#* You take the man out of the city not the city out the man for real!!!

[sevsgiirl]

— i could see you being my addiction.

sevika week 2025: shimmer strap, day 3.

synopsis: giving up shimmer was a personal choice for sevika. she used it but she could very much live without it, which she had to - but using it one last time just for fun wouldn’t hurt.

word count: 2.7k

tags: top!sevika, bottom!reader, strap-ons referred to as cock, lotsss of degrading, overall this is just very filthy.

note: happy day 3 of sevikaaaa week!! the prompt I chose for today is shimmer strap so of course I had to make this as nasty as possible (as if yesterday wasn’t already enough) either way, I hope you guys like this!

withdrawals can be a bitch.

it’s been a while since sevika touched even a vial of shimmer. ever since silco died, she didn’t see a point in using it any longer. as she only fueled her prosthetic with it as a way to enhance her senses to gain leverage in fights - it was something silco suggested, and one she stuck to as a way to appease the older man.

it became a necessity to her at one point. but ever since the under city went in shambles due to silco’s passing and the chembarons took over his place, she realized if she was going to help the people of zaun overcome these tragedies, she needed to be different from the ones who made them suffer. who got them addicted to the drug in the first place.

but years have passed and she was now a councilor in piltover. she couldn’t even remember the last time she took a minuscule of the drug and the more she thought about it, it’s likely for the best. taking it had its advantages but the cons still outweighed the pros.

it wasn’t until late one afternoon during her day off that she got a letter addressed to her from ran - saying they cleared out the remaining supplies of shimmer in zaun.

“hey, what’s that?” she turned around to see you emerge from your shared bedroom while she stood by the entrance of your home.

you wore nothing but a pair of skimpy sleep shorts as well as a thin tank top that barely hid the way your nipples pebbled from beneath the fabric.

she bit the inside of her cheek at the sight before she refocused her attention on the letter, along with the package it came with.

“a letter. ran mailed it and apparently any supplies of shimmer left had finally been wiped out.” she informed as your eyes widened.

“that’s great,” you said as sevika lets out a chuckle “what?”

she shook her head “as long as singed is still alive and walking freely I doubt any remains of that shit had actually been wiped clean. it’ll just be harder to obtain it but trust me, there’s still some out there.”

you sighed “well, it’s better to have that than to have the lanes flooded with it.”

you gestured to the package by the front door “how about that?”

sevika shrugged, eyeing the package warily before she looked at the letter again and saw that ran scribbled something below.

“also, here’s a little something I found from smeech’s inventory that you might be interested in.” she read aloud as you raised an eyebrow.

sevika carefully peeled the tape off from the box and opened it, revealing a metal case inside as her eyebrows furrowed.

she took it out and undid the lock, weirdly nervous about what was inside until it dawned on her what it was…

it was shimmer.

which wouldn’t have been a big deal if it weren’t for the way the shimmer was contained.

“what the fuck is that?” you said in disbelief when your eyes adjusted to the sight of the harness and the long, glowing shaft that was attached to it “is that…” and when you stepped closer, your assumptions were proven correct.

because inside laid not just shimmer, but shimmer that was inside a fucking dildo.

“holy shit,” sevika muttered in awe as she eyed the toy “I didn’t think that rodent asshole would actually make it.”

“why would smeech-wait, hold on.” you paused in your ranting as you gaped at sevika “what do you mean?”

for a second, sevika felt embarrassed under your scrutinizing gaze as she rubbed the back of her neck “well, the thing is I may or may have not… asked smeech and his goons to make this for me. in the past.”

your jaw fell open “why would you ask him for something like that?”

“it was just out of curiosity, okay?” she said defensively “I didn’t think he’d listen and I thought that if he did, is that he would’ve sold it to some rich bastard here at topside for a higher price.”

you were at loss for words for a second before you waved her off dismissively.

“it doesn’t matter,” you said, exasperated “just throw it out. I don’t even know why ran sent it here in the first place.”

there was a brief pause as sevika stayed silent “sev?” you stared her down “you are throwing it out, right?“

she pursed her lips, still clutching the toy in her hand “okay listen-“

“nope. nuh uh.” you didn’t even let her finish before you started walking away.

“oh baby, come on.” she threw her hands up “I don’t like shimmer anymore just as much as you do, but remember when you said you wanted to experiment more-“

“yeah, but not with anything involving that,” you exclaimed “we promised neither one of us are touching even a drop of shimmer anymore, sev.”

“I know, but it’s just… look it’d be a waste to just throw it away. what if we just, I don’t know, have fun with it first before we say goodbye for good?” she suggested, the corners of her lips pulling into a smirk.

“you’re ridiculous,” you rolled your eyes at her as she only laughed.

she stood up and made her way to you, her strong arms wrapping around your waist as your back met her chest. her lips ghosting over the skin of your neck as she gave it a gentle kiss, making your spine tingle.

“it’ll be just for tonight,” she whispered, her voice low and enticing “the only reason I asked that asshole to make it for me was because of you, and let’s be honest with ourselves for a second…”

her hand suddenly cupped your jaw as she tilted it sideways so you’d look at her, and there was a glint of mischief in her steely grey eyes that meant one thing and one thing only.

“… since when have you ever turned down taking my cock, huh?” she mused.

you blushed furiously at her words, scoffing “you’re such an asshole, sev.”

she quirked a brow, challenging you “but am I wrong?”

there was a stretch of silence that hang over the room, and she knew she had already won you over.

“I thought so,” she grinned “come on, baby. I know deep down you’re curious too.”

you were about to protest, really you wanted to, but the more you pondered over the idea, the harder it was to fight against it.

and when you found yourself unable to argue, sevika knew she already won.

𐙚˙⋆.˚

you didn’t expect to spend your saturday night like this.

you’d like to think you put up a fight but by the way your knees were firmly planted on the carpeted floor of your bedroom as sevika stood in front of you, all tall and smug, you knew your efforts were futile.

“this is a crazy idea, you know.” you said, but judging by the way you were biting your lip while sevika fastened the strap-on around her hips while the silicone cock glowed bright and purple, she knew you didn’t actually mean it.

she smirked, hand gripping the base of the shaft as her fingers moved back and forth, causing the toy to buzz slightly as you gawked at it.

“whatever you say, sweetheart,” she smirked as she took the tip of her cock and tapped it lightly against your lower lip, making you gasp “but we both know you don’t mean it. now be a good little slut and strip.”

your cheeks grew hot and you wanted to talk back - to not go through with this just to get on her nerves, but if the dampness in your underwear was anything to go by, you knew you’d only frustrate yourself just as much.

so you reached behind you and unclasped the hook of your bra, letting it fall slowly down your shoulders as it hit the floor.

sevika took a deep breath, her eyes zeroed in on your tits “fuck, look at you.”

you rubbed your thighs together to soothe the throbbing in your cunt, which didn’t go unnoticed by sevika as she chuckled.

“press them together,”

your lips parted as you looked down at your breasts then up at her, almost as if asking for confirmation to which she only raised an eyebrow.

you gulped, cupping both of your tits in your hands as you pushed them up like an invitation, one that sevika was more than happy to take as she grabbed her cock and pushed them in between the tight valley of your tits and began thrusting.

it was downright filthy, especially with the way the littlest bit of shimmer started dripping down your tits, making sevika groan as she set a slow but steady pace.

“look at you. such perfect fucking tits,” she took her bottom lip between her teeth, throwing her head back as you let out a desperate whine.

“sevi…” you moaned when the gentle strokes of her cock became harsher, the back of the harness hitting her clit just right as she chased her own release meanwhile you remained in your position, letting her use you for her pleasure.

“fuckkk, that’s it,” she drawled out, watching the way the shimmer from the tip leaked out and dribbled slowly down to your heaving chest as you looked up at her with pleading eyes.

“sev, please.” you begged as she cooed at you.

“thought you said this wasn’t a good idea?”

you pouted, glaring up at her which she only found amusing “I swear, if you don’t-“

you couldn’t even finish your sentence before she abruptly pulled you by your elbow and forced you back up on your feet, pushing you down onto the bed as your legs dangled from the edge, hiking them up her shoulders as she took both sides of your underwear and started sliding them off.

she couldn’t help the way her cunt throbbed seeing how soaked you were “damn, this wet and we haven’t even started yet,” she said in a cocky tone as you scowled at her.

and she knew her words were getting to you, so before you could even spew out another snarky comment, her mouth was quick to wrap itself around your aching clit.

you cried out as your hands flew to grip her short hair, grinding against her face as sevika hummed while slurping every drop of your slick.

“fuck, you taste so good.” she panted, her cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide, staring up at you as your mouth fell open.

making eye contact while she ate your pussy out like a woman starved.

your thighs shook against each side of her head, using them to trap her in place and you could’ve suffocated her right here and there, but she didn’t care - too blissed out from the taste of you that she was only focused on pushing you to your awaited climax.

“I’m close, I’m so fucking close…” your back arched and it was almost like a dam broke out, your release coating her nose down to her chin as you came relentlessly.

all the while sevika lets out a hum as she kept licking up your fluttering folds.

“so good for me,” she grunted, getting up as she sat her knees on the edge of the bed and wrapped your shaking legs around her waist.

her mech arm gripping your hip tightly while the other parted one leg away so you were left bare open for her hungry eyes to devour.

she licked her lips as she guided the tip of her cock to your clenching hole “ready?”

you didn’t even get a word out before she plunged into you, punching a strangled whine past your lips.

she eased in and out of your needy cunt in a steady rhythm, her strong thighs clapping against the bottom of your ass as she watched in awe the way she drove the purple, glowing shaft into your tight hole.

“you take me so fucking well,” she grunted “creaming all over this cock and making a mess. you just like being a little slut don’t you?” you couldn’t stop the broken cries that left your lips upon hearing her filthy words.

she began picking up the pace - hitting that sweet spot that made your mind go blank as the bed creaked in a violent back and forth due to the way she was slamming into you.

without a shadow of a doubt you knew she loves you, but goddamn does she fuck you like she hates your guts.

the sensations were too intense and you felt another orgasm approaching, but before you even got there did she suddenly pull out of you. making your eyes go wide.

“w-what are you-“ you yelped when she abruptly drew closer so her knees were beside your head, taking the base of her cock as she harshly stroked it.

aligning it with your lips as dribbles of both your cum and shimmer fell from the tip.

“open wide,”

but you had no say in the matter when she wretched your mouth open for you, tasting the combination of your release and the tiniest drop of shimmer as it slid down your tongue and into your throat.

and it was as if your nerves were suddenly on fire.

sevika watched in those next few seconds the way your eyes glowed purple as the effects of the drug already begun working and in that moment, you looked almost animalistic.

she wasn’t even aware of what she had just done because one minute you were underneath her, then the next you flipped the two of you over at an inhumane speed so you were straddling her lap while her back laid flat against the bed.

she watched with a mixture of shock and awe as you sank down onto her cock, moaning like a pornstar as you began a frenzied pace and rode her like you were trying to win a fucking race.

“fuck!” she yelled as you aggressively bounced on her cock, taking both wrists of her flesh and mech hand as you pinned them down onto the bed - chasing your own release with no regards to her own while the headboard slammed in violent thuds against the wall. no doubt alerting your neighbors of what you were doing.

the back of the strap was hitting her clit just right as you set a punishing pace for both you and her as you let the shimmer consume all of your senses “cock so fucking good, sev. I love your cock so much, baby. fuck! fuck! fuck!” your eyes were squeezed shut and your tits bounced in her face as your hips maintained its desperate grinding and bouncing.

it was dirty, lewd and downright disgusting the way your slick poured down onto her thighs, your pace not once faltering that when the sounds of wood cracking filled the air and one foot of the bed suddenly crashed down, sevika wasn’t surprised.

and neither were you as you remained in your own little blissed out state.

riding her aggressively until you could almost taste your release at the tips of your tongue, and sevika wasn’t too far behind as she began panting heavily.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cu-“ and just like that, an ear piercing cry came out of you as you poured into her - hands on her broad shoulders as you held on for dear life. meanwhile sevika watched you fall apart, her eyes glazed over and filled with so much adoration as she came right after.

“holy shit…” you were breathing heavily as you came down from your high “what the fuck just happened?”

she took a while to answer, still gathering her bearings as she smiled lazily.

“the best sex of my life I think,” she said, her tone slurred “you sure you wanna throw the strap away?”

you shook your head, but based on the way your lips quirked up she could tell you were thinking the same thing “round two then?”

“fuck off,”

[hannibalised]

In the undercover mission Simon was given an address, new identity, bag full of clothes he would never wear.

Johnny made him go instead of Soap, with a smug face because, ‘Yer gonna get some bloody good time.’

The taxi stopped at the beautiful house, a nice garden but it desperately needed trimming, and voila unpainted fence. Simon stepped outside in the middle class neighbourhood, taking a look around at people who sneaked a peek from their fences.

He had expected that much around, new job, moved cities, dull guy — nice cover.

What he didn't expect was you, standing by the doorframe with tearful eyes.

“Baby,” you rushed out, putting both hands around his neck—“I missed you darling.”

That one was loud enough, the lady from next door and the man walking his dog heard it just as well.

“I-” Simon had forgotten how to breathe with your heat engulfing him as whole, all he could do was clutch at the trolley handle for dear life. This was dangerous.

You were dangerous.

“Hold my waist, I am agent red—” you whispered with a devouring smile in his ear— “Your wife during this mission.”

Oh, fuck him, he really would have some bloody good time, innit ?

Simon's hand let go of the bags and instead found himself feeling your flesh. He inhaled in your shared space; you smelled of coconut, and also coffee, and —

“Let's go inside baby, I have so much to tell you.” you pulled back and took his wrist, tilting head sideways.

Simon smiled, despite himself, two can play a dangerous game.

More on this

Masterlist

[0scarp1astr1]

 ˖ 𐔌 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥࿐ . ۫

જ⁀➴ Desc: || Lando Norris was known for his partying ways, his loud and exciting ways, at least by the media. So, it began to make those close to him wonder what attracted him to a single mother such as you. ||

ᯓ★ Lando Norris x Fem! (Single Mom) Reader

ᯓ★ 2x Genre: Angst, Fluff

ᯓ★ Warning: None

ᯓ★ Requested? No

Author Note: This one is longer than the others, so please be aware but hopefully this holds you all over. Much love.

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★

Being a mother wasn’t something you had planned—at least, not this soon. You were in your twenties, the so-called “prime years,” the time for reckless freedom, house parties that turned into sunrise conversations, or spontaneous trips with friends that felt like the world belonged only to you. Your nights were supposed to be lit with fairy lights strung across living room ceilings, wine glasses clinking, and the endless chatter about relationships, careers, and everything in between.

But instead, your twenties became a symphony of lullabies, muffled cartoons, and the quiet creak of a baby monitor in the middle of the night. They were no longer about heels and lipstick but about stepping over rogue LEGO pieces that threatened to take you out with one misstep, about mopping up juice spills and wiping sticky fingers and tired tears. You were reading the same bedtime story three times in a row because your son loved the way you did the voices, checking under the bed for imaginary monsters with the same seriousness you once saved for final exams.

It wasn’t easy. Especially not when people you thought would be there for you—those who once claimed they'd be aunties and uncles in all but blood—began to drift away. Some didn’t understand. Others didn’t try to. The baby shower promises and “I’ll always be here” texts faded like echoes, and in their absence, you carried the weight of motherhood alone. It stung in the quietest way.

But then came Sebastian.

Your beautiful baby boy with soft curls and eyes that held the galaxy. He changed everything. From the moment he was placed in your arms, the chaos didn’t matter. The sleepless nights, the fear, the uncertainty—they all became worth it the second he smiled. He was three now. A tiny tornado of joy and curiosity, who gave your life a sense of grounding and wonder you never knew you needed. Raising him wasn’t always easy, but somewhere in the mix of tantrums and toothy grins, your confidence as a mother began to bloom. You figured things out, step by shaky step, and you were proud of who you were becoming—for him.

Still, late at night, when he was tucked into bed and the silence stretched long between the walls, you wondered if love would ever find you again. The kind that made your chest ache with excitement, the kind that whispered comfort into the hollow places. You had loved before—young love, teenage love, the firsts that shaped you—but now? Now you weren’t the same girl anymore. You were a woman, a mother, and that felt like a world apart from who you used to be. Who would want to step into this life mid-chapter?

But little did you know, love wasn’t far. In fact, it lived just behind the screen you scrolled through at night.

Lando Norris. His name echoed across social media like a song on repeat. A man whose life seemed impossibly full—speeding through cities, smiling on podiums, partying in places you only dreamed of. He was freedom personified. A life in fast motion, captured in highlight reels and championship circuits. To the world, he was laughter and youth and charm, adored by millions, a modern-day rockstar in a race car.

He was everything your life was not.

And yet—somehow, fate was quietly working behind the scenes.

Because what neither of you realized just yet...was that love was about to collide with your life. Not with fireworks or headlines—but with small moments. A conversation. A look. A gesture. Something real, in a world that often felt anything but.

Despite his young age, Sebastian had already found a passion that made his eyes glow with wonder: Formula 1. It started subtly—he’d pad across the floor in his little socks, dragging his blanket behind him, only to stop and stare at the TV whenever fast cars zipped across the screen. The vibrant colors, the roaring engines, the animated commentary—it all lit up something inside him.

You didn’t expect it. After all, he was just three years old. His world should’ve been centered on coloring books and stuffed animals, not tire strategies and pit stops. But every time you flipped past a Formula 1 broadcast, he’d make a sound, a pointed squeal, or a clumsy run toward the screen. It was obvious: he was captivated.

So, naturally, you followed his excitement. You became the mom who ordered F1 merch online late at night, building a miniature racing wardrobe for your son. T-shirts in all colors. Hats far too big for his little head. Plushie cars he’d vroom around the living room. Whatever he showed the slightest interest in—you got it. And soon enough, the drivers became household names not just to the world, but to him.

Sebastian would burst into laughter whenever Max Verstappen gave his famously direct interviews, his young mind not grasping the words but fully recognizing the face. And Yuki—now part of the Red Bull team—became his source of infectious glee. Every time Yuki’s voice rang through a press conference or onboard radio, Sebastian would shriek with laughter, his eyes twinkling. He didn’t need to understand Japanese humor to adore Yuki’s presence.

Charles Leclerc? Sebastian pointed him out like an old friend. Lewis Hamilton? He’d watch him like he was listening to a storybook read aloud. And George Russell, ever graceful in his silver Mercedes, was often mimicked when Sebastian ran around the apartment in circles, pretending he was on a flying lap.

But the real surprise came with Kimi Antonelli—Mercedes' youngest and most buzzed-about addition. Whenever Kimi’s name popped up onscreen, Sebastian’s full body seemed to light up. “Kimi!” he’d shout, over and over, jumping as if the two were best friends. He didn’t care that there was a more famous “Kimi” from before—this one was his. Young, daring, full of raw potential. Sebastian’s toddler heart was loyal in a way adults often forgot how to be.

Yet, through all the teams and drivers he loved—Red Bull, Ferrari, Mercedes—it was always McLaren that stole the biggest piece of his heart. He adored the bold papaya orange livery, the sleek cars, and most of all, the drivers. Every time Lando Norris appeared on screen, Sebastian would clap like he was watching fireworks. And when Oscar Piastri came on, he’d spin in a happy circle, unable to contain his joy.

“Lando! Look, mama, it’s Lando!” he’d shout, tugging your arm with his tiny fingers, eyes wide in awe like he was seeing a superhero. If Lando waved to the camera, Sebastian would wave back, completely convinced it was meant for him.

You watched all of this unfold with warmth blooming in your chest. Parenthood hadn't been something you planned for your twenties—but moments like this made it feel like life had rewritten itself for the better. Amid the mess of snacks on the carpet, bedtime stories, and tiny shoes always misplaced—you found beauty. In Sebastian’s passion, in his smile, in the way he pointed to his heroes like they were friends—you found your peace.

And somehow, in between your world of routines and his world of racing, you both found something else too: hope. Joy. And a shared love for the chaos and color of Formula 1.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The gentle steam curled from your mug as you sat at the kitchen table, your fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic, grounding yourself in the stillness of the morning. Across from you, your mother sat with the familiar calm she always brought—an anchor in your often-chaotic days. The soft hum of the TV filled the space between your conversations, and the distant clatter of plastic toys played backup to the soundtrack of your life as a mom.

Every so often, you'd rise from your seat to peek into the living room where Sebastian was busy pushing his toy cars across the rug, his tiny feet kicking in excitement, curls bouncing with each animated laugh. He was three years old, full of energy, and already fascinated by the world of Formula 1—a love you'd discovered through the way he lit up at the sight of the cars, the drivers, the roar of the engines on screen.

You returned to the table, a tired but content smile forming on your lips.

Your mother took a slow sip of her tea before looking up at you gently. “So… has his father called? Checked in at all?”

Your chest sank a little, and you exhaled a sigh that felt like it had been stored up for weeks. “No. Not once,” you said quietly. “He’s never really made the effort. And honestly? I’m done waiting for him to care. Sebastian doesn’t even notice. It’s just been me and him for so long, we’ve got our own rhythm.”

Your mom nodded solemnly, her eyes reflecting both pride and sorrow. “I’m sorry, honey. You deserve more support than that. But you’re doing an amazing job. I mean it.”

You gave a soft smile, one that came with both gratitude and a hint of weariness. Your gaze wandered again to the living room. Sebastian was sitting cross-legged in front of the TV, practically vibrating with excitement. The race had started, and you could hear his delighted squeals every time a car zoomed across the screen.

“He’s obsessed,” you chuckled. “Formula 1, of all things.”

“I noticed,” your mom said, a twinkle in her eye. “He talks about the cars like they’re superheroes.”

You smiled wider. “Yeah. He has a whole routine. Points at Charles and says, ‘Zoom!’ Every time he sees Kimi or George he claps like he’s at a concert. Don’t even get me started on how excited he gets over Lando and Oscar. It's... it’s kind of adorable.”

There was a pause, the soft kind that usually comes before something unexpected.

“Well,” your mom started, setting her mug down and reaching into her handbag slowly, “since he loves it so much… and since you could really use a little joy, I thought this might help.”

She slid a small envelope across the table toward you.

You blinked, confused, then slowly opened it.

Your heart skipped.

Inside were two glossy, official Formula 1 paddock passes—one adult, one child.

You looked up at her, stunned. “Mom… what is this?”

“It’s for the Grand Prix this weekend,” she said, her voice gentle. “I pulled a few strings. A friend from my old job still does hospitality for events like this. It’s not VIP, but it’s paddock access. You and Sebastian can go. See the cars, the drivers, the team garages… the whole thing. I thought he’d love it. And you, too.”

Tears stung your eyes, and you laughed, a bit breathless from the shock. “Are you serious? Mom… this is too much.”

“It’s not too much,” she said, smiling. “You give that boy the world every day with what little you have. I figured it was time the world gave something back. And who knows? Maybe this is the kind of moment he’ll remember forever.”

From the living room came the unmistakable shriek of joy—Sebastian jumping up and down, arms raised as a car zoomed across the screen. “Mama! It’s Lando!! Look! Orange car!!”

You turned, your heart softening at the sight.

You looked back at the passes, then to your mother, your eyes glossy. “Thank you,” you whispered. “He’s going to lose his little mind.”

She reached across and squeezed your hand. “That’s the plan.”

The two of you chatted between soft laughs and thoughtful silences—the kind that only exist in the presence of someone who has known you your whole life. It was one of those rare, warm moments of peace—something you didn’t get to feel often in your whirlwind life as a single mother.

The conversation drifted between topics: Sebastian’s latest fascination with “Zoom cars,” your job, the things you missed, and the things you learned to live without. It was soft. Safe. Your mother’s voice was a balm, and for the first time in weeks, you let yourself believe that maybe everything really would be okay.

Meanwhile, halfway across the world, in a completely different atmosphere, Lando Norris groaned into his pillow.

The curtains of his penthouse suite were drawn tightly shut, but even the tiniest sliver of sunlight that slipped in felt like an attack. His head throbbed in waves, a dull pulsing at his temples that matched the beat of the club music still echoing in his brain. The drinks from the night before had tasted better going down than they did now, swirling in his stomach like regret. His mouth was dry, throat burning faintly from too much liquor and not enough water, and all he could remember was the wild chorus of bass drops, laughter, bodies dancing under neon lights, and a few blurry flashes of cameras aimed directly at him.

Another tabloid moment. Another night added to his growing online image—Lando Norris, the fun-loving party king of Formula 1.

He groaned again and shifted in bed, a pillow dragged over his face. "Never again," he muttered to himself.

“Right,” came a dry, amused voice from the doorway.

Lando peeked one eye open, lifting the pillow just enough to glare at Oscar Piastri, who stood just inside the room, arms crossed, and a disapproving smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“You look dead, mate,” Oscar said, eyeing the chaos of clothes strewn across the floor, the abandoned shoes by the door, and Lando himself—still in last night’s wrinkled t-shirt, half-draped in his sheets like a child mid-tantrum.

Lando gave a weak thumbs-up, his voice hoarse. “I feel sick.”

Oscar snorted. “Yeah, I wonder why. Maybe the six tequila shots? Or was it the bottle service you insisted on ordering at two in the morning?”

“I was celebrating,” Lando groaned.

“Celebrating what exactly? A hangover?”

Lando flopped onto his back, wincing. “Shut up. I'm mourning my youth.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “You’re twenty-five.”

“Exactly,” Lando muttered. “Quarter-life crisis.”

Oscar shook his head, making his way over to pull open the curtains—Lando hissed dramatically as sunlight flooded the room. Oscar rolled his eyes and tossed a bottle of water at him. “You’re lucky your schedule’s clear for once. I should make you go for a run.”

“Run?!” Lando looked offended. “Oscar. I’m dying.”

“You’re hungover. Same thing every time. You act like the world’s ending, and then you’re back on a yacht tomorrow.”

Lando took a long sip of water, the coldness soothing his throat and dulling the nausea just enough. He looked out the window at the skyline—vibrant, alive, and completely removed from any form of normalcy. The contrast between his life and the real world had never been sharper than now.

And though he lived for the thrill, the freedom, the glamor... somewhere, buried under the hangover and the jokes, a part of him wondered what it would be like to wake up in a quiet house.

To the world, Lando Norris lived a dream dipped in neon lights and champagne. He was the poster boy of F1’s nightlife—flashing cameras, velvet ropes, smoke-filled lounges, the glittering pulse of clubs across Monaco, London, Ibiza. His name often trended beside headlines of afterparties and appearances, linked to whispers of flings, mystery women, and flirtatious smirks caught on video.

The “party boy” image clung to him like cologne—loud, undeniable, and impossible to ignore.

At first, Lando had laughed it off. He gave the media their smiles, tossed fans a wink, and leaned into the persona. Why not? He was young, rich, successful. The parties were fun, the people lively, the noise almost enough to drown out the emptiness that sometimes followed when he returned home alone.

But the more the world assumed, the harder it became to shake the narrative. Social media only cemented it further—comments under photos speculating who he’d slept with, sarcastic tweets calling him the "Formula 1 Casanova," and fan threads dissecting his every interaction with a woman. At times, the world didn’t seem to believe he was capable of real love—only fleeting fun.

And that started to sting.

Behind the filters and club lights, Lando was still just a twenty-five-year-old guy who sometimes questioned where his life was going. Fame had given him everything, yet it also took so much. Privacy. Trust. Stability.

He'd see posts about Oscar and Lily—his teammate and his long-time girlfriend—and it would stir something unfamiliar in him. They had history. Quiet affection. A love that felt warm and grounding. The kind of relationship fans loved to root for. There was no gossip about Oscar’s loyalty, no speculation over his weekend choices. Instead, there were cute couple pictures, supportive tweets, and heartfelt comments.

The contrast couldn’t have been sharper.

Sometimes, in the silence after a night out, Lando would lie in bed, watching the ceiling fan spin, wondering if the path he was on led to something fulfilling—or if he’d just keep spinning in circles. He didn’t want to admit it, but part of him craved something deeper. Someone to laugh with on quiet mornings. Someone who didn’t just love him for the spotlight, but in the silence too.

And yet, he wasn’t sure how to find her. Or if he even knew what he was looking for.

His “type,” as people so confidently assumed—tall, stunning models with glossy hair and flawless smiles—was starting to feel like a shallow box he’d been stuffed into. He thought back to past flings—women who were beautiful, yes, but left him feeling emptier than before. Conversations that rarely went past the surface. Nights that blurred into mornings with no plans for the day after.

Was that really love? Was that really what he wanted?

Or was he just playing a role he no longer fit?

The world saw him one way—carefree, reckless, living in luxury. But beneath the surface, Lando was beginning to feel a quiet shift. A question forming in the back of his mind: What if I want more?

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

When you told Sebastian that he was going to see Formula 1 in person, it was as if the entire world stood still for him. His little face froze in pure, stunned disbelief—mouth parted, eyes wide, eyebrows lifted in that exaggerated toddler way that could only come from raw joy. Then, in a heartbeat, he was squealing, launching himself into your arms with such excitement that it nearly knocked the breath out of you.

“Tank you, Mommy! Tank you!” he repeated over and over, voice high with joy, arms wrapped tight around your neck. His mispronounced “thank you” was so pure and sincere that tears threatened to gather in your eyes.

This was it—this was the kind of moment that made every hard day worth it. Every sleepless night, every quiet cry when no one saw you, every sacrifice. Just to give him this joy.

He ran off seconds later, unable to contain his excitement, and started listing the drivers he hoped to meet, barely forming the names in between giddy jumps and giggles. “I gonna see Maxy! And Yuki! And Chawles! And Georgie!” he chanted as he spun around the living room, arms wide like airplane wings. “And Kimi too! And Ockar! Lan’dooo!”

You sat back on the couch, smiling through the wave of emotions. His joy was contagious, a kind of magic that settled deep in your chest.

The days leading up to the paddock visit were filled with a chaos that only love could fuel. You buried yourself in planning, not because you had to, but because you wanted it to be perfect. This wasn’t just a day out—this was a gift, a dream come true for a little boy who’d fallen in love with fast cars and faster drivers without even fully understanding the sport.

You spent evenings scrolling through online shops, adding team merch to your cart, checking sizes twice, and triple-checking the weather forecast. You mapped out packing lists, planned snacks, checked your camera storage space, and googled things like “best ear protection for toddlers at F1 races.”

But the biggest debate of all? Outfits.

You carefully laid out options on your bed—tiny team shirts, pint-sized hats, mini race suits, and soft fleece hoodies. You imagined how he'd look in each one, how his face might light up when he saw someone wearing matching colors.

“Which team should we wear first, Sebastian?” you asked one afternoon, crouching beside him as he built a racetrack out of magnetic tiles and blocks. He paused mid-play, finger on his chin in deep thought.

After a moment, he turned to you with absolute certainty.

“I wear McLah-win. All days,” he said, nodding to confirm his own decision.

“All three days?” you teased.

He nodded more firmly this time, curls bouncing. “Lan’do and Ockar are da best.”

So that was settled.

Day one: his bright papaya hoodie and matching cap—simple, bold, unmistakably McLaren. You paired it with black joggers and white sneakers, letting him choose his favorite little backpack with the lightning bolt keychain.

Day two: his mini Oscar Piastri race suit. It was perfectly tailored for a toddler, down to the stitched belt and sponsor logos. You’d even sewn his name—Sebastian—onto the chest in orange thread. When he saw it, his jaw dropped like he was holding the holy grail. “It me!” he shouted, tracing the letters.

Day three: Lando’s race suit replica. Slightly too big, but in his eyes, it made him look like a real driver. He practiced imaginary starts and finishes, sprinting across the hallway, mimicking Lando’s winning gestures, making vroom-vroom noises until bedtime.

Every night that week, he fell asleep clutching one of his toy cars, his beloved McLaren cap tucked beside his pillow. Some nights, you found him sleep-talking about drivers, whispering garbled names and “I so fast” with a tiny smile.

And you? You watched it all with a full heart.

You weren’t just preparing for a trip—you were making memories. You were giving your son something to remember long after his toddler years had passed. The joy in his eyes, the bounce in his steps, the way he counted down the days like it was Christmas. This wasn’t just about F1. This was about sharing something magical with your little boy.

And in the quiet moments, after Sebastian had fallen asleep, you'd sit in the living room, sometimes staring at the orange hoodie or listening to the faint hum of past races playing from your laptop. You didn’t have every piece of life figured out—but you had this. You had him.

You thought about how far you’d come. A single mom, navigating motherhood without the kind of support others had, building your own traditions, your own life. It hadn’t always been easy, but in these moments, the love made it feel more than enough.

Now, paddock passes in hand, suitcases packed, tiny shoes lined up at the door, it was almost time.

Three days. Three days of noise, excitement, laughter, and a front-row view to something your son loved deeply.

Airports were a world of their own—blaring announcements, rolling suitcases, the blend of perfume and coffee in the air, and the shuffle of people rushing from gate to gate. Among it all, you stood just past the security checkpoint, your carry-on slightly slipping from your shoulder, one hand firmly wrapped around the handle of Sebastian’s tiny suitcase—blue with orange race car stickers he insisted on putting on himself—and the other guiding your excitable three-year-old who was practically vibrating with anticipation.

It was Sebastian’s very first flight, and while you had spent days preparing, no number of travel blogs or TikToks could have truly braced you for the full-body energy your son was currently radiating.

He hopped along the polished tiles in his McLaren hoodie, a stuffed car plushie in one hand, backpack bouncing behind him. “Mommy! We goin’ in da sky! Da sky, da sky, da—!”

“Sebastian,” you called gently but firmly, your tone threading calmness into control. You reached for his shoulder and he paused, looking up at you with that sunshine-smile—one so wide it crinkled the corners of his eyes. He didn’t speak, just beamed at you like he was keeping a little secret with the clouds he was so eager to meet.

You crouched beside him for a moment, brushing a curl from his forehead. “I know you’re excited, baby, but we have to stay close, okay? No running. There’s too many people here today.”

“Okay, Mommy,” he whispered, slightly breathless, like the airport was a magical maze he was being told not to touch.

You stood again and reached into your tote bag. “Here,” you offered, pulling out the snack bag you’d packed that morning with military precision. “Pick a snack, sit tight.”

Sebastian peeked in, his small fingers rifling through pouches of gummies, crackers, and his ultimate comfort choice—Goldfish. His eyes lit up. “De fishes!”

You tore the bag open and handed it to him, watching the way he cradled it carefully in both hands, like it was treasure. He sat down cross-legged near the window of your gate, Goldfish in hand, gaze drifting to the planes outside.

You took a breath, letting the buzz of the airport fade into the background for a beat. The weight of the moment hit you gently—not heavy, but meaningful. This wasn’t just a trip. This was a first. His first time flying, his first Formula 1 race, his first steps into something that felt big and unforgettable. And you got to be the one by his side, showing him all of it.

You sat next to him, watching him crunch quietly, the reflection of the airplanes gliding along the tarmac gleaming in the wide glass ahead. The clouds above were beginning to part, sun dappling in streaks across the runways.

“Do you think we gonna go super fast like the cars?” he asked, cheeks puffed with snacks.

You laughed softly. “Not quite that fast. But we’ll be up in the clouds soon.”

“Like... where birds go?”

“Exactly where birds go.”

He turned to you, and in a whisper, said, “I hope Lando go there too.”

You chuckled again, heart full. “Maybe not today. But we’ll see him soon.”

It was then that boarding was announced, and the line began to form. You packed up the snack bag, helped Sebastian to his feet, and adjusted his hoodie once more. As you grabbed his hand and headed toward the gate, you felt it again—that quiet sense of rightness.

Despite the chaos of travel, the work of planning, the worries of being enough as a mom—you were here. Together. On an adventure. And that was more than enough.

As you stepped into the jet bridge, your son looked up at you once again, eyes sparkling with wonder. “Mommy?”

“Yeah, love?”

“I gonna fly like Oscar.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The flight buzzed with a quiet hum, the occasional ding of seatbelt signs and the low chatter of passengers blending into a white noise symphony. Yet, in the middle of row 14, two seats near the window were alight with joy.

Sebastian was electric with energy, practically bouncing in his seat, his McLaren hoodie slightly oversized and his cheeks flushed from all the excitement. Every person who met his eyes—even if only in passing—was greeted with an enthusiastic, “Hi! I go see cars! I go see McLaren! I go see Lando!”

You smiled, half-apologetic to the flight attendants who offered polite, knowing chuckles. But none of them seemed to mind. In fact, they leaned into his excitement, letting him help “check” the snack basket, praising his race car backpack, and slipping him extra juice boxes like he was royalty on board.

“He’s adorable,” one attendant whispered to you as she passed, her smile soft. “Reminds me of my nephew.”

You thanked her quietly, watching as Sebastian munched on the little cookies she had offered him. He kicked his legs softly under the seat, recounting every topic under the sun: cartoons, new toys, dinosaurs, his favorite car toys, and somehow even Santa Claus—despite it being months away from Christmas.

You couldn't help but giggle when he whispered, “Santa gonna bring me new tires for my cars.”

“Really?” you played along.

“Yeah, da fast ones. So I can beat Max.”

His logic was flawless.

But all that energy had a price. After a flurry of words and crumbs, your little boy's lids grew heavier. He curled slightly into his seat, and you, ever the prepared mother, pulled out his checkered-flag throw blanket—one he insisted on packing himself. You tucked it around him, brushing a hand over his forehead.

The screen ahead played SpongeBob, flickering softly. His eyes were half-lidded, still trying to focus, but the gentle sway of the plane, the warmth of the blanket, and the comfort of being beside you finally coaxed him into rest.

His lashes fluttered, and then—sleep.

You leaned back into your seat, a peaceful exhale leaving your lips. Looking down at your sleeping son, his cheek resting softly against the seat, arms wrapped around his plushie, you couldn’t help but pull out your phone. One quick snap, the image so sweet and pure it made your chest tighten. You posted it to your story with a caption:

“First flight ever—and he’s already dreaming of podiums 🏁✨ #McLarenFuture #PiastriJunior?”

The replies would come fast. Friends gushing. A few mutuals tagging McLaren. A couple of comments about how cute he looked in the gear. You smiled, tucking the phone away and letting your head rest against the seat as well, your heart warm with pride.

Meanwhile, miles ahead and hours earlier, Lando was nestled in the calm before the chaos.

The drivers’ hospitality suite was abuzz with low conversation. It was one of those rare quiet moments before a race weekend—the lull before the storm of flashing cameras, screaming fans, microphones, and paddock chaos. Drivers lounged on couches, some eating, some gaming, others just catching up.

Lando leaned back in his chair, arms folded, nursing a bottle of water as Oscar settled beside him, hair still slightly tousled from the heat outside.

“You win in Australia and you’re gonna party?” Carlos asked, amused.

Lando smirked. “Hell yeah. Wouldn’t you?”

Charles chuckled. “I guess it’s deserved.”

“Party responsibly,” Lewis added with a half-smile, giving a small nod toward Max who was currently laughing with Yuki across the room.

Max’s voice drifted over: “At least I don’t party in public every other weekend.”

Lando laughed along with the others, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

The banter continued—Lewis talked about Roscoe’s latest spa visit, Max mentioned Kelly and the girls, Carlos shared plans of flying back home to unwind. Everyone had someone. Someone who waited at home. Someone who traveled with them. Someone they could call when the helmets came off.

Lando had always told himself he didn’t need that—not yet. He was 25, living the dream. He had the cars, the spotlight, the money, the fans. But lately, the silence after the adrenaline wore off… it felt a little heavier.

Sure, he had his parents. He loved them deeply, was grateful for their unwavering support. But still, it wasn’t the same. His Instagram tags were flooded with girls fans assumed he was dating, models or influencers caught near him at clubs, the media labeling him “F1’s golden bachelor.”

And yet here he was, scrolling through his phone, staring blankly at filtered stories and half-hearted DMs, wondering what it would feel like to have someone to call after a long day—not just someone to party with, but someone to talk to.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Finally, the sweet relief of the hotel room washed over you like a warm wave. The plush bedding, the crisp air conditioning, and the gentle hum of the city beyond the windows made it feel like a well-earned moment of peace. The journey had been long, and while you were used to doing things alone, the toll of traveling with a toddler wasn't light—especially one who vibrated with joy the entire way here.

But the moment your shoes hit the carpet and the door clicked shut behind you, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

Sebastian was already off exploring the room, the smallest adventurer you’d ever met. His tiny feet padded softly over the hotel floor as he opened closet doors and peeked under the table like he was on a treasure hunt.

You smiled, watching him tumble through the pile of travel bags you’d placed near the bed. With delight, he unearthed the small toys you had carefully packed—ones he insisted on bringing because, “I want to show Lando my cars, Mommy!”

The bed looked like heaven, and you longed to collapse into it. Tomorrow would be the first of the three-day Paddock adventure. You'd need to be up early, need time to get Sebastian dressed, fed, and possibly wrangled into his mini McLaren gear without incident. You were sure you’d be chasing him around with a juice box in one hand and sunscreen in the other.

Still, it was worth it. Every bit of effort, every dollar spent, every long hour on your feet… all of it was worth the look on your son’s face. The world hadn’t always been kind to you—but Sebastian was your reason to fight harder, smile bigger, and hope again.

You watched him laugh at nothing in particular, giggling as his cars zipped across the polished hotel floor.

How could anyone not want to be part of this?

That thought crept in again, quietly but painfully. You never said it out loud, but sometimes—when you tucked him in at night or watched him dance around to a cartoon theme song—you wondered how anyone could look at this child and choose not to stay.

But that aching thought was abruptly interrupted by the buzz of your phone vibrating on the nightstand.

You frowned when you saw the name on the screen. That name. That past. That man.

The one who chose absence over fatherhood.

You stepped away toward the corner of the room, throwing a quick glance over your shoulder to ensure Sebastian was still happily distracted with his toys. He was. You answered.

“Hello?” you said quietly.

There was a pause—then that voice. Tired, lazy, like it hadn’t changed a bit. “Y/n… hey. It’s been a while.”

A scoff built in your throat. You clenched your jaw, already done with the conversation before it truly began.

“‘A while’?” you repeated, voice low and sharp. “It’s been more than a while. It’s been two missed birthdays. It’s been holidays with no call. It’s been me raising a child while you send the occasional drunk text at 2 a.m. about how we should get back together. Which, by the way, is sick. Because let’s be honest—you hated me. And I hated you.”

Your voice trembled—part anger, part exhaustion—but you kept it contained, steady. Because you couldn’t let Sebastian hear this. You wouldn't let his joy be tainted by a man who only called when he remembered he used to be a father.

There was silence on the other end of the line. No apology. No excuse. Just silence. The kind that confirmed what you already knew.

You ended the call without another word, letting your finger hover over the red button for only a second before pressing it.

Then you turned back toward the bed, your chest tight but your expression softening the moment you looked at Sebastian—who was now sitting cross-legged on the floor, making car noises and whispering to himself about which driver he was going to talk to first.

And just like that, the ache in your chest shifted. Not gone—but lighter. Because you had him. And he had you.

You walked over and knelt beside him, pulling him close into a warm hug, letting him nuzzle against your shoulder. “I love you, baby,” you whispered.

He looked up at you with that same big smile and messy curls, his arms wrapping around your neck.

“I wuv you too, Mommy.”

And in that moment, nothing else mattered.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The next morning felt like a whirlwind dressed as routine chaos — the kind that makes you question every decision leading up to it. It started far too early, in a hotel room that still smelled faintly like fresh linen and room service. The alarm blasted through the soft silence like a siren call from hell. You startled awake, jolting upright with a groggy huff and instinctively smacking the snooze button with more aggression than necessary. Sebastian, curled up under the covers beside you, let out a long, loud whine — the kind of exaggerated noise toddlers save for their biggest complaints — before burying his messy-haired head under the blanket.

You mumbled a curse under your breath — something just strong enough to release the frustration but quiet enough that your three-year-old wouldn't catch on. Or so you thought.

The first words he mumbled were, “Mommy… that noise hurt my ears.”

“I know, baby,” you said softly, brushing hair from his eyes. “Mine too.”

Breakfast came next, which turned into a full-on negotiation. You’d offered a simple, reasonable suggestion — cereal and sliced strawberries — something quick and clean, something you could manage while half-awake and still brushing your teeth. But Sebastian had other plans, declared with all the authority of a Michelin-star critic: “Waffles. Hotel ones. And fruit. And muffins. And orange juice. The big cup.”

You blinked. “All that?”

He nodded solemnly, lips pursed like this was a very serious matter.

You gave in, of course. You always did when he got that specific sparkle in his eyes — wide, hopeful, and full of such raw excitement that saying “no” felt like a crime. Soon, he had a plate overflowing with buttery waffles drizzled in syrup, a rainbow of cut fruit, two muffins (one chocolate chip, one blueberry), and a comically large glass of orange juice that he insisted on holding himself with both tiny hands. He looked far too proud of his breakfast, swinging his legs from the chair and beaming up at you between bites.

You had no idea how such a small person could eat like that. You didn’t even question it anymore.

Then came bath time — your battlefield. You’d hoped maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be too hard today. But the second the tub started filling, he was bouncing with energy, throwing plastic toy cars into the water like a pre-race ritual.

Getting him in wasn’t hard. Getting him to stay still? Impossible.

Water splashed everywhere — the floor, the walls, your shirt. When it came time to wash his hair, the protest began. His face twisted into a dramatic pout the second your fingers touched the shampoo bottle.

“Nooo, it goes in my eyes!”

You kept your tone soft, soothing. “I’ll be careful, sweetheart. Eyes closed like a superhero, okay?”

He whined. Then sniffled. Then let you do it — reluctantly, with some side-eye — as you hummed the theme song to Paw Patrol just to distract him.

After what felt like a small war, he was finally clean, dressed, and smelling faintly of baby lotion and sunblock. You helped him into his outfit for the day — his prized papaya-colored McLaren hoodie, proudly zipped up to his chin, paired with a matching McLaren cap that looked just a little too big and kept sliding down his forehead. His joggers were black, and his tiny white sneakers were spotless… for now.

He looked like a mini superfan ready to storm the paddock with purpose.

You turned to yourself next, slipping into the dress you’d carefully chosen — a soft milkmaid-style dress that flowed like poetry around your calves. The fabric was weightless and cool against your skin, white with delicate blue florals scattered like petals caught in a spring breeze. The bodice was gently structured, the sweetheart neckline adding a touch of softness and femininity that made you feel — for the first time in a while — pretty. Really pretty.

