#and that is also a greeting meaning 'Good to see your pretty old face' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

no-144444 · 3 months ago

Text

the break up of the century - (l.norris, no 4)

----------------

----------------

pairing: lando norris (no.4) x fem! singer! reader

summary: you and lando break up on horrible terms, can a new album and a special performance bring you back together? is that even what you two want?

7.6k + words, brief fade-to-black smut, fluff, mainly angst :)

----------------

You weren’t sure how it happened, one moment you were on stage, the next, you were crying in your dressing room, hating every single thing about your life. Funny how one moment leads into the next, right?

Y/n Y/l/n. Household name at the age of 19. Now, 23. Fans impatiently awaiting your next album, the album you hated, and now on a world tour that is sucking the life from your body.

Sounds like you have it all.

The money, the fame, the clothes, the boys, the voice. It’s all you’ve ever dreamed of. And now it means nothing, because you have it. And it’s nowhere near as good as you wanted it to be.

You’d always been told of the horror stories of fame taking more than it gave, and you always brushed it off with a smile and a ‘that’ll never happen to me’. Low and behold, you’ve had 4 stalkers in 2 years, 3 lawsuits against you from old record companies that dropped you, 2 grammys, and 1 ridiculously public break-up with he-who-shall-not-be-named.

Having it all really means having too much to think about, and too much to deal with. You would’ve preferred to just go to university like all your friends. Be young. Make mistakes. But those were luxuries you took for granted, and now you’re paying the price.

“Y/n?” Sasha, your manager called from outside. “We have the meet and greet.”

And then there was your fans. They were great, obviously, but they were also very hyper teenagers and young adults that paid a lot of money to see you, and it made you feel even worse about not being 100%. At least you’d cut ticket prices down by 50% in meetings, meaning they were much cheaper than any other artist at the moment. At least you could do that for your fans.

You nodded, sniffling as you wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your dress.

“Do you need your makeup touched up?”

“Yes,” you answered, voice hoarse. “How many more shows?”

“This was your 97th. You have 53 left.”

“Fuck!” You groaned. “Fuck this.”

“You have the British Gran Prix tomorrow, you have to make an appearance, alright? I’m sending Maria in to fix your makeup,” Sasha was trying to pity you, but she also had a job to do, which you understood.

“Thanks Sash,” you sighed as Maria came in.

“Hey babe,” she smiled softly, sympathy and pity shown in her eyes.

“Hi,” you sniffled, wiping your last tear away.

“Let’s get you fixed up, yeah?” She started unpacking her bag with all your makeup as you nodded, turning to face her. “You’re amazing. You were so pretty tonight.”

You somehow didn’t scoff in her face. “Thanks.”

“I know you don’t believe me,” she sighed. “I can’t even understand why. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You hiccupped, the tears threatening to pour again as you thought about him.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

Stop thinking about him. You told yourself. He’s in the past.

But he wasn’t in the past, how could he be when he was always on your fucking feed with his new girlfriend. Allison and Lando, what a beautiful couple. More like a bunch of crap. They weren’t real, everyone knew it was just pr, especially considering that she was promoting her new racing movie. You had no idea why they even tried to keep up the charade. They didn’t even look good together.

Alas, they were together, and you weren’t anymore.

And you were going to be reminded of it every single second of the next day.

----------------

You pressed your entry card to the barrier and walked through as cameras flashed and you smiled one of your best fake smiles.

“Y/n!” Oscar smiled, walking up and hugging you. You knew everyone, and you started to feel embarrassed about everything. This was his workplace, and you had to be here to do press and sing a song you didn’t want to sing.

Bullshit.

“Hey Osc,” you smiled, hugging him back.

“You look so wonderful today,” he smiled, taking your hand instead. He led you to the McLaren paddock as you two chatted about tour and races. You asked about Miami, and Oscar answered. “It was the best day of his life- his words!”

“Meeting you was the best day of my life. That’ll never change.”

Oh. I guess it changed.

“How's the tour? It looks amazing!” He cheered as you two entered the paddock. Mechanics and engineers greeting and hugging you as you went through and lied about how ‘amazing’ the tour is.

“Y/n!” Zak cheered. “My favourite girl!”

He pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, and you hugged back. It felt good to be back, and to still have so many people still like you. “Hi Zak.”

“I missed you so much! Please tell me that awful Allison girl is gone and you and Lan are back? She’s driving me crazy,” he scoffed.

“No, I’m just here to do some press with Ferrari,” you chuckled. “But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to come see my favourite CEO.”

He sighed but nodded, knowing that Lando had the board cut you off the ‘influencer list’ when you two broke up. “Well, once you know that you’re my favourite.”

“You’re my favourite too,” you smiled. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Lips are sealed,” he smiled and moved on, going about his various duties. For a moment you looked around the paddock you had known so well and felt your heart ache a little. You loved Lando, you still loved Lando. You loved McLaren, and you loved the people here, yet you didn’t get to see them anymore because of the stupid fucking tour. This tour was ruining your life. You didn’t talk to family, or friends, you and Lando had broken up, you weren’t eating or sleeping, you always felt sick, you were rarely allowed to speak during the day so you could ‘conserve’ your voice for shows.

But the worst part was that nobody noticed.

“He's right y’know,” Oscar smiled. “We all miss you. Even Lando.”

“Lando is with Allison. He has no reason to miss me.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “All they do is fight.”

“So? That’s what Lando and I did for weeks.”

“But it was different. You two were in a bad situation, but you loved each other, so the fights meant something. Allison and Lan are just wrong for each other, they’re fighting to fight.”

You groaned, sitting on the bench and resting your head in your hands. “When did you become a philosopher?”

Oscar laughed, and placed a hand on your back. “I’ve always been this philosophical, you were just too busy to notice.”

“Shut up,” you chuckled, pushing him off.

“All I’m saying is that you should talk to him, that’s all,” he shrugged, walking away from you and further into the paddock.

“Y/n.”

Your head snapped up, so hard it hurt. There he was. Lando. For the first time in months. With Allison. And a dog.

Oh.

“Hi,” you smiled, standing up. It was a puppy, a jack-russell terrier, the kind you’d always wanted. The kind like your childhood dog. Great, now they stole your dog breed. “Nice to see you.”

“I didn’t know you would be here,” he said bluntly. “What are you doing here?”

“Press for Ferrari. Oscar just… brought me in to say hi to everyone. So, hi. And now I’ll take my leave,” you smiled, then started to try and walk off. But Allison clearly had other plans, since she stuck out her hand for a ‘handshake’ that conveniently stopped you from walking off.

“Allison,” she smirked. “And this is Mila.”

You stared blankly at Lando for a moment. Seriously? He’d taken the dog breed and what you’d agreed to be the name of your first child? Give me a break.

“Y/n,” you shook her hand. “And I have to go, bye and good luck today.”

Thank god Ferrari was on the other side of the fucking track.

“Y/n!” Charles cheered, hugging you close. You’d been getting closer with Charles since your split with Lando and his split with his ex had happened within a week of each other. “How are you?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine, tired.”

“I have been seeing the tour, it looks great!” he smiled, pulling back.

“Thanks Charles, it was amazing to see you, but I better go. I have to-”

“Sing the new song? Yes! I can't wait,” he cheered. You mustered up a small smile, and left him alone.

----------------

Sasha came and found you in the bathroom an hour later. “Y/n?” She was frantic, and stressed, so you just decided to give up and show yourself.

“Yeah?”

“It’s time, come on,” she sighed. “I know this is hard-”

“How could you know it’s fucking hard? My entire life is in shambles and I’m supposed to be happy about it because I’m a ‘superstar’ what the fuck does that even mean? My boyfriend broke up with me because of this tour, and I thought I was going to marry him. Isn’t that insane? Isn’t that fucking crazy? And the worst part is, that I can’t even stop if I want to. I’m not allowed to stop. Sasha, how could you ever understand how hard this is for me? I’m 22. I should be in college, having fun. But instead I’m about to sing a song I don’t like or care about, in my ex-boyfriends workplace. Does that sound like fun to you, Sasha?”

Her face was blank, stoic, unmoving. “Let’s go, you have soundcheck.”

You just followed her. Sasha was good at that, good at making you feel small, making you feel like a nuisance. The stage was big, bigger than most of your stadiums, but you didn’t care. You just had to get through it.

“Have you eaten?”

“Feel sick,” you replied. “No thanks.”

Sasha sighed. “You’re going to faint one day.”

“Let’s hope I never wake up,” you replied dryly. Sasha scoffed and walked on, showing you the layout of the stage. You followed and asked questions, getting into ‘work mode’, and warming up your voice as you went along. A small crowd of the driver’s was gathering, even Lando was standing there, front row, just like he used to.

You wanted to punch him, in all honesty. How could someone do that? He had no fucking right to stand there and watch you sing. He should be with Allison.

“Start when you’re ready,” Sasha called and you nodded.

The music started, and you were off. When the music started, you became someone else. You were moving around, laughing with your band, smiling. It was nice. Even if you hated the tour, you felt free on stage. Even if the song was sad.

‘Champagne problems’, you’d written it right after your break up with Lando, it was new, and it had just been released. It had become the top of the charts in 15 countries. It would be on your next album,

‘What if it doesn’t get easier like everybody says?’, and it was your most raw album. It was clearly all about your break up with Lando, there was no denying that.

The song ended and the entire track clapped. You stopped moving when you spotted Lando’s parents, and you realised very quickly that you had to get out of there.

You ran to the Ferrari hospitality, did some promos for your next album with them, and suddenly it was time to sing for real. The stands were full, the microphone was on, and the spotlight was on you.

“Hi everyone,” you smiled, and the crowd erupted in cheering. “How are we feeling today?”

You had worn a short red dress, for Ferrari, and it was sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine. Everyone could see how beautiful you looked. Your hair perfectly styled, your makeup flawless, your beautiful face.

Lando was entranced.

You started singing and you sounded like an angel, truely. Lando had always thought you sounded otherworldly. He knew it was about him. He knew he’d fucked up. He knew he missed you. He knew it was too late, and that was the worst part.

“Thank you so much for coming out and listening to my dumb sad song,” you chuckled as the crowd cheered. “But I have something else for you,” you were cut off by excited fans. I have something just a little bit happier, it’s called ‘Lover’. Please enjoy!”

Lando watched you as you danced around the stage, and he felt something dark growing in his stomach. You weren’t talking about him. It was someone new. You were seeing someone new.

You couldn’t be seeing someone new, you’d been in a new city every few days. You couldn’t make it work with him, you were never on your phone, so it couldn’t be online. How did this happen?

You finished your song, and you left the stage. You fell into a chair and passed out. Maybe not eating was a bad idea? Probably.

“Y/n,” Sasha shook you awake. “Someone’s here to see you.”

“I feel like shit-”

“We all do. Let’s go.”

And you followed. Because you had to. What else were you supposed to do but follow? Was this your life now? Taking orders and following them.

“Now, you have to be nice to everyone, even Lando and Allison, alright?” she turned to you, stopping in front of the door.

“I really don’t feel well,” you tried to protest. “Can I grab something to eat first?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’ll be 15 minutes, you’ll survive,” she sighed, opened the door, and pushed you into the room.

The drivers and their partners all cheered, happy to see you back in the paddock.

“Y/n! I missed you so much!” Carmen immediately pulled you into a hug.

“I missed you too,” you smiled, even if it was forced. You needed to sit down, you needed a drink, and you needed to be alone.

“Some pretty amazing songs!” George cheered, patting you on the back.

“Thanks George,” you smiled. Soon you were all sitting on the various couches and chatting, even if you didn’t speak. Lando’s eyes were glued to his hands as Allison’s eyes were glued to you. She was practically sitting on him, on the verge of straddling him if you looked in their direction again. She didn’t know it, but you were looking at the door behind them, wondering when you’d be called. It had surpassed the 15 minute mark, and you felt yourself getting more and more faint as time went on.

“Y/n?” Allison cut across Daniel chatting to you about your latest show in Manchester, remembering a story of the two of you when you were there, and telling it to the group. “How’s the tour going?”

You cleared your throat. “Well, thanks,” you smiled shyly.

“So the rumours that you haven’t been performing to your full capabilities aren't true? Like I’ve heard you’ve been lip syncing,” she smirked as the rest of the drivers and wags just looked at her with disgust. Oscar rolled his eyes. He’d been sick of her for weeks, and he was usually quite good with people he didn’t like, but he hated her. So did Lily.

You gulped. “I don’t lip sync, but obviously 97 shows in 113 days is quite a lot for my voice, so I don’t always sing my super vocally- challenging songs every night or else I’d have to go on vocal rest all the time,” you explained, feeling the change in energy in the room.

“And that would just be horrible, right guys?” She turned to Lando with a smirk on her face, but he was just looking down, embarrassed by her. “I’m a huge fan of your music, how much of it is about Lando?-”

“What the fuck?” George stood up with Carmen by his side. “Allison, what is your problem with her?”

“It’s just a question!” Allison defended as Lando got up and left. She looked a lot less imposing with Lando gone. “He’s my boyfriend now!”

“Yeah, we wish he wasn’t,” Lewis said under his breath.

“Guys, it’s fine,” you just wanted to leave. “Some of my songs are, because I like to put my feelings into music, right? But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself. Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well.”

With that, you got up and left. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care if Sasha screamed at you, you didn’t care if they all came running after you.

It was done. You and Lando were over. Was it your choice? No. Was it a choice you had to deal with? Yes. His choice. Yet, everyone had looked to you for answers. ‘What happened?’ ‘Was it going downhill?’ or your personal favourite; ‘Did he get bored?’.

You didn’t know. All you knew was that one moment, you were with him, and the next you weren’t.

You ran to your dressing room and lay down, eating some random snacks you found. You felt better after eating, you felt-

Knock knock.

“Come in!” You called, not caring much about who it was.

“Hi,” Lando’s voice was small and quiet.

You sat up, staring at him.

“Beautiful songs,” he smiled softly. “Missed hearing you sing.”

You nodded. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks,” he sighed. “I'm sorry about Allison, she’s the fucking worst.”

You chuckled softly. “I’m sorry you’re dating her.”

He cracked a soft smile, then it fell. “Who’s the new lucky guy for you?” He watched as your face fell.

“No… no new guy, just an old one I wrote back at the start of… us…” you trailed off.

His heart was shattering, watching you be treated like this. Watching from afar as you lost your mind, lost your life, over a fucking tour. He saw the soulless look in your eyes, the dropped weight, the dampened smiles, all of it. He was shocked that other people couldn’t see it too. He’d regretted breaking up with you since the moment he did it. He was haunted by the way you begged him to stay, and he questioned how he’d ever said no to you. How was he so blind-sighted? How did he not see how much pressure you were under? How did he not see that he was what was keeping you above ground?

“Oh,” he breathed out.

You took a deep breath. “I’m releasing an album soon, and a lot of the songs are about our relationship,” you explained hesitantly. “I wanted to offer you a chance to listen to it before it goes out, just as a… heads-up? In case you’re worried about what’s on it.”

God, punching him square in the face would hurt less than watching you feel awkward around him. He cleared his throat. “Oh umm…yeah. I’d like that. Thank you.”

You nodded and got up, taking a cd out of your backpack. “Here you go. Sorry again, about… everything.”

“I’m sorry too,” he nodded. “So, are you leaving now or…?”

“No, I’m holding the chequered flag today, so I’ll be up at race control,” you explained, trying to look anywhere other than him. “And I’m handing off the 1st place trophy.”

“Maybe I’ll be first to see you,” he chuckled.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

“The tour looks… awful. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he spoke after a minute’s silence.

You just shrugged. “Not your fault,” you lied.

He knew this was when he was meant to leave, but he wasn’t sure when you two would be in the same room again. He didn’t know when he’d see you again, so he took a moment to fully take you in. “You were really incredible today. You sounded like an-”

“Angel? Thanks Lando, see you soon,” you nodded, finishing the compliment you always used to get from him. He nodded and left, realising he had no more time.

When the door closed you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. How could he do that? How could he stand there and be nice to you, after what he said that night? After what he fucking put you through?

----------------

Weeks of complaining from him, blaming you for his performance in races, telling you that you needed to be there for him, not calling you back, not texting back, not listening when you told him about how awful everything was going.

“I’m sorry Lan, I know how hard this is. It’s hard for me too-”

“How the fuck can you say that? You’re the one who choose to do this, you fucking decided to tear us apart! This is all your fault, and you’re telling me it’s ‘hard’ for you. What is hard for you? Spending all your time with adoring fans? Being on stage and living your dreams? Being away from me?”

“Lan, you know better than anyone that I didn’t want this tour to happen,” you cried. Even then, even 48 shows in, you were being driven crazy. You were exhausted, you missed home, and you missed Lando. “I had no choice-”

“You had every fucking choice! And don’t give me that fucking bullshit about your label forcing you, we both know that’s a fucking lie!” he shouted. You hated it when he shouted, when anyone shouted. He had no fucking right to speak to you like that. You didn’t want this to happen, you had no say, you just had a contract and an incompetent lawyer to thank.

“I don’t know what you want me to say to that,” you shrugged, your voice breaking. “I love you, and I miss you. We can make this work Lan, I just need time to figure it out, alright? I just need time-”

“Yeah? Well I’ve given you all the time I have to give. We’re done, I bet I could find a million girls just like you, girls who would actually take my feelings into account before she made huge life decisions!” he scoffed.

“Lando, please don’t do this. I-I don’t know what- I- Lan please, I need you,” you pleaded. “I’m trying my best I swear-”

“Your best isn’t good enough.”

And he hung up.

----------------

The fallout of your relationship didn’t exactly go great either. A day later your feed was flooded with pictures of Lando out with someone else. One day later.

What the fuck? Didn’t he care? Didn’t he love you?

Well, apparently not.

----------------

Lando knew he wouldn’t see you again for months. This was his only fucking chance to speak to you, to see you, and instead, he stayed in his driver’s room listening to the heart-wrentching songs you’d written about him. God, if he thought ‘champagne problems’ was devastating, ‘cowboy like me’ was worse. It was a long album, almost 2 hours long. It spanned your entire relationship, starting out, your first date, your grammy win, his podiums, the hate you two got, the start of the fighting, the end of the relationship, and the after. It was awful reliving it from your perspective, especially since you had tried to tell him, and every time he’d pick a fight.

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice came from outside his door. “Allison’s looking for you.”

“Tell her to piss off!”

“You can do that, mate,” he scoffed and walked off, into his own driver’s room.

“Lan?” Her voice rang out, and he wanted to scream. He had put himself in this position, he knew it, but it was still difficult to fully self-actualise his own shortcomings.

“What?” he groaned, opening the door.

“The other girls are excluding me,” she pouted.

“I wonder why,” Lando rolled his eyes. “They love Y/n.”

Her face fell into a frown. “But you love me, so they should love me. They keep going off to find her and talk to her, and any time I try to tell them that I’m uncomfortable around her, they tell me not to come.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he sighed.

“Talk to their boyfriends, ask them to include me!”

“Babe, I have a fucking race today, please leave me alone,” he sighed. He pushed past her to walk to the paddock, knowing he just had to keep his head down and race today, he just had to do the one thing he was good at.

“Well, what am I supposed to do for the rest of the day?”

“I don’t know,” he grunted, and moved on. The garage was somehow too loud yet not loud enough to drown out the negative thoughts in his head. Recent months had been difficult. Races were taking more and more out of him, he was lonely, and if he wasn’t training or racing, he was looking at old photos of you or watching the tour. He could see how you deflated as you left the stage, how upset you looked going on stage. It was all a terrible reminder of how selfish he’d been. How hadn’t he seen it? Why didn’t he listen?

He remembered telling Max what had happened. He’d gotten so angry, begging him to call you back and apologise. He’d been so blindsighted, he wouldn’t listen to Max. Why was Max always right?

“You good?” Oscar asked, a hand on his shoulder to drag him out of his thousand-yard stare.

Lando sighed. “Good,” he lied, and it wasn’t convincing. Everyone knew what you were to him. You grounded him, you knew him, every single part of him. You loved him. “You?”

“Good. Y/n’s set was great earlier,” he offered a small smile. “At least you have a good break-up album, right?”

Lando cracked a small smile. Oscar was good at that, making him laugh when he was down. “Yeah, it feels great when it’s about you.”

Oscar chuckled. “Story for the grandkids,” he shrugged. “Don’t sweat it.”

Lando nodded.

“Oh yeah,” Oscar added. “When you left, Allison asked Y/n what songs were about you, so just… expect that conversation with her, I guess? I’m not entirely sure what’ll happen-”

“What did Y/n say?”

Oscar swallowed. “Something like; ‘some of my songs are, ‘cause I like to put my emotions into music. But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself’.”

Lando nodded, and could tell by the look on Oscar’s face that he was holding something back. “That’s it?”

“‘Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well’,” Oscar finished. “Then she left.”

Lando nodded as the weight on his chest got heavier. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course,” Oscar offered a pity-smile and walked off to his side of the garage.

Lando was always a person to be stuck inside his own head. He wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. He didn’t know how to talk about them. Yet, you always knew how to get him to talk. You always had the right solution, the right thing to say, the right face to make. He was in awe of you, so effortlessly perfect.

He remembered back to Greece, back in the off-season, before the tour, before the season started. Before he fucked everything up.

----------------

You smiled as he pulled you closer. The air was anything but cold, and the water was still. There you two sat, sitting on the bow of the as the sun set. The clear water beneath the yacht you’d been on for the past few days was calm and steady, lulling you both into an unmistakable tiredness. Yte, Lando wanted to stay up, wanting to soak up as much time with you as he could. He was going to miss you so much this season. You hadn’t ever been to every race in a season, you were a busy person, he understood that. He was a busy person too. But you’d go to as many races as possible. Now, ‘as many races as possible’ means about 4. Stupid tour.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your eyes closed as you soaked in the moment. You leant against his chest as you lay in his arms, your favourite place to be.

“How much I’ll miss you this year,” he admitted. There was never any point in lying to you, you always knew.

You pressed a kiss to his arm. “I’ll miss you too.”

You were straight forward with things, he loved that. It was a bad situation. You were off to a tour you didn’t want to do, and he was off to another season.

“I love you,” he confessed. He said it a lot, but it always felt special. He made you feel special. You made him feel special.

“I love you,” you opened your eyes, a smile on your lips. You spoke again after a few moments of silence. “You’re going to win a race this season, I can tell.”

He chuckled. “Once I get back home to you, I don’t care if I win.”

You laughed. “Sure, we all believe you.”

He smiled. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You looked at him for a moment, that perfect, soft smile on your face. “Ditto,” you laughed as he did too. Your laugh was melodic, his favourite sound.

“Who says ‘ditto’ to that?!” he laughed.

“I do,” you chuckled.

You two locked eyes for a moment, then he leant down and pressed his lips to yours, soft and sweet.

The perfect night.

----------------

He caught a glance of your red dress walking into the garage.

“Y/n!” The engineers cheered. He heard your laughter.

The room was a collection of cheers and conversation, and he wanted more than anything to be able to walk over to you and hold you, and kiss you, and tell everyone to leave you alone because you were his girlfriend, not theirs.

