#i always private answer it with a little thank you :]

[vamprisms]

hey everyone, I have been speaking to Nader @abdalsalam1990 again. if you've been following the situation for a little while you'll know that he is a 17 year old boy who has been displaced along with his family by the war in palestine. he's been campaigning hard to raise funds for food and medicine for his family. now that the height of winter is here they also need extra funds to survive severe cold, as there is currently a lack of blankets etc. he has reached out and asked me to share their campaign again with you (which is vetted #4 here). It is now at 71% to goal 🩷 i want to thank everyone who has donated and helped me spread the word so far. please consider reblogging this new post so we get their campaign even closer to the goal and help them survive the winter season 🩵

[themultifanshipper]

You decided, on a random Thursday in december, that you were going to give each of the 2025 rookies a visit, to congratulate them on getting into F1. 

Warnings: this is kinda wild but not very explicit, it's more about the dynamics than the actual smut, I'm trying to set stuff up for the 2025 season, biting kink, gym sex, kitchen sex, oral sex, anal sex, very bad flirting, half of this was written while blackout drunk

Part 10, and epilogue to One of the Boys

It was also to show them a little of what they would be fighting for next year, along with the trophies. 

You went to see Ollie first, him being the one you knew best. 

He'd done 3 races in 2024 and you'd gotten to know him a bit when you two would chat during weekends where he wasn't driving. 

You'd sent him a text, you were staying in Italy for a few days and you should hang out sometime. 

He readily agreed. 

You showed up at his house one sunny afternoon, and he answered the doorbell with his usual grin. 

He was also shirtless, wearing gray sweats, and his hair was dripping wet. 

“I just had a shower” he said apologetically. 

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I can see that”  

“Come on in!” he ushered you inside with enthusiasm “Don't mind the mess, it's laundry day” 

You giggled at his nervous disposition. He was fidgeting with his hands. 

“I don't care Ollie, I'm not here to comment on your tidiness” 

His nervous grin turned into a genuine smile and he visibly relaxed a bit. 

“Right, yeah of course. Uh do you want a drink?” 

It was your turn to grin at him. 

“Would love one! What have you got?” 

“I've got like… loads of fruit juice.”  

You frowned curiously. “What do you mean loads?” 

You ended up staring at all the bottles lined up in his fridge door. The tension was palpable, you hadn't said a word in a whole minute as you read all the different labels. 

“Like… seven or… eight… maybe nine different kinds?” 

“Is this weird? I feel like it's weird” he finally piped up sheepishly. 

You picked up the bottle of passion fruit juice and stared at it, before turning towards him with a barely concealed smirk. 

“I didn't know you were so… passionate about fruit juice” 

He looked at you in disbelief and you dissolved into a fit of giggles. 

“Simple orange will do me fine thank you, Ollie” you wiped your tears of laughter away while he rolled his eyes. 

“I can't believe I just bared my soul to you and you're making puns about it” he scoffed, but he was smiling as he took a couple of glasses out of the cupboard and filled them. 

“Well, you are the bare- man” 

“Oh my god” he groaned “I hate you” 

You laughed and the tension seeped out of the room as you bantered back and forth like you always did. 

“So-” he eventually asked, eyeing you suspiciously  “What actually brings you to Italy?” 

You were sat on top of the kitchen table, next to Ollie who was sat on a chair. 

“What? Can't I come and visit my friends?” 

“Friends…Plural?” he asked teasingly. 

“Yeah, you're actually the first on my little trip, I'm also going to see Kimi and Gabriel in the next couple of days…” 

He raised an eyebrow and hummed in surprise. 

“Are you, now?” the sarcasm was dripping from his tone and he held back a laugh as he took another sip from his juice. 

You frowned suspiciously at him. “What's that supposed to mean?” 

He put his glass down, considering his next words carefully. 

“You know… Franco has told me a few things…” his eyes bore into yours and you shivered under his intense gaze, gesturing for him to continue. 

 “…about the private party in Monaco” 

“Colapinto…” you tutted “One of these days that mouth of his is going to get him in trouble” 

You put your own glass down before adding “I'll be having a word with him. And you'd better not share whatever he told you with anyone else” 

He smirked, finishing his glass before standing up to put it in the sink. 

“Of course not…” he muttered as he turned around and stalked towards you “We wouldn't want my mouth getting me into any trouble, would we?” 

He stopped inches away from you, hands leaning on the table either side of you, effectively caging you in.  

“Or can I get into a little bit of trouble every now and then?” 

You weren't sure where his brazenness had come from, but his lazy smirk was getting you hot all over. You glanced at his lips, and he caught the movement. 

“Little Oliver Bearman?” you goaded him “he would never get into any trouble! He's an angel…”  

Your breaths mingled as he leaned in, painfully slowly, his pupils dilating as he closed the gap. 

“We'll see about that”  his lips lightly brushed yours, and you could feel him smiling, tempting, daring you to make a move. 

You did, you crumbled, leaning forwards and joining your lips heatedly. 

He tasted like oranges and sugar, and when you deepened the kiss he closed the space between your bodies, leaving absolutely no room for Jesus as he immediately started rocking his hips against yours, and you realised he definitely wasn't wearing any underwear. 

He took you right there on the kitchen table. 

He ate you out first, proving to you that his mouth was, in fact, trouble. 

Then he worshipped you with his hands while he reduced you to a puddle of goo on his cock. 

After, he asked if you wanted to stay the night, hang out, watch a movie or something. 

You agreed without hesitation.  

… 

You secretly, desperately hoped the Haas wasn't going to be a glorified wheelbarrow next season. 

Next on your list was Gabriel, and if his response to your message was anything to go by, he had definitely been briefed by Fernando beforehand. 

It took all of ten minutes of you crossing the threshold of his apartment, before he had you on your knees for him, swallowing around him as he looked down at your tear stained cheeks with nothing but hunger in his eyes. 

“Meu deus-” he groaned “Fernando was right, you do have a mouth worth fighting for” 

You hummed and took him deeper, sucking him down as far as you could, and it didn't take long for him to come with a shout down your throat. 

Once again you stayed the night, and in the morning he very kindly repaid you with three orgasms.  

One with you sitting on his face, one with his fingers dragging you to the edge of ecstasy with insane precision, and the last one with him bucking up into you while you held onto him for dear life. 

He was a lot of fun, that was undeniable. 

… 

But unfortunately for both of you, their really wasn't  much hope for the Sauber. 

Your tour of Italy ended in Kimi's apartment. 

And he had obviously not been briefed. 

He didn't seem like he had any inkling whatsoever about why you were there. 

When he opened the door he had his airpods in and he was sweating buckets. 

He was in the middle of a workout, and had lost track of time. 

“I am so sorry” he panted as he let you in “I didn't realise it was already time” 

You laughed at his panicked expression. 

“It s fine, Kimi. Just finish your workout I'm not in a rush.” 