The wide-brimmed straw hat you packed sat perfectly atop your head, giving you just enough shade to guard against the harsh Australian sun you knew would be relentless later. It felt right — the dress, the hat, the moment.

Sebastian slung on his small backpack with the same dramatic flair he used for everything. You grabbed the paddock passes — laminated, bright, and full of promise — and with one last deep breath, you stepped out of the hotel room and into the day.

The paddock was a different world entirely.

The moment you arrived, it swallowed you whole — the sounds, the motion, the life. Fans pressed against barriers, shouting names, waving signs, laughing and crying and reaching. The scent of rubber and heat hung in the air, the low growl of distant engines thundering beneath it all like a heartbeat.

Sebastian’s hand stayed firmly in yours, but his eyes were everywhere. Wide, lit with a pure joy that was impossible to replicate or fake. He looked around like he’d walked into the gates of a dream — and in a way, he had.

Meanwhile, not too far from the chaos, Lando Norris stood in the middle of it all — a sea of movement around him. He was used to this part: the cameras, the fans, the autographs, the media questions that danced on the edge of personal and professional. He gave polite smiles, half-jokes, the occasional wink that sent fans squealing. He did his part, and he did it well.

But then, something — someone — caught his eye.

A woman in a blue and white dress moving slowly through the crowd, careful and calm, with a little boy in McLaren gear walking beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Lando’s heart stuttered.

Not because he knew you. He didn’t — not yet.

But in the way her dress moved with the breeze, in the way the little boy held her hand with absolute trust, in the way she looked down at her son with the kind of love that softened even the harshest corners of a place like this… something in Lando shifted.

He didn’t know why, but for the first time all morning, he wasn’t thinking about the race.

He was thinking about them.

Sebastian gasped—audibly and dramatically—the way only a toddler could. His small hands flew up with excitement as he pointed toward a nearby setup, where bright banners and colorful displays celebrated each team with proud fanfare. The McLaren signage, bold and unmistakable, had clearly captured his entire being.

You let out a soft chuckle, reaching down to gently rest a hand on his shoulder. “We’re gonna get ourselves a tour of the garages, okay?” you explained, crouching slightly to meet his excitement with calm. “We just have to wait for the tour guide.”

Sebastian nodded, eyes still gleaming as he rocked on his heels, the cap on his head slightly tilted from his animated movements. He didn’t say anything else, but his joy was bubbling over — it was in his posture, his wiggling fingers, and the bright way he scanned the paddock like it was an amusement park made just for him.

The buzz of chatter around you was constant — conversations blending into each other, fan voices raised in awe, the faint beat of music pulsing somewhere in the background. It was overwhelming, in that kind of magical way only big, exciting places could be.

And then… he appeared.

Lando Norris, threading his way through the crowd with casual familiarity, a soft “Excuse me,” here, a small nod there, eyes scanning ahead until they landed directly on the small boy in papaya orange. In mere moments, he was in front of Sebastian, lowering himself into a crouch, eyes kind and lit with recognition.

“Hey, little guy,” he greeted warmly, his voice soft in contrast to the buzz of the paddock. “Supporting McLaren today? You’re gonna be our mini driver, yeah?”

Sebastian went completely still.

Not just quiet — frozen. His jaw dropped slightly, arms limp at his sides, as if he had just spotted a dragon, a real one, casually crouched right in front of him. He blinked rapidly, eyes wide and unblinking, unsure whether to cry, run, or explode with happiness. He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you — quiet, surprised, utterly endeared. Lando had that effect on fans, sure, but seeing it happen to your own child? Surreal. You fumbled into your small white purse, pulling out your phone and readying it as you approached gently.

“Sebastian?” you asked softly. “Are you gonna pose so I can take a photo of you two?”

Nothing.

He still stood there, stunned and starstruck.

Then — without warning — he let out a high-pitched scream of joy, the kind of shriek that made nearby heads turn, and yours nearly snap off your shoulders. You winced. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry—!”

But Lando was already laughing, waving a hand with ease. “It’s okay,” he reassured, glancing up at you with a grin that softened you instantly. “He’s okay. Totally okay.”

His gaze lingered for just a second longer than expected — drawn to your face, your soft expression as you watched your son. Then to the way your dress moved ever so slightly with the breeze, the light catching the delicate floral pattern like a watercolor in motion. Your perfume drifted toward him, subtle and clean with something sweet woven in. It hit him harder than expected, that scent — or maybe it was everything about you, compacted into that single moment of wind and sunlight and childlike joy.

Sebastian flung his arms around Lando in a burst of affection, burying his face against the front of his McLaren zip-up. You watched with your heart in your throat as Lando returned the hug, wrapping his arms around Sebastian without hesitation, effortlessly soft in a way that came so naturally it stunned you.

“Okay!” you said through a smile, stepping back with your phone. “Let me get a cute photo of you two.”

Sebastian and Lando posed — or rather, Lando posed with Sebastian, crouching back down with one knee on the ground, chin resting gently on Sebastian’s small shoulder. Their cheeks touched, curly heads leaning into one another. Lando held up a single finger in a #1 pose, smiling like he meant it. It was perfect.

You snapped a few photos, and as you did, you couldn’t help but notice it — their hair. The curls. The way they framed both of their faces almost identically. You smiled to yourself. It wasn’t exactly a coincidence. After all, when Lando had kept his signature curly mullet look last season, Sebastian had seen a photo online and announced with unwavering confidence: “I want that hair.” He had pointed at Lando like it was gospel. And you? You’d booked the salon the next day.

As the hug ended, you stepped forward, slipping your phone back into your purse. “Thank you so much for taking a photo with him,” you said warmly, genuinely.

Lando stood, brushing the knees of his pants. “It’s no issue at all,” he replied, glancing down at Sebastian once more with fondness. “I think I’ve just met my teammate of the future.”

Sebastian beamed, still too shy to speak.

“You gonna drive for us one day?” Lando added, teasing, nudging the boy gently. “I’ll keep a seat warm for you.”

Your heart tugged at the sight — your son, so young and yet so full of love for a world like this. And Lando, surprisingly sweet and attentive, entirely present in a way that told you he wasn’t just putting on a show for the cameras or fans.

You smiled to yourself, glancing at the paddock around you, then back at them — Sebastian, the driver he idolized, and this unfolding moment you hadn’t expected.

"Come on, we have to let him go now," you said gently, wrapping your fingers around Sebastian’s small hand, trying to coax him away. The toddler let out a soft pout, his eyes still wide with admiration as he looked up at Lando like he was the sun itself. But even with his protest brewing, he gave in with a tiny sigh, slipping his hand into yours.

Lando chuckled, the kind that warmed the air around him. “He’s fine—he’s a cutie,” he replied, his voice light, fond even, as he glanced down at the boy once more.

It wasn’t unusual for him to be sweet with fans, especially kids. He’d always had a soft spot for the younger supporters—their joy was so pure, so unfiltered. But something about Sebastian tugged at a different thread inside him. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t just Sebastian who had caught his attention.

His gaze lingered, just for a second longer than it should’ve. Not on the excited toddler now hugging his leg again, but on you.

The subtle curve of your smile as you looked at your son. The soft sweep of hair tucked behind your ear. That floral milkmaid dress—light, ethereal—danced a little in the breeze, brushing gently against your calves, the blue and white print making your skin glow beneath the sunlight. He caught the scent of your perfume again, something sweet but grounded, and it almost made him forget the paddock noise surrounding him.

But then reality nudged him.

He was Lando Norris. And with that name came the constant click of cameras, the headlines that twisted simple kindness into something scandalous, and the ongoing ache of knowing that privacy was a luxury he didn’t own. He couldn’t afford to let curiosity become anything more.

Still, he offered a smile. Genuine. “Thank you for letting us get a photo,” you said, your voice soft with gratitude, and maybe even a hint of admiration tucked behind it.

“It’s no issue at all,” he answered, his voice equally soft now, more personal somehow.

Just then, Sebastian broke free of your hold once more, bouncing with renewed energy. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Lando’s leg in one last goodbye hug. Your lips parted in mild surprise, but you couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped.

You already knew what was coming.

“He’s going to ask for Oscar now,” you said knowingly, an amused look on your face as you tucked your phone back into your purse.

Lando laughed, bending slightly so he could meet Sebastian’s gaze again. “Oscar, huh? Can’t blame him. We’ll have to make sure he gets that photo too.”

Your heart swelled at the kindness in his tone. And even if the moment had to end, it left an impression—gentle, fleeting, and maybe more meaningful than either of you could admit.

“We can find Oscar—he’s somewhere around here,” Lando said, crouching slightly to meet Sebastian’s eye again. His voice had that calm, charming tone kids seemed to respond to instinctively, and sure enough, Sebastian’s tiny hand found his with total trust.

You smiled, your heart quietly aching in the best way as you watched the two of them. There was something surreal about it—your son hand-in-hand with a driver he’d looked up to for months, someone whose posters decorated his bedroom walls, whose name he babbled about nonstop. And yet here they were, side by side, like they’d known each other longer than a few minutes.

You followed behind, just a few paces, letting the moment play out in front of you like a movie. The scene looked too perfect: Sebastian looking up, talking animatedly about his toy car collection, while Lando nodded and listened as if each word was of utmost importance.

But even as warmth filled your chest, something inside you whispered not to get carried away. This was Lando Norris. He was always kind to fans, especially to kids. This wasn’t special. It couldn’t be. It was just part of his image, part of the charm that made millions adore him.

And yet… he didn’t let go of Sebastian’s hand.

As the three of you walked deeper into the paddock, the vibrant atmosphere buzzed louder. You could hear the faint hum of tires being rolled out, radios crackling with chatter, distant bursts of laughter from fans lining the barricades. The scent of asphalt, heat, and oil mixed with the soft floral trace of your perfume, which the breeze occasionally carried toward Lando—who didn’t seem to mind at all.

When you finally reached the McLaren garage, it was like walking into the heart of something electric. Engineers paced with purpose, monitors lit up with telemetry, car parts glinted under sharp fluorescent lights. And standing a few feet inside, Oscar Piastri turned just as Sebastian caught sight of him.

There was a beat—a tiny, loaded moment—and then Sebastian let out the kind of squeal only a three-year-old could make, bursting from Lando’s side and sprinting to Oscar like he was reuniting with a long-lost friend.

Oscar laughed, catching him in a half-squat hug, lifting him off the ground a few inches. “Woah! Look who’s here!” he said, clearly charmed.

You stopped just at the threshold of the garage, your feet hesitating for the first time. Cameras lingered near the entrance—journalists, team photographers, random flashes—and for a second, insecurity tried to creep in. You didn’t belong here. This was their world. You were just visiting.

You adjusted your grip on your purse, suddenly more aware of your dress, your posture, your hair. But then Lando turned. He wasn’t looking at the cameras. He wasn’t scanning the room. His gaze found you—just you.

And in that second, something in his expression softened.

“This is the garage—McLaren, for all you little fans,” he teased, gesturing toward the bright orange and blue world surrounding you both.

You tilted your head, crossing your arms playfully. “Little fans? Excuse you—I’m not little.”

He laughed, quick and genuine. “Apologies—to you and your little McLaren fan.” His eyes dropped for a brief second, catching your smile.

You hummed, pretending to think. “Better.”

It was an innocent exchange, lighthearted and quick—but it buzzed in the air between you both like a hidden signal, an unspoken something neither of you could fully name. Not yet.

Then came the gentle tug at your heart again—Sebastian. He was still chatting to Oscar, waving his tiny arms, recounting something that involved race cars and dragons, by the sound of it. Your fingers itched for your phone again. These were the moments he’d remember forever. So would you.

And then, just as you reached to adjust the strap of your bag, Sebastian did something that caught you off guard: he ran back, arms wide, and wrapped himself tightly around Lando’s leg. Like he’d done it a hundred times before. Like it was safe.

You felt something twist inside your chest—something warm and unexpected.

Lando looked down, blinking in surprise, then softened, his hand gently resting on Sebastian’s back. “He’s got a strong grip,” he joked, chuckling.

“He gets attached easily,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Sorry if he’s clingy.”

Lando shook his head. “He’s not. He’s just… cool.” His voice dropped slightly, sincere and quiet. “You’ve got a good kid.”

You smiled—small, but real. “I know.”

Conversation between you and Lando had started off light, naturally flowing like you’d known him longer than a morning. You stood beside him in the garage while Sebastian trailed Oscar, clinging to every word and gesture the older driver made as he proudly led him on his own version of a pit lane tour. From where you stood, you could still hear Sebastian’s tiny giggles echoing through the hum of machinery and distant radio chatter.

Lando leaned against one of the workstations, arms folded, a casual smirk on his lips as you shared a story about how Sebastian once raced his Hot Wheels down the hallway so fast he crashed into the front door and blamed "aerodynamics."

Your laughter blended with his, light and genuine, for a moment making you forget where you were and who you were talking to. For once, it didn’t feel like you were speaking to a world-famous athlete. It felt... easy.

But then, just as you caught your breath mid-laugh, a voice chimed in—clear, curious, and edged with mischief.

“Who are you?”

Your head turned, and your smile faltered just slightly as Carlos Sainz approached. He was dressed in his Williams team gear, looking effortlessly put-together, a water bottle dangling from one hand and a subtle smirk playing on his lips.

You stood a little straighter. “I’m just a fan,” you said lightly, offering a small smile. “With a very enthusiastic mini fan.”

You gestured toward Sebastian, who was now seated on a tire stack as Oscar showed him the wheel gun. He was clearly in heaven.

Carlos raised a brow at your answer, his gaze flicking toward Lando, who remained unusually silent beside you. You caught the way Lando gave the subtlest shake of his head in Carlos's direction—a quiet warning, or perhaps a signal that this wasn’t what it looked like.

Carlos’s lips twitched with amusement. “I see…”

He turned his eyes back to you, sharp yet unreadable. “Any chance that little one over there’s gonna like me too?”

You tilted your head thoughtfully, hiding a smirk. “Maybe. He’s got quite the open taste. He’s been known to cheer for at least five teams depending on how cool their cars look.”

Carlos grinned. “Smart kid.”

Without waiting for a reply, he gave you both a mock salute and walked off, passing between you and Lando with the same confident stride he probably used walking to the grid.

You rolled your eyes playfully as you turned back to Lando, who looked amused but a little irritated too. “Next thing you know,” you joked, “they’ll be fighting over who gets his love.”

That broke Lando’s brief tension. He laughed, a soft, low chuckle that felt more personal than anything you’d heard from him before.

“He better stay loyal to McLaren,” Lando joked, glancing toward Sebastian again, his voice tinted with a sort of pride that didn’t quite make sense—unless it wasn’t just about the team anymore.

You smiled, feeling a subtle shift in the air. The kind that left you a little warmer, a little more aware. Of him. Of the way his gaze lingered when he looked at you. Of how close he was standing now, a casual closeness that felt just slightly charged.

Still, you reminded yourself to stay grounded.

Because at the end of the day, this was still the paddock.

This was still Lando Norris.

And this was probably still just part of the charm.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Practice ran smoother than expected, the sound of engines roaring past and tires screeching against the asphalt forming the soundtrack of the afternoon. From the elevated view inside the pit building, where guests and team members could observe from above, you stood with Sebastian tucked securely in your arms. The vantage point gave you a perfect view over the track, the bustling pit lane, and the vibrant, living pulse of the paddock beneath.

The air buzzed with excitement, even as the sun began to dip slightly in the sky. A warm Australian breeze slipped through the open balcony space, tousling your hair and carrying the lingering scent of gasoline, rubber, and fresh grass. Your heart was full—soaking in the atmosphere, the hum of conversation around you, the thrill from the crowd cheering just meters away, and most of all, the joy radiating from your little boy.

Sebastian was a firecracker in your arms—restless, wide-eyed, and utterly consumed by the action. “Go, Lando!” he shouted, his tiny fist pumped in the air. “Oscar! Look, mama, Oscar’s goin’ fast!”

You laughed gently, holding him a little tighter. “I see him, baby,” you said, amused by his commentary. “They’re both doing so good today, huh?”

He was completely immersed, like a sponge absorbing every detail. His enthusiasm didn’t waver, not even as the session neared its end. He clapped wildly when the McLaren cars zoomed past, shouted out names like they were old friends—“George! Kimi! Max! Charles!”—and even pointed with giddy excitement when Lewis appeared on the screen.

“Yuki! Look, mama, Yuki funny!” he giggled, slapping his hand against your arm.

You couldn’t help but smile. Seeing the world through his eyes—full of color and awe—made the chaos of travel, the fatigue from the long day, and even the stress you carried feel a little bit lighter.

But as the final laps came to a close and the cars began trickling back into their garages, the adrenaline began to fade. You felt it first in the way Sebastian slumped slightly against you, his arms slowly wrapping around your neck, his cheek brushing your shoulder. The spark of excitement still lingered in his little heart, but the rest of him—well, it was giving in.

He fought sleep like a warrior.

His lashes fluttered, his eyes red and heavy, but still he insisted, “No nap, mama.”

“I know, I know,” you said softly, brushing your hand over his curls. “Just a break, right? Just rest your eyes for a minute.”

But he wasn’t done yet. With a sudden jolt of energy, he shifted in your arms and pointed toward the paddock area just below. “Kimi, mama! Me see Kimi!”

His voice cracked from all the yelling he’d done, but the determination in his tone was still strong. He wiggled, trying to slide down from your hold.

“Kimi’s probably doing interviews right now,” you murmured, trying not to laugh at his stubbornness. “We’ll find him later, okay? Maybe he’ll even say hi if we’re lucky.”

He squinted into the distance as if willing the Mercedes driver to materialize on command. “Him wave me. Kimi wave me!” he insisted, rubbing his eyes and stamping his little foot down as if that would summon Kimi by pure toddler force alone.

You took a breath, your heart full to bursting. This was everything to him—the drivers weren’t just names or faces. They were superheroes. They were friends. And in his world, seeing one more of them—just one—before the day ended felt like the most important mission ever.

You leaned down and kissed his temple. “I believe you,” you whispered. “And I promise, we’ll try to find him. But you need to be strong for me, okay? Can you be strong, just for a little while longer?”

He nodded with all the gravity a three-year-old could muster, despite the way his thumb crept into his mouth and he tucked his head under your chin.

You shifted your weight, gently rocking him side to side, taking in the fading light on the horizon. The practice was done. The paddock buzz was quieter now, people trickling away, laughter floating from somewhere below, mechanics wheeling tires and boxes past in a practiced rhythm. The day had been long, but good. There was a softness in the air that hadn’t been there this morning. A calm.

And as you stood there, swaying slowly with your child in your arms, you couldn’t help but feel like you were exactly where you were supposed to be. Right here, in this in-between moment, holding the person you loved most in a place he already adored.

Sebastian let out a soft sigh, curling closer into your chest. His voice, thick with exhaustion but still clinging to hope, came again in a sleepy murmur.

“Mama... Kimi come back?”

You kissed his cheek, tucking the blanket from your bag around his shoulders.

“We’ll see, baby. I promise. You rest now. I’ll keep watch.”

And with that, his tiny body finally relaxed, sleep pulling him into a peaceful slumber, the sounds of the paddock slowly fading into the background.

You didn’t want to wait much longer — the day had worn you down, and Sebastian had finally dozed off in your arms, his head resting against your shoulder, lips parted in soft snores. But despite your fatigue, a small flame of hope flickered inside you. Maybe, just maybe, if you held on a little longer, Kimi would appear. You knew how much it meant to Sebastian.

The paddock had finally begun to settle. The blinding flashes of cameras, the swarming fans, the echoing voices of reporters — all of it had died down to a hum. And somewhere in that calm, Lando spotted you again. For once, he wasn’t surrounded by media demands or tugged in different directions by obligations. It was just him now. And his eyes softened the moment they landed on you.

He approached with that familiar casual stride, a chuckle slipping from his lips as he glanced at the boy cradled in your arms. “He’s out,” he said gently, almost amused, as if the excitement had finally caught up to the little one.

You smiled in return, the kind of tired but warm smile only a parent could offer. With care, you took off Sebastian’s slightly tilted McLaren cap, brushing his curls away from his damp forehead. “He’s been holding out just to see Kimi,” you murmured, almost apologetically.

Lando nodded with sincerity. “I’ll make sure Kimi stops by. He won’t miss this,” he promised. There was something earnest in his voice — not performative, not the usual ‘fan-service’ charm — but genuine, like he wanted to make it happen for Sebastian. For you.

You shrugged a bit, not wanting to impose. “If not, it’s okay. We’ll be back tomorrow. Got ourselves the full three-day access.” You hadn’t meant for it to be anything special when you said it, but it lit something quietly inside Lando. You were coming back — that meant more chances to see you. Maybe talk. Maybe… something more.

“In the span of just a few hours,” you added with a faint chuckle, “he managed to get photos with Charles, Lewis, Carlos, Alex — even Liam and Isack. Now all that’s left on his dream list is Kimi, George, Yuki, and Max.”

Lando smiled at that. “He’s ambitious. I like it. And he’ll get them — I’ll make sure of it,” he said firmly. He wasn’t just saying it to be nice — he meant it. Maybe it was the way Sebastian lit up around them, or maybe it was how you looked at your son like he was your whole world. Either way, Lando found himself caring a little too much.

A lull in the conversation opened a new window — a chance to ask more. To know more. And he took it.

“So… earlier you were saying a bit about the little guy and yourself. Dad didn’t come along?” Lando’s voice softened, carefully treading that line between curiosity and respect.

You looked down at Sebastian’s sleeping face, brushing a hand gently along his back. “We’re not exactly on speaking terms,” you said, voice low. “We’re not together. Haven’t been in a while.” Your tone wasn’t bitter, just honest.

And then the words spilled — maybe because Lando was easy to talk to, or maybe because you were just so tired of keeping it all inside. You told him how your ex had missed both of Sebastian’s birthdays. How the only contact came in the form of late-night, drunken texts that always circled back to the same twisted narrative: “Let’s try again,” followed by declarations you’d long stopped believing in.

You didn’t notice, but Lando’s expression shifted — a quiet intensity in his gaze. It wasn’t pity, but something deeper. He hated it for you. Hated that someone had been foolish enough to walk away from a life with you and Sebastian. And worse, that someone had left you to handle it all on your own.

But then, that guilt crept up his spine — uninvited and sharp. He was Lando Norris. He didn’t do strings. His world was fast and fleeting. Privacy was a myth. Relationships were speculation fodder. And the idea of being involved with someone — someone who came as a package deal — was overwhelming. Terrifying, even.

Still… he couldn’t ignore how naturally it all felt just then. You, him, and Sebastian.

For a second, he wondered what it might be like if things were different.

And that scared him.

So, instead of speaking his thoughts, he simply nodded, offering the kind of half-smile that didn’t reach all the way to his eyes. “He’s lucky to have you,” he said quietly.

And even though he didn’t say more, even though he buried whatever stirring he felt, the way he looked at you lingered longer than it should’ve.

Just as you were preparing to gently excuse yourself from Lando and finally head out with Sebastian asleep in your arms, a small wave of movement caught your attention. You looked up — and sighed in sheer relief.

Kimi had appeared at last.

He strolled in with a calm, almost unreadable expression, still in his race suit, hair slightly tousled from removing his helmet, and a bottle of water in hand. He hadn’t even fully stepped into the area before his eyes landed on you and Lando. He tilted his head slightly, brows pulling together in mild confusion as if trying to place the scene — a woman holding a sleeping child, standing with Lando Norris.

“I am so sorry to bother you,” you began gently, stepping forward just enough without jostling Sebastian. You didn’t want to startle him awake. “But you’re here and— I know I don’t have anything Mercedes for you to sign, but… signing his backpack would mean a lot.”

You offered a small, hopeful smile, holding out a black marker and the tiny, well-loved backpack that was slung over your shoulder. Its fabric was soft from use, and one of the zipper pulls had a keychain shaped like a Formula 1 car.

Lando gave a small, encouraging nod, his expression warm. “They’ll be back tomorrow,” he added, his voice casual but his tone protective. “Kid’s been waiting just to see you.”

At that, Kimi's face softened. Something about the sincerity in your voice, and perhaps the tone Lando had taken on — almost like it was his job to make sure this moment happened — made Kimi nod without hesitation.

He reached forward and gently took the backpack from you, uncapping the marker in one hand and holding the fabric taut in the other. “How old is he?” Kimi asked, his voice quiet but curious, eyes glancing at Sebastian’s sleeping face.

Before you could even open your mouth to respond, Lando beat you to it — his voice calm and full of a surprising kind of certainty.

“He’s three. His name is Sebastian.”

Your gaze flicked to Lando, eyes softening as a small lump formed in your throat. The way he said it — like he’d memorized it — made your chest feel tight. You hadn’t expected him to remember. Not when he’d been bombarded by faces and questions all day, caught in flashes of cameras and interviews. You assumed you and Sebastian would be forgotten as quickly as you appeared — just another moment in a long blur of fan interactions.

But he hadn’t forgotten.

He remembered your son’s name. His age. The way he fought sleep just to see Kimi. And it wasn’t just that he remembered — it was the way he cared. Lando said it like it mattered.

Kimi hummed thoughtfully as he signed his name across the backpack in neat, bold letters. Then, handing it back, he gave a small nod toward you. “He’s got good taste in drivers.”

You chuckled quietly, adjusting Sebastian in your arms. “He thinks all of you are superheroes,” you replied, voice hushed with affection. “Each time he sees a car or hears a name, it’s like the whole world lights up for him.”

Kimi offered a rare, faint smile before giving a polite nod and stepping away, blending back into the quiet shuffle of drivers finishing up their day. You watched him go, grateful — but it was the man standing beside you that still held your attention.

You turned your gaze to Lando. His hands were tucked into the pockets of his race suit, curls still a little damp with sweat from earlier, eyes on you like he hadn’t stopped watching you since Kimi arrived. There was something calm in his face now. Thoughtful. Open.

You exhaled slowly, shifting Sebastian’s weight against your shoulder. “Thank you,” you said softly.

Lando tilted his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “For what?”

“For remembering,” you answered simply.

And for a moment, nothing else needed to be said.

There you stood — you, a tired mother clutching her dreaming son, and Lando Norris, not the F1 star, but the guy who remembered a little boy’s name and helped him chase down a dream. And as the last rays of sunlight poured in from behind the pit building, painting the garage windows in a honey-gold glow, you felt something warm settle in your chest.

Bidding Lando a bye, you carried Sebastian, his now signed backpack, and his McLaren hat to the car, with Lando on your mind and a busy day ahead tomorrow.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Day Two arrived with a quiet stillness, the kind that promised potential before the world fully woke up. You stirred before the soft alarm had a chance to sound, quickly silencing it so Sebastian could remain curled up, blissfully asleep in the warmth of the hotel bed. He was tangled in the covers, one arm flopped dramatically over the stuffed car he’d won yesterday, the other hand loosely holding a toy McLaren.

You stole a moment to just watch him—his chest rising in slow, peaceful breaths—and then slipped away for a shower. The water felt grounding, warm against your skin, helping you wash away the exhaustion of travel and the high emotions of yesterday. You reminded yourself that today was supposed to be simple: enjoy the second day, support Sebastian’s little dream, and keep things… uncomplicated.

But then, there was Lando.

You knew better than to entertain anything. Yet his laugh, the way he’d remembered Sebastian’s name, the ease in his voice when talking to you… it all lingered heavier than you expected.

Once dressed, you stood before the mirror. You’d chosen the outfit intentionally—something that felt bold, fun, and just the right amount of spirited McLaren energy. A vivid orange halter top hugged your figure with flattering ruching, tied delicately at the back of your neck in a neat bow. It matched Sebastian’s bright Oscar Piastri race suit with near-perfect coordination. Paired with light wash high-waisted jeans that sculpted your shape and ended in a relaxed straight leg, the look balanced sleek and casual effortlessly.

You slid on a pair of orange braided heels, the square toe giving it a modern edge, and completed the outfit with stacked bangles in shades of ivory and burnt orange. A McLaren cap sat nestled on the hotel dresser—Sebastian’s idea for you to wear it today. “So we match!” he’d squealed yesterday. And of course, you’d promised you would.

You turned to gently wake Sebastian, who stirred the moment you whispered his name. His tiny brows furrowed sleepily at first, but when you pulled out the miniature Oscar suit, he shot upright like a rocket. “Today is Ows-cah day!” he cheered, bouncing on the bed in his onesie.

You got him dressed with a bit of effort and a lot of giggles, and once his race suit was zipped, name stitched proudly over his chest in orange thread, he did a full spin in front of the mirror. “We look like twins!” he declared.

Meanwhile, Lando was stirring in a completely different world.

He sat upright in the plush, oversized bed of his penthouse suite, the muted morning light trickling in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. His room felt too pristine, too still. He rubbed a hand over his face, his curls messy, and let out a low breath. The first thing he did was grab his phone, swiping through headlines and Instagram notifications. Race prep, news alerts, tagged posts, and—

Rumors.

He knew they were coming. Media always got wind of the smallest things: a photo, a glance, a conversation held just a second too long. And yesterday had definitely given them fuel. A few posts had already surfaced—pictures of him crouched next to Sebastian, you laughing beside him, a blurred shot that captured the spark in your eye mid-conversation.

Oscar caught him just as he made his way into the hotel lobby. “Did you check the media?”

“Yeah,” Lando said flatly, already bracing.

Oscar raised a brow. “They’re spinning stuff already. You and that girl—”

“Her name is Y/n,” Lando snapped back, more sharply than he intended. “And I know. I’m just not dealing with it right now.”

Oscar held his hands up, not pushing it further. But the look in his eye said it all. There was something different in the way Lando spoke about you. He wasn’t denying it. He wasn’t even hiding it well.

And Lando knew it too.

Because while his eyes scrolled past the usual stream of bikini models and car edits, it wasn’t them he was thinking about this morning. It was the way you’d tucked Sebastian’s curls under his cap. The way your smile flickered with hesitation at first, but then warmed once Lando said your son’s name.

He wasn’t supposed to care.

But he was starting to.

And that… scared the hell out of him.

The paddock was alive, electrified with the kind of energy only sprint day could summon. The air buzzed with adrenaline, fan chants echoing between the walls of garages, reporters weaving through mechanics and engineers, and flags fluttering like excited hearts. Today was qualifying, high-stakes, no time to breathe—yet somehow, you found a pocket of peace.

Oscar stood beside you, grinning as Sebastian—dressed in his perfectly tailored mini Oscar Piastri race suit, complete with his name stitched proudly in orange thread—hugged his leg. You held up your phone to capture the moment, crouching just enough to get the perfect shot: the contrast of the little boy’s bright orange suit against the sharp navy of Oscar’s own, and the pure smile they shared.

A few fans and even paddock staff paused to admire the adorable sight, some snapping their own pictures, others simply smiling and whispering to one another. Sebastian basked in the attention like it was his own victory lap. The moment felt so light—so warm.

And the day only got better.

With the help of Lando, Oscar, and even a few kind PR team members, Sebastian managed to meet the last of his dream list—Yuki gave him a high five and posed with an exaggerated grin; Max knelt for a photo and ruffled his curls; George crouched beside him with a thumbs up; Kimi gave a rare soft smile while crouching to sign Sebastian’s cap, and Charles even pulled him into another hug for one more picture.

You couldn't stop smiling. Everything had fallen into place—Sebastian had met his heroes, and their kindness brought out a glow in him that made every early morning and long walk worth it.

Until it didn’t.

You had barely turned to look toward the walkway when the buzz of conversation around you shifted, energy twisting from joyful to alert. The media had spotted something—or someone—and they were closing in fast. You looked up, confused by the sudden interest. The camera flashes began before the questions did.

“Can I help?” you asked softly, arms instinctively wrapping tighter around Sebastian’s small form as he clung to your hip, sensing the change.

“I’m with Sky Sports,” the man said smoothly, flashing a press pass like a shield. “Just need you to confirm or deny some rumors—”

His gaze dropped from your face to Sebastian. That subtle implication in his eyes made your stomach turn. Was this about Lando? Your fingers curled protectively into Sebastian’s back.

“I’m just a guest. We’re fans, we’re not—” you began, but the man didn’t seem to hear. He stepped forward again, camera crew behind him, mics angled toward your face like accusations.

Before your heart could even pound harder, before you could form words to push back—he was there.

Lando.

He moved with sharpness, unhesitating, stepping between you and the cameras like a shield. His shoulders squared, his jaw clenched tight as his hand subtly moved back, nudging you behind him.

“We’re here to talk about qualifying and the race, not harass the fans,” Lando said, voice low but laced with command, a warning hidden beneath the smile he didn’t wear.

The reporter hesitated, startled. “I—I apologize,” he stammered, backing off slightly as Lando’s gaze stayed fixed.

The air shifted again—awkward tension bleeding out slowly as the media retreated, their interest deflated by the firm dismissal. You didn’t even realize your hand had clenched Lando’s sleeve until he turned slightly, checking on you and Sebastian.

You nodded, still stunned. “Thank you,” you whispered, voice barely carrying over the renewed hum of paddock life.

Lando’s expression softened when his eyes met yours. “Anytime,” he said simply. Then his eyes dropped to Sebastian, who was now blinking up at him from your arms.

“You okay, buddy?” Lando asked, letting a small smile return.

Sebastian gave a tiny nod before curling into your shoulder, thumb in his mouth—exhausted again, the rush of attention too much.

You looked back at Lando, still a little shaken, still trying to process the way he stepped in like that. It wasn’t just fan service.

It felt like care. Like protection. Like something more than it was supposed to be.

And that terrified you—because for the first time since this whole thing started, you weren’t sure you wanted it to be less.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

For the rest of the event, the tension that had rattled your nerves earlier melted away, replaced by an unexpected calm that settled around you like a warm blanket. You and Sebastian stayed nestled in the rhythm of McLaren’s world—cheering, watching, laughing, and sharing quiet moments behind the velvet ropes of paddock life. Despite the constant whirl of noise, camera clicks, and mechanics shouting over engine whines, you felt at peace.

And it wasn’t just you. Sebastian was glowing with energy, his little race suit slightly rumpled now from running about, his curls springing up with every bounce of excitement. He cheered loudly when the McLaren team passed, and when Oscar or Lando appeared on the screens, he clapped as though they were superheroes instead of real men in fireproof suits.

You didn’t realize it until the day had almost ended—but you felt like you belonged there.

You didn’t feel like an outsider anymore, not just some guest with a pass, not just a mother of a young fan. Somehow, between the knowing smiles from engineers, the high-fives from Oscar, and even the nods from other teams, it felt like you were part of something. Like you fit.

Lando felt it too. Though he’d never admit it out loud, the thought had slipped in more than once during the day, threading through his mind between practice runs and interviews. Every time he spotted you in the distance, chatting with a team member or crouching to fix Sebastian’s laces, it hit him harder—this felt right. Too right. Too fast.

Too soon, he told himself. And yet, he kept looking anyway.

After qualifying—an intense battle that left him finishing a proud P2—Lando was spent. His body ached from the push, his skin glistened with sweat under his race suit, but his thoughts weren’t on lap times or team briefings.

They were on you.

He barely waited until he was out of the post-race huddle before nodding to a McLaren staffer. “Can you bring them to the garage?”

Within minutes, you were walking in—Sebastian clinging to your hand, wide-eyed at the inner sanctum of the McLaren team. Lando saw you and immediately crouched, his face lighting up despite his exhaustion.

“Sebastian! Hey buddy!” he called with a grin.

The three-year-old didn’t hesitate, sprinting the short distance into Lando’s open arms, giggling as he was scooped up in a warm, sweaty hug. You followed behind, letting out a soft chuckle as you watched them.

Lando laughed as he pulled back just slightly, eyebrows lifting when he caught sight of the small smudges dotting Sebastian’s cheeks and the suspicious trail of crumbs on his suit.

“What is on your face?” he asked with mock horror, trying to bite back another grin.

Sebastian flashed a proud, sugar-fueled smile. Before he could respond, you chimed in with a hum, arms folded loosely as you leaned slightly on one foot.

“Cookie crumbs,” you said, amused. “One of the drivers—pretty sure it was Fernando—had a secret cookie stash. He gave him two, and now he’s on a full sugar rush.”

Lando looked at Sebastian with a mix of disbelief and adoration. “You bribed Alonso? I’ve been trying to get a cookie from him all season,” he teased.

Sebastian giggled, holding up three fingers instead of two. “Three cookies,” he corrected proudly.

You and Lando burst out laughing, and for a beat, the world outside the garage didn't matter. It didn’t matter what had been said or what rumors had started to swirl. It didn’t matter how complicated things might get.

Lando had barely caught his breath from qualifying, the adrenaline still running faintly through his veins when the words slipped from his mouth like they’d been waiting all day for a place to land.

“Do you and Sebastian want to… go to the aquarium?” he asked casually—though his tone was careful, soft in a way that didn’t quite match the high-energy buzz of the McLaren garage around you.

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Us?” you asked, your voice small, uncertain.

He nodded, brushing a loose curl from his damp forehead. “Yeah. I’ll head back to my hotel, clean up, and then I can swing by wherever you two are staying. We’ll head over together.”

Before you could process your reply, Sebastian practically burst with excitement, jumping in place. “YES! Fishies, Mama! Can we go see the sharks?!”

Lando chuckled, clearly entertained by the sheer enthusiasm bursting from the tiny human now bouncing beside him. Your eyes darted toward him again, cautious and conflicted.

Part of you wanted to go. God, you wanted to go.

But another part—the part that had learned how cruel the world could be when it noticed something good—whispered a thousand hesitations into your mind. The media. The cameras. The attention.

You looked away, chewing the inside of your cheek. “But the media…” you said softly, your voice barely audible over the chatter of the team still moving about the garage.

Lando tilted his head, as though hearing your fear and meeting it without judgment. He took a step closer, and his voice dropped lower, quieter.

“I’m human too,” he said with a shrug. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before. It’s not like we’re doing anything wrong. My team will push back as much as they can. I promise.”

His eyes were sincere—none of the typical charm or cheeky arrogance people expected from Lando Norris. Just truth. Just softness.

“So?” he added, a flicker of hope curling around the question.

You stood still for a moment, unsure what to do with the comfort that suddenly wrapped around you like a familiar coat. It was crazy, impulsive, dangerous even—but above all… it felt safe. Safe with Lando.

And real.

You glanced down at Sebastian, who was now hugging your leg, looking up at you with those wide, eager eyes.

“Sure,” you said at last, and the word felt like stepping into sunlight.

“We’ll go.”

Sebastian squealed in delight, nearly tripping over himself as he ran in a circle. “YAY!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, loud enough to make a few heads turn and laugh nearby.

Lando grinned, flashing you a look that made your heart skip just a beat too fast. “I’ll text you when I’m on the way,” he said, reaching down to ruffle Sebastian’s hair gently. “Sharks beware—this kid’s coming for them.”

You laughed—full, open—and suddenly, the weight that had been pressing on your chest all day lifted just a little.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The aquarium was quiet—softly lit by the glow of gently moving water and illuminated tanks, casting a subtle shimmer onto the smooth floors. It was a far cry from the earlier frenzy of the paddock. Peaceful. Settling. A rare pocket of calm where, for a moment, life could breathe without pressure.

You walked alongside Lando, with Sebastian happily toddling between the two of you, his small hands occasionally brushing yours or Lando’s as he pointed with wide eyes at stingrays and reef sharks gliding overhead through the tunnel of glass.

You wore a warm brown, body-hugging one-shoulder dress that fell down to your ankles like liquid silk. A soft, beige duster cardigan hung off your arms like a gentle frame, catching the light as it swayed with each step. A sleek black crossbody bag rested snugly at your hip, golden hardware catching the occasional shimmer from the glowing tanks. Simple, elegant—but comfortable enough to chase after a toddler if needed. You hadn’t planned to end up on a spontaneous evening out, but somehow, the moment welcomed you.

Sebastian was a walking ball of color and softness. He wore a playful vintage cartoon T-shirt, vibrant with reds and blues, tucked slightly into wide-legged beige corduroy pants that made his tiny legs look even tinier as he waddled forward. A chunky, lavender knit cardigan was draped over his shoulders—one sleeve constantly slipping down as he chased after his thoughts. His shoes, little white sneakers, already scuffed from adventure, squeaked lightly with each step.

Lando, walking beside you, looked comfortably cool in an oversized navy and white striped rugby shirt with “Quad” embroidered across the chest. The sleeves were pushed halfway up his forearms, revealing a few friendship bracelets that danced slightly as he moved. His jeans were baggy, worn in the right ways, and his white sneakers were casual but clean. There was an effortlessness to him—a contrast to his usual track-ready look.

“So... is it true?” you asked, glancing up at him as the three of you strolled past a glowing blue jellyfish exhibit. “You’re a party boy?”

He looked down at you, one brow lifting in curiosity before he grinned. “Depends... how curious are you?” he teased.

You laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Just wanted to know what I’m getting into.”

Lando chuckled, nodding slowly. “I am, yeah. Was. Still am sometimes. Comes with being twenty-five, I guess.”

You smiled softly. “Twenty-five and still going strong? God, I need your energy.”

He glanced over at you again, this time his gaze lingering a little longer. “It’s fun sometimes. But... it gets boring. All of it. It’s loud. Flashy. Temporary.”

You nodded in understanding. “Too much stimulation. No peace.”

That was all that needed to be said. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was comforting. A shared understanding that there was something quieter, something softer, in the simplicity of this moment.

You and Lando watched as Sebastian ran up to a floor-to-ceiling tank. His hands smacked against the glass, face lit up in awe as a school of colorful fish darted past. Lando instinctively crouched beside him, resting his arms on his knees.

“They look cool, huh?” he said softly.

Sebastian nodded furiously. “They’re swimming really fast!”

You slowly approached, ignoring the buzzing of your phone deep in your pocket. You didn’t need to check to know who it was—reality could wait. For now, you lowered yourself beside Lando, the soft fabric of your cardigan pooling on the ground. All three of you sat together, faces bathed in aquatic blue light. Lando smelled faintly of clean cologne and sun-drenched grass, while your perfume lingered lightly in the air between you.

No flashing lights. No rumors. No curated stories or whispered headlines.

Just you, Lando, and Sebastian—laughing gently over the shapes of fish and the stories Sebastian made up about them. For a second, it looked like a little family portrait frozen in time. You caught Lando’s gaze and looked away quickly, your cheeks warming. He didn’t say anything—but the way he looked at you, like you were already something more, said enough.

The rest of the evening moved like a lullaby—soft, smooth, and glowing with the quiet joy only shared moments could bring. Between the tanks and tunnels, you and Lando took turns capturing fleeting snapshots and short videos—Sebastian pointing excitedly, or giggling mid-run, or narrating his own marine documentary with impressive confidence for a three-year-old.

“Fish!” he shouted, his voice echoing gently in the cavernous tunnel as Lando lifted him up, effortlessly resting him on his hip so he could get a better look.

You stood close—closer than you realized—shoulder brushing his, warmth shared through fabric. Your head came to rest lightly on Lando’s shoulder, your laughter bubbling softly as you pointed at the glass.

“That would be a pufferfish,” you said, lips quirking as the spiny little creature floated past. “They get all bloated like a balloon, and their faces go—” You puffed out your cheeks dramatically and crossed your eyes.

Sebastian let out a full laugh, tilting backward slightly in Lando’s arms as he mirrored you with his tiny face puffed like a marshmallow. “You’re right, Mommy!”

Lando hummed in amusement. “She’s pretty smart, huh?” he said, casting you a sideways glance, playfully nudging you with his shoulder. “Should we give her some credit?”

Sebastian’s brow furrowed as he considered. “Hmm… Can I drive da car?”

Lando crinkled his nose and gasped like the question was dangerous. “Oof… You might need a few more years of training, mate.”

Sebastian huffed in disappointment, only for Lando to lean in. “But after that? Formula 1. Full speed. Number one racer in the world.”

Sebastian’s eyes went wide. “Really?!”

You smiled, your heart tugging as you watched them—how naturally Lando folded into these moments with him, not a trace of forced charm. It wasn’t performative. It was just… who he was. You looked ahead and noticed something through a wide arched entrance.

“They have a gift shop,” you said casually, pointing.

Sebastian’s head whipped toward you like you’d just offered him the moon. “Can we go?! Please, please, pleaaaase?”

You giggled, eyes still on the small sign and bright display lights beyond the glass tunnel. “Eventually.”

Lando nudged Sebastian with a knowing grin. “We will. But first,” he paused and pointed to another glowing section, “I have to take you to see the turtles.”

You gasped, perhaps louder than necessary, clasping your hands together in exaggerated excitement. “Turtles?! Oh no, I love turtles!”

Sebastian mimicked you perfectly—hands clapped, mouth agape. “Let’s goooo!”

With that, Lando gently set him down and took his hand, the two of them walking ahead with energy, you trailing close beside. When they reached the next room, the ceiling curved above like a dome, casting light down onto the huge, gentle creatures that moved with ancient grace through their tank.

Sebastian was mesmerized, standing completely still for a moment before he started talking. Asking questions. Making up names. Pretending one of the turtles winked at him.

You leaned quietly against the railing next to Lando, your arms folding across your chest, watching your son point and babble beside the glass.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” you said under your breath, just loud enough for Lando to hear. “If someone had told me a year ago I’d be at an aquarium in Australia... with Lando Norris and my three-year-old son... I’d have laughed in their face.”

Lando smiled, just slightly. “I think I would’ve laughed too.”

You stood there for a long while, close enough that you could feel the space between you buzz—something soft and thrilling that hadn’t quite found its voice yet.

Eventually, Sebastian—never one to hide his needs—rubbed at his eyes and laid his head against Lando’s shoulder.

“Hungry,” he murmured.

You and Lando both glanced down, and then up at each other, exchanging the same silent question and answer.

“Gift shop, then dinner?” you asked softly.

Sebastian nodded sleepily, already perking up again at the idea of shopping. You smiled and brushed a hand over his curls.

The gift shop was bright and playful, a sudden burst of color after the ambient blues of the aquarium. Sebastian was back to full energy, dashing toward shelves of plush animals and glittery keychains. His eyes sparkled at everything—but then, they stopped.

“That!” he shouted, pointing with such conviction you and Lando both turned to follow his finger.

A massive, soft, gray shark plush towered over the others, nearly the size of Sebastian himself. It was outrageously big, comical even—but the awe in his voice made it impossible to resist.

“I want that!”

