#good ol' party with new faces | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gothgoblinbabe · 2 months ago

Text

The Art Of Make-believe Matrimony (pt.2)

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), fem reader, soft dom!Logan, good ol’ face sittin’, sloppy oral (m receiving), swearing, use of pet names - babydoll, sweetheart, pretty girl - teeth rottingly sweet fluff, emotional(?) sex, mild angst, i think thats it but if there’s any more pls lmk!

Read pt.1 here

Summary: part 2 is finally here! I’ll be honest i think the majority of it is smut, but if you’re not interested in reading that, you can stop at the point where you and Logan drive home from the restaurant :) <3 this is probably the most detailed nsfw thing i’ve ever written so it’s a lil’ longer than what i’d usually write for smut but I really wanted to deliver on this one.

Taglist: @deardo11 @pastelpinkflowerlife @joyfulpeanutsalad @jonesem11 @carollinnasic @likeficsinthewnd @mrs-ephemeral

Word Count: 9.5K

divider credit here and here

It had been about a month since the whole ordeal with Logan - the exchanging of fake rings, sweet nicknames and kissing in the driveway - and to everyone else, it seemed like nothing had changed.

You’d still taunt each other during training, bicker over the small things and butt heads on almost everything, but it was all accompanied by stolen kisses in empty hallways, nights on the roof spent stargazing and small, sweet moments in between. You were going to come out with it - tell the team what had been going on behind closed doors - but truthfully, you were both fearful of the possible outcomes. What if this didn’t work out? What, you’d go back to hating each other - for real this time? So you kept it hushed, intending to give the new ‘relationship’ - a word neither of you used, yet - a sort of trial run. Neither of you admitted it aloud but you knew this way, if it really wasn’t meant to be, it could save you the embarrassment of admitting you were both wrong.

As the days went on, though, it became harder for either of you to keep up the act and even more difficult to keep your secret. You came close to being caught more often, having to stutter out an excuse each time. Jean and Ororo still knew what was going on - having been the ones to greet you in the hall when you’d gotten back from that dinner party - but gave you their word that it would stay a secret. The former of the two even feigned surprise when Scott mentioned he thought he saw you nearly kiss Logan in the kitchen, insisting he must've been seeing things.

You’d been washing some dishes and handing them off to him to dry and put away, both of you alone in the kitchen after dinner.

“Hey, do you wanna come up to my room in a little bit? Maybe watch a movie?” he offered in a low voice, standing so close that your arms touched.

Neither of you had actually had the chance to be alone like that yet and the idea made your stomach erupt in butterflies.

“Hm - If I didn’t know any better, Logan,” you chuckled, “I’d think you have some ulterior motive.”

“And If I did?”

Your cheeks hurt from smiling and you rolled your eyes.

“C’mon,” he cooed, “what do you think?”

You were looking up at him, your noses inches apart as he leaned down further. One of his hands came to rest on your lower back.

“Hey, guys, have you seen my - “

Scott’s voice echoed through the kitchen and you both jumped, Logan trying to put distance between you and nearly tripping over his feet in the process. He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck and you kept your eyes glued to the dishes in the sink.

“Uh,” Scott tilted his head, “have you guys…seen my phone?”

“Nope,” Logan was quick to reply, drying and putting away dishes now like it was his job.

“Um, no - sorry,” you shook your head.

“Hm…okay,” Scott mumbled, clearly suspicious of whatever it was he’d just seen. You both exchanged a look of panic when he left the room.

“That was close,” you huffed, returning to the task at hand.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “and he’s probably the last one we want to find out - Summers is a blabber mouth.”

You knew exactly what he meant. If you told Scott anything, he couldn’t keep it to himself. One time Jean had tried to plan a surprise party for your birthday and you already knew about it before she could even pick the decorations.

Jean and Ororo had thankfully kept their word, though. It was damn near torture for them to keep from shouting the truth aloud every time you got into your usual spats. The sly jokes, however, were another story.

“Will you two just kiss already?” Jean had blurted when you were pelting each other with beanbags during an outdoor game of cornhole.

Ororo wasn’t any better.

She was sitting next to you at dinner one night, Logan across from you. Everyone was chatting about their days or telling stories and she volunteered you to share.

“Anything new happening with you? You seem extra happy lately,” she was grinning.

Your eyes darted to Logan and then back to her, taking a deep inhale.

“Uh, nothin’ - nothin’ new,” you swallowed, "just happy.”

Logan was smiling to himself, his gaze focused on his dinner.

After everyone had finished dinner and vanished off to their rooms, he stopped you at the bottom of the staircase.

“Hey,” he nervously scanned the hallway while gnawing on his bottom lip, “can you meet me in the garden out back in fifteen minutes? I wanna show you somethin’.”

“Sure,” you nodded, “but the ‘something’ better not be beef jerky and a picnic blanket - which, by the way, is not a date.”

He clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, a contradiction to the smile tugging at his lips.

“That was one damn time - you’re still mad about that?”

“Eh - not really, but I am gonna mention it in every argument we will ever have,” you joked.

“Oh, shut up, ya’ brat.”

You giggled and he beamed at the sound, already undeniably smitten with you. He’d never been so sure of any other feeling in his life. Your serene voice, your perfect hair, the smell of your perfume, the way you walked, the way you laughed and smiled - it was all things he’d taken notice of before but chose to bury within himself, terrified of whatever it was that had given you so much power over him.

Set on trying to impress you, he’d gone around the garden that morning and picked a couple flowers out of each different plant he saw. He felt a little ridiculous - his six foot frame and two hundred pound body towering over a bed of tulips and daffodils - but he reminded himself this was for you; to see that smile on your face that could bring him to his knees. He had fallen for you and he fell fast. He didn’t know when he’d truly realized it - maybe during one of your midnight conversations or during one of the movie nights when you made yourself comfortable under his arm - but it was a feeling so intense that he’d never experienced anything like it before. He’d never had that ache in his chest, the pain of wanting someone so badly that it physically hurts; the twisting feeling in the pit of his stomach when he thought of losing you, the way the thump of his heartbeat became so much louder and faster when he caught even a glimpse of you. Weeks ago, he probably would’ve made fun of the poor sap who was acting just as he was - like a lovesick dog on your leash - but he found himself finally starting to embrace the idea that there was someone for him in the way there was for Jean and Scott or Marie and Bobby. Maybe it wasn’t all permanent - nothing ever was - but whatever connection he had developed with you was one of the only things that he thought of first thing in the morning and right before he went to bed at night.

After what felt like the longest fifteen minutes of your life, you made your way outside and to the well kept garden. You admired every variation of flower in bloom while you walked, taking in the peaceful atmosphere of the garden in the moonlight. You planted yourself in the middle of the extensive displays of flora, nervously rocking back and forth on your heels. You scanned the landscape and that’s when you spotted him.

Logan was making his way towards you and even through the darkness, you could see the bright arrangement of flowers held in his hands. Your heart felt like it swelled so much with adoration that it was going to burst. He’d done this for you, went out and handpicked every flower. Receiving so much affection from him was unusual, in a good way. Recently, he’d absentmindedly begun holding your hand in his at times, talking away while his fingers intertwined with yours like it was second nature. He’d play with your hair, kiss your cheek, embrace you from behind, even pull you onto his lap so you could nuzzle into his chest. Even when you weren’t alone, he was having trouble keeping himself off of you. He’d place a guiding hand on the small of your back or let his touch linger when your fingers brushed up against each other - small things, almost unnoticeable. It was a stark contrast to his behavior weeks before and you couldn’t have been happier.

“These are for you,” Logan held the bouquet in front of you, pointing at some of the bulbs, “a couple of ‘em might be a little bent - I may have accidentally yanked ‘em out of the ground with more force than I needed to.”

You were beaming, your hands on your cheeks in excitement and surprise. You delicately took the arrangement of flowers from him, admiring the beautiful ribbon that kept them together. Jean had helped with that, of course.

“Oh, Logan,” you pouted, “these are beautiful!”

“I wanted to give you somethin’ nice, y’know - after being such an asshole for so long,” he shoved his hands in his pockets.

You knitted your eyebrows, “you didn’t have to, you know.”

He shook his head, waving a hand dismissively, “c’mon, none of that, princess. You deserve ‘em.”

Your heart felt like it would jump out of your chest whenever he’d call you sweet names. He’d called you princess before, sure, but only to tease you. The way he said it now was affectionate, as if to say you really were a princess in his eyes. You were head over heels for him already but you held your tongue, fearful that it was far too soon to admit something like that. The last thing you wanted to do was drive him away and lose the only relationship you’d had in years that made you absolutely lovesick to the point of losing sleep.

“I wanted to, uh - I wanted to tell you something, too,” he began, resting his hands on your waist. He seemed a little nervous with his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

“So, tell me,” you smiled up at him. You’d be lying if you said you weren't a little nervous yourself, picking up on his hesitation.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, standing up straight and keeping his eyes trained on yours.

“I love you.”

You only blinked in response, lips parted in surprise.

“You don’t have to say it back if you don’t - “

“I love you - I love you, too.”

It was like letting go after holding your breath for so long, a sense of relief that couldn’t compare to anything else.

A wide grin crept onto his face, one he couldn’t hold back even if he tried. Your expression mirrored his - complete adoration for one another.

He was staring down at you the same way he had during dinner that night you first kissed. You’d wondered since then what it was, what made his pupils dilate when his eyes focused on yours or why he would tuck his lip between his teeth. You knew now that it was love.

“It’s gonna be even harder now to keep this - us - a secret,” he mumbled in a low voice. He brought his hand up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He cupped your cheek after, unable to keep his hands off you.

“Well,” you bit the inside of your cheek, “we could tell them? Tell everyone, I mean.”

“Do you think you’re ready? I mean - not that I'm not ready, but I don't want you to feel rushed into anything.”

Your knees could’ve buckled right then and there at how truly sweet he was with you. You took his words into consideration and had a realization.

“We haven’t even really figured out what we are yet. What would we tell them?”

He nodded solemnly, grazing his thumb over your cheekbone, “Yeah, you’re right.”

You hoped this would be it - this would be the moment he finally told you that you were his girlfriend, you were something - but he gave a small smile and dropped his hand from your face.

“It’s getting late, we should get back before anyone notices we’re gone.”

You simply nodded, clearing your throat to replace the exasperated sigh you were about to let out.

You followed him on the way back, mind racing for the entirety of the short walk and drowning out anything Logan was saying. You wondered if he’d ever ask you that one question at all. Maybe he’d said he loved you to keep you hanging on, wrapped around his finger. Maybe it was meant to be casual and you’d misunderstood.

But there was a bouquet of flowers in your hands. You’d fallen asleep on his chest more times than you could count, held hands at any moment you could and he did just tell you he loved you. So, maybe he did mean it.

As you snuck down the hallway to your bedroom with the arrangement of flowers, you wondered how long you’d have to keep this a secret.

Unbeknownst to you, it wouldn't be much longer.

It all came to a head when the team decided to go out to dinner together, settling on some chain restaurant. You’d coincidentally ended up next to Logan in the large booth, the both of you on the very end of the table. You were all reading from the menus and Marie piped up from across the table.

“Honey, do you wanna switch seats?”

She was talking to you. You didn't look up from the laminated paper in your hands, responding automatically without a second thought.

“Nah, I'm fine.”

She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and looked at Bobby, who only shrugged. You two never sat next to each other, usually bickering so intensely that you’d be asked to shut up or leave the table.

The unusual interaction was soon forgotten when your drinks were brought over, the waitress placing them in front of each of you. She was pretty and her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Logan being on the very end made him the closest in proximity to her and you being so close meant that you could hear her hushed voice when she leaned down before she walked away.

“And here, this is for you.”

She slid a napkin onto the table, your eyes automatically drawn to the movement. There was a clear phone number written in ink, her name scribbled underneath next to a smiley face.

Everyone at the table had noticed the interaction and waited for Logan to speak after she walked away. Instead, they watched in curiosity as he silently slid the napkin under his drink, the ink bleeding immediately from the condensation on the outside of his glass.

“Okay, what's up with you?” Scott questioned from across the table.

Logan raised his eyebrows, “I don’t know, what's up with you?”

“I asked you first.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Marie chimed in then, leaning forward with her elbows on the table to interrogate him, “you always take girls’ numbers when they give ‘em to you. Why not hers?”

He shrugged, “just not interested.”

“I call bullshit.”

“Watch the language, kid.”

“Whatever, you’re so full of it!”

You pretended to be uninterested in the conversation, folding your napkin into unrecognizable shapes.

“You know what? I think you might be in love,” she giggled, “you’ve been way too happy lately. Like, absurdly happy.”

You froze in place, gwaning on your bottom lip.

It was true, though. He was waking up early, smiling more, making more jokes that weren’t at Scott’s expense - they really had never seen him so happy.

“Um,” he hesitated for a second when you stole a glance at him. He was smiling to himself already.

“I guess you could say that.”

Everyone turned to stare at him in mild disbelief, including you.

“What? I was just kidding! Oh my god, you didn’t tell us?” Marie exclaimed, “spill it!”

Jean and Ororo were smiling wide behind their hands and exchanging knowing looks.

“Well, she’s real pretty,” he started, “and she’s sweet.”

You were trying so hard to fight a smile, covering your mouth with your fist as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“I never thought i’d hear you talk about someone like that,” Marie knitted her eyebrows and stuck out her bottom lip - the kind of face you’d make when a kid confesses their first crush.

Logan rolled his eyes and scoffed, a grin stuck on his face. Marie was still asking questions, determined to not let the topic go till she knew every detail.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Logan was nervously chewing on the inside of his cheek. He looked like he was thinking of an answer.

“Uh… I don’t know. I haven’t really asked her.”

You must have been pink all the way to the tips of your ears. You brought your glass of water to your lips, hoping it would help cool your face.

“Why not?”

Marie was really not gonna let this go and you dreaded to hear the answer come out of his mouth.

Logan sighed, picking at the skin around his fingernails as a nervous habit.

“Just a little nervous, I guess. I don’t wanna screw it up.”

“A girl that makes you nervous? When do we get to meet her?”

Your eyes were stuck on the wood grain of the table, both of your hands covering half your face at this point.

“When the time is right,” he responded, taking a sip of his drink.

Ororo rolled her eyes.

You’d all finished eating a good while later and the check came. After you’d both put cash down, he mumbled under his breath with his hand shielding his mouth.

“Meet me outside in a second, okay?”

He slipped out of his seat and you watched him disappear around the corner.

No one had noticed him leave his seat, too engrossed in conversation. After a minute or two, you muttered something about using the bathroom before you left the table and swiftly made your way back to the entrance you had come in through. It was starting to rain a little, barely drizzling.

Logan was standing in the parking lot with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets. He beckoned you over when he saw you, taking your hand in his and leading you to a spot outside that wasn’t directly in front of the door. His nose was starting to turn pink from the cold evening air and your cheeks were doing the same.

“So,” he swallowed hard, brushing his thumb over your knuckles, “I guess it’s about time I asked you, huh?”

“Ask me what?’

You were smiling so wide that your face ached. You knew exactly what, but of course you wanted to hear him say it.

His expression mirrored yours and he let go of one of your hands so he could cup your face.

“Would you be my girl?”

It may have been a little juvenile - the teasing, the hiding, the avoidance of labeling what you had - but it had worked.

“I already am,” you told him, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips. He happily reciprocated, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you even closer.

If either of you had taken a second to look around you first , you would’ve spotted the rest of the team turning the corner the second you kissed him.

“No way!”

Marie’s squeal echoed through the parking lot and both of you jumped, turning towards the sound. You both stood in stunned silence, Logan’s arms still locked around your waist.

“Uh…” He was like a deer in headlights.

“I should’ve guessed,” Scott clicked his tongue, irritated that he hadn’t figured you out sooner.

“Guessed what? We’re - uh, we were just - “ Logan shot you a look, hoping you’d be able to think of something on the spot - even with his arms still locked around you. You could’ve squirmed out of his hold, made some unconvincing excuse about having something in your eye and needing his help. You almost did. Looking up at him, his features highlighted by the flood lights that illuminated the nearly empty lot and his cheeks peppered in rain drops, you had a realization. You didn’t want to lie. You didn’t feel the need to anymore. You weren’t afraid it wasn’t going to work or that you might be better off as enemies rather than lovers. Everything felt like it was finally right - as if every piece of your life finally fit into its perfect place. If you were wrong - fuck it. You’d deal with the consequences later if you had to.

“Kissing. We were kissing - we’re dating,” you sputtered out to your friends, looking back to Logan after. You almost expected him to be embarrassed, to tell you to keep your mouth shut.

But he was smiling. He was smiling wider than you’d probably ever seen. He leaned his head down to kiss your forehead affectionately, mumbling into your hair, “I guess the cat’s out of the bag now, huh?”

You hummed in affirmation and peeked back at everyone else.

“How? Since when? Oh my god, I need to know everything,” Marie was as giddy as could be, nearly jumping up and down.

“Since they went on that mission where they had to pretend to be married,” Ororo piped up, “they liked pretending a little too much.”

You all began walking to the two cars you came in, Logan’s arm draped around your shoulders. He was holding you so close that you were practically stepping on his boots.

“Aw,” you heard Marie whisper to Bobby from behind you, “they’re so sweet together.”

“Now that they're not trying to kill each other? Yeah,” he replied with a small laugh.

“I thought you guys hated each other,” Scott said, “what happened?

“Well,” you smiled to yourself, “he’s a good fake husband, so I figured he might make an alright boyfriend.”

You stopped when you approached the car and Logan wrapped you into a tight embrace, your face smushed against his chest. You giggled into his shirt until he finally let you go.

“How’d you guys even keep it under wraps anyway?” Scott asked.

You looked up to Logan, “Willpower?”

He chuckled, “I don’t know, really,” he rested his hands at your waist, “I guess we got lucky that you guys aren’t too bright.”

Ororo lightly smacked the back of his shoulder, rolling her eyes but holding a smile on her face.

You all piled into the cars you’d came in - you, Logan, Marie and Bobby in one and Jean, Scott and Ororo in another - and made your way home. Logan drove and you sat beside him, his hand in yours for most of the ride.

When you all got home and everyone went off to their rooms, Logan stopped you with a gentle grip on your wrist.

“Would you, um,” he looked to the floor for a moment, biting back a smile, “would you maybe want to spend the night in my room?”

You and Logan had been alone together a handful of times, but never like that - in his bedroom. The thought made your palms start to sweat. It wasn’t that you hadn’t thought of it - you’d been together about a month now and every time you’d gotten the chance to make out, you usually didn’t have an opportunity to go any further. Someone would call your name, Logan’s phone would ring, you’d hear footsteps - always something to pull you apart. It was torture, knowing you could kiss him till his hands started to creep up your shirt or your hand rested on his belt buckle but never actually get to go any further.

“We don’t have to do anything but sleep,” Logan could see the hesitation in your expression, “whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“I’d love to,” you replied, letting him take your hand in his and lead you down the hall.

“How about this - I'll change into pajamas in my room, you can change in yours and then come down,” he swiped his thumb over your knuckles, “is that alright?”

You almost wanted to insist you could change in his room - let him see you bare in front of him like you wanted for weeks - but you simply nodded and slipped your hand from his grasp as you walked the short distance to your room. After changing into a tank top and pajama shorts, you shuffled up to his door in your slippers and gave a small knock.

He answered in an instant, wearing sweatpants and his usual white beater. You unintentionally let out a sigh, eyes immediately scanning over his muscular torso under the thin white fabric.

Christ, he’s hot.

“Everything alright, pumpkin’?”

It didn’t help that he was so damn sweet to you.

“Huh? Uh - yeah, I just,” you stopped, realizing there wasn’t much of a need for an excuse, “I like the way you look in that.”

You boldly reached out to playfully tug the hem. He smiled and used your hand on him to pull you out of the hallway and into his room, wrapping you in his arms.

“Yeah?” He said softly, kissing your cheek and forehead before finally meeting your lips, “I like the way you look in these.”

His hand slid down to the hem of your shorts, hiking them up a little to squeeze your upper thigh.

You giggled, a blush forming across your cheeks.

“And you’re so damn cute,” he led you to his bed, laying down and patting the spot next to him, “c’mere, sweetheart.”

Still, even after all those weeks, the pet names made you feel weak in the knees.

You obeyed instantly, crawling onto the mattress and snuggling up next to him. You rested your head on his chest and listened to his heartbeat, steady and strong.

Logan had a mirror across the room, coincidentally angled so that, from where you were, you could both see your reflection. He was playing with your hair when he began to stare at your reflection, smiling to himself.

“What?” You interrogated, looking up at him and then back to the mirror.

“We look good together,” he admitted, “well, you look good.”

You clicked your tongue, “are you kidding? Please, girls practically throw themselves at you.”

“Well, there’s only one girl I ever really wanted to throw herself at me.”

“I think you got your wish.”

You still had that spark - the back and forth quips and competitive nature - except that it was always something sweet now.

“I love you, a lot,” he muttered into the top of your head, pulling you as close as you could lay to him with your leg slung over his thighs.

“I love you too, Logan,” you smiled into his shirt, taking in the smell of him.

His hand came to rest on your thigh, gently kneading and squeezing. You already felt your breath quicken and heart start to race again as his fingertips traced the hem of your shorts.

“Like I said,” he cooed, having picked up on your rapid heartbeat, “we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Staring up at him, his large hand still kneading your upper thigh, you’d decided - just like in the parking lot earlier - you’d had enough of holding back. You swiftly brought yourself further on top of him, straddling his lap with your knees on either side. You didn’t give him time to protest as you cupped his face and kissed him in a slow mess of tongues and teeth, savoring the feeling of finally having him beneath you. It wasn’t long before his hands found home on your thighs, his fingers already slotting beneath the fabric of your shorts. He then slid his hands up to squeeze your ass, pushing you even further into him while your tongue explored the inside of his mouth. When you finally pushed yourself up with your hands on his chest, he almost looked dazed.

“I wouldn’t start somethin’ you can’t finish,” he panted, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips.

“Oh, I think I’ll finish,” you joked, raising your eyebrows at the innuendo.

“Yeah? I know you will.”

You squealed and giggled when he flipped you on your back, climbing over you and caging you in with his forearms on either side of your head.

“Been wantin’ to get my hands on you like this forever, you know,” he continued with a wicked smile, peppering kisses from your jaw to your collarbone, “thinkin’ about you.”

“W-What were you thinking about?” you managed to stutter out, eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head when he began to lightly suck and bite at your warm skin.

“Having you here, in my bed. Getting to undress you, having your thighs ‘round my head.”

You nearly choked on your saliva at the filthy way he was mumbling against your skin and squeezing your hips.

“Me too,” was all you could say, lost in the feeling of his hands now sliding under your tank top, resting right below your tits.

“ ‘s that what you thought about?”

You can tell he wanted you to say it, let him know just how bad you wanted him.

“I thought about being in your bed, sitting on your lap,” you took a deep breath, “and having you - having you, uh…”

Your sentence trailed off, cheeks tinted pink.

“What, sweetheart? C’mon, don’t be shy. What do you want me to do, huh?”

He still knew how to tease you, even if it wasn’t out of spite anymore.

“Fuck,” you swallowed audibly, “want you to eat me out, fuck me - anything.”

You sounded desperate and you knew it. You really didn’t care, too engrossed in everything about him to even consider it.

“Really?”

Your eyes met his, filled with lust and ambition to please you any way you wanted. His lips were parted in surprise when he first heard your words, slowly turning into a devious smile.

“Please.”

That was all he needed to trail his lips down your shoulders, gently pushing the straps of your tank top down. He sat up to let you pull it off and if he wasn’t already set on worshiping you, he definitely was now.

You’d yanked the garment over your head and onto the floor, revealing your bare chest.

Logan groaned, laying you back down and almost immediately latching his lips onto the newly exposed and incredibly soft skin.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled against you as he took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue.

“Oh my god,” you huffed quietly, arching your back to push yourself even further into him.

He was trying to hold back a smug grin, switching between each breast, sucking and biting gently.

“ ‘s good, baby?”

You were lost for words, even more so when you could see the string of spit that connected his mouth to one of your tits.

“Mm-hm,” you hummed, your fingers having found their home in Logan’s hair.

You whined when he pulled his mouth from you with an audible pop.

“Words, sweetheart,” he told you, his eyes glued to yours while he licked his own spit off his lips.

“”Fuck, yes, yes -“

You were cut off by your own moan, gasping when you felt the pressure of his thigh in between yours. He slid his hands down your body to grab your ass in an attempt to grind you down on his leg.

“I like it when you make those noises for me,” he muttered into your chest, his hands still kneading your ass when he pulled you forwards.

You wanted him for so long that the reality of being with him had made you over sensitive to his touch. Even through the fabric of your panties and shorts, the feeling was intoxicating.

You were practically whining as he ground you down so hard that you were soaked all the way through your shorts and panties, the fabric of both sliding to the side.

“Fuck, you’re so wet already,” he chuckled a little, feeling the soaked patch on his sweatpants, “all for me?”

You hummed, hands tugging at his hair, “for-for you.”

His hands came around to the front of your shorts, his fingers hooking onto the fabric.

“Can I take these off you?”

“Please,” you responded immediately, already lifting your hips off the bed so he could drag your shorts down your legs.

When he turned to throw them somewhere on the floor, he caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. Your chest was heaving and your hair was all over the place from rolling around in the bed. He could see that you were still looking up at him, even when he was turned away.

“I got an idea, scoot up a bit,” he told you suddenly when he turned back to face you. You moved forward on the mattress as he momentarily stood up, stripping himself of his beater. He sat behind you and arranged himself so that he was holding your back against his chest with his arms around your waist, his legs spread out so you could lay between them.

You instantly caught sight of your reflection in the mirror. Your head was leaned back on his shoulder and he planted delicate kisses down your neck.

“ ‘s that why you wanted to sit like this?” you nodded weakly in the direction of the mirror, your eyes nearly fluttering close when he slid one of his hands to rest on the inside of your thigh.

“You look real pretty, I wanna see all of you,” he explained, his middle finger grazing your cunt through your damp panties.

Your eyes were glued to your reflection - your legs spread with his hand between them and purple hickies darkening on your chest. Logan was staring at your reflection too, his mouth still working on your neck.

“Look at you, all spread out for me,” he mumbled into your ear, “so fucking gorgeous.”

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips. If he kept saying all those filthy things, it wasn't going to take long before you were coming apart in his arms.

You shivered when his fingers hooked around the wet crotch of your underwear and moved it to the side.

You could hear him swear under his breath from behind you, his fingers barely grazing your heat.

“God, Logan,” you were squirming, trying to push your hips towards his hand, “you’re gonna make me beg?”

You could see him smirk into your shoulder in the mirror, “you know what?”

He moved his hands to drag your panties off, nearly tearing them in the process.

“Yeah, I am.”

He let his head fall back to rest on the headboard, lidded eyes staring into your reflection while his hands laid still on the outside of your hips - even farther away from where you wanted him. He really wasn’t going to move an inch until he heard you beg for it, though he couldn’t help himself from digging his fingers into your soft flesh.

You groaned in frustration, “Fucking hate you.”

“Nah, you don’t.”

His lips grazed your earlobe and you wanted to roll your eyes at the smug look on his face, “Now, c’mon, baby. Beg.”

You moved your hands behind you so you could thread your fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

“Fuck, please, Logan - need you.”

“Need me how?”

He really was an asshole.

“Need your hands - need your fingers, please,” you groaned.

“I don’t know, you think you’ve been a good girl? Think you deserve it?”

You would’ve been pissed at him had he not turned you on beyond belief. You gave in, becoming putty in his arms.

“ ‘m good - been good for you,” you whined, using one of your hands on his to try and move it between your legs, “please.”

He sighed, returning his hand back to the hot skin of your inner thigh, “Shit, need me that bad? Huh, pretty girl?”

You were so worked up you could have cried from his teasing. You nodded eagerly, attempting to clamp your thighs together to force his hand to at least graze your cunt that was dripping onto his sheets.

He clicked his tongue and used his strong hands on the inside of your thighs to spread your legs again, “Gotta keep ‘em open for me, sweetheart.”

He dragged two of his fingers between your folds, messily toying with you. You gasped, gripping his arm and inadvertently leaving imprints from your fingernails.

“So fucking wet,” he huffed, gaze glued to the reflection of your spread legs in the mirror, “Pretty pussy’s all mine.”

You were already whimpering and moaning from the slightest touch.

“ ‘s yours - fuck, I‘m-I’m yours,” you sighed, eyes fluttering closed.

He hummed in agreement, his fingers prodding at your entrance.

“Please, please, please,” you whined, trying to push your hips forward.

“I think you’ve been real good, angel,” he was slipping his fingers further into you at an agonizingly slow pace, “think you deserve it.”

You were whining and whimpering so loud that you were sure someone had to have heard you by now. You couldn’t help the noises slipping from your mouth, feeling like you’d black out just from the sight of Logan’s fingers slipping between your swollen lips and into your cunt.

When he finally thrusted his fingers into you all the way down to his knuckles, you brought a hand up to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle what you knew would be a pornographically loud moan.

He clicked his tongue, grabbing at your wrist to tug your hand away.

“Uh-uh, baby,” he panted into your ear, curling his fingers inside you, “wanna hear you - want everyone to know who’s makin’ you feel good like this.”

His thumb started to draw circles around your clit in rhythm with the movement of his fingers and you could feel the pressure in your stomach starting to build.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his jaw hung open while he watched his fingers disappear inside you over and over again with ease, “takin’ my fingers so well. I think you’d take somethin’ else real well, too.”

The intent of his words nearly drove you over the edge, your mind unable to stop conjuring up images of what it would be like when he finally did fill you like you’d wanted him to.

“Logan, Logan, I’m -,” you groaned, so close to finally coming on his fingers.

Until he slipped them out of you and pulled his hand away completely.

You choked out a sob, squeezing your eyes shut in frustration.

