#I’m happy to talk about it it is not traumatic to me at all | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pucksandpower · 7 months ago

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Lovefest

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Oscar thought that adjusting to Formula 1 would be the biggest challenge of his rookie season … no one warned him that being around you and Lando would somehow both traumatize and make him believe in true love at the same time

Based on this request

Oscar steps into the bustling McLaren garage, his eyes darting around as he takes in the flurry of activity. It’s his first day in the paddock wearing papaya and he’s eager to make a good impression.

As he weaves through the mechanics and engineers, he spots Lando chatting animatedly with a woman he assumes must be Lando’s girlfriend.

Approaching the pair, Oscar puts on his friendliest smile. “Hey, Lando! Great to see you, mate.”

Lando turns, his face lighting up. “Oscar! Welcome to the team.” He gestures to the woman beside him. “This is my girlfriend. Babe, this is Oscar, my new teammate.”

You extend your hand, smiling warmly. “It’s so nice to meet you. Lando’s been talking about you non-stop.”

Oscar shakes your hand, chuckling. “All good things, I hope?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you assure him. “He’s really excited to work with you this season.”

Lando nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, mate. It’s gonna be epic. We’re gonna crush it together.”

Oscar grins, already feeling at ease. “That’s the plan. So, how long have you two been together?”

The moment the words leave his mouth, he notices a few nearby mechanics exchange knowing glances and stifle laughter. Lando and you, however, seem oblivious to this as your eyes lock onto each other.

“Well,” Lando begins, his voice softening, “it’s been about two years now, but honestly, it feels like I’ve known her my whole life.”

You blush, squeezing Lando’s hand. “Oh, stop it, you. But really, Oscar, from the moment we met, it was like everything just clicked into place.”

Oscar nods politely, not quite understanding the sudden shift in atmosphere. “That’s great. You two seem really happy together.”

“Happy doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Lando says, his eyes never leaving yours. “She’s my soulmate, my best friend, my everything.”

You giggle, playfully swatting Lando’s arm. “You’re such a charmer. But he’s right, Oscar. We just ... we get each other, you know?”

Oscar opens his mouth to respond, but Lando cuts in, “Remember our first date? I was so nervous I spilled my drink all over myself.”

“Oh my god, yes!” You exclaim, laughing. “But it was adorable. And then you tried to clean it up and knocked over the candle ...”

“Nearly set the whole restaurant on fire,” Lando finishes, grinning. “But you didn’t run away screaming, so I knew you were a keeper.”

Oscar shifts uncomfortably, feeling like he’s intruding on a private moment. He glances around, hoping to catch someone’s eye for help, but the other team members seem to be purposefully avoiding their corner of the garage.

You turn back to Oscar, your eyes shining. “Sorry, we got a bit carried away. It’s just, when you find that person who completes you, it’s hard not to gush sometimes.”

Lando nods sagely. “Absolutely. Like, did I tell you about the time she surprised me after a race in Monaco?”

Before Oscar can answer, you jump in, “Oh, Lando, I’m sure Oscar doesn’t want to hear about that.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Oscar says weakly, trapped by politeness.

Lando grins, oblivious to Oscar’s discomfort. “So there I was, exhausted after the race, and I walk into my hotel room to find it covered in rose petals and candles ...”

As Lando launches into the story, Oscar notices a mechanic nearby making frantic ‘cut it out’ gestures. Confused, he tries to catch the man’s eye, but the mechanic quickly busies himself with a nearby toolbox.

“... and then she steps out of the bathroom in this gorgeous dress,” Lando continues, his voice filled with awe. “I swear, Oscar, my heart stopped for a second. She was like an angel.”

You blush furiously. “Lando, stop it. You’re embarrassing me in front of your new teammate.”

“I’m just telling the truth,” Lando insists. “Oscar, mate, when you find someone who makes your heart race every time you see them, even after years together, you know it’s real.”

Oscar nods, desperately searching for a way to change the subject. “That’s ... that’s really sweet, guys. So, uh, Lando, how’s the car feeling this season?”

But Lando seems to be in his own world now, gazing adoringly at you. “You know, speaking of the car, it reminds me of how supportive she’s been throughout my career. Remember that time you stayed up all night with me before a big race, just talking and calming my nerves?”

You smile softly. “Of course I do. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”

“And that’s why I love you so much,” Lando says, pulling you close. “You’re always there for me, through the highs and the lows.”

Oscar watches, bewildered, as the two of you seem to forget his presence entirely. He catches movement out of the corner of his eye and sees Daniel Ricciardo approaching, a look of amused resignation on his face.

“Hey, Oscar,” Daniel says quietly, coming to stand beside him. “I see you’ve made the rookie mistake of getting these two started.”

Oscar turns to him, relief evident in his voice. “Daniel, thank god. What’s going on? They’ve been like this for ages.”

Daniel chuckles, shaking his head. “Ah, mate. You’ve stumbled into the Lando and Y/N lovefest. There’s a rule around here: never get them talking about how much they love each other, or you’ll be stuck listening to them being lovesick for at least an hour.”

Oscar’s eyes widen in horror. “An hour? But ... but we have the first testing session soon!”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Daniel says, patting Oscar on the shoulder. “Once they get going, there’s no stopping them. It’s like a force of nature.”

As if to prove Daniel’s point, Lando’s voice rises slightly as he recounts another story. “... and then, on our anniversary, she organized this incredible scavenger hunt all around London ...”

You chime in, your voice equally enthusiastic. “Oh, but Lando, what about the time you learned to cook my favorite meal just to surprise me?”

Daniel leans in close to Oscar, whispering, “See what I mean? They’re in their own little world now. Best to just let it run its course.”

Oscar watches, fascinated and horrified, as Lando and you continue to trade stories and loving glances, seemingly oblivious to the world around you. The garage bustles with activity, mechanics and engineers working around the loved-up couple as if this were a regular occurrence.

“So, uh, how long does this usually last?” Oscar asks Daniel, his voice tinged with desperation.

Daniel checks his watch. “Well, you’re about fifteen minutes in now. I’d say you’ve got at least another forty-five to go, minimum.”

Oscar groans. “But what about testing? Shouldn’t someone ... I don’t know, snap them out of it?”

Daniel laughs, clapping Oscar on the back. “Oh, you sweet summer child. Many have tried, all have failed. It’s best to just let nature take its course. Think of it as your initiation into the team.”

As if on cue, Lando’s voice rises again. “... and that’s when I knew, without a doubt, that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her.”

You gasp, your eyes filling with tears. “Oh, Lando, do you really mean that?”

“With all my heart,” Lando says solemnly. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, on or off the track.”

Oscar turns to Daniel, a pleading look in his eyes. “There has to be something we can do. Anything!”

Daniel shrugs, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Well, there is one thing that sometimes works ...”

Before Oscar can ask what he means, Daniel cups his hands around his mouth and shouts, “Hey, lovebirds! Last one to the track buys dinner for the whole team!”

As if snapping out of a trance, Lando and you both turn, suddenly aware of your surroundings again.

“Oh, shoot!” Lando exclaims. “Testing! Come on, we can’t be late!”

As Lando rushes off to get ready, you give Oscar an apologetic smile. “It was lovely meeting you. Sorry if we got a bit carried away there.”

Oscar watches, dumbfounded, as you hurry after Lando. He turns to Daniel, who’s wearing a self-satisfied grin.

“And that, my friend,” Daniel says, “is how you break the spell. Welcome to McLaren. I’m just happy they’re your problem now.”

As they head towards the track, Oscar can’t help but shake his head, a mixture of amusement and disbelief on his face. It’s going to be an interesting season, that’s for sure.

***

Several months into the season, the McLaren garage buzzes with anticipation. It’s race weekend, and the team has invited a popular podcaster to get an inside look at their operations. Oscar, now comfortably settled into his role as Lando’s teammate, watches with mild interest as the podcaster, Mike, bounces around the garage, microphone in hand, eyes wide with excitement.

“This is incredible!” Mike exclaims, his voice carrying over the din of mechanics at work. “The energy here is just electric!”

Oscar chuckles to himself, remembering his own first days with the team. He catches Daniel’s eye across the pit lane, and they share a knowing smirk.

Mike continues his tour, interviewing various team members, his enthusiasm never waning. Oscar keeps one ear on the conversations while focusing on his pre-race preparations. Everything seems to be going smoothly until he hears the fateful words that make his blood run cold.

“So, Lando,” Mike says, his voice dripping with curiosity, “I couldn’t help but notice your lovely girlfriend here. You two make such a cute couple. How about you tell us a bit about your relationship?”

The entire McLaren garage falls silent. Tools clatter to the ground. A collective groan rises from the team members. Someone in the back yells, “No!”

Oscar feels his chest tighten, his eyes already beginning to water. He looks around desperately, seeking an escape route, but he’s trapped between his car and a wall of mechanics who have frozen in horror.

Lando’s face lights up, oblivious to the panic around him. “Oh, mate, where do I even begin? She’s the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”

You blush, squeezing Lando’s hand. “Oh, stop it, you charmer.”

“No, really,” Lando insists, turning to face you fully. “From the moment we met, I knew there was something special about her.”

Oscar watches in mounting dread as the familiar scene begins to unfold. He catches Daniel’s eye again, silently pleading for help, but Daniel just shakes his head, a look of resigned amusement on his face.

Mike, unaware of the can of worms he’s just opened, leans in eagerly. “That’s so sweet! How did you two meet?”

“Well,” you begin, your eyes never leaving Lando’s, “it was at a charity event. I was volunteering, and Lando was there as a guest ...”

“And I saw her from across the room,” Lando interjects, his voice soft and reverent. “She was helping an elderly gentleman to his seat, and the way she smiled at him ... I swear, it was like time stopped.”

But Lando and you are lost in your own world now, the podcaster forgotten as you gaze into each other’s eyes.

“I remember thinking,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, “who is this adorable guy in the McLaren jacket?”

Lando grins. “And I was trying to work up the courage to talk to you all night. I must have walked past your station a dozen times.”

“Thirteen,” you correct him with a giggle. “I was counting.”

Mike looks around, confused by the reactions of the team. He catches Oscar’s eye and mouths, “What’s happening?”

Oscar, his eyes already glistening with unshed tears, just shakes his head frantically. He tries to sidle away, but his movement seems to draw Lando’s attention.

“Oh, Oscar!” Lando exclaims. “You should have seen her that night. She was wearing this beautiful flowy dress that matched her eyes perfectly.”

You laugh, playfully swatting Lando’s arm. “Stop it, you’re embarrassing me. But Lando looked so handsome in his suit. I couldn’t take my eyes off him all night.”

Oscar feels a hand on his shoulder and turns to see Daniel standing beside him, a sympathetic look on his face. “Breathe, mate,” Daniel whispers. “It’ll be over ... eventually.”

Mike, still oblivious to the situation, presses on. “So, what was your first date like?”

The entire garage seems to groan in unison. Oscar feels a tear escape and roll down his cheek.

“Our first date,” Lando says dreamily, “was at this little Italian restaurant. I was so nervous I could barely eat.”

You nod, your eyes sparkling with the memory. “He was adorable. He kept knocking things over and apologizing.”

“But you were so patient,” Lando adds. “Even when I spilled wine all over the tablecloth.”

“Because I could see how genuine you were,” you reply. “How kind and funny and passionate.”

Oscar, unable to take it anymore, turns to Daniel. “Please,” he whispers desperately, “make it stop.”

Daniel pats his back comfortingly. “I know, buddy. I know. But you know the rules. Once they start, there’s no stopping them.”

Mike, finally sensing that something is amiss, tries to steer the conversation back to racing. “So, uh, Lando, how do you balance your relationship with your career?”

But Lando is too far gone now. “Oh, she’s the most supportive partner I could ask for. She’s there for every race, every triumph, every setback.”

“Because I believe in you,” you say softly. “In us. In what we have together.”

Oscar feels another tear roll down his cheek. He looks around the garage, seeing the mix of resignation and amusement on his teammates’ faces. Some have plugged their ears, others have found suddenly urgent tasks to attend to far away from the love-struck couple.

Mike, now looking slightly panicked, turns to Oscar. “Uh, Oscar? Any thoughts on ... on teamwork?”

Oscar opens his mouth to respond, grateful for the lifeline, but Lando beats him to it.

“Teamwork!” Lando exclaims. “That reminds me of the time we decided to cook dinner together for our six-month anniversary.”

You laugh, the sound light and musical. “Oh god, what a disaster that was!”

“But it was perfect,” Lando insists. “Because we were together.”

Oscar feels his knees go weak. He leans heavily against his car, Daniel’s steadying hand on his shoulder the only thing keeping him upright.

“How ... how long?” Oscar manages to croak out.

Daniel checks his watch. “Only twenty minutes in, mate. We’ve got a long way to go.”

Mike, now fully aware that he’s lost control of the interview, looks around helplessly. His eyes land on a senior mechanic, silently pleading for assistance.

The mechanic just shakes his head. “You brought this on yourself, kid. Rule number one around here: never ask about their relationship.”

“I didn’t know!” Mike protests weakly.

“None of us did, the first time,” the mechanic replies sagely. “Consider this your initiation.”

Meanwhile, Lando and you continue your love-fueled reminiscence, oblivious to the chaos around you.

“Remember our first vacation together?” Lando asks, his eyes shining.

You nod enthusiastically. “That little cottage in the countryside. It was so peaceful.”

“Except for when we tried to go hiking and got completely lost,” Lando adds with a chuckle.

“But it led to that beautiful hidden waterfall,” you remind him. “Where you told me you loved me for the first time.”

Oscar lets out a quiet sob. Daniel, still by his side, pats his back sympathetically. “There, there, mate. Let it out. It’s healthier that way.”

Mike, looking increasingly desperate, tries one last time to salvage the situation. “So, uh, about the upcoming race ...”

But Lando and you are in full swing now, trading stories and loving gazes, completely lost in your own world.

“And then there was the time we went to that cooking class together,” you say, giggling at the memory.

Lando groans good-naturedly. “Oh god, I nearly burned down the kitchen!”

“But you made the most amazing chocolate soufflé,” you remind him.

“Only because you were there to guide me,” Lando says softly. “You always bring out the best in me.”

Oscar, his face now streaked with tears, turns to Daniel. “How ... how did you deal with this?” He asks, his voice hoarse.

Daniel shrugs. “You have to learn to find the humor in it, mate. And maybe invest in some good noise-canceling headphones.”

Mike, realizing he’s fighting a losing battle, slumps against a nearby workbench. “I’ve made a terrible mistake, haven’t I?”

The senior mechanic nods sagely. “Yep. But don’t worry, kid. We’ve all been there. Give it another ... oh, forty minutes or so, and they’ll run out of steam. Maybe.”

As if to prove him wrong, Lando’s voice rises again. “Oh, and remember that time we went stargazing in the desert?”

You nod enthusiastically. “How could I forget? The way the stars reflected in your eyes ...”

“It was nothing compared to the way you light up my world,” Lando replies, his voice thick with emotion.

Oscar, unable to take it anymore, slides down to sit on the floor, his back against his car. He draws his knees up to his chest, rocking slightly as he mutters, “Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop.”

Daniel crouches down beside him, patting his shoulder. “There, there, rookie. It’s all part of the McLaren experience. You’re doing great.”

Mike, looking shell-shocked, turns to the senior mechanic. “Does this happen often?”

The mechanic chuckles. “Often enough that we’ve developed a whole system to deal with it. See those guys over there?” He points to a group of team members huddled in a corner, passing around a packet of earplugs. “They’re the smart ones. Always come prepared.”

As Lando and you continue your lovefest, the rest of the garage settles into a strange sort of routine. Some team members go about their work, seemingly immune to the ongoing spectacle. Others gather in small groups, sharing knowing looks and suppressed laughter.

Oscar, still on the floor, has progressed from quiet sobs to a sort of resigned hiccupping. Daniel sits beside him, offering silent support and the occasional reassuring pat.

Mike, having given up all pretense of conducting an interview, slumps further against the workbench. “I just wanted to talk about racing,” he mumbles dejectedly.

The senior mechanic laughs. “Lesson learned, kid. Next time, stick to lap times and tire strategies.”

As the love-fest enters its second hour, Oscar finally looks up, his eyes red and puffy. “Does it ever get easier?” He asks Daniel plaintively.

Daniel grins, helping Oscar to his feet. “Nah, mate. But you do develop a certain appreciation for true love. And maybe a slight tendency towards nausea.”

Oscar manages a weak chuckle. “I guess there are worse things than witnessing too much love.”

“That’s the spirit!” Daniel says, clapping him on the back. “Now, how about we sneak off for a coffee while these two finish up their romance novel?”

As they make their way towards the exit, carefully skirting around Lando and you (who are now recreating your first dance together, much to Mike’s bewildered amusement), Oscar can’t help but shake his head.

“You know,” he says to Daniel, “when I joined McLaren, I thought the hardest part would be the racing.”

Daniel laughs. “Oh, Oscar. The racing’s the easy part. It’s surviving the Lando and Y/N love story that’s the real challenge. But hey, look on the bright side.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “There’s a bright side?”

“Sure,” Daniel says with a grin. “At least now you know what true love looks like. Even if it does make you want to cry and vomit at the same time.”

As they exit the garage, leaving behind the sound of Lando and you laughing and reminiscing, Oscar can’t help but smile. It’s been a strange journey, but he wouldn’t trade his place on this team for anything in the world.

Well, maybe for a good pair of noise-canceling headphones.

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motorsportbarbie13 · 11 days ago

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Post It - Part 2 - LN4

when lando stumbles upon a random tiktok of a pretty american influencer, he can't stop himself from sliding into her DMs. what happens next is more than both of them ever bargained for.

Part 1 Master List

warnings: nothing heavy really. little talk about depression and therapy and too much partying but like, nothing traumatic. :) pairing: lando norris x influencer!reader word count: 3.9k (a note: if you want to be added to the tag list, let me know but please please let me know if you want on the general tag list of just this fics list. if you don't specify, i will just put you on this fics list!!)

“So, are we going to talk about what that was back there?” Hannah corners you the moment you arrive in the Red Bull garage just as Liam is hopping into the car for the first practice session of the weekend.

Your eyes drop to the floor, avoiding eye contact with her. “Can we just pretend you didn’t see anything?”

Hannah laughs but you see the hurt that flashes in her eyes. ‘Um, no we cannot because you failed to tell me you’re talking to LANDO NORRIS.”

“Shh! Hannah!” You hiss, swatting at her bare arm while looking wildly around, hoping that no one else in the garage is paying attention to your conversation. “I was talking to him. Was. There’s a big difference.”

Hannah levels a glare at you, her brow quirking, “Then why did Lando look like he was a cat with a dish of warm milk when I saw him walk past just now? The only time I’ve ever seen that man that happy was when they won the Constructors last year.”

You roll your eyes, of course he was strutting around the paddock after getting you to agree to go out with him tonight. That man had no poker face. “I said I’d go out to dinner with him tonight.” You sigh, shutting your eyes so you don’t have to see Hannah’s reaction.

Your friends brows furrow, confusing clouding her features. “What? Back up, I think I missed a few chapters here. When I left you looked like you wanted to strangle him. And what about the blonde? Allie or something?”

Frowning you cross your arms over your chest as you turn towards the tv screens in the garage. The camera was fixed directly on the papaya colored McLaren 2 garages down. When it cuts to Lando pulling on his balaclava, you avert your eyes. You can’t escape him today, can you?

“He says he can explain.”

Hannah snorts, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure he can.”

You can’t help the laugh that starts in the back of your throat, shaking your head. “That’s quite literally exactly what I said.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were talking to him?” Your friend asks, her voice soft.

“I don’t know.” You admit, cheeks burning with shame. “It just…happened. And then it stopped. And then, well, here we are.”

Guilt sits heavy in your belly when you chance a glance at your friend. She doesn’t look hurt anymore, just confused and a touch of something else. Something deeper that you know probably feels a bit like betrayal. Hannah had been one of your first influencer friends you made when this life kind of fell into your lap. She was kind and not superficial like a lot of the other girls in your world could be. Your friendship with her felt genuine and you knew she felt the same way.

“Here we are.” Hannah echos, skepticism dripping from her words. “The only place in the entire world where you knew exactly where he’d be. Is that why you agreed to come on the trip with me? For him?”

You turn to her then, everything clicking all at once.Your face goes pale with horror. “Hannah! No!” You gasp, ignoring the few heads that swivel in your direction “Oh my God, Hannah. I swear I did not accept your invitation with any other intent beyond hanging out with you. I swear."

Hannah looks away then, cheeks flaming like yours were earlier. Your eyes flutter close and you reach out to pull your friend into a hug. “I mean, what am I supposed to think?” She whispers.

Tugging on her hand you pull her into a corner of the garage where it’s a bit quieter. “I swear to you, H that’s not even remotely true. I honestly almost turned down the whole trip because I didn’t want to see him.”

Hannah blinks away the watery tears that you knew had been threatening to spill. “Yeah?”

You nod earnestly, “Yes, please believe me. I wanted to come with you more than I didn’t want to see him. I thought maybe I could just avoid him the whole weekend. Please, don’t think that I was using you to get closer to him.”

Hannah knows you well enough to be able to read you pretty easily. She regards you for a few moments before nodding. “Okay, fine.”

Relief washes over you. “You believe me?”

Hannah shrugs, “You genuinely did look like you wanted to strangle him back there for a few minutes so…”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “How many people in this paddock and I had to be saved by a boy wearing bright orange.”

“It’s papaya.” Hannah corrects, earning a swat on her shoulder from you.

“I hate you.” You shoot back but it’s useless and you both end up dissolving into a fit of giggles, once again pulling several glances in your direction, including the glare of Christian Horner himself who looks like he’s about to toss you both out of the garage any moment.

Both of you immediately stop laughing seeing the eyes of the Red Bull boss on you, chuckles continuing under your breath. You’re both quiet for several minutes, watching as the tv screens show Liam rounding one of the corners followed closely by Max in the other Red Bull car.

Hannah is the first to break the silence. “This whole thing is a bit…messy, don’t you think?”

“I know!” You groan, dragging the palms of your hands over your face. “But he wants to explain and…” You pause, giving Hannah a sidelong glance as she waits for you to continue. “I kinda want to hear what he has to say?”

Hannah levels a glare at you and you can almost feel the way she wants to roll her eyes at you. “That’s fine, but please don’t let him explain his way into your bed tonight.”

“Hannah!” You gasp before you both dissolve into peals of giggles, much to Christian Horner’s dismay.

celeb.influencer.gossip posted

celeb.influencer.gossip out favorite american influencer @/yourusername was spotted in China today at the start of the F1 race weekend. While she arrived with Liam Lawson's girlfriend Hannah St. John, a few eagle eyed fans caught her talking to (and hugging) McLaren driver Lando Norris. According to a source, two looked a little...awkward at first but by the time they parted, they looked a little more...friendly. user9198 her and lando would make such a cute couple tho >>>user200 he has a girlfriend tho??? or am i making this up??? >>>user222 allegra? nah, she only hangs around for the clout. L always looks miserable around her user111 shes so pretty >>>user222 FR

Candles flicker, soft and golden, in the low light of cozy hotel restaurant later that night, casting moody shadows across the entire space. From his spot at a corner table, tucked strategically away from the bustle of the rest of the restaurant, Lando watches you approach as the hostess leads you towards him. He had spotted you the moment you walked up to the hostess stand, your hair tumbling down around your shoulders in loose waves, knee high boots clicking against the wide planked mahogany flooring, tiny black sweater dress hugging every curve so dangerously you should probably be arrested.

