#he’s really doing EVERYTHING everything huh

[cherrygirlfriend]

passenger princess pairing: sunshine!reader x grumpy!rafe synopsis: no one touches your side of the car warnings: fluff! wc: 700 this was such a cute little idea, i loved it!!! this is for the baddies that refuse to get a license ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚ thank you for requesting!

whenever you'd come up with some new, ridiculous way to 'tune up' what you had deemed your side of his car, rafe would act like it was such a bother; like he really didn't get why you felt the need to be doing all that.

rafe's side of the car was, well, normal. sure, he had a few documents he kept in the driver's seat sun visor, but everything else was sleek, normal, but your side was like a kindergartner's dream come true. it got so ridiculous that you had a fluffy blanket you'd stuffed into the glove compartment, conveniently ignoring the gun he kept there. sure, that came in use for car quickies, but most of the time it was just there for when you felt like... napping.

the dashboard had a bunch of stickers as well as some of those weird furry toys (calico crits or some shit) along with those weird little babies with fruits on their heads; you'd put blu-tack on their feet to make sure they stayed in their rightful places. even the cup holder was taken over by a little plushie, and he'd basically had to argue for you to not get a pink cover for the steering wheel; that ended up with you giving him the silent treatment for a week until he showed up behind your door with more ridiculous trinkets for your side of the car.

secretly, he liked the fact that there was your side of the car, that even when you weren't there, he could still see traces of you everywhere.

rafe let out a small sigh, tapping his long digits against the steering wheel, glancing down at his watch the longer it took barry to get there; finally, he saw the man getting out of his trailer, letting out a low "fucking finally..." while barry opened the door to rafe's car, his eyes immediately landing on the crap on your side of the car. "don't ask."

"wasn't gonna." barry huffed in amusement, getting into the decorated side of the car, and rafe wished he wasn't in such a hurry, the sight being so ridiculous. "you're whipped, huh?"

"what are you talking about?" rafe scoffed, the car lurching forward as he started it, barry adjusting the cute seat cover you'd recently bought, letting out a small tut. "i wouldn't do that." but before rafe could stop barry from further meddling with your settings, he'd already started adjusting the seat, making him groan internally.

"are you gonna get shit for it?"

"obviously." rafe scoffed, "and you will too. it took her, like, a month to adjust it to be comfortable. so stop touching her shit."

still, barry continued looking at the little trinkets you kept on your side of the car, taking one of those weird fruit babies and toying with it, letting out a small snort, but when they pulled up in front of an unfamiliar house instead of the house party rafe had told him they'd be going, barry looked at the blonde with furrowed brows, who simply scratched the back of his neck.

"don't tell-"

before he could finish his sentence, barry was startled by the sound of a knock on the passenger seat window, and when he turned around, you were standing there, mouthing something.

"she's saying you're in her seat." rafe muttered under his breath, barry laughing at this; it was getting more and more ridiculous by the minute.

"whipped. w-h-i-p-p-e-d." barry slapped rafe's shoulder, making the blonde roll his eyes as barry got out of the passenger's seat.

"hi." you said with an excited smile as you climbed onto your side of the car, pressing a soft kiss on rafe's stubbled cheek, all the while barry climbed into the backseat, feeling like he was a damn kid getting a ride to school from his parents.

however, as you tried to settle onto your usual seat, you looked between the two men with narrowed eyes, your glossed lips pursing into a pout, rafe feeling like he might burn under your gaze.

"did he mess with my seat?"

"i told him not to!"

"barry!" you exclaimed, your keen eyes landing on the dashboard, noticing that something was missing; you turned around to face him, a sheepish grin on barry's face.

"barry, give me the angel back!"

[lovemomhatepolice]

what brought back that smile? - lando norris

navigation taglist requests

pairing: lando norris x fem! reader

warnings: kinda established relationship, fresh relationship, curious muppets!, English is my second language!

type: fluff, pure fluff

word count: 3,5k

summary: 5 times when someone asked the reason for Lando's sudden surge of happiness, but he preferred to keep his sweet secrets to himself

more content: f1 masterlist, lando norris masterlist, birthday one-shot

Since Lando Norris broke up with his then-girlfriend Luishina in 2022, no one has seen him this happy since. Of course, there have been moments where Lando walked around smiling - for example, when he won his first race in Miami or partying with friends in Ibiza. On more than one occasion, fans saw him joking and laughing until his stomach hurt with other drivers, but further down the line, everyone knew that the old Lando was gone. The one who laughed through love. The one foolishly in love, who proved it at every turn. Since his former relationship, Lando hasn't bonded with anyone - there were only rumors of fleeting romances or PR relationships. Until recently. In fact, no one knows when it took place. And since when Lando felt like a foolishly infatuated boy again.

THE FIRST TIME: Oscar Piastri When Oscar noticed changes in Lando's behavior, it was not much before the Japanese race. Or at least it wasn't so visible before. Norris was walking around smiling from ear to ear, constantly forgetting what he should do or who he should talk to about the changes in the car. No one paid much attention to it, and Oscar initially tried to ignore it as well, and winning in Miami a month later further eclipsed the spy's thoughts. After all, Lando had won his first race after so long in Formula One and so many times standing on the podium. The Mclaren drivers weren't the best of friends on the grid, but Oscar knew it wasn't because of winning the race. Or at least not just because of that.

Oscar was curious, even if he said very little about his life, the Lando case drilled him from the bottom up. And it started off small.

One morning 2 weeks after the Miami race, Lando showed up for a meeting with a goofy smile on his face. His attention was focused on everything during the strategy discussion, his mind was clearly elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” asked Oscar, poking his teammate under the table. As if awakened from his trance, Lando stopped tapping his fingers against his thigh and turned his head toward the Australian, smiling that silly grin again. “Yeah, all good, mate. “ he asked, tilting his head to the side. Oh, how foolishly charmed he was. “Why do you ask?”

Oscar shrugged. “I dunno. You just seem... happier these days. What brought back that smile?”

The question hung in the air for a long moment. Lando hung his head and laughed quietly under his breath, as if he was thinking whether he wanted to say it or rather not. And that was the option he chose, keeping his new infatuation to himself.

“Well, you know, buddy, I won a race recently. A chance to celebrate, huh?”

Oscar laughed, but couldn't shake the feeling that there was something else behind that smile, and that Lando was lying right in his eyes. Something - or someone - had brought back that trademark Lando smile. But Oscar decided to let it go for now.

Meanwhile, Lando was smiling to himself. Was it really that noticeable? Could everyone now know his sweet secret?

Such questions were cluttering his mind, but he tried not to worry about them. They were quickly superseded by thoughts of [Y.N]. It was wild how fast she had slipped into his life. What had started as a chance meeting turned into hours of effortless conversation, late-night phone calls, and a connection that had somehow brought him back to life. He hadn't felt this way since…. well, he couldn't remember the last time. And that was the point of it all.

MUPPETS: Carlos Sainz Jr Carlos had known Lando since 2019, so this year was their 5th anniversary of knowing each other. From the very beginning, the men, despite the age difference, got along great. And they soon became friends, too, supporting each other in worse and better moments. You could say they knew each other like the back of their hand, so while Lando was drifting away more and more each possible time during their conversations, the Spaniard had no more questions or thoughts. He was well aware that his younger friend's head was occupied by not something, but someone.

The sun beat down on the lush green of the golf course, the Spanish heat was unrelenting even in the early hours of the day. Carlos set up for his shot, squinting against the blinding glare, while Lando stood to the side, waiting his turn. It was a rare moment of calm before the chaos of the Spanish Grand Prix weekend, and Carlos was glad to be spending it with his best friend.

Until he saw Lando miss every time, which hadn't happened all that often before. Well, okay, Lando was worse than Carlos at golf, but to that extent?

And those constant glances at the phone, which he was so reluctant to leave in the golf cart.

“Ay, muppet. What the hell is wrong with you?” rang out Carlos' voice as he hit the ball.

Of course it flew cleanly where it was supposed to fly. But what's the pleasure of playing as your friend drills a hole in the grass with his club, his other hand constantly checking his phone screen?

"Huh?" Lando snapped out of his trance. This had been happening to him more and more often lately, nay, it had been happening to him for more than three months now.

“You’ve been smiling like an idiot all day,” Carlos teased, though his tone was softer, more curious than mocking. “Actually, you’ve been like this for weeks like not months now. So, tell me—who is she?”

Lando’s cheeks flushed pink, and he quickly turned his attention to the golf ball at his feet, fiddling with his club. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, but there was a grin he couldn’t quite suppress. And in fact, I don't think he wanted to get rid of it.

Carlos laughed, poking Lando playfully on the shoulder. “Come on, cabrón. I know you too well and it's been a long time since you've been this happy. So who's the lucky girl? Who brought back that smile?”

Lando sighed under his breath - he knew he could trust Carlos, he was his best friend. He just liked the fact that he and [Y.N] were in a closed bubble of happiness that they had made for themselves in three months. Of course it was still fresh and nothing was certain yet, but Lando gave in. To whom as to whom, but to Carlos he already had to tell. It was drilling him from the inside.

“It's … nothing serious,” Lando finally said, shrugging his shoulders as if it was no big deal. “It's just… I'm meeting someone. I'm trying to keep it discreet.”

Carlos raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Dude, I've known you long enough to know when you're serious about someone,” he said, and his voice became softer. “And if she makes you smile like that, I'd say it's more than a casual.”

Lando bit his lip, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break through. The truth was that [Y.N] had quickly become the best part of his days.

“Maybe,” he admitted, finally meeting Carlos' gaze. “But for now it's just … between us, sure?

Carlos clapped Lando on the back, a broad grin on his face. “I’m happy for you, hermano. And don’t worry—I won’t tell anyone. But I have to say, it’s good to see you like this again.”

They both laughed and Lando already knew he was lost. Together, with Carlos, were like the biggest gossips, so he quickly unlocked his phone, even jumping up and down with happiness, wanting to show Carlos some pictures of them together. What luck befell him when he found out that [Y.N] also loves to take pictures.

Carlos leaned closer, curious. Lando pulled out a photo from a few weeks ago - from his once-in-a-lifetime date with [Y.N]. They were sitting on a blanket in a meadow somewhere by the water, the golden sunset casting a warm glow over them. The girl's head was tilted toward him and resting on his shoulder, her eyes were crinkling with laughter, and Lando looked happier than Carlos had seen him in a long time. His hand was on the girl's shoulders, visibly embracing her closer to him.

“I want her to be the one, you know?” muttered Lando, smiling even wider when he saw the notification from her.

LUCKY CHARM: Lando's parents Lando was able to hide his fresh relationship from his friends, from his fans and from the rest of the world. But he definitely couldn't hide it from his parents and siblings. Not even a month of knowing [Y.N] had passed when he vividly talked about how much he had fallen in love and how he hoped she was the one and last woman in his life. His loved ones were damn happy to finally see the most sincere smile of his entire life on the face of this little Lando Norris.

The air around Silverstone was charged with electricity, and the energy of the home crowd gave Lando joy like no other race on the calendar. Walking through the bustling paddock, he felt lighter than he had in years. It wasn't just the thrill of racing on his own track - it was the realization that somewhere among the sea of faces there was [Y.N], watching him.

Fortunately, he managed to smuggle her into a private hospitality suite, away from prying cameras, journalists and fans. They had been seeing each other for almost four months, in truth they were not a couple, but everything was going for it. Lando wasn't the only one who was foolishly infatuated with the relationship; the girl, like him, walked around with her head in the clouds, as her university colleagues or friends seemed to notice more than once. But in her case it was easier to hide, after all, she didn't have a million eyes on her like Lando did.

When Lando entered his private area in the Mclaren garage, he immediately noticed his parents, sisters and brother, who were smiling at him from ear to ear. The entire Norris family had a close relationship with each other, so of course everyone knew about Lando's new sweetheart, whom he had been dating with for four months.

“And there's our smiling boy!” laughed Lando's mother, hugging her son tightly. The driver laughed under his breath, hugging his family one by one, fortunately in a place where the eyes of others did not reach and they could have a moment of peace. “I'm glad you're all here,” Lando said, stroking his younger sister Flo's hair.

“How could we not be here?” asked Oliver, Lando's brother, laughing under his breath.

The atmosphere was great, however, everyone knew this question would come sooner than perhaps it should?

“Well, you know what, tell us where she is,” said Lando's dad, poking him lightly on the shoulder. “You're laughing so hard, I won't believe she's not here.”

“Yes! Show us finally what brought back that smile,” said his mom, echoing her husband.

Lando felt his face heat up, but he couldn’t keep the grin from spreading. “You two don’t miss a thing, do you?” he said, shaking his head.

“We just want to meet her,” his mum said softly, eyes twinkling with warmth. “We’ve heard so much about her, and if she’s the reason our son’s been so happy lately, we’d love to say hello.”

After a moment's thought, Lando nodded. “All right. I'll bring her - but behave,” he said with nervous but excited energy.

Lando slipped stealthily out of the garage and headed for his room, which only he and a few Mclaren people had access to. Although it was a rather hidden place, [Y.N] did not complain. She could wait out the time until the race in peace, just as she could go out to Mclaren's garage and watch it there. Lando made her as comfortable as possible.

When the girl saw him, she raised her eyes and smiled warmly in his direction. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes, everything is fine,” he assured her, taking her hand in his. At the same time, he forced her to get up from the soft couch. “But… there is someone who wants to meet you. My family is even dying to meet the woman of my heart.”

The girl took a deep breath and smiled. “I'd love to meet them.”

Holding hands, they returned to the hospitality. When they went inside, Lando's mother sighed quietly and immediately crossed the room to hug [Y.N]. “Oh, how nice to finally meet you,” she said, and her voice was filled with sincere warmth.

“She's beautiful,” Cisca whispered, looking at Lando. The boy only whispered a quiet “I know” and laughed under his breath.

Immediately the whole family greeted the girl, hugging her tightly and bestowing kind words on her, including telling her how happy they were that she was making Lando so happy again. And everything was somehow better. His parents and siblings were talking to the girl he'd had in his heart for several months, and everything was going smoothly. Lando was just standing off to the side, keeping his hand on her back and giving her a little kiss to make her feel better. But he was probably the most stressed one there.

Lando checked his watch, feeling the familiar pre-start jitters begin to overwhelm him. But today he felt a little better than usual.

“I have to go now,” he said reluctantly, turning to face the girl. His parents moved away to give them a moment of privacy.

“You can do it, you're amazing on the track,” she purred, placing her hands on his shoulders and gently correcting his suit.

Lando merely smiled in her direction and without hesitation placed his hand on her cheek and leaned in, pressing their lips together in a quick but tender kiss. This was not how they had imagined their first kiss, but in that moment it was their best memory and the time this kiss could have happened. Lando pulled away from [Y.N], their eyes met and they both smiled at each other, giggling under their breath.

Lando checked his watch, feeling the familiar pre-race jitters starting to creep in.

“I’ve got to go,” he said reluctantly, turning to her. His parents stepped back to give them a moment of privacy.

“Good luck out there,” she whispered, her eyes shining with pride. “You’re going to do amazing.”

Lando smiled, but there was a flicker of nerves in his eyes. “I hope so. This one’s important,” he said softly.

[Y.N] reached up, cupping his cheek with her hand. “You’ve got this, Lando. I believe in you.”

Without thinking, Lando leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a swift, impulsive kiss. It wasn’t planned, but in that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He pulled back, their eyes locking, and they both smiled.

“For good luck,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

And even if he came in third place after the race, it didn't bother him much. He won something better and it was an amazing woman.

HI IBIZA: Max Fewtrell stream Max knew Lando since they were kids. Both could not imagine life without the other person, they were inseparable. Even if it didn't work out for them to be Formula One drivers by their side, it didn't change anything. They were always side by side, and as soon as Max heard about Lando's new crush, he knew this was the one. Norris had never talked so seriously and eagerly about any girl before. And Max liked to tease him about it. But at the same time, he was damn happy.

The warm glow of sunset in Ibiza paints everything with a golden sheen. Lando Norris, Max Fewtrell and their group of friends held a casual live stream at their bungalow, which they rented for the whole group of friends. This stream was definitely different from their typical ones, where they played games on two different sides of the screen, but that was good too.

Everyone was more muted than at times when they were playing and shouting at each other. However, the biggest difference could be felt in Lando. He was more subdued, gently but sincerely smiling, and his eyes shone with such happiness that you could envy him.

The stream had been going on for about an hour, and the fans didn't run out of questions. They were inundated with the same questions as always, but today they had more opportunity to answer them because they weren't stressed by the background game. Lando kept getting questions about the Championship, the races, the competition and some side silliness. Until Max caught one significant comment among thousands of others. And of course he had to ask them.

Fan comment: "Lando, what brought back that smile? It's been a long time since we've seen you so happy, and of course that's great, but what's your secret?"

Max looks at Lando with a smile and winks. "Good question," he says, leaning back in his chair. "So, man, what's been making you so happy lately?"

"Oh, you know. Life has been better lately. Beautiful weather, sunshine, we have a beach house. The break from racing is good for me too, my head isn't as busy," Lando replied, playing with his hair and smiling under his breath.

Oh how he lied, how he lied to keep his bubble of happiness calm even longer.

"Really? Gee, I guess I agree with that comment, you're somehow happier lately," said Max, glancing at Lando with a teasing look. He remembered well how Lando had talked down his relationship on the stream, but he wasn't going to do the same to him. "Or maybe you've found a hobby other than Formula One?"

"Maybe," he laughed lightly under his breath, feeling the warmth inside his body. "I guess I just got old and I'm not that rebellious 20-year-old anymore "

"Oh, it's definitely old age, you name it" Max laughed and went back to looking for interesting comments, leaving the matter of Lando's happiness. He wanted his friend to still have peace from prying eyes.

After the stream was over, everyone went their separate ways. Some decided to have a bonfire, but Lando felt he needed the solitude. He walked out to the beach, which they had right outside the gate of their cottage, and felt the cooler evening wind brush his face. He smiled under his breath when he saw [Y.N] by the shore. It wasn't a smile that the cameras could see; he reserved this one for her alone.

The girl was wearing a white loose dress that swayed gently in the wind, and her hair was tousled by the wind. It wasn't a moment before she heard him and gently turned toward him, giving him a beautiful smile. "Have you finished the stream yet?"

"It's been a while now," Lando stepped closer, feeling the sand under his feet surround him pleasantly. "I had to get away from the chaos. And the fans are getting curious, they asked what secret I have"

Girl raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Secret? What secret?"

Lando smiles mischievously and walks closer. "That I'm the happiest I've been in years." - he says in a quiet but sincere voice.

[Y.N] smiles, her eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Without another word, she steps into his arms, and Lando doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her, pulling her close. They stand there for a moment, just the two of them, the sound of the waves crashing in the background. Lando takes a deep breath and places a kiss on her hair, pulling her even closer to him. It was the peace he had needed for a long time

FIRST CHRISMTAS: [Y.N] Lando and [Y.N] had been together for almost half a year. Their lives were filled with happiness that neither of them had ever experienced before. From the first day, they understood each other like two peas in a pod, and that's how it stayed. That's why she was surprised by how happy Lando was.

The couple in love are together in the kitchen, with the countertop in front of them strewn with flour and other ingredients for making gingerbread cookies. [Y.N] is wearing one of Lando's voluminous sweaters and humming a Christmas carol, pacing next to the countertop. Lando, on the other hand, dressed in his loose Mclaren T-shirt and Christmas pajama pants, is trying to roll out the dough, but it's not going well. His hands are covered in flour and the dough keeps sticking to the rolling pin. Well, it's easier to say that his whole body is covered in flour.

"Do you need help, chef?" - asks [Y.N], leaning against the countertop and looking at him with an amused smile.

Lando raises his gaze, feigning impatience. "It's harder than it looks, sure?" - He laughs, combing his flour-dusted hair with his hand. "I thought baking was supposed to be easy."

"It's easy, you just have some manual problems," the girl laughs and moves to his side, gently taking the rolling pin from his hands. "Here, let me," she says, guiding him to the side. Their fingers brush as she takes over, a soft, tender moment.

"Sure, my baking queen," the boy laughs, looking at her with adoration.

"You could do the icing." the girl says, pointing to the already made gingerbread cookies.

Lando's eyes brighten, his smile widening. "Icing, huh? That's sounds better." He grabs a piping bag and starts filling it, but as he attempts to pipe a simple design, it all goes horribly wrong.

“Lando!” she laughs, her eyes crinkling with amusement. The icing has spilled everywhere.

He looks down at his hands, dripping with icing. “Well, that’s not what I had in mind…” He shrugs sheepishly.

“You’re adorable when you try, you know that?” She leans in and wipes a bit of icing from his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin.

“And you’re just adorable,” he says, moving closer to her.

Lando’s hands quickly find their place on her waist, and his face is twisted into a genuine big smile. They both giggle, putting the matter of the cookies aside.

