you felt the subtle twitching of his fingers, like he wanted to dig in until you were gasping for air. "if i had to guess you were trying to get me to snap, hm?"

you shrug, eyes slipping shut as you roll your hips against his, disobeying again. "are you that close to snapping already?" you hum, looking down at him with a lilting grin. the taunting drove him mad, but he knew the game you were trying to play.

lando's eyes flash with anger, his grip on your throat tightening as he suddenly stops moving altogether, his cock still buried to the hilt inside you. "i am so close to losing my fucking mind with you," he growls, his voice trembling with unbridled restraint as he looks up at you. "that's what you want though, isn't it? you want me to take control and fuck you senseless, treat you like my cock-drunk whore?"

your eyes roll as you clench down on his cock, his words stirring a fire in your core. "i don't know what you're talking about." you muse, grinding your hips in a circle as best you could against his punishing grip on you.

lando chuckles darkly, his hands sliding off your body, pulling them to rest behind his head. "if you think i’m not doing a good enough job for you, then do it yourself princess..." he purrs, grinning at the expression on your face as he pulls away from you, his dick twitching inside you.

"wh-" your eyes widen as you look down at him, reclining as if he didn't have a care in the world. "lando." you breathe out, rolling your hips lightly to see if he'd do anything. he watches your face, his grin widening at your shocked look. "go on, sit up and ride me properly, if you think you can do better," he offers, laying back against the pillows.

you feel your cheeks flush, embarrassed as he watches you desperately try to grind and lift your hips to make yourself feel as good as you knew he could. "lando, come on, i was just teasing." you whine quietly, whimpering in frustration as you couldn't get the rhythm you needed. his grin turns cruel as he watches you struggle, his hand coming up to wrap around his own throat, applying just a bit of pressure, eyes staring into yours as your breath hitches watching him touch himself.

"teasing is one thing, darling, but you were being so bratty. brats don't get what they want, do they?"

you whine in frustration, hips picking up speed as you fuck yourself onto his length, but nothing felt as good as when his hands were all over you. "lan, come on, i know you want to touch me."

"i want you to ride me properly, without complaining or trying to dictate how i should fuck you," he corrects, his eyes never leaving yours. "that bratty little mouth of yours would look so much better stuffed full of my cock, you think?" you choke on a moan as you try to increase the speed of your bouncing, whining desperately for anything he would give you, trying to grab at his hands and pull them to your chest. the nonchalant attitude written all over him makes your throat dry, swallowing thickly as you try to get him to touch you however you can.

"mmmm, desperate already?" he taunts as you whine and moan, retracting his hands from your grip as he slides them behind his head and out of your reach. "such a needy little thing, aren't you? begging for my touch like a bitch in heat."

"lando,” your eyes roll as he talks, every word sending a thrill through you, you shift the angle, able to get more speed with your bounces, but cry in frustration at the lack of his hands on your body.

his grin turns lazy, his hips rising to meet yours, matching your rhythm perfectly. "you're so close, aren't you? gonna come all over my lap like a good girl?" his voice drips with mockery, his eyes glinting with amusement at your struggle. you sob desperately at his teasing tone, needing something more as you feel your orgasm starting to fester. lando's dick twitches inside of you as you ground your hips down, whimpering and pleading for him to do something.

"oh, darling, you need more? from what i can tell, you're doing a good enough job," his hands remain firmly behind his head, his hips rising to meet yours perfectly. "what is it you need more of, hmm? use your words for me."

your face flushes at his teasing tone, fingers digging into where they were resting on his chest, eyes screwing shut in frustration. "lan, come on," you groan, biting your lip as you tried to keep up your pace on his lap.

"you're not quite begging yet.." lando drawls, his voice lazy as he watches your face contort with need. "and you're slowing down.." he sighs, his hips rising to meet yours more forcefully, encouraging you to move faster.

you let out a broken moan as he pushes his hips up once into you, encouraging you to keep up your pace. "lan, please, i can't..." you grit out, embarrassment making your cheeks burn at being ordered into submission. "please, just.. please fuck me, baby, i need you.”

"there we go, darling. that's a proper begging," lando purrs, his hands finally leaving his head to wrap around your waist and grip you tightly. "want me to fuck you how i want? want me to ruin you?" he grins up at you as your eyes roll and he grips your hips, pistoning his length in and out of you.

you let him hold you as your back arches and your eyes roll, letting out little breathy whines as his hips meet yours. "want you to.. to fuck me into this mattress, p-please," you stutter out, his thrusts making your brain short circuit. you cry out, feeling close to the edge of another orgasm with the added stimulation.

"that's it, pretty girl. beg for it." lando praises, his hips slamming up into you with vigor. "fuck, you look so pretty when you're begging, darling. so fucking desperate for my cock, aren’t you?"

you whine desperately as he fucks into you, muffled moans leaving you as your body rocks with his thrusts, your lips pressing into a thin line. you beg him for more without hesitation, teary eyes looking down at him as he grins up at your fucked-out expression.

"more? you want more?" lando laughs, his hands grabbing your hips and pulling you off of him, turning to shove your face into the mattress. "then you're gonna get it, darling. i'm gonna fuck you so well, you’ll be begging for more." he growls, pulling you up by your hips as he slid back in with a groan, starting up a brutal pace.

you let out a strangled moan as you try to raise onto your hands and knees, but his hands find your back, shoving your face into the mattress. "please, lan," you sob, your voice muffled by the sheets.

his hands grip your hips tightly as he starts to fuck into you with reckless abandon. "just take it, darling. take my fucking cock like the good slut you are and scream into the mattress." he grunts, his hips slamming against you with a force that makes you dizzy. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your desperate moans and his ragged breaths. he groans, his pace starting to stutter as he gets closer to his own release. "you're all mine, aren't you? this pretty little cunt is just made for my dick. my good, perfect bratty slut." his mixture of praise and degradation sends you reeling, your hands curling into the sheets by your head, knuckles turning white.

"please," you gasp out, your whimpers and cries muffled by the mattress. "please, lando, i'm so close, please-"

"what was that, darling?" he taunts, his grin growing again as his voice drips with amusement and mockery. "i can't hear you over those pathetic little sounds you're making." one of his hands reaches down to your hair, lacing his fingers through and pulling as he makes you arch your back, head lifting off of the mattress.

"lan, please please- i need it so bad, need to come, please." you beg, your mind trying to form a coherent sentence and failing miserably as he continues to fuck you in earnest.

lando chuckles darkly, amused by your desperate pleas. "oh, you need it that badly, huh?" he doesn't slow his relentless pace, his cock hitting deeper with each thrust. "just take it, pretty girl. you're gonna take everything i give you and fucking thank me for it, aren’t you?”

your mind is fuzzy with the lust-filled haze you're in, fingers digging into the sheets below you as you let out a quick and desperate moan every time he thrusts in. you're at his mercy, eyes rolling as he thrusts in over and over, the head of his cock dragging deliciously inside of you.

"that's it, darling, moan for me." his voice is rough with lust, his breath coming in harsh pants as he pounds into you. "you're mine, remember that. my pretty little fucking toy." you let out a desperate cry as his hand reaches around to rub maddeningly slow circles into your clit, a stark contrast to the speed of his thrusts. the pleasure racing through your body makes your legs shake, almost giving out before he grips your hip, keeping you up. "fuck, that's the spot, isn't it?" lando groans as he feels your pussy flutter around his cock, your approaching orgasm making you impossibly tight around him. "come on, darling. come for me, milk my cock dry. let me fill that pretty cunt up."

you feel yourself crumble almost instantaneously, crying as your whole body trembles with the force of your orgasm ripping through you. your walls flutter as you clench around him, screaming into the mattress. lando growls in satisfaction, his own release hitting him hard as he feels your pussy squeeze around his cock. he thrusts into you a few more times before stilling, his cock twitching as he fills you with his release. "fuck... you're so fucking good for me. such a good girl, letting me use this perfect little body however i want."

you're panting, body limp and languid on the bed as he pulls out, making you whine. you feel his release leaking out of you, your cheeks flushing darkly at the feeling. lando smiles to himself, watching as you lay there, spent and shaking. he reaches out to wipe the tears from your face, his thumb gentle against your cheek. "such a good girl, taking everything i give you and loving every second of it." he muses. his fingers run across your core, chuckling to himself as you jolt at the touch. he gathers his release leaking out of you, bringing the slick-coated digits to your face. "open up,"

you roll on your side, staring up at him with fucked-out eyes as your mouth falls open, a muffled moan leaving you as he pushes his fingers in, the pads dragging over your tongue. he watches with rapt attention as you clean them off, a lazy grin on your face as he pulls them out clean. "there's my good girl." his hands grab your hips as he pulls you onto your back, his face hovering above yours as he cages you in with his arms, leaning down to kiss you deeply.

you reach up to tangle your hands in his hair, kissing him back as you sigh. you'd never felt more satiated and relaxed after sex before, but this was exquisite. his kiss is languid, a stark contrast to the passionate roughness of his movements earlier. he pulls back, nuzzling into your neck as he presses more kisses there, licking over the bite he left earlier.

“you did so well for me, love. but i don’t think i’m done with you yet..."

1K notes · View notes

pandaxnienke · 4 days ago

Text

mornings like this - lando norris

lando norris x fem!reader

word count - 1.7k

summary - waking up with bf lando in the morning

warnings - 18+, smut, coarse language, minimal plot, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, praise if you squint, fluff

a/n - this is my first time posting my writing! requests are open so send me ideas!

you woke up to light touches on your cheek, eyes blinking open as sunlight spilled into the room. lando was hovering over you, feathering soft kisses across your face, tracing along your cheekbone and up to your brow.

"good morning, pretty girl..." he drawled, his lips warm against your skin as he began trailing kisses down your neck.

"hi, baby," you whispered, your voice still thick with sleep, his breath tickling you.

last night, you stayed in. just you two, a pizza box, the princess bride, and the comfort of being together again after a long race weekend. it was perfect. no cameras, no noise—just you. the relationship was still new, fresh and untouched by the chaos of the media or the scrutiny of fans. for now, it was just yours.

his messy curls fell across his forehead, and your fingers itched to brush them back. god, he was beautiful. tanned skin, chocolate curls, and those hazel eyes that could melt you with just one look. and oh, how you loved his smile.

you loved it from the moment you saw him at that coffee shop in monaco, the way it lit up his face as he stole glances at you from across the room. and now, here you were, months later, tangled in each other’s arms. that smile? it was yours to wake up to every single day.

“lando stop it! I'm ticklish!” you giggle at his assault on your neck, rolling over to pin you down playfully.

“i know,” he says, voice low and teasing. “that's the point.”

he trails tender kisses down your sternum and over your stomach. you let out an involuntary whimper at the softness of his lips as he placed them across your skin, dipping lower and lower down your stomach, stopping at the edge of your underwear. he heard the noise and looked up at you with a mischievous grin.

“mmm, so sensitive huh?” you nod, biting down on your lip as heat pools in your lower belly, his head now between your legs. you felt faint just at the sight. he pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, fiddling with the lacy edge of your panties, teasing.

“so soft baby.” he murmurs, cheek resting against your thigh. His voice is delicate, but you know he's doing this on purpose- he knows it drives you crazy.

“lando…” you whined out, turning your head away from his piercing gaze as a blush spread over your cheeks. He knew exactly how to make your stomach flutter.

“look at me,” he says, lifting his head just slightly. “ tell me what you need, baby.”

you bit farther down on your lip, trying to suppress another moan as you turned your head back to look at him. that damn smile again. mischievous, teasing, infuriating. he knows how hard it is for you to find your words when he’s like this, but he waits, his lips brushing against your panties, hot breath sending shivers up your spine.

“please lando,” you begged him to end your agony, hips writhing against his strong hold involuntarily. he chuckles, the sound low and smug, before kissing over the growing dampness at your center.

“words baby, use your words.” your hips bucked against his face, his nose nudging against your clothed clit as he tightened his grip on your thighs.

“fuck lando I need your mouth, please!” you cried out, unable to contain it anymore.

“since you asked so politely…” he hooked his fingers in your panties and dragged them down your legs in one swift motion.

it was natural the way your back arched when his mouth finally met your heat, dragging his tongue up your folds in the most tantalizing manner. he kept eye contact with you the entire time, his gaze baring into you as he eagerly lapped up your wetness. lando wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking deeply on the bundle of nerves.

“oh god lando,” you say breathlessly, “keep going.” your hands immediately tangled themselves in his hair, pulling lightly as he pushed a finger into your entrance. your eyes flutter closed, lips parting in a moan as his finger finds that spongey spot deep inside you.

“let me hear you baby,” he encourages, face covered in your juices. you gasp again as he pumps a second finger inside, fucking them into you faster. you feel the wave of your release brimming, threatening to spill over as he focuses his attention back onto your sensitive bud, flicking his tongue over it as he curls his fingers into you, hitting that spot once again.

“lando i’m gonna-” your words are cut off by your orgasm crashing through you, your cunt spasming around his fingers as you moan out lando’s name. he continued his movements, helping you as you rode out your high.

“good girl,” he mused, pulling his fingers out and sucking them into his mouth, “taste so good baby.” you let out a breathy laugh as you recover, tracing your fingers across his cheek.

“need you inside me,” you say as lando rises to meet your lips. he kisses you fiercely, tongue slipping inside your mouth, making you taste yourself.

he broke the kiss, chuckling at your desperation. he lowered his mouth to your ear and whispered, “is that what you want? want me to fuck you pretty girl?”

you nod with teary eyes as his hand moved to knead your breast, his thumb running over your nipple. your breath hitched as he massaged your breasts, his fiery touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.

lando brushed up against you, his erection evident through his boxers. he was aching, just from eating you out. painfully hard against your thigh, he let out a groan as your hand wandered down to palm him over the thin material.

“baby stop teasing me,” you slur tiredly, attempting to pull his boxers down and feel him. he smiles as he helps you, pushing them down his legs and kicking them off onto the bed.

he kisses your cheek as he hovers over you and lines his cock up at your entrance, sliding the head up and down between your slick folds. “so ready for me love, so wet…” he holds your eye contact as he pushes in slowly, your warmth inviting him in as your eyelids flutter at the pressure.

lando slides into you inch by inch until he bottoms out with a moan. his free hand rubbed the soft flesh at your waist, soothing you as your walls stretch to accommodate his size. you clench around him involuntarily, gripping his arms as he began to move his hips. his place was slow, but gentle, thrusting into you deeply. “oh god baby, you're so tight for me,” he stuttered out, unable to tear his gaze from yours.

it was loving and comforting, your bodies moving in tandem tangled in the blankets and pillows of the bed. the morning sunlight peeked through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the two of you as your moans and heavy breathing grew louder. your wetness was abundant and audible, making obscene noises as he pounded into you.

“you were just fucking made for me…” lando drawled deeply as he scrunched his eyebrows in pleasure, lowering his head to rest in the crook of your neck. he hit deeper and deeper with every thrust, your bodies slick with sweat from the motion. you wrapped your arms around his torso, holding on for dear life as you felt that familiar feeling in the pit of your stomach again, alerting you to your impending release.

“i’m almost there lando, need you to fill me up please.” you practically begged him, clawing at his muscular back as his pace quickened, determined to get you both to your highs.

“c’mon baby let go for me,” he reached down between your legs to circle your clit, urging you closer and closer over the edge.

“fuck–” you let out a string of curses as you reached your peak, back arching beneath him as your vision flashed white. your legs trembled from the intensity of the orgasm, your pussy fluttering from sensitivity as lando continued to plunge into you, kissing your neck as you recovered. he mumbled praises in your ear as you caressed his hair, urging him to finish as well. his cock throbbed inside you at the touch, making you whimper out his name. his strokes grew faster and deeper as he chased his own release, the vibrations making your already sensitive clit ache once again.

his breathing grew ragged, and his hips stuttered suddenly as he threw his head back in pleasure. “i’m cumming, shit baby,” he moaned out as he released inside you, spilling hot cum all over your walls. with a soft cry, lando collapsed on top of you, unable to hold up his own weight after the force of his orgasm.

he stayed inside you for a few minutes before pulling out, whispering soft “i love yous” into your ear and kissing gently over your collarbones. you lie beneath him, your finger lazily tracing the ridges of his back, mind still fuzzy from pleasure.

the noises of the city outside were louder now, the world finally stirring awake. “what a lovely way to start the day, don’t you think?” lando laughed at your statement, rolling onto his side to pull you closer into his arms.

“my perfect girl, this is how i want to wake up every single morning for the rest of my life.” he pressed his lips to your shoulder softly, caressing the dip of your waist. it was an innocent touch, loving and kind as all his actions were. you never wanted to leave this haven of paradise, but the tense reality of the upcoming day loomed in the air.

lando squeezed you tightly, then shifted to get out of bed. you groaned at the loss of contact, but knew he had to start getting ready for his busy day. “i’ll start up a bath for us, we still have some time before i leave.”

“you might need to carry me!” you exclaim as you stretched out your sore limbs, legs still quivering from the events of the morning. you hear lando let out an exasperated huff from the bathroom and giggle, his attitude evident as always.

bliss came easily to you two, and the ability to soak up every second you had as a pair was innate. you cherished mornings like these with lando deeply, even though they were few and far between.

801 notes · View notes

pandaxnienke · 4 days ago

Note

FRED WEASLEY AND ALL TOO WELL😭🫶 pleasee

All Too Well | F.W.

summary: your daughter gets curious about all the different parchment you had stored away.

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

includes: reader’s last name is Lupin, mainly fluff and angst, kissing, playful teasing, pregnancy, death, crying (this fic is practically as long as the song)

a/n: first fic of the 2k celebration! also, i cried everytime i came back to write this 😭 i miss him so much

It had been exactly eleven years since your beautiful baby girl Charlotte was born, Molly and Arthur Weasley's first grandchild. Born a pureblood, she would be going to Hogwarts this September and you couldn't be more proud. From all the stories Charlotte heard about your time at Hogwarts, she knew she would have the time of her life. Especially since all the stories were about you, her father, and her uncles. You would tell her all the stories of how the twins and Lee would set up pranks only to be scolded by McGonagall. Sometimes you had to scold them too.

You missed the days where you had no care in life except for your studies. You missed spending every single day with your favorite people and seeing them everyday. You missed everything Hogwarts had to offer before the war began.

But even after all the chaos it brought, your sweet girl was born. The only righteous matter to come out of the war.

"Mum, what's that?" Charlotte sat beside you on the couch and perched her head on your shoulder as she looked inside the box you brought out, beautiful red hair draping over your body.

Her gaze was drawn to the different sized parchment, each one having different drawings and dates. Charlotte picked one up and read the name, eyes widening at the signatures signed at the bottom. They were her father's and there were so many of them. "Whoa."

"What're you doing, creeper?" You laugh softly and pull her to sit in front of you, kissing the top of her head when she put the note back inside the box.

"What are all of those?” She gestured to the box and looked at you with curious eyes, fingers moving to touch the gold ring around your left hand; A habit she picked up from you whenever you felt the need to fidget. “Did dad send you all of those?”

You nod and clasp your hand around hers, feeling her pulse. "Yeah, he uhm,” You cleared your throat and blinked fast, ridding yourself of the tears that wanted to spill over. "He would write me one from the day we met until he… Your dad would even write me notes when I was just sitting next to him in class."

You pursed your lips and looked down, mind going through years and years of memories. Every time you received a new note, you wrote down the date to keep track of how long he had been doing it.

"There's so many..." Charlotte looked in awe and made out some of the dates, many of them dating back to when you were eleven. “He must have loved you a lot, mum. Especially since you kept all of them.”

You let out a chuckle, your hand reaching up to hold the gold ring adorning your necklace, thumb feeling the lettering inside. “Well, your dad was head over heels for me, Char.” You watched her pick up different parchment and smiled softly at how intrigued she was.

“Here, pick a couple and I'll tell you the stories behind them.” You hand her the box and watch her eyes light up before closing them and plucking out five pieces of parchment, handing them to you with glee.

Charlotte folded her arms over her knees, cheek resting against her arm. She watched your eyes water again at the notes she picked, making her bite her bottom lip. She didn’t want you to cry. She hated seeing you cry. Especially when it was over her father.

“Do you…” She started and met your eyes again, giving you a small smile in hopes of getting you to smile again. “Do you remember how you got all of them?”

"Of course, I do." You sent her a short grin and tucked pieces of her hair behind her ear, her brown eyes and red hair oh-so familiar to you. "I remember it all too well."

10/09/1993

“Weasley, you’re late to your own date.” You wave the parchment in his face and bite back a smile when he rolls his eyes and takes the note from you. “You said to meet you in the courtyard at exactly 3PM.”

Everyone had already left for Hogsmeade and you were left standing in the courtyard with the handmade scarf Mrs. Weasley made for you, the wind blowing it around. You weren’t actually upset with Fred, this happened more than once already, but he had time to serve with Filch whenever he pulled a stunt worse than usual.

“No, it says 3:30PM.” He tapped his wand on the parchment and sent you a lopsided grin, this time making you roll your eyes. “You look, Lupin.”

You took the note from his hands and read it out loud, giving him an exasperated look. He pulled you close by the waist, tilting his head down to meet your eyes. He loved the height difference you had with him, being a whole head shorter than him gave him lots of pun material.

“Wow, it says 3:30PM all of a sudden.” You tuck the parchment into your pocket and strain your neck to look at him. He still wore that smile you loved, making you push up on your toes to kiss him properly.

He grinned into the kiss and pressed his lips against yours multiple times until he was satisfied, adjusting the scarf you wore when he separated from you. You sigh softly and push locks of his red hair away from his eyes, meeting the beautiful brown eyes that you adored.

“Now did you actually leave on time? Or did you leave when Filch wasn’t looking?” You question him as you began the descent away from Hogwarts, careful to walk around the rocky terrain.

“I’m offended! Who do you think I am?” Fred laced his hand with yours and guided you safely around the trail to Hogsmeade, looking over yours clothes to insure you were dressed properly for the fall weather in Scotland. “Of course I left when Filch wasn’t looking.”

You smack his chest with the back of your hand and shake your head, not even a little surprised with the stunt he pulled. “Frederick Gideon Weasley.”

“What? I promised a date to the prettiest girl at Hogwarts.” He squeezed your hand before pulling you closer to him, looking around the area in confusion. “Speaking off, have you seen here? We were supposed to meet up at 3PM back at the courtyard.”

“I knew we were supposed to meet up a three, you prat!” You exclaim and smack him once more, making him laugh. He crookedly smiled, loving how you completely ignored his short jab to defend yourself about the right time you were supposed to meet.

Fred leaned down and pressed another kiss to your lips, effectively shutting you up. You let out a small noise before indulging him, placing a hand on his cheek before pulling away.

“That’s not fair.” You whisper to him, lips grazing his when you spoke. You peered down at his lips before back up to his eyes, smiling when you knew you got caught.

“Nothing’s ever fair, Lupin.” He murmured and smiled back at you, thumb softly tracing his initials into your covered hip.

You felt so much love from Fred — although it did take you years to finally agree to go on a date with him. Maybe it was to spite your dad when he began teaching at Hogwarts, but you truly loved Fred. You had known his family for far too long to ignore the heart that only beats for him.

12/25/1994

“Why is it we learned how to ballroom dance together only to ditch and sneak off to the kitchens?” You ask in a low voice, not wanting to break the calmness that fell over the both of you as you moved further and further away from the bustling Great Hall.

Your hands were laced behind your back as you walked beside Fred, letting the silence overtake after an overstimulating two hours at the Yule Ball. You weren’t even planning to go because you knew your social battery wouldn't be able to handle so many people in one room, but Fred convinced you to go with a simple heart-shaped piece of parchment.

“'Cause you needed a breather. I could see it in your eyes.” He nudged your shoulder gently before slipping his arm around your waist, letting you rest your head on his shoulder; The smell of lemon ginger cookies and firecrackers filling your senses from the suit jacket he wrapped around you earlier.