The restaurant you’re meeting him in tonight is the one directly next to the lobby of the hotel several of the teams are staying at this weekend for the race. As a result, it’s a bit busy with teams getting their dinner before heading up for an early night in preparation for tomorrow’s main race. Lando had requested a quiet table near the back tonight though, not wanting this important conversation he knew needed to happen interrupted by anyone. The restaurant itself was dimly lit, tables draped in creamy white linen with candles providing the main source of light. Flecks of gold dotted the black marble walls that absorbed most of the harsh light filtering in from the lobby just outside.

The moment your gazes connect, Lando’s mouth goes dry at the smile that hitches up at the corner of your lips, painted a deep scarlet shade tonight. You struggle not to drop your eyes to the ground under his intense scrutiny, somehow managing to maintain eye contact with him. The look he’s giving you though borders on predatory, like he’s already planning how slowly he can consume you tonight.

Your stomach flips delightfully at the way he smiles at you when you get closer. When he stands you can see he’s wearing a sinfully well tailored suit, clearly intent on impressing you tonight.

He doesn’t hesitate to reach out and take you in his arms the moment you’re close enough, the hostess making a polite retreat without another word. The warmth of Lando’s body settles over you like a heated blanket and you melt into him without really even meaning to. It seems as though you’re powerless against anything once he touches you.

“You came.”

Lando holds your chair out for you, encouraging you to sit before he rounds the table to sit himself. You grin, taking a quick sip of water, hoping to beat the parched throat you’re suddenly dealing with. The way Lando’s eyes appear darker than you’ve ever seen them in the low light of the flickering candles has butterflies waking up in your belly.

“Of course I came. I told you I would, didn’t I?” You look at him, eyes narrowed a bit. If you didn’t know any better you’d say Lando looked a little nervous, anxious almost. It was a far cry from the man you knew from your hours long FaceTime dates a few months ago. His shoulders were hitched up a bit and you could tell he was a bit tense. Something in you wanted to do anything you could to sooth the little crinkles between his eyes that felt like they were a result of some deep rooted anxiety.

Lando rakes his fingers through his curls, desperately trying to get a hold of his nerves. The way you looked tonight, the way you smiled at him like he hadn’t nearly fumbled what had started back in February with you both, the way you had actually showed up to hear him out. It was all a little too much for him to wrap his mind around.

He clears his throat, thankful for the bottle of wine he had ordered the moment he sat down. He pours you a glass, relieved when you don’t tell him you prefer something else.

“Congratulations on getting pole today.” You say before lifting your wine glass to your lips. The rich notes of cherries and something earthy explode across your tongue as you take a deep sip of the red wine Lando had just poured in your glass.

Lando’s blush deepens, his eyes dropping from yours down to the linen napkin in his lap. He scrubs at the back of his neck. “Thanks, we’re pretty locked in this weekend.”

“Fastest practice laps and pole for the sprint race? Sounds like it.”

Lando nods, “The car is good this year.”

“That’s what they say.” You murmur, taking another sip of wine.

Silence stretches between you after that, both of you knowing there are things that need to be addressed. Lando doesn’t want to talk about Allegra now and you’re not entirely sure you’re ready to hear the story, not ready to believe what he’s got to tell you. Both of you know it needs to get out in the open though if you have any chance at getting past this and giving your undeniable chemistry that sparks just beneath the surface any chance of growing into something more.

“So…” You start, swirling the crimson liquid around in the large wine glass. “You said you could explain.”

Lando clears his throat before taking a drink of his water. He knows he’s going to need a clear mind to walk through what a disaster his life had turned into over the last year.

He inhales deeply, steadying his nerves and preparing for the worst.

“After my last breakup, I went off the deep end a little.” He begins, his memory flickering back to the countless nights spent drinking the pain of the breakup away the best he could. There had been countless photos and videos of him absolutely obliterated online during the offseason two years ago.

You sit quietly, allowing him to take the time he needs. You can tell from the way he sits forward slightly, body angled towards you, that he’s struggling with something. You’ve seen that anxious body language reflected in your own mirror countless times.

“I was getting a lot of negative press coverage and McLaren was getting concerned. My image, my brand, everything took a big hit. I struggled at the beginning of last season and the press chalked it up to my partying. They weren’t wrong, but there was more going on.”

“I’m sorry, Lando.” You say, your fingers itching to reach out and touch him.

He shakes his head, “Don’t be. I was being self destructive and it was costing the team. Zak called me into his office one day and told me he expected me to my shit together or else he was going to terminate my contract.”

Your eyes go wide. The implications of what Lando says are huge. You don’t know a ton about Formula 1 but you do know that Lando is good at what he does and for Zak to threaten to fire him when he was one of the best drivers they’d had in years was a big deal.

Lando shrugs. “I deserved it.” He says, reading your expression perfectly. “So I hired a PR manager that worked independently from McLaren. At first it was great, I just listed to whatever he said and did what I was told. I stopped going out and drinking, focused more on work, got therapy.”

“That’s great, Lan.”

He nods, pausing to look up at the waitress that had come over to take your order. For a brief moment, the story stops and you take the chance to digest what he’s told you so far. You’re not sure how he got from working on his image and life to…Allie but you still wanted to hear the whole story.

When the waitress leaves you alone once again, Lando pops a piece of bread in his mouth, buying himself some more time. He’s never told anyone the entire story before. Not in the way he’s about to tell you. Not even Max F knew all of the details.

“It was for a while. Then my image started to recover and I won Miami and Zandvoort. Rich, my PR manager, started to see that things were getting better and started coming up with other things to bring me more positive attention, saying that we had successfully recovered my image but it was time to take it to the next level.”

You had a feeling this was where Allie was going to come into play.

“So he introduced me to Allegra. Said being seen with a down to earth, pretty girl would do wonders for my image.”

Ah, there is was.

“Allegra? I thought her name was Allie.”

Lando chuckles, “She insisted I call her Allie in private and in front of our friends. She uses Allegra professionally though.” You nod but stay quiet, encouraging him to go on. “Rich introduced us and wanted us to hang out. He had her go to some event I was hosting in London and then she suddenly ended up in Ibiza at the same time I was there with Max and some of the boys last summer.”

You raise a brow, surprised at the tone Lando’s voice has taken on. Detached, almost resigned to the fact that his story isn’t something to be proud of.

“People spotted us together and, as I’m sure you know, once social media got a hold of the story it kind of became this whole thing.”

“But you never refuted it.” You say quietly, wondering why he had allowed it to go on for so long. “You kept going along with it.”

Lando shrugs again. You weren’t wrong and he has spent a lot of time since you had ghosted him trying to figure out why he had just allowed the charade to continue for so long. “I liked the attention?” His cheeks go crimson at the confession.

Your eyes soften at his words. “That’s not a bad thing, Lando.” You say. Losing the internally battle you’d been fighting since you sat down, you reach across the table to brush your fingertips over the back of his hand. His skin is warm, hands calloused from hours in his car.

“She just kept coming to Monaco, wouldn’t even ask if I was free. I know it was Rich telling her to go, that being seen with me was as good for her as it was for me. And she was nice, for the most part. Once she was here and I accepted it, it was fine but then…” He drops the rest of the sentence, a small smile quirking up at the corner of his mouth.

“But then?” Your heart hammers against your ribcage, fast as a sparrow.

“That TikTok of yours popped up on my FYP the night of the livery launch and I was a goner.” He smiles at you, soft and tentative, trying to gauge your reaction of his confession.

The frown that tugs at the corner of your mouth isn’t what he had been expecting.

“But you didn’t end…whatever it was you were doing with her, Lando.” You say, frustration edging into your voice. “You continued to allow her to come to Monaco and were seen with her the day after we had one of our longer calls. I was mortified but so beyond happy I hadn’t told anyone about you. That’s why I ghosted you!”

Lando scrubs his hands down his face, a soft groan escaping his lips. “I know, I know. I’m an idiot, okay? The lead up to this season has been insane. Did you know Drake bet $5 million dollars on my to win the Drivers Championship this year? Drake! I just…” He sighs, sensing that he’s losing this battle with you all of a sudden. “I just made a mistake, okay? I was scared and we were really hitting it off and then you stopped responding-”

“Because I thought you had a girlfriend, Lando!” You say, heaving a sigh out of pure exasperation.

“I know. I’m so sorry.” Lando leans forward, capturing your hand in his once again. You hate how good it feels, having him touch you. “I fucked up and the moment I figured it out I fired Rich and ended things with Allegra. I can show you the text messages if you don’t believe me.”

You sigh again, shaking your head. “I believe you.” You murmur, voice soft. “I believe you but I don’t know if I can trust you, Lan.”

His eyes go wide, an earnest look sitting there on his face. “Tell me what you need to trust me then, I’ll do whatever it takes. Those hours we spent on FaceTime together, the text conversations? Those were some of the best moments I’ve had in a really long time. You asked me to tell you everything and I did. Just…” Lando drops his head into his hands before letting out a small groan. “Just give me a second chance?”

You don’t know what truly does it for you in the end. Maybe its the way he effortlessly explained everything that had happened before he met you, the way he looked so defeated when you argued with him, the way you’d been searching his face all evening for even a hint of anything but honesty and still found nothing. Maybe it was the way he had looked at you when you had first saw him from across the restaurant tonight, like you were the only person in the entire universe that even mattered. Maybe it was the fact that you wanted to believe him and deep down, you knew that you could trust him.

Whatever it was though, whatever little bit of truth that came from Lando’s mouth had you nodding your head before you really understood what your body was doing. “No more lies. No more PR stunts” You start, smiling when Lando’s head whips up, eyes searching yours as if he’s trying to understand what you’re saying. “I will not be your dirty little secret, Lando. I won’t be another pretty girl spotted out with you but never discussed. I don’t want to be another ‘unconfirmed fling’."

For a moment, Lando doesn’t say anything. He just blinks at you like he can’t quite process what you’ve just said. “Anything.” He breathes after several beats. “There’s no way I could ever keep the fact that I bagged you a secret, baby.” You laugh, light and airy, sending a shiver of pleasure down Lando’s spine. His eyes darken slightly as he reaches across the table to tangle his fingers with yours. “No more lies, no more flings, nothing. I fumbled you once and I’m sure as fuck not going to make that same mistake again.”

“Don’t make me regret giving you another chance, Norris.”

If you hadn’t been in the middle of a very crowded restaurant, Lando would have gotten up form his chair and gotten on his knees in front of you. He didn’t care that he was being a total simp or that this was probably moving way too fast. If you two had even half the chemistry in real life as you had while you had been talking on the phone a few months ago, he knew this was going to be good. It was going to work.

Lando looks at you, sly grin sliding across his face. You clock the change in his demeanor instantly. Narrowing your eyes, you tilt your head to the side. “What’s going on in that cute little head of yours.”

“Watch the sprint from McLaren’s garage tomorrow.”

The way he says it leaves no room for argument but you still find yourself laughing at the absurdity of it. “In my Red Bull gear?” You tease.

Lando scoffs, signature cocky grin once again finding it’s way onto his tanned face. “No, you’d have to wear something papaya.”

“Oh my God!” You exclaim, giggling at the look Lando shoots you. “You really do call it papaya instead of orange. I thought Hannah was fucking with me.”

Mock outrage crosses his handsome features and you have to tamp down the urge to reach over and kiss him he looks so adorable. “What? No. We take our papaya very seriously at McLaren, thank you. Don’t mock the papaya!”

“You’re insane.” You say though a fit of giggles, enjoying the way the air between you has shifted into something lighter, more flirty, for the first time that night.

“Certified, my love.” He winks and you roll your eyes. “But, why were you talking to Hannah about me?”

“I called you ‘the boy in orange’ and she corrected me, told me it was actually papaya and not orange.”

Lando leans back in his chair, locking his fingers together behind the back of his head. “I knew I liked that girl.”

He stares at you for a few moments as the waitress brings you your food. The second you’re alone again, he’s leaning forward again, capturing your hand in his once again. “So, is that a yes?”

“People are going to talk.” You warn, singsonging the last word.

He shrugs, “Let them talk.”

This felt like a step in the right direction. You both knew that if you turned up in the McLaren garage, rumors would start to swirl, people would start to talk. The test would be to see what Lando would do when confronted with the rumors and you knew if you showed up in the garage tomorrow, someone would start asking questions sooner rather than later.

You regard him over the rim of your wine glass for several moments before smirking. “Fine. Let them talk.”

yourusername posted

988,001 likes liked by lando, hannahstjohn, yourbostonbff, and others yourusername up past my bedtime ;) hannahstjohn gorgeous girl >>>yourusername xo user0299 are we gonna talk about picture three tho??? >>>user382 uh yes hello? i'd like to report a crime. who is that??? lando cutie >>>user443 uhhhhh... >>>user0293 huh. that's...interesting, isn't it? user828 is it just me or does that third picture look a hell of a lot like lando... >>>user222 isn't he with that allegra chick tho??? user333 GOD i love a good 'soft launch' era >>>user928 fucking SAME bestie

f1.gossip.news posted

f1.gossip.news just a few hours after being seen interacting in the paddock with one another, Lando was spotted AGAIN with the same influencer @/yourusername. Here's what we know: she's american, lives in Boston, her channel was one of the most subscribed to channels on youtube in 2024 and has a degree in photography as well as international business. She has over 2 million followers on Instagram and over 4 million followers on TikTok. It looks like Lando follows her too! While this is the first time these two have been spotted together, it looks like they know each other quite well. What do we think, chat? Do we have a new WAG in the paddock? user0298 isn't he with that other girl...allegra? >>>user002 they've never confirmed that they were together. Lando has said he's been single for over 2 years. >>>user929 please be so fr. those two were at least fwb. she always looked way more into it than L. user2020 shes so cute! i've been watching her vlogs for YEARS. I was OBSESSED with her sorority house content when she was in college. >>>user0299 OMG SAMEEEEE. She's the most unproblematic person on the internet. I hope lando treats her well! user445 lando dating someone so wholesome??? is this what it looks like when your frontal lobe fully develops???

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keeryhours · 4 months ago

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wildflower chapter one

Eddie Munson x Henderson! female reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

Eddie leaves Hawkins (and his girl) behind to chase his dreams with Corroded Coffin. 2 years later, things have definitely changed.

Chapter Warnings:

Pregnancy, labor/birth, blood, traumatic birth/complications, secret baby

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N:

This is sort of a prologue, but I’m calling it chapter one. I’m really excited about this new series and I hope you will be, too!

—

“It’s my dream, baby. I can’t let this opportunity pass us by. This could change our lives.”

You had heard it over and over again. The same words coming from the same man with his wide puppy dog eyes, holding both your hands in his as he occasionally reached up to wipe your tears away again. He knew he was breaking your heart, and he hated that more than anything, but he also felt confident he was making the right decision.

You had been thrilled for him when he walked home into the trailer, screaming about how a scout had actually been to The Hideout and approached Corroded Coffin (specifically Eddie himself) after their show. The two of you stayed up all night talking excitedly, thinking of what this would mean for the band, for Eddie’s dream. Then he proceeded to give you the best sex of your life.

Things moved fast after that. It turned out the label really liked Corroded Coffin, and they wanted them in the studio immediately. And it really was a dream, at first. Eddie and the guys had just graduated and they immediately dumped all their time into the studio and perfecting their songs. You spent near every day lounging around the studio, watching the band record, a grin on your face so big it hurt watching Eddie do what he does, the happiness simply exuding from him. You loved him deeply, and seeing him beginning to really live his dream was everything you ever hoped for.

When the album was done, it released to more success than any of you could have dreamed of. Corroded Coffin was building a substantial and dedicated fan base already, they were on the radio, everyone was begging for them to perform in their city. That’s when the tour started being discussed. And their new manager began to point out the fact that there were no opportunities in Hawkins - the band would be better off moving somewhere like California.

You had never really thought Eddie wanted to leave like that. Sure he always dreamed of the band making it big, but you always assumed at the end of the day he would come home to Hawkins, come home to you. But it was obvious immediately that Eddie and the guys were completely on board with the idea of moving.

“Eddie, I can’t move to California,” you had explained, pacing around your tiny shared bedroom and huffing a humorless laugh. “My family is here. My mom and Dustin. All my friends are here. I’ve never even lived anywhere else.”

Eddie had ran his hands through his wild curls, another sigh escaping his lips. “I know, baby. But we could make a life out there, you and me.”

Tears had begun to well up in your eyes. “I would be left alone all the time, Eds. You’d be so busy with all the band stuff and being famous, and I’d be stuck alone, states away from home with no friends or family or support system.”

Eddie’s face fell, because he knew that was true. He hated the idea of being apart from you, but he hated the idea of making you follow him and be miserable, too. “We could do long distance?”

The tears actually began to fall then, and you collapsed on the bed next to him, your face in your hands. “I don’t know, Eddie. It sounds awful.”

Eddie didn’t say anything else as he started rubbing your back. He didn’t know if there was anything else to say. Those were your options, and none of them were great. But he knew if he passed up this opportunity, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

There were many variations of the same argument over the next few months as Eddie and the band prepared for the move to California and the beginning of the tour. There were a lot of tears. A lot of fighting followed by make up sex. None of the arguments ever made any actual progress, you always found yourselves stuck right back at the beginning.

Now Eddie stood in front of you, holding both your hands in his as you cried your eyes out in front of him. His heart was shattered in his chest. But the day had finally come, the bus was packed and waiting as the band said their goodbyes. It was somehow one of the best days of his life, while also being the worst.

“You’re sure you don’t want to come with me?” Eddie asked you again, although at this point it was too late, they were leaving now.

You sniffled, your face already red and eyes puffy from the amount of crying you’d done in the past few months but especially today. It seemed you only got more and more emotional about the whole thing as time went on. “I can’t,” you said, which is exactly what Eddie knew you’d say.

Eddie looked at you with the pain visible in his eyes. He moved his hands to gently hold either side of your face and pulled you in, placing a gentle, lingering kiss on your lips. Like it was the last time.

“I love you,” he said. “I will always love you.”

You were pretty sure there was nothing left of your heart to break. “I love you too, Eddie.”

He pulled you into a tight hug. You never wanted to leave that embrace - it felt so final, and you always hated goodbyes. Eddie held you until one of the crew members tapped him on the shoulder, telling him it was time to go.

He pulled away from you reluctantly. He looked you in the eyes for a moment before placing a kiss to your forehead. Then he was turning and walking away.

You watched him go, duffel bag and guitar case slung over his shoulder, the rest of everyone’s belongings and the band’s supplies packed tight under the bus. You watched as he climbed the stairs and turned, giving you one last look before you lost sight of him.

You stayed and watched until the bus drove away, down the road and completely out of your view. Taking your heart and soul with it.

—

It was two weeks later when the positive pregnancy test stared you in the face.

You couldn’t believe it, but at the same time, it did seem like that would be just your luck.

You had been feeling sick for the past week, but convinced yourself it was the nerves and emotions over Eddie leaving and the break up. You hadn’t even heard from Eddie since he left, despite his insistence that he’d call, relationship or not. You hoped he had just been busy and he hadn’t simply forgotten about you that quickly. You’d been together for two years before he left, you didn’t think you were that unimportant to him.

You cried on the bathroom floor of your new apartment for who knows how long. Your life was over, you felt quite sure. Eddie was long gone, who knows where at this point, with no plans to return. And now you were carrying his baby.

You didn’t say a word about it to anyone for a while. You had to work through it in your own head first. What did you even want to do? The thought of an abortion crossed your mind, but ultimately you felt you couldn’t go through with it. You could handle things on your own, you thought. Your waitressing job at the diner paid well enough for you to live off of, especially with all the overtime you picked up. Could you have and raise this baby on your own?

A week after the positive test, you broke the news to your mom and younger brother. Your mom cried, of course, which made you feel terrible. You had always imagined telling this news one day to be a joyful occasion, but that wasn’t your reality now. Your reality was being a single mother at 18. Dustin was in shock, but he seemed excited at the prospect of being an uncle, at least. You avoided all questions about Eddie.

Next, you broke the news to your best friends Steve and Robin, leaning over the counter of Family Video. They may have been more shocked than your family had been, and they both absolutely freaked out.

“You’re gonna have a baby,” Steve had choked out, as if that part was hard enough to say, “at 18, by yourself?”

Having the facts spelled out in front of you like that did nothing to help, and you burst into tears for the millionth time in the middle of the video store. Robin shot Steve a look before she was hopping over the counter to wrap you in a tight hug.

“What Steve meant to say,” Robin said, glaring at your mutual friend over the top of your head, “is that we’re here for you, whatever you need. You don’t have to do this all alone.”

You knew you needed to tell Eddie. And you definitely did have every intention to…but he never called. Never. Not once. And that hurt you so deeply, and made you so angry, you refused to reach out to him first. So…he never got the news.

True to their word, Steve and Robin were the best support system. Dustin, too. Your mom called you every single night needing to know exactly how you and the baby were and how you’d spent your day and that you were making good choices, which drove you a little bit crazy but at least she cared.

Your pregnancy progressed healthily, and the weeks went by faster than you were prepared for. Watching your body grow and become unfamiliar to you was…bizarre. And you missed Eddie. You started seeing Corroded Coffin popping up on magazine covers at the grocery store check out. You’d lay your hand over your growing belly and think about what could have been, what wasn’t.

Then you’d shove the magazine back in the rack and push him out of your mind.

Steve and Robin loved the belly. They found it fascinating, even if it made Steve a little squeamish. The first time the baby kicked you had been hanging around Family Video on your day off, looking through the new releases for a movie night with Dustin. You felt the strange flutter beneath your skin and you gasped, your hand shooting to that spot on your belly. You felt the kick again, against your hand.

Steve and Robin’s heads both shot up at the sound of your gasp. Robin was hopping over the counter and rushing to your side before Steve could catch up. “What is it? Are you okay? Is the baby okay?” Robin asked in a rush.

You just laughed, taking Robin’s hand and placing it where you had felt the kick. She looked at you strangely until you felt it again - her jaw dropped. “No way!!!” she exclaimed.

“What?” Steve asked, confused and not liking feeling left out. Robin moved her hand as you let go and grabbed Steve’s instead, placing it in the same spot. Sure enough, there was another kick moments later.

“Holy shit!” Steve said, but he jerked his hand back like he’d been burned. “It moved!”

You laughed. “That was the first kick!”

Robin cooed to the unborn baby, her hands moving back to the bump. Steve kept his distance, but watched the two of you.

“It’s weird,” Steve finally said, “like an alien. Have you seen Alien?”

Despite his squeamishness around a lot of pregnancy topics, Steve was an amazing support the entire time. He drove you to every appointment, Robin usually tagging along as well. They were there along with Dustin and your mom as you found out the gender of the baby - a boy.

Names were a big debate for a while. Not only choosing a name for your baby boy, but deciding what last name you would give him. You felt bad giving him your own last name and erasing Eddie entirely, but it also made no sense to give the baby the same last name as him when he didn’t even know of his existence and would never meet or know him.

You went into labor early, at 35 weeks. It caught you by surprise when your water broke and contractions began at 2am while you were snuggled in bed. Steve and Robin were going to take turns staying at your apartment when you hit 38 weeks, but you never made it that far, so you were alone with no transportation. You fought off a panic attack as you stumbled into the kitchen and picked up the phone, breathing through an intense contraction.

“‘lo?” was the sleepy reply when your call was picked up. It was obvious that Steve had been in deep sleep.

“Stevie?” you had said, knuckles turning white as you gripped the edge of the countertop. “The baby is coming.”

“What?” he certainly sounded a lot more awake after that. “Like, now? It’s too early!”

“I know it’s early, but it’s definitely happening,” you said.

“Shit, I- okay. Okay, shit. I’m on the way right now.”

The call ended before you were able to say anything else, so you hung the phone back on the wall. You grabbed your bags from your bedroom, feeling grateful you’d packed so early. You paced as you waited for Steve, you couldn’t stand to sit still when contractions started wracking through your body. It’s the only thing that controlled some of the pain as you remembered your breathing exercises.