“What brought that smile again, huh?” the girl asks, touching his lips, which is also dirty with icing.

“You,” he says simply, and his voice carries a quiet sincerity that makes her heart skip a beat. "It was always you"

For a moment, they both stand in silence, the hum of the Christmas music in the background, the quiet crackling of the small fire in the corner of the livingroom adding to the coziness of the apartment. It’s a peaceful stillness, the kind that only exists between two people who’ve found something real.

A/N: i know it's no nut november and this should be smut but i swear when i had a vision i had to write this. i hope you like it because i won't lie, i fucking love it!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[swuumi]

kento isn’t much of a talker.

whenever you come home from work, he’d always be there on the couch, spreading his arms to as a welcoming gesture.

laying on his chest, you then talk about your day, what annoyed you, and the latest gossips in your workplace.

“i just don’t know why would she do that, you know?”

and kento just grumbles, his way of agreeing with you, too focused on looking at your features.

“then, get this! she still took him b—” you cut yourself off, he looks uninterested.

were you talking too much..?

“why’d you stop, sweetheart? continue, what did she do?” kento says, snapping you out of your haze.

“she still took him back! the amount of advice that i gave her, she didn’t even apply any of those!” you huffed in annoyance.

kento hums, “it’s on her if she gets hurt again, sweets.”

“ugh, i don’t care about her anymore.”

kento was still scanning your face, his thumb caressing your cheekbones.

“i missed you, ken.”

“i missed you more, my love.”

you slowly move to kiss him, his hold on you tightening.

“i love you.” he mumbled in between kisses.

“i love you, too, kento.”

he slowly sits up to stand, with you still on his arms.

“don’t drop me, ‘kay?”

he chuckles, you snuggle your head on his neck and gave it little pecks.

“do you ever get tired of me yapping?” you asked him.

“hearing your voice puts me at ease, i find comfort when we’re like this. i love when you talk, sweetheart. i may look uninterested with everything that you talk about but i’m really not, i’m most likely just distracted by your gorgeous face.” kento mutters as he opens the door to your shared bedroom.

“oh my god, kento.”

“yes, love?”

“i need to wife you up.”

“hm, we’re gonna need to plan another wedding then, huh?” he chortles.

kento isn’t much of a talker, but he can be a little chatty when it comes to you.

[daosies]

the only one

Sylus has a soft spot for you.

sylus ♡ gn!reader

warnings: reader is the protagonist but gender neutral, pre-established relationship, crude & violent descriptions, not proofread

notes: muehehe

You are the only one in the world who can treat Sylus like this. 

“[Name],” he calls for the nth time. “[Name].” 

Sylus observes the furrow of your brow, the wobbly line of your lips. He notices the way your entire expression scrunches up, the way you visibly gasp when your gaze drifts over the most audacious line of the book you’re reading. 

It’s endearing, really. The way your feelings dance across your face, oblivious to the crimson irises that do the same. Sylus notices all these things about you; he also notices how you don’t notice him, how your attention is fixated wholly on your book, how his adoring looks are bested by an inanimate object and how his terribly-obvious advances are shut down because of printed words on a paper.

Sylus hates losing. He hates being ignored. In fact, Sylus has never been ignored in his life—his sheer presence commands attention, his gaze alone being enough to silence a crowd. When it comes to you, however, his gaze is not enough.

Again, you are the only one in the world who can treat Sylus like this.

“[Name].” Sylus has had enough of losing. He reaches for the book and steals it from your hands. 

“Sylus?” you reply, as if he hadn’t been there the entire time. “Since when did you arrive?” 

Oh, he thinks. So, to you, he really hadn’t been there the entire time. 

“Ten minutes ago,” he states coolly. 

“Huh? Why didn’t you call me? Or tell me?”

“I did.”

“Really? Oh, sorry! That book was really getting crazy, I mean, like, the main character was—”

Sylus decides not to mention the part where he gave up. He had tried to get your attention, but somewhere along the way, he opted to sit in your presence instead, perceiving despite not being perceived. 

In the silence, Sylus’s gaze trailed over your features, from the bridge of your nose to the curl of your lips. His red eyes tied knots around your expression, burning the image into his retinas, weaving the strings towards himself, from the base of your pinky to his. Sylus hates being ignored. He hates losing and he hates the idea of not being acknowledged. 

When it comes to you, however, it’s different. 

Everything is different. 

“And then—oh, sorry. Am I boring you with the details?” you suddenly say, becoming bashful. Your pupils avert from his. Sylus is desperate to force them back on him, his brows furrowing ever-so slightly. 

Quicker than he can think, he replies, “Not at all.” 

You look at him. The tension laced into his expression eases. 

“I almost forgot to ask,” you say, switching topics abruptly, “why are you here, Sylus?” 

He chuckles at your bluntness. You are the only one in the world who can talk like that to him.

“I just wanted to see someone.” 

Your eyes widen. Sylus relishes in the sight, unblinking, desperate and wild and oh, utterly miserable. To rely only on sight is a terrible fate, but again, you are the only one in the world who Sylus cannot catch. Your image slips in between his mind, falling through the intangibility of memory and vision. You cannot be contained—your unabashed and radiant spirit, your breathtaking and limitless beauty. You torture him! With thoughts of your existence, with thoughts of your real and incomparable being! 

You—you exist! 

(Sometimes, Sylus can’t believe it. And then he looks at you, and then himself, and he realizes that you are damn near divine. You are damn near intangible, an entity he worships, a concept he follows and offers himself towards. If you were to tell him to dismember himself now, Sylus thinks he would. If you were to ask him for his eyes, he’d tell you to hand him a knife. If you were to ask him for his heart, he’d tell you to take all four chambers.)

“You… you wanted to see me?”

Sylus smirks a little. “Did I say that?” 

Your face erupts with embarrassment. “Hey! You… you!” 

“Me,” he affirms.

(Look at you.)

Mirth flickers across the carmine expanse of his irises, the scarlet of his lips and the crimson within his veins. His pupils catch your for a moment before you look away, covering your expression with the palm of your hand. Sylus is used to people avoiding his gaze, to shying away from his presence out of sheer terror. He prefers it that way, really. It makes his job easier. 

(Look at him.)

When it comes to you, however, it’s different. Sylus doesn’t want you avert your eyes from his—he wants to peer into your soul, to pick apart the temple with his own bloodied hands, to witness for himself the grandness of your presence, the impossibility of your existence. 

(How could he ever believe you exist? When he is terrible and haunted, while you—oh, you—are utterly divine?)

Sylus wants you to perceive him. He wants you to pick him apart, too. To dismember him! To peel apart his skin and come to realize that everything, everything within himself—from the branches of his veins to the curl of his ribs—have only ever flowed back to his heart. 

And you own that heart of his. That wretched, twisted little thing. You own it. And everything else that comes with it. 

“You’re so…!”

“So?” Sylus encourages you to continue, tilting his head slightly. A smirk twists at his lips. He’s enjoying this far too much. 

“Whatever!” You try to snatch the book back from his hands, your movements agile and befitting a hunter. Unfortunately for you, Sylus is used to playing things dirty, so he snaps the novel away with his Evol and calls it a day. 

“Let’s go,” he says, standing up. “You like the arcade, right?” 

You glare at him without saying a word.

You are the only one in the world who would ever make Sylus wait. Still, he obliges.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter.

He hums. “And?” 

“Disrespectful.” 

Sylus’s cool expression remains unfazed. “I’ve never heard that one before.”

You snort. “Who would ever call you that?” 

Only you, he thinks. For some reason, the thought doesn’t irritate him. 

After all, you are the only one in the world who can treat Sylus like this. 

(As a matter of fact, to Sylus, you are the only one in the world.) 

[roanofarcc]

YOU & ME

Pairing: JJ Maybank x reader

Summary: After returning to OBX, after the events of the past four years have cooled off, JJ realizes it's about time he asks you a very important question. 

Warning: JJ deserves a happy ending! Season 4 spoilers.

word count. 1k || masterlist

JJ found you out on the dock, leaning over the railing and looking at something in the water. He smiled to himself as he strolled toward you, running his fingers over the ring he stuffed in his pocket. 

“Find any treasure down there?” JJ asked as he approached you.

You threw him a look over your shoulder. “Not funny,” you replied, but there was a smile on your lips that told him otherwise. 

The Pogues had rightfully retired from their treasure-hunting days. Too many close calls and they weren’t willing to risk it anymore. They didn’t need to, not after finally cashing out for the last time. JJ, with your guidance and gentle threats, promised to be responsible with his share this time around. For the first time in his life, he saw a future illuminated brightly ahead of him. He had you, his friends, and even a God-daughter now. While his risky tendencies weren’t completely put to bed, he was comfortable where he stood and finally felt like he could relax. 

All in all, he was happy. But there was still something he had yet to do. 

He slung an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his side as you both gazed at the water. As much as he had once enjoyed action and adventure, JJ partially used it as an escape. He felt like he had been running from something his whole life, trying to make sense of why he was the way he was. He used to think that, if he never slowed down, nothing would have the chance to hurt him too much. But then he found a family within his friends and a reason to stop running within you. He didn’t need to escape anymore or run. He didn’t need to make sense of anything anymore. JJ Maybank finally had everything he had been looking for. His world made sense for the first time, and he had no intention of screwing that up. 

“You okay?” you asked softly, reaching up and brushing a hand across his cheek. 

“Yeah, just thinkin’.”

“Uh-oh,” you teased, moving to stand in front of him. You hugged him lightly, peering at him with furrowed brows. “Thinkin’ about what?” 

JJ leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You.” 

“And what about me?” Your breath was warm against his face, competing against the cool breeze off the water. The distant laughter of his friends sounded from up the dock, where they all sat around, eating and cooing at little baby Routledge. 

The worst years of his life, only peppered with good from his Pogues, felt like lifetimes behind him. All of the pain he experienced faded like his scars. He only had the good parts now, and there wasn’t a chance on Earth he’d let them slip away. 

“I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask you,” JJ said, hesitant not because he was unsure, but because there was still a fear in the far depths of his mind that you’d leave him. It was stupid, you had told him that a million and three times, but he couldn’t help the faint voice in the back of his head pestering him in a whisper. 

You silently waited for him to continue. As he worked up the courage, he closed his eyes for just a second, picturing the same little dream he’d created in his head not long after meeting you. 

“We’ve got a pretty good thing goin’, huh?” he started. 

A breathy laugh fell from your lips. “I’d say so.” 

“Right, and I, um, I don’t really want it to end, you know?” 

You leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his nose. “I don’t plan on it ending, JJ. It’s you and me, remember?” 

He did; he remembered the promise you made not long after you first met. It started off as a pack between friends, but it morphed into something deeper. You and him. If he had anything, he had that to hold on to. 

“Yeah,” he whispered, reaching into his back pocket and pulling out the ring he had stolen a while back with the intention of, one day, slipping it on your finger. Leaning back from you, he held up the ring between two fingers, letting the dainty silver shine in the growing moonlight. “You and me. Forever, maybe?” 

It took a moment for realization to dawn on you, but it struck with force. Your eyes blew wide, and your mouth fell open in a humorous and bewildered laugh. “Are you asking me to marry you?” 

JJ nodded, sheepishly using his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I probably should have gotten down on one knee, right? To be fair, it’s my first time.” He went to lower himself onto the dock, but you stopped him, cupping his face in your hands. 

“And it’s perfect,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes. “I would love to marry you, JJ Maybank.” 

He felt like he was going to cry too from the pure excitement and love that swelled inside his chest. Blinking back his own happy tears, he took your hand and slid the ring on your finger. It wasn’t some extravagant engagement ring, but it fit like a glove on your finger like it had been made for you. The smile on your face was enough confirmation that you liked it. 

You kissed him, the warm metal of the ring pressed against his cheek. It was a feeling he was looking forward to getting used to. To kiss you forever, until you’re old and gray and yelling at kids to get off your lawn. JJ used to have a hard time looking past eighteen, trying to figure out what he’d become if he made it that far. Would he be locked up like every adult in his life used to tell him? Would he end up like his father or the man he used to think was his father? 

But he didn’t have to worry anymore, about any of it. He made it past eighteen and a different path awaited him, a good one, a happy one. 

[impactrueno]

Beetlejuice clearly wasn't interested in Lydia when they met, so when do you think he actually fell for her? Was he so impressed by Lydia defeating him that he developed a little crush?

i think this might be the biggest thing i've been turning around in my head since the sequel dropped. how did bro get to this point. i need to know. you weren't like this where we left off, what happened during that huge time gap????

this is where canon ends and conjecture begins, you just have to theorize and fill in the gaps yourself with whatever makes the most sense to you, which is what i've been trying to do this whole time. so please bear with me here.

i don't know how much i want share or save for my comics because i don't know how much he would actually reveal about this but whatever we ball

edit: ok so i scrolled back up to this after finishing writing this and as it turns out i have no self control and i ended up sharing everything that crossed my mind. craziest stream of consciousness i've ever written down. strap on and keep your limbs inside the ride at all times. whatever. we BALL.

let's review their first encounter from his point of view:

you're hired to scare the deetzes, right? so you do just that. excellently you might add. just when you're about to terrorize their teenage daughter, barbara banishes you and the party is over. what fucking losers right? you get the sense that adam and barbara care about this girl so you make some remark about her and it pisses them off. haha. also whoa where did this place come from? damn adam, who could've guessed he had it in him. you forget about everything else and dance your way to dante's inferno room.

after spending a respectably tasteful evening with those ladies, you're chill now. relaxing under your little sun lamp to work on your tan.

someone walks in looking for adam and barbara. don't they know they're dead?

"are you a ghost too?"

"i'm the ghost with the most, babe."

hold on a sec, who's even—

...well hey. it's the girl.

the girl who can see ghosts, and she's talking to you.

target acquired. this one's your ticket out of this hellhole.

"you look like somebody i can relate to," you tell her. relate how? doesn't matter. you're ensnaring her with your affable demeanor like you always do, make people feel like you're pals with them first and foremost. she seems like a nice girl, so this should be easy. you tell her upfront that you want to get out of there and you need her help to do so.

"i want to get in," she says.

whoa there.

what? she wants to get in? she says that in response to you saying that you wanted out. she really has no idea what it's like on the other side, huh. but shit, that kinda stops you in your tracks a bit. this girl wants to die. this young? that's not right. makes no sense.

"...why?"

she just looks at you and says nothing. jesus. ok maybe it's none of your business so let's back it up. you're losing control of the conversation and you're on a mission here. you figure if she helps you get out, you might as well talk her off that ledge or show her how shitty it is on the other side or somethin'. frankly, you can't afford to care right now. you're not entirely sure why she thinks things would be better on the side you're so desperate to get out of, but alright. doesn't matter, right now you gotta get her to summon you. so you begin your little game of charades.

after she correctly guesses your name and almost says it a third time, she recognizes you as the snake that terrorized her family. god fucking dammit. you're losing her. you're getting impatient. your affable act is over. "nah...i want to talk to barbara," she says and now she's REALLY getting on your nerves because fuck barbara, fuck adam, you're SO CLOSE to getting out and you're not gonna let this go now, go go GO GO SAY IIIIIIITTTTTTT

adam and barbara walk in because of course they do. womp womp

ok well that didn't work, but you're not gonna give up so easily. sooner or later another opportunity will come and soon you will be free.

wait why are they moving the model— where are they taking it—

ooohhhhh. business meeting. get a load of these yuppies, trying to turn winter river into a town-sized Ripley's Believe it or Not. a talking marcel marceau statue? and you thought you were a con man. no wonder the deetz girl wants to die, it's bleak as hell here too. but if you get out...you can fix that. hell, you can fix anything.

these bozos are here to see some ghosts, but the girl says they're not going to show up unless the fleshbags stop making a mockery out of the whole thing and that maybe they can all live happy together in the house. ain't that sweet.

of course no one's taking her seriously. she's a kid, what does she know, right? they'd rather listen to the most obnoxious guy in the room (besides yourself) who has no idea what the fuck he's talking about, but somehow, he's got his hands on the handbook.

the girl panics, then immediately says completely deadpan "wait, what am i even worried about, otho, you can't even change a tire" and you're surprised they didn't hear how hard you cackled at that.

despite all that, they seem to have started a séance with their old wedding clothes. bad news for the maitlands. they're about to be dead-dead. the girl cries for them to stop, and these guys are just sitting there scared shitless. you're hearing everything. you knew a new opportunity would arise, so you wait, because this is the part where people remember how good at your job you are. they always do.

she knows you can help. you're the only one who can help. so here she comes. those wedding clothes give you an idea. plan B is now in motion.

well well well.

look who came crawling back.

she asks for your help, and you're happy to oblige, under one condition of course. after all, you don't do anything for free, and she's the only one who can help you with your problem. how serendipitous.

once again, you lay it on her, straight up. you want out. and a way to do it (thanks adam and barbara for the reminder) is through marriage with a fleshbag. you need to get married. a green card marriage, if you will.

she's immediately disgusted by the idea. you don't take that personally, of course, because it doesn't matter. she's just a kid and it's not a real marriage. she just happens to be unlucky enough to be the only one around who can assist you with this, the poor girl. it's a marriage of convenience—or rather, inconvenience—and you're not planning on sticking around because you will get the hell out of there as soon as you can. so there shouldn't be a problem, right? besides, does she know how many women would kill to be in that position? she gets to brag about it to her friends, what's not to like? it's a totally even deal.

the clock is ticking and the maitlands aren't getting any younger. she agrees to the deal. you win, at last.

she already knows what to do, so you sit there patiently with a shit-eating grin on your face, awaiting the three little B words. gloating.

Beetlejuice........Beetlejuice...........Beetlejuice.

it's showtime.

this is your favorite part. you love a dramatic entrance. you decide to show the deetzes and their greedy friends the circus they so wanted to turn this town into. horrible as you are, you're also pretty damn good at calling out other people's horribleness, and you do love an ironic karmic way of dealing with someone. for example tubby here thinks he can escape, but not before you change his sleek black suit into a tacky white leisure suit. the horror! this is why you're a professional at this.

you effortlessly end the exorcism and the maitlands are saved. a little pruney right now but they'll be fine. everything is taken care of, you have fulfilled your end of the deal like you promised. only one thing left to do.

"shall we?"

there's really no need to make a whole show out of this, but you're a showman first and foremost and as a 𝒥𝓊𝒾𝓁𝓁𝒾𝒶𝓇𝒹 𝒶𝓁𝓊𝓂 you'll be damned if you're not gonna let yourself have a little fun with this. everyone looks terrified. this is why you're a professional at this.

witnesses and reverend in place, you can finally begin the ceremony. you're having fun, yes, but let's try to pick up the pace a bit, okay? the closer you get to your goal, the more impatient you get. the girl isn't finding any of this very funny at all and she protests. the maitlands butt in and are now kind of twisting your arm a bit, but you deal with them harmlessly, until they get on your last nerve so you send adam to the model and barbara to saturn. all of this after you honorably fulfilled your end of the bargain and saved the day. jesus christ, are you the only one with some integrity around here or what.

you forget the stupid ring. shit. you're pretty sure you have it on you somewhere, ever since you chopped up delores into pieces for poisoning you. you kept her ring finger as a trophy and as a reminder to never get married again, and yet here you are, but desperate times call for desperate measures. finally, you find the ring (still on her severed finger) and hastily tell your new bride-to-be that delores meant nothing to you. in case she even cares. she doesn't seem to. not even a chuckle? oh well.

almost done with the ceremony. almost there. you're holding the girl's hand with an iron grip to keep her in place as you're about to put that ring on her finger. "i now pronounce you, man and—"

a tiny car crashes against your foot and it catches on fire. you scream. a fucking sandworm crashes into the room through the ceiling. everyone screams. you scream LOUDER.

you're sent back to the afterlife waiting room.

not your first rodeo with a sandworm, but that doesn't make the experience any less shitty. the real annoying part is being in the waiting room again. this could take ages. you're number 9,998,383,750,000 and they're serving number 3 right now. you trick the guy next to you and steal his ticket (number 4) but he's not too pleased about that, so that didn't work.

a long time sitting here it is, then.

movie ends, credits roll.

for reference, that was 1988. winona ryder was 15 when they were filming in 1987 so while lydia doesn't have a confirmed age, i think we can safely assume that she was the same age as winona at the time.

36 years later, it's 2024. or 34 years later, it's 2022. we don't know the exact year because while bob's in memoriam credits scene says 2024 and all the interviews talk about how 36 years have passed in universe as well, there's this other one tiny detail.

jeremy's death passport says he died on march 11, 1999. jane butterfield says he died "23 years ago," putting the movie in 2022. they did film it in 2022 so the math is mathing correctly there. given that the in memoriam scene was more of a joke and jeremy's passport is a canon prop in the movie, i'd say 2022 is the canon year the movie is set in. (small sidenote; the passport also has the roman numerals DCLXVI which is 666. cute detail i loved it)

in the sequel, beetlejuice says lydia has been ignoring him for 30 years. i always thought that was curious because outside of this claim, they always specify how many years exactly have passed since. he doesn't say 34 or 36, he says 30. and for his degree of obsession (and the fact that he remembers exactly how many times he's watched The Exorcist) i think he would be counting even the days so i think he did really mean 30 years. so this would mean at least 4 years passed between getting sent back to the waiting room and the beginning of his stalking.