Lando didn’t hesitate. He reached up, grabbed the plush by its fin, and brought it down into Sebastian’s arms, where it nearly swallowed him whole. Sebastian gave a muffled “yes!” and hugged it like it was the best gift he’d ever received.

You raised an eyebrow, smiling. “That thing is bigger than his carry-on.”

Lando laughed. “Yeah, well... he loves it. Besides,” he plucked a shark tooth necklace from a nearby display, handing it to you, “a souvenir for Mom too.”

You blinked. “Lando—”

“Don’t even,” he said gently, his voice calm and sure. “I want to.”

You didn’t argue. Maybe because you knew he meant it. Maybe because it felt nice to let someone else take care of things, just for a moment.

At the register, Sebastian was trying to hoist the shark up by himself, only for Lando to step in and help. You watched them—man and child, natural in step, smiles matching. And maybe, just maybe, your heart tugged in a way that scared you a little. Because it felt like something real.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

That evening, the three of you found your way into the quiet warmth of a refined little restaurant tucked beneath the pulse of the city—a place with dim lights that danced like soft candle flames against crystal glasses, white linen napkins folded like paper birds, and the gentle clink of silverware marking a chorus of elegant chatter. The ambiance was calm, inviting, the kind of place made for connection and quiet reflection.

You and Lando sat opposite one another, your chairs turned inward toward Sebastian, who had been nestled in the middle like the radiant center of your shared universe. A glass of chilled apple juice sat in front of him—his ‘grown-up’ drink—its amber tone glistening like gold under the glow of the table's candle. Earlier, he'd asked for "what Mommy and Lando are having," curious about the tall glasses of red wine swirling in both of your hands. Lando had leaned down, voice patient and warm, explaining that apple juice was the exact same thing, only better for superheroes like him. Sebastian had accepted that logic instantly, nodding proudly before lifting his glass and declaring a soft “cheers.”

Now, menu in hand, Sebastian squinted at the words like they were ancient texts.

“I want this,” he declared, pointing with conviction to a line near the middle of the kids’ section.

You leaned over and read the item aloud with a hum. “Chicken tenders… classic. And some fries to go with it?”

Sebastian nodded with all the confidence in the world. “Fancy dinner,” he grinned.

Lando chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass. “Feeling fancy tonight, huh?”

Sebastian nodded proudly. “Yup. Like you.”

When the waitress approached, Lando took the initiative, smoothly placing your orders. “Two pasta dishes—one with extra parmesan, please—and the chicken tenders and fries for the little gentleman. Oh, and we’ll take a side of roasted vegetables too,” he added, giving you a quick, almost playful glance.

You arched a brow knowingly. “The vegetables? Bold move.”

“We’ll see how it goes,” he said, smirking.

As the waitress disappeared with a promise that dinner would be quick, Sebastian received a coloring page and a small packet of crayons. Instantly absorbed in his artwork, his little brows furrowed in concentration, tongue peeking slightly from the corner of his mouth.

It gave you and Lando a moment. A bubble of stillness inside the restaurant’s soft symphony. A moment to just talk, without the world demanding too much.

“So…” Lando began, voice quiet and cautious. “Have you heard from his—”

He gestured slightly, not needing to say more. You knew who he meant. The shadow. The absentee. The person who helped create Sebastian but somehow forgot what it meant to stay.

You shook your head, your fingers tightening slightly around your wine glass. “Only when he feels it’ll benefit him,” you said, the bitterness hidden behind a composed tone. “Usually to ask for something. Or to argue about things that don’t matter.”

Lando leaned back slightly, frowning. “I don’t see how he can just… pretend you two don’t exist. Like, how do you walk away from someone like Sebastian?”

You looked down, exhaling softly. You didn’t have an answer. You never really had.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “But I’ve come to terms with it. I don’t think Sebastian’s missing anything by not having him around. He’s happy. He’s loved. And if I’m being honest… I’m at peace with it too.”

Lando studied you, his gaze holding something more complex than sympathy. Admiration, maybe. Or something even deeper. There was a strength in you that tugged at something tender in him—how fiercely you loved, how steady you were despite the storm life had thrown your way. It made him think about things. About you.

About settling down.

Why now? Why you? He didn’t know yet. But he felt it. Gnawing and blooming all at once. He took a sip of wine to distract himself.

“Tell me more about you two,” he said, tone lighter now, the weight shifting off both your shoulders.

You smiled, turning your chair just slightly toward him.

“Well, Sebastian’s a big fan of Formula 1… obviously,” you started, throwing him a playful glance. “But aside from that, he’s obsessed with SpongeBob, Paw Patrol, and lately, Tom and Jerry. I think the slapstick makes him feel like he’s getting away with something.”

Lando grinned. “Classic. I loved Tom and Jerry as a kid too.”

“Same,” you said. “And as for me? I’m into dramas, comedies, a little romance. Occasionally cartoons—especially when someone insists I join movie night in a blanket fort.”

Lando smiled at the mental image.

“He’s a waffle lover,” you continued, “but he’ll also go through phases of fruit and muffins in the morning. Grilled cheese sandwiches are his go-to lunch—sometimes crustless, depending on his mood—and for dinner, if it’s not pasta or chicken tenders, you’re in for a battle.”

Lando laughed, leaning forward on his elbows. “Veggies?”

“Oh, those are the enemy,” you confirmed, laughing softly. “We’ve tried dinosaurs made out of broccoli. Spaceships shaped from carrots. I think I once made a full-on zoo with cucumbers and celery. He’s not impressed.”

Lando’s laugh was a little louder this time, catching the attention of a nearby couple.

“He loves bath time, though,” you added, “but hates getting his hair washed. Kicks and squeals every time. Orange is his favorite color—if the McLaren merch didn’t give it away. He says he wants to drive one day, and I believe him.”

Your voice softened as you looked down at Sebastian, still happily scribbling blue stars onto his coloring sheet.

“And I’ll do whatever I can to make it happen for him,” you said. “If that means working extra jobs, if that means staying up late or missing sleep or giving up things I love… I’ll do it. No question.”

Lando’s heart twisted a little in his chest. The kind of twist that comes when something clicks. When you realize you’re watching someone love unconditionally. Fiercely. Gently. And without an ounce of bitterness.

He reached out, lightly brushing the back of your hand with his fingers. It was a small gesture—one that said more than he had words for just yet.

“You don’t have to do it all alone,” he said, voice quiet, sincere.

You looked at him, your eyes soft with both gratitude and caution. But in that moment, something unspoken passed between you.

Time moved differently at that table.

It melted between soft glances and shared laughter, weaving through your quiet conversations and the gentle jazz notes that glided in the background like a lullaby. It wasn't just the food or the ambiance. It was the feeling—a rare kind of comfort, like sitting at a table that had always been meant for the three of you.

Dinner had long become more than a meal. It was connection in the purest form.

Plates of steaming pasta were placed in front of you and Lando, the scents of garlic, basil, and cream-rich sauces curling upward in soft waves. Sebastian’s plate of golden, crispy chicken tenders and perfectly salted fries sat in front of him like a crown jewel. His little eyes sparkled with delight, his fork diving in immediately.

Lando, as cheeky as ever, held out a forkful of his pasta toward you. “Try it,” he said, wiggling the fork slightly with an encouraging smirk.

You leaned forward, taking the bite, eyes fluttering shut at the rich burst of flavor. “Mmm… that’s so good,” you hummed in satisfaction.

“Alright, your turn.” You scooped some of yours up and offered it to him.

Lando accepted, eyes on yours as he took the bite. He mirrored your hum, grinning as he swallowed. “Okay, yeah. That’s unreal. We should’ve split both from the beginning.”

Sebastian, never one to be left out, giggled and mimicked you both. “Try mine!” He held out a small piece of his chicken tender between his fingers.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Lando said, dramatically leaning in for the bite, followed by you, both of you giving the little boy a grand thumbs up after tasting it.

“This is so good, I might have to order it myself next time,” Lando said, acting genuinely impressed, making Sebastian beam with pride.

With your glasses empty and plates dusted with crumbs and sauces, dessert arrived—a decadent sundae set in a glass bowl, the kind made for sharing. The vanilla was creamy and cold, the chocolate thick and rich, with warm caramel drizzled across the top like golden ribbon. Bits of brownie and nuts rested like treasure at the bottom.

Three spoons. One sundae. One perfect ending.

Sebastian was the first to dive in. “So good!” he declared through a mouthful of ice cream, chocolate smudging at the corner of his lip.

You leaned over and gently wiped it away with a napkin, smiling at him. “You’ve got a little sweet mustache, sir.”

Lando chuckled beside you. “I don’t blame him—it’s amazing,” he said, scooping some for himself, then dramatically dabbing the spoon along his bottom lip. “Oops.”

You arched a brow at him, grinning. “You too?” you teased, reaching over with your napkin, your fingers brushing gently against the stubble at the corner of his mouth as you wiped the chocolate from his skin.

The touch lingered just long enough to feel something.

Something unsaid, soft and magnetic.

Laughter filled the silence that followed, but in those moments between the bites of shared sundae and easy conversation, something had shifted. It wasn't just dinner anymore. It was the idea of something whole. Something healing. Something that felt like it might just last.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Lando had offered to carry Sebastian, who had dozed off in the car almost immediately, his little hands still clutching his new, oversized grey shark plushie like it was a treasure chest. The plush, comically large in Lando’s other arm, bobbed gently with every step as they made their way through the lobby and toward the elevators.

You trailed just beside him, glancing at the way Lando carried your son—not with strain or awkwardness, but like he’d done it a thousand times before. One arm cradling the sleeping boy, the other balancing a plush shark nearly half his size. And somehow, it suited him. All of it did.

The elevator dinged softly as it opened, and the ride up was wordless, only the soft rise and fall of Sebastian’s breathing between you and Lando. When the doors parted again, it was just a short walk to the room. You fished out the keycard with one hand, the other gently brushing Sebastian’s back as Lando stood still, waiting.

Inside, the room welcomed you with that familiar dim hotel glow—soft lights above the bed casting a golden warmth over the tidy, lived-in space. The bed was unmade from earlier, pillows fluffed messily, blankets a bit rumpled, still marked by your shared laughter and rest from the afternoon.

“Here,” you whispered, stepping aside so Lando could carry him in.

Careful, like every movement held meaning, Lando walked over to the bed and gently laid Sebastian down, easing the shark plushie beside him so it tucked perfectly against the boy’s side. Sebastian stirred only slightly, lips parting with a sigh before his small hand instinctively reached for the shark, pulling it close in his sleep.

You knelt beside the bed, brushing back a few curls from his forehead. “Goodnight, baby,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss his cheek.

Lando stood back, watching in silence. He had never seen something so stilling. So complete.

After a moment, you rose, standing beside him in the quiet glow of the room. You both looked down at Sebastian, tucked in between hotel sheets and a plush shark almost as long as he was.

“He really knocked out,” Lando said quietly, his voice just above a whisper, as if anything louder might break the spell.

“He always does after a full day like this,” you murmured, wrapping your arms gently around yourself. “He gets so excited, burns through every ounce of energy, and then…” You smiled. “Out like a light.”

Lando chuckled softly, his gaze still fixed on the sleeping boy. “It’s kind of amazing. The way you just… have it all handled.”

You shrugged gently, your voice low and thoughtful. “I try. Some days feel easier than others. But when I see him like this… it’s worth everything.”

You looked up at Lando then, and for a moment, he didn’t say anything. Just looked at you, really looked—like he was seeing every piece of you that had gone unnoticed for too long. Not the mother, not the friend, but the woman. The one who loved deeply, gave endlessly, and somehow still had space for more.

His voice broke the silence gently. “Can I stay? Just for a bit.”

You nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

And so you sat together at the edge of the bed, shoulder to shoulder, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only sound filling the room. Sebastian’s breathing stayed steady. The shark plush sat like a sentry beside him. And for the first time in a long while, you felt like maybe you weren’t carrying everything alone.

Both you and Lando held a conversation, quiet enough for just you two, getting to know him more, and you more.

And just like that, an hour struck back when Lando signaled he had to leave, he had to get up early for the grand prix tomorrow, something you and Sebastian would be able to witness thanks to your 3-day paddock club passes.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The morning sun had barely kissed the track, and already the paddock buzzed with energy—media personnel weaving through, mechanics checking and re-checking, fans beginning to trickle in with banners, merch, and wide-eyed anticipation. But all eyes briefly shifted when you and Sebastian stepped through the paddock gates.

You, dressed in a sleek, body-hugging white ruched dress that shimmered in the sunlight like liquid porcelain, turned more heads than you intended. The dress, simple yet impossibly elegant, contrasted playfully with the bold orange McLaren cap atop your head and the matching McLaren racing jacket draped effortlessly over your shoulders. The crispness of the white Air Force 1s on your feet gave the look a relaxed finish—fashion meeting fandom in perfect balance.

At your side, Sebastian practically radiated pride, striding confidently in his mini Lando Norris race suit. The suit clung just right to his tiny frame, complete with patches, sponsor logos, and even the little McLaren emblem on the chest. His messy curls poked out from beneath a pint-sized matching orange cap, and his face lit up anytime someone complimented him or gave a high-five.

He gripped your hand excitedly, his other arm wrapped tightly around the jumbo grey shark plushie he refused to leave behind. "I want Lando to see me like this," he said proudly, giving a small tug to your hand as he looked up at you with sparkling eyes. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

You looked down at him with a soft smile, brushing a curl off his forehead. “He’s going to love it, baby. You look like his number one fan.”

Sebastian beamed, his small boots clunking lightly as he walked. “That’s because I am!”

Your Christian Dior tote bag rested in the crook of your arm, holding all the little essentials a mother might need—snacks, wipes, sunscreen, and of course, a sharpie, just in case Sebastian wanted another autograph. The handmade beaded bracelets around your wrist—one reading "Norris", the other "Piastri"—were Sebastian's latest paddock project, and you wore them with pride.

The two of you made your way deeper into the paddock, receiving nods, warm smiles, and a few amused looks at the sight of your fashion-forward fit paired with your tiny race-suited shadow.

Cameras flashed subtly. Whispers of “That’s her—Lando’s…” didn’t faze you. If anything, they added a quiet confidence to your stride.

Sebastian looked up at you again, eyes wide with anticipation. “Do you think he’s here already?”

You smiled knowingly, tightening your grip on his hand. “I’ve got a feeling today’s going to be a really good one.”

The entrance to McLaren hospitality was buzzing with activity—team members moving briskly with radios clipped to their belts, PR assistants glancing over schedules, and cameras from F1TV floating by to capture glimpses of the drivers’ pre-race routines. You adjusted your cap slightly, offering a polite smile to someone who gave Sebastian a thumbs-up.

Before you could step inside, a familiar voice called out.

“Well, look who’s ready for race day,” Oscar Piastri said with a grin, walking toward you in full race kit, a McLaren water bottle in one hand and a relaxed ease in his walk. “That suit might be a little better than Lando’s, to be honest,” he added, squatting slightly to meet Sebastian’s eye level.

Sebastian beamed. “Thanks! I’m his biggest fan today. I brought Sharky too!” He held up the oversized plush with both arms, causing Oscar to laugh.

“Strong choice,” Oscar nodded approvingly. Then his eyes flicked to you. “And you—definitely win best-dressed in the paddock today. You sure you’re not the one about to race?”

You smiled, cheeks warming lightly. “If I were, I'd be aiming for champagne.”

Oscar smirked. “Spoken like a winner. Come in—Lando’s somewhere inside, probably eating his tenth pancake.”

You and Sebastian followed him into the hospitality suite, a wave of cool air greeting you as the bustle of the outside paddock melted into a more private space. The orange and black interiors were bright, clean, filled with quiet team chatter and the soft clinks of silverware from the breakfast spread.

And then—there he was.

Lando, standing near the buffet with his back partially turned, chatting with two engineers and a trainer. His hair still slightly tousled, arms crossed loosely over his chest, the relaxed smile on his face faltered slightly when he turned and spotted you.

You could see it—the brief flicker in his eyes, soft and surprised. And then, the warmest grin tugged at his lips.

“There he is!” Sebastian shouted, breaking into a run, nearly dragging Sharky behind him. Lando bent instantly, arms wide as Sebastian jumped into him, and Lando caught him with a practiced ease, spinning him in a playful half-circle before hugging him close.

“Well, if it isn’t my lucky charm!” he said into Sebastian’s ear, before glancing up at you. His gaze held for a moment too long—just enough to make your heart squeeze.

“You guys came,” he said, softer now.

“We wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, matching his smile even though something about the whole thing tugged deep under your skin.

Lando set Sebastian down, his hand gently ruffling the boy’s curls. Then, as a few team members came up behind him, he motioned toward the two of you casually.

“Oh—uh, this is my friend Y/N,” he said, glancing at you before adding, “and this is Sebastian.”

Friend. Just a word. Harmless. Simple. But it sank somewhere heavy inside your chest. Not because he was wrong—but because, for a moment, you forgot that this wasn't something more. And maybe you’d let yourself believe otherwise.

Still, you smiled, your voice gentle. “Hi, nice to meet you all.”

The team greeted you both warmly—one even joking with Sebastian about being the team’s new mascot. Lando, meanwhile, had knelt down to adjust the strap on Sebastian’s mini race suit, talking to him about pit strategies like he was part of the crew.

You stayed quiet, watching them. You could’ve let it sting longer. But you knew the truth—there were no promises made, no titles given. Just shared moments, private smiles, and one night at an aquarium that left your heart hoping.

So instead, you brushed it off. Like you always did.

Because if today was about supporting Lando, then you’d do just that.

Even if he only called you a friend.

The sun was beginning its descent, casting golden flares across the asphalt as the pre-race grid walk commenced. The tension in the air was thick with adrenaline—crew members moving swiftly around the cars, broadcasters weaving through interviews, and fans leaning against the barriers for a glimpse of their favorites.

You held Sebastian’s hand tightly, navigating the chaos beside one of the most recognizable orange cars on the grid. The roar of engines testing systems vibrated under your shoes, and the smell of hot tires and fuel clung to the air. It was a world unlike any other—and Sebastian's eyes were wide with wonder.

“There he is,” you murmured, pointing as Lando stood next to his car, helmet off for now, laughing with a mechanic as a camera hovered nearby.

Sebastian tugged at your hand. “Can I go say good luck?” His voice was almost shy, though you could tell he was trying to be brave.

You gave a small nod. “Go on, buddy. Just stay where I can see you.”

The moment Sebastian let go of your hand, he marched with purpose through the buzzing grid. His little race suit was slightly rumpled from the excitement of the day, the McLaren logo and "4" on his back catching Lando's eye just before he turned fully.

Lando’s expression instantly softened when he saw him.

“Hey, mate,” he said, crouching down as Sebastian reached him. “You look like you're about to start this race with me.”

Sebastian grinned wide. “I just wanted to tell you good luck.”

Lando’s eyes flicked up briefly to find you watching nearby. You gave him a gentle smile, mouthing go get ‘em.

Back down to Sebastian, Lando said, “Thank you, buddy. Means a lot. I’ve got you cheering for me, so I think we’ve already got the edge.”

Sebastian held up his palm for a high five, and Lando met it without hesitation, then pulled him in for a quick hug. “This one’s for you,” he whispered, gently tapping his forehead to Sebastian’s helmeted head.

As Lando stood back up, he nodded toward you, walking over with a slow exhale. You could tell his mind was starting to flip into race mode—but still, there was a softness in his eyes as they met yours.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, voice low beneath the noise around you. “Both of you.”

“We’re always rooting for you,” you replied, meaning it more than you could say.

He hesitated for a second—like he wanted to say something more—but instead just smiled and backed away as one of the engineers handed him his helmet. He slid it on, the reflective visor clicking into place like a final shield.

Sebastian gave a little wave as Lando turned toward his car, stepping into the cockpit like it was second nature.

You placed a hand over your chest, watching him settle into the machine, surrounded by people—but somehow, still feeling like the only one on the grid.

“Alright,” you whispered to yourself, hand finding Sebastian’s shoulder as the grid began to clear. “Let’s watch him fly.”

The lights would go out soon.

And whatever the outcome, you knew this moment—this quiet, private piece of his very public world—would stay with you forever.

The atmosphere in the grandstands was electric. Fans in every direction waved orange flags, their cheers rising in a crescendo as the lights above the grid turned red one by one. The engines screamed in perfect harmony—then silence.

Lights out.

Twenty cars exploded off the line, tires gripping the asphalt as smoke trailed behind them. You and Sebastian sat just above the pit wall in a McLaren viewing box, hearts pounding as you watched Lando’s car surge forward, fighting for position into Turn 1.

“He’s in second!” Sebastian shouted, clutching your arm as Lando tucked behind the leading Red Bull car, timing his move.

Lap after lap, the field spread, then compacted again like a slingshot. Strategy came into play. Rain clouds loomed for a moment before disappearing. Pit stops became a test of perfect precision. McLaren nailed it—Lando out in clean air on Lap 32, tires fresh and focused.

Radio: “Alright Lando, we’re racing for the win here. Let’s push.”

And push he did.

Lap 41: He was closing the gap—half a second behind P1, DRS enabled. You leaned forward, barely blinking as the tension crackled through your bones.

“He’s gonna do it, Mommy!” Sebastian whispered, wide-eyed.

Lap 45: On the main straight, Lando darted left, then right—then made a daring lunge down the inside at Turn 4. Rubber screeched. His rival tried to hold on, but Lando was relentless, using every inch of the track, claiming the corner with the precision of someone who wanted this more than anything.

He was through.

The grandstand erupted. McLaren crew members leapt to their feet. You stood too, hands over your mouth in disbelief as Lando flew ahead.

Lap 48. Lap 52. Lap 56.

Every second stretched like eternity. But Lando held his line, controlled the pace, fought the wind, the pressure, the world.

Final lap.

You and Sebastian were on your feet, cheering, voices hoarse with anticipation. The McLaren pit wall was already half-standing in wait. Lando rounded the final corner, and with the checkered flag waving wildly in the air—

He crossed the line.

P1. Lando Norris wins the Grand Prix.

Tears flooded your eyes without warning, the emotions crashing over you like waves. Sebastian jumped up and down, shouting, “HE DID IT! HE DID IT!”

“YES, HE DID!” you laughed through your tears, sweeping him into your arms.

Radio: “Lando, you are a Grand Prix winner! P1, mate. You did it!”

His voice cracked through the radio, raw and overwhelmed: “Oh my god, finally. Finally. Thank you, team. That one was for all of you... and for someone watching up there too.”

You knew that "someone" was closer than he realized.

In the cool-down lap, he swerved left and right, waving at fans, helmet still on—but you could feel his smile. He stopped on the grid, climbed onto his car, raised his fists into the air, and the world lost its mind.

Trophies, champagne, confetti—those moments came next.

But nothing compared to the instant he saw you and Sebastian outside the garage afterward.

Helmet off, eyes scanning through the haze of celebration, his gaze landed on you both—and that’s when it hit him.

The roar of the crowd had softened into the background now—cheering still echoed in waves, but inside the back corner of the McLaren motorhome, it felt like the world had slowed down for just a moment.

Lando had just showered and changed into a clean team polo, though his curls were still damp and tousled. His skin carried the subtle pink flush from the heat, and his eyes—god, his eyes—looked exhausted but alive. He hadn’t stopped smiling since he got out of the car.

You sat on the couch with Sebastian, who had finally calmed from all the excitement, his small head resting against your side as his fingers absentmindedly played with the lanyard still hanging from his neck. He looked up as Lando stepped in.

“Hi, Champ.” you smiled, soft and genuine.

Lando looked at you, his expression faltering for just a moment—relief, disbelief, emotion. His voice dropped, quieter now than all the shouting and applause from earlier.

“I still can’t believe it,” he murmured, dropping down onto the seat beside you, careful not to crush Sebastian’s legs.

“You earned every bit of it,” you said. “It was yours from the start.”

Sebastian sat up, crawling into Lando’s lap, wrapping his arms around him. “You were so fast! Like zoooom,” he said, making a whooshing sound. Lando laughed, burying his face in Sebastian’s shoulder for a second.

“Thanks, buddy. I told you I’d win today if I saw your suit.”

Sebastian beamed, proud as ever. “I’m your lucky charm!”

“Yes, you are.”

The moment was warm, cozy. The three of you felt like a little island in the middle of all the chaos. But that peace only lasted a beat before Carlos barged in through the door without knocking, grinning from ear to ear, still sweaty and in his Ferrari kit.

“Landoooo!” Carlos called, pointing a finger at him. “You said—if you ever won—you’d party.”

Lando groaned playfully. “Carlos—”

“No excuses!” Carlos waved off the protest. “We’re going out tonight. Whole paddock’s buzzing. It’s your moment, hermano. You're not skipping this.”

You looked over at Lando, who glanced back at you as if waiting for your response.

“It’s okay,” you smiled. “Go celebrate. You deserve it.”

“But I wanted to spend time with you two,” he said quietly, eyes flicking to you and Sebastian again. “I don’t really care about—”

“Lando,” you interrupted softly, brushing your hand against his. “You can have this moment. We’ll still be here tomorrow. Go dance, drink, scream if you want to. You only get your first win once.”

He hesitated, then squeezed your hand.

“You sure?”

You nodded. “Promise. We’ll be in bed, watching SpongeBob reruns or something. Go.”

Carlos threw an arm around Lando and smacked the back of his head. “Come on, before she changes her mind!”

Lando finally cracked a grin, standing up with Sebastian still in his arms. He looked at you once more—an unspoken thank-you in his eyes—before gently setting Sebastian down on the couch.

“I’ll text you when I get in,” he said.

“I’ll be asleep,” you teased, “but I’ll read it in the morning.”

As Lando and Carlos disappeared down the hallway, laughter echoing behind them, you leaned back on the couch, Sebastian curling up at your side again.

And though Lando had gone to celebrate with the world, it still felt like his heart had never really left that room.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Somewhere in Australia, while the soft hum of the hotel’s AC wrapped you and Sebastian in a cocoon of sleep, a different world pulsed to life just down the city blocks.

The club was dimly lit but alive—bass thrumming through the floorboards, the strobe lights slicing the shadows like flashes of lightning. Music thundered. Laughter echoed. Bodies moved in rhythm with careless joy. It was the kind of chaos that made the air feel electric, where sweat mixed with spilled liquor and every fleeting moment felt like something worth chasing.

And there he was—Lando.

Shirt half-buttoned, the edges loose and dancing with the rhythm of the club’s fan. His curls were damp at the edges, the scent of his cologne clinging stubbornly to his skin, mingling with the sharp tang of whiskey and champagne that hung in the air. His cheeks were flushed pink from both alcohol and adrenaline, and his smile—crooked and disoriented—never quite left his lips.

The celebration was real. Electric. He had finally done it—P1. The first win. The first taste of it. And everyone wanted a piece of him.

Carlos was lost somewhere in the blur of bodies, likely dancing on some table and encouraging shots with people Lando couldn’t name. McLaren team members toasted, DJs hyped him up. Strangers—women—slid into his space like gravity pulled them toward him.

He leaned slightly against a girl, laughter bursting from his chest, and she reached up, fingers brushing his jaw as if she belonged there. Cameras snapped in a flurry—flashes of light capturing a moment out of context but full of implication. Lando didn’t even register the blinking of notifications piling up in his back pocket. His phone was the last thing on his mind.

He was smiling. Drunk. Buzzing. Floating.

And in that moment—between the glass in his hand, the warmth of touch that wasn’t yours, and the loud encouragement of friends and strangers alike—he didn’t see the cracks beginning to form.

Because back in a quiet hotel room, wrapped in cotton sheets and the soft light of the night lamp, Sebastian slept soundly beside you, one hand still holding onto the tail of the jumbo shark plush, the other curled into your side.

And you? You were asleep. Or trying to be. Somewhere in your subconscious, maybe something felt... off. A small shift. A ripple. Like a thread tugging just slightly, signaling something had come undone while you weren't looking.

But Lando didn’t know. Not yet. Not as laughter swallowed him. Not as hands rested where they shouldn't. Not as the night captured a version of him that he might not even remember in the morning.

And certainly not as the world watched, waiting to see how this celebration would cost him something he hadn't yet realized was priceless.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

The sun was high in the sky when you stirred awake, Sebastian’s soft breaths nestled against your side, the morning light seeping in through the cracks of the curtains. It was peaceful—at least, it should have been.

You reached for your phone on the nightstand, wiping the sleep from your eyes, not prepared for the barrage of notifications that had flooded in overnight. Headlines. Photos. Mentions.

A single image opened first—Lando, flushed and smiling in a dim-lit club, his shirt undone, a girl’s hand resting on his chest like she belonged there.

Your chest tightened, breath catching just slightly. You scrolled slowly. More photos. More angles. One of her whispering into his ear. His smile wide, his body comfortably close. He didn’t look forced. He looked... happy. Drunk, yes, but happy.

And maybe that’s what hurt the most.

You stared for a long while, heart sinking, and yet—you said nothing. No text. No confrontation. No storming call demanding answers. What would be the point? You weren’t his. He had introduced you and Sebastian as his friends, hadn’t he? Not even close to what you thought you might have been.

So instead, you placed the phone down, slid out of bed, and began to pack.

Lando hadn’t texted that morning. Nor that afternoon. You made the decision to leave it at that.

At the airport, Sebastian clutched his stuffed shark, happily babbling about the turtles and fish, unaware of anything heavier lingering in the air. You smiled at him, fixed his little McLaren hoodie, and carried on as if the last few days hadn’t cracked something quietly inside you.

Lando met you at the gate, out of breath and sheepish, wearing sunglasses and a hoodie. “Hey,” he panted, “I was hoping I could say goodbye before you left.”

You smiled faintly. “Of course.”

He crouched to give Sebastian a hug, the little boy clinging to him like always. “I’ll see you soon, yeah?” he said softly.

“Okay,” Sebastian beamed.

Then Lando looked up at you. “We’ll stay in touch?”

You nodded, keeping your voice calm and pleasant. “Definitely.”

But definitely started to feel more like barely.

Weeks passed. Conversations that once felt effortless turned into polite check-ins. Lando would text, and you would take hours—sometimes days—to reply. You became harder to reach, more brief, no longer offering the warmth he had grown used to.

He noticed.

And eventually, Oscar noticed too.

They were in the paddock weeks later, preparing for another Grand Prix when Oscar finally confronted him during a quiet moment in the garage.

“Do you even know what you did?” he asked, arms crossed.

Lando blinked, startled. “What are you talking about?”

Oscar scoffed. “You don’t get it, do you? She saw the photos, mate. The club. The girl. That night you celebrated like a legend. She never said a word about it, but that’s why she pulled back.”

Lando’s stomach dropped.

Oscar continued, “She cared about you. I mean, really cared. She didn’t have to come to your race. She brought her son. Wore your colors. Stood in your world. And you—”

“I didn’t know,” Lando muttered, jaw tightening.

“Yeah,” Oscar said, shaking his head. “That’s the problem.”

Months slipped by like sand through fingertips.

Your messages came less frequently. Then they stopped altogether. But your Instagram didn’t. Every few weeks, Lando would find himself opening the app, searching for your name. There you were, always glowing.

One photo showed you and Sebastian at a pumpkin patch, his little arms wrapped around that same grey shark. Another had you walking on the beach with him, your smile soft but distant.

In one, you were dressed up for a night out. No tag. No mention of who took the photo. That one he stared at for too long.

The digital distance cut sharper than any silence ever could.

And now, the only way Lando kept up with the life he once dipped his toes into—was through a screen.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Three Months Later Off-season Break, Quiet Day in Monaco

Lando was sprawled across the sofa in his apartment, TV playing something he wasn’t watching, phone in his hand as his thumb hovered over Instagram. It had become a routine now — checking your page, looking for any glimpse of your life, of Sebastian, of the family he let slip through his fingers.

And then he saw it.

A hand. A delicate ring sitting neatly on a manicured finger. Resting against a familiar sweater he swore he’d seen on you.

The caption? A simple heart emoji.

And the comments —

“Engaged?! Omg congrats!! 💍” “Wishing you all the love and happiness!” “You deserve this 🥹💖”

His stomach dropped.

He blinked. Read it again. Scrolled. His hands began to shake slightly as he locked his phone, but it didn’t stop the pounding in his chest.

He didn’t even realize Carlos and Oscar had entered the apartment until Carlos tossed a water bottle at him.

“Earth to Norris,” Carlos called out. “What’s with the face? You look like someone just stole your car.”

Lando didn’t answer.

Oscar flopped into a chair and frowned. “Lando?”

He finally sat up, holding his phone like it was evidence in a crime. “I think she’s engaged.”

Carlos blinked. “What?”

“She posted a picture. A hand. A ring. I don’t know if it’s hers but everyone’s congratulating her and—” he stood abruptly, pacing. “I knew I lost her. I just didn’t know it was already this far gone.”

Oscar leaned forward. “You haven’t talked to her in weeks, mate.”

“I didn’t know what to say!” Lando’s voice cracked. “I messed up. I let her walk away. And I’ve been watching her raise Sebastian like the strongest woman I’ve ever met while I sit here doing nothing.”

Carlos exchanged a glance with Oscar before stepping in front of Lando, voice firm. “So do something. Fly out there. Talk to her.”

Lando shook his head. “What if she doesn’t even want to see me?”

Oscar stood, crossing his arms. “Then at least you’ll know. But right now? You’re acting like a coward. You love her. Anyone with eyes could see it.”

Carlos nodded. “And that kid adored you. So either go tell her how you feel or spend the rest of the season wondering what might’ve been.”

Lando stood frozen for a moment — heart in his throat, chest tight — before he turned and grabbed his keys.

“Book me a flight,” he said, voice low. “Tonight.”

The next day Your doorstep – early evening

You weren’t expecting company, especially not when the sun had barely begun to dip behind the trees. So when the knock came, sudden and sharp, you wrapped a cardigan around yourself and padded over.

You opened the door slowly.

Lando stood there. Hoodie half-zipped, sneakers slightly dusty, hair messy like he’d run straight from the airport.

You froze.

He looked like hell. Beautiful, aching hell.

“Hi,” he breathed out. “I—I saw the ring post. I thought you were engaged. I thought you were gone.”

Your heart thudded in your chest. “Wait, what?”

He shook his head. “The picture. I thought it was your hand. I didn’t read the caption, didn’t check anything, I just... I panicked. I flew here without even thinking. I had to see you. Had to know.”

You let out a breath, eyes wide. “Lando, that’s my best friend. She got engaged. I was posting for her.”

Lando blinked like he was waking up. His shoulders dropped as he let out a strangled laugh, rubbing a hand down his face. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

You stood aside. “Come in.”

He walked in slowly, glancing around as though memorizing everything. Like the home you built with Sebastian was a life he’d only dreamed about.

He turned back to you and the laughter died.

“I thought I lost you,” he said again, voice cracking. “I’ve already been losing you. You’ve been slipping away since Australia, and I knew it. And I let it happen.”

You stayed quiet, waiting.

“I know I never said the right things. Or showed up in the right way. I messed up — at the club, and every day after when I said nothing.” He looked down. “But it was never because I didn’t care. I was scared. Scared that what I wanted was too much. That you’d realize you didn’t need me.”

“Lando—”

He stepped closer.

“I need you,” he whispered. “I love you. I love Sebastian. And it’s not some temporary, easy feeling. It’s deep, and messy, and real. I’ve felt like a ghost since I left. I check your Instagram just to feel something. Every time Sebastian smiles in a post I think, that used to be mine too.”

Your breath caught in your throat. He was trembling now, the weight of months of silence collapsing in on him.

“I want to be there. Not for show. For real. I want to be the one Sebastian tells his secrets to, the one who packs school lunches, the one who kisses you goodnight, and doesn’t run when things get hard.”

You stared at him — eyes glassy, chest tight.

“You left,” you whispered. “You let me think I didn’t matter.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “And if I have to prove otherwise for the rest of my life, I will.”

A small yawn echoed from down the hall.

“Mommy?” came the sleepy voice.

You turned just in time to see Sebastian peek out, hair messy, eyes wide. “Is Lando here?”

Lando crouched down gently. “Hey, buddy.”

Sebastian grinned. “You’re back.”

You looked between the two of them — the connection, the hope in Sebastian’s voice, and the pleading in Lando’s eyes.

And finally, your resolve cracked. You walked to him, wrapped your arms around him, and let yourself feel everything you’d pushed down.

“I’m scared too,” you whispered.

He pulled you closer. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Sebastian was five now — bright-eyed, sharp with his words, and carrying more energy in his little frame than the entire grid on race day. The flat you now called home was tucked into a hillside in Monaco, where the sea kissed the edges of marble balconies and every window glowed with golden sunset light. Fancy, yes — sleek and curated — but warm with laughter, scattered toys, and the fingerprints of a real life being lived inside.

The kitchen smelled of rosemary and lemon, the sauce simmering gently as you stirred with one hand, the other resting absentmindedly over the curve of your belly. The moonlight filtered in through the glass doors, casting silver across the tiled floor. Music drifted low and slow in the background — something jazzy and nostalgic.

Peace. You had found it, and better yet, you had chosen it.

The door opened with a click and a rush of laughter. Sebastian’s giggles filled the flat as he kicked off his shoes, running to his room with the thud of socks against hardwood. Lando followed, gear bag slung over his shoulder, curls tousled from the wind.

You turned, smile playing at your lips. “How’d he do?”

Lando leaned in, stealing a brief kiss before answering. “He’s good. Like, really good. We might be raising the next world champion.”

You chuckled. “He gets it from you.”

Lando’s gaze softened. His hand moved instinctively to your bump, resting over the swell of new life. “And how’s this one doing?”

“She finally stopped her karate routine,” you joked, glancing down. “I think the smell of dinner soothed her.”

“A girl after my own heart,” he said with a grin.

Dinner was cozy, full of overlapping conversation — Sebastian animatedly recounting how he overtook someone on the final lap, and Lando grinning proudly at every word. Between bites, he’d chime in about his own upcoming races and how Sebastian’s form was already better than his at that age. You caught your gaze wandering now and then to the photo in the corner — your wedding day — frozen in time with the sound of the waves and laughter behind you, your veil tangled in the wind as Lando looked at you like he was seeing color for the first time.

After the dishes, which Lando insisted on doing — “Can’t have both of my girls stressed,” he’d said with a wink — the house quieted. Sebastian had curled up in bed with his shark plush and a bedtime story. And now, the two of you were lying in your bed, blankets tangled at your feet, your heads close, voices low. This was the part you loved most — not the trips or photoshoots or champagne showers, but the calm. The pillow talk. The shared world no one else got to see.

You’d once been a single mom fighting your way through life with tired eyes and a hopeful heart, never sure what the next day would bring. But here you were — Mrs. Norris now. With a son who bore that name proudly, and a daughter soon to join the world who would never have to question her father’s love.

The phone buzzed once. Lando rolled to check it.

“Old mate wants to go out tonight. Some club in town,” he murmured, eyes flicking up to you — your belly, your soft smile, your fingers gently tracing patterns across the duvet.

He paused. And then the decision came without thought.

“I’ll be home with the wife and kids,” he said aloud, tapping his screen off. “But you boys have fun.”

He tossed the phone on the bedside table and rolled closer to you, one hand sliding to rest over your belly, the other entwining with yours. He kissed your knuckles and sighed like someone who had run every race just to arrive here, in this exact moment.

“I really did change everything, huh?” he asked softly.

You nodded, resting your forehead against his.

“No,” you whispered. “We did.”

And outside, Monaco slept under a velvet sky, but inside that home, love stayed awake — breathing, growing, anchoring everything that mattered.

☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★☆★☆☆★☆★

TAG LIST: @fangirlmusicbiashoe @rexit-mo @jewelszn @rebelatbay @hellsingalucard18 @hc-dutch @pleasantphantomhologram @msliz @bunnisplayground @nicooolsstuff @f1norris04 @freyathehuntress @IiIaissa @thetorturedblogger @kodzuvk @degeathesaviour @kayleighlovesf1 @mcmuppet @nightrose-18 @mayax2o07 @wherethezoes-at @esw1012 @swiftlyboring

[getosghostnut]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕁𝕁𝕂 𝕄𝕖𝕟’𝕤 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕤

CW // Content Warnings: Explicit NSFW / 18+, oral, fingering, facefucking, edging, overstimulation, degradation, praise, D/s dynamics, spit kink, choking, bloodplay, cumplay, breeding, impact play, orgasm control, bondage, exhibitionism, rough sex, cockwarming, fear kink, implied consensual non-consent.

ꜱᴜɢᴜʀᴜ ɢᴇᴛᴏ – ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ, ᴡᴏʀꜱʜɪᴘ, ʙʀᴇᴇᴅɪɴɢ

Suguru doesn’t just fuck you. He devotes himself to you. There’s a kind of reverence in the way he touches you—as if your cunt is sacred, your moans divine.

And his favorite ritual? Filling you.

"Open your legs for me, pretty girl," he murmurs, kneeling at the edge of the bed, the sheer silk of your robe pushed back off your thighs.

Your breath hitches when his tongue licks a slow stripe up your slit, and then he groans like he’s been starving.

“You smell like sin and taste sweeter. I should be arrested for this.”

He doesn't stop until you cum twice on his mouth, crying into the sheets while his hands never once leave your thighs. Then he drags you down, flips you over, and mounts you slow—deep—his cock stretching you open until you're gasping.

And the whole time?

He talks.

“Look at you, trembling already. You’re perfect. Fucking built for me.”

“You want me to breed this pussy again, don’t you? You want to feel me leaking out of you all night.”

When he cums, it’s deep—groaning your name into your shoulder, pushing his seed in with his cock like he’s seeding a garden he plans to fuck into bloom again tomorrow.

And you’d let him.

Every. Damn. Time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ꜱᴀᴛᴏʀᴜ ɢᴏᴊᴏ – ᴇxʜɪʙɪᴛɪᴏɴɪꜱᴍ, ꜰᴀᴄᴇꜰᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ, ᴘʀᴀɪꜱᴇ

Gojo doesn’t believe in secrets. He wants your moans bouncing off the fucking walls.

"You know what I want, angel?" he murmurs with a feral grin as he walks you into the hotel suite window overlooking the city. "I want them to see how good your mouth looks full of my cock."

You don’t even have time to protest before he’s already on the couch, cock out, and patting his thigh with that smug expression.

"Knees. Show me how much you missed me."

He makes you work for it.

He holds your hair and fucks your throat slow and steady, hips rolling, guiding your pace until you're gagging softly and drooling down your chin.

“You're doing so well, sweetheart,” he moans. “Fuck—such a good little throat. Can I cum in there? Hm?”

And then he does, thick and heavy, groaning loud as he watches your lips part to take it all.

But he doesn’t stop there.

He strokes your cheek with two long fingers. “Open wider. Tongue out.”

You obey, and he spits in your mouth, smirking as you swallow it like you’ve been trained.

He tucks himself back in with a smirk, wipes your tears, and kisses your forehead.

“That’s my perfect girl. We’re not even halfway done yet.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ᴛᴏᴊɪ ꜰᴜꜱʜɪɢᴜʀᴏ – ᴊᴇᴀʟᴏᴜꜱʏ, ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴅᴏᴍ, ᴄᴏᴄᴋᴡᴀʀᴍɪɴɢ

Toji isn’t insecure.

He’s possessive.

Territorially, unapologetically, animalistically possessive.

So when he sees another man so much as breathe too close to you, he’s already planning exactly how he’ll remind you who you belong to.

“You like that, huh? Letting him look at you like that?” he growls as he slams the door behind you, ripping your shirt straight down the middle.

You're pinned against the wall before you can speak, his hand around your throat—not squeezing, just holding—and his eyes are dark, almost unreadable.

“I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

And he does.

He tears your panties down, sits in a chair, and drops you on his cock like you’re nothing but a toy.

But instead of fucking you—he just stays there.

Cockwarming.

“You sit still, doll,” he whispers into your ear. “Don’t move. Not unless you want me to pull out and make you beg for it.”

His hands roam your tits, your throat, his mouth on your jaw, your shoulder. And the longer you sit—full, throbbing, needy—the more wrecked you get.

By the time he starts fucking you?

You’re crying. Desperate. Screaming his name like a prayer.

And he loves it.

“Now that’s the sound I wanted. Fuck—so tight. You’re mine. Only mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ꜱᴜᴋᴜɴᴀ – ᴅᴇɢʀᴀᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ꜰᴇᴀʀ ᴋɪɴᴋ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅᴘʟᴀʏ, ᴘᴏᴡᴇʀ

With Sukuna, it’s not sex. It’s a hunt. A performance. A show of power where you're the sacrificial offering—and he's the devil come to feast.

He doesn’t ask. He takes.

"You want to be used, don't you, pet?" he snarls as he shoves you down to the temple floor, his black claws slicing through your clothes like paper.

You tremble beneath him, naked, breathless, aching, and he just laughs—low and dark.

“You're trembling. Good. You should be scared.”

He slaps your pussy just to hear the sound, just to watch you jump. Then he spits between your thighs and drives his cock in, hard, stretching you until you're clawing at the stone.

“You’ll bleed for me,” he growls, and he makes sure of it—with teeth and tongue and hands that grip too tight.

But it isn’t cruel. It’s intentional.

He watches your face every second.

Every moan. Every sob. Every flutter of your cunt around his cock.

“You love this. Don’t lie. You love being broken.”

And when he cums?

He paints your back with it. Your thighs. Your mouth.

Then spits on your chest and smears it in with his thumb.

“You’re mine. Say it, or I’ll carve it into your skin.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ᴄʜᴏꜱᴏ ᴋᴀᴍᴏ – ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜰɪxᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴏᴠᴇʀꜱᴛɪᴍᴜʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴄᴜᴍ ᴡᴏʀꜱʜɪᴘ

Choso’s mouth is a blessing and a curse.

He eats pussy like he’s praying. Like it’s the only thing that will keep him alive.

He kisses your thighs softly, whispers “You’re beautiful” into your skin before dragging his tongue through your folds and sucking on your clit until your legs twitch and your voice breaks.

"You taste better every time," he moans, burying his face in deeper. "Don’t run. Let me have it."

And once you start cumming?

He doesn’t stop.

He keeps eating. Keeps licking. Keeps moaning into your cunt like he wants to die tasting you.

You cum once.

Twice.

Three times.

And when he finally crawls up your body, face soaked, cock rock hard, he slides in slowly, reverently, his voice trembling with how close he already is.

“Wanna fill you up,” he gasps. “Wanna see it leak out.”

He cums hard—shuddering, crying out, gripping you like he’ll break.

And when it drips out?

He fingers it back in with a whimper.