He didn't seem to pick up on the way your hands lingered on his body when you hugged. 

So you watched him do the last part of his routine: weights. 

It was hard not to salivate. He'd rolled up his sleeves so that his arms were on full display, and you swore you saw a little smirk appear when he did. 

His biceps were objectively quite shocking in their size compared to the rest of him, and your gaze wandered over his body as it flexed. 

You couldn't help notice him repeatedly having to unstick his shirt from his body while grimacing at the feeling, so you took a gamble. 

“Kimi, if your shirt is bothering you, you can take it off” 

This time he definitely smirked at you. 

“Are you sure?” he grabbed the hem of his shirt “I don't want to make you uncomfortable” 

You bit the inside of your cheek at his tone, he was definitely trying to tease you. 

“Of course.” You giggled “Don't worry, I don't bite”  

Something in his gaze darkened and he muttered “that's a shame” before grabbing the back of the shirt and pulling it over his head. 

You could honestly say you definitely didn’t moan at the sight of his insane physique. 

Whatever went through your head in that moment was between you, and God. 

But Kimi could see the look on your face, jaw slack, dark eyes fixed on his sweaty muscles. 

You were no better than a man. You licked your lips and he laughed. 

“You sure you don't want a bite?” he teased, subtly flexing his arms. 

“Why don't you come here and find out?” you tried to sound confident but even to you it wasn't very convincing. 

That day, Kimi found out you loved to bite.  

And you found out he fucking loved to be bitten… everywhere. 

He fucked you on the workout bench. Then on the exercise mat on the floor, and by the end of it he was covered in teeth marks. 

His biceps, his neck, his tits, his thighs… 

He was going to have trouble explaining those to his physio. 

And everything he lacked in experience, he made up for in enthusiasm and endurance. 

Two to go… 

You were at it for so long the sun had set and you were both pretty hungry so you decided to order take-out before going to bed.  

Isack was a bit shy at first, not really knowing what to expect when you showed up at his front door. 

You decided to do Paris first, that way you could circle back to Monaco afterwards to see Jack, and then spend a couple of days with Oscar and Lando, like you'd promised. 

You sat next to him on the sofa, telling him about your… reward system. 

He was hesitant with his touch, hand softly caressing the skin of your thigh as you spoke, but he quickly got into the spirit when you straddled his lap and pulled him in for a kiss. 

As soon as your top was off he made sure to give your tits all the attention they deserved with his hands and most of all, his mouth. 

It was heavenly when it trailed along your collarbones, nipping and sucking at your skin while his hands made quick work of your clothing. 

And once he was inside you, it was his turn to be in heaven. 

He was mesmerized by the way his cock disappeared inside you every time you bounced in his lap, his hands tightening around your hips to help you along. 

“Putain…” you could tell he was getting close by the strain in his voice as he uttered curses against your skin. 

“Can I… inside?” he whined, looking up at you with a pout, those beautiful brown eyes staring into your soul, and you bit your lip at the sight. 

“Go on then Isack, fill me up” 

He groaned and his hips slammed up to meet yours, letting himself go completely. 

… 

He then played with your clit lazily, eyes on yours the whole time as he studied your reactions, and he made you come just like that, seated on his softening cock while he made you writhe on top of him. 

Monaco was just as sunny as Italy, but there was a slight chill in the air as you knocked on Jack's door. 

He opened it seconds later with a massive smirk adorning his features. 

“I was wondering if I'd be getting a visit from you during the break” 

He winked and let you in, offering you a drink as you made yourself comfortable. 

“Seems like word travels fast, then” you blushed as you sipped your drink. 

You were already feeling tingly because of the couple of drinks you'd had on the plane, so you didn't hesitate to put your legs up on his lap. 

“You have no idea” he chuckled, one of his hands going to stroke your thigh. “I've had quite a few interesting conversations about you” 

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve heard that a few times now… I need to teach my boys to be a bit more discreet if they want me to come to the races next year”  

He raised an eyebrow, looking at the way his hand was making goosebumps appear on your skin in its wake. 

“I'm sure I could do something to convince you” 

You put your glass down to disguise the way your heart was racing at the look he was giving you. 

“I'm sure you could. But where's the fun in that? They're the ones that have been running their mouths” 

He grinned, leaning closer to you. 

“If you'll let me take you upstairs, I could show you how I could be running my mouth” 

His gaze dropped to your lips, his pupils growing by the second. 

“You've given this some thought, haven't you?” you teased, rubbing your calf over where you could feel him, already half hard in his shorts. 

“I've had quite a bit of time to think about what I want to do to you” he growled, hands going to hold your hips. 

“By all means, then. Take me to bed Jack” 

He sprung into action, lifting your body easily and carrying you up the stairs to the bedroom. 

Once inside, he stripped you of your clothes and manhandled you onto your front. 

“Hips up, whore” he ordered, landing a light smack against your thigh and you gasped at the unexpected show of dominance. 

You did as he asked without hesitation, and he chuckled. “Already wet for me and I haven't even touched you” 

His resolve crumbled relatively quickly though, and he crawled up behind you to eat you out like a man starved. 

But as you trembled in his hold, his attention slowly moved upwards. 

Well it was rare that anyone ate your ass, but he was doing so with so much gusto you couldn't help but moan into the pillow you were gripping onto for dear life. 

A bottle of lube and a few fingers later, you were spread out under him, your legs having given out embarrassingly early in process. 

He was inside you, rocking his hips against yours while your wetness spilled onto the sheets uselessly. 

You begged and begged, but no use. 

He wasn't usually a selfish lover by any means, there was just something about you that made him want to see you squirming and desperate. 

“Whores don't get to have their cunts filled” he said with a mean lilt to his voice. “But I am feeling merciful, so you can come if you can be bothered to do it yourself” 

You obeyed without question, reaching down under your body to help yourself along. 

He felt you come around him before he heard the high pitched moan come out of your mouth. 

Well, you had your work cut out for you with these rookies, and getting to play with them all season long was going to be so much fun, you could feel it. 

You clenched so tight around him he had no choice but to finish inside you, rocking against you until you both shuddered in overstimulation. 

You stayed the night at Jack's, shooting Oscar and Lando a quick text to let them know you were back in Monaco, and that they would soon be able to collect their Championship prize, just as promised. 

[burntheedges]

Pas de Deux Chapter 13

Din Djarin x f!reader | 4k | fic masterlist | main masterlist | ao3

chapter summary: it's finally the night of the Gala, and it's finally time to perform with Din.

a/n: First, if you didn't see the AMAZING art @kenobiwanx made of ballet!Din, please go look now!!!