You smiled softly at his actions as he led you down toward the kitchens. He was everything you never knew you needed and it made your heart swell with so much love. You never wanted to leave his side.

Fred came to the conclusion that the elves loved you a lot more than him when you dismissed them with a bright smile. Whenever he and George visited during the midnight runs, they would always greet them. When you were with him and George, the elves would do anything you asked them to without any hesitation.

While you moved around the space to make a quick snack for the both of you, Fred simply admired you. He admired how beautiful you looked doing such a mundane task or how you would always click your heel whenever you were counting something. He was so in love that watching you just stand and cross your arms when the stove wasn't cooperating made he grin stupidly.

Before he realized what exactly he was doing, you sent him a confused look. "You haven't spoke in like—" You looked over to the wall clock, raising your brows in surprise. "Ten minutes. Are you okay?"

Fred hummed and pulled you to stand in front of him, his hands coming down to rest at the curve of your waist. “Can’t I admire how beautiful you look, Lupin?”

You squint your eyes at him and meet the brown eyes that have been staring at you for quite some time. Although he was bold most times, you saw how raw and genuine his words were.

“I mean, even without trying you just look,” Fred laced his hand with yours and slowly spun you around, breath catching when you faced him once more. He was so enamored with you — no spell was strong enough to break the enchantment. "Absolutely stunning."

You try hiding a smile that made its way onto your face, only settling into it when he moved to kiss your neck. You grasp the back of his shoulders and sigh softly, shutting your eyes briefly before he parted and smirked at your breathless look.

"I wanna marry you." Fred murmurs and thumbs your bottom lip, catching you give him your golden smile. "The only thing I want to do before I die is marry you."

You hum and rest your hands on his chest, fingers playing with his lapels. You wanted nothing more to marry the man in front of you. Every little thing he did was like painting a perfect picture, and you wanted to frame it forever and ever. He would be the only oath you were willing to take.

“Let’s dance for a little while.” He suggested as the muffled music coming from the Great Hall wandered into the kitchens, a slow song coming on at a perfect time. “There’s music and the candle light by the fridge.”

“Just us?" You ask almost like you needed the reassurance, watching him bow and take your hand like any waltz started. He clasped his hand with yours and began to take the calculated steps he learned only a few weeks ago.

“Just us.” He reassured you and snuck a kiss to your lips, earning an eye roll and lopsided grin.

Yeah, this was it for the both of you.

05/26/1996

Fred knew that you would be upset if you found out that him and George were planning on leaving Hogwarts without graduating. Especially since you were so keen on helping the both of them study for their N.E.W.T.S. He knew you wanted to graduate with him by your side, but what good would graduating from Hogwarts be if he and George had a plan that could be set in motion right now?

He was going to tell you a couple weeks ago, but you got so busy with studying for N.E.W.T.S. and ensuring you would get 'outstanding' in all subjects. So he decided to wait. Well, until you found the note he was planning to give you.

You were absolutely heartbroken. The entire day you wanted nothing to do with him, even sitting beside Angelina during potions just to avoid him. But he eventually found you sitting at the top of the astronomy tower, head resting on your knees and fingers playing with the gold necklace he got you the year before.

Guilt was eating Fred up from the inside out. Starting with his heart.

“Are you really leaving without graduating?” You murmured when you felt his body heat approach you, head still staring forward toward the forbidden forest.

Fred sighed and sat beside you, running his fingers through his hair. “The system isn’t working for us right now and—" Then he heard the sound that absolutely crushed him. He heard the hiccup that would soon become sobbing. "Lovey, what’s wrong?”

You were quick to bury your head in your arms. You knew Fred could read you like a book and anything you did now would trigger his different responses. When you sniffled, you knew it was game over.

“Okay, lovey, you're crying.” He pulled you around so that you were sitting in front of him and gently moved your arms away from your face, his own face falling at the way you look at him.

Your eyes were wet with tears, your lip was quivering, and it pained him to know he caused it. You wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, but if you tried to speak, you would completely fall apart. Everything was stressing you out and the note just pushed you over the edge.

“You know I'll be at the station when you get back.” Fred murmured and tucked your hair behind your ears, listening to your uneven breaths. "I won't leave you forever."

You hiccup and turn your head, biting your bottom lip to help stabilize yourself. "I-I just thought we would have more t-time together before everything got s-so serious outside of Hogwarts."

Fred tilted his head and tried his best to meet your eyes, "But you know that's not the case, lovey. You'll be living with Georgie and I, and you know were aren't exactly the most serious people."

You let out a wet laugh and look down, fingers coming up to play with the infinity symbol on you necklace. Fred smiled softly at your laugh. At least he knew you weren't too terribly upset over the predicament.

“If I do w-well on my N.E.W.T.S, I'll be t-training full time as a h-healer.” You hiccup and trace the symbol over itself, still trying to calm down as best as you could. “And I know you two will run your business together most of the time. So I don't—”

“Lovey, look at me." Fred pleaded and lightly cupped your cheek, tilting your head so he could face you properly. "Nothing will ever come between you and me. You were in my past, currently living in my present, and you are indefinitely my future. You are my everything and I refuse to leave this spot until you give me that golden smile I love."

Your laugh softly and give him that golden smile, "I love you, Fred Weasley."

08/14/1997

Fred proposed to you a couple of months ago. It wasn’t anything too extravagant or crazy, but you definitely cried like a baby when he got down on one knee and revealed a gorgeous gold ring you swore cost more than how much the twins made a month. Flash forward, you were having a wedding at the Burrow surrounded by family and loved ones.

After vows were said and the most passionate kiss was exchanged, you and Fred were immediately separated. He was pulled to talk to family he didn't even know were family while you were stuck plastering a fake smile to Sirius and Remus who kept going on and on about how happy they were for you.

Eventually the both of you were able to get away, running away from your own reception like you would if you were still in Hogwarts. You laughed as you both made it to the edge of the forest, resting your head on his shoulder. Although you were both only nineteen, you knew that this would be forever.

“Do you think they'll realize the bride and groom are missing from their own wedding?” You let your laughter subside and following him wherever he was guiding you. Was it such a good idea to follow him blindly? Not really, but you trusted Fred. "Where are we going?"

“You’ll see.” He moved a hand to cover your eyes and helped you maneuver through the foliage.

It felt like an hour of just walking and constantly trying to peek through his hands until he stopped abruptly, causing you to stumble over your own heeled feet. He helped stabilize you before removing his hand, letting you look at the sight in front of you.

“Tada!”

The sight was drop dead gorgeous. Almost every single note he had ever wrote to you was floating around a cleared part of the forest, small wisps of light acting as your guide to each and every date. Your eyes were filled with tears as you went up to one of the earliest notes, the date going back to the first week of your first year at Hogwarts.

“When did you ever have the time to do this?” You murmured and looked around, hand coming up to play with your golden necklace, the same one he got you forever ago.

“I have six siblings, I can get them to do my bidding.” Fred shrugged and flicked his wand, the song from the Yule Ball playing in the background. From where you would never know. “Shall we dance, Mrs. Weasley?”

"We shall." You smile brightly and clasp your hands in his, letting him guide you through the same waltz. You squealed when he spun you around and fell into his arms, both of your gold rings flashing from the light. The rings that were a promise of love and happiness.

“Thank you.” You look up at him with so much love and sigh. He was now yours forever, bound by the vows you cried to.

He looked between your eyes and tilted his head, "For what, lovey?"

"Just for being yourself. Everything that you do is just..." You find no other way to express what the feeling was, racking your brain for a word but unable to fine the proper wording. You push up on your toes and kiss him silly, pulling away just as fast. "That's what it feels like."

Fred felt warmth coat his cheeks and neck, lowering his head so he was mere millimeters away from your face. “You love me.”

“I love you, yes.” You look down at his lips before looking back up to the brown eyes you fell in love with so many years ago. "That's why I married you, dummy."

"Good thing you did too, your dad was going to kill me if I just wasted all your time. You know how hard it was to convince your dad I actually love you?" Fred complained as he dipped you, smirking when you gasped at the sudden movement. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before pulling you back up.

You furrow your brow before breaking out in laughter as you remember the memories of him trying to get the Remus Lupin to like him. “He’s not that hard to charm, Fred!”

“Considering it took me months to even get him on board of the idea of you marrying me, I don’t believe it.” Fred kept you close, swaying to the music that was now coming to an end.

“Whatever.” You press a kiss to his jaw. “I love you either way.”

04/25/1998

The entire day you've been a wreck. The note you held in your hands felt like a weight, and you wanted to toss it to Fred as fast as possible. Your nerves were killing you, slowly making you twitchy at every movement. You weren't sure how Fred would react to the news, but when you found out, you threw up. Well, you weren't sure if that was because you were scared or if it was morning sickness.

“Georgie, has Fred gone on break yet?” You wander down into the store and pick at your nails, narrowly avoiding two kids chasing each other throughout the store.

“Ah, not yet. He’s dealing with a particularly tough customer. I’ll send him up for you once he’s done though.” George sent you a sympathetic smile and flicked his wand, watching the stairs turn to help the kids return back to their parents.

His smile soon fell into a frown when he noticed how sick you were looking. He knew that you were pregnant, but it was well past the morning and you were sitting upstairs merely working on papers.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and put an arm around your shoulder, guiding you away from the crowds so there were no stragglers to listen in on the conversation.

You purse your lips and spin the golden ring adorning your left hand, head reeling at the thought of telling Fred about the pregnancy. “I’m telling him today.”

“Oo, yeah. Can’t wait to see the look on that wanker’s face.” George chuckled and earned a punch to the arm from you, causing him to recoil and glare.

“Hey!” You scold and place a hand over the lower half of your stomach. “You can’t say that anymore, there’s a child present!”

“Aw, you’re no fun anymore now that you’re married and becoming a mother.” George stuck his tongue out at you before sending you a reassuring smile and giving you a thumbs up. “Congratulations, you can do it."

You nodded and made your way back up to the flat above the store, pacing back and forth from the living room to the kitchen. The nerves were getting worse. The note soon became overly crinkled and you swore your socks were getting tarnished by how many times you frustratedly spun around on your heel.

By the time you thought your nerves were finally settling, Fred walked in with the smile you loved. Your emotions sky rocketed and you ran into his arms, burying your head in his neck while he supported you up by the back of your thighs.

"Did you miss me already?" He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your cheek, earning a quiet 'yes' from you. "Aw, lovey."

After a few seconds of practically gluing yourself to him, you finally pulled away and pressed a proper kiss to his lips. He smiled and thumbed the skin available to him. You hum and direct him toward the couch, pulling away only to giggle when he chased your lips. He sent you a joking pout, ready to protest when you shoved the note into his hands.

"What is this?" He unfolded the paper and stared at you with so much love you felt a cavity coming in. "Turning the tables on me? I— Fucking hell."

"Fred!" You smacked his chest before meeting his brown eyes, unsure of the emotion behind them. "So?"

"So what?" His grinned and tackled you onto the couch, peppering your face in kisses. "You're pregnant! I'll be a father!"

You laugh at the feeling of his kisses, "You're not mad?"

"Godric, how could I be mad at you? You're having my child!" Fred kissed you senselessly, free hand coming down to rest on your stomach. "We're going to be parents!"

"We're going to be parents." You say to him and cup his face, letting your stored tears free fall from joy. "You and me."

"Just us." Fred wiped away your tears and sighed, resting his forehead on yours. "Us and the little one."

05/02/1998

You promised Fred you would stay home today. You promised him. But he never promised he would return home to you, causing you to rush over to the Hogwarts as soon as possible. When you arrived, the war was already won, but you didn't care. You wanted to see your husband.

“Where is he?” You ask the first person you find, sighing in relief when you see the youngest Weasley. You excused yourself and ran over to her, grasping Ginny’s arm before seeing her solemn expression, making you internally panic. “Ginny, where is your brother?”

Although you never specified, she knew exactly who you were asking for. She bit her lip and pointed to where George was kneeling, burying her head in your shoulder. You felt your heart constrict as you held her closely, breath catching at the sight in front of you. Molly was wiping her own tears when she saw you, pulling her daughter away from you so you could see Fred yourself.

“No no no no no no.” You fall to your knees and catch your breath, looking at Fred through wet eyes. A sob threatened to escape your throat when you felt for his hand, the warmth of his hand now gone and replaced with cold. You choked on tears and let yourself cry, hiding your face in his shoulder.

You begged the universe for this to be a horrible joke that everyone was in on. That Fred was okay and well, only pretending to be dead.

"Freddie, please." You cry and clutch his hand tighter, feeling for the gold band that represented your everlasting love. "I need you to wake up, Weasley. I-I can't do this without you. How am I s-supposed to—" You choked on your words, sobbing once more. You couldn't even finish your sentences.

When you felt a pair of arms pull you away from Fred, reality hit you like a train wreck. You stumbled over your feet as you stared at his dead body. Fred Weasley was really gone.

"What happened?" You whisper and stare at Fred, tears still falling. You felt so helpless. You were a healer and there was nothing you could do. When no one answered you, you whipped around and stared at whoever carried you away, another sob threatening to spill over when you saw George. "What happened, George?"

“There was an explosion.” He whispered and pulled you into a hug, letting you cry for a second. He had his last moment with Fred, but you hadn't seen him in hours.

You sobbed and collapsed in his arms, cries ringing out into the Great Hall. The pain you felt was nothing like you ever experienced before. You did everything you could do try and deny it, but no matter what you thought of, the sight of his dead body seemed to appear.

“George, why are we at Hogwarts?” You huff and follow him into a restricted room.

You weren't even supposed to be at Hogwarts and somehow you were standing on the very grounds your heart shattered. Your daughter just started a few weeks ago, but George somehow convinced you to return and dragged you to a room you've never seen before.

George glanced down at you, noticing your distant gaze, like you weren't safe inside the building anymore. “Have you been to Hogwarts since the war?”

“No.” You purse your lips and push the thought of the war away, brows creasing when you see how clean and furbished the room was. “Why? I need to get going soon. My shift—"

“Just look.” He pointed toward one side of the room, revealing the little contents of the room.

You frowned when you looked over. There was nothing of interest. “I can see the Mirror of Erised and a covered portrait.”

“Pull the bloody cover off.” George rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, shaking his head when you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Okay, but I’m not looking at the mirror.” You sighed and covered your eyes when passing the mirror. When you stood in front of the portrait, you pulled the cover off and gave George an annoyed smile. “I don’t understand—" When he gestured for you to look back over, you rolled your eyes before gasping, dropping the cloth without realizing a piece of parchment was attached to the front of it. "Oh my, Fred Weasley.”

“Hi, lovey.” Fred winked at you, wearing that smirk you haven't seen in years. When he saw tears falling from your face, he frowned and seemingly reached out to you. “Why are you crying? Did George upset you?”

“No, in fact he made me happy.” You spoke through tears and wiped your tears, smiling sadly. “I get to see you again.”

Fred grinned again and clapped his hands. “It’s been forever since I saw you last, Lupin. Where were you?”

You furrow your brows and look at George in confusion. “Does he—?” George shook his head and handed you the parchment that fell. You quickly peeled it open and wiped your tears once more as you read the contents. "He made it for a prank he never committed to." You huff and shake your head before responding to Fred. “I’ve been out and about, Weasley.”

He tilted his head and scanned your figure up and down, confusion written all over his face. “It seems as if we have a predicament here.”

“And what is that?” You murmur and step closer to the portrait, not realizing George had left you alone to have a moment with Fred.

“I want to hug you, but the best I can do is talk.” Fred sent you a lopsided grin and blew a kiss at you, making you laugh.

“Seems like a big problem.” You nod in agreement and sigh, wrapping your arms around your midsection. “I’ll understand what you mean.”

“In that case, I’m giving you the biggest hug right now.” Fred spread his arms wide and pretended to give you a hug before his eyes caught the gold ring around your left hand. “Where’d you get the ring, lovey?”

“Uhm…” You look down and spin the ring, smiling down at the piece of jewelry. “I got it from you a bit ago.”

Fred beamed in joy before he flattened again, looking around like he could see past the frame. “Where am I?”

“Home.” You muster a smile and wipe a tear that managed to escape, hands shaking. “You’re at home with your mum and dad. Don’t worry though, they wanted to actually hang out with you.”

Fred scoffed and shook his head, “Still rude as ever, Lupin.”

“Not as bad as you, Weasley.” You laugh softly and hold back anymore tears, hands finding Fred’s adjacent ring hanging around your neck. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

291 notes · View notes

pandaxnienke · 5 days ago

Text

Yours. Mine. Ours. - MV1/OP81/LN4

Part 9

Dark fic + - Minors DNI- if you don't like this or the warnings/themes make you uncomfortable. I can't stress this enough, DO NOT READ THIS

Summary: Lando brings home a girl that he thinks will be perfect for him, Max and Oscar but things between the three never necessarily run easily.

Themes/warnings: Smut 18+, reverse harem, kidnapping, drugging, pre-existing relationshipish - mean!Max x nonchalant!Oscar x overexcitable!Lando

Full series

Word count: 2.3k

Y/n's dates with Oscar and Lando were fitting to them. Oscar actually set up a picnic at the beach to watch the sunset and they just talked, or y/n talked and Oscar listened. Lando on the other hand, he took her karting on one of her karts. Something that Max and Oscar both wanted to supervise but since it was his date they agreed for Lando to take her without him.

However they both required evidence of her being ok during and after the karting experience.

Now she's attending another race weekend with them and they're figuring how to divide up her time evenly.

Y/n still hasn't been able to access social media but the three drivers are aware that her appearances with all three of them is beginning to pick up traction.

Lando has disabled her social medias and with her family thinking she was just going off grid initially, they didn't actually report her as a missing person officially. So no one has been able to identify her yet.

"Y/n..." Lando whispers twirling a strand of her hair around his finger as they sit on the jet together. Oscar and Max asleep with Oscar's head actually in y/n's lap as she plays with his hair absently and Max is across from them having actually having fallen asleep with y/n lying on top of him before she decided she wasn't tired and moved to the McLaren drivers.

"Yes?" Y/n smiles pulling her gaze away from the screen.

"Are you happy?"

There's a beat and for that second he feels his chest ache, a wave of rejection hitting him like an arrow to the heart when she hasn't even said anything.

"I really thought my life was over...and somehow the three of you made it...a million times better than I ever could've wished." Y/n states reaching her hand to link with his own and squeezing it. "Even if you are a little rough with me sometimes, I don't think I could ever go back to someone being so gentle."

And the momentary irrational rejection is washed away with an overwhelming sense of joy.

"We love you, sometimes we just forget our own strength."

"Don't lie. Max does it on purpose and so do you." Y/n smiles with a smile lightly then letting her free hand return to Oscar's hair as he stirs then settling again almost as soon as she puts her hand back. "I really enjoy it anyway."

"How do you want to spend the weekend?" Lando asks giving her the opening to have some control, though she knows him giving an inch means to take no more than what he's offering. "Because we all want time with you."

"I was thinking...maybe Friday with you...Saturday with Max and then Sunday officially with Oscar but I'll be in the McLaren garage so I'll see you too a bit. Then next time I could be in the Red Bull garage and we can figure out how to switch it up so I'm with you guys different days each time?" Y/n explains showing that actually she'd been thinking about this too.

"That sounds like a very good plan." Lando smiles leaning over and kissing her softly.

There's something about three men ravishing her whenever they can that makes y/n realise she maybe has more going for her than she'd ever thought before.

So far the best feeling on this trip is these men men waking her up. Max's head between her legs, Lando's hands gripping her boobs, pinching and pulling at her nipples that sent her tailspinning into an orgasm that she had to be careful in not just crushing Max's head. All while Oscar watched.

She'd never enjoyed the thought of getting watched making her feel so breathless but even just the memory of how she started her day is making her chest tighten a little.

"Y/n?" Oscar smiles when he spots me in the McLaren unit just killing time while Lando is busy. "Hey, baby."

Oscar isn't usually one for affection but she's gotten pretty good at noticing when these boys are coming up to her needy and turned on. Oscar's eyes only have a sliver of his iris that she can see and to have pupils that blown out, I know my day dedicated to Lando is about to be interrupted and Oscar certainly won't care about Lando feeling his time has been intruded on.

The moment Oscar has pulled her into his driver room.

Whatever got Oscar turned on, he clearly doesn't have much time to take care of it because he bends her over and she only feels his fingers test that she's actually wetness enough to take him before he slides his dick into her.

Y/n puts her hand over her mouth keeping herself quite as she feels him fill her and start some pretty hard thrusts. He's chasing his own high and usually Oscar is very giving and the fact that he's being selfish this one time just lets her know how needy he is for release.

"Oscar." Y/n whines feeling him slam into her hand spill his cum into her pussy as she pulses around him. She didn't finish but feeling his orgasm is enough for her to feel satisfied for now.

Oscar stays inside her for only a few seconds before pulling out and sighing a little.

"I have to go, but leave that."

Y/n isn't the biggest fan of leaking but thankfully she's not had her underwear stolen today.

He doesn't leave without stealing a kiss and making a very quick job of cleaning her up and while he rushes out, she takes her time a little more.

"I'm going to steal you on Sunday." Lando comments spotting her walking out and she smiles innocently moving towards him and latching onto him in a hug. "You don't look very...finished."

All three men know when y/n's has had even just one orgasm, she has a glassy look in her eye and Lando can see that's not the case.

"It's ok, he needed it." Y/n dismisses earning a hum. "Do you not need to go?"

He does and they both know it but he definitely doesn't want to.

"I'll finish you when I get back. Do not go missing."

"Yes, sir." Y/n smiles then finding his hand around her throat as he pulls her forward into a kiss.

She's going to go stand in the garage anyway, but Lando takes off after kissing her and rushes to get to FP1.

When she arrives in the McLaren garage the camera men are focused on Lando but her presence does cause them to pan the camera up to her away from him. She doesn't get any on screen label because the graphics team have no information on her to really work with.

Lando actually couldn't live up to his promise directly after FP1 and FP2 didn't look great for the car. But it's when Oscar steps into the unit looking at her that Lando practically appears out of thin air, taking her wrist and pulling her away from the more public area.

"Lando." Y/n gasps when she trips trying to keep up with him.

They're both in his driver room and undressed within a minute before he pulls her into the shower, which is small just to fit him but somehow he gets them both int here and before she can utter a word, he's slid his fingers into her.

There's definitely not enough room for actual sex without just risking injury. But if there's one thing Lando is good with, it's his hands that are aided by the sheer size of them.

The feeling of his fingers thrusting in and out of her makes her teeth sink into the inside of her cheek to try and muffle the moans fighting to get out.

His thumb is on her clit applying such perfect pressure that she could feel dizzy and he's got his eyes locked on hers as she shifts her hips into his touch rocking to match his fingers movements before she finally drops her head back and his free hand comes up over her mouth as she finally loses the ability to stop her own moans.

Her tummy is twisting with pleasure as she feels the waves over her orgasm crash over her, her body tense as she manages to arch her back slightly, still somewhat aware of her surroundings.

"Fuck." Lando groans as she comes down from her high and when her hand goes to touch him he manages to quickly spin them around so he's against the wall and she's under the water. "No, I want your mouth baby. It'll have to wait."

He watches as y/n quickly cleans herself up before stepping out allowing him to properly clean up since he needs it more than she does with the saturated sweat from being in the car.

Y/n manages to dry off but ends up stealing some of Lando's spare clothes to wear since after she's given him head they will be going back to the hotel anyway.

When he steps out from the bathroom he's given himself a very quick dry off with a towel before she's down on her knees taking his still very hard length between her lips, guiding it down her tongue to the back of her throat while feeling his hand gather her damp hair only managing to towel dry it before Lando had appeared.

Much like Oscar earlier, he's acting on a more selfish goal but the sight of looking down at y/n is enough to really push him over the edge. That familiar salty taste hitting her tastebuds as she swallows it back around his length.

"Alright, we need to get going." Lando sighs helping y/n back up to her feet then sitting her down while he grabs some clothes. "You ate lunch didn't you?"