“I’m gonna let you finish, don’t worry,” he promised. You watched him suck his fingers clean before he used his arm around you to rearrange you both so that he was laying on his back and you were facing him with your legs straddling his torso. You could feel his erection poking at your ass and you licked your lips when you imagined being able to take him in your mouth, letting him fuck your throat to the point that your chin and the base of his cock were coated in your drool.

“C’mere, sweetheart,” Logan’s voice brought you out of thought and you let him guide your legs up until your knees were on either side of your head.

You looked down at him in curiosity, not yet understanding what it was he wanted to do.

Noticing your expression, he wrapped his arms around your thighs to pull your dripping pussy closer to his mouth.

“I’m gonna let you finish, baby, but it’s gotta be on my mouth. Sit.”

“You…” you hesitated for a second, feeling your face redden, “you want me to sit on your face? What if I crush you? Or suffocate you?’’

He chuckled at your concern, lovingly caressing your thighs, “You won’t, trust me. It’ll feel good, I promise. Besides, If you did suffocate me? I don’t think I’d wanna go any other way.”

You laughed nervously and let him pull you down further, sinking onto his face. His tongue swiped up your folds and you gripped the headboard so you wouldn’t fall forward.

“Jesus, Logan,” you gasped, your other hand gripping his hair, “feels so fucking good.”

“Uh-huh, told you, princess. Jus’ lemme take care of you,” he mumbled into your pussy, eating you like he was starved. He moved his head back and forth and up and down to lick every inch of you he could.

“I think I would’ve - ah, would’ve said somethin’ to you much sooner if I knew you could do this,” you joked a little, your small chuckle turning into a gasp when he slipped his tongue even further down so he was inside you. He hummed into you, his nose nudging against your clit. You began to grind your hips back and forth over his mouth, drunk off the way he moved his tongue.

“Atta girl,” he grunted, “use me, c’mon.”

His hairy arms were hooked around your thighs like a vice, to the point that you couldn’t lift your hips even if you wanted to. When his eyes weren’t trained on you above him, they were squeezed shut in an attempt to savor every second his tongue was in your pussy. He was pulling your thighs forward every time you rocked yourself back and forth, desperate to feel you come on - in - his mouth.

You could already feel the pressure building in your stomach. The obscene wet noises coming from his mouth messily eating your cunt didn’t do much to ease it, either. Your eyes rolled back and you continued to ride his face, mouth hung open in ecstasy. Logan could tell you were close just from how sloppy your movements had become.

“Gonna come for me already, honey?”

You hated how hot it was when he teased you, mocked your desperation.

“Fuck, yeah,” you groaned, your hips rolling forward.

“Lemme see it, pretty girl, come for me.”

You gasped at the filth spilling from his lips into you. It was more than enough to finally make the tension snap in your lower stomach, still rocking your hips over his mouth while you whimpered his name over and over again like a prayer.

Logan was practically growling into your cunt, feeling your muscles contract around his prodding tongue. He was trying to catch anything that possibly came from your release. You tasted good, but when you finished? Even fucking better.

“Lo-Logan, too much, s’ too much,” you tried to protest as he kept your thighs locked around his face, still lapping at you without slowing his pace. He hummed in response and finally let you go when he was sure he’d licked you clean.

You lifted your hips and moved to sit beside him on your heels, almost in pain at the loss of physical contact. When you finally got to see his face, his lips were red and raw, his chin and even the side of his cheeks coated in your slick. You watched in awe as he wiped his cheek, bringing his hand up to his mouth after to lick it clean.

“Taste fucking amazing,” he assured you, keeping his eyes on yours when he sucked on one of his fingers.

You caught sight of his obvious and rather large erection and your mouth began to water. Once again, you were lost in the thought of how good it would be to feel the weight of his cock in your mouth.

“You alright, baby?”

“Yeah, I - um,” you sighed, leaning forward on your hands, “can I - can I have it in my mouth? Just for a little bit?”

Your hand rested on his hip, fingers grazing the waistband of his sweatpants, dangerously close.

“Shit,” he huffed, his cock twitching from the anticipation, “you wanna?”

You nodded eagerly, pulling his pants and boxers down his thighs when he lifted his hips.

“Hey,” he tenderly stopped your hand as you reached to touch him, “I’m tellin’ you now, girl - you can suck it ‘cause you asked so nicely but I’m not comin’ unless it’s in you.”

He let go of your wrist and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, continuing to speak.

“I can fill your throat another time, yeah?”

You were speechless, lidded eyes switching from his face to his swollen cock and back again. You nodded in agreement.

You guessed Logan would be big - he was generally a large guy - but you could feel the drool gathering in your mouth when his cock sprung out of his boxers to hit his stomach. He was fucking huge. You might’ve been nervous if you weren’t so eager to fit him into your mouth. You finally leaned down to wrap a hand around the base of his cock, softly licking at his leaking tip.

Logan threaded your hair between his fingers, gathering as much as he could to form a makeshift ponytail that was held together by his fist.

“Like seein’ your pretty face. You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?”

His words only spurred you on and you gathered as much saliva as possible so you could spit onto his cock. When you did, you started to stroke him in a slow rhythm that had him rocking his hips towards your hand already. His mouth hung open and his eyes were glued to your movements, watching you work your hand up and down. Your spit coated your hand and his cock to the point that it was dripping down his balls.

The moment you finally closed your mouth around him, he was practically a mess.

You took him as deep as you could, relaxing your throat and steadily breathing. You gagged as his tip hit the back of your throat and he groaned. He watched your head bob up and down while you simultaneously stroked whatever you couldn’t fit into your mouth. He huffed out your name in between cursing under his breath. His gaze caught the mirror he’d nearly forgotten about and he could’ve came just from the sight of your mouth drooling around him.

“So good, baby,” he sighed, licking his lips, “you look so pretty suckin’ my cock.”

You reveled in the praises spilling from his lips. Chasing more, you used your hand that wasn’t around him to cup his balls and massage gently. He actually whimpered and you could feel Logan’s legs start to shake a bit.

“Alright, enough - ,” he grunted, using his grip on your hair to pull your mouth from him and push your hand away.

You almost looked hurt, pouting while looking between him and his glistening cock. Truthfully, you liked the taste of him. Loved it, really, so much so that you had to hold back from diving right back into position. Just the idea had you clenching your thighs together when you thought of it. When your mouth was already on him? You were so wet again that it was starting to smear across your inner thighs.

“Sorry, doll,” he apologized while swiping fallen strands of hair from your face, “too close.”

It felt exhilarating being able to turn big, bad, scary Wolverine into a whimpering mess after only a couple minutes in your mouth.

“I’m gonna come in you,” he reiterated, “gonna make you mine.”

You just about melted into putty from his words.

“ ‘m yours, ‘v been yours.”

Your voice was desperate and you crawled onto him, straddling his hips. Your bare cunt slid against the base of his cock and his hips jerked up.

“Fuck,” he panted, “you wanna know somethin’? Been thinking about this for so long, even when I thought you hated me - I couldn’t help it.”

“Me too,” you replied, hands on his chest to steady yourself, “even when I thought you hated me. Used to think - to think about jus’ getting you alone.”

“Yeah?” He teased, one of his hands coming down to align his cock with your entrance, “what did you think about doing when you got me alone, hm?”

“I - ah, f-fuck,” you tried to speak, stuttering when he started to slip himself in as slowly as possible, “letting you fuck me, having - having your fingers in me.”

“So, is it as good as you imagined?”

“Mm,” you tried to respond and only whined from the pressure of Logan pushing you down further onto his cock and stretching you out, “better, it’s better.”

“You think you can take all of it, sweetheart?”

“I need it, please, please, Logan - need you.”

You could rarely recognize your own voice, strained and desperate.

“Only ‘cause you begged so nice.”

In one hard thrust, he pushed your hips down onto his.

Your jaw hung open and your eyes rolled back into your head. You’d never felt so fucking full before, like he reached every inch of where you wanted him.

“Fucking - Christ, Logan, you - ah,” your sentence was cut off when he began to grind up into you, using his grip on your hips to keep you steady and gently help guide you up and down.

“Hm? What, baby?”

When you sat back down on him, he used an iron grip to keep you where you were, pushing himself as far into you as he possibly could. The friction on your clit made your pussy twitch and he definitely felt it, pulling you back and forth a little bit.

Again, you couldn’t speak - too distracted by the indescribable feeling of having him sheathed completely inside you. Your eyes started to water, tears forming from the overwhelming pleasure in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck me,” you nearly sobbed, leaning forward to bury your face in his neck, “please, please.”

He finally let you lift your hips up and down again and you were a whining fucking mess. Logan could see over your shoulder into the mirror and he marveled at the white ring you left around the base of his cock every time you lifted your hips. You were messy, exactly how he wanted you - he’d probably lick you clean after, if you’d let him.

You were rambling into his neck, panting, “so fucking - you’re so big, oh my god, need you all - ah - all the time.”

He was smirking to himself, smug from how he was able to fuck you to the point that you were just letting go completely - telling him every thought that popped into your mind while you were still on top of him. You worked yourself up to a steady rhythm and he indulged in the image of your tits bouncing above him when you sat up.

“So good, honey - takin’ me so well, like you were made for me,” he groaned. His eyes never left yours.

“ ‘m made for - for you,” you slurred, rolling your hips.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Who’s this pussy belong to, huh? Tell me.”

“Yours, I - it’s yours, Logan.”

Your thighs started to ache pretty quickly, your pace faltering as he kept steadily drilling up into you.

“Are you sore, baby? You wanna switch?”

His voice was so soft in comparison to how he was speaking moments earlier through gritted teeth. You nodded and let him lay you on your back, climbing over you and caging you in with his forearms on either side of your head. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead, both cheeks, the tip of your nose and finally, your lips. You were absolutely giddy from the sickly sweet moments you shared inbetween the times where he was fucking you so hard you were out of breath.

Your ankles locked behind Logan’s back to pull him into you while he tried to guide himself with his hand. He slipped back in effortlessly and ground his hips forward, pinning you down to the mattress. One of his arms was snaked around your back to hold you closer and the other was holding your wrists together above your head.

His hips rolled forward and he hit a spot inside of you that made the fire in the pit of your stomach rise.

You choked out a sob and tried to squirm in an attempt to free your wrists, but you both knew there was no way you’d wiggle out of his grip unless he let you. To no surprise, a man made of mostly metal was almost impossibly strong when he pinned you down with his hands and hips.

“I gotcha’.” he panted, so close that your noses brushed together when he thrust forward, “you’re not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart.”

As if you’d want to move from your spot underneath him.

Your eyes caught the shining metal of the dog tags hanging from his neck, swinging back and forth over your chest when he moved. When you looked back up to his face, his eyes were boring into yours. His face was flushed and his mouth hung open, sweat accumulating on his brow. He looked fucking gorgeous. You were going to tell him so, try to lean up to kiss him, but he spoke again before you could.

“I’m in love with you - ‘m so in love with you, you know that?”

The pace of his thrusts quickened and you could’ve cried at the sincerity had he not been drilling into you so hard that you could barely open your eyes.

“I - I’m, ah - in love with - with you, too,” you choked out between gasps.

“So pretty,” he muttered, finally letting go of your wrists so he could hold your chin to force you to keep your eyes on him, “i’m so fucking lucky.”

It was all too much - the sincere adoration in his voice combined with the filthy way he was snapping his hips into yours - and you could feel the knot in your lower stomach start to come undone.

“Logan, fuck, I’m -,” you tried to tell him you were close, but his thrusts were knocking the wind out of you.

“God, please - c’mon, c’mon,” he was pleading through gritted teeth, trying with everything in him to hold back from coming before you did. His hand slipped between your bodies so he could draw tight circles around your clit and your eyes squeezed shut in ecstacy.

You were chanting his name after a couple more strokes, tears rolling down the side of your face while he pounded you through your orgasm. You were practically seeing stars, your legs shaking around his waist.

He could feel your muscles contract around him and his movements became sloppy. He was grunting with every roll of his hips, muttering praises under his breath.

So fucking pretty

Look so beautiful like this

So perfect

He was spilling into you seconds later, animalistically groaning into your ear. His hips slowed to a halt, his arms still wrapped around you. You were both shiny and sticky with sweat, panting with flushed faces. When he pulled his face from your ear, he was beaming like an idiot, already drowsy.

“Was that good, baby?”

He was still out of breath, using one arm to weakly hold himself above you while he stroked your hair.

“Are you serious? More than good,” you chuckled, “amazing.”

He tenderly kissed your forehead and rolled beside you, immediately wrapping you in his arms.

“Don’t we have to clean up?” you asked, eyes already starting to flutter closed.

“Mhm,” he hummed, nuzzling his face into the back of your neck, “can do it later - wanna cuddle.”

You grinned wide, amused by how damn cute he was. You simply hummed in agreement, resting your hand over his.

“Logan?”

“Mm?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

A/N: I had to close my laptop and walk away a a couple time while writing this so I hope it drives you as insane as it did me! I'm gnawing at the bars of my enclosure

If you enjoyed, thank you for reading and pls like/reblog!! <3 and thank u sm for the love on part 1!

#wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine x reader #logan howlett x reader #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine fic #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett fic #logan howlet smut #logan howlett smut #logan wolverine #wolverine smut #smut

2K notes · View notes

withahappyrefrain · 3 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/withahappyrefrain/756666693791760384/yes-tyler-needing-a-handblow-job-before-going-on?source=share

okay listen 👀 tyler dry humping you against the side of his car before getting to work

Hi, can I kiss your brain? It's beautiful. We got some good ole porn without plot smut here folks.

Having no neighbors within a three mile radius has many perks.

Halloween is spent watching movies, not handing out candy at the door. You can host a party but don't have to hear someone else do the same. No HOA means you're free to paint your door whatever color you damn well please.

It also meant you could grind against your husband's denim covered thigh against his truck.

It started out as a kiss. A goodbye kiss, like one you had given Tyler so many times before he headed out to chase a developing storm.

Okay, yes, it was more heated than sweet this time around. More desperate than gentle. Your hands gripping his sun kissed hair instead of resting against his broad chest.

Who could blame you? Prior to getting a call from Boone, you and Tyler were underneath your bedsheets, his talented mouth having just started to unravel you.

Hopes that Boone was calling to fire off a new experiment were quickly dashed when he called a second time, in between Tyler's phone going off with text notifications, no doubt from the rest of the crew.

The cluster of storm cells had the potential to develop into something big, which Tyler swears is the only reason why he got out of bed and began to dress.

You had opted to stay in the baby blue night slip, knowing you weren't the one on the chase and it was Tyler's favorite.

Another perk of having no neighbors meant you didn't need to put on a robe in order to walk Tyler out to his truck.

So yes, if you were in a courtroom, facing trial for trying to tempt Tyler, the evidence would be overwhelmingly against you. But he truly started it, those large hands of his gripping your waist so he could pull you back for another kiss.

You could never leave it at just one kiss. He knows this. All you wanted was to simply be as close as humanly possible. After all, how else would you be able to inhale his captivating scent of oak and sandalwood?

He has your left knee pinned against his hip, allowing you to feel his denim cladded erection against your thigh.

"Fuck," his voice is breathless as his hips jerk upwards. A tornado is nothing, but feeling your soft body in his hands is enough to nearly bring Tyler to his knees.

Your mouth swallows his needy grunts, a hand squeezing his clothed erection, chest pressed against his.

"Ty," your nickname for him comes out in the form of a weak, needy whine, "Want ya s'bad."

"I know, but I gotta-fuck!" He hissed upon feeling his clothed erection against your bare cunt.

That, you absolutely did on purpose.

He abruptly stopped, hastily opening the passenger door. "Bend over," he hissed, pointing to the now available seat.

You quickly oblige, toes curling at the sound of his belt buckle clicking.

Having no neighbors mean you can be as loud as you want. Who could truly care about a noise complaint when the head of his cock was brushing against your clit?

When his cock sinks in, you breathe a sigh of relief, body welcoming the pleasurable stretch. Tyler always makes you feel so full, all you can think about is just him and his ridiculously amazing cock.

Now that should be investigated.

Thanks to your earlier, albeit interrupted, romp in bed, you're ready for him, allowing Tyler to quickly build up a rhythm. It's hurried, his thrusts harsh and sloppy. And yet, you can help but cling to the passenger seat

The sound of his hips slamming into yours can barely be heard over the moans that fall effortlessly from your mouth, along with the grunts Tyler grits out between his pearly white teeth.

"S'fuckin tight f'me," He groans, "Love you s'much. Can't wait t'come home t'you and this ah perfect pussy."

He's addicted to you. Your soft skin, the way your ass jiggles with each thrust, the shameless moans that fall from your kiss bitten lips. How soft you are, how tightly you cling onto him.

Tyler seriously considers calling out, making up some excuse, hell, even just being honest with his crew.

Who could be upset at a man for wanting to spend more time with his wife?

But he also knew you wouldn't let him. Ever since college, you knew of his dreams and how badly he wanted to follow them. You also trusted that he would always find a way back to you.

"Fuck, pretty girl. Need you to cum f'me, think you can do that?" One of his large hands reaches down to where you two connect, long fingers drawing circles on your clit.

You can barely keep your head up, nodding weakly as your walls clench around him. All you can do is take him, all you can do is let yourself go into the pleasure fueled haze you were craving.

He leans over as he feels your release, stubble scratching against your bare shoulder.

"Atta girl, feel s'good," his words are beginning to slur, signaling how close he is. You reach back, hand finding his dark blonde locks and giving the strands a harsh tug.

The whine Tyler lets out is music to your ears. It just takes one, two, three more sharp tugs for his hips to stutter, his release trailing behind yours.

His body covers yours and for a moment you two simply stay like that, breathing heavily.

"Hey, com're," His voice is now soft, gentle, his longer fingers cupping your chin so he could turn your face towards his.

Thin pink lips crash onto yours, the gesture a stark contrast to what occurred several minutes ago.

"Love ya," he confesses between kisses. Despite having heard it multiple times a day, it still makes your heart flutter.

"Love ya too cowboy," you smile against his lips, "But you should get goin'. Don't wanna be late."

Tyler shrugged, "You know how long it takes them to get ready. Besides, what kind of husband would I be if I didn't help my wife clean up?"

If Boone asks if you were the reason Tyler was an hour late, you would happily plead guilty.

#my writing #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens twisters #twisters 2024 #glen powell #tyler owens smut #tyler owens x you #tyler owens x y/n #twisters #twistets fanfic #tyler owens oneshot #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens fic

2K notes · View notes

cherry-leclerc · 7 months ago

Text

the set up ☆ ln4

genre: fluff, humor, parent trip vibes from oscahhh, strangers to lovers (bc of course it is), uni!reader

word count: 2.12k

Caught up in work, you find time to join your friends at the McLaren welcome dinner; meeting a certain British driver along the way. Whom you don't make the best first impression with.

req!...oscar+lily playing matchmakers? cute cute cuteeee. quick one for my lando lovers mwahhh

It takes a lot to convince you; like—a lot. Partial credit is due to your pride, but honestly, it drove your friends mad.

Let's go out and celebrate! Just a good ‘ol round of drinks. I have to study. Maybe next time.

Oh! I heard of this new place down the street where you custom make your own jewelry. Fun, no? I have enough already, thank you.

Five minutes—let’s just go grab coffee! Too tired. Go on without me.

“It’s my welcome dinner, mate. You can’t do this to me now.” Oscar’s brown eyes flicker between you and his girlfriend, to which she apologetically shrugs. Deep down, it's like she can forehear your excuse. An essay is due, your internship, helping out at your local library. There's been too many times where you’ve flaked, and they were starting to worry. The pile of clothes makes her wince as you greedily type away.

“I-I’m sorry, but I have to—”

“Reckon you don’t have anything on your agenda that is as important as you make it out to seem,” he hums. Narrowed eyes burn down, flipping your screen towards him.

Compile a series of current events…BLAH BLAH BLAH. He stops caring, already bored.

“I wish I could—seriously, Oscar—but I’m needed elsewhere.” A beat. “Lily will keep me updated! Go Mango!”

The Australian rolls his eyes, sharp brows expanding with desperation. “Papaya, mate, papaya.” You giggle, mimically apologizing. The clicks continue; round eyes laser focused. He tries getting your attention once more, but you don’t look up at him at all. The driver’s girlfriend purses her pink lips, crossing her legs gingerly against the couch.

“I can help you write your paper. All of it. Just please, come with us.” Blue eyes wink back as you come to a halt, temptation swirling. “We’re your friends and we want you there. Pretty please?”

The McLaren rookie thinks it has to do with his girlfriend's cute pout, but that is so far from it. It was well known that Lily Zneimer had a wicked talent for conducting a killer research essay. From her resources, to her dialogue. It’s astonishing how smoothly it gets done too. With her, it’s a guaranteed pass. Now that was what you needed.

Berry lips twist back and forth for a second before stretching out. “Touch up on globalization effects in different cultures and we have ourselves a deal.”

The paper was coming along so perfectly that you almost wanted to cry. Your eyes buzz with excitement as you jot down a row of bullet points, conversing with Lily before settling on what to write.

“This is not what I had in mind when you both made this stupid pact,” Oscar groans for the millionth time as he passes by, spotting you and his girlfriend crouched down on a table; computer, notebook, pencils, index cards, books—everything—in hand.

“Mate, this is worth half of my grade,” you shriek, jotting a few more possible ideas. Finally, your dazy orbs connect back onto him. “As in fifty percent.” You gag. “Do you realize how terrifying that is?”

Lily shoos him. “We’re almost done anyway, darling. Go enjoy the party.” The Australian’s jaw drops and she huffs, raising her neat brows. “Go, go, goooo.”

Despite his girlfriend and his best friend ignoring him, he has a splendid time. He curses beneath his breath when a large hand sprawls against his back. Lando laughs. “Don’t worry, my date ditched me too,” he teases, blue eyes sparkling against the fuzzy lights. The rookie sighs plainly.

“I wasn’t ditched—'' He angles his head to face back to where you and the dirty blond hunch over, whispering, attention drawn onto the bright screen. A few people even go as far as to try and take a peek, probably thinking you were working on anything McLaren. “Yeah, uh, I guess you could say I was ditched.”

His teammate rubs his watch a couple or times, nothing but music lingering between them. No one really speaks up until Lily delicately makes her way. Oscar tilts his head politely. “Done?”

“No quite yet, but she has it all under control.” She faces the British driver with a sheepish line formed between her pink lips. “Hello, you must be Oscar’s new teammate.” A beat. “I’m Lily.”

“Lando,” he can feel himself proclaiming. “I thought she was Lily…” A lousy fingers points over to you. They both let out a weak chuckle. That’s my friend from back home, Oscar confirms. Her and Lily are super close, too. She beams, light blush feathering her full cheeks.

All of a sudden—the Australian sparks up. “Come, let me introduce you two.”

The twenty-four doesn't really have anything better to do; business convos that have him apologizing profusely, cameras being shoved straight into his face, girls who never get the hint. “Sure.”

First thing he notices is the faded scar that hugs the bridge of your nose. It's almost completely gone—and he really shouldn’t even be able to spot it—but it's there, almost a glassy color that shines back at him. He notices how quick you are at typing, fingers flying at a constant speed. He’s impressed. Or the way you barely spare him a glance.

“Don’t be rude, he’s talking to you,” Oscar hisses as he and Lily tower over you like a strict parent duo. You can distinguish the panic that laces through her when you didn’t first respond, too worried at making a bad impression, even if it wasn't her leaving it behind.

“Of course, I…um, I’m sorry—shit!” The laptop blinks back at you as a warning before settling in its death. A groan slips by, hands pressing harshly against the keys, then the screen. Nervously, you look up at Lily, biting your bottom lip. “What do I do? What should I do? What should I do?”

“Charge it when we get back,” Oscar advises, still waiting for you to greet the older McLaren driver. Lando stands back amused. “As I was saying—”

“It’s due at midnight, dimwit!” It’s eleven-fifteen. “I need to find a charger.”

“O-okay, lets just all calm down.” Lily turns to her boyfriend. “You always carry one with you, let her borrow it.” He winces. Only during races, sweetheart, not an important event. She rubs her temples, curly hair running against the wind. “Let’s just calm down!” she screeches.

“Not helping,” you wail. “That’s it—I’m leaving.”

Oscar is quick on his feet, already tugging you to stay firm. “We haven't even gotten to the speech!” A familiar fire rushes through your orbs, burning him along the way. I don’t give a shit about that right now! I need to turn this in.

“I’m sure Charlotte has one,” a friendly voice slides in, leaving you three to turn and face it. Lando awkwardly shrugs. “She’s really well organized, you know her. I’ll be right back.”

“Can I go with you?”

Blue eyes shift over, surprised to hear you speak. Anxiously, you bounce up and down against your heels. He gulps. “Of course.” He turns back to the Australian, who is busy comforting his girlfriend as if it was her grade on the line. “I’ll be right back.”

There’s a sort of tension that hangs steadily—or maybe he’s the only one who thinks so—but he tries his best to push past it. Of course, he was right, and Charlotte did have an extra charger, so that’s quite nice. As if this were the one and only resource of water in a hot desert night, you immediately take it from him, plugging it fiercely.

“You don’t know how grateful I am. You’re an absolute angel.” You’re quick to pick up where you left off. If you try hard enough, you can remember exactly what you need in order to have it done in a few minutes.

“Glad I could help.”

He should probably leave, he thinks. He’s done all he could, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a seat across from you, contently closing his eyes as the sound of your keys brings him to a deep sleep. The sound of a computer shutting gently is what nudges him awake. You grimace. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been more quiet.”

Lando scrunches his eyes, rubs them for a couple of minutes. “It’s alright. You done?”

“Yes. Just in time—you really saved my ass, thank you again.”

A large hand waves you off, reclining against his comfortable spot. “You’re pretty dedicated to your work,” he mutters.

“I sort of have to be if I want to graduate on time and on top of my game. All those sleepless nights couldn’t have been for nothing.”

“Well, I don’t really know you that well…but I hope you pass,” he says. “Lando, by the way—you were probably too busy to catch it the first time.” He cocks his head to the side, a cheesy grin playing out. “And the second, as well.”

You giggle, shaking his humid hand. You don’t even seem to mind. “Third times a charm, no?”

“It appears it is.”

The objective was quite clear. Get you to leave your rotting bed. It was astounding how long you could go without getting up. You always blame it on the fact that—I’m finally done with my most important courses and I can sleep all I want—and—I never wake you up, now do I?

So, naturally, when they march into your room, flashing a phone—you curl a full brow. “What am I looking at?”

Oscar smiles. “Save his number. Right now.”

Lando Norris—winks back at you, digits causing a migraine to stir. You huff, reaching out for the blankets once again. “And why would I do that?”

Lily hums. “I tried to stop him, I really did.”

Beady eyes peek demandingly. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s really just one date—”

“What?”

“And if it doesn’t work out—”

You sit up straight and agitated. “What?”

“—then you won’t ever have to see him again?” The Australian flinches at your cold stare. “He thinks this was your idea…because I told him it was, but…” He winces harder. “Don’t make me look bad and please go!”

Lily squeals when you fling up, hunting him down your flat. “I am going to kill you!”

The Brit beams sweetly at you, pinching his hand a couple of times to pump his circulation that was suddenly lacking. “I’m a bit surprised you wanted to see—”

“This was all Oscar’s idea.” He blinks and you purse your lips. “I’m sorry for dragging you into this. I think he does it because the third-wheel act is starting to get to him. Asshole,” you hiss at the thought of the rookie.

Lando coughs, playing with his bracelets. “You’re not dragging me into anything. I want to be here.” Now it’s your turn to stare back at him, caught off guard. He chuckles. “I take it you haven’t gone on a proper date in a while?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Nah,” he yawns. “Oscar told me.”

Pounding your fist against the table, you yelp. “That little—he wants to ruin my life, I see.” You force a tight smile. “I’ve been busy with work…and…I’m—” A flash goes off from somewhere far away and you flinch. “A total catch. Like—total.”

Blue eyes flicker to the careful watchers surrounding the restaurant. “I don’t doubt that.”

“Good,” you respond, finally allowing yourself to rest easy. You raise a sharp brow. “Don’t you get tired of this?”

A few murmurs dance across the room, blinding lights continue. He sighs apologetically. “Right now I am. Let’s get out of here?”

You blush. “The bill…”

“My friend owns the place. I’ll pay him later.” He grabs your hand. “Let's go.”

The moment you slip into his car, panic rises fast. “I don’t hook up on first dates,” you spit out. “It’s not in my nature, I-I-I would rather get to know the person—”

“Then let’s get to know one another. I wasn’t looking for anything like…that,” he whispers, timidly. His blue eyes burn against yours. “I only wanted the chance to get to know you now that you don’t have your nose pressed up against a screen.”

A kind smile. “Okay.”

The more you two converse inside his crowded vehicle, the more you find yourself giggling against the rich seat. “You’re quite the charmer, Mr. Norris.”

“Thank God,” he jokes. “It’s working.”

Another giggle erupts when you nod. You’re sure that you're flustered, burning bright red from all his pick up lines, but you don’t have the strength to look away. “I’m glad we got the chance to talk. For real this time,” you add, sheepishly.

“So am I.”

And something inside of him tells him this isn’t the last.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

1K notes · View notes

sophiethewitch1 · 9 months ago

Text

What We Want - Chpt. 5 - Meet The Adams Family

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The first thing you’d done when you woke up, still somehow in the Wayne manor, was pull out not-your phone and check the date. When it tells you that you are not, in fact, in some weird version of a time loop, you feel some measure of relief. The second thing you do is look your own damn name up on Google. There were over 3 million results. You have a Wikipedia page. If that hadn’t made you want to gag, the press from last night had you bumbling your way into the ensuite bathroom and puking into the toilet.

It’s still sitting on the bathroom floor, nauseous and achy and sweaty, your mouth washed out but still tasting foul, that you continue your research.

It’s just as you had suspected, your family was dead. Still dead. Well, shit. In the light of day, you supposed that made more sense. That there was no real reason to assume otherwise. You hadn’t for most of yesterday, but as soon as you’d thought that maybe there was a chance, your hopes had been dashed. Which was good, rip the bandaid off and all.