Second, a week or so ago @iknowisoundcrazy asked me about a scene I was proud of writing, or something like that, and my answer was really this chapter. I just couldn't say that yet. I hope y'all enjoy it. I can't believe we only have one more chapter! I'm super behind on replying to your amazing comments because I just moved over the weekend, but I will catch up, I promise. Thank you @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta, as always!!

chapter tags/warnings: fluff, dancing, flirting, touching, pet names (sweetheart), hand-holding, intense feelings, kissing, I think we've already covered all of the dance moves in this chapter but I added some links used previously just in case

Chapter 13

At call time, you were feeling much more relaxed and ready for the performance. You successfully avoided the tornado that was Greef Karga backstage (where Alexa and Vince were corralling him) and found one of your usual spots in the dressing room near Adrian. He was already dressed for Jee’s piece in a full-coverage bodysuit with a skin color background and abstract shapes printed on it in blue. You knew his fellow dancers were in similar outfits with different colors, and that the shapes were somehow incorporated into the choreography. Jee was good at things like that.

You quickly put on your bodysuit and your sweats over top. It was a little chilly backstage and you had plenty of time before the show would start. 

Adrian leaned against the counter to your right and crossed his arms. “Where’s your other half?”

You pointed upwards – there were a couple of dressing rooms that were more private, and you were pretty sure that’s where Din had been getting ready. “He’ll be down in a bit. You ready?”

He nodded, smiling. “This is a fun one. Jee’s choreography is always weird, but cool.”

You laughed as you finished your stage makeup. “True,” you agreed.

Fifteen minutes later, Din popped his head into the room. He had on a loose t-shirt and sweats, but you figured he had his shorts on underneath. You noticed a few people waved at him and he nodded in response. He caught your eye in the mirror and motioned for you to join him in the hall. 

You looked at Adrian. “See you in a bit.”

He smiled and shoved your shoulder lightly. “Get out of here.”

You laughed and joined Din in the doorway. He smiled and led you to the right and around the corner, and you realized where you were going. There was a tiny dressing room with no mirror that no one ever used, except for taking naps – it had a somewhat comfortable loveseat.

As you entered, you realized no one was in there but Din’s bag was on the couch. “Is this where you’ve been getting ready?” The room was so small that the two of you basically filled it.

He nodded, a bit sheepish. “I just drop by the other room to use the mirror.”

You smiled. “If I’d known I’d have come and claimed the couch,” you teased.

He ducked his head and smiled. “You’re always welcome.”

You moved over to the couch and sat down. “So, what’s up?”

Din leaned against the folding table that ran the length of the wall by the door. “Could you help me with the body paint? I think some of it wore off in the back.”

“Sure,” you said, moving to get up, but he waved you back down.

“Not yet. We’ve got a few minutes and it’s too cold to be basically naked in here already.” 

You laughed. “True. But we want it to dry, right?”

He sighed. “Alright. Ok, come here.” His hands moved to the hem of his shirt and he tugged it gingerly over his head. You realized he was avoiding the paint. It was dry, though, and looked fine.

“Where’s the problem? The front looks fine.” Your eyes traveled over the swirls on his torso and you smiled, lightly. When you met his eyes he was smirking again.

“Should I take off my pants, too?” His eyes were almost sparkling as he teased you.

You gasped, just for show. “Din! What are you insinuating, hmm?” You stepped up next to him and took a closer look at the paint, looking for any spots that had rubbed off.

As soon as you were close enough, he grabbed your hips and pulled you forward between his open knees on the table. You flailed a bit as you looked for somewhere to rest your hands, eventually settling on his forearms. You didn’t want to mess up the paint, which was mostly on his torso and biceps. 

Once you were steady, he leaned forward, far enough that his lips were almost touching your ear. “I saw you check me out, you know. Last week.” His voice was deep, and you shivered again. He pulled back and grinned.

“Din Djarin, you tease.” 

He squeezed your hips and shook his head. “It’s not a tease, sweetheart. I checked you out, too.” He cleared his throat and looked down. “Not for the first time.”

You smiled. “Adrian said we were both watching each other in class, all the time.”

Din laughed. “I don’t know how you didn’t see me. It felt like I never looked at anything else.”

You felt your face heat. “Ok. Enough of that. We have a performance,” you poked him in the side and laughed when he tried to dodge, “get your head in the game.” He smiled and squeezed your hips again. “Now let me see your back.”

You moved back as he stood so he could turn in front of you. For a moment you simply looked – your eyes danced over his broad shoulders and then down his spine. You wanted to reach out and touch, to trace the lines of his muscles and curve of his waist with your fingertips. He was so strong. 

You shook your head. The paint. You frowned as you looked for any breaks in the paint. “Din, it looks fine. I don’t see any spots where you need a touch up.”

When he turned back to face you, his expression was suspiciously blank. “Oh? Well, maybe I was wrong, then.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Din Djarin, did you have ulterior motives when you brought me in here?”

He smirked again and shook his head. “No, you know we’re saving those for later. I just…” he sighed. “I’d rather wait with you than alone.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but smiled. “You could have just said that.”

He shrugged. “There could have been some spots to touch up. You never know.”

You laughed and tugged him over to the couch. He sat sideways so as not to actually rub off any of his paint, and you sank into the corner. “How much time do you think we have?”

“Probably about ten minutes.” The first movement was after Vince’s piece, which opened the show. You needed to be backstage when it started. Then the second movement was between Talia’s and Jee’s, and the third finished the show. 

You reached for his hand and laced your fingers together. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to get comfortable touching your pas de deux partner before a performance, but you knew this felt different, for both of you. “Want to go warm up?” He nodded. “Alright. Meet me backstage? I have to go do my pre-show thing with Adrian.”

Din raised an eyebrow, and you realized he’d never seen your “thing”, as you called it. “Or you can come and watch, if you want. We just have a silly handshake and then we hug.”

It turned out that he did want to watch, and he followed you back to your dressing room after stripping off his sweatpants. You allowed yourself to ogle his legs briefly before leading him out of the room. “Do you have any show rituals?”

Din shrugged. “Not really. I usually do the same stretches and warm up.” He thought about it for a moment. “Grogu says I have a lucky shirt. It’s in my bag.”

You laughed. You realized, as you grabbed Adrian and started your ritual handshake, that you felt more at ease, more comfortable than you usually did before a performance.

It must be because of Din, you figured. It was hard to be nervous when you knew he’d be there with you for every step. Adrian hugged you, and you squeezed him until he made an “oof” sound.

“Ok, ok, let me go. Don’t squeeze me to death.” You laughed at his grumbling as Adrian pulled back to check his costume in the mirror. “Go do your thing, I’ll see you backstage later.”

You pulled off your sweats and left them at your spot. You grabbed your pointe shoes and turned to face Din, who was looking at you. Well, he was looking at your legs. You grinned. 

“Come on,” you said, grabbing his arm. As you passed him, you murmured, “who’s checking who out now, hmm?” 

Din followed you out, and once in the hall, he said, smirking, “I already confessed.”

You made your way backstage together and found a spot where you could warm up in the large area behind the wings. You put on your shoes and began to help each other stretch.

Kuiil found you there a few minutes later, and he smiled down at you both. “Are you ready?”