You walked in with a smile on your face. That smile dropped in half a second. Everyone was talking, everyone was patting you on the back, everyone was looking at you. You caught a glance of Lando and immediately felt the pit in your stomach grow. Everyone knew everything, everyone looked at you. Everyone blamed you. Oscar wrapped his arm around you and walked you through the garage as he saw you getting overwhelmed. He’d learnt the signs from his little sisters. Blown out pupils, teary eyes, tight features, heavy breathing. Oscar had always been a great friend to you, he’d always cared for you. He brought you through, doing most of the talking if anyone stopped you two and let you in his driver’s room, promising to grab you when you could leave without being bombarded by crew, or the press.

Lando followed behind after a few minutes, then knocked on the door. He knew how to calm you down, he was probably the only person who did.

Oscar opened the door looking panicked. “She’s having a panic attack,” he whispered.

Lando nodded and walked in, taking your hand in his as you hid your face in your other hand. He knelt beside you on the floor as you sat on the bed. “It’s me baby, I’m right here. Come on, squeeze my hand,” he said, voice steady. You didn’t. “You need to start breathing properly, squeeze my hand like I’m squeezing yours,” He put some light pressure on your hand, which jump-started you into squeezing his hand as hard as you could. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. You hated how well he knew you. You wanted him to not know you, to not understand you and your body better than you did. “Just like that,” he cooed. He pressed your hand to his chest, where you could feel his steady and calm breathing, feel his regular heartbeat. It was in stark contrast to you. The thump of your own heartbeat in your ears, the quick breathing, the erratic heart. “Breathe with me. Please baby,” his voice was soft and comforting. You tried, gently slowing your breathing down to normal. The adrenaline was still rushing through your body as you calmed down. Oscar offered you a water bottle and you let go of Lando’s hand to take it.

“I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry,” you said, sounding smaller than ever. “Zak said he wanted to see me after my set. I should’ve just said no.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Oscar placed a hand on your shoulder. “Seriously.”

“We want you here,” Lando added. The air was sucked from the room. “I want you here.”

“You don’t,” you refuted. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Lando sighed. “Let me walk you back to Ferrari, please?”

You shook your head, finally looking up and making eye contact with him. “You and I both know how that’ll go.”

Lando nodded, his heart breaking for the thousandth time. It’s hard to find an end to something you never want to let go of. “Ok,” he whispered, his emotions getting the better of him.

“Goodbye Lando,” you sighed, then took Oscar’s arm and let him lead you back to Ferrari.

----------------

“I’m sorry about Lando,” Oscar sighed as you two walked up to the entrance to Ferrari. “About the break up, now, and basically everything in between. He’s been… difficult recently. He’s always been a ‘glass half empty’ kind of guy I guess… I just… you made him better, y’know?”

You chuckled sadly. “Thank you for apologising, but you don’t have to. Lando is an adult, so am I. Things just… end sometimes. Him and I just aren’t meant to be.”

Oscar cocked an eyebrow. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Oscar had never been this straightforward with you, and he sure as hell had never broached this topic before. You just nodded and took his hand. “Thanks for helping me.”

And then you walked back to Ferrari.

Oscar did get one thing right, Lando wasn’t done with you. Maybe it was seeing you again, maybe it was the album, maybe it was Allison, maybe it was all of it, he didn’t know. But what he did know was that he was still in love with you. He’d never stopped. How could he? He missed everything about you, your lips, your smile, your kindness, the way you’d make him laugh, the way you’d make him smile. Everything. He missed listening to you sing, seeing you on a stage that you wanted to be on. Seeing you get to be you.

----------------

The Silverstone after-party with Charles who dragged you along. You’d thought it would be a bad idea, but when you were already 8 shots deep, you didn’t really notice. Yuki had pulled you away to sing a karaoke duet with him as Pierre and Charles laughed at you both, and you somehow ended up outside on the balcony with Carlos, both of you laughing at something random.

“Y/n!” Lando cheered, clearly as drunk as you. A part of you had forgotten about everything before this moment, like you were seeing him for the first time. Perfect, with his curls, unbuttoned shirt, and damn pretty smile. “I didn’t know you were here!”

“Lan!” you cheered, pulling him in for a hug. Carlos gave you both a very confused look, but was called away by Charles for a game of beer pong. Surprisingly, these ‘fancy’ parties usually just turned into something out of a frat house in Florida. Maybe it was just Logan’s presence. “How are you?” You slurred.

“I feel great!” he shouted. “We should go for a walk!”

“Yes!” you agreed.

----------------

And that’s how you ended up back in his hotel room making out with him on his bed as he pulled your dress off. Funny how things can happen when you’re actually 18 shots deep, not 8. Oops?

“So pretty,” he murmured into your neck as he settled you on his lap. “So pretty for me.”

You laughed into his mouth, pulling back. “Lan, speed up.”

He smirked at you, his eyes heavy, then pressed his lips to yours again. He fully pulled your dress off of you as you started making quick work of his belt and trousers.

“Fuck me,” you whispered in his ear and he let out a low moan. “Please Lan.”

He didn’t waste time.

----------------

You woke up the next morning with a blinding headache, and a very naked Lando Norris beside you. You had to leave. You’d just fucked him, and he had a girlfriend. You were a homewrecker. You didn’t know if the sudden urge to vomit came up because of that, or the 18 shots of straight vodka you did the night before.

You quickly grabbed your clothes, shoes, one of his hoodies, and tried to salvage whatever dignity you had left, then made a swift exit. It was still dark out and you were just praying that you could get through the 2 blocks you had to walk to your hotel without running into someone, or running into cameras. You quickly dialled Sasha’s number and tried to stop yourself from crying. You just pray you two used protection, or fell asleep before doing anything real.

“Morning?” she answered groggily.

“Sasha I did something really fucking stupid,” you admitted, the tears welling up in your eyes as you walked into the lobby of your hotel. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“Come to my room, we’ll sort it out,” she sighed. “You’ll be ok kiddo, I promise.”

----------------

You knocked on her hotel room door, tears in your eyes.

“It’s 5 am,” she stated, opening the door.

You rushed in, bursting into tears. “I think I fucked Lando, I mean- I-I think we fucked, last night- we were so drunk a-and then I don’t re-remember,” you hiccuped. “I’m so fucking stupid!”

She put a hand on your shoulder, sighing. “That was a very stupid thing to do,” she nodded. “But it’s not the end of the world. Did you use protection?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll go get Plan B, you stay here. Get changed into some pyjamas. Get some water, relax. Just don’t leave the hotel, yeah?”

“Alright,” you agreed. She left for the door. “Sash?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you said in a small voice. She offered you a pitying smile, and went on her way.

----------------

Months passed and you both went on with your lives. He didn’t reach out, you didn’t either. Sadly, you were in fact a homewrecker. A week after ‘the incident’ Allison and Lando broke up. You truthfully felt so ashamed and awful for the girl. It wasn’t right what you two had done, and truly, you were insanely drunk. In no world would you fuck Lando Norris sober.

The tour had finally ended, and your world was no longer turned upside down. You were working on new music, healing your body after all the travel and abuse you put it through, and continuing to try and get over Lando.

It hurt like a bitch. He hurt like a bitch.

----------------

Lando two-wins. Contender in the Championship. Supposedly dating someone. Last Lap Lando.

Lonely Lando, more like. Max Fewtrell had decided to stage an intervention and join him for the rest of the races, worried about his mental state. Since seeing you again, he’d been… less than alright. He’d talk about you all the time, stalk your instagram (to the point that Max took his phone off of him in Greece), and generally just think about you a lot. It was coming up to the album drop, and you were having your launch party in Italy. The same weekend as the race. All because Charles wanted to come.

Shit was bound to go down, and no one was more excited than Hallie.

You were dressed to the nines, nervous and excited. You’d fired half of your team, you’d dropped your old label, and you’d become… happier? That couldn’t be right, not when you felt the oppressive weight of your own regret on your chest everyday. Not when you woke up reaching for Lando. Not when you watched every single race and couldn’t look away until he was safely across that damn finish line.

You were surviving. That’s the best you could do.

----------------

“You look beautiful,” Charles smiled as he walked into the party. The night had gone off without a hitch so far. A select group of fans, influencers, celebrities, and almost all the drivers were mingling with one another, and not one sighting of Lando Norris. Not that you didn’t miss his face, or him in general. You did. More than you’d ever thought possible to miss someone.

“Thanks Charles,” you smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You look great too.”

He smiled and beside him, Alexandria smiled at you, then pulled you into a hug. You continued the superficial chatting for a few moments, just hoping Charles wouldn’t ask the dreaded question.

He looked at you for a second too long, and you knew it was coming. “Are you alright?” God, why did he have to ask stupid fucking questions? Obviously you weren’t alright. Obviously, if you could, you would run away. Obviously, you were drowning.

Didn’t he see that? Didn’t anyone notice? Didn’t anyone care?

Apparently not.

You nodded, putting on your best fake smile. “Just nervous.”

He nodded. It was enough to fool him.

The night went on in a flurry of uncomfortable small talk, ridiculous requests from your most esteemed guests, and it was finally time to start listening to the album. You stood on stage, a nervous smile on your face as everyone looked at David, your producer, who was speaking in length about how proud of the record he was, and how proud he was of you. Everything was perfect. Everything was right in the world.

But, of course, because he had to always be the centre of your universe, Lando walked in.

And you were fucked. Every single breathing technique you’d learnt, every single pressure point tapping you’d done, it all left your head. Everything stopped. You stopped breathing. You stopped.

But it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel bad to have him there. It felt awfully, and soul-crushingly, right. Lando was always meant to be there, a devastating realisation that you didn’t exactly want to make while on stage in front of 200 people.

“Any words, Y/n?” David asked, passing you the mic.

You looked at Lando and he smiled, waving at you. You smiled back.

“Please enjoy this album, it’s from a very important time of my life where I finally learnt what it meant to be in love, and be loved wholly in return. Obviously, it didn’t end very well, and that’s when I learnt what grieving someone was. I still have a lot of love for him, probably more than I should. But I have it. And I had nowhere to put it, so I put it to music, which is really the only thing I think I’ll ever truly understand. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you understand it,” You explained to the crowd. You watched Lando the entire time, looking at how his eyes lit up when you talked about your relationship. Lando had always cared about you. He always would.

The opening cords of the first song started playing, and the attention was off of you. The crowd just closed their eyes and listened. You exited the stage and joined the crowd, desperately trying to get out of there. You stood on the balcony as the music blasted inside. People danced along, sang along as they started learning the words, and you stayed outside, tears falling.

“You’re beautiful,” Lando’s whisper made you jump. You turned to see him, standing there behind you. “The album’s beautiful.”

You scoffed. “The album’s an album. What was beautiful was us,” you sighed. “Thank you for coming.”

He nodded, leaning against the barrier beside you. “Do you even wish our lives weren’t as complicated as they are?”

You chuckled. “More than anything.”

“We were beautiful,” he shook his head, trying to remember why he ever ruined the best thing in his life. “If you ever find yourself wanting to love me again, just… call me?”

You nodded, looking at him. “I will.”

He nodded, putting his hand on your shoulder and letting it sit there for a split-second, just to remind him of what it was like to touch you. Just to remind himself that once, he didn’t have to wonder if you loved him, to remind him of the unwavering support you gave him, to remind him of how his whole world came crashing down when he made you leave it. “I love you,” he whispered before walking to the door.

His phone started ringing in his pocket as he got back inside. Unknown number. He answered it.

“I think I want to love you again,” he could hear your smile through the phone and he immediately whipped around, his smile growing as he got closer to you. When he stood in front of you again, you both took the phones down and smiled at each other.

Lando didn’t waste time. He closed the gap between you two in one simple stride, wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to yours. “I love you so much,” he pulled back. “I’m never letting you go again.”

----------------

landonorris

1,488,928 likes | liked by oscarpiastri, y/ny/l/n, and others

love of my life. @ y/ny/l/n

comments

user28: WHAT THE FUCK THEY BROKE UP MONTHS AGO THO????-> user92: they were seen kissing at her launch party

y/ny/l/n: who's that pretty girl? -> oscarpiastri: she's too good for him -> landonorris: >:( -> oscarpiastri: hurt her again and I push you off the track. ->carlossainz: I second this -> charleslecerc: I third this -> alexalbon: I fourth this -> georgerussell: I fifth this.

georgerussell: Trying to beat me with no shirt?

lewishamilton: Yay! (I begged her not to take you back you asshole). -> pierregasly: Yay! (I'm trying to be supportive of her).

lilymhe: fuck off. ->user83: LMAO -> user18: DAMN EVERYONE HATES HIM

danielriccardo: HAHAHAHAHAH (I'm crying.)

----------------

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

#lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #formula 1 #mclaren #lando norris x reader angst #ln4 #lando x reader #f1 2024

1K notes · View notes

jj-one · 8 months ago

Text

9:20 AM.

Jungkook (your boyfriend) knew exactly how to make you feel good, only he knew how to please your body.

pairing: bf!Jungkook x gf!reader genre/tags: smut, fluff, teasing, dom!jungkook x sub!reader, marking, jungkook has a tongue piercing, fingering, oral (f. receiving), mentions of crying (from pleasure), female orgasm words: 1.2k

**old repost from my deleted blog

You were excited for your boyfriend to come back home from his morning jog. You woke up after he did and he left the cutest little handwritten note on the refrigerator. It said on the note that he went out for his morning jog and is heading to the market after to pick a few things up for tonight’s dinner. You smile at his note and thought it was so sweet how he could’ve just sent a simple text but wanted to go the extra mile by handwriting a note for you. Deciding to do your own thing while he’s gone, you pick a romantic comedy movie to watch on Netflix to pass the time. Patiently waiting for Jungkook to arrive back home, you heard the door suddenly unlock and hurry to get up to go leave out of your room.

“JUNGKOOK!” You shout eagerly, almost pouncing on him once he gets through the door.

“Y/n, my baby girl,” He greets you back with a doting smile, wrapping his arms around your waist, encasing himself into you.

You wasted no time to start kissing him, immediately going in to grab his pretty face with both of your hands, crashing your lips into his. He must’ve been thinking about doing this all day because once you two start making out, he carries you straight into both of your guy’s bedroom and places you gently onto the bed.

Jungkook knew exactly how to make you feel good, only he knew how to please your body. He’d begin by peppering your jaw and neck with a plethora of kisses, leaving a faint trail of hickies behind. He’d also be rubbing your inner thigh with his large hands that always turn you on every time you look at them. The prominent veins on his hands and arms when he flexes just a teensy bit is enough to make you cum in your panties.

“I love you so much,” Jungkook murmurs against your skin, still kissing and sucking on your neck as if he’s a vampire.

“Love you too koo— fuck…” Your response was interrupted by what he was doing to you next. Jungkook’s tattooed hand makes its way down to the tight shorts you were wearing. The shorts were pink and had a cute hello kitty design on them, Jungkook was the one who bought them for you actually. He’s always loved seeing you in the clothes he bought for you over the years, acting like a little kid on Christmas.

Jungkook is rubbing you over your shorts and the friction is driving you absolutely insane. You can just feel how wet you’re becoming, the juices from your heat start to overflow; seeping through your panties and he feels you throbbing on his fingers. He’s got a sinister look on his face and you already know that means you’re in for something amazing to make your morning.

“Sheesh baby, look how wet your pussy’s getting…” Jungkook looks in awe, hissing at the sight of a giant wet spot forming in your panties after he took off your tight skimpy shorts.

Jungkook begins caressing, kissing, and licking your lower body, touching every curve and crevice of you, not missing a single spot. His touch is so gentle, so warm, so inviting. His tongue rolls along the inside of your thigh, the steel metal of his tongue piercing feels cold but the sensation tingles down your spine. Flinching from the action he performed, he notices straight away, eyebrows raised in a sudden stir of confusion.

“You okay baby?” He asks softly before continuing, wanting to make sure nothing he did hurt you.

“Y-yes, just feeling a little sensitive that’s all…” You say quietly.

You feel him smile against your soft flesh, planting more wet kisses against yours thighs and laid his head there for a while to feel your warmth.

“I could be like this all day y’know?” He basks in your presence, speaking in a mumbled tone, half his face still buried in your thighs.

“I know koo.”

Jungkook raises his head a tiny bit just to face your clothed pussy again. He couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot, bringing his face—specifically his nose, closer to you to get a whiff of your sweet aroma. He practically buries his nose into your panties and drags it down your slit.

“You smell so good..” He was intoxicated by your scent, loving the natural, but fragrant essence.

He licks a stripe to your clothed core, making you moan out loud and bring your hand to latch onto his fluffy hair. You love to play with it and make it a mess of his hair after he’s done giving you the best head of your life.

“You taste really good too babe,” Jungkook couldn’t get enough of you, he was literally drunk off your pussy.

You were so desperate for him to take your panties off as you were starting to make more of a sticky mess in them but he seemed to be enjoying it more that way. He wanted to prolong the action of coming into contact with your bare pussy. He wanted to tease you so much until you were begging for him to touch your clit. You wanted nothing but his tongue against your wet folds right now.

“J-jungkook…” You mutter so lowly, he almost couldn’t hear you.

“Hmm, what’s my name baby?” He asks while still teasing your entrance, now sliding one of his fingers inside your floral panties.

“Jungkook!” You moan louder this time, feeling somewhat better that you’re almost getting to where you want to be.

“Want you to scream my name for hours, can you do that for me babydoll?” He asks in a serious tone, pushing his finger in and out of your soaked cunt.

You nod submissively, “o-okay daddy..” arching your back against the bed from the amazing feeling, Jungkook knows exactly how to use his fingers on you.

He kept fingering you harder and deeper until you look him in the eyes and visibly start to tear up from all the pleasure he’s giving you. It’s so good but so unbearable at the same time. He made you feel like you were in heaven, crying out his name, just saying “Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook” on repeat whilst he’s finger fucking you. He’s scissoring your tight hole from the inside out and your juices were now running so far down your legs. You were super close to your orgasm and he could tell by the contorted face you were making.

“Jungkook… Jungkook.. fuck I’m gonna cum!” You scream for him, eyes rolling to the back of your head and your vision was going insanely blurry.

“Yeah baby that’s it, just relax…cum for daddy,” Jungkook coaxes you through it, encouraging you to reach your high but still adding slight pressure to your clit. You couldn’t take it anymore, just letting go and being in eternal bliss as you reached your climax. You moaned his name a couple more times and he called you his good girl for cumming when he told you to. You went back to making out and he was now massaging your boobs.

“You’re really horny today, huh?” You ask Jungkook, stifling a giggle at his overly naughty behavior.

“The real question should be when am I not horny whenever I’m with you y/n..” Jungkook shamelessly admits, grabbing your face once again to kiss you harder.

At least you can say you don’t have issues with satisfying your man in the bedroom !

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook drabbles #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #jungkook x female reader #jungkook imagines #jungkook x f reader #jungkook fic #bts x reader #bts x fem!reader

2K notes · View notes

mrderondncefloor · 3 months ago

Text

“anything? that right?”

old!logan howlett x f!reader

summary: you end up in logan’s shop with an oil leak and can’t afford to pay him

wc: 2.3k (i’m in hell the brain rot is BAAAAD)

authors note: plot is very cliche like ik eat me. while writing this i took a break and got an edit of logan to tulsa jesus freak. yes i’ve lost my sanity. also i don’t know shit about shit with cars so yea

warnings/tags: MDNI. dubcon. unspecified age gap. logan is a little mean?? reader has no description besides hair long enough for logan to grab, wearing short skirt. logan grabs readers face. hair pulling. big dick logan (canon). pussy pronouns. spanking. throat fucking. degrading. tears. dirty talk. pet names. daddy kink. fingering. aggressive sex. unprotected sex (wrap it up). cream pie. orgasm denial.

your type doesn’t frequent this place, the auto shop on the edge of a town that’s seen better days. most of logan’s customers he’s had for years, he’d grown used to the faces that come through the shop, greeting people on a first name basis at this point in his career. like hell did he ever expect you. you, who stood behind him when he’s hunched down, working beneath the hood of a truck. he didn’t hear you coming, the radio on his workbench drowning out the sound of your footsteps. “shit,” he hissed, peeling back from the piece of shit he’d spent his afternoon working away at, white beater stained with oil and god knows what else. he paused abruptly when he finally noticed you, drawing in a slow breath. if he didn’t have enough on his plate, here you are. a pretty, young thing. in the thick of the summer you’re hardly dressed in much at all, a little top and a short skirt. “ain’t hear you come in,” the clear of his throat echoes off the walls as he walked towards his bench, wiping his hands with a greased up towel. “can i do for you?” his teeth clamp down on the toothpick stuck out his mouth, an oral fixation to try and keep his mind off smoking while on the job. it hardly worked for shit, nicotine always in the back of his mind. the radio gradually softens, pair of glasses pulled onto the bridge of his nose. “think i have an oil leak?” you sound unsure of it, logan nods, scribbling it down onto a forum he kept for his records. “bring ‘er in. take a look,” his boots thud quietly across the floor, walking past you to pull open the garage door. the wiring had gone out a couple months ago and he’s yet to get around to fixing it, muscles straining as he pulled the door up an over his head. he watched you pull your car in, sighing as you stepped back out. “well.. ain’t even have to look. engine sounds like shit, definitely a leak. i’ll pop underneath anyway, see f’somethin’s loose or if it’s a crack.” he nodded, wheeling his creeper out from beneath the bench with his foot. he tries not to groan as he sunk to the floor, his body too old for this shit. he pushes himself up underneath the car, brow knit in a tight furrow as he took a look around to access the problem. “oil pan has a crack, s’pretty fuckin’ bad. i can change it out for you, take me an hour.. hour an a half at most.” he nods, sat upright, an elbow propped against his bent knee. your expression flashes with annoyance and he thought to himself that you looked like a fucking brat, but god damn did you wear it so well. he fights back with the corner of his lips that threatens to tug up.

logan gathered up what he needed, not paying you any mind as you’re left with not much other choice but to sit and wait for him to finish on your car. dressed like this he figured you had better places to be, but he didn’t give a fuck. you came to him, and the way he saw it was your choices were limited to accepting the help and learning some patience or ruining your car. he’s good at the work he does, it’s why he has so many loyal customers, why he’s been in business so long. he could’ve given you some grief for the look you gave him when he told you about the wait- and he still might. “she’s good as new.” he nodded, sliding out from beneath the car with your cracked oil pan. his chest is slick with sweat, glistening under the dull lighting. he brushed his dirty hands against the thighs of his jeans as he stood, tossing your old cracked pan into the trash as he approached his work bench again, quickly jotting down the work that he’d done. “s’goin’ to be.. nine hundred fifty three. s’for the replacement, fresh oil and that god damn look you gave me earlier.” he nods, dropping the clipboard onto the desk. “take cash or card.” his arms cross over his broad torso, forehead creasing as his brow sunk in. “this is a joke, right?” you ask, scoffing out a laugh as you look up at him though his expression doesn’t let up, unamused. “do i look like m’makin’ a fuckin’ joke, sweetheart?” his jaw is clamped tight, his tone flat, serious. “you can’t charge me for a look?” “i can charge you whatever the hell i feel like. i had other shit goin’ on.. could’ve made you wait a hell of a lot longer.” you scoff out in disbelief at him, shaking your head. “i don’t have nine hundred dollars.” you finally admit and logan’s head dropped forward, a low chuckle coming from his lips. when you didn’t pull out a card he knew this shit was going happen. he saw right through you. “alright so.. let me get this straight, sweetheart. you came here for me to look at your car knowin’ you didn’t have the god damn money to pay for it? is that right?” he lacks sympathy for you, pretty as you were you had another thing coming if you thought you were going to pull a fast one on him. “i might be old, girl, but i ain’t no fuckin’ fool. i tell you what.. no money, no fuckin’ keys.” his voice is low, your keys dangled around his finger and he shoves them down into his pocket. he walks away from you, too god damn angry to be stood in front of you, having wasted enough time on you already. “please, you don’t understand.. i need my car. i can pay you what i have right now and bring you the rest next week, please.” you beg, coming up behind him where he’s hunched over again beneath the hood of someone else’s vehicle, the same one he’d been working on when you arrived. “ain’t my god damn problem.” he muttered, biceps flexing beneath his tanned skin as he tightened a bolt in place. “i’ll do anything.” you plea again and logan slowly stops what he’s doing, looking down at the truck battery he was working at. he sighed loudly, recomposing himself as he peeled back from the truck, walking towards the garage door. he reached up, muscles flexing across his back as he pulled the door shut, closing off the inside of his shop from the street view.