It was good. Things were good. They were fine, you were fine. You really wish you were a better liar.

Again you wash your mouth out. Root around the cabinets for some medical-grade mouthwash, do it again, and then you throw yourself into the shower. Again. You notice the soap smells like whoever’s clothes you stole. Refreshing and awakening, that mint and earth again. You think you can detect something floral in it too. It’s still masculine, but…

Wow, you are such a freak! You put down the fucking soap and manage to resist the urge to slam your head into the tiles. Your headache was bad enough already.

When you leave the bathroom, you glance at the door, and then down at your towel. Guess you’re stealing some more apparel. You find a Superman shirt, give it a judging glance, and then pick out a black T-shirt with ‘The Beatles’ across the front, and some sweatpants. You have to roll up the pant legs so you don’t trip and fall flat on your face.

One hand scrolling through Twitter and TikTok and Reddit and every single piece of social media you could find, getting the people’s source of news and you get the high overlords’ one when you turn on the huge TV attached to the wall. The remote kind of confuses you at first, but you manage to find the good ol’ Gotham news channel.

Immediately, you’re greeted by your miserable mascara-streaked face. You turn the TV off. You take a deep breath. Turn it back on. Luckily it’s not just you getting your private moment of trauma blasted open in the media. Your party had been filled with Gotham’s elite, after all. You weren’t the only rich idiot left crying by the side of the road.

You weren’t the only one who had to suffer. There had been twenty-eight casualties, in total. A small amount, considering the man behind the deaths. The Joker wasn’t known for his cleanliness. You tell yourself that, and yet still, you can’t make them just numbers. They’d been standing right next to you, after all. All in the same boat, all waiting for the axe to swing, secretly hoping you’re the one who lives to the next day. Only one of the party guests had been shot, and that’s because you think they’d personally pissed off the Joker. That’s what Twitter says, anyway. There were multiple video recordings of the altercation, and it didn’t look like he’d been the smartest banana in the bunch. The TV is a lot sweeter on the dead soul.

You feel sorry for all the dead. You still don’t think this rich heir should be the face you see, though. When you check his name, you find several forgotten assault cases. Assault, rape, just like that disappearing bastard had tried to do to you. That female janitor you’d seen shot had done more for this city than that guy ever had.

Did her family know? Did she have a family? Someone to mourn her? You’d never thought about that before. How many people out there wouldn’t have anyone to even remember them?

It’s none of your business, in the end.

After a whiles more research, you switch the TV off and tuck your cracked phone into the sweatpants. You know where your mother’s grave is, on the west side of the estate. Wikipedia knew all, which was now kind of creepy to you as it knew all about you as well. Really, you couldn’t believe it. Your mother, buried with the Waynes? You’d always thought she should find someone new, someone who’d appreciate her, unlike your father who had dipped as soon as Sam was born.

You couldn’t even remember the guy. Still, you remembered that he’d smelled bad and made your Mum do everything, and was just generally all around the worst choice for a husband.

But, Jesus Christ, Bruce Wayne? Absolute insanity. You had no idea how the two of them would’ve even met. Let alone fall in love and get married. Your mother was one of the loveliest women on earth but… they had absolutely nothing in common, other than having troublesome kids. And you hadn’t seen her getting lovey-dovey with the other PTA mums.

You walk out of the room you’ve borrowed and into the hallway. In the light of day, the Wayne manor is much less creepy, and you can find it in yourself to appreciate the antique space. Warm sunlight falls over dark oak furniture, illuminating your bare feet as you walk along the Persian rug. Your fingers trail along all the tiny little decorations, some annoying part of you demanding you leave traces of yourself behind. Your fingerprints dirty an old clock, a golden candelabra, a lamp and a tiny spinning globe.

You might’ve gotten lost in a place this huge if you couldn’t hear people’s voices floating down the halls. They were too far away for you to be able to tell what they were saying, but you could still hear them. They’re to the west, so you’re definitely going to have to go past them.

You follow the voices and eventually come to a stop in a hallway. You can smell food. Good, real food. The type that makes your instant-ramen-powered body salivate. The people are in the kitchen, right around the corner. You duck your head and quickly sneak past the mostly closed doorway. On the other side, you pause, your curious self unable to leave just yet.

“She needs help,” Bruce says, and you mentally curse. Balls. You didn’t want to hear this. You guess this was instant karma for snooping. Maybe they weren’t talking about you?

Why did that sound very unlikely…

“She went through a lot last night,” he continues, which, well, yes, you did go through a lot, “And he said that she saw a woman get shot right in front of her. It makes sense if she doesn’t want to talk yet.”

He? Who’s he? Who ratted you out? Wait, dumb question, the four other witnesses who saw the janitor get shot. You were still pretty sure the Waynes weren’t supposed to know that, but everybody knew those GCPD pigs were always just a dollar away from whatever you wanted them to do. It’s not surprising that the Waynes know details only the police should know at the moment.

…It is a bit disappointing, though. You chose to have hope in them, that they’d gotten that information legally. Your fatal obsession with the Waynes wasn’t going to disappear after one miserable party. You wished it would.

“She was acting strange before that,” Timothy Jackson Drake’s smooth voice drifts from the kitchen. You were still a little starry-eyed over him, which was… bad, you think. It’d definitely make whatever relationship the two of you had been forced into a whole lot more difficult. It did not need to be any more difficult.

“Are you accusing her of something?” Bruce Thomas Wayne’s voice is gravelly in comparison, angry, maybe. Also, ‘accusing’? What could he even be accusing you of? It was pretty obvious you weren’t capable of anything nefarious, you were far too stupid for that. You were a plastic bag drifting along the Gotham river, barely able to affect which direction you flowed in.

“God no. And I definitely wouldn’t do it with her listening, that’d be rude.”

Your breath hitches, and you push off from the wall. Busted, damn. Your face feels unbelievably hot. As you leave, you can hear Mr Wayne scolding his adopted son. You walk until you can’t hear their voices anymore, and then a little further, finding an exit door.

You stumble out onto a stone staircase, probably a servants’ one in the olden days. You move down it, hand gripping the railing. You’re barely conscious of where you’re going. There’s a path that leads away from the stone manor and further into the estate, and you follow it. When you spot a small gated area, with stone obelisks and angel statues, you veer off the path and onto the grass.

Hissing out a breath, it’s only now you realise you went outside without any shoes on. Your toes curl in the cold, wet grass. It’s a miserable feeling, and you want to walk right back inside. And then you think about the awkward conversation waiting for you, take a breath and keep going. The gates swing open easily under your hand, the golden embossed ‘W’ glinting in the light.

A guardian angel stands before you. Its stone face is disapproving, glaring down at you from above. ‘Interloper,’ it calls you, but you move past it without pausing. It’s pretty obvious which graves are the new ones and which are the old ones. They’re all clean and well-kept, but the ones to the left have dates going back hundreds of years, and the ones to the right only decades. Your eyes follow the rows of graves. Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne…

Your breath whistles out of you, nearly muffled by the grey morning wind.

And your mother. She has a different last name, now another Wayne. Your siblings don’t, which makes sense. You’re surprised to find many of your extended family also in this graveyard. Your grandmother. Your uncle and aunt. A few of your cousins.

It’s cold this morning, and you’re out here with only a thin T-shirt on. Shivering, you rub your palms against your bare arms. It doesn’t do much. Still, you don’t want to go inside yet. Instead, you crouch in front of Sam’s grave, eyes reading the tiny epitaph. It’s not the one you wrote.

‘Beloved Son and Brother.’

Simple, clean-cut, formal… unfamiliar, you suppose. Yours had been much more flowery, ‘All the colour in the world is gone without you’. It was a bit silly, but you’d never said you were a poet. You’d just known you’d wanted something that represented them, if poorly.

Sam was a beloved son and brother. But that wasn’t who he chose to be. He liked colours. He’d change his favourite every other day, so he liked everything rainbow. It made it easier to choose which one he’d like next, he said. You were always buying him more and more coloured pencils because he’d wear them all down to the tips, he dyed the cat a bright red headache, much to your mother’s horror, and considered it his personal job to make every single birthday, christmas, and easter card. He’d paint on the walls in washable markers, and you’d often been the one to volunteer to help him get it all down. In school, he always had the best art project out of the entire class, even if you were slightly biased.

He was a colourful kid. He wasn’t… a plain grey tombstone. Nothing to help remember him, because you were always losing more and more of their precious memories.

The others had similarly impersonal graves. Just what they were, not who. Mother, sister. Nothing that spoke of how they’d lived their lives, what the world had lost when they’d died. It was… you didn’t think it was right. It was a disaster, really. Even when you’d had to rely on the Wanye Foundation donations, you’d managed a better resting place than this.

You suppose you’d never gotten them into the Wayne family’s personal graveyard, though. That was a bit of an upgrade, you guess.

“You need to come back inside. You’re worrying my father.”

“Jesus Christ!” you shriek, leaping backward. Your foot catches on one of the cobblestones, and you end up tipping back farther than you mean to, your ass bruising against the ground. You bump another gravestone, and there’s a horrible moment where it gives a little and you think it’s going to knock over.

It doesn’t. A shining miracle on your day.

From your slightly wet seat on the ground, you look up, finding one such Damian Al Ghul-Wayne. His towering height is the first thing you notice, second his stunning emerald green eyes. Both were incredibly shocking in their own ways, but his height really was almost dizzying. Perfect brown skin and a stylish 'long on the top, short on the sides’ black haircut, paired with the sort of face some European model might have, all come together to make sure you feel as pathetic as possible. His posh-looking outfit doesn’t help.

Neither does the fact he just watches you. He doesn’t even pretend to bend over to help you up. Which you’re sort of grateful for, honestly. It’d just make you more embarrassed. You didn’t know if you could hold the hand of your celebrity crush and… well, be normal. Pretend to be normal. You weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway.

You have to wonder, which was the worst introduction? The drunk, the bloody, or the one where you fell on your ass? God, you really are screwing this all the way up. You wonder how you’re inevitably going to make it even worse. There’s a part of you that desperately doesn’t want to meet any of the other Waynes, even as another part of you is screaming that it needs to.

If they knew they had a fangirl in their graveyard, you’re sure they’d kick you out. That was why you were lying about everything, not because you had intimacy issues.

Stop thinking, you idiot! You’re only making things more difficult for yourself with all your worrying and fretting. And maybe you should get off the ground, you looked stupid. You push to your feet, wiping your dirtied hands on the sweats.

He still doesn’t say anything when you stand, still just staring at you. His open staring is far too intimidating, so you scrounge for something to say.

“Your father? You- Is he alright?” you stammer over your words, giving Damian Wayne an awkward smile. He doesn’t return it, instead canting his head towards one of the windows.

You look toward where Damian Wayne gestured to, find nothing but an empty window frame, and then back to the ridiculously tall man. You swear, the guy had grown like a bean pole. He had to be something ridiculous, like 6’5, or maybe more. You were fairly certain you’d been taller than him at twelve, or thirteen, whenever it was he was first introduced to the world as Damian Wayne. Now, now… not so much.

“There’s nobody in there?” you ask, like you’re questioning your sanity. You are.

“My father’s shy,” He says, coolly shrugging one shoulder.

What. Bruce Wayne? Shy? Was he joking or something?

Damian Wayne stares down at you with narrowed green eyes, and dark brows in a harsh frown. His arms are crossed over his rich kid sweater, shiny black shoes tapping against the cobbles. That’s not the face of someone who makes jokes, you think.

You swallow, mind whirring as you try desperately to fix this conversation, “Right. Okay. I’ll… I’ll come back inside, then. Sorry for bothering you guys.”

He keeps staring at you. He doesn’t seem bothered.

“Sorry for bothering him?” you correct.

Damian gives one slow, cat-like blink of his eyes, and then turns with a tsk and walks away. It takes you a moment to realise you’re meant to follow him. It takes you even longer to actually catch up with him because he’s so fucking tall.

On TV he didn’t look this tall. You feel kind of betrayed, which is weird.

As you’re walking along, getting closer back to the manor, a stick or something pokes you in the foot. You curse, grabbing your foot. Thankfully you don’t start bleeding or something. You’d already be tracking dirt all over the inside of the impeccable space, you didn’t want to bring blood in as well. It takes a moment for you to realise the sound of Damian’s footsteps crunching in the grass has stopped, and you glance up.

He’s staring right at you again. He looks even less impressed with you, raising an eyebrow and mouth ticking downward. You put your foot down and tuck your hands behind your back in a very obvious anxious display.

“You went outside not wearing any shoes?” Damian Wayne asks, incredulous.

“I was… yeah, I forgot to,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. Not your best moment, but you weren’t really having any of those today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Maybe you should stop thinking about that, actually.

“That’s disgusting,” The young Wayne sneers, and then turns and gives you his shoulder.

You think your heart maybe cracks a little. Well, they do say to never meet your idols. Maybe whoever wrote that quote had you in mind specifically, because now you were in… this situation. Ex-step-sister. If that was a thing. Your Wikipedia page said that you said that a lot, very insistent that you had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes.

…It didn’t really look like you had nothing to do with the Waynes, from an outsider's perspective. Which obviously didn’t make any sense, since you were… you. You were not an outsider, not anymore.

This was too complicated. You needed a coffee. With like, so much sugar it’ll make you bounce from the walls.

Damian strides up the side entrance’s staircase and through the door, leaving it open for you to follow through. You hesitate at the doorway, looking over your shoulder to the graveyard. The statue calls you names in the distance, and although you feel like a stranger who doesn’t belong here, you manage to step back into the house.

You force yourself to walk through the hallway and into the kitchen, fists clenched tight at your side and your shoulders bunched up to your ears. Bruce Thomas Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake, and the butler from earlier. Damian Al Ghul Wayne steps around the trio, picking some drink from the counter and moving to sit at the dining table at the edge of the room. There’s an open book on the table that he starts flicking through, and well, apparently that’s the end of your first conversation with the youngest Wayne.

You did… well, alright might be pushing it. You're still going to say you did alright.

Tim Drake gives you a sweet smile, catching your attention. The silky raven hair of his heart-shaped fringe falls over his beautiful, pale face, and for a moment there you totally forget that he’d called you out earlier like that. Which was just, such an odd thing to do. His hand lifts to scratch at the buzz cut under the floppy strands of hair. The movement mesmerises you. You look away from his sky blue eyes, very quickly realising they’re robbing you of the few remaining brain cells you have. And you need those, damn it. Especially because you’d already made the decision to hide from all your problems like a baby. Negative, negative…

“How’re you doing today?” Tim asks you, giving you a friendly greeting. It’s a welcome olive branch.

“I’m good,” you lie like you breathe, eyes glancing around the space. Bruce Wayne has his phone out and a mug of coffee in his hands. He sips from the cup, his focus swallowed by the tiny screen. You glance back over to Damian Wayne. Huh, it really does run in the family.

Your neck prickles, and you glance back at Tim again. You get a brief vision of his tired, unsmiling expression, and then it’s back to the angelic and gentle smile. You smile back at him, a wretched, awful twisting of the lips that you hope doesn’t look like a grimace.

Tim’s smile turns into a grin. It’s really too pretty and makes you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Damn it all, look away!

“Would you like some breakfast, young miss? I’m afraid we’ve run out of pancakes, but I’d be happy to make some more for you,” the butler says in an awfully familiar British accent. You think you know this person, but you can not remember from where. Shit. Your memory was bad on the best of days, much less after… after an event like last night.

Anyway, the food from earlier had been pancakes. Despite the delicious scent, you really didn’t want to make him make any more food for you. You felt like you were intruding as it was.

“Do you have any toast, or… cereal?” you suggest instead, wondering if rich people even bother with cereal. The butler chuckles, and you think, ‘Oh, yeah, probably not’.

“We have both, miss. Master Grayson has a particular fondness for cereal, in fact,” he informs you, which, oh, cool. You did in fact know that, you stalker you. You’d totally forgotten about that weird fact or the weird fact that you knew that weird fact. Dick Grayson has an Instagram where he posts reviews of different cereals, which of course you have notifications on for.

“It’s more of an obsession,” Tim says, resting his palm in his hand as he… continues to stare at you. Nobody else thinks his ogling is strange, so you try to ignore it as well. Try is the choice word.

“I like cereal too. It’s normal,” you say in defence of Dick, a natural and instinctual urge.

And apparently, the fact that you like cereal is fucking shocking, judging from the open-mouth looks the group gives you. Oh no, you’re supposed to hate him, right? You’re supposed to hate them all, actually. What had you called him on your phone? Something about being annoying and a dickhead?

Swallowing your inner scream, you move around the counter and towards the cupboards. Whatever, they’ll have to deal with this new and improved version of you, which didn’t despise everyone in the room. Along with being a terrible liar, you were also pretty bad at keeping secrets.

You don’t want to think about that, so instead you turn to Alfred.

“So,” you start, “Can I see your cereal collection?” you ask, like a totally normal person. Man, this cupboard’s looking pretty head-smashable right now.

This family has more tact than yours did, because they all manage to put their eyes back to what they were doing and pretend you weren’t acting really, really out of character. Rich people. They’re good at overlooking the crazy.

“Of course,” the butler clears his throat, “In here, you’ll find Master Dick’s collection-” score! Not another fan can claim this right, “-and in the fridge a carton of milk. Are you sure I couldn’t serve it for you, miss? I understand you might still be a little…”

His voice trails off. Little what?

He glances at the others and then leans in close like he’s going to tell you a secret. Behind a hand, he whispers, “Hungover.”

Ah. Well, yes, but you were a big girl who could make her cereal, even on hangover days. Kind of embarrassing it was that obvious, though. You were usually better at hiding how much of a mess you were.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” you say, and the butler nods and backs off. You’re pretty sure at this point that he was the one who called you yesterday morning, but you still couldn’t quite recall his name. When you were out of sight, you’d check your phone for his contact information.

See? You could do this. Stealthy.

As you start perusing through the cereal options, Tim gets up from his spot by the counter and comes to stand next to you at the breakfast bar. He heads straight to the coffee machine, and you glance at it longingly.

It’s one of those cafe-quality fancy espresso makers, with an Italian name embossed in silver on the top. Tim manipulates the machine like a master, which you’re very jealous of because it might as well be alien technology to you. You miss your shitty drip coffee, at least that dingy little machine was loyal to you. Better than George.

“Coffee?” Tim Drake offers, glancing at you. Ah, the starry eyes are back. While Damian Wayne had been a mildly disappointing introduction, Mr. Drake was just reinforcing your celebrity worship. And of course, because your brain works against you, his offer reminds you of the daydreams you’d had on your first twenty-first birthday. Coffee shop au real person fiction- a new low, even for you.

Flustered, you look up at the ceiling. The old mansion is decorated in every single available corner, the plaster above spreading across the entire surface with delicate filigree and pretty curling patterns. It’s gorgeous, absolutely entrancing. That’s what you tell yourself at least.

“Please,” you say, your voice just the slightest bit too quiet. He hears you anyway.

It’s surprisingly domestic. Of course, you don’t know any of these people past face value and Wired YouTube interviews, but… it’s quite indulgent. This is sort of your dream, isn’t it? A full house of people enjoying their morning together. Peaceful bird song drifting in through open windows. The comfort of being around people you trust, not having to perform or put on a show. Well, you are very much putting on a show right now. It’s the thought that counts, or whatever.

“What would you like in it? We have sugar, milk, oat milk, and I like having a few syrups on hand,” Tim chatters excitedly, listing off the different ingredients he has on offer. Your poor ass stares at his rich one, and you are very rudely reminded these people live in different tax brackets than you.

Who the fuck had coffee syrups in their house? You could barely afford the little treats of caramel syrup you get every couple of months. The disappearance of the middle class was one you had witnessed personally.

You rattle off a very basic, bland order. Tim looks sort of disappointed in you which… well, you could be a coffee snob. You just didn’t have the time, usually. A flat white kept you going through the day, you didn’t need anything else. And so, Tim hands you a very bland coffee, and it is god sent. You can’t imagine how good it would be if you had mustered up your courage and asked for some caramel syrup.

Huh, you could be a coffee snob. You could be anything you wanted, really. And your first thought is being a coffee snob. Good God.

“Are you going to be staying?“ Bruce Wayne asks, immediately putting you on the spot. You weren’t ready for this, you were thinking about the coffees you could buy. Oh no, you really aren’t ready for this.

“At least for now, right?” Tim Drake says, just making it all the more stressful. You let out an awkward chuckle, fingers tight around your drink.

“Oh, I don’t want to be an inconvenience-”

Damian Wayne slams his mug down on the table, so hard a crack splinters up its side. He picks the cup up, strides across the kitchen, narrowed green eyes meeting yours for a second, and then he dumps the cup in a secret rubbish can. He murmurs an apology to the butler and then is out of the room.

Okay, well, you certainly feel like an inconvenience.

The butler clears his throat, and says, “Please forgive young master Damian. He’s been having a difficult time recently, I hope you can understand.”

And you think, ‘bitch, a difficult time?! He’s not the one who almost died last night!’ but what you say is, “Of course, I completely understand. I don’t want to bother him anymore so I’d really like to leave today.”

Mr. Wayne laces his fingers together, blue eyes giving you an assessing look.

“Stay for the day, and you can leave tonight. I want to make sure you’re truly alright,” he eventually says, and the mere presence of the man has you yielding to his commands. Didn’t really matter you were an adult who’d managed to survive this long on your own, you were listening to the big scary guy when he told you what to do.

Well, that’s that! You make your cereal and have a very quiet breakfast. You can’t tell if they’re being quiet because you’re here, or if mornings are usually like this. You hope they’re usually like this. Once you’ve finished your very nice cereal (one of the highest rated on Dick’s Instagram) you place the bowl by the sink. You want to wash it, but when you ask Alfred he gives you a look like you kicked his dog. Okay, you’ll just go then.

You’re about to sneak away, when you realise Tim’s staring at you… again…? But this time he seems quite focused on your clothing. His eyes follow the double lines on the side of your sweatpants, before settling on the Beatles logo on your shirt. He hums at it. Raises his brows.

“I’m sorry, I borrowed this because I didn’t have any other clothes. Is there something wrong with me wearing this?” you ask, and then experience a moment of horror, “This doesn’t belong to you, does it?”

“Hmm?” Tim chirps, “Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”

And then he turns away from you in a very clear dismissal. Nice, you really wanted to go hide for an hour or two. With one last awkward wave to Bruce Thomas Wayne, you scurry out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom you’d started thinking of as yours. You need to figure out how you're going to handle all this, and you're going to do it alone. Maybe with some dessert, if you can find it. You wouldn't say you think better with sugar running in your veins, but it definitely makes you more willing to deal with the bullshit that is your life. Hopefully it'd work in your new one, too.

Tim listens to your retreating footsteps, waiting till you’re far enough away to begin talking to Bruce. Humans were creatures of habit, so you’d probably be going back to the same room you slept in last night. He thinks Damian and him were the only ones who noticed whose shirt you were wearing, B’s off his game today. You’ve really managed to mess him up, to Tim’s delight.

“See? Dames was totally fine with her being here,” Tim says, cheerily enjoying his youngest sibling’s suffering. Bruce sighs, witheringly, lifting his hand to rub against the headache he always has. He’s probably noticed the excited, slightly fanatic gleam that’s entered into Tim’s eyes.

It was sort of obvious. This was all so exciting! You’d come back, sporting absolutely none of the defensive vitriol you usually have, and ate breakfast together. You took a coffee out of Tim’s hands. You’d willingly spoken to the devil, who everybody in the family knew hated you as much as you hated him, and even more than that-

You’d spoken to Bruce. Tim was sporting the idea that you’d gotten head trauma, at this point in time.

“Okay, fine. You get the mission, but-” Tim has to resist the urge to clap his hands together like a gleeful child “-but no extra cameras. I’m serious, Tim, if I find out you’ve invaded her privacy just after she’s starting to warm up to us again-”

“She wouldn’t know,” Tim complains, cutting the Bat off with a roll of his eyes.

“She’s smarter than you’d think,” Bruce shakes his head. Tim has to disagree, after the catastrophe that was last night. Unless of course, you were just playing with them all. So many options, it’s dizzying.

“We’ll shelve that argument for later. So, I want full control of the case, and in turn, I’ll do another two weeks as CEO,” Tim waves off Bruce’s complaints, going straight into haggling. The CEO position was tossed between the two of them like a hot potato, and it was one of Tim’s favourite bargaining tools.

“I am absolutely not agreeing to that, a month and nothing less.”

“This is why half your children don’t talk to you, but sure, whatever. Chase away your last, loyal loving son-”

“My God, Tim. Three fucking weeks, and if I hear another word I will hand this matter over to Grayson,” Bruce sighs, sounding a bit defeated.

Tim gives an offended gasp, placing his hand against his chest. And then he realises Bruce might actually be serious, and freaks out a bit.

“He’d be bad for it. Far too personally involved. You definitely don’t want to do that,” he says, leg bouncing under the table. Of course, the Bat notices, but he doesn’t mention it. He wouldn’t take this from Tim, they both knew he was getting too frazzled around the edges. He needed something to focus on, to ground him.

You were the perfect project. He loved his projects.

“I am aware. But the girls are out of town, and uncontactable. And I think if I gave Damian this assignment the two of them would kill each other.”

“No Jason option, sir?” Tim says because he’s a shit-stirrer and wants to get to work.

Tim succeeds in chasing Bruce away. He’s left to have his coffee in peace as the old man quickly flees the room at the mention of the son he's on the worst terms with. For the next few hours, Tim taps away on his computer, enjoying his time.

And when the front doors open, his ears prick, and a decidedly evil grin spreads on his face.

“I’m home!” Dick calls out, words travelling through the grand manor.

Tim gets up from his seat and wanders leisurely to the main hall, where Dick stands. He’s got a suitcase by his side, filled with all the things he’s brought up from the Blud. When he spots Tim, Dick’s face spreads in a familiar sunny smile. He quickly rushes to Tim’s side, swallowing the younger brother in a hug. Tim groans at the tight squeezing.

Despite his clinginess, it was good to see him. His tanned skin glowed healthily, and his curly black hair was messy over his brow. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled. He was happy to be home, despite everything that was going on. Dick always looked like he’d just gotten back from a run because he usually had. It was hard to get the guy to sit still for even a minute, much less stop parkouring over every imaginable surface.

“Tim! How’s it been? Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Dick starts, and again, Tim groans. When Dick starts yammering he never stops.

“I’m good, man. We can talk later, you should go put your things away before Alfred does,” Tim reminds Dick, and Dick pouts. It was a general rule that unless it was cooking, the family wasn’t supposed to rely on Alfred for everything.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be down in a minute! I have so much to tell you,” Dick relents, hand lifting to mess with his hair. Tim pushes him off, glaring at the man, and Dick laughs.

Tim gives Dick a tired wave as the gymnast bounds up the stairs to his bedroom. Tim watches him disappear down the hallways, and thinks, ‘I wish I could see this happen.’ He sighs, guess he’ll just have to hear Dick retell the story later. The distant sound of your shrieking voice has him chuckling. Yeah, he’ll hear about it later, he’s sure.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

1K notes · View notes

inknopewetrust · 4 months ago

Text

𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐅𝐥𝐲

Summary: Tyler’s always wanted to show you something he loved—it just took some bad weather for it to appear. [Tyler Owens x Reader] [WC:2.6k}

Warnings: language, college-aged Tyler & reader, fluff, romance, this is a comedy? Idk folks. No smut though—sry :/. Just good ole fashion kissin’ in the rain. And what if I said this story was my real life experience, then what?

Quick Links: Masterlist [including other twisters fics]

“Where are we going?”

The tires of the truck were clunking along the rocky path to… well, nowhere. Thick trees surrounded you; the sun barely peeking through them as it began to decline in the sky and yet the truck kept tumbling along.

Shit. You thought for a brief moment as he didn’t reply. He might murder me.

“I told you,” his voice rang through your mind like a pinball machine. “It’s a surprise.”

“What if I said I didn’t like surprises?”

Tyler glanced at you as the truck hit a rough patch. Your hand was white-knuckling the grab handle above the window and your face was torn up in concern for the locale.

“I’d say, ‘honey’,” he put a hand on your clothed thigh. “I ain’t gonna murder you.”

“Well now that makes me think you are gonna murder me.”

Tyler laughed, squeezing your thigh joyously.

He was a maniac—Tyler Owens.

But he was also many things you did not know of yet. The first time you laid eyes on him was around eight months back when he walked in two minutes before the chemistry lecture. Every seat in the room was nearly filled except for the lone seat on the inside of the lecture hall beside you.

And when he sat there, you couldn’t focus on one goddamn thing.

It was silly—being twenty-one and having a crush on a guy in your science class. You weren’t in high school anymore but you sure as hell felt like it. When he asked for an eraser, you were too eager to provide it. One day he forgot his computer so he asked for some paper in the notebook you elected to use.

Each day you’d arrive a minute earlier than before with a childish hope that he would too and you’d be able to talk to him, learn about him. You weren’t in the same lab section so it was growing increasingly difficult to manifest a semblance of potential when it only occurred twice a week for an hour and fifteen minutes.

Fuck college schedules, is what you had concluded when he wouldn’t show up twenty minutes early to class.

Yet fate had a funny way of dictating what happens when.

Three months into class, your roommate suggested getting out and heading to a frat party one Saturday night and it shouldn’t have been a surprise to see him there. And out of some kindness, he went out of his way to say hi to his “lecture buddy” who’d helped him in times of need.

Every class that followed grew something in you. He came early to lecture to talk to you, joking about anything but the subject and going on and on about what he wanted to do when he graduated. His smile was contagious, as with his laugh. Bellowing and loud; Tyler Owens was everyone’s friend and everyone’s crush and you happened to be lucky enough to sit beside him until it was all over.

The semester ended and your interactions with Tyler ceased.

And it made you feel a little crazy for feeling down and out about your luck. Your roommates and friends tried everything to get you on the market: going to parties, joining strange clubs, playing trivia at the bar on Wednesday nights but nothing.