“No, no—don’t lose it. You need it, baby. Let me push it in for you.”

And somehow, you’re already cumming again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ᴋᴇɴᴛᴏ ɴᴀɴᴀᴍɪ – ᴅɪꜱᴄɪᴘʟɪɴᴇ, ʙᴏɴᴅᴀɢᴇ, ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴇʀᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴘʟᴀʏ

Nanami fucks like he’s clocking overtime in heaven and hell both.

It starts with a command. Always.

“Take off your clothes. Lay down. Arms up. Good girl.”

He ties you with silk rope—perfect knots. Elegant. Restrained. Secure.

You trust him, and he knows it.

He blindfolds you next.

Then he kisses your throat. Your shoulder. Your ribs.

And then?

He lights the candle.

The wax is warm—never too hot—but it stings just enough to make you squirm, make you gasp as it drips across your nipples, your navel, the inside of your thigh.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. “You respond so well to pain.”

And then he fucks you.

Slow. Deliberate. Methodical.

Each thrust is measured. Controlled. Deep enough to hit the spot that makes you see stars.

But he won’t let you cum until he says so.

“I want to feel you lose control. But not until I’ve earned it.”

You beg. You cry. You plead with your whole soul.

And when he finally lets you fall over the edge?

You scream.

And he kisses you while you do.

[fromdove]

ㅤㅤㅤTEXTS I THINK GOTHAMITES HAVE SENT ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ DURING A CRISIS

emma: guys is it normal for my ceiling to be dripping green again or is this like a joker thing or a plumbing thing idk how to tell anymore

kevin : if it smells like fear toxin it’s the first one if it smells like mold it’s still the first one tbh

selena: tell the landlord. and then figure out batmans number. then call batman. and then call your mom.

emma: i already texted the landlord and he replied with “😬” which like. valid. but not helpful. it smells like copper btw

kevin: girl that man has one wrench and a dream he’s not surviving another clown-based incident

selena: ok but is the green drip glowing?? like are we talking nickelodeon slime or eldritch warning sign

emma: it’s glowing a little??? but not like aggressively like “i’m cursed” not “i’m immediately dying”

kevin: mmm light radioactive. like a zesty haunt. got it.

selena: did you taste it

emma: NO???? why would i i touched it tho

kevin: girl you’re gonna grow a second tongue or something this is how metahumans happen. you’re gonna start glowing in the dark and join a vigilante gang

selena: honestly. real. call me when your origin story starts i wanna be in the flashback montage

emma: i’ll make sure you’re played by zendaya in the dramatized retelling

kevin: i want to be the friend who says “she was never the same after that leak” and then sips dramatically

selena: anyway i googled it and apparently if it’s slightly glowing green and smells like copper), it’s probably leftover from the scarecrow thing last week. the city

emma: so like. green vintage gas. cute.

kevin: limited edition trauma drip

selena: gotham-core

emma: ok but real talk do i open a window or call 911 or just go back to bed and let fate decide

kevin: depends. do u want powers or not

emma: u guys r so unserious...i’ll take a nap with the window cracked. compromise.

selena: classic gotham response. proud of you

kevin: text us if u start levitating or if a raccoon starts talking to u just so we know

[hees-mine]

N✧ RAINB✧WS - L. HS

PAIRING: HEESEUNG + FEM READER

WARNING$: SMUT, PROTECTED/UNPROTECTED SEX, ROUGH SEX, SHOWER SEX, ANAL, ORAL, FINGERING, CUM EATING, FUCKING WHILE HIGH/DRUNK, BLOWJOBS, PUSSY EATING, NIPPLE SUCKING, LICKING, DIRTY TALK, POSSESSIVENESS, LOTS OF SEX SCENES, ANGST, JEALOUSY, INSECURITY, CRYING, CHILDHOOD ABUSE, TRAUMA, FIGHTING, BLOOD, ARGUMENTS, CURSING, SMOKING, DRINKING, MENTIONS OF CLUBS, DRUGS/ DRUG DEALING, OVERDOSE, DEATH, SUICIDE. IF THESE WARNINGS MAKE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE DO NOT READ!

WC: 26,048k

GENRE: ROCKBAND AU. INSPIRED BY CHASE ATLANTIC.

FEATURING: HEESEUNG VOCALIST, JAKE DRUMMER, JAY GUITAR, SUNGHOON BASSIST.

$YNOP$1$: it's not everyday your favorite underground up and coming rock band tours in your city, but the day they do, you take full advantage. Just seeing them live felt surreal, but what was even more unreal was the lead singer noticing you amongst a small crowd. You thought that made your night turns out once the concert had ended and you made your way backstage (thanks to your vip pass) is what really made your night, yet the surprises didn't stop there. After a brief interaction with the band, the front man, Lee heeseung, offers to take you back to the tour RV, leading to one unforgettable steamy night, and suddenly, he asks you to go on tour with him as you lay tangled in his sheets without a thought you say yes taking a step into his world but little did you know there's "no rainbows just white lines."

She’s finally here 😈 dropping a little treat before enhypens comeback

With your heart racing in your chest, you do one final glance at yourself in the mirror, putting the finishing touches on to make sure your outfit is good and everything is intact.

You sighed softly, nerves running through you from the anticipation of seeing your favorite band live.

You had front row seats or ga rather, which meant you’d be closest to the stage where your favorite singer was going to be performing on.

The idea of seeing him live makes you so excited. Despite spending nearly two whole paychecks on your ticket, you didn’t regret it. How could you when you were going to see heeseung, the lead singer, up close and personal? He was worth every cent, and you couldn’t wait to hear his heaven-like vocals in real time.

Once you’re satisfied with the reflection that stares back at you, you reach into your purse to grab your keys and feel another wave of nerves hit you.

This is really it. You thought while turning off your living room light and heading to your car to drive to the venue, which luckily was only eighteen minutes away.

Arriving at the venue sometime later, you paid for parking and left your car. Entering the venue, there weren’t that many people, seeing how it was an underground rock band; however, the turnout was still quite nice as they were starting to make their come up, which you were happy for, and hopefully, when they got much bigger they’d have more concerts in your city.

Weaving through the crowd, you found your spot on the floor, going close to the stage. Again, they weren’t that popular, so thankfully, you didn’t have to fight for a close spot.

It was about twenty minutes before the show, the venue lights were still on, and they played some of their music in the background on the speakers while people chatted away until it was time for the show to start.

You looked around, snapping a few shots of the crowd and stage. It was still pretty empty as people were buying drinks and snacks for the show, not you thought your stomach was in knots. The thought of even eating right now made you feel like regurgitating.

The last few minutes before they would take the stage, your nerves had started going crazy again, and it felt like hours had passed, and the clammy bodies that started to pile in beside you weren’t helping as you were very impatiently waiting for the performance.

Or more less him.

You know it sounds crazy a young girl having a crush on a boy band member.

Typical.

But there was just something about him. He was so captivating. He had you completely sucked in so far to the point he was the only member you really noticed out of all of them. Of course, you knew of the other members: Jay on guitar, sunghoon on bass, and Jake on drums.

But heeseung, the lead vocalist, had a spell on you, one that you just couldn’t shake.

Not to say you even wanted to.

When he was on stage, it was like he was meant to be there, a star shining so much brighter than the others. His enjoyment of performing, his charisma, and the way he took control of the crowd and the stage while looking effortlessly cool and handsome was utterly mesmerizing to you.

His looks were a big plus. His messy black hair made you want to run your fingers through it. His body was slim yet muscled, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think about tracing his lean biceps with your fingertips.

That was just the tip of the iceberg, the way he’d stick his tongue out and the unnecessary rolls of his pelvis area while he sang a song that did not require such movements, but it was so uniquely him and equally satisfying to watch, and you can’t believe that not even five minutes from now you’d be seeing all that up this close.

Your camera was already ready, waiting for them to step from behind the curtains.

As they took the stage, the crowd erupted. It was almost a blur, the music loud and ringing in your ears, people, including you, singing along and enjoying yourselves to the opening song.

Your eyes were practically glued to him the whole time, completely mesmerized by him, the sweat rolling down his Adam’s Apple, the way his tank top clung to his hot, sweaty skin made you bite your lip, and if you weren’t already going insane when he made eye contact with you, you absolutely lost it screaming your lungs out, your hands reaching for him on stage along with many other fan girls. He smirked at you and came closer, clasping his hand with yours. He sang effortlessly while interacting with you.

It was only a second, but it felt like your heart stopped, and it was only you and him at that moment.

The instant he let go, you wanted him to hold your hand again, but sadly, you knew that wouldn’t happen.

Many tracks played after that. The song they were currently performing was nearing its end, and heeseung did his signature jumping down from the stage and running through the crowd to high-five all the people in the middle row.

You watched with envy, wishing you had bought one of those seats instead, but nevertheless, you still enjoyed watching his fan interactions. He was always the best at them.

When it came to the slower songs, you were completely immersed, staring into his eyes, his angel-like voice hitting your ears in the sweetest tone you’ve ever heard, even better than listening with headphones.

If anyone were to look at you right now, they’d think you were in love with the way your eyes sparkled as you stared at the lead singer with admiration and adoration.

And the somebody looking at you was the man himself, his eyes boring into your own, and you couldn’t care less about the ticket price, you’d pay double just to have this experience again as you made eye contact with the person you only ever admired through the screen.

He was so perfect, and you hoped the soft smile playing on your lips conveyed that.

His eyes shifted away from you, but yours never did. They stayed stuck on him until the show was coming to its close, and they all went backstage to prepare for the last song.

“Which one are you picking?” Sunghoon spoke up, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a white towel and a grin on his face.

“Front row third to the left is definitely mine,” heeseung replied after gulping down a bottle of ice-cold water, his other hand occupied with a pre-roll.

“Can’t you go two seconds without getting high?” Jay shook his head disapprovingly of his friend, who smoked way too often.

“No,” heeseung replied carelessly, blowing the smoke into his friend's face.

“Anyways, I was gonna pick her,” Jay sulks, toying with the tuner on his guitar.

“Too late. Besides, you know I always get first pick as the front man,” heeseung says while taking another hit.

This has been a routine for them. They’d always pick a girl in the crowd, heeseung, being the leader, had the first say and then the rest, but by the end of the night, they had all picked a girl to sleep with, if not two.

What can they say? It’s the perks of being a rockstar.

“I don’t pick. I just look in the crowd and point,” Jake chuckles as heeseung passes him the joint.

“We all know you stick your dick in anything,” Sunghoon chimes in.

“Shit, they’re all pretty and hot with a pussy I can bury my dick into. Why would I care?” Jake whistles, twirling his drumstick between his slender fingers that his fans had gone crazy over a million times.

“Alright, let’s get this over with,” heeseung announced, cutting off the banter after wiping the sweat off his face and neck.

“That desperate to get your dick wet?” Jay teased with a quirked brow.

“For once, you’re actually right. My shit is so hard right now just thinking about it,” he laughed, gripping the front of his jeans provocatively.

Jake hurriedly takes a final hit, and the others gather around, forming a small circle, quickly putting on their serious faces and doing a team chant before going on stage for the last song of the night.

When they came back on stage, the crowd cheered loudly, already knowing what song they were performing.

It was one of their more mature songs. Well, all of their songs were pretty out there, but they were known for this performance and the explicit things they did on stage.

Like Jay fingering his guitar, sunghoon licking up the neck of his bass, Jake turning his drumsticks to a v shape and licking between them.

And last but not least, heeseung did seemingly everything in his power to captivate everyone in the audience and bring out their wildest fantasies.

From lifting up his tank top to holding the mic between his legs during the guitar solo, stroking the instrument with his dominant hand with the most innocent look on his face, all while acting like he wasn’t pretending it was his erect phallus.

You almost lost your mind seeing him doing it so up close you could feel butterflies erupt in your stomach and an all too familiar feeling between your legs.

Familiar cause you had touched yourself to that scene on the screen over and over, your walls clenching as you came wishing he was really stroking his cock in front of you instead of that stupid mic and in front of thousands of fans.

But that’s beside the point here. This was by far the best concert you’ve ever been to. No amount of money could compare to this performance. It was everything you could have asked for and so much more.

When the show ended and the lights went out, all your excitement was replaced with nerves once again because you had the VIP pass, which meant meeting the members backstage.

The line was short, which made it all the worse, but when it was finally your turn, you calmed yourself and greeted the members, bowing to each of them respectfully, and you went into the center to take a picture with them. Luckily, you were the last person to go up, which meant you got to share a few words with them, mainly just thanking them for coming to your city and how you loved the show, and you hoped for them to come back again soon.

Heeseung gave the other members a knowing look unbeknownst to you, and they started to distance themselves, and so did you, ready to leave the venue, but someone caught your wrist, causing you to gasp as you turned around and were face to face with none other than heeseung himself before you were playing it cool and calm like you didn’t scream out your lungs for him during the whole show, but now that you’re face to face you couldn’t help but feel nervous and shy, especially with his hand on you.

“Thank you for coming. Glad you enjoyed the show, Angel” he shamelessly eyed you up and down, licking his lips at the sight of your exposed cleavage, feeling the blood rush straight to his cock, the adrenaline from the show still very much alive and your reaction to him boosting his confidence and ego by a million.

“I- you’re welcome,” you stutter, not knowing what to say. With him being so close, you could smell his Prada cologne invading your senses.

The scent is easy to detect since you bought the exact kind he wore and spritzed it on your pillows before bed.

“Since I’m so grateful you came, why don’t you let me thank you in private?” The hand on your arm moves to your chest, his palm lying flat on your left breast. The action was so bold, yet he knew you wouldn’t tell him off because judging by the way you were staring at him all night, giving him your best fuck me eyes, he could only assume you were down to fuck with him.

And you prove him to be right.

Your breath hitches as you feel him lightly squeeze your left breast. “Heeseung,” you whimper his name quietly, and his cock twitched in his pants.

Not only were you beautiful, you were easy too, just his type.

You looked around, eyes flashing to see who heard or who was watching, but there was suddenly no one there, no security, no cameras, no members, just you and him.

“Focus on me,” he says lowly. “No one else is here, just you and me.” he strokes your cheek gently. “What do you say, hmm? Come back to the RV with me. I’ll give you a little tour,” he says with a lazy smile.

Nodding your head, almost in a trance-like state, you accept his offer, not even thinking about it more than once.

It was heeseung you’d let him do anything he wanted to you.

“Follow me.” he bends down briefly and kisses you on the cheek, and with that single kiss alone, you’d fallen for him.

All the fans had left long ago, and you two easily left out the back, going straight into the touring RV where the rest of his bandmates were.

They all smiled at you, knowing what was about to go down, and you lowered your head embarrassingly, not expecting them to be there.

As embarrassing as it was, you couldn’t say no to heeseung the man you dreamed about day in and day out.

Hell, this whole experience was unexpected, but when he took you back to his little room near the back and forced you against the wall impatiently, his lips pressing against yours hungrily was when it all became real.

You were actually kissing Lee heeseung, and it was….

Perfect.

And it wasn’t a dream like all the other times.

Like a switch had flipped, you reciprocated immediately, your hands wrapping around his neck as you kissed him back with equal enthusiasm.

“Hmm,” he groans against your lips, enjoying the way you keep up with him as your hands run through his wet nape hair.

He firmly presses himself against you, feeling your breasts smushed against his chest.

You whine into the kiss. His bulge pressed against you, his body keeping you pinned to the wall while he devours you, his hot tongue sleazily licking into your mouth, wet and messy, as he licks, sucks, and bites on your plump lips.

He jerked his hips forward, his bulge nudged against your core, and you gasped at the sudden friction. He chuckled amusedly, his hot breath fanning your face as he dived back in for more, sucking on your tongue lewdly, making your head spin as you gasped for more oxygen.

Your hearts pounding against one another, his forehead resting against yours, his chest heaves desperately, searching for breath, his nose tickling your jaw before he opens his mouth, kissing along your neck and chest.

“Heeseung,” you breathed out, lips swollen from the kiss as you panted and threw your head back against the wall, giving him free rein over your body.

He lowers his head and opens his mouth, licking at your exposed breasts, the feeling making a gush of arousal seep from your throbbing hole.

Taking advantage of your head tilted back, he trails upward, licking a stripe up your neck until he reaches your lips, forcing your head down to capture them in another breathtaking kiss.

Once satisfied, he parts from your lips again to kiss your jaw, his nose pressing against your temple as he moves your earlobe. He licks from your neck to your jaw, your ear, your chest, and any skin that’s exposed to him, devouring you whole.

He slipped his hands inside your leather jacket, yanking it off your body and exposing your shoulders, just another piece of bare skin for him to cover with saliva and kisses.

You’ve never felt so hot, so needy, so impatient.

Everything he did to you was so intense his lips left a fire in their wake, heating up your body and igniting a flame so strong that nothing could extinguish it.

Your grip loosened in his hair, your body overwhelmed, barely hanging on as he ravished you.

He leaned back just long enough to throw his baseball cap off somewhere in his small room, revealing his black hair, giving you more to grab onto.

You stared at one another, panting heavily, no words exchange, but the tension and feeling of arousal coursing through your veins.

He easily gripped the hem of the black tank top you wore, pulling it over your head. As you obediently raised your arms, your tits came flopping out of the material braless nipples perked up for his hungry eyes to feast on.

Grabbing your breasts, he squeezed them in his large, veiny hands, thumbs toying with your hardened buds. He stared at your face intently, pushing your buttons to watch how you reacted, your face entirely riddled with lust and pleasure just from him massaging your tits.

He bit his lips, squeezing harder, pulling a gasp from you as he rolled his thumbs over your nipples. His cock was getting so hard it started to ache, his wet tip surely staining the front of his blue jeans.

Sucking in a deep breath, he lowered his right hand to cup your clothed cunt.

“A-ah,” he smiled, adding some pressure, and you automatically ground yourself on his palm.

“Fuck” he muttered, feeling the heat from between your legs over his palm. He couldn’t wait to get inside you. He was so hard, needing a release desperately.

He’s never felt this feral, the need to be inside something so strong he felt like he had to stick his dick in your warm hole unless he’d explode.

Retracting his hands, he strips out of his white tank top, revealing his chest to you. His nipples are hard, and you can’t help but want to suck them.

He quickly undid his jeans, pulling them down to his knees.

You watched him breathless and awestruck pussy aching desperately for him, and you felt yourself clench down tightly when he gripped the waistband of his boxers pulling them down, his thick hard veiny cock flopping out, standing tall, precum seeping out of his tiny hole.

You licked your lips at the sight, sinking your teeth into your lower one, mouth watering as you eyed his pretty cock.

He sat down on his bed, beckoning you over. “Come here,” he called you to him, and you took a few steps. Soon, you were standing before him half-naked. “On your knees”

The way you slowly sunk down to your knees, holding eye contact with him the whole time, made his dick twitch. You placed your hands on his knees, going higher to caress his smooth thighs. He leaned back on his palms, relaxing as your hands ran all over his legs and thighs. “You wanna suck it baby?” He asked and bit on his lip with a raised brow, watching as visible excitement grew in your eyes.

You rested your cheek on his inner thigh, nodding softly as he patted your cheek. “Yeah?” He says softly.

Your hand wrapped around the thickness of his cock, and he hissed, feeling your cold hand fondling his hot throbbing length.

Stroking up and down slowly, you swirled his tip with your thumb spreading his sticky precum all on his dick.

He made a sound of approval, letting you do your own thing as he sat back.

Your fingertips tickled his balls before reaching up to pump his length some more. He was so hard and warm to the touch.

Your mouth salivates, and you pick your head up off his thigh, sticking out your tongue and licking up and down on his girthy shaft.

He groans, head tilting back as his fingers dig into the sheets.

Your tongue flicked on his tip, tasting the sweet yet salty precum. You moaned at the taste, eyes fluttering shut to relish every last string of his arousal.

Entranced by the taste of him and his soft grunts, you parted your lips, wrapping around the tip of his length, sucking him like a lollipop of the sweetest kind.

He gasped softly, his mouth opening in a silent moan, abs tensing as your wet warmth covered his sensitive cock head.

You placed your palms flat on his thighs, bobbing your head as you sucked more of his length in.

Opening your mouth wider, you let your saliva drip-free, running down his tip to his balls, getting it wet so you could suck on him easier.

His toes curled, balls tensing as you swallow more than half of his thick cock.

You closed your eyes, savoring the feeling of his heavy warm cock on your tongue. You were barely even at it for a minute, yet you were addicted to the feeling, but the back of your throat felt empty, so you sunk down further, letting the tip of his cock fill that hollow space. Your wet lips tickled his ballsack, and he whimpered, his body trembling as you took him balls deep. He’s never felt head this good before.

You swallow around his cock, and goosebumps form on his skin. “God damn,” he grunts, watching you suck his cock. The way it just disappears in your mouth leaves him floored. You’re taking every inch down your throat so fucking good. “Sucking it real good” he lets out a breathy moan and lifts his hand up to stroke through your hair. “Shit,” he gulps, throat running dry from how much he’s panting.

Coming up for a quick breather, you release him from your mouth, your spit and his precum covering his pulsing cock.

The light from the tv hit just right, displaying his cock covered in a thin sheen of wetness, looking even more enticing for you to suck.

You lick the veins running along it, and he shudders, breath uneven.

His body jolts when you tease his tiny opening with the tip of your tongue. “Fuck” his eyes nearly rolled in his head. You were doing him so good he’d never been this turned on before

You inhaled him fully, forcing him as deep as possible before swallowing and choking on his hard cock.

The tight sensation of your wet throat closing up around him makes him moan loudly.

Your eyes roll back in your head as you intentionally choke around him some more, loving the feeling of gagging on his long dick.

You pulled off his shaft, slurping around his base and sucking one of his balls into your mouth while you stroked his cock.

Lapping at his sensitive balls, you tap his dick across your face obscenely, the quiet smack of his shaft hitting your cheek echoing in the room, and he loved it so much.

This was the best head he’d ever gotten. He loved it just like this: wet, messy, and sloppy.

You moaned around his cock, the little vibration in the back of your throat tickling his tip. “Oh my go- fuck” he whispers to himself, head falling back as he lets himself go enjoying the feeling completely, the wet, dirty sounds of you slurping his cock like music to his ears.

His hand taps your head lightly, letting you know he’s close, and you suck him with more vigor, moaning constantly, sucking him in like your life depended on it, your throat begging for his cum. “Gonna cum” he whispers shakily, hips lifting off the bed as strained moans leave his lips, his balls tightening and cock going rigid as he spills straight down your throat.

Your hands squeeze into his thighs, your mouth hollow, sucking him up and down as he rewards your work with his creamy load coating your tonsils.

Your jaw was tired, but you kept going until he turned soft in your mouth, and you still didn’t stop sucking around him.

He gently pulled you off him, too sensitive to keep going. “Angel,” he groaned, eyes rolling in his head as you showed him your tongue clean of his cum. “Get up here.” Getting up from your sitting position, you climb onto his bed.

He rid himself of all his clothes and turned to you, gently laying you back on the bed. He pulled off your shoes, your black skirt coming next, and he groaned angrily at the next layer of clothing, hindering his path. He grabbed the crotch of your panties, ripping them open, revealing your glistening hole pulsing and wet with your arousal.

Licking his lips, he spreads your legs open, laying between them, leveling his face with your wet pussy.

You spread your legs wider, and he smirked at your shamelessness. “You’re fucking dripping” he groped your thighs, kneading them as he inhaled your natural scent.

“Heeseung,” you whine shyly.

He chuckled before diving into your core. You moaned at the first lick, and from then on, it was endless, your moans loud and lewd.

His hot tongue slithered through your engorged pussy lips, his sticky saliva making you even wetter.

He was so filthy with it rubbing his pursed lips on your clit, sucking off your arousal, nose brushing your erect nub. “Hmm, that’s some good pussy” he licked his lips, going in for another taste, tongue darting in and out of your hole, licking straight from the source of your sweet nectar, his cock growing hard again from your smell and taste.

Your hands found his hair yet again, pulling and tugging as he ate you out, your face contorting in so much pleasure. His mouth was so warm, soft, and wet against your pussy. It felt so good.

“Oh my god!” You squeaked as you felt one of his thick ring-riddled fingers enter your tight cunt.

“Holy fuck, she’s so tight” he pushes his finger in knuckle deep, feeling your ridged walls hugging his finger so snugly.

You whined, your pussy fluttering around his finger uncontrollably. “Heeseung”

He flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue, adding a second finger along his first one. Your insides felt so hot and wet, he knew you’d have some good pussy, but not this fucking good.

He stretched your little walls open with his two fingers, mouth sucking on your clit desperately.

You pulled his hair so hard it felt like you were ripping it out, but he loved it, moaning into your pussy from the pleasure mixed with pain.

“Cum on my face,” he mumbled, his deep voice vibrating against your pussy.

“Heeseung,” you choked out your walls, squeezing his fingers nice and tight as you came.

“Just like that,” he mumbles to himself, rubbing your silky walls and pleasuring you through your orgasm from start to finish.

“Heeseung,” your chest heaved as you continued to moan his name, the sight between your legs down right filthy, his face drenched in your arousal as he lazily sucked and kissed your pussy, teasing you on purpose as he nipped at your core with his lips.

He shook your thighs lightly, pulling back and licking his lips.

Your taste is still fresh on his tongue.

You’re still trying to catch your breath, but he’s already reaching for his stash of condoms. Pulling one out, he tore the packet open, pulling out the rubber circle.

He placed it on his tip, his length already hard again just from eating you out. Your taste alone could probably make him cum again.

You lay breathless on his bed, just waiting for him to make his next move. Even if you just came, you still needed more to feel satisfied.

He effortlessly put the condom on and then joined you on the bed.

Hovering over you, he placed his fists beside your head, your legs automatically spreading to let him in between. He leaned down, placing a few soft kisses on your lips and chest, his cock occasionally brushing up against your pussy, the mood rising, and it takes barely anything to get either of you guys going again.

Just as his tip caught on to your hole, he was about to push in, but the loud banging on his door disrupts everything. “Fuck” he mutters in frustration, and you jump lightly from the sound.

“How much longer are you gonna fuck her? I'm hungry,” Jake whines from outside the door.

“Fuck off, just go without me!” Heeseung shouts back, clearly aggravated, and that’s enough for Jake to sulk and walk away from the door.

Heeseung sighed and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb as an apology.

You were so drunk on the idea of him fucking you you didn’t even care about his members being right next to you. Your inhibitions completely disappeared as you wrapped your arms around him, your eyes dazed out completely, and you focused on nothing but him.

You pulled him in for a kiss, your lips resting against his as you lowered your hand to his waist, pulling him in, and he wasted no more time pushing in your heat.

He clenched his jaw and breathed deeply through his nose, sheathing himself within your hot walls.

Your mouth opened, a soft breath exhaled, and you already felt so full with just half of him in you.

“Fuck” he cursed the soft look in your eyes, turning him on more than it probably should, but you just looked so fucking good, so cute and pliant for him. Your eyes were obviously full of lust, and he loved that you wanted it just as much as him.

He pushed in all the way, stilling in your heat so you could adjust but also for his sake cause he was about to lose his sanity. You were so tight and warm that even the layer of the condom wasn’t helping him much. The sensitivity was so strong. He could have cum the moment he entered you, but his willpower was too strong. He needed to fuck you and have you crying, screaming and begging for his dick.

He pulled out to the tip and then pushed right back inside, missing the warmth already. He hummed lowly, starting a steady rhythmic motion, his tip fucking in and out of you deeply.

“Oh, heeseung,” you breathed out, gripping his shoulders, your breasts sloshing from his soft yet powerful thrusts.

You whimpered quietly, taking every single last one of his inches, your lips pursed, and the way you looked at him, almost as if you were begging for more.

He gripped your thighs, pushing them up to your chest and pressing you into his mattress, his long dick hitting impossibly deep as his sweaty thighs clapped against your ass, and you’re sure everyone could hear how roughly he was fucking into you.

“Fuck!” He grunted, speeding up his thrusts, thick cock spearing into you perfectly.

You held onto his biceps as he drilled into you without abandon. “Yes!” You cried out softly. He felt so deep inside you.

“This dick feel good, Angel?” He smirked down at you, knowing you loved it by the look on your face.

You nodded your head rapidly, taking his cock deeply, loving the way you could feel him inside your guts.

“Let me hear. Tell me, is it good?” He said, panting, sweat forming on his body as the veins in his arms bulged.

“Yes, heeseung so good,” you moaned.

“Say it again,” he replied.

“Fuck yes, you fuck me so good,” you cry out, walls clenching on his cock.

“How good?” He digs in deeper, pressing your legs as close to your chest as possible, the bed creaking loudly as he slams his hips into you fucking in and out of your wet squelching hole.

“Fuck” Your eyes roll back in your head, the pleasure too much to bear, your head spinning as you mewl, your body shaking from the intensity he fucks you with. “You’re so good, fuck, keep fucking my pussy daddy!” It slipped out by accident, but luckily for you, that just drove him even more wild.

“Yeah, you love daddy’s dick?” he grunts, the vein in his forehead popping out as sweat rolls off his body and onto yours. The air in the RV is tight, stuffy, and covered with steam and the smell of sex.

“Yes, harder, Daddy. Please fuck me harder!” The bed knocked against the wall, his thrusts completely relentless, his hips on autopilot as he plowed into you over and over again, your arousal covering his base and dripping down the crease of your ass.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans, speeding up his thrusts fucking you the way you’re begging for it. “I’m so deep in you, Angel.”

His cock starts to twitch inside you, and he reaches down to your clit so you can come together. “Shit!” You moan out, and within an instant, you’re clamping down hard on his dick, letting go and cumming the hardest you’ve ever come.

“You’re gonna make me cum” he gives you three more strokes, and then he comes undone into the condom, breathing heavily and collapsing on top of you, his body sore as he searches for his breath.

He buried his face in your neck, both of you too tired to move and basking in the afterglow of that amazing session.

“We got another show tomorrow,” he breathes out after a few minutes. “You coming?”

He spoke against your neck, nibbling on it softly, exhaustion evident in his voice.

“No ticket,” you mumble out, stroking his sweaty back.

“I’m your ticket” he props himself up, looking down at you with a cocky grin. “All you gotta do is show up and look pretty.”

-

So that’s exactly what you did. You showed up and looked pretty. Heeseung paid extra attention to you for obvious reasons. You can’t believe one night you’re in the crowd hoping for him to notice you, and the next, he’s staring right at you after fucking your brains out the night prior.

The show was great, just like last night. The whole thing still felt unreal, and you were having a difficult time processing everything, but you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

They played the same set list, but you still enjoyed it, singing along and vibing with the crowd. After the concert was over, you met up with heeseung in the back, just like last night. He took your hand and led you straight to the RV, taking you to his room. “How’d you like the show?” He asked, smirking as he caressed your waist, closing the door with his foot as he pushed you further into his space.

“I loved it like always,” you say, trailing your index finger down his chest. He bit his lip, letting your hands roam over his sweaty body. You slipped your hands under his shirt, feeling his lean body beneath your fingertips, your thumbs grazing his erect nipples, and his breath hitches.

You lightly pushed him onto the bed, your hands working on his jeans, opening the button with urgency. “I’ll show you how much I liked it,” you say, kneeling before him on the bed.

You pull down his pants and boxers with a seductive look in your eye. His hard dick popping out was a sight to see. It somehow looked even better than last night. You eagerly pumped it up and down your lips, attaching it to his precum-stained tip, sucking off his sweaty essence.

You hollowed your cheeks, immediately going down on him, desperate to feel his thick cock on your tongue. You’d been thinking about it all night long.

You stroked his base with your palm before taking his full length into your mouth while gently rubbing his full balls.

“Shit” he wiped his hand over his face in disbelief at how good your mouth felt around him. He felt like he was dreaming.

He laid back, putting his hands behind his head and letting you have your way with his dick.

You transition from soft, slow strokes to sucking on him like his dick is your lifeline.

You moaned on his dick, tasting his salty precum on your tongue. You only had him last night, but now you lived for the taste. It was already so addicting. “So good,” you mumbled on his shaft, slurping him up whole.

“Oh fuck” his hips bucked slightly, his cock getting buried deeper in the back of your throat. “That’s it, keep sucking me in real deep,” he groans, bucking his hips a few times before cumming in your mouth unannounced, but he couldn’t have predicted he’d cum that fast something about your mouth felt magical to him and it had him cumming in mere seconds.

You continue to suck him in as deep as possible, obliging his wish and swallowing his cum until he goes soft in your mouth. You hesitantly pull off him, wiping the corner of your lips with your thumb and sucking it clean, showing him you wouldn’t let a drop go to waste.

“Ass up face down for me,” he orders impatiently, taking off his clothes while you do the same, fumbling with your articles of clothing till they’re off and getting into position for him to fuck you.

He takes out a condom from the same drawer as last night, putting it on easily like he’s done it a million times and positioning himself behind you. “Gonna fuck this wet pussy so good” he glides his cock through your pussy lips, wetting it up.

“Please,” you beg, your hole hot, clenching, and ready for him to take you.

He moves forward on the bed aiming his cock at your hole, and he ruts in, burying himself in your tight cunt with ease. “So fucking tight for daddy, yeah?”

“Shit, yes,” Your eyes fluttered shut as you squeezed the sheets burying your face into his pillows, your walls relaxing around his cock, allowing him to sink in balls deep.

He started out rough, his strokes slow but strong, digging into the depths of your soaked pussy. “Yes,” you moaned, your sounds of pleasure muffled by his pillows as your walls sucked him in, desperately needing more.

He pulled nearly all the way out and roughly slammed back in, knocking the air from your lungs. “Oh!” You panted, your body sliding up the bed with each thrust, your hard nipples brushing against his mattress.

His soft hands pinned you down to the bed, forcing you to arch your back as deep as it could go, and that’s when you felt it, his tip bumping right against your cervix.

You laid there taking his deep back shots, and you got so wet his dick was just sliding in and out of you as you chanted yes over and over again. “Take this dick, angel. Just like that. Look at you swallowing my cock” he spanked you as his sweaty thighs kept hitting your butt with every thrust of his hips. Your pussy was so wet and creamy with each stroke your juices were splashing on his bed and staining the sheets, and the sight was to die for.

“Yes, give it to me, fill me with your cock” you cried out, giving your hole to him and letting him fuck you hard, rough, deep, and fast, just the way you needed.

“Nasty girl, you’re so shameless for my cock. You love this, don’t you?” He taunts fucking you to the hilt, nuzzling his wet tip against your cervix.

“Yes, Daddy,” you drooled on the sheets, your back arching to take more of his dick as his heavy sack slapped against your throbbing clit.

He gripped your waist tighter, holding you in place to fuck you impossibly deep.

It only took a few more precise rolls of his hips before he was groaning loudly and cumming into the condom. “Shit shit shit,” he stutters, mouth going slack in a loud, drawn-out moan.

He positioned his right hand under you, easily finding your clit to massage it until you finished, which was embarrassingly quick. “I’m cumming daddy!” His thrusts turn slow over, sensitivity taking over the both of you as he rubs your clit till your walls clamp down on him, milking him for all his creamy nut.

Collapsing down on top of you, he kisses your shoulders, nibbling at the skin and panting. “Come on tour with me,” he says out of the blue while you’re still trying to catch your bearings.

“What?” You say, confused, your brain still fuzzy and fucked out.

“You heard me.” he kisses your cheek. “Come on tour with me. Don’t think I can live without being inside you every day.”

“Hee-“

“Fuck y/n, just say yes,” he whines desperately and thrusts his hips, tiredly, already addicted to you, the faint pulsing of your walls making him grow hard inside you all over again. “Feel that what you do to me? Please say yes. I need you so bad.”

“What about the members? And we barely even know each other.” You stutter, feeling his tip rubbing at your g spot. Your words holding no real conviction.

“They won’t care. Besides, what better way to get to know you than from the inside out?” he hums, his cock twitching inside you at the implication.

You contemplated, but it didn’t take you long to agree, too smitten with him to say no. After all, it is Lee heeseung, no and his name could not be used in the same sentence when it came to you. “Y-yes”

“That’s my good fucking girl” he props himself up on his palms, sensually rolling his hips, giving you a night you won’t soon forget.

-

When you two are finally done, it’s three in the morning, and countless cum filled condoms lay on the bed with your sweaty, spent bodies.

His breath is still slightly heavy from exhaustion as he rolls to the side of the bed, reaching into his bedside nightstand and pulling out a lighter and a pre-rolled joint.

He holds it to his lips, taking a puff slowly. He exhaled as his eyes fluttered closed, pleasure filling every inch of his body.

“Didn’t know you smoked.” You cuddle close to his side, a finger trailing his sweaty pecs.

He just chuckles softly. “Do you?” You shook your head no. “We gotta change that, here.” he sits up, holding the lit joint to your lips. “Open.” You part your lips slightly with no hesitation cause of who’s asking, and he places it between them. “Now suck on it and hold for two seconds” You do as he says, and you end up choking right away, causing him to smile endearingly at your effort. “We’ll work on that.” he pats your back softly.

After a few attempts, you’re inhaling and exhaling like a pro. The feeling of being high was foreign yet enjoyable as you lay naked in his arms, cuddling. “Never knew a person could look so sexy while smoking,” he comments, and it makes you blush.

He takes a hit and then passes it to you, stroking your thigh and pulling you over his lap as he palms at your bare ass, squeezing softly. “Hee,” you exhale softly, whining from his sensual grip. You were so tired from the previous rounds, yet your pussy was still throbbing for him.

He moans lowly after hearing your soft, needy whines. “Take another hit,” he said softly, eyes hooded as he gripped your ass, grabbing two handfuls, this time kneading on it as he leaned in to suck on your left nipple.

You throw your head back, pleasure taking over you as he moves to your breasts, groping them in his large hands, his mouth moving to each nipple as you feel his cock growing hard underneath you.

You shyly began to roll your hips over his length, your pussy leaving sticky trails of arousal on his dick.

He smirks at your movements, you hold the blunt to his lips this time, and he takes it with no hesitation.

You gripped his shoulders, grinding on his hard dick. It didn’t take long for you both to want more, and you lifted up slightly, grabbing his base and guiding it to your wet hole. “Slow down, Angel, I don’t even have a condom on yet,” he chuckled at your recklessness. “You just really want my dick bad, huh? he teases you and you moan shamelessly, hips rolling in search of his dick.

You take the reins, hands reaching for the drawer with his condoms. You don’t notice what else is inside other that the condoms, and you take out a single condom, ripping it open impatiently as you lean back on his thighs, easily slipping the condom down his erect length.

He watched you as you did all the work, taking a few drags of his joint as he laid beneath you.

You repositioned yourself over him once again, aligning your dripping core with his cock, and you immediately sunk down on him, sighing in pleasure at the feeling of being so full.

You sat on his hard cock, walls throbbing around him, eyes falling shut as you took a solid moment to embrace the feeling of his thickness pressed against every inch of your wet walls.

He held your waist with his left hand running his fingers along your skin softly as you began to bounce on his cock, the pace slow at first but gradually speeding up. “You’re so fucking tight” he squeezed his fingers into your waist, huffing softly each time you came down on his length.

You whimper softly, arching your back as you rested your hands on his chest for support. “Fuck” you moaned, breathing heavily as you rode his thick cock, your legs feeling tired already cause of the feeling of being split open was so good, but you kept your pace, going up and down restlessly.

The sound of your sweaty thighs softly smacking against his, along with steam, the smell of sex and smoke filled his room. “Ride on me just like that,” he encourages, taking one more hit before setting the lit joint aside to take hold of your hips, pulling you down forcibly on his cock. “Fuck yourself on this dick angel.”

“Mmm, hee,” you whined, your legs burning and your walls clenching as his words went straight to your core. “Fuck, i love your cock so much,” you moaned, tits jumping up and down in his face as you bounced on it.

“Shit,” your words make his dick twitch inside you, and he feels like he’s not gonna last much longer. “Show me how much you love it.”

His words fuel you to go faster, slamming yourself down on his dick over and over as you clawed at his bare chest.

Your pussy creamed around the condom, a wet mess between your guy's groin area as wet squelching sounds mixed in with your lewd, broken moans.

Heeseung didn’t announce when he came, but you knew by the way his brows creased, and his abs clenched that he was close. “Bounce on it just like that” he groans out and seconds later you felt the familiar hard throbbing of his cock, and he was emptying himself out into the condom with a loud moan.

You kept bouncing on him, and he put his thumb on your overstimulated clit, circling it until you joined him seconds later, squeezing out every last ounce of cum he had left in his body. As it seeped into the condom, you wished that you could feel him cumming, inside you instead.

“Kiss Daddy,” he breathed out, and you didn’t hesitate to kiss him. He pulled you into his chest, and you both passed out seconds later with him still nestled in you.

-

You woke up in his arms the next morning, the blunt from last night completely burnt out in his ashtray, the sun peeking through the curtains blinding you.

You buried your face in his neck, hiding from the sun and inhaling his scent, which was a mixture of sweat cologne, weed and maybe a bit of what you two did last night.

With you tickling his chest, he wakes up from his slumber, gently stroking your shoulder, his eyes still closed. “Hmm,” he groans, his voice deep with sleep. “What time is it, Angel?” He mumbles, looking at the clock.

“It’s 12, baby,” you hum.

“We’re late for breakfast,” he replies groggily, eyes flicking open as he turns to you with a tired smile.

“I could always have mine here,” you joke, nibbling on his pec.

There’s a hint of a smile on his lips as he chuckles. “Come on, Angel,” he whispers, and both of you finally climb out of bed, finding whatever clothes that weren’t stained with sweat or cum.

When you left his room, it was quite awkward as you ate a late breakfast with his bandmates. He had already told them earlier in the morning when you were still asleep, you’d be going on tour with them, and needless to say, they all gave him shit about.

“You fell in love with a girl in the crowd,” Jake teased him first.

“For real, did you see him? He couldn’t keep his eyes off her the second-night dude was trying so hard not to get a boner on stage,” Jay chimed in.

“Enough,” heeseung sighed. “I didn’t fall for shit. I’m just keeping her around for the tour.”

“What?” Jake replied surprised, his eyes puppy-like and innocent.

“Just for the tour, it’s much easier than getting a new girl every night. Plus, her head game is absolute heaven,” heeseung says nonchalantly and kicks his feet up on a small table.

“Dude, that is even low for you, and that’s saying a lot,” Sunghoon said.

“If she’s stupid enough to think I want anything to do with her outside her pussy, then that’s her problem, not mine” he shrugged.

“You’re literally taking her on a tour that still has months left. If I was her, I’d be getting mixed signals too,” Jay states the obvious.

Heeseung reaches into his pocket, lighting up a joint. “Don’t care. She barely even knows me, so I doubt she’s getting mixed signals.”

“Okay, okay, interesting,” Jake hums, rubbing his chin in thought.

“What?” Heeseung asked as he exhaled a puff of smoke.

“So you don’t like her like that, right? Just using her for sex?” Jake asked to confirm.

“And?” Heeseung said, not seeing where Jake was going with this.

“Nothing, nothing,” Jake smirks to himself.

“Whatever bullshit you’re thinking of, you can fuck right off,” heeseung says immediately.

“Nah, it’s cool. It’s just if you don’t like her, I was thinking of getting a piece for myself. I wouldn’t mind some good head right now,” Jake reasons.

“No,” heeseung dismisses right away.

“Bro, why not?” Jake whines. “You don’t like her.”

“I don’t, but I also don’t like the idea of kissing lips that were on your pathetic dick,” heeseung fires back.

“Come on, bros, before hoes, right?” Jake doesn’t let it go as easily as heeseung would like, and Jay and Sunghoon sigh at their antics.

“No, and if any of you fuckers go near her, we’re gonna have serious problems,” heeseung warns.

“Possessive much,” Sunghoon eggs on, and heeseung rolls his eyes, growing tired of the conversation.

“You got it, boss,” Jake saluted. “But hey, if she comes on to me, just know I’m not saying no, especially cause she’s not even claimed that’s free game.” he shrugged.

Heeseung clenched his jaw as he got up, leaving the room where he could still hear them making remarks about you.

That was how his morning went, but hopefully, his afternoon could be spent without his bandmates irritating him.

As you all ate silently at breakfast, heeseung had his hand placed on your knee, stroking it softly while eating away like he hadn’t eaten in days, but after using all his energy on you last night, he needed it, especially for tonight’s show.

The boys gave each other knowing looks and didn’t hesitate to pick up their teasing from earlier in the morning. “So, y/n, where are you from?” Sunghoon grabs your attention as you bite into a slice of bacon.

“Here,” heeseung answers for you, nodding his head with a soft hum.

“Did you know about our group prior to the concert, or did you happen to stumble across us?” Sunghoon continues to have conversation with you.

“U-uhh, no, I’ve listened to you guys for quite a while now,” you answer shyly.

“And who’s your favorite?” You automatically lowered your head shyly, glancing at heeseung.

“All of you,” you answered, and heeseung’s hand that was on your knee paused.

“It’s okay, to be honest,” Jake chuckled, and his voice alone made you blush. His accent was so nice to hear in person.

“Yeah, we’re big boys. We can handle it,” Jay joins in.

“It’s heeseung,” you mutter bashfully, and heeseung smirks to himself at your response. He resumes stroking your kneecap with his thumb.

“Ahh the bad boy” sunghoon says. “Wouldn’t get too close if I were you.”

Heeseung discreetly glared at Sunghoon, sensing exactly where this was going.

You looked at Sunghoon, wondering what he meant by that, but heeseung quickly interjected before you could ask questions. “Okay, it’s time to go over our lines.” heeseung makes up an excuse to get Sunghoon to shut his mouth before he says too much.

“For what? It’s the same set list as last night,” Sunghoon mumbles, taking a drink of juice, the other two noticing the obvious tension.

“Can we talk outside for a moment?” Heeseung excused himself from the table, and Sunghoon followed him, offering you a kind smile.

“The fuck is your problem?” Heeseung asked once out of earshot.

“What are you even talking about?” Sunghoon crossed his arms over his chest, annoyance written in his stance

“What were you about to tell her?” Heeseung demanded.

“Nothing, just the truth. Are we done?” Sunghoon replied, tired of the conversation before it even began.

“No, sunghoon, we’re not done back the fuck off, alright? She’s grown. She can fend for herself and make her own decisions.”

“Why? Scared she won’t stick around when she finds out you fuck anything with a pussy, that you don’t do shit other than smoke, drink, and black out?”

“That’s none of your fucking business, and neither is it hers” heeseung angrily walked past Sunghoon, intentionally bumping his shoulder on the way out.