Thankfully it didn’t take Steve long at all. You heard his tires squealing as he sped to a stop right in front of your apartment building. You didn’t even have to look to know it was him. He was bursting through your front door moments later, sweating and looking panicked. He was dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt that was on backwards, his usually perfect hair completely mussed up.

“Are you okay?” he asked, grabbing onto your shoulders and looking you all over as if you might have had the baby already and hid him somewhere.

“I’m okay,” you said, needing him to calm down. “The contractions are bad and they’re coming on fast but I’m okay. Your shirt’s backwards, by the way.”

Steve looked down at himself, a blush rising to his cheeks when he realized you were right. He pulled the shirt over his head and spun it around. “Sorry,” he said shyly.

Steve grabbed your bags and helped you into his car. Less than an hour later you were set up in your hospital room, dressed in an ugly gown and hooked up to a bunch of monitors. Steve sat next to you, having already called Robin and your family for you.

When things had calmed and you were relaxing in the bed between contractions, Steve looked at you seriously.

“Do you want me to try to reach Eddie?” he asked tentatively, cautious of your reaction.

The reminder of Eddie on that day hit you harder than ever. Did you want Eddie to be there? Yes, more than anything. But the reality was that he was god knows where, living his rockstar lifestyle, completely unaware his ex-girlfriend back home was preparing to give birth to their son. It was partially your fault, you knew, but still. You didn’t imagine he would have turned the bus around and quit the band to come play happy family with you, anyway.

“No,” you told Steve simply. He nodded and squeezed your hand once, although he looked like he had more to say.

When it was time to push, you were surrounded by support. Steve, Robin, and your mom stayed in the room with you - Dustin, who had no desire to see any of what was about to go down, moved back to the waiting room until it was safe to return.

The birth was more complicated than expected. You pushed for a long time, your mom wiping the sweat from your face as the pain went on seemingly endlessly. The doctor started talking about a c-section, but you didn’t want that. The thought terrified you. It motivated you to push even harder, and within the next 5 minutes, the baby was out and the room was filled with the sound of newborn cries. The doctor asked if Steve wanted to cut the cord, and he said yes without hesitating.

Your mom started bawling immediately, even Robin and Steve were tearing up at the sight of the baby, your baby boy. You tried to lean up to see him, but your head was so woozy, the second you lifted it from the pillow you felt like you were spinning. Nurses were working on the baby across the room while the doctor still hadn’t moved from between your legs - but you couldn’t get your brain to form a proper thought. Your vision was starting to get blurry and nausea roiled in your stomach.

The chatter in the room turned frantic, and you saw Steve turn to look at you in a panic, your mother’s sobs sounding less like happy crying now. You were confused as your mom and friends were quickly pushed away from your side and the sidebars on the hospital bed were lifted and locked into place. You caught some mentions of “emergency surgery” and “bleeding” as the bed started moving before everything went dark.

You woke up in a quiet, brightly lit room. You squinted from the lights as you opened your eyes, looking around you confused. You felt incredibly sore, and more alert than before but still a little out of it.

“You’re awake,” a relieved voice said, and you turned to see Robin by your bedside, looking exhausted.

You went to speak but found that your mouth was incredibly dry, your throat sore. Robin noticed immediately and grabbed a jug of water, holding the straw to your lips to help you drink. You accepted the help gratefully, and the ice water soothed your mouth and throat.

“Thank you,” you croaked out as she set the water jug back on the rolling table. “What…happened?”

Robin looked at you sympathetically. “You were bleeding really bad. They had to take you back for emergency surgery. But you’re okay now,” she added the last part quickly, seeing the panic rising on your face. “They got it under control. You’re going to be just fine.”

You nodded, and Robin looked behind you as another voice spoke. You hadn’t even realized you weren’t the only two people in the room.

“Somebody wants to meet you, if you’re up for it.”

You turned to see Steve, holding a little bundle of blankets gently in his arms. He looked even more tired than Robin, but he also looked happy. Your eyes locked in on the tiny bundle as Steve brought it closer before leaning down and placing it gently in your arms.

He was perfect. Sure everyone thinks their baby is the cutest, but this one? This had to be the cutest baby to ever exist. Tears began to fall and a huge smile spread its way across your cheeks as you took in the sight of him. You looked him all over, wanting to memorize every part of him.

He looked like Eddie. The realization sent a pang of guilt and hurt through your heart. He had a head full of dark brown curly hair, and looked up at you with the same big brown doe eyes his father had that got him anything he wanted. You realized you had just created another little person who would have that power over you. He was still so small, only born 5lbs 6oz. But he was healthy, and strong. The hospital just wanted to keep him for a few extra days since he was premature.

Your mom and Dustin returned a minute later, both relieved to see you awake and alert. Dustin got to hold his nephew for the first time, and you took a photo on the polaroid camera you packed. You got a picture of everyone holding him, and your mom took plenty of you, one including Steve and Robin on either side of you like three proud parents.

Asher James Henderson was perfect. You had decided to give him your own last name, since you were doing it alone and you were the only parent on the birth certificate.

You were terrified of being a single mother - even with the amazing support you had, it was still horrifying to think about. But honestly? You rocked it.

Asher was a happy baby, hardly ever fussed and slept like an angel. He loved spending time with you, would light up in the brightest smile every time he saw your face. He was also close with Steve and Robin, who came by every day. Uncle Dusty was another favorite, and your mom stepped into the grandma role happily and easily. Things were not the nightmare you feared they would be.

He got a bit crazier once he entered the toddler years. Reminding you of Eddie and what he must have been like as a child - which happened every single day - he was full of endless energy, completely fearless and always looking for adventure. You spent most of your time chasing after him and stopping him from climbing the furniture. But he was also the sweetest kid in the world, full of love for his mom and loved ones.

2 ½ years after Eddie’s departure, things had become easier and easier. You were comfortable with your little life, your little unconventional family. You were happy. Sure, sometimes it felt lonely, but you didn’t feel the need to date when you felt your attention should be all on Asher. And the idea of bringing a new man into his life scared you. So you didn’t.

You liked your job at the diner. You’d been there since the summer after graduation, and while it could be hard work and long hours, you loved your coworkers like family and it took care of you and Ash.

You were wiping down an empty table when the bell above the door chimed, signaling someone had entered the restaurant. You looked up to see Steve rushing in, breathless, still in his Family Video uniform. He held a piece of paper in his hand as he looked around, presumably for you.

When he spotted you he came walking over with purpose, which made you furrow your brows in confusion over what could possibly be so important.

Steve reached you and slammed the paper on the table in front of you. “You’re not gonna believe this shit.”

You looked down at the paper - and felt your blood run cold.

“…Corroded Coffin is coming to Hawkins?” you asked, your voice suddenly weak.

“A homecoming show,” Steve scoffed. “This weekend. I thought they were too good for us now, but I guess they can spare one little visit for us hicks.”

Steve looked pissed. Eddie’s calls had stopped for him, too, not long after he left. You weren’t surprised - if he had abandoned you, the woman he claimed to be in love with for years, then nothing surprised you about him anymore. But Steve had been deeply hurt.

Your ears were ringing. You thought you might pass out. You couldn’t believe what you were looking at - they were really coming here. Back home to Hawkins. Eddie and Asher would be in the same place and not even know the other existed.

“Hey, hey,” Steve said, suddenly realizing you didn’t look too good. He rubbed your back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung it on you like that. I just…I just saw it and I freaked and I had to tell you.”

You shook your head. “No, Steve, it’s…it’s alright. I’m glad you told me. I guess it doesn’t really matter, though. It’s not like I’ll be going.”

Steve looked at you, his face etched with concern. “Are you sure you don’t want to see him?”

You bit your bottom lip nervously. “I don’t think so, Steve. I don’t think I can.”

Steve nodded in understanding. “Okay. Well I’m not gonna push you. But if you wanna go, try to talk to him…we can do that. It could be good.”

You considered his words. Should you see Eddie? Let him explain himself? …Maybe tell him about his son? The thought made you feel like you could be sick.

“You look pale,” Steve said, looking worried. “You should sit down.”

You waved him off. “I’m fine.” Steve didn’t look like he believed you, but he didn’t push the subject. “Look, I’ll think about it, okay? I don’t know what to do right now. I don’t know what to think.”

Steve wrapped you up tight in his strong arms. “Hey, it’s your decision, sweetheart. You let me know what you want and we’ll make it happen. I’ll be right by your side either way.”

You nodded, grateful for Steve’s unwavering support as tears began to fall. Great, now you were crying and you still had 4 hours left of your shift.

Steve held you for a little longer, fingers soothingly brushing through your hair before he pulled back. “I gotta get going. I just totally ditched Robin to run over here the second that guy dropped these flyers off.” He ran a hand through his immaculate hair. “We’ll talk later, okay? It’s okay. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

You wanted to believe your friend’s words as you watched him go, but it was hard. You had finally found your footing on your own, and now Eddie was coming back to Hawkins and throwing everything off. Going to this show or not would be a life changing decision. Either you can keep living life as you are, ignore the show and Corroded Coffin leaves Hawkins again without giving you a second thought…or you go, talk to Eddie, and flip both of your lives upside down.

You felt thoroughly fucked.

695 notes · View notes

minswriting · 19 days ago

Text

MEDICINE - SPENCER REID X READER

About: The team goes out for drinks after a successful case and Spencer already knows that he’s going to end up taking you home.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, public handjob, public fingering (f), finger sucking, post!prison spencer, smallest mention of hand kink, brief bisexual spencer mention, reader gets fingered in the back of a taxi, spencer gets a handjob in the bar, oral (f), drunk sex, briefest mention of throwing up (doesn’t even happen, just a passing comment), rough sex, guys this is really just dirty porn. if i missed any warnings, just lmk!

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Hey guys! This fic is based off of Medicine by Harry Styles. The lyrics are out of order because they’re meant to go with the story lol. Please comment and reblog with your thoughts! Borders are by cafekitsune here on tumblr!

I'm here to take my medicine, take my medicine

Treat you like a gentleman

Give me that adrenaline, that adrenaline

I think I'm gonna stick with it

It was a warm spring night as the team had just returned from a very successful case in Kansas City, Missouri. A case that had involved children being kidnapped had ended with all of the kids being alive and well, returned to their parents unharmed. Seeing the happy faces on the families’ faces was heartwarming and gave the team a sense of fulfillment with their positions, a consensus that not everything is always so traumatic.

When they had landed back in Quantico, the drive back to the Bureau was filled with chatter and laughter as everyone relished in their triumph. You and Spencer were sitting next to one another, thighs grazing as you both paid attention to what Luke and Tara were talking about.

“We should celebrate with a couple of drinks,” Tara exclaimed loudly enough for the rest of the team to hear.

“Oh, that sounds like so much fun,” JJ practically groaned in excitement, leaning her head back. “I haven’t had a night out in ages and the boys are at my mother’s for the weekend while Will is down in New Orleans.”

“We most certainly have to invite Penelope as soon as we arrive at the Bureau,” Emily said from the passenger seat, grinning through the rearview mirror. “What about you two in the back?” Emily asked, looking at you and Spencer.

Spencer gave you a subtle glance with a quirked eyebrow. An unspoken question as to whether you were going to go out or not. If you did, Spencer already knew that he would because you were very persuasive.

You were unsure of how this whole thing started. One day, after Spencer had gotten back from prison, the two of you were alone in the bullpen, and then the next moment you were in the elevator as Spencer fingered you so fast that you had cum in what felt like a record amount of time. That night ended with you in Spencer’s bed as he pounded you into oblivion.

Perhaps it had been a long time in the making. The glances you two shared, the way Spencer always looked at you as though you were an art piece that was to be admired, the way Spencer’s intelligence never failed to make you clench your thighs. Flirtatious comments passed as just comments about the cases.

“I’m down,” You said, smiling at Emily.

And that’s how Spencer knew he was spending his night with you.

If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive

You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it

The bar atmosphere was loud and chaotic with crappy pop music playing over the speakers and drunk people watching the latest baseball game on the television. It wreaked of alcohol, as bars usually do, and sweat with the random people that were dancing to the shitty music drunkenly. Penelope had pulled Luke to the dance floor, dancing stupidly to “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga with JJ following behind. Rossi was playing pool with Matt while Tara and Emily played Darts. Which left you all alone with Spencer in a booth that was in a quiet corner of the bar.

You were sipping some fruity cocktail that Penelope had made you order, exclaiming that it would taste delicious. She was right, of course, but you weren’t going to allow her the satisfaction of knowing that. Spencer had a beer in front of him though it was untouched. He didn’t like to drink much.

“I’m surprised you came out with us,” You said, putting your glass down as you glanced at Spencer. There was an unspoken tension between the two of you. One that told you that you were certainly going home with him tonight. You always do.

Spencer shrugged his shoulders, finally picking up the beer. He slowly brought the glass up to his lips, taking a small sip before grimacing. “Oh, that tastes so bad,” he cringed, putting the glass back down. He licked his lips, still grimacing.

“Now why did you order a beer when you literally hate them?” You asked, laughing as you took another sip of your drink.

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Because Luke told me this brand tastes good and I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt,” He sighed, pushing the glass away.

“Luke also doesn’t have taste when it comes to alcoholic beverages so I’m not entirely sure why you trusted him this time,” You giggled. You held your glass out for Spencer to try. “Here, try this. It tastes much better.”

Spencer looked at the glass in your hands as you held it up to Spencer’s face. He hesitated momentarily before putting his lips on your straw and taking a tentative sip of the cocktail. “That is pretty good,” he said after swallowing, nodding. “Did you know that the Daiquiri is one of the first iconic fruity cocktails as we know them today? It was invented around 1898. But it could be theorized that there were earlier versions of these cocktails.” Spencer rambled, using his hands as he spoke.

You couldn’t help the smile on your lips as you watched Spencer with interest. The way his voice sounded and how his face, which had become hardened from the trauma of prison, relaxed and looked more like himself again, and how excited he got talking about these facts, it never failed to make you swell with both lust and admiration for the genius.

As Spencer went on about alcohol, you ordered him the same drink as yourself. And the two of you enjoyed a nice conversation while drinking. It was always so easy with him, talking about anything and everything under the sun.

You both were on your third drink when you began feeling more flirty. While you guys were away on the case, you and Spencer hadn’t had any time to spend together in your hotel rooms. So of course, you were craving him. You were always craving Spencer.

I had a few, got drunk on you and now I’m wasted

And when I sleep, I’m gonna dream of how you tasted

You put your hand on Spencer’s thigh as he rambled to you about the different types of alcohol and where they derived from. It was an action that Spencer certainly didn’t miss but he didn’t question it either as he continued his sentence. Your hand stayed there for a few moments before slowly moving upward, inching towards his cock. And when you began palming him through his trousers, Spencer stopped speaking entirely, looking at you. “What are you doing?” He hissed out, unable to help the way his cock was immediately hardening under your light touch.

“Relax,” you murmured before looking around, ensuring no one was near you guys. And luckily, no one was. You moved your hand to Spencer’s zipper, unzipping it enough to slip your hand to palm him through his briefs. “No one is paying attention to us,” you said while smirking at Spencer.

Spencer sighed, looking around before looking at you. He should’ve known you were going to pull something like this with the way you’ve been looking at him all night. And in his tipsy and horny mind, he just sits back in the booth, allowing you to work your magic.

You slid your hand under his briefs, grabbing Spencer’s cock. You were careful not to pull it out, wanting to ensure that you could quickly pull away just in case. You began stroking him slowly.

Spencer tried his best to keep his face neutral and to not let any noises escape, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you. But it was hard when your hand always felt so much better wrapped around his cock than his own. He glanced around at the busy bar, grateful that everyone was so caught up in their own thing to notice he had your hand in his pants. “This is so risky,” he said shakily, swallowing as he looked at you.

You hummed in acknowledgment, nodding your head. You were close to him but to the people around it would look as though you were just flirting with one another. Underneath the table, however, was a completely different story. “And yet, you love it,” You giggled, moving your pace a bit faster as your thumb swiped Spencer’s tip.

Spencer gasped as he tried not to buck his hips into your hand. He bit his lip, eyes fluttering shut for just a moment before he opened them again. “You’re such a menace,” He rasped out, trying to appear as though he had his composure.

“I know,” You beamed, still moving your hand underneath the table. You leaned in to whisper into Spencer’s ear. “Just imagine what you can do to me tonight,” You whispered. “I’ll let you do whatever you want to my body.”

Spencer let out a shaky breath, looking at you with a heated expression. It didn’t take long until he felt himself getting close, the way your hand was moving and your thumb swiping the tip, the thrill of the fact that this was happening in public, and the alcohol messing with his breath certainly added to the feeling. And you could tell Spencer was close with the way his cock stiffened in your hand.

“Atta boy,” You whispered into his ear. “You like this so much,” You cooed, keeping up the appearance that this was nothing more than a flirtatious interaction.

And that was all it took before Spencer was biting his lip so hard that he swore he drew blood as he came in his briefs, coating your hand and the fabric with his cum. You stroked him through his orgasm before removing your hand. You grabbed a napkin off of the table and wiped your hand, pulling away from Spencer in the process.

“Well that was certainly fun,” You exclaimed before taking another sip of your drink.

Spencer looked at you with a dazed expression for a few seconds before clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. “I suppose,” He said hoarsely before reaching for his own drink and sipping it.

The last time Spencer had gotten a handjob in public was when he met up with Ethan after school one day and they gave each other handjobs behind the bleachers at the football field. It was like his only sexual experience for the longest time.

Tingle running through my bones, fingers to my toes

Tingle running through my bones

The boys and the girls are in

I mess around with them

And I'm okay with it

You and Spencer had two more drinks before he whispered into your ear. “Let’s get out of here,” his breath hot against the shell of your ear. You were both thoroughly buzzed, making the situation even hotter.

You nodded your head, giggling at Spencer as your cheeks were warm from the heat of the alcohol. He was the same way, a smirk lying on his lips as he looked at you with reddened cheeks. He had taken off his sweater, holding it in his arms. Without bothering to say goodnight to the rest of the team, you and Spencer left the bar, stumbling as you guys were laughing and hanging onto one another. Nothing was particularly funny but you were both intoxicated which was a rarity for the two of you and of course, you were going to relish it.

You and Spencer managed to call down a cab, getting into the back of it as Spencer told the driver the address. The two of you were sitting next to one another in the back of the cab pretty close, whispering and giggling. Spencer draped the sweater over your lap, a seemingly innocent gesture if it weren’t for what he whispered into your ear. “You know, two can play at this game,” He whispered.

“What game?” You whispered back, glancing at the taxi driver, who was paying no mind to you, before looking back at Spencer.

He simply raised his eyebrows at you, that familiar smirk on his lips that he’s held for the past hour or so. “You think you can just do what you did to me in the bar without any repercussions, sweetheart?” He asked as he put his hand underneath the sweater on your lap, his fingers moved underneath your skirt to rest on your thigh.

Your eyes widened with realization as his hands touched your skin. You couldn’t deny your arousal at the idea, knowing that when you mess with Spencer, he will mess with you back. The only thing separating you and the taxi driver was a partition between the seats that was opened just a crack. “H-here?” You stuttered quietly, suddenly losing the confidence that you had earlier in the night.

Spencer nodded his head, looking at you with a teasing but also heated expression. His fingers inched up your thigh, causing you to instinctively open your legs as you looked at Spencer. Your lips were parted and your cheeks flushed from the heat. You knew you guys shouldn’t do this. You shouldn’t have even given Spencer a handjob in the middle of a bar. Perhaps it was the alcohol, the buzz making your brain fuzzy. Or perhaps it was just because of Spencer. You two always drove one another crazy.

Who cared about logic and reason when the sex was always so intense and amazing?

The two of you were quiet, not wanting to alert the taxi driver as Spencer kept your legs covered with his sweater. He moved his fingers to your pussy, feeling how wet you were through your underwear, making you bite your lip. He simply leaned in to kiss your cheek, whispering in your ear. “You’re practically soaking,” He whispered, his breath hot against your ear.

You nodded your head, not trusting yourself to whisper back. Spencer kept himself close to you, inching his fingers to move the fabric of your panties to the side. He used his pointer finger to touch your slit, spreading around the wetness. The feeling caused you to audibly gasp, making your eyes widen.

The taxi driver heard the gasp and looked at the two of you through the rearview mirror. “Is everything alright?” He asked, voice gruff.

Spencer spoke for the two of you, coming up with a lie that could satisfy the driver. “She had too much to drink so she’s feeling a bit queasy,” He said smoothly.

“Please don’t throw up in my cab,” The driver responded before looking back at the road.

“I’ll make sure she doesn’t,” Spencer reassured before looking back at you. His finger dipped between your folds and into your hole with much ease, causing you to bite your lip even harder. You tried not to make any other noises, not wanting to draw attention to yourself. Spencer watched the way you reacted, the way your body tensed at his touch. He slowly moved his finger in and out of you, trying not to go too fast as he didn’t want the sound of your slick to alert the taxi driver.

You were trying your hardest not to make any noise. It was always hard though. Spencer’s fingers were so long and always knew how to hit the right places even if he wasn’t trying. He knew how to finger you into a whining mess and with your intoxicated brain, it was even harder to control yourself.

Spencer added a second finger, keeping that slow but pleasurable rhythm. You were indeed soaking as Spencer had mentioned earlier. Your breathing was shaky as you reached out and grabbed Spencer’s wrist to hold onto something. You moved yourself a bit to rest your head on Spencer’s shoulder. The sudden curl of Spencer’s fingers, hitting your g-spot dead on, made you let out the tiniest of whimpers, muffled by his shirt, luckily enough.

And just as you felt that heat building inside of you, the taxi came to a stop right outside Spencer’s building, causing Spencer to pull away from you. “Thank you,” he said to the driver, grabbing a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket with his clean hand and handing it to the man before you both exited the car.

And as the taxi driver scurried off, Spencer looked around and then at you, that same smirk from earlier on his lips. “I didn’t get to see you fall apart, how sad,” he said with a mock pout on his lips. He brought the fingers still coated with your juices to your lips, an unspoken demand for you to suck.

You, being the wonderful person you were, obeyed without any hesitation, wrapping your lips around the digits and lapping your tongue as you tasted yourself. You looked at Spencer with doe eyes, appearing to be all innocent when you were anything but.

I’m here to take my medicine, take my medicine

Rest it on my fingertips

And up to your mouth, I’m feelin it out

I’m feelin it now

You felt like a whore, standing in the middle of the street with Spencer’s fingers in your mouth. Part of you was grateful that it was an ungodly hour and most normal people were asleep, meaning no one was in the street. Spencer watched as you sucked on his fingers. You were truly a sight to behold.

“Naughty girl,” he murmured, his other hand coming up to caress your cheek softly. To say he was addicted to you would be an understatement. Since that first day, the two of you slept together, he was hooked. Hell, he was hooked even before then. The countless nights he spent jerking himself off as he thought about fucking you would be embarrassing if you were to ever find out.

And now that Spencer has had you? He’s never letting go.

The two of you stumbled into the apartment building, holding onto one another. On the elevator, after pressing the buttons, Spencer began attacking your lips with his, kissing you so messily and hungrily, with both hands on your cheeks. It was the first kiss of the night, one that held all the pent-up emotions the two of you had been feeling. You kissed Spencer with the same veracity, moving your arms to wrap around his neck. Spencer gently nipped at your bottom lip, causing you to part them as he used his tongue to explore your mouth.

The two of you moved in sync, making out with one another. You could taste the alcohol that coated Spencer’s mouth just as he could taste it on you as well, the tastes blending. Spencer’s hands left your cheeks, moving down to your hips to pull you closer to him. You could feel his bulge pressing into you, causing you to clench your thighs. You two were lost in one another, dizzy from the alcohol and the endorphins being released.