"Yeah, grabbed something while you were in the FP1 debrief." Y/n nods with a small smile.

Lando nods with a smile then pulls on his clothes and picks up their stuff, making sure he has one hand free as he links it with her own and they walk out of there.

Oscar must've already left but they do end up catching Max as they walk out of the paddock.

"You look like you've had a nice day." Max comments as they climb in the car.

"I've had a very good day." Y/n confirms squeezing Lando's hand then moving to kiss his cheek. "I am tired though."

Max sighs as he checks on y/n, her even heavy breaths giving away her depth of sleep. Then he moves out of the bedroom of the suite and into the living room area where Lando and Oscar are sitting.

They'd agreed they needed to have a discussion about what they are doing when it comes to the long term plan for y/n. Because right now is great but the question she asked about the future has been hanging over Max's head and while he'd briefly mentioned if to the boys. They all needed to really talk about it.

"Just to be clear if this discussion is going to end in deciding one of us gets her. Finders keepers." Lando declares before Max can even utter a word but his statement earns glares from both Oscar and Max. Neither particularly happy at the idea that he's laying claim already.

"Shut up." Oscar sighs then leaning back.

"Y/n wants commitment and she wants kids." Max states looking between the two McLaren drivers. "If we all want to be part of that we're going to have to get over ourselves."

"That's a bit bold coming from you, mate." Lando laughs while Max frowns.

"You do seem to get the most jealous." Oscar agrees proving that Max may be the one with a problem.

"Lando is worse than me."

"He's bad but you're worse. You should both me more like me and just appreciate that there's two other men here."

"What if she does get pregnant? Do we want to know whose kid it is?" Lando questions now actually considering the situation they may be faced with.

"Chances are they'll probably look most like the dad." Oscar points out which is true. "But I don't think she'd be too happy for us to only parent the kids that look like us. It'd have to be sharing kids the same way we share her."

"Agreed." Both Max and Lando nod since they definitely understand that favouring a child isn't on the cards.

"She might not even want 3 kids so it might not even be on the cards for us all to feel included." Max adds before sighing. "So we're in agreement, we keep going with this. The only thing that will have to be avoided is marriage. Because then she does have to choose one of us."

"Wait, just thought of another issue with the baby thing." Lando states suddenly with a slight grimace as he thinks about it. "The last name."

"Just give the baby her last name."

"Works for me." Lando mumbles though he would rather have a child with his last name at some point. That might be something he'll just have to get over and live with.

"Great. Well since we figured that out. I'm going to bed. You boys try and keep the peace while I'm not here." Oscar sighs standing up and moving towards the bedroom.

726 notes · View notes

pandaxnienke · 6 days ago

Text

Eyes That See Part 21

Eyes That See Summary: Your life consists of taking care of others. This is a story of you learning to take care of yourself. Eyes That See Part 21 Summary: You and Sy go to Amelia and Johnny’s farmhouse for an Ugly Sweater Christmas Party. Words: Close to 18k Tags: mention of Christianity/religion/death, alcohol consumption, topics of anxiety, drunk characters, military characters with outward injuries. A/N: Like with many of the recent chapters, this chapter is a lot of words for a small period of time, but it’s a good connector for the next few parts of the story that I sincerely hope won’t take nearly as long to update as this has been (coming up soon: fight with Justine, trip to Virginia, Y/N moving into a new place!). Also, to everyone who has commented on this fic, I love you more than you will ever know. Any sort of engagement is welcome, so if you want to comment, reblog, send an ask, key-smash, send a gif–even criticize–just know that it means more than you’ll ever know! pic credit: here

An air of excitement permeates the inside of the truck while Sy drives through town. Though intrusive thoughts from earlier in the day still linger somewhat, Sy easily quells your anxiety simply by being next to him.

As a passenger, you’re calm in a way you hardly ever are. Intrinsically, you trust his driving.

With a container of cookies on your lap and a case of alcohol at your feet, you happily sip your seltzer and look outside with a sort of youthful, whimsical anticipation. Colorful lights frame the passing-by houses, and in the wind, inflatable figurines dance in people’s front yards. Candles and wreaths adorn the well-lit windows, and your eyesight is drawn to the Christmas trees on display behind them.

Personally, none of the trees are as great as the one you’d picked out this morning, of course, and you’re sure to mention that to Sy. He just smiles.

Some time later, you arrive at Johnny's place, and you roll your eyes good-naturedly at the large leg-lamp on display at the main front window. Sy drives straight through the dead grass in the yard before approaching a large number of parked vehicles off to the side–most of them are other pickup trucks with their tailgates down–and as he slows down behind them and finally brakes, you gently crush the aluminum can you’re holding with one hand and unbuckle your seat-belt with the other.

Sy gestures with his head for you to drop your can on the floorboard to join the other random bits of trash there, then reaches in the backseat for his case of beer. He reaches out to take your case of seltzer next and lifts them both like air on his way out the truck.

Since Amelia and Johnny never really use the front door, you and Sy begin walking along the side of the house towards the back entrance after he kicks his truck door shut with his boot. Together, you quietly both take in your surroundings–you, because you’re curious; Sy, because he’s scoping out the scene as usual.

By the semi-circle of trucks, a crowd is standing around a fire, and though the flames are nothing in comparison to the last bonfire here, it's still large. Among the scent of the woodsmoke in the air, the significant odor of cigarettes passes by in the chilly wind. It’s a smell that reminds you of your father which, in turn, reminds you of your upcoming Virginia trip, and that, in turn, immediately reminds you of yet another thing: Sy’s going with you on said Virginia trip.

You're so happy that it almost takes you aback. With life. With this party. Just–You're never this happy to make big plans and to go to social events. Even the fun ones.

First Thanksgiving at Sy’s grandma’s house and now this. Look at you. A regular socialite. A Lifetime Hallmark movie supporting actress.

You should host something yourself, you briefly consider, but at Sy's house. The halls would be decked and the Charlie Brown tree would be lit, and you'd have hors d'oeuvres and entrees and a gingerbread-house table and a sugar-cookie table and a taking-shots-of-Fireball table and all types of stuff. Food. Games. Friends.

The thought doesn’t even stress you out. It’d be…nice. Just like tonight will be.

Of course, you're not actually going to host anything, but… Maybe one day.

Moments later, there’s a general acknowledgement of you and Sy entering the house from the sporadic individuals hanging around the kitchen making small-talk, and you smile politely before placing the container of cookies you’re holding onto a giant table in the nearby dining room. The table is pushed back against a wall and is already covered with tons of other food: cookies, brownies, and haystacks; veggie trays and fruit trays and meat trays and cheese trays; several crock-pots near the back; an assortment of pies; and chips, pretzels, and peanuts.

After putting the two cases of alcohol down on the floor under the table, Sy helps himself to a giant handful of peanuts. Looking around and not seeing anybody you immediately know well enough to approach, you follow him back into the kitchen where he helps you shrug off your jacket. In an easy display of protection, he then trails his hand down your back and over your hip before dropping it to his side.

This is where, even as excited as you are, you remain frozen next to him. You wonder if you should’ve drank a little more than just one seltzer before coming here so you’d be able to be a little more extroverted. You wonder if you’re going to come across as weird tonight.

"You good?" Sy checks in with his mouth close to your ear, and you nod.

"Fine," you promise, looking up and giving him a smile. "Just lookin' around."

Sy looks around, as well. From your spot in the kitchen, it’s closed off enough for privacy while the two of you peer through both thresholds in the room–one that leads into the dining room you were just in and the other that leads to the hall and offers a greater view of the living room.

“Don't see anyone just yet,” he tells you.

“Well, I have to find somewhere to put down my coat anyway, so maybe we should just walk around until we find someone we know, I guess,” you suggest with a shrug, but just then, a group of three men walk into the kitchen with plastic red cups in their hands. They make an instant bee-line for Sy, obviously having spotted him from the other room, and instantly begin laughing at his sweater.

“Look atchu, man!” the one in front happily says in greeting, and you watch Sy grin and reach out to shake his hand.

“You remember Thompson," Sy half-asks and half-says to you, and you nod. “We came to Johnson’s together here recently.”

Waving at the man you once referred to as Guy Who Lost To Sy At Arm Wrestling, you then take note of the men beside him, the ones you dubbed Long Hair and Quiet and Might Be Stoned. Mentally, as Sy introduces you to everyone individually, you practice repeating their names so you won’t forget them. You’ll probably forget them anyway.

“Oh, I remember y’all,” you say, taking in everyone’s ridiculous sweaters and repeating in your head: Guy Who Lost At Arm Wrestling is Thompson, Quiet and Might Be Stoned is Hawk, Long Hair is Doug; Guy Who Lost at Arm Wrestling is Thompson... “Y’all came by after playin’ poker that one night.”

"Playin’ poker ain't really nothin' more than Syverson takin' all our money then usin' it to buy us all beer," the man named Thompson clarifies, “but yeah, if that’s whatchu wanna call it.”

“Well, I guess you would’ve spent it on the beer yourself, anyway,” you say with a smile, “so it all evens out, huh?”

The men smile back, and for a brief moment, you wonder–what now? Do you comment on their funny-looking sweaters, too?--but then, you see a flash of brightly-colored hair rush through the kitchen. Sy’s sister Samantha, followed closely by Liana, approaches you before she even approaches her own brother and gives you a short but fierce hug.

“What?!” you exclaim once she lets go. “I didn’t know y’all would be here!”

Then you’re finding yourself being hugged by Liana, a little softer.

While Sy’s friends stand there looking at his sisters, you notice him squint his eyes at them. You get the impression that if he weren’t holding your coat, he'd be crossing his arms right now.

“Neither did I,” Sy pointedly says to Sam. “Y’all never actually said if y’all were comin’ or not.”

Samantha shrugs. “The thumbs-up emoji meant that I was gonna be here, Sy,” she replies.

Sy tilts his head to the side. “It means you’re confirmin’ you got the invite,” he corrects.

She rolls her eyes. “Sorry my communication isn’t up to your military standards. Next time I’ll be sure to just say affirmative or somethin’--how’s that?”

The back door suddenly opens. As a gust of cold air breezes in, so do two extremely tall men. Collectively, everyone standing around conversing in the kitchen looks towards the sound, and in walks a bald man with dark skin carrying a six-pack of beer, followed by a shorter man with an olive complexion. While a general uproar of conversation exudes from Sy’s friends at their arrival, you take a few seconds to observe them.

The taller man's wearing a blue sweater splattered with white snowflakes, and an eye-patch covers his left eye. He's about the same height and build as Sy is, and immediately after Sy spots him, you hear Sy incredulously murmur, "Get the fuck outta here.”

Both men approach one another for a loose but firm hug, and it’s clear that seeing one another is a pleasant surprise for both of them. The second they disengage, they instantly begin insulting each other with matching grins.

“Still keepin’ that head buzzed so no one has to see them ugly ass curls grow out?” the tall man says while tapping Sy a few hard times on the back.

Instead of retaliating with a joke of his own, Sy just smiles–a large smile, a showing-all-his-teeth smile–and he side-hugs the man before moving a few steps away. In response to his friend's statement, he simply rubs a hand over his head.

"You know it."

“And look atchu with them damn shorts on in the cold,” the man points to his knee-brace and comments with a grin, almost crouching down to talk to it. “That knee still predict the weather? What’s it lookin’ like for Christmas, huh? We finally gonna get us some snow?”

“Lemme rub your head an’ make a wish, maybe we will,” Sy answers with a laugh, then he turns around to face you, Liana, and Samantha. “Willie, y’remember my sisters.”

The man walks like his muscles are stiff as he steps closer to Liana and Sam. "I remember y'all," he says, briefly looking at you. "Well, I remember two'a y'all."

“Hey, Willie,” Samantha says nicely, holding up a hand and moving her fingers. She continues to stare at Sy’s friend with her hand uplifted as Sy gestures to Liana next and then finally to you.

“Now, who’s this?” the man bluntly asks. “This ain't your sister.”

“Willie, Y/N,” Sy introduces you, and you reach out and shake his hand. His skin is cold from the outdoors yet somehow still warm as he firmly but kindly takes your own, and he lets go relatively quickly after Sy approaches you and puts an arm around your shoulder.

“You gotchu a lady?” Willie picks up on the gesture before asking Sy, his grin never leaving his face.

“Nice to meet you," you smile and greet him.

“You, too, darlin’. You, too. Careful gettin’ too close to me, now,” he says, bending over to show off his head. “If you touch the bald head, I grow taller. Go on, now. Try it."

Sy harmlessly raises an eyebrow. “Alright, Slick Willie, enough.”

Sy's friend holds up his arms in surrender before looking all around the kitchen and shaking everyone’s hands. Next, he mutters under his breath that he's going to take his jacket off and find a drink somewhere. That leaves the other man Willie had entered the house with standing alone by the back door.

While Samantha and Liana whisper to each other, you stand nearby and watch Sy approach the man at the door. They both loosely embrace one another in a short, sideways hug. Seeing one another is obviously welcome, but there’s not the same surprise as the interaction with his first friend. He must see this person more regularly than he sees Willie for there to be less enthusiasm displayed.

"Missed you at the Veteran's Day parade last month, man," the man says after they disengage, and Sy nods.

"Didn’t know you were in town for it. Had somethin' goin' on with my grandma, anyway," he answers, and you watch him curiously. He never brought up a parade that he had to miss. Or anything particular going on with his grandma.

"She still hangin' in?"

Sy rubs his beard. "Oh, yeah. Tryna get her to move out is damn near impossible."

"What, you are going to put that poor old lady in a home?"

Sy chuckles before shaking his head. "Fixin’ to get her set up out on my land, actually. And she ain't no poor old lady. She's stubborn as a damn mule. Only sits down if she’s watchin’ Georgia Tech or Walker, Texas Ranger on TV.”

The man just chuckles, then his eyes meet yours. He raises his eyebrows politely.

Taking a step closer to Sy, you lift a hand to shyly yet politely wave. The man puts both of his hands together and slightly bows to you, professional yet nice.

“You must be a very special woman,” he tells you.

“Oh.” That wasn’t what you were expecting to hear, so you struggle with a reply. “Um.”

“She is,” Sy speaks up to affirm.

You look at your feet.

There's a warm fondness between Sy and this man that's not particularly missing from Willie, but Sy shows it differently. Somehow, he seems somewhat protective of this guy–like a brother. You're quickly interrupted from your observations by another crashing hug from your side. From the fruity scent alone, you know it's Amelia, and you grin and twist yourself around to hug her properly.

"Heyyy," you sing-song.

You try disengaging after about ten seconds of squeezing and rocking side-to-side before realizing you don’t care if you’re hugging one another like you haven’t seen each other in years. She’s your best friend.

Your only friend, really.

You think of Justine and quickly push the thought of her out of your head.

“I’m so glad you caaaame,” Amy gushes, her excitement already infectious. “Oh wow, those earrings are beautiful!”

“Thanks!” You widely grin as you bring a hand up to your earlobe. “I'm so glad we're here, too!"

“So did y’all just get here?” she asks, acting a little hyper and talking fast. “I’ve been runnin’ around so much my boobs are startin’ to fuckin’ sweat under this damn thing.” She pulls her sweater out in front of her and flapping it in the air to get some air under her shirt.

You chuckle. “Yeah, literally just got here a few minutes ago.”

Quickly, Amy takes hold of both of your hands and squeezes them. “And you’re stayin’, right? You’re stayin’ the night so you can drink?”

“Yup.” You nod. "As long as that's still okay."

“OhmyGod, yes,” she says. “Y’all got the guest room, you know that.”

Amelia instantly starts walking you into the dining room, calling out, “Hey, Sy! Hey, Mahmoud!” over her shoulder, and you follow, happy to not feel so awkward just standing in the middle of the kitchen. “Okay, we obviously have beer everywhere,” she explains, “but check it out. Here’s the bar.”

She gestures to a long collapsible table near the large table full of food. Covered with a bright red tablecloth and displaying literally dozens of liquor bottles, wine, and mixers, you observe everything with a smile, matching Amelia’s enthusiasm. Red and green cups of various sizes are stacked on the end of the table by a big bowl of punch, and there's also a small cocktail shaker set. Flashbacks of Johnson's Bar momentarily enter your mind, and bad memories be damned–you’re still excited to see all the stuff on display.

“Damn. You should be proud of yourself,” you enthuse. “This looks awesome. You've got everything.”

“Cleared out the liquor store last week, just about,” she jokes, and then she grabs a cup and reaches into a cooler full of ice under the table. “I mean, obviously it would’ve made more sense to have this by the actual sink, I guess, but whatever–it’s like six steps away if anyone needs it.”

You nod and look towards the kitchen where Sy is still holding your coat and still in deep conversation with the man from before–Mahmoud.

"So whatcha makin'?" you turn back to Amelia and ask with a smirk.

“A screwdriver,” she says when she stands upright again, filling the cup halfway full of clear vodka before pouring orange juice to the top.

You lower your voice. “Amy.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” she promises. "I'll drink it slow."

"Mmhm."

"I will," she maintains. "I'm the host. I gotta stay awake and do host shit."

You watch her in amusement for a few moments.

"So what about you? What’re you drinkin'?"

"Uh…" You look at all the options. “Well, I brought seltzers ‘cause I wasn’t sure,” you answer slowly, looking around at the different mixers and options of whiskey and liquor. “But let’s see…”

You find cranberry juice and vodka, and while you pour a drink for yourself, you side-eye Amy because you know she’s going to make fun of you.

“Baaasic,” she chirps, and you laugh.

“Says the girl who’s literally also drinking juice and vodka.”

“Hey,” she retaliates, “it’s different.”

You purse your lips. “Mmhm. Drinkin’ like a college freshman.”

“Johnny always says that, too,” she laughs.

“Where’s he at, anyway?”

“Who even knows,” someone from behind says.

Both you and Amelia turn around at the same time.

“Oh, hey!” Amy calls out before turning back to you. “Y/N, this is Johnny’s sister, Jen.”

Johnny and Jen. You smile, feeling more at ease now that Amelia is by your side during the early meet-and-greet phase that all parties like this have. You don’t know if you should shake hands with Johnny’s sister or hug her or—You don’t know what to do. You end up just waving.

“Nice to meet you,” you genuinely tell her, then you notice where you’re standing and move aside. “Oh, I’m so sorry, I’m in your way.”

“You’re totally fine,” Jen tells you. “I don’t even know what to do with all these options.”

“It’s a house full of military men,” Amelia explains, gesturing to three bottles of whiskey like a game-show sidekick. “I had to plan accordingly.”

While she and Johnny’s sister chat, you ruminate briefly, thinking that you should’ve actually introduced yourself to Jen, should’ve said your name at the very least. Or to Sy’s friend, Mahmoud, back there, too, actually. If you do that now, though, it’ll be weird. You move closer to the wall.

You take a sip of your drink and try to loosen up a bit. Not everything you do tonight is going to be scrutinized, you remind yourself. There's no reason for anxiety to creep in.

“Oh, hang on…I have an app,” you hear Amy murmur while taking out her phone and scrolling through it.

When you look back at her and notice that she’s looking up drinks to make with the ingredients available, you break out of your thoughts and step forward again. “What is it you’re in the mood for?” you ask Johnny’s sister. “I can help.”

Jen shrugs. “I really don't know. I normally just get margaritas when I go to bars and stuff.” She moves her hair away from her face. “Which is hardly, like, ever.”

"Oh, cool–I can make you one, easy," you offer, stepping into action right away to be helpful. “What kind?”

“Umm…”

You wait a beat and then turn towards the various liquor bottles and mixers, deciding on her behalf.

“I gotchu,” you just tell her, and once you've confirmed that all the ingredients are available for what you’re about to concoct, you make use of the smaller shot glasses to measure everything and start pouring it all together into a shaker—triple sec, pomegranate juice, cranberry juice, tequila.

You shake the drink over your shoulder while simultaneously bending down to get some ice from the cooler underneath the table. After using the strainer Amelia’s set out to pour the cocktail into a cup, you hand it over to Jen. She accepts it enthusiastically and immediately takes a sip, but you hesitate while waiting for her reaction. On the rocks margaritas aren’t for everyone.

You shift your weight from one leg to the other. “Uh, I could find a blender if you’d prefer it that way… Also, I didn’t see any salt or anything for the–”

“Shit,” Amy cusses at herself, going so far as to actually stomp on the ground with her boot. “I knew I forgot somethin’ at the store.”

“It’s great,” Jen reassuringly tells both you and Amelia before meeting eyes with you. “Thanks so much! What was your name again?”

“Oh–it’s Y/N,” you answer. “I’m Sy’s…I’m with Sy.”

“She’s Sy’s girlfriend,” Amelia supplants, “but we’re friends from work, too.”

“Oh, cool. Nice to meet you,” Jen says. You may simply imagine it, but you think you see her glance at Amelia after that, and you don’t know what they’re silently communicating about–if anything. Usually people do that when they’re being rude, but you can’t believe that’s possibly the case with Johnny’s sister.

To save you from letting your thoughts travel somewhere unwelcome, you look over into the kitchen and see both Johnny and Sy in there together, Sy holding a beer and listening to an animated story from Johnny, your jacket now gone from his grasp and Mahmoud now gone from the room.

You jut your head to gesture to the other room. “Looks like we found your brother.”

While Jen smiles at you–a genuine smile, a nice smile–Liana walks up to you from the other direction. “Hey, lady,” she says, and you beam at her. She’s chosen a not-ugly-at-all-outfit to wear and looks super cute in black leggings and an oversized red sweater.

“Hey, hey. Gettin' a drink?”

“Might as well. Can't drink much, though.”

“Whatcha want?”

“Oh, I’m just gonna pour myself some wine,” Liana tells you, then she does a double-take. “What, are you makin’ people drinks?”

You shrug. “If they want.”

“Can you do a Moscow mule?” Samantha suddenly appears and shamelessly asks, putting her elbow on your shoulder. Liana rolls her eyes while Samantha widely smiles.

“You’ve always gotta be so freakin’ weird,” Liana says. “Who even drinks that?”

Sam straightens up. “I’ll have you know that it’s festive.”

“Just like your sweater,” you wink at her and say before starting to get the ingredients together for her request. Her sweater is utterly ridiculous. Covered in colored, blinking lights, it’s almost worse than your own.

While you scurry into the kitchen to quickly rinse off the stuff you've already used to mix Jen’s drink, you hear Amelia cuss at herself for not considering that she should've set up the drink station by the sink after all.

“Honestly, I bet no one cares,” you tell her. “I wouldn’t sweat it.”

You hum under your breath and work your way through the three simple ingredients for Sam's drink. She doesn’t seem to care that it’s not technically traditional since you’re working with limited glassware and garnishes, and she accepts it just as enthusiastically as Jen had. It's not until you're methodically shaking the third drink for a person who’s approached you asking for help–Willie himself–that you realize a crowd has begun to stare at you, distantly including Sy himself. Your face heats up.

"I, uh. I used to bartend," you mumble in explanation to whoever’s around.

Amy takes the jigger from your hands. “Girl, you need to stop. You're not here to work."

“It’s really not that much work, though,” you joke, snatching the small glass back. "It'll keep me from over-pourin' the alcohol like some people."

"My momma didn't raise no bitch," Amy says around the straw in her mouth she's procured from somewhere.

You're unable to stop yourself from laughing. "Jesus, Amy," you mutter under your breath.

"Seriously, though,” she persists, “put it down. You haven’t even picked up your own drink.”

That's not necessarily true, but– "Okay, okay," you relent. You hand Willie his drink and then instantly grab one more plastic cup as Amelia lightly smacks your shoulder.

“Y/N!” she chastises.

"Wait up,” you laugh, grabbing a bottle of rum and a container of store-bought eggnog. “Just let me mix this eggnog for Sy and then I'll be done."