When they came back, you and the guys were all having a full-blown conversation, smiling and talking with them, learning a little about their off-stage personalities, and now being around them wasn’t half as awkward.

“I’m gonna go shower, okay?” Heeseung whispered to you, kissing you on the cheek. “You can join me if you want.” he licked the shell of your ear teasingly while the guys talked amongst themselves, and you’re thankful they didn’t see just how flustered heeseung’s action made you.

It didn’t take long for you to finish breakfast and politely excuse yourself, following heeseung to the shower, where he was already inside naked, letting the water cascade down his perfect body. “You made it,” he says with a tired smile once you join him inside.

“Yeah,” you whisper, looking up at him, your hands finding their rightful place on his pecs.

His hands naturally roam your lower half squeezing your ass as he bends down to press a kiss to your lips.

He reached down, grabbed his soap, and lathered it on his hands before covering your body in the sudsy foam hands roaming your body but mainly focusing on your ass and breasts, fondling them softly.

You felt his hard cock pressing into you, and you moaned softly. “Heeseung,” he grins, knowing the effect his touch leaves on your body.

“Turn around for me,” he whispered. After cleaning your body, you do as he says, feeling his cock nudged against your ass.

He moves the two of you out of the water stream, pushing you against the wall, your cheek resting on the cold tile, palms pressed into the wall to brace yourself.

He bends down, littering the side of your neck with kisses, hands fondling your breasts as he ruts his cock against your ass.

Your eyes fall shut, mouth parting to let out soft moans as your core begins to pulse with heat.

His hands trail down to your hips, maneuvering your body in the perfect arch.

His hips pressed flush against your ass, his cock slotted between your upper thighs as your arousal stained his hardened cock.

You can’t help but back up against him, eager to feel him inside you.

Smirking at your movement, he pulls his hips back, palm sliding from your right hip to your core, where he inserts two of his thick fingers, taking your breath away.

Your walls clench down on him, immediately welcoming the stretch and the pleasuring glide of his skilled fingers.

“Hmm, yes,” you moan softly, aware of his members being just a few feet away from the two of you.

He opens you nicely as his left-hand drops between your legs to play with your clit.

Your legs nearly give out, but you brace yourself against the wall using your last bits of strength and sanity to hold yourself up, and you can’t believe just his fingers made you this weak.

He bites his lips speeding up the pace of his fingers inside you and on your clit, loving the sound of your wetness. It was so loud it overpowered the sound of the water hitting the shower floor, and he didn’t know what was wetter, the shower or you, as your arousal dripped down his wrist.

Your walls flutter around his fingers, and you let out endless soft moans as the pads of his fingers hit that spot over and over again. “Ah ahh hee, I’m cumming” You mewl, back arching as you squeeze around his fingers tightly, letting the pleasure take over your body.

A relieved smile takes over your features, and your eyes shut in pure bliss as he caresses your walls through your orgasm.

Before you could fully recover from that beautiful orgasm, his fingers slipped out of you, and you were immediately stuffed with his cock. He slowly pushed all the way in with one thrust, his thickness filling you up completely. “Fuckkk,” you cried out, legs shaking in pleasure.

His pace was fast from the start, the loud clap of your wet bodies colliding when he bottomed out, echoing against the tiled walls.

“Hmm, mm,” you moaned with each stroke, your sounds of pleasure never ceasing cause every time he entered, you felt better than the last.

Placing a hand on your lower back, he arches you further, allowing his dick to penetrate your deepest parts.

He grabs your hair with his other hand, tangling it in his palm, exposing your neck so he can lean in and place kisses there.

He fucks into you faster, watching the recoil of your ass every time he slams his thick cock into you, the sight turning him on even more. “Fuck” he groans, breathing deeply through his nose, listening to the sounds of your wet pussy taking his dick.

He can’t help but go rougher with each rut of his hips, making you lose balance. You stumble forward, not prepared for his tip kissing against your cervix. “Taking it so good.” he goes even harder till you’re up against the wall with no choice but to take everything he has to give you, your wet breasts smushed against the walls as he drills into your heat continuously.

Your moans are far louder than they were before, but you can’t help it. It just feels too good. You back your ass up on him, meeting his thrusts, desperately trying to feel all of his cock as you fuck back on him. “Yeah, Angel, that’s it, fuck yourself on daddy’s dick.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you cry out, using all your strength and your desire for the man behind you to press yourself flush against his abdomen fucking yourself on his long thick cock.

His grip tightened in your hair, his right hand going to your clit in circles as he overpowers you, thrusting into you so hard and deep that you can’t keep up; you succumb to the pleasure of taking everything he’s giving you. “Fuck, feels so fucking good” he throws his head back, the warm water from the shower doing little to help the chill running down his spine.

His tip slides in so smoothly, your ridged walls bringing him so much pleasure that he can’t help but cum. He leans forward, wet chest pressed against your back as he moans in your ear. “Cum on this dick, angel” That’s all it takes for you to cream around him. Your body shaking violently, he releases your hair, holding you up by your throat instead, using just enough pressure to bring you unexplainable amounts of pleasure. Your tongue falls out, eyes rolling back in your head, your pussy still begging and aching for his cock.

“More,” you choke out, your oxygen being cut off from his firm grip mixed with steam in the shower.

You reach your hand back, holding onto his waist for some kind of support as he pounds in from behind.

He feels your walls still clenching tightly despite your first orgasm, and he holds off from cumming, making you cum again with the gentle circles he applied to your sensitive clit.

Your legs gave out, and if it wasn’t for him holding you by your throat, you would have collapsed. Your knees gave in, your body trembling, your voice shaking as you let the pleasure consume your body. “Cream on daddy’s dick, angel, just like that,” he murmurs voice low in your ear, hot breath fanning against your skin as he leaves wet open, mouth kisses on your neck and back.

He holds you still, quickly pulling out and jerking his cock. “Daddy’s gonna cum” he groans, spilling his thick creamy cum all over your lower back and ass. “Fuck” he grits through his teeth, stroking his thick cock till his balls are empty and you’re stained in his messy release.

Running a finger through his wet hair, he huffs out a heavy breath leaning back to admire how you look, all wrecked, bent over, and covered in his cum.

He chuckles softly, kissing the center of your back and playfully biting on your shoulder before turning you around to face him. “You liked that a lot, huh?” He teases, looking at your fucked out expression, and all you can do is nod, too overcome with pleasure to properly respond.

He brought you to his chest, standing you up straight as he caressed your body. “I'm addicted to you, Angel,” he hummed against your skin, and you relaxed against him, panting softly. “You know that right?” He grins.

You giggled shyly at his words, feeling giddy and warm as he held you close, washing your body clean of his release.

After the steamy session in the shower, you both got ready, sharing the small sink to brush your teeth together.

When you were done, you exited the bathroom together in nothing but your towel, him following closely after you.

He spanked your bottom, and you giggled, speeding up to escape him. He grinned and chased after you through the living room, blocking the TV screen where Jay and Jake were gaming and shouting about you guys being in the way. Heeseung was giggling while holding his towel around his waist until you guys reached his bedroom, and finally, you had nowhere to run. “Caught you,” he said, out of breath, and held you against him, breathing heavily from chasing you.

With his face so close, your giggles died down in your throat, and he eyed your face, the sunlight poking through the curtains magnifying your beauty, and he couldn’t help but notice how pretty you looked in the natural sunlight freshly out of the shower.

His gaze was so intense it took your breath away as you got lost in it. “You caught me,” you whispered, warm breath fanning his face.

He closed whatever distance was between you two, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

He pulled away, eyes fluttering open as he smiled brightly at you. “Let’s get dressed and go to the store. Gotta get you tour ready.”

-

By the time you and heeseung left the store, it was nightfall, and the concert was about to start. Within an hour, you watched from the sidelines backstage with the band.

It was cool seeing the process and the behind-the-scenes work.

It’s still crazy to think not even a week ago, you’d do just about anything to have this opportunity, and somehow, you’re lucky enough to be here right now. A part of you still couldn’t believe it.

You used to watch them on your computer from your bed, and now you’re fucking the lead singer and getting to attend every concert.

Heeseung noticed you, thinking you were adorable. As you watched them setting up, he walked over to you with a flirty smile on his lips. “Your eyes on me only, please” he teased.

“All I see is you,” you replied, arms encircling his neck as you stood on your tiptoes to peck his lips. “Can’t wait to see you perform.”

“Can’t wait to perform for you,” he smiles, kissing you back, getting a little too lost in the moment, his hands groping your ass as you moan into his mouth, letting his tongue explore you.

“Save it for after the show,” Jay says in protest, watching you guys going at it like teenagers.

Heeseung smirked against your lips, pulling you into him even closer as his bandmates grumbled in the background.

When you needed a breather, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“Heeseung!” Jake scolded. “We’re on in one minute.”

“Can’t wait to fuck you after the show” he kissed your lips one last time and headed onto the stage, leaving you a flustered mess.

When you caught your bearings, you quickly went through the front, checking in like normal, except your seat was closest to the stage, a spot reserved for family and friends. You sat down in your spot and waited for the show to start, which was fairly soon since heeseung had taken up all the time to make out with you.

You were enjoying the show like the previous nights, well, for the most part, but when the final song came on, and heeseung was doing his signature move, you couldn’t help the feeling of jealousy that bubbled in your chest cause why was he smiling at other girls and doing it for them and not you?

You knew it was an overreaction on your part, but still, the feeling lingered as girls screamed over him, and he entertained it, too, grabbing their hands and blowing them kisses like you were not even there. Not once did he do any of that with you.

But you remember it’s only fan service.

The show ended, and you went out back to the RV, waiting for them to do their fan meeting. In the back, your mood now completely ruined.

Obviously, you didn’t go cause you knew them personally, so there was really no point, besides you wanted to give yourself a moment to calm down and think rationally because you were feeling jealous for no reason.

You waited for them, scrolling on your phone to pass the time, and still, you couldn’t shake that jealous feeling inside your chest.

When it was over, the first thing heeseung did was find you at the back of the RV on his bed. “Hey, angel,” he smiled tiredly at you, his body still soaked in sweat as he opened his arms for a hug.

You embraced him, feeling the heat still radiating off his body as he engulfed you. “You only watched me, right?” He chuckled, leaning back to admire your beautiful face.

You didn’t say anything, only giving him a small smile as you nodded your head.

It was undeniable that there was indifference on your face, and he didn’t hesitate to question you about it. “What’s wrong, Angel?” He asks tenderly, thumb swiping a small piece of hair away from your face.

“It’s nothing,” you assure him, patting his back, but he’s still not convinced.

“Come on, tell daddy what’s wrong, sugar.” he tilts your chin up, pecking your lips briefly.

“It’s just…” you hesitate.

“Here,” he says, placing his hand on your lower back and climbing into bed with you.

You cuddled up next to him, nervously playing with your hands. “Talk to me.” he placed his hand on your knee, stroking it softly.

“It’s stupid, but it’s just the way you looked at those girls in the crowd.” You feel embarrassed as soon as the words leave your lips, but it’s true, and you aren’t going to lie to him, no matter how embarrassing it is.

A smile tugs at his lips, already knowing what you’re getting at, and he’d be lying if he said that wasn’t his intention. He just wanted to see how much of an effect it’d have on you, and your reaction just boosted his ego. “Angel, it’s all for show. They mean nothing. Besides, why would I waste time on them when I can come backstage to this?” he slides his hand up your thigh, opening your legs slightly and slipping his hand up your skirt, cupping your heat. You gasp, eyes widening in surprise, the insecure thoughts from earlier disappearing in your mind within a second. “Was thinking bout this pussy the whole time,” he leans in, his forehead resting against yours as he thumbs at your clit a little. “Don’t worry, that pretty little head, okay angel?”

Your breathing was heavy, your face hot as he added slight pressure to your clit, stroking it up and down through the material of your underwear. “Hee,” you breathed out weakly, holding his wrist as your eyes closed softly, body easily caving to the pleasure.

“Gonna let daddy satisfy this pussy, hmm?” His middle finger presses against your covered hole teasingly. “Know you want it, Angel. Saw the way you kept looking at me on stage, the look in your eyes practically begging me to fuck you just like the first night I saw you.”

“Hmph,” your eyes roll back in your head as you nod, a soft knot forming on your forehead.

“Hmmm,” he grins softly. “Lay back for me.”

Your body melts into his mattress, and he lays between your legs, hands flipping up the bottom of your skirt, revealing your covered core.

He presses his face right against your cunt, inhaling your scent deeply, eyes closed as his tongue falls out, licking a wet stripe up your pussy.

You whimper, breath already heavy as you feel his warm spit seeping through your panties and wetting your already damp pussy lips.

He sucks your clit through the fabric, his thumbs rubbing soft circles on your thighs as his cock grows beneath his jeans.

He slips your panties to the side, unveiling your pretty little pussy. Licking his lips at the sight, he swiped his tongue along your entrance, the tip poking in and out of your wet hole.

Groaning at the taste of you, he purses his lips, rubbing them along your swollen cunt, head, tilting to the side to make out with your pussy, his tongue flicking inside your hole, exploring you with it and embedding the warmth and feeling of you on his tastebuds.

“Heeseung,” a breathless moan escapes your lips, your body hot with pleasure as he gives your clit some love and attention.

He softly licks on the sensitive bud before pulling it between his soft pink lips.

He pulls away, savoring your juices, eyes closed, as he licks his lips like he’s trying to memorize your taste.

He pushes his face right against your pussy buried between your thighs, his mouth pleasuring every inch of your pussy as he licks you like he’s absolutely in love with your exquisite taste.

Your breath grows heavier while you bury your hands in his damp hair, and that’s when he pumps two thick fingers in your hole, turning you into a complete mess.

Your body reacts to his touch, walls clenching, clit pulsating with arousal as the sound of his wet mouth slurping on your pussy fills your ears.

He hums in satisfaction, curling his fingers up smoothly, flicking the spot he knows makes your knees buckle and your legs shake. “Yes, Daddy,” you whine, eyes shut, focusing on the feeling of him devouring your cunt.

Kneading your left thigh, he continues stroking your pussy with his fingers and sucking your clit precisely till you’re moaning out loudly seconds from your orgasm.

With one final suck, you let go, clamping down violently on his fingers, soaking them in even more of your juices. “Fuck heeseung shit,” you mewl softly.

“Tastes like heaven,” he murmurs, the soft vibrations of his deep voice making you jolt softly, back arching off the bed as you let the pleasure wash over you. “Now let me show you what I was thinking about all night.”

He stands up, ridding himself of each article of clothing, throwing the damp clothes onto the floor somewhere.

His focus soon turns to you, and he impatiently undresses you, his hands yanking down your skirt and panties.

You sit up briefly, allowing him to slip your top over your head, and within the blink of an eye, your bra is unclasped, leaving you completely naked while your clothes join his pile on the floor.

Like every other night the two of you have fucked, he reaches into his drawer, condom packets in hand, along with something else that he sets aside for now before returning to you on the bed.

“On your stomach,” he doesn’t need to tell you twice. It’s automatic at this point. Whatever he says, you do, no questions asked, cause you know whatever he does to you, you’ll love it cause you’re absolutely infatuated with him.

You hear a sharp pop sound but think nothing of it until you feel a warm gel-like sensation between your ass, and before you can question it, you feel his index finger slipping into your ass, gliding in easily with the help of what you come to realize was lube.

“Mhmp,” you gripped his sheets, a whimper leaving your throat as you felt him sink his finger inside you knuckle deep.

“Feels so tight” he straddles your lower half, and you reach your hands behind you pulling your ass cheeks apart and giving him free rein over your body as he fingers your tight rim.

It felt unlike something you’ve ever felt before, but it was so good it had your toes curling.

He made sure you were nice and warmed up, adding in finger after finger till you were well adjusted and taking him with ease. Your body was writhing on the bed. The friction from the sheets against your clit caused your hole to leak immensely, a puddle of arousal between your thighs.

You were moaning softly, coming to love the feeling of something deeply penetrating your ass. His thick fingers prepped you so well.

He grabbed the bottle of lube, squeezing more into his hand, covering his whole shaft from base to tip, groaning softly as he stroked his aroused length. “Gonna let daddy fuck this nice little ass, hmm?”

“Yes, Daddy, please fuck my ass,” you begged shamelessly, but how could you not? The idea of him filling another one of your holes was far too arousing to resist.

He pulls out his fingers, watching your rim twitch with anticipation. He holds the bottle above your hole, squeezing some more lube on and smearing it over your hole with the head of his cock. “Fuck” he curses under his breath. Just the idea of being inside your ass, turning him on.

Pressing his tip on your hole, he slowly sinks in, disappearing inch by inch. The feeling makes you wince. It was unusual but good, really good, as he pushed in deeper, and you felt so full, his thick cock plugging you up completely.

“So fucking tight for me” he moves your hands so he can massage your ass while he stays nestled in you, letting you adjust.

“Ahh,” you moan when he pulls back, feeling his tip sliding in and out of you.

“Like the way daddy feels in that ass, angel?” He bites his lip, hands spreading your cheeks open, watching you sucking him back in every time he pulls out slightly.

“Yes,” you breathe out, relaxing completely and welcoming him inside you.

He drags his hips back just the tip inside before sinking in slowly again. “Fuckkkk me, Angel,” he throws his head back, eyes shut, as he swallows hard, rocking his hips into you, fucking your tight ass.

You lay there taking it, your lower half feeling numb but so good.

You never imagined that his dick would feel so good in your ass, but now that you’ve felt him like this, you think you might already be addicted, and you never wanted him to pull out. “Fuck my ass, hee,” you cry weakly, taking his dick to the hilt.

“Yeah? Like that, huh? Taking my dick up your tight little ass, right angel?”

You moan in response, and that gives him all the confirmation to keep going fucking your ass without a care in the world.

He drops his head down to watch his cock disappear in your ass. Your hole stretched open to take his thick veiny length. “Want daddy to cum in your ass? Claim this tight little hole.”

“Hmm, mm yes, d-daddy, please.”

“Mhh yeah, such a slut for daddy’s cock and cum aren’t you, angel?” You nodded frantically, your hole squeezing around his cock, begging for his cum.

He grabs your wrist holding your arms back, using you for leverage to slam his cock deep in your ass. His hot sweaty skin slams against yours, the loud sound echoing in his room as you scream out in pleasure. “Fuck yeah, scream for this dick,” he moans, sweat leaking from his forehead as he drills into you. “Gonna cum in your ass, angel,” he grunts, stilling inside you, his tired hips bucking while releasing your arms and falling on top of you, panting heavily as his cum shoots deep inside your ass. “God fuck” he breathes out, nuzzling into your neck, hips thrusting incessantly as he fills you with every last drop, his body trembling in pleasure.

It takes you both a moment to even move your bodies, feeling paralyzed from the pleasure.

He kisses your neck and pulls out his soft dick. Some minutes later, his milky white cum escapes your hole and drips down between your thighs onto the sheets.

You turn over on your back, covered in sweat, breathing heavily, the feeling of his cock inside your ass still lingering as you clench around nothing.

You stare up at the ceiling, not really able to pay attention to your surroundings after being fucked utterly senseless.

Heeseung grabbed the condom packet from earlier, tearing it open and sliding it down his hard length. He was insatiable. Something about your body had his body reacting in ways it hadn’t before. He was already hard again in seconds.

He takes place between your legs, grabbing your thighs and positioning them around his thin waist.

He smirks at the look of shock on your face as he aligns himself with your hole.

You looked between your legs, watching as he slowly pushed his tip in. “Hee-heeseung,” you gripped his biceps, holding on for dear life as he entered you, pausing to lean in and give you a kiss.

“Need you so fucking bad,” he whines, veins bulging in his neck as he bottoms out, every muscle in his body sore he should rest, but he can’t help himself. His cock betrays him as it goes impossibly hard inside you, twitching and begging for another release.

“Then take me,” you say hoarsely, watching him fall apart above you, his sweat leaking down onto your body as his mouth falls open in a silent moan while he slowly fucks into you. “Take my fucking pussy, Daddy. It’s all yours,” you moan, squeezing your breasts and toying with your nipples.

“Fuck” he moans impatiently, snapping his hips as if he’s jealous of your hands. He moves them out of the way, trading places so he can fondle your breasts and tweak your hardened nipples instead. “So soft.” he squeezed your mounds, rolling his hips sensually, his tip filling you up entirely.

Your hands roam his sweaty abdomen until you reach his chest, thumbs circling his nipples, and he feels himself losing it. It was all too much for him to withstand. His cock was already so sensitive from cumming prior, and he couldn’t stop himself.

Knowing he wasn’t far off, he left your breasts to play with your clit rubbing it up and down harshly. “Cum on daddy’s dick, angel, Please, need to feel you,” his voice comes out soft and pleading. “Cum with me, please,” he begs.

The sound of his moans mixed with the feeling of his body on top of yours and his cock reaching that special spot had you easily coming undone, walls spasming around his condom-covered shaft. “H-heeseung,” you huffed out. It felt like an out-of-body experience, and all you felt was pleasure riddled all over your body.

“Fuck yes, just like that, keep squeezing my dick, angel” he cums inside the condom hard, spurt after spurt shot out, and he so badly wanted to cum in your pussy instead.

He rests on top of you, both your bodies drenched in sweat and exhausted out of your minds.

As you both lay there panting, he pulls out of you with a gentle hiss, his cock softening as he peels the condom off his sensitive length.

He’s shocked to see the amount of semen filling up nearly half the condom, and he’s surprised it didn’t overflow. He can’t remember a time he’s ever cum that much.

Tossing the used latex aside, he hovers over your body, and before he can even think about moving to take a shower, your arms are reaching for him. He gives In immediately, body too tired to say no.

He held you in his arms, and neither of you said a word, but nothing needed to be said after that heated moment, and just minutes later, you both drifted off to sleep.

-

You woke up next to a naked heeseung laying on his back as you lightly trailed his chest with your fingertips.

You see him smile before opening his eyes, his groggy morning voice getting you. “Hey, angel”

“Hey, hee,” you cuddle up closer to him, and he wraps an arm around you.

“My angel sleep well?” He clears his voice gently as he opens his eyes, looking down at you from the corner of his eye.

You nodded shyly, resting your head on his chest.

“Daddy knows how to put his angel to sleep,” he teases, referring to last night, you hid your head in the crook of his neck, shy at the mention of last night. “You took me so well, Angel. Didn’t know you had all that in you.” he goes on further, teasing you for the fun of it. “Just thinking about it is making me hard.”

From his praise, you gained a surge of confidence, your hand slyly lowering to between his legs. “Yeah?” You bit your lip softly, your eyebrow slightly raised.

“Ooh shit,” he chuckles lightly as you slowly stroke his dick under the sheets. “Yeah, really.” he turns on his side, cupping your cheek and pressing a soft kiss on your lips before leaning up.

You smiled at him, kissing along his chest while pumping his cock. “Get on your knees and suck it.”

You obey his order, getting out of bed and getting on your knees right away.

He sits up, legs spread out, and you busy your hands on his dick, both of them working up and down his shaft while he reaches into his drawer, grabbing the supplies to roll his blunt for the morning.

You occupy yourself with his dick enveloping him in your mouth, savoring the taste of his cock on your tongue as you lap at his wet slit.

His eyes are drowsy, hooded with sleep and arousal as he packs the paper with ground-up weed. “Keep sucking it like that, Angel,” he sighs, watching himself disappear in your warm wet mouth, running a hand through his messy hair.

His abs tense, toes curling at the sensation when he feels close. He holds your cheek, keeping you still. “Lick it for me, Angel.” he holds the paper to your mouth, letting you wet the it so he can seal his blunt. “There you go, lick it the same way you lick my cock” he bites his lips, enjoying the sight of your wet tongue swiping along the paper. “Good,” he cooed, stroking your cheek. “Now suck” he holds the blunt to your lips, lighting it up and letting you take the first hit.

When you exhale, he guides your head back to his dick, and you open up, taking his hard length in your mouth again, slurping him up.

He shudders when the blunt hit his lips, the feeling of your saliva coming in contact with his lips making his eyes roll and his thighs twitch as he inhales deeply, his head falling backward as he indulges in his two favorite things: sex and drugs.

He puts his hand on the back of your head, bobbing your mouth up and down on him, saliva spilling down to his balls as he makes you deepthroat him and gag on his tip.

His muscles convulse as you tighten on his sensitive tip. “Fuck, angel, your mouth is heaven,” he groans, hips bucking lightly to stroke the back of your throat.

He takes another hit holding in the smoke and pushing his cock as deep down your throat as you can take it.

You squeeze his thighs, eyes watering as you choke on his thick cock.

A glob of wetness drips from your hole, loving the feeling of his heavy cock on the back of your tongue.

Despite gagging on his length multiple times, you don't stop and instead pick up the pace, his tip hitting your tonsils over and over again.

“Hah fuck” he sighs, watching you take it deep. “Just like that, keep gagging on your daddy’s big dick” he exhales the smoke in his mouth, his high approaching while he gets high from each puff. “You like that?” He bends down slightly, his voice much softer and sweeter than the actions you’re performing between his legs.

You nod your head, mouth never leaving his dick as you continue sucking him off. “Yeah, angel? You like choking on me?”

You moan on his cock, eyes rolling in the back of your head, and to see you enjoying it as much as him, if not more, only satisfied him tenfold. “You want daddy’s cum angel? Gonna swallow me?” He whispered.

Another moan erupts from the back of your throat, the idea of tasting him making excitement rise in your body. “Yes, Daddy, give me your cum want it so bad” You pull off his cock just long enough to beg him for his release, and you’re back to sucking him, slobbering all over his cock eagerly.

“Fuck angel, take your daddy’s cum and swallow like a good little fucking girl,” he groans, releasing strongly down your throat, hot thick spurts of cum spilling on your tongue as you swallow him greedily.

You moan nonstop, savoring his taste. “Shit shit,” he whispered, his body stuttering as he cums even harder than last night.

His blunt twitches between his fingers as he emptied into your mouth, his balls tightening with every drop. “Fuckkkkkkk,” he sighs, whimpering softly, his heavy panting filling up the RV. “Oh my god,” he falls back on the mattress, completely spent.

You lick him all the way from his balls to tip, sucking him off till he goes completely soft, and even then, it’s hard for you to pull away, and you think you’re addicted to sucking his cock. He was just so perfect, and he tasted so good you’d spend all day between his legs if he’d let you.

You stand up and straddle his waist on the bed, your wet pussy hovering over his soft cock as you lean down and kiss his lips.

He hums, exhausted, still catching his breath.

You take the blunt from between his fingers before it can burn into the sheets and take another hit. “Just what I needed to start my day.” he lazily places his arm on your lower back, holding you gently.

You smiled, holding the blunt to his lips, slowly grinding down on him, but he held you still. “I can’t, angel. We gotta get ready for tonight,” he tells a white lie and flips you over on your back, laying you back in bed.

“Just a quickie,” you pout, arms wrapping around his neck.

“I can’t.” he props himself up, headed to take a shower.

“Please?” You whine, arms reaching out for him.

“I already told you I can’t,” he replied, growing frustrated within a matter of seconds. “Just do it yourself,” he says, not paying attention to you. “I’ll fuck you good after you already know that” he walks over to you, stroking your cheek. “Okay, angel, just be ready for me.”

“Okay,” you sigh disappointedly, but you knew he was busy, and you didn’t want to interfere with his work. “Can I join you?”

“Yeah, come on, Angel.” he takes your hand, leading you to the shower with him, and you both lazily wash each other's bodies, your energy on E from all your sessions with him.

You share a few kisses in between, taking turns washing each other's hair until you’re both clean. After your shower with him, you both get ready for the night, and he is off to do rehearsals.

At least that’s what he told you.

“I wanna come to rehearsals,” you hugged him, swaying him back and forth affectionately.

“I know, Angel” he brings your hand to his mouth and kisses it. “But just rest, okay? We’ve been on the road a lot, and I just think it’s best for you, yeah?”

“But,” he put his finger up to your mouth to shush you.

“No, buts angel, just rest up, and I’ll be back soon enough. Save all your energy for me tonight.” he kissed your forehead gently and left without another word.

Not only did heeseung do rehearsals, but he also went to a club.

Alone.

Leaving you all by yourself for hours on end with no contact.

You: Baby, when are you coming back?

You texted him and got no answer. After an hour, you tried to get ahold of him again, but still no answer.

You decided to call Sunghoon since he’d given you his number, and luckily, he picked up, updating you on what was going on. “Hey, I was wondering if you’d give the phone to heeseung. He’s not answering,” you bit on your nail nervously.

“Heeseung? I’m not with him right now, but I’ll let him know you called,” Sunghoon answers.

“But I thought you guys had rehearsals?” You reply.

“Rehearsals? We already did that yesterday. Me and the guys went out to eat. We haven’t seen heeseung all day.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Wait, so you haven’t seen him at all either?” Sunghoon questioned.

“No, not since earlier this morning, he said he had rehearsals.”

It was silent on the line for a moment before Sunghoon spoke, and he had a bad feeling in his stomach. “Okay, I’ll call him and let you know if he answers.”

“Okay, bye, thanks, sunghoon.” You hang up, and that information does nothing to soothe your nerves cause now heeseung lied to you.

You wonder why.

Unbeknownst to anyone, he had stopped at a club in the area he was familiar with. He had connections with a lot of people in town, and he was so excited to know that the band would be touring in his hometown. The first spot he thought of was the little club he used to frequent in his high school days.

He met up with an old group he used to buy from, and the rest was history.

With a pit in your stomach, you continued to scroll on your phone to pass the time while waiting for heeseung. The guys had come home around an hour ago and headed to bed early, not thinking much of his absence, but you stayed up waiting for heeseung, and when he finally arrived, you engulfed him in a hug, happy that he was back and slightly worried about him for being out so late. “Missed me, angel?” He chuckles cockily.

“Yes, you were gone all day,” you pout.

Your nose scrunched after smelling perfume on him, and a wave of panic and jealousy came flooding in. “What’s that smell?”

“What smell?” He asks curiously.

“It’s just it smells like perfume,” you mutter, trying to keep your negative feelings at bay.

“Oh, don’t sweat it, baby. There were a lot of people there, so…” he trails off, trying to kiss you again.

“A lot of people where?” You ask.

He breathes out through his nose, eyes flicking back and forth to quickly come up with another lie. “Uhh, at rehearsals.”

“But I called Sunghoon, and he said you had rehearsed yesterday,” You push for answers.

“Oh yeah, the band did, but I have different rehearsals for vocals.” The way the lies fall from his lips doesn’t faze him in the slightest.

You nodded your head in understanding, but you still didn’t feel quite right. You were probably just overthinking things. “You must be tired.” You caressed his shoulders gently.

“Not too tired for you, told you I’d fuck you good didn’t I angel?” He smirks, backing you toward the bed.

“You did,” you smile, hands slipping into his black leather jacket and slipping it off his wide shoulders, leaving him in his blue jeans and a white tank top.

“So lay back for me, Angel. Close your eyes and enjoy it.” he lays you flat on the bed, dropping down to his knees, hands slowly spreading your legs open. “I missed your pussy so fucking much,” he whispers, peppering soft kisses along your thighs, serving as an appetizer before the main course. “Just wanna be inside you all day,” he groans like the fact he can’t be hurt him. “Need to taste you all the time.”

Your eyes flutter shut, enjoying his soft kisses just like he told you to, your breath hitches as he rolls up your skirt, revealing your panties, the white and lavender pair he bought for you when he took you to the mall.

His cock twitches involuntarily, and he presses his face against your crotch, inhaling the alluring scent of your arousal. “Oh fuck” he whispers, palming over his bulge, lightly impatient to feel your tightness around him.

He places gentle eager kisses over your clothed pussy nipping at your clit through the fabric. “Hee-“

His eyes fall shut, hands kneading your thighs as he sticks out his tongue, teasing you through the material, dampening it with his saliva.

You grip the sheets, biting on your lip. You feel his cold fingers slip your panties to the side, his warm breath replacing the coolness of his fingers.

His lips press softly against your core. Your body shudders in sensitivity, his warm lips kissing your vulva.

Sticking out his tongue, he flicks your engorged bud, and you whimper, brows creasing from the feeling of his tongue.

He laps at your hole, gathering your sweet slick on his tongue and savoring your taste. “Hmm, tastes like heaven,” he hums against your heat, tongue licking up and down.

He slides his left hand up your thigh, finger prodding at your hole. He swiped his finger along your opening, collecting your wetness on his finger and slipping it inside.

You clenched down on his finger immediately, and he started pumping it in and out, his thick finger working you open.

Your hands left the sheets to grip his black hair, tugging it lightly.

He groans from the slight sting, adding another finger just to feel you grip his hair tighter, pleasure mixing with the pain, a feeling he was used to.

He stretched your walls open with the thickness of his fingers fucking into your hole and licking your clit.

“Hee, I-“ he fastens the pace of his tongue, his fingers steadily moving into you, curling up and rubbing your sweet spot.

Your body shook, thighs trembling until you felt it, but it was more intense than before. Your mouth parted, eyes squeezing shut as you gave in, focusing on the feeling of his tongue on your sensitive clit and his thick fingers fucking your hole.

For the first time, you squirted, and it felt like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You couldn’t worry about the wetness soaking him, too lost in pleasure, gripping his hair as pleasure surged through you so intensely, only a faint ringing in your ears as you lay limp on the bed panting.

“Oh fuckkkkk,” you whine, back arching off the bed as you grind on his fingers, hips rolling in a circle, getting the absolute most of your orgasm.

“Just like that, squirt on your Daddy’s face,” he says, voice filled with pure delight as he drinks from you, swallowing it down like he’d die of thirst if he didn’t catch every last drop. “Love this fucking pussy so damn much,” he groans, eyes rolling back in his head, tongue tirelessly licking at your hole, begging for more.

He slowly caressed your walls, his fingers slipping out along with more of your wetness.

He latched his mouth onto your hole, sucking out everything your body had to give him.

Finally pulling away, he nudged your clit with the tip of his nose, inhaling you one last time.

He leans back on his knees, admiring your blissed-out state with a smirk on his face.

You’re heaving eyes barely open, soft pants falling from your bitten lips. You watch as he stands between your legs, the bulge in his jeans evident, and even though you have already come, your walls clamp down around nothing, begging to be filled by him.

He rubs over the thick bulge in his pants, biting on his lip. “Open up for Daddy.” he pulls his zipper down, opening the button on his jeans while you spread your legs wider. “That’s my angel,” he breathes out, lowering his jeans around his waist, then his boxers unveiling his cock.

You’ve seen him many times before, but it only got better with time, his pretty cock leaking precum, his full balls waiting to be emptied. The sight alone had your heart racing and your pussy dripping.

He placed his hands on your inner thighs, stroking the soft flesh. “Such a pretty pussy” he positioned his shaft between your swollen pussy lips, gliding it back and forth, covering his dick in your arousal.

You whimper softly, the sensitivity almost too much for you to handle, but your body welcomes him and craves him like you were meant to be pleasured by his cock till you couldn’t take it anymore.

He rolls his hips, his tip catching on your clit just right. “F-fuck” he smirks, pursing his lips, watching his dick getting drenched in copious amounts of your leak.

“Look at it, baby” he motions his head between your legs, and you lift your head, eyeing his girthy cock rubbing your pussy.

Your eyes grow lidded, filled with arousal, as you spot the dot of precum on his tip. “So big,” you whimper.

“Yeah? Daddy’s big?” You nodded your head, eyes focused on his cock. “You like that, huh?”

“Yes,” you swallowed dryly. “Want you to fuck me with your big cock, Daddy, please” You look at him in the eyes, hips bucking up in need of his cock.

“It’s hard not to fuck you when you talk to me like that.”He withdrew his hips, aligning himself with your hole, easily pushing inside you, burying his length to the depths of your pussy with one thrust.

Your mouth parted in a silent moan, eyes going back to your head as your walls clenched around him. “Maybe I’ll talk to you like that more often,” you say breathlessly.

“You’re so naughty, angel.” He grins. “That feel good? Like to be fucked by a big cock?” He kneads your thighs, creating a steady rhythm and releasing that ache between your legs.

“Yes, Daddy” You hold the backs of your thighs, spreading even wider, head falling back against the mattress as he fucks into your little hole.

“Angel,” he breathes out through his nose, clenching his jaw as he speeds up the pace till your breasts are sloshing with each strong thrust.

“Yes, Daddy,” you mewl walls gushing more wetness around his shaft.

He pulls you to the edge of the bed, knees slightly bent as he fucks into you, his thrusts animalistic, his heavy balls slapping your ass with each stroke.

He pushed his tank top up, tucking it under his chin, watching your pussy creaming his dick. “Fuck, angel, that’s it. Get daddy’s dick nice and creamy” On cue, the wet sounds of him sliding in and out fill your ears, the sound so sinful yet pleasurable. “Keep creaming for me, Angel”

He ruts into you like a rabbit in heat, his thrusts messy, rushed, and impatient for a release. “You’re so fucking tight. You feel so good on my dick,” he groans, going even faster till you see stars, the white ring coating his cock, turning him on even more.

“Fuck yessss daddddy,” you whine, voice vibrating in your throat from each harsh slam of his hips.

“Yeah, daddy’s fucking you good, huh? Just like I promised.” he bit his lip, concentrating on hitting your spot with his tip, and he knew he found it when you let out the most feral moan he’d ever heard.

“Yes, you’re fucking me so good, love your cock so much, hee,” you squeak, your lower half feeling numb from the constant rubbing of his cock against your walls you.

“So warm.” Your scorching walls brought him so much pleasure, so tight and wet around him, he couldn’t take it anymore. His head was spinning as droplets of sweat wet his mattress.

His hand was between your legs in seconds, using his thumb to circle your clit. “Cum on Daddy’s big cock since you love it so much.”

“Yes, yes, yes” You held onto his hips for support losing yourself to the feeling of his cock drilling into you, another orgasm being coaxed from your body.

Your arousal stained his sheets, splatters flying against his abdomen as he fucked you through it. “Yeah…” he breathes out, rubbing your thighs, and he slows his pace when he notices he’s without a condom. “Fuck angel, daddy’s gotta pull out.”

Before you can comprehend, he’s already pulled out, jerking his cock in front of you.

Despite still being out of it, you sat up, replacing his hand with your own. “Ohh fuck fuck” he holds your wrist to ground himself, his length throbbing as you stroke him off, getting him closer and closer the second your lips wrap around the bulbous head of his cock, his body surrendered, shuddering as his balls tensed, and he releases his creamy cum inside your mouth. “Angel…..” he gasps softly, body hunched forward, abs tensing as you suck him dry with a pleased hum.

You moan around his cock, taking it far in the back of your throat, your tastes still lingering on his shaft as you swallow.

“Shit angel, yeah, swallow me just like fucking that” he bucks his hips slightly, his tip touching the back of your throat as he savors the feeling of releasing on your sweet tongue, and he can’t understand how every hole made him cum so hard, your body was so fucking perfect for him, made just pleasuring his dick.

You released him from your mouth, licking around his base for good measure.

With a pleasured sigh, he lays next to you on the bed, his chest rising and falling with every heavy breath.

Neither of you speaks, but when he does, his first words are. “Wanna share a blunt with me?”

That sounded like the best idea after getting your brains absolutely fucked out.

-

It’s been a few months since you’ve been on tour with the band. It was all fun. You’d seen sights you never thought you would, you tried all types of food, and honestly, it was everything you could have ever dreamed of. You and Heeseung were still together, of course, but he’s yet to put a label on it for now. He said he had something planned for you after the tour, and you trusted him and didn’t bring up the topic anymore. In the meantime, you got closer to the guys, and they were accustomed to your presence, treating you as if you were one of them, which you appreciate.

You even smoked with them a few times on occasions like right now, you were all in the living room area when heeseung made an appearance from his room where he’d just woken up.

Heeseung walked to the living room, eyes scanning you, then his members, and then Jake, who was a little too close to you for his comfort, but he didn’t say anything. “I’m gonna head out for a quick walk and grab a bite to eat,” heeseung announced, not giving anyone time to respond other than a quick bye and Jake shouting at him to get Taco Bell on his way back.

You were laid up on the couch next to Sunghoon, Jake, and Jay, slouching on the little beanbags in the corner while you all played video games and drank.

Heeseung lied like he always did. He wasn’t going to walk or eat. He was gonna meet up with a dealer that was in the area the girl he bought from when he said he had “rehearsals,” the one's perfume you smelled. He was connected through a friend of a friend. Their business ran across the whole city, so it wasn’t hard for him to find what he needed.

And the guys were none the wiser.

Cause they put their trust in him.

Stupid, stupid move.

He rushed out so quickly, barely muttering a bye cause he needed his fix now. He knew they had the good stuff and couldn’t wait much longer to get some. They had it all: weed, pills, cocaine, everything he needed for a real good high.

And he bought it all using the money he made from tour to feed his secret addiction when it should have been being saved for band equipment for a new tour bus, anything but a drug that did nothing but alter his mood.

He was selfish to use money that also belonged to his bandmates, but he wasn’t a man of integrity, so he didn’t care about anything other than funding his habit at the expense of others.

But he couldn’t think rationally. How could he when his mind was distorted and filled with thoughts of when he could get his hands on the next blunt or a pack of pills?

He was so far gone from reality he was practically programmed at this point. It was like clockwork blunt in the morning, hard drugs by evening, another blunt at night, and a few drinks to cap it off.

All in the secrecy of his room, free from judgment.

That was his life, and he wasn’t gonna stop anytime soon.

He knew it was wrong, but why did it feel so right? Why did he feel better high than sober if it was so wrong?

Besides, he wasn’t harming anyone. What they didn’t know couldn’t hurt them.

Which is the reason heeseung nipped Sunghoon in the bud before he could tell you about his past.

He knew you wouldn’t want anything to do with him. If you knew what he got into, you’re far too innocent to know any better, and he wasn’t about to tell you either. If you were naive enough to believe everything he was telling you, then so be it.

But that was no one else business besides his and yours.

It was midnight when he came back. You and the guys were still up, and when he arrived, you tried to greet him, but he snuck off to his room, saying he didn’t feel well after eating.

Another lie.

“Hey, wheres my taco bell?” Jake sulks, only getting a door slam in response.

You pouted from heeseung’s recent absence but respected his wishes; meanwhile, his bandmates assured you he’d be fine. “He’s like that sometimes,” Sunghoon tells you, but the distance he’s been putting between you still left an uneasy feeling in your gut.

You remember the first time he kinda just left you high and dry. It was a few months ago, the day he had “rehearsals.” You never really trusted him fully after that because that’s the day he lied to you and the first day he turned down sex with you, and that’s when you felt the shift. It didn’t happen every day, maybe once a week, but he seemed really fidgety while rushing out of the RV tonight as well as times in the past, and every time you brought it up, he’d always just say he was tired, and again, you left it alone not wanting to disturb him.

But for the most part, he seemed to be okay, so you didn’t worry too much. You and the guys continued the board game you were playing together, but hours later, there was still no sight of heeseung. You thought he’d join later, but you figured he must have really not been feeling well when he didn’t come out of his room for hours. Usually, he would have made an appearance by now, but nothing.

Heeseung sat in his room, clueless of your worries, his music playing softly on his speaker, a blunt in his hand, and a white line on his desk waiting to be snorted.

He sat back, staring at the line, just reminiscing about his past, the thoughts causing tears to well in his eyes, but he quickly sucked it up and quit crying.

It was pointless. It’s not like anyone was going to comfort him anyway.

Leaning forward, he uses an old debit card, making a perfect white line, pushing down on one side of his nose and inhaling deeply before relaxing against his bed, waiting for the pain to wash away.

An escape from reality, that’s all he’s ever wanted, and drugs were a gateway to his forbidden paradise.

While losing himself to the feeling, he softly mumbles the lyrics to the song playing. “There’s no rainbows, just white lines” he smiles softly, the lyrics oh so fitting for his life.

Never once did he feel an ounce of shame or guilt while consuming the substances he swore to the guys he’d never take again.

All his life, he’s been trying trying so hard to be a person worthy of love, someone who deserved to be loved cause his parents never did.

They only pushed him into a career that he didn’t favor, scolded him for getting a grade too low, and punished him for his hobbies and passions physically and emotionally.

Most days, he felt sadness, hurt, or anger because he never felt good enough for them. It’s like every move he made was a disgrace, and throughout the years, it would only prove to be even more difficult because he was always bullied for singing and not playing football. The guys at his school were also ruthless.

In high school, it got really bad because not only was he bullied for being a nerd, but that’s also when he got heartbroken by his first love, and what made it ten times worse was it wasn’t just a breakup, no.

She cheated on him with the guy who bullied him the most, and that’s why it hurt so bad. The betrayal was utterly heartbreaking. Being cheated on wasn’t even the worst part. It was the fact she deliberately did it to him just to play with his feelings. It was all a huge prank, and while he was giving it his all to make his first and only relationship work, she was laughing and scheming behind his back.

He was used to it from his parents, but when his own girlfriend did it too, that was a new type of sadness that he hadn’t experienced before, and that’s when he realized it wasn’t just his parents that could cut him so deeply but lovers too.

Fast forward to college, and he finally moved out of his parent's place or, more less, got kicked out cause he didn’t take up med school. They practically disowned him. They didn’t even speak to him for years. Hell, they talked to the mailman more than him.

In college is where he really turned into an unrecognizable monster. That’s where his whole personality was formed. That’s when he got into countless drugs that nearly ended his life and also when he decided that after his first relationship failed, he wasn’t going to try anymore. At that point, that’s when the girls came in.

Countless girls.

Ones he couldn’t even name if he thought hard about it. He didn’t even know their faces.

He was high or drunk for more than half of them, but who cares? He didn’t have feelings for them, nor did they for him, so it was a win-win.

That’s another thing: people only made friends with him because of his looks. That’s what made him popular with women in school, but even then, it wasn’t about him or his personality or his character. It was something fleeting, shallow and vein.

After a while, he just accepted the fact that he was unlikeable, No friends, no parents who loved him, and no girlfriend that could only mean one thing.

Finally, after he graduated…. Shocking, he knows, but despite all the bullshit, he was quite smart. He just never used his knowledge for much.

He did his own thing, making money at a fast food chain to fund his rent, plus his addiction. In his free time, he did go to small concerts in his area, and that’s when he started taking his path in music seriously. Well, he always took it seriously but never really pursued it cause his parents didn’t like it, but it doesn’t much matter now cause his parents were done with him.