If you go out tonight, I'm going out 'cause I know you're persuasive

You got that something, I got me an appetite, now I can taste it

We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh

La-la-da-da, da

We're getting dizzy, oh, we're getting dizzy, oh

La-la-da-da, da

The elevator dinging brought you both back to reality as Spencer pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily. The look in his eyes showed need and want, your expression mirroring his as you looked back at him. Smiles crept onto your faces as you looked at one another. And when the elevator doors opened, Spencer simply grabbed your hand, the two of you stumbling and giggling as you made your way to his apartment down the hall.

Upon reaching his apartment door, Spence let go of your hand to grab his keys from his pocket, fumbling around with them until he grabbed the right one and put it into the keyhole. He opened the door, allowing you to step in first and Spencer followed suit. He closed the door behind himself, placing his keys in the bowl next to his door.

You placed your bag down along with the sweater of Spencer’s that you were still holding before turning towards him. And without giving him any chance to make the first move, you kissed him roughly, wanting to just consume him and be consumed by him. Spencer laughed against your lips, slightly taken aback by your actions but it certainly wasn’t unwelcomed. He kissed you just as roughly, his hands going to your hips once more.

Spencer took control of the kiss, his lips dominating yours as he gained control. As the two of you moved in sync, Spencer began gently pushing you around the apartment. However, he underestimated his coordination when he accidentally made you bump into his bookshelf, causing a few books to fall and for you to pull away. “Whoops,” you shrugged before kissing Spencer again.

The walk to the bedroom was an adventurous one, to say the least. The two of you had bumped into the table, the couch, and a vase fell onto the floor that Spencer will have to worry about in his hungover state in the morning. And when you eventually got into the bedroom, well, Spencer was more a bit grateful as he knew nothing would be in the way from the door to the bed.

As soon as you entered the bedroom, Spencer moved his hands to the hem of your shirt, pulling away from the kiss to take it off of you, throwing the material somewhere in the room. Underneath your shirt, you were wearing a sage green lace bra that Spencer adored on you so much. “You’re so beautiful,” Spencer spoke huskily, licking his lips. “You know how much I adore this on you.”

“I figured I’d likely end up at yours tonight somehow,” You smiled smugly at Spencer’s reaction.

Spencer hummed in acknowledgment before reaching to the buttons of his shirt and unbuttoning them. He tosses the shirt somewhere around the room before moving his attention back to you. He leaned in to kiss your jawline, making his way down your neck as his fingers messed with the zipper of your skirt. He fumbled with the zipper for a moment as he licked your pulse point, nipping at it slightly, and causing you to gasp. He undid the zipper, allowing the skirt to fall to the floor.

You tilted your head to the side, giving Spencer more access to your neck as he kissed, nipped, and sucked, leaving marks along your skin. Your breathing was uneven with how turned on you were. You reached down to Spencer’s pants, palming his cock through the material and causing him to groan against your skin. He pulled away from your neck, grabbing your hand. “None of that,” he gently reprimanded. “Go sit on the bed for me.”

You frowned for just a moment but obliged, moving to sit on the edge of the mattress. Spencer followed you, immediately dropping to his knees in front of you and that’s how you knew you were in for an exquisite treat. Although, this was a treat that you indulged in very, very frequently.

Spencer didn’t speak as his fingers moved to the waistband of your panties, pulling them off of you and putting them into his pant pocket. You quirked an eyebrow at Spencer who, in return, gave you a cheeky grin. He placed his hands on your knees, spreading your legs for you to show your glistening cunt. His mouth instantly watered at the sight in front of him. “Fuck, you’re so incredibly wet,” He groaned, licking his lips with anticipation.

“Been wet all night,” You breathed out, watching Spencer with a heated expression in your eyes. “Need it so bad, Spence.”

“I know, baby, you’re going to get it, don’t worry,” was all Spencer said before he dived right in, licking a stripe against your cunt.

You moaned, lying your back on the mattress as Spencer worked his magic against your cunt. His tongue began running laps, taking in all of your juices. When you and Spencer first began this sort of friends with benefits situation, you didn’t know just how much Spencer loved eating your cunt. You figured he did it simply to make you feel good. But then, afterwards, when you saw that blissful and dazed look in his eyes, you knew he loved it just as much as you did, thrived on it even. If Spencer could spend the rest of his life between your thighs, you were sure he would die a happy man.

Spencer moved his arms to wrap around your thighs, pulling your cunt closer to his face. He began to practically make out with it, his lips playing with your clit and sucking on it. When Spencer ate pussy, he ATE pussy. The usual calm and collected man would eat you out like he had never had a proper meal in his life, making sure to bask in your juices. He was messy with it in the best possible way.

You reached your hand to intertwine your fingers into his brown curls, tugging at his hair as you moaned loudly. Your head was thrown back in pleasure, your other hand going to your chest and massaging the flesh. “Feels so good,” you whined.

Spencer moaned, sending vibrations against your pussy and causing you to jolt from the pleasure. His tongue dipped into your hole as his nose rubbed against your clit. He shook his head, burying it deeper into your cunt. You felt that familiar heat building inside of you, the one you had begun to feel earlier in the taxi but it had been ripped away from you so quickly. This time, however, it wasn’t going to be ripped away from you.

“Oh fuck!” You moaned, moving your hips against Spencer’s face. “So close, please don’t stop!”

And he didn’t. Spencer continued to eat you out, slurping, sucking, licking your cunt. Part of him wished he was underneath you, letting you use his face until you were satisfied, covering him in your juices. But this was great too as he got to control just how much of your pussy he got to breathe in. Spencer sucked your clit, sending you over the edge as you arched your back and clamped your thighs shut, squeezing Spencer’s face in the process as you moaned his name in that sexy way that never failed to make his cock throb. God, he needed to fuck you.

When you relaxed, breathing heavily as you opened your eyes to look at Spencer, he pulled away, licking his lips in the process. His face was absolutely glistening with your juices and his eyes were blown out. He was the embodiment of pussy drunk.

I had a few, got drunk on you and now I’m wasted

Spencer stood up, wiping his chin with his hand before moving to unzip his pants. His movements were rushed as he fumbled around to get them off. “Need you so bad,” he said, kicking his pants to the side before taking his cum-stained briefs off. His cock sprung out of the briefs, making him let out a small groan of relief. It was so red, angry from the lack of attention. Which is funny because he literally came just a few hours ago.

You looked at Spencer, biting your lip as you looked at his cock. Eight inches and not too girthy but he knew exactly how to use it. He always made you feel so good with his cock. Your pussy throbbed at the thought, ready to get railed by Spencer. It’s all you’ve been wanting the past few days.

You didn’t say anything as Spencer grabbed your legs, pulling you closer to him. He rested your legs on his shoulders before grabbing his cock, guiding it to your entrance. He didn’t bother to tease himself like he usually did by rubbing his cock up and down your cunt. The two of you were still woozy from the alcohol, that and the hormones, it was going to be quite a ride.

Spencer looked down at you, taking in your beauty as you looked up at him. It was a moment of softness between the two of you as you just gazed at one another. A tenderness that was rare. And just as quick as it had come, it was just as quickly removed as Spencer slammed his cock inside of you without warning, causing you to let out a loud gasp. He didn’t stop until he was fully in, only then did he allow you time to adjust.

It took you a few minutes to adjust to Spencer. He wasn’t always rough with you but you knew tonight that you both needed it. And after the pain subsided, you began squirming, unable to help yourself. You were needy and just wanted Spencer to fuck you.

“Why are you already squirming?” Spencer asked as he raised an eyebrow at you with a smirk on his lips. “Haven’t even started,” he said as he held onto your legs.

You let out a small whine. “Want you to move,” you said, a small pout gracing your lips.

Spencer hummed in acknowledgement. He didn’t give you a chance to say anything else when he pulled his hips back and then slammed back into you, pressing his cock deep inside of you.

You let out a choked moan, instantly gripping the sheets below you. Spencer moved his hips like that a few more times, his pace tantalizingly slow, before gradually picking up the pace. “S-so good,” you whimpered.

Spencer was never one to shy away from making noises. He moaned as his cock moved inside of you, feeling your walls around him. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned as he slammed his hips into you.

The sounds that escaped you sounded pornographic as Spencer moved inside of you. His cock was hitting your g-spot dead on. His thrusts were hard and rhythmic, exactly how you loved it. Spencer moved your legs, bending them towards your chest and holding them there as he thrusted into you more deeply. The change of angle makes your moans more high-pitched.

The room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping skin as Spencer’s bed creaked from the roughness of his thrusts. The slick of your cunt was also heard as Spencer’s cock drilled into you. He began to pick up the pace. “You feel so good, baby, oh my god,” Spencer moaned, looking down at you.

You were truly a sight to behold. Your tits bounced with every thrust, your hair sprawled out on the mattress, your face was contorted with pleasure. Your whines and moans were truly like music to his ears. Spencer knew he wouldn’t last long at all, especially with the way your cunt was gripping his cock. He reached down, using his fingers to rub your clit.

“I-oh fuck!” You whimpered, throwing your head back in pleasure. “Spencer!”

“That’s it, princess,” Spencer let out a whine of own, relishing in the pleasure. “Gonna cum for me?”

You nodded your head pathetically as you looked up at the handsome genius. His curls were sticking to his forehead as he pounded into you. The feeling of his cock inside of you and fingers rubbing your clit was enough to have you feeling close again. “So close, Spence,” you moaned.

“Me too, baby, me too.” Spencer breathed out.

With a few more thrusts and rubs of your clit, you were moaning Spencer’s name so loudly as your back arched and head was thrown back, your cunt clamping around Spencer’s cock. That was all it took for Spencer to bury himself deep inside of you, cumming with a loud moan as he filled you with his seed.

And when you both were finished, Spencer pulled out before lying down on the bed next to you and taking you into his arms. You were both dazed and dizzy from all the different feelings. You both were also breathing heavily, coming down from the intense sensations. You snuggled into Spencer, unable to help the tiny giggle that escaped your lips which Spencer also returned.

When Spencer awoke the next morning with a throbbing headache, he was ready to just get up and take a bunch of acetaminophen to make it go away. But the feeling of having you in his arms made the thought dissipate when he could just spend the day sleeping next to you instead. Because you were the only medicine he really needed.

If you go out tonight, I’m going out tonight ‘cause I know you’re persuasive

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminals minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds reactions #spencer criminal minds

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moongreenlight · 1 year ago

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“Realistic Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley headcanons” and then it’s just the fun police.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

- It makes me want to scoop my fucking brain out with a spoon when people say that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is some shy, anxious soft boy. I really do not believe he’d need to be coddled after a nightmare or babied when he’s feeling angsty. He is fine, y’all. Please don’t call paw patrol.

He is a soldier. He’s a war criminal. He is traumatized to the point of numbness. He is fucked up and weird and insane and honestly I think that we should all let everybody have their thing.

I cannot fix him. I do not want to fix him. I can only make him worse.

- Sorry but I just cannot write him having any kind of romantic feelings toward Soap. I like writing their dynamic more brotherly.

Furthest they’ve gone is ‘locker room gay.’

Like Johnny sends him dick pics on occasion because he thinks it’s funny and it pisses Ghost off.

That being said, I do read the occasional Ghoap fic. I’m not a perfect person. Sometimes it’s just yummy delicious.

- Feel like he’s the kind of freak to intentionally go to the gym without headphones. Something about discipline. Opting to just stare at the wall in front of him while he’s doing cardio or counting repetitions of exercises.

But on the rare occasion that he does indulge himself, he has a playlist of like 5-6 songs he likes and when it ends he just goes back to silence. Divorced dad rock. Chorded headphones only.

- Doesn’t have the debilitating commitment issues as people paint him out to have. Just commitment-phobic. Obviously stems from his past. He’s got that sexy deep rooted fear of abandonment or something horrible happening to people he actually lets close to him. But he’s not completely turned off by the idea of romantic attachments or close friends, just a little hesitant to open himself up to that kind of opportunity.

Probably very cagey about romantic partners. Doesn’t want the guys to know about you. Doesn’t keep pictures of you around his bunk or anything like that. He’s worried it’ll somehow compromise your safety. Worried about you getting swept up in his work.

- Women’s rights? Or Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley? I really do think he’d love to have a partner who lets him provide *everything* for them. He just wants to serve and protect. Wants his bird to be in a gilded cage all nice and safe and reliant on him for survival.

Doesn’t even really like the idea of you going to the grocery store by yourself. Would prefer if you just stayed put and tended his home and cooked him meals and let him dote on you and provide everything you could ever need.

- Has a really strange understanding of technology. He’s fine with the newer military stuff. That’s his element. He can do electrical wiring, set up a TV, install security cameras. That’s all whatever. But a cell phone? He doesn’t give a shit enough to keep up with the new updates and all the new things you have to learn when you get a smartphone. Wishes he would have kept a flip phone.

Texts like this: [OK. See youtonight.]

MAYBE has a private Facebook with no profile picture where the only things on his wall are Price wishing him a happy birthday every year.

His camera roll is like; 97 accidental screenshots of his Lock Screen, a few pictures of him and the task force boys, the inside of his pocket (another accident), a sunrise, a few cool things he found on missions, 34 pictures of Soap and Gaz when they took his phone.

- Insufferable in the early stages of trying to date him. Little to no communication other than basically demanding you meet him somewhere. Texting or talking on the phone? Like pulling fucking teeth. You think he’d rather be dead.

It was a headache getting him to go out in the first place. Maybe you worked at a bar where the guys would come to have a drink after a long day. He’s a little stand-offish but he’s handsome and he knows how to banter well enough for you to be persuaded by a coworker to slip him your number after you complained one too many times about a shit hookup or yet another terrible first date. It takes him nearly two weeks to phone you.

“Didn’t think you’d call.”

“Didn’t think I would either.”

He takes you out once, you think he seems sort-of interested, then he doesn’t phone or text you back for three days. You get over it. A few more dates in. You can tell he’s a bit more relaxed. A bit more open. You’re less worried that you’re a terrible conversationalist. Then he goes on a month long deployment without saying anything in advance. Radio fucking silent yet again. You want to tear your hair out. When he finally gets back, he’ll text you something like [Atthat pub you like. Drinks ?] completely out of the blue. You think you may actually go insane.

- Once he’s gotten used to you, it’s like the sole purpose of his life is to be your protector even if you’ve only recently convinced yourself he may want something casual. You’re small and grab-able. He knows how nasty people can be and what think when they see you. He needs to know that you’re taken care of, kept safe from such a scary world.

So he’ll just linger around you. All the time. Standing behind you when you’re at the till at the store, staring down the cashier who was only trying to be friendly when they asked if you had any fun plans for the rest of the day. Big arms folded over his chest. Looming so largely he threatens to eclipse you without taking a single step forward. Eyes burning a hole into the poor person who hastily finishes the transaction without another word.

Walking silently next to you in the evenings after you’re both off work; close enough to brush shoulders, but that’s about it. Listening to you chirp on about your day. Occasionally offering a small grunt of acknowledgement or a few words of interjection. Always walks on the side of the path that he thinks could pose you the most immediate danger. Shielding you from what may lurk in a darkened alley or a hedge or a small thicket of trees.

Scary dog privilege, but like… for when you go to fill your car up with gas in broad daylight in a good part of town and he insists on standing out there with you. ‘Just in case’ If he even lets you out of the car in the first place.

- AND OFF THAT POINT. I think once he’s decided that he’s actually fond of you, it goes from zero to a hundred so fast it makes your head spin.

Like the last time you spoke, it was still unclear on if you were keeping things casual or not and now you’re at dinner and the waiter just asked him if the two of you wanted dessert and Simon just grunts “dunno. Ask the missus.” ??? He sucks so bad I NEED him.

- As much as I love an overly possessive and jealous Simon, I saw this tweet that said “My girlfriend can wear what she wants because she’s a hoe and I knew that before we started dating” and it changed my life.

He’s secure enough not to need to cause a scene if someone makes a pass on you in public. He understands that you’re attractive and that other people are bound to find you attractive too. (Not that he doesn’t still want to pull their fingernails out one by one, threatening them and everything they love for daring to exist near you. He’s just got better control over himself than that. King.)

He knows he’s better than any of your other options. Nobody else could keep you as safe as he could. They don’t know the world like he does. They don’t know how breakable you are. How sweet and naive you can be.

Not to say he isn’t overly jealous and possessive, he just won’t pitch a fit in public.

LIKE dragging him to the bar with your friends and he sits at the table with all of your drinks. Him watching you dancing out of the corner of his eye, seeing some prat come up and grab your ass in passing. Or a group of guys dancing with your friends getting a little *too* close to you for his liking. He doesn’t do anything while the two of you are out- not wanting to ruin your fun. But that night after you’ve gotten back to his flat (He insisted. Closer to the bar. Uber was cheaper.) and he’s tearing your miniskirt off like it’s personally offended him. He’ll be a little rougher. A little more liberal with the marks his mouth leaves on your collarbones and inner thighs. His strong hands will grab at the fat of your hips a little harder than he should- leaving bruises where his fingers dug in. He’ll lean over you while you’re split open with his length, snarling down at you. “Had everyone’s attention tonight, didn’t you, pet?“ “You like havin’ eyes on you?” “Greedy fuckin’ slag.” “Can’t appreciate what you have.” “Need a reminder of who you’ve got to impress.” Maybe he’ll take you in front of a mirror, massive hand fixed on your jaw. Jerking your face up so you have to look at yourself being ruined by him. How pretty and slutty you look when your makeup is ruined by the tears he’s fucking out of you.

- He calls you ‘bird’ or ‘pet’ more often than anything else. A little on the nose for how he treats you. Like you’re some small, frail thing that can’t go a day without him. Stripped of your natural survival instincts and instead leaning on him for support and comfort and food and shelter. Just how he likes it.

GOD he’s a fucking freak. Gross and mean and fucked in the head. Makes my stomach hurt. I hate him. I wish I was schizophrenic so I could vividly hallucinate him.

#simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #cod x reader #call of duty smut #cod smut #141 headcanons #headcanon #drabble

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sansaorgana · 11 months ago

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— TAMED

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — You're a cat lover and Feyd-Rautha reminds you of one. You want him and you believe you can tame him.

REQUEST — (1)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — This is not exactly what the request was about but it includes Feyd having to deal with his wife's pet (I chose a cat because I'm a cat person myself). You see, I was a bit tired of my Readers being afraid and scared and I was also tired of the arranged marriage trope, which is one of my favourites, but everyone needs a break, huh? 😅

WARNINGS — harm to animals mentioned, brief mentions of Feyd's traumatic past, Reader being absolutely spoiled

WORD COUNT — 4,230

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

TAMED

“I want him,” you announced as you put your binoculars down and your lips curled into a smirk.

Your parents looked at each other, confused. You were in the stands as the guests invited to watch Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen’s gladiator fight. It was his birthday and his uncle made sure all the leaders of the befriended worlds were watching the display of violence and power. The display that made your parents absolutely terrified but you… You were amazed and aroused. The way young Feyd-Rautha defeated his enemies was like a brutal dance; a raw ritual. He was a feral feline and you were known to be a cat lover.

“Excuse me?” Your father asked.

“I want him. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you repeated without even looking at him. Your eyes were focused only on the man in the arena who was raising his knife in a gesture of victory.

“These people are insane,” your mother hissed.

“You keep telling me it’s time for me to find a husband. I want him,” you pouted. You were determined – but not desperate.

“I can talk to Baron Harkonnen. But I am sure he would rather marry his nephew and heir to one of the Imperial Princesses,” your father informed you as your mother gasped at his words. She opposed the idea of this match completely.

“I understand,” you nodded. “Just do whatever it takes so if you fail, I will know you couldn’t possibly do more.”

He reluctantly agreed as he squeezed your cheek as if you were still a little girl. But perhaps it was a good thing that in his eyes you still were one. Because he would do anything to make you happy and fulfil your every whim.

You spotted your father talking to Baron Harkonnen during his nephew’s birthday party but you didn’t want to just stand in the corner and wait for the men to make decisions in your name. Despite your mother’s protests, you approached Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen and bowed slightly in sign of respect. He tilted his head, reminding you of a curious cat. You giggled and he squinted his eyes.

“Na-Baron, I couldn’t wait to meet you in person after seeing you fight in the arena,” you admitted.

“Lady (Y/N),” he greeted you coldly. “I wouldn’t expect such interests from a lady like you.”

“And I expected you would know more about the female nature,” you teased him and visibly angered him although he was trying to be on his best behaviour around guests. “Don’t you know that ladies love violence? The interesting ones at least,” you shrugged your arms.

“I don’t care what ladies like,” he answered. “I always get what I want either way.”

“I’m sure you do,” your eyes sparkled at a possibility of being one of the things he would want to claim for himself.

Most noble women were scared and disgusted after hearing all the stories about Feyd-Rautha and his sexual appetite, his psychotic nature. They would approach him only when needed and tried to stay away as far as possible. You were the very rare breed of women who would actually take interest in him and that intrigued him as he looked you up and down.

You gave him one last smile and walked back to your worried mother who was about to scold you for your reckless behaviour. However, for the rest of the night you kept glancing at the young na-baron and he was looking back.

When you left the party, earlier than most people, you made sure to announce loud and clear that you were about to retire to your chambers. Then you looked deep into his eyes and walked out, followed by a servant. You dismissed her when you were in the guest wing and you continued your journey alone and as slow as possible.

You looked around but Feyd-Rautha seemed not to be following you. At least you could not see nor hear him and for a moment you thought you failed. After all, you were not a skilled seductress, you only did what your heart was telling you to do – your heart and your experience with the animals you loved the most. Cats.

And just like a cat and a skilled assassin that he was, Feyd silently emerged from the darkness when you were just about to open the doors leading to your bedroom. He was standing right behind you and his ominous presence sent a shiver down your spine.

“What are you doing, na-baron?” You swallowed thickly and shivered.

“Don’t pretend,” he whispered in his raspy voice. “You’re not the first spoiled noble lady who wants to use me for pleasure,” he told you. “What is it? Are you bored? Or engaged to an awful lord and you ant to find out what it’s like to have fun before you are forced to spend the rest of your life with him? Honestly, I don’t care,” he admitted and turned you around to face him. His touch was rough and for a second you genuinely felt scared when he trapped you between the doors and his muscular body.

The way he was staring down at you felt as if he was penetrating your soul. Only that his eyes were empty. He was gazing into you but you couldn't gaze back because he didn’t have a soul. There was an endless coldness in his pupils. And so much pain.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” you whispered, almost inaudibly, as the tips of your noses brushed against each other. “I am not one of those women. The only man who can take me will be my husband,” you tried to sound convincing and stern but with a small dose of innocence. He blinked slowly, surprised by your confession.

“I thought you wanted me to follow you,” he insisted.

“No,” you lied. “I was only looking at you because I find you interesting,” you looked down. “But it’s sad what you’ve just told me, my Lord,” you added.

“Why?” Feyd was confused as he took a step back.

“I don’t know… I just think you’re so much more than a toy to use for pleasure,” you looked up again to meet his gaze. “I don’t think you should let those ladies treat you like that. I know you keep telling yourself you like it but it’s not you always getting what you want. It’s them always getting what they want until there is nothing left of you, is it not, na-baron?” You batted your eyelashes and he took another step back, like a predator realising that the prey he had caught was poisonous. “Good night, my Lord… and happy birthday,” you gave him a soft smile and disappeared behind the doors leading to your bedroom.

You couldn’t sleep all night, clutching on the bedsheets and hoping for the best outcome. In the morning your father told you that The Baron was slowly starting to like the idea of your marriage union with his nephew. Apparently, he changed his mind after a conversation with Feyd-Rautha in the early morning.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” your father warned you at the sight of your wide smile.

“Oh, papa, I always do,” you assured him, already excited about your new pet kitty.