You both nodded, but Din said, “we are.” His voice was firm and warm and it made you smile.

Kuiil nodded. “Yes, you are. Excellent. I will be in the audience. I wish to see it as I meant others to see it. I will see you soon.” He reached down and rested a hand on each of your shoulders. “Remember. Be in the moment, and be there for each other.”

WIth that, he turned and made his way down the hall and, you presumed, out to the audience. You felt warmed from his clear pride and belief in the two of you together. 

As you finished stretching, you heard the audience settle down, and you figured the house lights had just gone down. Your guess was confirmed when you heard Karga’s voice welcoming everyone to the gala.

“Good evening,” he began, and you could picture the wide smile on his face. “Thank you for celebrating our 5th anniversary with us. We are so pleased to have you here.” The crowd applauded, and Karga chuckled. “Yes, thank you. We have a wonderful program planned for you tonight, with pieces that feature the best of what our amazing dancers can do. All of our choreographers – Vince, Talia, Jee, and our visiting choreographer in residence, Kuiil – have prepared new, never before seen pieces for you just for this gala.” The audience applauded again. “We are so grateful for your patronage, and we hope you enjoyed this season. Please, sit back and enjoy the visual feast we have prepared – and don’t forget about the free refreshments during intermission!" That got a light chuckle from the audience. “Thank you.”

The crowd applauded once more, and you assumed Karga was walking off stage. You heard the curtains open and nudged Din. You tilted your head towards the wings, silently asking if he wanted to go watch the quartet. He shook his head and motioned for you to stand with him. He leaned in and murmured, “I’d rather warm up a bit more with you.”

You’d seen the quartet in dress rehearsal, and it really was beautiful. It was funny to think that it had been your original role in this program. You nodded and joined him in some light jumps and lunges, and then spent a few minutes warming up your ankles.

You heard the quartet’s music begin to build towards its crescendo. Before you could turn to head backstage, Din grabbed your arm and reeled you in. He placed his hands at your waist and you let yours rest lightly on his forearms again. He leaned in and rested his forehead lightly against yours. 

“You’re going to blow them away,” he murmured, and you felt that familiar feeling that he inspired start to well up in you. “Ready?”

You nodded. “You too, Din. Show them who you are.”

He pulled back and smiled at you. As you turned, you slid your hand down his arm and tangled your hands together. You walked backstage hand-in-hand.

The quartet was just finishing up when you found a place to stand together, out of the way of their exit. You caught Phil’s eye where he stood with his headset on by the tiny backstage lamp, and he nodded at you. You tugged on Din’s hand. “Here we go.”

He nodded at you and released your hand. You would go out first on your own, and then Din, and then you would be on stage together. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. Just before you stepped forward, you heard Din murmur, “beautiful.”

You stepped into the wings with a smile playing around your mouth. And then the music started, and all you thought about was the dance.

…

You’d never felt like this before. You’d never danced like this before. 

From the moment you stepped onto the stage, you could feel it – you were going to nail it. And you did.

You whirled through your solo, and leapt off the stage just in time for Din to enter after you. You watched him and you could see it – he felt it, too. You grinned, and then forced it off your face. He was a stranger, and you were meeting for the first time.

You spun back onto the stage at your cue and you felt his eyes trace across your shoulders like a caress. The two of you danced past each other, circled each other, glanced off of each other, just barely not touching. The connection between you pulled taut and you swore you could see where he was on stage even when you weren’t looking at him.

It would have stolen your breath away, if you had let it – you’d never felt so in sync with another dancer before. 

The first movement ended with the two of you touching, briefly, and then dancing away from each other. As you were about to exit into the wings, you looked back, and caught him already looking at you. You both froze, and then darted off stage.

The audience burst into applause. You grinned at the dancers waiting backstage for Talia’s ballet, and they met you with silent cheers and pats on the shoulder as you passed. 

You headed straight for the door to the backstage area, looking for Din.

He must have had the same idea, because as you turned into the hall that ran behind the stage, you found him almost jogging towards you, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him.

“You and me,” he said, breathlessly, and you nodded.

…

You had to wait through two longer pieces for the second movement, which would be between Talia and Vince’s collaboration piece and Jee’s. Wary of getting too cold, you returned to Din’s small dressing room, grabbing your sweats on the way. You didn’t want to break the bubble you could feel forming around the two of you.

Din pulled you into the room behind him and then into a loose hug. “I want to hold you tighter,” he murmured, “but this paint.” 

You laughed. “It’s probably for the best.” He hummed. “Ok. We can rest for a minute, and then we need to get ready for the second. And go stay warm.” He nodded. 

“You were beautiful.” His voice sounded deeper than normal and you shivered in his arms. 

“So were you, Din.”

…

There was a barre set up backstage for warming up, and the two of you stayed there as you waited. You watched as the dancers heading backstage moved around you for Talia’s piece and then Talia and Vince’s collaboration, but you and Din stayed in your own little world. That wasn’t unusual, for a piece like yours. You practiced a couple of lifts just to have something to do.

You were ready.

With only a few minutes to go, Din leaned into you again. “Ready?” 

You nodded. He grabbed your hand, this time, and led you backstage.

The piece Talia and Vince had collaborated on was almost over – it had three couples, a mix of principals and soloists, and you let yourself watch them for a few moments. When it was almost time, Din tugged you in again, foreheads together. 

“Let’s blow them away,” you said, stealing his words from earlier. He smiled.

For the second movement, you started on stage, so you stepped away from Din to go take your place when the lights went down. Alone on stage, in the dark, you took a deep breath. As the music started, you stretched into position, and sank into your character. 

You felt Din’s presence when he leapt on stage, and from there, the chase was on. 

In the second movement, you circled each other, sometimes coming closer, sometimes moving farther away. Glancing touches brought you together and then hesitation drove you apart. You wanted to know each other, to understand each other, but you had to find a way to communicate. To make yourselves understood.

You began to mirror each other’s movements, to adopt each other’s styles. You found common ground between you to build on and with the first lift so firmly grounded, it felt like you flew into the air. Din held you aloft and then flipped you downwards, catching you in another hold. You spun away and felt him follow you, and the connection between you strengthened.

Just like the first movement, you could barely think, could only feel – and it felt amazing. You knew, distantly, that you and Din were performing at a level neither of you had managed alone. You had created something new, something that could only exist because you made it together.

The second ended with you and Din briefly together, and then your character shied away – you ran from him, twirling off stage without looking back. He reached for you just before the lights went down.

The audience erupted. You were grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. Adrian was backstage, ready for Jee’s piece, and he looked like he wanted to run over and hug you. But just then Din came through the wings behind you and you felt his arms circle your waist. 

He didn’t pull you too close (the paint) but he leaned forward to breathe into your ear, “so fucking beautiful.”

You shivered, and Adrian winked at you. You laughed and tugged Din behind you into the hall.

You didn’t have as long of a break this time, only the length of Jee’s piece, which was only about 25 minutes. You knew you didn’t really have time to go far.