One night at an old bar, he found Jay Jake and Sunghoon, independent artists trying to make their come up their music style matched his taste. They had just lost their vocalist, who decided to join another band, so he thought it was perfect.

Luckily, he was able to catch up with them after their performance. They drank and smoked in the lounge while talking about musicians they liked as the conversation progressed, and their ideas seemed to align. He let them hear some of his music, and that’s how the band was formed.

Just like that.

In one night.

For the first time, he had friends.

Though he was finally able to live his passion, the boy he used to be, the one with big hopes and dreams, he was long gone, buried under drugs and money.

But surprisingly, despite his addiction, he still worked well, and the band turned out to be quite successful, and even he was impressed with himself.

Because deep down, he still feels those harsh words of his parents telling him that he’ll never amount to anything if he pursued music, but yet here he is touring the world with his bandmates and a girl too stupid and naive to know he’s useless.

But having friends and a girl made him feel somewhat normal for once, a feeling he never got to learn cause by age ten, his life was already over before it even started.

He almost wants to call his parents to shove it in their faces that he’s become successful, but what would be the point? They wouldn’t care, and like they were always so good at, he’s sure they would find every excuse and avenue to beat down and degrade his accomplishments.

That was just his parents; besides, they were probably off celebrating his brother for his accomplishments. He rolls his eyes at the thought, the resentment he felt towards his brother was purely because of his parents constantly comparing the two. His brother never really did anything wrong, but the praise he received for achieving his goals vs the demeaning insults his parents would throw at him was enraging.

Which led heeseung to distance himself from the whole family. And it’s not like his brother ever tried to reach out to him either, never stood up for him, so who the fuck cares anymore?

His life was shit he knew that much and he just accepted it. He had to, but not without a little drug holding his hand in this walk of life and keeping him sane along the way.

He taps his foot along to the beat, drifting off into a space where no one existed, just the sound of the music and the serene feeling running through his veins.

It felt as though this was where he belonged, alone with his music, free from letting down others and just enjoying life one high at a time.

Nothing got him feeling this type of high. In a long time, the mix of weed and cocaine had always been his favorite. It just made him feel so calm.

And he needed calmness in the middle of the chaos that racked his brain on the daily.

He does one line two lines through each nostril, and he feels like he’s floating, so tempted to keep going see how far he can take it, and maybe if he’s lucky, he’d overdo-

A loud banging makes him jump, his once relaxed mood gone as he scrambles to hide all the evidence of the substances he’d abused.

Oh.

One thing that wasn’t mentioned.

He’s almost overdosed multiple times after shows. He’d just go silent and then lock himself in his room for long periods of time.

Which wasn’t too unusual for the guys. They just assumed he was tired and needed a reset.

It was only one time he didn’t come out for days. Luckily, there were no shows coming up cause he hadn’t been to rehearsals or anything, just in his bed all day.

When they found him, they had to bust open the door cause he wasn’t answering. The sight made their stomachs drop, catching him in a state they’d never seen him in before.

Secluded and cut off from everything, pupils were blown and unmoving, almost like he was somewhere else, as he stared off into the distance, surrounded by weed smoke.

The fear running through their veins was palpable. They shook him over and over, and all he did was smile lazily at them high out of his mind.

It was only a minute before they took action and rushed him into the hospital. He was fine, more than fine, but they ruined it, pulling him from his peace.

Everyone was affected by the worrying state they had found him in, but once they realized what had happened, sunghoon definitely took it the hardest. Heeseung was his role model for reasons he hadn’t told anyone, but heeseung let him in on a few things from his past. Though heeseung was still very closed off, he did open up to the guys on occasion, but Sunghoon was the one he confided in the most. Sunghoon never knew it was bad enough for heeseung to want to end his life, and somewhere he felt guilty for not being a good enough friend for heeseung to want to stay alive.

That’s why it hit him harder. He felt guilty cause he should have been able to help heeseung since he knew the most about him, and he always blamed himself for that day at the hospital and all the times that came after.

Cause there were many times after.

They all did weed, sometimes even heavy drugs on occasion, but heeseung was on another level, and he used behind their backs.

Heavily.

And that’s what they all found out together at the hospital.

They had a deep, long talk, and heeseung swore he was done after seeing his bandmates worried hurt by his actions, but then that little devil in the back of his brain told him. “No, they don’t care about you. They’re using you 'cause they need a singer,” and after that, he used and used and continues to use.

Leading up to this moment. “Yo heeseung!“ sunghoon pounded on the door while heeseung quickly slid everything under the bed, everything but one crucial piece of evidence.

“What?” He yanked the door open, answering Sunghoon agitatedly.

“What? You’ve been in here for hours?” Sunghoon pointed out the obvious, and he had a feeling something was off. The last time heeseung had been locked in his room this long, nothing good came out of it.

“So?” Heeseung responded defensively, sniffling discretely and rubbing at his nose, and that’s when Sunghoon noticed.

A look of anger washed away his once composed-looking features, and he barged into the room, shoving heeseung out of the way before he could protest. “What the fuck are you doing?!” He shouts.

Sunghoon rummaged throughout his room, easily finding his worrisome stash and the old card on the table covered in white, along with needles and countless bottles of liquor.

“Get the hell out and stop touching my stuff!” Heeseung shouted.

“No! What the fuck are you doing?” Sunghoon holds the bag of white, pushing it in heeseung’s face.

“It’s none of your business.” heeseung tried to yank the bag away to no avail.

“No!” Was all Sunghoon said before taking everything from the stash.

“I paid good money for that, give it back.” heeseung’s eyes went wide. He looked as if he was almost going crazy.

The look in his eyes could only be described with one word.

Addict.

Once you and the others heard the commotion, you all came running to heeseung’s room.

“What’s going on?” Jake’s voice faded into the background, a look of disappointment on his face along with Jay as soon as they discovered the scene.

Heeseung lowered his head in shame after being caught, quietly taking the bag back sunghoons hands.

“Tell them heeseung, tell them all and your little girlfriend. Oh wait, I forgot she’s not even your girlfriend 'cause you can’t even commit to her, let alone us, only this bullshit” he flicked the debit card in heeseung’s face making him flinch.

Your brows furrow in confusion, wondering what is even going on, and heeseung never even looked at you to explain, nor did the guys.

The silence takes over. The only thing that can be heard is sunghoons heavy breathing. “I…” heeseung speaks, and before he can even get a word out, sunghoon punches him right against his jaw, causing him to stumble back, the rage overtaking him. The guys try to help get him off, but it’s too late. Sunghoon lands at least three more blows before they can pull him off.

But Heeseung retaliated, throwing a few of his own until he’s held back, both of them fuming with anger, struggling to fight while you just sit there confused and scared, screaming for them to please stop.

“No sunghoon, don’t hurt him!” You cried out at the sight of heeseung’s face.

“Get the fuck off of me,” heeseung shouts breaking free of jays hold. “Get out, all of you!”

“Hee-“ you begin, but his loud voice quickly cuts you off.

“You too, you useless fucking bitch. Get the fuck out!” He yells, and everyone just sits back, staring at him in shock, your soft cries now filling the room. “What? You never seen a guy lose his fucking mind before?” He laughs sadistically. “Well, now you fucking have, shows over, and so is the band and you,” he points to you. “He tried warning you, but you just didn’t listen, not to say it matters. You’re just like the rest of the whores I’ve fucked, a useless, desperate hole waiting to be filled, too busy sucking dick to notice I don’t have shit to give you.”

You’re shocked by his words, and you sob, unable to control the tears falling, and Sunghoon immediately holds you, knowing just how you feel. He’s been hurt by heeseung more times than he can count.

Heeseung’s jaw tenses at the sight. “What? Gonna let him and the others fuck you now too? Just so you know, there’s not a hole on her body I haven’t fucked”

Sunghoon looked at him in pure disgust, holding your trembling body in his arms, and he scoffed. “You’re pathetic, and your parents were right. You are never going to amount to anything. You’ll only ever be a useless addict.”

Sunghoon spat, voice laced with venom. He hit him where it hurts without holding back. He was the only one heeseung had told about his past with his parents, and he used that as ammo to hurt heeseung as much as he was hurting him and everyone else right now.

The words silenced heeseung. Jake and Jay escort the two out of his room, and that’s when heeseung sits by himself, all alone with nothing but his thoughts and the three bruises on his cheek that were throbbing in pain.

“What do we do now?” Jake mumbles even though no one is quite in the state to talk.

“We leave. I’m not wasting one more minute on this asshole, not after this,” sunghoons voice shook with anger and sadness, trying to keep his emotions at bay, but his bloodshot eyes told the story of how he was feeling.

Sunghoon finally parts from you, going to pack all his things and try to clear his head just a little bit, not believing the fact that heeseung had broken everyone’s trust again.

The other members follow along. They heard him, too. The band was over, so there wasn’t much left to say. Heeseung had put them through a lot over the years, and everyone decided to call it quits tonight cause none of them could watch their friend going down a path that could only lead to destruction and maybe even death.

“You coming, y/n?” Sunghoon offers, but you lightly shake your head. You needed answers from heeseung himself, not his bandmates.

Whatever happened, you needed to know the truth straight from the source cause right now, you were not only in shock but left completely in the dark.

“What? This is what he does. He brings people in his life that care, and then he fucks them over. Can’t you see he doesn’t give a shit about you?” Sunghoon said, frustrated it wasn’t his battle to fight, but he sure as hell felt like it because he didn’t want to see another person get treated the same way he did by heeseung. “Suit yourself,” he scoffed after you didn’t budge at all at his offer.

It’s late in the morning, and the guys are long gone. When you finally gather your thoughts and open heeseung’s door, he was still just there lying on his bed all by himself.

“Hee?” You call out to him, and he pops up surprised.

“You’re still here?” He asked, knowing the guys had already left, and there was a small glint in his eyes when he saw you.

“I couldn’t leave without hearing the truth from you not them,” you say quietly.

“Y/n I, there’s a lot.” he was about to open up to you, but he quickly stopped himself. You’re just like the rest he told himself. No one truly cares about him. You’re only using him for his body the same way he used you. There was no real connection between you two at all. “But I just want you, okay? The past is the past.”

“You mean that? Everything they said was…”

“Shh shh, Angel, come here.” You walked toward him on the bed and lay down next to him. “I didn’t mean it. I was just frustrated.”

“Well then maybe you could explain that to them, and they’d come back,” you say, feeling hopeful cause you saw the bond they all had, and it wasn’t something you thought should be let go after one fight, but there was so much you didn’t know, so much you’d never know, at least not from heeseung’s mouth.

“Nah, Angel, they won’t get me the way you do,” he says it to flatter you to mask the person he really is, and you fall for it like all his other lies.

His hand slinks down to your waist and lower to your butt. “It’s been too long since my dick was in you, angel girl. Gonna let Daddy fuck this pretty pussy? Need it so bad, been so stressed lately, and I know the moment I’m in you, all that will go away” he cups your pussy, and you whine, nodding against his chest.

“Yes, Daddy, please, I missed your cock, missed you,” you mewl softly.

“Go ahead, Angel, show me how much you missed it.”

You gave yourself to him every hole free for him to use, and use he did.

First, he fucked your throat with his hard cock, then your pussy, and after he took your ass in doggy, filling up the puckered rim with hot cum your holes were dripping his white semen by the time you were done, and you felt so full so warm cuddling, up to him after and sharing his last blunt.

-

Heeseung still went on to perform by himself, the music being played in the background instead of live, and he lied to his fans, saying his bandmates had an emergency, so they couldn’t attend the tour. Meanwhile, he was doing everything it took to stay afloat, using the proceeds to feed his drug addiction.

He swam in it, no longer trying to hide it from anyone. Now that the guys were gone, it was a lot easier. He even did it right in front of you, assuring you it helped him with stage fright lying through his teeth. He did show after show, line after line, coming back to the RV, giving you round after round. The only thing that took the pain away was the pleasure of your body and the drugs that took him far away.

It was just like Sunghoon said. All he did was perform fuck and smoke.

He tried to warn you, but your desire for heeseung clouded all his negative habits up until recently, and your eyes were finally starting to open and see clearly for what this was.

You noticed he was different but didn’t think much of it. After all, his band had just split up, but it was when he started looking pale and really thin that’s when you voiced your concern for him.

“So lucky I got you to come on tour with me,” he muttered, kissing your shoulder softly. “Love having you with me and being inside you every day.”

You giggle, taking his compliment, but there’s something more you need to talk about before you get carried away in his soft touches and sweet words. “Hee?” You ask.

“Yes, angel?” He replies, touching you softly under the sheets.

“I-i know you said it helps, but maybe you should slow down a bit. You’re starting to loo”

He pushes you off him, automatically taking offense. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me” he sits up immediately and gets out of bed.

“I’m not, I’m jus-“

“Well, whatever it is that you feel, don’t. I’m good. Stop acting like you’re my girlfriend. We fuck, and that’s it” he got up going to the shower, where he reached into the cabinet, taking two lines to get his day started, not stopping for one second to consider your words or feelings.

What would you know? You’re just a pathetic little fan girl obsessed with his dick.

After his shower, he left you alone like he had been doing a lot these days. It became a habit after the guys left. When he came back, it was late again, and of course, he was out buying more drugs, but you didn’t know that, nor did you think about it. The only thing on your mind was guilt for making him upset in the morning and making him leave. You just wanted to apologize to him and tell him you’re sorry about earlier.

When he got back to the RV, you were already sleeping peacefully, looking so tempting in his drunken state you had passed out while waiting for him to come back.

“Where were you?” You stirred when you heard him arrive.

“Just went out for a walk, Angel, like always.” You nod, too tired to argue. You know he’s lying, but he won’t tell you the truth, so what’s the point anymore? He cuddles up to you in nothing but his boxers, holding you close. “So warm, angel Daddy missed you,” he nibbled on your ear, his semi-hard cock grinding on your ass like it wasn’t three in the morning.

“Mmh,” you pushed back against him, his cock flush against you. “Daddy, It’s late,” you whine softly, but your hips say otherwise.

“I know, Angel, but I missed you so much. Just lay here and let Daddy get it in, yeah?” He pulled your shorts down and pushed your underwear to the side, his dick rubbing back and forth between your pussy lips. “Please?”

“Yes,” you sighed, your eyes closed, letting him use your body. He felt too good to resist. You wanted to comfort him, and since he wasn’t confiding in you, you allowed him to use your body as his comfort, which always seemed to put him in a good mood.

“Mmm, already so wet,” he whispers, hot breath fanning your ear as he nibbles on your lobe.

“I’m always so wet for you,” you moaned, arching your back further into him, molding perfectly against his body.

“Angel…” he nuzzled his face against your hair, inhaling your scent. “You feel so good on me.”

“Please just put your cock in me,” you whined, feeling impatient. You didn’t need any prep. You had already taken him so many times your body was ready and well-adjusted for him to slip it in.

“Fuck angel, you beg for it like I didn’t just fuck this pussy good last night” he wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing lightly as he pushed his flushed pink tip inside your wet hole. He gave you slow, deep strokes, his thick cock kissing every inch of your walls..

“Never want you to pull out. Can’t go a second without you in me, Daddy.” Your walls clenched so hard, putting emphasis on your words.

You moaned despite his tight grip on your neck, which only heightened the pleasure. “Yeah, you’d like that?” he felt your walls sucking him in, and he applied more pressure to your neck. Your eyes rolled back, tongue stuck out as he used your hole. “Fuck, that’s a good little bitch. Keep squeezing this dick like the whore you are,” he whispered filthy words into your ears while his thick cock fucked into you without abandon. “I’ll stay in this pussy forever if that’s what my angel wants.”

He kept pounding into you deeply while rubbing your clit. “I love this pussy so much,” he grunts in your ear, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin.

“Daddy, yes!” You choke out, loving how deep he feels on this angle. “Fuck it feels so good,” you slur.

“Yeah, nasty little girl,” he moans.

“Your girl,” he pauses for a moment, his strokes still deep, but his expression falters at your words, but he quickly shakes it off, continuing to fuck you mercilessly. “Fuck, Daddy love your cock so much. You’re so deep in my pussy”

His hips stutter, your words making him lose his damn mind. The way you talk him through was doing something to him. It always did. “I know you do, can feel you sucking me in,” he kisses your neck, that indescribable feeling building inside him alarmingly quick. “I’m g-gonna cum. Take it, Angel, take it deep in that pretty little hole,” he moans, not concerned that he’s not wearing a condom. All he wanted was to finally finish in your pretty wet hole and the alcohol in his system only aided that want.

“Yes, yes, yes, feels s-so good” Your pussy soon swallows up his creamy load as his warmth greets your insides, and that’s when you realize he’s not wearing a condom, but you don’t care either, too lost in the feeling of finally being stuffed with his warm cum.

He massages your clit, and the moment he does, your mind goes fuzzy cumming from the intensity, feeling your walls clenching, begging for every last drop as he pulsates inside you, cum seeping from his sensitive tip till he’s emptied himself inside your throbbing heat.

“Angel,” he moans with each slow stroke in and out, caressing your wet cunt up and down. It feels so good with out a condom, so much warmer and tighter, after cumming around his cock. It’s reckless, he knows, but he can’t go back to condoms, not after feeling you so close and raw like this.

After you both came together, he wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you close and granting your wish as he stayed inside, cock still buried to the hilt in your pussy, as you both passed out for the night.

-

It was morning when you woke up. The sun was shining through the curtains as you rubbed Heeseung’s chest softly, and your gentle touch woke him up. “Hi, angel,” he greets like usual, but there’s something different. He looks down at you, smiling, the look in your eyes so soft he gets lost in it. He finds himself softly stroking your cheek, and you look up at him, smiling back at him like he held the moon and the stars in his eyes.

That’s when he saw it. He felt it, too. He was so riddled with guilt, and this was already too far, but he couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t hurt anyone else. Deep down, he knew he was fucked, he couldn't deny it anymore and he couldn’t drag someone else into his life, especially after his bandmates abandoned him for the same exact reason.

He quickly pulled away from you before he fell too deep, leaving you confused. “Can you just fucking stop? I’m not your boyfriend. Stop treating me like I am.” he got up abruptly, running his fingers frustratedly through his hair. “All this clingy shit,” he mutters, his inner turmoil getting the best of him.

“Hee?” You ask, confused, sitting up on the bed and wondering what happened to the once peaceful moment.

“And don’t call me that anymore.” he pulled tightly at the roots of his hair, feeling himself quickly losing it. “Just get out. I can’t have this.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to be. We don’t have to cuddle, it’s just we always do in the morning and I thought you liked it” you say disappointedly. He hates this and hates the way you’re trying to understand him when there’s nothing to understand other than the fact that he was full of shit and nothing but a complete fucking loser.

“No, besides tours over anyway. I don’t need you anymore,” he spoke hoarsely, and for the first time in a long time, he could feel, and it didn’t feel good. His chest felt tight, and it hurt to see you like this. It always hurt when he saw the guys in the same position as you right now, but he got used to letting them down. As fucked up as that sounds, but with you, this was all new territory for him, and it was scary to feel things that he thought didn’t exist inside him after years.

It takes a moment for his words to register. “W-what do you mean need?”

“Are you that fucking stupid? I used you to fuck 'cause you were easy. You gave it up for free, and you sucked dick good, that’s all. I care nothing about you, nor do I care what you think of me. Why do you think I never made it official? Were you just that dumb and obsessed that you couldn’t see?” He chuckles, driving the dagger of words straight into your heart.

You sat there hurt, tears in your eyes, and you wished you had of listened to Sunghoon, but you wanted to give heeseung a chance to prove to you he wasn’t what his friends said he’d be, but he failed you too, just like he failed everyone else. “So those words weren’t just in the moment,” you muttered sadly. “Well fuck you, Lee heeseung, you’re a piece of shit. I tried to fight for you, but apparently, all I am to you is a hole to be filled. I’m glad the band split up. They deserved better than you, and so do I.”

Your words stung bad, real bad, but he didn’t care. This was dead and over anyway. This chapter of his life was coming to a close finally.

“Should have listened to Sunghoon,” you mumbled, getting out of bed and grabbing all your belongings, purposefully leaving behind everything that he’d bought you.

“What the fuck did he tell you?” He says angrily, hating the fact you were taking someone else’s side over his, especially sunghoons.

“Just that you’re a piece of shit and an asshole. I wish I had of fucked him instead” You got dressed and stormed out, dialing up Jake. Luckily, they were still in the area, and you’re glad you kept contact with them cause you had no idea what to fucking do right now.

Heeseung heard the door slam, and he sat down on his bed. Now, it was done; he was alone, and no one had to suffer his stupidity. It was bittersweet, but he was glad no one was suffering at his hands anymore, and if breaking that cycle meant being alone, he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

He finally let his demons win, and now he was left alone with his decision. As much as he hates to admit this, his parents were right. He never amounted to shit.

Sunghoon was right. You were right. Hell, everybody was right except for him.

Feeling himself spiral, he reached under his bed, grabbing a bottle of liquor to help calm himself down.

He took deep breaths in and out, trying to ground himself, but his head hurt so bad, and his heart hurt even more.

He needed something stronger, something that would take effect now.

He turned to the one thing that would never leave him no matter what he did: never judge him for who he is, never be disappointed in him.

Drugs.

-

Days, weeks, months, years.

Heeseung didn’t know how much time had passed as he laid in bed day in and day out.

All he knows is that his favorite song from his old band was playing on his speakers, and he was about to get high for the countless time.

He reached into his nightstand and grabbed a bag of pills. He stared at them for a moment and then dumped them out into his palm. He took a deep breath, throwing his head back and popping them all in his mouth, downing them with the bottle of liquor on his side desk.

Snuggling up to your pillow, he inhaled your scent, your faint presence still lingering, and he smiled to himself a gentle, genuine smile for the first time in a long time. “My angel,” he closed his eyes, getting lost in your familiar aroma.

He never showed it, never dared to tell anyone, but for the first time, he actually felt happy being on tour with you.

Just the little things about you made him smile, like that one morning when you stayed in bed all day feeding each other fruit, and he noticed you had a little habit of picking out all the little seeds, even the ones you could eat.

He found you endearing and even started picking out the seeds for you and feeding you.

Or when you guys would all game together, and the guys would tease him for giving you items and gold, always being the healer so he could help you win.

Some of his favorite moments were when you guys would all just sit and talk, brainstorming ideas for new songs while eating together.

What he liked most was just being surrounded by people he loved.

He laid on his back, letting out a deep, relieved sigh cause this would all be over soon. The pain would feel like nothing.

He noticed your little plushie sitting off in the corner of the room. He bought it for you when he first took you to the mall just a few days after you met.

He smiled and sat up, walking to the corner to grab it, and saw the rest of the things he bought you, too, sitting in a pile. His heart clenched at the sight, knowing you didn’t even take anything that would be a reminder of him with you, but it'd be better for you to forget him anyway.

He sat back on his bed, squeezing the plush a few times before tucking it under his arm and opening his phone to draft up texts for you and his bandmates. You probably all blocked him and didn’t care about him anymore anyway, but he needed to do this for himself, at least to finally get every heavy burden off his aching chest.

To Jake

“Hey, sorry about the last time you saw me, and I’m sorry you never really got to see a deeper side of me, but things were just really hard for me. Even though I never showed it, you really brightened up my day. Your carefree attitude and playfulness always made being around you a fun time, but you were always a little annoying for trying to get at my girl, but I love you. You’re like a little brother to me, and performing with you was always a blast.”

To Jay

“Thank you for everything. I love you. You’re an amazing guitarist, and you really know how to liven up a show. Though our success had just begun, you stayed the same through and through, hard-working and dedicated. I’m happy to say I’ve worked alongside you up until this point. Thank you for keeping me level-headed, and thanks for an amazing run. I just wish it could have been longer. I’m sorry that I ruined it. Hey, take care of the band, yeah? You should be the new vocalist. Don’t tell Jake or Sunghoon ;)”

To sunghoon

“I let you down, and I’m sorry. I know I was a role model for you, and I know I fucked that up. I’m sorry I never said sorry, and I’m sorry I never proved to you I could be better for you. You always saw the best in me when most saw the worst, and I really valued our friendship even though I messed it up. Hopefully, you can forgive me, nothing was ever your fault and hopefully, we’ll meet again someday, maybe just on the other side, but not too soon. Take your time. I’ll be waiting, okay? And I’ll have the absolute best version of myself waiting just for you. I love you”

To my true first love

“Hey angel girl, I’m a piece of shit, I know, and even though I was, you still stayed by my side even though you knew I was never entirely honest with you, yet you looked past it, never questioned me, and gave me my own time even though I didn’t deserve it you loved me unconditionally, and I love you for that. Sorry I never said it to your face, but I love you dearly, my angel girl. You gave me the love I’ve been searching for all my life, and I’m sorry I couldn’t show you that, but it wasn’t just the sex. I loved spending time with you, showering with you, waking up in your arms, and making love. All of it was perfect. For the first time, you made me happy, angel, and that’s saying a lot. I’m sorry I pushed you and everyone away, but I had some issues still do, and I just couldn’t let you waste your time on someone like me anymore. You are so much better off without me, and a loser like me will only hold you back, but thank you for loving me past my flaws, and thank you for supporting our band, and for the record, you never did anything wrong, you are perfect it’s just me I messed everything up, but I pushed you away cause I was scared of hurting you. Nothing I ever said was true. I just said it so maybe you’d love me less and let me go, but I hope the guys and you can live happily ever after without me. I love you, my sweet, sweet angel girl, and don’t you forget it. Even in the afterlife, I’ll still always be madly in love with you. I wish I could just hold you and kiss you one last time 😗❤️ goodbye, my sweet little angel. I love you.”

He closed his eyes, tears running down both sides of his face.

He cried freely, his heart hurting immensely. He always thought he’d die surrounded by loved ones, not alone in the darkness of his RV in a random parking lot by himself, but he made this bed. He’ll lay in it and surely die in it.

Amidst his thoughts, he begins to feel sleepy, and that’s when he sends all the texts. Knowing his time was coming soon, he looked at a picture of you in his phone, one he took without you noticing while you were hugging him in your sleep, and he smiled. His mind was swirling with thoughts of his life from when he was a child till now, and within moments, he was passed out, the gentle sound of his phone ringing was the last thing he heard. “Finally,” he breathed out, all the hurt and exhaustion leaving his body forever as his eyes closed.

-

“Yo!” Jake shouts from the living area.

“What?” Jay and Sunghoon pop their heads out from the other room, and so do you.

You had been staying with them at a little motel for a few days, waiting for the next flight back to your guy's hometown. Thankfully, the guys welcomed you to stay with them as long as you needed, and you couldn’t have been more grateful they didn’t bring up heeseung, and neither did you. All of you just silently understood and left it at that, hoping to begin the healing process on the flight back.

“I just got a text from heeseung,” Jake says, reading over it. “What the fuck?” He says, confused, reading the message over and over again. This wasn’t like heeseung, especially to leave that long of a text.

The other phones went off like a chain reaction: Jay, then Sunghoon, then lastly, you.

You all read the messages, your hearts sinking all together. “On the other side….” Sunghoon mumbled, and they all collectively looked at each other before running out of the apartment.

Thank goodness his location was still on. You all rushed to the RV, worried, stricken, and fearing the absolute worst. No one said it, but you all felt it on the drive there. Multiple red lights were run, but you didn’t care. You needed to get to him and see him as soon as possible.

When you arrived, he was still in the same spot as when you left him, and your heart sank even further.

You all sprinted to the RV, and you tried opening the door, but it was locked. “Step aside.” Jake took off his flannel shirt, easily punching a hole in the glass, the adrenaline pumping through his veins as Jay rushed inside immediately.

You all flooded heeseung’s room. The door was open, the room filled with smoke and the smell of weed, and through all the smoke, heeseung was lying lifeless on his bed. His phone in his hand, your plushie on his chest and a blunt trapped between his stiffening fingers.

Your heart broke seeing him like this, and you quickly rushed to his side, kneeling down next to him. “Hee? Heeseung baby? Wake up.” You shook his body gently, tears welling in your eyes. You grabbed the stupid blunt from his hand, throwing it off into the room somewhere you couldn’t care about right now. “Hee, please,” you cried, your body losing all its strength. The text told you enough, but you didn’t want to believe it.

“Heeseung….” Sunghoon muttered, completely petrified, still standing in the doorway, unable to move cause it was actually real this time, and he couldn’t do anything about it. Jake and Jay tried to shake him awake, gently tapping his cheek. Jake picked up his upper body, but he flopped right back down into his mattress.

“Come on, heeseung, stop playing around,” Jake cried in complete denial.

“Heeseung!” Jay shouted, shaking his lifeless body by his shoulders, and his head fell back entirely limp.

Jake quickly dialed 911, the sirens in the background turning into a high-pitched ringing, and everyone knew it was too late.

They’d lost their friend.

Your lover laid completely still on his bed as you hovered over him, kissing his dry lips softly, you ran your fingers through his hair, holding his hand, and your heart broke when you saw yourself on his phone screen. “It’s okay, hee. You’re gonna be fine, baby. Help is on the way. You’re okay, hee,” you repeated over and over, and the guys watched the scene utterly heartbroken as he laid lifeless, unresponsive, and his lungs froze over.

-

Taglist: @loverseon @nithxhoon @fancypeacepersona @jakeyismine @hoonprksung

[kiba-uwuzuka]

Bitter Sweet Café

pairing: congressman!bucky barnes x reader

summary: five times Bucky orders a black coffee, and one time he takes your suggestion.

word count: 4.7k+

author's note: this is the first fic i've ever posted! this is also my first attempt at reader insert, so bear with me! all reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!! ‪❤︎

this has also been cross posted on my ao3!

The morning rush at Rise & Grind Coffeehouse was slower today, some merciful god looking down at you so that you might have a breather on this early Tuesday morning. Spring was here, shaking off the frost of winter, reminding people that it was okay to come outside and feel the sun. 

You wipe down the espresso machine, appreciating the lull that was soon to end. You often worked the morning shifts, it freed up your afternoons to take a walk around the city or return home and unwind with a good book or some mindless tv. 

The doorbell rang as another customer walked in. You look up, calling out a greeting. “Welcome to Rise & Grind!”

The man was someone you had never seen before; tall, broad shouldered, wearing a long black overcoat and a finely pressed suit underneath–the kind that looked allergic to color or fun. His facial hair was short but neat, his eyes tired and apprehensive as he took in the brightly colored cafe. 

“First time in?” You ask, your lips curving in a slight grin as he walks up to the counter. His posture was straight and his expression was serious, like a man on a mission for caffeine in enemy territory. He definitely looked out of place here with his monotone color palette.

“My regular place closed down recently.” His voice was quiet, measured, but not unfriendly. “This one’s on the way to work.”

You nod, understanding. Independent coffee shops in the city were a hit or a miss. “Well, what can I get you started with? Maybe a Sugar Cookie Frappe?” You suggest, giving him a playful smile. “It’s been a real hit lately.” 

He levels a stare at you like you had just personally ran over his cat. “A what?” 

“A Sugar Cookie Frappe.”

“...Why would anyone drink that?” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Some people like flavor?” 

He looks apprehensive, almost offended. “Just a large black coffee. Whatever your.. Most normal medium roast is.” 

You huff a laugh as you type his order into the system. “No cream or sugar, I’m assuming?” 

“You would assume correctly.” He said dryly. 

“One large, boring coffee coming right up.” You say, and write the order on a cup. He makes a noise that could perhaps be a chuckle as you write medium roast, maximum mystery in place of a name, and he pays with a card. 

You don’t mean to look at his card, but you catch a glimpse of a name. Barnes. Familiar, but you couldn’t place your finger on it. 

It takes you no time to make his simple order, which is probably good for you. Questions were on the tip of your tongue, but he didn’t seem the type to give you a real answer. You hand the finished coffee back to him with the lid on tight and a sleeve on the cup, your fingers brushing a bit as he takes the hot drink from you. He looks at the cup like it might poison him, and you snort a bit. 

“Have a good day, mystery man.” You say with a wave as he walks to the door. He leaves without a word, but you're almost certain that he might have smiled.

It had been two days since that mystery man came into the cafe.

Not that you were counting. 

But you did look up ‘Barnes’ as soon as your shift ended. You told yourself it was because the name sounded familiar, vaguely historical. A quick google search confirmed what your gut had already suspected. 

James Buchanan Barnes. 

New York’s 12th Congressional District Representative. 

Mid-30s (appearance wise). War veteran (WWII, specifically). An interesting metal arm that you realized you mistook for a glove when he first arrived at the cafe. You barely remembered a historical paper you did on the Avengers in college, and wondered why it took you so long to recognize him. 

Your search only came up with headlines and boring congressional interviews, no nonsense such as social media or anything he was currently up to in his private life. No fun, no flavor. 

So when he walks in again – same time, same coat, same dry stare – you’re smiling a bit brighter than you probably should be. 

The cafe is quiet this morning, the faint whirr of the grinder blending in with the lo-fi music playing over the speakers. A few people were tucked away in the corners, tapping away at their laptop for some midterm paper, probably. When he approaches the counter, you tamper down your school-girl excitement – you don’t want to scare him off.

“Morning.” He says, almost apprehensive. 

You tilt your head, a small smile playing on your lips. “You’re back.”

He regards you for a moment. “All the other coffee shops are out of the way.” He says lightly, almost like it was an excuse he just made up. 

You can’t help but grin, and tap your screen awake for his order. “May I suggest our Cotton Candy Cloud Macchiato?” You say breezily, knowing it would probably make him rethink his entire life choices. 

He narrows his eyes, most certainly offended. “Do I even want to know what that is?” 

“It has edible glitter.” You say with a sparkle of mischief in your eye. 

He scowls. “No.”

You laugh, and type in his order in the system. “Alright, alright. One large black coffee. No cream, no sugar, no joy.” 

There’s a pause as you write zero sugar, zero joy on his cup, and he exhales a short breath of a laugh. “Do people not get regular coffee anymore?” He asks, looking at you with a slight smirk on his face as he slides his card into the machine to pay.

You look over your shoulder at him with a sly grin as you brew his coffee. “There’s enjoying coffee, and then there’s drinking it like it’s a punishment.” His order is simple and done almost instantly, you place the lid and sleeve on and slide it to him. He hums, picking the cup up and inspecting it like it might bite back. 

“Tell me something, Congressman Barnes.” You say casually, wiping your hands on your apron. “Is the joyless monotone vibe a politician thing, or a personal choice?” 

His eyes narrow, but only slightly. “You looked me up.” 

You gave a noncommittal shrug. “I may have seen your name on your card.”

He glances at your apron, where a name tag might be, but your boss wasn’t a fan of such things. He looks back up at your eyes, the direct eye contact making your heart stumble a bit. “Are you always this nosy?” 

You grin, shameless. “Only with regulars.”

That gets another faint smile – barely there, but the corners of his mouth twitch like he’s fighting it. You take that as a win.

“You planning on making fun of me every time I come in?” He asks. 

“Only if you keep denying joy and exciting flavor.” 

He takes a sip, eyes still on you over the rim of the cup. He hums, seemingly satisfied with the drink, and turns to leave. “Then I guess I’ll see you again.” He lifts a hand in a small wave as he heads to the door. 

You smile, soft and warm. “Till next time.”

It’s the middle of the lunch rush, and the cafe is buzzing. Apparently everyone in the city has decided that this is the place to get mediocre Wi-Fi and overpriced croissants. You’re practically vibrating off of three espresso shots, you’re two orders behind and you’ve already spilled mocha sauce all over your apron at least once. 

Which, of course, is exactly when you see him. 

You lift your head away from some overcomplicated almond milk situation to call out the usual greeting as the door chimes, catching sight of the tall man scowling at the sight of the line ahead of him. He lingers by the door for a moment, seeming to consider his choices, when he catches your eye. A flicker of recognition flashes in his eyes, and he joins the line with disgruntled reluctance. 

 You catch yourself smiling a bit and take over for your coworker at the counter who was getting overwhelmed with the line. When it’s his turn, he raises an eyebrow at you. “I came by the other day, you weren’t here.” He says casually with a smirk. “I didn’t know this place existed without you.” 

You laugh, feeling a bit warm and gooey inside that he looked for you. It had  been about four days since you had last seen him, and you couldn’t help but feel your pulse quicken under his intense blue-eyed gaze. “Am I hearing that you missed me?” 

“I wasn’t suggested some sugar-filled heart attack inducing drink, if that’s what you mean.” He snorts, but you notice he didn’t deny your question. 

“Speaking of,” you start with a grin, “Why don’t you try our S’more Mocha Madness? It even has mini marshmallows.” 

“Tempting.” He says in a voice that is not tempted at all. 

You shake your head almost teasingly, tapping in his order and grabbing a cup. Still bitter, with a side of coffee, you write on the cup, turning away to brew his drink. It’s simple and quick, and you turn back around just as he finishes paying, sliding him the cup. “Here you are. Large, medium roast, no joy and extra bitter – just how you like it.” 

He snorts, picking up the cup. “Are you always this aggressive with your customers?” 

“Only with people who actively reject happiness.” You say with a sly grin. The line grows behind him, but you can't find it in you to care. “You know, at some point you’re going to have to try something new.”

“I sit through six-hour budget hearings.” He says dryly. “I know how to outlast you.” 

You narrow your eyes, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “So this is a power struggle now?” 

“I'm a congressman. This is the closest thing I get to winning a debate.” 

You laugh despite yourself, and he watches you with a hint of a smile on his lips. Not in a predatory way, not even flirtatious, just… Present. Like you’re the only thing in the room worth focusing on. It makes your heart skip a beat, and you’re sure it’s not from the excess amount of espresso in your system. 

“Well, we do have a reward system here, you know.” You say, wiping your hands with a clean rag. “You might even get a free latte one of these days, Barnes. Maybe even something with sugar in it.” 

“Don’t push your luck,” He says with a snort, but it comes out a bit softer than he meant, something more teasing and playful than that first day he came in. 

He picks up his drink and nods his thanks as he disappears behind the line and out the door; moving like a man who was well experienced moving silently and unnoticed. 

You take the next customer, giving them a smile that was much more real than your usual customer service attitude, a warmth lingering in your chest for the remainder of the day.

Rain was pouring unrelentingly outside, a storm had moved in the night before and seemed to be here to stay. You opened the coffee shop by yourself this morning–the rain made it too difficult for any of your coworkers to come in–but it also kept away the usual Monday morning rush. Only a few wet and determined loyal regulars trudged their way into Rise & Grind, leaving you behind the counter doing some idle sweeping. 

It had been a whole week since you had last seen Congressman Barnes, (James? Mr. Barnes? What do you call him?) and you couldn’t help but overthink your last encounter. Maybe you were pushing it with your teasing? You’ve only met a handful of times, and you’re pretty sure he doesn’t even know your name. 

You were busy sweeping up fallen coffee grounds from when you emptied the grinder when the door jingled, announcing another brave soul who survived the torrential downpour outside. ”I’ll be with you in a moment!” You call over your shoulder, sweeping the pile into the waiting dustpan. 

When you turn, dustpan and broom in hand, you almost jump at the sight, nearly scattering the coffee grounds everywhere again. 

Like you summoned him from your internal lamenting, there he was. Standing before the counter like a half-drowned rat, his hair slicked back with rain and his long black overcoat dripping everywhere. Exhaustion wore heavy on his shoulders, bags under his eyes showing countless days of minimal sleep. His beard was still short but rough and in desperate need of a trim. His face softened a bit when your eyes met – not necessarily a smile but… Relieved, almost. Kinder. 

“Congressman Barnes.” You say lightly. He physically cringes at the name as you tip the dustpan into the trash, and set the dustpan and broom away. 

“Bucky.” He says. 

You lift an eyebrow. “Bucky?” 

He shrugs as you lean against the counter. “I’ve been Congressman Barnes for a very long, exhausting week.” The corner of his mouth tugged into a tired, lopsided smile. “My friends call me Bucky.” 

The familiarity in his tone throws you off a bit, but a soft smile of your own plays on your lips. “Well, my friends call me ____.”

“____.” He repeats softly, like he’s testing the name out on his tongue. You can’t deny the way your stomach flutters with butterflies at the sound of him saying your name. 

You tap the order screen awake, trying to push down the soft feelings and potential swooning you were getting just from him saying your name. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.” You say lightly, curious but not outright prying. 

He sighs, the sound nearly bone deep with exhaustion. “Yeah, sorry. Its been.. A rough week.” 

“I can tell,” you say, raising both brows slightly. “I figured you were off somewhere being important, or wrestling with some government things.” You were not going to admit that you had almost convinced yourself that you had scared him away.  

He huffed, pushing his wet, rain soaked hair back, his metal fingers gleaming in the light of the cafe. “A bit of both, I guess.”

You type in his regular order, not teasing him so much about it this time. He truly did look tired, and probably needed this coffee for more than the caffeine. 

Still… You really couldn’t help yourself. 

“You know,” you say slowly, earning a playful narrow-eyed stare from Bucky as you grab a cup. “We do have this wonderful Peach Hibiscus Tea that might revive your soul a bit.” 

The corners of his mouth twitch, like he was remembering how to smile. “I don’t think I’ve got a soul left after the way this week went.” 

“All the more reason, then.” You grin, writing soul healing caffeine on the cup. 

He snorts like he was trying not to, and pays as you turn around to make his coffee. Not a laugh, but close enough. Real. 

You turn back around and slide the warm drink towards him. He holds it, looking like he was savoring the warmth it brought to his hands, both metal and real. You lean to the side, reaching into the display cabinet next to the register, and pull out a blueberry muffin. Still soft and fresh from when they came out of the oven when you opened this morning. You place it on the counter, and push it towards him. 

He raises an eyebrow, and you shrug. “On the house. You look like you could use a pick-me-up.”

He doesn’t argue, doesn’t fight it. He picks it up, almost carefully, and regards you for a moment. His lips pull into another crooked smile, warmer this time. Softer.

“Thank you.” He says quietly, and you can tell it wasn’t just about the muffin. You smile, glancing down at your hands as you absentmindedly wipe them on your apron.

“Just doing my job.”

“It’s not just your job.” He says softly, making you look up again. 

He lingers around for a bit. Not long, just enough time for him to finish the muffin. You two talk quietly, despite the cafe being empty and the rain still pouring. You tell him about the ridiculous orders people come up with, and he tells you what ridiculous things the old men in the Senate say nowadays. 

It’s the longest you two have talked, and the longest that he’s stayed in the cafe. When he finishes his muffin and departs, he does so slowly, like he doesn’t actually want to leave. You smile and wave him goodbye, your heart warm knowing he’ll be back sooner or later.

The air was filled with humidity the next morning, the storm finally blowing away and leaving behind wet, sticky air and puddles everywhere. You got the morning shift again, and hoped for another slow day (and maybe a certain congressman). You slipped into the rhythm of opening the cafe with practiced ease, a routine you’ve done hundreds of times in your time of working at Rise & Grind.

You had the doors unlocked for barely ten minutes when the bell jingled, the noise echoing in the silent cafe – the music had yet to be turned on. It wasn’t uncommon for an early riser or someone pulling an all-nighter to walk in as soon as you had opened, but it was still far too early to deal with customers. Regardless, you turned to the door with the regular greeting on your tongue and a smile forced on your lips before you see who stepped inside.

Bucky Barnes stood just inside the door, his eyes sweeping the empty cafe in a way you’ve noticed him do before. His eyes were clear and bright when he saw you, a slight pleased expression on his face as he came up to the counter. He looked refreshed, maybe even vibrant. His coat was dry and he even looked like he got a full night of sleep. 

“We just opened.” You say with a smile that was much more genuine as he joins you at the counter. “Are you that desperate for bitter-filled punishment?” 

He huffs out a laugh, shrugging. “Desperate, yes. Bitter? The day is young, and I am a pessimist.” 

You squint at him. “Are you smiling?”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late.” You say with a beaming grin. You study him for a moment, then turn to the menu with a dramatic hum. “Hmm, let’s see. You look like you are in great need of our Unicorn Fuel Mocha Latte, I think.” 

“Unicorn fuel?” He repeats, like you just suggested committing a war crime.

You point at the menus behind you, in the latte section.

“Why is this the second drink you’ve recommended that has edible glitter?” 

You shrug. “Some people like to have fun, Bucky.” 

He looks back at you, narrowing his eyes but an amused expression on his face. “No way.” 

“Come on,” you say, grinning. “Live a little.”

“I am living. I actively choose life. That’s why I’m not ordering that.”

You laugh, shrugging in defeat as you reach for a cup, his order already typed into the system. “Alright, alright, fine. Back to the most boring coffee known to man.”  You write faithful and bitter on his cup.

“Who even names these things?” He asks in disbelief as he continues to read the menu while you make his drink. “Birthday Cake Iced Latte? Banana Cream Cold Brew?”

“My boss, actually.” You laugh. “She’s quite proud.”

When you hand the drink back to him, he makes no move to leave. He takes a sip, and leans against the counter, regarding you with those blue eyes. “So, I never did get around to asking you. Do you often google your customers?” 

You pause mid-wipe on the counter, looking up at him. “Only the ones who drink coffee like divine punishment.” You say teasingly, but truthfully you don’t quite know why you looked him up in the first place. 

“Oh yeah?” He raises an eyebrow. “And what did you find?” 

“Mostly congress stuff, nowadays. A piece on you in World War II. Buzzfeed did an article on you, you know. Most importantly, no social media.” You shook your head in mock shame. “You are practically impossible to stalk online. It’s tragic, really.” 

He chuckles a bit. “Social media isn’t really my thing. Too much.. Noise.” 

“Makes sense.” You nod sagely. “You seem pretty.. Old fashioned.”

His eyes narrowed. “Are you calling me old?” 

You raise an eyebrow. “Aren’t you like, 110? How’s your back feeling?” 

He laughs, a real one, the noise coming out like a surprise. “Do you treat all your regulars like this?”

You couldn’t help the small smile rising on your lips. “Not all my regulars are so interesting, after all.”

He made a small, curious noise in response, his eyes glinting a bit with amusement as he took another sip of his coffee. “Well. I'm glad that you find me… interesting.” His voice was soft and low, his eyes meeting yours over the lid of his cup. 

You fought the rising blush on your cheeks, the eye contact and sound of his voice making your heart thud in your chest. He headed to the door with a slight smirk, pausing before he exited. He turned to you, and raised his cup a bit. 

“See you later, ____.” He said, giving you a wink, and was out the door before you could stumble together your words. 

You spent the rest of the day smiling like a fool, thinking that maybe he found you just as interesting.