You stayed on Giedi Prime for a month for the courting process but Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen had the privilege of being able to call off the engagement at any moment. That, however, did not happen. He was growing more and more fond of you each day. You were watching him train and walking all around the fortress as he was telling you about his family’s history and culture. You were the most fascinated by the war stories and weapons, always eager to learn more. Always eager to let him steal a kiss here and there, let his hands wander but always stepping back when it would get too heated. You didn’t want him to use you and then discard you. No, he had to be patient for the real reward. Just like cats would lose interest if you let them catch the mouse too quickly.

What you noticed about him, though, was how much he avoided the intimate physical touch. He didn’t mind his opponents striking him or choking him, violating his body in any way, really. But the delicacy was making him flinch and startle to the point of aggression. He wouldn’t lash out at you but he would do that often at the servants. When it was you trying to caress him, he was clenching his jaw and shooting you a deadly glance. The more you knew about him, the more convinced you were that he was just a cat in a human form.

When a month passed, you were scared he would send you away. But instead of doing so, he sent a tailor and a bunch of servants to your room. It was time for you to make all the required fittings for your wedding dress. You sent out the invitations, too. And in the letter addressed to your parents, you mentioned all the things you wanted them to bring you to Giedi Prime.

One of them was your favourite kitty Mephisto.

On the first day of your marriage you were unpacking the boxes from home as Feyd was sitting up in bed and watching you. It was the only day he allowed himself to skip the daily training as the activities between a husband and a wife could count as one, too. However, you required a break and wanted to finally reunite with your favourite items… and your favourite pet.

Feyd’s eyes widened at the sight of a hairless cat in the arms of the servant girl.

“What is that monstrosity?” He asked you.

“That’s Mephisto! My cat!” You took him from the girl’s arms and cuddled him. “Oh, mummy’s been missing you, baby,” you cooed to him and he started to purr.

“You can’t be serious, wife,” Feyd moved closer to inspect the creature with his eyes. Mephisto hissed and you giggled. “That is a cat?”

“You’ve never seen one?” You asked.

“I have. But not like that. It’s ugly,” Feyd scrunched his nose.

“Why ugly?” You gasped and held Mephisto’s head lovingly as if you were protecting him from your husband’s harsh words.

“Cats have fur. This one is so…”

“Bald?” You teased and he closed his mouth, realising the irony. “I have plenty of cats back home but I was aware I couldn’t bring them all here. I chose Mephisto because he is my favourite. We had tough beginnings. He didn’t trust me and he was scratching me a lot. He’s a mean-mean baby,” you leaned in to kiss the cat and Feyd winced as he found it disgusting.

“Do whatever but I don’t want this creature in my chambers,” Feyd stated.

“You’re insane! Mephisto will never leave these chambers. I don’t want him to get lost or hurt in the fortress. Also, he always sleeps with me,” you protested.

Feyd took a deep breath in as he closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down.

“If he scratches one thing… I will throw him out of the balcony door,” he threatened.

“If you do that, I will never speak to you again. And certainly I won’t ever share the bed with you, husband. Mephisto is like a child to me. You can’t threaten me this way. It does nothing but anger me,” you pointed out and cuddled the cat. “Aw, Mephisto, look, daddy’s angry.”

“I am not this thing’s… father,” Feyd drawled through gritted teeth as he stood up to put a robe on. “After all, I think I will go train today.”

“Then go,” you shrugged your arms. “I will cuddle with Mephisto in the meantime because I haven’t seen him in a month.”

Feyd shot you an angry glance.

“You’re not jealous, are you?” You looked up as that sudden realisation hit you.

“No,” he snorted. “Of this thing? Please,” he sneered at you and left the chambers.

“We have lots of work with your new daddy, Mephisto,” you chuckled to the kitty and kissed its head. He meowed at you.

Feyd-Rautha absolutely despised your cat. He hated that you allowed that creature to sleep in bed with you and you were always holding him in your arms. When Feyd was working on paperwork – which he hated – Mephisto would often jump on his desk and bother him. Many times when you were out of the room, Feyd had the urge to grab the creature and throw it out of the balcony or even snap its neck but when he actually extended his hands to catch the cat, the urge disappeared.

First of all, he didn’t want to hurt you. And that was a brand new feeling for him because never before had he cared about someone’s feelings like that. And second of all, the moment the cat was in his arms, Mephisto would start to purr and rub his head on Feyd’s hand or chest. Even though at first he found it disgusting, he quickly started to enjoy it. There was something comforting in the cat’s touch. It was not human and yet so pure. As time passed, he was allowing Mephisto to nap on his lap as he worked on the papers. Of course he would quickly put the cat away whenever someone was coming. He didn’t want anyone to see him so weak.

But he was jealous of the cat, too. He was jealous of the kisses and attention he was getting. The belly rubs and scratches behind the ear. The way Mephisto would curl up and sleep on your chest. Feyd craved it from you, too, but he didn’t know how to allow himself to ask for it. It would be humiliating, he thought, but also dangerous. He wanted to trust you but he was not able to. And whenever you tried to touch him gently, he was haunted by the memories he didn’t want to remember. He didn’t cuddle you at night and he didn’t allow you to do the same. While performing the marital duties, he had a feeling they would be even better if he allowed himself a little gentleness but he just couldn’t let his guard down. Not even around you.

For a long time, Mephisto was the only creature that saw the soft side of your husband. When they were alone in your chambers, Feyd would let him not only nap on him but he would also carry him in his arms and pet him. Sometimes he was starting fights for the cat to scratch and bite him and for Feyd it was great fun. They created a bond that you had no idea about. You kept thinking that your husband despised Mephisto and he didn’t mind you thinking this way.

So, when you spotted a scratch on Feyd’s desk one day, you panicked. You quickly covered it with a few papers laying aside and fixed your hair right before your husband walked inside the chambers that afternoon.

“What are you doing here so early?” You asked as he squinted his eyes at you, suspiciously.

“I have to work on the papers, answer some stupid letters,” Feyd sighed and approached you. He put his hands on your waist and inspected your suspicious face. “Is everything alright, wife?” He asked.

“Yes, my dear, perfectly fine,” you faked a smile. “I have to go and work on the preparations for the event next week,” you reminded him and he nodded before leaning in to give you a possessive kiss. He would give you them a few times a day to remind you to whom you belonged. Not that you minded. After all, you had been wanting this from the moment you had seen him in the arena.

“See you later, then, wife,” Feyd sat by the desk and your heart skipped a beat when you spotted him picking up one of the papers you had used to cover the scratch with. However, he didn’t seem to notice the damage done to his desk. You sighed with relief and left the chambers, hoping that Feyd would continue to be blind when it came to that scratch.

But when you came back to your bedroom two hours later, it was empty. You didn’t expect to see Feyd because he had his other duties to perform on that day. What worried you was the fact you couldn’t find your cat. After crawling all over the floor like a madwoman, trying to see if he was not hiding under any furniture, you just burst into tears in the middle of the carpet. You were sure that Feyd had spotted the scratch and gotten rid of your cat. After all, he had threatened to do so on the very first day of your marriage.

You pulled your knees to your chest and rested your forehead on them as you sobbed, hugging yourself. You could only blame yourself. Your parents had been warning you about the Harkonnens but you still wanted a man like Feyd-Rautha as your husband. Hoping to tame him as it would boost your spoiled ego even further to do that. And now your innocent little kitty was a victim of his fury. Was Mephisto still alive? You hoped so. But even if… how would he survive on Giedi Prime? He would not. And you would not either without him. He was your anchor.

You didn’t want to complain about your husband’s homeplanet because you chose him to be your husband yourself. And some part of you loved him – even though at the moment you weren’t so sure anymore – but it was not a friendly place. And it was not pleasant. It was cold and scary and colourless. Mephisto was reminding you of home. Of your other kittens, of your parents, of the real sunlight. He was also letting you love him like your husband would never do. And he was loving you back… unconditionally. And now he was gone. Your little baby.

You couldn’t tell for how long you had been sobbing like this. It could be hours. When Feyd came back to your chambers, he froze at the sight of you in such a position on the carpet.

“What happened, wife?” He asked as he stood above you. You didn’t answer, too angry at him. He sighed and crouched down to be on your level. “Are you hurt?”

“Yes, I am,” you finally looked at him, furiously. He seemed to be surprised. “I am hurt by what you have done. And now you’re going to pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about, right? Go to hell. I hate you,” you snapped and hid your face again.

“I don’t understand. Can you explain this to me?” He asked, slowly, trying not to snap back at you.

“Mephisto! You got rid of him!” You sobbed.

“What? I have not…” He stuttered and put his arms on your shoulders to make you look up again. So you did but you were as angry as before.

“Don’t lie to me. You hated that cat and you just threw him away because he scratched your desk. Congratulations, Feyd-Rautha, you got rid of an innocent animal, you won with a sinless little baby; my baby. Are you proud of yourself? Was it a satisfying victory to hurt a little kitty?”

Feyd didn’t answer, he was staring at you as if you were crazy.

“It really feels as if you killed my baby,” you told him. “And I will never forgive you.”

“What are you talking about? I didn’t touch him. What happened?” Feyd shook your arms.

“He’s not here. I don’t know what you’ve done to him but he’s not here,” you sniffled.

“I didn’t do anything!” He protested.

“I don’t believe you!” You moved back, you hated to feel his touch on you. You clumsily stood up and curled on the bed. “I don’t want to see you. Go away. I wanted to love you but you’re rotten to the core. You’re just evil. Unlovable,” you muttered.

You couldn’t know how hurtful your words were. But Feyd didn’t blame you because you couldn’t know his true feelings. And he focused more on Mephisto anyway. He was worried about the kitty, too. So, after a while of staring at you without a word, he put his hand on his hip and looked around, as if he would magically find the cat. He even looked under the bed as your sobs filled the room.

Without a word, Feyd left the bedroom and you hugged your own arms as the pillow under your head was getting wet from your tears.

It was dark already and you were half asleep when the doors opened again. It brought you back from the state of slumber but you felt too hopeless to even lift a hand to turn on the light. You recognised Feyd’s silhouette approaching you so you decided to ignore him completely. Nothing could fix this damage. Never.

You felt him sitting on the edge of the bed while turning the bedside lamp on. You squinted your eyes at the sudden brightness.

“I found him,” Feyd’s whisper made your eyes open as you sat up rapidly, utterly shocked at the sight of Mephisto in your husband’s arms.

“Wh-what?” You asked. At first, your sleepy and foggy brain refused to believe that the cat was really your Mephisto.

“He was hiding in the dungeons,” Feyd explained. “I searched through the whole fortress to find him. Hired half of the guards to help me. My uncle found it hilarious,” Feyd handed you the kitty and you sobbed out of relief. Mephisto was stinking but he was alive and healthy. You hugged him tight to your chest. “One of the servants was not cautious enough and left the doors ajar when she was cleaning here.”

“Which one?” You asked, angrily.

“It doesn’t matter. I have dealt with her already,” Feyd assured you and you nodded.

You suddenly began to feel guilty for the way you had treated your husband before. Now, when Mephisto was back in your arms and it was all thanks to Feyd…

“I didn’t expect you to care so much,” you admitted, not wanting to look up and meet his gaze. Your hands focused on caressing the cat. “That you didn’t want me to be sad.”

“You’re my wife of free choice. I don’t want my wife to be sad,” Feyd nodded. “And I wanted the cat back,” he added. You eventually looked up at him, surprised by his confession.

“You hate him,” you reminded him.

“Not at all,” Feyd smirked nervously and you didn’t say anything to that. You had no idea that he actually liked the cat. You still had a lot to learn when it came to the ways in which your husband would show his affection.

“I was cruel to you,” you whispered. “I am sorry.”

“You had your reasons to be,” he only said. “And you were not wrong about me.”

“I was,” you moved to the side gently, making a space in bed for him to lay there, too.

So he did, without a word. And one of his hands actually caressed Mephisto’s head. The cat began to purr and you realised they had already had a bond that you had just not noticed before.

Hesitantly, you dared to raise one of your hands, too. You gently brushed Feyd’s forehead and then his cheek. He didn’t startle this time and you happily began to explore every curve of his beautiful face with your fingertips.

“You’re funny,” you giggled and he looked up, curiously. “You’re the scariest Harkonnen but you’re also the prettiest,” you admitted and he blushed a little. You had never expected to see him blush. “And look at you, you allow me to touch you.”

“It feels good when you do that,” Feyd closed his eyes just like Mephisto had his own pair shut close. You swore, if your husband was an actual animal, he would start purring under your touch.

You felt proud of yourself to tame him. You had known from the moment you had seen him that you would succeed. But it was not the pride that made your heart swell. It was love. There was something about Feyd-Rautha that just made you want to treat him like a kitty, too. Scratch him behind his ear and let him sleep on your chest. Most ladies would call you insane for that but you knew him in a way they would never know him. You leaned in to place a kiss upon Mephisto’s forehead and then you did the same to Feyd-Rautha.

“I’m sorry I have doubted you,” you whispered to him. “You would never hurt me, am I right?”

He only hummed in response, moving even closer to your body. You smiled to yourself.

“I have tamed you, husband, have I not?”

But he didn’t reply. He was already asleep, snoring lightly. You had never seen his face so relaxed and carefree before. He didn’t have to say anything for you to know the answer.

And as much as you loved Mephisto like your own little baby… You had a new favourite pet now.

MASTERLIST

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction

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moonstruckme · 1 month ago

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hiiiii mae. I was re-reading thawing out and I'm curious if you've ever considered writing about Sirius & reader getting Remus back out on the ice again? I feel like it has real cute and fluffy potential. love all that you do! <3

Thank you for requesting! I've been looking forward to this milestone for them for so long :')

Read the Thawing Out series here

cw: modern au, chronic pain references, some anxiety caused by traumatic events

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

It was your idea to do this outside of the rink. You notice things that Sirius doesn’t, and you’d noticed that as much as Remus feels at home with the boards and the bleachers and hum of the Zamboni, they intimidate him too. So, you’re taking advantage of a cold Saturday to utilize the outdoors.

Sirius frowns, spinning an idle circle on his blade. “This ice is shit.”

“You’re just spoiled,” you counter, still lacing up your skates with Remus. You’ve slowed your pace to match him, whereas Sirius had laced up quick as always and gone out into the small rink without a second thought. Another way you’re simply better than him.

To his credit, Remus doesn’t seem to be stalling. He tried talking you both out of this on a couple of occasions, saying that it wasn’t worth your time, you were giving it more importance than it was due, etc., but now that he’s here he simply seems to be taking a methodical pace. Preparing himself. Sirius can grant him this, considering he hasn’t had skates on his feet since his injury nearly three years ago.

“Would you call a swimmer picky for wanting a properly chlorinated pool?”

“Yes.”

Remus glances over at you, that particular smile he reserves for your obstinance gracing his lips. Sirius’ heart melts a little.

“Then fine. I’m picky. Just be careful, both of you. I’m telling you, this ice is truly—”

“I know how to skate on unsmoothed ice.” You cut him off with a look. There’s fondness buried beneath it, and Sirius narrows his eyes back playfully as you knot your laces and stand up. “So does Remus.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Remus jokes. He stands with you, though, letting you onto the ice first.

Sirius can see the hesitance in your boyfriend now. That bit of nervousness Remus is trying to ignore. The awareness of it balls up tight and uncomfortable in his chest.

“Awe,” Sirius croons with overdone patronage, skating to a stop a few feet away from the entrance, “are we not sure? We’ll do it like with the littles then, darling.” He bends and pats his knees, making a show of it. “Come on, come to me.”

Remus snorts and sets one foot on the ice. “Piss off.”

That one foot is all it takes. Remus pushes off with practiced ease, gliding into the rink. Sirius beams.

You look equally as awestruck, your eyes so brimming with love and joy they almost hurt to look at.

“Well, would you look at that,” Sirius says, “he does know how to skate on shit ice. Give us a spin, handsome.”

“I’m not your show pony,” Remus says, but spins nonetheless. It’s simple, and yet so incredibly graceful. So obviously second nature.

“Remus.” You seem to have given up any hope of trying to play it cool, your voice shining with barely repressed glee. “That was so perfect.”

Remus is doing a similarly poor job of repressing his own smile, though he only tsks. “If either of you did a spin like that, I’d make you redo it three times and then add a jump so you didn’t embarrass yourselves.”

Sirius crosses his arms, nodding. “Go on, then.”

It’s clear that Remus is happy to do it. He’s cautious for a while, testing his own limits as he adds complexities and small jumps and tries out different variations. Ordinarily Sirius might worry for his hip, but Remus has been especially diligent in his stretching in preparation for just this; and whenever he seemed inclined to skip it, you or Sirius were there to pester him (lovingly, of course).

Sirius’ heart swells to the point of bursting at how beautiful Remus looks. His posture shifts to accommodate the new range of movement, his arms coming out almost unconsciously, with a dancer’s grace. Sirius is well used to the symphony of skates on ice, but Remus’ have their own melody, their own beat and cadence. Even his face changes, the tension fading from his expression until it’s at once relaxed and utterly present. Remus was made for this.

You and Sirius don’t do anything but watch, rapt. After a while, Remus seems to get sick of his audience, coming to a reluctant stop. His cheeks are pink from the cold and exertion—Sirius wants to cover them with both hands and kiss him dizzy—but Remus’ expression shifts when he looks at you.

He lets out a breathy, nervous chuckle. “Sweetheart…?”

Sirius turns, and your lips are pressed together, your eyes bright. “Sorry,” you say, giving a wobbly smile, “you’re just—Remus, you’re so lovely.”

“Oh, you sop.” Sirius curls an arm around you, kissing your head. “Stop that.”

“I’m sorry.” You laugh at yourself. Swipe away a tear that manages to escape.

Sirius tuts. “Look what you’ve done,” he says to Remus, who appears caught between shock and fondness, his mouth hanging slightly open. “She’s completely right, you know. You’re too lovely; it’s torment for us both.”

“You…” Remus shakes his head. He’s delightfully flushed now, nearly to the tips of his ears. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my idea to do this, though.”

“No, but you sure do seem to be enjoying yourself now, don’t you? Come here.”

To his surprise, Remus actually comes. Sirius is elated; rarely does he get to be this demanding with such gratifying results.

He lets you go to take both of Remus' pink, hot cheeks in his hands, and plants a firm kiss on his lips.

“Thank you,” he says, grinning. “Now, stop our poor girl’s crying by skating with her, please.”

It’s not done before several kisses, but soon you and Remus are in the center of the rink, twining around each other like snowflakes in the wind. You and Sirius take turns teaching Remus the sorts of lifts and jumps he wouldn’t have learned in his solo career. Sirius can’t decide which he likes best; the up-close view of Remus’ face as the world whirls around them and Remus’ hand folds warmly around his, or getting to admire the two of you from the edge of the rink. He thinks more practice will be necessary to determine this. Much, much more practice.

Sirius’ nose is near frozen by the time you decide to call it a day. Remus teases Sirius for his pinkened cheeks as though he’s not exactly the same, and you insist on buying hot chocolates for all three of you on the way home as though they’re going to let you. You walk out of the park with breaths puffing cold in front of you, three skating bags hanging from your shoulders.

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finelinevogue · 1 month ago

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talk to me

summary - aaron is vulnerable after his family is taken from him, only you are brave enough to confront him

pairing - aaron hotchner x bau-gf!reader

word count - ~1k [very angsty…not my usual happy writing]

“Why hasn’t he killed himself yet?”

The same question ran through your head over and over again, like it was some godforsaken lyric you couldn’t stop repeating.

Only it wasn’t a lyric.

It was something Hotch had said on a case today.

Granted it was about the unsub you were catching, but you couldn’t stop going over and over the double meaning to his words. You couldn’t stop wondering if that was Hotch’s cry for help.

You were currently driving to his apartment.

It was rough for you and Aaron right now.

Aaron getting stabbed was traumatic enough for you, but for Aaron to go through that as well as losing his family and all control? It was devastating.

You and Aaron had been together for over a year, making it work with being in a relationship whilst balancing his role as a dad. Aaron was doing the extreme best he could and you were so proud of him.

But you could see the emotional toll it had taken on him these last few weeks since the incident.

It was so clear that Aaron believed he was a terrible father and he was punishing himself for it.

You were really worried about him. You cared for Aaron a lot and it was heartbreaking to think that he was keeping such self deprecating thoughts to himself. He should know better.

You pulled up outside his apartment and quickly went into his apartment.

It didn’t take long to climb the stairs and reach his door.

You hesitated.

What if you were overthinking? What if he was actually alright and by you confronting him would just plant doubting seeds?

Swearing to yourself, you knocked.

A minute later and Aaron undid the latch and opened up.

“Hey?” He clearly wasn’t expecting you.

“Hey.”

“You coming in?” He opened the door wider.

“You’re not going to ask me why I’m here?” You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest accusatorially.

“Do I need to question why my girlfriend is visiting?” He furrowed his brows.

“You normally would,” You answered, “But you already know why I’m here.”

You pushed past him and walked into his apartment. This conversation was not meant for the listening ears of everyone on Aaron’s apartment floor.

He closed the door with a sigh and clicked the latch again.

Aaron came and stood near you, hands on his hips as he awaited your next move. You could tell by his body language that the direction this conversation was moving in was making him really uncomfortable.

Well that was fine with you.

“So…”

“So what?” Aaron looked down at his shoes before looking back at you.

“We promised never to profile each other.” You said.

“And yet here you are.” He challenged you.

Aaron was getting defensive and you hadn’t even started the conversation yet.

You knew that getting through to him would be hard but you sometimes forget how many solid walls and foundations this man has built around himself. One chisel at a time might not be enough.

“Don’t do this, Aaron.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Push me away!” You shouted, flailing your arms up.

“I’m not…” Aaron looked off to the side.

“Aaron. I know you better than you think I do. Don’t push me away when I’m trying to help.”

“I don’t need your help.” Aaron said bitterly, still not raising his voice. Sometimes his cold shoulder was worse than his angry tone. You’d seen strong-willed men crumble at their knees under Aaron’s glare.

“Stop being so stubborn.” You groaned.

“Well stop profiling me.” Aaron bit back.

“I’m not profiling you, Aaron. I’m simply being a good friend. I’ve noticed that my boyfriend is constantly sad and says things that make me… nervous - that’s not profiling.”

“Stay out of my head.” Aaron warned.

There was no going back from this.

If he broke up with you then so be it, but you weren’t taking any chances. Not when Aaron’s mental or emotional stability was on the line.

“What did you mean today when you said, ‘Why hasn’t he killed himself yet?’ Hmm?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Aaron shook his head, “I said stay out of my head.”

“Were you asking it about the unsub…”

“Don’t.” Aaron shook his head.

“Or were you asking about yourself?” You questioned the one thing that had been constantly on your mind ever since he’d said it.

“No.” Aaron shook his head, eyes tearing up slightly.

“Aaron, honey, it’s okay to be sad –.”

“I’m not sad, I’m devastated!” He shouted. It took every fibre of it being not to flinch and send the wrong message.

“Honey…”

“No. You want to truth? I’ve questioned what the point is anymore, of course I have. My son has been taken from me in the most cruel way possible and I can’t do a goddamn thing, so I’m sorry if I seem a little more sad than usual.” His words dripped with venom.

His breath was uneven and heavy after he’d finished, almost like he was holding himself back from letting out more.

“Is that it?” You said bravely.

Aaron’s gaze pierced yours. His honey eyes so focused that they had lost their spark.

“What?”

“You want to shout at someone? Then shout at me. You want to make someone cry? Then make it me. You want to punch a wall? I’ll stitch your hand up after. You want to cry? I’ll be here with the tissues.”

Aaron’s body physically deflated as you spoke.

You weren’t done yet though.

“You think that this is a burden you carry alone, Aaron. Well it’s not. Yes it’s your family that Foyet is targeting but you are not the reason that Foyet turned out to be the way he is. You are not solely responsible for his escape or any of his devious plans. So if you want to be devastated, then fine. In fact, I’d welcome you to show your heart on your sleeve for once. But don’t for one second think of doing something stupid. Not when I’m right here.”