As you entered the hall, Din grabbed your hand, and made a sharp right. Just around the corner out of sight he backed you against the wall. 

He leaned on the wall with his forearm by your head. For a moment neither of you said anything – you were both breathing hard, chests almost touching every time you took a breath. His eyes caught yours and you couldn’t look away.

“I’ve never…” he trailed off, and you nodded. You understood. 

“Me neither,” you breathed, and his eyes darted down to look at your lips. The feeling that had built inside of you during the performance turned into fire.

“Din–” you started, but he cut you off by pressing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. He pulled away almost as quickly.

“I know,” he said, “I know.” He leaned back, and looked at you again. “I never dreamed it could be like this. I think I was meant to dance with you.”

You were glad you were already leaning against the wall, because your knees threatened to give out at his words. “Me too,” you said. His hand came up to cup your cheek lightly, careful of your makeup. 

“Come on,” he said, “let’s get ready for the third.”

You nodded and let him lead you back down the hall.

…

You thought you’d be nervous, as you stood in the wings before the third movement. You’d gone backstage a little bit earlier than before to watch Adrian, but it wasn’t distracting you. 

But that might have had something to do with Din’s presence at your back and his hand tangled with yours.

You breathed together as you watched and sank back into your characters. In the third, you were almost always touching – almost always chasing or being chased, grabbing or holding on. The movements revolved around your need to be together and create something new together.

As Jee’s piece came to a close, you felt Din step closer. He kept hold of your hand but wrapped his other arm around your shoulders from the back. “One more,” he murmured in your ear. “Let’s show them who we are.” You smiled and nodded. He squeezed your hand.

In the third, you started off stage. In the wings you both took a deep breath, and then the music started. You darted on quickly with Din at your heels, and from there you were off.

He chased you across the stage, and you let him catch you on the other side. You twirled around each other, leaping together, pulling each other along. He supported you through turns and lifts and jumps and you let yourself sink into the music. You internally marveled at how you seemed to be two dancers with one brain – you would reach for him, and he would be there, every time.

When you reached the pique turn, a smile played around your mouth. Din tugged you backwards by your ankle, capturing you and lifting you into a spin. Your body moved through the familiar steps, and when it came time to launch yourself through the air so he could catch you, you fought a grin off your face.

He lifted you over his shoulder, and let yourself appreciate, just for a moment, the strength of the muscles in his back.

Din tilted you back up and let you slide down against his chest. You sank into it with ease, and the two of you let the moment linger. You met his gaze and saw the smile dancing behind his eyes.

From there the choreography built to a crescendo that had you breathing hard, coordinating your movements perfectly to stay in contact – your hand on his leg, his arm around his waist, your arm around his neck, his shoulders supporting you. It pushed you upward and forward until, suddenly, you stopped, facing each other. You breathed as the last note held, staring into each other’s eyes, and then slowly folded into an embrace that took you both to your knees. 

The lights went out, and for a moment you couldn’t make sense of the sound that washed over you. You looked up at Din, and then out to the audience. It seemed like everyone in the theater had taken to their feet, cheering and applauding.

The rest of the company was backstage cheering, too.

Din leaned backwards and stood, offering his hand to pull you up, too. You took it, and he tugged you forward so that you had to lean into him just a bit. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then the lights came up.

You both turned to the audience, bodies moving into the familiar stance, ready to take your bows. But you were both taken aback when somehow the applause got louder.

You glanced at Din, but he swept you forward, and before you could stop him, presented you to the audience. 

You smiled, and when it was his turn, did the same for him.

As soon as you were done, the rest of the company poured out of the wings to join you on stage, and the standing ovation seemed to go on forever. Adrian popped out of the crowd at your side and wrapped you both up in a hug, which startled Din and made you laugh. “That was fucking amazing!” he shouted in your ear, and you laughed. Din started to smile, too, and you squeezed his hand, still tangled with yours between you.

You looked at him as the company moved to take a final bow together, and for a moment, you couldn’t hear the noise around you at all.

You could only see Din, smiling at you, so widely his eyes crinkled. 

Beautiful.

...

prev | next

a/n: they did it!! I'm so proud of them!!! next week... what happens after the gala? 😏 we finally earn those smut tags, lol. I don't really have any notes this week, but let me know if you have any questions! 🧡 and don't forget to check out the art!!

[agvstdr]

Bangchan 𐙚 backstage

Being friends with Stray Kids can have many advantages, one of which is being able to watch their concerts from backstage, where I am at the moment.

I'm watching them as each of them gets ready, making videos every time they do something stupid and it's all very quiet until bangchan comes backstage with a transparent black shirt that hugs all his muscles, creating a heavenly vision: I can't help but stop to observe him but i'm interrupted by Minho and Felix whose sit next to me with a grin on their face and I know very well why.

"that's too obvious Y/n a little restraint." Felix chuckles giving high five to minho who obviously says his piece.

"If you continue like this he will notice too, or maybe that's exactly what you want?"

I can't help but blush violently but this only makes them laugh more, attracting glances from the other members, who wonder why these two are laughing.

To tone down the the situation and end my terrible embarrassment I tell the members "the usual minho and his jokes" and so fortunately the the attention is no longer on me Yet I notice that Bangchan doesn't move his gaze but keeps it on me, as if he understood that the subject of our conversation was him, I give him a smile which he returns and then he follows someone from the staff to check something.

"If any of you say anything to him, you'll have it out with me."

"don't worry y/n your secret is safe with us." Felix smiles at me and I know I can trust him the problem is minho who promptly adds "maybe" after what Felix said.

Felix and Minho went to get changed for the concert, leaving me alone but not for long because after a few minutes Changbin sits down next to me.

"Hey binnie!"

i greet him smiling but when I look at him and see the same expression on his face that his friends had I understand that another teasing awaits me and so i sigh.

"so you like bagchan?"

His question surprises me because no one has ever asked me this since I have always managed not to let my feelings show.

"no, who said such a thing?"

"We all saw the way you looked at him when he came in before" he replies with a wink and I huff and hide my face in my hands, knowing I've been discovered.

"i don't think anyone told him, but he's not stupid so I think he figured it out. You've been looking at him differently for a while now ynnie"

I nod knowing that Changbin is right, but I didn't think anyone would notice it and instead everyone understood it and maybe even Bangchan himself: this is so embarassing.

"I can't speak for Chan but I think he looks at you differently too."

"what do you mean?"

"didn't you see the way he glared at felix and minho when they were laughing here with you before? Trust binnie, channie hyung is jealous."

I can't answer that Changbin is called to go on stage because it's time for the concert. So I just let go of all my thoughts and focus on watching my friends on the stage, grateful to be here for them.

when the concert ends i welcome them all with open arms and with a thousand compliments on how they went and I'm happy when i see that they too are satisfied with their performances.

Changbin runs to hug me and i laugh when he spins us around in happiness.