Saturday brought in a different type of rush – the regular 9 to 5ers usually taking the weekend to stay home or run errands – leaving a more relaxed crowd to come into the cafe. 

The cafe was buzzing with activity, people at almost every table catching up with friends or huddled in groups with laptops. The sun was bright and shining outside, making people come out to enjoy the fresh weather and a good cup of coffee. 

You wiped down one of the empty tables, sighing. You hadn’t seen Bucky since Tuesday (you had already given up on denying the fact you counted the days between his visits), but you weren’t as worried that you did something wrong this time around. 

You had only met a handful of times, but there was something about him that made your heart flutter. The way he smiled, soft and rare. The way it was so easy to talk to him, something effortless and comforting. He lingered in your mind more than you cared to admit.

Your coworkers had already caught on, teasing you about your not-so-subtle crush, but you hadn’t bothered to deny it. Why would you?

Still, part of you held back. He was a congressman, after all. A former ally to the Avengers. (Part of the Avengers? That never did get clarified, in the end.) He was a man with nearly a century of a past, and a future shaped by headlines and handshakes. 

And you were… Here. Behind the counter. Watching the door, wondering if he ever thought of you the way you found yourself thinking of him.

You finished cleaning the empty tables and walked back to the counter, pushing those thoughts out of your mind. You huffed to yourself, and glance at the clock. You had just about ten minutes left in your shift, and then you would be free to go grab some lunch and head home. Just as you got behind the counter, the door jingled with the arrival of another customer. You looked up, standing at the register, and raised your eyebrows in surprise. 

Bucky Barnes, here on a weekend. He was obviously off work, his outfit was much more casual than you had seen. He had a navy henley on with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing one muscular forearm and more of his metal arm than you had ever seen before. He wore dark jeans and sneakers, and gave you a slanted grin as he walked up to the counter. 

“I didn’t know you existed outside of the weekdays.” You say, your eyes openly taking in his relaxed appearance. “Or had any other clothes.”

Bucky chuckled, running his metal hand through his hair. You couldn’t help but admire the way the dark metal gleamed in the light. “I do actually have a life, you know.”

“Do you?” You ask with a tilted head and narrowed eyes, a small teasing smile playing on your lips. 

He gives you a dry look, making you laugh a bit. He shakes his head, a small smile rising on his face. “Alright, alright. What’s the weekend special you’re having? I’m sure it’s something equally horrifying to the abominations you’ve mentioned before.”

“Have you such little faith in me?” You muse, and glance up at the menu with a thoughtful hum. “Perhaps our Honey Oatmilk Latte?” 

He paused, then nodded. “Yeah, sure.” 

You turn back to him, blinking in surprise. “What?” 

“I mean, it doesn’t sound that bad.” He shrugs. He looks at your surprised face, and grins a bit. “Just don’t send me into cardiac arrest, alright?” 

You huff a laugh, and grab a cup. “Such high standards,” you tease, shaking your head. You step away from the counter as he pays, and begin to make his drink. It was a simple latte, espresso with oatmilk, honey and a dash of vanilla and cinnamon. It wasn’t overly sweet, not too complicated, but you wanted to make sure it was perfect. 

You turn back around and slide the drink to him, an almost nervous smile tugging at your lips. He picks up the cup and gives it a look. 

“What, no passive-aggressive notes today?” He asks, amused with an eyebrow raised. You roll your eyes playfully, waving him away. 

“Positive reinforcement, and all that.” You shrug, but you don’t take your eyes away from him as he gives the drink a small sip. 

He’s quiet for a moment, considering the flavors, then raises both his brows. “This is.. Pretty good, actually.” 

“Wow, look at that.” You couldn’t help the smug grin on your face as you lean against the counter. “A compliment? And you doubted me, what a shame.” You shook your head. “You could have had so many good drinks by now.” 

He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Well, we’ll just have to make up for lost time now, won’t we?” His grin makes your stomach twist, and you find yourself trying not to blush. 

You glance away, at the clock, and realize it's about five minutes after your shift ends. Bucky glances that way as well, before looking back at you. “Ah, my shift is over.” You say, feeling a bit awkward now. He often came by in the mornings, or that one time you had an afternoon shift. You step back, and then shuffle awkwardly to the back to hang up your apron and clock out. 

When you come back to the front, Bucky is still there, standing a bit aways from the counter. He smiles softly at you as you come up to him, your bag slung over your shoulder. “Have you had lunch yet?” He asks, almost too casually. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Is this you asking me out on a date?”

He purses his lips, and takes another sip of the coffee. “I might have waited to come in when I thought your shift ended.” He shrugs. “There’s a deli shop I like, just around the corner. Why don’t you join me?”

A smile tugs at your lips, your heart practically leaping out of your chest. “My, my. You let me pick your drink, and now a date. Have I worn you down that much?” 

He chuckles, the sound rumbling softly out of his chest. “You can tell me what I should get there, too, if you’d like.”

You laugh, and he leads you out of the cafe. The bell over the door jingles as he pushes on it and holds it open for you. Your heart is light and you can’t keep the smile off your face, and it delights you to see a smile on his, something more genuine than you’ve seen in the whole time you’ve known him. He looks down at you with a gleam in his eye, and you know you’ll never be wondering for the next time he comes around.

my very small taglist <3 -

@makehydrafictionagain

[txniesha]

Complication Sylus x Non!MC reader pt.4

A/N: hey yall I’m back!!! It’s been a crazy month honestly. I’ve been working my ass off, I got a new dog and he’s bad asf, and moving in is just sooo stressful. Also this damn dog chewed up fuckibg MacBook charger so I don’t have a laptop until I get another one, i hate writing on my phone that’s why this chapter is so short. But here’s part 4 for yall!! Yk I think I spelt Kieran’s name wrong the entire time…

Synopsis: You thought you would be able to get away from him, but it’s never that easy.

Word count: 1420

CW: emotional manipulation, stalking, threats of violence

Zayne had left early that morning as he had to be at the hospital for surgery. He kissed you gently on the forehead and smiled “Text me if you need anything, I'll get back to you as soon as I can” he said before leaving. When he left all, you could think about was the phone call from Sylus that you got the night before. His words haunted you as you knew what he was capable of when he wanted something. What you didn't get is why he still thought he deserved you let alone was entitled to you when he clearly was infatuated with her.  You got up and started to pack your things realizing if you were going to stay in Linkon, you had to get somewhere where he didn't know where you were.  

That was easier said than done, considering the fact you knew no one in Linkon besides Zayne and....him. He was a regular at the lounge, usually coming in there alone looking for information. N109 was an information hub after all and there was no better place to get good reliable information than the lounge run by Onychinus themselves. You had a habit of getting close to regulars who were cute and seemed reliable. You went and picked your shattered phone up off the floor hoping and praying it would come on. It did turn on, so you dialed his number putting it on speaker, so you didn't hold the broken glass on your ear; it rang for a long time before a soft groggy voice answered with a hello. “Hey, Xavier! This is [name], I'm in Linkon and needed help with a thing or two” He lets out a soft sigh and you can hear him shift around in his bed. “Yea what is it” he says his voice calm and deep.  

You explained to him the situation, well not all of it, but enough for him to get the idea. He lets out a soft chuckle “sounds like quite the predicament, but yea you can stay for as long as you need” You thank him and hang up the phone, it dings a second later with the address. It didn't take you long to gather your things considering that most of it was already in a suitcase. You hurriedly checked out of the hotel, checking over your shoulder every second in fear of Sylus being right behind you. You felt like someone was watching you but every time you looked to see there was no one. You entered your taxi quickly, making sure that the number on the license plate matched the one you booked. You couldn't take any chances with a man like Sylus. He had so many people in his pocket that you felt as if you couldn't trust anyone.  

The ride to Xaviers place from the hotel was quicker than you expected. Linkon was a big city, so you didn't expect him to live close to where you were at all. You thanked the taxi driver, giving him a tip as he helped you get your bag and then made your way to his building, clicking the third floor in the elevator to his floor. You found the apartment ‘305’ and composed yourself before you knocked on the door. It opened after a moment showing a groggy and shirtless Xavier, lose sweatpants hanging off his hips and that ever so neutral look on his face. You smile at him, “sorry didn't mean to wake you” he shrugs moving to grab your suitcase lifting the heavy thing effortlessly. “Its fine, I just didn't expect you so soon” he says his voice calm and deeper then normal. You chalked it up to him just waking and followed him inside.  

His apartment was cozier than you expected. The neutral tones of tan and white offsite by the vast amount of lush green plants was surprising. The walls were lined with books, vinyl's, and more plotted plants. “You really have a green thumb don't you” you say with a smile “sorry to barge in like this” you say apologize again. He doesn't say anything but just walks over to you holding two cups of coffee and hands one to you. You thanked him, taking a sip, it was sweeter than you expected.  He just nods and sits next to you. He took a slow sip of his coffee, eyes dragging over you, not with hunger like you were used to, but curiosity. You’d always been a bit of a mystery to him in the lounge. Friendly, flirty, but distant. Now here you were, cracked and worn at the edges. “Are you okay” he says in his usual tone. You hesitate for a moment and then nod putting the cup on the coffee table. “Yea, I'm just a little tired, didn't get much sleep last night” he stares at you for a second before once again nodding. You forgot just how quiet he could be sometimes.  

You two sat in silence for a while, sipping on the hot drinks. He finally speaks up, “You’re running from him, right?” he asks looking at you. Your breath hitches and you look away suddenly feeling uncomfortable. How could he know that it was Sylus. “I don't know who you’re talking about” you say feigning ignorance. He lets out a small scoff “You work for Onychinus even if it is only at a bar; The only person that could have you this afraid is him” he says his voice now taking on a different tone “if you're in danger you need to let me know, I can make sure you're safe” his hand finds its way to your arm and gives it a soft reassuring squeeze. You still refused to look at him, afraid he would see right through you. You shrugged his hand off and pull your knees up to your chest trying to comfort yourself. “I really don’t want to talk about it honestly” you say looking away.

Xavier didn’t push. He just sat there beside you, the noises of the city filtering in through his slightly cracked windows making it not completely silent. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was heavy with everything you weren’t ready to say. Youb finally sighed, “is there somewhere i can smoke?” you ask him with a sigh after a while. He looks at you his eyebrow raised, “you smoke? I never seen you do that at the lounge.” you let out a laugh at this “it's because at the lounge I have to keep up appearances?” He lets out a small laugh, the sound soft and refreshing, “Sure just go out of that door out to the patio, try not to burn any of the plants” You rise from the couch and go out to the patio. The patio was beautiful, covered in big, beautiful plants of all colors. You leaned against the railing and lit up your cigarette, finally feeling a sense of relief as the nicotine stick filled your lungs.  

You were enjoying your cigarette when a giant crow landed right next to you where you were on the railing. It scares the shit out of you causing you to let out a scream. The bird didn't move, just stood staring at you as you screamed in fear at the giant thing. It didn't look natural, its eyes were red, and it had this almost metallic gleam to it as if all of it wasnt fully a bird. Xavier came running out of the apartment at lighting speed, looking around for the threat. He was a bit disappointed to see a giant bird sitting on the railing instead of an actual threat. The bird observed him for a moment before taking off into flight silently.

The cigarette fell out of your hands; they were shaking uncontrollably. Xavier stepped beside you, observing the space around you. “That wasnt just a bird” he says his tone taking a serious tone. You nod your head in agreement. It was clear that thing was sent here. That would mean that he found you faster than you expected. “Xavier, I have to go. Its not safe here anymore” you say panic rising in you. You turn quickly from him and start walking back into the apartment. He follows you, catching your arm once you were both fully inside. He turns you around to face him, the neutral look he always had now replaced with one of genuine concern. “You’re not going anywhere. Obviously, he's looking for you. I can protect you, I promise.”  

He convinced you to stay, the promise of his protection being enough to win you over, but nothing could ease the fear and anxiety you felt. You had never done anything like this before with Sylus, so the thought of what he would do terrified you. You knew he would never physically do anything to hurt you but you were still afraid. You sat on the couch, nervously picking at your nails. The nails that were once groomed to perfection yesterday were chipped, some even broken off, from all the anxiety induced biting you did to them over the past hours not even realizing. Your phone buzzed beside you; you almost didn't pick it up fearing it was Sylus but was confused to see an unknown number calling. You looked over to Xavier who had somehow fallen asleep next to you.  

You answer the phone a little confused, “hello?” you say cautiously. It was a moment of silence before the person spoke up. “So you are trying to hide from me” his deep voice says. There was a sense of playfulness imbued within the statement. You tense up not wanting to say anything. “This is unlike you, to be testing me in such a way. I would find it irritating if you weren't making this so fun” he says in his usual calm voice, you could almost hear the smile that was on his face. “I'm not hiding” you lie, the words sounding unbelievable even to yourself. He chuckles at the statement “You could at least sound like you've convinced yourself of that little lie.” You groan in frustration “why are you doing this Sylus! Everything you've done since you came back from your little disappearing act has been for her.” He lets out a tsk “Don't make this about her, she has nothing to do with your actions” he says the irritation starting to creep in trough every word. “If it wasnt for her we wouldn't even be where we are now” you snap.  

He sighs “I didn't call you to argue about petty things. You don't have a choice anymore. Comeback willingly or I'll just have to come and get you” Your breath hitches and look over to Xavier who was still sleeping peacefully. “And don't think he can save you” he says and then the line goes dead. Yiu sat there in silence for a moment and then moved to get up. You didn't want to put Xavier in harm's way so you thought it would be best to follow what Sylus says. As soon as you moved to get up from the couch Xavier grabs your arm. You look at him and he was wide awake now “Sit down, don't move.”  he says sternly. “Xavier, I have-” he silenced you with just one look that showed that he was being serious. You decided that you've had enough of testing these dangerous men and sat back down without arguing. He doesn't say anything else and jsut closes his eyes laying his head back against the head of the couch.  His hand was still wrapped around your arm, not tightly but just firm enough to let you know not to try anything else.

You look over at Xavier his eyes still shit, you knew he wasnt asleep. His hand traced soft circles on your wrist, it was almost as if he was trying to calm your nerves. “Xavier he's-” you start. “I know” he says his eyes still closed. You leave it there not wanting to discuss it any further. “hes not someone that scares me so you have nothing to worry about” he finally says. You just nod and close your eyes, not wanting to think about this any longer. Outside the apartment across the street, Mephisto sat still. He was watching ytou both closely, waiting on his masters next step.  

You didn't realize you fell asleep, until you woke up to what sounded like creaking in the apartment. You opened your eyes, the place was pitch black aside from the trails of moonlight streaming in from the peaks of the semi open curtains. You felt Xaviers hand on your wrist tighten and you could guess that it wasnt him that made the floorboards of the apartment creak. “Knock knock, anyone home” you hear a playful voice call out in the darkness “idiot you're supposed to actually knock first” you hear the same voice say. Your breathing quickens at the familiarity of the voices. Xaviers grip on your wrist was now lethal and you say a flash of light emitting from his side. The light now lit up the apartment and you saw the figure, well figures. There stood two familiar faces, well mask, of Luke and Keiran. You stood quickly bringing Xavier up with you. “Happy to see us boss lady” the playful voice of you recognized as Luke spoke up. Xavier steps Infront of you, his sword made of his evol positioned in front of him.  

“Ohhh scary” Keiran's voice says playfully “i bet it makes your bones vibrate when it slices through it” he adds. Xaviers grip tightens, and his voice was deathly serious now, a tone you had never heard before “Its only one way to find out” He swings the sword, but Keiran moves quicker, avoiding the swing of gracefully. “Woah man we’re here under strict orders from the boss man. He didn't say fight only to retrieve” You scoff “if he sent you two, he expected blood shed” you say. Luke gasps in mock offense “Rude! He sent us because we know how valuable you are to him” Keiran shakes his head in agreement “if you don't come back with us the boss man may just break down in tears, you wouldn't want our poor boss to be sad would he” Keiran say putting his hand over his heart.  

“Shes not going anywhere” Xavier says. Luke groans and throws his arms int he air “Who even are you! You're really starting to get on my nerves” Lukes's voice becomes serious when saying the last sentence. This was bad, really bad. If you didn't go with them who knew what they would do to Xavier. The twins were fun sure but were true sadist at heart. “The boss is getting impatient” Keiran says his voice no longer playful either, as Mephisto comes and lands on the window seal that was wide open. You sigh and make your decision. You manage to pull your hand out of Xaviers grip and the way he reached back out to catch it broke something in you. Luke got to you first though pulling you towards him. “Xavier, if I don't go with them now, next time he sends them they won't be in a playful mood” you say to him. Luke and Keiran both nod in unison. “He would chew us out so bad we would have no choice but to take it out on you” Keiran says shrugging his shoulders. Mephisto caws loudly and Luke and Keiran both look at each other “welp time to go, playtimes over.” Keiran says. They drag you to the door as you tried not to look back at Xavier “also don't try to follow us pretty boy, Boss won't be too nice next time” Luke says as they close the apartment door behind them.  

 

As they walk you out of the apartment you shrug their hands off “Where is he?” you say irritated. “Chilllll boss lady, you'll see him soon enough” Luke says. “You know you're his favorite; he's been going crazy these past few days” Keiran says as they lead you to a car. They opened the door to the back seat and there sat Sylus. “Look who willingly decided to come with us boss!!” Luke says cheerfully. Sylus just smirks and nods. “We’ll make sure the grey-haired freak upstairs doesn't try anything” Keiran says ushering you inside. Sylus doesn’t say anything he just watches you slide into the seat next to him. You flinch slightly as the door slams shut.  

His fingers trail the side of your arm, making you tense up in anticipation of his next actions. Hes quiet at first, as his gloved hand traced invisible lines on your arm. His touch was soft and deliberate and made you feel as if he was leaving a trail of fire from how hot it was. “You could have at least called and told me you were leaving” he says his voice terrifyingly calm. “Don't you think I out of anyone deserves a goodbye” You don't respond, you didn't even want to look at him. The space in the car felt a lot smaller under his intense gaze. His fingers trail back up your arm, the gloved hand lightly wrapping around your throat lightly. His fingers press into your jaw tightly and he forces you to look at him. “I should be angry, hell I should be livid honestly” he says quietly his face getting closer to yours “But the way you looked under him last night tells me i need to try harder with you” You could feel the color drain out of your face at the realization of him knowing. You shouldn't care about what he knows and how he feels about it but you are all too aware of the consequences of his feelings.  

“What do you want me to say to that” you shoot at him and he tsk at your attitude. “You dont have to say anything” he says his grip tightening slightly and his thumb caress to and you could sense his irritation. “But….you are going to feel the consequences of trying to leave”

He lets go of your face and taps the privacy window between the two of you and the driver. The car starts up and starts to move at a steady speed. He reaches over buckling you into your seatbelt. He grabs your face and makes you face him again as he speaks “But for now, just enjoy the drive” he says softly and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

tags: @sillyfreakfanparty @crimsonmarabou @z3vl @96jnie @perqbeth @justpassingdontworry @malleus-draconias-rose @sleepykittyenergy @aboobie @syluslittlecrows @scrambledhuevos79 @madam8 @fandomenbylover@insidious-innocence @etherealsoul90 @xsammijoanneex @acasualattempt  @sylusgirlie7 @jasperjokester @animegamerfox @jae48 @goldenbirdiee @zoezhive @rxelarailuj @huuvu @simphoursonly  @athanasia-day @asakiyu @thirstblogforaparchedgirl @eolivy @caramelizedpopcirn @auraficial @dilf-destroyer-04

[postmoe]

Really wanna do...

A Konosuba AU type thing with Anaxa, Phainon and Mydei.

You're a God who welcomes passing souls to a new start or whatever they want, and when you get the Blasphemer, you can't help but feel smug that you get to be the deity that proves him wrong.

He somehow still makes you feel inferior, as though he intends to make you doubt your own existence. The back and forth is getting too much for you so you explain the rules, tell him to pick something to take with him-

"Anything? Anyone?"

"Yes, yes, now hurry up! There's a long line, you know."

And when he picks you, it takes you a second to register, then another to scoff at his decision. Well, OBVIOUSLY you weren't on the table... Right?

And then idk Black Swan or some shit come down to say "man we really should update that. Bye (Y/n)~!" and you're in tears because your comfy life as a God is about to crumble with some Blasphemer who doesn't even acknowledge you exist.

They have video games in your world, you're not new to most of these concepts. Adventurer's Guilds, taverns, NPC dialogue, it just sucks you have to start from zero. Not a Gold to your name, not even a name to your name! No one knows you and it hurts.

Anaxa is having the time of his life, taking on small, two party commissions, throwing you in the way because, "Aren't you a God? Then do something divine."

You have to explain that, "My level has dropped to 1, too! I don't have any magical powers or-" and it's when he starts snickering that you realise he knows all this, you don't need to explain yourself to him, he's just the biggest bully you've ever encountered.

Cold nights sleeping in barns are terrible, you either find yourself curled against him for warmth or if you're still awake then he pushes you off. If you do wake up against him, he makes a big deal about it, "I couldn't get you off, geez, why are you so heavy?"

Eventually, you realise you're getting nowhere. Living paycheck to paycheck is hardly an adventure, and you're starting to really hate waking up with hay in your butt crack.

The only issue is that every other commission needs 3 people or more, 4 being the sweet middle ground. You come up with the brilliant idea, "Let's hire people! We can start auditioning others who want to be in bigger groups too."

It's humiliating how little response you get. The tavern owner is nice enough to let you guys hang out there, find commissions on the board and cry when things go bad. Unfortunately, this just means you have become the laughing stock of the town. Anaxa has no qualms coming back covered in slime or goblin blood, whereas you haven't needed to wash your own clothes in centuries, let alone clean your skin of viscera and other unmentionables.

Eventually, a bright and happy man walks up to you, a simple tattoo of a sun on his neck, "It's never easy, is it? I always find it hard to get outside party members. It's easier to just do things myself most times."

"You can do that?" You ask, stunned by his confession.

He looks at you like it's obvious, "Uh- yeah. The party number is just a guideline, a recommendation but no one is going to run in and stop you if you're heading towards danger. Though I do hear it can get you into legal trouble on bigger bounties and closer to the city."

You're about to smile at Anaxa that you can do the job, only to see him laughing into his shoulder, "Did you know this too?!"

He wipes a tear from his eye, "Well, it's pretty obvious. Since when have we followed the suggestion of a commission anyway?"

Like that time you went to invade a small, goblin camp from the rear, only to fall into the river and wash up right in the middle of their nest.

Or the time a hoard of slimes had overrun a farm and you were cautioned to clear them out during a sunny day, only to get the weather report wrong and end up fighting them in stormy weather. You can still taste slime extract from that.

"What are you trying to do, anyway?" The stranger asks, taking a seat across from you at the table.

Anaxa slides over the commission pamphlet, "Demon Lord's Castle. A town nearby has been getting threats from the King and wants someone to fight him off."

The man looks wary at his explanation, "Not to be rood or anything, friend, but even with four people you'd have to be pretty in tune with each other. What's your status level at now?"

You both answer at the same time, "12."

"This says at least 32... How about this, I will gather my partner and we will help you on this quest?" The kind stranger suggests.

Your eyes light up, grasping his hands in yours, "Really?! You'll do that?!"

He laughs merrily, "Of course! To be honest, we've been eyeing this commission as well, so it works in both our favours!"

Phainon is the man with the beautiful soul that offered to team up. His constantly angry-looking partner is Mydei, an undying brute who can harness strength and expel it with every hit he takes.

You soon realise that these men aren't what they seem. Phainon is a glutton for punishment, accepting every challenger offered to him and won't even hit back most times. He just laughs it off before ending the fight in one, swift slash of his sword. He's a bit ditzy when it comes to his own safety, and you have watched in horror many times as a beast will bite him or swallow him or stomp on him-

Mydei is a pretty good cook. That's... the best thing you can say about him. You've almost been eviscerated many times by his "Godslayer Be God" attack. It's terrifying to think of how strong this man is and yet how spatially unaware he can be when fighting.

And then there's your reason for this Hell, Anaxagoras. He's become more of your savior since these two have joined, and though he's not firm on martial combat, he's created a pretty cool weapon with a monster drop and a gun. He tinkers with it frequently, sitting by the fire at night while you lay next to him and try to sleep.

You suppose it's not so bad, the four of you get closer as time goes on. You prioritised your spells on healing and water magic, but since they don't seem to need as much anymore, you start branching out into buffs as well. You can't lie that your heart does a little skip when one of them saves you from imminent danger. Their protectiveness almost obsessive.

You just wished it catered to smaller monsters too, or even plant-based enemies that aim to entrap and snare without any real danger. Yeah, you see where this is going.

They may know of your status as a God, but down here, in a world where you have to start from zero, you're well beneath all of them. You need them to survive.

[never-rxne]

─── you believe me like a god, i'll betray you like a man

sevika x stray dog coded reader. character study. || 3.6k words

summary: sevika saves your life. in return, you become her dog. she owns you - and she knows this.

content warnings: heavy angst. canon-typical violence and gore. mild sexual content (read at your discretion). depiction of a codependent, abusive relationship (not romanticized). || song: "I'm Your Man" by Mitski

note: skimmed it for format, and it's interesting to see how my understanding of sevika's character has evolved over time. if i were to rewrite this there are definitely things i would do differently

you're an angel, i'm a dog or you're a dog and i'm your man

Sevika does not quite know why she saved you. 

It was a night as dark and filthy as the river water. Like the toxins, the streets were crowded with brutes. Things recoiling from flashes of light in the alleyways. Hungry hands outstretched. Flickering neon lights from building signs reflected off the stone pavements slick with rain. 

Sevika storms through the streets, a scowling force. Her height and build are enough to ward off attackers. They don’t approach her: very, very few come close enough to discover what is hidden under the dusty red cloak wrapped around her broad shoulders. 

The rain pelting her face takes her back to a night she never wants to think of again. She can almost smell her own burned flesh. See the ruddy glow of the flames. A massive broken body. 

She’s not broken anymore. She will show them. 

Maybe it was this thought that drove her to follow the sounds coming from an alley across the street. This side of the city is nearly empty by midnight, and the noises of a fight pierce clearly through the relentless whisper of rain. 

Flesh hitting flesh. Metal on concrete. 

“Piss off, you fuckers! Shit eating street rats!” 

Sevika never interfered in petty street scuffles. No one in Zaun did. It simply wasn’t worth it. A fight was an indicator of your right to survive, in a way. If you couldn’t fend for yourself in a hand-to-hand once in a while, you had no business eating off the tables of those who could. 

But your voice…this wild, desperate, rage-filled voice…it intrigues her. 

Sevika turns her steps toward the alley. 

In the darkness, she sees three figures pinning down a struggling fourth. This angers her. She doesn’t care who the attackers are, she doesn’t care who you are—it’s the unfairness of the scuffle that infuriates her. You are clearly a woman, smaller in size than the three men cornering you. 

Sevika reaches up and unclasps her cloak from her shoulder. Her mech arm gleams in the dim light of street signs spilling into the alley. She activates the Shimmer capsule. The world turns pink, then red with blood. 

You were losing strength, but still kicking. The men had been tailing you through the streets for hours, no matter how many fucking false corners you turned to try to throw them off. They were after money you didn’t have, you couldn’t guess how the hell they had gotten the tip that you had assets, but here you are.

You can’t tell the difference between the blood and rainwater running down your face. Your arms are pinned to your sides as the third man brings the knife to your throat. 

Then: a gravelly yell, a flash of rippling hot pink light. The blood sprays against your face, all over your clothes, and the man lies dead on the ground. 

The other two thugs whirl around, dropping you. You fall to the ground and press your back to the wall, squinting through the darkness for a glimpse of your savior’s face, but all you see is a massive, statuesque figure. 

And that arm of searing pink and metal. 

The thugs run at the stranger. She grabs one by the throat with her human hand and flings him against the wall as if he weighed nothing more than a sack of flour. She drives her mechanical arm straight through the body of the other. You see her metal fist come out clutching the dripping mass of his organs. She jerks out the arm, kicks the body aside. 

Silence settles. You hear nothing but the roar of your beating heart. 

The stranger stands with her back to you, panting hard. She picks up her cloak from the ground and uses it to wipe the gore off her mechanical arm. The bright pink fades. 

You part your cracked lips. “Thank…thank you.”

She turns quickly. Evidently, she had completely forgotten you were there. 

You can make out a chiseled, harsh face. Dark brows drawn tight, a downturned mouth. And a faint blue glow from the web of scars in her skin, like some inner power glinting through cracks in marble. 

She gives you the faintest of nods. Bunching up the cloak in her human hand, she begins to walk away. 

You stumble to your feet. The world spins, but your bones are intact. “Wait—” you call. 

She stops. 

“What’s your name?” 

The scarred woman turns her head slightly. “Better off not knowing that,” she says. Her voice is deep and rough. She strides out of the alley. 

Without a second’s hesitation, you follow her.

you believe me like a god i'll destroy you like i am

It did not take long for you to become devoted. 

At first, Sevika tried to shake you off. She tried threatening you. Cursing you out. The fuck makes you think I’d take in a stray? Does this look like a dog pound to you? 

But there you were, every night at her door, whether the weather was clear or it was pouring, thunder rumbling. She found you asleep on the doorstep of her small apartment, she found you in the shadows around her frequent haunts: In the backstreet of The Last Drop. Leaning against the side of the building of Babette’s. You said nothing to her—it was enough that she saw you. You followed her through the streets, never too close, but just close enough to keep her in your sight. 

She finally turns around one day, eyes narrowed. You stop in your tracks, just a few paces behind her. 

“Get over here,” she says sharply. 

You obey. You look up to meet her gaze. She has grey eyes like the blade of a sharpened knife. She pierces right through you. Your savior. 

“The hell do you want from me?” she demands. “And will giving it to you finally make you fuck off?” 

“I want nothing,” you say simply. “I want to give you something.” 

Her scowl deepens. Suspicion darkens her gaze. “What?” 

“My life.” 

A long pause. She draws back and lets out a short, barking laugh. “It wasn’t anything personal, girl. Now go home.” 

“I don’t have one.” 

“Not my problem.” 

“No,” you agree. 

Sevika stares at you for several minutes. Sizing you up. For the first time since you’ve met her, she sees you in the full light of day. You don’t seem as pathetic and helpless as she thought you were that night, crumpled against the wall in the alleyway, beaten up and bleeding. You meet her gaze unflinchingly. There’s something genuine and passionate blazing in your eyes that cuts into her. Something that reminds her of the girl she once was, a girl now buried deep inside her like something dead in the pit of her soul. What is it? What was the look? 

Loyalty. 

Her dark lips curl into a sneer. “What can you do?” she asks. 

“Anything. Everything.” 

You’re nothing but a stray. You would be nothing but a mouth to feed, a body to shelter. But a part of Sevika likes the devotion burning in your eyes. The reverence you give her for the simple reason of her violence. She thinks, you have not seen who I’ve once been. You don’t know who I am now. You are so very mistaken, and you’ll pay for it eventually. 

Besides, you could prove useful. You look sturdy enough. Quick on your feet, observant, sharp-witted—you had proven that in the weeks of following her around the city, learning her habits from afar. 

“I can’t pay you anything. And you’ll have to work for what I can give you. You’ll have to work like a dog.” 

“Yes.” After a second’s hesitation, you incline your head to her. “Master.”

i'm sorry i'm the one you love no one will ever love me like you again

You are true to your word. 

Stick to it like a blood oath. 

You become known to the undercity as “The Brute’s Shadow.” Where Sevika is, you are too: the smaller woman in the background, arms crossed, face impassive: fading into the walls until the second Sevika needs something. In the Last Drop, you have her drink and ashtray on the table before she sits down. She pulls out a cigarette, your lighter is hovering before her lips. She does not give you a single glance—not, at least, in public. When she is ready to leave, she gives a whistle. And you are on her heels in a heartbeat. 

She has given you a corner in her apartment to sleep—but never lets you inside her bedroom. She rents two dark rooms, with an after-thought-like kitchenette and small bathroom, and you have never seen where she sleeps. You are up at dawn to wash her clothes and fix her small breakfast of coffee and brown bread. You mend her boots, clean her tools, and when she runs out of cigars you are out—no matter what time of night it is—to get her more. 

Yet the more you try to please her, the more you seem to repulse her. 

She sends you to fetch her whiskey. You return with the drink, and she snaps that she wanted beer. She tells you not to touch her tools, then demands why they are not sharpened. She mocks you for your devotion, the way you would spend your life groveling on your knees. She is gentle one day. She is brutal the next. She laughs in your face for the way you follow her around like a dog parched for water. She calls you her stray.  

You are a mortal kneeling at the feet of a heartless god. Your life is in her hands. Whether she obliterates you, burns your body up into nothing but vapor, it does not matter. You do not care. If she burns you, you will lean into the warmth of her flames. 

Because you find home in cruelty. If Sevika had been kind, generous from the beginning, you would have recoiled, frightened. The act alone of saving your life was enough for her to secure your loyalty forever. It doesn’t matter how she treated you. 

And Sevika knows this. 

Sometimes, she takes you into the brothel with her. Never offers to get you a worker, and you never ask. Usually she makes you stand outside the room to “keep watch” while she has her time with whatever girl she picks, back turned to the closed curtain, listening to the grunts and moans and heavy breaths. But today she tells you to come into the room with her. 

The girl glances at you with misgiving. Looks up at Sevika, as if for an explanation. 

“She’s not here for you,” Sevika tells her. She sits down on the couch, legs splayed, mechanical arm draped over the back of the chair. “I want the usual.” 

Her eyes never leave your face. And you cannot look away. 

The girl hesitates, but Sevika’s tone demands obedience. The girl turns her back to you, standing as still as stone by the curtain, and goes down on her knees. Sevika watches you closely as the girl unbuttons her pants. Lazily, her human hand wanders down and her fingers gather in the girl’s lush hair, pulling her closer. Sevika’s heavy-lidded eyes go dark as the girl slots her tongue between her thighs, but her expression betrays almost nothing, as if the pleasure of sex is stripped bare for her, as if this is just another procedure she goes through as methodically as her work for Silco. 

As soon as she comes the girl pulls away, but Sevika does not let go of her hair. She has never taken her gaze off you. 

With her mech hand she pulls up her pants. She stands, and the girl stands with her. She turns the girl around so that you are face to face with her, so that you can see Sevika’s arousal glistening around her mouth, her beautiful vacant eyes. 

“Pretty, isn’t she?” Sevika says. 

You say nothing. 

Sevika scoffs to herself, as if some inner voice told her a private joke. She counts out the money for the girl and leaves it on the table. 

You know she wanted you to see her superiority. You know she brought you in there to show you the pleasure she can afford, the status she holds, a position you will never reach, never rise to. You know she brought you in there so she could remind you of your place—beneath her, always at her feet. 

But you saw the haze of her darkened eyes. The suppressed pleasure and agony and bitter loneliness. Sevika thinks she can hide from you. She thinks eventually you will be disgusted by her, pushed beyond the breaking point. You only want her more.

so when you leave me, i should die i deserve it, don't i?

Gradually she allows you to come closer. She lets you into her bed. She finds herself desiring you, to the point of blind passion. There is something about the worshipful way you gaze up at her as she hovers over you. Something about the helplessness of your body, limp and sweaty beneath hers. It lets her believe, even for a second, that she is not hideous. 

But how is that possible? 

She looks at you sometimes and wants to crush you like the fragile body of a bird. Her hand covers half your face, her thighs cradle you like boulders. She could break you between her thumb and index finger. She wants to destroy you the same way the explosion destroyed her. She wants to ravage you, she wants to ruin your beauty, the steady symmetry of your body. 

She looks at your arms, the scars lining your skin from numerous past street scuffles. And she is filled with a rage and envy so potent it brings the tears to her eyes. Why do you—so inferior, so helpless, useless, a stray from the streets—why do you have the blessing of two arms, a complete figure? Why do you have the privilege of beauty and strength? Your unblemished skin, your unmutilated body. You have the inner strength and rage, the will to survive. You could go anywhere and do anything. 

Why do you stay? 

Why do you stay for her? 

Pity, Sevika thinks. It is nothing but pity. All this time she thought she had the upper hand. All this time you must have been laughing at her in your mind.

It is a simmering summer night. You watch from the bed as Sevika pulls on her shirt. Her mechanical arm is off. Before she clothes herself, you can see the muscles rippling in her back, the jagged blue scars lining the left side of her torso. Her beauty makes you breathless, and the stagnant air feels tight around you. She looks into the cracked mirror and sees you watching her in the reflection. 

“Enjoying the view?” she says roughly. 

Your tongue fills your mouth. 

“Come here.” 

You climb out of bed and walk over to her side. She grabs you by the arm and pulls you next to her, forcing you to stand next to her and look into the mirror. 

“Do you think you’re better than me?” She says in a low voice. “Little street brat? What kind of savior game are you trying to play?” 

You have no idea what she is talking about, but you make no sound. 

“I saved your life,” Sevika hisses. “I picked you up off the filthy streets. I fed you and gave you a place to sleep.” 

When you still give no answer, she pushes you away from her. Then in a movement so sudden you don’t even have time to process it, she hits you hard across the face with her right hand. The force knocks you off your feet and throws you against the side of the bed, bruising your ribs. 

She walks slowly over to you. Sweat streaks her dark hair over her forehead. She reaches down and grabs you by the face, forcing you to look up at her. Something dark and dangerous teems in her grey eyes, a rage you know is not even directed at you. 

Sevika is sick with self-loathing. When she sees the blood running down your lips, the bruise forming on your face, she wants to destroy herself. She wants to fall to her knees and weep. She wants to tell you to run from her, quickly, before it’s too late. 

“Who do you belong to?” Sevika asks, her voice low. 

You cough, and see flecks of red in the air between you and her. “You.” 

“You, what?” 

“You, master.” 

She drops your face. You slump to the floor. Sevika turns away. “Get the fuck out of my sight.”

one day you'll figure me out i'll meet judgment by the hounds

Sevika wonders why you don’t leave. 

You don’t leave because you see her weakness. No matter how she tries to conceal it from you, you have seen her worst sides, her uncertainties. The way she comes home exhausted and reeking of blood, the way she stumbles into the bathroom and vomits Shimmer after a grueling fight. The way she tells you things when she is drunk enough not to know who she is talking to—or care. 

She’s leaning against the wall one night, too tired to even pull herself into bed. There’s whiskey on her breath. She watches you through half closed eyes as you stitch up a deep gash in her leg: some fucker had caught her calf with a blade in a fight in front of the Shimmer warehouse. Since you have come to live with her you’ve become skilled in tending to wounds. 

“If you…” her voice trails off, then returns. “If you’re ready to go, I can pay you your due.” 

You don’t look up from your hands on her leg. “I’m not leaving you.” 

Sevika frowns as your words make their way through the thick fog of her mind. She looks at you more intently, ready to argue. Then her head falls back against the wall again. 

“Right,” she mutters, more to herself than to you. “You can’t leave.” 

She gives a low, joyless laugh. “Where would you go? Huh, stray?” 

Finally, you look at her. She tilts her head at you. Pain fills her gaze. 

“You’re stuck here. Just like me.”

people always gave me love others were never to blame after all

On an overcast morning, you follow Sevika on a trip to one of the Shimmer supply houses. Silco had heard of some trouble brewing around the area there and wanted Sevika to station more cyborgs on the premises. The streets are quiet and smoke drifts from chimneys, disappearing into the cloudy sky. Sevika had been in a lighter mood that morning. Even whistled as she fastened on her mech arm. As she strode down the street with you, she pointed out landmarks and storefronts, telling you all the scraps of history she knew to pass the time. 

Turf wars were quieting down since Piltover closed the gates against Zaun and stationed enforcers at the border. The insult to the lower city resulted in a newfound solidarity among the Zaunites, uniting them against Topside. Because of the decrease in street fights, it has been weeks since Sevika used Shimmer, and the effects of it showed. Her appetite returned. Her moods were calmer, less volatile. 

She has never treated you better than this time, and you have never loved her more. 

At the warehouse, you stand close by Sevika as she directs the cyborgs’ stations around the building. You survey the rows and rows of Shimmer vaults, the massive glass containers bubbling with the raw substance. Until they are diluted, you know they are extremely reactive. 

You don’t know who ignites the blast. 

The screams of alarm, the sudden rush of heat, the echo of shattering glass—they fade into nothing as your vision registers the wave of the explosion hurtling towards you and Sevika. Your body reacts before your mind. You hurl yourself against her, pushing her out of the way. 

A searing pain like you’ve never known before cuts through your senses, and then the world goes dark. 

When Sevika comes to, she is aware of a loud ringing in her ears. Her mechanical arm is mangled beneath her, leaking oil, wires sticking out. With a grunt of effort she raises herself up on her human arm and tries to squint through the pink haze of dust. The world is shattered glass and splintered wood. 

Her gaze falls on an arm outstretched nearby, but she can’t see the rest of you. Everything rushes back to her. She scrambles across the floor, half dragging herself, and throws aside the debris covering your body. Your face is streaked with soot and blood. Your body is twisted into itself. Your chest is barely moving. 

Sevika cradles your broken body in her arm. She looks into your senseless face. She feels a deep chasm open up in her chest. Through cracked lips she whispers, “Hey. Hey, stray.” 

I’ve lost her. 

Your hand stirs. Briefly, you reach up and touch the bend of her elbow. Then your hand falls to your side. It was all the hope she needed. 

She has owned you all this time, but only now she looks down at you and feels that you are someone that was hers to lose. 

you believe me like a god i'll betray you like i am.

end note: 🥲

[shimmerandink]

The price of Peace

Silco x Peace Negotiator! Reader

Smut/one-shot

Tags: Silco x reader, reader is sent from Piltover, buildup, nsfw, fingering, dirty talking.

The stink of Zaun settled in your lungs the moment you stepped off the rickety transport. It was heavier than you imagined, metallic, damp, tinged with shimmer and soot. You could taste it. It clung to your fine Piltover coat like it meant to claim it, like the city wanted to remind you this wasn’t your world. Not anymore.

The Council told you to keep your head down. Be civil. Be cautious. Don’t provoke him.

You smiled at that. They sent you down here to negotiate with a man known for slit throats and whispered threats, and now they wanted you to play it safe.

Fools.

The Last Drop was quieter than expected when you stepped inside. Eyes turned toward you immediately. Not because of the name stitched inside your collar, not because of the orders buried in your pocket, but because you didn’t belong.

Your boots were too clean. Your posture too proud. You stood out like a candle in a cave.

A few patrons muttered under their breath. One barked out a laugh. You ignored them, crossing the bar with unhurried steps and taking a seat in the corner booth that had been cleared in advance. You didn’t ask who cleared it. The answer was obvious.

You waited.

Minutes passed like molasses. You didn’t fidget. You wanted him to see control when he arrived. Calm. Steel. Not weakness.

The door creaked open again.

You felt him before you saw him. A pressure in the air, like something ancient rising from beneath the water. The patrons stilled, and the low buzz of the room dropped an octave. Your eyes lifted just in time to see him step into the light.

Silco.

He moved like someone with nothing left to fear. A slow, deliberate walk, measured steps, hands behind his back, eyes like green glass catching flame in the low light. Half his face was a ruin, shimmer eaten and etched with veins of corruption, but it was his gaze that held you still.

Not cruel. Not even angry.

Just… calculating.

Like he was deciding how much of you to burn.

He didn’t sit right away. He stood at the edge of the booth, letting the silence stretch between you.

Then:

“Piltover sends a dove,” he said, voice rough like broken stone, “wrapped in velvet and perfume. Do they always dress their spies this well?”

You arched a brow, unbothered.

“And Zaun’s revolutionaries always this charming?”

That earned you a flicker of something in his eye, approval? amusement? You weren’t sure. He finally slid into the booth across from you, resting his arms on the scarred wood table.

“I don’t trust doves,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “They fly in, pretend to mourn, and leave after they’ve shat all over everything.”

“I’m not here to mourn.”

You met his gaze evenly.

“I’m here to make sure Zaun doesn’t burn itself to the ground before Piltover can decide whether to smother the fire or fan it.”

That made him smile.

Not kindly.

“And what makes you think I care about Piltover’s choices?”

You leaned in, lowering your voice.

“Because your people are dying. Because shimmer may fuel your soldiers, but it’s eating your children. And because whether you like it or not… your war is bleeding into our city. And the Council is ready to strike back.”

Silco stared at you for a long, quiet beat. Then he leaned back against the booth, studying you like you were some odd creature he hadn’t quite decided to dissect.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said at last.

You offered a faint smirk.

“Neither are you.”

—————-

Silco didn’t ask if you were hungry. He didn’t offer you a drink, either. He simply reached into the inside pocket of his coat, pulled out a small silver case, and slid a thin cigarette between his lips. He lit it with a match struck off the underside of the table, one-handed, thoughtlessly efficient.

The sulfur burned hot, then vanished.

Smoke curled around his face like a lover’s touch.

He didn’t blink when he spoke again.

“You come here, dressed like a Council pawn, talking like a diplomat but walking like someone who’s tasted rot before. So tell me, dove… why did they send you?”

You tilted your head.

“Because the others were too afraid.”

That wasn’t entirely a lie.

You’d volunteered. The Council hadn’t picked you, they’d protested, actually, but you knew the cost of letting war escalate. You’d read the casualty estimates. You’d seen the maps. And deep down, maybe, you’d wanted to look the villain in the eye and decide for yourself if he was truly a monster… or just the price of progress.

Silco exhaled, a slow ribbon of smoke escaping between his teeth.

“I don’t like liars,” he said. “And I especially don’t like martyrs. But I do like watching Piltover squirm. So by all means… convince me. What is it your city wants?”

You reached into your coat, not for a weapon, though half the bar flinched like you had, and pulled out the folded, sealed document the Council had entrusted to you.

You placed it on the table between you, untouched.

“A ceasefire. Limited shimmer exports. Defined borders between Zaun and Piltover. And a formal seat at the negotiation table—”

He laughed. Loudly. The sound scraped down your spine.

“A seat? They want to offer Zaun a seat at their table? How generous. Like a king tossing scraps to the starving dogs outside the gate.”

You didn’t flinch.

“That’s why I’m here. To change the shape of the table.”

He stared at you again, long enough for discomfort to slip its fingers under your skin. But you held his gaze. You weren’t some rookie politician or Council mouthpiece. You’d faced sharks before, just none that smelled of ash and gunpowder.

Silco stubbed his cigarette out against the table’s edge and leaned in again, lower now, voice just for you.