Aaron dropped to his knees then head hanging low as his body shook from his tears.

You had hoped it would come to this. Not that you enjoyed seeing Aaron upset, but you appreciated seeing him be vulnerable with you.

It meant that he still felt safe with you.

“I’m sorry.” He kept repeating through his sobs.

You moved quickly to kneel on the ground in front of him, pulling his body into yours so you could hold him tight.

Aaron’s love language was physical touch, so physical touch you would give him. If he thought he was anything less than loved by you then you had failed as a partner.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. It’s going to be okay.”

You kept reassuring him, keeping your hold tight on him whilst rubbing his back comfortingly.

<.><.>

[bonus]

You stayed on the floor with Aaron for over an hour.

He needed the time to cry and let everything out, whilst knowing he had someone next to him to keep him safe.

You had eventually both made it to bed.

Even though you didn’t have any of your work clothes here and your car was definitely violating parking rights outside, you couldn’t find it in yourself to leave Aaron. You didn’t want to leave him.

He was currently resting his head on your chest as he slept, his body breathing on heavily. You were sat up in his bed, stroking a comforting hand through his hair. His arms were wrapped tightly around you so you couldn’t be taken from him.

It had been a tough day, but you had reminded Aaron that there’s always a reason to keep going at the end of it.

#aaron hotch fic #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch angst

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perfectlyvalid49 · 1 year ago

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On being Jewish, and traumatized (It’s been 5 months and I want to talk):

Judaism is a joyous religion. So much of our daily practice is to focus us on the things that are good. I know that there’s a joke that all our holidays can be summed up as “they tried to kill us. We survived – let’s eat!”, and you might think that holidays focused on attempts at killing us might be somber, but they’re really not. Most are celebrated in the sense of, “we’re still here, let’s have a party!” When I think about practicing Judaism, the things I think about make me happy.

But I think a lot of non-Jews don’t necessarily see Judaism the same way. I think in part it’s because we do like to kvetch, but I think a lot of it is because from the outside it’s harder to see the joy, and very easy to see the long history of suffering that has been enacted on the Jewish people. From the inside, it’s very much, “we’re still here, let’s party” and from the outside it’s, “how many times have they tried to kill you? Why are you celebrating? They tried to KILL YOU!”

And I want to start with that because a lot of the rest of this is going to be negative. And I don’t want people to read it and wonder why I still want to be Jewish. I want to be Jewish because it makes me happy. My problem isn’t with being Jewish, it’s with how Jews are treated.

What I really wanted to write about is being Jewish and the trauma that’s involved with that right now.

First, I want to talk about Israeli Jews. I can’t say much here because I’m not Israeli, nor do I have any close friends or family that are Israeli. But if I’m going to be talking about the trauma Jews are experiencing right now, I can’t not mention the fact that Israeli Jews (and Israelis that aren’t Jewish as well, but that’s not my focus here) are dealing with massive amounts of it right now. It’s a tiny country – virtually everyone has a friend or family member that was killed or kidnapped, or knows someone who does. Thousands of rockets have been fired at Israel in the last few months – think about the fact that the Iron Dome exists and why it needs to. Terror attacks are ongoing; I feel like there’s been at least one every week since October. Thousands of people are displaced from their homes, either because of the rocket fire, or because their homes and communities were physically destroyed in the largest pogrom in recent history – the deadliest single day for Jews since the Holocaust ended. If that’s not trauma inducing, I don’t know what is.

And there is, of course, the generational trauma. And I think Jewish generational trauma is interesting because it’s so layered. Because it’s not just the result of one trauma passed down through the generations. Every 50-100 years, antisemitism intensifies, and so very frequently the people experiencing a traumatic event were already suffering from the generational trauma that their grandparents or great grandparents lived through. And those elders were holding the generational trauma from the time before that. And so on.

And because it happens so regularly, there’s always someone in the community that remembers the last time. We are never allowed the luxury of imagining that we are safe. We know what happened before, and we know that it happened again and again and again. And so we know that it only makes sense to assume it will happen in the future. The trauma response is valid. I live in America because my great grandparents lived in Russia and they knew when it was time to get the hell out in the 1900s. And the reason they knew that is because their grandparents remembered the results of the blood libels in the 1850s. How can we heal when the scar tissue keeps us safe?

I look around now and wonder if we’ll need to run. We have a plan. I repeat, my family has a plan for what to do if we need to flee the country due to religious persecution. How can that possibly be normal? And yet, all the Jewish families I know have similar plans. It is normal if you’re Jewish. Every once in a while I see someone who isn’t Jewish talk about making plans to leave because they’re LGBTQ or some other minority and the question always seems to be, “should I make a plan?” It astounds me every time. The Jewish answer is that you need to have a plan and the only question is, “when should I act?” Sometimes our Jewish friends discuss it at play dates. Where will you go? What are the triggers to leave? No one wants to go any earlier then they have to. Everyone knows what the price of holding off too long might be.

I want to keep my children safe. When do I induct them into the club? When do I let my sweet, innocent kids know that some people will hate them for being Jewish? When do I teach them the skills my parents and grandparents taught me? How to pass as white, how to pass as Christian, knowing when to keep your mouth shut about what you believe. When do I tell them about the Holocaust and teach them the game “would this person hide me?” How hard do I have to work to remind them that while you want to believe that a person would hide you, statistically, most people you know would not have? Who is this more traumatic for? Them, to learn that there is hatred in the world and it is directed at them, or me, to have to drive some of the innocence out of my own children’s eyes in order to make sure they are prepared to meet the reality of the world?

And the reality of the world is that it is FULL of antisemitism. There’s a lot of…I guess I’d call it mild antisemitism that’s always present that you just kinda learn to ignore. It’s the sort of stuff that non-Jews might not even recognize as antisemitic until you explain it to them, just little micro-aggressions that you do your best to ignore because you know that the people doing it don’t necessarily mean it, it’s just the culture we live in. It can still hurt though. I like to compare it to a bruise: you can mostly ignore it, but every once in a while something (more blatant antisemitism) will put a bit to much pressure on it and you remember that you were already hurting this whole time.

On top of the background antisemitism, there’s more intense stuff. And usually the most intense, mask off antisemitism comes from the right. This makes sense, in that a lot of right politics are essentially about hating the “other” and what are Jews if not Western civilizations oldest type of “other”? On the one hand, I’ve always been fortunate enough to live in relatively liberal areas so this sort of antisemitism has felt far away and impersonal – they hate everybody, and I’m just part of everybody. On the other hand, until recently I’ve always considered this the most dangerous source of antisemitism. This is the antisemitism that leads to hate crimes, that leads to synagogue shootings. This is the reason why my synagogue is built so that there is a long driveway before you can even see the building, and that driveway is filled with police on the high holidays. This is the reason why my husband and I were scared to hang a mezuzah in our first apartment (and second, and third). For a long time, this was the antisemitism that made me afraid.

But the left has a problem with antisemitism too. And it has always been there. Where the right hates the “other”, the left hates the “privileged/elite/oppressors.” It’s the exact same thing, just dressed up with different words. They all mean “other” and “other” means “Jew.” It hurts more coming from the left though. A lot of Jewish philosophy leans left. A lot of Jews lean left. So when the left decides to hate us, it isn’t a random stranger, it’s a friend, and it feels like a betrayal.

One of the people I follow works for Yad Vashem, and a few weeks ago she mentioned a video they have with testimonies from people who came to Israel after Kristallnacht, with an unofficial title of “The blow came from within.” The idea is that to non-German Jews, the Holocaust was something done by strangers. It was still terrible, but it is easier to bear the hate of a stranger – it’s not personal. But to German Jews, the Holocaust was a betrayal. It wasn’t done by strangers, it was done by coworkers, and neighbors and people they thought were friends. It was done by people who knew them, and still looked at them and said, “less than human.” And because of this sense of betrayal, German survivors, or Germans who managed to get out before they got rounded up, had a very different experience than other Holocaust victims.

And I feel like a lot of left leaning Jews are having a similar experience now. People that we’ve marched with or organized with, or even just mutuals that we’ve thought of as friends are now going on about how Jews are evil. They repeat antisemitic talking points from the Nazis and from the Protocols of the Elders of Zion, and when we point out that those ideas have only led to Jewish death in the past they don’t care. And if someone you thought of as a friend thinks of you this way, what do you think a stranger might think? Might do?

The Jews are fucking terrified. I’ve seen a post going around that basically wonders if this was what it was like for our ancestors – when things got bad enough to see what was coming but before it was too late to run? And we can see what’s coming. History tells us that they way people are talking and acting only leads to one place. I’m a millennial – when I was a kid the grandparents at my synagogue made sure the kids knew – this is what it looked like before, this is what you need to watch out for, this is when you need to run. I wonder where to run to. It feels like nowhere is safe.

I feel like I’ve been lucky in all this. I don’t live in Israel. I have family and acquaintances who do, but no one I’m particularly close to. Everyone I know in real life has either been sane or at least silent about all of this (the internet has been significantly worse, but when it comes to hate, the internet is always worse). I live in a relatively liberal area – there’s always been antisemitism around anyway, but it’s mostly just been swastikas on flyers, or people advocating for BDS, not anything that’s made me actually worry for my safety. But in the last 5 months there have been bomb threats at my synagogue, and just last week a kid got beat up for being Jewish at our local high school. He doesn’t want to report it. He’s worried it will make it worse.

I bought a Magen David to wear in November. At the time it seemed like the best way to fight antisemitism was to be visibly Jewish, to show that we’re just normal people like everyone else. Plus, I figured that if me being Jewish was going to be a problem for someone, then I would make it a problem right away and not waste time. I’ve worn it almost constantly since, but the one time I took it off was when I burnt my finger in December and had to go to urgent care. I didn’t think about it too much when I did it, but I thought about it for a long time after – I didn’t feel good about having made that choice.

The conclusion I came to is that the training that my elders had been so careful to instill in me kicked in. I was hurt, and scared, and the voice inside my head that sounds like my grandmother said, “don’t give them a reason to be bad to you. Fight when you’re well, but for now – survive.” It still felt cowardly, but it was also a connection to my ancestors who heeded the same voice well enough to survive. And it enrages me that that voice has been necessary in the past. And it enrages me that things are bad enough now that my instinct is that I need to hide who I am to receive appropriate medical care.

I wish I had some sort of final thought to tie this all together other than, “this sucks and I hate it,” but I really don’t. I could call for people to examine their antisemitic biases, but I’m not foolish enough to think that this will reach the people who need to do so. I could wish for a future where everything I’ve talked about here exists only in history books, and the Jewish experience is no longer tied to feeling this pain, but that’s basically wishing for the moshiach, and I’m not going to hold my breath.

I guess I’ll end it with the thought that through all of this hate and pain and fear, we’re still here. And we’re still joyful as well. As much as so many people have tried over literally THOUSANDS of years to eradicate us, I’m still here, I’m still Jewish, and being Jewish still makes me happy.

Am Yisrael Chai.

#antisemitism #judaism #venting #jumblr #long post #I'm not kidding it's like 2300 words #and it's a rambling mess #but i needed to vent #so help me god #if you show up in the notes and are being antisemitic I WILL find you and I WILL bite you

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deadghosy · 1 year ago

Text

HAZBIN HOTEL X ALBERT/FLAMINGO! READER

prompt: after causing chaos in life is paradise, you accidentally clicked the wrong “alt” button.

Oh wow- listen…I’m in my Albert phase guys…so yeah. ANYWAYSSS-

You just got done making your Roblox video as you wanted to exit out of it. You were going for the alt + 4 button only for the alt to look red and shine into your face. The light blinding your sight made you scream as you opened your eyes to see you are in a new area.

…. “Am I in hell…” you said in a high pitch voice. You panicked out a pitch scream gaining weird looks from the sinners. You still kept your human look but as you screamed, the control panel of admins show up. You stopped screaming immediately with an “oh.” And smiled evily

After wrecking most of the pride ring, you felt tired. Seeing an advertisement on tv about a hotel that redeems sinners, you thought maybe you could do some good here. So you pulled out a keyboard and type to teleport to the said hotel

You can go into the wrath, pride, and gluttony ring. It’s pretty real as you have the wrath to destroy things when pissed off. You’re prideful that you can’t be destroyed, and you have the gluttony to eat. A lot.

I can see you just having a small flamingo demon pet following you around. Literally you would make it bite and stab people. You taught it how to do the billy bounce.

The crew most definitely thought you were schizophrenic because you talk out loud as if you were talking to someone

BIG HEADCANNON THAT YOU HAVE ZOOMIES AROUND THE HOTEL😭

“I start stabbing, now that the lights are out?” “Albert/Reader, please no.” Charlie says holding your arms down. The power went out and you were craving blood.

You’re just a little gremlin :D

Imagine how chaotic it was to not fling someone out of the hotel for fun 😭 LMAO A SINNER FLINGING ACROSS THE WHOLE PENTAGRAM.

“I’m taking away their happiness in a good way!” You say smiling as you drag a resident away from Charlie who seems traumatized. You were like an alastor 0.2 but more happy actually.

LMAO YOU HAVING A BAN HAMMER SO WHEN A RESIDENT IS BEING AN ASSHOLE YOU JUST SLAM THE HAMMER ON THEIR HEAD WITH A “BOOP”

I can imagine you having the same physique as the og Albert. Literally one minute you look like your animal crossing character, and the next thing they know you are some buff Florida man.

“I’m going to make them regret being born.” You said as you clicked an admin that made your skin black with red eyes. The angels came towards you as your cut their heads off.

The whole cast was in shocked seeing a human like you being so powerful with just a panel no one can touch.

“Being a baby will not prevent me from shooting you.” You said jokingly as this toddler was winning uno. The mother ran away with her child as you screamed out uno.

Angel started to rant about what he does for his job and how he basically seller his soul to this moth porn demon. After he told you things what the demon does to Angel. You snapped.

“BITCH I WILL SHOOT YOU!” Yells reader as they cocked their gun. Basically the whole crew has to hold you back as Valentino is pissing himself.

Vox didn’t even know who you were until Valentino started having nightmares and random shadows in his room. (The shadows were you lol) Vox had to look you up and try to find who tf you were. You were a YouTuber. That all it showed up on his feed as he scoffs.

Husk has no opinion on you. He only knows you as that guy with a flamingo. He would sometimes side eye you while you do crazy shit. But matter of fact you two are chill.

“We have different ways of expressing ourselves..” you say to Angel trying to comfort him. “I like this way, he can’t defend himself. And I like that.” You say shooting down a sinner while in battle. Angel dust just side eyes you as if you were actually crazy.

You’re not allowed to go into turf war with him no more.

Velvette has no legit problems with you. Dead ass you and her might be fashion partners. HAVE YOU SEEN ALBERT’S DRIP ON INSTA?! That MAN IS GOOD!

You have so much wanted posters, even you brag to others at how cool you look while destroying someone’s house. All because you were bored.

Charlie is mostly worried for your mental health while Vaggie just knows that you aren’t really the most mental stable in the group.

“STOP DOING THAT! STOP CRYING! What are you a baby?!” You say while smacking away a whole imp baby that was crying beside you on the merry-go-round

Charlie’s eyes widen at what you did. You were like a man child.

I can headcannon you deadass bombed the Vees tower out of pettiness. It was just funny seeing Vox shocked to his damn boots that his home was now gone.

Lucifer made you a duck flamingo cause of how he was trying to be nice to you. He knew you wasn’t a sinner or an angel of sorts. But you were a human that he never seen before. He probably makes you some damn pancakes if you want them.

Lucifer would probably ask if you have a flamingo demon form because you told the crew that you go by flamingo and Albert. You just stood there confused to what this short man was saying. But you just nodded trying to see if you could actually turn into a flamingo.

Headcannon on you just actually helping around by just replacing and changing furniture. You help Charlie with trust exercises as the resident are just confuse at a human being here.

“WHO needs powers, when you have a gun!” You yell excited pulling out a gun from your admin control. You shot downa sinner who was trying to fight you. Alastor just doesn’t see why how your “guns” are more powerful. They don’t even have angelic metal.

Carmilla carmine had seen how you legit shot an angel down with a simple looking gun. It was insane but amazing. She definitely called you down to her place so she can see what your bullets are made out of.

Imagine how you basically see people’s/sinner’s names as if it was a name tag aka username. You would go around saying their name out loud as they look at you scared and crazy. “Hello Hakka!” “How you know my name?!!!!” 😕

Rosie adores you, you may be man child that’s like a gremlin. But you are so sweet and helping. Alastor made you meet her and honestly, it was a great meet and greet. Honestly 10/10.

Headcannon on you and Niffty both killing bugs together. You use your ban gun as Niffty uses a sewing needle. This sweet girl made you a big crown, you better appreciate it.

Alastor had messed with your food making you pissed off. It was the end of the day and you hadn’t eat anything due to not taking care of yourself much. So your reaction was justified when you see alastor’s grins widening.

“I hope you choke on your next meal.” You say as your voice had suddenly boomed across the hotel. It was like as if your mic boosted it, but you don’t have one.

You and Alastor have like a sibling relationship as you two just want to watch people suffer. Literally it’s funny as hell when it’s that one Xbox meme.😭

“MOM SAYS ITS MY TURN TO CAUSE SUFFERING!” You say trying to get over Alastor’s tall body as he causes chaos in the pentagram city.

Sir Pentious didn’t like you at all. Like he was actually scared at his crazy and psychotic you are at times. But when he saw how calm and laid back you actually were. He actually started to warm up close to you.

The egg boiz follow you around asking if your pet flamingo could play with them. It was so cute as they play with your pet flamingo.

Cherri absolutely loves you and your destructive behavior. Literally you two are a deadly duo cause you would give her some of your admin powers and take it back.

You once actually set up a limb store, literally you were getting that money✨😈 you had chopped off so much limbs got your deer customers.

I can see you actually taking people’s souls lol. You just take souls for fun and not for contract which leaves some overlords confused and scared of your powers.

Heaven would be scared of you personally. Like you are such a menace, sera sent your ass back to hell. Your human appearance was still the same tho lol.

Adam and you, beef on sight. “Why do you even have that pink bird? What are you, ret@rded?” “No but your mother is.” You said back while flipping him off.

Sera doesn’t like you. Your chaotic energy and your “evil” doing are not prohibited in paradise. She might tell Big G about how a human is in hell in perfect condition.

Emily heard about your presence by sera, she wanted to meet you but then again. You are back in hell. But she hopes to meet you one day.

See, me personally you would rob a bank for fun and then give it to some homeless imps in the wrath ring. It’s just you doing random shit while bored.

I can imagine you turning someone into the hulk. You deadass have so much power that it’s concerning and crazy for the hotel crew and rest of hell. You have alot of powers and you can turn people into some green buff human?!?

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harryspet · 1 year ago

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bambi eyes (3) r. cameron

[Warnings] soft!dark!rafe cameron x reader, daddy!rafe x little!reader older!rafe, crimeboss!rafe, rafe takes advantage of traumatized reader, DUBCON, dd/lg, sex trafficking, sexual slavery, sugar daddy rafe, stockholm syndrome, spoiling kink, unprotected sex, forced? age regression, little editing, 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

word count: 3.4k

In which you do your best to deal with your Daddy's mood swings.

main masterlist

bambi eyes masterlist

You felt like you were seeing Rafe less and less as the next two weeks went on. He was stressed about what was going on with work. He often paced back and forth in front of you, ranting, although he was never specific about the details of what was going on.

You noticed that he grabbed you tighter, pushed you harder into the mattress, and talked less during sex whenever something outside was affecting him. You were starting to accept it; it never hurt too much, and you’d be more scared if he weren’t interested in you in that way. If he didn’t want to be intimate with you, then there was a chance he wouldn’t want you anymore.

As much as Rafe promised you this was permanent, you couldn’t fully believe him. He had done all of this just for you, so you had to be able to offer him something special in return.

Like Rafe wanted, you established a routine. Every morning the birds would wake you up exactly at eight, and you’d make your bed which kept you from napping all day. Staying in your room was causing your imagination to stretch. You found new ways to entertain yourself, including trying on all the clothes in your wardrobe and throwing elaborate tea parties with all your stuffed animals and dolls.

One night that you thought would be like the last twelve nights, Rafe came to you after Lana had already brought you dinner. He wasn’t dressed in his usual khakis and dress shirt but in sweatpants and a pullover. You were curled up on the window seat, drawing flowers in a notebook, when Rafe came over to join you.

“Hi,” You spoke softly. He placed a warm hand on your knee, and you slowly closed your notebook.

“Hi, baby,” There was an ease and calmness to his voice that made you believe he’d actually had a good day, “What are you working on? Show me.”

You sat up, leaning closer, as you handed him the notebook. You hid slightly behind your knees as Rafe began to flip through the pages. At this point, you’d covered half of the pages in your doodles, “Oh wow, these are really pretty, Bambi,” He smiled with his entire face, including his bright eyes, “We should hang some of these on the fridge.”

You felt a bit of relief, hearing that he liked him, “I have more. Way more. I’ve colored a lot of the coloring books.”

“Go get them, I’ll pick my favorites,” Excitedly, you got up from the window seat. When you set several full coloring books in his lap, Rafe’s lips parted in shock, “Okay, wow, I don’t think I realized how much coloring you’d been doing.”

“I think it’s fun,” You said.

“Good, I want you to have fun,” Rafe nodded, “But have you worn down all your color pencils? How come you haven’t asked for more?”

You shrugged when Rafe gave you an inquisitive look, “I try to take care of the ones I have.”

“Would you even ask Daddy for more coloring books if you ran out of pages to color?”

“Maybe,” You spoke honestly.

The idea of asking for more than what Rafe had already given you did make your heart race. Rafe shook his head at something, “Daddy will get you lots more art supplies. Maybe you could try painting?”

“We could paint together?” You perked up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Rafe assured you, “I’m really, really sorry I haven’t been here as much as I’ve wanted to. Needed to, really. It’s just … I’m working on a lot of things right now, you know?”

“I’ve been okay,” You said, “Lana has been kind to me.”

“Good, good, I want you to be happy here, you know? That’s why I want you comfortable asking for things,” You watched Rafe’s eyes wander towards the bookshelf, “Like your books. I never see you reading them. Do you not like them?”

“I do,” You said quickly.

Rafe started to stare deeply at you, “What-what is it?”

“I . . . “

“I can pick some different ones for you? What do you like?”

“I like it when you read to me, Daddy,” Rafe tilted his head and the mentioning of his nickname didn’t light up his features like usual, “It’s hard for me. I never needed to … do that.”

He paused, which made you think you’d done something wrong, “You’ve never needed to read?”

“I can do it,” You said, “It’s hard when they’re all together, and there’s so many… the words. I’m sorry you think I don’t like the books you picked. I really do. I will try harder–”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Rafe rushed to put the coloring books aside and grab ahold of your face, “I just didn’t know, that’s it. You didn’t do anything wrong. At all.”

It wasn’t something you’d ever felt embarrassed about, but now you couldn’t help but feel stupid. Deep down, you felt a guy like Rafe deserved someone better. He deserved someone smarter than you.

You closed your eyes, wanting to hang your head, but Rafe said, “Look at me, hey,” Weakly, you did, “I’ve been thinking that you should spend more time with Lana instead of being cooped up in here. At least until I can take care of this … one problem I have. She’d be happy to have some company. And, if you want to learn, she could help you with your reading.”

“You don’t care?”

“Not at all, look, don’t worry. I’ve got you, sweet girl,” He said. Rafe leaned in to peck your nose before he brought your lips together. You melted into him, realizing then how much you missed him when he was gone, “You know what I was thinking?”

You stared back at Rafe, who had a mischievous look in his eye.

“We should take the boat out.”

“Now? Where?”

“Just on a short ride to get you some fresh air. It’ll be cold, so let’s find you some warmer clothes, yeah?”