"You were absolutely great binnie!" I smile at him and when he puts me down I see that Bangchan is looking at me, so I go closer to him.

"congratulations for the concert chan, as usual you were amazing!"

"thank you ynnie" he answers me with a smile and yet I can't help but notice that there is something strange in him: did he not like something about the concert?

"Are you okay? Did something happen?"

"can we talk in private?"

I look at him surprised but nod, following him as he starts looking for a room where we can talk quietly.

luckily we immediately find an empty room, which we enter and where bangchan sits on the small sofa that we find inside. I do the same and sit next to him.

"I'll get straight to the point: is there something going on between you and Changbin?"

I expected everything but not that he would ask me something like that.

"me and Changbin? Absolutely not, he is one of my dearest friends. Why do you ask?"

"You were very close today, I thought something had changed without me knowing" he says and I see him blush slightly.

What's going on?

"we were just talking about something important, there's nothing between us."

he nods but doesn't seem satisfied with my answer.

"Is there anything else? You don't seem convinced" I ask him smiling to ease the tension

"i don't know if this is the right time, although in reality for me it's never the right time but I have to tell you something and I hope you won't hate me for it."

"I could never hate you chan, what's going on?

"Seeing you laughing and joking with Felix and Minho and then talking so intimately with Changbin made me realize that I have to tell you the truth: I like you y/n, and I've liked you for a long time now."

I let out a light laugh at the thought of him being jealous of his friends and the fact that we were talking about him.

"is my confession so funny?" He asks, chuckling, perhaps nervously.

"no no, the funny thing is that with minho, Felix and Changbin we were talking about you." He's clearly surprised and this only makes me laugh more, but I explain more to him.

"when you came into the dressing room with this shirt this afternoon I started looking at you because it looks really good on you and then felix and minho came up to me to make fun of me."

he clearly seems satisfied with my explanation yet "what about Changbin?"

"He came to tell me that it's obvious that I like you and that he thinks you like me too, apparently he's right" I explain laughing

bangchan shakes his head laughing, maybe realizing he had no reason to be jealous and pulls me close, making me smile like never before.

"so you like me?

"very much chan, Wasn't it obvious?

"unfortunately not, or I would have done this much sooner."

He kisses me and my heart explodes with joy, because he is finally aware that the man I love loves me back and I couldn't be happier.

[canisalbus]

Vasco and Machete are absolutely adorable, your style is so lovely and you draw the softest beds I’ve ever seen in any art ever

.

[bigender2]

wait wait wait am i supposed to send the emoji ..... i followed you bc i recognized your art immedaitely im sorry ^__^ have a ncie day

yeas thatd be good thank you <3 the emoji helps me not instantly block anyone who follows me smile but have a nice day too! ^_^

[5sospenguinqueen]

The Wrong Bull | Mark Webber x Interviewer! Reader

Summary: Mark was enjoying a private relationship with his favourite F1 interviewer. Until the internet started shipping you with his biggest rival

Warnings: Malaysia 2013. A lot of fabrication ie made up insta names. Swearing. Suggestive content. Indulgent blurb because who doesn’t like the idea of needy/possessive Mark. 

Requested: No

F1 Masterlist

━━━━ ༻𖥸༺ ━━━━

its_yn just posted

liked by markwebber, f1 and others

its_yn happy malaysia grand prix weekend! i’m very happy to be in the paddock this weekend bringing you the insight on how our eleven teams are doing

6,622 comments

danielricciardo can’t wait to see you. always bring me the most interesting questions

→ its_yn and you always bring me the most random answers

user1 my fave interviewer. i love the way she lovingly bullies the drivers. they’re always so engaging with her

jensonbutton now that’s a handsome man

→ its_yn thank you, i try 

→ danielricciardo but i’m the one with random answers?

user2 i’m so happy you’re in the paddock. you have the best rapport with the drivers and always have the best interviews with them

skysportsf1 when all the drivers beg for you to be there, we can’t say no

→ its_yn aw, you guys. i knew you loved me really

→ sebastianvettel of course. the prettiest interviewer we have

→ user3 oh, well then, get in there vettel

→ user4 sebastian making his move

user5 vettel winning on and off the track

user6 no way he bagged the hot sky sports presenter

user7 okay but the way she was smiling at him

→ user8 and the way he looked at her? talk about heart eyes

user9 if they need a third or a dog, i can bark

user10 ngl i thought jenson button was going to win her over

user11 okay, let’s chill a second guys. they just entered the paddock together

→ user12 we might be seeing the beginning of their relationship! how can any of us be calm. used to pray for times like these 

→ user13 yes but we don’t want to scare them off before we get confirmation

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Back resting against the wall of Mark's driver room, legs curled beneath you, you flipped through your notebooks. Going through your notes, you occasionally jotted something down, deeming it worthy of potentially mentioning during any interviews later. The sound of the lock turning had your head snapping up in time to see Mark's tall stature fill the doorframe. His eyes landed on you instantly, and he wriggled through the small gap he had created, blocking you from view of whoever was on the other side. A few short sentences later, Mark had managed to provide an adequate excuse to be alone. The door shut with a quiet click and Mark assured you it was locked.

"What are you doing here?" Mark questioned, the soft smile on his face assuring he wasn't opposed to the sight of you in his room. "Shouldn't you be out bothering more important people?"

"More important than you?" You shot back. "I've been put in charge of the post-race interviews today so I've got a bit of a break."

Mark took note of your jacket hanging on the back of his door, and your shoes at the foot of his massage table. His things surrounded by your things. And he was warmed by how comfortable you were here. In an endeavour to find some peace admit the chaos of the paddock, you took refuge in his room. The notion stoked the little fire of possessiveness within him.

"So, you're just going to hide out here until the race?"

Your pile of snacks, the circle of papers around you, and his jumper hanging from your frame told him all he needed to know. He just wanted - no, needed - to hear you say it. Especially after he'd overheard some of the drivers teasing Vettel during the Parade. About you, and the internet's speculations. And how if the German ended up on the podium, then how could the "pretty interviewer" say no to a date. So, regardless of the fact that it was his name and number splashed across your body, he still needed to hear you say it. To confirm that you were his and his alone.

"Until I'm needed, then yes," you smiled, watching as he slowly approached.

The white fireproof clinging to his muscular arms flexed as he placed them on either side of you. His race suit was wrapped around his waist precariously, looking ready to fall apart with a slight tug.

He angled his head down towards you, cheeks dimpling when he grinned. "And if I say you're needed right now?"

Your arms looped around his neck, pulling him down to close the small gap he had left between you. "What exactly am I needed for, Mr Webber?"

His eyes darted down to your mouth, watching as your tongue darted out to wet your lips. Before you could register that he'd moved, his mouth was on yours, moving against you and swallowing your surprised squeak. His arms wound themselves around your midsection, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body pressed into you instantly, and you melted into his touch.