AND NOW that we established all that, we are finally getting to the answer to the question, "when and how did this all start?"

so okay, he spent a while in the waiting room. a lot of time to think. probably replaying the events at the deetzes' in his head over and over, how he got here, where he fucked up, what's he gonna do once he gets out. cursing the maitlands for ruining his plan when he was soooo fucking close. wondering what ever happened to lydia deetz.

lydia deetz, the young girl who told him she wanted to die.

...

is she alright?

i don't think he's capable of feeling guilt, but we can probably argue that he's not entirely heartless. what she said about how she wanted to "get in" must've stuck with him from the way he reacted when she dropped that bomb. she never showed up in the waiting room so he knows she didn't follow through with that. still, he used a vulnerable young girl for his own selfish gain. ironically enough, he knows exactly how that feels, because he also got tricked into marriage and got used for someone else's gain. the difference being that he dealt with that shit with an axe.

much much much to think about for mr. juice.

after years of ruminating in that waiting room, he's finally out and back to the regular day to day afterlife. definitely gets chewed out by juno, maybe forced to do community service or labor or what have you, he basically just needs to clean up his act now. this freelancing shit is becoming more trouble than it's worth anyway.

he's still wondering about lydia deetz. should he check in on her? maybe he should, he's too curious now.

at this point, lydia is now about 19-21 and in college. maybe he manages to sneak into the model one time she's back home for the holidays or something. and oh my god would you look at that, what a beautiful young woman she's grown into. she's radiant. she's happy. she's no longer that gloomy suicidal kid he met in the attic. seems like what she said about the deetzes and the maitlands sharing the house did come true after all.

that's nice. very sweet. good to know.

maybe he wonders if she remembers him and tries to get her attention somehow, give her a little scare for old times sake or whatever. for a brief moment it seems like she saw something and her expression changes, but she shrugs it off and continues on chatting with her two sets of parents. no such luck.

oh well. curiosity sated! and beetlejuice goes back home and doesn't return.

until the next time he returns.

and he keeps coming back to check in on her, telling himself he's just making sure that she hasn't killed herself or something. and he's not above admitting that with every year that passes, she keeps getting more beautiful. and to think they almost got married, huh.

he constantly tries to get her to notice him somehow, and sometimes she almost does, but ultimately he never really succeeds beyond making her do a double take. very rarely she does catch a glimpse of him. he's seen her mutter to herself that she's just seeing things and she seems a bit frightened every time this happens, but there's nothing to fear, honey, it's just good ol' beetlejuice. he won't lie, he gets a bit of a rush every time and it makes his dead heart beat faintly. he's gotten this far, he can't just stop now. in his mind, this has become their little private game of cat and mouse, where the mouse ignores the cat. but aren't they cute? he thinks they're cute. this is not creepy at all!

before he realizes, he's already learned everything about her. he knows about richard and even watched their wedding from afar like a loser. he knows she gave birth to a healthy baby girl named astrid. he knows they have a blast on halloween. halloween is lydia's favorite holiday, and his too. sometimes he can't help but see the three of them happy together and think it could've totally been him. even if he and richard are nothing alike (in fact could not be more opposite) and the circumstances of their unholy wedding were nothing short of grim and a farce. but in his mind, he's starting to convince himself otherwise.

maybe it's his jealousy speaking, but lydia doesn't seem to be that happy with richard despite everything. even though richard is like, the perfect guy. then one day his suspicions are proven correct: neither of them knows why it happened, but after having a long and emotional talk (that he watched with a bucket of popcorn) they decide to get a divorce. he pumps his fist, feeling victorious for some reason. sure he's a little sadistic at times, but why is this giving him so much glee?

the divorce is hard on lydia's kid, who was always more attached to her father, but they still spend a lot of time together. sometimes the three of them, since richard and lydia kept things amicable after the divorce. lydia tries to move on and see other people, but each relationship fails before it even starts. mostly because she keeps holding back and so fails to connect with anyone else, but also sometimes because, well, he can't help himself but to scare them away from her from time to time. it's fun. in his mind, he's just being protective of her, as a gentleman should for a lady.

then richard dies. fell into a piranha infested river from the looks of it (he saw him at immigration one day, don't ask what he was doing around there, force of habit after constantly making sure lydia hasn't killed herself yet.) it's devastating for both lydia and astrid, straining their relationship even more for the next few years as they both try to cope with the loss. the shock proves to be too much for lydia, so she goes to a survivors retreat to work through her trauma, both from richard's death and "unresolved feelings."

then lydia, at her most vulnerable, meets rory.

beetlejuice was able to clock him immediately. a textbook manipulative opportunist, he himself knows the tactics very well. swoop in to "help" someone in a vulnerable position, pull the wool over their eyes and begin taking control so you can get what you want out of that person.

he wouldn't admit it, but this really irks beetlejuice. you know when you see someone who reminds you of the worst parts of yourself, so you despise them? yeah. he's been there, and he's also been him.

but rory is somehow even worse than beetlejuice. see, rory is her manager, and boy does he manage to get on his nerves. he takes her phone. he controls what medication she takes. he blames and guilt trips her about every mishap that HE causes, making himself look like her benevolent savior and making her feel like she would be lost without him, confusing her with his psychobabble. on top of all that, he's forcing her to do this hacky show called Ghost House where she "hunts ghosts" or whatever. the houses he's been helping newly-deads with in his day job as a bio-exorcist (now with a fleet of employees,) she's "hunting" those ghosts now. it's so dumb. it never works. beetlejuice doesn't even know what the hell she's doing, she's phoning it in most of the time and she knows she's become a sellout. what happened to that "strange and unusual" girl who stood up for her ghost friends when those suits wanted to profit off of them back in winter river?

he needs to bring that back. he's the only one who can.

in his mind, beetlejuice has already rewritten the events that transpired. in his mind, lydia has been his wife this entire time, it's just, y'know, one of those open long distance relationships and she doesn't always remember him, but that's okay. in his mind, they share a psychic bond that allows her to sense his presence or see him in her dreams from time to time. he's got nothing to be jealous about, because other men can't compare. no one else can match what they have.

sure, part of him knows he's lying to himself a little bit. but he's already clung to this idea; these past 30 years wouldn't make sense otherwise. he's in love with lydia deetz. this isn't insane of him to say at all. and if it is, well, you know what they say, love makes you do batshit crazy things.

it's not that complicated, no matter what they say you'll never meet another me it's not that difficult to get my head around i'll never meet another you

the end

don't trick me into writing a fanfic again

[shellxrls]

— r. cameron / reader

warnings: DUBCON — rafe roofies and then rapes reader / unprotected PinV / misogyny / mention of drugs (cocaine & roofies) / mention of virginity / inspiration taken from maddy & nate (euphoria)

synopsis: rafe cameron x fem!reader… sometimes rafe needs to slip a girl a little something at a party to get some, and where’s the shame in that if he knows they want him anyway, they’re just too prudish to admit it.

After you’ve successfully been dosed, he makes you sit on his lap for lack of space on the couch so he can rock you on his knee until you’re tired, delirious, and horny enough to be lifted upstairs, legs dangling against his broad back while you hiccup and giggle next to your upside-down view of his chest.

His nose is numb from the coke and his brain heady, one could argue almost as inebriated as you. But the lines make him oversaturated, not cock-dumb like what he slipped you — eager hands already pawing at his zipper and coming to a fumbled close around the metal just before you’re tossed onto a bed, spread aloof like the crumpled sheets.

“You’re sooo nice to me Rafe.. when all the other guys were sayin’i shoulda gone home,” you end with a belligerent nod of your head, slurring throughout and biting your lip in sexless embarrassment, chewing the skin raw enough to reflect your torn consciousness instead.

Rafe simply smirks, chin protruding outwards while his eyes flit between your thighs peeking through your overridden dress and your tits falling out of the frilly décolletage.

“You a virgin?”

“Mhm” you lie, despite the reeling dizziness occupying your headspace. Besides, nobody likes a whore — especially not rafe, uninterested in ‘stretched out pussy’ as you vaguely recall from his earlier conversation crowded around friends.

He approaches closer now, knocking your trembling knees apart with one of his beefy thighs, bulge forward and creasing in his pants as your dialogue gets him hard already, imposing his physicality in all its glory: “What like— you’ve never even been fingered before?”

You shake your head, tousling curls before staring back up at him, “Only my own.”

To that he chuckles, the noise grating and stunted when he uses it as an excuse to adjust himself in his pants, drawing his chest down further until he’s now hovering above you.

“Uh y’know,” he tongues at his cheek, “I could take care of that for you, practically all spread open an’ready huh?”

Like it wasn’t his plan to get you dumb and stuffed by the end of the night, even if it meant bringing out his inner brute, he was taller, faster, stronger — he could do it if he really wanted, but he made it easy for you instead. Could feel the roofie worming its way into your consciousness, jamming rationality and flooding you with hedonistic desire that would trigger your sex endorphins and make it so that you would want this, that he could brag about it without you opening your bitch mouth the next day and claiming ‘rape’; an ugly word anyways, coming out harsh in a spit, nothing like what rafe was doing to you, especially not with the way you were looking at him.

Your mouth opens, then closes, seemingly flailing on confirmation when really your jaw is getting slack and numb, and so you feel encouraged to nod instead, the movement making your thoughts go all bubbly, refracting Rafe’s glinting eyes at your ‘consent’.

He wastes no time with prep, shoving your dress up so it’s tucked over your tits, basal temperature remaining warm and stuffy despite the exposure to cool air. A good indicator though, means rafe can tell it’s working, and just how long he has before you might start struggling.

When he pulls himself out of his shorts it’s surprising, of course, everything about him is pretty, one would expect a tangible reflection of the cruelty on his features but instead, his dick looks cutesy, if not for the intimidating size.

Spit trickles harshly down his palm when he wraps a hand around himself, tugging quickly and using both his legs to split you around his midriff, leaking and achy despite the inattention you’ve received.

“You want this dick so fuckin’ bad huh,” he laughs at the puddle of arousal leaking out underneath you, considers swiping a finger into it to stick into your mouth but he doubts you’d be able to breathe right now if he interfered with the half catatonic features on your face, and it’s not like he’s out for that type of violence anyways (or at least not right now).

When he pushes himself inside you’re silent, pupils retreating in favour of a squeal — ironically a very Rafe-esque trait — while Rafe bites down into his cheek and rolls his palm over your chest to ease the pressure of the fit.

“Thought the roofie woulda loosened you up a bit..” mumbled out while his stomach clenches, now bracing his entire heavy arm across your abdomen and pinching skin when you involuntarily quiver at the weight, “You can take it c’mon.”

He thrusts hard and uncoordinated, fucking like he knows he’s hot, or at least how many more pills he has left in his stash. Knocking against your insides and entirely focused on the way his dick feels, knowing how easily he could move onto another victim, and just how much he wants to enjoy you in particular before it’s over.

Sweat clings to both your bodies, the slick getting louder when each thrust manages to pound a squelch out of you, spattering against the sheets or catching on Rafe’s balls to stick the both of you together with messy tendrils.

You’re pliant, let him move your legs so your ankles entwine behind his back, heavy hand locking them together and giving you both little breathing room; just enough for him to spill obscenities straight into your emotionless face with hot, sticky breath — he laughs, manically and seemingly at his own joke, before deciding to share it with you, “just don’t go running ‘bout me ‘assaulting’ you right. You wanted this, not my fault my cock’s so good the slut has to go dumb hmm?” mocking you with a teasing lilt and a raised brow.

You pat at his swollen chest, it’s all you can manage to do, urgent to get him off you, give you a little space atleast. He only shoves himself in further, lips puckering to sloppily catch yours, saliva straying down your chin and jaw instead.

Your outright discomfort seems to get him going even more, thrusts increasing in increment despite becoming more careless, tip catching your clit when he slips out and hurries to stuff it back in.

When his face pinches up, brows tensed and nose furrowed, you can tell he’s going to cum, the friction between your bodies almost unbearable with the heat that suddenly envelops him.

A slew of curses are hissed out, casual vulgarity being one of Rafe’s favourite expressions of self, and then he’s pulling out and wrapping a fist around himself to paint your tummy white. Ropes shooting watery on your tummy and painting him a proud picture.

He shakes himself off on you a final time before tucking his wet dick back into his briefs, cleaning himself up entirely unbothered by the dissected mess of you laying drugged and fucked out on the bed.

“My head feels funny.”

“Yeah, that’s cause I fucked it out of whack.” He says it serious but you can imagine his upturned lips at his own sick sense of humour.

“Where are you going?” you sit up groggy, chest tight.

“Uhh, back downstairs, got some more yayo I needa lay off— you can stay here or.. wherever, doesn’t matter.”

He has the decency to shut the door fully when he leaves, yet you’re still alone and forced to lay in the waste of one of Rafe Cameron’s nights out.

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Over the Limit - pt.iv

jenna ortega x female reader

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv

summary: You and Jenna each reflect on your own choices and the growing tensions between you both. Torn between loyalty, responsibility, and personal longing, what does this growing conflict mean for the future of your alliance?

word count: 12.8k

————

"So, victory sex?" Hunter teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Victory sex?" You echoed, genuinely confused. "With who?"

"Who else? Your little Viper girl," he replied, rolling his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

After dropping Jenna off at home, you'd shot Hunter a quick text, asking if he wanted to come over. After the whirlwind of the race, and the intense feelings stirred up by Jenna, you needed someone to debrief with—someone who knew about the tangled situation you'd gotten yourself into. Fortunately, your mom didn't know Hunter was part of the Sinners, so he was in the clear to hang out without raising any suspicions.

"Come on, Hunter, I barely know the girl."

"Doesn't seem that way to me," he shrugs, taking a seat on your couch and kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. "You let her wear your jacket, didn't you?"

Did everyone see that?

You roll your eyes and flop down beside him, letting out a tired sigh. "That doesn't mean anything."

"Uh-huh. Whatever you say." Hunter smirks, but his teasing tone amplifies after a beat. "But there's no way you didn't feel Racer's High after winning."

You didn't need him to define Racer's High. You knew he was referring to that primal, raunchy, adrenaline rush of a feeling that overtook you once you won the race a few hours ago. You shudder remembering how much you yearned for Jenna in that moment.

"So, how are you feeling about it all? The race, the attention... her?"

You hesitate, considering how much to say. You trust Hunter—he's the only one in the crew you can really open up to, but you're also not ready to dive into the whole Jenna situation. Not with everything going on, especially since you're not sure how deep things go with Percy and this "Ghost Smoke" deal.

"I don't know," you finally say, running a hand through your hair. "The race was wild. Winning felt... intense. I get why people get hooked on that feeling."

Hunter raises an eyebrow. "And?"

"And... I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this. Like, there's this whole side to racing I'm not seeing."

He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, watching you carefully. "What do you mean?"

You glance at him, trying to gauge how much you can say without tipping too much of your hand. "I don't know, man. I've been hearing things—whispers about this new stuff called Ghost Smoke floating around Brimstone. You heard anything about that?"

Hunter's eyes narrow, and for a second, you think maybe you've pushed too far. But then he exhales slowly. "I've heard the name. It's bad news, Y/n. Real bad. That shit's spreading fast, and people are already getting hooked. Some of the younger guys are sniffing around for it. Why are you asking?"

You shrug, trying to play it cool. "Just heard it mentioned. Thought it might be connected to some of the things I've been noticing. You don't think the Vipers are involved, do you?"

Hunter goes quiet, his face unreadable. Then he leans back, crossing his arms. "I don't know, and I'm not looking to find out. You shouldn't either. Percy's been getting into things outside of racing, and if Ghost Smoke's part of that, it's not something you or anyone else in the crew wants to be tangled up in."

You nod, though his answer doesn't satisfy you. Not because you don't believe him—but because you have this sinking feeling that the situation is bigger than either of you realize.

The conversation shifts after that, and the rest of the night passes with more casual banter. But the unease never fully leaves your mind.

"Looks like Madison's got a thing for you."

You raise an eyebrow, laughing lightly. "Mikey? That girl's never even cracked a smile at me. Pretty sure she barely tolerates me."

Hunter shrugs, smirking. "Nah, trust me. She was asking about you the other day in the garage."

Your brow furrows slightly. Was it because of what I asked about Percy? A small part of you wonders if Madison's caught onto your suspicions.

"And even during the Viper and Raven races, she was giving you these weird looks."

"What does that even mean, Hunter?" You roll your eyes, half-amused, half-worried.

He chuckles, clearly enjoying this too much. "Hell if I know, but winning that race definitely got you on some people's radar."

Maybe at one point, being on the radar of a few girls would've mattered to you, but not anymore.

————

While Hunter crashed on the couch, you spent the entire night tossing and turning in bed. If someone had told you a month ago that you'd be neck-deep in street races and shady dealings—all for the sake of a girl—you would have called them insane.

When dawn finally broke, you shuffled out of bed and headed into the kitchen, finding Hunter gone and your mom brewing a fresh pot of coffee.

"Morning, Mom," you yawn, stretching your arms out. "Did Hunter leave already?"

"You just missed him. He said he'd be back later," she replies with a gentle smile.

You hum in response, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, savoring the warmth. It was in these quiet, mundane moments that you hated the path you were on more than anything. Between the mess with Jenna, the unpredictability with Percy, and the weight of secrets and family legacies, you sometimes wished you could just be normal—not tangled up in rivalries or trying to make sense of feelings you didn't dare admit.

"You've changed," your mother's voice broke you out of your thoughts, catching you mid-sip.

"Changed?" You raise a brow, joining her at the dining table. "What do you mean?"

She sighs, studying you with a mix of curiosity and concern. "You seem... happier in some ways but also more stressed. Something's weighing on you."

You stare down at your coffee, catching your own reflection in its dark surface, letting your mother's words sink in. Of course she'd notice something different—you're her child. But she's right; you have changed. And now, in this rare quiet moment in the chaos your life has become over the past month, you're finally realizing just how much. You've changed so damn much—and the thought terrifies you, especially because you can't even pinpoint when it happened.

Or you do. And that was the scary part.

A month ago Anton told you to find what's your purpose, your drive. What makes your heart race. What's worth risking everything for.

But you'd been so careful, you tell yourself. You abandoned her the first night you met, didn't even share your name—but now, she's got far more than just a name. She's got you feeding her intel, leading her through Brimstone like her own personal guide, pulling you deeper into a world you swore you'd keep at arm's length.

When did it happen? When did you start dropping her home, buying each other jackets, eating ice cream together—and, hell, when did you start racing? Racing, something you'd vowed never to do. And now here you are, about to walk into a private meeting that likely involves drug lords fueling Brimstone's biggest epidemic—all because she needs leverage on Percy. Leverage to protect herself from some mystery he's holding over her, something she still won't tell you.

You try to rationalize. She's got leverage on you, too. She's got footage of you stealing her dad's car. But deep down, you know she'd only pulled that card to hook you in. She wouldn't actually use it. You knew that. You knew her.

Except—you didn't. You didn't really know a damn thing about this girl, yet here you are, throwing caution to the wind for her. Risking everything for her. Breaking your own rules, doing things you'd avoided for the past twenty years...all because of her. And all way too fast.

Maybe it's because you're finally sitting in front of your mom, and to her, you'll always be her little girl. And facing her now, all you can see is the woman who once opened the door to find cops there, telling her that her husband, the father of her nine-year-old kid, was dead. You remember watching her piece together her shattered heart, all while carrying the weight of resentment for the racing that took him. And now, somehow, you're part of it too. How could you put her through this?

"Y/n?"

Your mom's voice snaps you out of your thoughts, and you lift your gaze from your coffee to her face.

"I've been calling your name for a while now. What the hell is going on with you kid?" she asks concerned.

Everything you wished you could tell her was everything you couldn't. Everything she warned you to stay away from.

"Look I know I haven't been the best mom," she sighs. "But I did it because I care. I'm strict because I know how quickly things can go south in this shithole of a town."

"You're not a bad mom, stop—"

"I can tell there's something on your mind, I don't know if it's good or bad. But I want to know Y/n/n."

Just as you were about to respond your phone pinged and of course it was Jenna.

Hey Oil spillage, just got news that the meeting moved. It's on Friday at 10p.m. now.

Wonderful news. After the realizations you just had, you were not ready to face Jenna again. In fact you would rather anything but see her. And now you can avoid her for six more days. Without replying to her message, you turn off your phone and turn your attention to your mom.

"I guess I've just been thinking about my future and what that looks like." You decide to open up a little, seeing no apparent harm.