Amelia lets you finish up your gig at the table before walking into the kitchen with you. She approaches Johnny and exaggeratedly pouts. “I didn’t think about the fact that the strainer and stuff would need to be rinsed out every time a new drink was made,” she whines. “I knew I shoulda set everything up in here…”

“Ah, fuck it,” Johnny tells her as he hooks an arm around her shoulder. “Most of the guys are drinkin’ beer or whiskey straight. It’s y’all chicks who’re over there makin’ all the fruity stuff.”

At that, Sy accepts the eggnog from you with a small smile before raising an eyebrow at your drink of choice. “Whatchu got there?”

“Vodka craaan,” you sing-song while stepping into his space and getting up on your tip-toes.

He puts his beer on the counter behind him to free up one of his hands and then instantly moves some hair away from your face. "You went and made ‘bout everyone in this place drinks, and here you’re drinkin' that."

“What’s that even mean?” you laugh. “It’s good. Wanna try it?”

He takes a sip of your drink and makes a sour expression that causes you to fondly stare at his cute fucking stupid scrunched-up face, then he offers the eggnog to you in turn.

"It’s for you–It'll hurt my stomach," you decline, then lower your voice. "Plus I don't wanna drink too much and act stupid in front of all these people or anything. Or throw up."

He nods. "Just go slow. Ain't no one here about to do keg stands tonight."

"Ha, ha.”

"Unfortunately," Johnny speaks up. "These days, we're all too injured."

“Think the word you’re lookin’ for is old,” Sy corrects.

“Speak for yourself, OMS,” he retaliates.

You choose not to comment on whatever the hell OMS means and instead ask, "So wait, did y'all used to do keg-stands?"

"Did we used to do keg-stands, she asks," Johnny looks at Sy and laughs.

"They went through this thing together called their twenties," Amy chimes in.

You smile. “I want pictures.”

“Too bad, darlin’,” Sy gives you his signature wink and says. “We weren’t stupid enough to record it.”

You stew on that for a minute. So Sy wouldn’t take incriminating pictures of drunkenness, but he…he’ll take pictures of you. Doing things. Intimate things. Without replying, you just look at him, and as he often does, he calmly looks back. Then he takes a sip of his eggnog without blinking and licks the residual cream off his mustache.

Suddenly, Willie steps into the kitchen and pretends to lower his face to kiss Amelia. Johnny lifts a hand to fake-backhand him while Willie lifts his hands in humored innocence. Some liquid from the drink he’s holding spills on his sweater.

He ignores the spill and steps closer to Johnny. "Dayumm. You hangin' around Sy too long,” he says as he yanks Johnny's beard. “Y'all all be lookin' like damn lumberjacks ‘round here.”

"No-Shave November carries on," Johnny simply says, scratching his beard to accentuate it after smacking Willie’s hand away.

“No-Shave November?” Willie asks while he touches his smooth face. “No one told me. Thought it was No-Nut November.”

Johnny laughs. “No one needs to hear about that from you, man.”

“Hey, the ladies just might,” Willie persists. “Maybe they’ll feel bad for me. Havin’ one eye is bad enough, right? But then add a drought to the mix–”

Sy looks at you and smiles with his eyes after Willie’s crassness. You’re used to it from Sy himself, so you smirk back.

Willie–clearly a very extroverted and lively man–then goes on to yet another topic, clapping Sy on the shoulder. As they start talking, that’s Amelia’s cue to cart you away again, and she slips out from Johnny’s arm, links elbows with you, and starts leading you into the next room.

“Soooo.” She takes a sip of her drink. “What were you and Sy talkin’ about a minute ago?”

“Hm?”

“Back there makin’ heart eyes at each other.”

“Nosy,” you chuckle. "I was just tellin’ him I don't wanna drink too fast and get sick tonight, that's all."

Amelia makes a face. "Yeah, we don't want that," she agrees. "So–Things are goin’ good with y’all, though?”

“Things are goin’…really good,” you tell her while you continue to stroll into the next room. A football game is on the television with the sound muted to allow for the Christmas music playing from a large speaker to be heard instead. “Things are great.”

You take a look around the room. Where there used to be a large couch in the middle of the living room, now there's an even larger sectional couch pushed against the back walls, opening up more space for small groups of people to congregate. Amelia smiles brightly at the few people hanging around casually talking but doesn’t interrupt their conversations.

Beside the window where the leg-lamp is proudly on display, a rotating artificial Christmas tree wrapped with colorful lights slowly spins. You notice a handful of presents under the tree before your eyes continue their journey through the room’s decorations. You laugh when you notice a deer-head mounted on the wall behind the sofa with a fake red nose and a Santa hat on it.

“You changed it up in here,” you say, still checking out all the updates Amelia has made since the last time you came by.

“Yeah. Got the couch off Facebook Marketplace,” she just murmurs.

“Ooh, lucky you. I never find anything good on there,” you sit down on the couch and say after comfortably bouncing a few times on the cushion. “Your tree looks so cool, too.”

“Oh, thanks. I honestly hate fake ones,” she admits while sitting next to you, “but I got a good deal on it, too.”

“It’s really cool that it rotates like that.”

Amy makes a noise in her throat. “Means I had to decorate the whole damn thing instead of just throwing ornaments on the front and shoving the thing in the corner.”

You laugh. “So, Sy and I went to a Christmas tree farm just this mornin’. Got a little tree for his place.”

“Which one?”

“Like, a really small one.”

“What’s the name?”

“Um…” You blink. “I dunno. Pine?”

Amy laughs. “The name of the tree farm, not the tree.”

“Oh.” Normally embarrassed by now, you just laugh along with her. “I have no clue. The big one out by Miller’s Gap.”

“Ohh, I love that lot,” she comments. “There’re some good hiking spots over that way, too, if you didn’t already know.”

“I actually didn’t know that, thanks.” You lower your voice. “So get this–His family freakin’ owns the farm. The land…The whole operation…it’s all theirs.”

Amelia drops her jaw. “Y/N, I bet he’s loaded,” she says with no filter. “Y’know, I knew it. He’s always had that vibe. I bet he’s absolutely loaded. Like those old farmers around here that go around wearin’ all their old clothes, drivin' their same old truck that’s days away from breakin’ down, but when they go out to eat and open their wallets, there's a stack of hundreds in there two inches thick. Bags of cash in their closets 'cause they don't trust the banks."

“Jars full of coins buried in their yards,” you go on.

She snaps her fingers. “Yes!”

You shrug. “I…never really thought about it, honestly. It’s his extended family, anyway, so who even knows.”

"I mean, I don't care or anything,” Amelia clarifies. “It’s not like I'm not a gold digger."

"Well, obviously you know I'm not, either,” you chuckle. “We’re both freakin’ social workers.”

She wags her eyebrows. "I'm just sayin'..."

"Yeah," you laugh. "I mean, not havin' to worry about money would be definitely be nice. I honestly wouldn't know what that'd even feel like.”

“Girl, same.”

You take a sip of your drink so you don’t have to dwell on student loans and your stupid financial situation with Justine too much.

“But even if Sy did have some crazy stash somewhere,” you go on, “it's his, not mine.”

Amy side-eyes you. “You honestly think that’s how he’d consider it?”

"I mean…I dunno. It makes me uncomfortable even imagining him wasting money on me," you mumble, and you see the visible frown on your friend's face.

"It wouldn’t be–If he wants to spoil you, let him," she says. “That's not wasting.”

You let out a noise of discomfort and shake your head, and before you can say anything else, Amelia gets a strange, far-away look on her face that makes you scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

She shrugs. “I dunno.”

You sit up straighter and peek into her drink. It’s not even half-gone yet, so she can’t be feeling sick or something. “Did I say something?”

Heavily, she sighs. “Okay, so here's the thing. I'm not complaining at all when I say this, but Johnny and I usually go out on dates at least, like, once a week. Every Saturday night–that's always been our thing. But it's been a little tight lately, so we haven't gone out in over a month." She looks at you with something like guilt on her face. “Doesn’t that sound like the stupidest thing? Like I’m being shallow as fuck?”

“Oh, Amy…” You purse your lips in consideration. “I mean, not necessarily. Not if that’s what you’re used to doing. It makes sense you’d miss it.”

She shrugs again. "It’s not like I have a right to complain, either. Blue collar work’s just like that. Everything depends on the jobs available. It’s easier in the summer when there’s more work to do."

You frown. “I'm sure if he said somethin’ to Sy…I bet Sy would put him to work. He's gonna need help clearin' all the property he just got so he can build on it."

"Yeah, Johnny actually mentioned somethin' about it already," Amelia acknowledges. "They're gonna wait ‘til spring when the ground’s softer, though.”

“Gotcha. Well..I mean, if y’all needed any money or anything, I can–I can give you all my beeper-duty shifts if you wanted some extra hours. And I’ll chip in for the food and drinks tonight, too, how’s that?”

“Oh, my God,” she laughs. “It’s not like–it’s fine. Don’t even worry about it.”

“But that’s what I do,” you murmur.

She smiles. “Well, stop.”

You can’t help it; you feel bad that she’s letting you in on the fact that she and Johnny are having money issues. Well…potentially. You don’t even know. Maybe her version of ‘money being tight’ isn’t what you’ve always been used to. To you, money being ‘tight’ means there’s a genuine struggle, an imminent fear of food insecurity and sleeping with your jacket on and maybe having to stay at an aunt’s house for the next month.

This is Amy and Johnny, though. They’re not like how you were raised. They’re responsible. They’ve likely got savings.

“All the food and drinks you got for tonight probably cost as much as a month’s worth of dates,” you mention. “You reckon that’s the reason why you haven’t been goin’ out as much? Johnny’s bein’ smart? Especially with Christmas right around the corner?”

She tilts her head. “I mean, that does make a lotta sense. He did let me go overboard, didn’t he?” she laughs.

While you put your thumb and forefinger together to gesture to her ‘just a tad’, she reaches out and mechanically begins moving the arm you’re holding your cup with upwards to your mouth. “Well, make it worth it, then, and drink up!”

Through a smile, you take another small sip of your drink. “Let me know when y’all are back in action, though. We've still gotta have our double-date, you know,” you remind her.

And just like that, she's bubbly again. “Yes!” she exclaims.

After a little more alcohol flows through you, all rigid outlines of any residual social anxiety from earlier soften out, melting. You may pay for it tomorrow, but for once you feel…normal. As more people steadily enter the house, filling it with high-energy noise and enthusiasm, you find yourself being more outgoing than you usually would be. Amelia flutters around to speak to all the new arrivals, and you find yourself matching the energy of the house, happily talking to people–strangers, even. It’s not for very long, though; Amelia snags you away to hang out with her again the first moment she’s able to.

A brief thought enters your mind that she must feel sorry for you or something and is only hanging out with you to save you from being awkwardly alone in her house, but you carelessly toss the thought aside as quickly as it comes to you. She’s not like that. You actually get the impression that she truly prefers to be with you over all of the other people she’s invited, and it’s…it’s an unknown feeling to have.

It’s friendship.

Back in the living room with Amy, you quickly find yourself in the middle of a conversation with some co-workers she invited, and while you’re catching up on your work-weeks, you think everything’s going really well. There’s none of the weirdness that being in the office together brings, and having some alcohol to lower your weird inhibitions is nice. Just like in the office, however, it’s not long before the women group themselves off to go somewhere else, but it’s totally fine–Soon after that, you hear the distinctive voices of Sy’s sisters as they walk into the living room.

“It’s a nice thought and everything,” Liana’s saying to a person behind her as she walks closer to the couch, “but I don’t really need a bag just ‘cause it’s got some famous person’s name on it.”

Sam follows Liana and heavily sighs before she sits on the couch cushion directly next to you. Instantly, she nudges your arm with her elbow to get your attention. “Liana’s new boyfriend wants to–”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Liana interjects before she sits down on the couch, too.

Samantha rolls her eyes. “The man Liana has been seeing lately wants to get her a designer purse for Christmas.”

“Oh,” you comment, then you piece together what Liana was just saying and turn towards her. “But you don’t want one?”

She shrugs. “It just seems weird, that’s all,” she says. “We’ve only been talkin’ for, like, a month and a half. Doesn’t that seem weird to you?”

“I mean…” You tilt your head to the side. “Kinda.”

Liana gives Samantha a look. “See?” she asks before taking a sip of her wine.

“But to be fair, I’m really horrible with the whole ‘present’ thing," you admit. “So I’m probably not the best person to ask.”

“What do you mean?” Samantha asks with interest.

Blinking, you remain quiet. How do you even begin to answer that question? “I’ve been conditioned for a very, very long time that I don’t deserve anything nice, so receiving presents is something that makes me extremely uncomfortable”?” “I hate being watched for my reaction when opening presents because I feel like I have to perform to satisfy someone else’s expectations”? “I still can’t help but view presents as a tool of manipulation or as some sort of way to get something from me”? Any of these explanations would be entirely off-putting.

You settle with, “Um, I really can’t explain it. Presents just–they’re just stressful sometimes. I mean, this time of year it’s mainly the actual shopping that really stresses me out, though, I guess,” you explain, probably sounding predictable.

“Why,” Sam says quickly, "'cause inflation's a motherfucker?”

You grin. She seems so much like Sy sometimes. “Well, there’s that," you reply with a laugh.

“Oh, trust me, I get it, but I didn’t mean giving away presents,” she clarifies. “I mean accepting presents.”

You look to the side. Here you were, being normal for once, and now you’ve gone and made things weird. Saying something that other people can’t relate to because it’s so bizarre.

"Well, when you’re buyin’ presents,” Liana steps in and says, “you have to think about what everyone's gonna like, you know? And once you finally find somethin', then you worry if the person has it already or if they're even gonna like it at all or if they’ll just return it and think you’re stupid. And it’s a lot of pressure.”

Eyes brightening, you snap your fingers and point to her. “Exactly.”

“And then when you’re actually gettin’ gifts,” Liana goes on, “it’s the same thing. It’s like–well, what if they got me way more than I got them? Or what if I already have it, or what if I don’t actually like it, and what if the other person’s gonna feel bad? I wouldn’t want someone to get upset or anything, so then it’s like you have to be really careful not to hurt someone’s feelings. It’s just a lot to consider.”

“Oh, it’s just meant to be fun, y'all, c’mon," Amelia says lightheartedly.

You sigh. “Yeah.”

"Did Sy getchu anything yet?" Liana asks Samantha, sympathetically looking at you directly afterwards to show you that she understands where you’re coming from. You offer her a small smile before you take a sip of your drink.

"No, why?"

“Oh, 'cause he got me somethin’ already,” she answers. "I was wonderin' if you got somethin' early, too."

"What?" Sam asks in a high-pitched voice. "Why d'you always get the special treatment?"

Liana drops her mouth. "Your freakin' art school's paid off thanks to him, Sam, shut the hell up."

Samantha gets quiet. "Yeah, he really is too much sometimes," she agrees, almost guiltily. "So, what'd he get you?"

“A set of new tires,” Liana murmurs, also with a touch of guilt, and Sam just rolls her eyes.

“God, he’s so extra.”

You sit there listening while your face grows hot. You really hope he wouldn't do something too big for you for a Christmas present. Art school and four new tires for his sisters? What's he gonna get you, then? A car from his giant collection?

Oh, God. What if he really did?

You really don't handle large gifts well. In the most evident example, you interpreted just the nice dinner and roses he set up for you recently as some sort of elaborate scheme, and you honestly don't trust your own brain to graciously accept anything above the price of, like, forty dollars.

But then you remember–these are Sy’s sisters he’s bought these things for. People he’s known for years and years and years. With the amount of time he’s known you, you don’t have to worry about extravagance. He wouldn’t.

"What's he gettin' you, huh?" you hear, and it takes a few seconds before you realize Samantha is directing the question at you.

"Oh." You shrug and nervously pick at your pants with the hand that’s not holding your drink. "Um. Does Sy usually tell people what he's gettin' them beforehand?"

She laughs. "No, no, he doesn't actually do that or anything. Usually. I mean, sometimes there are hints, but I just mean: what'd you ask for?"

"Nothing…" you answer, and his sisters stare at you.

"Aww, bet he's gonna surprise you, then,” Samantha says.

"If he knows me at all," you mutter, "I really hope he wouldn't."

Liana cuts her eyes towards her sister. "Sam, stop naggin' her. She just said it stresses her out."

Sam loses the smile. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to–"

"It's totally cool," you interrupt, smiling back. "I'm honestly just weird with gifts, that’s all. Or–weird in general. Not your fault at all."

“You’re not weird,” Liana says. “Our family’s just…We just really like the holidays ‘cause there were so many years that Sy never got to be around. And now he is. It’s just meant to be fun. But I know exactly how it can be stressful. Especially, you know, since my…since my separation."

You frown a bit and nod at her in understanding.

“You and Sy could just skip the gift-givin',” Samantha suggests. “There's nothin' wrong with that.”

"Oh, well, I actually did get him something already.”

"Ooh! What?"

“Um.” You hesitate. "It’s really not much... I honestly don't know if it's even appropriate."

While Amelia cackles, Sam holds up a hand. "Oh, Jesus. Say no more. I don't wanna hear about any of that stuff." She makes a face. "Not my fuckin' brother."

"No, no, no," you quickly clarify, laughing. "Not, like–No. Not inappropriate like that."

They stare at you. You sigh.

"It's a picture frame with a paw print on the side," you mutter. "And it says All Dogs Go To Heaven on it."

Collectively, Sy’s sisters make "aww" sounds, so that's good, at least, but still, you shrug.

"I just saw it and thought–" You sigh. "He's sorta touchy about it. Like, he won't talk about…that. Not since the day it happened."

Samantha nods.

"Plus, the heaven thing…. I don't know. He's…It’s not like he’s really religious."

"That's fair," she says. "Doesn’t mean he doesn't believe in it somewhere on the inside."

"We haven't really talked much about that topic," you say, "but I do know y’all grew up goin’ to church."

"Yeah, MaMaw used to make Sy comb his hair and everything back then. It's curly when it’s long, didju know? So he used to part it on the side and wet it all down before combing it, and he'd be stuck with, like, this giant nest of curls just on one side of his head. He was such a nerd."

You grin, having a hard time imagining that. "He just hasn’t ever mentioned wantin' to go back to church or any of that, that's all,” you explain. “Not that it’s a thing–I mean, I don’t go, either.”

"'Cause it ain't what it used to be," Sam replies. "But like I said, it doesn't mean he doesn't believe in an afterlife. He just struggles with it. He's known too many people who've died. It…It messes with him."

To her side, Liana remains quiet.

"Yeah," you softly reply, not knowing what else to say.

"Startin' with our parents and then the military," Sam continues. "I'd be lyin' if I said he didn't have a hard time dealin' with it. But honestly, I think he'll love what you got him.”

"You don’t think it’ll be sorta sad to give on Christmas, though?"

"Meaningful," she corrects.

“I think so, too,” Amelia pipes in. You give her a small smile.

After a few quiet moments, Samantha shakes her empty cup and abruptly asks, “Anyone up for a refill?”

You, Amelia, and Liana immediately stand up, and you make an apologetic face at everyone for dampening the mood. “Let’s do it.”

Back at the drink table, Amelia makes another screwdriver, much weaker than her first, and you decide to reach underneath the table for one of your selzters instead of drinking more vodka. Before you crack open the can, you ask Samantha, “You want another Moscow Mule?”

“Only if you’re offerin’!”

You smile and get to work, happy that you’re bonding so well with her, and as had happened earlier in the night, you eventually find yourself skillfully mixing drinks for stray individuals who end up lingering near the drink table. When Johnny’s sister, Jennifer, steps up and asks for another margarita like she’s been waiting for you, you decide to make her one in a different flavor that you think she’ll like.

Perpendicular to the drink table is the now-messy food table where a half-empty charcuterie board still displays some fruits and cheeses. You steal a few cherries for Jennifer’s drink and, just for fun, wave one of them in front of Samantha’s nose.

“You should tie one in a knot with your tongue,” Samantha jokes before chanting, ”Do it, do it, do it.”

Amelia laughs. "Oh, please! No one can really do that.”

"Oh, actually I can," you offhandedly say as you start pouring mixers together.

Amelia drops her jaw. "What?"

"Yeah," you slowly say while shaking the cocktail mixer above your shoulder. "It's really not anything special."

"O-kay," she laughs. "It's only, like, next to impossible for most people to even attempt doing."

You squint your eyes and turn to her. "That can't be right. All the chicks at Johnson's could do it, too."

She stares at you dully. "Yeah, 'cause y'all are bartenders."

You laugh and pour out the drink into Jennifer’s cup. "What's bein' a bartender got to do with it?"

"I dunno," she giggles. "The rest of society doesn't have that talent. You're, like, around cherries more or somethin'."

You find yourself giggling back. "Yeah, okay. At Johnson's, all there was was stale beer and fruit flies. I never got to make any special drinks. Well, kinda," you go on, realizing the alcohol you’ve been imbibing is hitting you because you're feeling extra social. "I had tried to start a drink program and even trained everyone and stuff, but no one ever really caught on or pushed the drinks or anything, and when someone did order somethin' besides beer, half the time the drinks were made all crazy-different, so people just learned to just order beer, I guess. From a glass, thought. Not the kegs."

After you garnish Jennifer’s drink with a few cherries on top and hand it to her, happy to note that she’s excited, Amy holds up a sole cherry by her face.

“What?” you ask her.

As she twirls the cherry by its stem, you just stare at her.

"Is this a dare?"

"I'm dying to see this.” Amelia lowers her voice before saying between her lips, "I'm sure Sy is, too."

In your peripheral vision, you notice Sy from his ugly sweater alone, and you slyly glance at him. Still in the damn kitchen and now leaning against the back countertop with his arms folded, it appears that though his friends around him are all animatedly conversing together, he’s looking at you. You make quick eye-contact and then look back at Amelia.

As you take the cherry from her, she grins. "Should I time you? How long's it gonna take?"

"Uhh, like, twenty seconds, I dunno."

"Twenty seconds?"

"I mean, I dunno," you concede, shrugging. "Watch me not even be able to do it at all."

You place the cherry in your mouth and give Amy a little head-shake when you see her going for her phone to record you. She rolls her eyes.

“Stop looking at me,” you tell her around the fruit in your mouth, starting to laugh with slight anxiety.

Looking to the side so you don't have to feel the weight of people's stares, you strategically move your tongue and jaw together to get the cherry positioned where you want it, and though you know you look odd because there's no other way about it, you use your tongue to take control of the cherry's stem to twist it in a loop. Eventually you just hover your hand over your mouth to hide it.

It's simply a matter of manipulating the cherry stem enough to bend where you want it to. Since you've done it enough times in your life, it doesn't take long for you to complete. When you're finished, you’re brazen enough to stick out your tongue to show Sy off in the distance, then you remove the stem from your mouth entirely and hold it up. Even though it was honestly no big feat, you're met with rowdy cheers that make you grin and take a bow.

Amy takes your hand and discreetly pulls you to the side–you guess so no one else will ask you to make any more drinks. "Sy's watchin' you like a damn hawk over there."

"Yeah, he's got good vision," you say while finally opening your can of seltzer, and she laughs.

"What?"

"He can see long distances," you explain.

She laughs again. "Yeah, okay, true. But I was talkin' about you, dumbass. Give yourself some credit here."

"Oh, I know I'm awesome," you say, flipping your hair, and she beams at you. You'd only talk like this while buzzed, so you grin back at her and take a long drink.

"You're gonna get some tonight," she sing-songs, and you shake your head at her.

You just look down, trying not to let your thoughts show all over your face. After last night and this morning, you highly doubt that.

"What?" Amy asks.

“Nothin’,” you tell her.

"Girl…" She grins. “You’ve got the whole guest room!”

“We’re not gonna–Stop. We're not gonna use the room for that.”

She smirks around the straw in her mouth. "What?! Oh, come on. I'll wash the sheets, it's totally fine."

You turn your head to stare at her. "Ew, Amy."

"Ew?" she repeats. "I have been invested in this relationship from the very, very beginning, and I’ll do everything in my power to keep this thing goin' strong."