Sliding your hands into his hair, you tugged at the short strands so as to pull him off you in order to catch your breath. As he didn't need oxygen more than he needed you, Mark's lips continued moving. His lips moved across your jaw, under your ear and down to the fluttering pulse in your neck, leaving a fiery path as he moved. A whimper was pulled from you when he sucked gently, your back arching into him. Paper crinkled beneath you when he lowered you onto the bed.

"Mark," you moaned, "you don't have time."

"Shh," he whispered against your skin, crawling atop you, trapping you between his body and the massage table. It have a groan of protest but he paid it no mind.

Not when your hands slid under his fireproofs, stroking the heated skin of his abdomen before trailing lower. With one pull, the knot of his race gave way, removing the cushioning that had prevented his hard length from pressing into you. A throaty groan escaped him when you rolled your hips against him.

Mark chuckled at your sudden eagerness. "What happened to not having enough time?"

"You shouldn't be so tempting."

Knowing that you craved him as much as he did you had Mark reconnecting your lips, moving with more fervour. Your lips parted, allowing his tongue to slide against yours. His hips jerked against you when you pulled his bottom lip into your mouth, sucking gently. Mark's hands slid down your hips, reaching around to palm your ass and pull you flush against him. The throbbing in his underwear intensified.

Two sharp raps on the door made your eyes snap open, fear flitting across your face when the door handle rattled. Mark pressed closer to you once more; not in lust but worry that someone would see you in the dishevelled state he had created. That was a sight for his eyes only.

Another knock came before a deep voice called out for the driver. "Christian wants to see you for a pre-race chat."

"What, now?"

"Yeah."

Mark groaned before looking down at you. Lipstick smeared, cheeks flushed and blotches darkening on your neck. He wasn't sure he could go outside. The image of you like this would stay with him, making him strain against the fabric of his suit.

"Go, my love," you whispered, tying his suit back around his waist, ensuring the arms carefully concealed the problem you had created. "And try not to collide with your teammate."

Well, the mention of his biggest rival this year was one way to soften him.

"You'll still be here when I get back? Before I jump in the car?" He pleaded.

He knew the answer. Of course he did. The routine had been the same for the past two years but, as before, he needed the verbal reassurance.

"And why would I do that?" You teased, snickering when the 6'1 man in front of you started to pout.

"Because how else would I get my pre-race kiss?"

"You could away ask Vettel."

The look on Mark's face turned from faux sadness to something much darker. You yelped when his teeth sunk into your neck before he pressed a soothing kiss on the mark he'd left (yes, I laughed at that). Shooting you a wink, he dashed out the door, and you were left alone once more.

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user1 seb really turned on the charm with this one

→ user2 he got away with defying team orders, won the race, and decided to win the girl 

user3 they would make such a cute couple though

user4 idk how yn managed to keep her calm, interviewer face on because if 3x wdc winner sebastian vettel spoke to me like that, i’d be giggling and twirling my hair fr

user5 okay i wasn’t a fan of the sebastian/yn train earlier but this interview may have convinced me 

user6 i love how she’s trying to stay unbiased but you can see that she’s impressed with vettel’s racing today 

→ user7 i actually thought she was a bit short with him for a change

→ user8 no i agree. her energy felt off. usually she laughs when they’re flirting

user9 did anyone else see webber watching them in the background?

→ user10 vettel needs to sleep with one eye open

user11 everyone talking about sebyn but i swear she kept looking behind him at mark

→ user12 mark defo smiled at her when they made eye contact 

→ user13 bfr, she’s clearly into seb here 

f1 just posted

liked by its_yn, redbullracing and others

f1 and it’s a 1-2 for red bull! oh, sorry, was that meant to say 2-1? 

9,222 comments

redbullracing that’s our bulls

→ user1 i didn’t realise we celebrated defying team orders

→ user2 oh please. sebastian was faster. mark needs to just accept that 

its_yn well done, team red bull

→ user3 it’s okay, sis. you can say well done to the love of your life for winning 

→ user4 vettel getting a celebration better than a champagne shower later 

user5 f1 is foul for this lmao 

→ user6 love how they used the pics where mark looks the most pissed off

sebastianvettel very good race. well done, team 

→ user7 he sounds so polite like he’s not a certified track terror 

user8 i’m in love with admin today. they knew what they were doing with this caption 

jensonbutton has anyone heard from mark since the podium?

→ fernandoalonso he’s yapping my ear off until all the conferences are done

user9 poor mark. he looked ready to throttle seb when they were doing interviews

→ user10 omg was that the one where seb was flirting with yn??

→ user9 yes! webber was stood behind him looking murderous. so hot 

user11 not to be one of those but i saw yn comforting mark after the race

→ user12 before or after her flirty interview with seb? 

→ user13 not fans trying to push yn and webber based on their 3 interactions when all this seb and yn content is right there

user1 sorry but no one can convince me that she didn’t just have a celebration romp with vettel

→ user2 yes! got to celebrate his win properly haha

→ user3 when he asked if she had plans later knowing she’d end up in his driver’s room

user4 dishevelled clothes, messy hair and her red lipstick from the morning gone? did someone say driver’s room sex

user5 she really does look like she got dicked down good 

user6 it’s the fact that almost everyone from the garage has left and she still got caught, bless her

user7 no because imagine angry sex with mark webber after that race

→ user8 oof, i never saw mark that way before but his face on that podium has me feeling some kind of way 

→ user9 i love how everyone is thinking of seb and your magnificent brain thought of mark

→ user7 i’m just saying, if i had to pick between the blonde twink or the angry, tall aussie, i know who i’m going with 

user10 okay but imagine it was mark’s room she snuck out from. seb stole his win so mark stole his crush 

→ user11 revenge, hate sex 

user12 did anyone else see the two marks on her neck during the interviews earlier though? i don't think post-race was the first taste miss thing got today

user13 damn, i always thought vettel would be good but he looks like he did a number on her 

markwebber just posted

liked by redbullracing, danielricciardo and others

markwebber please can you stop "shipping" her with the wrong bull. she’s mine

7,012 comments

its_yn and has happily been yours for two wonderful years

→ user1 they’ve been together for two years?!

→ user2 excuse me, two years and they kept it from everyone?! 

fernandoalonso does this mean i lose elite status as the only one who knows?

→ jensonbutton you knew! 

→ lewishamilton of course he knew. although i feel a little blindsided 

user3 no because i was fighting in the trenches for mark and yn whilst y’all were pushing the sebyn agenda

user4 who taught him to take the most romantic photos ever

→ markwebber yn did

→ its_yn i trained him good, ladies, so back off

redbullracing members of the garage have asked that you keep any noise in the driver’s room to a minimum. please and thanks

→ user5 so she did get her back blown out after the race by angry mark

→ user6 living my dream

→ its_yn i see you. he’s not for you anymore

jensonbutton genuinely did not see this coming. ngl, i was convinced yn was with seb

→ redbullracing so did we. we got sucked into all the twitter theories. they made a convincing case

→ its_yn @/redbullracing we had to disclose our relationship to you?