It was a rhetorical question; Rafe was already making his way over to your wardrobe. You looked down at the small silk pajama set you were wearing. You’d seen all the boats out by the dock but hadn’t imagined that Rafe would take you out on one. “Lift your arms,” You did exactly as he said, pulling a light blue sweatshirt over your head. He also chose long pajama bottoms, helping you get into those, too, “You want to bring one of your stuffies?”

Your excitement mixed with your anxiety as you put on your slippers. It was a hard decision to make about which stuffed animal you wanted to bring, but you settled on Fin, your silvery-blue dolphin, “Excellent choice.”

Rafe grabbed your hand, leading you downstairs, “Do you think we’ll see a real dolphin?”

“Well, they tend to be more active during the day, and it’ll be dark soon … but maybe if you wish really, really hard.”

The air was much cooler outside than you expected, and you certainly didn’t expect it to feel so strange being in the fresh air. You turned in a circle just so you could take in the sky, the trees, the house, and everything around you.

You followed a determined Rafe across the yard and towards the deck. He chose one of the smaller boats, although there was room for at least four more people. You yelped when Rafe grabbed you by your waist suddenly and lifted you inside. Another yelp escaped your lips as the boat rocked under the pressure of your weight, “You’re okay, don’t worry,” He didn’t have to tell you to take a seat or be still; you decided you wouldn’t move at all, “One . . . moment.”

You watched through the corner of your eyes as Rafe untied the roaps keeping the boat tethered to the dock. The boat rocked again as Rafe hopped inside, causing you to grip Fin in one hand and grip the side of the boat in the other.

You sat in the seat right across from Rafe as the boat slowly pulled off towards deeper water. As the boat became more steady, you turned your head and watched Tannyhill get smaller and smaller. The orange and blue sky reflected off the water, creating an insanely beautiful view. You sailed towards the horizon, the son looking half submerged in the water, “How do you feel?” Rafe yelled over the sound of the motor, “Wanna go faster?”

You nodded, a smile growing on your face, “My little daredevil, huh?” You sat up on your knees, wanting to see more. You get a better look at Figure 8, seeing lots of huge houses along the beach, although none of them compare to Tannyhill. Rafe pointed out different landmarks for you, including the country club and a huge lighthouse out in the water. In your eyes, this night made every other night where you worried about your place with Rafe worth it.

“Go ahead, you can give it a taste test,” Lana conceded, allowing you to dip your finger into the chocolate cake batter. A few days after your night out with Rafe, Lana was showing you how to make the perfect chocolate cake. You thought she might be exaggerating about how perfect it was until you were licking your finger. An excited moan left your mouth and you bounced on the balls of your feet, “It’s great, isn’t it? Espresso powder is the key.”

“It really is,” You agreed.

“Now, wash your hands. It’s time to pour our batter.”

The entire day Lana had told you exactly what to do and how to do it. You didn’t mind listening or following her directions as she usually spoke to you warmly. Besides that, you wanted to learn exactly how to take care of things around the house, knowing that Rafe would appreciate your help when Lana couldn’t be here. The two of you cleaned the entire downstairs, did several loads of laundry, washed the windows in the glass patio, and even had time for a reading lesson in the early morning. She informed you that she homeschooled her youngest son and that she would try to teach you in a similar way.

As you washed your hands, you glanced out the side window towards the dock. You could see Rafe far out on the dock, standing with the same business associate who came to the house a few weeks ago. They weren’t alone like you were expecting; someone was on their knees a few feet ahead of them, their head slumped over. You squinted your eyes, trying to see more of them, although Rafe and his business associate shouting at each other blocked your view, “What are they doing out there? Who’s that?” Lana came over to where you were standing, peeking out just like you were.

Whatever business Rafe was involved in, Lana didn’t seem to care for it, “Mr. Cameron and Barry, they’re always at each other’s throats,” She shook her head, “Come, dry your hands. The oven is heated.”

You did as she said, turning your head away. There were going to be several layers to your cake, meaning you had three pans to fill, and after that, you and Lana would make the icing. Just as your mind wandered back to Rafe, you heard him coming through the kitchen door.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, pacing for a moment before his dark eyes landed on you, “Bambi, let’s … uhm, go upstairs,” His voice was shaky and deeper than normal, “Come here.”

“We’re-We’re just about to put the cake in the oven. It’s for tonight, and we’re going to make homemade icing too–”

“Now …please,” He said the last word like it was painful, “It’s time for you to go back to your room.”

No, no, no, a voice repeated in your head.

“But Lana was going to teach me how to ice the cake, too and she —”

“Fine,” Rafe snapped, his hand slamming against the counter before he rolled his eyes, “Just stay here.”

As Rafe stomped away, you knew you had something horribly wrong. You’d seen him in a similar mood before but he never directed any of his vitriol towards you before. Whatever had happened on the dock had clearly upset him. You really wanted to finish working with Lana. More than anything, you didn’t want to be locked in your room for another long period of time.

After taking a breath, or attempting to take one, you turned to Lana, “I didn’t mean… I-I should go say sorry.”

“You might want to let him calm down a little bit, sweetheart,” You’d already made up your mind. You reached behind your neck to undo the top of your apron, “Turn around, let me help you. He’s not mad at you.”

“How do you know?”

“I know who he is,” She spoke simply, “Don’t take anything too personally with Mr. Cameron.”

“You can finish without me; I’m sorry, but thank you for today,” You said as you started to walk away. After you saw her nod, a sad smile on her face, you turned away and sped for the stairs.

You approached Rafe’s bedroom moments later, hesitantly turning the knob, “Daddy?” You called, peeking inside. You called him again. He wasn’t in the main room but the shower was running in the bathroom, “Rafe?”

You jumped when he suddenly appeared in the bathroom doorframe, shirtless and his belt undone. This time, you notice his bruised hands and bloody knuckles.

“I didn’t mean to make you upset, Daddy.”

“Get down on your knees,” He stared you down. When you tried to come closer, he said, “No, drop to your knees right there.”

You felt your knees brush against the bedroom rug, “Crawl to me.”

If Rafe wanted you to feel even smaller, then his plan was successful. You did as he said, seeing no other option, and crawled towards him. You watched as he palmed himself over his briefs, and you could already feel him stretching you, pulling your hair, and leaving marks on your bottom. This wouldn’t last, you told yourself; he would be gentle with you another time.

Your sage dress had ridden up your body, exposing your floral patterned white panties.

“You’re gonna suck my cock and swallow all my cum. And then you’re gonna thank Daddy for letting you.”

You’d do exactly as your Daddy wanted, hoping he’d take your sore throat and tears as a sufficient apology.

Once you were soundly asleep in his bed, Rafe slipped out. He had a huge, bloody problem waiting for him in the cabin of his boat. Luckily, JJ Maybank was still the degenerate he used to be, and no one except his Pogue girlfriend would come looking for him anytime, “Son of a bitch isn’t talking,” Barry grunted out, meeting Rafe at the beginning of the dock, “Knocked two of his bottom teeth out and he’s still not motivated.”

Rafe had done everything possible to limit any competition he might face in Kildare. All small-time dealers would be working for someone who worked for Rafe. This was meant to be Rafe’s island yet somehow, Maybank was getting supplies from the mainland and was stealing his customers.

“We could take his girl.”

Rafe contemplated Barry’s question before shaking his head, “If she comes around trying to find him, we might have no choice. I’m sure that will motivate him.”

Rafe could see Barry’s eyes wandering to Kie. Part of him would love to see JJ squirm if they got their hands on her. You were the reason he didn’t think too long about that. Barry, on the other hand, Rafe would let him do whatever he wanted with Kie. In the end, Rafe wanted JJ to talk, to give up his sources, but he’d be just fine killing him.

“I hope,” Barry crossed his arms, “Not exactly looking forward to dealing with the body.”

“We don’t have to deal with that shit anymore; I know who to pay to handle it,” Rafe said, “Speaking of, I think I-uh need some more security here. I want guards all around the perimeter. Because of the amount of merchandise and if we’re going to be taking captives, you know. I want this place to be a fortress.”

“Your merchandise, huh?” Barry flashed Rafe a knowing look, “You got any liquor in that big house?”

Rafe gestured his head toward the house, signaling to Barry to follow behind him.

“If Kie doesn’t come for him and if he still has no information to offer us, we kill him. No more torture, no mess, one gunshot to the temple,” Rafe instructed, his mind racing with what their next moves should be. The more planning beforehand, the better, and the less likely it would come back to them, “That’ll send a message to the rest of the Pogues too. They work for me, or they work for no one.”

“And after you’ve cornered the market?”

“That’s just the start of everything else,” Rafe led Barry through the first floor, towards his office. Ward always used to keep his office stocked with liquor as it came in handy for important meanings. Rafe learned people will often let down their barriers and concede to more under the influence of alcohol. He opened the door for him, allowing him to enter.

“Whoa,” Barry said, walking inside just as Rafe heard a soft gasp from a familiar voice. Eyebrows raised, Rafe entered behind him to find what had shocked him, “Is this the new Mrs. Cameron?”

With wide eyes, Rafe took you in. You were in the same clothes Rafe left you in, one of his white button-ups and your knee-high socks, “What are you doing down here?” You slowly stepped behind Rafe’s desk, and he could tell you were trying to hide yourself.

“I-I couldn’t find you.”

Rafe’s jaw jutted forward, his arms crossed, as he said, “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

Your lips parted to say something, but Barry interrupted, “C’mon, man, it’s not even midnight! Introduce me to your girl. We can all have a drink,” He grabbed ahold of Rafe’s shoulder. You would think Barry had one the lottery based on the look in his eyes. By complete accident, Barry had stumbled on Rafe’s biggest treasure, “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“She doesn’t drink.”

Rafe was frustrated, mostly because he should’ve been keeping closer track of you. He’d given you that necklace for a reason. A new idea crossed his mind, one he wasn’t expecting, and some of his anxiety eased. He was far from embarrassed of you, he’d chosen you for a reason, but part of Rafe wanted Barry to envy him at that moment.

Rafe sighed, waving you closer to the two of them, “Bambi, this is Barry. Barry, this is Bambi,” Smoothly, Rafe grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you into him.

“Hi,” You said shyly, “It’s nice to meet you.”

When Barry held his hands out to you, your eyes darted towards Rafe as if to ask permission. Agreement crossed his face, and Rafe watched you shake his hand. Barry was fully taking you in, of course, but Rafe knew a handshake would be the extent of his closeness with you.

“The pleasure is all mine, beautiful.”

“Chill out, dude. Sit down,” Rafe instructed Barry, pulling you along.

Barry made himself comfortable on the leather couch and Rafe motioned you to sit across in one of the leather chairs.

“How you liking Kildare?”

“It’s really nice,” Rafe heard you respond as he poured two glasses of whiskey for him and Barry, “There’s so many big houses, and … it’s just really pretty.”

“You ain’t seen much then, have you?” Rafe handed Barry his glass, flashing a warning with his eyes, “All the girls where you’re from, they as pretty as you?”

“I . . . I don’t know,” You laughed nervously.

Rafe placed a hand on your shoulder, and you looked up at him, “Why don’t you go get Barry a slice of that chocolate cake you made?”

Rafe assumed it would ease your nervousness if you could share what you made. “Okay, Daddy,” You smiled at both men, and both men watched you closely as you walked out of the room, “I’ll be right back.”

“Pretty and obedient,” Barry whistled, “I need to travel more.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for your support on the first two chapters BUT psa you will not be added to my taglist if you're not reblogging the fic and letting me know your thoughts! It is crazy to me that people will ask me to tag them in the next chapter when they have neither liked nor reblogged the fic. Constructive feedback is more encouraging than just commenting "PART 4" or "tag me in part 4" :)

PART 4

#dark fic #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe cameron #outer banks smut #barry outer banks #rafe cameron x black!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe fanfiction

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justagalwhowrites · 6 months ago

Text

Oral Fixation - A TLOU One Shot

It's your boyfriend Joel's birthday but what do you give the man who has given you so much? AKA You learn how to give Joel a blow job. A one-shot set in the Lavender universe.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader from Lavender

CW: Oral sex, mild age gap (Joel is turning 33, reader is 21 almost 22), mild description of past sexual encounter involving oral sex that wasn't the best, Joel is almost disturbingly happy because he hasn't been traumatized yet RIP trauma-free Joel, unprotected P in V sex, no use of Y/N, 18+ only minors DNI

Length: 4.5k

A/N: The final part of the Joel Miller Birthday Celebration! Can be read as a stand alone fic with the understanding that reader is Sarah's nanny and has been seeing Joel for about six months.

Masterlist | Lavender Masterlist | AO3

September, 2000

“I can’t believe you talked me into this,” you said, all but clinging to Cassie’s arm as the two of you made your way through the adult store. You weren’t sure what you’d been expecting but it wasn’t this, neon colored silicone penises and intimidatingly tiny scraps of lace everywhere you looked.

“And I can’t believe you don’t own a vibrator,” Cassie said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be such a prude, with the way you and the DILF go at it I’m pretty sure you’ve had more sex than I have at this point.”

Your cheeks got hot but… she was probably right. You and Joel had sex a LOT. So much that it was hard to believe that, just six months earlier, you’d still been a virgin. Sure, you doubted that sex with anyone else was even half as good as it was with Joel but it felt like you’d been denying yourself a whole world of good things because you’d been reluctant to make that leap for so long. Now, you wanted to make up for lost time, something that Joel was happy to oblige.

But, because you were so new to it, you didn’t really know much and, what’s worse, you didn’t know what you didn’t know.

Which is why you’d turned to Cassie in the first place. Joel’s birthday was coming up and you’d drawn a complete blank on what to get the man. You’d never gotten anyone a birthday gift who wasn’t your grandmother or your friend. What the hell did you get a boyfriend? What the hell did you get a man?

“You, naked, ready to recreate the filthiest porn the guy’s got,” Cassie said, not even looking up from the latest issue of Cosmo as she did. “And, because it’s you, bake him a cake or something. He’ll be thrilled.”

“I don’t know that Joel watches porn,” you crinkled your nose. That made her look up.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” She asked, incredulous. “Babes. He’s a man. Of course he watches porn.”

“I’m sure he would if things were different,” you said. “But he has a kid at home, we have to fight for privacy, I don’t think he’s exactly sitting down and putting on some…”

“He is,” she said, closing the magazine now. “I promise you, he is. Maybe less now that you’re in the picture but he definitely is. Stashed under his bed or in some shoebox at the back of his closet is a pile of all his dirtiest fantasies and all you have to do is gift wrap yourself, ready to fulfill them.”

So you might have done some snooping the next time you were at Joel’s before he got home from work.

Maybe.

Just a little.

And yeah, Cassie might have been right. There might have been a box - one a bit bigger than a shoebox but not much bigger - that had tapes and magazines inside. You took a quick inventory, looking at the covers of the videos and flipping through the pages of the more well-worn magazines.

It seemed both invasive and oddly impersonal, rifling through something that was mass produced and clearly not intended for you to see but was something that it seemed like you should know. The women in the magazines and on the covers of the tapes were so much more… everything than you were. More sexy, more confident, more knowledgable. It made your stomach twist.

Was this what Joel really wanted? He was older than you and you’d been a late bloomer in the romance department. Of course he had more experience but he’d never made it sound like anything was missing from your sex life. But maybe he was just being nice. Maybe what he really wanted was something more like whatever someone named Candy was doing on the back of this VHS sleeve.

It seemed like the least you could do for Joel was find a way to give him what he wanted.

So Cassie had convinced you to come to this store to figure out something to do for him for his birthday. Not that you had much idea what that would be.

“What’s his favorite color?” She asked, examining the tiny scraps of lace.

“Forest green?” You asked more than answered, examining something that you were pretty sure was a bra but seemed to be missing some key components. You were about to move on to something else when one of the movies playing on the opposite wall caught your eye. It was one of the actresses from the tapes at Joel’s, you recognized her. She was looking hungrily at a cock before taking it into her mouth, eyes closed in bliss with a satisfied groan.

Cassie noticed where you were staring and joined you, smirking a little.

“Like watching someone get their dick sucked, eh?” She teased, elbowing you lightly.

You glared at her.

“I just…” You looked back at the screen. “I think Joel has that video.”

“Really?” She said, brows raised, looking back at the screen as the woman started to slide up and down the thick cock. “Well, that’s simple enough. Just blow him, wham bam thank you ma’am, you’re set.”

“I don’t…”

“Oh don’t tell me you suck him off too much as it is,” she said. “Your sex life is already insufferably perfect.”

“No,” you said, defensive, your cheeks getting hot. “I just…”

“Just what?” She asked when you stayed quiet a bit too long.

“I’ve never… done that,” you said, looking back at the screen as the woman there hollowed out her cheeks and moaned.

“What!” Cassie yelped and you shushed her as the other people in the store turned to stare. “You’ve never…”

“Not with Joel,” you said quickly. “I did once with a guy but it didn’t go great and I really didn’t like it and honestly I think Joel might be too big to…”

“Too big?” She grabbed your arm, her eyes wide. “Babes, you said he was big but like… what do you mean too big? Gimme a ballpark, like…” she tugged you over to a wall of remarkably life-like dildos and pointed to one on the larger end. “That big?”

“No,” you said and she looked relieved for a moment before you pointed to one that was even bigger. “More like that one.”

Cassie’s jaw dropped, looking between you and the silicone dick in awe.

“That’s what the DILF is packing?”

“Can you please not call him that?”

“You big slut!” She was practically beaming. “Taking that for your first time? You deserve a medal!”

“Can we just…”

“That’s it, you’re sucking his dick for his birthday,” she said, grabbing flavored lube, throat numbing spray and a copy of the tape that was playing overhead. “As often as he apparently goes down on you? Seems like the least you can do is return the favor as he turns… what, 47?”

You glared at her and she smirked at you.

“33,” you said.

“And you don’t want me to call him a DILF,” she said, grabbing a surprisingly conservative set of lingerie and a small vibrator on her way to the counter. “Come on, we’ll turn you into an oral champ before you know it!”

You watched the video with Cassie that night after you had half a bottle of cheap wine in your system. The woman on screen seemed so… into it. The one time you’d gone down on someone was the summer before you left for college, going out with a boy you met at the movie theater when you took the kids you were babysitting there to see Hercules. He was cute, nice, didn’t carry the baggage a lot of the boys you’d gone to high school with did. On your fourth date, you were making out in his car and he’d nudged your head down lower and lower until it was in his lap. He pulled his cock out and you cautiously, hesitantly, took him in your mouth and you did try to do what you thought he wanted while taking it slow. But it didn’t take long before he was moaning and thrusting up into your mouth and you gagged as he pushed your head down further on his dick. You’d all but ripped yourself away, coughing and sputtering, and he half heartedly apologized before trying to push your head to his lap again. You didn’t go for it that time and he took you home. You didn’t go out with him again, deciding to write off men until you were away at college and hopefully meeting one who was fine with you doing things like not sucking their dick.

Which, Joel was. Or seemed to be, anyway. But if he enjoyed it - if it felt like it was something that was missing from your sex life - you wanted to give it to him. He’d given you so much, you wanted to give him everything. You just needed to figure out how to do it.

After you giggled your way through the video the first time, you started it again as Cassie gave you some tips: How to breathe through your nose, how to swallow around your gag reflex, how to use your tongue, how guys liked when you choked on it a little. It felt almost like you were in class, taking notes on a piece of scratch paper you mentally vowed to set on fire after you practiced a little with a cucumber so no one had to know that you needed someone to teach you this stuff, stuff that seemed like it should come naturally to you.

“Just use the throat spray, use the lube and breathe through your nose,” she said when she left to go home the next morning. “You’ll have him eating out of your hand.”

“Right,” you said, trying to ignore the tight knot of nerves that had settled in your stomach. “I can do it.”

You carefully selected a Joel-sized cucumber at the grocery store and tried to not feel like an idiot as you followed Cassie’s advice as you practiced leading into Joel’s birthday. It wasn’t as bad when there wasn’t someone shoving your head down on their lap though it still wasn’t your favorite thing. But for Joel? You’d deal.

The day you were going to celebrate his birthday, the reality of it set in. If there was one thing you were an expert in by now, it was your boyfriend’s cock and your boyfriend’s cock was… big. What if the throat spray didn’t work as well when you weren’t the one in control of what was going in your mouth? Worse, what if you were just bad at it? What if he had an ex who was as good at sucking him off as that porn star would be and you’d be struggling to measure up the whole time?

You were rarely nervous with Joel anymore but you were weirdly nervous as you made him dinner - chicken fried steak - and tried to not let it show as the two of you ate together and had drinks and cake while watching Alien in his living room after.

“You spoil me way too damn much, baby,” Joel said as your head was nestled against his chest, his lips in your hair. You could feel him smile against you as he kissed you there. “Best birthday I’ve had in years, thank you.”

“Well, I might have one more thing for you,” you said, sitting up from him and smiling a little, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Really?” He cocked a smile at you, his cheek dimpling. “Does it involve you naked?”

“It might,” you teased, relaxing a little as you looked at him. This was Joel, the safest man you knew, the person you loved more than any other. It would be OK. “Want to go to your room and find out?”

“Good luck stoppin’ me,” he winked, getting up and helping you off the couch. Once you were up stairs, the two of you kissed your way down the hall but he moaned as you pulled away from him and nudged him back toward the bed.

“Just stay put,” you said. “I’ll be right back.”

“Not goin’ anywhere,” he called as you disappeared into his bathroom. You looked at yourself in the mirror, forcing yourself to take a deep, calming breath before going to his linen cupboard and pulling out the throat spray, lube and lingerie you’d stashed away earlier. You used the spray first, wincing at the antiseptic-like taste of it, before you quickly stripped, balling up your sundress and bra and pulling on the deep green lacy babydoll set Cassie had picked for you. As you examined yourself in the mirror - fluffing your hair and adjusting your breasts in the sheer cups - you gave your best friend this much: she knew how to help make you comfortable. The set wasn’t too revealing or over the top but still highlighted your curves and put all the parts of you Joel seemed to like best on display.

“Thank you, Cassie,” you muttered before taking a deep breath and steeling yourself, the strawberry flavored lube clutched tight in your hand. You looked your reflection in the eye and tried to get lost in the almost-porn star version of yourself in the mirror.

“You got this,” you said almost silently, giving yourself a single, resolute nod before going for Joel’s room again.

He was sitting obediently where you’d left him, watching the bathroom door. You draped yourself against the frame, popping a hip out to accentuate your curves, one arm stretched high over your head against the wood. Joel’s mouth dropped open, his eyes going wide.

“Like what you see?” You asked more confidently then you felt.

“Goddamn, baby,” he said reverently. “Gonna gimme a heart attack, looking that damn good.”

“Well don’t go dropping dead on me now,” you teased, walking toward him in what you hoped was a sexy way and not something that made you look like an idiot. “You haven’t even gotten your present yet.”

He put his hands on your waist when you reached him but, instead of straddling him, you reached down and spread his legs so you could step between them. You knelt in front of him, holding his gaze as you did, reaching for his jeans to open them.

“What…” he frowned, looking down as you freed his cock, thick and long and hard.

“Told you,” you said, trying to make yourself sound sultry and not nervous. “I had something for you.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond before you licked his shaft from root to tip, his skin velvet smooth and salty on your tongue. He groaned as you did and you took a deep breath as you took his tip into your mouth, sucking him gently as you did.

Even just that was a lot and, as your tongue teased him, you squeezed some of the flavored lube into your hand before you spread it over his shaft, working him with your hand, your heart racing.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned as you started taking more of him into your mouth, licking and sucking and trying to focus on breathing through your nose as you did. It took more time than you really wanted to get all of him in your mouth, swallowing past your numbed gag reflex as best you could to take his length into your throat. You moaned as you did, sucking him hard, hollowing your cheeks like the girl in the video had done and he moaned, too, his fingers tightening on the edge of the bed. “Goddamn, your mouth…”

You would have smiled at that if your mouth wasn’t open so wide. Instead, you started trying to work his cock the same way you did the cucumber in practice, hopefully the same way the girl did in the video he had.