It was all nothing until something caught your eye.

You saw a flier for a meteorology seminar with a guest speaker from your local news. The premise wasn’t overly exciting for any one student at the university but for you, it was interesting enough to attend on a vacant Tuesday evening.

Like fate had promised before, it dealt you a winning hand.

Tyler spotted you as you walked through the door and waved you down. In your dumps, you forgot to think his attendance was a possibility even after he mentioned time and time again that he’d love to be on television, that he’d die to help people protect themselves.

So when he got ready to leave after the lecture, you weren’t going to die without facing a fear. You had to protect yourself from another six weeks of imaginary mourning and asked for his number.

And six weeks later you concluded he was going to murder you in some remote location in the plains of Arkansas.

“I’m not gonna murder you, alright?” He chuckled. His eyes were illuminated with a mischievous glow you couldn’t escape. You saw his eyes in dreams and knew you’d never want to imagine a day without them.

Fuck, you thought. It was way too early to be thinking of that.

“Then tell me!” You looked over at him with reason. “This road is so shitty I can’t imagine what’s on the other end!”

“Paradise, baby!” He smiled. “When I was a kid, my pops used to take me and my brother down here to go fishing. It’s this picnic area that I think,” he glanced at you with raised eyebrows, “no one else knows about. So don’t go runnin’ and tellin all them about this, ok?”

Oh.

It was personal.

“I won’t,” you promised.

“When my grandpa died I was,” he thought back on it as if it were long ago. “Nine and I came here with my mom and just sat. We stared out at the water and watched the ducks and the birds fly over until the sun went down. This was his spot and he passed it on to me.”

You suddenly felt an urge of regret pass over you as the comments from before soured.

“Tyler,” you said solemnly. “I didn’t—“

He brushed the nonverbal apology away.

“It’s alright,” he reassured. “There are plenty of reasons why you could have felt that way.”

It was heartwarming that Tyler didn’t dismiss your fears. There were so many guys, barely men, who would have called you crazy for a lot less. Tyler never made you feel that way.

Being with him was like chasing a high of the greatest strengths. Everything he did revolved around his ability to be free and willing to do what scared him the most and it was enchanting.

You could feel the sparks hit your heart.

“I’ve never taken anyone there before.”

“No?”

“You’d be the first.”

The two of you let that sit in the air as the road became more suitable for driving. The smoothness was welcome as his admission settled between you.

The first. He thought you special enough to be the first person to witness this place. You could have been ten feet tall at that moment. Never had anyone ever made you feel so special.

As the roads improved, the clearings of trees and bushes began to open up to a wider area with a paved lot on a taller hill.

It was beautiful.

Only the fairy tales could conjure a place like that. Billowing pines and lush greens on the bank of a river cut off by a large damn. The rushing water filled your ears amidst the squawking of wildlife uninterrupted by human activity.

It was so peaceful, charming.

The sun’s orange rays twinkled down onto the water and made it sparkle. Flowers in bloom, the buzzing of cicadas at the arrival of a hot and early spring warmed your cheeks as Tyler put the truck into park.

He watched you take in your surroundings of pure nature. A slight awe in your eyes, shallow breath at the sights. You were a vision in his favorite place.

“I thought we could have dinner here,” he tipped his head to the back seat where he had plastic Walmart bags full of food, unprepared and prepared for whatever fit your fancy. “And then, if we’re lucky, maybe it will rain.”

“Rain?” You turned to meet his eyes and they crinkled at the sides. Endearing, charming—just like this place.

Tyler hummed. “You mean to say you’ve never heard of rain?”

His words quickly became a joke. You rolled your eyes, hitting his chest with the back of your hand. It was solid under your touch and you were reminded that he was real. It wasn’t a fairytale and you were very much living it.

“Ha-ha,” you replied dryly.

“I’ll keep that one as a surprise.”

“I checked the weather before we left and,” you pointed to the sky. “No rain.”

Tyler unbuckled himself and opened his door.

“They just don’t see what I do.”

“And what’s that?” You asked him but he shut the door, moving to the backseat to take out the bags of items he procured, and then as ever the gentleman, opened your own door.

“Magic.”

You laughed but he was being serious. His eyes still gleamed with the same sly nature he was born with, but his touch was comfort. Hands carefully guiding you to a spot that he had meticulously planned out—even if this appeared to be a spur of the moment outing for you.

Everything was planned. Tyler wasn’t going to take just anyone to this spot. He’d be a fool to lie and say he hadn’t spoken to his mother about his plans just to hear her perspective on whether it was creepy, brilliant, or just plain sad.

However, he carried on to face his fears of bringing someone he liked to a place near-sacred to him. Tyler wasn’t a fool of love, he just hadn’t found anyone worth sharing these bits of him. And he also didn’t expect the feeling to come about so quickly.

Those fears he let simmer never truly came about in the reality he lived.

You were smitten. Absolutely fallen into this little spot in this tiny corner of the world with a man who was opening up before you. Tyler made the puzzle pieces of a perfect date fit together wonderfully.

The food, the drinks, the atmosphere—he hit an apex of the paragon of “partner,” “boyfriend,” or “lover.”

And you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as the sun began to truly fade.

You took a sip of your drink, coming down from a high of laughter at a story Tyler shared at his brother’s detriment. The sky was a shimmering shade of reds and deepening blues now; orange melting away for the sake of night.

“No rain,” you pointed out. He shrugged his shoulders, moving from a lounging position on the worn blanket to a lying one. His arms perched behind his head.

Tyler stared at the stars beginning to form.

He could see the shapes of the clouds, the movement quickening and the air cooling. It was as special as this place, his talent for finding the storms. Whether they brew inside or out, he found them and chased them with a passion—unrelenting and fierce. He sought the thrill.

“The night’s not over yet,” he said coolly. “Don’t count me out.”

“I’m not counting you out,” you defended, moving scraps of discarded food away from you to lay next to him. You shuffled to get comfortable in his vicinity.

“How often do you stargaze?” Tyler asked.

“Not often. I don’t think there’s an opportunity for it when I have nowhere to go.”

He agreed with a grunt. “I think you’re lookin’ in the wrong spots, honey.”

Oh those godforsaken nicknames. The country in him seeped out at their mention.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he removed his arms from the back of his head and pointed to the now appearing stars the darker it became. “See here?”

You moved closer. “Not really.”

“There,” he pointed again. “Right there in the middle of those two clouds.”

There were two stories at play here: one of him proving that rain was coming in the guise of stars and the second of you trying to be aloof in order for him to touch you.

You’d spent the last hour with him. Watching him talk, eat, smile, and laugh at anything that brought him joy. Those lips begged you to kiss them. They beckoned you like a ship lost at sea and in the clouds, the water would find it.

You shook your head innocently.

“I don’t know what I’m looking at, Ty.”

“Here,” he took your hand in his and pointed to the stars. “Look.”

In the sky above, a faint outline of the Little Dipper appeared in your vision. You smiled lightly. His hand with his finger pointing was still outstretched and connected to yours which made it grow wider.

You were giddy.

Tyler moved his finger to fully cup your hand but as you kept looking at the sky, he looked at you. You could feel his eyes on you, the turn of his face and the low breaths he released through his nose.

“What else do you see?” He asked lowly.

You breathed in deeply. It was just too beautiful to explain one thing. The clouds grew thicker, dense in the night as light was swallowed up by the moon. The air was now cool enough to send a chill down your spine and wish the blanket was more than a thin excuse for a sheet.

“It’s getting cloudy,” you observed. “There are more stars and it’s cooling off.”

“Anything else?”

“It’s just beautiful.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “It is.”

“I’m can—“

You stopped mid-sentence at the sensation that hit your cheek.

It wasn’t air or breath or a bug or grass but a wetness that could have come from only one place: the sky. You waited for another to fall and it did not a second later. A third and fourth drop followed until it was a hundred drops or more into a steady downpour.

You scoffed in disbelief, sitting up to feel the rain in your palms and Tyler sat up too. His laugh was one of joy that followed yours.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed as the water began to drench the area around you and your clothes.

“I told you!” Tyler shouted over the rain falling harder and harder. You blinked at him.

“How’d you know!?”

“Just did!”

“And what’s so magical about getting rained on?” You asked him.

He didn’t have a solid plan if it rained. All he knew is that he had seen this in the movies. A downpour catches two people in the rain and it creates one thing: magic. It’s innocent and daring, carefree and transparent. Rain makes lovers fall in love. It binds them to one spot, one moment in time where all the elements line up to craft one singular point that would forever be cemented in their memory.

“I don’t know,” he confessed.

Tyler positioned one hand to lean on behind your back while the other cupped your face. The rain dropped onto his hand but you were warm against the coldness of his hands. Your eyes glistened at him as the movies described.

“I don’t know what’s so magical about it.”

“Me either.”

“Can you kiss me?” You asked him. It wasn’t a question, per se. He was going to kiss you.

Tyler nodded his head, leaning in to meet your lips as the rain fell harder around you both. The sound of the rain disappeared when his lips met yours. Only the beat of your heart, the rush of your blood flooded your ears and body. You lifted a hand to grip his arm as he tilted his head, using his leverage to position you the way he wanted and deepened the kiss.

You could feel the tendrils of a story weaving in your bones. The place, the time, the kiss… it was a fairytale.

You dropped everything and kissed him in the pouring rain in a spot now forever implanted in your history, you felt the sparks fly higher.

A/N: thanks for reading! As always comments, reblog, and likes are always appreciated. I love hearing from all of you and your reactions motivate us greatly!

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens #tyler owens twisters #twisters #twister 2024 #glen powell #glen powell x reader #glen powell x you #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens fic #tyler owens imagine #twisters movie #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction

664 notes · View notes

wtfsteveharrington · 7 months ago

Text

take the upper hand | carmen berzatto x reader

push the reset button we're becomin' something new

description: carmen berzatto is stubborn and anxious and doesn't always know how to express himself. your best friend drags you to a party that carmen knows you'll be at and he shows up to make amends and thank god he does because he saves you from dealing with some drunk asshole.

content warnings: angsty!! drinking/party scene, shitty drunk guy w/ a shitty guy mentality!!, reader gets hit on with one night stand suggestion tones, carmen's ready to swing, mentions of anxiety and jealousy. mentions of reader drinking. kissing, mentions of intimacy related scratches, some light smut references.

author notes: my first time posting something that isn't just smut!! also something that no one but me has read!! normally i always get a proof read, not today. but this idea has been rattling around in my ole noggin' for a minute now so here we are. reminder!! you are responsible for your own media consumption!! if this won't be your jam then there's tons of other fics in the sea (: ily thank you!

even if it's handcuffed i'm leavin' here with you

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The last place you wanted to be tonight was some house party in Wicker Park. With Pitbull, of all artists, playing so loud in the basement that the floor upstairs was still vibrating. Everything was sticky and stinky and you did not wanna be here.

But your best friend was hooked on this guy from her gym.

It didn’t help that Carmy recognized his name from high school and mumbled out some remark about, “Oh yeah, no Dave’s a pretty solid guy.” She was convinced it was a sign that they were meant to be. Not to mention she found his mom’s Facebook and a post from two years ago that included his birth time. The whole train ride over you listened to how compatible the two of them were and how much she loved that he was a Scorpio rising.

She had begged you to come to this God forsaken party and help put in a good word for her. Something had her convinced that if you mentioned just how well you were getting to know Carmen to this Dave guy that he would hold your opinion of her in higher regards.

And sure, maybe there was a part of you that hoped Carmen would be here even while the two of you were feuding. He knew it was coming up but couldn’t promise he’d be off in time - Something you got quite used to. It normally didn’t bother you that he had so many late nights at the resturant but when it rains, it pours and now you’re stuck sitting next to the sink littered cups filled with what can only be best described as some sort of horrific finance bro jungle juice. A mix of 1942 and fresh pressed juice.

Your nose wrinkles up at the smell but you’re quickly refocused at the booming sounds of Ethan Callaghan stumbling through the back door. Another man Carmy knew from high school but didn’t like as much. Something about always being too in-your-face. Though you were pretty sure he was close with the guy your best friend was currently hooking up with in some random bedroom down the hall.

The second his eyes land on you there’s a lopsided smile being thrown your way as he tries to fluff his hair and stand up as straight as possible. He’s stumbling into the kitchen with a full drink in hand, droning on and on about how he was ‘just so jealous’ that your friend went into that bedroom earlier. How nice it must be to not end the night alone. No pleasantries at all, just right into the whole lonely and horny act that was grossing you out.

No one particularly knew you and Carmy were together yet - He wasn’t the type who wanted to label right away and potentially mess things up and you weren’t the type to out your dating status to random drunken men either. Besides, you weren’t so sure that ‘I have a boyfriend’ would put an end to this pitiful man’s sob story.

As if, on queue and manifested right out of thin air, Carmen rounds the corner and takes a second to soak in the sight in front of him. You’re sitting there with your eyes trained on the water bottle in your hands. Ethan’s yapping away about how pretty you are and how big his apartment is. An excellent view in Streeterville that you’d love to see with the best brunch place in town two blocks away blah, blah, blah. Your shoulders are hunched over, body leaning away from Ethan as he stands at the window watching his reflecting in the window above the sink.

“Hey - Been looking for you.”

Carmen.

Your head whips around to the sight of his voice instantly. There’s a pang in your chest at the sight of him standing in front of you after you two had been apart for these last few days. He looked tired. Wearing a sweater he knows you love because he wants to look nice for you. God you wanted to run over and crash yourself against his chest. Screw the petty fight. Instead you’re stuck giving him a very pointed look, hoping he takes the hint to save you.

He’d be lying if there wasn’t a split second where Carmen feared you were actually going to go home with this loser until he saw the panic and annoyance written across your face. Ethan’s laughing at the sight of him. “Hey, Dude. Think we’re all good here, yeah?” Oh he hates this dick.

There’s a thick level of tension in the room as Carmen squares up his shoulders and steps further into the room. His eyes are trained on Ethan who clearly wasn’t expecting much of a fight out of Carmy. He stops when he’s standing between your knees, putting himself between the two of you. Something about the way he instantly turned possessive turned up a feeling deep in your stomach no matter how annoyed you still were.

“Pretty sure someone out back was looking for you, Dude. It doesn’t seem like anyone in here wants you around. Now either you’re too fucking dense to realize it or you don’t care that you’re not wanted, but I’m here to let you know. So I suggest running out back and getting the fuck out of our hair.”

Ethan’s clearly entertained while looking between the two of you, a playful glint in his eye. You’re silently begging him to walk away and find yourself bringing a hand up to put on the small of Carmen’s back. While you’ve never seen him actually fight, you’ve seen many scraps between him and Richie. Heard stories of him growing up and heard the Bachelor party story.

You’re fine not having your own fight stories to tell.

T-Pain is now blasting in the background and the contrast of people laughing and singing downstairs versus the situation you’ve found yourself in is making your head spin. The whole time your best friend is clueless and wrapped up in Mr. Scorpio Rising. She owes you big time. Like you’ve secured friend of the year already and she needs to throw a parade in your honor after going through this.

Ethan’s finally putting his hands up in the air, that shit eating grin still plastered across his features. “My bad, my bad. Didn’t know you were already claimed.” Claimed. Gross. Your fingers press into Carmy’s back, a silent plea to beg him not to escalate this even more. He’s laughing at the sight of the two of you before snagging a half finished bottle of vodka off the counter and backing up towards the back door.

Carmen steps out from between your legs and follows Ethan to ensure he leaves. Shoulders pushed back, chest puffed out. You’d find the sight entertaining if you still weren’t so on edge. Carmen Berzatto, your protector.

And sure, he’s probably just making this asshole someone else’s problem for the night but he doesn’t care. The main priority is getting you away from him and getting you safe.

You catch the sight of his curls out of the corner of your eye when Carmen returns and instantly steel your spine. The shift in the air now that Ethan is gone was thick. He was a distraction from the distance between you two but now you’re preparing yourself for another argument when really you had no energy left to give it. There was a small worry that he’d think you gave Ethan any inclination that you were interested. Even though you two had been tense, there was never anyone else but you but him. Even if you’re too stubborn to drop that information just yet.

Carmen’s quiet. His heavy boots against the floor make your heart beat faster. Everyone had scattered out of the kitchen when he walked Ethan out of there but not before giving you two a nervous glance as they went. Some probably disappointed there wasn’t a fight if we’re being honest.

“Hey.”

You don’t dignify him with a response. Crossing your arms over your chest and taking a sudden interest in the magnets that littered this guy’s fridge. Toying with the idea of putting the ‘Area 51 is for Lovers!’ magnet in your pocket. You figured you deserved something for going through this hell of a night.

He stops himself once he’s reached your side, the silence awkward and thick in the air. Carmy’s hand is on your knee now, his touch not as firm as you’re used to. The whiplash of emotions once again not helping either of you know just quite where you stand.

“M’still mad at you.”

He winces but he knew it was coming.

The two of you wallow in silence. Carmy’s just about to finally speak but someone stumbles in on the hunt for vodka, takes one look at the annoyance on your boyfriend’s face, before quickly muttering they’ll find it somewhere else.

And you still won’t look at him.

He’s grabbing at your waist now, pulling you from the counter and against his chest. You wanna protest but there’s still a buzz going through your body that makes it hard to think quick enough to push back. Plus God does he feel warm and smell so good.

Carmy’s walking backwards towards the fridge, waiting until his back is flush against it to slide down. Bringing down those magnets you wouldn’t stop staring at, family photos, whatever was in his way came with the two of you. He’s tugging you until you’re straddling his waist while he brings his knees up to support you. Grabbing a hold of your face, finally making you look at him and fuck he looks like shit close up. Dark circles, hair a little messier than he’d normally allow, a bit of fear deep in his eyes.

“You gotta tell me how to fix this.” It’s all unfamiliar territory for him. There wasn’t exactly a good example set for him growing up to say the least.

Four days ago Carmen watched as the barista at some coffee shop you wanted to go to flirted with you. That shit already annoyed him, but he tried to bite his tongue. Then your latte came out with a heart in the foam and you kept explaining that’s just how they all come out but he was jealous and possessive and didn’t know how to communicate that so instead the two of you fought in the car for an hour. It was so stupid and he’s been kicking himself in the ass ever since.

The past four days you refused to talk to him and had done a good job at dodging the situation. Normally you two fight, you fuck, and then you pretend everything’s okay. The cycle was getting old and wearing you down.

Until now.

You give a heavy sigh, reaching out to toy with the bottom hem of his shirt. Carmy really did look like it had been going through it so you’re throwing him a small bone. “Maybe not making me sit on a sticky floor would be a good start.” He’s muttering out this small laugh, thankful to hear anything coming out of your mouth let alone a joke, the sound vibrating against your fingertips and you hate how much it fills your heart.

He waits for the rest. The other shoe to fall. Every ounce of laughter is gone when you finally collect yourself enough for - “Do you think we’re good together, Carmen?” You can feel him stiffen under you, his hands gripping at your waist because he needs something to give him some stability.

A beat goes by. “I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Another beat, this time it’s Carmy who refuses to look at you. Eyes downcast and trained on your lap. “But I’m not sure I’m good for you.” You weren’t expecting that.

Once again silence falls between the two of you, still toying with the hem of his shirt before you lean in to bury your face in the crook of his neck. Taking a deep breath that’s filled with his cologne, faint smoke, and just Carmen that you’ve grown to crave. “You just gotta learn to trust me, Carmen. Outta everyone in this world, I’m the main one who never wants to hurt you. Especially for some barista with a fuckin’ comb over.”

You hoped he would laugh again, but the sound never comes. Instead you feel his arms go tight around your body, his knees coming up a bit more which makes you fully lean into his chest. He’s clinging to you, wishing so badly he knew what to say (or could let himself) say what he knows he needs to. Instead he’s just pressing a kiss to your head, sighing into your hair.

“I wanna be better for you. Just don’t know how.”

The two of you cling to each other and fight to get as close as possible. The distance apart these past four days has left the both of you physically aching for one another. It’s been hours, days of a tense heart and checking phones for texts neither of you knew how to send. You press a kiss against his neck, leaning back just enough to grab his face in your hands and stroke your thumbs over his cheeks.

“It’s scary for me too, y’know? This, us. You’re not alone in being scared but lashing out at me isn’t gonna solve anything. I’m not going anywhere, Carmy.” You take the first step in mending the relationship by leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. There’s a hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as if he’s still scared you’re going to change your mind and run off before he can realize it’s happening.

He’s letting you take the lead and only deepening the kiss once he feels your hands slide under his shirt. Fingers trailing along the toned skin while Carmey licks your bottom lip. Your hands glide around his back where you’re able to trace over healing scratches left on the skin from your last night together.

Your lips part and you take the lead once again, letting your tongue slide along his and giving a low moan into his mouth as you taste him. There’s the lingering taste of cigarettes mixed with black coffee and Carmen. Once again indescribable and simply him. His grip on you tightens up in response and you know if you’re not careful then you’ll end up disheveled and tangled up in the backseat of his car or bent over one of the sinks in a disgusting bathroom. Both options you refuse to pick over getting home and letting him properly make this up to you.

Dragging your nails along the healing marks, Carmen starts to lose track of his kissing. His grip on your neck tightening a bit more, hips rocking up towards you against his better judgement. The motion’s getting needy and sloppy and you have to pull away much to both of your disappointment.

Shaking your head and bringing your hands up to rest flush against his warm chest. “You’re not gonna fuck me on this nasty floor. I deserve better than this.” Which, of course you do. He just gets carried up when he’s wrapped up in you. He’s nodding in agreement but can’t stop himself from licking his own lips to chase the sensation of you.

He’s looking over your features, his heart picking up pace even more than he thought was possible anymore. “Think you’re meant to be my forever, y’know? Sometimes I look at you and it scares the shit out of me because I look ahead and-... It’s you. Kids sitting at a table in the restaurants doing homework. A honeymoon overseas where I get to drag you around different pasty shops and restaurants and we’ll find random art in flea markets to hang when we get home. Take photos that end up framed. It’s you. Always.”

Now how are you supposed to be mad when he’s this open and honest. Unpacking a future you had thought only you considered so far. You hope this behavior sticks. It’s not easy for either of you, but it’s worth fighting through the learning curve. “Kids, huh? Multiple? They’ll be your harshest critics, Carmy. I dunno if you can handle their reviews quite yet.” He’s chuckling, shaking his head with a lazy smile. “No, not yet. But one day.” The promise of more between you finally putting an end to this discussion for now. You make a mental note to remember this moment when the two of you bicker in the future - No matter what there’s always more on the road ahead of you.

Which makes you smile too. Wrapping your arms around his neck. “One day.” You reward him with one more kiss, knowing that’s all the two of you can risk before you end up sprawled out on this floor.

Carmy’s desperate to keep the lightened mood. He’s giving it a moment for both of you to calm back down from kissing before playfully scrunching up his face. “God you taste like shitty tequila.” It works. You’re laughing and swatting your hand against his chest, feeling a bit lighter than you did when you walked into this place. “Carmen Berzatto be nice to me!”

He’s beaming at you now. Bright, happy.

It’s a stark difference from the funk you’d both been stuck in since this fight started. The sight makes your heart swell and you bring a hand up to push some curls back off of his forehead. Leaning in to press a kiss against the tip of his nose.

“Lemme take you home, yeah? Get you some food on the way? Gotta make sure someone so pretty doesn’t wake up with a hangover.” He loves taking care of you in anyway you'll let him.

You nod and carefully start to shuffle off of his lap. Getting yourself to your feet before reaching down to help tug Carmen up to his feet. You catch as he adjusts himself in his pants, a flush blooming along his cheeks and down his neck. Stepping back in until you’re chest to chest with him, you press a line of kisses along his jaw. Rough stubble going away once you find his lips yet again. You hum against his mouth, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. “You gotta shave in the morning, Carmy.” He’s nodding instantly, reaching his hand down into his pocket to fish out the car keys.

There’s a notification lighting up your phone - Perfect timing. A simple “Gonna spend the night ;)” text from your best friend. You can’t help but to grin and roll your eyes, turning the phone around so Carmen can see the notification too. He’s laughing while sliding a hand into your back pocket and starting to lead the two of you out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, remind me to tell Dave that his friend fuckin’ sucks.”

#why am i nervous to post this #♡: c.b.#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto

406 notes · View notes

wholoveseggs · 10 months ago

Note

Hello lovely! I was wondering if you could whip up a little something about the reader because self conscious and comparing herself to Hayley maybe she’s a little chubby and such so when Hayley comes back into their lives she’s a little worried. But Elijah always the gentleman comforts her with some good ol sex 🤪🤪 if not feel free to ignore 💕

Reminder

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Your relationship with Elijah feels like its unravelling with the arrival of Hayley and a cutting nickname from Klaus. Fortunately, Elijah knows just what to do to make you feel loved.

♡♡ Thanks for the request, this one goes out to all my thick thighed brothers & sisters. May you all find an Elijah to suffocate between them. ♡♡

4.5k words - Warnings: smut, face sitting, Klaus being cruel, Elijah being sweet.

When you are a vampire time passes differently, things change around you, and sometimes you feel like the odd man out. When you first met Elijah everything was different. Culture, language, even the food and the music. He was captivated by you instantly, he whisked you away from your difficult life and kept you in his bed. Making sure you knew how much he loved every inch of your body. He was your first and only lover, the man who turned you and showed you a world you never thought was possible.

Centuries had passed with just the two of you, then Klaus returned to your lives and with him came the lovely Hayley Marshall. Pregnant, doe eyed and absolutely beautiful.

You weren't jealous at first, Elijah was devoted to you and only you. His heart was yours, that was all you cared about. But Klaus brought his chaos with him, and your noble lover had to keep Hayley safe. She needed to be protected, so Elijah spent more time with her and less with you.

You were alone, and it left a hollow feeling in your chest. You felt forgotten and unloved. Elijah did his best to spend time with you, but it wasn't enough.

Then your mind started playing cruel tricks on you, making you see Hayley and Elijah together. She was so pretty, her body was tall and thin, while yours was plump and soft. You had nightmares of Elijah touching her, kissing her, making her moan his name.

It made you want to throw up.

The whole thing made you feel irrational and insecure, Elijah loved you, he told you all the time, but still the thoughts lingered.

It wasn't until Klaus gave you a certain nickname, that it truly got under your skin.

Little wolf he would purr, calling Hayley to him, the words fell off his tongue like honey. It was such an affectionate term, one with many layers of meaning. It was beautiful and sweet, and Klaus seemed so proud to call her this.

But then there was his nickname for you, Elijah's little cherub.

It was not meant as an endearment, but as an insult. Klaus was right, you did look a little like a cherub, soft, round cheeks, and a full, thick body. It hurt you, even if you tried not to let it get to you. You told yourself that Klaus wasn't important, his opinion didn't matter. But the words he spoke stuck in your mind.

Everything was going fine, you had mastered keeping your insecurities under wraps, until Klaus and Elijah announced that they were throwing a ball.

It was Elijah's first time hosting one since the two of you moved to New Orleans. He was a natural at hosting parties, he knew just how to make everyone feel welcome. It was a trait you didn't have. You were too quiet and reserved, people would get bored with you and leave. Elijah was the life of the party, everyone wanted to be around him. You were afraid you would ruin it for him.

You never felt good in gowns, you felt big and bulky. The ones you tried on just made you look worse. You hated looking at yourself in the mirror, you looked like an overstuffed pillow. There was no way you could go out in public like this. You even dug out an old corset to try and make yourself look smaller. It just made your breasts spill out over the top. You were mortified and threw the thing in the garbage. You were starting to wonder what Elijah saw in you.

When he entered your bedroom, you were sitting on the bed, resigning yourself to the dress that you knew didn't suit you. He had been busy with the ball, and hadn't noticed your sour mood. He was all smiles, telling you how beautiful you would look in your dress, and how proud he was to have you by his side. He was dressed impeccably as always, and you felt frumpy and out of place. How could you possibly look good next to him?

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes," you replied in a small voice, not wanting to burden him with your troubles.

You walked downstairs and the guests began to arrive, all the while Elijah's hand rested on the small of your back. He left you to go greet some guests and you spotted Klaus. He grinned and you saw the flash of his dimples as he made his way over to you. You knew he was going to make a comment, you dreaded hearing what it was going to be.

"Hello, little cherub," he smirked, and your heart sank.

"Please don't call me that," you whispered, fidgeting with the fabric of your dress.

"Why ever not? You do look like one," he said, his eyes roaming your body.

"Klaus, stop it," you warned, not wanting to deal with his teasing.

"My brother certainly does seem fond of you, which is odd, considering his type usually looks more like..." he gestured to Hayley, who was across the room talking with Elijah.

You frowned, trying to swallow the insecurity bubbling up, but Klaus still noticed, "Did I hit a nerve?"

"No, why would you?" you lied, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.

"Don't be too upset, cherub, you may not be his usual type, but he seems to enjoy the extra cushion."

His words hit like a punch to the gut. You couldn't believe he would say something like that. It was true that Elijah was quite fit and lean, while you were much softer and thicker. It made you insecure and now that he pointed it out, it felt even worse. You looked over at Elijah, who was talking to Hayley, they looked so good together, she was a perfect match for him.

"You really are an ass," you told him.

He chuckled and said, "I never said it was a bad thing, I think you are rather lovely,"

Elijah glanced up and saw the distress on your face. He immediately excused himself from his conversation and came to you. He could tell that something was bothering you.

"What did you do?" he asked Klaus.

"Me? Nothing," Klaus shrugged. "I was just complimenting your lovely companion," he continued, smirking at you.

Elijah's attention was on you now, he knew something was wrong. His brow furrowed, he could sense your anguish. But before he could say anything Hayley joined the group, her eyes moving from Klaus, to Elijah, and then settling on you.

"Oh, hello," she said, trying to sound friendly.

You nodded politely, not wanting to be impolite, despite the way her presence made you feel. It wasn't her fault, she had no idea you felt this way.