"Including providing the bed," you joke.

She nods. "Damn straight."

"I mean–" You laugh. "Thanks, I guess," you tell her, feeling reminiscent of a college party, back when couples hooked up all over the place by the end of the night. "I just don't think we're gonna, that's all."

"Booo."

You stick out your tongue. "Peer pressurin' me isn't cool," you tell her, and she straightens up.

"I seriously was only tryin' to be funny," she promises. "I didn't mean it. I'll stop."

You softly smile at her. "It's all good. You wanna know why I said it's probably not gonna happen?"

She squints her eyes. "Why?"

"'Cause we've already done it twice in the past twenty-four hours," you whisper, and Amelia's eyes get big.

"What the fuck?" she whisper-hisses, and you start laughing.

To drive home the point, you reach upwards for the collar of your turtleneck and pull it down to show her the noticeably discolored skin on the side of your neck.

With her eyes unable to get any bigger, Amelia just reaches out her hand and grabs your arm, shaking there because she can’t contain herself. You lean your head into her neck and just laugh.

It’s not often that you feel loose like this, but you guess with no type of pending worry weighing you down–no time you’ve got to be back home by, no beeper that might go off from work because you’re on call, no work you’ve got to get up for early the next morning, no kids you have to go home to take care of–you’re able to just…have fun and drink. And talk.

And talk and talk and talk. The women group themselves off in the living room again–meaning you, Amelia, Jen, and Sy’s sisters–and on your third drink now, you find yourself feeling silly while telling stories and listening to stories and singing songs and taking pictures. When Amelia grabs your hips from behind and begins dancing with you, you go with it gleefully–to Christmas music–unable to stop laughing.

Eventually you all calm down again on the couch, and by that time, there’s a new person sitting on the very end of it, quietly invested in the college football game playing on the television ahead. After you peek at him and vaguely recollect who he is, you get the impression that he’s maybe trying to avoid you. Or maybe he just doesn’t feel like talking. With a little bit of liquid courage imbibing you, though, you decide to speak.

“Garrison, right?” you ask slowly, and the man ducks his head briefly. "'Member me?"

"Oh, yeah, hi," he murmurs. "Syverson won't let me live it down."

You knew he was feeling odd about what happened at the bonfire this summer. You knew it. Instead of regretting the decision to talk to him, now you're glad you said something.

"Aw, don't even worry about it," you casually let slide. "If it weren’t for you, we might never've met, me and Sy."

That technically is a true statement, you guess, and you watch while Garrison nods a bit in consideration. After making a small grunt that all the men in this group of friends must share as a part of their caveman communication, he even lets a little smile show on his rugged face.

"So, how ya been doin'?" you ask.

Garrison looks surprised you're continuing to talk to him. "Not bad," he answers. "You?"

"Oh, just fine, thanks," you say. To make a joke out of the situation that had occurred last time you'd crossed paths, you then grin and say, "Stayin' away from the bonfire tonight."

Garrison rolls his eyes at himself. "Yeah, I…can't really apologize enough for that night…They had 'shine goin' 'round," he explains. "Shit goes right–Stuff goes right to my head."

"You don't have to censor yourself," you laugh. "I'm the same way with moonshine. And I really am okay–I was totally just jokin'."

The man still looks sheepish, and it's a bit funny to you because he's so large. "Yeah, well…"

"It's seriously okay," you say again, and you turn your attention back to the television and idly begin watching along with Garrison.

Eventually, you excuse yourself to use the bathroom, and in front of the mirror, you dance to yourself while washing your hands. “Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock,” you sing under your breath, and when you open the door whistling, you’re greeted by Sy standing outside in the hallway.

You gasp before beaming at him. “Oh, hi!”

“Hey, you.” He smiles. “Figured waitin’ out here was a good way to get you alone for a second.”

Your face somewhat falls. “I’m so sorry. I really don’t mean to be ignoring you or anything. It’s just–I’ve been talking a lot and I wasn’t thinking–”

Sy takes a step forward. “Hey, no. It ain’t like that.”

“But you wanted to introduce me to the—to your friends.”

“And I did,” Sy says.

“Oh,” you reply, growing relieved. “So I’m not being rude?”

He touches your elbow and fondly stares at you with slightly glossy eyes. “No.”

“Okay. Good.”

“Good,” he repeats.

There’s something glinting in his eyes, and it’s oddly reminiscent of some sort of prideful adoration. The only thing you know to equate it to is drunkenness. “...Are you drunk?”

He chuckles. “No.”

“Oh.” You continue looking up at him. “Me either. Not that it matters. I was just asking. Neither of us have to driv–”

“C’mere.”

Sy’s lips are slightly wet when they meet yours. Yours are slightly parted. When you register that he’s kissing you kissing you, you gasp in surprise, but at the direction of his mouth, your own lips change course within moments. You can only lean back against the wall and accept the sudden affection.

Soon, Sy is holding both of your arms at the elbows, and you’re finding it hard to think. You’re finding it hard to do anything, really, since he’s gloriously in your space making it his own, taking up your air. The beer on his breath makes your lips tingle, the sweetness mixing with the alcohol on your own, and with your arms practically pinned to the wall, they twitch by your sides with the desire to clutch onto his sweater. Soon, you pour that desire into the kiss alone, gently moving your face to the left and then to the right again, chasing the taste.

This same spot is where he kissed you over the summer. Back when you’d stayed at the farmhouse overnight together for the first time…he’d kissed you right here against this same wall. With just your swimsuit on. With his hands all over you.

You could easily get carried away like this.

“Wait, wait,” you say against his beard, grabbing his forearms and shifting out of his grip a bit.

As you begin to walk backwards down the hall and guide him with you, he mumbles, “What’re you doin’?”

When you get to where you want to be, you point above you to the threshold separating the hallway from the living room. On the side of the threshold hangs a small chalkboard with the words “Love is just a kiss away” written in cursive on it. On the top of it is a low-hanging bunch of green leaves and white berries.

Sy looks up. “Gettin' me under the mistletoe?”

You guess it really doesn’t make any sense to go from kissing entirely privately in the hallway to being out in the open like this, but oh well. Replying to Sy with a big, closed-mouth smile, you happily nod, and then you place your hand on his chest, step onto your tip-toes, and give him another kiss. His hands fall to your waist instantly.

Entirely different from how you’d kissed privately just moments ago, you keep it appropriate while still stretching it out. Still, you see Amelia indulgently watching you from the nearby couch in the living room with her phone conspicuously pointed in your direction.

When you stand on solid ground again, you wipe your mouth and give her a look. "What?" you call out.

"Nothin'," she replies airily yet loudly enough for you to hear before placing the straw to her drink in her mouth and speaking around it: "Feel free to continue."

Next, Samantha gives Sy a grossed-out look that you know is just to tease, and then she stands up from the sofa and walks closer to him. "Well, move over, asshole. Let me stand under this mess of twigs next," she says while leaning against the wall. "Maybe I'll get lucky."

Amelia gets up from the couch next and approaches Samantha with a mischievous look in her eyes. "Actually, let me introduce you to someone," she links elbows with Sam and says, leading her away down the hall.

You look upwards at Sy. "That woman," you mutter with a vague smile on your mouth. "Always tryin' to set someone up."

Sy watches his sister disappear down the hall and around the corner where the basement stairs are, and he shakes his head before looking back at you. You stand there smiling wistfully back at him.

"What?" he eventually asks, teasing.

You hook your index fingers into the belt-loop of his khakis. "What d'you mean, what?"

Sy slightly squeezes his hands on your waist. "You're lookin' at me funny."

“You’re lookin’ at me funny,” you counter.

“Guess we’re both funny then.”

Feeling entirely stupid, you grin. “Guess we are.”

Softly, Sy continues to look at you, and with the way you’re standing with his hands on your hips, it’s almost like you could start swaying any minute, letting the background music guide you together.

The thought of Sy dancing causes you to smile, then grin, then laugh, but after that, Johnny inadvertently breaks up you and Sy’s flirtatious moment by approaching from the side, his red sweater blaringly loud. He clears his throat to get Sy’s attention, and you see the ghost of a smirk on his mouth.

“You been in this kitchen all night, man,” he says.

“Catchin’ up with folks,” Sy replies. “That a problem?”

Genuinely, Johnny lets his smirk free, but you don’t really know what he’s finding so amusing. “Nah, man, do your thing. Everyone’s finally ready for cards downstairs, though. You in?”

Sy looks at you and raises an eyebrow–his form of inviting you.

“Uhh…Sure,” you agree, then you amend it to, “Maybe.”

Johnny leads the way down the hall before opening a door and loudly descending the stairs that are revealed. Before following him directly, you step to the side for Sy to go downstairs next, but he shakes his head and gestures for you to go ahead of him. As you go downstairs, you wonder why.

Whenever he’s in a bed, he sleeps in the spot that’s closest to the door. Whenever he’s in a restaurant, he sits in the spot that’s furthest away from the door. Now, whenever he’s going down the stairs, he goes last? Is that a new thing or have you just been oblivious to this habit before now?

Sy’s hand touches the small of your back when you both reach the bottom of the stairs. All around the panel-covered basement, you notice several mismatched couches and chairs positioned around an old circular table in the middle of the room. Almost every spot is occupied by a large man either holding a long-neck bottle of beer or a clear plastic cup of amber liquid on ice.

“Ah, so this is where everyone’s been,” you quietly murmur, noticing a bunch of the guys who had spoken to Sy in the kitchen earlier in the night.

Sy leads you further into the room to find a spot to sit around the card-table. “The noise was gettin’ too much for a lot of ‘em.”

After Sy picks out a small love-seat to occupy, you sit down beside him and look around to find Amelia in the corner of the basement talking with Samantha and Long Hair. Shit, what is that guy’s name? You knew you’d forget.

Leaning closer to Sy, you quietly ask, “What’s that guy’s name again over there?”

Sy matches where your eyes are looking and then answers, “Dub.”

“Oh, that’s right–Wait, Dub?” you ask, unable to stop a strange expression from taking over your face. “I thought you said his name was Doug.”

Sy smiles. “His name’s actually Waylon, but he don’t like bein’ called that.”

With confusion still covering your face, Sy further explains, “Waylon starts with ‘w’.”

It takes you far too long to figure out what that has to do with anything. “Ah, but the letter alone has too many syllables, so y’all had to shorten it to just Dub.”

“Good job,” he says with a wink, and you playfully roll your eyes. You don’t say it out loud, but if you were that guy, you’d stick to being known as Waylon.

In the distance of the room, Samantha’s laughter rings out, and you watch as she reaches out to touch Dub’s arm while smiling. A smile crosses your face, too; Amelia’s over there being a good wing-woman, clearly leading the conversation and only pausing to sip her drink when Samantha starts talking.

Your smile slightly falters when you notice that next to you, Sy’s also staring ahead at the trio, but his expression is blank.

“Sy.” You wait until he looks at you before saying, “She’s a grown adult.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Sy mumbles, but when he immediately looks back at his sister, you smirk.

“Mmhm.”

Beyond Amelia, Dub, and Sam, the back door opens, and Johnny steps inside with Willie trailing behind him holding a drink.

“Think we finally got everyone,” Johnny calls out while walking to the table and pulling up a metal chair to sit on.

While Johnny sits beside Sy, Willie follows suit by finding a spot across from you, and, after sitting down, he greets you like an old friend. “Y/N! Whatcha know good?”

You smile. “Hey, Willie.”

“What’dju ask Santa for this year?”

“Hmm…A new house,” you answer half-honestly with a chuckle.

“Damn,” he says. “Didn’t know somethin’ that big could fit in Santa’s sack.”

Johnny starts to shuffle a deck of cards. “Just ‘cause nothin’ big fits in your sack,” he mumbles, and just then, Amelia approaches him, hears what he says, and smacks his arm.

“How ‘bout you?” you ask Willie, subtly witnessing Samantha and Dub talking to one another on their own in the distance. “What’d you ask for?”

“To win the lottery,” he answers, tilting his head back and downing the rest of his drink.

“So, what d’y’all say–Texas Hold ‘Em?” Johnny asks while continuing to shuffle the deck of cards.

Willie puts both of his hands out in front of him and moves them in a grand gesture of declination. "Nah, man. No way I'm playin' fuckin’ poker, no Texas Hold ‘Em, no nothing like that," he says as he looks at Sy. "Not against Syverson."

"Ain't try'na lose all your money tonight?" Sy asks while cracking his knuckles, and Willie just gives him a look.

"Ain't got no money to lose," he counters, and you can tell it’s meant to be a joke, but at that, Sy loses the playfulness in his tone. You see his jaw tighten up, almost turning into an underbite while he stares at Willie.

“Well, it ain’t gonna be worth it if you don’t play,” Johnny mumbles to Willie, then he looks at the other guys sitting at the table. “Anyone else in?”

“Not tonight, man,” the man known as Hawk answers, and Thompson answers by taking a swig of beer and looking away.

Johnny sighs before looking towards Amelia. “Babe, don’tchu have games down here?”

Amy walks to the other side of the room where another small group of people are crowded around a television watching the same football game that was playing upstairs, and she opens the console center the TV’s sitting on to reveal a bunch of party games underneath.

“There’s like, Apples to Apples…Cards Against Humanity…Ooh, here’s Game of Phones,” Amelia holds up a box and suggests. “I haven’t played it yet, but everyone plays it with their phones.”

“Like Jackbox?” you ask.

“No, like–You pick a card,” Amy walks to the table and answers, “and there’ll be questions about, like, who has the most apps on their phones…or notifications…or who has a picture of whatever the card says, stuff like that.”

“Ehh, I dunno about that one, babe,” Johnny says, reading the back of the game box. “Says here you gotta switch phones to play.”

“Only for, like, one part of the game,” Amelia clarifies, but the table ends up making grumbling noises after that.

“No one's gonna be goin’ in my phone,” Sy decides, and you turn to look at him. He always has a unique way of making decisions that sound so…final…yet doing it in a way that doesn’t come across as rude or off-putting.

"Why not?" Johnny asks, his smirk from earlier back center-stage. "Too many dick pics?"

While your face positively heats up, Sy looks unbothered. "Somethin' like that."

"We could just play drinkin' games," you suggest questioningly. “We already got a deck of cards.”

“Yeah, let’s do that!” Amy agrees.

“College girl has spoken,” Johnny says, and you lift your middle finger in his direction.

While Johnny goes back to unnecessarily re-shuffling the deck of cards, Amy looks around for a spot to sit at the table. Sy taps your leg to beckon you to stand up, and after you do, he slides to the spot you’d just vacated and pulls you on his lap with zero hesitation. While he takes a sip of beer, he acts like it’s the most normal and comfortable position to be in.

Instead of taking Sy’s old spot at the loveseat, Amy chooses to sit on the arm of the piece of furniture instead; Sy’s so wide that if she sat next to him, she’d be squished. It allows you to squirm a little on Sy’s lap and stretch out your legs onto the cushions, and while Johnny starts dispersing cards around the table, you happily grin in Amy’s direction.

"Hey, Sy," Willie says. "You ever catch any flies with that beard'a yours?"

Sy barely looks at him while starting to lift every individual card he’s dealt and placing it in a particular order in his hand each time. "The beard stays clean."

"Yeah,” Willie says, “'cause there ain't no flies in here right now."

Johnny and the other men around him crack up laughing, and you and Amelia make eye-contact and start laughing, too. "What the fuck does that even mean?" Johnny asks.

“Means it’s ‘bout time y’all got them things gone,” Willie says before lifting his own hand and rubbing his cheek. “Feel mine–here, feel,” he says to nobody in particular. “Smooth as silk, baby.”

“Not happenin’,” Sy murmurs. “Y’know, you got a lotta concern about our beards tonight for some reason. I’m half-a-mind to thinkin’ you’re jealous.”

“Y’all’s ugly mugs are jealous’a me,” Willie corrects.

After Johnny finishes dealing out the cards, Thompson picks up his stack from the table. “Yeah, ‘cause we’ve always wanted to be pirates.”

Your lips part while you try to keep your mouth from entirely opening in shock, and as you raise your cards to half-cover your face, you look among all the men to see how Willie’s going to react. It’s evident that he’s wearing an eye-patch, and it’s evident that he even mentioned his own injury earlier in the night, but still…it’s a different thing when someone else talks about something like that.

Clearly, this topic is out in the open and not taboo whatsoever, though, and there’s not even a semblance of tension that arises after Thompson’s statement; there’s just more laughter, even from Willie himself who playfully grumbles, “Wouldn’t be sharin’ my treasure with y’all no how.”

"This is just how they are,” Sy quietly explains to you, and then, to prove his point, he calls out, “Hey, Willie, when you wash your face, how high up d’you even go, anyway?”

"Your bald ass oughta know the answer to that yourself."

Sy grins and looks at his cards. Afterwards, he leans in close to you and whispers in your ear.

"Naw, naw, naw, now, none'a that,” Willie says from across the table. “Fraternizing.”

“Ah, we’re doin’ more than fraternizin’,” Sy says before the game starts.

As these things go, there is some confusion in the beginning about people not remembering the rules of the game, so the first rotation is slow. The game picks up speed and humor after a little while, but every time it’s Sy’s turn, you notice that he waits a few extra seconds before seriously making a play, like he’s intently strategizing a simple drinking game.

It gets the attention of others.

“Yo, it’s been your turn for twenty minutes, OMS,'' Thompson calls out after a while. “Whatchu thinkin’ over there, man?"

There’s that OMS thing again. You look to Sy. “What’s that even mean? OMS?”

“Operational Mission Scenario,” Sy mutters under his breath.

“Oh, hell no,” Willie looks at you and says. “That means Old Man Syverson.”

“Old Man, look at my life,” Hawk starts singing, and the table joins in to finish, “I’m a lot like you were.”

“Who’re y’all even callin’ old?” you ask innocently enough. “Y’all can’t be much younger than he is.”

The words simply exit your mouth on their own, no bite to them whatsoever, but the table breaks out with appreciative jeers that make you feel shocked at first and then welcome. Sy grins the largest at you, and having that sort of pride directed at you makes little octopus tentacles crawl around your insides.

Sy continues taking his time looking at the cards in his hand.

“Hurry the fuck up, Yokel,” Willie calls out.

“Wait just a damn minute, Nick Fury,” Sy retaliates without lifting his eyes.

“Gimme somethin’ original over here, Country Boy,” he mutters. “Actin’ like I ain’t heard that one every day since my eye got shot out.”

“How ‘bout this,” Sy says, and he’s got a shit-eating grin on his face as he lays out a wild-card to clear the current play and then sets down his last two cards at once to win the game. “How ‘bout I call you…Asshole?”

“Motherfucker.” Willie shakes his head and throws all of his cards down on the table. “I’m done. Done. I ain’t playin’ with this man no more. Can’t win a damn thing.”

Sy’s smile only grows.

“You’re not Asshole yet,” you remind Willie. “Just ‘cause he’s President doesn’t mean you’re automatically gonna lose.”

“Hear that?” Sy asks Willie as he smugly leans back on the loveseat. “President.”

You shake your head while the game goes on. "You win at everything," you comment.

"I play to win," he simply says, then he slyly looks at your cards. While he seems to study what Amelia lays down–then Johnny, then Thompson, then Willie, then Hawk–he guides you with which cards to play next. By the next rotation, you find yourself laying out all your cards in your hand and easily winning the role of Vice President.

“Cheatin’ ass,” Willie says, and you just lean into Sy and giggle.

“I’m gonna go back upstairs,” Amelia announces to everyone after she carelessly loses the game and is crowned Asshole.

“Bein’ a sore loser?” Johnny jokes.

“I just got a text that some people are leavin’,” she pokes his chest and says, “and I wanna be sure to say goodbye.”

You stand up. “I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t wanna play again?” Sy asks.

“Nah, that’s all you,” you decline with a wink. “But win big for me.”

Sy lightly pinches your ass before you walk away towards the staircase, and as you take one final look over your shoulder, you see him watching you. You might sway your hips a little on your ascent up the stairs.

Back upstairs, the main parts of the house are much quieter than before; some people have already snuck out. After the person who texted Amelia hugs her and thanks her for the invitation before leaving, several other people start doing the same, too. You stick around Amelia to say goodbye to the people you either already know or have recently met like Johnny’s sister, then you pour another vodka-cran and take it into the living room with you.

Waiting around while watching football, you listen as Amelia graciously thanks everyone individually for coming, and you laugh while she takes forever actually letting them get outside to their cars. When she finally walks into the living room, she looks tired yet buzzed.

“Is everyone mostly gone now?” you ask as she plops down on the couch next to you.

“Some people are still outside by the fire, but a lot of people have cleared out, yeah,” she answers, laying entirely down on the sofa. “Once a few people go, you know how it is. The rest who don’t really wanna stay use it as an excuse to make their exit, too.”

“Yeah,” you agree, laughing. A second later, you grab your sweater and all-but tear it off while pulling it over your head. “This thing–is–so–heavy,” you say before throwing it to the ground.

Amelia looks at you in just your black turtleneck. “You look like a German DJ,” she grills you, then she decides to take off her thick sweater, too. When it’s off, she’s left in a form-fitting tank top that makes you cold just looking at it. You cup your hands in front of your own chest to comment on how big her boobs look, and she throws her head back and loudly laughs.

You both continue to talk about the party while continuing to drink, and you share stories about how you think everything went. Loose-lipped and in a good mood, you both mainly end up laughing at everything you each say–funny or not. With just the two of you, time goes by without you even realizing it.

You’ve got more than a buzz going sometime around midnight or so–which may as well be three in the morning by your standards–so while Amelia’s texting someone with one eye squinted down at her phone, you head into the kitchen to throw away your empty cup. You might go to the drink table for one more drink–maybe. If you do, you tell yourself that it’ll be your last and that you’ll drink it slowly. You’ll drink it slowly and then find Sy again.

You don’t expect anyone to be lingering in the kitchen like they've been doing all night because the house has gotten so quiet, and when you approach the room, you confirm that the area is entirely cleared out. You blindly walk directly ahead to cut through to the nearby trash can when suddenly, you pause in the middle of the room with a silent gasp. The room isn’t empty, after all.

From both the scene occurring beside you and from the thick atmosphere in the room, you instantly know you've just walked in on something emotional. Sy's got his arms wrapped around Liana, holding her against him while she quietly yet blatantly cries into his sweater. Your mouth drops open, your feet suddenly frozen on the floor. Your inhibitionless side wants to rush to her to hug her from behind. Your reserved side wins out and just stands there, helplessly staring.

You make out the words Liana outrightly sobs. “I miss her s-s-so much."

“I know,” Sy whispers down to her. “I know. I do, too.”

You begin taking a heavy-footed step back to give them their privacy, but when your shoe catches on the threshold of the floor, you're outed. Liana lifts her forehead from Sy's chest to look in your direction with red eyes. Sy's frowning face turns your way the second after that.

"...I am so sorry, y'all," you say with wide eyes as you take another step back, but they each put a hand up to keep you from going. You just shake your head, feeling upset you've intruded on something very obviously personal and very obviously sad. You hadn’t heard either one of them before entering the room.

"No, no, no, really, it's fine," Liana replies, moving her hand to wipe off her wet cheek. "It's totally fine."

“Are you…” You look between her and Sy to try to discern exactly what's going on, but Sy's face gives nothing away. “Is everything okay?”

"Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. God, I'm bein' so stupid,” Liana mutters to herself, wiping off her other cheek.

"You ain't stupid," Sy states.

Sy’s sister begins wiping the corners of her eyes next. "I'm not wine-drunk, I swear," she tells you, trying to wetly chuckle, and you just slowly nod.

"God, this happens every year," she whispers, almost to herself, and again, you look towards Sy, still not knowing what's going on.

Liana starts fanning her eyes with her hands once they start filling with tears again, and even though you still have no idea what’s wrong, you're fully compelled to hug her just like Sy had just done. Choosing to hold off on your inclination for now, you simply step closer to her.

"...What does?"