Joel’s breaths started coming quicker, needy little pants dripping from his lips as his cock dripped in your mouth and you took the encouragement, trying to move faster as you did, trying to take him as deep as you could every time.

But Joel was big and you were almost positive he was getting bigger as you worked him, his cock swelling even further, his precome salty at the back of your throat, and the faster you moved the harder he was to take. Eventually, even with the spray, it was too much and you choked, coughing and gagging enough that you had to pull back from him, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“Woah, you alright?” He asked, leaning forward and frowning at you, still a little breathless as he did.

“Mhmm,” you hummed as you nodded, trying to keep yourself from coughing, massaging your throat as you did. “Sorry, I just…”

“Don’t apologize, baby, goddamn,” he laughed once. “Not after doin’ all that for me…”

You smiled a little sheepishly, feeling like you could breathe again. But the numb feeling at the back of your throat was gone.

“I can do it again,” you said, sitting back on your heels. “I just… I got some throat spray and I just need to…”

Joel’s eyebrows knitted together, frowning deeper this time.

“Throat spray?”

You nodded.

“It’s numbing?” You said, almost like it was a question. “I hadn’t really done this much before and I really wanted to do it like…”

“Like what?” He asked and your eyes went wide. Shit. You hadn’t meant to say that part. “Like what, baby?”

“Like the woman in one of the videos in your closet?” You said sheepishly, your heart pounding, everything else coming out in a rush. “I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t figure out what to get you for your birthday and Cassie suggested finding out what porn you liked and trying to recreate it so I might have looked through some of your things, I promise it was just to surprise you and give you what you wanted and…”

“Baby,” he cut you off gently, tucking his cock back into his jeans. “Hey, it’s OK, c’mere.” He tugged you up on the bed beside him and you kept your eyes determinedly on your hands. “Think you can look at me?”

You took a deep breath but listened, gnawing on your lower lip as you did.

“There are those pretty eyes of yours,” he smiled a little, cupping your cheek. “Now, I ain’t sayin’ I don’t appreciate the thought - don’t think any woman’s ever done something like that for me - but honey, I don’t want to do something you don’t want to do. I really don’t want to do something that’s rough enough on your body that you gotta numb yourself to get through it.”

You frowned.

“But you go down on me…”

“Yeah, because I like to,” he said. “Like seein’ what I can do to you but that doesn’t mean you have to do it back to me, not unless you want to. And if you do want to, you don’t need to do it so hard that you hurt yourself. It’s not good for me if it’s not good for you, too.”

You took a deep, steadying breath, and nodded.

“Besides,” he smiled a little. “Haven’t needed those videos in a while. Honestly, I kinda forgot I even still had ‘em.”

You scoffed.

“Hey, I’m being serious,” he said. “Haven’t used ‘em since you and I got together, that’s for damn sure. And for a few months before that I may or may not have had better luck thinkin’ about this sexy nanny I had working for me…”

“Oh really?” You teased lightly, heat taking the place of the nerves in your stomach.

“Really,” he said, almost unsettlingly earnest. “I’ve been yours for a while, baby. And that’s because I love you, don’t have a damn thing to do with what you do in bed.”

You smiled softly and kissed him, his lips gentle on yours for a moment before it deepened, turning hot and needy.

Joel tugged you back on the bed with him, one hand splaying wide over your back, the other slipping into the soft lace of your lingerie to cup your breast. But, before you got too distracted, you pulled back from him, making him frown a little.

“But what if I want to,” you said, biting your lip again.

His frown deepened.

“Want to what?”

“Suck your cock,” you said, trying to ignore how hot your cheeks got.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, his eyes darkening.

“Because I do want to,” you said. “I want to make you feel the way you make me feel.”

“You sure?” He asked. “Because I know I can be… a lot to take.”

You smiled a little.

“Think I know how big your cock is, Joel. And I know what I want.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he groaned, lying on his back, freeing his cock and stroking it as he did. “Gotta take it easy and let me help.”

You nodded eagerly before settling near his hips, taking his length in your hand and stroking him up and down, running your thumb over his leaking tip. When you looked at him now, you weren’t intimidated. Instead, you were hungry for him, wanting to feel him deep inside you in a different way, your mouth watering with it.

You lowered yourself over him, licking his head, your tongue wide and flat against him and Joel groaned, his fingers tightening in the blankets on the bed. You took a moment to really experience him, the taste of him, the heady concentration of the scent of him in the thatch of coarse hair at his base, the tender softness of his skin. It shouldn’t have been surprising but you wanted more, more of all of it.

So you took more, his tip disappearing into your mouth slow and easy.

“Fuck, there you go baby,” he was damn near panting with need and you smiled a little around his intrusion, at what you were doing to him. “Nice and slow.”

You moaned as you sank lower, easing more and more of him into your mouth before rising up and then taking a little more of him, your tongue pressed tight to his shaft as you did again and again.

And then he was at the back of your throat, no longer numbed, and you tried to do what Cassie had told you to do: Swallow him past your gag reflex to get all of him inside.

It worked, at first, your lips making it almost to the base of his shaft as he groaned. But it didn’t last, your body quickly trying to reject the thick heft of him in your throat, making you gag. This time, though you didn’t try and force it, pulling back quickly but leaving his head in your mouth.

“You OK?” He asked, his voice strained, one large hand coming to cradle the back of your head. You just nodded, his tip still in your mouth. “Here, gimme your hand.”

You obeyed and Joel guided your fingers to the base of his shaft.

“Just…” you could hear the desperation in his voice. “Hold on like that, don’t gotta take it all. Feel the most at the tip, anyway.”

You nodded and worked your way lower again, a little faster this time, adjusting your grip so you were still taking most of him into your mouth but not quite hitting your gag reflex. Joel’s breaths grew sharper, more desperate and you could feel him straining to hold back from fucking up into you and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of power at that, the way you could make him almost lose himself to pleasure.

You started to work him faster, your tongue pressing and curling around him, your mouth working in tandem with your hand. It wasn’t long before you found your rhythm over him, rising and falling, sucking and licking, savoring every inch of him you could take. And even though you were focused on making Joel feel good, it was making you tight and needy, too, the hand not around his cock finding your slit, fingers trailing through the wetness that had grown there.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “Takin’ me so well, baby, doin’ so damn good.”

You moaned, working him harder, faster as your fingers grew firmer on your clit and you suddenly, desperately, needed all of him in your mouth, gag reflex be damned.

So you took all of him, moaning as his head slipped into your throat, sucking him hard and fast and you felt him twitch in your mouth before he all but ripped you away from him, leaving you stunned for a moment.

But then he damn near jumped between your thighs, shoving your panties to the side and pushing into you. You gasped at the stretch of him, your pussy already tightening around him. Joel’s hips snapped into yours just as fast as you’d been sucking him before.

“Ain’t gonna last,” he said, burying his face in your neck and kissing the delicate skin there. “Too fuckin’ good at that, Jesus…”

You could only moan in response, your own orgasm building quickly, your fingers tugging at his shirt as you tried to pull him impossibly closer, your pussy drawing tight around him for a second before you fell apart. Your orgasm was so powerful you couldn’t move, crying out with the force of it as Joel fucked into you twice more before he came, too, pressing himself deep inside as he spilled into you.

Joel collapsed, spent, on top of you after, still fully clothed and panting for breath as you held him close.

“Holy shit baby,” he said eventually, still a little breathless.

You laughed quietly.

“Did I measure up to the video?” You teased.

He pulled back from you, looking you over for a moment, like he was trying to tell if you were joking or not.

“Think you know the answer to that,” he said, kissing you gently as he slid himself from you and lay beside you. He tugged you against him as he settled, tucking your head against his chest. “But in case it wasn’t clear, yeah. You beat ever damn porno I ever watched, ain’t even close.”

You smiled, proud.

“Good,” you said. “Because… I liked doing that.”

You felt him lift his head to look at you before dropping back down to the bed.

“Really?”

“Yup,” you said, tracing your fingers over the outline of his pecs through his shirt. “Think I’ll want to do it again.”

“Sure as hell won’t get any arguments from me.”

“There is a downside, though,” you said, sitting up just enough to look at him.

“What’s that?” He frowned and you smiled.

“Now I’m going to have to figure out what the hell to get you for your birthday next year.”

He laughed and tucked you back against his chest.

“Just keep givin’ me you, baby,” he said. “Doesn’t get any better than that.”

A/N: I missed Joel and Doc so I wrote this. Thanks for reading them even more than a year after Lavender ended.

Happy birthday, Joel!

Love you all!

#fanfic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #lavender #joel miller x oc #joel miller smut #joel miller birthday celebration

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f1byjessie · 8 months ago

Text

HE LIKES MY AMERICAN SMILE ━━ OP81. [REWRITE]

he may not be a london boy, but you love him all the same, and you’re about to learn the hard way that loving someone can be a wild ride.

( oscar piastri x sargeant!reader )

━━ part one.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, daltonsargeant, and 61,816 others

yourusername me and london boy have made so many memories here together and i’ll cherish them forever ❤️. i love this sport and i love the people i've met in this sport. i'll always love it and them, but sometimes you have to take a step back and set your sights on new horizons. that said, neither of us will be competing in any events this year— endurance or otherwise. london boy will stay in richmond and continue to receive the best care possible from people who have grown to love him as much as i do, and in the meantime, i'll start looking to those other horizons.

view all 1,761 comments

user wishing you the best of luck!! we’ll miss seeing you and london boy, but we know this decision wasn’t made lightly and we hope whatever you do will make you just as happy as riding does!!

user london boy lives a more luxurious life than i could ever hope

↳ user real like why am i jealous of a horse 😭😭

↳ user knowing how well these horses are treated? we should all be jealous

↳ user some of these horses have rain coats that cost more than my entire wardrobe combined… the day i learned that was not a fun day… 😔

user honestly only ever tuned in to watch you both

user the events won’t be the same without you!!!

user I’LL MISS YOU LONDON BOY

user take all the time you need to explore other options! you can love something and still get burnt out on it. sometimes taking that step away can be the decision that allows us to continue loving something instead of growing resentful towards it. do what you need to do to be happy! 🫶

↳ user this is such a good way to put it!!

↳ user THIS. i did competitive jumping for ten years and towards the end of that time i started seeing it more as a chore than the sport i used to be so passionate about. you absolutely CAN love something and still get burnt out on it. taking breaks is so important.

user i’m sure london boy will miss you but you do you girliepop! take a trip or go on an adventure!

user oh to be a girl riding her horse across the beach at sunrise 🥲

↳ user IKR?!? talk about dream life, she’s literally living out scenes that i’ve only ever seen in movies

↳ user it’s london boy’s world and we’re all just living in it

user wait does this mean no more horse content???

↳ user i mean she’s not getting rid of her horse or even outright retiring, she just won’t be riding competitively for 2023

user is she leaving the uk or smth?? bc she said other ppl will be looking after london boy?? i know nothing about horses guys i’m sorry

↳ user london boy will be staying at the stables as per her caption! he will be looked after by many trained professionals who will ensure he is properly fed, watered, exercised, and groomed each day! it’s actually very common for people to board their horses at a stable since horses often need large fields to graze and exercise in, and not a lot of people have big enough backyards or own property to be able to provide that themselves. whether she’s leaving the uk or not, we don’t know, but it definitely sounds like her training with london boy will be put on hold for the time being!

user miss girl we’ll always remember you and london boy as the greatest duo in endurance racing history

↳ user REAL REAL REAL

user does this have to do with her falling off a few months back??

↳ user it could, she did mention the encounter leaving her pretty shaken

↳ user yeah but the possibility of something like this happening is so high that a lot of riders have accepted it as an inevitable occurrence in their career

↳ user even still, that doesn’t change the fact that she could very well be traumatized or experiencing lingering side effects

↳ user guys!! speculation will do us no good!! if she wants to tell us, she will!!

user YOU KNOW I LOVE A LONDON BOY 🗣🗣🗣

logansargeant wanna trade one paddock for another?

There’s a sort of terrifying uncertainty that comes with breaking a long-standing routine.

It’s like a fucked-up sort of package deal— you stop following the methodized schedule you’ve meticulously upheld for years, and in exchange, you receive more time than you know what to do with and an overwhelming responsibility to fill it.

The only question is: with what?

The muscle memory lingers, and you suspect that it’ll take some time for your body to un-familiarize itself with a sleep schedule that you’ve religiously held on to for years, but there’s no demands to maintain any of it and that makes any sort of attempt at continuing to run through the motions feel entirely obsolete. You may instinctively wake up at the ass crack of dawn, but without the necessity of a horse relying on your punctuality to get him fed, watered, and turned out to the paddock, there’s nothing you can do beyond filling the morning with something until your internal clock catches the memo and decides to let you sleep in for once.

“You know, when I invited you to tag along with me,” Logan begins in lieu of a greeting when he opens the front door and sees you standing on the stoep of his apartment, clad in athletic wear and a pair of well-worn running shoes, “I was under the impression that we both understood that to mean the traveling to races part and not necessarily the pre-season training.”

“‘My dearest sister,’” you sarcastically quip back in a mockingly deep voice, feigning heartfelt sincerity and pressing your hand melodramatically to your chest. “‘How good it is to see you after so long! I would be absolutely delighted if you joined me on my morning run today.’”

Your twin brother shakes his head in exasperation, but through the facade of annoyance, you can recognize the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Honestly, Logie,” You pretend to wipe a tear from the corner of your eye and add in a sniffle for extra flair, “you're too sweet. What would I ever do without you?”

“We saw each other a week ago at brunch,” he grumbles, reluctantly taking a step back from the door and allowing you to pass over the threshold into the warmth of the apartment and out of the winter’s frigid morning air.

“When?”

“Last Wednesday—”

“—did I ask? Oh! Boom! Gotcha!” You whoop out an exclamation of victory as you continue down the hall. “Gosh, I am four for four now. You gotta step up your game, Logie-bear, or this is gonna end in a miserable shut out for you.”

He heaves out a heavy sigh that carries with it twenty-two years of suppressed brotherly rage and the exhaustion that can only come from being reminded at every chance that he is, and always will be, a minute younger than you. “You're the bane of my existence, and I do sincerely hope you know this.”

“Aw, I love you too!”

You step into the small kitchen at the end of the hall. With the exception of a little potted cactus sitting on the windowsill— a housewarming gift from you— it looks nearly identical to how it was the last time you visited.

A month ago.

When he moved in.

There's a woven mat on the floor in front of the sink, an ashy green that contrasts nicely with the off-white cream color of the cabinets and laminate countertops. You can't really tell if Logan actually bought the mat, or if it came with the place, but it's cute nonetheless and serves as one of the few pops of color in the otherwise monochromatically beige apartment.

“I see that my cactus continues to reign supreme as the only individuality in this place,” you comment, glancing over your shoulder in time to see him appear in the doorway.

He shrugs at your words. “Yeah, well, you'd be surprised how busy you can get when you're preparing for everything you've ever dreamed about. No biggie.”

“Logan,” you turn to face him, “you'll do great. There are two other rookies on the grid—”

“And I'll be in the worst car out of all of them.”

“You don't know that,” you chide gently.

This side of Logan isn't unfamiliar to you— the anxiety and fear of failure. It's always existed, and you've known about it since the morning of his first kart race when he confided in you that he was so nervous he felt like he was going to be sick.

The insecurities surrounding his own skills have persisted and thrived with every new track, every new team, and every new series, and as you've grown alongside him you've found ways to challenge his self-doubt, but you've also learned to accept that there's only so much you alone can do.

You can debate it and challenge the self-deprecating thoughts all you want, but the voice in his head will always be there, no matter how quiet it occasionally becomes.

So you choose to drop the topic for now.

It's too early in the morning for an impromptu therapy session anyway.

You turn back around and scan the countertops until your eyes latch onto the container of pre-workout tucked away in the corner, nearly hidden amidst the mountain of vitamin and nutrient supplements.

“I thought it was part of Benny’s job to make sure you didn't have to use all this shit,” you comment, picking through the jars and eyeing them each with unapologetic distaste.

Logan reaches over your shoulder and plucks a packet of vitamin C tablets from your hand, “Sometimes these just work better.”

“Yeah, maybe if you don’t have a nutritionist being paid to quite literally curate a diet specifically to ensure that you don’t need to use these,” you gesture widely to the assembled mass of supplements. “But, last I checked, dear brother of mine, you do have a nutritionist— and a very good one at that— who would be horrified to learn you’re substituting real fruit for…” you squint down at the nutritional label of another one of the jars, but there’s very little that you recognize amidst the scientific jargon and long, five-syllable words, “little gummies that taste like fruit.”

He huffs, “Get your pre-workout or I'm leaving without you.”

“You wouldn't dare leave without me,” you grumble.

“I've done it before and I'll do it again,” he snipes, giving a brief yank on your ponytail and cackling when you swat behind yourself in futility.

There’s more he isn’t saying— there always is, nowadays— but you recognize the deflection for what it is. You want to claw him apart with questions and demand answers that bare every inch of his soul so you understand what he isn’t telling you and why he feels the need to keep it locked away even from you, but you know better than to keep pushing at something Logan clearly doesn’t want to talk about.

It makes you nostalgic for a time in your life when he’d sneak down from the top of the bunk bed after your parents had tucked you away for the night and slip under the covers with you, a well-loved stuffed bear hugged to his chest. He’d curl up beside you and you’d pull the blankets up to your chin and watch him with big, curious eyes until he’d whisper out into the darkness of your shared bedroom what he was worrying about.

More often than not it was a byproduct of a hyperactive imagination still plagued by the fears of childhood. Something about the space beneath your bed and— “What if there’s something down there? And the only way you can see it is by its glowing eyes? But what if it knows when someone is gonna look under the bed, so it closes its eyes so you can’t see the glow?” Or the curtains and— “You have to make sure they cover the whole window because what if you don’t and then something looks inside and it knows I’m not asleep and then it comes inside? I always hold really still and pretend to be asleep even when I’m not if the curtains aren’t closed.”

But sometimes it was about anything and everything else like the fox sitting in the bushes by the bus stop on the way home from school and whether or not it had water to keep it cool in the Florida heat, or the purple glitter pen Mrs. Moore used to grade his spelling test and how the girl sitting next to him had gotten her test graded with the green glitter pen, or— “I forgot my coat in Mr. Garrison’s class yesterday, and you went and got it for me and brought it to the car with you, and I didn’t say thank you, but I always feel bad when I leave my coat behind because what if it has feelings and felt really bad because it thought I was abandoning it, so thank you for getting my coat so it didn’t feel abandoned.”

But that was then and this is now.

You’re both adults, and you live in different apartments on different ends of the city, and you work different jobs that separate you by half the globe at times. There’s no more talk of foxes by bus stops or glitter pens, and certainly no more sentient coats with fears of abandonment.

When you look at Logan now, he isn’t wasting away, and really you owe it to him after you announced out of the blue a week ago that you weren’t just taking a break from competitive riding, but rather taking a break from riding as a whole. He didn’t press you on it then— still hasn’t pressed you on it despite having every right to do so. The least you can do now in return is respect the boundary he’s trying to set.

You mutter a few curses beneath your breath— words your mother would throw a fit over if she could hear you— and feign a scowl, but some of the tension in Logan’s shoulders has released and that's all you can ask for.

“If you leave me behind, I’ll leak a picture of your pathetic kitchen to the tabloids and let everyone tear apart your design choices,” you threaten, digging your knuckles into the tender spot of his arm where bicep meets shoulder and taking pride when he squirms away and beyond reach.

He flips you off. “You’re just jealous I have a cool cactus and you don’t.”

“Hey!” You give a lazy kick in his direction, but he sidesteps it easily with a laugh. “I gave you that cactus!”

“Tomato, tom-ah-to.” He flippantly waves his hand in your direction, laughing again at the indignant squawk you make. “Just hurry up and make your damn drink.”

As he makes his way out of the kitchen, presumably to grab his shoes, you unscrew the lid from the container and reach for the scoop.

Only to find it entirely empty.

“You asshole! There's nothing in here!”

Logan’s cackle echoes from another room.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by logansargeant, daltonsargeant, and 42,451 others

yourusername day 14 without london boy and i have officially succumbed to the boredom and willingly subjected myself to the presence of my arch nemesis (love you logie 🫶)

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logansargeant in my defense, you just showed up

user you could not PAY me to go out in this weather

user as a florida girlie myself, this is my nightmare

↳ user REAL

↳ user genuinely seeing this makes me so glad i live in a place where there’s no snow cuz yea, the view is pretty and all, but not even a gorgeous sunrise would make up for me freezing my ass off and having to wear seven layers just to keep the feeling in my fingers and toes

user i wish the most stressful part of my day was going for a morning run 😔

user calling logan her nemesis is so real i just know that man is a menace

↳ user the f2 clips of him and liam are proof enough

↳ user logan sargeant was a menace back in f3 💀 have you SEEN the prema videos with oscar and fred? bro is diabolical when he wants to be

↳ user i'm so excited for the chaos he'll bring to the grid this year

user the snow man is so cute!!

user “14 days without london boy” OH I AM ILL 😭😭😭

user ok but that view is gorgeousness

↳ user ikr?! winter sunrises are genuinely so pretty

user i’m still so confused as to why she isn’t riding anymore?? can someone pls explain

↳ user to be entirely honest, i’m not sure really what there is to explain. first and foremost, we aren’t owed any sort of explanation as to why she’s decided to take a step back from riding. it could be a personal decision, a career decision, or something else, but whatever it is we aren’t automatically entitled to it just because y/n has previously been very open and vocal about her and london boy’s training. second, she never actually said that she isn’t riding anymore. she said she’s taking a step back from competitive riding to focus on other things, and the “without london boy” part of her caption implies that she hasn’t seen him, but she could just be taking a prolonged break, or she could be focusing on something else that has prevented her from going to see him. but again, none of it is our business and she doesn’t owe us any further explanation to what she meant.

↳ user THIS THIS THIS!! as sad as i am to not have london boy on my feed, y/n is a grown adult with her own private life and we have to respect her decisions!! if or when she chooses to come forward about the specifics of her future plans and goals, then that’s great and i’ll continue to support her endeavors, but for the time being we all just have to be patient

user the selfie logan posted with you on his story was so cute!! 🥰

user she’s a runner she’s a track star

user i’ve missed the twin content!

↳ user me too!! i really hope that her taking a break from competitions (as much as i love london boy) will mean we get to see her actually going to more of logan’s races, especially now that he’ll be in formula 1!!

oscarpiastri if the rumours are to be believed, i look forward to getting to catch up at the races this year

━━ tags: @urfavnoirette @casperlikej @awritingtree @f1-is-lovely-33 @chasing-liberosis @405rry @aquangxl @bellezaycafe @peqch-pie @formulaal @chonkybonky @mess-is-my-aesthetic @flippingmyshit @peachiicherries @spacegirlstuff @myxticmoon @landosgirlxoxo @k-pevensie28 @moonypixel @lewisvinga @81vas @maih23 @thatoneembarrasingmoment @elz-xo @the-navistar-carol

━━ a/n: surprise! i've been working on this for a little while now (i got my wisdom teeth removed yesterday, so the time i've spent recovering has been spent polishing up the last few details for this first part) but here she is! as promised, the newly rewritten and revamped 'he likes my american smile'! i feel like i always say it, but the original genuinely holds such a special place in my heart because it was the first work i ever posted here on tumblr, so i'm really happy to take all that i've learned since then and apply it where i can in this new version. i really hope the changes and development is as loved by you all as it is by me, and that you all enjoy!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #logan sargeant #social media au

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