Your mom nods slowly, her brow furrowing slightly as she absorbs your words. "And I also have to consider the fact that we're in Brimstone," you add, your voice dropping a notch.

She looks at you intently, searching your face for clues. "I get that this place can feel limiting, Y/n. But remember, it doesn't have to define you. You have the power to change your path."

You take a sip of your coffee, contemplating her words. "It's just...sometimes it feels like I'm caught between what I want and what I should be doing."

"And what do you want?"

"I don't know! I don't know what I want," you finish, softer now.

She squints, registering the tension in your voice. "Then, what do you think you should be doing?"

Racing. The Club. The Sinners.

But you can't say that. Not to your anti-racing mom, but clearly your face says it for you.

"Y/n," she sighs. "There's no place for you in that life."

"You don't understand, Mom! It's easy on paper to say 'stay away.' But people talk. I'm the daughter of a founding member; they expect me to be part of this."

"And how exactly are you hearing all this talk?" she asks, voice tinged with sass. "I thought I told you to stay away from Anton and that whole club."

"I am!" you lie. "But people at the warehouse still talk," you lie again. "Is working in a warehouse really what you want for me? For the rest of my life?"

"If it keeps you out of that club, then yes, a thousand times over. That club killed your father. I don't get your fascination with it!"

"Maybe I like cars! Maybe I want to feel close to him by doing something that mattered to him. You never even talk about him," you say heatedly, pushing yourself back from the table.

"Sit back down," she says, rubbing her temples.

You sit, your frustration simmering.

Your mom's eyes, usually a fortress, softened with a sigh. "You're right, I don't talk about him much. Not because he wasn't worth it, but because it's painful. But let me tell you something about your dad, something I should've told you sooner."

A shadow of confusion crossed your face.

"He was a founder, sure," she admitted, a bitter smile playing at her lips. "One of the Y/l/n brothers who started this whole thing. But that's not the part of the story that matters. Not the part that should define how you see racing."

Your heart stilled, anticipation prickling at your skin. "What do you mean, then? What's the part I'm missing?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly, focusing on a memory only she could see. "Your dad wanted out."

The weight of her words hung between you, more jarring than the rumble of any engine. The idea of your father—the man who had seemingly built his entire world around speed, thrill, and the camaraderie of the club—wanting to leave felt impossible.

"What do you mean, 'out'?" you asked, the question barely a whisper.

She sighed, running a hand over her tired face. "He didn't start the club for the glory, Y/n. Not for the rush or to become some legend everyone would talk about. He did it because he felt trapped, and for a while, racing felt like freedom. But when things got bigger, more dangerous... he saw where it was heading. He knew it wasn't sustainable. He wanted out before it swallowed him whole."

You stared at her, trying to process this new version of the man you thought you knew. The stories you'd grown up on were all about victory, triumph, the unmatched skills of your father and the empire he helped build. But no one talked about the nights he lay awake, second-guessing the choices that led him there.

"Why didn't he leave, then?"

Her eyes glistened with a pain that seemed older than time, a sorrow she'd carried long. "He did, or... he was supposed to. That last race—the one that took him from us—it was meant to be his farewell. He promised me it would be the last time, that after that night, we would start over, somewhere far away from all of this."

You felt like the ground beneath you had shifted. The race that defined so much of your past, the race whispered about in awe and grief—it had been an ending, but not the kind you ever imagined.

"He was going to walk away?" you asked, your own voice thick with disbelief.

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, the weight of old promises and lost dreams shining in their depths. "Yes," she whispered, a tear finally breaking free and rolling down her cheek. "He was tired of what it had become—the danger, the violence, the way it devoured everything good. He wanted out for you, for us. But fate had other plans."

You looked at her, seeing not just your mother but a woman who had lost everything for the sake of someone else's ambition. The image of your father—legendary racer, fearless leader—began to fracture, replaced by the vision of a man who was trapped, fighting for freedom that never came.

"And now," she said, drawing a shaky breath, "you have to decide if you're going to chase his ghost, or choose a different path."

Suddenly, the image of racing, of the thrill that had always called to you, shifted. It wasn't just the adrenaline, the wind whipping past and the engine's roar. It was what lay beneath—the fear, the drive to outrun something that couldn't be escaped.

"So, what does that mean for me?" you asked quietly.

Her fingers tightened around her cup, eyes meeting yours with quiet intensity. "It means you decide if racing is freedom or a cage. For your dad, it became both. You don't owe this club anything."

You sat back, absorbing the truth. Racing had always felt like destiny, an inheritance carved into the fabric of who you were. But now, for the first time, it seemed less like a birthright and more like a choice—a choice you'd have to make on your own terms.

"Do you ever... want to get out of here?" you ask, almost too quietly, afraid of the answer. "Out of Brimstone?"

A question you should've asked your mother years ago, but is only leaving you now.

She raises her eyebrows, surprised by the question. It lingers in the air between you for a moment before she sighs, looking out the window to the tired streets beyond. "Sometimes," she says finally. "Sometimes I think about it, yeah. The way this place drags people in, holds them down... It scares me for you, Y/n. I don't want you trapped here. I want you to have options, a life that's bigger than this town."

"Then why do you stay?" you press, voice softer now.

A flicker of something unreadable crosses her face. "It's complicated," she says, her voice tinged with a weariness you hadn't noticed before. "Your father was here. This was where we met, built our lives, and after he... after everything, I felt like leaving would be... giving up on him. Like walking away from the one thing he was part of."

"But you don't owe this place anything," you say, echoing her earlier words back to her. "If it's just a memory keeping you here, then... maybe we both deserve better."

She nods slowly, her gaze returning to you, eyes softer, more vulnerable than you've seen in a while. "Maybe we do," she admits, voice barely a whisper. She makes a gesture with her hand of tapping a cigarette into an ash tray—a habit you noticed since you were a child. Something she does out of nervousness.

For the first time, it feels like you're seeing eye-to-eye, both carrying parts of the same burden—one that isn't really yours to carry. You've both been holding on, afraid of what letting go might mean.

You never thought you had a bad relationship with your mom. You both just worked and worked, trying to make a life for each other. Survival mode felt like autopilot—there was no time for bonding or deep conversations. Showing care meant keeping each other going, making sure you both were okay. Talking like this felt foreign, almost like a new skill you were both trying to learn. You wonder what prompted it, this sudden need to speak the things you both usually left unsaid

"So Hunter told me you had a girlfriend—"

You face palm, "for fuck sakes."

————

"Dude you told my mom I have a girlfriend?"

"She asked me if there was anyone special in your life!" He puts his hands up defensively.

You groan, feeling a wave of annoyance wash over you. What the hell are you supposed to tell your mom if she asks about this again? The image of her face pops into your mind. "Hey Mom, here's my supposed girlfriend I met at a race I snuck off to behind your back. Don't worry, she's not a Sinner—she's a Viper, though."

Luckily, Hunter had walked in earlier from whatever he'd been up to that morning, sparing you from answering your mom's question on the spot. Now, all you have to do is figure out what to say when she inevitably brings it up again.

It's still morning as you both settle into your room, falling into the familiar rhythm of your routine. You sprawl on your bed while he spins around in your chair, his energy infectious. Hunter dives into the latest gossip, animatedly sharing every detail, and you find yourself drifting in and out of his words, letting the sound of his voice wash over you.

You phone then starts ringing, and his voice suddenly stops. You glance at the screen, and let out a heavy sigh. You've really got to change her contact name.

"Who is it?" Hunter asks, hopping off the chair and leaning closer to your phone.

"Is she not your fave Viper anymore?" He jokes, sitting at the foot of your bed. "Come on, pick it up!"

You hesitate, staring at the screen as the name blinks back at you. The tension in the room shifts, Hunter's playful smirk fading as he senses your reluctance.

"Seriously? You're just going to let it ring?"

You shake your head, biting your lip. "I—I can't, Hunter. What do I even say?"

He leans forward, a look of mock seriousness on his face. "How about, 'Hey, Jenna, what's up? Oh me? I'm just living my perfectly normal life—definitely not spiraling into an identity crisis because of you?"

You roll your eyes but can't help the smile that threatens to break through. "You're ridiculous."

"Yeah, but you know I'm right," he insists, nudging your foot with his. "Just answer it! What's the worst that could happen?"

A million thoughts race through your mind, each one heavier than the last. You're scared of what her voice will bring up—the memories, the feelings, the undeniable shift in your life since you met her. "What if she wants to see me again?"

"Uh, hello?" he raises a brow, giving you a look. "Isn't that the best-case scenario? Getting cozy with your fine, rich Summer Valley girl?"

You hesitate again, and the ringing seems to grow louder. Hunter's eyes are wide, filled with mischief and encouragement. "Come on! Just answer it already!"

"Huh, looks like I can't anymore, the ringing stopped," you smile, relieved that the ringing was cut short.

Hunter's expression shifts from playful to incredulous. "What the fuck, man? Why didn't you answer?"

You shrug, but inside, a storm of emotions brews, each thought heavier than the last. Jenna represents everything you're trying to escape, and yet everything you're drawn toward. She's the pull of a world that's dangerous, one you've seen tear lives apart—your life apart. And every second you spend with her, it feels like you're slipping further down a path you might not come back from.

You can't let that happen.

"Because I can't keep doing this," you say, the words coming out softer than you'd intended. Each moment with her feels like a step away from the life you once knew, from the version of yourself that kept your family safe. You're drawn to Jenna, but she's also a stark reminder of how much you've changed, of how close you're getting to undoing everything your mom worked so hard to protect, everything your father was trying to leave.

She makes you feel alive in ways you haven't felt in years. But that feeling comes with a vulnerability you're not sure you can handle. If you keep this up, you'll lose more than just yourself—you'll risk letting down the family that depended on you to be the strong one. The thought sends a cold chill through you.

"I don't think I'm doing the right thing, Hunter."

Hunter lets out a quiet sigh, watching you closely. "You were doing alright last night. What's got you all worked up now?"

You hesitate, the weight of it clawing at you. Saying it out loud feels like crossing a line you can't come back from. "Things just... feel different," you say, voice barely audible. "I've been doing things I never thought I would, getting in deeper than I should. I don't even recognize myself anymore."

Hunter frowns, studying you. "You're not a completely different person just because you're out there racing. Isn't this what you wanted?"

"It's not just about racing." You rub your face, trying to calm the frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Jenna's got this... hold over me. She's made me cross lines I thought I'd never touch. She's tied up in a world I swore I'd stay away from."

Hunter's gaze softens, like he's trying to understand. "Maybe she's just got you seeing things differently. Doesn't mean you're losing yourself."

But that's the problem—you can feel yourself losing your grip, and the need to push her away rises, desperate, like an instinct. You know that the closer you get to Jenna, the deeper you risk sinking into something that could destroy you both. "Maybe it's better if I keep my distance," you murmur, more to yourself than to him. "I can't let this go any further. She's in the Vipers, and that's not a world I can afford to be part of."

Hunter shakes his head, not fully understanding. "So you're just going to shut her out? Because of some fear? Even if she hasn't been around long, what you two have—it's something real—"

"No." You cut him off, a hint of desperation in your tone. "What I have with her isn't real. Not really. We just thought... we could help each other. But that's all it is."

Even as you say it, though, you can feel the lie settle in your chest, heavier than you expected.

Hunter doesn't know the whole story with Jenna and Percy, or how you got roped into digging up dirt on him. You bite your tongue, stopping yourself from saying too much. A part of you wishes you could tell him, though—because if he knew you were supposedly getting mixed up in things like Ghost Smoke, he'd be the first one pushing you to cut Jenna out of your life for good.

"Alright, let me ask you this," he says, leaning forward. "You've had your first race, you were technically a Sinner. But from what you're saying, it sounds like you've made up your mind. So, what—you're sticking to your car hijacking ways, no racing, right?"

You hesitate—even after everything your mom has told you today, and he catches it.

"There's still a part of you that wants it, Y/n. You're not sure, and that's okay. This isn't about you changing; it's about something else. Unless you can look me in the eye and say you're completely done with this racing stuff, I don't see why you have to push her away."

You don't know why either. Maybe this wasn't about racing entirely and how much you've changed. But it feels foolish now to drag yourself deeper into this world after learning your dad died trying to leave it. Point is, you need to step back before you lose yourself completely.

And as much as it hurts to admit, that might mean losing the girl who makes your heart race. Looks like you found what makes your heart race, but not what's worth risking everything for.

————

"So, should I throw the microwave at your head now or later?"

Jenna tears her gaze away from her phone, frowning at her sister. "What are you even talking about, Aliyah?"

Aliyah grins, enjoying the confusion on her sister's face. "You don't remember? You told me ages ago that if you ever fell for someone again—or got caught waiting on a text—I should throw a microwave at your head."

Jenna sighs, the memory of that ridiculous pact making her groan. "Yeah, well... Wait—hold on. I am not falling for anybody!"

Aliyah raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh. Says the girl who's been glued to her phone all day waiting on a text. Sounds exactly like someone not falling for anybody."

Jenna scoffs, rolling her eyes, but she can't hide the faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'm just... checking my messages. It's not that deep."

Aliyah chuckles. "Right. Not that deep. Just let me know when to start unplugging the microwave."

The older of the two shakes her head, a small smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "You're so dramatic."

"I just know you too well. Face it, sis—you're hooked."

Jenna scoffs, though her expression softens. "It's... complicated," she admits quietly, her fingers grazing the edge of her phone. "She's—" She stops, catching herself. She's. But she's not about to explain all that to Aliyah.

"Complicated?" Aliyah finishes, feigning shock. "You? In something complicated? Never."

"Okay, fine, enough!" Jenna laughs, trying to brush off her nerves. But her sister's words stick with her. She can't ignore the fact that she's thinking about her way more than she should be. And she knows all too well that if Percy found out, it would be a whole new problem.

Aliyah flops onto the bed, scrolling through her phone with a satisfied grin, fully aware that she's already planted the seed.

The Viper tries to focus on something else, anything else, but her mind keeps drifting back. "You're hooked."

Aliyah tilts her head, watching Jenna with a knowing look. "You don't even deny it. Whoever this person is, they've got you in knots."

Jenna rolls her eyes, trying to dismiss it, but the truth settles heavily in her chest. "It's not like that," she says, almost to herself. "It can't be."

Aliyah raises an eyebrow. "Why not? Because of Dad? Or because of that sleaze Percy?"

Jenna's jaw tightens at the mention of the men, and she looks away, fighting the urge to share too much about her mystery Brimstone girl. "Let's just say... it's not as simple as having someone in your life and calling it a day," she says finally.

Aliyah's playful demeanor fades a bit, sensing the weight in Jenna's voice. "Jenna... are you in some kind of trouble?"

For a moment, Jenna considers coming clean, but she shakes her head, forcing a smile. "When am I not in trouble?"

Aliyah's smile falters slightly, guilt seeping through her playful demeanor. She shifts in her seat, Jenna wouldn't even know this kind of trouble if it weren't for her.

Jenna catches the look in her sister's eyes and instantly regrets her words.

"Aliyah, don't," she says softly, the tension in the room shifting. "You know I don't blame you."

"I know, but I can't help feeling responsible," Aliyah whispers, looking down at her hands. The unspoken reality—that Jenna's entanglement with the Vipers was to shield Aliyah—lingered between them, heavier than any words.

"Dad shouldn't have made you—"

Jenna reaches out, squeezing her sister's hand. "We're in this together, remember? Whatever happens, I'm the one who chose to stay."

Aliyah looks up, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "But it's not fair. You shouldn't have to carry this for me."

Jenna offers a small, sad smile. "Family isn't about fair. It's about being there, no matter what."

Aliyah's shoulders slump as she bites her lower lip, a familiar crease forming on her brow. The guilt that's been gnawing at her shows clearly in her eyes, and Jenna's heart clenches at the sight.

"I hate this," Aliyah whispers, her voice wavering. "Every time you walk out that door, I keep wondering if you're coming back. And it's because of me."

Jenna's tough facade cracks, and she leans forward, wrapping an arm around Aliyah's shoulders. "Hey, don't go there," she murmurs. The words are steady, meant to reassure, but the tightness in her chest betrays her. For a moment, she lets herself imagine a life free of this cycle—a life where neither of them has to look over their shoulder.

"I won't be stuck for long," Jenna finally admits, a determined edge creeping into her voice. She pulls back just enough to look Aliyah in the eyes, hoping to pass on some of that conviction. "I'm working on something, alright? This isn't forever."

Aliyah searches Jenna's face, her eyes widening with hope and hints of disbelief. "You mean it?"

Jenna nods, "I mean it. I promise."

Suddenly the sadness in Aliyah's expression is replaced with a smirk, "Does she have anything to do with it?" she asks glancing at her sister's phone.

"Don't change the subject," Jenna says, trying to sound stern but unable to keep the corner of her mouth from quirking up.

Aliyah's smirk grows, the earlier heaviness giving way to something warmer, more familiar. "I knew it. Your mystery girl isn't just another risk, is she?"

Jenna rolls her eyes but can't fully suppress a small, reluctant smile. "It's complicated, Ali. She's... well, she's a lot more than I expected."

Probably the biggest risk of all, Jenna thought

Aliyah's smirk softens into a genuine smile. "Good. You deserve more than this mess, Jen."

Jenna's heart tightens at her sister's words. "Yeah," she whispers, more to herself than to Aliyah. "Maybe I do."

Suddenly an idea stirs into the younger Ortega's mind. In a swift motion, her hand darts out and snatches Jenna's phone from the bed. Before Jenna can fully process what's happening, Aliyah is already on her feet, eyes dancing with mischief as she clutches the phone to her chest like a prize.

"Aliyah!" Jenna's voice sharpens "Seriously? Hand it over."

Aliyah tilts her head playfully, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Relax, big sister. Just checking if your mystery girl left a love note or two."

Jenna takes a step forward, trying to maintain her composure as she reaches out for the phone. "I mean it, Ali. Give. It. Back."

Aliyah shifts her weight, effortlessly dodging Jenna's reach as she chuckles. Taking advantage of the height, she holds the phone above her head, reading the chat messages. "Greaser? Pet names already?"

"Aliyah."

"Left on read for almost three hours? And here I thought you had game."

"I don't like her."

"Sure you don't," Aliyah teases, tapping the screen. "Let's see if your non-existent feelings show up when I—"

Before she can finish, the familiar ringing tone starts, and Jenna's heart drops. Aliyah's eyes widen with mock surprise. "Oops. Guess we'll see soon enough."

"Aliyah!" Jenna lunges, grabbing the phone from her sister's hand after the phone rang for a while. Without hesitation, she swiftly hits the end call button. The silence that follows crackles with tension as Jenna clutches the phone, her face flushed.

Aliyah bursts out laughing. "Wow, if that's not feelings, I don't know what is."

Jenna takes a steadying breath, unable to mask the way her pulse races. "It's not like that," she insists, more to herself than to her sister.

She couldn't help but wonder why you didn't answer your phone. You had more than enough time to answer the phone while it was ringing.

————

Two days have passed since you left Jenna's call unanswered. The rhythmic clinking of tools filled the garage as you worked tirelessly on your latest project—the stolen Aston Martin. For the past two days, the garage had been your refuge, the metallic smell of oil offering a sense of your old routine amidst the chaos. In that span, you had buried yourself in work, starting early in the morning and ending late into the night, determined to keep your mind from straying.

You stepped back to study the Aston Martin, now wrapped in a deep green that gleamed under the fluorescent lights. The change from the initial black colour was supposed to help, to make the car feel less like a painful reminder of her. But as you ran your hand over the freshly smoothed surface, sighing at the ghost of memories it evoked, you realized that nothing had changed. No matter how much you worked, every inch of that car still spoke her name.

Your phone buzzed on the workbench, a sharp intrusion that pulled your attention. A name lit up the screen—Jenna's. A message providing you the address of the meeting, nothing else. Seeing her message made your chest ache with a guilt you tried to ignore. You glanced at the glowing screen, your resolve wavering for a moment before you shoved the phone into a drawer, the metallic clang echoing in the small space.

Out of sight, out of mind.

As you smoothed out the last stubborn air pockets on the Aston Martin's fresh wrap, the sound of footsteps echoed in the garage. It was nearly 1 a.m. and no one should be around at this hour.

"Y/n?"

You turned at the familiar voice, eyes narrowing slightly before recognition softened your expression. "Mikey?"

She walked toward you, eyes curious as they swept over the car. "What are you doing here so late?" she asked, curiosity lacing her voice.

You shrugged, forcing a nonchalant tone. "Just working on a car. Needed the distraction. And you?"

Mikey tilted her head, not satisfied with the answer. "I felt like going for a drive. Thought I'd stop by first."

Her gaze shifted between you and the green Aston Martin, catching the tension in the air.

"This is the car you rolled up in with your girl right? What was on the surveillance?"

Ahh yes my girl. Now you need to come up with a believable break up story for the crew.