"This fucking song," she wetly gets out, and her voice turns squeaky like she’s about to cry again.

In the silence that follows, you begin to vaguely make out the music playing from the other room. The deep, soulful instrumentals you hear are telling enough, but there’s no way the actual voice that’s singing could ever be mistaken for someone else. It’s Elvis. It’s Elvis’s Christmas album.

“I’ll go turn it off,” Sy says, taking a step away from Liana, but she quickly reaches out and grabs his arm to try to stop him.

“No,” she declines. “Don’t.”

Sy freezes. His tense body relaxes with a heavy sigh. "Lee…"

"Our momma loved Elvis," Liana looks at you and explains. "She–She loved this song."

In sympathy, your face falls. "Oh.”

Smiling, chuckling, muttering to herself–You know she's trying to act like she's fine.

And you know how it feels pretending to be fine when you’re not fine at all.

After that, there's no stopping you. You step even closer to Liana, opening your empathetic arms.

"You don't–"

But Liana cuts off her rebuttal once you're actually hugging her, and she even hugs you back. For a long time, you stand there squeezing each other in the middle of the kitchen. Right next to Sy. All the while, There Will Be Peace In The Valley plays in the distance.

"Okay," Liana takes a deep breath and says once she disengages from you a few minutes later, as soon as the song is done. "I'm okay. It's fine. I'm okay now. Just a song."

"More than a song," you justify. "It's memories and it's…I get it. It's more than just a song."

"This time'a year is just really hard," she agrees, taking purposefully even breaths in what you know is an attempt to not begin crying again.

Feeling like you're watching an orphaned child for a second, you gaze at Liana with the gentlest sympathy you have within you. That might be how she feels, actually–orphaned. With how young she would've been when their dad passed away…Added to the recent passing of their mother just two years ago…And her grandma's health declining…And her chaotic ex-husband being back in town…All of the pressures and all of the stress of raising two kids on her own…

"Okay," Liana says with a stronger-than-before voice. "I really oughta get goin' now."

You frown. "You can't stay?"

“Nah,” she regretfully answers. “I know I'm bein' the life of the party right now, but I’ve stayed way too late as it is. I gotta get the boys before I drink any more and start cryin’ all over your shoulder.”

You softly smile. "I'd cry with you," you say. "It'd be fine. We'd put on Pretty Paper next and boo-hoo together."

While walking to a nearby chair for her coat, she lowers her voice. "Pretty paper, pretty ribbons of bluuue."

You, Sy, and Liana make your way to the back door where you all huddle together slightly solemnly. "If you need anything," you tell her, "let me know."

She nods. "Thanks."

“Really," you sincerely go on. "Like babysitting, anything. If you ever needed a sitter you don’t have to pay or somethin’, you could always just drop your kids off at my place. I’m a lot more available than I used to be. And they got along really well with Justine’s kids last time.”

“Oh, that’s really sweet, Y/N,” Liana responds while putting on a big puffy black jacket, “but there’s no way I wouldn’t pay you. If you wanna do it, I won’t complain one bit,” she chuckles, “but for free? No. You’ll get paid. It’s a lotta work keepin’ up with them boys.”

“Oh, they'd probably hang out and play with Justine’s kids,” you say. “Easy.”

Liana briefly glances at Sy and then back to you. “Aren’t you movin’ out soon?”

“Oh, well, yeah,” you answer, “but I'm just sayin’...And they’re welcome where I’m movin’, too. Just won't be other kids there, is all."

She waves off the statement and walks out onto the back deck. "They don't need entertainment from a bunch'a other kids,” she chuckles. “It's all I can do to keep their noses outta their tablets every day."

"That's the entertainment alone, huh," you follow her down the porch stairs and say as you wrap your arms around yourself to ward off the cold air.

"Right," she agrees. "They're actually with their grandma tonight. I'm sure there’s tons of entertainment there. Bet they aren’t even tired when I pick ‘em up."

Though his face is already slightly wincing from bending his sore knee on his way down the porch stairs, Sy’s face turns even sharper in an instant. “They’re where?”

Beside her car, Liana rolls her eyes. "It’s Christmastime, Sy,” she says. “I can't just keep their grandparents from seein' 'em.”

Sy crosses his arms. “What if he’s there?”

“He won’t be,” she mumbles.

"How’re you so sure?”

She looks up at him. "Because he’s in jail, Sy," she stonily says. “He got pulled over last week for runnin' a red light and turns out he’s got warrants from outta town.”

"Imagine that,” Sy mutters, his jaw stern.

Liana ignores his sarcasm. "Well, his parents aren't goin' behind my back tonight to take my children to the jailhouse for a visit, so stop worryin'."

“I still don't like it."

Liana gives her brother a sharp look to rival his own. “Don’t make this a thing,” she tells him.

Sy’s eyebrows get severe, but he remains quiet. Whether it's to spare her any more grief after her earlier breakdown in the kitchen or if it's just him relenting on the topic only for now with the expectation of bringing it up later, you don't know. You place your hand on his forearm and gently squeeze there to calm him down. You know how fiercely protective of his family he is.

"So.” You clear your throat to break the tension. "Babysittin' in the future. You've got my number if you ever need help. Reach out anytime."

Liana opens her car door. "Thanks, Y/N."

“I know how busy you’ve gotta be," you go on. "Especially at this time of year–”

“Oh, definitely. But just ‘cause you don’t have kids doesn’t mean it’s any less busy for you. I know first-hand how hard bein’ on-call is.”

You close your mouth. Well, that was nice of her to consider.

“But I might have to take you up on the offer sometime soon, actually, if only just to get some Christmas shoppin' done. I’m runnin’ short on time here."

You give her a brief goodbye hug, nothing long and sentimental like the one from earlier. It's really strange, but you almost say "Love you" to her as you break away from one another, almost like she's your own sister or something, but you stop yourself.

Sy hugs her next. It’s quick, but there’s love there.

"You gotch'yerself a good one," she tells him after disengaging, and she gives you one final look with a smile in her eyes. “Alright, y’all. Don’t have too much fun now.”

You lift your hand while returning her small smile. “Bye.”

After Liana gets in her car and shuts the door, Sy taps on the top of the vehicle twice. You both watch her drive away before turning around and heading back inside the house.

So. Sy's family is becoming your family. There are a lot of thoughts you have about that.

You should be scared. Right? You should be overwhelmed. You should be hesitant on the “what even is this” relationship label.

As it is, you’re nothing but happy. You feel secure.

You’re also extremely, extremely tired all of a sudden.

To keep you warm, Sy keeps an arm around you on your way back inside the farmhouse, and Johnny and Amelia are in the kitchen when you and Sy walk back inside. You greet them by letting out a huge, audible yawn.

“I’m really sorry, but I think I oughta get ready for bed,” you tell everyone at once, almost apologetically. “I can’t hang.”

Contagiously, Amelia yawns, too. “Me, either.”

“‘Cause you drank a whole bottle of vodka,” you laugh.

“Yeah, but did I throw up?”

You give her finger-guns and make a clicking noise with your tongue. “Winnnning.”

In the middle of the kitchen, she gives you a high five that you over-zealously return.

“Here, lemme help you clean up,” you almost slur, heavily walking to the food and drinks tables.

“Tomorrow,” she says, but you ignore her.

“At least unplug the crock-pots, Amy,” you chide, uselessly getting down on the floor to crawl to the outlet under the table instead of finding a more logical way to go about your task.

You hit your head when you try to stand up, but only one time. The second time is successful, and Sy is there to help you up. You lean into him while walking back into the kitchen.

“I’m tired,” you murmur to yourself.

“So where’s everyone else?” Amy asks Johnny with alcohol coating her words. “Who else ‘s still here?”

“Mahmoud left forever ago. My sister left a while back...Sy's sister left a few minutes ago...his other sister left just now...Rest’a the guys are just gonna crash downstairs,” Johnny says. “Sy already hid their keys.”

After giving Johnny a thumbs-up, Amy messily props herself up on the counter and opens a bottle of water that Johnny hands her. Sy immediately hands you a bottle of water next, and you gladly accept it. You walk up to Amy and give her a long, drawn-out hug while you hear Sy and Johnny talk to each other in low tones behind you.

“It’s bedtime,” you mumble sleepily. When you stand upright, you each press your water bottles together before opening them and taking several long drinks.

“It was fun tonight, right?” Amy wipes her mouth and asks. “It wasn’t lame, was it?”

You heavily shake your head. “No way,” you solemnly answer. “It was great. It’s always fun here at your parties. There was just the right amount of food and drinks, too! You did great.”

“You were the best bartender,” Amelia compliments you. “You shoulda got tips.”

“You shoulda got your decorations in a magazine,” you reply.

“Alright, girls,” Johnny says, and you turn around to see both him and Sy watching you and Amelia in clear amusement.

“Okay, yeah, I gotta go to bed,” you murmur. “Night, Johnny. Night, Amy!”

While Johnny literally carries Amelia to lift her off the counter, she cackles and says, “Niiiiiight!”

Even though exhaustion and alcohol have hit you really hard all of a sudden and you literally can’t wait to fall asleep, as you walk down the hall to the guest room, you still can’t help but worry that you didn’t really get to talk to many of Sy’s friends at all tonight. Even though you had a lot of fun, you’re anxious that you came across as rude for mainly hanging out with Amelia.

But if Sy took his friends’ keys to keep them from leaving, that means they should be here in the morning, so you can still see them then.

That makes you feel better.

In the guest room, you’re pleased to find your overnight bag on the left side of the bed once Sy switches on a lamp.

“Yayyy,” you exclaim while walking around the bed. “You brought it inside.”

“I did.”

You glance at him with thanks and notice him already in the middle of removing his sweater. As he pulls it over his head from the back, the skin of his stomach is gradually exposed until his entire torso and then chest is bare, and, frozen, you intently watch him until he’s entirely shirtless.

You’ll never get over it. He’s just–he’s just so big. And he has so much hair. When both of his hands move to the top of his khakis next, he senses you watching him, and he doesn’t break eye-contact with you as he undoes his belt-buckle and lets his pants fall down to the floor. In just his boxers and knee-brace, he pushes the bedsheets down, lays back on the mattress, and continues looking at you.

After taking off your turtleneck, you reach under your camisole to unclasp your bra. Even as open as you are from drinking, you have to look away from Sy’s shameless gaze as you toss your bra aside and then jump out of your jeans to change into some loose pajama pants. Finally, you collapse on the mattress next to Sy, almost moving the entire bed frame with how uncoordinated you're being.

"Whoa, there," Sy murmurs, steadying you, and you just giggle and start yanking the blanket and sheets around to cover yourself.

"Hey," you hear once you're all settled on your left side, practically melted onto the mattress and against Sy’s flank. "Open your eyes."

Moving closer to him, you open just your right eye, and Sy smiles.

"Hey," you speak against his beard, grinning because he's gorgeous and he's yours and you're gonna find his mouth and kiss him.

You slide your lips along Sy's beard until you reach his mouth, and his hand suddenly on the back of your head helps keep your own in place while you kiss. It's a kiss without purpose–or, with purpose but without direction. It's making out without using tongues.

It's really, really good is what it is, and you know from experience how it can get even better, but that's the thing–you don't even need it to go further right now because it's already so good like this, and he won't pressure you for anything more because he just won’t, and it's so so so refreshing to just feel happy in the moment and not anxious about the fact that now you're drunk in bed with a man.

But it's Sy. So much more than just a man. He wouldn’t pressure you regardless. Drunk or not. But you are right now–drunk, that is–and you feel like kissing, and it’s a good thing he’s so good at taking control or else you’d be, like, kissing his shoulder right now or something.

Actually, taking control isn't something that's even necessary for Sy. He's simply always in control. You feel his hand on your chin guiding your mouth with his, and it’s a reminder of just that–that he’s Sy–and you continue kissing him until you just can’t anymore.

You're so fucking lucky. You laugh into his mouth. Sy wants you. You want him, and he wants you. He wants you as his girlfriend, to sit on his lap and be known publicly as his girlfriend. To introduce you to people as his girlfriend. He wants to sleep next to you in bed. He wants to watch you at parties.

“I need to brush my teeth,” you burrow your head against his chest and say while closing your eyes. You probably should’ve done that before making out. But Sy doesn’t care. So it’s all good.

It’s all good. The night was fun. Easy. Fun and easy. Drinking and talking and music. A regular party. No tension. No fights. Nothing crazy. Happy times. Just a regular party.

“C’mon,” you distantly hear.

“Hm?”

“Y/N.”

You open your eyes, and suddenly, Sy’s standing next to the bed. “Jesus Christ,” you gasp. “What the hell. How’d you get there?”

He holds out a hand. “Up.”

You just stare at him. “Where are we goin’?”

“The bathroom.”

“Why?” You close your eyes. “D’you need an escort to go? Am I gonna hold your dick?”

“We’re brushin’ our teeth.”

You roll over and secure the blanket around you. “We can skip,” you slur.

Sy taps your leg. “Y/N.”

Something about his tone brings you to full attention, and you open your eyes, sit up, and pointedly begin to blink in an effort to stop drifting off to sleep.

You rub your eyes. “Shit,” you curse, then you push all the blankets off you and pivot on the mattress.

“Sorry I’m–Sorry,” you tell him, but there isn’t any frustration in his reflection. “I’m a little drunk.”

You scrub your eyes with your fingers and then instantly stop, remembering you’re going to fuck up your makeup and your contacts. You accept Sy’s help to stand up and then lean on his body on your walk to the bathroom to wash all your makeup off.

And to brush your teeth. Your breath is fruity. You’re gonna turn it minty.

Happily finding your toothbrush and toothpaste magically in the bathroom, too, you hip-check Sy in front of the mirror and then start brushing your teeth. Beside you, Sy brushes his teeth with strange precision, without even showing his teeth–just his strong hand gripping the toothbrush and moving it all around his mouth. You copy him pointedly, wrapping your lips around your toothbrush and vigorously moving it over your teeth, as well, and Sy elbows you gently before spitting in the sink. You elbow him back and spit on top of his spit, and you also copy him while using mouthwash, too. Though you’re being dumb, it makes him laugh, and that’s the best reinforcement you could ever think of.

You wash your face next, then even lower–all over your throat and neck to get off the leftover makeup from this morning. The clean skin that’s exposed makes you feel like a leper, but at least Sy doesn’t look at you in disgust.

Once you’re all finished removing your contacts and putting on your glasses, Sy touches your ears. “Gonna take these out?”

You shake your head. “I’ll sleep in ‘em. I don’t wanna lose ‘em.”

Back in bed, you’re semi-alert again, so once you’re next to Sy again, you stare at him while faintly smiling, no desire to look away.

Eventually, he touches your nose. “Thought you was sleepy?”

“I am,” you tell him. “I just wanna look at you first.”

“Just look?”

You grin. “Yes.”

"Last time you were drunk in this bed, you were singin' a different tune."

“What’s that mean?”

“Was layin’ here in your little thong with your legs spread wantin’ me to–”

"Oh my God, stop," you almost shriek. Sy shushes your entirely-too-loud response with a finger on your lips. "Nooo," you start cackling.

When he places his entire palm on top of your mouth, you lick it until he backs away in slight astonishment, and you stare back at him in victorious glee that you'd succeeded in grossing him out. That is–until he licks his own palm that you’d just licked, in turn grossing you out.

“Okay–You win, you win.”

“I always do,” he smugly says.

“Yeah?”

The twinkle of his eyes is evident even in the darkness of the room. “You know I do.”

Easily, he gets entirely on top of you, spreads out your legs with just his knees, and finds your hands. He places them above your head on the pillow and holds them together with one hand. With his other, he gently removes your glasses and places them on the nightstand. For a long moment, he stares down at you.

His stomach fully covers yours, and though everything in your brain is screaming this is what a man is, you…you’ve had too much to drink. “I…Uh, I don’t think I–”

“I’m just kissin’ you goodnight, darlin’,” he murmurs.

And he does. He kisses your lips and your nose and your chin, then down your jawline until he finds your earlobe, and he kisses that, too. Once he’s gotten to the expanse of your neck, that’s where he stays, and you’re so tired that the soreness there is barely a distant hum while he kisses every single splotch there, much gentler than how he’d put the marks there in the first place.

Closing your eyes, you truly dissolve atop the mattress and relish in the heavy feeling of Sy on top of you, in the contradicting softness of his mouth.

“You smell so good,” you slur, almost ready to fall asleep just like this. “Even your armpits.”

Sy lifts his head, and when you heavily blink open your eyes, he’s staring down at you like you’ve said something funny.

With your arms still over your head, you squirm. “You know you fuckin’ smell good, shut up.”

You close your eyes again, smacking your lips together. Able to tell that you’re seriously tired now, Sy rolls off you, hooks his arm around your waist, and situates your bodies together so you’re spooning with your legs tangled up. After stretching out your arms, you blindly reach for his fingers and cuddle his hand close to your chest.

“Night, baby,” he says in your ear.

“Night, baby,” you repeat. “Luh you.”

There’s a kiss to your ear. “I love you.”

Minutes pass with both of you just breathing, and even though you’re close to passing out, you manage to get out, "Does your knee feel any better?"

"Why're you askin' about my knee?" he asks from behind you. "Go your ass to bed."

Even though he can’t see, you pout. "Don’t be mean.”

“Just jokin’, sweetheart,” he says, and, in satisfaction, you wiggle even further back against him.

Is that new? Sweetheart?

“Your knees been botherin' you today," you tell him.

"Huh?"

"It's been hurtin'.”

“I took meds earlier for it,” he reminds you.

“But I wantchu t'--I wantchu ta get the shots. It's time t’ get the shots again."

"Alright, baby. I'll do that."

He's finding you amusing again. He’s doing that voice. "You think I'm sooo drunk," you surmise.

He grunts. "There’s thinkin’, then there’s knowin’.”

“Yeah, well.” You grunt back in a deep tone to imitate him. “There’s shrinkin’, then there’s growin’,” you make up on the spot, and when it rhymes, you bolt upright in Sy’s arms. “Heyyy!”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that some sorta dick joke?”

“Do you want it to be?”

You lay back down and feel Sy’s nose-chuckle-breath on your shoulder.

“You keep laughin’ at me.”

“You’re talkin’ a lot more than you usually do.”

"Yeah, ‘cause you give me confidence. Like, when I’m with you, I feel like you…like–I'm drunk," you give up and admit.

Sy laughs at you again.

"But really," you maintain through a giant yawn. "Bein' with you makes me feel like I'm stronger."

"Y/N…"

“It does, though.”

"Alright, darlin’," he sighs. "Close your damn eyes."

You audibly yawn. “They already are.”

“Sleep.”

“I am.”

You literally fall asleep with a smile on your face, and your evening ends the same way your morning had started: in bed with Sy’s arms around you, a heavy blanket covering both of your bodies.

141 notes · View notes

pandaxnienke · 9 days ago

Text

all in, all off | ln4/op81

author’s note: this is literally me writing for like 45 minutes without any editing (fingers flying like a madwoman fr), just needed to get my thoughts out to y’all because i fear this picture of them playing strip poker on the plane has been dominating my thoughts since it was posted days ago. enjoy!!

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni), oral (male receiving), brief fingering, threesome (mmf), unprotected sex, brief sub!reader, slight sub!lando, dom!oscar, dirty talk, sprinkling of degradation, lando is a good boy

word count: 2.6k

your laptop had been unceremoniously snapped shut by none other than lando, of course, and you felt the slight indignation stirring in your chest. the words that left his mouth next made your cheeks heat slightly, the conversation taking a turn for the worse. it had to have been a joke. the statement had made your jaw drop open, yet the grin never left his face. the suggestion of playing strip poker on a plane with the two drivers sitting in front of you was insane, yet you hadn’t managed to shut the idea down immediately.

oscar, ever so calm and collected, also didn’t shut the idea down. that’s how you managed to find yourself sitting across from lando and oscar, the chips and cards between the three of you on the table with your laptop pushed off to the side. you had so many graphics you had to make, so many ideas racing through your head to celebrate the team’s world constructor’s title, but you allowed yourself the break from the constant edits you’ve been making. after all, it was time for celebration, was it not?

lando was exceptionally bad at poker, which came as a shock to nobody other than himself, apparently. oscar and you were both able to easily catch his bluffing, leading to the brit huffing something about the two of you having an unfair advantage. he lost the first and second rounds in less than ten minutes, seemingly forgetting that he could remove a small piece of clothing like a sock. instead, he had chosen to pull off his hoodie first, and then his shirt, the tanned chest being exposed as he dragged the fabric over his head.

your eyes flitted over to oscar, seeing his eyes trailing down lando’s exposed torso in appreciation before cutting over to you, the intensity in his gaze making you flush. you licked your lips absentmindedly, wanting to get back to the game as soon as lando had unceremoniously thrown his shirt to the side. “it’s not fair, i’m not ever this bad..” he grumbled, though the grin on his face makes you think he’s not as upset about the pairs of eyes on his body as he was trying to to be.

the sight of his bare chest had thrown you off enough to break his losing streak, finding yourself pulling off your jacket and both of your socks over the course of the next three rounds. oscar gives you a wink as he remains fully clothed, and you can’t help the blush that dusts your cheeks. “thought i was shit at poker, but you two are making me look like i should’ve gone out more in vegas.” his words drip with sarcasm and a teasing mockery, lando letting out a scoff.

the rounds kept coming, and somehow oscar had managed to not lose a single article of his clothing. it was frustrating, seeing lando down to nothing but his boxers, while you sat uncomfortably in your seat, lace bra on full display and a heat building through your body that you couldn’t ignore for much longer. your thighs squeezed together under the table, feeling their eyes drawn to your chest which was rising with your every breath.

“my eyes are up here, you two.” you hummed, grin widening as two pairs of eyes snapped up to look at your blushing face. lando’s face was full of mischievous intent, while oscar regarded you with a gaze you didn’t know how to interpret. the two glanced at each other as well, the apparent telepathy going on between them making a bit of heat curl low in your core. you never intended for your relationship with either of them to go beyond being their social media manager, but the three of you were always mutually flirty.

lando leaned forward in his chair, your eyes shamelessly looking down at his bare chest, his waist, and abdomen that was making you think things that would most definitely get you fired. “better watch your tongue, we’re both pretty close to the point of not having any more clothes to take off.” his words make oscar chuckle, your eyes looking at the aussie who reclined in his chair. the nonchalance of his actions made you feel less in control, the dominance practically exuding off of him.

unfortunately for you, you were never the one to back down from a challenge. the cards were dealt again, and you had to hide the slight panic on your face as you saw the random assortment of cards, trying to work with it. your eyes dared to look up at the other two, lando managing to look confident for once while oscar’s face remained unreadable. you raised chips into the middle of the pile, watching their eyes focus on every movement you make. your bluff of having a good hand wasn’t missed by lando, who also raised, and oscar as well.

you tried to keep your focus on the game in front of you, but the sight of lando in nothing but those godforsaken tight black boxers and nothing else was not helping. you tore your eyes away, trying desperately to just stare at your cards.

the stakes continued to raise, and neither of the others had folded. you felt a twinge of anxiety curl in your stomach, folding but leaving your cards face down. oscar’s eyes seemed to burn as they looked at you, making you swallow thickly. lando folded too, and all three of you revealed your cards, oscar’s hand being a royal flush. you let out a groan in frustration, glaring at him, then lando. “there’s no way you’ve been this lucky. you’re cheating.” you snapped, though there was no real heat behind your words.

“maybe you should take off everything else if you’re going to complain about the rules we all agreed on.” oscar hummed, his grin growing as he reclined in his seat. “or maybe since i’m obviously the winner here i can get a reward.” his words, spoken so casually, made heat rush through you at the implication. you looked at lando, the other’s face flushing slightly at the idea as his eyes met yours, nodding towards oscar.

“fine. what reward do you want?” you hissed slightly, no real anger behind your words. the two drivers looked at each other, lando grinning before they turned back to you. “well?”