“anything? that right?” he’s standing before you now, looking down at your shorter frame. “anything.”* you repeat in a whisper. he drew in a slow, deep breath as your palm slid over the front of his dirty jeans, stepping closer into you until you’re tucked between him and the truck. he groans when your squeeze your palm around him through the denim, your lips curling up to a sinisterly sweet smile when you tug at his belt. he grabs your face hard, lips puffed out slightly when he pulled you in for a kiss. it’s sloppy, his tongue lapping across your lips before dipping into your mouth, an anger filled hunger. he’s pissed off, but you’re pretty enough that he’d be willing to accept your throat as some sort of payment. he looks down at you as you pull back from his kiss, sinking to your knees. he appreciates that you had no issue getting to the point. “i reckon you must’ve been thinkin’ about this the entire time, sweetheart.” logan mused as you grabbed his cock out from inside his jeans, moaning at the sight of him. “bet you ain’t ever seen a cock that big huh, girl?” the palm of his hand pets against the back of your head as you stroke him slowly, his shaft filling out your small palm. “hands behind your back.” he nods slowly, gathering your hair into his fist, holding the back of your head with a tight grasp. he taps the weight of his cock against your tongue before he lays his base flat against you, slowly pulling his hips back as your warm tongue licked over the veins that protrude from tightened foreskin. “nice an wide.” he mutters, feeding the head of his cock into your mouth, a grunt parting his lips when he brushed the back of your throat. god damn. “you’re goin’ to sit here and take it like a champ. reckon you ought’a think about havin’ my god damn money next time. stupid girl.” he warned you before his hips draw back and roll forward, pushing the length of his cock down the curve of your throat. it’s lewd, the repeated squelch of your throat as he pushes himself inside again and again. “should’a known you’d be this big of a slut when i saw you. cute little fuckin’ outfit, barely wearin’ anythin’ at all. just knew how to get an old man goin’.” he grunts, unbothered by the tears that have begun to roll over your cheeks. he’s selfish, using your throat to his advantage, balls slapping the underside of your chin. the cute outfit you’d turned up in ruined by your own slop of saliva as it dribbled out the corners of your mouth. “good fuckin’ girl. payin’ off every fuckin’ dollar.” his skin is slick with sweat, head lulling back against his shoulders, blinded by the dull white light above him. your throat is exactly what he needed at the end of a shitty week, and he had no shame in taking out his stress on you, sure you wouldn’t be forgetting him anytime soon.

when he finally lets up you choke out a cough, spit strung between his soaked cock and your mouth, breathing hard as you look up at him with watery eyes. still, you come chasing for more, hands sat on his denim clad thighs as you licked your tongue along his cock, gasping in a breath of air before you took him back into your throat, craving the feeling once more. “fuck’n hell.. look at you. must really need that god damn car, huh?” his fingers move into your hair again, yanking your mouth back off his cock so he could pull you up from the floor. “ain’t that right, princess? you’d do anythin’ for those keys back, huh?” “yes, daddy.” you choke out and what patience logan had left snaps, swiftly turning you around by the hold he has on your hair. he lifts the skirt up over the swell of your ass, palm of his hand roughly swatting against. you. once, twice, three times. your cheeks are stained red as your legs tremble, impatiently waiting for him to give you more. “let me see ‘er.” logan nods, bent over you and he pulled your panties to the side, spreading your cheeks so he had a perfect view of both holes, your pussy slick with your own arousal.

“you like gettin’ treated like a slut.” he acknowledged, spitting against his fingers before he brings them to your pussy, fingertips swirling your clit before he pressed two long fingers into your core, free hand wrapped around your throat. he stroked his fingers slowly at first but gained speed as your arousal coated him, making it easier for him to plunge his fingers into your tight hole, biceps flexing with each stroke of his fingers, feeling out the warmth of your walls, infatuated with the way your pussy sucks his fingers back in. he grins at the gasp you take in when he replaces his fingers with the head of his cock, pushing yourself up straighter as he sunk himself deep into your pussy. “daddy,” you softly grab at the hand he has around the middle of your throat, moaning as his chest presses up against your back. “you ever been stretched out this good before?” he asks beside your ear, breathing out a quiet laugh when you shake your head no. he grabs your face again, pulling your lips back to his when he fucks into you, hard strokes that press your hips against the grill of the truck, sure to leave you with bruises in days following. he swallows the moans you cry out, roughly driving his hips into yours. he’s unrelenting, giving himself to you hard the way you deserve it, the way you so evidently love it. it’s been a long god damn time since he had pussy this good, and fuck was he obsessed with yours, cursing himself for fixing the troubles your car had given you instead of giving you the run around to keep you coming back for more. hell, with the way you’re fucking yourself back onto his cock you just might anyway. “you’re going to make me cum, daddy,” you choke out, and he grabs at your hips, pulling him deeper into your sopping cunt. “that right? this ain’t even about you, princess. this was for me, remember? who says you’re allowed to cum?” he is brow furrows, getting a rise out of the way you while beneath him, small hands grabbing at the truck. “please, i know it’s not about me but please let me cum, daddy.” you whine, legs trembling beneath you, threatening to cave under your weight. he doesn’t respond, just fucking into your stretched core while you beg him to cum again and again. he ignored you until he spilled first, filling you with thick ropes of his cum, hips flush against yours so you take every drop deep inside. “you want to cum now, sweetheart?” he asked and you nod, rocking your hips back against him as your chase your own high.

needless to say, logan was more than willing to return your keys. and you.. well you might purposefully pop a tire soon.

#logan howlett x you #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett #xmen x reader #xmen smut #GRRRR #old!logan #deadpool and wolverine

499 notes · View notes

bamsywrites · 2 months ago

Text

And Comes Dawn.

Pairing: sauron/halbrand x reader, more pairings in the future to be tagged

Summary: In all beings, there exists darkness. when the deciver finds one who seems to defy this, he becomes obsessed with finding it within her. and if he can't find it, he will ruin her himself.

Tags/Warnings: clichés abound, opposites attract, sauron being evil but also hot but also evil, no use of y/n. This is pretty barebones. There's not much to tag, I don't think.

Notes: there was a lot of interest in this when I made a post. This is not super duper long and a Lil choppy but I wanna see what people think. Lemme know if you like it. If I should continue it. I have a lot of ideas. It's all written and edited on my phone so I'm sorry if it looks bad or mistakes were made.

Series Masterlist

The wind from the sea felt nice on his face. After so many years spent as nothing more than mud and slime, it was nice to feel. Feel anything. Freedom, independence, revenge. His plan to create order and heal the world would come to fruition. Being stuck on a ship with these men was worth that price. They were like bugs. If he wanted to, he could squash them and feel nothing. Though there was one who spoke to him kindly as a mentor would, and there was the ever so slight stirring of emotions he presumed were long dead. The old man was enough to make him question what it was he desired. Did he want to be good? Did he want a fresh start? What about his plans? The desire for order was there, the want to heal the world and bring peace, but would he get that through evil, through deceit and violence? Or could that be obtained another way? He continued to stare over the vast ocean as the wheels in his head turned, and he waged a war inside himself.

"It's beautiful, is it not?" A voice broke through the silence of the night.

He turned sharply, greeted by the image of a young woman. You were beautiful. He noticed it right away. Never had he looked at a human and thought they were beautiful. The thought was usually reserved for elves, but you were different. He could tell just by looking. You were soft, gentle, pure. There was a light to you that permeated all of your features.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude. We have more food tonight than expected, and you had been on your own so long before finding us. I supposed you might be hungry." You held up a bowl for him, which he accepted with a nod.

"Thank you. I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Halbrand."

You smiled softly back at him, giving him your name and taking a few small steps towards him. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

He watched you. It was curious. Everyone here was gruff and rude, not wanting to help a stranger, yet you brought him a bowl of soup instead of keeping it for yourself. He watched as you looked up at the stars and how they were reflected back in your eyes. Humans didn't often intrigue him, but you did.

He leaned back against the railing of the boat with his arms crossed, but before he could speak to ask his question, you spoke.

"The stars are beautiful, aren't they? The light against the immense darkness. It reminds us that there is light in all things. Even in the darkest of times, there is hope."

"Your people were just slaughtered by orcs. You're on the run. Hope in the stars seems pretty useless." His eyes watched you with keen interest.

"Hope is never useless. Without it, all is lost." The earnestness in your voice further fueled his curiosity.

"And what do you hope for in times like this?"

"A new start. A place to start fresh..."

"Yes," he interrupted, "That is what all hope for, but what do you hope a new place or fresh start will do? What do you want from it?"

"I want a safe place to lay my head. I want to live without shame. I want fresh air and to grow my food and I want music and I want laughter. I want to drink tea with my friends. I want to love and feel the wind on my face. I want happiness. I want peace." You smiled and closed your eyes as you pictured this serene future.

He watched you, his brows furrowed. You were odd, but he wasn't sure if that was a bad thing as of yet.

"You have a lot of this hope. It's almost oozing out of you. I can almost taste it." He took a step towards you. "As if there is no evil out there."

"There is evil, yes, but there is good. Do we despair because there is evil or have hope because there is good? I do not think there is truly anything that is created evil. Evil is only when the good is taken from someone, and if you're able to take it, then it's able to be taken back." Your eyes had opened, and you looked up at him.

"I doubt you'd believe that if you knew the evil I'd done."

"Thousands of years ago, the people of the southlands sided with Morgoth. Our ancestors fought alongside the most evil being to ever exist. Most would say that the things our people did were deplorable and worthy of the worst shame. But I look upon my home, I look upon the people I have grown with, and I do not see evil. The people here, I am but a stranger to them. I have yet to meet most of them, but they took me in, as they did you. If my ancestors were evil, they could not have created such good."

“Whatever evil you did, it can be forgiven. You can do good, be good.” You moved closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. The feeling brought a sense of warmth that he had not felt since before he joined Morgoth, when he went by a different name. His eyes traveled down to where your hand rested, and you dropped it back to your side. He'd found himself missing the feeling.

"Your ancestors did do evil, though. They did plenty of evil things. Just as I have."

"Did they do evil out of the desire to be evil? Or did they do evil to protect those they loved? Were they born that way, destined to be only evil? Were you made evil? Or was it thrust upon you in a moment of hopelessness? Does every being have the capability to do both good and evil?"

He was left stunned at what you said, it took longer than usual for him to come up with a response. He wet his lips, looking over the ocean for a moment before looking at you once more. Your hair was gently blowing in the breeze of the ocean and he found the sight captivating. His intuition told him you were telling the truth, that you believed the words you were saying with your whole being. How could that be? There had to be some darkness that motivated you, that tainted your soul.

Everyone had darkness.

His mind played over the interaction long after it had happened. He wanted to feel that warmth again. You were a puzzle, a mystery. He would not know peace until he figured out what darkness was inside you because surely there had to be something. It was one of the many things that plagued his mind late at night. He watched as you slept peacefully. You were rows and rows down from him, but he could zoom in on your form. He watched your chest rise and fall, the calm of your features. You were a mystery that he had to solve.

This was what was on his mind when the worm attacked. He needed to know you. Even now, he watched as you attempted to help an elderly woman stuck under a beam instead of rushing to safety yourself. He couldn't bring himself to save the old man, but his fingers wrapped around the relic, and as water rushed the ship, he lept over and shielded your body with his.

He couldn't let you die. He had to understand you, to know you, to find out what motivated you, he would find your inner darkness.

And if he couldn't, he'd ruin you instead.

#halbrand x reader #sauron x reader #halbrand x oc #sauron x oc #rings of power x reader #rings of power fanfiction #trop fanfiction #trop x reader #lotr x reader #lotr fanfic #lord of the rings x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #///mine #And Comes Dawn.

257 notes · View notes

daycourtofficial · 1 year ago

Text

The Shadows Want You to be Happy

Summary: Azriel’s shadows overhear a conversation where you doubt Azriel’s true intentions, and they urge him to rectify the situation.

Author’s note: this is just pure fluff baby! Pure unadulterated fluff. Go to the dentist! Also I didn’t proofread this, so enjoy at your own caution!

His shadows didn’t mean to spy on you, they promise. They just liked keeping an eye on you at all times.

Azriel had no idea why his shadows seemed to adore you so much - well, he could understand it, because he adored you just as much as his shadows did. But he can’t figure out why - they don’t like being around Elain, but most of the others the shadows just watch.

Not you, though. Whenever you two are in the same room his shadows roam over you, greeting an old friend. If he’s been away for a days on a mission, they spend several minutes swirling around you, seemingly doting on you, like they’re asking “are you okay? Did you eat while we were gone? Did you sleep?”

A few shadows have taken it upon themselves to stay stationed with you at all times. He thinks they have a schedule, out of jealousy and need to share their time with you, but they don’t really tell him too much about what they see. The most they’ll tell him is if you haven’t eaten in a while or that time they told him about you having a cold and not wanting anyone to find out. He spent three days in your apartment with you, feeding you soup and taking care of you.

His shadows absolutely do not tell him the things you say or how you’re feeling, or so he thought. Both of the shadows that were asking as your bodyguards came to him, like little kids with a story to tell.

You were laying on the couch in the library with Feyre, engrossed in your independent books. The two of you do this weekly, enjoying each other’s presence without much social obligation. Sometimes the two of you will talk, but it’s often followed by long, comfortable silences. Just when you thought the silence was going to stay for a while, Feyre spoke up.

“so, sweetie, how are things with you and Azriel?” She asks, closing her book to turn to you.

Your cheeks heat immediately. “Um,” you say, closing your book to turn to her, knowing that she won’t relent until she gets what she wants out of this conversation.

You had kept your feelings for him mostly to yourself, except one drunken night a few weeks ago you had told Feyre about how pretty he was. You thought she might have forgotten about it, but this conversation is telling you she wants more. Thank the mother it wasn’t Rhys or Cas you had told that to - they would have mocked your word choice of “devastatingly pretty” for years.

“Well, we have plans to go out tonight,” you reply, very nervous about opening up to Feyre. She looked at you, her face asking for you to continue. “We’re trying all of the bakeries in Velaris to see who has the best pastries and hot chocolate, so once a week we try a new one and gorge ourselves on baked goods and chocolate.”

Feyre smiled at how absolutely adorable that was. “Are these… dates?” she asks, smiling at how absolutely oblivious the two of you were.

“We call them dates,” you reply.

“Do you two do anything physical? You don’t have to be gratuitous with details, I’m not Mor.” Feyre says, shuddering thinking of Mor grilling you for details on if the two of you have had sex yet.

“Um well the bakeries are usually cozy so we usually are tucked away in a corner, pressed up together. In one of them we had to wait for a table, so he just wrapped his wings around me while we waited.” You told her, grinning at the memory of his body heat.

“Do you two ever kiss?”

You sink a little further into the couch, your cheeks blazing with heat now, your hands covering your face as you say, “yes”.

“Has there been more than kissing?”

Feyre watches the head hiding behind youe hands nod ever so slightly and squeals. She actually squeals.

The people of Velaris love to gossip with her, and when she heard rumors of two of her friends being spotted around town looking very coupley, she decided to investigate. It also doesn’t help that the Inner Circle has a betting pool on when you ans Azriel will get together. Her bet was this week, so she’s doing what she can to win. And because she wants the two of you to be happy. And because Cassian bet that you two would be together next week, and she can’t lose to him, his gloating is atrocious.

“So, you two are together?” She asks, practically bouncing in her seat.

“I’m not sure,” you say, “honestly I’m a little worried that this means more to me than it does to him.” You look down at your hands, “I don’t really do casual dating, and I’m a little worried that this is just a fling to him. It’s really incredible and hot and sweet and all but.” You look around to see if anyone is listening before you whisper, “honestly, it would break my heart if this was just casual for him.”

Feyre was shocked at how sad you looked at the idea of being something casual to Az. She knew the two of you were head over heels for each other, they all knew that, but you looked devastated.

“Sweetie,” she says, trying her best to console you, “there is no way that that male views you or anything to do with you as ‘casual’.“

“Are you sure?” You ask, hesitation lacing your every word.

“Absolutely. He lights up whenever you’re around and I’ve never seen him miss a function you’re at.”

You thank your friend for the reassurances and settle back into your respective books. You knew that Azriel’s shadows often followed you around, even without him being anywhere nearby. He once told you that they find you adorable. However, you didn’t realize that the two who were stationed with you left very quickly after your discussion with Feyre.

The shadows relayed the whole story to him, in part because they, like the inner circle, want the two of you together. But also because they understand that you were upset and Azriel could fix it.

Azriel was more shocked at the insistence from them to make you less upset - usually they are just uninvolved observers, simply passing along information to him, allowing him to draw his own conclusions. The way those shadows spoke to him you’d think that they were in charge of him.

He met you outside of your apartment later that night, dressed in an all black casual outfit. “Ready?” He asks, extending his arm out for you to take. You lock the door behind him, straightening your coat before taking his arm.

The two of you start these dates off by walking through Velaris. Winter has just begun and there’s a light falling of snow covering the two of you.

“What’d you get up to today? I haven’t seen you since breakfast,” he asks you, not-so-subtly reminding you that you were, in fact, his breakfast, before he left your apartment this morning.

“I spent most of the day in the library with Feyre, reading a few books, doing some research. I had to get out of there, the words were all starting to blend together,” you reply, nuzzling into his arm to retain some of his heat, despite his jacket covering his arms.

“Mm, well then I guess you could consider me you’re handsome knight, off to whisk you away for an evening of delicacies in your time of need,” he retorts.

You chuckle and begin to speak, not stopping yourself before blurting, “why are you only like this with me? Don’t get me wrong, I love this side of you, but you only show it to me. Why’s that?”

Azriel stops your walk to stand in front of you, “ignoring your recent declaration of love,” you huff, “I just.. feel different around you.”

The look he’s giving you makes your knees go weak. He’s looking into your eyes with deep, raw honesty, like he wants you to see inside his soul.

“I love my family, despite their best efforts to annoy me into murdering them,” he says. You giggle. “But you’re.. different. The way I feel about you is different. I thought I loved Mor, but I didn’t. I loved the idea of saving her, of being her knight.” He sighs, unbelieving that he’s spilling all of this to you out in public. Luckily the other pedestrians just ignore the two of you, out of kindness or fear of him, he’s not sure. He pulls you into a quiet little alley, in the hopes to retain some privacy.

“It was stupid, but I thought I could save the girl and we’d live happily ever after. Then I met you. When I was a kid, I always wanted someone to come rescue me, and I thought that that was how you fall in love. But it’s not. I didn’t need to save you to love you. After this big revelation about myself, I took some time to really think about what I want. It’s why a few weeks back everyone thought I went to check on the war camps. Well, I did check on them, but I spent most of the time thinking. And I want you, no rescuing required. Though if you’d have me, I’d rescue you from anything. A bad day, my annoying family, the flu, anything. I’m not sure how clear my intentions have been, I figured showing you off around Velaris was enough, but I guess not.”

He paused, a mixture of nerves and intense determination radiating off of him.

“I haven’t thought about another person since I met you. I haven’t even considered looking at anyone else. Rhys has started calling me a puppy, because I follow you around everywhere, and I don’t care. I’ve never been so public with anyone, not giving a damn who sees or what they think, because I want them to know that you’re with me. I want everything you’ll give me.”

You’re stunned. It’s so quiet, you can hear the snow falling. It’s as if the world has gone silent to hear what you’ll say.

“Anything I’ll give you?” You say, a smirk crossing your face, wanting to draw out his confession a bit more.

“Anything.”

“Even if I snore?” You ask.

He laughs, “you don’t snore. You’re actually quite adorable when you’re asleep, hate to break it to you.”

“Hmm,” you say, stroking your finger on your chin, looking quizzical. “Guess you’ll just have to get used to my adorable sleeping, because if you’re accepting it, I’m giving you everything.”

He leans down, capturing your laugh with his lips, his shadows dancing around the two of you in excitement.

He pulls away after several minutes, laughing at the groan coming from your lips, “did you know that the idiots have a bet about us?”

He begins again after seeing your confused face, “If we’re together this week, Feyre wins the betting pool. Next week is Cassian.”

“Oh!” You exclaim, “that’s why she wanted us to be together so badly! Hm, maybe we should let Feyre win, because Cassian would be-

“Unbearable.” You both say in unison.

“When should we tell them? And how?” You ask.

“Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow we can just have sex on the dining room table, that’ll send the message loud and clear.” He says, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

You swat his arm, “no, we’re better than Cassian and Nesta. Maybe we should have a banner made. It’ll say “we had sex!” And point down to us.”

He chuckles, grabbing your arm again and steering you towards the bakery, as the two of you contemplate how to tell your family the news that will make them all so incredibly happy.

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #acotar fanfiction

1K notes · View notes

bleedingoptimism · 1 year ago

Text

Eddie is pacing, going to Tarja’s room and back to the kitchen where she’s sitting with a smile puffing her cute freckled cheeks and kicking her little feet back and forth.

He checks she has everything she needs, clothes, pajamas, scrunchies, and her drawing book. He makes sure he packed her Toothless toothbrush and her plushie. She’s been on a ‘How To Train Your Dragon’ phase for a while now.

He’s not usually that nervous about her leaving to stay at her father’s for the week.

But she’s not usually this excited either.

See, her asshole of a father, has a new boyfriend, and apparently, he’s amazing and Tarja loves him. And she can't wait to spend more time with him.

And Eddie, he’s kind of curious and not jealous. At all. Really. He’s just curious about him, he just can’t understand how his asshole of an ex can be dating someone that’s supposedly nice, funny, and caring. Someone who talks to his kid when she’s upset, picks her up from school on time, and spends time playing around with her outside when she gets the jitters.

Tommy, his ex, is an awful person. He was the worst thing that happened to him and Eddie would’ve loved to never see him again, he just happens to also be attached to be best thing that ever happened to him, his daughter.