You clenched your jaw at her question, the mention of Jenna sending a pang through your chest. "Uh, yeah," you muttered, hoping to keep the conversation brief. Mikey's sharp intuition wasn't something to underestimate.

"Trouble in paradise?"

You sigh, "something like that, I don't really want to talk about it."

Mikey nods carefully, and deliberates her next words before speaking, "Did you want to join me on my driv—

"Okay I brought Chinese!" Hunter's voice booms through the garage.

Hunter set the bags down on a nearby workbench, the crinkling of paper and the scent of takeout breaking the heavy silence. He glanced between you and Mikey, sensing the charged atmosphere and shooting you a raised brow.

"Am I interrupting something?" Hunter asked, his usual playful tone laced with curiosity as he tossed a napkin your way.

You caught it mid-air, forcing a smirk to hide the knot in your chest. "Just working late," you replied, shrugging as if that explained everything.

Mikey's expression softened, the slight edge from moments ago replaced with a grin. "Nope, you're just in time. I was about to drag Y/n out for a drive," she said, her voice lighter now, as if trying to pull you into an easier conversation.

Hunter's brows lifted. "Oh? That's a miracle. She's been glued to that car for the last 48 hours" he teased, nudging your arm.

The mention of the past few days made your stomach tighten. You hadn't told Hunter or anyone else why you'd been so buried in work. The truth was, it kept you from thinking about Jenna. The guilt, the confusion—it all seemed simpler when muffled under the sound of engines and the smell of oil.

Mikey leaned against the Aston Martin, folding her arms. "Come on, you've been cooped up in here long enough. What's a quick drive gonna hurt?"

Before you could answer, Hunter grabbed a takeout container and tossed another to you. "Food first, you too Mikey. And then drive second," he said with a grin. "Don't think we'll let you skip out on both."

You took the container, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. Maybe stepping away from the garage—and everything it represented—would be good for you. Even if just for a moment.

You could tell a lot about a person from how they drove, and never in a million years did you think Mikey would be a careful driver. She would teeter on surpassing street limits, but was a relatively relaxed and smooth driver.

The car rolled through the night, the city gradually giving way to quieter roads framed by dark silhouettes of trees. A comfortable silence settled among the three of you, broken only by Hunter's occasional commentary and Mikey's bursts of laughter when he cracked a particularly absurd joke.

"Remember that time you tried to drive with only three wheels?" Hunter leaned forward from the back seat, his eyes dancing with mischief. "You swore it would work."

You chuckled despite yourself, shaking your head at the memory. "And you were the one who dared me to, you idiot."

Mikey laughed, the sound deep and genuine. "And you actually tried it? That's commitment."

"Or stupidity," Hunter added, and the three of you erupted into laughter that carried through the night, momentarily easing the tension that had wrapped itself around your chest for days.

The conversation meandered through old stories and lighthearted teasing as the car hummed smoothly down the open road. But then, in a pause between topics, Mikey glanced sideways at you, her gaze more serious. "So, do you plan on racing again anytime soon?"

The question hung in the air, a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Before you could respond, Hunter's smirk dropped. He leaned back in his seat, his voice more subdued. "Don't bother, Mads. She doesn't know."

Your eyes flicked to Mikey, watching her reaction. She didn't miss the slight hesitation in your expression, the way your hands clenched. Her brow furrowed, a mixture of concern and curiosity flashing across her face.

"Still figuring it out, huh?" she said softly. "If you haven't made up your mind yet and you're not already back on the track, it's probably a no."

You kept your gaze on the road, the rhythmic whoosh of the wind outside acting as a buffer for your thoughts. Mikey's insight stung more than you'd admit; she was right. Your lack of being back on the track had to mean something.

"Maybe," you said finally, offering no real answer. Hunter glanced between you and Mikey.

Mikey settled back in her seat, a subtle understanding flickering in her eyes as her expression softened. "Trust me," she said, her voice calm yet pointed. "Most racers, when they're trying to get something off their mind, they hit the streets and push their limits. But you? You're here, spending your nights working on a car. That says a lot about where you really want to be."

She was the first person to openly discourage you from racing, and you couldn't help but appreciate it. It felt different, almost liberating—a break from the endless pressure to prove yourself. For once, someone saw the side of you that wasn't caught up in the thrill, and it was a relief.

But there was also that suspicious part of you. Mikey was close to Anton, and she knew how much Anton wanted you in the crew. Does she fear that you'll replace her spot in the club if you join? You brush off your intrusive thoughts and try to enjoy the rest of your drive.

————

Two more days had passed since Jenna had sent the text with the updated meeting address, and the silence on the other end gnawed at her. She leaned against the balcony railing outside her room, eyes skimming the darkened city skyline in the distance each blinking light a reminder of how life pulsed and moved without pause.

The air was crisp, biting against her skin as she shivered, but it did nothing to numb the restless ache in her chest. She scrolled back through the last messages, the words on the screen staring back at her like a mockery of the certainty she'd once felt. It wasn't like you to go this long without responding, but then again what did she know about you? You were the definition of uncertainty, you couldn't figure your own shit out how could you help with hers. She should've seen the red flags for your ghosting tendencies from the first time you met. You had no reason to help her, there was no personal gain.

Aliyah's voice broke through her thoughts, calling from inside. "Jenna, you're doing it again."

Jenna blinked, tearing her gaze from the phone as Aliyah stepped out onto the balcony, eyes filled with concern.

"You're still thinking about her, aren't you?" Aliyah's tone was soft, not judgmental, but knowing.

Jenna sighed, slipping her phone into her pocket as if hiding it would erase the gnawing uncertainty. "I can't help it. Something's off. She's... pulling away, I can feel it."

Aliyah's expression shifted, guilt briefly clouding her features before she masked it with a small, encouraging smile. "Maybe she just needs time. You know how it is—this life, this... chaos we're in. It's not easy."

Jenna met her sister's eyes, searching for reassurance that felt out of reach. "Yeah, maybe." But it wasn't enough. Aliyah didn't know the extent of your relationship. How you were going to help her get dirt on Percy. How you were her best bet.

Jenna had noticed for a while now that Percy was spending a lot more time in Brimstone, and that anything she could find would be found in that shady town.

"I saw the messages with her... something about a meeting? If she won't go with you, maybe I could?" Aliyah ventured, her tone eager but tentative.

Jenna's reaction was immediate, sharp. "Absolutely not. It's too dangerous."

Aliyah crossed her arms, a defiant glint in her eyes. "Come on, Jenna. It could be good to do something together for once."

"I'm serious, Aliyah. This isn't up for discussion. It's not safe," Jenna said, her voice firm, eyes blazing with protectiveness.

Aliyah lifted her chin, stubbornness radiating from her. "Too late. I don't care," she declared, turning on her heel and striding out before Jenna could argue.

"Aliyah, wait—"

Jenna's phone pinged, jolting her from the tense silence that followed Aliyah's departure. For a split second, hope fluttered in her chest—a foolish, fragile thing—as she thought it might be you, breaking the days of silence that gnawed at her. But that hope quickly crumbled as she glanced at the screen.

It was from Percy.

Get yourself dolled up. Race tomorrow night. Be there. And you're on my arm. Look the part, don't embarrass me.

Jenna stared at the messages, her fingers itching to throw the phone across the room. He knew exactly how much he got under her skin and used it at every opportunity. And tonight was no different; he needed her there, not just as a racer, but as his accessory, some trophy to drape over his arm. Like she was at the Sinner race almost a month ago. It was a power move, one he'd pulled too many times, trying to keep her bound to him and his schemes.

Another ping. Don't even think about bailing. You know what happens when I'm not happy.

Jenna scoffed, fingers hovering over the keyboard. She could imagine Percy already preening in the mirror, smugly counting on her to show up, loyal and subservient as always. She could almost hear his oily tone, the mock concern he would flash when she hesitated, only to follow it with another thinly veiled threat. Percy loved to remind her how "lucky" she was that he'd given her a place in the Vipers—and what a shame it would be to lose it.

Jenna pushed away from the railing, the metallic chill of it seeping through her skin as she stood upright. The city lights looked dull now, swallowed by the storm brewing in her mind. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, a part of her tempted to tell Percy to shove it. But she knew better. Defying him could mean losing her only leverage, the tiny foothold she had in this game of shadows and lies.

With a sharp sigh, she typed out a reply, each keystroke feeling like a betrayal to herself.

Swallowing her disgust, she replied. Fine. I'll be there.

It was almost too easy to imagine the smirk that would be stretching across his face as he read her reply. She could feel her muscles tense, a quiet storm brewing beneath the surface, made worse by the fact that she'd lost any sign of you as a reprieve.

The phone slipped back into her pocket, but the weight of it pressed heavier than ever. The ache in her chest turned sharper, a reminder that even though she needed you, even though you were the one who was supposed to stand beside her, the silence between you spoke volumes. She just wished it wasn't so deafening.

Her eyes drifted to the hallway where Aliyah had disappeared moments before. She couldn't let her sister get pulled deeper into this mess, not when it felt like she was barely holding her own head above water. Yet, with every passing moment, the line between protecting the people she loved and keeping them at a distance grew blurrier. And Percy's summons felt like another shove towards the edge she was already teetering on.

Tomorrow night, she'd play the role. But Jenna swore, as she stared out at the city, that she would find a way out of this tangled mess.

Aliyah popped back into the room, her eyes bright but cautious as she took in Jenna's guarded stance. "Hey, so, the family's heading out to catch a movie right now. Are you coming?" Her tone was light, hopeful even, as if she already anticipated the answer but wanted to hear it anyway.

Jenna's gaze shifted to her sister, the corners of her mouth pulling into a tight line. The unspoken question lingered between them, though Aliyah's expression faltered as she awaited an answer.

"Is Dad going?" Jenna's voice came out sharper than she intended, and Aliyah's smile dimmed slightly.

"Yeah, he is," Aliyah admitted, her eyes darting down for a moment before meeting Jenna's again, trying to read her sister's mood.

Jenna's jaw tensed as she looked past Aliyah, the weight of years of resentment and disappointment pressing down like a vice. "Then no," she said flatly, the finality in her voice leaving no room for argument.

Aliyah's face fell, but she nodded, understanding etched into her features. She didn't push, didn't try to convince Jenna otherwise. The silence between them grew heavy, filled with all the things they weren't saying.

"Okay," Aliyah said softly, turning to leave. But before she stepped out, she cast one last glance over her shoulder, eyes shadowed with a mix of concern and quiet resignation. "Just... don't stay up all night, okay?"

Jenna forced a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Yeah. I won't."

But as Aliyah's footsteps faded down the hall, Jenna knew she was lying. The night was already hers to wrestle with, haunted by the things she couldn't change and the person she wished she didn't need.

————

Before you knew it, Friday had arrived—the day of the meeting. The meeting you weren't planning to attend. You started your day the same way you had over the past few days—in the garage.

You had been avoiding your phone all morning, afraid of what new messages might appear. Each buzz was a test of your resolve, a reminder that giving in would undo everything you had decided. You needed to stay strong, keep your distance, and not let the past pull you back in.

The project car in front of you demanded all your attention. You poured every ounce of focus into it, the sleek curves of the Aston Martin glistening under the dim garage lights. Tonight, you were determined to take it out for a spin, using it as an excuse to push out the stress gnawing at your mind.

The garage was unusually quiet, lacking its usual bustle. The regulars, including Anton and Mikey, were conspicuously absent, skipping their usual stops at the garage. You welcomed the peace; the last thing you needed was their relentless teasing about the car's dubious origins.

The sound of footsteps broke the monotony, and you didn't need to look up to know it was Hunter.

"Got a minute?" His voice came from the doorway, casual but laced with concern.

You nodded, wiping your hands on a rag before tossing it aside and standing up. "Yeah, what's up?"

"So you're really done with Jenna?" he asks wasting no time.

You couldn't even bring yourself to say the words.

"I'm hoping the drive with Madison the other day doesn't mean yes," he frowns. "I don't think she's right for you."

"Neither do I dude. I never said I wanted anything with Mikey. We literally all went on a friendly drive, nothing more."

"Good, she kind of gives me an off vibe," he shares. "I mean, she's cool and all, but there's just something... I don't know. 

Hunter leans against the workbench, studying you. "But that still leaves Jenna," he says, quieter now. "Are you sure cutting her off is what you really want?"

Your chest tightens, and you look away, focusing on the glint of metal on the project car. "I don't know," you admit. "But staying away feels like the only way to keep things from going up in flames."

Hunter's eyes narrow with concern, but then he smirks, the corner of his mouth curling up. "Just don't forget—sometimes running from the fire only makes it burn hotter when it catches up," he finishes with a wink.

You roll your eyes, but a small chuckle escapes despite the tension in your chest. "Trust you to turn everything into a dramatic line."

————

Hunter left around the 6 p.m. mark and time slipped through your fingers, and before you knew it, the clock had struck 8 p.m. The Aston Martin stood before you, polished and ready. It looked solid, steady—exactly what you needed. Without a second thought, you grabbed the keys, took a breath to steady your nerves, and slid into the driver's seat. Tonight, it would be just you, the car, and the open road.

You eased the car through the streets of Brimstone, your hands gripping the wheel, your mind drifting as you weaved through the winding roads. The town looked different at night—darker, quieter, with the occasional flicker of neon signs casting long shadows on the empty streets. You passed by abandoned buildings, alleyways where the stray figures of drug addicts huddled together, their glazed eyes staring into the nothingness that had consumed them. They barely registered your presence, too lost in their own world.

You drove without a clear destination, allowing the car to take you wherever it wanted to go. The sound of tires on asphalt was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. The rush of the road beneath you, the flicker of streetlights, the occasional blur of other cars passing by—it was all you needed. Just you and the road.

And then your mind went to her. Of course it did. How could it not when you were sitting in this car. You were fooling yourself by thinking a single car wrap can get the job done.

You remembered the day you took this car, how you spilled your guts to her in the midst of your chaos. The way she'd listened—really listened—and kissed your cheek when you dropped her off. The memory was so vivid, you could almost feel her lips on your skin again.

She should be heading to the meeting now. The one you weren't going to attend. The one she was walking into, blind. No idea what it was really about, no clue what she was getting herself into. Alone.

For all you knew, she thought Ghost Smoke was some sort of cereal. But no. You knew better than that. She wasn't stupid. She was smart, and she could handle herself. You tried to tell yourself that, tried to calm your racing thoughts. She could handle herself. She would be fine. Nothing bad would happen.

But even as you tried to convince yourself, the doubt crept back in. The image of her walking into that meeting—unprepared, vulnerable—made your stomach churn. You couldn't help but picture the worst. What if they used her? What if she got caught up in something deeper than either of you realized?

But then, as you took a sharp turn, you found yourself on the road you hadn't meant to be on. The track.

The place where it all went down.

You didn't intend to end up here. Not tonight. But there it was, the race track standing still under the muted glow of the moon, the outline of the old fence barely visible against the darkness. The stories rushed back like a wave—your father, Anton's dad, both gone in an instant after the crash that took their lives. The race had been their last, the night that changed everything.

You slowed as you approached the entrance, the cars long gone. There was no movement, no sign of life, just the emptiness that had followed the tragedy. The track had been abandoned ever since. The Sinners stopped racing there out of respect, unwilling to return to the place that had claimed so much.

You parked the car on the side of the road. For a long moment, you just sat there, the hum of the engine ticking down as the silence of the night pressed in. The weight of the past, of your father's legacy, of everything you thought you knew about this town and the racing world, settled on your shoulders.

You couldn't help but feel the ghosts of the past watching, waiting, taunting you—what are you going to do Y/n?

You shifted the car into drive, the road ahead a blur.

————

"Can you not be mad at me anymore please?"

Jenna rolls her eyes, frustration evident in her posture. "I told you not to come. I seriously can't believe you followed me here."

Aliyah huffs, crossing her arms. "You're in this mess because of me, and god forbid I want to help! It's not like your girlfriend was dying to come with you, so you should at least be grateful I'm here."

Jenna's stomach clenches at the mention of girlfriend, but she holds her tongue. She's too tired for this. She could've corrected Aliyah for the thousandth time, but it wasn't worth the fight now. Better to focus on getting this over with. At least until this little mission was done, she needed to push all thoughts of you to the back of her mind.

You're not here anyway. You're not helping her anymore.

Aliyah continues, clearly trying to lighten the tension, but there's a note of sarcasm in her voice. "Seriously, there's no way you're not happy I'm here. Look at this place!" She gestures toward the imposing, dark warehouse ahead, a shudder running through her as she takes it in. "It's straight out of a horror movie."

Jenna doesn't disagree. The place does feel like something out of a nightmare. She can feel the resentment bubbling inside her, a sharp, unwanted feeling that she tries to push away but can't. How dare you ghost her, leave her to face this alone? If you were here, Aliyah wouldn't be, and maybe she wouldn't feel so exposed, so vulnerable. But you aren't, and her little sister is. The sting of abandonment hangs in the air, heavier than the looming shadow of the warehouse ahead.

Jenna sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in from all sides. With one final glance at the door to the meeting place, her shoulders slumped in resignation. "Fine," she muttered, voice tinged with exhaustion. "But stay close, stay quiet. Don't do anything stupid."

Aliyah gave a small, relieved nod. "You've got my word."

Jenna leads the way into the dark warehouse, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the cold, concrete floor. The place is completely abandoned, with broken windows casting faint, eerie light into the room. There's nothing in sight but dust and the lingering smell of stale air.

Aliyah looks around nervously, her eyes darting from corner to corner, but all she can see are the dim shadows creeping along the walls. The place feels like a ghost town, unsettlingly empty.

"Is this really the right place?" Aliyah's voice is low, the uncertainty clear in her tone.

Jenna pauses, squinting into the darkness, trying to make sense of the scene. She's not sure why the meeting is set up like this, or why it feels like they're walking into the unknown, but she can't let herself doubt now. "Yeah," she answers, her voice steady but with a hint of something unspoken. "This is it."

They keep walking, the air growing colder as they venture deeper into the warehouse. Aliyah keeps glancing at her sister, confusion written across her face. "What exactly is this meeting about?" she asks, her voice tinged with concern. "I mean, what's going on here? Is this about the club or—?"

Jenna cuts her off, shaking her head slightly, her gaze focused ahead. "Don't worry about it," she says, her tone sharp and final. "Just stay close."

And then, they saw him.

He was standing in the far corner of the warehouse, facing away from them, his silhouette sharp against the dim light filtering in through the broken windows. Dressed all in black, his figure was imposing in a way that sent a chill down Jenna's spine. He hadn't noticed them yet.

Instinctively, both sisters ducked behind a stack of old, dusty boxes, their breath held as they exchanged a look. The quiet tension between them thickened, and in that moment, everything felt so much more real—so much more dangerous.

On the phone, the man spoke with a low, almost mechanical tone. "Yes, boss. I'm the first one here, waiting on the other two."

Jenna made a mental note on the words. So this was a meeting between three people. Percy would be one of them.

Aliyah's voice was barely a whisper. "Do you know who that is?"

Jenna didn't answer at first. Her eyes stayed fixed on the man, analyzing his every movement, trying to make sense of the situation. Finally, she shook her head. No, she didn't know him. But something about this felt wrong—like they were in deeper than they had anticipated.

She reached out, squeezing Aliyah's hand tightly to calm her nerves. "Stay quiet," she murmured. There was no turning back now.

Jenna's heart skipped a beat when the door creaked open, and two figures stepped into the dim light. Percy walked in first, his usual calm confidence unmistakable, but it was the figure beside him that made Jenna's breath catch in her throat.

She remembered seeing him at the Raven race. The night you were racing. What the hell was he doing here? Her mind raced, the weight of the situation crashing down harder than before. Why was he with Percy?  Was he the club leader? This meeting was about something far worse than she could have imagined.

Aliyah's grip on her hand tightened, her eyes wide with uncertainty and fear. But Jenna couldn't look away. She barely registered the tension in her sister's hand, too focused on the strange alliance before her.

Without a word, Percy and the Raven exchanged brief glances before walking further into the warehouse with the mysterious person in all black. The air around them seemed to thicken, the sound of their voices indistinguishable.

Jenna's pulse quickened as her instincts screamed that she needed to get closer, to hear more.

She crouched low, glancing over at Aliyah with an intense, silent plea. "Stay here," she whispered sharply, her voice low but firm, knowing the weight of the situation.

Aliyah nodded, her face pale with fear.

Jenna barely gave her sister another glance before she began moving, silent as a shadow, staying low to the ground as she crept closer to the three men. 

But the floor of the warehouse wasn't as kind as she hoped. Her foot caught on a jagged edge, and in an instant, her body lurched forward, her heart skipping a beat.

Time slowed, the rush of panic surged through her, and in that split second, her heart seized with terror. She was going to fall—she was going to make a noise and blow their cover. Aliyah was going to be in danger.