“You want change? Then don’t speak to me in Piltover’s tongue. Don’t bring me papers stamped with gold seals and hollow promises. Come with me tomorrow. See my Zaun. Walk the alleys. Smell the bodies. Hear what shimmer does to a starving man’s lungs. Then maybe, maybe, I’ll believe you’re worth speaking to.”

You blinked. He was baiting you. Testing you. And you couldn’t help the flicker of curiosity that burned in your chest. Not fear.

Interest.

“Fine,” you said, voice steady. “Take me there.”

Silco tilted his head, just slightly. A breath of a smile curved one side of his mouth.

“You’re not very smart, dove.”

“You’re not very scary.”

That earned a full smile this time. Small, crooked, dangerous.

He stood, without warning.

“We’ll leave at first light.”

Then he turned on his heel and disappeared into the shadows of the bar, smoke trailing behind him like a mark of his passage.

⸻

You stayed in that booth a while longer, unmoving.

You hadn’t realized until then that your hands were clenched beneath the table.

Zaun didn’t frighten you.

But he did.

Not because he threatened you.

Because a part of you, buried somewhere deep, behind your Council loyalty and carefully measured diplomacy, wanted to understand him.

And worse…

You weren’t sure you’d come back the same if you did.

——————

The sun didn’t rise in Zaun.

Not the way it did in Piltover.

Down here, the light filtered in like shame, muted, choked by pipes and scaffolding. The sky was little more than a sickly glow between rusted beams. The streets were already alive when you stepped outside: coughing merchants hawking scrap tech, children chasing rats with sticks, shimmer addicts twitching in the alleys, and the ever-present stink of rot and smog.

Silco was already waiting.

He stood beneath the archway of a collapsed walkway, his coat folded over one arm, puffing calmly on another cigarette. He didn’t greet you, didn’t ask if you slept well. Just turned and started walking.

You followed.

“You’ll want to keep up,” he said, voice flat. “Some of these alleys chew up soft skinned diplomats and spit out bone.”

“I’ve walked worse.”

“Not like this, you haven’t.”

You didn’t argue. Just matched his pace.

The deeper you went, the worse it became. Towering chemical silos oozed residue into the sludge-filled gutters. Kids with too-large eyes and shimmer burns on their hands stared as you passed. A woman sat rocking a sick infant against her chest, murmuring lullabies between dry sobs.

“You see it?” Silco asked without looking at you. “This is what Piltover calls progress. The waste, the rot, our children poisoned so yours can ride gold plated elevators and sip wine that costs more than a week’s worth of clean water down here.”

You felt his words settle deep in your ribs. You’d read about Zaun’s decay, of course. But reading about suffering was sterile. Living inside it was something else entirely.

You passed a small chem shop, its shelves cluttered with shimmer vials and syringes. A man stood just outside, trembling, begging for another hit. The shopkeeper slammed the gate in his face.

Silco didn’t slow.

“Addicts make poor soldiers. But they make desperate ones.”

“You control the shimmer trade,” you said softly. “You could stop this.”

He stopped.

Dead still.

Then turned to you with eyes sharp and glassy.

“I could kill every chembaron in Zaun tomorrow and ten more would grow back. You want me to fix a rot I didn’t start? One Piltover fed for generations?”

Your lips parted, but no response came.

Because he was right.

He turned away again, and this time… you walked in silence.

⸻

After nearly an hour, he led you through a half-collapsed tunnel that opened into a makeshift clinic. It wasn’t official, not funded, not sanctioned. But it was clean. Carefully kept. Run by volunteers. A girl no older than fourteen dressed wounds with practiced hands. An older man coughed blood into a handkerchief.

You watched it all quietly. The exhaustion. The pain. The fight to live in spite of it.

Silco finally spoke again.

“This is why I keep going. Why I have to. Because they deserve more than scraps. More than pity. They deserve power.”

You looked at him then, not at his scars, not the shimmer veined edge of his face, but at the man beneath it. Raw. Unapologetic. Dangerous. And human.

“I believe you,” you said.

He turned toward you slowly, the shift in his gaze almost imperceptible. You saw it, though. The flicker of surprise. Of something almost vulnerable.

But only for a moment.

Then the mask returned.

“Don’t believe in me yet, dove,” he murmured. “You’ve only seen the edges of the abyss. There’s more below.”

He walked away, leaving you to follow.

And as you moved after him, boots splashing through chemical runoff and shadows, you realized something terrifying:

You were starting to understand him.

And worse, you didn’t want to stop.

————-

The sun never truly set in Zaun, only dimmed into deeper shadows. Pipes groaned overhead, and somewhere in the distance, the low thump of chem machinery pulsed like a heartbeat.

You found yourself in Silco’s office that evening, seated across from him in a room that smelled of ink, old books, and burnt shimmer. He’d offered you a drink without a word, a dark amber liquid that burned as it went down.

No one else was here.

Just him. Just you.

He leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed, elbow resting against the arm as he regarded you through half lidded eyes.

“You lasted longer than most topsiders,” he said finally. “Didn’t gag at the smell. Didn’t cry at the clinic. You didn’t even flinch when that shimmerhead collapsed in the street.”

You shrugged, nursing the drink.

“Didn’t mean I didn’t feel it.”

That made him smile. Not mockingly, something quieter. Pleased, maybe.

“So tell me,” he murmured, “do your Council friends know who they sent down here? A girl who listens? A girl who… feels?”

“They sent me because they didn’t know what else to do.”

“And you came because you wanted to see the monster for yourself.”

You met his eyes. The shimmer there caught the lamplight, glowing faintly in the dim.

“I don’t think you’re a monster.”

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just watched you for a long moment, as if weighing those words on some hidden scale.

“Careful,” he said at last, voice low. “Kindness can be a kind of weapon down here.”

“Then maybe I’m armed.”

He let out a breath, neither a laugh nor a sigh. Something in between. Then he leaned forward and poured himself another drink, offering to refill yours with a flick of the bottle. You nodded.

“Do you ever stop?” you asked quietly. “Fighting, building, planning… does it ever let you rest?”

He considered that. A flicker of something, fatigue?, passed behind his eyes.

“Rest is for men who have someone to hand the war to. I don’t.”

“That’s lonely.”

“That’s freedom.”

You didn’t believe that. Not entirely. But you didn’t argue, either.

For a long time, silence settled between you. The comfortable kind, strange, given who he was. The room felt smaller now, warmer. Like a place not meant for politics or power plays, but for secrets.

“When I was little,” you said quietly, “I used to believe Zaun was just a shadow on the edge of the city. I didn’t know it bled.”

“It bleeds,” Silco murmured, “because your city needs it to.”

You looked at him again, and this time, truly saw him. Not just the warlord. Not just the figurehead. But the man carved by survival. Firenforged and still burning.

“I want to help you stop the bleeding,” you said. “Even if the Council never listens. Even if they turn their backs. I want to help you.”

The room went still. The air changed.

Silco stood, slowly, and walked around the desk. Not threatening, just closer. He leaned on the edge, looking down at you, eyes unreadable.

“Do you know what it means to say that to me?” he asked.

You nodded.

“I think I do.”

“Then say it again. Without the drink. Without the shield.”

Your throat was dry. But you looked up at him and said it anyway.

“I want to help you.”

Silco’s hand reached out, not quite touching your face, but close enough that you felt the heat of it. His fingers hovered near your cheek, tracing the space where a touch could land. But didn’t.

“Then stay,” he said.

And gods help you…

You didn’t want to leave.

—————-

The door clicked shut behind you.

You didn’t mean to slam it, but the force of your frustration had followed you from the council meeting in the Wastes. Another wasted effort. Another chembaron snarling about weapons and territory, too drunk on shimmer and ego to see the bigger picture. You hated them.

So did Silco.

“They never listen,” you said, pacing. “They only know how to take. That girl at the clinic—she’s going to die because they won’t give up a single drop of stabilizer.”

Silco lit a match. The flame flared briefly before he brought it to the end of his cigarette, letting it smolder between his fingers.

“They listen when you make them bleed.”

“And what happens when there’s no one left to bleed?”

You turned to him, sharp, teeth bared in pain you couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it wasn’t about the chembarons. Maybe it wasn’t about Zaun. Maybe you were just tired, tired of watching him carry all of it alone.

“You act like you don’t care. But you do. I see you.”

His eyes lifted from the cigarette. Green and gold, shot through with shimmer. He studied you like something dangerous. Fragile.

“You shouldn’t look at me like that.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll let you.”

You froze. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was taut. Heavy. The air between you felt electric, like something had snapped.

And then he was in front of you.

Not charging. Not lunging.

Choosing.

His hand hovered near your jaw, eyes scanning your face for any sign to stop. You didn’t give one.

Your breath caught when his fingers finally touched you, rough, calloused, cradling your cheek like it was something worth holding. His thumb brushed your skin, slowly, like he couldn’t decide if this was real.

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” he whispered. “Who I’ve had to become.”

“I don’t care.”

He kissed you.

There was no hesitation, no slow build. His mouth found yours like a secret unspoken for too long. His hand slid behind your neck, pulling you closer, anchoring you to him like he didn’t trust the world not to steal you away.

You kissed him back, hungrily, angrily, desperately.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t polite. It was heat and tension and years of grief and steel, all crashing into each other behind teeth and tongues. His other hand gripped your waist, not like he was holding you, but like he was afraid to let go.

You broke apart for air, barely.

His forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless. Your lips were swollen, your chest tight.

“This is a mistake,” he murmured against your mouth.

“Then don’t stop.”

You felt him smile, faint and bitter.

“Gods help me.”

And then he kissed you again, deeper this time.

Like a man who had been starved of touch.

You didn’t remember how you got to the couch.

One moment you were tangled in Silco’s kiss, tasting smoke and bitterness and need. The next, your back hit the worn leather, and he was above you, bracing his weight with one hand beside your head, the other slipping down to your hip with devastating patience.

You looked up at him.

He was flushed. Breathing uneven. His collar had come undone, the dark shirt hanging open just enough to show the sharp line of his collarbone, the pale stretch of scarred skin beneath.

“Say it again,” he rasped.

“What?”

“That you don’t care. About what I’ve done. About what I am.”

You reached up, fingers curling into his shirt.

“I don’t care.”

His mouth found your neck, reverent and rough. Not gentle, never gentle. He kissed like a man afraid of what it meant to want. His teeth grazed your pulse, and when you arched into him, a low sound rumbled in his throat, somewhere between a groan and a prayer.

“You should,” he murmured. “You should care.”

“But I don’t. I want this. I want you.”

That did it.

His hand slid up under your shirt, calloused fingertips skating over bare skin. You felt the tremor in him, felt how tightly he was holding himself back. He didn’t undress you quickly. He peeled each layer off like it mattered, eyes flicking over every new inch of skin like he was memorizing it.

You helped him out of his coat. His shirt. He hissed softly when your hands brushed the long scar down his ribs.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, voice low.

He looked down at you, something dark flickering in his eyes.

“Only when I remember why I got it.”

You didn’t ask. Instead, you leaned up and kissed the scar, slow and deliberate, and felt the shudder that passed through him.

“Let me have you,” you whispered.

“You already do.”

The rest came in gasps. In half-breathed names and hands gripping skin and the slow, aching grind of two people trying to get closer. There was nothing soft about it, but there was meaning. Heat. Trust. Worship buried under teeth and tension.

He kissed you like a man who didn’t think he deserved this.

You held him like someone who knew he did.

When it was over, your bodies slick with sweat, tangled and bare in the half dark, he didn’t speak for a long time. Just stared at the ceiling, one arm draped over your waist like a chain he didn’t want to lift.

“You’ll regret this,” he said eventually, voice hoarse.

“Will you?”

He didn’t answer.

But when he turned to face you, when he pulled you closer and pressed his mouth to your shoulder with something far too gentle to be just lust, you knew the answer already.

————-

The room was thick with heat.

Not just from the closeness of your bodies, but from everything unspoken that now screamed between you.

Silco hovered above you, eyes dark with restraint. His breath was shallow, lips parted, like he didn’t trust himself to move too fast. His hand rested low on your stomach, thumb tracing absent circles just beneath your ribs.

You could feel the tension in him, the way he warred with himself. He wanted to consume you. To drag you under and keep you there. But he held back, watching you like you were something holy. Or dangerous.

Maybe both.

“Still sure?” he rasped, voice rough at the edges.

You answered by sliding your hand down his chest, feeling the hard lines of muscle under scarred skin. You let your fingers trace the curve of his ribs, the sharp indent of his hip. He closed his eyes briefly, jaw tightening.

“I want you to lose control,” you whispered.

“With me.”

And that broke something in him.

Silco’s mouth found yours again, harder this time, hungrier. His hand slipped between your thighs, parting them gently, and when his fingers found how wet you already were, he let out a quiet, guttural sound that vibrated straight through your spine.

“So warm…” he murmured. “So fucking soft.”

His fingers slid against you, testing, teasing. He found your clit with practiced slowness, rubbing tight circles that made your breath hitch and your hips lift into his touch. He watched you unravel, his mismatched eyes darkening with every moan he pulled from you.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let them hear you. Let them know who you belong to now.”

You barely had time to respond, your body arching as two fingers slid inside you, stretching you with a slow, filthy rhythm. He curled them just right, pressing deep, his thumb never once stopping its work on your clit.

“You’re perfect like this,” he growled into your neck. “Falling apart for me. Just for me.”

You cried out, legs trembling around his waist, the pleasure building fast and hot in your belly.

But he didn’t stop. Not when your nails dug into his back. Not when your body clenched around his fingers, the orgasm rippling through you in waves.

He watched you come apart, and gods, he looked devastated by it. Like he hadn’t expected it to feel this good. This real.

You were still trembling when he pulled his fingers from you, slow and slick. He brought them to his mouth, licking them clean with deliberate, maddening control.

“You taste like fucking salvation,” he muttered.

Then he moved over you again, positioning himself between your thighs. You felt him, hard, thick, hot, pressing against your entrance. But he didn’t push in yet. He paused, resting his forehead against yours.

“If I take you now,” he said, “there’s no going back.”

You reached down and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in.

“Then don’t hold back.”

When he finally entered you, it was slow, so agonizingly slow it burned. He stretched you open inch by inch, watching your face the whole time, until he was fully sheathed inside you, his hips flush against yours.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice strained. “You feel like you were made for me.”

And then he started to move.

The rhythm built, hard and deep, his thrusts hitting places that made you sob his name. He filled you completely, his grip on your hips bruising, grounding you to the couch as if he couldn’t stand the thought of you slipping away.

He fucked you like a man chasing redemption.

Like he could save himself with every thrust.

Like you were the only thing keeping him from falling.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered into your skin, voice breaking.

“Say it.”

“Yours,” you gasped. “I’m yours, Silco.”

He came undone with a growl against your throat, thrusting deep as his release tore through him, filling you. And even then, he didn’t pull away. He stayed inside you, breathing heavy, forehead pressed to your chest as your hands tangled in his sweat-damp hair.

“I never wanted peace,” he whispered.

“Until you.”

——————-

Morning came slowly.

No alarms. No boots on metal stairs. Just light filtering through the grime-smeared windows, painting pale gold across the worn floor of Silco’s office.

You lay tangled with him on the couch, his arm still draped across your waist like a silent vow. He hadn’t moved all night, didn’t even twitch when the creak of the city stirred outside. It was strange seeing him like this. Still. Unarmored.

He looked younger in sleep. Not softer, never that. But human.

You traced the edge of a scar on his chest with your fingertip. He stirred.

“If you keep doing that,” he rasped, voice gravel-rough, “we’re not leaving this couch all day.”

You smiled, eyes flicking up to meet his.

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“A fact.”

He pulled you closer. His hand found your back, warm, possessive, and his mouth brushed the crown of your head. For a while, you stayed like that. No council meetings. No shimmer deals. Just the quiet hum of the city, and the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

“What happens now?” you asked softly. “With us?”

He exhaled slowly.

“We keep moving. You at my side. We rebuild Zaun, not for power. Not for the chembarons. For the kids who don’t get a choice. For the ones like Jinx.”

A pause.

“Like me.”

You watched the tension creep back into his jaw. The weight return to his eyes.

“And if Piltover finds out?” you asked. “That we’re not just allies. That we’re… this.”

He finally looked at you. Fully. Honestly.

“Then let them.”

You blinked.

“You’re not afraid?”

“Always.” He brushed your cheek with his thumb. “But I’d rather burn this whole city down than pretend I don’t care about you.”

Your breath caught.

No promises of forever. No pretty lies. Just Silco, in all his dangerous, broken devotion.

You leaned in and kissed him, softly this time. Like peace didn’t have to be a myth. Like maybe it could start here. In smoke and stillness. In the arms of a man who once thought love was weakness, and now held it like a weapon.

“Then we rebuild,” you whispered.

And together, you did.

[stargirlygirl]

no, you can't buy my ranch

rancher!sylus x spoiled!city girl!reader

⭑.ᐟ part one: new home

summary: today is the day you move into your dad's ranch house, but there's a problem. who is this silver-haired man touring your property?

contains: swearing, angst, 1.5k words

You never thought it would come to this, but as rolling grassy hills and cattle whir past your tinted car windows, you realise it indeed has.

You’re a city girl. You love the buzz and bustle of the concrete jungle; the fact that there are so many people, no one looks at you. You blend right into this fashion-forward, $8 coffee-drinking, road rage mania. It’s your home.

When your father bought a property in the middle of nowhere a few years ago, you didn’t think much of it. Not until a couple of months ago, when he asked you to pack up and move in there for the next year, so he won’t be taxed on rent collection. You were in utter disbelief and refused straight off the bat. You couldn’t give up your barista-made 57-degree oat milk lattes, let alone your apartment, or your job. And what of your gym membership? Your weekly outings with friends?

But here you are, growing frustrated at your GPS as you try to navigate the few roads of this tiny town.

You’ll be working remotely for as long as you stay here, and daddy-poo bought you an espresso machine in preparation for your move. In your mind, this next year couldn’t go any faster. You can’t wait to be out of here. Sure, the countryside looks nice. But it’s not going to be very nice when you find snakes in your backyard and can’t pop down to the supermarket after work because it closes at 5pm.

And don’t get me started on the small town gossip. Within days, everyone here will be fluent enough in your life story to write a biography about you. What high school you went to, every crush you’ve ever had, how many times you’ve peed in the pool, all of it! They’re going to know, and there’s nothing you can do to stop them from talking about it. You said so to your father when he saw you off.

“This is a bad idea,” you pouted. And he just sighed and waved as you pulled out of the parking lot and hit ‘start route’ to your new hellhole home.

For the third time in the last hour, your GPS has missed a turn and is now redirecting you back to the main road. The busy ice cream parlour workers must be tired of seeing your rust bucket of a car; they’re probably gossiping about this fucking loser who keeps circling. Determined not to go past your turn again, you drive extra slow, take the right lane, and round the corner when clear.

Driving to the end of empty grasslands, you find a small ranch house. Blue-tiled roof, white exterior, chimney, and is that a rocking chair on the porch? The sun is setting, tangerine hues casting the quaint house in a cosy glow. It’s enchanting, even more so as you pull off the dirt road and park on a nearby worn patch where you assume the prior tenants parked.

But there’s just one problem.

On the opposite side of the dirt trail is a black pickup truck. Stepping out of your beat-up tin car, the hinges groaning as you gently shut the door. Staring at the intruding vehicle, you notice the red interior of the truck and various tools stacked up on the tray. Huffing, you head to the passenger’s side and turn your handbag inside-out looking for the house keys. Upon grasping them, you lock your car and stride up your new ‘home’.

Drawing closer, you hear muffled voices from the side of the house. A deep, resonating chuckle accompanies feet crackling on the tall shrubs. You change course, following the sounds of the approaching strangers instead. It only takes a few seconds before silky silver locks glinting in the fading light come into view, followed by narrow crimson eyes. They settle on you instantly, zeroing in and assessing you like a predator does to its prey.

He’s gorgeous. Ahem. Fine. He looks fine.

Angular features, rippling muscles beneath his button-up, broad shoulders and the sluttiest little waist (that black vest understood the assignment). You’re practically ogling him with how your lips are parted, a bit of spit forming at the corner of your mouth while your eyes rake up and down his every line and curve.

Sylus’s dark boots squish every insect and hint of vegetation in their path until he stops a few feet away from you. His shadow looms over you, making you feel small and weak. His eyes have you glued in place, rendering you speechless and flushed as you wish you could run to your car and book it back to the city. So what if it’s another six-hour drive? Who cares? You certainly don’t if it means escaping the hunk of man in front of you.

Feebly, you murmur, “Who’re you?” The way it comes out, you sound like an abandoned kitten drenched by an unrelenting storm. He smirks; it sends chills rolling up your spine.

“I could say the same about you, kitten,” he confidently drawls.

Your eyes widen as you stutter, “W-what? What did you just call me?”

The man by his side, whom you haven’t even spared a glance at, interjects, “Miss, this is private property. If you don’t identify yourself, then you could be charged with trespassing.”

“Trespassing?!” You echo, a hint of panic in your tone.

Crossing your arms beneath your chest, you scold him, “If anyone’s trespassing, it’s you two.” Your gaze flickers to the silver-haired man, his sharp eyes still fixated on you; they observe every breath you take, the darkness beneath your eyes, and how you shift uncomfortably on your feet like you’ve been driving for hours.

You continue, irritated, “My father owns this property. Who’re you to come here and accuse me of—”

“Oh,” Sylus interrupts, his voice rich like dark velvet.

“So, you’re Miss L/n, then?” He continues with a raised brow and a mocking grin on his perfect face. Oh, how you wanna punch it off! You nod, a little knot in your brow, which he finds amusing.

The silver-haired man introduces himself, “I was hoping to make your acquaintance sooner or later. I am Sylus, and I’d like to purchase your ranch.”

Your jaw slackens as you stare at him, sputtering, “Y-you what?”

“Mr Qin is a successful ranch owner and businessman. You have quite a nice block of land, Miss L/n. I was showing him around the property in preparation for a sale, once your father gives the word, of course,” the other man explains. You notice that he’s in a suit and holding several papers. Must be the real estate agent, you think.

You scoff, “Who… who do you think you are, you prick?” Pointing at Sylus, you scowl, “You have no right to be inspecting my land and you—” Your fury switches to the real estate agent, “are out of your fucking mind! Showing potential clients around here? Are you so desperate for commission? Get the fuck out of here or I’m calling the police.”

Delving into your back jean pocket, you retrieve your phone and open the dial pad.

Sylus’s charming chuckle unnerves you, “There’s no need to do that, sweetie. The tour is finished anyway.” Glancing up from your screen, you step back reflexively as he steps forward.

He holds out a red card between his long fingers, smirking, “My business card for when you’re ready to negotiate price.” You snatch it from him, glaring at him the entire time. And you don’t stop until you can make out his tall figure (bakery in full view btw) amongst the sunset backdrop, climbing into his truck and driving away in a flurry of dust and mystery.

Locking your phone, you slide it into your pocket and flip over Sylus’s business card. Address, email, phone number, all detailed in silver embossed lettering on a smooth background. But not as smooth as his voice. What?

Shaking those thoughts out of your head, you trudge back to your car and flip open the boot. It’s a long night, pulling out the few boxes you could fit, carrying them up the porch steps and eventually dumping them in the warm living room. Luckily, everything’s mostly furnished. It’s just your homely touch that needs to be added.

You unpack the ‘essentials’ box: toiletries, fry pan and toaster, and phone charger. Shortly afterwards, you collapse into bed, a certain silver-tongued fox on your mind. His shrewd gaze haunts your dreams, as do the defined contours of his body, evident in the afternoon light.

Oh, what it would be like to feel such muscles beneath your palm, to have his eyes on you for eternity. Such dreams are forbidden, yet you cannot stop the wandering mind from doing just that in the early hours of the morn.

masterlist

[pennyellee]

❝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔❞

𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 back to 1996. Not merely a year, but a crucible of raw emotion in the heart of New York City. Prepare for a maelstrom where explosive lovemaking, heartbreaking, and soul-shaking events converge. Here, seven storylines, seven lives, become irrevocably tangled—intricately woven into one sprawling, undeniable universe, poised on the precipice of something... inevitable. What happened? You're about to find out, so...

𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟔?

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: This series contains explicit content, strong language, misogyny, religious themes, yandere behaviour, mafia occurrences, illegal activities, alcohol, drugs, manipulation, psychological oppression, submission, brainwashing, deception, and sexual activities. It explores disturbing themes such as extreme obsession, possessiveness, yandere behaviour, coercion, and control, as well as unhealthy relationships, power imbalances, and trauma. The portrayal of substance abuse, violence, and morally gray characters is central to the narrative. Please note that these stories are fictional and do not reflect real-life morality or ideals. The author does not condone or endorse any of the behaviours, actions, or mindsets presented in this work. Additionally, no part of this series is intended to be a factual representation of real individuals, whether historical or contemporary. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐋 | 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐍𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐈 | 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐁 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐔

you won’t regret me, champagne confetti — i wanna see it in motion, in 3D You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐛 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤

𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒 | 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐀𝐔

“You are something I can sin for” An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that’s what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn’t always like that. There was a time when you resented Namjoon with every fibre of your being and every word that came out of his plump lips after what he had done to prove his power. Unfortunately, you will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it.

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 (VII/VI)

𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗𝐈𝐑 | 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐀𝐔

"And I won't be satisfied till we're taking those vows" you were apparently promised to the heir of Jung's criminal empire since birth, not that you ever took that ongoing inside joke seriously. You grew up alongside the said man, yet your mind is conflicted about upholding your part and saying I do until one drunken night reveals a lot more than you'd like.

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐗𝐈𝐑

__ | 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊𝐉𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐀𝐔

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 . . . H 𓍝 ✎ "he is a grifter in an ugly suit that is way too expensive for someone who makes a living bullshitting twelve strangers at a time"

__ | 𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐈 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐀𝐔

__ | 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐍 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍 𝐀𝐔

__ | 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐔

©pennyellee. please do not repost

All stories are creations of @pennyellee and thus are the intellectual property of the author. Any unauthorised reproduction, distribution, or adaptation without explicit permission is prohibited.

[kabsey]

Unpacking his sparse collection of spare clothing required very little of Lucanis's attention, but he kept his mind focused on the motions of his hands as he drew a shirt from his bag, carefully refolded it, and added it to the small stack on the bed. He had bought all of the clothes—as well as the bag itself—in a rushed shopping trip before joining the team at the Lighthouse. He had no doubt the contents of his flat were somewhere in the villa, returned to his grandmother upon his supposed death, but the thought of the entirety of his adult life stacked in piles and covered with dusty drop cloths made him feel like the phantom of some long-dead Dellamorte ancestor resurrected from the ether.

Spite paced around the room and grumbled to himself with the occasional discontented aside thrown at Lucanis. He had not wanted to leave the Lighthouse. Lucanis could sympathize, but as he'd reminded Spite, all of their friends had responsibilities to get back to; even if they'd stayed, they would have found themselves frequently alone. Spite had argued that an empty Lighthouse still sounded better than a return to the villa (and Lucanis could not entirely disagree), but the agreed-upon weekly dinner with the team and the promise of frequent messages and visits to and from Emmrich and Manfred had mollified him. Lucanis doubted even that would have been enough if not for the fact that Rook was also returning to Treviso and would be just across the city in Viago's townhouse.

The background noise of Spite's monologue of complaints went silent suddenly, and Lucanis glanced up to see him baring his teeth at the open doorway.

"You know," Illario drawled from a lazy lean against the doorframe, "I remember hearing Caterina suggest that you take the master suite."

He sauntered into the room with precise and steady movements. Only a fellow Crow who had known him his whole life would see the slightly rounded posture that meant he was well into his cups. He ran a fingertip along one of the bed posts as if checking for dust and then made a show of wiping an imaginary smudge from his fingers.

"I wonder what she will say when she finds you have taken up residence in your old room instead."

Lucanis went back to his unpacking. "Where I sleep is not her business."

Illario barked a short laugh. "If you think anything that happens under this roof is not Caterina's business, you really have been gone a long time."

"Yes," Lucanis agreed with a pointed glare. "I have."

Illario didn't flinch or look chagrined, except for a slight downward twitch of his lips and how quickly he looked away. "So tell me, cousin: why have you chosen to sleep in your childhood bedroom instead of the master suite as suggested?"

"I don't need that much space," Lucanis replied. "Cleaning it all would be a waste of the servants' time."

"Practicality. Of course. You and Caterina do so excel at that." As he slouched against the bed post, Illario looked up at the crows in their branches painted on the ceiling.

Lucanis sighed. "Should I have another reason?"

"Oh, no. What other reason could there be?" Illario rolled his head to the side to meet his gaze again. "What man doesn't dream of moving into his dead parents' bedroom?"

His gaze flicked down to Lucanis's hands. "Careful. That's silk."

With a deep inhale, Lucanis forced his fingers to release their choking grip on the shirt in his hands. He carefully smoothed out the creases before adding it to the pile on the bed.

"What do you want, Illario?"

"Just wondering when your little Rook is coming to roost in our nest instead of de Riva's. My room shares a wall with this one, and I need to know if I should invest in ear plugs."

Spite had maintained an inhumanely long glare at Illario throughout the conversation, but at that, he blinked and looked at Lucanis. "Ear plugs?"

Lucanis just shook his head at him a little, but Illario caught the motion and straightened from his slouch to an alert stillness.

"It's here, isn't it?"

"Of course he's here. Where I am, he is."

"Wonderful," Illario sneered. "So we're going to have two additions to the household. I didn't think that would happen until Rook started popping out your demonspawn."

Spite's fury drowned Lucanis in a sudden surge, and the undertow dragged him under. He watched helplessly through a violet haze as his own hands grabbed Illario by the throat. Spite used his wings to fly across the room and slam Illario into the stone wall as Lucanis thrashed and Illario flailed, both trying to break the demon's grip.

Spite snapped his teeth in Illario's reddening face, and an echo of the Fade reverberated in his howl.

"You will not! Put a demon! IN ROOK!"

Spite had not taken over so completely without permission since Zara's death, and no matter what he tried, Lucanis could not regain control of his hands. In desperation, he scrambled for any sliver of control, no matter how small, and he found his voice.

"Spite! Stop! He didn't mean it like that!"

"He said! A demon! Would pop out! Of Rook!" Beneath the rage, Lucanis could feel the terror and revulsion that such an image induced in both of them.

"He didn't mean an actual demon!" Above Spite's hands, Illario's eyes bulged and his lips were turning purple. "He meant a baby!"

"Baby?"

Spite's momentary confusion gave Lucanis the crack of an opening he needed to release Illario. His cousin slid to the ground, choking and coughing, and Lucanis staggered back several steps before dropping to his knees. He gulped down air with almost as much urgency as Illario, his hold on Spite threadbare and strained.

"Why would? A baby? Come out? Of Rook?" Spite demanded.

"Mierda," Lucanis gasped. He felt near to hysteria and didn't know if it would come out as a laugh or a sob. "I promise I will explain later. But Illario was not threatening Rook. I swear."

"He better not," Spite muttered, and he separated from Lucanis to continue his baleful sulking from the corner.

Illario gaped at Lucanis from the floor, his eyes wide and the hand at his throat trembling.

"Maker," he rasped. "It will kill us all."

"No," Lucanis snapped. "He won't."

He stalked over to his cousin and lifted him to his feet with two fists curled in his shirt. It took every ounce of self-restraint not to slam Illario into the wall himself.

"Do you have any idea what we saw down there?" he spat. "How many people we saw split apart like overripe fruit as a demon clawed its way out?"

He shook Illario as his cousin continued to stare at him. "You will watch what you say, you will not threaten or attempt to harm anyone I care about, and you will never speak about or to Rook with anything but respect. Do you understand, cousin?"

Illario said nothing, and Lucanis released him with a small shove and a snarl of disgust. "Get out."

With shaky steps, Illario made his way to the door. He paused on the threshold, and Lucanis braced himself for whatever snide remark his cousin was about to throw at him.

Instead Illario looked back at him, serious and solemn. "I thought you were dead. I would never have wanted... that... for you."

Lucanis sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "I know. But it happened, and I have to live with the aftermath." He dropped his hands to shoot Illario a rueful smirk. "And now so do you. So I suggest you work on your manners."

Illario's blue eyes narrowed just a fraction, but he wisely stayed quiet and walked away without further comment. A wave of weariness washed over Lucanis, and he went back to the bed and sat on the end.

"I miss Rook," Spite growled.

Lucanis nodded. "Me too."

[atangledfate]

The sheep seemed to glance to one side as if everything Surge said she mostly agreed with. Or maybe had already been discussed in private. It was very clear what GUN was up to and yet there was almost nothing they could do to stop this. Gun was powerful politically and, though they had come to a tenuous agreement she had a feeling it wouldn't last. How long before they targeted Kit? or maybe they didn't think he was a big enough threat to even bother with?

" That's already been talked about to some degree. But short of an all out war between GUN and Restoration... i'm not sure we could find a peaceful way to stop them. The best solution was handing you over... and none of us like that much either. The best we could do was protect Belle and Kitsunami... "

She clenched her fists and her body language spoke of just how much she hated this. no matter what Surge felt, she very much had grown to feel as if Surge were part of the team. More then that... she was just starting to break that ice and maybe become friends and now this.

" Which is why i think we need to have eyes on both of them... i know Belle is already thinking of running off. I think its best if both of them lay low for awhile till we figure this all out...its just... this still feels like we are losing this battle..."

She fidgeted but snapped her trap shut once she saw the reporter. How did he even get up here and she hoped he didn't hear anything she said. She sighed crossing her arms as he rambled on to probably the worst person on base. Yea if she were Surge she'd jack slap him to! She pinched the bridge of her nose as any good PR was going to help them in the long run.

" Well... he is a Reporter Surge, if you ever wanted to speak your peace to the world... now is the time. But try to keep it PG... and remember anything you say can and WILL be used against you... so choose your words very carefully..."

===============================================

Sonic placed his hands behind his head and watched the Fennec join them though, he seemed ready to split. He sure was pissed wasn't he? Not that he blamed him, truthfully Sonic was on his last nerve with GUN to. Still looked like the kid harbored alot of animosity toward him maybe just left over bits of Starlines fuckery or maybe he was just bitter about this whole situation.

Sonic checked his phone and flicked his thumber across the screen to the map location Surge had given him. He sighed a bit as he hated the idea of leaving Surge right now--- but she was right he made a promise it was time to keep it.

" Yep, she gave me a location and made me promise to take you there--- and i'm a hog of my word! just think of me as a taxi... i'll drop you off and the rest is on you bud... Alright Surge Kitsunami and i are gonzo... stay safe... ok? "

He held a hand out for Kitsunami to take so they could take off. He didn't think it was a good idea to grab the kid without his say so or he could lose an arm! or get bit! either way once Kit grabbed on he disappeared in a flash of motion and crack like thunder! He didn't think it would take him long to reach that location... then he needed to link up with tails and plan there next move.

===============================================

Miles had been sitting and mulling over the situation as it had so man angles to consider. But his eyes shifted to Blaze as she spoke and he seemed to sink further into his thoughts. He couldn't disagree more with her on many fronts. Sonic and His DNA especially was easy enough to come by due to all there extended battles within the city and beyond. Every injury they took and every drop of blood could easily have been collected by GUN over the years--- but far more importantly... they didn't need it as they had something far more potent to use.

" I know i say i'm the smartest mobian alive ... but let's be real here. Before Starline came along none of us would have imagined anyone on his intellectual level. Eggman might have expanded his horizons... but he was already a genius of exceptional levels before that. To imagine that GUN doesn't have someone of that level working for them is foolish--- why go and do any of this if you didn't have the ability to finish your goal. They might be brash but GUN has never been fools..."

He stated in a very calm manner as he swished his tails behind him in a very agitated way. He was clearly upset with this situation and wished like Sonic to pummel gun to dust! But unlike Sonic he understood how awful that would look... they were the good guys after all they had to follow the rules.

" As for Sonic's DNA or mine or any of those who fight Eggman on the regular. We all take our lumps... a drop of blood, a chunk of fur, a lost quill... its very common for that to happen to us. If Thawn is as devious as he appears... he might have enough stored DNA to last him a life time--- but he doesn't even need that. Do you know what he has butt loads of? Black Arms DNA... they gathered up all those bodies all those years ago and even before that they had shadow trapped for YEARS and took who knows how many samples... "

" If GUN's aim is to create some super solider... they have the resources ...question isn't if they can but when... and what there ultimate intent is... i won't sugar coat it Blaze, it's not great... and things could turn very quickly in GUNS favor. Only thing we have going for us is that i had the foresight to lock all of starlines notes in my personal vaults... so even if they wanted to, they would be starting from scratch. so we... have time... if nothing else "

Jewel buzzed her wings landing next to Belle and opted to focus on things she was more willing and able to handle. Fighting GUN felt like a battle for sonic and tails not restoration. Choose your battles Jewel! choose your battles!

" Yes... they helped us on several join ventures. I put all of them in a single file to keep things organized. But also because i never trusted the man... so at the very least we should be able to scour the files and see what he was actually up to. I'm more worried they will try to pin this all on restoration... or worse Eggman will use all of this distraction to strike while we are divided..."

She sighed softly as she stared at Belle

" But one battle at a time Belle... we can start scouring that data and assess the damage he did. I still feel foolish for not realizing what he was up to... in a way... this is all my fault..."

Sonic's eyes shifted upward as if he was thinking alot about Shadow, and his relationship with him. They were friends? He guessed that was a loose term as often as they came to blows. Shadow was probably the only person on the planet who could understand Surge and what she was going through. They had alot in common didn't they? Well he doubted Shadow would give a shit though he to found it odd Starline gave her no data on Shadow.

" Mmm, Boy Shadow is... alot--- heh. We clashed alot in the past and probably clash again in the future. I---"

He was cute off as Lanolin got closer and simply scratched his cheek in thought.

" Well ... maybe i'll introduce you to him sometime when things are less crazy... i Think you'd prefer his company to mine..."

There was alot Sonic wanted to say but really they didn't have the time did they? Not just about Shadow either, about the whole situation and GUN. Really he only had one thing to say before Lanolin and Surge departed as he glanced over his shoulder toward them.

" Hey--- No matter what they say... don't trust GUN. No matter how good there promises are... just knows its never what it seems. "

Lanolin seemed to eye Sonic as if he knew something that she and Surge didn't. Though he just kept gazing up at that airship. The Sheep placed her hand on the back of her neck unsure how to respond or approach the situation. She still thought of Surge as a friend and was now being asked to hand her over--- it was a shit situation and Sonic's comment didn't comfort her at all.

" It's mad to think they'd do all of this just for you and kit... but then you did make a mess of the city with minimal effort. Maybe its just to make a point? I can't say why they did it... but then they wanted Belle to... so maybe it was more then that? All i know is... the deal is you hand yourself over and they lift the blockade... i hate it still... but we can't fight the government... "

She sighed and crossed her arms giving surge a knowing nod at her request.

" Yea... don't worry, we'll start moving him to a safe location soon as we can. Though we need to wait for there liaison to arrive to sign all the paper work. just thought you'd wanna this time to say your goodbyes... i don't know where they'll take you. Though i suspect to that prison where they sent Mimic ... or something similar. "

She touched her chin as Surge admitted Kit was stalking them from a distance and watching them. It didn't shock her at all considering how close they were. It must be eating him alive to know that he might lose her. They were almost like siblings in a way and separating them? it couldn't be easy on either of them.

" Hmmm, then things are winding down? Well Surge say the word and i'll take Kit with me to that place you mentioned. I can slip past any blockades without issue. Better to move him before they have eyes on him... that way we can hide him away while they are distracted with you... "

==============================================

Jewel wasn't so sure she could agree with blaze on this one. Surge already decimated a city, caused who knew how much damage. Despite all the good work that she'd done here. It would be so easy for GUN to spin her as an enemy of the state. Propaganda could go in two directions and GUN controlled the media more then she liked to admit. She knew the princess wouldn't do harm unless provoked she had less worry about that. Her main concern is what they'd do with Surge once they had her contained.

" I hope that isn't there intent... surely it would have been easier to steal away starines lab... most of his notes are in miles possession though so maybe it was't easy for them to get? Either way they seem more interested in her then anything else... i ever imagined GUN would sink this low... "

For all the vile things that GUN had done, most of it was uknown. Despite the awful things that Amy had to say about them. The details were never really spoken on by her. All Jewel knew was Amy said never to trust them, and that they were bad news. Maybe its why they took her out? did they fear she'd see through there plot in same way? or maybe she'd have taken a stronger stance against handing surge over?

" I don't know about this new general, or this president... but i do know GUN and i know enough to believe that if they wanted to replicate Starlines work--- they'd have the time and resources to do it. Worse if you think Eggman is lacking ethics... then i fully believe GUN is just as bad if not worse. Eggman has his rules... might be twisted but he follows them to a tee... its why he never kills amy despite capturing her many times... or why, he never killed Sonic despite having him for 6 months. His rules are mad but he has them... GUN not so much..."

Miles stated while occasionally chewing on his stylus in a nervous habit.

" Yea I know Belle but i need to scour that data and make sure there isn't something we are overlooking they could be after. They seem to interested in us to just be after Surge... if that was all they wanted there were better ways to do it... this feels like a big show to make a point...either way i wanna cover our bases... no point assuming anything without checking it over first. "

" as for the other bases... i'm sure they are fine... GUN feels focused on us and less on everyone else. But we can't help them until we help ourselves first "

[raineyconstellations]

As Long As You’d Like || Reader x Bob

“ Wow, congratulations! “

It had been decided, Robert Reynolds, Bob, would be permitted to leave the tower. Finally after almost a year of counseling and on and off training sessions he was being included in field operations.

You offered him a lopsided smile as you lowered the heat on the pan and wiped your hands on the front of your apron fully turning to take him in. You really couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips as you saw the man before you seemingly trying to fold in on himself. He looked everything but excited, more like a cat that had been harnessed and was about to be thrown out into the world for the first time.

“ I-I’m just not sure I’m…100 percent ready you know. “

He shrugged as he hid his hands in the oversized sleeves of his shirt, but even through the fabric you could already see the nervous fidgeting. His eyes darted left and right, up and down, unsure where it would be safe to rest. You noticed whenever Bob was about to say the worst things about himself he was always reluctant to look you in the eye.

“ Robert Reynolds.”

At the sound of his full name he stiffened, just like a cat that had been spooked and you swore you could hear him gulp down his negative comments. His fingers flexed but they remained at his side refusing to nervously tear at the already sensitive skin surrounding his nails.

“ Give yourself a little more credit bud, I know it’s sometimes a little hard to step back and see our accomplishments but you good sir. You have come a long way from where you started and you should be very proud of that. “

You turned away from him but not before seeing the tops of his ears burn red in embarrassment.

Your attention shifted to the dishes piled up high in the sink and with a sigh you motioned him to step forward and help you. You could have thrown them in the dishwasher, but truth be told you hated those things and washing dishes by hand was always therapeutic. It was also something mundane, something ordinary that Bob had quite taking a liking to helping you with as well.

He stumbled towards the sink , arms raised already memorizing the routine and you without skipping a beat leaned forward and rolled his sleeves up before handing him the dish towel.

“ I guess I could only play Rapunzel for so long. “

“ Bob, even Rapunzel left her tower. I’ll give you a cast iron skillet if it would make you feel better.“

“ Will you be my Pascal. “

“ Only if I’m allowed to sit on your shoulders. “

You splashed him and the both of you shared a couple laughs, while the tension hadn’t completely left him it was at least a little better and those negative words Bob had thought about throwing at himself had burst like the bubbles in the sink.

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After the first mission it was like a bomb had been set off. The team remained busy and poor Bob was strung along without a chance to breathe or even think for that matter. Valentina called it public exposure therapy, aka the team really needed to be seen publicly and garner good press.

For the majority of your time, there was not much you could do but cook for yourself and the furry friends that had been entrusted to your care while everyone else was away. It became quite boring quite fast and on many days you found yourself pacing Bob’s little reading nook dusting the area for what seemed to be the 50th time.

You didn’t want to admit it, but the absence of Bob was felt. While you had been around the team, they would come and go whenever they pleased, but Bob remained a constant presence and now you were missing that presence.

On days where the harsh words of your own conscious were too much to take ; normal, boring, plain - you would take yourself out to explore the city. You would immerse yourself, exploring the food scene discovering what new recipes or ingredients you could bring to the team. You thought about Bob and at the end of everyday, you would bring something back to the tower that reminded you of him.

Sometimes a book, a bookmark, or maybe some teas you thought would help Bob through his sleepless nights or lazy mornings. Sometimes you would even take cuttings from local flowers and press them into the pages of the books you brought home for him. On days you didn’t feel like wondering out, you would leave sticky notes around his nook.

‘ The ole lady said this recipe was good for sore throats . ‘

‘ This one is good for sniffles. ‘

‘ Hearty, packed with potatoes. You like potatoes. ‘

‘ I am Pascal and Pascal is me. ‘

‘ I miss Rapunzel. ‘

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Where he had found you had surprised him. Body curled up in the sofa chair located in his reading nook, head pressed to your chest in what looked to be an uncomfortable sleeping position. A small bubble of drool at the corner of your lips, and one of the books he had finished before leaving on these publicity missions cracked open in your lap.

The more he let his eyes wonder the more he discovered. What had been an empty coffee table beside the chair was now stacked high with a pile of books. Titles he hadn’t seen in his collection before leaving, books that had also been decorated in sticky notes. He picked one up.

‘ Spice cake, Bob likes cinnamon. ‘

‘Saw a cat, looked like Bob. ‘

‘ New shop on 5th, Bob might like. ‘

‘ Weighted blanket for Bob. ‘

Every sticky note was addressed to him and the more he read the more the warmth in his chest grew. It felt full, like at any moment it could burst and he couldn’t help the prickle at the corner of his eyes .

Cause never in his life, did Bob think that he would have someone waiting for him. Someone missing him, who wanted him around so often to do mundane things with like wash dishes, or cook. You were the most normal abnormal thing in his life and he couldn’t help the awful bad thoughts asking him “ Until when? “

“ As long as you’d like.”

He jumped not realizing that he had asked out loud and you grinned as you smacked your lips then closed your eyes and went back to blissful sleep. Your body sinking further into the couch, as if finally finding the perfect state of peace.

As long as he’d like. He smiled as he sat with his back against the couch, laying his head on the tops of your legs where you instinctively ran your fingers through his curls. His eyes closed and all the tension he had felt these past few weeks melted away.

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