Elijah's hand brushed over the small of your back, trying to comfort you. He didn't realize it, but his touch was having the opposite effect, it was making you even more self conscious. Did he feel obligated to touch you like that? Did he do it for show? Was he just being polite? Your brain was coming up with every reason possible to feel terrible.

You didn't know how much longer you could stay here, watching them, surrounded by a sea of beautiful people, feeling more alone than ever.

You looked over at Elijah, and saw him gazing at you. His eyes were filled with adoration, but it was hard for you to believe it. The voice in your head kept repeating, that Klaus was right, he doesn't really love you, he's just too polite to say anything.

"I was hoping to get a proper tour of the house," Hayley said, interrupting your thoughts, "I've never seen the upstairs rooms, will you show me y/n?"

The question caught you off guard, you had no interest in spending time with her, and it felt like she was just being polite. You wanted to say no, but that would have been rude. So instead you smiled and nodded, following her out of the ballroom and into the hall.

You led her upstairs and she stopped, her eyes scanning the pictures on the wall. Her fingers gently brushed over the frames, and she pointed out an old portrait of the Mikaelson Family.

"God, they are all so beautiful," she sighed, and you knew she was right. Rebekah was stunning, Klaus had a wild, handsome charm, and Elijah was a classic, elegant beauty. They were all perfection, and you had no idea what they were doing with you.

"Is that Freya?" she asked, pointing at another portrait, "she's stunning,"

You nodded, feeling awkward. This was the last place you wanted to be.

Hayley smiled, turning her attention back to the wall, and continued walking. You trailed behind, feeling out of place, and unsure of what to say. Hayley stopped in front of a particular painting, a portrait of you and Elijah. She smiled, and you felt your heart skip, it was your favorite portrait of the two of you.

"You two look so in love," she said, and your stomach twisted.

"Yes, we are," you replied, trying to sound sincere, when really all you wanted to do was cry.

"How did the two of you meet?" she asked.

"He turned me in the 16th century, I was his seamstress," you explained, smiling a little.

Hayley looked at you with surprise, her eyebrows raised, "You fixed up his suits?"

"Well, he wasn't exactly wearing suits back then, but he's always been very fashionable. He liked the way I stitched his shirts," you told her.

"How fast did you two fall in love?"

You bit your lip, and answered, "Well, he persued me for quite a while before I agreed to be with him,"

"Why? Were you scared?" she asked, a smile playing at her lips.

"No, not exactly," you blushed, looking down at the floor.

"Well, what was it?" she asked, genuinely curious.

You gave Hayley a skeptical look, women that looked like her never thought about these kinds of things.

"I mean, he's so gorgeous, and I'm..."

You looked down at your body, your mind conjuring up a list of flaws. Hayley could see the change in your demeanor, she could sense your discomfort. She stepped closer, her hands coming to rest on your arms.

"There's nothing wrong with you, I think you're pretty," she smiled, her hands giving your arm a comforting squeeze.

Your eyes darted to the floor, and you felt the blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Thank you, Hayley," you murmured.

"And Elijah thinks the same thing, I've seen the way he looks at you," she added, her voice taking on a more serious tone.

You glanced up and saw the truth in her eyes, there was a softness, and a hint of jealousy.

"Thank you," you said, a blush rising on your cheeks.

"Of course," she smiled, "I hope I can find a man who looks at me the way Elijah looks at you,"

The words hung in the air, and you couldn't help but ask, "How does he look at me?"

"Like you are the most beautiful thing in the world," she replied, and her voice sounded wistful.

She turned her gaze to the portraits and continued her exploration. You followed, and as you got closer to the end, Hayley paused, her gaze lingering on the portrait of Klaus.

"I hope our child has his dimples," she sighed.

"And not his ego," you teased, and her face split into a grin.

"That's fair," she laughed, her hand falling on the slight bump of her belly.

You continued your tour of the house, showing her the rest of the rooms, and trying to keep the conversation light. Hayley was kind, and didn't seem to notice your discomfort. When you returned to the ballroom, Elijah was standing with his brother, their heads bowed together, discussing something. He looked up when he saw you and his lips curled into a smile.

Hayley's eyes flicked to Elijah and then back to you, "See, there it is, that look,"

You blushed, and turned your head away. Elijah looked at you with love and affection, but your doubts still lingered.

"Did you enjoy the tour with the little cherub?" Klaus asked, his lips curling into a smirk.

Hayley gave him a warning look, her voice laced with an unspoken threat, "Don't call her that,"

Klaus held his hands up in surrender, but the damage was done, you felt so humilated and embarrassed, you had enough of Klaus and his cruel comments. You had enough of him constantly making you feel bad about yourself. He made it impossible for you to feel secure in your relationship. You felt uncomfortable in your dress, in your own skin, surrounded by people who were objectively better than you in every possible way.

"I'm going to bed," you announced, your voice quiet.

Elijah's brow furrowed, and he reached out to grasp your hand but you pulled away.

"I'm tired," you said, turning on your heel and marching out of the ballroom.

Elijah's eyes were locked on your retreating form, a frown on his face.

"Why did you call her that?" Elijah asked his brother.

"It's nothing," Klaus shrugged, a grin spreading across his face, "she's just a little sensitive,"

Elijah's frown deepened, and he glanced over at Hayley.

"She's a sweet girl, just a little insecure," Hayley sighed.

"Insecure about what?" Elijah asked.

Hayley glanced at Klaus, and he shrugged.

"She's just not really comfortable with herself," Hayley finally said, giving Klaus a pointed look.

He had no shame, his grin only grew wider, and he said, "Come on, she is rather plump, isn't she?"

"But she's so sweet and adorable," Hayley added, trying to smooth over the awkwardness.

Elijah's jaw tightened, and his expression darkened, he looked back and forth between both of them.

"You had no right to say those things to her," he told Klaus, his voice laced with anger. "She has a difficult time when it comes to seeing her own worth, you know that, she's been struggling with these issues since the day we met," Elijah continued.

"It's nothing, Elijah," Klaus shrugged, "she'll get over it, she's probably crying into her pillow right now."

The image of you, curled up in bed, sobbing, broke Elijah's heart. He clenched his fists and his eyes narrowed. Klaus really did go too far this time, he really upset you. Elijah would make sure it never happened again.

"Excuse me," he muttered, glaring at his brother before turning around and storming out of the ballroom.

Once you were safely locked away in your bedroom, you sobbed, and the tears wouldn't stop. You had done your best not to show anyone your jealousy and anger, but now everyone knew how pathetic and insecure you really were.

You didn't hear the door open or close, you didn't know Elijah was in the room until his arms were around you, holding you tight against his chest. He didn't speak, and he didn't make you look at him. He simply held you and let you cry until you had no tears left.

Once your sobs had subsided he tilted your head up and kissed your cheeks, catching every stray tear with his lips. He wiped the rest away with his thumb, his dark eyes were filled with worry.

"What happened, love?" he asked. "Tell me what's wrong."

You looked at him, feeling foolish and embarrassed. He had no idea you had been feeling this way. No one did, but now it was too late. You took a deep breath and forced the words out.

"What is it that you see in me?" you blurted out, your face red.

Elijah frowned, looking completely taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

You sighed, frustrated with his cluelessness. "I mean, look at me! I'm not exactly a supermodel."

Elijah chuckled and cupped your cheek, his hand was so warm and soft. "I'm looking," he said, his gaze raked over you and it made you blush.

"I don't understand," he continued, looking into your eyes. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."

You huffed and tried to look away, but he held your chin. "I am serious. Why would you ever doubt my attraction to you?"

You bit your lip, still not sure if you should tell him the truth. "It's just...Hayley is so gorgeous, and tall and thin. Then Klaus just calls me your cherub, like I'm some stupid child."

Elijah's gaze softened and he shook his head. "Darling, Klaus was trying to get a rise out of you, don't let him get in your head."

"But he's right... Look at me, compared to her, and Klaus, and the rest of your family. I'm not even that attractive," you muttered, avoiding his eyes.

Elijah frowned and took your hand, placing it on his chest. "Can you feel that?"

You nodded, your hand could feel the steady, strong beat of his heart.

"It's yours," he said softly.

He kissed you, and your heart fluttered, feeling lighter already. His hands slid down your back and gripped your ass, he pulled you closer and you gasped. His tongue slipped into your mouth and teased yours, tasting you.

His hand moved lower and he pulled your dress up, his fingers trailed over the lace of your panties, feeling the warmth and wetness.

"I will tell you this once," he whispered, his teeth grazing your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "You are perfect."

His hand dipped into your panties and stroked you, making you moan. "So wet, all for me."

You gasped and pressed your face against his shoulder.

"Tell me who this belongs to," he demanded.

"You, Elijah, it's yours," you whimpered, grinding against his fingers.

"Yes, that's right," he purred. "This sweet, little cunt is mine. Only mine."

He pushed you onto the bed and pulled your dress over your head. He groaned when he saw you wearing the matching set of black, lacy bra and panties.

He started kissing and marking his way down your body, starting at your neck and moving lower, biting and sucking as he went. You gasped and moaned as he reached your breasts. He undid the front clasp and licked a stripe up the middle, before taking one of your nipples into his mouth, and teasing the other with his fingers.

"These are so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, sucking until they were hard peaks. "So big and soft," he hummed.

You ran your fingers through his hair, needing something to hold onto. You whimpered and arched up against him, the feeling of his hot mouth was driving you insane.

You squealed and tugged on his hair a little harder when you felt him bite down. He chuckled and sucked hard, letting your breasts go with a loud pop. They were covered in rapidly healing hickeys, and he looked very pleased with himself.

He kissed down your stomach, admiring your soft belly. He cupped it, and squeezed your thighs, making you gasp.

"My perfect girl," he mumbled against your hips.

He hooked his thumbs into your panties and slid them down your legs, you sat up on your elbows to see what he was doing.

He slid them off and leaned down, kissing and sucking on your inner thighs.

"These perfect thighs, squeezing my head when you cum on my tongue," he said, his stubble scratched and tickled you. You let out a breathy giggle as his hands roamed your body, gripping your waist and thighs. He growled with satisfaction, biting the flesh and sucking marks into your soft skin.

"Elijah, stop teasing," you groaned, becoming impatient.

He chuckled and suddenly pulled you into his lap. He held you close and looked into your eyes.

"I love every bit of your body," he hummed, holding you firmly against him. "Every perfect curve, and every soft inch.”

He gave your tummy a small squeeze and kissed your pouting lips. "You are so beautiful," he whispered.

You blushed and avoided his gaze. He cupped your cheek and tilted your head up, his fingers traced your features, his gaze was filled with adoration.

"Those beautiful lips, those gorgeous eyes, these perfect cheeks, your soft, little nose," he cooed, kissing your face between each word.

You giggled and tried to hide your face in your hands, feeling a little overwhelmed.

"And this ass," he said as he kneaded the flesh, he lifted you up and smacked it, making you yelp. "It should be in the Louvre."

He kissed you again and slowly grinded against you, his hands explored your body, caressing and squeezing.

He scooted down the bed and laid back down, looking up at you with a wicked grin. He kept his gaze locked with yours as he pushed your ass forward, signaling he wanted you to sit on his face.

"Elijah, no, I-," you gasped, completely embarrassed. You felt so shy and nervous, not wanting him to look at you up close like that.

Elijah sat up and kissed you. "Do you think you will hurt me?" He asked, his lips brushing against yours.

"No," you breathed.

"Then what's the problem?" He asked, brushing his knuckles over your cheek.

You let out a shaky breath and wrapped your arms around his neck. "I don't know."

Elijah looked into your eyes, a kind smile on his lips. "If it kills me, you have discovered quite a loophole when it comes to killing an original," he said, gesturing to his face and grinning.

You giggled and pecked his lips. You closed your eyes and tried to calm yourself, it was hard to explain your nerves. You'd been intimate with Elijah before, more times than you could count, but you couldn't shake your insecurities.

Elijah sensed your hesitation, he kissed your neck softly and leaned up to whisper in your ear. "Please sit on my face, I want to eat your sweet pussy until you scream."

His filthy words made you shudder and you knew you wouldn't be able to say no, so you bit your lip and took a deep breath.

"Okay," you whispered.

Elijah laid back down and gave your hips a gentle tug, pulling you into position.

Your entire body went hot when he spread your thighs apart. He kissed the insides, making you moan.

"There's a good girl," he hummed as his lips danced across your hot skin. He positioned you over his face and you could feel his breath ghosting over your most sensitive area.

He looked up at you and gave you an encouraging smile. "Sit,"

You bit your lip, but slowly lowered yourself down, inch by inch. He grabbed your ass and pulled you down fast, making you let out a squeak of surprise.

The heat pooled between your thighs as Elijah nosed at your center, teasing the soft skin. You moaned and tangled your fingers in his hair, rocking against him.

You felt a sudden sting as he nipped your thigh. "Stay still, let me do the work."

He licked a stripe up your core, groaning as he tasted you. He spread you open with his fingers, pressing his tongue flat against you, he licked long and slow. He buried his face deeper, lapping and sucking at your clit.

He licked and sucked and kissed, moaning against your soaked cunt. Your eyes rolled back, you tightened your grip on his hair and cried out. The noises he made were obscene, you could hear his mouth sucking at you, and it only made you wetter.

He looked up at you, his dark hair was a mess and his lips were covered in your slick.

"You taste divine, my love," he groaned. "So sweet, just for me."

He sucked hard on your clit, his hand reaching around and grabbing your ass roughly, squeezing and slapping the soft flesh. He growled and began fucking you with his tongue. His hands spreading you open and pressing his face as deep as possible. He buried himself in your pussy, licking, and sucking like it was his last meal. You came hard on his tongue, your thighs squeezing his head tight as you fell apart.

He soothed your flushed skin with his tongue, sucking on your clit once more, making you twitch. You tugged on his hair, gently pulling him away, not able to take the overstimulation.

You moved back and sat on his chest, trying to catch your breath. Elijah caught your wrist and brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. He was covered in your wetness, and his chin was glistening. He grinned at you, completely satisfied with himself.

You snorted and leaned down, kissing him softly. You hummed, tasting yourself on his tongue.

Elijah rolled you onto your back and pinned your wrists above your head. He pressed his forehead against yours, smiling as you stared at him with a blissful, dazed expression.

"You are so perfect," he breathed, nuzzling his nose against yours.

He kissed down the side of your face and nibbled on your ear, his free hand trailing down your body, cupping and squeezing the soft flesh of your breasts, your hips, your thighs.

"Every inch of you," he whispered.

"Elijah," you sighed, blushing from the attention.

Elijah hummed and reached down to his pants, undoing his belt and pushing them down his legs. You reached up and helped him undress, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on the floor.

You pulled him close and kissed him, wrapping your arms and legs around him. You could feel him pressed against you, his thick cock hot and heavy against your thigh.

"Look at what you do to me," he purred, kissing down your neck.

He reached down and guided himself to your entrance, rubbing the head against you. He slid inside easily, your body opening up for him.

He rocked his hips slowly, grinding his pelvis against yours, making you moan and grip his shoulders tight.

His eyes locked with yours as he fucked you slow and deep. You clung to him, your nails leaving marks on his skin.

"You see how perfectly we fit?" He groaned, taking your hand and intertwining his fingers with yours. "Look at us,"

You both looked down, watching as he thrusted in and out of you, his slick cock disappearing into your body.

"My love, my beautiful girl," he moaned, his voice thick with emotion. "I need you to understand, no one else will ever come close to comparing. You are everything to me."

He buried his face in your neck and kissed and nipped the soft skin. "This perfect body, your heart, your soul, I will never find anyone like you."

You whined and clawed at his back, you could feel the tears gathering in the corners of your eyes, you were overwhelmed and so grateful.

"I love you," you choked out, burying your face in his shoulder.

"And I love you," he breathed.

He held you close and fucked you until you were trembling, tears streaming down your cheeks, clinging to him as you climaxed, shaking and crying his name.

He finished not long after, groaning and gasping as he spilled his release inside you, holding you tight.

You both laid there, panting and covered in sweat. You felt light and dizzy, your muscles felt like jelly and it took all your strength to not fall asleep right then and there.

"I want you to know, I mean every word I say to you," Elijah said quietly, kissing your temple.

"I know, Elijah," you hummed, smiling up at him. "Thank you for reminding me."

"Always."

"And Elijah?" You smiled and nuzzled his neck.

"Yes, my love?"

"I think your ass is the one that should be in the Louvre."

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡

#elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #tvdu #vampire diaries #elijah mikaelson smut #hayley marshall #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine

495 notes · View notes

inkskinned · 2 years ago

Text

so one time i got bit by a brown recluse which is one of the only types of spider in my area that's actually dangerous and at first i didn't know what had happened to me, only that it was nasty. the swelling wasn't going down and the wound started to get ugly. i don't want to like get into the details because that's gross but it got to the point 2 weeks later that i was worried enough to go to the doctor, which i hate doing.

i am not afraid of spiders but other people are so i'd been covering it with this big ole square bandage (i needed more landscape coverage than a simple bandaid) and sat in the university medical waiting room, kicking my heels and playing BOTW. the nurse who admitted me was like, oh, we have got to get Tom to cover this one. she wrote spider bite under my ticket.

i waited in the near-empty building for like an hour and then nurse tom shows up in spiderman scrubs, out of breath. "sorry," he says, "i saw - your slip - and I had," he heaves in a breath, "to run home and. get. these scrubs. i literally. ran. felt like a job. for. spiderman."

i laugh. he puts his hands on his knees, thumbs-ups at me. fishes a pamphlet out from under his clipboard that basically says spiders can be scary but you don't need to be scared, there's very few dangerous spiders in new england. "honestly," he wheezes, "we probably don't need to get you into an exam room. just..." he waves his hand at the pamphlet, "read that."

i look down at my arm. then back at him in his scrubs. and then down at my arm. i like that he made an effort to make a joke, but now it does not feel like a good joke, because they are mistaking my calm for a lack of injury. "can i. like. at least show you the bite?"

he gives me kind of a weird look, which is fair, but then says. "if. i mean, if you have to."

i peel the bandage off. his face goes green.

"oh," he says.

"yeah, man."

"a... spider bit you?" his voice is high and tight and trembling. he backs up a few steps.

"i think a brown recluse," i offer. "i know it's nasty, sorry."

"excuse me for a moment." he looks over to the administering nurse on the other side of the small room. "i need to find someone else to take care of you."

the administering nurse smiles over to us with a degree of pleasure that is almost salivating. for a moment, like a window opening, i am briefly aware of what must be a psychic message floating amongst the in-between. her jaguar teeth all say this is like a party for me and i know exactly what i'm doing.

"oh no, tom," she says, grinning. "i gave her to you specifically."

#this is a real thing that happened #i then waited in an exam room for another hour until a doctor was similarly dismissive until he saw it #and then just gave me antibacterial cream which didn't help the swelling lol #it went away on its own like 4 weeks later #but that's like not the fun part of this story #i was just like. suddenly in the middle of someone else's work drama and GIRL #btw found this extremely funny #edit in the tags: oh ! i thought they were native to NE !!! ???? omg #i mean a real doctor really saw the wound and said ''brown recluse'' so i assumed he was right i never googled it #i lived on a mattress on the floor in a house of people who were always travelling #so like i guess it could have been ANY spider???#omg.....#the way this rocked my whole world

2K notes · View notes

slutouttanowhere · 3 months ago

Text

All Yours | C. Punk

Pairings: CM Punk x Sabrina Richards(oc)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: public sex, unprotected sex, oral(f) and (m) receiving, non-labeled relationship, age gap(oc is mid twenties), spiting, and vulgar language. A twitter p*orn link was included in this story. Not for minors

Authors note: this fic, listen this one beat my ass I cannot lie, but I threw that Normani on and I ended up having so much fun with it. This felt oddly therapeutic in some parts, and I was inspired by @harmshake to rip Punker a new one. The title was taken from All Yours by Normani, I hope you all enjoy, and as always follow me for more.

Sabrina is leaning against the door frame of Shawn Micheals’ office door, he called her in for a few notes he wanted her to hit on her interviews that night for the show. “Okay, Joe Hendry’s first appearance is tonight, so I’ll be sure to grab him, and make sure we get a camera on him right out of the battle royale.” She mumbled as she went over her list making sure she had all her notes. She said her goodbyes to her boss, and as she turned to make her way down the hall, she bumped into someone.

“Well today must be my lucky day, I was just looking for you.” Punk lied through his teeth, it would worry any normal person how easy it is to lie to peoples faces with such ease, but CM Punk isn’t a normal person. A tired expression crossed Sabrina’s face, CM Punk was in the performance center more than the nxt talent, and that annoyed her. Still, she couldn’t ignore the boost it did for ego that someone like Punk gave her so much attention. And unfortunately for her she did find his “charm” attractive enough to entertain him.

“Sure you were.” She said dryly, his hazel eyes raked her body, and shamelessly slowed at her breast. They ended up in a coat room closet entangled at TKO celebration, and she’s been trying to avoid him ever since. Leave it to CM Punk to be persistent.

Punk’s lips stretched into that classic smirk of his, despite her attitude, she hadn’t bothered to pick up her pace, or totally shoo him off. I do have a knack for toxicity don’t I? Punk humorously thought to himself, “so, word on the street is someone’s birthday is today.”

Sabrina’s heart jumped, she had stopped walking, it was then that she realized they ended up in a deserted hall, or was it that he had herded her in that direction while she was distracted? “What happened to your piercing?” She suddenly asked, her eyes fixated on the tiny puncture hole on his bottom lip where his lip ring used to be.

“You’re deflecting, so when’s the party?” His eyebrow quirked, he came to stand in front of Sabrina as she leaned her back against a wall. She really was gorgeous to him, but she just held back too much he felt. There were times when some of the other female talents were being so nasty to her, and he hated it, but it’s not like he could interfere with another woman’s business. He’d ask her about it, and she’d make up a lame excuse like, “it’s not worth the drama,” which Punk felt like if someone scuffed your shoe it’s definitely worth the drama.

“That’s what really made me fall in love with you when I was growing up. It’s just a silly little piercing, but it wasn’t just that, it was everything else added to it. You were everything that girls like me weren’t supposed to like.” She paused, her gaze not quite meeting his, usually he didn’t like her little anecdotes distracting him from what he originally was bothering her about, but this was more than she’s ever given him. He stood with his arms folded, interested in what she had to say.

She sighed as if recalling the memories of her early days exhausted her, “I was raised a good ole Christian girl, church every Sunday, and praying before bed every night. I wasn’t supposed to be watching things like wrestling but it was the one worldly thing my mom allotted me in exchange for my obsession with the occult.” Punk tittered, he looked at the woman standing before him now and tried to imagine a less…gray, version of her. She was just as tatted, and pierced as he is now. Perhaps that was his doing, oops.

“Back then, I wasn’t watching wrestling for John Cena, or Rey Mysterio. Nah, I was watching every Monday night for the Randy Ortons, The Undertaker…for you.” Punks eyebrows shot up in shock, he looked around and then pointed to himself for conformation.

Sabrina giggled, “yea you mister straight edge.” She wasn’t sure why she was spilling her juicy secrets to him, but anything was better than talking about her birthday. “You were a sacrilegious jackass who’s offenses knew no bounds, and that was the thing I loved about you so much.”

There was a long pause, “you’re a heathen, and you probably should have been taken to therapy.” He snorted, Sabrina rolled her eyes, “alright then let me have it, I can tell by the way you pinch your lips you’re holding back from verbally assaulting me.” Punk offered. His tone humorous, he was still unaware just how serious she was being.

“Okay fine.” She nodded her head decidedly, “you’re not used to compliments, and you could say it’s because you’re oh so humble. Or you could say that, because you’re so busy shitting on yourself with the constant woe is me bullshit you never see how much we adored you. You can’t see past your own self pitty, and how under appreciated you felt, you didn’t even realize when you walked out that door we all walked with you.” She only paused to take a breath, “but then as of the dramatic exit to end all dramatic exits weren’t enough, you took the company, chewed it up and spat it out. Then for some reason that wasn’t even the icing on the trauma cake, you didn’t just return once, you returned twice. God forbid you don’t outdo yourself. Point is…you changed, and if I’m being honest I don’t totally buy it. The clean boy act, the suits, the making amends, it’s bullshit.”

To Punk’s shock Sabrina’s revelation got under his skin, no one’s ever tried to hold him up to the light like this and he’s not sure if he likes it. “So what do you want from me? I’m 45 for crying out loud. I can't exactly start locker room fights.” He snapped at her, his voice raising above his normal volume.

“I want that lip piercing back, I want you to stop wearing those goddamn suits and be the Grinch I know you are.”

“What the fuck Sabrina, are you crazy.” He laughed, the way she looked at him actually made him feel a little nervous, she was being so aggressive, but he liked it. This is what he's been wanting from her, a little bite back, a little zest. Maybe I should ask her about her birthday more often.

She grabbed onto his tie, pulling him towards her till it was barely any space left between them. His hands hovering over her hips, his head craned around looking for any other talent, or officials that might come across them. Sabrina didn’t seem to give a fuck who saw them, which was news to him. Her eyes flickered to the arm brace that was tightly pinched over his suit jacket. “You don’t even need that arm brace do you?”

Turning his attention back to her, he grinned, “redacted.”

“Jade let it slip that Lash and Jakara are throwing me a surprise party. Everyone is invited, even old dogs.” She said playfully, Punk rolled his eyes, but he let her have it.

“Should I even bother bringing you a gift?”

She thought about letting him off the hook, but since he’s the one that started this conversation, why not get something out of it? “Wear the piercing.” She demanded in a soft voice, her arms sliding up his chest, and around his neck. She could smell his expensive cologne, she guessed it was something like Gucci, or Versace.

Punk let out a chuff of air, his minty breath fanning her face. “You gotta be kidding?” He was going to do it anyway, he didn’t need convincing, however, if she was willing to change her mind he wouldn’t be mad at that either.

Sabrina pushed herself off the wall which only brought them closer, Punks hands now gripping her waist, “think of it as cosplay, and if you do, we can have a repeat of TKO party…sober.” She ran her fingers through the curtains of his hair from front to back, and gripped his brunet strands. His growl mixed with laughter was all she needed. Before he had a chance to rebuttal, he pushed him away, blew him a kiss, and headed down the hall. Punk shamelessly watched her walk away, committing the way her cheeks bounced as he walked to his memory.

—

The party Lash and Jakar threw for Sabrina was every bit of wild as she expected. There was an even mix of people she, and people she didn’t packed their shared apartment. Music was way too loud to hear her own thoughts, which meant there would absolutely be a noise complaint from their tenant. She took a few shots to make everyone else feel like she was grateful to be there, but as soon as she was away from prying eyes she slipped off to her bedroom.

As soon as plopped down at her desk someone knocked on the door, “now who the hell?” She mumbled, reluctantly she crossed the room again, only to cuss out the person that was ruining her personal time.

“My bad, thought this was the bathroom.” Punk grinned, Sabrina was surprised he actually showed up, and in dress code. His red Ralph Lauren polo matched his Vans, and his dark blue jeans tied the whole look together. His toned, tattooed arms stood out against the deep reddish top he wore. So you have been spending more hours in the gym. Sabrina mentally noted the way his chest looked more elevated, she couldn’t see his physique well in those dreaded three piece suits. She grimaced at that stupid arm brace he didn’t need, she tried not to let it ruin the moment for her.

She shook her head, trying to fight the smile on her lips, the butterflies in the pit of her stomach, and the sudden ache of desire between her thighs. She always felt Punk looked handsome, but he brought some extra heat with him that she’s not used to seeing. “Well look what the scene dragged in, you look good.”

“Yeah? Not bad for an old dog.”

“Just shut up and get in here before someone notices I’m hiding.” Sabrina grasped his large hand in hers, the glint of his watch caught her eye as she closed the door, and locked it behind her. She pressed her back to the door letting out a breath of relief, as her eyes fluttered closed Punk took her in. Her outfit was very revealing, he’s never seen this much of her skin before, but then again he’s not down in Florida all the often. Her little black dress stopped mid thigh, it was strapless which didn’t help to support her large breast. Her legs and thighs were covered with black lace stockings that had pentagram designs on them. As sexy as the dress was on her, she decided to wear doc martens. A real Cinderella, Punk wasn’t sure if he should sit, though he was clean, her room somehow felt cleaner.

His eyes swept around the dark room, it was very strategically designed which told him more about her personality than what he thought he knew originally. “What, no poster of me?”

“I had a poster of you, I replaced it with Drew McIntyre when you pissed me off at Clash.” She was proud of that burn, the look on his face was worth the lie, but for now she simmered in his agitation.

“Cute.” He grumbled, that’s when she noticed it, the lip ring.

She crossed the room to him, she knew exactly what she wanted, and he knew it too. The game of cat and mouse was over for her, “you wore the piercing.” She met him where he stood in the middle of the room, one hand on his chest, and the other stroked his bottom lip with her index finger.

“Of course I did as told.” He smiled proudly.

“What good boy you are, come sit.” Sabrina plopped down on her bed, the blankets were pulled back to reveal Akatsuki, from Naruto, themed sheets. Punk wasn’t familiar, but he knew it had to be some sort of cartoon knowing Sabrina.

He watched her from where he stood, suddenly his skin felt hot, and he was sure his cheeks were flushed. She sat with her legs crossed, hands in lap, she looked so harmless, but he wouldn’t be fooled. “I can’t promise you I won’t bite, but I’m in a mood.” She purred, her hand patting the empty spot next to her, Punk breathed through his nose. Her room smelled like vanilla and chocolate, a contrast to her perfume which smells like cotton candy. Even if he wanted to think clearly he couldn’t, she had him surrounded.

He came to sit beside her, it was then he realized that he did have a gift to give her. “Oh, this is for you.” He dug a small, rectangular box from his pocket, it was covered in black velvet, and wrapped with a lavender purple chiffon ribbon tied in a bow. Sabrina was shocked, it looked like he put a lot of thought into it, all the other presents people brought her tonight were in dollar store gift bags. Not that she was complaining, she made it more than clear that she didn’t like to celebrate her birthday.