She braced for the inevitable crash, for the sound of her body hitting the ground and the betrayal of her hiding place.

But just as the world tilted beneath her, strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her back from the brink. Her heart raced, her breath catching in her throat. She blinked, disoriented, but when she looked up, her world seemed to freeze.

There you were, standing in front of her, holding her steady. The realization hit her like a punch to the gut. You were here. You had come for her.

In the six days you had ghosted her, Jenna had planned what she was going to do if she ever saw you again. First was a slap, possibly the silent treatment—a taste of your own medicine. She even toyed with the idea of keying one of your cars. But falling into your embrace, wrapping her arms around your neck and letting out a sigh of relief was certainly not part of the plan.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You could feel her breath against your chest, soft and steady, and despite everything, her warmth was exactly what you needed.

Jenna pulled back slightly, her hands lingering on your arms as she looked up at you, her eyes searching for something—answers, maybe, or just reassurance. She was still upset with your disappearing act. "You really are something," she muttered, her voice softer than usual, almost vulnerable.

You couldn't find the right words, not when your heart was racing from the sudden rush of emotions. Instead, you simply nodded, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, a quiet acknowledgment of everything unspoken between you. "We'll talk afterwards," you whispered.

She nodded, knowing you both have a bigger issue to deal with at the present moment.  You notice Jenna worriedly glance behind you and you follow her gaze to see another girl you've never seen before.

Jenna noticed the fear that was once on her sister's face melted into a mischievous grin as she looked at her, raising an eyebrow and pointing a finger at you while mouthing, Greaser?

You'll have to figure out who that is later, but for now you take your attention away from the girl who is very close to you, and look up at the scene in front of you. Pissy, the Raven crew leader, and an unfamiliar man.

“Who thought holding the meeting here was a good idea?” Percy muttered, annoyance dripping from his tone as he glanced at the dust clinging to his shoes.

“We can’t afford any slip-ups,” the unknown man replied curtly. “Let’s keep this brief.”

The Raven crew leader smirked, eyes glinting in the dim warehouse light. “We’ve already pushed about fifty keys of Ghost Smoke into Brimstone over the past two weeks,” he said, voice smooth but full of intent. “No hiccups, no heat—just a steady stream. And trust me, the streets are starting to bite. By the time the next batch hits, they’ll be begging for more.”

"Okay, and you Percy? How's the Vipers' distribution going?"

You clenched your jaw as the conversation confirmed your worst suspicions. These guys were flooding Brimstone with product, exploiting the town's vulnerable, turning the Brimstoners into their playthings. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Jenna stealthily recording the exchange between the three men, every tense word.

Percy shifted uneasily, a flash of frustration in his eyes. "We've moved about eight keys so far," he said tightly, the disappointment in his voice evident. The number wasn't enough compared to the Raven's progress. "It’s not easy for a Viper to operate on Sinner territory without drawing attention."

"Maybe if you'd stop cozying up to your girl at races and focus on your job, things would be different," the unknown man snapped, his tone biting.

His girl?

"Relax," Percy retorted, his voice strained but defiant. "No one wants Brimstone to become a zombieland more than I do. Some of those Sinners have been getting way too fucking cocky."

Jacob, the Raven leader, let out a low chuckle and placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Easy there," he said, smirking at the unknown man. "I can’t blame the guy. It’s hard to stay focused when your girl’s a knockout like that." He finishes with a whistle.

A whispered "ew" sounded behind you, and you felt Jenna tense, a silent fury radiating from her. Anger roared in your chest. Not only were these men scheming to drown Brimstone in Ghost Smoke, but now they were talking about Jenna like she was just another trophy. The rage that simmered inside you sharpened into a razor's edge.

But now was not the time to get angry. You had to remain calm, get all the info you can and get the fuck out of there.

Jacob, the Raven leader, crossed his arms, his gaze sharp as he looked between Percy and the unknown man. “And what if this operation doesn’t go as planned? What happens if someone decides to interfere? I know you tried this once and failed.”

The tension in the room crackled like static. The unknown man’s expression darkened, a slow, menacing smile creeping across his face. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” he said, voice low and chilling. “We wouldn’t want a repeat of Bullet and Apex.”

You freeze.

But before you could fully process the implication, a sudden noise shattered the silence about 15 meters to your left.

“Hey! Who’s there?” one of the men barked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Heart thundering, you whipped your head in the direction of the sound and spotted the familiar mop of curls.

Hunter.

He was crouched low, eyes wide with a reckless determination that sent a jolt of both dread and relief through you. Before you could even react, Jenna’s urgent voice sliced through the fog of panic clouding your mind.

“We have to go,” she hissed, fingers locking around your arm like a lifeline and yanking you into motion. The edge in her voice snapped you back to the present, and your body jolted into action. The girl—clearly someone Jenna trusted—was already sprinting ahead, weaving between crates like shadows. You cast a quick look back, your gaze catching Hunter’s for a split second as he, too, bolted to follow.

This was a fight against time, and survival was the only thing that mattered.

Jenna’s grip on your hand anchored you as you both tore out of the warehouse, feet pounding the ground as adrenaline roared through your veins. The cold air bit at your skin as you charged towards the first car in sight—yours.

“Stop right there!” A shout from behind sent a surge of terror down your spine.

“Hey!” you yelled to the girl ahead. She glanced back, eyes sharp, just in time to catch the keys you tossed her. She was closer to the car, and with no time to spare, she slipped into the driver’s seat.

The three of you scrambled in—a blur of limbs and frenzied breaths. Jenna flung herself into the passenger seat, while you and Hunter dove into the back, your heart hammering in your chest like it might explode.

“Go, go, go! Step on it, Aliyah,” Jenna commanded.

Aliyah didn’t hesitate. The engine roared to life, and the Aston Martin peeled away from the warehouse, tires screeching against the asphalt. The last thing you saw in the rearview was the shadowy figure of the man pursuing you, growing smaller as you sped into the dark night, leaving danger and revelations in your wake.

No one dared to speak. The air in the car was thick with tension, the adrenaline still simmering just beneath the surface. Once Aliyah had put enough distance between them and the warehouse, she eased off the gas, slowing to a steady, legal pace. They were in Summer Valley now, the bright lights of the town casting fleeting shadows across their faces.

Ten minutes ticked by in silence before the red glow of a traffic light gave them a momentary pause. It was then that everything unraveled at once.

“Hunter, what the hell are you doing here?” you demanded, voice tight.

“How the fuck did you go from boosting cars to this?” Hunter fired back, eyes wide with disbelief.

Aliyah leaned back, throwing a teasing look Jenna’s way. “You didn’t tell me Greaser was cute!”

"Since when did you know how to drive?” Jenna shot back at Aliyah.

The car was filled with a low hum of murmured conversations, each person settling into their own thoughts as the road stretched on.

“Did you follow me here?” you asked Hunter, still in disbelief.

“Yeah, I did. And I’m glad I did.” His voice was filled with concern. “What the hell are you mixed up in, Y/n?”

“I don’t know, man. I’m just finding out about all this today, too.”

Hunter let out a frustrated sigh. “We need to tell Anton. They’re trying to destroy Brimstone.”

You exhaled, mirroring his sigh. “Yeah, this is bad. Real bad.”

As soon as Anton’s name left his lips, your mind raced back to the meeting. What the men had said.

Hunter could see it in your eyes—he knew exactly what you were thinking, and the tension in the air between you both grew thicker.

Up front, Jenna’s voice broke the silence. “Okay, yes, I get it! She’s cute. Can you just… shush? She’s right there,” she muttered in exasperation, turning back to her sister, who was practically grinning.

Jenna slouched back in her seat, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. This was not what she expected when she set out to gather dirt on Percy. She couldn’t wrap her head around it—Percy, the same person she thought she knew, was tangled up in a plot to destroy Brimstone. Yeah, he was a jerk, but this... this was murder, drawn out and deliberate.

The crew she had once considered family was directly linked to the distribution of Ghost Smoke, targeting people from the town over.  She knew there was always a rivalry between Brimstone and Summer Valley, but she didn't think it would resort to elimination techniques. The shock of it all left her breathless, the pieces clicking together with an unsettling finality. 

She got her dirt. But this feels far from over.

Despite everything, Jenna couldn’t ignore the pull to check on you. She knew you had to be feeling the weight of it all—learning that your town was the target of such destruction. But there was also the anger. The unresolved frustration from you walking away earlier. She couldn’t just let you back in without confronting it, could she?

But as the drive wore on, the pull to turn back softened, and she glanced at you instead. You were lost in your own world, staring out the window, looking like you’d retreated into yourself. Nothing could touch you right now. And she didn’t blame you. Tonight had been a mess.

She turned her gaze to Hunter, raising an eyebrow, silently asking if he knew how to handle this. He met her eyes, shaking his head in that subtle way that said, Not tonight.

Jenna nodded in acknowledgment, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. She gave a quiet command to Aliyah, who turned the car toward their place. The drive was silent, the weight of everything hanging thick in the air. When the car finally stopped, both girls exited, but Jenna couldn’t help but glance back at you one last time. Her gaze softened, seeing how much this was affecting you. You didn’t look at her once as you stayed seated in the back, your face unreadable.

Somehow, without even realizing it, you found yourself sitting in the passenger seat of Hunter’s car. The shift had happened so subtly that you hadn’t even registered the transition. You assumed once the girls had left, Hunter must've taken over the drive. But the ride felt endless, every minute dragging in uncomfortable silence, like you were trying to outrun the truth without really knowing how.

When Hunter finally pulled into his driveway, the car came to a stop, and the air between you two felt suffocating. No words were spoken for a long moment.

Finally, Hunter broke the stillness. His voice was low, sincere, and filled with an understanding that made your stomach churn. “I’m sorry, Y/n,” he said, his tone full of empathy. “That must’ve been a hell of a lot to take in.”

It wasn’t easy, not by a long shot. You could feel the weight of the words pressing down on you like a heavy stone.

Bullet and Apex. Your dad and Anton’s dad, their racing names. You had tried to convince yourself that you had misheard at the meeting, that it was some twisted misunderstanding. But as you turned to look at Hunter, his pitiful eyes told you everything you needed to know. You weren’t wrong.

Your father and uncle’s deaths wasn't an accident. They’d been taken from you on purpose. And now, the truth of that hit you harder than anything else.

[whore-ibly-hot]

"1-800-HANDY-YAN"

Yandere!Handymen (Tucker and Billy) x Fem!Reader

18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Oral sex, yandere behavior, Dub-con, perverted thoughts, misogynistic comments (mostly tucker), class economic divide? Spying, obsession, stalking, double trouble yanderes, mention of female genitalia and breasts on reader

A/N: Yeah, maybe this is eight hundred weeks late, I got super motivated then super not. But trust me, this piece is 👌

Metal tools clink together, the sound of screws and the occasional drip of left over water fills up the space beneath the sink as Tucker works on the clogged drain.

"Wrench." He sticks his hand out of the cabinet and extends his fingers while his mullet-haired friend whose sat just outside. Bill hands him the wrench, sighing as he cranes his head to see around the doorframe and into the living room of this nice suburban home.

"Alright, gimme the bolt." The skinny wife-beater clad handyman asks his broad set and chubby friend. After a few moments, he calls again. "Bill, bolt. Cmon," He groans as he slides out from the sink cabinet and look at his distracted coworker. Smacking him upside the shoulder he shakes his head. "Get your fuckin' head outta the clouds, or I'll have your fatass get stuck up under this sink tugging on the hair and shit in here." He grumbles. "What the hell are you even-" He leans forward against the tile to see forward at what's captured Bill's attention, and then sighs.

"Stop looking at the homeowner if you ain't gonna do anything, Billy. You've got a limp dick crush on her, why won't you do anything about it, huh?" He nudges his friend. "She's always calling us for little home repairs, and she never has anyone over. I mean, her beds always made too." He whistles lowly as he sees you watching the TV in the living room, eyes raking over your tits and ass as he bites his lip back a bit.

"What does her bed have anything to do with whether or not she's got a fella?" Bill asks weakly, and Tucker rolls his eyes.

"Please, no one is ever here, and her bed isn't made. She's not exactly getting rolled around and pounded in it, is she? Shit, I dont even remake my bed after I jerk it."

Bill shushes him and shoots a panicked look back towards you. "She could hear you, just... don't talk about her like that. She's trusting us to be good to her house and to, uh, to her."

"Well-" As Tucker finishes up with the drain and reattaches the pipe, flipping the sink water back on and letting it run for a minute, he pulls out of the counter. "Why don't we let her know the jobs done, yeah?"

Walking into the living room, Bill has always tended to be quiet around you. You'd seen the scruffy men around the suburb you live in before, they appeared to be everything men. They work on plumbing, fix lights and wiring, mow lawns, and they got good reviews from your neighbors. It's obvious they don't really fit in in the neighborhood. The men are scruffy, usually in dirty clothes with unkempt beards and a beaten up old van. They're from the poor end of town, a rather rough trailer park. They are treated as useful workers, but poor company by your wealthy neighbors. Still, they've been nothing but nice to you, sweet even.

"Hey guys, is the sink fixed up?" You ask, perking up from your spot on the couch and casting aside the tv remote.

"Sure thing, jobs all done." Tucker sniffs, rubbing at his chin and putting a hand on his hip. "We figured it was a super quick job, so Bill suggested we give you half off since it didn't take the full hour." He nudges his friend, who seems shocked at his attempt to get you to speak to him.

"Y-yeah." He mumbles out, swallowing harshly. "Didn't want to charge you for anything extra." He explains quietly.

"Thank you guys, that's so sweet, but you dont have to do that." You sigh and out your hand on your hip. "Well, let me go grab the money I owe you." While you get up, Tucker makes himself cozy on the couch, spreading out like hes always lived here.

"So, missy. We've helped you out quite a bit, fixed things here and there, haven't seen a fella around." He says. "Surely you'd have an easier time fixing this stuff with a more permanent solution."

"Knock it off-" Bill spits under his breath, but his friend just smile mischeviously and sinks deeper into the fabric.

"Yeah, I just haven't met a guy I'm interested in." You explain, talking over your shoulder as you get the money from your bag. "Or any guys whove been interested in me."

"That can't be true-" Bill starts, his sudden outburst makes the attention in the room focused on him. "I just mean, you seem like a real nice lady, sweet." He explains, hands fiddling with the edge of his flannel top.

"That's really sweet, thank you, Bill." You tilt your head with a soft smile and he just nods in acknowledgement, blushing a bit. "What about you guys? You two have anyone special?"

Tucker clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "Hell naw, it's a bachelor pad in our trailer. I mean, we bring girls back sometimes, but you know-" he shrugs. "Bill's kinda hopeless with the ladies, and I'm never satisfied." He winks.

Sitting up, he puts his hands on his knees. "You know, you're a real nice gal, I mean, most people won't even look at us while we work, to busy keeping an eye on stuff and making sure we don't steal. So nice in fact, my friend here's got kind of a crush on ya."

Your eyes widen as your head quickly swivels to the now sheet-white Bill, his hands out in front of him as if to show he means no harm. "N-nah, it's not like, not like that!" He exclaims, looking mortified. "Please, Tucker's talking outta his ass, don't listen to him. Really, I have nothing but professional feelings for you." He says. Hes removed his hat from his head and holds it to his chest, both as a nervous movement and a stress fidget.

"He's lying. Everytime we come here to work, I practically bruise his arm trying to get his attention. He just sits and gawks. I'm being a good friend, telling him to man up."

You set aside your wallet as you slowly approach him, every step feels heavy as you walk up to the broad-shouldered gentle giant. "Is that true, Bill?" You ask. "Do you... are you really interested in me?"

He sighs deeply, refusing to meet your gaze. "I do. I'm sorry, I tried to keep things professional, and respect your boundaries." He begins to ramble as you smile a bit. "I mean, I-I support women and their safety, I know you put a Lotta trust in lettin' us into your home. I'm a feminine!"

"Feminist, stupid." Tucker snickers, and you shoot a warning glance at him. He puts his hands up.

"Its alright, Bill. You've been nothing but sweet and respectful to me, and you guys always come when I call." Crossing your arms, you rub just above your elbow. "Its been hard adjusting to the neighbordhood, people are kinda stuck up or unkind, but you're both so real. And sweet, and-"

"Extremely sexy, right?" Tucker coos, slinging a boney arm around your shoulder. Bill seems shocked at his friend sudden physical contact with you, a boundary he's never dared cross. "She's offering you a compliment, Bill. Come on, return it. Tell her all the nice things we've said about her, like how she's got a great rack." His scratch stubble rubs your cheek a bit from where he's stood behind you. "You really do have a great pair."

"I never agreed with what he was saying, I would never, um- talk about a girl like that, my momma would be so upset with me. Tucker was the one sayin' all that dirty stuff about you." Bill explains. "I would just say you looked prettier than a peach' and he'd make it all gross."

"So..." You grin a bit as your eyes slowly trail over his body and up to meet his gaze. He's trying hard to avoid yours. "You don't like the way my tits look?"

A wild, toothy grin flashes across Tucker's face, he knows where this is heading, and his friends reaction is even more amusing.

"No, I- I do. They look, they look great. Round..."

"Round? What the fuck is wrong with you, that's how you describe her girls?" Tucker shakes his head and turns back to you, his mouth close to your ear so he could whisper in. "Tell you what, before Billy-boy says something that dries out your puss, why don't we take this up to your room? I have the advantage of knowing the way." He ever so slightly grind the front of his jeans to your ass, the growing erection obvious. "Cmon baby, we're handymen, let me clean those pipes."

You immediately cackle and lean forward, gripping your stomach. Tucker looks confused and offended as he puts a hand on his hip. "Sorry!" You exclaim, still laughing. "Sorry, that was just such a stupid line, I'm sorry."

"It wasn't stupid, it was sexy." Tucker scoffs. "Really fucking sexy, you know how many panties get dropped at bars because of 'stupid' lines like that. Don't dance around it, if you don't wanna bone just tell me." You perk up at that, seeing a rare moment of insecurity in Tucker's face. Face flushed, he seems embarrassed, actually wounded. Bill moves to stand a little closer to him, trying to put a hand on his shoulder before it's swatted away with a quiet 'fuck you, don't touch me'.

"No, I... I do. I do, you're both attractive and I haven't had anyone in a long time. You've always been good to me, but I-" You sigh. "I dont know if I can be what you want? I'm not exactly a freak in bed, and I've never been with two guys before." You begin.

Excitement reunited, but still softened by that moment of vulnerability, Bill speaks up for once. "You're perfect." He says, steadying himself. "Really, you don't have to be experienced or nothing, I'm a big clutz but trying your best is what matters. And we'd go as slow or as gentle as you wanted. And as for two guys-" He sighs and swallows harshly. "If you just wanna do it with Tuck, I'll wait he-"

"No, no, it's not that at all. I'm getting caught in my head, I want this." You hold out a hand brush over his flannel shirt buttons, fiddling with one. "I want you. Both of you, as appreciation for how hard you've worked." Looking over at Tucker, you smile. "You seem the most eager to get started, why don't you lead? I imagine you know what you're doing."

"Damn right I do, sexy mama." He gropes your waist as he plants a feverish kiss on your neck. "Glad you're finally giving some attention to lil' ol' me. Go upstairs and get all pretty, lay that pretty body out on your bed while me and Bill pack up and grab a couple rubbers from the truck."

You quickly summit the stairs, and make the most of your time by stripping down to a simple pair of underwear, you didn't figure they needed to be impressed with any lingerie, and you could see Tucker getting annoyed and ripping one of your nicer sets when it came to untying ribbons. Sitting on the bed now, you can see them through the window loading up their. They seem to be loudly arguing about something, and you can't help but laugh. Eventually, Bill comes up.

"Sorry, we forgot we had another job on the docket, I didn't wanna cancel but Tuck is being a real hard ass about all-" He stops when he sees you, in nothing but panties, sat on the bed with a slight smile. You're skin all soft and bare, pretty lights outside dimming as it grows closer from evening to night. "Geez, um, you look beautiful." He mumbles, closing the door behind him.

You tuck your knees under your chin and look at him. "Thanks, that's so sweet. So, you guys are gonna stick around, right?"

Snapping out of his, Bill clears his throat and nods. "Yeah, yeah, Tucker's on a call out there rescheduling." He taps his foot nervously.

"Well, get cozy. Cmon, take off your boots and hat, I'm sure you're tired from working." He obeys quickly, eager to please. He stops after removing his hat though, and you furrow your brows. "Its gonna be hard for us to have sex if the rest doesn't come off too, silly." You tease, but his slightly sad demeanor gives you pause. "Whats wrong?"

"I just, I don't really know if you'll like what you see. Most people think of handymen and folk as all muscular, and I've got some muscle, but I'm not really anyone bodybuilder by any means. And I'm not skinny like Tuck, I'm-" His head fully tilts to the floor. "I'm a big guy. I don't want that to bother you."