A one-night stand that asked him for marriage after he knocked him up, (because his father forced him to, but Eddie found that out on the divorce) that Eddie had only agreed to marry because he was scared he wouldn't be able to afford to take care of a kid alone.

He filed for a divorce so quickly after, that it was almost an annulment. Thankfully, Tommy wasn’t as bad of a parent as he was a husband, determined to be better than his own old man. So Eddie had no problem sharing custody with him. They agreed on a visitation schedule without issues and they have been civil for the last six years.

And then Tommy got a new boyfriend. And Tarja loves him. And Eddie is not jealous. He’s not.

He’s just nervous because he’s coming to pick her up and he’s going to meet him for the first time and finally see what all the fuzz is about.

The doorbell rings and Eddie checks the time and grumbles when he sees he’s pleasantly on time. Tarja jumps off the stool and runs to the entrance, “Steve!” she screams excitedly as she opens the front door.

And Eddie stands there with a little backpack that is also shaped like Toothless as the most gorgeous man he’s ever seen in his life kneels in front of his daughter and hugs her close.

“Hello, little dragon! I missed you!” he greets her and Eddie does not notice how beautiful and melodic his voice is while Steve holds Tarja’s shoulders as she jumps up and down excitedly telling him everything she’s got planned for them to do with a soft smile on his face.

And then Steve looks up and Eddie sees the warmth in his pretty brown-green eyes and he feels like he just missed a step going down the stairs. He smiles dumbly back at him as Steve gets up with Tarja sitting on his waist and extends a hand to him,

“Hi! You must be Eddie! I’ve heard so much about you!” Eddie shakes his hand and gets stuck thinking about how soft they are instead of answering so Steve keeps talking, “Only good things!” he says nervously and Eddie shakes his head and stops thinking about the two moles on Steve’s left cheek and smiles back.

“It’s nice to finally meet you! Tarja won't stop talking about you” He says and hopes it doesn't come out a little bitter.

Steve smiles bashfully and pokes Tarja’s tummy, “Yeah, she’s a little chatterbox isn’t she? I heard she got that from you” he quips.

Eddie frowns about to jokingly act offended but Steve’s eyes go huge and he blushes, “Oh! No I meant that as a good thing! I love it, I love her, I mean-” he stammers and Tarja giggles at his nervousness and Eddie melts a little.

After they exchange information, just in case, Eddie needs to remind himself, and Eddie gives Steve Tarja’s backpack there’s not much more to say so he hugs her kid and kisses her goodbye.

Steve picks her up again, “C'mon let's go,” he tells her and then purses his lips a little, “Tommy is probably waiting” he sighs warily, and oh, that’s interesting.

He waves Eddie goodbye wiggling his fingers cutely and Eddie waves back and closes the door and frowns at it,

“Man… why couldn’t I have Tarja with Steve?”

👉 next part

☕🥐💕?

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #trans eddie munson #just a funny little thing teehee #i wrote something #was naming her tarja because of nightwish a good idea? well see i guess

777 notes · View notes

blingblong55 · 8 months ago

Text

This town -Simon "Ghost" Riley

pic credits: @ave661 (middle and right)

Based on a request: (Its a long as so I'll link it so you can read the anons idea) Link here ---- F!Reader, childhood!friends, hidden feelings, angst, friends to strangers ---- A/N: Songs that also fit: Too Young- Louis Tomlinson, This Town- Niall Horan, Back to the Old House- The Smiths, Always you-Louis Tomlinson

It's a story to tell over at the old pub you and he used to hang around on the weekends. But how can a man begin to tell the sorrowful story? How can he explain in his bruised hands he holds the locket you gave him when you two were kids? He will maybe ask if this was a curse, the only curse an old soul like his has.

It could've been something, it would've been something, it should've been beautiful.

In this world, it was always he and you. Scraping your knees when jumping off the rocks near his home. Playing tag in the street until the moon greeted you and his mother would call his name. It's the kind of beginning all beautiful loves start with. Friends since childhood, went through life together and by 28, he would have proposed to the girl he had loved his whole life, 40s would be of dropping the kids at school, 50s of early retirement and 60s were for the potential grandkids, 70s would've been the stories shared of their early lives.

Would've...what a shit word that became in his life.

In the teenage years, after you had some glow-up, you became the girl everyone knew. The pretty, popular and funny girl the school knew of. He was the friend of the popular girl, the one people barely noticed or cared for. Simon was the same kid who always had a scar or bruise on his face, compliments from his father. One thing Simon hated more than the bastard of his father was the guy you were with. Bloke knows nothing but how to wank and fuck any living thing, he recalls.

Why were you with such a guy? It was a must. Like those cheesy movies where the pretty girl stays with the popular guy, all for the status of each other. Your feelings weren't real for that guy. He wasn't funny, wasn't smart and he wasn't Simon. The boy you shared a kiss with at age 7 because of an accidental bump whilst running through the grass.

It was during a small break between classes that you found him drinking water. You smile. He always did look good, even the stupid bruise on his jaw made him look so good.

"Y/N," he straightens up. "Simon," you smile cheekily. "Oh no, what's that smile for?" He crosses his arms over his chest and you can't help but get lost in his honey eyes. "Well...I was wondering if maybe we can...talk?" You say, unsure of how to word this confession. "Did my mum put you up to this?"

"No, this is...me just wanting to talk."

"Go on," his voice softens. Does he always do this for you?

You hesitate, but what is life without words? You breathe in and say, "I like you...there I said it and... don't stay quiet because you know I get nervous and I will continue to just talk and talk and talk and-"

He cuts you off by saying, "I'm sorry, Y/N, I... don't..think..this..well I just don't feel that way for you. We're friends, nothing more," he ends his part of the conversation, pats your back as he walks away and you are left in the corridor of the school alone.

As Simon walks to his classroom, his heart and mind fight the words that he had just said to you. Why was that mean? Did I even mean to say them? He thinks.

Graduation happens. You and he never talked after that day. Not even a congrats or a hug, life went on without him in your life. Throughout those last months in school, he felt a feeling of regret when he'd see you with that guys arm around you. He would occasionally walk around the old park just to see if you would still go on your daily walks.

By the time he was about to leave town, he found himself at the old house. He heard your parents moved to a new part of town, so if this was the last time he heard of you, it better be on his terms. And as he walks through the pavement, he finds himself looking at your window. He leans over a car, lights a cigarette and just waits to see if maybe you or some ghost roamed the home.

Was it the feeling of losing a friend that hurt or losing his one chance to feel something other than pain and hatred? Maybe it's just nervous, after all, he leaves tomorrow.

You were both just 16, it was puppy love, nothing would've lasted if he reciprocated those feelings, right?

And if it was, why does he feel some kind of hurt as he packs his bags? Why does he want to run to your new home and call your name? Is there a reason why? It's not love, it can't be love, he thinks. I'm not worthy of that, you've heard my dad, he says out loud. "Simon?" Tommy opens the door. "Tommy, not today," he looks back at his bag. "...Fuck" he whispers.

It's been a long nineteen years since he last saw you and heard your precious voice laugh at a cheesy joke of his. Nineteen years and the feeling in his chest is still there when he arrives home. Manchester was always home for him, it was the only place he knew best when he came back.

One day, as he was cleaning his closet, looking for his dog's leash, something fell and hit his head. "What the fu-" he looked down and there it was.

"Why give me this?" A thirteen-year-old Simon asked you. You smile, "You said you wish you could always be near me so you can feel safe...and since I'm going to my nans for the week, have this locket on you, and I swear I'll be there. Keep it safe, okay?" you kiss his forehead before entering the car. He nods and waves, "Call me, Y/N, please!" he calls out and you nod. "Every day!" you scream out as the car drives further away.

A smile falls on his silent lips, "...Y/N..." his thumb caresses the design. Once he opens it, he feels as if he is that young again. "Are you still there, Y/N?" He whispers and then, realisation hits. It was never nerves or whatever bullshit he told himself back then, it was love, always has.

All the dots are connecting. For the past nineteen years, he always had some love or whatever all those hookups and awful relationships were, but never did they stick around. Never did he feel more for them than what he has always felt for you. His cold heart still beating warm when he thinks of you. You are all he has ever known, the smiles, the late-night confessions, stories, the silly inside jokes, the feeling in his chest today.

He hasn't seen you in years, what if you don't remember him? What if when you see him, your heart doesn't call his name when he screams yours? Will you ever even forgive him? Will you wrap your arms around him and call him home like he has called you?

He must find you, so he calls and looks for you in every corner of this place. He finds nothing, just more lost hope at every corner he looks into. His heart and mind excited each other at the thought this would be some sappy romance moment. His mind creating a script, all truths, just finding better words to tell you he loves you, loved you the moment you kissed the similar scar on the knee at the park when he cried over the pain. He's loved you from the day he learned to say your name.

Why does he miss you so much today?

Why must you be the drug his body needs? God does he miss you and your addictive heart.

He has been around the world, where he could've found a good woman who made him happy but no, his heart has always belonged to one girl. You.

By the time he gets the street right, he finds you sitting down and as he smiles and nearly runs to you, he stops when he sees this image of you.

Sitting by the fountain, he sees you and a man. His arms wrap around your body, giving you darling kisses as you chuckle. It was then that Simon Riley knew this was it. He will spend his entire life wandering earth, looking for another soul like yours. You didn't see him of course, your fiance capturing all your attention. Simon was close to not caring and pulling you away from that man, but that would be cruel. And as he tries to make up excuses for this man being near you, he sees the ring.

Oh...oh you fool, he thinks.

His heart is near death. It screams your name, trying to find you so it can keep beating but when you don't whisper, Simon nods and lets his heart die. Let it rot, so it can learn its lesson, he thinks.

It would've never bloomed, Simon and you...right?

It's no use to even go and say hi. The locket that contained your picture was still in his fist. It'll be the last reminder of what was meant to be a life romancing in dark streets through town.

In his head, the home you dreamed of will forever be just a dream. No four kids, no library, no big kitchen so you and he can dance around at midnight. No you...no him...it'll all be stuck and dead in this town.

He crossed rivers, mountains, and enemies and survived wounds soldiers like him get, all to come home to you. And all this was for nothing. In his world, he would've married you, given you chubby babies and late Saturday mornings. No gun, no bomb and no other man would've kept him away from you.

In his mind, he is with you. In his dead heart, he sits by and watches that chubby baby learn to walk. He would've adored seeing you in a white dress, walking to him as he wiped tears away when he d his dream of a perfect life was minutes away from being real.

What a mess he is as he asks for another drink. A mess he never should have been if he had told you that your name is carved all over his body.

It was this town that saw him live and it'll be this town that sees him die because if he can't have you, at least he has this place.

A/N: Remember, I collect tears for potions, so please drop them by for collection, thank you. - The place of tears co.

Tags: @liyanahelena @mangowafflesss @goldenmclaren @ghostslillady @moonsua1 @rvivienner @Krinoid24 @iruzias @frazie99 @idklols @saoirse06 @vampsquerade @Juneonhoth @tiredmetalenthusiast @jinxxangel13 @enarien @Simonssweetgirl @luvecarson @willowaftxn83-87 @ikohniik @nobodys-coffee @strawberrychita @sae1kie @queen-ilmaree @pbcartii @Llelannie @Macnches2 @bbyfimmie @avidreadee123 @talooolaaloolla @skelletonwitch @bittermajesties @Nyx_Flower @honestlyhiswife @who-can-appease-me @ghostwifeyy @konigssultwithghost @kaoyamamegami @beansproutmafia @soapybutt17 @asianbutnotjapanese @a-goose-with-a-knife @foxface013 @sleepyycatt @believeinthefireflies95

245 notes · View notes

sidekick-hero · 10 months ago

Text

Love from the other side

(steddie | rated: M | wc: 6.2k | tags: Vampire Eddie Munson, Nurse Steve Harrington, Mild Gore, Blood Drinking | AO3)

"Steve, we've got a major crash on the Interstate. Multiple vehicles involved. You're on triage duty. Patients will be arriving in five minutes,” Robin, the head nurse in the ER, tells him in a calm voice. She's Steve's best friend, but even he's sometimes surprised at how calm Robin can be in critical situations. He's seen her fret over the prospect of asking out a girl she likes, and her freak-out before her first date with Nancy is now something of a legend between them.

But ask her to handle a crisis and she's cool as a cucumber.

Steve sighs and nods. That means it's going to be a long night. He's already been on for ten hours, two more and he could have gone home to his cat and his warm, soft bed. But they're understaffed as it is, and with so many new patients in unknown condition coming in, he'll be here for at least another five hours. Maybe more.

He makes his way to the triage area of the ER and braces himself for what's to come.

When he finally makes it home, the sun has already risen and he's dead on his feet.

He stumbles through the front door of his apartment and is greeted by Garfield, his tabby cat, who continues to weave through his legs as he takes off his shoes, almost tripping him. He meows pitifully at Steve.

"Yeah, yeah, you poor thing. You'r treated worse here than in a shelter. Warm and cozy and dry with a human to open your tins and feed you."

Garfield meows again, this time more demanding, emphasizing the urgency with which he wants food.

Throwing up his arms, Steve relents. "Fine. Heaven forbid I get to change into something comfortable first."

As soon as he places Garfield's bowl in front of him, Steve is all but forgotten as the cat digs in. "You're welcome," he says to his beloved little freeloader, not expecting a response. He's talking to a cat, after all, but it still helps make the apartment feel less empty.

And there's no one to judge him for it. Not since Robin moved in with Nancy and he had to find a one-bedroom apartment that he could actually afford on his own.

It's not that he begrudges them their happiness, far from it. But coming home to an empty apartment and talking to his cat instead of another human being got old pretty quickly. Worse than that.

It has become lonely.

"Pull yourself together, Steve, and stop whining," he chides himself, still talking out loud.

Steve sighs. He can see himself ending up a hermit with twenty cats who never leaves the house. Deciding it's best to just go to sleep before his thoughts turn any more self-pitying, he bends down to scratch Garfield's head and tells him, "I'm going to bed."

Garfield continues to ignore him as he sips the milk Steve has placed in front of him.

Steve is off for the next two days and spends the time mostly sleeping, doing laundry, and stocking up on food after realizing he didn't even have a slice of toast for breakfast.

He also goes over to Robin and Nance's for dinner, since he's not a hopeless hermit yet. Between the three of them, they go through three bottles of wine and end up swapping stories and inside jokes until his stomach hurts from laughing so hard.

It doesn't make coming back to an empty apartment any easier.

His next shift is another night shift, and it's surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. So far, the worst he has had to deal with is a nasty cut on a drunk frat boy's forehead after the guy fell through a glass door. Steve's still surprised he didn't hurt himself worse. Head wounds bleed like crazy, though, so he looked like he had been attacked by a serial killer when his equally drunk buddies carried him to the emergency room. Seeing that only one deep cut needed stitches, while the other, shallower cuts on his arms and face would be fine on their own, had put Steve in a surprisingly good mood.

So good, in fact, that he carelessly remarked to Carol, the other nurse on duty with him, "Looks like a quiet night for once."

You could have heard a needle drop in the silence that followed his statement, and Carol looked ready to murder him. He had just violated the most important rule in any hospital.

Never, under any circumstances, say the "Q" word.

"Fuck. Oh God, I didn't mean..."

"Too fucking late, Harrington." Carol huffed before stalking off, probably to complain about him to her boyfriend, who was also the hospital director's son.

Less than twenty minutes later, all hell broke loose.

A dance floor at a local club had collapsed, resulting in several dozen serious casualties, all arriving on stretchers, crowding the triage area as Steve worked on autopilot. Assess, prioritize, assist.

In the midst of the chaos, another ambulance arrives and he goes over to talk to the paramedics about taking the patient to St. John's instead because they are at capacity, which really means they were past capacity an hour ago.

One look at the patient tells him there is no time for that,

The man on the gurney was only a few years older than Steve and had a gaping wound on his neck. He was white as a sheet and there was too little blood around a wound that looks like it hit a major artery.

"What the fuck?" He can't help but ask and the paramedic shrugs with a puzzled look on his face.

"I don't know, man. Found him like this and whoever called it in left before we got there."

Rolling their new patient in with hurried steps, Steve wonders if there was anything they could do. The wound needed surgery, and they needed to get blood and other fluids into the man as quickly as possible. Judging by the slow and shallow breathing and the sluggish pulse, his system has already started to shut down.

They lost him before they even got to the operating room. Steve doesn't even hear about it until hours later, when everyone who had been on the dance floor has finally been taken care of and a bone-deep exhaustion replaces the adrenaline-fueled energy in his body. He's not proud of it, but he's too tired to spare the news more than a brief burst of sadness.

Over the next weeks, seven more patients with gaping neck wounds come into the ER while Steve’s on shift, all drained of too much blood to make it past the first ten minutes under their care.

Whispers about a killer roaming the streets of Hawkins have started circulating as the number of victims rises steadily and Steve has started to sleep with a baseball bat under his bed. Just in case.

It’s early Tuesday night, four hours into his twelve hours shift, when another one comes in, this time a young girl around Steve’s age with long strawberry blonde hair and a pretty face. On her neck Steve can make out a gaping wound, just like the others had shown.

But this one is bleeding, profusely.

And the girl is awake, looking up at Steve with wide, terrified eyes.

“Hey, you’re safe, it’s gonna be okay, we’re going to take care of you,” he reassures her over and over as they make their way inside, ushering her to get surgery immediately. When he gives her his warmest reassuring smile she even tries her best to smile back.

Steve hopes she makes it.

She does. Against all odds, considering that the last two dozen victims with similar injuries have all died, she makes it.

Her name is Chrissy Cunningham, and when Steve reads the name on her file, he remembers her. She was a year behind him, a cheerleader. They never really talked much, but he remembers that she was kind and talked to him after everyone else on the team and the cheerleading squad had stopped doing so.

He's glad that she survived, and he promises himself that he will check in on her as soon as his shift is over.

If it hadn't been Chrissy, if it hadn't been someone he knew, he probably never would have met Eddie.

At the end of one of those weird in-between shifts at four in the morning, Steve changes into a pair of sweatpants and his favorite hoodie before heading over to the observatory area where they had to put Chrissy for now because a whole wing of the building is under construction due to some asbestos in the walls. She's already in stable condition, only needing fluids and antibiotics because they have no idea what bit her, so they're letting her sleep it off for now and hopefully find a room to put her in the next day.

The halls of the hospital are quiet at this time of night, especially outside the ER, and it's almost eerie. It feels like no one is here but Steve and the thought makes him shiver. All this serial killer talk is really getting to him, he thinks.

Reaching the area separated only by screens, he sees a figure standing by her bed. He can't make out much, but it appears to be a man, judging by his height, and he's leaning over the bed, talking softly to Chrissy. The man, if it is one, but the deep timber of his voice makes Steve think it is, is not wearing scrubs, but jeans and a hoodie, and Steve is pretty sure he's not hospital staff.

Suddenly, he remembers that something - or someone - must have inflicted the injury on Chrissy's neck.

"Hey, who are you, and what are you doing here?" he shouts as he runs over to the bed, and the figure turns to face him.

It is a man, with wide, dark eyes in a pale face framed by equally dark, messy curls.

"Shit, shit, shit," the man curses and bolts, moving faster than should be humanly possible. One moment he's staring at Steve like a deer in the headlights with his big bambi eyes, the next his shoulder slams into Steve, knocking him to the ground as the mysterious figure disappears from view.

He pushes himself upright and rises from the ground with a determined effort, because even though the guy doesn't look like it, it feels like he's been hit by a brick wall. When he regains his footing, he shakes off the impact and makes his way over to Chrissy to check on her.

She's awake, but too weak to sit up, though she tries.

"Shh, hey, don't strain yourself Chrissy, it's all right, he's gone. You're safe," he reassures her, a hand on her shoulder to keep her from moving too much and aggravating her wound.

"No," she says, her voice barely above a whisper, shaking her head slightly. Just when he wants to reiterate that yes, he's really gone, she continues. "He's safe. He saved me."

"What?" Steve asks, taken aback by her statement. He can tell that even the few words she has spoken have taken a toll on her, draining what little strength she has regained, but he can't help it, he needs to know what she means.

"He...saved me. Pulled him...off. Off me. Would have...killed..." she trails off, her eyelids fluttering shut and Steve lets her be.

Pulling up a chair, he sits down next to her to keep watch, just in case her savior decides to come back.

The next day Chrissy is more lucid. She's also in her own room and has already given a statement to the police when Steve comes in for his shift.

It doesn't matter though, he still has to ask her what happened, needs to know who the strange man was who continued to haunt Steve's dreams after he came home sometime in the early morning.

"I don't know who he is, Steve. He just showed up while Jason...while he," she is visibly shaken by having to remember the events of last night and Steve thinks he should tell her that it's okay, she doesn't have to tell him. But he doesn't. It feels like she needs to say it as much as he needs to hear it.

Steeling herself and taking a deep breath, Chrissy continues, "While Jason was biting me. Mauled me, really. I think he would have torn my throat out if this man had not shown up. He slammed into Jason, ripped him off of me, and they both went down. There was a struggle, I could hear it, but everything hurt so much I couldn't move my head. It went on for a while, I don't know how long. Time was really weird. And then the guy was looking down at me, telling me to stay still, that he was going to call an ambulance, and that I just had to hang in there. He pressed something against my neck and it hurt so much, but the pain kept me there, y'know? So I wouldn't float away and never come back. He told me to stay with him and I did. Until we heard the ambulance. Then he told me he was sorry, but he had to go. And then he was gone and the paramedics took me away."

Chrissy looks very pale after telling her story, the dark rings under her eyes more pronounced than when he first entered the room. But before he can let her rest, he has one more question.

"What was he doing here?"

To Steve's surprise, the question makes Chrissy smile. "An apology, because this is no way for a lady to be left in the lurch."

Steve has no idea what to do with this information, so he just takes Chrissy's hand and squeezes it gently.

"You'll be out of here in no time, Chrissy. We will take good care of you, I promise."

"I know. Thanks, Steve."

He turns and walks away, leaving her to get back to sleep, knowing that it will be a long time before he will be able to do the same.

What the fuck is going on?

They find Jason Carver, or what is left of him, the next day. It's all over the news. No one knows why he attacked his girlfriend or who killed him. The reports leave out a lot of the gruesome details, just saying that he was torn to pieces when they found him.

Steve, of course, can't let that be all. He has to know what happened, so after his shift he sneaks down to the morgue to take a look at what is left of Jason, a guy he only knew in passing, since Steve had already left the school when Jason became captain of the basketball team, taking Steve's old position.

What he finds is a body that is badly mangled, just like the news said. There are deep wounds, chunks of flesh missing, his right arm torn from his shoulder. Though it's hard to swallow, it's not the first time Steve has seen a body destroyed almost beyond recognition. What makes him recoil from the dead man in front of him is the fact that Jason Carver's body is already decomposing as if he'd been dead for several days, maybe weeks, instead of not even 48 hours.

Steve leaves the morgue even more confused - and frightened - and heads home with the image of Jason's tattered, rotting body burned into his eyelids.