Her eyes slowly dropped to his tattooed covered hands, it was so small, but the gesture was so big. “Velvet, what a fancy gift.” She joked, she still hadn't taken the box from his hands, and a part of her didn’t. She wanted to skip this part all together, but she swallowed thickly, and took it from his hands. Neither of them spoke as she untied the ribbon, her heart hammered against her rib cage, and she wondered if he could hear it. She pulled the top off, and her breath caught in her throat.

“I know you’re really into spiders…for some creepy ass reason, but that’s who you are, a little weirdo.” Punk chuckled softly, inside the gift box, was a necklace with a spider made of sterling silver attached. Its abdomen had a shining red ruby in the center, and a single drop of pearl attached to its legs. What the hell made him buy me something so…intimate? She wondered, sure they flirted every now and again, usually when Punk was around all he ever did was annoy her. Sabrina understood that was his way of flirting, so she’d flirt back never thinking…

“Um…” Sabrina uttered, for the first time in his life, Punk felt uncomfortable. He just wanted to get her an actual good gift, Cody did warn him that maybe that’d be too much, but he couldn’t help himself. ‘Doing the most.’ Was in his nature.

He laid a hand on her wrist bringing her out of her thoughts, “it’s just a gift, I promise.” There was a sign of relief on her face, her body relaxed, but he could tell she was still confused by the sentiment. “Listen I’m an excellent gift giver, you’re lucky to be a witness of that…and besides you deserve to be gifted with something you actually like.” He smirked bringing the light energy back into the room, Sabrina chewed gingerly on her bottom lip.

Her gaze met him now, those pretty hazel eyes standing out against his dark, brunette hair. She reached out her hand, “I love it actually, it’s stunning. Thanks Phil.” Her smile genuine, he fought the urge to close his eyes, and take in her touch. She pulled away, took the necklace, and sat it on her night stand next to the bed.

“Listen, Sabrina—

She cut him off, “whatever this is between us, I don’t want it to end yet.” She cut right to the point, he didn’t question it, but instead pulled her into a hot kiss. Both of them needed to release the tension that’s been building over months. One hand held her to him, and the other gripped her thigh. They only separated to breathe, “I wanna use your face, can I sit on it Daddy?” Punk was already standing, and pulling his Polo off. Sabrina leaned back on her hands watching hold undress, a haughty smirk on his lips. Her eyes full of hunger as his hands slowly unbuckled his brown leather belt, and unbuttoned his pants. Her tongue slid across full, luscious lips. Punk stepped out of his Vans, set them to the side, and pulled his jeans down all the way, and kicked them out the way.

“All you gotta do is ask, Princess.” He teased, he ran a hand through his hair, this time he decided to not gel his hair down, he knew how much Sabrina liked to tug on it. “You see what you do to me, I’m so fucking hard.” He groaned, his hand gripped his dick over the fabric. As she stood to unzip her dress, Punk dropped to his knees before her, he kissed her thighs, and helped her step out of her boots. Her breathing was heavy, as the anticipation felt like it was killing her. It had been sometime since that company party. She’s been trying to recreate the way his tongue had traced her labia, but nothing would ever come close to the real thing.

He helped go tug her dress off, then threw it onto the bed behind them, and when he looked up he gripped his shaft harder. From this angle below her, he could see her curves even better than when he’s standing. “Fuck, come stand over here baby.” He directed her towards her desk, she faced towards the wall with her ass poked out, but when she peaked over her shoulder Punk was crawling towards her on all fours.

“That’s right, come get this ass.” Sabrina arched her back, she clapped her cheeks as she looked back at him, the friction causing her to ache more between her thighs. Punk hooked his finger over her lace stockings, as he pulled them down he trailed wet, hot kisses down her ass. Without looking he tossed her tights then eagerly pressed his face between her booty, and inhaled her deeply. “Fuck.” She hissed out, his roughly slapped her, then warmed her up before landing another thunderous blow down on her.

He pulled her panties to the side not even bothering to take them off, Sabrina was already too far from anything sensible, and once his tongue touched her clit, all decorum went flying out the window with the rest of her manners. He slurped her up all her juices, he covered his lips, nose, and beard in her essence. He reached his hand around her waist, his fingers made sloppy circles around her brown pearl. His tongue delved between both her holes, she held onto the desk with dear life, and twisted around to look at him. No one had ever eaten her like this. “Oh my god.” She cried, her fingers gripping his hair, his eyes looking up at her, he looked like a devil, “you're so nasty.” She moaned breathlessly, her hips rocked back and forth across his face. He held her by the hips so she wouldn’t lose footing, his lips caught her clit again, gently he sucked on her.

“Goddamn it, that’s so good.” She groaned she wasn’t sure when, or how the room had gotten so hot. She could feel sweat like her hairline, she could feel her baby edges peeling away from her forehead. “I’m so close, don't stop, please.” Sabrina begged, her hips bucked backwards, her throbbing intensified, and as her head fell backwards she was already done. A mix of her juices and his saliva sliding down her thigh. Punk wasn’t done yet, he slid his tongue back and forth between her folds until he felt like he had gotten every drop she had to over.

Punk grunted, “this ass is mine.” Then, disrespectfully spat on her pussy before trailing kisses up her lower back, to her shoulder. His thick, erected cock pressed against her as he held her by the waist from the back. “I’ve been thinking about this cunt of yours since I was on the plane here, all I’ve been wanting was to be so deep inside you.” He whispered in her ear, his hands found her breast, and caressed them gingerly. Sabrina swore she couldn’t see straight, or maybe it was from her eyes being rolled back.

“Prove it, fuck this pussy like it’s yours.” Sabrina breathed out, she could feel his tip slip over her entrance, he chuckled darkly, and kissed the shell of her ear.

“The only thing you’ll be craving for months is me sweetheart.” Before she could respond, he pushed himself slowly, and didn’t stop till he filled her all the way up.

“Ohhh fuck yes.” She cried out, the music too loud for anyone to hear them, Punk’s hand slid down to lower stomach, and held her against him. He pulled out of her, but leaving the tip in teasing her entrance.

He slapped her ass, “you want this dick baby? Let me fucking hear you.” This time he slammed back into her, over, and over till they were both fighting to catch their breath. His Instagram post of him doing hip thrust in the gym flashed in her mind, she couldn’t help but let out a giggle, mixed with a ragged moan.

“Fuck you.” She groaned, she leaned forward onto the desk, and hiked her knee up. She pushed back into him meeting his rhythm half way, peaking over her shoulder she could see him leaning back so he could watch her ass bounce.

He was grinning like a mad man. “That’s right, throw that ass back on me, just like that kitten.” Sabrina tightened around him, her knees weakened, and core aching so good. Punk leaned forward, one hand holding onto her waist, and the other wrapped around her throat. He filled her up perfectly, hitting all the right spots, and pounding her just the way she liked. He wouldn’t be back in Florida for a few months, so he put an extra special touch on it. Sabrina let her mouth fall open as moans, and whines of please poured out of her. “Fucking right, let that shit out, I wanna fucking hear it.” Punk encouraged her as he counted the steady rhythm, he could feel his own orgasam creeping up on him, but he knew she was closer.

“Ah! I’m gonna cum.” Sabrina breathed, Punks hand reached between them, his fingers massaging her clit. Her hand reached up and dug her fingers into her hair, “oh god don’t stop please.” She begged.

“I got you baby, I don’t care how long it takes, I’m not gonna stop.” His breath was warm against her, she inhaled his cologne deeply as she came undone underneath him. Had this been any other night her cries might have alerted her neighbors, but the bass of the loudspeakers made them unknown to the party goers. She took a second to catch her breath before spinning around, and now dropping to her knees. Mouth open, tongue out. “Look at you, such a good girl.” He praised, his hand massaging himself at a rapid rate, he held her head perfectly still. Milky white seman dribbled out of him, Sabrina took over, and wrapped her lips around his tip. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He changed over and over as she sucked him for everything he was worth, which wasn’t a whole lot in his opinion.

She swallowed without hesitation, Punk pulled her up from the floor, and pressed his lips to hers. It was sloppy at first, both of them too exhausted to do much of anything else, but it slowed to a softer touch. She wrapped her arms around his neck, a silly grin spread across his lips. “Happy Birthday Rin.” He hasn’t used that nickname since they first met three years ago. It was dumb but he was the only one that managed to get away with it.

“I’m gonna go shower.” Her own smile matching his, as she walked away, Sabrina thought this was the best birthday she had in years.

Tag list: @shes2real @joannasteez @plutokisss @naturallysunkisseddaisy

#cm punk fanfiction #cm punk smut #black!oc #wwe fanfiction #—tokio

104 notes · View notes

bug-decal-kissing · 8 months ago

Text

Hey friends!

A paradise for students, by Lyulchik20002, was updated today, with 5/? Chapters released! It has a rating of Teen And Up Audiences and Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, with additional tags "Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - College/University"

You can read it here:

Good ol' party with new faces, by CatDragonStella, was updated today, with 4/4 Chapters released! It has a rating of Teen And Up Audiences and Graphic Depictions Of Violence, with additional tags "Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, How Do I Tag, Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, My First Fanfic, LGBTQ Character, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Intersex Scarab"

You can read it here:

There is discussion of the previous chapter (see the additional tags for TW), so please read with caution :]/lh

#im going to be out of my house for a few days pretty soon #posts might get spotty around the 9th ill be on when i can !! orz #prohibitedwish #prohibitedwish fics #a paradise for students #good ol party with new faces

9 notes · View notes

hischierswhore · 1 year ago

Text

mr perfectly fine

part 2 of this fic

pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

"Rise & shine, sleepy head” Kika said as you slowly opened our eyes, only to be met with the blinding lights from outside. After grabbing the pillow and burying your face in it to conceal you from the harsh lights, you noticed the room got darker, meaning Kika had closed the curtains.

“How did you even get in?” You rubbed your eyes.

“Spare key”

“30 more minutes? Please?” You begged your friend to give you a bit of extra time.

“If I give you 30 minutes, you’ll ask me for another 45 after so no. Get up” She pulled the sheets from you and dragged you out of bed.

“Why am I going to this thing anyways?”

“Because I have an extra ticket for this event, and you promised me that you would come”

“Just take Pierre or something” You said, still half asleep

“He’s already going with the rest of the grid. Obligations” Her words immediately snapped you awake.

“The rest of the grid?” Kika nodded.

“You might not even see Lan- sorry. He who shall not be named. You’ll be with me the entire night” She gently rubbed your arm in attempt to reassure you that all would be fine.

Kika was the first person you told about the breakup. You ghosted everyone for a few days after Lando had left you, ignoring all calls and messages from the outside world. Kika, your best friend, was beyond concerned with your sudden disappearance and decided to pay you a visit. Using her spare key, that she also seemed to use for non-emergency reasons, she walked right into your home and found you sitting on the couch with the bags under your eyes heavier than ever before.

"What if he tries to talk to me?" You threw yourself on your bed dramatically, watching as Kika browsed through your wardrobe. Following the breakup, you had stalked Lando's social media and he didn’t seem to be fazed by the breakup, and if he had, he didn't show it.

He returned to his life of traveling and nonstop adventures with his fellow drivers. Attending all sorts of parties and festivals, which he was free to do, but what wasn’t right to you was how he didn’t seem hurt in the slightest.

It’d been a month since that night. You still remember the stove illuminating the “1:58am” across your living room as you watched Lando leave.

“What about this one?” Kika pulled out a sparkling red dress and showed it to you.

“I don’t know-“

"Think of this as revenge. You can show him what he's missing. And if you do run in to him, so what? You know I won’t hesitate to give him a good ole’ karate chop in the head" She karate chopped the air, and you burst out in laughter at her movement.

If you wanted revenge, like Kika suggested, you needed to show up looking my best and not let your emotions take over.

After you & Kika had finished getting ready, you called an Uber to take you from your flat over to the event you were attending.

You both entered the banquet hall with all eyes on you. Or maybe their attention was on Kika and her stunning (per usual) dress. Either way, you rarely ever got attention like this, and to say it scared you was an understatement.

You both approached the trio of Pierre, Carlos and Charles, joining in on their conversation.

“We missed having you around, Y/n” Charles said as he rubbed the back of his neck. The group hadn’t seen you in a while due to your breakup with their friend.

“I missed seeing you guys” You said as a figure joined the group. You head turned to greet the person but you immediately jumped back, shocked at the sight: It was Lando, with some new blonde by his side.

Your plans of getting revenge went flying out the window, and right now you wanted nothing more than to crawl into your bed and never leave. The group was just as shocked as you were, glancing between Lando and the blonde.

You leaned into Carlos’ ear and excused yourself, to which he nodded and promised to relay the message to the rest of the group.

As you bolted to the nearest bathroom, you wanted to burst into tears. You locked yourself in the stall and tried your hardest not to cry, instead trying to think happy thoughts.

Back at the group, Kika noticed the moment you left and turned to Lando. The blonde had also excused herself to go speak to some of her friends.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, Norris” She sounded completely disgusted with Lando.

“What did I do?” Lando asked as he looked around, watching as Charles smacked a hand onto his face in disappointment.

“What didn’t you do, Lando? You broke up with Y/n only a week after your podium in Silverstone because you “had to” for the sake of your relationship? In what fucking world does that make sense?” Kika said before Carlos spoke up

“You claimed to love her, but then you show up here, only a month after you left her, with a new girl on your arm? Guess you really did love Y/n enough to replace her like nothing”

“And then you acted like you did nothing wrong. You didn’t show the slightest bit of remorse for leaving her, with that shit excuse by the way” Charles added.

“Have you even apologized at all?” Pierre asked, watching Lando’s gaze fall down to his feet.

“No” He mumbled.

“You really think he would apologize? He left her hopes high, insinuating that he would come back for her, when in reality it was just an excuse to find someone new” Kika was nearly shouting at this point, and Pierre signaled for her to go find you to ensure you were okay.

- later on -

You were sat at your table with Pierre, Kika, Charles and Carlos. You were all talking when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned your head to see who was trying to get your attention and it was none other than Lando himself.

“Can I help you?” You asked as you turned your attention back to the rest of the table, not wanting to speak to him right now, or at all for that matter.

“Can we talk? Alone?” You sigh as you nod your head, unsure as to why you’re even agreeing to this. You excuse yourself from the table and all eyes are on you as you walk away with Lando right behind you.

You turn to face him once you’re out of sight from everyone at the event.

“What did you want?” You folded your arms across your chest. Lando inhaled deeply and he seemed nervous.

“I want to apologize. For everything. I wanted to focus on racing and winning and I just couldn’t see myself doing that with you in my life”

“So… you lied to me and made it seem like you were doing this for me? You made it seem like you were going to come back for me, Lando. But really you just wanted to leave and never return”

“I shouldn’t have made it seem like that. I’m so sorry” You stayed silent, contemplating what to say next.

“Who’s the blonde?” You questioned, watching the lump in Lando’s throat.

“Oh she’s uhm… my date” He refused to make eye contact with you as you scoffed at his answer.

“Interesting how you said you loved me and that you always would, yet you replaced me like nothing happened at all and moved on after a month. Somehow you’re “Mr Perfectly Fine” after all this, so clearly you didn’t love me half as much as you said you did ” Lando could only mutter apologies yet still refused to make any sort of eye contact with you.

“Well this was lovely, but I’m going to go back to my table” You said nothing else as you made your way back to the table, shoulder checking him as you passed. You walked back into the dining hall to see everyone quickly turning their heads back around to seem as if they weren’t waiting for you to come back.

As you sat down, you felt a weight lifted from your shoulders; you were finally free and you would be alright someday.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist

@chelseagirl98 @firehazardxx @judesgfirl @celestialams @xjval

#✎ natalie writes #lando norris #lando norris angst #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine

724 notes · View notes

emjayewrites · 2 months ago

Text

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton) (11/15)

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @lovebittenbyevans @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @httpsserene @motheroffae @perfecttrashface @xoscar03 @saturnville @weetjy @pinkcatcus @lewlewlemon44 @cranberryjulce @chaoticcoffeequeen @vile-harlot @periodjosh @melanin-queen369 @destinyg237 @niahxo @purplelewlew @queenshikongo3

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

CHAPTER 11: Same Ol’ Mistakes

Flashback to Early 2019 - New York City

Laughter and chatter echoed through Ayesha's newly purchased condo in New York City. The housewarming party was in its prime, celebrating her big move and the start of her career at a prestigious law firm.

Rorie stepped in, Lewis by her side, her stomach fluttering with a mix of anticipation and nerves. After nearly four months of dating, she was finally introducing Lewis to her closest friends.

Their relationship had been a whirlwind, progressing faster than Rorie could have ever imagined. Despite Lewis's hectic racing schedule, they'd managed to steal moments together whenever possible - stolen weekends in exotic locales, late-night FaceTime calls, and surprise visits to race tracks. Rorie had fallen hard and fast, the intensity of their connection taking her by surprise.

"Ladies!" Rorie called out, approaching the group gathered in the living room. "There's someone I want you to meet."

Five heads turned, eyes widening as they took in Lewis Hamilton standing beside their friend. Rorie made the introductions: "Lewis, these are my girls - KiKi, Deja, Tia, Britt, and of course, our hostess, Ayesha."

A chorus of hellos and nice-to-meet-yous filled the air. As Lewis shook hands with each woman, Deja felt her breath catch. She'd recognize that smile anywhere - it was the same one that had dazzled her that night in New Orleans during All-Star weekend 2017.

Lewis paused as he reached Deja, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. "Have we met before? You look familiar."

Deja's heart raced, but she kept her cool. After all, she was here with her new boyfriend, a rookie for the Knicks. "Oh, I just have one of those faces," she said with a casual laugh. "I get that a lot."

Lewis nodded, accepting her explanation, and moved on to greet the others.

KiKi couldn't resist teasing, "So, the elusive Lewis finally graces us with his presence! We were starting to think Rorie had an imaginary boyfriend."

Britt chimed in, "Yeah, if it weren't for those paparazzi shots, we might not have believed you existed!"

Lewis laughed good-naturedly. "Sorry about that, ladies. The racing schedule can be a bit crazy as hell." As they settled into conversation, Lewis looked around the apartment approvingly. "This is a great neighborhood, Ayesha."

Ayesha beamed. "Thanks! It took some searching, but I think I've found the perfect spot."

Tia couldn't resist chiming in with a grin. "Speaking of perfect spots, Rorie, so this the man that's been flying you out to all those exotic locations? Your passport must be tired of you!"

Lewis smirked, a hint of cockiness in his voice. "Guilty as charged. What can I say? I like to show my girl the world."

Rorie playfully rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Don't encourage him, Tia. His ego's big enough as it is."

The group laughed, the atmosphere light and celebratory. KiKi leaned in, whispering to Rorie, "Damn, girl. You didn't tell us he was this fine up close. Does he have a brother, a cousin, something?"

"What about Khalil? I thought you two were trying to make it work?" Rorie asked, giving her friend a curious glance.

"Fuck that nigga, let me tell you how I had another bitch call me about messing around with him. I’m not trying to be nobody’s sister wife," KiKi shook her head with a sigh. "Besides, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."

Throughout the evening, Deja found herself stealing glances at Lewis, memories of that night in New Orleans flashing through her mind. But each time, she'd remind herself of her current relationship, of the life she was building now.

Rorie felt a sense of contentment wash over her. Her two worlds were merging seamlessly, and the future looked bright. Little did she know that beneath the surface of this perfect evening, seeds of future complications were already being sown.

The January chill nipped at Rorie's newly blonde locks as she stepped out of the car, New York City's skyline twinkling against the night sky. She ran a hand through her hair, still adjusting to the dramatic change. The decision to go blonde had been impulsive, a desire to shake things up for the new year, but now a flicker of self-consciousness crept in. The Maison Spoiled event buzzed with anticipation, fashion's elite mingling in a dazzling display of wealth and influence.

"Fuck, it's freezing," Rorie muttered, tugging her fur-trimmed collar closer. Lewis chuckled, his arm snaking around her waist as they approached the entrance.

"You'd think after all these years, you'd be used to it," he teased.

Inside, warmth enveloped them along with the soft clink of champagne flutes and hushed conversations. As Maison Spoiled's newest ambassador, Rorie felt the weight of expectation on her shoulders, coupled with a lingering exhaustion from their whirlwind trip to Brazil.

Their time in Bahia had been... intense, to say the least. Between lazy beach days and family time with Lyric, Rorie and Lewis had rediscovered a passion that left them both pleasantly sore and perpetually grinning. "Trying for a sibling," they'd joked, though the underlying hope was real.

Now, as they made their rounds, exchanging air kisses and pleasantries, Rorie caught snippets of conversation that made her pulse quicken.

"Hamilton to Ferrari? No way..."

"For 2025, I heard..."

Before she could process the implications, Julian Polak appeared before them, his eyes sparkling almost as brightly as the diamonds adorning the room.

"Rorie, Lewis! So glad you could make it," Julian beamed, clasping their hands warmly. "Rorie, you're absolutely glowing. Brazil must have agreed with you."

Rorie felt her cheeks warm, memories of sun-soaked skin and tangled sheets flashing through her mind. "It was... rejuvenating," she managed, sharing a knowing glance with Lewis.

As Julian launched into a passionate explanation of Maison Spoiled's vision, Rorie's mind raced. How had the Ferrari news leaked?

The night wore on, and the whispers grew louder. By the time they left, it was clear that Lewis's move to Ferrari was the worst-kept secret in the room.

Back in their hotel suite, Rorie kicked off her heels with a sigh. "Babe, we need to talk about what happened tonight."

Lewis nodded, loosening his tie. "I know. I've already got calls from Toto and the Ferrari team. We're gonna have to move up the announcement."

Rorie flopped onto the bed, her mind racing. "This is gonna be a shitshow, isn't it?"

Lewis sat beside her, running a hand through his hair. "Probably. But hey, at least it'll take some heat off the lawsuit drama, right?"

Rorie couldn't help but laugh. "Always looking on the bright side, huh?"

Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Kiki:

Girl, have you seen what's trending? #HamiltonToFerrari is blowing up!

"Great," Rorie groaned. "So much for keeping things quiet until your birthday."

Lewis's 39th birthday was just days away, and they'd planned to make the announcement then. Now, it seemed, they'd have to pivot.

"You know what?" Lewis said, pulling Rorie close. "Let's just roll with it. We'll confirm it tomorrow, have a proper celebration on my birthday, and deal with whatever comes our way."

Rorie snuggled into his embrace, feeling the tension start to ebb away. "You're right. We've dealt with worse, haven't we?"

As they lay there, strategizing and stealing kisses, Rorie's phone buzzed. It was Kiki calling.

"Girl, spill the tea!" Kiki's voice rang out as soon as Rorie answered and put her on speaker. "Is it true? Ferrari?"

Lewis chuckled. "News travels fast, huh?"

"You have no idea," Kiki replied. "So, it's legit?"

They spent the next few minutes giving Kiki a rundown of the situation, promising to fill her in on more details later.

After hanging up, Rorie turned to Lewis, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Speaking of Kiki... can you believe she did that to Deja?"

Lewis raised an eyebrow. "You mean the beat down? Yeah, but that's just KiKi."

Rorie shook her head, still in disbelief. "I can't believe she actually did it. I mean, I was thinking about doing it myself, but..."

Lewis burst out laughing. "You? Fighting? Babe, I've seen you stub your toe. You're not exactly Mike Tyson."

Rorie swatted his arm playfully. "Hey! I could totally throw down if I needed to."

Still chuckling, Lewis reached for the room service menu. "Sure, Rocky. How about we order some food instead of planning assaults?"

As they waited for their late-night feast, Lewis's phone pinged. He showed Rorie a photo from his mom, Carmen, of Lyric fast asleep in their Monaco home.

"Looks like he's settling in well," Rorie smiled, a hint of longing in her voice.

Lewis nodded, "Glad that he and Mum are doing well." His mother and Nina seem to have everything under control. The two of them were set for an extended stay in NYC before heading to Brackley for the unveiling of the 2024 season car for the upcoming F1 season.

The knock on the door came just as Rorie's stomach growled, perfectly timed. Lewis answered and wheeled in their feast, the aroma of truffle fries and gourmet burgers filling the suite.

They settled onto the plush sofa, plates balanced on their laps, when Lewis's eyes lit up with that mischievous glint Rorie knew all too well.

"You know," he said, taking a bite of his veggie burger, "this place has got me feeling all sorts of déjà vu."

Rorie glanced around, eyebrow raised. "Yeah? How come?"

Lewis grinned, a touch of nostalgia in his voice. "Babe, this is our old love nest. Same suite we holed up in when we first started dating. Remember? My condo was a construction zone, and we..."

"Oh my god," Rorie cut in, memories flooding back. A smile played on her lips as she recalled those early, heady days. "How could I forget? We barely left this room for a week."

"Mmm," Lewis hummed, pulling her close. "Maybe we should recreate some of those memories, for old times' sake."

Rorie laughed, but there was a glint in her eye. "Another night, maybe. We've got all week, after all."

As they ate, conversation flowed easily, jumping from topic to topic. Rorie found herself sighing wistfully. "You know, I kind of miss that condo. It had the best view of Central Park."

"We could always get another one," Lewis suggested, only half-joking. "Add it to our real estate empire."

Rorie rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Right, because what we need is another home to manage. Speaking of which..." She hesitated, then plunged ahead. "I've been thinking about hiring a personal assistant."

Lewis's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah? That's not a bad idea, considering how crazy things have been lately."

"I actually had Yael and Penni screen some candidates a few weeks back," Rorie continued, her excitement growing. "I've already done a couple of interviews. There are two that really stand out."

And just like that, they were off, Rorie detailing the potential assistants, their qualifications, and her impressions. Lewis listened intently, offering his thoughts and asking questions. The conversation meandered, touching on their early days, current challenges, and dreams for the future. The night stretched on, New York City humming below them, a perfect backdrop to their plans and promises.

A couple of days later, the early morning light filtered through the curtains of their suite, casting a warm glow over the room. Rorie stirred, slowly waking up to the gentle sound of Lewis’s breathing beside her, her bonnet slightly askew from her slumber. She turned to find him already awake, his phone in hand, the glow of the screen reflecting in his eyes.

"Happy birthday, babe," she whispered, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

Lewis smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he turned to her. "Thanks, love. Best way to wake up."

Rorie grinned, cuddling closer. "How does it feel to be one year older? The big 3-9."

"Like I’m just getting started," Lewis chuckled, setting his phone aside. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "But I’ll admit, writing that post took a bit out of me."

"You posted it?" Rorie asked, propping herself up on one elbow, curiosity piqued.

"Just hit send," he nodded, a touch of nervousness in his voice. "It’s official. Everyone knows now."

Rorie gave him a reassuring smile. "I’m proud of you. This is a huge step, but it’s the right one."

Lewis leaned back against the pillows, his gaze drifting to the ceiling. "Yeah, it’s been a long time coming. I’ve been with Mercedes for over a decade. But Ferrari… It feels like the right move for the next chapter."

"So, you’re really going to be wearing red, huh?" she teased, her tone light but with a hint of seriousness underneath. "Looks like Lyric needs to start learning Italian now."

Lewis chuckled, pulling her closer. "He's learning French from Nina, might as well add Italian to the list. He’ll be a little polyglot by the time he starts school."

Rorie laughed, imagining their toddler babbling in multiple languages. "Mmhmm, and you’ll be fluent in all of them, trying to keep up."

They stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, until Rorie’s stomach growled, breaking the peaceful silence. Lewis laughed, his hand brushing her hair away from her face. "Breakfast in bed?"

"Definitely," Rorie agreed, her eyes lighting up. "But after we eat, you should check your phone. I bet the internet’s already buzzing."

Lewis sighed, knowing she was right. He reached for his phone, seeing the notifications already piling up, but he set it back down, choosing to focus on the woman in front of him instead. "The world can wait."

They spent the day in a blissful bubble, ordering room service, lounging around in their plush bathrobes, and indulging in their favorite reality shows. No extravagant parties, no guest lists—just the two of them, savoring every moment.

"Where are you sneaking off to?" he asked, his eyes following her every move.

"Just stay right there," Rorie called back over her shoulder, a playful smile on her lips as she padded across the room.

She disappeared for a moment, and when she returned, she wasn’t wearing her oversized t-shirt and boy shorts anymore. Instead, she’d slipped into something much more revealing—a black lace crotchless lingerie set that hugged every curve of her body. The sheer fabric clung to her skin, the delicate lace tracing the curve of her hips, and the thin straps crisscrossed over her back, leaving very little to the imagination.

Lewis’s breath caught in his throat as he watched her. "Damn, Rorie," he murmured, his voice low and filled with heat.

But Rorie wasn’t done yet. She reached behind her back and pulled out a small box, then from the other hand, a single cupcake that she had secretly ordered from room service earlier. The cupcake was simple—chocolate with a swirl of vanilla frosting and a single candle stuck in the middle.

"Happy birthday, Mr. President," she sang in a sultry voice, channeling her inner Marilyn Monroe as she swayed toward him, the cupcake in one hand and the box in the other.

Lewis’s eyes darkened with desire as he watched her, his mouth curling into a grin. "You really know how to spoil a man."

She placed the cupcake in his lap and then handed him the small velvet box. "I’ve got one more surprise for you."

His curiosity piqued, Lewis opened the box to find a pair of handcuffs nestled inside. His grin widened as he looked back up at her. "Now, this is going to be fun."

Rorie leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "Happy birthday, baby. Make a wish."

Lewis held her gaze for a moment, the tension between them thickening, before he closed his eyes and blew out the single candle on the cupcake. When he opened them again, his expression was full of intent. "You know exactly what I want for my birthday," he said with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Rorie giggled, running her hands through his braids. "Oh, I know," she replied teasingly, picking up the cupcake to place it on the bedside table. She then leaned in, their lips meeting in a slow, sensual kiss that quickly deepened, becoming more urgent as their need for each other grew. Her hands slid up his chest, fingers tracing the defined lines of his muscles before she pushed him gently back onto the bed. Lewis let her take control, his heart pounding in anticipation.