You immediately shake your head and move to the edge of the bed, holding out a hand. He shyly takes it in his own, and you run a comforting thumb over it. "Nothing is wrong with that, Bill. I think you look plenty handsome, you look soft, and sweet. And everyone has some pudge." You put his hand on your stomach. "See, I've got a bit of a tummy, and sometimes I don't like my legs, but do you think that makes me less attractive?" You ask.

"I don't think anything could make you not look pretty." He admits, moving his hand to your shoulder.

"I'll undress you, how about that?" He offers no resistance, so you slowly undo his flannel shirt, eyes trailing hungrily over his hair chest and slightly pudgy stomach. "Very handsome." You kiss his collarbone and he sighs. He works on getting his jeans and belt off, before sitting beside you on the bed.

"Can I touch ya? I mean, feel up on your chest and stuff?" He asks. When you nod, his large, callous hands come to rest over your breasts, extremely gentle in their movements. "They're gorgeous, really. And I meant what I said, as much as I love the way you look, and how kind you are, I never said no dirty things about you. It was all Tucker, he' a horn-dog."

"Some men are like that, unfortunately. Hes lucky I think it's flattering when it's him." You chuckle, making Billy laughs as well as he continues groping, a little more confident as he tweaks at a pebbled nipple.

"He's always been a jackass, but he's just trying to seem tough. He really likes you." Bill begins to explain. "Tucker isn't nearly as upfront with his feelins' as I am, but I can't tell he likes you. He don't always stick to making dirty jokes about one girl, but you've been all the talks about lately. And he always beats me to the phone for work now, he used to always make me answer, but I know he's hopin' you'll call." He's clearly packing, and the sight of his erection makes your mouth water in anticipation.

"Hey, Tell you what. Tucker might be a bit, and I'm sure he'll want to be inside me the moment he gets through the door-" Bill laughs at that. "So why don't we get you feeling good first so he can have a go." Sliding off the bed, you put a cheek on his knees, hand on his hairy inner thigh as he swallows.

"Geez, you can do that, b-but only if ya wanna. I lost the remote one day, and they had this talk show with all these ladies in-in suits, and they said that blowjobs were demeaning-"

Ignoring his continuous, (if not sweet), ramblings, you tug at his boxers until his thick, leaky cock springs loose. "Shit, nearly took my eye out." You say, trying to lighten the mood. He's thick, a bright red tip and a firm base. His balls are large, but he did admit he was backed up. He's absolutely huge, you have to admit you're worried he's a choking hazard.

"I'm gonna start slow, yeah? Just kiss the tip?" You ask, and the flushed redneck just nods his head, eyes wide as he's looking down at you. You place a soft kiss on the leaking tip, making him suck in a breath as you slowly take it into your mouth to the back of your tongue. What you can't fit in, you work with your hand.

"Shit, am I too big?!" He asks when he hears you making a sloppy gag, but you gently squeeze his thigh to calm him. You just want this poor big man to relax. Humming a bit, the lights vibration seems to soothe him. "Feels, god, your mouth feels really good, missy." His hands grip the pretty floral sheets of the bed which he had admired so many time when working on your house. "You're so pretty, um, with me in your mouth, but also- I mean, you're pretty all the time, ah~"

He can't decide what's actually getting him closer to climax, actually getting his cock sucked, or just seeing you on the floor in front of him, so lovingly tending to him. Each movement is deliberate, and to feel like you care so much to do this, and act which the educated women on the tv said was degrading, means you must really care. He threads a shakey hand in your scalp, but not to tug or push, but rather to gently pet at your scalp. He lets out a groan which ends high pitched, adjacent to a whimper.

"So pretty. You're so pretty, m' lucky. Lucky you wanna... lucky you are making me feel good, s-shit." You can feel his length twitching in your mouth. "I'm gonna finish, I know it's early, sorry, m' sorry, I gotta finish. Pull me out, can I-" he rambling. "Can I finish on your chest, or I can go finish off in the toilet, or-" You just give him one last good suck, and with a swirl of your tongue you can feel a thick, warm substance filling your mouth. "Shit! Why didn't you, I didn't mean to, uhh~ fuck..."

When you pull off, making a shoe of swallowing, you might as well have taken a puritan to a strip club. Bill looks as if it's the most scandalous thing he's ever seen. Petting his limp cock slightly with your palm, you lean your head on his knee. "Was that good for you?" You ask, and he nods.

He's clearly speechless, and can't bring himself to say much about how good he feels. "It was good." He mumbles out. Biting your lip, you sit by him on the bed, hoisting yourself up. Now, it's your turn to feel unsure.

"Are you sure? You don't seem confident about that." You mumble, hand rubbing your arm. "I haven't given one of those in a long, long time. I'm sorry if it wasn't good. Was it cause you couldn't cum on my chest, I-"

"No, no!" He exclaims. "No, it was perfect, I'm just tired. 'Tuckered' out." He jokes, then clears his throat. "That was dumb. But, that was amazing, really, m' just not good at fancy words n' stuff." Taking a deep breath, he rather boldly puts a hand on your cheek. "Can I kiss ya? I mean, least I could do. I wanna show you really how pretty and nice I think you are, and that feels more proper than getting down there and kissing you on your-" He trails off, flushing again. "Unless you'd like that, I'd do it. It's the least I could mmph-!"

You press your lips to his, and as soon as he stops tensing you feel a large, calloused hand cup your cheek, practically palming your head. He's so gentle, as if afraid to break you. When you eventually break for air, he almost chases your lips. "I-"

"What the fuck!" Tucker stands in the doorway, hands on his toolbelt and hat turned back. "I take one call and yer' already all limp dicked? Shit, Billy, horny little fucker."

"Leave him alone, Tucker." You tease, leaning on Bill's shoulder momentarily. "I offered it to him. Don't listen to him, you were great."

Billy just shyly smiles and kisses your head once more as Tucker dumps his toolbelt and wifebeater at the door. "You already got yer dick wet, Billy, so clear the fuck out. I'd let you watch, but you were a slippery snake and slipped her yer fucking snake when I was going first, so git." Tucker orders as he flops unceremoniously onto your bed and crawls up towards you. You blow a kiss to Billy as he smiles and shuts the door, hearing Tucker mumbling some stupid line about 'cleaning your pipes'.

A few minutes later though, he's ashamed. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, it's dirty. Wrong. But as he sits in your bathroom, wiring up a little camera identical to the ones now in your kitchen and closet, he can't help but remember what Tucker had told him, just before he went out to make that phone call.

"She's gonna let us fuck her, she's okay with us seeing everything in person! If anything, a cameras less invasive. Shit, just set em' up, yeah? We know this neighborhoods full of rich assholes, and her locks are shit. Think of it as keeping that hot little piece of suburbanite ass safe."

[heartfullofleeches]

thoughts

brie would go feral over virgin lust demon darling having like, a demonic form, preferably with big honkers

Yan "Delivery Boy" + Virgin Lust Demon Reader

[Very brief body horror]

-

"So.... A demon, huh?"

Friends tells friends everything. Their fears, their hopes, their secrets. That's how things play out in the movies, anyway. It's hard keeping up with people reaching out a branch of friendship when you seldomly have the stamina to keep up with them or even pick up their calls.

"Yeah! My mom was a demon and my dad's a regular old human.... Or- was it the other way around? I haven't talked to either of them in forever."

As skeptical as anyone would be in his position, Brie felt there had to be a pinch of veracity to your proclamation. Cuteness like yours wasn't a natural feat. His stomach was still raw with the flutters of anxiety retailing the night he showed up on your doorstep to be met with that clueless, charitable smile of yours.

"Oh, yeah?" Brie challenges with a small smirk. "Well if you're a demon, you should probably know what I do to your pizzas before I hand them over to you.

Brie's hands promptly fly over his mouth, every aspect of himself screaming at him for almost letting his own little secret slip through the cracks. Luck being on his side, you merely laugh off off his statement as you spring up from your place on the couch.

"You'd better not be stealing any of my toppings! I pay good money for every slice... Least I used to before all those vouchers you gave me... I can show you if you really don't believe me... I trust you, Brie."

Brie melts into the couch cushions, vulnerability and trust in your eyes welding him in place as you apprehensively fiddle with the sleeve of your shirt - awaiting his answer.

"O..okay." He stammers, tongue tied as the ceiling lights perfectly illuminate every one of your features that keeps him awake at night. "Sure, I guess... Show me."

"Great!" Kicking off your shoes, your limbs grow stagnant as your eyes roll back in their sockets - veins branching outward cross the whites of your scleras till they are reduced to a milky ruby hue. Your fingertips elongate, skin merging with the keratin of your nails as they sharpen into razor points.

Sickening cracks and pops can be heard as the bones of your spine snap to make room for more. Breaths piercing and ragged, your chest swells with each draw of air you pull in - testing the resilience of your formly loose fitting tee shirt as your bust ballons to your noticeable uptake in size.

Rolling your now forked tongue over flat teeth, your toothy grin still holds that realm of innocence as you gaze down at Brie.

"Well?"

Brie jumps as something heavy hits the floor - twin tails swishing back and forth in anticipation. Horror should have been the prominent force driving through him. Fear and terror is what he should have felt. Those were the emotions a coward would experience in this moment, and as a man who branded himself spineless for being unable to express his love to you in a normal and sane way perhaps he was braver than initially believed.

"titties...."

Cocking your head to one side, confusion takes the forefront of your expression. As your hair falls over your face, small, nubby horns can be seen at the bases of your temples.

"Did you say something, Brie?"

"H-huh?! Me?? Course not. You're probably just hearing the ceiling fan." He certainly didn't mention your chest- Nor was he seconds away from spilling into a feverish tangent about how desperately he wanted your massive breasts in his face, and preferably his mouth. That'd be crazy-

Brie peals out of his jacket as if it were on fire, balling and shoving it between his thighs as he laughs - shepherding his eyes anywhere but the dip in your shirt.

"Whew- Man, it's chilly in here! I should've worn longer pants! Hahaha-"

"I can bring you some blankets?"

"No thanks, I'm good! You're super cute by the way! Even more so in this form. Your tits- Fuck! Tails! R-really caught my eye."

[lacythoughts]

they're all in the living room at the stilinski-hale residence, derek's sitting on the couch with a book in his lap that he's basically forgotten all about because stiles and a 4 year old eli, who are sitting on the floor around the coffee table, are doing arts and crafts together.

and even though they have plastic toddler safe scissors, there's still a rule that only adults are able to use them. so anything eli needs to have cut, with a 'peeeas!' and 'tank you!', he hands it over to stiles.

this is the 6th time he's needed something cut in less than 15 minutes. their kid is going to be the next picasso.

stiles has his tongue hanging out, one elbow leaning on the table and the other elbow bent, sticking out in the air. he's paying some very serious attention trying to cut the complicated star shaped animal with a thin tail and a butt as round as a full moon that eli drew.

seriously, vincent van gogh.

but then a sharp snap, the scent of blood along with 'oh fuu-Dge sticks!' slices through the air.

eli giggles but derek's automatically on his feet and unfortunately that has eli getting serious pretty quick.

'its ok!!', stiles mumbles with his finger in his mouth, then the alpha's there gently taking it to look at the damage.

'it's just a little scratch!', he smiles at eli. the kid has dropped everything he was doing to come rub at stiles' arm and give him kisses wherever he can reach because that's what they do when they get boo-boos. 'der im ok, I swear.'

the cuts a good one but thankfully not too bad like stiles says. (after having eli the human would rather down play his injuries than admit to being in pain and worry their child. so nothing new really besides them having a child now.) all derek does is sigh in relief and pop the finger in his mouth.

which has eli giggling again. he knows the 'on what scale is tata hurt' drill. this one isn't the lowest but its still down there.

after derek has thoroughly made sure the cut is healed and cleaned he looks at eli and says, 'maybe we need to start keeping an eye on tata during arts and crafts, huh?'

'hey!'

and so very seriously, eli sighs, 'yeah, maybe.'

[spacexgrl]

Bittersweet ! 🎀

mdni <3 you’re here pt 2

series masterlist 💋

~ in which Ellie breaks up with you and you go a little crazy ~

ex! ellie williams x fem! reader , abby anderson x fem! reader

college au!

warnings: angst, break up, cheating!!, cursing, toxic behavior, smut in future chapters, sexual themes<3 feminine and girly reader ,not proof read!!

You watched as Ellie stuffed her duffel bag with all her clothes out of your shared closet, at least you’d have more space for new clothes, you’ll definitely do some online shopping later to cheer yourself up.

You’ve stopped crying at this point, you decided that Ellie’s not worth your tears right now she doesn’t deserve to see you in this state, you won’t let her have it. Instead you wiped your heavy tears away and tried to stay calm … at least until she left.

Ellie shifted from her kneeling position as she finished packing her things up, she was ready to leave. She tried to get close to you one last time, a poor attempt to initiate a hug which you declined with taking a step back. What the fuck was that?? you thought, she couldn’t stop making this more awkward than it already was.

“I just want you to know that.. i want to try to be friends i can’t throw away everything we went through and i hope you feel the same way..maybe not now but one day ”

Her voice broke mid sentence, but you wanted to laugh in her face. You just threw away everything we had you asshole is what you wanted to say but you bit your tongue.

You wanted to scream at her

i did everything for you! I did everything to make you happy, i gave you my all and you did fucking nothing! Why couldn’t you end things sooner huh? Fucking coward all you did was waste my time and efforts Ellie, fuck i hope you’re happy fucking Dina every night just like you did on your little studying sessions.

“i know you probably hate me and i’m really sorry i just…fuck i fell in love with her you know? I didn’t meant to i swear i-“

She went on and on with her rambling, stopping when she noticed you weren’t listening to her bullshit anymore. All she said was that Dina was better than you, you got it like 20 minutes ago fuck.

“Goodbye Ellie”

at this point you pushed her out of the doorframe, she pleaded you to let her say goodbye properly whatever the fuck that means. You didn’t wanna find out. Ellie was still so immature in the head..poor girl will never know what she wants. Yeah that was probably it you tried to make sense of the situation but it was just stupid. It wasn’t your fault that she couldn’t love you the way you deserved, it wasn’t your fault that she needed to ruin what you’ve built for some short term fun.. you were her first kiss, her first time, her first love her first everything.

You guess her thirst for new experiences won against years of loving each other.

You remembered meeting Ellie when you were little, she’d always get into fights with kids that were mean to you on the playground. She was your hero and you believe that you loved her from the very beginning. She’d talk your ear off about space, dinosaurs and how she wanted to become an astronaut when she grows up and you believed in her, you always did.

The day before she asked you to be her girlfriend, Ellie introduced you to her Father, Joel. It was such a beautiful day you got along so well and he absolutely loved you. You were convinced that you were going to marry Ellie one day…how wrong you were.

Once Ellie was accepted into college you were the first one to know but Ellie.. Seattle is so far away.. you were so happy for her but you weren’t made for a long distance relationship. I know but.. i want to get into Aerospace engineering and it’s the best place for that babe.. come with me? Please?

just like that you applied for your dream major and got accepted in no time. You wished things would’ve gone differently..

You shrugged off the memories that were floating in your head as you plopped on your king sized bed, face down on your fluffy pillows. You groaned loudly and forced yourself up against the bed frame, grabbing your phone you left on the nightstand.

Mindlessly scrolling through instagram you stumbled across a picture of her.

It was a mirror selfie in a free weights section of some gym..she was in a tight competition shirt and grey sweats, boxers peeking out just a tiny bit as she flexed her big beefy arms..god you could almost count the muscles on her stomach.

Her blonde locks were tied in a loose braid, little strands framing her freckled face..okay that’s enough you thought as you clicked on her profile taking in every picture her hands are so big you bit your lip and rubbed your thighs together without even noticing has Abby Anderson always been this hot??

Of course she has..straight A student biology major scholarship basketball team captain daughter of one of the greatest neurosurgeons in the state Abby Anderson

Ellie never told you about her feud with her..she just told you to stay away from her at all costs. Babe it doesn’t matter just ignore her trust me she’s no good..i fucking hate her guts is what you recall her saying after Abby greeted you in the hallway like one time.

Lost in your thoughts you didn’t notice that you accidentally liked one of her newest stories oh no no no fuck!! you panicked and threw your phone on your bed far away from you.

ding!

ding!

ding!

please be Ellie you prayed to god that it was Ellie hoping she left something important behind but you were wrong.. maybe you should just end it all now…

after contemplating your entire life for about 5 minutes you dared to click on Abby’s messages

hey doll

heard about your breakup.. Ellie’s a dick anyway lol

want me to cheer you up?

🎀

pt 3

[nemesyaaa]

aaaargh I love this song so much, miss chapell Always serving but you did such a good job at capturing the lyrics to make it into a story. well done !! this is so funny to catch up every refs. but bro, I WOULD cheat on him and go for his sister ✋🏿☹️

it was so tiring being rafe's quick fix because you just wanted a real thing, y'know, not some quickie on his couch. the worst thing? your friends (not so friendly friends) call you a loser because you still hanging out with him, when any girl would have done dumped him and found someone better. but he is, or was your better. — already the beginning and i'm sat 😌‼️ i'm listening

it was like his mood immediately changed as he continued, "just a quick fix whenever we need it." when what he really meant to say was when he needed it. maybe you really should dump him. if that's how it really works. he kissed your forehead, "'n baby, no attachment." — the fact I read this and singing at the same time lmfaoooo

though three weeks ago he excused the both of you so he could be knee deep in the passenger seat while he was eating you out, remembering all those sweet nothings he whispered into you pussy that made you give him what he wanted. not to mention, he always acted so lovey dovey with you. and it was about time you got fed up. — really casual HUH.....

"all'that arguin' f'nothin', still my sweet, sweet sluty girl, ain't you?" he slowly rubbed your thighs , "you gotta be quiet though, don't want to embarrass yourself, do you?" he smugly grinned when you nodded, he dipped his fingers into your cunt, and your let out a surprised gasp, squeezing around his fingers.— the dirty talk please, pussy throbbing

he unbuttoned his pants, using his index to hook the loops were a belt would be to shove them down, following his boxers. he wiped the pre-cum off his tips, using his thumb to slide it into your mouth. "my girl takes everything." he whispered as you attentively sucked on his finger. — as the casual thing am i 💔💔💔💖

‘CASUAL’ RAFE CAMERON

genre smut, angst wordcount 1.4k

❝ i've heard so many rumors. ❜

content warnings ,, mentions oral (f!receiving), p in v, masterbation in the bathroom, 'no attachment sex', rumors (blegh, drama llama.), rafe and reader break up. s1 era.

it was so tiring being rafe's quick fix because you just wanted a real thing, y'know, not some quickie on his couch. the worst thing? your friends (not so friendly friends) call you a loser because you still hanging out with him, when any girl would have done dumped him and found someone better. but he is, or was your better.

sure, you did everything with rafe (when he called you up, not when you asked. sure one day you were fed up, left him a voicemail because of course he wouldn't pick up for you. "i've heard so many rumors." you said through the crackly phone. "that i'm just some girl you bang on your couch, i can't believe i thought you thought of me better."

an hour later (per usual), he answered you an hour later, telling you to 'hurry your ass out to tanneyhill'

you thought for a long hard while before ultimately deciding to head out to tanneyhill. where death literally layer waiting for you in your grave. you knew quite well what he was mad about and what he wanted, because you've sent multiple voicemails about the rumors going around outerbanks, you've heard about them and you‘be literally heard tourons living in the drama with you and rafe.

and you could never leave your back turned to long before people behind started murmuring up a storm.

you walked closer to your death in your busted up converses, running over impossible scenarios in your head. you stopped at the gate, texting rafe 'im here come to the gate.' you said with all intentions to be sassy. when you saw him, his pushed back curtain bangs, every part of him looked so hot.

he opened the gate, telling you to come on. rafe roughly grabbed your arm, taking you to his fathers study room were he did most of his work. whilst you were extremely liked throughout the cameron household, only you, rafe and maybe even sarah knew the real intent to your relationship. rafe said annoyingly, "we're not together, let me make myself clear.

it was like his mood immediately changed as he continued, "just a quick fix whenever we need it." when what he really meant to say was when he needed it. maybe you really should dump him. if that's how it really works. he kissed your forehead, "'n baby, no attachment." though three weeks ago he excused the both of you so he could be knee deep in the passenger seat while he was eating you out, remembering all those sweet nothings he whispered into you pussy that made you give him what he wanted. not to mention, he always acted so lovey dovey with you. and it was about time you got fed up.

you didn't expect for his step-mom, rose, two weeks later after the major argument with rafe to invite you for dinner at tanneyhill. rafe, put on a mock smile, ready to peel the skims dress off your body. you were greeted by ward, and did he piss you off, with the fake smiling and his eyes trailing across your body whenever he could. perv.