————————————————

you let out a broken whine as oscar and lando’s hands were all over you, your body being positioned to straddle the younger’s thigh. oscar was leaning back, his hands rubbing over your thighs as lando gripped your bare hips, dragging your cunt over the fabric of oscar’s sweatpants. “look how wet you are, do we really turn you on that much?” the brit purrs into your ear, his own boxers tight as he keeps moving your body against oscar’s firm thigh.

your face was burning with embarrassment, chewing your lip as you looked down at oscar, who was reclining and looking up at you with dark eyes. he arched a brow, bouncing his leg slightly, making you let out a desperately loud moan. “look at you soaking through my pants, if you wanted to ride my thigh like a desperate slut, you could’ve asked.” he purrs, the filth making your head spin. “osc..” you breathed out, letting out a whine as one of lando’s hands trailed up your body to pinch at a nipple.

“look at these pretty tits. been dreaming of seeing these bouncing for months.” lando murmurs, your breath hitching as he continues to speak, his words making goosebumps rise on your heated skin. “you know we had a bet going, on who could get their hands on you first. i guess osc won, but i can’t say i’m too mad.”

oscar watched the two of you, your hips stuttering against lando’s grip with whatever he was purring into your ear. the sight was sinful, your bare body dragging over his covered thigh, lando’s hands everywhere as your head dropped back against his shoulder. oscar’s own hand slipped to his front, palming himself as he watched you become more and more desperate. he wanted nothing more than to grip your hair and fuck his length up into your mouth, knowing you’d be so pretty crying around him.

you were absolutely wrecked, eyes screwing shut as you continued to use oscar’s thigh to get off, dripping with arousal at the situation you found yourself in, so close to falling apart just from the bit of friction.

“look at him, baby. he’s so hard, why don’t you help him out?” lando mused, his eyes never leaving oscar’s body, his mouth watering at the idea of himself getting on his knees for his teammate as well. “we need to reward him, don’t you think?” you had never moved faster in your life, sliding to the floor and desperately tugging at oscar’s sweatpants.

your mouth went dry at the sight of him, your hand immediately wrapping around oscar’s cock and pumping languidly, eyes widening as he let out a groan, his head falling back against the chair. “that’s it, let him feel your mouth.” lando encouraged, pushing you by your hair towards oscar. you were more than happy to oblige, licking a stripe up the bottom of his shaft before taking him into your mouth.

oscar’s brow furrowed with the intensity of the pleasure you were giving him, his hands going to tangle in your hair. “fuck, take it all. good girl..” he breathed out, watching his length disappear into your mouth, hitting the back of your throat. you were acutely aware of lando still behind you, his hand reaching between your legs to push a finger inside of you, making you choke out a muffled moan.

“god, osc.. can i fuck her while you fuck her mouth?” lando pleaded, his eyes slightly glassy as he looked to his teammate for approval. the way he pleaded for oscar’s permission made you feel fuzzy, clenching around his fingers which were still lazily thrusting into you.

“be a good boy for me, lan, fuck her nice and hard, hm?” oscar groaned, hips thrusting up into your mouth. the idea of the two of them using you for their own pleasure, not worrying about your own needs, made your head spin with arousal.

you let them shuffle your body around, spreading your legs for lando as you let oscar grip onto your hair, the pace he set making tears prick at the corners of your eyes. you whined as you felt the head of lando’s cock tease through your folds coating himself in your wetness and pressing up against your sensitive clit before pushing in. the dual sensation made you weak in the knees, fingers finding purchase in the muscle of oscar’s thighs.

“such a good girl, you were just made for this weren’t you? getting stuffed full of the two of us..” oscar mused, looking down at your face, eyes rolling in your head as lando sped up his thrusts. “letting us use you for our pleasure, celebrating however we want, hm?”

you nodded as much as you could without letting oscar’s length leave your mouth, a few tears slipping out as he bullied his cock into the back of your throat over and over. lando’s pace sped up more, his fingers reaching around your body to rub circles into your abused and sensitive clit. the sensations from all over was hurtling you towards an orgasm, and you knew both of them were close as well, their hips stuttering over consistent rhythms.

“osc, can i come? please, wanna fill our girl up so well,” lando panted, eyes staring up at oscar who nodded, a grin on his face at the two of you being submissive to him. you nodded around the cock in your mouth as well, arching your back more, the change in angle making you see stars. lando’s fingers dug even tighter into your hips, slamming into you until he came with a high-pitched whine, his hips stuttering forward. “fuck, you’re such a good girl, letting us fill you up like this, baby..”

you came with lando, feeling his hips stutter again as you clenched around him, choking slightly around oscar who was still using your mouth to chase his own release. he pulled you off, and you whined in protest, trying to fight against the grip he held on your hair. he tsked, looking back at lando who was still deep inside you, cocking his head. “i wanna come on your faces.” he said, the statement charging the air in the cabin.

lando nodded desperately, pulling out of you as you whimpered, feeling his release start to leak down your thighs. he was quick to position himself beside you, his blown eyes staring up at oscar. “yeah, osc..” he breathed out, watching the aussie stand, positioning himself in front of both of you. lando couldn’t help himself as he leaned in, licking a stripe up oscar’s length which twitched.

“lan, fuck. y-you can suck me off later, ‘m not gonna last..” oscar stuttered, pushing the other away as his hand ran over his length, hips snapping forward as he worked to finish himself off. your eyes watched the action with rapt attention, licking your lips. “open your mouths.” he groaned, watching as both you and lando open, tongues rolling out as well. he came with a loud moan, covering yours and lando’s face with his release, the sight making his spent cock twitch in interest.

you felt oscar’s release cover your face, swallowing the bit that had landed in your mouth as you licked your lips clean. you looked to your side to lando, breath hitching at how fucked out he looked. your fingers traced over his face, gathering up the release that didn’t hit his mouth onto your thumb, pressing it to his lips. he eagerly sucked it into his mouth, cleaning it off. you leaned forward, licking a stripe up his face, the obscene action making lando whimper.

lando’s fingers reached up to wipe oscar’s release off your face and sucked his fingers clean with a moan. the sight made oscar’s dick twitch, wanting to cover the two of you in his release over and over again. “you two did so good for me.” oscar purred, running one of his hands through each of your hair.

the action practically made you purr, enjoying the moment before you pulled lando into a kiss, moaning softly as you tasted oscar and yourself on his tongue. lando kissed you back, his hands roaming over your bare chest, kneading your breasts.

you pulled back, the three of you still panting in the heated air of the airplane’s cabin. the cleanup process was more arduous than you thought, wiping yours and lando’s face of oscar’s release, huffing as you cleaned between your legs as well. you didn’t think it was best to be dripping lando’s release, though the idea did make your face flush.

“thank god zak and andrea got their own flight.” lando joked, making you and oscar both snort out a laugh.

the three of you started pulling your clothes back on as the plane started its descent, cleaning up the poker chips and cards that had been strewn across the cabin from the eagerness of the interactions.

“same thing in my hotel room later?” you asked, the two sharing the same look from earlier.

“wouldn’t miss it for the world.” oscar hummed, a soft blush on his own face as the three of you left the private plane.

643 notes · View notes

pandaxnienke · 9 days ago

Text

The Frosting Captain

Summary-> Sy tackles a surprise for your daughter, Ada. Taking himself out of him comfort zone and elbows deep into frosting.

Pairing-> Austin "Sy" Syverson/Reader

Word Count-> 1.5k

Warnings-> PG: FLUFF, Cotton Candy Fluff, Light Teasing, Soft!Sy, SAHD!Sy, Nurse!Reader,

Inspiration-> This Instagram Video (This gent makes me think of Sy every time I see him, and his confections look so darn tasty!)

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction! Part of my Syverson Family Chronicles! (You can't tell me Sy probably won't turn into Marshall, when he retires and becomes a stay at home dad!)

Ao3 Link-> HERE

Divider by-> @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

You entered the kitchen, returning home from a long day of work, to discover the last thing you expected of your husband of fifteen years. The tall and muscular, retired Army Captain, turned stay-at-home-dad, was bent over your chaotic center island, sporting nothing underneath your sunflower-print apron, beside his flour dusted, dark-wash jeans. The island and kitchen was littered with nearly every mixing bowl, baking sheet and pan you owned, along with rubber spatulas, wooden spoons, measuring spoons, and all the ingredients you needed to bake a cake.

Your face twisted in a stupefied expression of confusion. Sy wasn’t a baker. The man could cook, yes. He could grill a mean piece of meat. But the delicate nature of making cake to Syverson was like pulling the pin on a grenade. Something he’d rather not do, under any situation. So, finding him meticulously layering and filling a cake made you want to make sure you hadn’t walked into the wrong home.

��Austin?” You croaked, blinking at him.

Sy started, a glob of Peanut Butter buttercream dripping over the side as his hand slipped with the icing knife. “Hey, Sugar!” He replied, giving you a sheepish grin, scraping the buttercream off the side and back into the bowl. “How was your day?” He asked, stepping over to kiss you.

“It was all right.” You replied, nodding and kissing him back. “What have you been doing all day?” You inquired, cocking a brow around the kitchen.

“Oh.” Sy chuckled, a soft pink appearing over his bearded cheeks. “Well, um…” He cleared his throat, wiping his palms on the apron. “I overheard Ada on the way to school this morning, that she wanted a butterfly cake for her birthday. So,...” He twisted his upper body towards his hard work.

Your heart melted, grinning at your Bear. “So, you’re making her a butterfly cake.”

“Yeah.” He nodded, looking back to you, a little abashed. “Not sure how it’s going.”

“Well, let’s have a look.” You said, moving around him.

“I’m going for this.” Sy explained, picking up his flour-y, buttercream covered phone, to show you the vision he had. “I have her favorite flavors. Peanut Butter buttercream, with a chocolate drizzle between.”

“Mmm, sounds tasty.” You hummed, looking at the beautiful and simple enough looking cake, he was attempting. “How far are you?”

“I have one wing done, it’s in the fridge.” He answered, jerking his head in the appliance’s direction. “I just have the last wing and the body to do, then decorating.”

You took a cheeky taste of the buttercream. “Oh god.” You moaned, licking your lips.

“It’s awful, isn’t it?” Sy asked, looking at you, worried. “I knew my ratios were off.” He growled at himself, snapping up the bowl.

“Austin.” You gasped, grabbing for the bowl before he could harm the buttercream inside. “Your ratios are perfect.” You assured him, wedging yourself between him and the counter, stopping him completely. “You made it yourself, from scratch?”

“Yeah.” He nodded, looking down at it.

You cupped his face in your hands. “It’s really good, babe. Don’t you dare toss it. I will not forgive you.” You giggled, kissing him softly.

Sy sighed into the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. “Thanks, Sugar.”

“Ma!” Ada’s voice called out.

“Christ, she can’t--”

You understood, flying out of the kitchen, stopping your youngest from getting anywhere near the kitchen and her surprise. “Hey, munchkin!” You greeted her, whisking her up into a big hug and twirling her away from the kitchen. “I missed your sweet face today!” You told her, smiling as you heard her giggle.

“I missed you today, Mama.” Ada chuckled, locking her arms around your waist and gazed up at you. “Can you help me with my math? Daddy is being a sneaky bean in the kitchen.”

“He is being a sneaky bean in there. He won’t even tell me what he’s doing. But I’m sure he’ll tell us soon enough, Cricket.” You hummed, stroking her soft curls out of her face. “Til then, let’s go do your homework.” You said, before guiding her towards her room, looking over your shoulder towards the kitchen, seeing Sy pop around the corner, holding up his phone and nodded; understanding.

Finishing Ada’s homework, you checked on your sons, Myles and Colt, finding Myles absorbed in playing Call of Duty and Colt with his nose buried in his latest book. You spent time with them, ensuring their homework was finished and they all stayed out of the kitchen, leaving their father’s secret mission undiscovered.

“Mama, I’m hungry.” Colt whined, coming to stand in Myles’s bedroom door, leveling a look at you as you sat beside Myles, playing Plate Up with him.

“All right, bud.” You replied, eyes still glued to your oldest’s tv as you rushed to serve customers as Myles ran the kitchen. “I’ll order some pizza. How’s that sound? You just come and help your brother keep our Cafe, Sip and Dip, running, while I do that.”

“Can I get extra sausage!” Myles asked, his blue eyes big with hopeful persuasion.

“Yeah, I’ll put it on your half. What do you want on your half, Colt?” You nodded, handing your controller over to him.

“Just pepperoni, Mama.” He shrugged, sliding into your vacated slot on Myles’s bed.

Nodding, you slipped out into the hall, heading to ask what Ada wanted on her half of a pizza, when your phone chimed with ‘Simple Man’ by Lynyrd Skynyrd, informing you of a text notification.

Sy: I’m finished.

You: Not a moment too soon either! I’ll come down and look in a moment.

You pocketed your phone and popped your head into Ada’s room. “Hey, Cricket. I’m ordering pizza for dinner tonight. What do you want on your half of the pizza?”

“Extra pepperoni!” She declared, looking up from her tablet.

“On the order.” You smiled, then headed to see how Sy’s cake turned out for her. “All right, Bear, let's see!” You called, entering the kitchen and discovering him in the act of cleaning things up.

“Now, before you see it.” Sy warned, loading the dishwasher. “Just remember I did almost all of this by hand, from scratch.”

“I will.” You nodded, grinning at your husband, knowing, no matter how it turned out, Sy had put his heart and soul into this cake for your daughter. And that was the most important ingredient of all. “I’m sure it looks beautiful, Sy. And having had some of the buttercream you made, from scratch,” You said, seeing how covered in flour, batter and frosting his poor phone was, from looking at recipes and photo references. “It’ll taste amazing.”

Sy nodded, his unruly curls falling against his forehead as he moved towards the refrigerator, where he had it stored. “She’s going to hate it.” He gulped, his hand grasping the handle.

“Good lord, man.” You giggled, shaking your head with a smirk, putting your hand over his. “How many deployments? Three kids, that are your spitting image, in every way possible! And you’re frightened by a piece of cake.” You teased him, almost cackling with amusement. “The pin has been pulled on the grenade, Captain Frosting.” You said, pulling open the refrigerator door for him. “The only thing left to do is eat it!”

Inside was a cute and pastel butterfly cake.

An eight-inch round for the body, with the peanut butter buttercream and a chocolate ganache between three layers, for Ada’s obsession with Reese's cups. The wings were made from a twelve-inch round cake that Sy had divided and used each half for one of the wings on either side. All three pieces were carefully, but roughly, covered in pink, white and blue fondant. A valiant effort from a pair of hands hardened with callouses. Sy had done a little piping bag work with a green frosting, creating wobbling little lines along the tops of the cakes, down their sides and bottoms. He had even attempted to make a couple fondant flowers with the fondant he had left, dotting them in a couple places, before deciding he wasn’t very good at them and didn’t make anymore. Finally, for the butterfly’s antennae, he used two strawberry Pocky sticks.

“Well?” Sy rasped behind you, his eyes on the side of your face, studying it for every hint of reaction.

A smile crossed your face and you turned to face him, slipping your arms inside the apron he still had on, feeling the warm, but tense, skin of his sides as you did. “It’s gorgeous, Sy.” You assured him, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his neck. “She’ll absolutely love it.” You hummed, nuzzling the side of his face.

“You know how I know?”

“How?” He cooed, closing his arms around you.

“Her Daddy made it all for her.” You murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth. “And it is lovely, Austin.” You reaffirmed, brushing your fingers through the back of his hair.

Sy bent his head, his lips brushing your ear. “I left some of the buttercream and ganache, for later.” He purred hotly.

“You naughty baker.” You moaned, licking your lips and letting your mind wander, as Sy’s hands found the slope of your bum.

“Mama! When’s the pizza gonna be here!” Myles shouted from the top of the stairs.

“Right, I’m supposed to be ordering pizza for dinner.”

“What a terrible way to ruin dessert.” Sy laughed, kissing you deeply.

61 notes · View notes

pandaxnienke · 9 days ago

Text

ᴄʜᴏꜱᴇɴ ᴡɪꜱᴇʟʏ | ʙ. ʙᴀʀɴᴇꜱ

Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Reader

summary: 5 incidents in which Bucky gets proven how lucky he is to have found you.

word count: 6.7k

warnings: MDNI, fluff, mobster typical themes, illusions to violence, more fluff, cursing, talks of marriage, starting a family etc., pregnancy, phantom pain, allusions to smutty time, slight dirty talk, my Google Translator skills for all things Russian, children, not perfetly proof-read

author’s note: Am I in my mobster era now? (Please don't try to strangle me when I butchered the Russian parts. I had only Google Translator as my trusty helper ;_; Dividers are made by @enchanthings-a and @strangergraphics!

Russian translations:

малышка (malyshka)—baby

милая (milaya)—darling

“Every day I wake up next to you, I pray to the gods and thank them for the love you give me. Every day I spend with you is more than I deserve. Every day I call myself lucky that you love me back, my dear. I love you more than anything in the world, more than the world, more than life itself. You are my everything. Thank you for making me the happiest man on this planet.”

“Should I stop telling you how good you feel around me? How good you take me? How perfect you look, all filled up with my cock and already pregnant with my baby?”

Привет, папочка (Privet, papochka)—Hello daddy

Привет, солнышко (Privet, solnyshko)—Hello sunshine

The first incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was when James Buchanan Barnes—fearsome crime lord, bratva leader, king of New York City’s underworld—found himself in the aftermath of a crossfire after a deal gone south. His doctor had just arrived to check out the gunshot wounds littering his arm and shoulder, and in his opinion, everyone made too much of a fuss about it.

He was fine. He made it out with barely any scratches.

“Nine gunshots, only one bullet I have to remove. This is a new record, Mr. Barnes.”

… a few scratches; he had to give him that.

On the other hand, his entire left arm had been reduced to nothing but a pile of scrap metal, so perhaps Bucky had been hit rather badly if he took that into account. He wouldn’t because he had to be okay, invincible even. The world he was born into was a cruel one that reprimanded one’s weakness with downfall and despair, and he had to uphold the legacy that had been bestowed upon him the moment his father took his last dying breath in the same car crash that had taken his arm. He had people to protect—his associates, partners, workers, everyone that he considered friends or even family.

Topped by only one person, one woman, who sat above them all on a throne he had created for her right next to his. Not beneath him, not a step below—right fucking next to him.

Speaking of which… The commotion outside their bedroom sounded a lot like the whirlwind he deemed to be the love of his existence, and cursing above his breath, his eyes moved a second from the slightly opened door toward the doctor holding the single bullet between a pair of forceps.

“Don’t you dare step in my way.”

Her voice rushed like opium through his veins, making the mobster forget about the burning pain of holes inside his body.

“I can’t let you in there. Not now. The doctor is with him, you don’t want to see that,” Steve’s voice echoed through the hallway, probably stacked with high-towering security men. Just as high-towering as the blond was, and still, his girl did not show fear. No, not her. Never her.

A scoff was heard, and the physician beside him chuckled under his breath as he started to clean the wounds meticulously. Even Bucky showed a rare hint of emotion around other people than her when a grin parted his lips for a moment. “You’re his second. He is his doctor. I am his girlfriend. Think again if you want to continue standing in my way, Steve. I’m not above using brute force to get to him.”

Hearing that from a woman stopping not even close to all their eye levels would be laughable with any other person, but her? Everyone knew she would move heaven and hell in order to get wherever he was. He had learned this the hard way and would never dare leave her behind again, not when she demanded to tag along.

She really is a wonder.

Bucky wasn’t sure if he had spoken those words out loud, his mind starting to struggle with the blood loss and pain seeping deeper than necessary into him.

Shuffling before the door made the brunet open his eyes again. “Fucking hell, woman…” The hardwood door opened, and he could see the woman ruling his world without even starting to grasp the extent of her power over him, turning toward his second in command. “I hope you don’t kiss your mother with that mouth, Rogers,” she spoke sweetly before she finally turned, her eyes immediately finding him on their shared bed.

Worry creased her forehead, brows deeply furrowed, eyes jumping from his shoulder to his injured arm, then right to the one missing. Without another heartbeat, she rushed through the grand but still cozy room, showcasing her taste because Bucky had let her redecorate this entire fucking house as soon as she had agreed to move in with him—after much persuasion on his part. He wouldn’t have given a fuck if she would’ve decided to paint every single wall a screaming yellow if it would’ve made her happy.

“Hey, милая.” His raspy voice from all the shouting broke a bit at the signature endearment for her, and he wished to reach a hand out to her, but the lack of his arm was jarringly apparent. So all he could do was watch her carefully settling down onto her side of the bed, scooting over the mattress, a warm, soft hand cupping his cheek while the pad of her thumb started to caress his cheekbone. “Hey, love,” she returned the greeting with a smile, worried gaze flicking to Dr. Strange. “How bad is it? And don’t you dare try to sugarcoat me like Sam bloody tried on our way here. I do possess eyes, you see that, right?”

Dr. Strange nodded while preparing the stitching material. “I have removed one bullet from his shoulder. Nine shots in total. I’ve cleaned them and will stitch them as soon as the anesthetic takes effect.” Bucky could see her nodding at the doctor’s explanation and tried to nuzzle closer into the palm of her hand. “Milaya?” She finally looked down on him. “I’m okay, ‘promise. They busted m’arm, though.”

His words turned slurred, slowly but steadily, and he focused on her soft smile that was always entirely reserved for him and baby kittens. He could live with that sort of competition.

“We will talk later, but I promise I’ll take a look at your arm, and in case there isn’t anything left to save, I’ll make you a new one, James.” She pressed a gentle, loving kiss to his sweat-covered forehead. “Now relax, my love. I’ll be here when you wake up.” Her voice echoed in his ears when the drugs finally kicked in, clinging to the sound of her.

Yes, he had been smart enough to ignore his stupid rule of not letting anyone get closer than necessary. She proved him right every damn time.

The second incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was on a regular day in December. Snow fell softly outside the grand brownstone they had chosen to spend the holidays at rather than the house outside the city. His girl had wanted to finally spend Christmas in the buzzing city again, and he had ordered their things packed and moved within a blink of an eye.

Now, everyone enjoyed their little piece of heaven surrounded by their families. Yelena and Natasha had returned to Russia for the holidays, Steve spent time with his own wife, while Sam had decided to go south to see his parents and check in with a few associates while he was already there.

Meanwhile, the feared bratva mobster, leader of the darkest pits of New York’s underworld, watched his girlfriend-soon-to-be-fiancée add a few more pieces they had picked up at Tiffany’s today to their Christmas tree, humming to the soft tunes of an old record wafting through the living room. His blue eyes, usually so menacing and threatening, rested with a loving expression on the woman he had sworn to protect with his life, one arm thrown over the back of the comfy couch he had spent a fortune on—but his queen fell in love with it at first sight and couldn’t find anything better suiting. Not that she had to. The shining black Centurion Card had been pulled out of the inside pocket of his black suit jacket the second Bucky had seen that look on her face.

He would buy her anything in this world, spoiling her rotten until she’d drown in pretty things.

“I think we need more lights,” she stated in a mumble, almost to herself, before turning toward him. “Don’t we? We need more lights, yes.” And so it was decided, and he smiled at her turning back when she started to roam through the red holiday box to find the last remaining string of colorful fairy lights. “No, wait.” Lifting a dark brow, the man watched her reach for the small package he had eyed since they’ve returned instead, all wrapped prettily and neatly.

Scooting across the soft carpet toward where he sat, his girl smiled up at him, holding the small present out to him before folding her hands over his muscular thigh, waiting patiently. “It’s not your Christmas present, but I saw it and… and I needed to do this. To have something for our tree.”

Their first real tree as a couple. The past three years, they had been too busy during the holiday season, barely being at home, not to mention the little time they would’ve had to go out, find a tree, and decorate it, so it would be appreciated as it deserved. This year, however, Bucky craved the comforts of their home, and he wanted to start collecting memories like this.