Climbing onto the bed to straddle his hips, the black lace lingerie barely contained the curve of her ass. The delicate fabric accentuated every inch of her body, and Lewis couldn't help but run his hands along her thighs, marveling at the softness of her skin.

"God, you look incredible," he breathed, his voice husky with desire.

Rorie smiled down at him, her hips moving in a slow, teasing grind against his growing arousal as her fingers slipped into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down.

Lewis watched her, his breath coming in shallow gasps as she took her time, savoring every moment. When she finally freed him, he groaned in relief, his hands gripping her hips as he urged her closer.

But Rorie wasn’t done teasing him. She leaned forward, her hands braced on either side of his head as she kissed him again, her tongue slipping into his mouth to taste him. Then, she pulled back slightly, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, "Are you ready for your present?"

Lewis’s answer was a low growl, his hands tightening on her hips. "I’ve been ready all day."

With a wicked grin, Rorie reached for the handcuffs and secured one around his wrist, her movements slow and deliberate, giving him plenty of time to protest if he wanted to. But Lewis didn’t. He watched her with dark, hungry eyes, his teeth biting his lower lip as the anticipation made his pulse race.

Once his hands were cuffed to the headboard, Rorie sat back on his thighs, taking a moment to appreciate the sight before her. Lewis Hamilton, the man who commanded so much power and respect on the track, was now completely at her mercy. And she intended to make the most of it.

She pressed a kiss to his chest, then another, trailing her lips down the hard planes of his torso. Lewis shuddered beneath her touch, his muscles tensing as she moved lower, her mouth leaving a heated trail across his skin.

"Rorie," he groaned, his voice thick with desire. "Don’t make me beg."

She chuckled softly, her breath ghosting over his abdomen as she glanced up at him. "I love hearing you beg, though."

With that, she took him in her mouth, and Lewis let out a low growl. The sensation of Rorie’s lips and tongue on him was almost too much to handle. He tried to focus on the feeling of euphoria building within him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult with every movement of Rorie’s head.

He tugged on the handcuffs instinctively, wanting to hold onto something as pleasure coursed through his body. Rorie smiled around him knowing the effect she was having on him. Her mouth worked magic on him, her tongue swirling and sucking with expert precision. Lewis’s hips lifted off the bed, desperate for more as he lost himself in the moment. He could feel the tension building in his core, and he knew he was close. But Rorie seemed to sense it too, because she pulled back suddenly, leaving him panting and aching for release.

"Not yet," she murmured, her voice dripping with seduction. "I’m not finished with you."

"Fuck…baby…" Lewis groaned in frustration, his voice thick with need. "What are you—"

His words were cut off as Rorie climbed up his body, straddling him again but this time facing away, causing him to have an eyeful of her pert ass. She reached behind her, teasing him with her touch as she positioned herself over his throbbing erection. Slowly, agonizingly, she lowered herself onto him until he was buried deep inside her.

They both moaned at the overwhelming sensation, Rorie gasping as she took him to the hilt. The feeling of him stretching her so perfectly made her shiver with pleasure. Lewis's hands clenched around the handcuffs, his muscles tensing as he strained to move with her, desperate to match her rhythm but unable to do anything but lie there and take it.

Rorie began to rock her hips back and forth, setting a slow, torturous pace that had Lewis gritting his teeth in frustration. "Please," he begged, his voice raw with need. "I need more."

A soft laugh escaped Rorie’s lips as she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes glinting with mischief. "You want more?" she asked teasingly, her voice a seductive purr. "You want me to fuck you harder?"

Lewis's response was a low, primal growl as he bucked his hips up to meet hers, driving himself even deeper inside her. The sudden movement made Rorie moan loudly, the sensation sending a shock of pleasure through her body.

She began to move faster, bouncing on his lap with reckless abandon, her moans and the sound of her skin slapping against him filling the room. Lewis’s head fell back against the pillows, his entire body taut with pleasure as he watched her, utterly captivated by the way she moved.

"F-fuck," he groaned, unable to form any other coherent words as she took him closer and closer to the edge. His entire world had narrowed down to the feel of her tight heat surrounding him, the sound of her moans, and the sight of her body moving so perfectly above him.

Rorie’s hands trailed down his thighs, gripping them tightly for support as she rode him with everything she had. Her body glistened with sweat, her hair falling in wild tendrils around her face, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was the way Lewis felt inside her, the way he was making her feel like she was on fire.

She could feel her own orgasm building, the tension in her body coiling tighter and tighter with each movement. Lewis’s eyes were glued to her, his gaze filled with a mix of lust and adoration that only made her want him more. He loved seeing Rorie like this—uninhibited, wild, and completely lost in the moment.

"God, you feel so fucking good," Lewis groaned, his voice strained with the effort of holding back. He wanted this to last, wanted to savor every second of it, but Rorie was making it impossible. "You take this dick so well, baby."

She sped up her movements, her moans turning into cries of pleasure as she chased her release, her body moving with a frantic urgency. "Lewis," she gasped, her voice breathless and desperate. "I’m so close…"

"Me too, baby," he groaned, his hips bucking up to meet hers with each thrust. "Come with me."

That was all it took. With a final, desperate cry, Rorie’s orgasm crashed over her, her body trembling with the intensity of it. The sight of her coming undone above him, the feel of her tightening around him, sent Lewis over the edge as well. He came hard, his entire body shuddering with the force of his release as he emptied himself inside her.

They stayed like that for a few moments, both of them breathless and trembling from the aftershocks of their shared pleasure. Eventually, Rorie released his hands before collapsing onto the bed beside him, her body still humming with satisfaction. Lewis reached out with his newly freed hands, pulling her into his arms and holding her close.

As they lay there, their breathing slowly returning to normal, Rorie let out a soft, contented sigh. "You might’ve sweated out my silk press," she teased, her voice playful and light.

Lewis chuckled, the sound rich and warm. "Worth it," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She smiled, snuggling closer to him, her heart full as she closed her eyes. "Definitely worth it," she whispered, her voice filled with love and contentment.

A few weeks later...

The Bahrain sun beat down mercilessly as Lewis strode through the paddock, his race suit unzipped to the waist. The air thrummed with anticipation, mechanics and engineers scurrying about like worker bees.

"Fuck, it's hot," Lewis muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "You sure you two don't want to wait in the air-conditioned hospitality area?"

Rorie shook her head, her newly blonde hair catching the sunlight. "We're good. Right, Lyric? We want to see Daddy off properly."

Lyric nodded enthusiastically, his little hands gripping Lewis's race suit. "Daddy fast car!"

They scanned the Mercedes garage, taking in the controlled chaos around them. C.J. appeared, tablet in hand, his presence a welcome addition to their entourage.

"Rorie," he said, his voice calm amidst the noise, "just a reminder that you have that call with Tommy Hilfiger in two hours. Do you want me to set up in the hospitality suite?"

Rorie nodded appreciatively. "Thanks, C.J. That would be perfect. And can you make sure Lyric's snacks are ready? He's going to need a distraction during the call."

"Already taken care of," C.J. winked, high-fiving Lyric before stepping away to handle the arrangements.

Lewis couldn't help but smile. "I still can't believe how quickly he's gotten a handle on everything. Reminds me of KiKi, but with better organizational skills."

Rorie laughed, the sound carrying over the roar of engines being fired up nearby. "Don't let KiKi hear you say that. She'll have your head."

They stood there for a moment, soaking in the atmosphere. Lewis felt that familiar pre-race buzz coursing through his veins, heightened by the knowledge that this was his last season with Mercedes.

"You nervous?" Rorie asked, reading his expression like an open book.

Lewis shook his head, holding onto Lyric's hands as he wriggled around him. "Nah, just… ready, you know? After New York, I feel like I could conquer the world."

Memories of their New York getaway flashed through his mind. Late nights, room service breakfasts, and days spent tangled in sheets… It had been exactly what they needed before diving back into the madness of the F1 season.

A mischievous glint appeared in Rorie's eyes. "Well, that week was pretty spectacular. Maybe we should make it a pre-season tradition."

"Don't tempt me," Lewis growled playfully, leaning in for a kiss that was perhaps a touch too heated for their surroundings.

"Oi, lovebirds!" Bono's voice cut through their moment. "Sorry to interrupt, but we need our driver in the car, not making out in the paddock."

Lewis chuckled, handing Lyric over to Rorie. "Duty calls. You two behave yourselves, yeah?"

"Us? Always," Rorie grinned, adjusting Lyric on her hip. "It's you we're worried about. Don't go breaking any records today, it's just testing."

"No promises," Lewis winked. With a final kiss, Lewis jogged towards the garage, his mind shifting gears. The unveiling at Brackley, the Vogue party in London - it all felt like a distant dream and now he was preparing for another long season.

As he slipped into the cockpit, the familiar scent of leather and fuel enveloping him, Lewis felt that surge of adrenaline he'd come to love. This was his element, where everything else faded away and it was just him, the car, and the track.

"Alright, Lewis," Bono's voice crackled through the radio. "You ready to show these youngsters how it's done?"

Lewis grinned, revving the engine. "Let's fucking do this, Bono."

As he pulled out of the pit lane, Lewis caught one last glimpse of Rorie and Lyric. Rorie gave him a thumbs up, her decision to step back from social media and focus on family making her presence here all the more special.

Lewis's car disappeared down the track, and Rorie felt the familiar mix of pride and anxiety wash over her. She bounced Lyric gently on her hip, more to soothe herself than him.

"Alright, little man," she said, turning away from the track. "Let's go find C.J. and get ready for Mama's call."

They made their way through the paddock, Rorie nodding and smiling at familiar faces. The F1 world was like a traveling circus, and after years of being part of it, she'd grown accustomed to the rhythm of testing and race weekends, but this year felt different. With Lewis's impending move to Ferrari looming on the horizon, there was an undercurrent of anticipation that seemed to follow them everywhere.

As they entered the air-conditioned oasis of the hospitality suite, Rorie let out a sigh of relief. The Bahrain heat was no joke, and she silently thanked whoever invented air conditioning.

C.J. was already there, his efficiency never failing to impress her. He had a laptop set up, a spread of healthy snacks for Lyric arranged nearby, and was typing away on his tablet.

"Everything's ready, Rorie," he said with a smile as they approached. "I've got the Tommy Hilfiger team on standby for your call in about an hour and a half. Also, I took the liberty of preparing some talking points for the new campaign, if you'd like to review them."

Rorie nodded gratefully. "Thanks, C.J. You're a lifesaver."

C.J. grinned, a hint of sass in his voice. "Just doing my job. Though I do expect a glowing review at my next performance evaluation."

Rorie laughed, appreciating his ability to keep things light even during their hectic schedule. "Keep this up, and you might just get it."

She settled Lyric with his snacks and toys, and her mind wandered to the upcoming campaign. Despite her decision to take a step back from social media, her commitment to her partnerships remained strong. The Tommy Hilfiger collaboration was a big deal, and she was determined to give it her all.

"Mama, look!" Lyric's voice pulled her from her thoughts. He was holding up a crayon drawing of what she assumed was meant to be Lewis's car.

"That's beautiful, baby," she smiled, ruffling his braids. "Should we hang it up for Daddy to see later?"

As she helped Lyric tape his masterpiece to the wall, Rorie caught a glimpse of one of the monitors showing the track. Lewis's car zipped past, a blur of silver against the desert backdrop. She felt her heart rate quicken, a mixture of excitement and worry that she'd grown accustomed to over the years.

"He's looking good out there," C.J. commented, following her gaze.

Rorie nodded, her eyes still on the screen. "Yeah, he is. Last season with Mercedes... he's got a lot to prove."

"Don't they all?" C.J. quipped, earning a chuckle from Rorie.

She turned her attention back to the papers C.J. had prepared, immersing herself in the details of the Tommy Hilfiger campaign. As she read, she couldn't help but reflect on how much her life had changed. From financial analyst to philanthropist and entrepreneur, married to one of the greatest F1 drivers of all time... sometimes it still felt surreal.

"Rorie?" C.J.'s voice broke through her reverie. "The Tommy Hilfiger team is ready whenever you are."

Rorie took a deep breath, centering herself. "Alright, let's do this."

She sat down in front of the laptop, Lyric coloring quietly nearby under C.J.'s watchful eye, Rorie felt a sense of purpose wash over her. She might be taking a step back from the limelight, but she was still very much in the game.

The call began, and Rorie slipped effortlessly into her professional persona, discussing designs, photoshoot concepts, and marketing strategies. As she talked, she could hear the distant roar of engines from the track, a reminder of the two worlds she straddled.

An hour later, as she wrapped up the call, Rorie felt a sense of accomplishment. She'd nailed the meeting, Lyric had behaved perfectly (with some help from C.J.'s expert distraction techniques), and according to the occasional updates from the team, Lewis was putting in some impressive lap times.

"Mama, hungry," Lyric announced as soon as she closed the laptop.

Rorie laughed, scooping him up. "Me too, baby. What do you say we go find some lunch and then see if we can catch Daddy between runs?"

C.J. chimed in, already tapping away at his tablet. "I can have something brought up if you'd prefer to stay in the cool air. Or I've got a list of the best spots in the paddock if you're feeling adventurous."

Rorie considered for a moment, bouncing Lyric gently. "You know what? Let's be adventurous. We've been cooped up in here long enough."

They made their way out of the hospitality suite and into the bustling paddock. The energy was palpable, with teams rushing about and journalists hunting for stories.

As they navigated through the crowd, Rorie spotted a familiar face heading their way. Toto Wolff, Mercedes team principal, approached with a warm smile.

"Rorie, Lyric! How are my favorite spectators doing?" he greeted them, ruffling Lyric's hair affectionately.

"We're good, Toto. Just finished up a call and now on a hunt for some lunch. How's Lewis looking out there?" Rorie asked, unable to keep the hint of concern from her voice.

Toto's smile widened. "He's in top form. You'd never know it was testing, the way he's pushing. But then again, when does Lewis ever take it easy?"

They chatted for a few more minutes, the conversation naturally drifting to the upcoming season and the changes it would bring. As they said their goodbyes, Rorie couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. This would be their last season with Mercedes, a team that had become like family over the years.

"You okay?" C.J. asked softly as they continued their quest for food.

Rorie nodded, plastering on a smile. "Yeah, just... a lot of emotions, you know? But we're here to support Lewis and enjoy the ride. Speaking of which, I think I smell burgers. What do you say, Lyric? Ready for some lunch?"

As they approached the food stalls, the aroma of grilled meat and spices filling the air, Rorie noticed a woman standing near one of the counters. The stranger's gaze was fixed intently on her and Lyric, a little too intensely for comfort.

Rorie leaned closer to C.J., keeping her voice low. "Hey, do you know who that is? The woman in the blue top?"

C.J. glanced discreetly in the direction Rorie indicated, his brow furrowing. "I don't recognize her, but she's got a paddock pass. Must be with one of the teams or media."

Just then, the woman locked eyes with Rorie. A wide smile spread across her face as she began making her way towards them with determined strides.

Rorie felt a flicker of unease, instinctively holding Lyric a little tighter. Before she could react further, her bodyguard, who had been maintaining a respectful distance, smoothly intercepted the approaching woman.

"Excuse me, ma'am," the bodyguard said politely but firmly. "I'm going to have to ask you to step back."

The woman blurted out, "Rorie! I'm Athena... I'm your sister. Well, half-sister."

Rorie felt as if the ground had shifted beneath her feet. She instinctively held Lyric a little tighter, skepticism evident in her eyes.

Athena, sensing Rorie's disbelief, quickly pulled out her phone. "I know this must be a shock. Here, let me show you..." She swiped through a series of recent photos showing her with Martin and two young men. "That's our dad, and those are our brothers, Azariah and Aaron."

Rorie's mind raced, trying to process this unexpected encounter. She glanced at C.J., who looked equally stunned but maintained his professional composure.

"I... I don't know what to say," Rorie managed, her voice barely above a whisper. She studied Athena's face, searching for any family resemblance.

Same nose, same chin. Just like the men in the pictures as well.

Athena's smile faltered slightly. "I'm sorry to spring this on you like this. I've been wanting to meet you for so long, and when I saw you here... I couldn't let the opportunity pass."

Rorie took a deep breath, trying to center herself. "This is... a lot to take in. How did you even get in here?"

"I'm an intern with one of the media teams," Athena explained. "I didn't plan this, I swear. It was just luck."

C.J. stepped closer, his voice low. "Rorie, do you want me to handle this?"

Rorie shook her head, her eyes never leaving Athena. "No, it's... it's okay." She paused, weighing her next words carefully. "Look, Athena, I appreciate you reaching out, but this isn't the time or place for this conversation. There's a lot to unpack here."

Athena nodded, looking crestfallen but understanding. "Of course, I get it. I'm sorry for ambushing you like this. Could we... maybe talk later? When you're ready?"

Rorie hesitated, then nodded. "Give your contact info to C.J. here. We'll be in touch."

As Athena scribbled her details on C.J.'s tablet, Rorie's mind whirled with questions and emotions. This encounter had just added another layer of complexity to an already tumultuous time.

"Mama, hungry," Lyric's small voice broke through her thoughts, grounding her in the present moment.

"Right, baby. Let's get some food," Rorie said, grateful for the distraction. As they turned back to the food stalls, she knew one thing for certain - she and Lewis would have a lot to discuss tonight.

______________________________________________

Lewis looked up from where he was helping Lyric into his pull-up, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Sister? Aaliyah's here?"

Rorie shook her head from a nearby armchair, her fingers flying over her phone screen as she scrolled through search results. "No, not Aaliyah. Athena. Apparently, she's my half-sister. Martin's daughter."

"What the fuck?" Lewis muttered under his breath, careful to keep his voice low enough that Lyric wouldn't pick up on it. He finished fastening the pull-up and reached for the lotion. "When did this happen?"

"At the food stalls earlier," Rorie replied, her eyes still glued to her phone. "She just... appeared. Said she's an intern with some media team."

Lewis smoothed lotion over Lyric's skin, his mind racing. "And you're sure she's legit?"

Rorie sighed, finally looking up from her phone. "She had pictures, Lewis. Her with Martin and two guys she said were our brothers. And get this - she's in a master's program for communications in London. Interning with a boutique media agency that covers sports, trying to break into F1."

"Convenient," Lewis remarked, his tone skeptical as he helped Lyric into his pajamas. "Bit of a coincidence, don't you think? Her just happening to be here?"

"My thoughts exactly," Rorie agreed. "I mean, it's the first race of the season. Of course, I'd be here. It feels... I don't know, orchestrated somehow."

Lewis finished buttoning Lyric's pajama top and gestured for Rorie to join them on the bed. She set her phone aside and sat cross-legged on the mattress, creating a little family circle. Lewis reached for the small jar of argan oil pomade they used for Lyric's hair.

As he gently worked the product into Lyric's scalp, careful not to disturb the neat braids, he asked, "What do you want to do about it?"

Rorie watched Lewis's careful movements, a small smile playing on her lips despite her troubled thoughts. She loved these quiet family moments. "I don't know. Part of me is curious, but..."

"But you're worried it's some kind of set-up," Lewis finished for her. He understood her hesitation all too well. Their life in the spotlight had taught them to be cautious, especially when it came to unexpected family appearances.

"Exactly," Rorie nodded. She reached out to hold Lyric's hand, the toddler's eyes already drooping with sleep. "C.J. has her contact info. Told her we'd be in touch."

Lewis finished moisturizing Lyric's scalp and carefully slipped a silky bonnet over the child's head. "Well, we don't have to decide anything tonight. Let's sleep on it, yeah? See how you feel in the morning."

Rorie managed a small smile, grateful for his steady presence. "Yeah, you're right. One crisis at a time, right?"

"Story time!" Lyric suddenly piped up, his sleepy eyes widening with renewed energy.

Lewis chuckled, reaching for the book on the nightstand. "Alright, little man. One story, then bed. Deal?"

They settled in, Lyric nestled between them, as Lewis began to read. It was a familiar tale about a little race car that could, one of Lyric's favorites. Rorie found herself relaxing as she listened to Lewis's soothing voice, the day's stresses momentarily fading away.

As the story came to an end, Lyric's eyes were firmly shut, his breathing deep and even. Lewis carefully scooped him up, and together they carried him to his crib in the adjoining room.

They stood there for a moment, watching their son sleep peacefully. Lewis wrapped an arm around Rorie's waist, pulling her close. "Whatever you decide about Athena, I'm here. We'll figure it out together."

Rorie leaned into him, drawing strength from his presence. "I know. Thank you."

As they made their way back to their own bed, Lewis couldn't help but marvel at the constant curveballs life seemed to throw their way.

TO BE CONTINUED...

#emjayewrites #lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fanfic #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #f1 x reader #lewis hamilton x black oc #private landing

145 notes · View notes

waywardnerd67 · 4 months ago

Text

Fireworks

Title: Fireworks Summary: When (Y/N)’s BFF invites her to a 4th of July party she would never imagine meeting the man of her dreams… literally. Main Characters: Glen Powell, Reader Pairing: Glen Powell x Reader Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Fluffy/RPF Word Count: 5376 A/N: Jumping back into the saddle so please forgive all the rough edges.

“Honey, I’m home!”

(Y/N) looked up to see her best friend walking through her front door, “Addison! Why didn’t you tell me you were in town?”

She hugged her hard, missing her BFF more than she realized. A year ago, Addison got the opportunity of a lifetime to be the personal assistant to a Hollywood actor. She had been traveling the world, hanging out on movie sets and living her best life. Meanwhile, (Y/N) was still living in their hometown of Austin, Texas working at the same high school, in the same position for nearly a decade.

“I’m sorry, my boss has had me planning this big Fourth of July party and today is the first day I’ve had time to come see you.”

They both sat down on her couch as (Y/N) paused her millionth rewatch of Supernatural, “How are you planning a party here if he lives in L.A.?”

Addison smiled, “He recently moved back to Austin, so it looks like I will be coming back here as well.”

(Y/N) let out a squeal hugging her friend tightly, “Oh my god, that’s amazing! I mean I know you’re gonna be busy but damn will it be good to have you back here.”

For the next few hours they caught up on each other’s lives or lack of one for (Y/N). They ordered dinner and were getting ready to watch one of their favorite rom-coms when Addison’s phone rang.

“Hey boss, what’s up?”

(Y/N) watched her friend’s face light up and suddenly her body was filled with envy. She was incredibly proud of the life her friend created but it was a reminder of how boring of a life she had. She couldn’t even remember the last thing she had been excited for except for maybe the new Twisters movie coming out later in the month.

“You got it. I will confirm everything and send you an email update.” Addison paused listening, “Yes, I will make sure to bring someone with me. See you tomorrow.”

“From the look on your face I would say you love your job.” Addison nodded with a smile, “I really do. He’s great and nothing like the other Hollywood douchebags. He’s just a good ole Texas boy. Kind of reminds me of Jensen and Jared.”

(Y/N) remembered her best friend's time volunteering at Creation Entertainment Supernatural conventions. She eventually was one of the workers who helped walk the actors to and from ops. Several times she had walked with Jared Padalecki or (Y/N)’s favorite actor, Jensen Ackles. That was how she had met them and found out they were truly just as nice and humble as everyone said they were.

“He wants me to bring someone to his party. What do you say?”

“Me?” She stared at Addison, “Don’t you think you should bring someone more interesting or fun?”

Her friend slipped her arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, “No. There’s no one else I would rather bring than my best friend. Plus, who knows, maybe you’ll meet someone there and hit it off.”

“Yeah. Right.” She scoffed, “The plain Jane school secretary hitting it off with some Hollywood hunk. This is reality and not fanfiction.”

“Please? For me? It would mean the world to me if you came and then I can finally introduce you to my boss.” Addison stuck out her bottom lip in a pout.

(Y/N) narrowed her eyes then smiled, “Fine. Only because I love you.”

“Yay! If you want we can go get you a swimsuit and a new outfit. On me, of course, as a thank you.”

“I’m immediately regretting this decision…” She groaned.

The next day, they spent the day going to lunch and shopping. After one crying session in a dressing room and a slight argument in front of a cashier, (Y/N) arrived back home with three bags worth of stuff. Addison had convinced her to buy a two piece swimsuit. She was always hyper aware of her body even after losing a lot of weight. She was still plus size with killer curves and she was proud of her body. Knowing she was going to be around beautiful actors and models made her notice every little imperfection she had. Staring at the dark green checkered pattern suit made her stomach churn.

“It will be fine, (Y/N). No one is going to notice you anyway.” She murmured to herself.

The morning of July 4th, Addison was at her apartment bright and early, “I’m sorry it’s so early on your day off. My boss wants me at his house early and I figured you wanted to ride over with me.”

(Y/N) yawned, “It’s fine. I have my Monster and should be some form of human like by the time we get there.”

Addison led her out to a brand new Jeep Wrangler that was the same orange as the Longhorns. They threw their stuff in the back and headed off onto highway 290 towards Dripping Springs.

“Please tell me this is his car and not yours.” (Y/N) said as Addison started laughing.

“Yes, it’s his. I still have old faithful who recently hit 200,000 miles and is still purring like a kitten.” Addison turned on her Spotify playlist, “He’s a big Longhorns fan so anything he can get in burnt orange he does.”

One thing (Y/N) loved about living in Austin was the scenery. It had been awhile since she had driven out to Hill Country. The last remaining bluebonnets were holding on strong from a late blooming season mixing with other wildflowers. She couldn’t help to notice they were headed the same direction as Family Business Brewery.

“If we’re going to Family Business and Jensen is going to be there then I need some notice to calm my inner fangirl.”

Addison shook her head, “No, he just lives near there. I know he invited Jensen and Jared’s families but I think they have a convention this weekend.”

(Y/N) let out a sigh of relief then continued to admire the scenery around her while they sang to their favorite songs. Soon they were pulling up to a newly built, gated home. The main house was a subtly modern farmhouse with a big wrap around porch. Addison parked in front of the three car garage behind the house and that’s when (Y/N) saw a beautiful red barn straight out of a western movie.

“Wow…” She said, grabbing her things and following her friend to the pool house.

“Make yourself at home, this is where I stay. It’s easier for me to be close by than to have my own place and worry about subletting it.”

(Y/N) found pictures of her best friend in various cities, countries with celebrities she admired. There were also plenty of pictures of them together throughout their friendship including childhood and being roommates at UT-Austin. She looked at one picture of Addison pulled into a big hug from Glen Powell.

“You’ve met Glen Powell and didn’t tell me!” (Y/N) smacked her BFF’s shoulder, “How dare you.”

Addison laughed, “He’s a sweetheart.”

“Talk about good ole Texas boy… by god not that I need another bow legged Texan to love, but whew!” (Y/N) fanned herself.

“Come on, help me organize the food and everything before my boss gets home.”

There were tables set up in the massive backyard with a food buffet large enough to feed an army. (Y/N) found herself enjoying helping Addison get everything ready. She was helping the DJ get set up in the barn when Addison called out to her.

“Hey, my boss is here. I’m going to the main house to help him with something then I’ll be back.”

“Got it boss lady!” (Y/N) laughed as her friend rolled her eyes.

She was putting the last touches of the Firecracker themed tables together when a low, raspy voice came from behind her.

“Nicely done. You must be Addison’s best friend.”

She turned around and froze, “Holy shit, you’re Glen Powell.”

He laughed holding out his hand to her, “Yes, but not the OG Glen. He’s in the house right now. You’re (Y/N), right? Addison talks about you all the time.”

She slipped her hand into his then flinched from the electric current running up her arm. From his wide green eyes, she assumed he felt it too.

“Uh, y-yeah that’s me. Um…” She swallowed hard, “Sorry, my inner fangirl is having a mild heart attack right now.”

His deep, rich laugh blanketed her body in warmth, “Well hopefully your inner fangirl won’t pass out. Calling 911 is not on my list today.”

“I promise, she’ll be fine. Still getting used to my BFF hanging out with celebrities, especially ones that I love.”

The bright smile on his face nearly melted her heart, “Awe, so you love me?”

“Uh… yes, I mean… yes I love your movies and you seem like a really great person.” (Y/N) mentally kicked herself.

Shut up. Stop talking you weirdo.

“Thanks, I try to be a good guy. Main reason why I moved back to Austin. Stay grounded in my home roots. Anyway, I’m looking forward to getting to know you. I better get back to the main house and see what kind of chaos my family is causing for Addison.”

“Oh, okay. Talk to you later.” (Y/N) watched as he walked out of the barn then finally let out a shaky breath.

She immediately went in search of her best friend, finding her near the buffet. She smacked her shoulder several times as Addison tried to defend herself with tongs.

“What the hell (Y/N)!”

“Why didn’t you tell me that Glen Powell was your boss?! A little warning would have been nice so I could prepare myself.”

Addison chuckled, “Damn, I missed you meeting him. I was hoping to see your face.”

She smacked her shoulder again, “Not funny. It was like the first time I met Jensen and my brain short circuited.”

Now Addison was nearly falling down laughing, “Did you word vomit all over him?”

“No! Though I did mention my inner fangirl having a heart attack. Also, the first thing out of my mouth was ‘Holy shit, you’re Glen Powell.”

“Oh my god!” Her friend was rolling in laughter, “God, I wish I had been there for that.”

“That’s it, I’m leaving. I’ve already embarrassed myself and who knows who else will be here for me to embarrass myself in front of.”

(Y/N) started to head towards the front of the house when Addison reached out grabbing her arm.

“Wait, wait. I’m sorry, I should have warned you. Glen only invited a few actors that live around here over. Honestly, I think Zac Levi is the only one confirmed to be coming. Other than that, it’s mostly Glen’s family and friends.”

“Zac Levi?” She stared at her, “Zachary fucking Levi… oh god, I’m out. Me and my inner fangirl cannot handle this.”

Addison ran in front of her, grabbing a hold of her shoulders, “(Y/N), they are just humans like you and me.”

“Humans that are sculpted out of marble by the good lord himself with a good heaping pile of sex god appeal. Not like me. They’re main character energy and I’m one of the background people no one sees.”