Over the next three weeks Steve sees four more victims with the same torn throats and bloodless bodies. None of them can be saved like they saved Chrissy.

He doesn’t see the mysterious man again.

It's late June when Steve's life changes forever.

The sun has only set an hour ago and the air is still warm as he walks home from his shift. Robin and Nance's car broke down the day before, and they live on the outskirts of town, so Steve gave them his car until theirs is fixed in a few days. The weather is nice and he doesn't mind walking the three miles to his apartment.

He's almost home, maybe ten minutes away, when he hears someone whistle.

There's a man standing at the entrance to an alley a few feet ahead of him, and since he's the only one around, Steve assumes it must be him whistling at Steve. The guy is hot, there is no way around it, about Steve's height with an athletic build and a haircut that reminds him of the 80's, his blond hair styled into a mullet.

"What's a pretty guy like you doing out here all alone?" The man asks as he gives Steve a slow look. It's supposed to be seductive, Steve thinks, but it just comes off as sleazy. Which is a shame, because the guy has a pretty face, long lashes, full lips, delicate features. Steve's also going through a bit of a dry spell lately, but he's not desperate enough to hook up with a slimy sleazeball like that.

"None of your business, really," he replies, walking a little faster than before. Something doesn't feel right, he thinks, feeling the hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

"Aww, don't be like that, sweet thing. I just wanna talk, I swear." Steve is almost past the guy when their eyes meet and he feels himself freeze. "Why don't you come closer so I can smell you better?"

Even as he thinks, "What the hell is wrong with this guy?" he feels his body turn toward him and his feet propel him forward. He feels himself panic, but it's a distant thing, like an itch under his skin that he can't reach no matter how hard he scratches.

When he's in front of the stranger, so close that their chests almost touch, the man leans in and sniffs Steve's neck like a dog at a slab of meat. He hums deep in his chest and Steve feels the wet touch of his tongue against his skin. It's enough of a shock that he can get his body to react, to fight back, but it's no use. The moment he moves, the man growls menacingly at him.

With his feet still rooted to the ground, Steve feels like he's underwater, his senses dulled and his limbs heavy, weighed down by the tons of water around him. He fights it with all his strength and it takes all he's got to put his hands on the man's chest and push him away.

It's not even close to a hard push, but the man clearly didn't expect Steve to fight back at all, so he stumbles back a bit anyway. Unfortunately for Steve, it only makes him angrier.

"Looks like you got some fight in you after all. Too bad I don't like my food to fight back," he snarls, and before Steve knows what's happening he feels his back slam into the wall behind him, darkness surrounding them on all sides.

He struggles against the hands holding him down, but it's no use, their grip steely and unyielding.

The once pretty face has turned into something twisted and ugly, a grotesque imitation of a human face, and when the thing in front of him opens its mouth, all Steve sees are teeth. Long, sharp teeth.

Steve screams, but not a sound comes out of its mouth.

As those teeth sink into his neck, the face of the man who saved Chrissy's life pops unbidden into his mind. Steve has seen it in his dreams more than once, and it's strangely comforting to think of it now, in what Steve is sure will be his last minutes alive. As if this is all a fucked up dream and Chrissy's mysterious savior will come for him, too.

White hot pain races through his body from where the thing that looked like a man sunk its teeth into him and it's only that pain that makes him believe what he sees next.

One moment he's in mind-numbing agony, almost wishing for death to come and end his suffering, and the next the oppressive weight of that thing is gone, its teeth no longer in Steve. With nothing holding him up, he crumples to the ground, his head dazed and his body shaking like a leaf.

To his right he hears the sounds of a viscous battle. Growls and snarls, flesh hitting flesh, flesh hitting brick, the sound of bones snapping. He's too weak to even turn his head, and part of him is glad for that.

The fight seems to go on forever and Steve feels himself slipping in and out of consciousness. His heart has stopped pounding and his pulse has slowed to about 60 beats per minute, which is good. Not too slow, his system is still going strong. It was cardiac arrest after immense blood loss that had killed the other victims, but so far that doesn't seem to be Steve's fate.

At least not if the wound on his neck that is still slowly bleeding is taken care of soon.

He doesn't dare press his undoubtedly dirty palm against it yet. Hell, he's not even sure if he can lift his hand that far. But something has to be done about the bleeding, sooner rather than later.

As if his savior had heard his thoughts, there is a final, stomach-churning sound of flesh and bone ripping, followed by silence, the fight finally over.

And then there he is, as if his mind had conjured him, the man who saved Chrissy. The man with the big brown doe eyes and the pale skin and the messy curls. There's blood on his face now, and... other things Steve doesn't want to think about.

Steve is safe now, he feels it deep in his soul. He doesn't know how he can know that, how he can trust a complete stranger to keep him safe, but he does. His eyelids flutter shut, the tension finally draining from him completely.

A cool hand on his cheek and a warm, deep voice, tinged with what sounds like fear, pull him back.

"Hey, no, no, no. Steve, you need to stay here with me, okay? Stay with me, sweetheart."

"You know my name," Steve mumbles, fighting the heavy rocks that weigh down his eyelids as he looks at the pretty face in front of him. His eyes dip lower and there's more blood on the man, his clothes torn and his skin exposed. "You're hurt."

"You're very observant, Stevie. Come on, we gotta get you to the hospital. You'll be as good as new in no time." He smiles at Steve and Steve is helpless not to smile back. There's the tease of a dimple forming in his cheek and Steve lifts his hand with Herculean effort to touch it. When the man notices the gesture, the dimple forms fully, deep and alluring. A cold hand catches his before it reaches its target and Steve whines in protest.

The man chuckles fondly. "Here, lemme help you," he says, bringing Steve's hand to his face, the dimple still waiting for Steve to touch it. The skin is soft under his hands and cold too, like it's a winter night and not the end of June.

"I'm gonna pick you up now, Stevie. It's faster than waiting for an ambulance. Just close your eyes and we'll be there before you know it."

Steve feels himself lifted from the ground into strong arms and instinctively turns his head into the man's chest, enjoying the vibration of his soft laughter at the gesture against his cheek.

Then they're moving, and fast. One second he wonders how someone covered in blood and other unspeakable things can smell so good, and the next the lights of the hospital burn bright and painful in his blurry eyes.

"He needs help, now," he hears the man say to someone, his voice firm and demanding. It makes Steve shiver in his arms. And then he's placed on a gurney and his savior leaves with the whisper of cold lips on Steve's forehead.

It's only much later, when he's recovered enough to form coherent thoughts, that Steve realizes two things.

He doesn't even know the name of the man who saved him.

He never heard a heartbeat as his head was pressed against the man's chest.

Steve is released two days later and Robin insists that he stay with her and Nancy for a while. There's really no arguing with his best friend when she's got something on her mind, so he doesn't even try. He's too tired anyway.

His sleep is shit, plagued by nightmares of sharp teeth and blood and bodies being torn to pieces.

He also dreams of the mysterious man, and while these dreams aren't nightmares, they're still confusing, even unsettling, because they leave him feeling hollow. Like he has lost something. Which is ridiculous, the man was never his, he doesn't even know his name.

As he spends the next week at Robin and Nancy's, being pampered and doted on, he has no idea how close he is to learning the name of his savior. That and much more.

After finally convincing his best friend that he can manage on his own, that he needs to go home, that Garfield misses him even with Robin or Nancy stopping by to feed him, it is both daunting and a relief to see Robin's car drive away from where he stands in front of his apartment building.

The nightmares haven't stopped, and he admits that the prospect of being alone in his apartment scares him, but he can't live on his best friend's couch forever. Besides, even there, the nightmares would wake him up shaking and panting, waking Robin and Nancy more than once in the middle of the night. Alone in his apartment, he won't wake anyone with his whimpering and screaming.

Garfield is already waiting for him when he comes through the door, weaving through his legs and meowing at him. Surprised at how much he missed the tabby menace, Steve leans down and takes him in his arms, burying his face in the soft fur.

"Hey baby, sorry for leaving you alone for so long. But Aunt Robbie told me that she and Nancy took good care of you, playing with you and petting you. Probably spoiled you rotten, huh?"

Garfield meows again and pushes his head under Steve's chin, rubbing against him and purring like crazy. Steve smiles into his fur, thinking that he's glad to be home, even if it's still empty except for the purring cat in his arms.

He puts Garfield back down and makes him something to eat before heading to his bathroom to take a long, hot shower and change into something more comfortable. When he pushes open the door and steps inside, he is too stunned by the sight that greets him for any real reaction other than a sharp intake of breath.

On the floor is the man who has taken over most of Steve's dreams and many of his waking thoughts as well.

The man lies still and Steve can see dark stains on his clothes and he just knows it's blood. It could be someone else's, but somehow Steve is sure it's the man's own. Within seconds, he's on his knees next to the unconscious (please just be unconscious) figure, his knees smarting from the way he just fell onto them on the hard and cold tiles.

The man is on his stomach, his face turned to the side, away from Steve, so he moves to turn the man over. He's surprisingly heavy, a dead weight under his hands (no, no, no, not dead, just unconscious, his mind chants), but Steve is nothing if not persistent, and he finally manages to turn the man onto his back.

"Oh God," Steve groans as he can finally assess the damage. There are wounds all over his body, deep gashes on his thighs, his torso, his arms, even his face. "What happened to you?"

"Ten against one. Not...fair," the man replies, his voice barely audible and his eyes still closed. Steve has to lean in to make out the words, but him talking also means the man is still alive, though Steve isn't sure how much longer.

Taking the man's wrist, Steve looks for a pulse to see how far his system has already shut down, but... there is no pulse to be found.

He remembers not hearing a heartbeat when his cheek was pressed against the man's chest, so he presses his ear to where the man's heart is, waiting for the sound of its faint beat.

Nothing.

Steve leans back and searches the man's eyes, half-open now and clearly alive.

"How... you can't be alive. You don't have a pulse, your heart isn't beating." He is stammering, but it's a lot to take in. It shouldn't be possible. It's not like he wants the guy to be dead, but for all intents and purposes, he should be.

Bloodied lips pull back into a faint smile. "Sweetheart, not even the most beautiful sight like you could make my heart beat again. Although it really tries for you."

Despite everything, the way this guy flirts with him while he lies in his own blood brings a crooked smile to Steve's face.

"There, that smile? If it could, my heart would be beating out of my chest right now." Steve can tell the man is trying for levity, but he's fading and fast.

"As charming as you are, you're also bleeding all over my bathroom floor. With no pulse or heartbeat. And I don't even know your friggin' name! So forgive me for asking, but what the fuck?"

"Sorry for the blood on your floor, I tried to patch myself up, but I must have passed out. Embarrassing, really. Didn't think you'd be back so soon. I'd get out of your hair, but... well, you know. I don't think I can move." The words start to slur halfway through, and those beautiful brown eyes keep disappearing behind heavy eyelids. Steve has to do something, quickly, before his savior dies.

"Eddie," the man croaks, his voice barely audible. Steve wouldn't have heard it if it weren't for the intent way he stares at him.

"What?"

"My name. Eddie."

"Eddie. Okay." Steve nods his head, the hand still wrapped around Eddie's wrist grabbing his hand instead, squeezing it gently. "Eddie, we need to get you to the hospital now."

It looks like Eddie tries to shake his head, but gives up halfway, exhausted. "No. They can't help me."

"But they can! Someone needs to sew up your wounds, and you've lost too much blood, you need a blood transfusion and fluids and - why are you laughing?"

"You're right, I need blood, but not the way you think."

The image of sharp teeth flickers behind his eyelids, a gnarled face snarling at him. The feeling of those teeth buried in his neck, white-hot pain shooting through his veins.

"What... Eddie, I don't..."

Eddie's face turns toward him, his nostrils flaring as he takes a deep breath, as if smelling the air.

"Come closer so I can smell you better."

Two different voices growling and snarling, not just one.

Strong arms lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing, carrying him nearly three miles. "It's faster than waiting for an ambulance."

"You're not human." Steve whispers. It's not a question.

Eddie answers it anyway. "No, I'm not."

"You're... You're a..." He can't say it, can't even think it.

"A vampire, yes." Eddie says it for him and everything falls into place. The neck wounds, the drained victims, the sharp teeth and the inhuman strength and speed.

"You want my blood." Steve has no idea why he's stating the obvious instead of running as fast as he can, but something tells him he's still safe with Eddie.

"So observant." Eddie chuckles, but it sounds wet and weak. "Yeah. But I won't take it, don't worry, Stevie."

In his mind Steve goes over the things he knows.

Eddie is a vampire. A vampire who killed another vampire to save Steve’s life. To save Chrissy’s life.

Eddie is dying. He may already be dead, but it looks like vampires can die again. Permanently.

Eddie wants his blood.

"Would it help you? My blood, I mean." That's the only thing he's not sure about. The most important thing, at least.

It looks like an inhuman - invampire, Steve thinks - effort, but Eddie manages to shake his head firmly.

"Steve, no."

"Would. It. Help?" Steve insists.

Eddie, the stubborn asshole, presses his lips together and refuses to look at him. That's answer enough for him.

Still holding Eddie's hand in his, he lifts his other hand to Eddie's mouth and presses the inside of his wrist against the closed mouth.

"Come on, Eddie. Drink." Another shake of the man's head only strengthens Steve's resolve. "Eddie, please. You saved my life. Let me do the same."

The stubborn ass continues to refuse, so Steve does the only logical thing. He stands, grabs his razor, and slides the blade across his wrist, just deep enough to draw blood from the otherwise shallow wound.

He presses the wrist back against Eddie's lips and this time he feels the man tremble.

"Please drink. I want you to. Let me help you." Moving his wrist and smearing his blood over Eddie's full lips, Steve pleads again, his voice breaking. "Please, Eddie."

It's the last please that does it, and the next thing Steve feels is the white-hot pain of teeth sinking into his wrist. Still smiling through the pain, he squeezes Eddie's hand. "That's it, you're doing so good. Take what you need."

And Eddie does. He drinks and drinks and drinks until the world goes fuzzy and black spots start dancing in front of Steve's eyes.

"Eddie," Steve slurs before everything goes dark.

When Steve comes to, he's in his bed.

His wrist is wrapped tightly in a pristine-looking white bandage, and he's wearing his pajamas. He has no idea how he got here or what happened, everything is kind of blurry. Steve tries to sit up, but almost immediately the world starts spinning and he groans in protest.

That's when the door to his bedroom opens and his mysterious savior walks into the room with a bowl in his hand.

Eddie, his mind supplies. His name is Eddie and he was dying the last time Steve saw him.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks him, his voice full of worry and he gets a sad smile in return.

"Stevie, I'm the one who should be asking you that." Eddie sits down next to him on the bed but doesn't touch him. He looks tense and Steve wonders why. Though most of what happened is a blur, he remembers holding Eddie's hand and Eddie calling him beautiful.

"I'm fine. A little dizzy, but fine. You were the one bleeding all over my bathroom floor. What happened, how are you even standing, how long was I out?"

Eddie reaches out and takes Steve's cheek in his hand. "You saved my life, Stevie. That's what happened. And you almost got yourself killed, you self-sacrificing idiot. So even though it saved my life, I have to ask you, beg you if I have to, to never do anything so stupid again."

Steve puts his own hand on top of Eddie's hand on his face and looks him in the eye as he tells him, "You saved my life first and risked your own as well. So I guess the pot is calling the kettle black here."

He's rewarded with a dimpled smile. "Fair point. Now that we're even, can you promise me you'll never do anything like this again?"

"I dunno. Can you promise not to try to save me again if I'm in danger?" He knows it's a low blow, but if it helps him get his point across, he's not above playing dirty. Besides, part of him really wants to know. The needy part, the scared part.

"You know the answer to that," Eddie says, brushing his thumb across Steve's cheekbone.

"Isn't that a little unfair?"

"Yeah," Eddie whispers, and Steve realizes he's so much closer than before. "But I don't care if it keeps you safe."

Steve feels his heart thunder in his chest, his eyes darting from Eddie's to the other man's lips and back again. Licking his own lips, Steve asks, "And why is that?"

Eddie's lips are only a breath away from his own, and he tastes his answer as much as he hears it.

"You know that answer as well."

Before Steve can say anything else, Eddie's cool, smooth lips seal over his and every thought in his mind is forgotten. There's only Eddie.

Later he'll ask about the other vampires. About all the dead people in the emergency room. He'll ask who Eddie is, why he's running around town saving people, and who hurt him so badly.

But all that can wait, at least until Steve is done drinking down the delicious sounds falling from Eddie's mouth.

This is a little birthday gift for my dear friend @yournowheregirl. Alice, I know you love vampires so I tried my best to give you some. Time ran out on me but I still hope you like it 💜

I hope you had the best birthday ever because you deserve nothing but happiness.

Edit: I forgot while posting to say that this is heavily inspired by a wonderful podcast I highly recommend, Not quite dead. Give it a listen folks!

#steddie #steddie fanfiction #vampire eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #Nurse Steve Harrington #my writing

293 notes · View notes

adelliet · 1 year ago

Text

Joel miller x f!reader

Ur too young for me

Summary: it's your mom's birthday party and her boyfriend Tommy is of course invited, but none of you were expecting he'd bring his brother too, which you had no idea he even have one.

Warnings: 18+, rough but soft, unprotected sex ( p i v ), age gap, drinking alcohol, teasing, sexual allusions, fingering, flirt, dom & sub

A/N: Hi! Sorry I wasn't active these days…trust me I have load of ideas and concepts, but I have no time :/ also sorry for the mistakes, of there are any, english isn't my first language! Enjoy, sedning love <3

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You stood in the corner of the kitchen, far away from all those 40-50 year old people, who were talking so loudly that if you wanted to, you could hear every detail of their conversation. But you didn't care about that, you didn't care about any of that, and the only reason you're here is your mom. She does enough for you, so you want to at least pay her back and attend this boring senior party where absolutely nothing happens. The only good thing here is alcohol.

Since there are enough people here that mom won't see you drinking Gin or Vodka through them, you take the opportunity to get drunk to the point of unconsciousness so you don't have to spend any more time here. However, when you wanted to pour another glass of Vodka into the red plastic cup, you felt a woman's grip on your forearm. Before you could turn around to see who it was, you were led to the front door.

Of course, it didn't take you long to realize that your mom was dragging you to the door. "So, straighten up and be nice" your mom ordered as she smoothed the dress over her stomach and reached for the handle. You just rolled your eyes and looked at the door in disgust until Tommy appeared in it. A really forced smile appeared on your face by the second and you tried not to be mean like your mom told you to.

Tommy is a nice guy, you gotta admit, but you don't even know why you "don't like" him. Like it was some kind of natural instinct because none of the guys mom found after dad died were smart or nice. They all acted like whores and wanted only one thing from mom. Maybe your hatred is also from trust issues, but you haven't had much time to think about it now. Your mission to get drunk must succeed, so you did everything to make it happen. “Hi Tommy” you greeted him and wanted to offer your hand for a shake but he forcefully ignored her and pulled you to his chest as he wrapped you in a hug. At first you thought how gross it would be, but it felt pretty good. When he finally let you go, he hugged your mom too and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek. Your mom was as red as a tomato and her happy smile just couldn't be shaken off. You were glad that she was happy after such a long time.

"I hope you don't mind that I brought my brother too" this sentence that came out of Tommy's mouth caught you both by surprise. You stared wide eyed at Tommy until you heard footsteps coming down the hall towards our door. "You have a brother?" Mom asked in shock and Tommy nodded. Then he said something to her, but you stopped noticing everything that was happening around you as soon as you saw a muscular, mature and slightly older man standing in the doorway. He was tall, with a light gray beard and hair so silky you fought the urge to run your fingers through it. Wearing a green plaid shirt with a gray belt around the waist and slightly flared jeans. You wouldn't say that such a sexy and attractive man is Tommy's brother. Now the fun begins.

All of a sudden, everyone fell quiet and there was an awkward grave silence as everyone but one stared at the man standing in the doorway with a serious face that exuded genuine respect. Seeing this man on the street, you wouldn't want to mess with him. The silence became too long and deep, so our birthday girl decided to break it. "You must be Joel, is that right?" mom asked sweetly, suffocating you a bit to get a better view of him. You couldn't believe it. Tommy was literally standing next to her and she was even redder than before paying attention to this man. On the other hand, you should not be surprised. You don't see such a handsome man very often.

“That's right" Joel spoke and his voice was even more beautiful than you imagined. A deep husky voice, to hear it so grainy in the morning, oh my god. He accepted your mother's offering hand for a shake, giving you a better view of his soaked and muscular whips. He must work out at least 3 times a day.

You couldn't take your eyes off him. You looked at every detail of him, his sharp beard, the beautiful brown eyes that looked so sweet, but they were formed strictly. You imagined how his body must look under all those clothes. It must certainly look like it was created by god himself. When your mom finally pulled away and finished chatting with Joel, she made room and now you could see the handsome guy face to face. You started to get nervous. What's going on?

You were never nervous with any boy before, whether you liked him or not. This is weird. Everything is strange and especially your feelings that you can't describe right now. "And you are?" a manly deep voice interrupted your thoughts and you regained your composure a bit. You made eye contact with him and that was your bottom. You could feel your knees buckle and your legs shake. The heat was boiling inside you and your heart was beating at least 4 times faster, as if you were charged with some energy.

"Y/N" stuttered a little but you finally answered, and accepted his massive hand that he was offering you. His grip was strong, he surrounded your entire palm with his, fingers thin and long enough, god you had to move away from him or you wouldn't be able to hold on and it would end badly. "Nice to meet you" he added but no smile appeared on his face. You didn't know how it was possible, but the fact that he wasn't smiling at all added 100+ points to his attractiveness.

“Nice to meet you too” you squealed so quietly, that you couldn't even hear yourself, but Joel heard you very well because you could see his corners lifting slightly up, when you spoke. "Well…how about we all introduce ourselves hm?" Tommy jumped into your eye contact and broke it. You, Joel, your mom including the other people, were looking at Tommy, but you knew very well that everyone was interested in Joel. You were jealous a little, but at least you could do anything and everyone's attention was on the massive man, not on you.