He bent over to her, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead, hand cupping her cheek tenderly, the little gift almost vanishing in the vastness of his hands. “Thank you, моя милая.” How in all the hells had he become so lucky in finding this woman who now grinned up at him with unabashed happiness? “Open it! Open it already!” And he obliged, feeling giddy himself as she almost bounced on her knees, unwrapping the small box and opening the lid to reveal a perfectly crafted snowflake ornament, a picture of them together in Central Park during the worst snowstorm the city had witnessed in over a decade placed inside the clear crystal. Their smiling faces, almost hidden behind scarves and beanies, angled to one another, her lips pressing a snow-filled kiss to the corner of his smiling lips.

It was perfect.

She was perfect.

Gods be damned, but in that moment, when his eyes found hers again, he felt the overwhelming urge to drop down on his knees and ask for a lifetime together. But he wouldn’t. He had it all planned out, and he used to stick to his plans. He was patient beyond compare, but not when it involved this woman before him. So instead of caving to this sensation, Bucky carefully placed the crystal snowflake onto the coffee table in front of him and pulled his girl up into his lap in one smooth motion, wrapping her in his strong arms, fingers—both flesh and metal—tangling in soft strands of hair or gripping the soft black fabric of the hoodie she wore which once belonged to him.

“Каждый день я просыпаюсь рядом с тобой, молюсь богам и благодарю их за любовь, которую ты мне даришь. Каждый день, который я провожу с тобой, больше, чем я заслуживаю. Каждый день я называю себя счастливчиком, что ты любишь меня в ответ, моя дорогая. Я люблю тебя больше всего на свете, больше мира, больше самой жизни. Ты — мое все. Спасибо, что сделал меня самым счастливым человеком на этой планете, малышка,” Bucky rasped in Russian with his forehead pressed to hers and eyes intimately locked, watching the shy smile he loved so dearly spreading on her lips and making her eyes twinkle.

“I don’t know if you have insulted me just now, proclaimed your undying love for humble me, or started the dirty talk earlier than usual, but either way, I don’t mind.” Her fingers wrapped around his chin to pull his face closer to hers, lips touching when she added in a breathless whisper, “It sounded hot, so keep talking dirty to me, love.”

Giggling, his girl accepted the tender kisses of chapped lips to her cheeks, her nose, her forehead, her lips. He felt the uncomfortable pull on his skin again when Bucky smiled at her, his split lip still not entirely healed after a punch he couldn’t dodge in time. Under her care, it will have vanished until next week when the photographer planned to take a few pictures for their first Christmas postcards.

Bucky still struggled to grasp how his life had turned in that particular manner. He never thought he’d be one for domesticity and familiar bliss, but with her?

He was all in.

The third incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was when James Buchanan Barnes, invincible mob boss, returned home in the dead of night in a frantic temper, his entourage strolling behind him, accepting his orders with grave faces and solemn nods.

“Don’t let him out of your fucking sight. Track him as soon as he leaves his godforsaken home, track him inside his own walls, hell, track when he takes a piss. I don’t fucking care!” His booming voice echoed through the foyer, and with another deep growl, he handed his weapons to Sam; two remained in the holster, hugging his broad shoulders. He wouldn’t take them off, not until the threat was decimated under his foot. “We’ll do a 24/7 surveillance on him, boss. He won’t come near her,” Steve promised, knowing damn well what would happen to all of their heads if they couldn’t protect her.

Bucky bared his teeth in disgust. “You better not fuck this up, Steve.” This would be his first and only warning, and the blond knew that, so he nodded and retreated into his office, knowing damn well that sleep would be nothing but a pleasant memory for a while—he wouldn’t be alone, though. Everyone knew how their boss got when his queen was threatened by others. Those threats had already started to grow in numbers as soon as the underworld learned of their engagement, and outsiders trying everything to get in and on good graces with certain families smelled a quick victory.

How wrong they were in those foolish assumptions.

Sam watched his boss almost anxiously while he desperately tried to cool off, fists pressed against the pretty surface of a pretty sideboard she had most definitely chosen.

“I will kill him. I’ll kill them all if I have to.”

At Bucky’s deep rumble, Sam could only hum in agreement. He would be right at his back, killing all who wanted to harm anyone he cared for, especially those inside this building.

“I could reach out to our associates in Louisiana, get some more backup and gunpower. There’s this kid who’s a marvel with tech. Maybe he can come up with a discreet solution for the in-house surveillance,” Sam suggested, knowing damn well how excited Parker would be when he finally allowed him to tag along, currently bored out of his brilliant mind at college. Bucky looked up and over his shoulder, icy blue eyes resting on one of his best men—and friend. But the creaking above their heads let him pause in his answer, and both men stared up the stairs, knowing who eavesdropped at the railing.

Bucky sighed deeply. “We need to work on your stealth skills, малышка,” he spoke up and waited for her steps to pick up and for her to shuffle down the stairs. She did in a pair of cozy yoga pants, a large hoodie hanging on her form—the one he had worn before changing into his suit this morning—and fluffy socks with reindeer and candy canes printed all over them, her hair wrapped in a messy bun on the top of her head, strands framing her face. In her arms throned a king amongst pets, and white fur littered the soft fabric of his hoodie where she held Alpine close to her chest.

His heart ached at the sight of her in the best possible way.

Her eyes wide with worry—not for herself, but for him and all his men—jumped between Sam and himself as she reached the second to last step and waited there.

“I didn’t mean to, but… I heard voices and thought you’d come home, but then I heard everyone talking and it was kind of too late to go back to bed anyway, so I figured I could… learn a bit.” Bucky started softly shaking his head, his outgrowing hair tickling his cheeks. “You meant eavesdropping, малышка. That’s the word you’re looking for here,” he deadpanned, and one corner of his mouth slightly lifted at the sound of her quiet laugh, her fingers comfortingly petting the white fluff ball currently purring at the attention and headbutting her hand for more.

With another sigh, he stepped up to the stairs, raising his gaze to his all-ruling queen, and he felt the tension in his shoulders slightly disappear when her hand came up to his neck and rested there comfortingly, fingers playing with the soft strands of his dark hair. “I’ll be alright, James,” she whispered, and he wasn’t sure how she could say that with such certainty when not even he felt so sure. “We’ll be alright, I just know it. Nothing and no one will keep me from you, from becoming your wife and living a very happy life with the man I love more than anything in this world, giving him the cutest fur babies and children the world has ever seen.” Bucky sucked in a breath, and after gently putting down Alpine, he pulled his soon-to-be wife in a bone-crushing hug, wrapping her legs around his hips with ease. “We will live until we turn old and grey and can look back at all the memories we made along the way, annoying our children and grandkids with endless, embarrassing stories,” she continued to whisper against the soft, tattooed skin of his neck and yes, he could see all that and more, too.

It was easy with her to picture this picture-perfect life—and he would do anything to make it a reality. He wouldn’t stop at murder and anarchy, not when it came to her.

So when he slightly turned to Sam with his woman in his arms, ready to put her back to bed, he only needed to mouth the words, and it was done.

Do it.

The fourth incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was during one of those forsaken nights.

He woke with a startle and a groan escaping him involuntarily, the dark bedroom embracing him, a soft, warm body tucked into the expanse of his back, slow breathing fanning across his heated skin. His hand shot up with another groan leaving him, cupping the stump where once had been an arm, feeling the same agonizing pain he had felt in that car all those years ago, almost bleeding to death after a rivaling family had tried to kill them all off.

Unfortunately, he had survived—and the revenge had been brutal the moment he had recovered enough to go on a killing spree.

Trying to breathe through the crashing sensations, Bucky tried to move as quietly and carefully as possible, not wanting to wake the woman sleeping peacefully beside him because she needed all the rest she could humanely get. But the pain was blinding, the feeling of warm blood flowing down his skin so real, he could’ve sworn there was still an arm to lose, and his fucking legs were still tangled in the damn blanket!

With a frustrated huff, the mobster tried to just roll out of bed in a desperate attempt, not minding falling face-first to the floor, but the blanket didn’t budge, and suddenly, an arm snaked across his waist, and a warm hand rested on his muscular abdomen.

“D’not go…”

The sleepy mumble pierced through the agony, and usually, Bucky always obliged to his wife’s every demand, but not now. Not this time. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t crumble in front of her. She needed him to be strong and capable. He had to protect her and the little plum. He couldn’t show weakness, not even in the comforts of their own home. Word would get out, the pit of New York City would smell blood, they would come and kill her in front of his very eyes, make him watch when the life would vanish from her breathtaking eyes, taunting him, before they would end his life as well, releasing him into the bliss of afterlife where he would search for her, and—….

“Bucky? What’s wrong?”

Her voice, now sounding more awake and aware, startled and pulled him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he could feel the mattress dip and move when she sat up and scooted closer to him. “Hey…” A soothing hand started to rub over his back. “Talk to me, love. C’mon, handsome, I can only help when I know what’s bothering you to such an unholy hour.” Her teasing made him almost smile—almost. But the pain returned in full force, and his hand gripped his shoulder even tighter.

“Phantom pain. It’s nothing I can’t handle, malyshka. Go back to sleep, you need it,” he rumbled quietly, his legs finally escaping the trap that was their blanket, and the man sat up, feet hitting the floor. He attempted to get up in order to leave her to the quietness of their room, but his wife had nothing the like on her mind. She held him back and scooted off the bed. “Stay. I’ll be right back.” Blinking into the dim light of her bedside table, he reached for her and tried to get up. “I’m fine, sweetheart. Go back to—”

She shushed him gently and pressed a finger to his lips. “I said Stay. I mean it.” With that, his woman granted him a serious glance before she patted into the adjacent bathroom, one hand cradling her already quite prominent bump, and all Bucky could hear was rummaging sounds in their cabinets and a quiet mumbling.

“Your papa is a handful sometimes, little one. Prepare yourself because I need you in my corner, okay? Okay.”

Smiling through the irritating pain, the mobster waited for her to return and watched her closely when she finally left the bathroom and patted back to their bed, a bottle of lotion in her hand. “You think you need the mirror, love?” Bucky glanced at the full-length mirror in their walk-in closet shrouded in darkness and decided with a soft shake of his head. “Maybe later if it’s not getting any better,” he mumbled in defeat, accepting the loving kisses pressed to his right temple and lips. “Just let me know, yeah?” He nodded at her request, and blue eyes watched her like a hawk when she settled right next to him, on the side of his missing arm, a squirt of lotion already between her soft hands warming it up.

“I told you to wake me up if it’s happening again,” his wife scolded him quietly, her incredible hands massaging the hurting stump of his shoulder. At first, it hurt like hell, but the more she kneaded and caressed, the more bearable it got. “You need your rest, milaya,” he returned with a lingering glance down her form, eyes equally heavy with worry and love when they settled on the little bump he had grown to love so dearly, it almost hurt.

Bucky felt her eyes on him in return and opened his arm when she stopped what she was doing to climb into his inviting lap, straddling him comfortably. Taking his hand into hers, she pushed the warm skin of her husband under his shirt she wore to sleep and placed his palm right on top of the soft curve before continuing.

“Not more than you need it, too. You’re running the mob empire, not me.” Her voice reminded him softly, and he let his forehead fall onto her shoulder, eyes closed, thumb caressing the warm skin of her bump, hoping, praying, he would feel something, anything. But according to all the books he had read so far, it would take a few more weeks until he could feel the slight movements their child did inside his wife. “And you’re growing a whole fucking human,” Bucky returned and got shushed again. “Watch your language, Barnes. I don’t want their first word to be anything obscene.”

But she couldn’t fool him. He heard her smile in the scolding.

A comfortable silence settled between them, then, reminding Bucky yet again why he had felt so good around her the second she had walked into that room in the hospital, only raising a brow at the sight of six buffed men clad in black suits, armed with more guns than one human could possibly need, and him sitting in the middle of it all—disheveled, still hurting, ice cold. She had smiled, wearing those ridiculous blue scrubs, and he had spotted a splash of blood on her light grey sneakers when she had come closer, pointing it out in almost something resembling disgust. Still, she only had rolled her pretty eyes at the pitiful attempt of an insult.

She hadn’t given a single fuck about those intimidating men—including him—all towering multiple heads above her, tattooed, guns always visible, the rough Russian language floating through the room occasionally. And he had respected her for that, even though he didn’t bother to be nice at first. In hindsight, Bucky would’ve earned a beating from his mother if she had been still alive. She had raised him better than treating a beautiful, kind, intelligent, and compassionate woman like he had initially treated her. But after a while, Bucky had felt how she had snaked her way into his thoughts, catching himself repeatedly thinking about her over the course of his day, starting to anticipate the next appointment to get his prosthetic measured, built, and adjusted, always looking forward to seeing her face.

She hadn’t given a flying fuck either when he finally revealed who he was and what he did, only cocking her head to the side in question and asking him, “Will you or one of your guys kill me after our time is over?” And when he had shook his head, denying those thoughts, she had smiled brightly, before turning back to the prosthetic arm she had crafted for him. “Then we don’t have a problem. Everyone has to earn their money somehow, James.” That was also the first time anyone had called him by that name since his parents had died, and he had fallen for her right then and there, ready to kneel at her feet and surer as hell that he would make her his queen.

“Don’t count on that, malyshka. Everyone around here is using filthy language, and do I need to remind you of certain… situations where the little plum currently has to listen in? Or do you want me to stop? Мне перестать говорить тебе, как хорошо ты себя чувствуешь рядом со мной? Как хорошо ты меня принимаешь? Как идеально ты выглядишь, вся заполненная моим членом и уже беременная моим ребенком?” He felt the pain slowly but steadily subside under her knowing and well-versed hands, feeling them stop in their magic as the huskily whispered Russian words flowed effortlessly over his lips, feeling her squirm in his lap.

Leaning slightly back in order to have a better look at his face, his wife bit her lower lip, making now the feared bratva leader squirm underneath her, his hand protectively pressed into her lower back, not daring to let her fall off of him. “You are a very evil man, James Barnes,” she hummed with almost a purring edge to her voice, making him grin as cocky as possible. “You married the worst of the bunch, malyshka—and you like it. You can’t hide it, not from me, never from me. Not when I’m balls-deep it that deliciously tight…—” Her lips pressing against his made him moan deep in his throat and stop taking altogether. Forgotten was the pain of the past. It still bothered him, somewhere in the back of his mind, but her scent, her taste, the feeling of his wife against him made him forget about it.

The past was the past, and now, only the present and the future held importance to him.

Lifting her with one arm with ease, the mobster carefully moved her to the middle of their bed, hovering above her and watching her pretty face with a loving gaze. “You’re my everything,” he dared to whisper. “You both are.” He felt her hands cupping his face tenderly as if he wasn’t the killer everyone feared across the East Coast as if he was something precious even though he was broken beyond repair. “And you are ours, Bucky.” She kissed his cheeks, the tip of his nose, his lips, and his left shoulder without disgust, without apprehension, but with deeply felt love.

As if he was perfect the way he was.

The fifth incident that proved him to have chosen wisely when following his heart for the first time in his life was after a business trip to Sicily that had taken too long for his liking, even though the business was good and the newly knitted connections invaluable. But it had made him leave his family for far too long than humanly tolerable, not even the many FaceTime calls had eased the sting in his heart.

“Make sure Enzo receives the gift for his wife and put a little something for him inside as well. Perhaps the Yamazaki Single Malt?” The 55-year-old whisky sure would make a fine gift for the young leader of the Sicilian Mafia, remembering an evening here and there when both men had shared a glass of scotch.

Steve walked beside him as they left the car and made their way over the sidewalk and behind the gate of the old brownstone in the best area in New York City. The cherry trees along the road were in full bloom, and the spring breeze was pleasant enough that the Barnes considered taking them all out for a day in Central Park. Work could wait after two weeks away from them. “Sure thing, Buck. I’ll call Stark to get a bottle,” the blond nodded and opened the door for his boss after walking up the stairs before entering the family home as well, happy sounds wafting through the air already.

Bucky visibly relaxed when he heard his family without a phone between them and handed Steve the concealed guns. They had made a rule for the house, and everyone obliged happily because everyone had been wrapped around their little fingers since the day they were born.

And no one would dare to go against Mrs. Barnes.

“I don’t want to be disturbed for the next couple of weeks, so handle everything and only bother me with situations that need my explicit attention,” was the last order the mobster could get out before the sound of small feet erupted from the living room and barreling toward the foyer.

“Papa!”

“Dada! No, waits for meeee! Annie, pwease! Mommyyyy!”

Bucky laughed as his eldest rounded the corner in full sprint, her little legs carrying her as fast they could, and the tall brunet crouched down to catch her little body. The little girl, resembling so much his wife, looked at his face with bright eyes, hands pressing against his cheeks and squishing them with an adorable chuckle.

“Привет, папочка,” she greeted him shyly, stumbling over her sounds and pronunciations, but Bucky kissed her little cheeks with such enthusiasm that her insecurities vanished in an instant. “Привет, солнышко,” the father returned with a kiss to her forehead and watched the questioning expression morphing onto his daughter’s face. Her tongue poked out between her lips, eyes wandering to the ceiling, brows drawn together in concentration—just like his wife. But then, she looked at him again, leaning closer as if she wanted to conspire with him. “What does that mean, papa? Yelena didn’t teach me that word yet,” she whispered, and Bucky laughed again, feeling almost crushed by the happiness he felt at that moment. “It means sunshine, my sunshine.” It made her smile as brightly as the sun outside the windows before she waved at Steve. “Hi, Uncle Stevie. You can go now. Papa is mine; you can have him back in… a long time.”

Nodding to underline her case, the almost six-year-old looked expectantly at his second in command, and Bucky turned with her still in his arms, looking just as expectantly as her. “You heard the little lady, Steve. Off you go,” he teased, and the blond shook his head with a smile, bowing before them. “As you wish, Princess Anastasia.” The girl huffed and showed the blond giant her tongue. “It’s Anya, Uncle Stevie! You always forget!” Chuckling, Steve took her hand and shook it apologetically. “You are right; my apologies, princess. Enjoy your time with your father.”

And with that, he left for his office, leaving the two in the foyer when they heard another set of steps.

“Anya, next time, wait for your brother, please,” Mrs. Barnes scolded the little girl gently, a smile on her lips and the little boy on her arm. His son nodded, holding his stuffed bunny at its long ears. “Yesh, waits for me, Annie! Dada!” More excitement echoed through the home as the small boy started to wiggle in her arms, and Bucky rushed over to her, catching Elijah before he could plop out of her embrace. “Careful, little troublemaker,” he laughed and held him with his other arm, hearing Anya scoff quietly. He threw his wife a questioning look, and in return, she only rolled her eyes at their children, softly shaking her head and taking Anya to her.

“They had a… falling out earlier.” Anya scoffed again as if her mother understated the entire ordeal, wanting to be put back on her feet, and hugged her mother’s hips closely. Elijah leaned his head against Bucky’s shoulder, bunny pressed tightly into his chest, watching his sister. “He ruined my homework! Miss Pepper said she’s suuuuuper excited for my solar system model, and then, papa, Eli just banged his stupid bunny on it!” Angry tears gathered in her eyes, almost rolling down her pretty face. His youngest looked positively undisturbed as he watched his sister unraveling over her homework, and Bucky sighed.

“Bunny s’not shtupid. Annie’s plant-… plants-… planets! Annie’s planets looks ugly, dada. Not pretty like mommy,” Elijah stated with confidence, making the tears finally spill over Anya’s cheeks. “I hate you! You’re not my little brother anymore!” And with that, the little girl pulled away from the soothing hands of her mother, almost tumbling over the stairs as she ran upstairs, a loud bang echoing through the house when she closed her door with force.

Another sigh escaped Bucky and his wife alike, both parents looking down at their little boy who started to chew on his bunny’s ear. “Honey, that wasn’t very nice to say,” she reprimanded her son and took him from Bucky when he stretched his little chubby arms toward his mother, keeping a hand on his little back. “Annie is sads?” She nodded and kissed the dark mob of hair her son had inherited from his father, just like the blue of his eyes. “She’s upset, baby, yes. We will give her a moment to calm down before we’re going upstairs to apologize, yes?”

Elijah nodded with tears in his eyes, and the father couldn’t hold back, so he gently cupped his youngest head and pressed a lingering kiss onto the wild dark curls. “Can me and bunny asks Miss Melina fors cookies?” Smiling, she pressed a kiss to his cheek before putting him onto his small feet. “But only one, baby!” He was already on his way, chanting for cookies.

In an instant, Bucky pulled his wife into his arms, capturing her lips with his, a rumbling moan escaping him at the taste and feel of her. “Two fucking weeks are too long, malyshka,” he stated with another lingering kiss, fingers tangled in her hair. “Tell me about it. Try to manage two kids who switch between being the bestes of friends and each other’s enemy number one multiple times a day.” Taking her in more closely, Bucky could see the dark circles under her eyes and the tight muscles around her lips. His thumb swept across the dark circles, and his lips followed to kiss them better. “I’m so sorry, milaya,” he murmured with another kiss to her forehead and felt her hand hitting him against the back of his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. You had to be there, and we had to stay here with school for Anya and Eli’s first day at kindergarten. We managed. I wouldn’t mind if you take over bedtime duty for a while, though.”

Bucky grinned happily at the prospect of spending time with his kids, feeling the love only a father could feel coursing through his body. “Of course, love. We’ll get you something nice on our stroll over Fifth and let the kids play in Central Park while you enjoy a book, alright? I’ll pick up a few new bedtime stories as well, so you will not even be remotely needed and can enjoy bath after bath. Would that make my wife happy?” Sighing, she leaned heavily against him, gathering strength through his strong body supporting the weight resting on her shoulders during the worst and most exhausting days—which they have had many in the past two weeks. “Sounds lovely. But don’t you dare spend a fortune on me again!” Her warning was unnecessary because Bucky would spend a fortune on his wonderful wife, and she knew that as well. “Please,” he chuckled and pressed another heated kiss to her lips, his fingers cupping her chin tenderly. “I’ll buy whatever you want, milaya. Perhaps we could even get something for us.”

He loved his wife in pretty clothes, but he loved her especially dearly in pretty lingerie he had no qualm of ripping off her gorgeous body the second she’d appear before him, reducing the masterfully crafted pieces to lacy shreds on their bedroom floor. The first time he did that, he hadn’t gotten the opportunity to pull her to bed, receiving a scolding he had gotten the last time, probably as a boy. She had been royally pissed at his antics, mourning the pretty set she had bought for their first night together. The next day, she received a delivery of all the pieces she had eyed at the shops and saved online, making her closet filled with more lingerie than a regular woman would need in her entire life.

Only that she wasn’t a regular woman with a regular man. He could buy her anything and in any quantity possible, so he wasn’t one to hold back when the urge to see this goddess of a woman naked made him growl and impatient—and even a tad jealous of the fabric touching her skin instead of his hands and lips.

“You are the worst of the bunch, Barnes. Seriously.” Exasperated, she looked up at him, her cheeks warming under his touch, and Bucky nodded with a serious expression. “I am insatiable when it comes to you, malyshka. And you thrive on the power you have over me.” Eye-rolling, she shook her head again, winding out of his arms and smacking his ass with a teasing smile. “Stop being a seventeen year old horndog and move your sexy backside up to your daughter. She’ll listen to you more than me after two weeks filled with my constant presence. I’ll see what I can save from her project, and stopping Elijah from munching on too many cookies…”

The last part was barely a mumble, already distracted by whatever thought wandered through her beautiful mind, and Bucky watched her retreating back with a smile before shrugging out of his suit jacket. Throwing it over the stair railing, he made his way to his eldest’s room, softly knocking at the door littered with pictures and posters of her favorite animals and characters—he could even see the remnants of a glitter pen—and knew how lucky he could count himself when he was allowed to enter his sunshine’s room.

He had the perfect wife, two healthy, wonderful children, and had found happiness despite the way his life had taken.

He had indeed chosen wisely.

author's note: Tysm for reading my silly little writing. As usual: likes, reblogs, and comments are so much appreciated! I love to read your thoughts <3

857 notes · View notes