“(Y/N) stop. Trust me, stay and hang out with me. Glen said once everything was set up that I was off the rest of the night. That means, it’s you and me hanging out by the pool, eating our weight in BBQ and watching fireworks. With some particularly good eye candy around.”

Addison was looking at her with pleading eyes, “Please stay and find out for yourself that they are normal dudes. Just like when we hung out with Jared and Jensen.”

(Y/N) sighed, “Only because I love you more than life itself and I have no way of getting home.”

Addison pulled her into a hug, “Thank you.”

“Group hug? I want to join!” Before (Y/N) could look up, she was sandwiched between her best friend and a firm body behind her. Instantly she was enveloped in a woodsy smell with a hint of citrus. Glen squeezed them together making both girls laugh.

“Can’t… breathe… Powell.” Addison managed to squeak out as he let go of them.

“Sorry, just wanted to be a part of your little moment.” He joked.

(Y/N) turned around sucking in a breath and trying to keep her jaw from slacking. Standing before her was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. Which said a lot since up until that point it had been Jensen Ackles who was the most beautiful man in her mind. Glen was wearing a pair of swim trunks with firecrackers all over them that hung low on his hips. His golden skin was glowing beneath the Texas sun and on top of his golden hair was an American flag cowboy hat.

“Ladies, I believe everything is set up and our first wave of guests have arrived. That means, Addison, you are officially off the clock and my last request is for you both to have a great time tonight.”

They looked at one another then saluted Glen saying together, “Yes sir.”

His laughter filled the air, “Your salutes need some work but we can work on that later. Now, go! Get drunk, eat and have fun.”

Addison hooked her arm with (Y/N)’s and they headed back towards the pool. For the first couple of hours, (Y/N) laid out on one of the chairs by the pool. One of the only things she loved about parties was people watching. There was no shortage of people to watch here. Glen’s family was an absolute joy to meet. Currently, his dad was in the pool playing with his grandkids while his mom was sitting on the edge hanging her feet into the water.

(Y/N) watched as Zac Levi walked through the main house with a cooler and a few of his friends. She was surprised to see him pull Addison into a hug then kiss her cheek. She made a mental note to ask her what was up with that later. Sipping on her beer, she watched as a group of guys including Glen and Zac started a game of football. Addison was talking with Glen’s sisters when suddenly there was a shout.

“Watch out!”

Before (Y/N) could look up, she was hit with something hard in her chest. She let out a loud grunt and her beer dumped down the front of her.

“Shit! (Y/N) are you alright?” Glen asked as he and Addison ran up to her.

She groaned, “Fine, just covered in beer.”

“I can show you where you clean up.” Glen said, taking the football that had hit her and tossing it to his brother-in-law.

He held out his hand to her and helped her up from her seat. She looked back at Addison who was smiling like the Cheshire cat. She narrowed her eyes at her friend suddenly smelling a set up and beer… lots of beer.

Glen led her into the main house and up the stairs. They walked into the largest bedroom she had ever seen and immediately knew this had to be his room.

“You can use my bathroom to wash up and I’ll get you some clothes to wear.”

She chuckled, “Um, I’m pretty sure your clothes won’t fit me.”

He arched an eyebrow at her, “I’m sure I can find something or if you prefer to walk around in a towel only then that’s cool too.”

“No! Oh god, no.” She sighed, “Thank you. I appreciate anything you can find for me.”

“You’re welcome.” He walked into his large closet while she went into his master bathroom and shut the door.

Leaning against it, she took a moment to calm her frantic nerves. A week ago, she was home rewatching Top Gun: Maverick and now she was standing in Glen Powell’s bathroom. Quickly, she stripped out of her soiled clothes and swimsuit. She turned on the water of the massive shower and let the hot water beat down on her tense muscles. She heard the door opening and immediately tried to cover herself.

“There’s clothes on my bed for you.”

(Y/N) noticed he had his hand covering his eyes even though he couldn’t see her from where the door was. Her heart skipped from the small gesture.

“T-Thank you. I’ll be back out in a few minutes.”

“Take your time.” He closed the door.

(Y/N) noticed his shampoo was the citrus she had smelled earlier while his body wash was the woods smell. She decided that combination was her new favorite smell. Once she was out of the shower and wrapped in one of his towels she walked out to find his door closed. On the bed was an extra large Longhorns t-shirt and gym shorts. There was also a pair of black Calvin Klein boxer-briefs which she was thankful for. However, not having a bra to wear was going to be difficult.

She stepped into his closet and chuckled from all the burnt orange shirts. She found one of his tank tops and slipped it on. She rolled the bottom up beneath her breasts and tied it off with her ponytail. The girls would at least be secured but one good cool wind and her nipples would be on display.

“Maybe it’s time to step up to whiskey.” She muttered as she slipped on the rest of Glen’s clothes.

Opening the door, she found a muscular, tan back standing there like a bodyguard, “Sorry, I just didn’t want anyone walking in here on you. My family is not big on boundaries nor are my niece and nephew.”

She chuckled, “Thanks for keeping watch and for the clothes.”

He turned around and she watched as his eyes traveled the length of her body. Goosebumps spread across her flushed skin. When his eyes came back up to hers they were darker and filled with something that she refused to let herself believe was there.

“Have to say, those look way better on you than on me.”

(Y/N)’s default mode clicked on whenever she received compliments, “I highly doubt that, but thanks. They’re at least more comfortable than my swimsuit. By the way, do you have somewhere I could wash my clothes out?”

“Yeah, give them to me and I’ll put them in the washer. You can head back out to enjoy the party.” She handed him her suit and clothes, “Man, I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you in this. I bet it looked great on you.”

He headed down the stairs leaving (Y/N) speechless. Was Glen Powell flirting with her? No way. She was delusional from the alcohol and sun. She headed back outside where she found Addison swimming in the pool with Zac. Seeing them together, she knew she didn’t need to ask if they were together. It was obvious by the way they looked at one another that they were. Once again, (Y/N)’s green eyed monster raged inside of her. Deciding she needed some more time alone, she headed out towards the barn then kept walking to the field behind it.

She was watching a team of guys setting up fireworks for the big display later that night. She could still hear everyone laughing and having fun behind her, suddenly she felt tears falling down her cheeks. She loved her best friend, but it was obvious she didn’t fit into her life anymore. She was hanging out and dating celebrities and traveling the world.

What was she doing? Still working the same job and never allowing anyone to get close to her. She gave up on dating after her one and only boyfriend had cheated on her. Did she want someone in her life? The family and white picket fence? Of course, but the closer to forty she was getting the further away that dream seemed to be getting. Seeing how happy Addison was and how wonderful her life was a harsh reminder of how meaningless her own life was.

“You okay?”

Turning around, she found Glen walking up now wearing a navy tank top and his dark Ray Bans covering his eyes. She quickly wiped away the wayward tears.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just needed a moment.”

He leaned his forearms against the fence, looking out over the field, “I see you found my ‘I need a moment’ spot. I love coming out here and just being. I don’t have to be actor Glen, but just me.”

“I bet that is exhausting.” He nodded as she looked at him from the corner of her eyes, “On behalf of fans everywhere, I appreciate all the hard work you put into your characters. I can’t tell you the number of nights I have watched one of your rom-coms laughing and making my day better.”

He looked down at her with a smile, “Thanks, that means a hell of a lot to me.”

“However, I have to say, I wish they would pair you up with a woman your age. Seeing you make out with a woman ten years younger gives girls like me a complex.” She chuckled.

“How so?” He asked, turning towards her.

She sighed, “You never see a leading woman that is both older and doesn’t have a model’s body. The average size of a woman is 14/16 which is plus size and if I had to guess I bet the majority of rom-com audience is like me. A woman in her late thirties, plus size, single and looking for hope that men like Glen Powell would be interested in her.”

“You don’t think guys like me would be with a woman like you?”

His question was genuine, but made her scoff, “In the movies they aren’t. Why would I believe that in real life? Probably why I’ve been single for over a decade now. It’s easier to fantasize over fictional men or celebrities than putting myself out there to get humiliated.”

He stepped closer to her, his fingers brushing against her cheek and tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. He pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head and his glossy eyes were staring down into hers. She had dreamt of him looking at her in this very way a million times. The way he looked at every leading lady in one of his rom-coms.

“What if I told you that I do find you attractive? That I find you incredibly sexy.”

“I’d say that you’re a great actor.” She tried to look away, but he gently grabbed her chin making her look at him.

“I’m not acting. The moment Addison showed me a picture of the two of you, I thought you were the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen. The way she gushes about you and all the work you do for your students. The difference you’re making in their lives. I couldn’t imagine anything more sexy than a woman who loves to help those who need it.”

(Y/N) stepped away from him, “It’s really nothing special. Yes, I’m there for them and help them in any way I can, but so do a lot of staff. Honestly, there’s nothing special about me. I’m definitely not gorgeous. I mean, you’re around beautiful actresses and models all the time. They’re gorgeous, me not so much.”

“Addison warned me that you usually put yourself down when you receive compliments.” He took a step towards her engaging in an awkward dance as she stepped backwards.

“Warned you? So, this was a set up?” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, “Did she really think you were going to magically fall in love with me and sweep me off my feet. Which by the way, you couldn’t, not literally anyway.”

“I asked her to introduce us. Yes, I found you attractive and after hearing Addison talk about you non-stop in Oklahoma, I wanted to meet you. Addison is not only my assistant but a dear friend and if you’re important to her then you’re important to me as well.”

He closed the distance between them pressing her back against the fence and caging her in with his strong arms on either side of her. He leaned in towards her and she sucked in a breath, holding it in her chest.

“I wasn’t hoping to fall in love or sweep you off your feet. Which I could totally do.” He smirked, “I was hoping to meet the amazing woman Addison loves so much and who happens to be fucking gorgeous.”

“Glen, I…” She let out a trembling breath, “I'm nobody and I don’t do one night stands. Even if it’s with a sexy movie star that I’m sure would give me the orgasm of my life. It’s not me and I don’t see you wanting to settle down with a high school secretary.”

He leaned closer to her. His nose brushing alongside hers and his lips merely an inch from hers. She wanted to look away, but his eyes were mesmerizing.

“Won’t know unless you give me a chance.”

His lips pressed against hers. They were soft and tasted of tequila as he pulled her bottom lips between his teeth. Suddenly, her body felt like it was on fire and she wanted more. Needed more. His large hands fell to her hips and pulled her tighter against him. (Y/N) wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing her hands into his soft hair. His sunglasses falling from his head was enough to knock her senses back into place. She pressed her hands against his chest, pushing him gently away.

“We… I… this can’t happen. It’s not happening.” She stammered.

(Y/N) took off back towards the barn as Glen called after her, “(Y/N)! (Y/N), please wait!”

She didn’t stop until she was in the pool house and in Addison’s room with the door shut. Tears immediately sprung to her eyes and she sank to the floor beside her bed. What the hell was she doing? Glen Powell had kissed her. Told her she was gorgeous and yet she was sitting on the floor crying. Why couldn’t she be more impulsive and have one night with a man who was way out of her league? Looking at her reflection in the glass from the sliding door, she sighed.

“Because you catch feelings, (Y/N).” She whispered.

“(Y/N)?” Addison’s voice came through the door, “You alright?”

She opened the door, “Seriously, Glen Powell?”

“Let me explain.”

“Addison, what did you think was going to happen? You couldn’t actually believe this was going to work in any sort of way.”

They sat down on her bed, “I talk about you non-stop with him. I’ve told him all your stories from school with your kiddos. I’ve told him how I’m worried about you being alone all the time and how I wish you could meet a nice guy like him. How proud I am of all you’ve done for your health and how you love your body for what it is.”

(Y/N) placed her head in her hands, “And what, he was like ‘oh I want to meet this chick’?”

“Not his exact words, but yes. When he started planning this party, he asked if there was anyone I would like to invite. I told him Zac and his friends…” She paused looking at her bashfully, “Yeah, I’m kind of seeing Zac Levi.”

“No shit, Sherlock. I could tell that from the lovey-dovey looks you give one another. After my breakdown you can spill all about how that happened.”

Addison nodded, “Anyway, Glen asked if I wanted to invite you. I told him that you’re pretty introverted and didn’t like going to parties. He dropped it, but then when he was having me finalize the list of people I noticed he had added your name at the end of the list. When I asked him about it, all he said was he wanted to meet the amazing best friend I kept talking about.”

“So, you decided to turn it into a set up? Knowing full and well I would never fall for it.”

Her friend turned towards her, “It was never a set up. I warned him how you are. I asked him directly what he was up to. He told me that he found you attractive and wanted to get to know you.” She grabbed her hands, “Honestly (Y/N), I think he’s just a dude who is nervous to ask out a beautiful girl. It’s hard for him to meet anyone who doesn’t see him as only a famous actor and I really think he wants this part of his life to be as normal as possible.”

(Y/N) groaned, “You know this sounds like a fanfic I would read on Tumblr, right?”

Addison laughed, “Oh I’m well aware. However, doesn’t it make you want to see what happens? Usually, the next part would be you going to find him and you two would have a moment of tension that snaps. Then wham, bam, smutty dreams fulfilled.”

“I think I’m going to throw up.” (Y/N) took a couple deep breaths.

“That is not usually in the fanfics. Take the time you need, but please come back out and hang out with us. If anything, I’ll introduce you to Zac and you can fangirl over him.”

“I love you, but get out. I can’t even with you right now.” (Y/N) laughed as Addison hugged her.

Once she was alone again, (Y/N) went into the bathroom to splash cool water on her face. Looking into the mirror, she gave herself a once over. She walked out into the bedroom letting out a surprise yelp when she found Glen sitting on the bed.

“Scared the crap out of me.” She held her chest.

His eyes were focused on the floor, “Sorry. Addison said you were in here.” He stretched his long fingers out over his thighs before looking up at her.

“I wanted to apologize for coming onto you so strong and kissing you. I should have been more of a gentleman about it, not that I regret kissing you because I don’t.”

She sat down next to him, “I don’t either and you don’t need to apologize. It was nice to know I remembered how to kiss a man.”

He chuckled finally looking over at her, “It’s like I’m living out a meet-cute rom-com without a script and it’s terrifying. There’s a fine line between endearing and creepy. I feel like I’m crossing the line into creepy.”

(Y/N)’s hand was trembling but she placed it over his, “You’re not creepy. Addison told me about how you wanted to get to know me. I think it’s been so long since a man has shown any interest in me that I don’t know how to react to it. Let alone that man being someone I have fantasized about being the Leading Man in my own life.”

“Is there any way we could start over? You being you and me being just a normal dude wanting to ask you out?” He laced their fingers together, “Or at least ask you to watch fireworks with me?”

(Y/N) smiled, “I would love to watch fireworks with you… what was your name again?”

His breathtaking smile appeared as he stood up in front of her, “Hi, I’m Glen and you?”

She took his outstretched hand, standing up, “(Y/N), it’s nice to meet you totally normal dude who is definitely not a famous sexy actor.”

He laughed pulling her into his side slipping his arm around her shoulders, “That’s me. Normal dude who is thankful to have a chance to be in the presence of a beautiful woman.”

“Oh jeez, please stop with the compliments. They make me uncomfortable.” She sighed, sliding her arm around his waist.

-----

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

For updates please follow #waywardnerd67fics

Taglist: @waywardbaby @ladywinchester1967 @akshi8278 @dean-winchesters-bacon @carryonmywaywardcaptain @destiel745 @carribear31 @whimsicalrobots @adoptdontshoppets @mrswhozeewhatsis @bella-ca @imascio08 @mannls @time-travel-bouqet @myinconnelly1 @maddiepants @tumbler-tidbits @sandlee44 @destielhoneybee @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @stoneyggirl @mimaria420 @emoryhemsworth @atc74 @cosicas-cuquis @stixnstripesworld @sexyvixen7 @samsgirl93 @perpetualabsurdity @deanwanddamons @smoothdogsgirl @lyarr24 @cevans-winchester @leigh70 @nancymcl @djs8891

#waywardnerd67fics #fireworks #glen powell fanfiction #glen powell fanfic #glen powell x reader #rpf #glen powell one shot

118 notes · View notes

sunflowerseob · 2 months ago

Text

Under the Stars | Choi Jiung

Your night takes a turn for the worst when you run into your ex at a party. You decide to seek solace out in the garden, but you're in for a surprise when someone else has the same idea as you...

💫 Pairing: Choi Jiung x reader

💫 Word Count: 2.9k

💫 Rating: 16+

💫 Genre: Fluff, some angst and hurt comfort

💫 Warnings: Reader is distraught after seeing ex with another girl, explicit language, crying, elements of angst, good ole hurt comfort 🥹

A/N: Hi everyone! My name is Saturn and this is my first time posting a Piwon fic but not my first time writing. I also will be writing for the Kinktober event for Theo Day 17 and Jongseob Day 28 so please look forward to that 👻 After that interview where Jiung said he would be out in the garden looking at the stars at a party I couldn't get this idea out of my head. Thank you for reading if you do, I hope you enjoy it 🥰 Excited to be a part of this wonderful little writing community and can't wait to write more in the future 🩵

Masterlist

Your vision was blurred by the tears gathering in your eyes as you did your best to navigate through the sea of bodies. The walls, which were pulsing from the booming bass, felt like they were closing in around you. You frantically scanned your crowded surroundings for a door. Preferably an exit to get the hell away from here.

You finally spotted it at the back of the kitchen, quickening your steps as you made your way towards the door to the backyard. Your tunnel vision was so focused on escape that you didn’t notice you were about to bump into someone before it was too late. The clearly tipsy girl scoffed at you in disgust. Even though you were the one now standing there with your top covered in whatever had been in her cup. You mumbled a quick “sorry” as you swallowed down the sob creeping up your throat. You forced yourself to drown out the chaos around you, reaching for the door and slipping out into the cool night air.

The relief was instantaneous, the calm and quiet settling over you like a blanket. The racing of your heart and head slowed as you took in the expansive backyard surrounding you. It almost felt like you had stepped into another world, your eyes drinking in the path before you that was overflowing with flowers on both sides. You walked along and found that it led to a beautiful and lush garden, complete with twinkling lights, benches, and even a little gazebo. And yet, it seemed you were the only one out here enjoying this little fairy escape.

You took a seat on one of the benches as you tried to process the events of the night that had led you here. You already weren’t a party person, you never had been. So coming tonight at all had probably been your first mistake. But your friend, Keeho, had been so excited about being asked to dj that you had decided to come and support him. Luckily, he at least had been having the time of his life and enjoying every minute. You had been fine just quietly vibing and watching him until a certain someone had entered your field of view. That someone being your ex, along with the giggling girl hanging all over him.

You honestly hadn’t even considered the possibility of him being at this party, and certainly not with a new girl. Not when your break up was still fairly fresh. Seeing him with someone else so soon had hit you like a gut punch. You had glanced at Keeho, but he’d been completely lost in the music with a huge grin on his face. You had only hesitated for a second before deciding that you didn’t have the heart to ruin his moment at your expense. Choosing instead to just flee the party entirely as fast as possible.

Now that you were alone and able to catch your breath you could feel tears pricking at your eyes once again. This time you let them trail down your cheeks, your little sniffles permeating the otherwise silent night air as you hugged your arms around yourself.

“God. So fucking stupid.” you muttered, letting out a humorless laugh.

You looked up and took notice of the sky above you for the first time. It was vast and open and endlessly littered with stars. The unobstructed view had you completely awestruck, momentarily distracting from the emotional crisis at hand.

“Wow…” you whispered, mesmerized by the twinkling cosmos overhead.

Maybe the party hadn’t been a complete waste after all. Just as the thought crossed your mind a soft voice sounded from your right, “Quite the view, isn’t it?”

You jumped a little as you whipped your head to the side. You’d been so sure it was just you out here, but somehow in your frantic state you had missed the other person leaning against the gazebo nearby. God. You hoped he hadn’t been standing there long enough to witness you on the verge of an emotional breakdown. You blinked and stared at the stranger, slightly dumbfounded.

“W-What?” you managed to stutter out.

“The view,” he clarified with a small laugh, and you noticed how his eyes crinkled at the edges, “it’s beautiful, don’t you think?”

You looked back and forth between him and the stars above, your brain forming a response that never quite reached your mouth. A flush washed over the stranger’s face as he seemed to finally realize the awkwardness of the situation.

“Ah, sorry if I scared you. I just didn’t think anyone else would be out here.” he said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

This guy was really cute and endearing, and also kinda hot if you were being honest. He was tall and lean, and his bleach blonde hair was styled short and messy. He was wearing a green leather jacket over a white graphic tee with matching pants and black boots. Noticing how attractive he was really wasn’t helping the whole speechless idiot vibe you were currently giving. Tonight had already been humiliating enough. It was time to try and redeem yourself and get your shit together. Starting with giving a coherent response to the hot stranger standing less than fifteen feet away from you.

“Guess we both had the same idea. I thought I was alone too.” you told him, not being able to stop yourself from nervously fidgeting on the bench.

He took a couple uncertain steps toward you, cutely stuffing his hands into his pockets like he didn’t know what else to do with them.

“Sorry again for startling you. I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your night.” he voiced before turning to walk away.

“Wait!” you found yourself calling after him as if it were a reflex.

He immediately halted and curiously raised his eyebrows at you.

“Please, you don’t have to leave because of me.” you finished, voice going quiet at the end.

The stranger blinked at you in surprise at first, but then the smallest of shy smiles broke out across his features. God he was cute.

“I guess we could be alone together?” he started as he came over to stand next to the bench, “If you're sure you don't mind?”

You gestured to the empty space next to you, “Be my guest.”

He sat down, but made sure to still leave some distance between the two of you. Now that he was closer you noticed the fading black and purple streaks coloring his blonde locks. You watched as he raked a hand through them, sending his hair into further disarray. He suddenly turned to you, and you felt your face warm at the realization that you’d just been openly staring at him.

“I'm Jiung.”

He smiled sweetly and held out a hand to you. Your smaller hand was completely enveloped by his when you went to shake it. You were surprised to find that there was something oddly comforting about his touch though.

“Y/N.” you said back, the corners of your own mouth tugging upwards to mirror his own.

“Guessing you’re not a party person, Y/N?” he queried after dropping your hand, his tone just slightly teasing.

You laughed and shook your head.

“Not at all. I’m only here because my friend is the dj, and I came to support him.”

“My friend is the one throwing the party, so I kinda came for the same reason.” Jiung explained without you even needing to ask.

He lounged back against the bench and propped his arms up on either side of him, looking up to take another glance at the sky.

“You must be friends with Intak then?” you asked, directing his attention back to you.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend actually. And I'm guessing you're Keeho’s friend right?”

“Guilty.” you confirmed, letting yourself relax beside him.

“You know, how weird is it that we know each other's best friends, but we’ve never met before?” you went on, giving a voice to your thoughts.

Jiung hummed, “Maybe we’ve just never been in the right garden at the right time.”

He flashed you a shy grin, and you felt your heart stutter slightly in your chest.

“Maybe you're right.” you agreed softly as your gaze sought out the stars once more.

“If you don't mind my asking, why were you hiding out here all alone?”

His tone was nothing but gentle, but the question threw you off all the same. Your face felt warm as you turned back to face Jiung.

“Oh…uh …” you trailed off, growing flustered again.

The man next to you blushed even deeper than he had earlier, and you immediately felt bad for the return of the awkwardness.

“Shit…sorry. You don't have to tell me.” Jiung quickly assured you, talking with his hands as he continued rambling, “I know it's not my place, you just… You seemed kind of upset when I first saw you…”

He looked mortified at this point, and you felt your chest squeeze at his genuine concern for you, a complete stranger. And you suddenly found yourself wanting to just be honest with him for some reason.

“Jiung, breathe.” you interjected, immediately silencing his embarrassed babbling.

He let out a groan as his face dropped into his hands, and you couldn't help the giggle that slipped out as you observed him. Everything he did was just so damn endearing. It was driving you a little crazy.

He slowly lifted his head to look at you, “I am so sorry about that. I swear I’m not always like this.”

“Jiung, it's okay, I promise. You're sweet to worry when you don't even know me.” you voiced, trying to reassure him further with a small smile.

His cheeks tinted pink once more.

“I just, um, wanted to make sure that you were okay.”

If you could've melted right there on the bench, then you absolutely would have. Instead, you sighed and bent forward to match how he was sitting.

“I, uh, bolted after seeing my ex with some girl hanging all over him. I just wasn't expecting it considering how recent our break up was, and yeah… I freaked out and got the hell out of there. So all things considered, okay probably wouldn't be the word I would use.”

Everything kind of came out in a jumbled rush, and you nervously glanced at Jiung for his reaction. His dark eyes were wide in surprise. A moment later they narrowed slightly in what seemed like anger, and then finally softened as his expression settled on sympathy.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m really sorry that happened. That must’ve been awful.”

This guy you had just met was looking at you with so much sincerity, and you could feel the tears building behind your eyes once more.

“Sorry,” you said, turning away and trying to laugh it off, “you’re just really nice and I’m a mess.”

Jiung leaned closer to you, his voice soft as ever, “Hey, if you want, I can go back inside and just let Keeho know you’re ready to leave.”

God. If you started sobbing in front of him you would really never forgive yourself. You cleared your throat before shaking your head.

“He was so excited for tonight. I don’t wanna ruin it for him.”

“I may not know Keeho as well as you do, but I do know that you’re way more important to him. He wouldn’t want you to force yourself to be here when you’re in pain. He would wanna make sure you were okay, I know he would.”

He talked to you as you would to a crying child, but nothing about it felt condescending or like he was mocking you in any way. He also was so close now that his clasped hands briefly brushed one of your own. You finally met his eyes, your lip quivering and fresh tears betraying you as they slid down your cheeks. Next thing you knew, Jiung had raised the sleeve of his jacket to swipe it across your face.

“I’ll stay here with you as long as you need, okay?” he promised, his thumb very briefly stroking your cheek before he let it drop back down to his side.

An impulse suddenly thrummed through you. To kiss him. But now was hardly the time or the place, and it definitely wouldn’t be for the right reasons. So you buried the urge and instead just thanked him for his kindness.

“I’m sorry that this is how we met, but, still, I’m glad we did.” you whispered, not able to stop the tiny smile from taking over your lips.

Jiung beamed shyly back at you, “I’m glad too. But, I’m not sorry. Sitting under the stars with you was the highlight of my night.”

Every part of you felt warm. You wanted nothing more than to be able to bottle this moment and this feeling and hold onto it for a while.

“Mine too.” you agreed, feeling your smile grow even wider.

Jiung had just started to open his mouth to say something, when your phone vibrated in quick succession in your pocket. Frowning, you pulled it out to see your screen lit up with several texts from Keeho.

The man next to you chuckled before releasing a soft sigh.

“Keeho?” he guessed before you even had a chance to tell him.

You nodded, slowly, but reluctantly getting to your feet.

“He sounds pretty worried. You were right, I really should have told him something before I ran off.” you admitted, a wave of guilt washing over you.

Jiung stood up beside you, and you noticed for the first time the way he slightly towered over you in height.

“He’s gonna understand, Y/N.” he assured you gently.

You didn’t have a chance to respond because your phone started going off in your hand. Keeho again. Calling this time.

“Hey Kee. Sorry for worrying you. I promise I’m okay, just needed to get some air.” you explained before he could start bombarding you with questions.

“Y/N, thank god! No, I’m sorry I didn’t connect the dots sooner. By the time I realized he was here, you had already disappeared. Fuck, I’m so sorry…” your best friend trailed off, and you could hear him trying to catch his breath on the other end.

“Kee, it’s really okay. I think I am ready to go though if you don’t mind still taking me home?”

“Of course I don’t mind. Meet me out front in like two minutes okay? And don’t go disappearing on me again.”

You were happy to hear that his tone had returned to being more light and teasing like it usually was.

“Okay, see you in a minute.” you said before hanging up.

Jiung was still standing next to you, and you felt almost sad to be putting an end to the night.

“You gonna be okay to go back in there?” he queried, nodding his head towards the house.

You laughed, earning yet another smile from him, “Yeah, I think so. Probably just gonna book it for the front door and hope for the best.”

Jiung actually giggled at that, and it was the cutest fucking sound you had ever heard.

“So…” he started, tucking his hands back into his pockets again as he rocked on his feet, “maybe I’ll see you in another garden sometime.”

You had to bite your lip to keep from grinning like an idiot.

“Yeah, maybe you will.”

You were pleased to see him also trying to fight back a smile, his cheeks flushing in the garden lights.

“It was really nice to meet you, Y/N.”

“You too, Jiung.”

He turned to start walking away first, and the slight chill of the late night air became startlingly apparent. You crossed your arms and shivered slightly, and that’s when you remembered-

“Shit.” you swore under your breath as you looked down at your stained top.

“What’s wrong?” Jiung asked before starting to make his way back over to you.

“Nothing, I just, someone spilled their drink all over me when I ran out of the house earlier. And I had completely forgotten about it until now. God, I hate parties.” you groaned, crossing your arms tighter over your chest.

You waited for Jiung to say something, and instead were surprised when you felt something being draped over your bare shoulders. You looked up just in time to see Jiung stepping back from you, now missing his green leather jacket.

“Jiung wha…” your words dropped off as you gaped at him.

“Better not keep Keeho waiting. Goodnight, Y/N.”

You continued to stare at him as he strolled away, gripping his jacket so that it wouldn’t slide off your shoulders. He was right about one thing. You really couldn’t keep Keeho waiting without sending him into a panic again.

You barely registered the people around you as you made your way back through the crowded house. You were steps away from the front door, when you suddenly found yourself locking eyes with your ex. He took in the jacket hanging from your shoulders, and the look on his face was a mix of confusion and hurt. You glared back at him before slipping out the door. You pulled Jiung’s jacket tighter against your body, the garment feeling like a layer of armor that you hadn’t known you’d needed. You smiled to yourself. Jiung. The boy you’d met under the stars. And he was just as beautiful and mysterious.

#p1harmony #jiung #p1harmony fluff #jiung fluff #jiung x reader

94 notes · View notes