You decided to take advantage of this and carefully sneaked into the kitchen with maximum stealth, where you picked up two bottles, each a different type of alcohol, and hide yourself in the bedroom, as you sneak there the same way you sneak into the kitchen. Everything went so smoothly you couldn't believe it. Everyone was really only looking at Joel, both women and men, including your mom. She looked at him suspiciously peacefully, but at the end of the day you decided not to deal with it and to fulfill the mission you ordered from the beginning of the party. Get drunk.

~~~

After a few minutes and a few sips of Vodka, the bottle was already half empty and you felt a slight dizziness, but still nothing terrible. You stared at the wall and all you could think about was Joel. You tricked your thinking into drunkenness, even though you knew full well that thinking about Joel Vodka really wasn't to blame.

As you were about to take another sip from the bottle, you suddenly heard dangerous footsteps approaching your room. You immediately took the bottle out of your mouth, even doused yourself a little and hid it with the other one under the bed while you cleaned yourself up and checked your breath for the smell of alcohol. Suddenly the door opened aggressively and to your surprise Joel was standing there. He looked quite stressed and as soon as he entered your room without permission he slammed the door behind him and leaned against it. He rubbed his face with his large palm and exhaled until he saw you sitting on the edge of the bed. He was so startled that he jumped slightly on the spot and had to grab his heart. "Oh my God" he breathed out and you tried as hard as you could to fight the urge to immediately imagine his light outpouring in some deviant scene in your head.

“Sorry, didn't know you're here” Joel apologize but entered in the room anyways so, it's too late to apologize. “It's okay” you assured him, but you didn't ask the crucial question that was running through your head. Why is he even here? Shouldn't he enjoy partying with people of his own age and equal? Shouldn't he be enjoying the fame and being the center of attention? Probably not his cup of coffee. He looked pretty tired and beat up, like he'd just been hit in the head with 40 footballs.

He laid down on your bed without any warning or question, automatically covering his closed eyes with his hand. You bounced a little on the bed when he jumped there. You watched him and looked at him like a he was some treasure. “Those people are wild” he complained and when he finally spoke in a normal tone, your body calmed down a bit. You laughed at his good point and pulled the bottles from behind the bed. You wanted to drink one of the bottles but the familiar voice stopped you. "Aren't you too young to drink this?" you slowly turned over your shoulder only to see Joel, even hotter and more attractive than five seconds ago. One hand was tucked behind his head, the other rested on his chest, and his beautiful brown eyes were only fixed on you. "You're not my dad" you snapped at him and drank anyway. You have no idea where you got the courage. It sure does the drinking.

"Fine, but I won't hold your hair when you gonna throw up in the toilet" he got comfortable and finally closed his eyes after he said that. His words took you a bit by surprise and left your head spinning, but you ignored it anyway. "What are you doing?" you asked him curiously and slightly offended as your pupils widened. "Taking quick nap" again, that deep husky voice that made you cross your legs and ignore the throbbing down there. "And who let you lie here?" you asked him in a sussy voice, but immediately ducked your tail as Joel mopped the floor with you. "Who let you drink alcohol?" Shit, he's good. You decided not to answer and drink again.

You looked at him. You watched his nostrils expand every time he breathed air out, you watched his chest rise slowly and calmly, it was so calming to watch him that you got tired too. Your bed isn't very big so there wasn't much room left for you with Joel taking up most of the space, but she decided to rub herself in and lay next to him. He turn to side so now he wasn't laying on his back, but on his side. His face was right in front of your back, but you decided to not really care, or at least, try to not care.

But you couldn't lay down without touching Joel at all, and right now you were touching a really sensitive spot. You could feel your ass in that tight red dress touching Joel's pelvis. A normal person would have moved forward a bit or just ignored it, but the alcohol in your brain was starting to take over and so were your wild thoughts, so you decided to do something that could get you into trouble. You lay with your back to Joel, unable to see his face just imagining it. You slowly started moving your hips from side to side, provoking Joel. You waited for his reaction but nothing so far, just his sleep breathing purring into your neck, but no reaction at all. So, you didn't stop and keep going, maybe add a little more power.

Suddenly you heard an annoyed deep exhalation and at that exact moment you felt Joel's hand on your tiny neck. He had it propped up under your head, so you were practically lying on his arm. You gasped a bit from the surprise, because you weren't ready and expecting this to happen at all. You though that he may be telling you to fuck off or something, but definitely not this. His huge palm was covered all over your neck, his grip strength was small, but he would only need to add a little more strength and you would be suffocated in no time. You played a dangerous game but you loved it. "What do you think you're doing?" he barked at you quietly, his half-sleeping voice were sending chills down your spine and a flame of fire to your feminine parts. You felt your nipples harden and goosebumps appeared all over your body. "Getting myself comfortable" you said innocently, trying not to let your plan be known, to make Joel hard by teasing him with ur ass. You were so horny in your life right now, you never been like this before.

“Do that again and you'll regret it" he hissed making it clear that he was pretty pissed off but what did you take from that? That a dangerous game was starting to turn and you decided to provoke Joel even more and put yourself in more danger. Of course you were frozen when he said this and you waited a moment until you heard that cute purr on your neck again and his grip softened. You then started slowly moving your ass again, but this time, in a different direction. You weren't afraid to challenge him at all and moved your hips back and forth, hitting Joel's lap hard. You could feel the slowly growing bulge in his jeans, but it didn't last long as Joel huffed aggressively and woke up again, now even angrier than before.

Not only did he tighten his grip around your neck, but his other hand literally pressed down on your hip with si much preassure. He was holding your body so hard you thought he was going to break your bones. Your breathing quickened but it wasn't that you were afraid. The reason for your rapid heartbeat, pulsing and breathing was all too clear, you were so turned on. You could feel the wettness in your panties, dripping off to your inner thight and landing on the mattress. And it get so much worse.

"Didn't you hear me the first time you little brat?" he growled into your ear and squeezed your hip even more, making you curl your toes and stretch them out. So much pressure, so much tension, so much horniness and lust that you screamed ‘I want to have sex’ without even turning your face to Joel. You ignored his question, which may have been a mistake. "This is wrong you realize that?" he was asking you questions in anger and frustration, but you felt as if you were speechless and unable to verbally respond to them in any way, but that didn't matter because Joel could clearly read what was on your mind from your body movement.

"We're going to be in trouble…" he breathed out, his voice a little calm but grainy and so deep it was as if the bear himself was speaking to you. You felt his hand on your hip as it slowly traveled lower on your lower abdomen but it didn't stop there for long as it then traveled to your thigh where Joel then left his palm print as he squeezed it hard. That imprint will be there for a long time. You squealed softly, full of temptation and your body as hot as concrete in the summer. Joel felt very good about you and knew what to do. He always knows what to do.

"Tell me, has anyone touched you like this before?" another question, which was already much more pleasant when Joel was rubbing your thigh, his palm moving up and down and slightly returning the provocation when he sometimes went lower, where your thighs met and where you needed his hand the most . But he never stayed there very long, which frustrated you even more than being at your mom's party with old people. “Answer my question”

His grip on both your neck and your thigh twitched and gained strength as you remained silent and tried to enjoy this. You shook your head in disapproval but it wasn't enough for Joel. "Words" the grip even tighter and you felt that you were starting to feel your neck slightly. "No" you finally answered, all shaky but as soon as you said it, Joel's grip on your neck took away that strength, but on your thigh it was the oppostite and be just added more. "Good girl...where did the courage to speak go, huh?" this was a sarcastic question and you both understood that you weren't supposed to answer it.

After a bit of teasing, Joel decided to start doing something more, maybe it's because of his hard dick, which twitches every time you move or make any sound. "Will you be a good girl and be quiet?" he asked as he forced his hand he fell between your legs and caressed your inner thigh, where he sometimes 'accidentally' flicked his finger against your wet panties. He let out a small giggle when he felt how wet you already were, but decided to save his comment until after your answer. "Y-yes" you stuttered, all hot and eager as you moved your hips to feel Joel's fingertips just a little bit where your flame was heating the most. "So wet and we haven't even started..." he sighed as he finally touched his fingers to your panties and began to slowly and gently rub.

You let out a cute quiet sight, but you try really hard not to be loud, as Joel told you. "Good girl...you wanna feel my fingers inside you, don't ya?" what the fuck is happening. Are you fell asleep and this is a dream or are you that drunk that you are imagining things...or is this really happening? Is the most hot and attractive man in this house and in your whole life rubbing you through your panties and saying dirty stuff in your ear? What kind of porn-story is that!?

“Please~” you moaned, head turning so you could scream into the pillow and not be hearen, but Joel didn't fucking let you. He likes how you you begged and pleaded but he wasn't going to let you trick him into not controlling your squeals and whimpers, so he lifted his shoulder that you were laying on and rolled your head back to the original position it was in before. “No cheating, or you won't get what you're asking for” god his voice only added to your wetness and body temperature, you were as hot as a falling meteorite. This was the worst torture what could you have experienced but you deserved it. You shouldn't have provoked Joel with your ass and none of this would happened, but do you regret it? Absolutely not. This is so much better than be drunk, which you practically were.

“Do you want it?” He asked you as his body get closer to yours, that you could feel his muscular chest hiding in the clothes and his popping bulge wanting really hard to get out of there. His hot breath was know on your back of your neck, and you couldn't move. You were locked in Joel's touch and there was nothing to do than listen to him and do what he told you to do, so you could finally get what you fucking need. “Yes” you answered, this time full of confidence which Joel likes but not as much as he heard you begging.

“Beg for it” he said as he put much preassure on his two fingers rubbing against your wet panties that were probably soaking inside. Your clitoris was plumbing as much as your hole, fuck this man. "Please" you moan once again, trying really hard to give him his ego and the dominance he lost for a moment but regained immediately. You could feel his annoying grin ear to ear as he heard you. “See how easy it is” he stopped rubbing your vagina over the soft material which made you freeze a bit and you let us out with what you had at least for a little while and now you lost it but you didn't wait too long as Joel took off your panties in one jerking motion until they came down to your ankles and you shook them to the ground. "Let me feel how wet you really are" and before he finished this sentence, you could feel his bare fingers, rubbing your labia back and forth. Finally. The exhalation from the feeling that you have finally passed to the next stage kicked you so much that you forgot your promise and let out a slight loud sight. Joel immediately covered your mouth with the hand that was originally on your neck. "Shhh...we have a deal honey, don't break it" your eyes rolled back as he started to looking for your clit by his one finger and find it immidietly, then started doing small circles around there, making you go crazy and scream into his hand so fucking loud.

“God…you have no idea what're you doing to me” he whimpered into your ear and you could tell from his voice and shaking that he was in such tension and he couldn't last very long without interacting with him and his needs. You wanted to help him, but he wouldn't let you. You couldn't even turn or look at him, just trying to lie in a still position and not make a sound, which was quite hard task for you, especially when Joel added strength to your clit and started rubbing it hard and fast. You automatically pressed your thighs together, squeezing Joel's hand as well. You felt so close, but there was still something missing, which Joel filled in after a short time.

He stopped teasing your clit, but instead stuck two fingers straight into you. As soon as you let out a loud controlled sigh and your eyes squeezed tightly, Joel started curling his fingers inside you, slowly but with passion. His fingers were big, string and long, so when he goes deeper, he hits your g-spot really fast. You started shaking, eyes with tears when you couldn't move and could only scream Joel's name into his own hand, that were still covering your mouth. "You're close, aren't you?" he teased you a bit, but you nodded your head roughly and moved your legs when you really felt the climax coming. Joel makes it even worse, when he uses his thumb rubbing your clit too. It was totally over for you.

The tension were so close and you were tense and hard, but suddenly Joel pulled his fingers out of you. You opened your eyes in confusion and furrowed your brows as you angrily turned to face Joel and were on your back on the bed. Although you were upset that he didn't finish you off, the sight of him licking his fingers and muttering happily while doing so made you forget about it right away. "Did you think it would be that easy?" he asked provocatively and before you could react Joel was on top of you. One hand resting on the bed as a helper to keep him from falling, the other hand on your hot red face, softly rubbing it with his thumb. You liked this angle better.

Joel didn't leave you in the pleasure for long though, breaking your eye contact with him as he forced his lips to yours. You felt his hard erect cock, pushing in his pants and rubbing against your inner thighs, very close to your core. The passionate and ardent kiss turned into an intense kiss that clearly indicated that it would go to the next level soon. Joel's hand on your face very quickly moved to your neck where it stayed long enough until Joel couldn't take it and used it to pull off his pants freeing his partner. All this time, you were glued to each other not only with your bodies, but also with your lips. Your saliva was mixing and you were trying to inhale as much oxygen as you could because you couldn't tear yourself away from Joel.

The atmosphere was starting to thicken and your bodies were starting to heat up, forcing you to roughly unbutton Joel's shirt, finally exposing his godlike body. Joel didn't let himself be talked down to and decided to cooperate as he slid his arm under you and lifted you up a bit pulling you closer, your lips still on his. Joel was unzipping your dress while you were unbuttoning his shirt and when all the buttons were done, you tore the fabric off of Joel like a wild animal, and immediately broke the kiss to look at the miracle, you wanted to see since the moment you met Joel for the first time, a few hours ago.

Those toned muscles, those muscular abs, and that unshaven hairy chest that clearly indicated what an alpha male Joel was. It looked even better than you imagined. You couldn't hold it for much longer, knowing that every second you were getting closer to what you so desperately needed, so without any warning, you stuck your tongue in Joel's mouth again and gently ran your hands over his massive body. You swear you felt an egotistical smirk from Joel, but chose to ignore it.

You weren't the only one who wanted to see the other naked. Joel was so curious about you, so excited and mostly so horny that he literally ripped your red dress off you. You immediately pulled away from his lips and shot a ‘are you serious?’ look. "Are you fucking kidding me?! They were expensive!" you raised your voice after him, but Joel could care less right now. He was so amazed by your body, that he ignored the fact that you literally yelled at him. If you weren't almost naked, you would be in so much trouble. "You look much better without them" he said in his husky-bear voice again.

There was only one thing standing in his way now, apart from your angry face, and that was your black bra, which Joel passionately lunged for and in one graceful movement, with no effort in, unhooked your bra and gently threw it to the floor. It was a strange feeling to see Joel not knowing where to look first. He loved your body, if he could he would have hearts instead of pupils. He didn't know where to look first. He wanted so badly to squish your body and leave huge purple and painful hickeys everywhere, but he decided to save that for another time. He couldn't resist, and after a few minutes of just watching and admiring your naked body, he had to go, and he wasn't afraid to take a challenge.

He cup one of your tits, he slowly squeezed, and your natural reaction was to throw your head back and sink your teeth so deep into your bottom lip that you could feel the blood coming out after a while. "You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen" you melted at his words. You felt his cock twitch almost every two seconds, and all the blood from his body was just there. He was so close you could feel his head and a little wetness on it as the pre-cum started to form. He was just as horny as you, he wanted it just as much as you, but the only difference was, that he was so fucking patient.

In a snap, his mouth was on your neck, sucking and leaving red fresh marks on your sensitive neck. You weren't thinking about anything but Joel's tongue, hand placement and his definitely huge dick, you want to feel inside you so badly. Just make things worse, he started to teasing you. His head of his cock was really slowly started brushibg against your labia, and you thought you gonna cum already. He is fucking asshole.

He wanted it as much as you did, to push his member inside you and fuck you so good, but he loved the feeling of you being helpless and able to plead for Joel, which is exactly what you did. He had you wrapped around his finger, manipulated you didn't even realize what Joel was doing to you. All you focused on was sex. “Please~” you sighed, throwing your head back and pulling Joel's hair slightly, as the feeling of his teeth on your shoulders and the top of his member softly rubbing you, and start teasing your clitoris too. Joel loves your fingers inside his hair, your moans and sights, but he wanted more. His head with his lips went lower on your body, stopped when he met one of your tits, and start slowly sucking and licking your nipple. You never were on this kind of ‘stuf’, like breast playing, but gosh it felt so fucking good! He also included his other hand in the game, which he used to roll your other nipple and his elbow was resting on the bed so he wouldn't lose his balance. On top of all that, as if it wasn't enough, he added power of provoking your pussy and not only started to speed up, but also started getting inside a little bit.

“Fuck~” you moaned, thugging Joel's slightly gray hair more and arched your back, when you started feeling your legs shaking and your underbelly hurting from how hot it was. Joel wasn't stopping with playing not only with your breast but even with your vagina, having you under his control. “Tell me, how much you want it?” he asked you as his hips still moves around you and played with you like with some toy, but you were so desperate and helpless for him, that you would do anything to get what you want. “Badly” you sighed and lick your lips as Joel started giving sweet kisses on your nipple and softened. “How badly?” you wanted to punch him so much. “So badly I~…I'd do anything” he loved seeing you in that state.

When he first saw you in that door, he never could have imagined it would turn out like this but he liked it maybe more than he should have. But Joel wanted to hear you begging, begging for his cock, begging to be fucked by Joel Miller. "Anything huh? What do you offer…" his mischievous grin widened as he stopped whatever he was doing giving you a chance to breathe in oxygen and reply in a notmal tone without sighing or moaning. Of course you took advantage of that and straightened your body so you could look into his eyes. You completely forgot about the question, how fired up you were, and the whole situation as you lost yourself in Joel's eyes. 'All eyes are the same' they say, but he showed you that's not true. You can read so many things in them and stare at them for hours as you melt into Joel's hands massaging your hips. "Hm? Did you hear me?" he woke you up a bit from the day's vigil and you thought about your answer. "Anything you want...I'm all yours" this was exactly the answer Joel needed to hear. Not only did you allow him to do whatever he wanted with you, but you also admit you are only his. Joel is very possessive and your answer gave him even more ego than he already had, which seemed impossible. "What a needy girl...I'll do what you want so badly for the last minutes hun, but you need to beg" this is where the final game starts. Joel started rubbing the tip of his dick against your labia again, making you open your mouth out wide and squeeze really hard your eyes. “I am begging you Joel…please~” this was a lullaby to his ears. "What? Didn't hear, can you said that again?" fuck this man. "I. am. begging. you." you blurted out and when Joel realized you couldn't talk anymore, he decided to take pity on you.

He carefully leaned back and directed his cock to hit. You were starting to find it really weird that he wasn't saying anything and not really doing anything either out of nowhere, so you opened your eyes, but when you looked down, at that exact moment, Joel thrust his cock into you. Even though it was what you wanted so much, it extremely hurt.

You hissed in pain and dug your nails deep into Joel's back leaving gashes. It looked like he had been attacked by a wild beast, which actually wasn't that far from the truth. He did nothing for a while and let you get used to it and wait until you stopped destroying his huge back. "U're okay?" he asked nicely and placed one of his palms on your face when he saw tears coming from your eyes. You nodded roughly through gritted teeth, but Joel didn't believe you. You didn't look like you were 'good' or enjoying yourself like you were a few seconds ago.

“S’okay…we have as much time as we want” Joel's voice was suddenly soft and caring, that you wouldn't believe your ears. After a few seconds, when you didn't feel the pain as much, you nodded to give Joel's permission to continue. He understand your sign immediately and push more into you, he stretched you more and you felt so full. Pain started to surround you again, but Joel's hand on your hip and cheek made it better. Added to that were his lips on yours, sweet small kiss making you feel butterflies again. “God that's a lot” you sighed in laugh as you finally felt better and open your eyes.

But your laughing immediately stopped, when you saw Joel's face, which was not as happy as yours. You frowned at him and cocked your head to the side in confusion. "It's only halfway" he whispered and your eyes widened by at least 7 inches. HALF?! IS HE FUCKING KIDDING?! You already felt full and the thought of him having to push that much length into you one more time intoxicated you so much that you closed your eyes again and tried not to think about it.

"'Kay, do it" you said quickly and your whole body was in such tension. "Are you sure? We don't have to rush this-" "I am." you snapped at Joel and your brow furrowed and your teeth clenched as you felt him continue. It really hurt a lot, you couldn't imagine such pain even in your worst dreams, but when Joel was all the way in, you knew it would only get better. He waited again for a while as he kissed you passionately, trying to distract you, which was half working.

His kisses and the way he squeezed and touched your body sent chills down your spine and juice into your already big fire down there. After a bit of kissing and groping, Joel began moving his hips very gently, in a circular motion. This movement sent pain to the back of your head and you couldn't help but let out sighs of happiness. The pain gradually fades to pure pleasure, and as your moans began to sound more intense, with more force and volume, Joel began to change direction and speed.

“Fuck…you have no idea what you're doing to me” Joel gasped as his orgasm started feeling closer, so does yours. Pain wasn't there anymore, only pleasure instead. Very soon you started to feel on your edge, cuz Joel didn't search for long and found your g-spot very quickly, then he just hit it every time, whenever he thrust into you.

His thrusting started being more aggressive, more intense, that the whole bed started shaking too. Joel needs to cover your mouth again, and this time really put strength on your lips, because you no longer had control over the sounds you made or over your body. You twitched in tension whenever you felt the strange sensation of going to the bathroom.

You couldn't hold it for long, and you could tell by Joel's expression and the way he wasn't continuing at the same pace, stuttering and sighing much more often, that he was damn close too. A few more thrusts and you already arch your back, but Joel did it again, he stopped.

It frustrated not only you but also him, but he knew very well what he was doing. As if your fury could not be greater. First he didn't give you that first orgasm, then he ruin your clothes and now he doesn't want to give you another orgasm? What is wrong with this man?! "Joel-" before you could even ask him anything, Joel grabbed you closer to him and roll that he was laying on his back while you were sitting on his lap, this time he was under you. You were still inside him, not moving a muscle. You looked at him confused, but not for a long time when he said: "I wanna see you ride me" and that made your pussy pulse again.

Right after he said that a devilish grin appeared on your face from ear to ear, and you started moving forward slowly. Joel was sighing the same way you were, he was looking at your belly, then your breast and then deep into your eyes, repeatedly. You only looked at his face in the hope that he will tell you instructions, because you never 'ride a man' before. Joel corrected you with his hands on your hips, gently pushing you back and forth as you let him lead you.

After a moment, when your vagina and yourself calmed down, you threw your head back and opened your mouth wide. "Joel~" that was only thing you could say, correctly, moaned. This position makes your orgasm come even faster to you, and you just hoped you wouldn't be so loud, since Joel can't really reach your mouth and can't shut you down.