"welcome, you look nice and sophisticated." ward said with the nicest tone he could bear, "no wonder rafe doesn't bring you up, your so lovely i'd hog you to." he laughed, and it sounded so fake. rafe had his hand on the small of your back as he led you into the dining room.

you took a seat in between wheezie and sarah, rafe sat across from you, with a pissed off expression. like, how could your's and his situation be casual now? you've literally done every thing, fingering, eating you out, a little bit of intercourse action, you've jerked and sucked him off, and you've let him jerk off onto your tits, and it was somehow casual.

after dinner, rafe again, excused you and him to go to the bathroom. he led you to the bathroom, shutting the door as he told you demanding to get on his counter, you back pressing against the mirror. "fuck, y'look s'good tonight." he pushed up the skims dress up to your hips, "'n no underwear?"

"all'that arguin' f'nothin', still my sweet, sweet sluty girl, ain't you?" he slowly rubbed your thighs , "you gotta be quiet though, don't want to embarrass yourself, do you?" he smugly grinned when you nodded, he dipped his fingers into your cunt, and your let out a surprised gasp, squeezing around his fingers.

he kissed you, whispering sweet nothings like you and him didn't just have an argument two weeks ago.

he unbuttoned his pants, using his index to hook the loops were a belt would be to shove them down, following his boxers. he wiped the pre-cum off his tips, using his thumb to slide it into your mouth. "my girl takes everything." he whispered as you attentively sucked on his finger.

you sucked off all the pre-cum off his cock, rafe patting your cheek gently. he spread your legs more, giving him a great view of your pretty, coated pearl, pressing his finger against it, you rolled your head back into the mirror.

"rr-rafe!" you stuttered out as you cried out. he pulled away from your pretty pearl, aligning his cock with your tight hole. he thrusted into your hole, making you cry out for him again.

he squeezed your cheek, holding you in between his thumb and index finger. "c'mon baby give me more than that. not to loud though." he whispered harshly against your neck, gripping your thighs as he kept repeatedly bullying his way into you. and without break, he kept thrusting his cock into you, with a sneaky smirk. "your my girl aintchu?" he kissed your neck, taking a rest inside you.

rafe nipped at your neck as he moved his cock against your gummy hole. feeling you squeeze around him when he bite and sucked on your neck, he kept doing it. even if it felt like you wanted to squeeze his cock off inside of you. "s'tight. jus' how i like it." he whispered against your shoulder, bullying his way back in you as your gummy walls tried to push him out. he aggressively grunted in your ear, feeling the warmness off your breath as you let out a whimper and even softer moans. you gasped when he touched your g-spot, immediately convulsing around him but not yet coming on his cock.

he'd pulled out just before you could finish. he pulled his boxers, following his pants. he buttoned them up, leaving you desperate for release. you found yourself rubbing your clit trying any method of running your clit to come, though you weren't quite being able to finish off yourself. maybe the problem was that you never had to do anything yourself. you came on rafe's cock than he would come on your stomach.

you tugged your black skims dress back down, putting your heels back on as well before making your way out of the bathroom. you sat across from rafe as he had the satisfaction of making you better than before and not helping you like usual. it was great to see you a little grumpy, whilst a little nervous because you decided to be a little slut and go no underwear. but doesn't mean you weren't his little slut.

you were obviously out of it, because sarah had to tap you back into reality as everyone started eating. you cut the steak up before taking a bite of it. "this is really good ms. cameron, you'll have to teach me how to make it." you said cheerfully. rose smiled at you and nodded.

she was really proud of the fact you thought it was that good, but than of course, her cooking for the cameron's was something any mother should do, while some might think that she'd hire someone, she did it herself.

a week later, your friends had told you rafe had said it was casual still and that 'you get off when he hit it' when he never hit your clit not once. sure he left you drying for release but that wasn't the point. and that was near the last straw for you. you were tired.

you wanted a real relationship which was obvious that rafe wasn't ready for, so you found yourself calling him. and again, it wasn't something were he'd answer you, you said to him through the voicemail "i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself." you took a breath, "we're done." you said before slipping your phone in your pocket and walking away from the wreck after just having breakfast with your friend.

TAGS .ᐟ @archiveofvirtue @sematarygirls @beausling @mattsdolll @pr3ttyf4wn

@wi4hfulth1nking @gibson-g1rl

[amirasainz]

hi! Could you maybe do something like reader is Lando's baby sister and it's her first time at a GP so he shows her off to all the drivers?

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

- xoxo babygirl 🧡

Proud big brother

Lando was bouncing with excitement as he led his six-year-old sister, Y/N, through the paddock at the Silverstone Grand Prix. It was her first time attending a race weekend, and he was beyond thrilled to have her here. He'd been talking about it for weeks, sending her little videos of the track, the car, and the crowd. He’d told her everything he could think of to help her understand what a race weekend was like.

Today, though, seeing her tiny hand in his, wide-eyed with awe as she looked around, he felt a mix of pride and protectiveness. He was determined to make this the best day ever for her.

Lando grinned as they entered the McLaren garage, and his engineer shot him a look of amusement, clearly surprised to see him accompanied by someone so small.

“Y/N, meet the team!” Lando gestured with a grand sweep of his hand. “These guys keep my car fast and safe.”

Y/N looked around with big eyes, giving a shy wave, which earned a couple of chuckles from the engineers.

Just then, Lando spotted Carlos walking by, and his face lit up. “Oh! Y/N, you have to meet Carlos.” He crouched down beside her, whispering, “He used to be my teammate, and he's one of the nicest guys on the grid.”

Y/N’s eyes sparkled with curiosity as Carlos approached, his expression softening immediately when he saw the young girl.

“Hola, Y/N!” Carlos crouched down to her level, extending his hand for a handshake. “I’m Carlos. I've heard so much about you already, niña"

Y/N giggled and shook his hand with both of hers, looking up at Lando as if to say, isn’t he cool?

Lando chuckled, ruffling her hair. “You know, Carlos is really fast too, just like me.”

“Like a race car?” she asked, eyes widening as she looked back at Carlos.

Carlos laughed. “Exactly like a race car. Maybe even faster than Lando.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Lando teased, giving Carlos a playful nudge.

As they chatted, the crowd around them started to notice the heartwarming scene. Cameras from media outlets and phones of fans began focusing on the Norris siblings. Lando noticed the flashing cameras and shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at Y/N, who was too enthralled with Carlos’s explanation of “how to go fast” to notice.

Oscar walked over, intrigued by the gathering. “Who’s this?” he asked, bending down to give Y/N a warm smile.

Lando's eyes sparkled with pride. “This is my little sister, Y/N.”

Oscar’s face lit up as he crouched beside her. “Hi, Y/N. I’m Oscar.”

Y/N looked up at Oscar, studying his soft hair, and before anyone could say a word, she reached out and began gently petting his head as if he were a small animal. She tilted her head, seemingly fascinated by the texture.

Oscar froze for a second, clearly surprised, but then he let out a soft laugh. “Guess I have soft hair, huh?”

Carlos burst out laughing, clapping Lando on the shoulder. “Looks like you’ve got some competition here, Lando. She’s already got a favorite driver.”

Lando’s face flushed, caught between amusement and a sudden urge to shield his sister from all the cameras and teasing.

“Y/N, don’t bother him too much,” he said gently, giving her a small, protective smile. “Oscar needs to save his energy for racing.”

Y/N giggled and looked back at Oscar, who just winked at her, clearly enjoying the attention. Lando could feel the eyes of the media zooming in on their little interaction, the moment drawing attention from fans and reporters alike.

Max strolled over, smirking when he saw the scene. “So, this is the famous Y/N I’ve heard so much about?”

Y/N looked up, wide-eyed. “You’re the one who’s always beating Lanno!” she said with innocent frankness, making all the drivers burst into laughter.

Lando groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Thanks, Y/N. I feel the love.”

Max chuckled, bending down so he was eye-level with her. “You know, it’s only because I have more experience,” he explained, trying to keep a straight face. "And because I'm just a bit better than he is right now," he teased gently.

Y/N tilted her head, looking from Max to Lando. “Will you beat him, Lanno?”

Lando nodded, trying to sound confident, though he was smiling at her earnest expression. “Of course I will, Y/N. I’m going to win a championship one day.”

Y/N’s face lit up with excitement, and she threw her arms around him. “You’re my favorite driver, Lanno!”

The other drivers couldn’t help but chuckle at the sweet interaction. Charles had joined the group by now, observing everything with an amused smile.

“Don’t worry, Lando,” Charles teased, folding his arms. “Y/N’s loyalty clearly lies with you.”

“Yeah, for now,” Carlos chimed in, smirking as he watched her go back to petting Oscar’s hair. “But give her a couple more races with us, and she might just change her mind.”

Lando rolled his eyes, but there was a smile tugging at his lips. He gently tugged Y/N’s hand, leading her away from Oscar. “Alright, alright, don’t get too comfortable with my teammates. You’re here to support me, remember?”

Y/N nodded, but her attention was soon stolen by a nearby display of miniature cars in the McLaren hospitality area. She tugged on Lando’s sleeve, pointing at them with wide, sparkling eyes.

“Oh! Look, Lanno! Tiny race cars!”

Lando chuckled, letting her excitement distract him from his nerves about the media coverage. “Want to pick one out? Maybe we can find one that looks like my car.”

As she eagerly examined the toy cars, the other drivers exchanged grins, clearly entertained by Lando’s newfound protective side.

“Just wait until she wants to attend all the races,” Charles teased, nudging Lando. “You’ll be too busy babysitting to focus.”

“Right, and she’ll be rooting for Oscar,” Max added, giving Lando a playful shove.

Lando gave them all a playful glare. “You all wish,” he shot back. “She’s my number one fan, right, Y/N?”

Y/N looked up, clutching a toy car that she’d chosen. “Yep! Lanno is the best driver in the world!”

All the drivers exchanged looks of amusement, sharing a laugh, but Lando’s expression softened as he glanced down at his little sister. She didn’t understand the rivalry, the pressure, or the spotlight. To her, he was simply her big brother.

And in that moment, as he held her hand and watched her excitement, he realized that he wouldn’t trade this for anything.

[vanesycho]

I’m not sure if this was a request you wanted so feel free not write it! telling nct dream you aren't wearing panties (reaction)

welcome to the nct dream reaction！[when they realized you weren't wearing underwear] | m.list | warning:nsfw content wc:1,5k

a/n:I hope you are all well, I don't think it's that good but honestly I'm proud of myself for even being able to write this lol.

enjoy reading！

Mark 마크 | You were sitting in a simple but warm restaurant and watching Mark with your small smile as he frowned at the menu. The fact that he was unaware of what was going to happen was making you even more excited. "Can't choose?" He looked up at you and smiled. "Yeah, what's on your mind baby?" You took a look at the menu and picked up your phone to send him a message. Trying to hide your smile, you went back to the menu. The moment Mark saw the message, he had a coughing fit and looked at you with confused eyes. "Are you kidding me?" You bit your lower lip. He didn't think you were serious until he dropped his fork on purpose and went under the table. "Fuck..." he mumbled under his breath and swallowed hard. He didn't know how long you had been like this and it made him even more nervous. "We're leaving." He took off his jacket and came over to you. "But we just came?" you asked innocently, he laughed angrily at how you acted like you didn't do anything and leaned into your ear "Tie that fucking jacket around your waist and walk to the car. I don't know who gave you the courage but I'll make sure you don't do it again."

Renjun 런쥔 | You knew that what you did would definitely piss him off, but you took the risk anyway. What made it worse was that Renjun's friends were there too. You were sitting next to each other on the couch listening to them, Renjun had covered you with his jacket because of the shortness of your skirt, but you knew that wouldn't stop you. You were about to stand up when his voice stopped you "Where are you going?" you turned to him and put on an innocent smile "I need to drink water." you stood up and he could see that you weren't wearing any underwear, even though there was a small gap in the back of your skirt. Renjun frowned and, ignoring the others, he walked behind you and grabbed your arm roughly, pulling you into the kitchen. He closed the door behind him and put you between him and the door "Do you think you're funny or are you testing my patience?" you pressed your lips together, you could definitely see that he was angry and seeing that you were amused by the situation made him laugh hysterically. “Ah..Of course you like it. You’re curious about showing your ass to the others huh?” he removed his hand from your arm and stepped back, you looked at him in disbelief, you needed him and he was doing the exact opposite. “Keep going then. I wonder if you’ll dare to get up again when all your wetness is soaking Jaemin’s seat.”

Jeno 제노 | You were so excited that you couldn’t sit still in the car you got in. Jeno occasionally glanced at you and laughed. “I didn’t know you were so eager to see my friends.” You didn’t really care, they had ruined everything by arranging a random meeting on the day you needed him the most and even though you told him you didn’t want him to go, you were here now. You were excited because there was only one thing left to change his mind. When he stopped in front of the house, you opened the door but as you were about to get up, he noticed your bare pussy under your skirt. Jeno grabbed your wrist and made you sit back in the seat. “Tell me you didn’t do this on purpose.” His voice tone made your skin crawl. “I told you not to go but you didn’t listen, I should have at least gotten your attention somehow.” he laughed angrily as he heard your answer and started the car again, you put on a smile on your face knowing you were going home and it didn’t take long for him to realize it “Oh yeah keep smiling, if you think I’m going to give you what you want after all that sluttiness you’ve done, you’re wrong. The redness that will make you cover your ass will make sure you don’t do it again.”

Haechan 해찬 | It didn’t take long for Haechan to realize this. He moved up your leg that he was caressing under the covers while having a movie night with the others and laughed to himself when he reached your bare pussy. You didn’t stop him, he knew you wouldn’t, if you were teasing him he would do it twice as much to you. Until you regretted it. You held back a moan as his finger slid easily into your already wet pussy, his eyes on the movie as if nothing had happened while his finger slowly caressed you. You approached him and tried to whisper in his ear between your rapid breaths “Please..We need to go to the bathroom, I don’t know how long I can last like this.” He looked at you, leaning in to your lips but not kissing them, slowly inserting his second finger inside you. "What? Aren't you having fun? You better think twice before teasing me from now on. Otherwise, I won't hesitate to show you what the outcome will be."

Jaemin 재민 | You were walking towards the cafe you were going to with Jaemin. Knowing that he had underwear in his jacket pocket, you took his arm and entered. "Baby, I have to go to the bathroom, you can order for me, right?" He nodded and got in line. You were washing your hands, waiting for his reaction. But looked up when you heard the door open behind you and caught Jaemin's eyes in the mirror. He slowly walked towards you with the underwear in his hand, stopped when he was behind you and brought his hand under your skirt and towards your pussy, realized you weren't bluffing and you weren't really wearing underwear, he licked his lips "So you want to play like this huh?" He led you to one of the empty toilets, before you had a chance to say anything, he grabbed your chin and made you look at him "Let's see if you can enjoy this game when everyone in the cafe hears your screams."

Chenle 천러 | He didn't know why you specifically wanted him to come for the shopping, but the last thing he wanted to do was upset you, so he was waiting for you while you were trying on your skirt in the cabin and was on his phone on the other side. After you put on your skirt, you took off your underwear and took one last breath before opening the door and walked out of the cabin to show him the skirt. He looked up from his phone and looked you up and down, you saw his frown and pursed your lips. "Don't you like it?" You tilted your head slightly to the side, his eyes fixated on your skirt. "No- you're so beautiful baby. I'm just not sure you'd be comfortable with that." He approached and grabbed the ends of your skirt, as he was about to gently pull it down, he saw your bare ass in the mirror inside the cabin through the open door. You turned around to look at where he was looking and met his angry gaze in the mirror. Then turned to him but soon found yourself inside the changing room, he walked in and locked the door. "Are you that keen on being a slut? If you enjoy annoying me so much, you better not beg me to stop after that." he continued as he unbuckled the belt of his pants. "Now on your knees. I'll make sure you never have the courage to do it again when I finish this without letting you have a single drop of pleasure."

Jisung 지성 | Innocent Jisung just wanted to take a nice photo of you by the beach. He smiled and held up the camera, waiting for you to change your pose, but the wind that came ruined everything. His expression changed when he looked at your skirt that was flying, and after checking if there was anyone around, he quickly came to you. His hand went to the front of your skirt and stopped it from flying, “Baby- did you forget to put on your underwear?” When he saw you laughing at him, he realized that you did it on purpose and shame washed over him, he took off his jacket and tied it around your waist. “Please don’t do that again, do you want me to lose my mind?” You placed your hands on his cheeks and kissed his lips. “I want you, Jisung…” your needy tone made him swallow hard. “Next time, instead of resorting to such methods, tell me that. One day, you’re going to drive me crazy and it won’t be good for you."

[teencopandthesourwolf]

read on ao3 HERE

.

“I'm good, Stiles.”

Stiles thinks about the times when, all too often, he himself says I'm good in that particular way, and thinks about how it actually means everything in his life is currently lighting up like a dropped match landing in a trail of gasoline.

In the space of a single heartbeat, he knows he would somehow harness the contents of an entire fucking lake to dampen down that metaphorical trail for Derek, murdering the thought of that lost little boy playing Hide-Go-Seek in Derek's pale eyes.

Only he isn't about to start talking about things being on fire. Not to Derek, not ever.

Instead he says, “I always had this rule, you know, where I’d flat out ignore a problem and wait for it to—and I used to swear to myself that this would actually happen—” His lips drag themselves up one side of his face as he sweeps an arm dramatically through the drizzling rain and the pressing twilight. “—just go away.”

He then allows his arm to fall unceremoniously to his side, and the sound of hand slapping khakis rings out through the sparse and quiet branches of the preserve's stripped bare trees.

“Okay.” Derek says the word with an infinitesimal shake of his head, looking as if he wants Stiles to stop talking.

Thing is, if Derek wanted Stiles to stop talking he would say Stiles, stop talking.

So, Stiles troops on.

“And it kind of worked, a little bit. For a little while, at least. ” He takes a hit of chilly November air. Releases it slowly, enjoying the crazy plume of breath-smoke it creates. “Until I met you,” he shrugs.

Derek blinks and it's a betrayal, giving away his hard-won secrets.

Stiles briefly wonders who else—who left in the world—would know this about the werewolf standing opposite of him. Stiles doesn't need to be a ʼwolf to know this stuff, not when it comes to Derek Hale.

He tries not to look at Derek's lips when Derek licks them before asking, “What are you talking about, Stiles?”

“Magick,” he answers, his feelings and other things shifting underneath the layers of his skin, crackling away like a hundred tiny Roman Candles traversing his bloodstream and manifesting as gooseflesh.

Rolling his hoodie sleeve, he lifts a cold hand between the two of them and allows a miniscule fraction of whatever beats like a heart at the earth's core to flow up through the ground and into his feet and up his legs and down an arm, warm and thrilling, to then spring free out of his right palm.

A small sphere of pure light around the size of a tennis ball now glows about an inch above his hand, kind of like an oversized firefly—and just as alive.

“Cool as fuck, huh?” Stiles mutters, basking in its incandescence, super-proud of himself. Then he gets to his point. “Deaton showed me how to harness my spark, yeah? But I would never have found it in the first place, if you hadn't followed Scott and I into the woods that day.”

Derek blinks again. His jaw ticks like a clock.

“Stiles, that's a little like saying one, two miss a few, ninety-nine, a hundred,” he deadpans, and Stiles can't help but bark out a laugh.

Then he steels himself for one anticipatory moment before daring himself to take a step closer to Derek.

Derek stays put.

“Doesn't make it any less true,” Stiles shrugs.

Derek just stares at him for a moment, before peering down properly at Stiles's little orb, for the first time since Stiles summoned it.

“You've been practising,” he says simply, his eyebrows doing their thing.

He's now staring at Stiles's effort as if he wants to sink his fangs into it, like you would a quarter to test if it's real.

“Is it freaking you out?” Stiles asks.

“No,” he answers flatly. “I think it's cool as fuck,” and he looks up at Stiles like he might want to keep looking.

Stiles wants him to never stop.

“Then here, you can have it,” he says.

He takes another step closer to Derek.

They are toe to toe, now, and still Derek doesn't bolt, nor pounce, nor warn Stiles off.

So, Stiles—really slowly—reaches for Derek's hand.

Derek lets him.

Stiles then transfers the light to Derek's palm, cupping his hand around Derek's to ensure it keeps hovering there. He directs their hands to Derek's chest, stopping right over his heart and flattening them both there, he and Derek watching as Stiles's spark dissipates into Derek's body, leaving behind a few wispy tendrils of light that Stiles guides back into himself with a couple of waves of his free hand.

“Now, whenever you're good, I can be right there being good with you, even if I'm not around,” Stiles says, and then he hopes and hopes when he asks, “Is that okay?”

Derek smiles, and it's the first truly happy-looking smile that Stiles has been privileged enough to witness blooming on that beautiful, beautiful face of his.

“It's better than okay, Stiles,” he says. “It's magick.”

.

unedited, soz! this is for @dontcallpanic (pip knows why) <3

.

...edited version now found HERE on ao3 :)