"Yeah, good girl...just like that" he said as he started making you go up and down on his cock, practically jumping on him. At first it was slow, you couldn't even hear the smacking of your ass against his thighs, but after a while when the atmosphere kicked into high gear and in your liquid started to accumulate in the vagina, your slaps whenever you land back on Joel's legs started being louder and louder. After a few seconds, Joel didn't even have to continue guiding you because even though you didn't know what to do, your body definitely knew. Joel was admiring your body, your breasts moving up and down to the rhythm, your moaning and literally screaming his name, it was beautiful. "Joel I-" "I know baby, I know~" Joel groaned as an angry wolf and his grip was thick and strong, just as your pussy. You both felt the climax coming, it started being so intense that Joel is definitely going to have red marks of your ass on his thighs. The bed started to creak so much that you thought it was going to break but now you weren't focusing on that at all. All you focused on was your orgasm, which was so close, and you finally reached it when Joel pushed you a little and started rubbing your clit. You came first but Joel didn't let that stop you from riding. The post-orgasm feeling was amazing, but you started feeling overstimulated. Of course you wanted Joel to reach his orgasm too, but your vagina was just as tired as you. It didn't take long and luckily Joel did and respectfully and honestly, his face and the sound that came out of him when he squirted into you was something like euphoria for you. The overstimulation thing fades out really fast, as you saw Joel, breathing heavily as you and when you realize, YOU make a man come. It was amazing and you had so many mixed feelings right now, that you don't even know how you feel. The only thing you know for sure is that you are fucking exhausted, that's why you passed out right next to Joel, breathing heavily as he did.

It was akward silence, except your and Joel's loud breathing, trying so hard to catch breath and not pass out by low oxygen in body, and the people talking loudly in the other room, where the party is still going. you were quite surprised that the celebration wasn't over yet. Even though the sex with Joel seemed endless, it only lasted a few minutes, that's how good the fuck was. You tried to ignore your surroundings and focus on only two things, breathing and thinking about what the hell happened. It's wrong, this whole situation is wrong, this shouldn't have happened, but these negative thoughts immediately passed you when you felt Joel's large, muscular arm under your neck. He then pulled you closer to his warm manly body. Even though you were both covered under the covers, you could still feel the nakedness and sweat from the other. You couldn't find the words. Even as your breathing calmed down and so did Joel's, you didn't know what to say. You wanted to thank him so badly because the way he made you feel and relieved you was unforgettable.

“Thank you…” you chirped softly but loud enough for Joel to hear you. As soon as you said it with a shaky voice, Joel scoffed and made you tilt your head, so you were looking into his eyes. "Are you kidding me? Are you thanking me right now?" he asked eagerly, and it was clear that Joel thought you were being sarcastic, but when you remained silent and formed your lips into a thin line, Joel rolled his eyes and sighed in disappointment. "Boys haven't been nice to you in the past, have they?" he asked, softness in his voice as he rubbed slowly and comfortably your back by his big palm. You sigh as a clear answer. "Oh baby...don't worry, you have me now and I'll show you how a man should treat a girl like you" the way that he said that made you blush and you needed to burn your face into his chest , making him giggle a bit. "But promise me one thing" still rubbing your back and sometimes stopped at your hair, slightly played with them. You look up at him again and give him a shy little 'hm?'. "Do not tell anybody about this...especially not your family members" it was like all your power and confidence just woke up, as you imagine ur mom finding out about this.

“Are you kidding me? Do you think that my mom would jump with happiness that I slept with…basically my uncle? Oh my god saying that out loud makes me want to puke…” The typical ‘dad laugh’ came out from him and he agreed. Your mom would literally tear you and Joel appart on pieces, then cook the bodies and serve it on parties like this…like some Jeffrey Dahmer in female version.

Well, I think she needed to hear us because there is absolutely NO WAY that she came to my room without knocking, that's what she always do, and of course, cough us. The timing was too damn perfect so I couldn't bealive that. I think mom is some kind of wizard and she is just plying with time, when she is alone.

She stare at us, in shock, behind her was Tommy, who stare as same as my mom. I and Joel stare in shock too, we had no idea what to do or what to say…

Well, we're FUCKED-

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

#pedro pascal #smut #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #joel x reader #joel x y/n #joel x you

383 notes · View notes

joemama-2 · 6 months ago

Text

A Series Of Awkward Events: The Grocery Store Encounter

You can feel it, really feel it. I mean, who wouldn’t feel the lingering gaze of the very attractive, teenaged boy standing right next to you in the, suddenly empty, aisle. You’ve been coming to the grocery store every Saturday at exactly 9:30 in the morning, making it a routine. This was mainly because if you came later, you’d be caught up in the rush of families who also decided now would be a good time to stock up on groceries. You couldn’t come earlier because…well you just couldn’t wake up earlier.

You’ve been seeing him for about three weeks now. Every week, he’s in the same aisle as you, looking at the brands of cereal while your eyes gloss over the brands of oatmeal. You didn’t notice it the first time, but it doesn’t take a genius to realize someone is staring at you. And in all honesty, he doesn’t seem like he’s trying to subtle about it either.

Either way, it’s not like you would go out of your way to spark up a conversation first. You’ve lived a very sheltered life, from being homeschooled til earlier this year to having very strict parents, it’s safe to say your social skills are…not up to par. Finally, you decide you’ve had enough of the glances. Your hand reaches out to hurriedly grab a random oatmeal, one you’ve never had before, just to get out of the aisle. However, just as you’re about to turn and leave, his voice cuts through the air.

“That one’s not good, had it before and wouldn’t recommend.”

You stop and slowly turn around to face the boy. He’s grinning now and is it bad to say he has a pretty smile? You shoot a quick look down at the oatmeal in your hands before back at him. Your lips part but the words don’t come out. Damn it. Just staring awkwardly at him with your mouth opening and closing, you just wish the world would swallow you whole. But then, by the grace of whoever’s watching, something comes out.

“Oh.”

Is that really all you can say? A few seconds of silence pass before the boy lets out a small chuckle and damn, it’s almost prettier than his smile. “It tastes bland, almost like cardboard.”

Still, it’s hard to find the right words. He raises an eyebrow at your lack of responses, only then do you realize that you’ve just been shamelessly staring at him. Your hands grip the oatmeal tighter, either for comfort, or a way to silently curse yourself for acting so stupid in front of a boy. A cute one….a really, really cute one. “Oh, that’s��uh—unfortunate.”

He laughs again and you already grow addicted to it. “Want my suggestion?” You hesitate, before nodding. Taking a small, stiff step closer to the boy, you look back at the variety of oatmeal, watching as he points to a specific one. “This one is my favorite, it’s sweet, but not too sweet. Sweet enough to still qualify as a breakfast. Or a snack.”

You reach forward to grab the said box, examining it. With another nod, you put the old, now dented box of oatmeal you first grabbed back in its original place. “Thank you, I’ll…I’ll be sure to enjoy this.” You say with a nod, eyes not even fully looking at his. How could they when they’re the most beautiful pair of blues you’ve ever seen?

Then, of course, another silence, as if he’s expecting you to say something else. Why would he? Can’t he already tell you’re awkward? Can’t he read the room? Your body language? Apparently not. “Gojo Satoru.” He says. Oh, he’s introducing himself. That means he must want to know your name too, right?

“Y/N.” You say timidly, holding your hand out for a shake. Man, this is way too formal of a greeting for grocery store. That same grin makes its way to his face, soon clasping his hand with yours. God, you really hope he doesn’t feel your hand sweating. Or the slight trembling of it. That would be completely embarr—

“Your hand’s wet.”

You freeze, a big wave of embarrassment and shame flooding you. Just as quickly as he said that, you’re retracting. “Sorry, I just washed them.” A blatant lie, but who cares? You’re honestly just trying to get out of this situation now. Yeah, he’s cute, but you’d much rather save your confidence, at least whatever you have left of it, for something you’re more prepared for.

For the first (?) time, you meet his eyes. With a small gulp, you decide now is the chance to run away. “Um, thank you for the oatmeal. It was nice meeting you. Good day.” You take off like you’re on a mission, not even daring to look back. Your face scrunches up and you cringe hard at what just happened. ‘Good day’? What are you, a fifty-year-old man who just saw his colleague for the first time in five years?

It takes a while for you to finish up shopping, considering you’re checking every aisle before you walk into it to ensure that the boy, Gojo Satoru, isn’t in it. Running into him again seemed inevitable, but you made sure that it was possible. It’s almost like a breath of fresh air when you walk out, bags in hand, making your way down the familiar route to your house. It’s a nice day out, very sunny and clouds just clouding.

But of course, things never seem to go your way, do they? Because with one more step, one more snap of the stupid paper bags you were given, one of the bags in your right hand just completely rips. Fruits go rolling down the pavement, bread falling to the puddle of water below your feet, and your dignity washing away down the sewers. Your eyes widen, freezing in place. Lips part as a small, almost unbelievable breath leaves your mouth. It’s a sad scene, really.

So very slowly, embarrassingly, you kneel down to grab your fallen groceries, to stuff into the other two bags that haven't miraculously ripped. It takes a while for a task so small, considering you're holding back tears. You spot the last apple a few feet away and begrudgingly crawl to get it. But a hand beats you to it.

You look up, confused and slightly shocked, but see the boy you just worked very hard on avoiding. Oh Jesus Christ, just how much worse could this day get? "Missing something?"

The hand that was about to grab your apple freezes in mid-air as you contemplate your next move. You nod curtly and he holds it out to you. Your fingertips brush against each other and you can't help the stupid flutter in your stomach. Swiftly, you put the apple in your pocket, having run out of space in your other bags, and stand up. He watches this whole ordeal, even attempting to offer you help, but you don't take it.

You find yourself in another awkward position, but luckily you find your voice sooner. "Thank you."

He smiles, letting out a huff of a chuckle through his nostrils. "No problem, what kind of guy would I be if I didn't help you?" Is that a rhetorical question? You're not sure. He looks down at the bags. "You gonna be alright with those?"

"I will." You say a little too quickly.

While he nods, you look down at his hands. Only then do you realize he's not even carrying anything. He probably sensed your confusion, so he follows up. "Couldn't find anything."

It's a shitty excuse but do you really care enough to question him. So you nod again, lips forming a small line. "Okay..."

"Okay."

You two stare at each other for another few seconds before you turn to leave again, but he stops you. "Are you new to the area?"

Now you don't know what's worse, your classmates being shocked by your existence even though you have been with them for months now, knowing somebody else's name but then not knowing yours, or being questioned about your residency simply because you rarely go out and oh, you have no friends.

You swallow down the lump in your throat and turn your head over your shoulder. "No."

"Oh, really? I've just never seen you around before." That's another knife to the chest. "I know most of the people in this neighborhood, that's why. Usually, when I see a new face, it means they've just moved here."

"I'm not new." You say, now turning your body fully around to face him. "I just like staying inside."

His eyebrows raise, as if shocked. What's so shocking? Was he so popular that the concept of a homebody was beyond him? Well, not like you were being a homebody by choice, it's just something you've grown accustomed to. Something that's now hard to break out of.

"Well, I like staying inside too," He concedes, "But I also like meeting new people. Especially the cute, quiet ones in grocery stores." You hate how your cheeks instantly heat up, nerves taking over. He notices this, taking just the smallest step forward.

"I...didn't run away." You feel the need to justify yourself. "I just need to go home soon."

"Ah, right. Home." He says with a small laugh. "How far is that from here?"

"Why would I tell you that?"

"Just asking."

"We're strangers."

"Well, we could be friends."

Your eyes slightly widen. Friends? Someone actually wanted to be friends with you for once? For a second, you think it's a joke, one that's set up by his friends. You've had way too many experiences like that. Looking around, you conclude that he is in fact all alone. Hesitance settles within you. "Why?"

He huffs. "You're asking why I want to be friends with you?" His question makes you feel dumb.

"Yes, I am." You say, brows furrowing together. "You could be playing a trick on me for all I know."

"Why would I do that?"

"I don't know, but I'm just making sure."

He gauges your reactions to see if you're being serious or not. Once he sees that you are, he sighs. "You seem like a nice person, I like nice people. So, why wouldn't I want to be friends with you?"

You mull over his words for a good minute, having an internal battle with yourself. Is he trustworthy? Does he actually mean what he says? How do you know he won't pretend to now know you next time he sees you? All sorts of questions run rampant in your mind and he can tell, easily. "I'm serious, I wanna friends with you."

You inhale deeply, scrutinizing him before finally saying, "Okay."

He lets out a sigh of relief. "Phew, that was harder than usual. You know, most people agree quite quickly. But you didn't so it makes me even more curious about you."

"Even more?" "Mhm." He steps closer. "I was also curious about your number, but you ran before I could ask."

Damn him, you already said you didn't run away. But at the mention of a number, you can't help but look away. This confuses him. "I....um....I don't have a number." You murmur.

Now his head tilts, convinced you're just making up a lie so you couldn't give him it, which would be understandable. "You don't have one?" You shake your head. "What do you mean you don't have a number?"

Oh god, he's gonna make fun of you, isn't he? "I don't have a phone."

His lips part, letting out a small "oh" and nod in understanding. "So like, you're one of those people who their parents have a tight leash on."

This makes your eyes narrow. Although you want to argue that no, you have a lot of freedom, a part of you agrees. You keep your eyes turned away from him. "Please don't say that."

He runs a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I'm just honest. I mean, what, you're like a teenager and you don't have a phone? Everyone needs a phone now, everyone has one."

"Well, I don't." You quip back, now glaring at him. "I don't have one, you can stop pestering me about it now.

"I'm not pestering, just shocked." You hold back an eyeroll. "So what do you have then?"

"I have a computer, I use it for school." You let out a slow sigh, biting on your lip. "I could...give you my email."

He stares at you for a moment. "You want me to...email you?" When you don't respond, he barks out a burst of laughter. "Email? Email you? Instead of text? Or even call? Wow, that's--"

"You either take it or you don't." You cut him off, a newfound sense of bravery in you. "I don't need a friend who will make fun of me."

This gets him to stop almost immediately. His head tilts as he stares, a sympathetic expression on his face. "My bad, I wasn't trying to." You say nothing in response, an almost defiant look on his face. One that makes him feel like laughing because you just look so adorable right now. With a deep breath, he smiles that sweet smile again, and with a jut of his chin, he replies. "What's your email?"

----------

bonus:

You check your email that night to one from 'thestrongest69'.

"Same time next week? ^.^"

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #jjk fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #oneshot #teenagers in love #x reader #gojo is so cute #drabble #happy ending #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo being a little shit #jjk satoru

109 notes · View notes

caszzine · 3 months ago

Text

I’M EVERYWHERE, I’M SO JULIA!

a/n: okay so!! writing this bc of brat challenge on lottie’s discord server😛😛 it was pretty fun to write this this, sorry if it sucks🔥

warnings: modern!au; reader is afab; reader and ellie are in a illegal rave, not much is happening there; reader and ellie ALMOST make out; mention of exams, drugs, alcohol and police; no use of y/n; not proofread (i’m too lazy for this); also english is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes - lmk if i forgot something🫦

‘360’ by charli xcx was blasting into the speakers, the green improvised led lights mixed with the weed smoke in the air just woke the brat in you. that old and abandoned warehouse was frequently used to do some illegal shit, specially illegal raves. and that’s what was happening right now.

moving your hips along to the song, shaking your ass in the dance floor as people hyped you up, it all just made you feel so… slutty. and you loved it.

everyone in the dance floor was dancing and vibing and smoking and (maybe?) on drugs and oh it was a whole chaos. i mean, after those finals almost fucked everyone’s grade up, y’all just needed to have some fun, right?

suddenly, you had the urge to pee. so you warned your friends about your future whereabouts and ran to the improvised bathroom in there. you rolled your eyes as you really had to see ellie fucking williams smoking a blunt while sitting on the ‘toilet’.

“dude, are you fucking serious? get out, i need to pee!” you exclaimed, whining as your bladder begged for relief.

“nah, i’m good.” ellie was obviously high, staring at the ceiling like she was eyefucking it or something.

“dude, scram! if i piss myself, i swear to god i WILL haunt you.”

“go piss outside, in the woods. plants need to be watered, you know?” what the fuck?! “and also, i’m kinda busy here if you didn’t notice…”

“uhm, the ‘bathroom’ is not a place to smoke a blunt, ellie! get the fuck out! and by the way, ew, i’m not pissing outside on the woods.”

you pissed outside on the woods. ellie absolutely REFUSED to leave the bathroom to let you pee, and your bladder was actually going to detonate in five minutes, so you had to take the hard way out. a benefit from it, you ask? your bladder isn’t full anymore!

“whoa. you really pissed on the woods?” dina, a mutual friend of you and miss-doesn’t-let-you-pee-in-the-bathroom-because-she’s-smoking-in-there, exclaimed. she seemed surprised. “that’s not very demure of you…”

“girl, what’s with that word? what in the actual fuck is ‘demure’?” jesse - who was just as high as miss-bathroom-smoker - asked in confusion.

“uhhh, i actually don’t know. i just saw people using it on tiktok and i started using it too.” dina and jesse got immersed in a pretty boring conversation, so you just left and went to the improvised bar.

“sup, abby?” you greeted the hot bartender, smiling as she winked at you. “can you gimme a lemonade, please? don’t feel like drinking any alcohol anymore…”

“i’ll think about it.”

“think about what?” suddenly, ellie appeared behind you, still smoking that stupid fucking blunt-

“none of your business, williams!” abby mumbled in a playful manner while grabbing your lemonade and giving it to you.

but of course, ellie grabbed it before you could even process that the lemonade was there and took a sip. more like five sips! that bitch…

“ellie, are you fucking for real right now?!” you gave her a death stare as she laughed on your face.

“what? i needed to check if it was good…”

“williams, if you want a lemonade, i can make it for you, you know? you don’t need to steal it from the poor girl!” abby mocked again while making a drink for herself.

“nah, i like annoying her.”

“fuck you, ellie.”

“with pleasure!” ellie winked. ugh, she was reeeeally high…

a few minutes later, you and your friends (ellie included) were back on the dance floor. now, another charli xcx was blasting through the speakers, and you were genuinely having the time of your life.

as you were dancing your ass off, you felt two hands rest on your waist. you turned around, ready to slap the shit out of the person who dared to put their hands on you, but you immediately relaxed after you saw miss-bathroom-smoker looking at you with a grin.

“for fuck’s sake, ellie, you scared me! i thought it was a fucking creep or something.” you screamed in her ear, as the song was way too loud for you to talk in a normal tone.

“what did you say?”

“i thought you were a creep!”

“you think i’m a creep?!”

“no!” you denied with your hands, watching ellie relax as soon as you did so. “i said that i thought that you were a random creep when you grabbed my waist, i got scared!”

“oh, so you did think i was a creep!” ellie mocked you, raising her eyebrow.

“no! not like that- ugh, forget it!” you rolled your eyes and turned your back to ellie, continuing your dance.

ellie’s hands never left your waist, sometimes guiding your movements. the room was starting to get hot, and so were you.

your bodies were sweaty, grinding against each other, and you swore that ellie was dry humping on you for like a millisecond.

you turned to face ellie again, putting your arms around her neck as you danced to the beat.

someone pushed you even more against her, and your lips were now five centimeters away from touching.

you smirked, turning back again to grind against her. but as soon as she leaned to kiss your neck, the music stopped and you saw people running and screaming for other people to run too.

then, you heard police sirens. for fuck’s sake, what a bunch of cockblockers!

a/n: YIKESS this sucks💔

#wlw #ellie williams #ellie tlou #modern au #the last of us #brat summer #brat charli xcx #360 brat #360 charli xcx #ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader #idk what else to put here #sorry if this sucks english is not my first language

60 notes · View notes

baleriontheblackkitten · 2 months ago

Text

A Game of Thrones - Eddard I

And so the king's court comes to Winterfell.

Ned knew many of the riders. There came Ser Jaime Lannister with hair as bright as beaten gold, and there Sandor Clegane with his terrible burned face. The tall boy beside him could only be the crown prince, and that stunted little man behind them was surely the Imp, Tyrion Lannister.

It's kind of funny re-reading this passage, but it makes sense that most Starks and Lannisters hardly know each other at all at this point. It's the first time visiting the North for many of these people. You really feel the sense of how distant Winterfell is from everywhere else - no one ever goes there from the South, and the Starks hardly leave it either. Ned and Robert haven't seen each other since Balon's rebellion.

Something's off about the timeline. In Cat's first chapter, Ned says, "It will be good to see the children. The youngest was still sucking at the Lannister woman’s teat the last time I saw him," and Cat states Tommen is seven years old. Now Ned muses that it's been nine years since he last saw Robert, at Balon's rebellion. Why would Ned see Cersei and baby Tommen without Robert? Considering the queen and the kids have been traveling on a giant wheelhouse that doesn't even fit the castle gate, trained by forty horses - I doubt Cersei is the kind of person who would travel much with an infant. Unless she'd be going to Casterly Rock to have baby Tommen meet his grandfather, but why would Ned go there?

I mean, it's doesn't matter. We're just in the exposition stage. The funniest in-story explanation is that Ned and Cat were just mixing up babies in their memories and it wasn't baby Tommen they saw but baby Myrcella, in that case the timeline would work since Myrcella would be of breastfeeding age nine years ago. I'll just accept that.

Anyway. Ned is taken aback by how much Robert has changed, no longer built like a warrior, but a fat man that smells of perfume instead of blood.

So many of Ned's memories are tied to the smell of blood. He remembers Robert as smelling of leather and blood, he remembers the room Lyanna died in as smelling of roses and blood. He's a man whose past is filled with the scent of blood, that he can still smell with his memory. It's easy to point the finger at Ned's mistakes, but this is a man traumatized to the seven hells and back who uses defensive mechanisms (like the rose-tinted glasses he looks at Robert through) that progressively crumble leaving him undefended.

(It's also interesting how wolves are often described as smelling blood, and the Starks who warg into wolves, Bran and Arya, often mention the smell of blood in their noses. Something about a circle of violence, blood spilled that calls for more blood and whose scent fills the nostrils of the younger generation.)

Speaking of Lyanna.

No sooner had those formalities of greeting been completed than the king had said to his host, “Take me down to your crypt, Eddard. I would pay my respects.” Ned loved him for that, for remembering her still after all these years. He called for a lantern. No other words were needed. The queen had begun to protest. They had been riding since dawn, everyone was tired and cold, surely they should refresh themselves first. The dead would wait. She had said no more than that; Robert had looked at her, and her twin brother Jaime had taken her quietly by the arm, and she had said no more.

The dead wolf girl will always matter more to Robert than his living wife, and it seems Cersei still minds that even after all these years. Jaime diffuses a potential nasty situation, which is a microcosm for Jaime's role in Robert and Cersei's marriage - keeping Cersei placated enough that the friction between her and Robert is reduced to a minimum. And yet it's not enough. (And pretty ironic, since Jaime's role in that marriage is both solving problems and creating bigger ones.)

"This king Ned scarcely recognized" Ned thinks of Robert, and that's the point, isn't it? Robert has changed physically, but he's still the same man he's always been. It's Ned that remembers him different - a better man than Robert has ever been - and will struggle with the realization.

“I was starting to think we would never reach Winterfell,” Robert complained as they descended. “In the south, the way they talk about my Seven Kingdoms, a man forgets that your part is as big as the other six combined.” “I trust you enjoyed the journey, Your Grace?” Robert snorted. “Bogs and forests and fields, and scarcely a decent inn north of the Neck. I’ve never seen such a vast emptiness. Where are all your people?” “Likely they were too shy to come out,” Ned jested. He could feel the chill coming up the stairs, a cold breath from deep within the earth. “Kings are a rare sight in the north.” Robert snorted. “More likely they were hiding under the snow. Snow, Ned!” The king put one hand on the wall to steady himself as they descended. “Late summer snows are common enough,” Ned said. “I hope they did not trouble you. They are usually mild.” “The Others take your mild snows,” Robert swore. “What will this place be like in winter? I shudder to think.” “The winters are hard,” Ned admitted. “But the Starks will endure. We always have.”

A very effective picture of the North in just a few lines! Although there's more to the North than the hard parts.

Robert's description of the South in summer is pretty poetic, I mean, if you ignore the misogyny in his description of women. Okay, it partly speaks of Robert's privilege as he can enjoy all the pleasures his land can offer. But I also think he's not that far from the truth when he says that everyone is "fat and drunk and rich". Obviously that's not true true, since peasants are still peasants and not rich, but the kingdom is enjoying a long period of peace and prosperity. They've been having a long summer. The only war since the Rebellion was fought in the Iron Islands, leaving the rest of the kingdom untouched. So Robert is, like, getting the right answer while using the wrong formula. Most people are not as weathy as he is, but there's good crops, food in abundance for everyone, and the economy of the kingdom is flourishing. Which makes it ever more heartbreaking when war breaks out and everything goes to hell. Winter is coming for the kingdom in horrific ways they don't realize yet.

It was always cold down here. Their footsteps rang off the stones and echoed in the vault overhead as they walked among the dead of House Stark. The Lords of Winterfell watched them pass. Their likenesses were carved into the stones that sealed the tombs. In long rows they sat, blind eyes staring out into eternal darkness, while great stone direwolves curled round their feet. The shifting shadows made the stone figures seem to stir as the living passed by. By ancient custom an iron longsword had been laid across the lap of each who had been Lord of Winterfell, to keep the vengeful spirits in their crypts. The oldest had long ago rusted away to nothing, leaving only a few red stains where the metal had rested on stone. Ned wondered if that meant those ghosts were free to roam the castle now. He hoped not. The first Lords of Winterfell had been men hard as the land they ruled. In the centuries before the Dragonlords came over the sea, they had sworn allegiance to no man, styling themselves the Kings in the North.

Actually, Ned, I think it's going to be a good thing that the ancient Kings of Winter are around. Just in case something passes by that the ancient Kings of Winter would be used to deal with. Just saying. I do wonder what will be the role of the dead in the crypts of Winterfell, but of one thing I'm sure: they won't be used as puppets by the Others. The ancient people of the North knew better than to leave their dead undefended. Like the Wall is inbued with defensive magic, I'm sure these tombs have a heavy dose of magic against the enemy. Maybe those swords were never supposed to protect the living from the dead in the crypts, but were supposed to be wielded by the "good" dead to protect the living from the "bad" dead, and in time that knowledge was lost.

Anyway, they are so very going to play a part, these ancient Starks whose eyes follow Ned and Robert as they pass. It's always meaningful when something that should not be sentient feels like it's watching. It usually means there is, in fact, something sentient watching. Maybe this is also [going to be] Bran, maybe not.

The crypt continued on into darkness ahead of them, but beyond this point the tombs were empty and unsealed; black holes waiting for their dead, waiting for him and his children. Ned did not like to think on that.

Something that seems creepy while they're alive - the tombs meant for them - turns out to be something desirable once they're dead. Ned's bones being prevented from reaching their supposed resting place, Robb's body defiled and desacrated, Cat's body (she might not be a Stark, but she becomes one during the war) being given a sacrilegious mockery of a Tully funeral - none of them can rest, they all haunt the kingdom and the narrative, in Cat's case she literally comes back to life as a revived corpse, but Ned and Robb also haunt the South. And of course, the absence of them in their place in Winterfell also creates a spiritual imbalance in Winterfell itself.

(Also, honestly, I find there's something sweet and comforting in the empty space in the marble of the family grave where my picture and name and the pictures and names of my loved ones will eventually be placed. It's inevitable that each of us will die, after all, and it's nice to know we'll be in the same place to rest together.)

The dead of House Stark will need to be put to rest before the end of the story. The fact that Ned's first chapter is set in the crypts... I see what you did there, George. Ned's journey will find its conclusion here.

There were three tombs, side by side. Lord Rickard Stark, Ned’s father, had a long, stern face. The stonemason had known him well. He sat with quiet dignity, stone fingers holding tight to the sword across his lap, but in life all swords had failed him. In two smaller sepulchres on either side were his children. Brandon had been twenty when he died, strangled by order of the Mad King Aerys Targaryen only a few short days before he was to wed Catelyn Tully of Riverrun. His father had been forced to watch him die. He was the true heir, the eldest, born to rule. Lyanna had only been sixteen, a child-woman of surpassing loveliness. Ned had loved her with all his heart. Robert had loved her even more. She was to have been his bride.

Both Ned and Robert had their lives uprooted by the deaths of the two Stark siblings. Ned took Brandon's place as Lord of Winterfell and as Catelyn's husband. Robert, well. Ironically he takes the place that was supposed to be Rhaegar's and marries the woman Rhaegar was supposed to marry originally. But Ned embraces his unexpected role and quickly grows to love his wife, Robert just despises the responsibilities of the throne and Cersei.

The fact that Ned was not supposed to rule Winterfell... It makes you wonder if this is ultimately the reason Ned is so unequipped to deal with the court and eventually loses the game of thrones. He was not raised to be Lord of Winterfell, he was raised to run some holdfast for his older brother (like he tells Bran he'll do for Robb - I see what you did there, George). Catelyn, on the other hand, was raised almost like a firstborn son for years since her father was afraid he'd never get a son. And it's Catelyn that almost makes it - she insist they hurry to eat under the Frey's roof, so that the rules of hospitality will keep them safe. She plays the game well... it's just that the other side breaks the rules of the game. You can't blame her for that.

Anyway, let's not get too ahead of ourselves. If "by ancient custom an iron longsword had been laid across the lap of each who had been Lord of Winterfell, to keep the vengeful spirits in their crypts" then it means that Brandon and Lyanna don't have one. Maybe Brandon was given one anyway, since he was meant to be Lord of Winterfell. But Lyanna surely hasn't been given a sword. I don't know if that means anything metaphysically, but metaphorically her ghost is haunting the two men visiting her grave for sure.

I love how Robert dislikes her resting place arrangement, unable to understand what it means to a Stark. Robert never understood anything about Lyanna, and I am convinced that it was her choice to go with Rhaegar instead of marrying Robert, that she purposely did it to avoid marrying Robert.

Speaking of Rhaegar... in the previous chapter, Dany thinks of Rhaegar's death as something Rhaegar did "for the woman he loved". Now Robert and Ned obviously think of Rhaegar's death as punishment for harming Lyanna... The truth is probably in the middle, alright. Rhaegar was not the perfect man Viserys has described him to Dany, but he was not the man Robert thinks of him.

Rhaegar is still a mystery we're given clues to here and there in the books. Personally I think his tragedy was the weight of prophecy on him - at some point he must have realized that the "ice and fire" part of "the song of ice and fire" did not refer to "our side (fire) and the enemy (ice)" but "Stark and Targaryen" (as in the "Pact of Ice and Fire" established during the Dance of the Dragons), which must have made him think of his marriage to ~more fire~ (a Martell i.e. the sun) the wrong choice, because the prince who was promised could not be fire+fire but fire+ice. And then he possibly met a Stark girl who was very determined to create her own path instead of marrying the man her father had promised her to... and the rest is history.

“In my dreams, I kill him every night,” Robert admitted. “A thousand deaths will still be less than he deserves.” There was nothing Ned could say to that.

Ned is fucking thinking about keeping a certain boy as far away from Robert's eyes as possible for the entirety of Robert's visit.

They start talking about Jon Arryn's death, which happened so fast and unexpectedly, not suspicious at all.

“Catelyn fears for her sister. How does Lysa bear her grief?” Robert’s mouth gave a bitter twist. “Not well, in truth,” he admitted. “I think losing Jon has driven the woman mad, Ned. She has taken the boy back to the Eyrie. Against my wishes. I had hoped to foster him with Tywin Lannister at Casterly Rock. Jon had no brothers, no other sons. Was I supposed to leave him to be raised by women?” Ned would sooner entrust a child to a pit viper than to Lord Tywin, but he left his doubts unspoken.

Ned is so funny.

(Also, Robert is so misogynistic, seven hells, why do you think the girl ran off with some other guy, Robert?)

“The boy is my namesake, did you know that? Robert Arryn. I am sworn to protect him. How can I do that if his mother steals him away?”

I have some thoughts about namesakes. Ned named his eldest ~sons~ after Robert and Jon Arryn, and only the youngest sons after his brother and father. His daughters are also given Stark names. That leads me to believe that Jon actually has been given a name by Lyanna, that Jon is just a cover Ned finds to make the baby believable as his son. Because the boy named after Robert dies, and the boy named after Jon Arryn... also dies. It seems only fitting that Jon is eventually reborn with a different name. The Stark children who have been given non-Stark names cannot survive, only the ones carrying Stark names can survive.

"But Marghe, Rickon has a Stark name and there's no way he survives the story," you might say. Okay, maybe it's not a universal truth for all Stark children and more of a "you doomed those two boys by naming him after your Rebellion companions" thing. Or maybe Rickon survives after all. Fingers crossed.

“I have more concern for my nephew’s welfare than I do for Lannister pride,” Ned declared. “That is because you do not sleep with a Lannister.” Robert laughed, the sound rattling among the tombs and bouncing from the vaulted ceiling.

Here it is, the crux of the troubles soon to happen. Robert's priority is preventing his wife from ~nagging at him, and that's going to get Sansa's direwolf dead, Sansa's trust in Ned broken, and everything that follows.

And then Robert gets to the reason he went to visit Ned in person. Gods, he is so selfish. He hates being king because it's annoying and tedious to him. He says he hates being surrounded by liars and flatterers and he wants someone who's gonna tell him the truth to his face - but he won't listen to Ned anyway, so. (Makes you really appreciate Stannis actually listening to Davos, uh. Damn it Robert, Stannis should have been your new Hand, you just didn't pick him because you find him annoying!) He knows that Ned will hate the job, but he wants him to do it regardless.

Robert groaned with good-humored impatience. “If I wanted to honor you, I’d let you retire. I am planning to make you run the kingdom and fight the wars while I eat and drink and wench myself into an early grave.” He slapped his gut and grinned. “You know the saying, about the king and his Hand?” Ned knew the saying. “What the king dreams,” he said, “the Hand builds.” “I bedded a fishmaid once who told me the lowborn have a choicer way to put it. The king eats, they say, and the Hand takes the shit.” He threw back his head and roared his laughter. The echoes rang through the darkness, and all around them the dead of Winterfell seemed to watch with cold and disapproving eyes.

Robert also complains Ned is too serious, to which Ned responds with his own brand of humor:

“They say it grows so cold up here in winter that a man’s laughter freezes in his throat and chokes him to death,” Ned said evenly. “Perhaps that is why the Starks have so little humor.”

Re-reading the chapter, Ned keeps joking, but it's a kind of deadpan humor Robert doesn't really get.

Now comes a bit that makes me go mmm.

“You helped me win this damnable throne, now help me hold it. We were meant to rule together. If Lyanna had lived, we should have been brothers, bound by blood as well as affection. Well, it is not too late. I have a son. You have a daughter. My Joff and your Sansa shall join our houses, as Lyanna and I might once have done.”

Did he really love Lyanna, or was he in love with the idea of becoming ~brothers~ with Ned? Did Ned possibly encourage their father to betroth Lyanna to Robert, blinded by the enthusiasm of becoming brothers with Robert, not realizing that Lyanna would not be happy with him at all, and inadvertantly sending everything to hell?

There's also another layer to this - Robert wanted to "rule together" with Ned. He basically wanted Ned to be his queen. Making him Hand of the King basically makes him his queen. (See also Davos as Stannis' truest queen.)

I think that Robert and Ned's affection (obsession? inability to see each other as they truly are but seeing a fictional version of each other instead?) for each other destroyed Lyanna first, and Sansa later.

For a moment Eddard Stark was filled with a terrible sense of foreboding. This was his place, here in the north. He looked at the stone figures all around them, breathed deep in the chill silence of the crypt. He could feel the eyes of the dead. They were all listening, he knew. And winter was coming.

So tragic when the characters themselves see the foreshadowing but cannot but walk to their doom anyway...

#marghe re reads asoiaf #my asoiaf thoughts #asoiaf meta #agot #agot - eddard i #asoiaf

51 notes · View notes

honeypipin · 1 year ago

Text

Everyone's Favourite Banker!

You get to grips with 141 and others this time! (no, not in that way)

Mafia!Price who invites you to one of his company galas! He even payed for your outfit, and he knew what size you were! how?

When you finally show up to the gala in your newly bought attire, Mafia!Price comes over to greet you with the biggest smile on his face. He is just so smug that you are wearing the outfit he chose for you, and you look damn good in it.

Mafia!Price who introduces you to his associates with a respectful, firm grip on your waist, and well, you've had him as a client for ages, this is just him being friendly, right?

And boy do his associates love you.

Mafia!Laswell and her wife are so sweet to you, they even let you know there's a table with appetizers and more drinks at the end of the hall, well, now you know exactly where you're planning to go.

Mafia!Soap who laughs with you over the champagne and is so convincing when he asks you to become the mafia!141's personal financial advisor, I mean look at that smile, so charming! You can't help but swoon over handsome scotsman (and he could say the same about you).

Mafia!Gaz catches you at the appetizer table, where you both chat about jobs only to learn that He, Price, Soap and Ghost all work as a corporation? He's also very happy to find out that you have been advising Price and Ghost, he was just in need of a new financial advisor, especially since the old one had...disappeared. And this new one was pretty cute too...

Mafia!Nikolai who comes over to talk to gaz but quickly shifts his focus when he sees you, introducing himself and sounding out the name you told him, apparently, he liked it. Would be a nice name to sound out in bed too, but he wasn't just going to tell you that here, you deserved somewhere better, and somewhere not as public. Maybe the private booth of a restaurant?

Mafia!Ghost who you find a while later in a private room that you just happened to wander into, well you did need a place to fix your shoes and clothes, and the bathroom was no where to be found, this wasn't what you planned, you swear! The other men that Ghost are talking to seem quite happy with your surprise visit, Mafia!Rudy asks you to join the conversation, much to Mafia!Alejandro's delight and Ghost's annoyance. The two men are also quite interested in your position, and have started asking for your contact details, wow! Price was right, this party was worth it, such great networking. The two men are happy to receive your details, but a certain mancunian can't help but glare. Fucking brilliant, more competition for you.

You return to the ballroom where Price is happy to see you back at his table, and hooray, the main courses are just coming out! Lucky you, you were getting hungry.

After a night of eating, talking, dancing and the feeling of being stared at, Price kindly offers to drive you home, and to be fair, you may have had a bit too much champagne for the food you were eating. But your car! It's ok, Price lets you know he'll drop you off tomorrow to get it too, what a gentleman. He carries you to your house the second you stumble out of his car, elliciting some drunken giggles from you, which he just loves the sound of.

He watches you let yourself into your house and wave him a toothy-grinned good bye, now he does chuckle at it, but he also wishes that you invited him in. He saw the way you looked at him tonight, but you were just too good of a financialist, savy and professional, you wouldn't just let yourself drunkenly confess to him. He did respect you for it though.

Once he drives away, you charge for your bedroom, throwing your dress on your chair, dirty clothes in the wash, pyjamas on and collapse into bed. God, what a long day, you already knew you were going to sleep in tomorrow morning.

259 notes · View notes

in-hav3n · 1 year ago

Note

okay HEAR ME OUT. you're the third blog i send this to because the others didn't repost it and i desperately need people to hear this because i can't stop thinking about it.

i just know that the reason james has always had such hot muscular arms is because he fucks in the air or against the wall.

i'm sure.

(i want him to fuck me like this)

okay, that's it, have a nice day. bye.

PS: in case someone is confused (i doubt it but you never know) my point is that if he fucks someone against the wall or in the air he has to lift her and hold her there for quite some time which means: 💪🏻

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐔𝐓

WARNINGS : NSFW - rough sex - sex scene - age gap

It's an ordinary day in Colorado. You are lazy on your couch, busy reading a random magazine.You are completely bored by the lack of interesting articles until you heard James coming from the backyard door after working on his cars in his garage all the afternoon. He greets you with a smile and a little hand wave on his way to the kitchen. He needs to clean his greasy hands and finally joins you with a glass of water in his hand. Sat at your feet, you would both chatted for a while about your day and stuffs you've done.

"You're pretty sweat", you comment after a while, noticing how shiny his arms are. James had leaned a bit, resting his back against the couch as he was scratching his head pensively. He turned to see your hand on his skin and chuckled.

"It's pretty hot outside and I worked a lot. Had a lot of heavy things to carry in the garage to fix that old car I bought", he explained as flexing a bit his arm.

"Whatever it was...made you do a bit of work out", you giggle, your hands looking very small compares to his arm's size.

He was wearing a black tank top which was a good outfit that shows perfectly how tough James was. You bite your lower lip and start to squeeze his arms, palpating his muscle with your fingers. James giggles too at your remark and flexes his muscles more to show you how impressively muscular they were.

"But that's not going to the gym or carrying heavy stuffs that gave me those arms you know", he declares with a grin, turning his head in your direction, not leaving your gaze. You raise an eyebrow in a curious way.

"Oh really? What is it then?", you tease him as going on your knees to be closer.

"You wanna know, hum?". James' hand on you naked knee to rub your skin slowly is enough to make you shiver hard. You hum and nod frantically, even more curious.

And this is how you end up on his laps, arms around his neck while his hands were on your thighs, lifting up he edge of your dress over your hips. You were sharing a passionate, hungry and feverish kiss as taking each other's clothes off. His tank top first, in a hurry, before you take care his short with shaking hands. He helps you by removing it completely, kicking off his flip flops to get rid of his clothes.

Meanwhile his hands slips the straps of your dress. James moans of satisfaction when he discovers you're not wearing a bra today and expose your breasts to feast on them. You whine of pleasure and roll your hips on his hard member, showing him what you want. He is already hard beneath you and your cunt is already pulsing at the idea of being fucked so unexpectedly on this lazy afternoon in your living room. Even tough it wasn't the first time that such things happened...

"Take off your panties baby", he commands between two kisses, your tongues moving perfectly together for a sensual dance.

You moan in agreement and roll next to him to quickly take if off, throwing it somewhere else on the couch. You also took off your dress in a hurry. Once done, you straddle him again with a giggle of pleasure, rolling your hips again on his hard member. The physical touch between your soft pussy lips and his hard dick soft skin is enough to drive you both crazy.

"So needy...", James whispers with a grin on his face as caressing your butt, even adding a spank. "You want me to fuck you now?"

"Oh yes baby, do it", you reply as biting his earlobe. He groans low like a beast. You are driving him crazy as well with your touch and gestures.

James hurries himself to glide his hands between your two bodies to grab his member, puts him in a straight position to help you sit on it. You slowly sink on, stretching you out until you arrive at the base with a gasp of pleasure.

"Oh yes...", you moan low, almost in a whisper, eyes closed, leaning against his shoulders for support. You are used to this position and James knows you need to take your own pace first to adjust yourself at his size. So he just leans against the couch, hands on your butt to join your ass movements, helping you to get ready.

"That's it baby", he says low as watching you bouncing slowly on his dick, feeling the enjoyable feeling of it inside your warm and wet pussy's walls. "Get yourself ready...move on my cock...so I can show you my trick".

You frown, keeping the rythm, curious to know what he's talking about. His trick? You simply nod and move until you feel it's time.

"I'm ready James", you tell him in a gasp as you move easier on him, your inner walls being now completely stretched out and you pussy being wetter.

And this is how suddenly James grips you tight, holding your body against his as he carefully gets up from the couch. You quickly wrap your arms around his neck for support, tightening your legs against his chest and crossing your ankles behind his back. He holds you tight with his hands under your butt and you feel his dick popping out of you.

"Oh!", you moan of surprise with a giggle. James chuckles with a smile at your reaction and walks slowly. You have no idea where he's going.

"So...what's this trick, big man ?", you tease him with a grin, your fingers lovingly rub his neck and the short hair there.

James smiles bigger and he only answers you when your back hits the wall of your living room. You let out an other low gasp of surprise when your skin hit the cold material.

"I hope you're ready cause I'm gonna pound into you so hard..."

"So hard uh?", you tease again as biting his lower lip in a sexy way, not leaving his gaze.

"So hard you won't be able to walk tomorrow".

You giggle loud at his comment. "Really ?".

James doesn't give you time to tease him more. He manages to free one of his hands to line up again with your entrance, even adding some saliva to help and in one push, he thrusts in you. You gasp of surprise, closing your eyes to enjoy this new sensation. You feel a hint of pain tough, the angle is really different and quite new,

James knows you well and is able to read your expression. He feels your pussy contracting around him and understands you need some time again to adjust. He stops his moves until he sees you nodding to move again. He moves slowly first, holding you tight against him with his two forearms underneath your knees, your back still on the wall to have a balance. He opened a bit his legs to have some kind of balance too and for more strength to push inside you.

"Oh my god James...", you moaned with a low voice, your head resting against the wall behind you for some seconds before resting on his shoulder.

"Does it hurt baby?", James rested his cheek against yours, whispering into your ear.

"Not anymore...feels good", you pant, still not believing how good this is.

He starts to move a bit faster, his hands enveloping you butt to slowly make you bounce on him.

"Oh yes...feels even better...like this". This was like doing some work out, like lifting some weights. And a smile appears on your lips at this thought. This is how James got his big and tough arms then and you absolutely love this.

"Don't stop baby please...", you beg with moans, your nails digging into his shoulder's flesh now. James groans and moans low, his head swinging back as he enjoyed the feeling of your warm walls tightening around his dick.

"You're gonna make me cum if you keep moving like this", just saying this is enough to stretch you even more and his dick finds his way deeper inside you. You gasp again with a loud whine, gripping his neck stronger to not fall. James feels it too and this helps him to pound deeper, pouding your spot with no mercy. It was good, it was hard, it was obscene the way your body were moving but you didn't care.

"OH YES!", you moan louder again, your head leaving his shoulder to hit the wall behind, as you start to pant harder. Luckily no one could hear your desperate and loud whines of pleasure.

"Gonna...cum...baby?", James asks, also panting as he keeps the pace, making you bounce on his cock as well as moving his pelvis to thrust deeper. He was doing a real work out exercice, using all his body to give you such pleasure.

You simply nod, head still against the wall as your teeth bite strongly your lower lip. You are on the edge of cumming hard, harder than you felt before with other positions. This one is just perfect to make you feel new sensations and James perfect moves are just the cherry on the cake.

"Yes...like this...don't stop, oh my god! I'm gonna cum James...I'm gonna!", you pant harder and harder until you let go this good and powerful sensation that was growing inside your inner belly. You are not able to talk anymore, you're only able to mumble some words and high whines or moans while your eyes roll behind.

James grips your knees tighter to keep his strength until the end. He wants you to ride your orgasm and feels your walls contracting and pulsing around his dick. "Cum on my cock baby, that's it! Enjoy it...feel it", he pants, feeding his own excitement with this sight of you reaching your orgasm.

He stops moving only when he feels you relaxing, when the pleasure invade your senses and spread in all your body. You have a satisfied smile on your lips, some sweat drops between your breasts. Some hair are even stick on your forehead. He smiles and pushes your body against his chest to kiss you tenderly. Then he slowly pushes out his swollen dick before helping you to go back on the floor. His lips never leave yours.

"I understand know why you have big arms baby", you tease him after the kiss, biting his lip in a loving gesture. Your hands touch his arms, still impressed by what just happened.

"I told you, I never did work out...but I practice this a lot", he grins and leans again to kiss your tenderly. You giggle during the kiss before your hand wrap around his swollen and hard cock.

"Now let me show you how I work my mouth's muscles", you tease him with a sexy glance as kneeling in front of him, ready to give him the best blowjob of his life...

A/N : Here's a little reminder of how big and sexy James arms are 🤭 I picture your idea really well in my mind sweet anon. I used HTSD era cause this is one of my fav and I love his tough daddy style but it can be with any era you want ! This is how I imagine this...

#james hetfield #james hetfield x reader #htsd james #smut #oooh i loved this idea #hope you'll enjoy it #we know your secret james #big arms not because of work out #request 6 #6

292 notes · View notes