→ redbullracing i know. that’s how convincing they were

→ markwebber @/christianhorner how do i file a complaint about admin

user7 the height difference between them 🥰

→ user8 the height difference between them 🥵

danielricciardo well, there go my chances 

→ markwebber you’re too young for her, mate

→ danielricciardo yes but clearly she has a thing for aussies

→ its_yn just the one ;)

user9 no wonder he was angry. seb stole his win and then poor mark had to watch him flirt with his girl

→ user10 and watch as the entire internet shipped his girlfriend of two years with that win-stealing man 

sebastianvettel oh

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requests are open. i promise your requests are on the way. i'm just slow haha

tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius @lilorose25

[pucksandpower]

Rained Out

Toto Wolff x pregnant!Reader

Summary: a series of unfortunate events pushes Toto’s protective side to the surface

Based on this request

The rain drums steadily against the pavement, creating a shimmering curtain that obscures the bustling Canadian Grand Prix paddock from view. You stand just outside the entrance, one hand resting protectively on your swollen belly, the other clutching your useless paddock pass. The security guard eyes you sympathetically but remains firm.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t let you in if your pass isn’t scanning,” he says, his voice barely audible over the downpour.

You bite your lip, frustration and discomfort warring within you. “Please, I’m Toto Wolff’s wife. I’m sure this is just a technical glitch. If you could just call him-”

The guard shakes his head. “I’ve already radioed in. Mr. Wolff is in a meeting and can’t be disturbed. I’m truly sorry, but rules are rules. You’ll have to wait until we can verify your identity.”

A shiver runs through you as the wind picks up, sending icy droplets cascading down your neck. Your thin jacket, hastily thrown on before leaving the hotel, offers little protection against the elements. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to shield your unborn child from the chill.

Time crawls by at an agonizing pace. Other team members and officials hurry past, sparing curious glances at the very pregnant woman standing forlornly in the rain. You try Toto’s phone again, willing it to ring.

Finally, after what feels like hours but is likely only thirty minutes, a familiar voice cuts through the monotonous patter of rain.

“Schatz! Oh mein Gott, what are you doing out here?”

Toto appears, his tall frame moving with surprising speed. His eyes are wide with concern as he takes in your bedraggled state.

“The pass ... it wouldn’t scan,” you manage through chattering teeth. “They couldn’t reach you.”

Toto’s face darkens as he turns to the security guard. “How could you leave my pregnant wife standing in this weather? Do you have any idea-”

You place a gentle hand on his arm. “Toto, don’t. He was just doing his job.”

The anger in Toto’s eyes softens as he looks at you, replaced by guilt and worry. He shrugs off his team jacket and wraps it around your shoulders, ushering you quickly through the now-open gate.

“Come, let’s get you inside and dry,” he murmurs, his arm protectively around your waist.

As you enter the relative warmth of the Mercedes garage, the bustle of pre-race preparations momentarily halts. All eyes turn to you and Toto, taking in your drenched appearance.

“Somebody get some towels!” Toto barks, his accent thickening with stress. “And find some dry clothes!”

You lean into him, grateful for his solid presence. “I’m okay, really,” you assure him, though your voice wavers slightly. “Just a bit damp.”

Toto’s eyebrows shoot up. “A bit damp? Liebling, you look like you’ve been swimming in your clothes.”

Despite your discomfort, you can’t help but laugh. “Well, I always did want to try synchronized swimming. Though I imagined a pool, not a parking lot.”

Toto’s lips twitch, a reluctant smile breaking through his worry. “Your sense of humor remains intact, I see.”

A team member approaches with a stack of fluffy towels and what appears to be team-issued sweats. Toto takes them with a nod of thanks.

“Can you manage changing by yourself?” He asks quietly. “Or do you need help?”

You consider for a moment. While you’d normally insist on independence, your sodden clothes are clinging uncomfortably, and your fingers feel numb from the cold.

“I ... might need a hand,” you admit sheepishly.

Toto nods, guiding you towards a more private corner of the garage. He helps you peel off the wet layers, his touch gentle and reverent as it skims over your rounded belly.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs as he helps you into the dry clothes. “I should have made sure your pass was working properly. I should have answered my phone.”

You cup his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Hey, none of that. It was just a silly mix-up. No harm done.”

Toto’s brow furrows. “No harm? You were standing in the freezing rain for God knows how long! You could get sick, or the baby-”

“The baby is fine,” you interrupt, placing his large hand on your stomach. As if on cue, there’s a strong kick against his palm. “See? Still doing somersaults in there.”

Some of the tension leaves Toto’s shoulders, but concern still lingers in his eyes. “Still, I want Dr. Müller to check you over, just to be safe.”

You nod, knowing arguing would be pointless. “Alright, if it will make you feel better. But first ...” You glance meaningfully at the bustling garage around you. “Don��t you have a race to prepare for?”

Toto hesitates, clearly torn between his professional duties and his desire to fuss over you. You give him a gentle push.

“Go on. I promise I’ll sit quietly and drink something warm until the doctor arrives.”

He searches your face for a moment, then nods. “Alright. But you call me immediately if you feel even slightly unwell, verstanden?”

“Verstanden,” you echo with a smile. “Now go be the big, scary team principal everyone expects.”

Toto chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I love you, you know that?”

“I had an inkling,” you tease. “Now scoot!”

As Toto reluctantly returns to his duties, you settle into a chair, gratefully accepting a steaming mug of tea from a hovering team member. The garage slowly returns to its normal frenetic pace, though you notice several concerned glances thrown your way.

You’re halfway through your tea when a familiar face appears at your side. Lewis crouches down, his expression a mix of worry and amusement.

“I hear you tried to stage your own wet race out there,” he says with a grin.

You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “What can I say? I was feeling left out of all the excitement.”

Lewis chuckles, then his face grows more serious. “You alright though? For real?”

You nod, touched by his concern. “I’m fine, truly. Just a bit waterlogged. Though I think Toto might spontaneously combust from worry.”

As if summoned by his name, Toto appears behind Lewis. “Yes, Dr. Müller, thank you for coming on such short notice. She’s right here.”

You shoot Lewis an exasperated look that clearly says ‘see what I mean?’ He responds with a sympathetic pat on your shoulder before rising.

“I’ll leave you to it,” he says. “Try not to give the old man a heart attack before the race, yeah?”

Toto scowls playfully at Lewis’ retreating back. “I heard that!”

As Dr. Müller begins her examination, Toto hovers anxiously nearby, his eyes darting between you and the various race preparations happening around the garage.

“Toto,” you call softly. “I can practically hear you thinking from here. What’s wrong?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a telltale sign of stress. “I just ... I can’t stop thinking about you standing out there in the rain. What if something had happened? What if-”

“But nothing did happen,” you interrupt gently. “I’m fine, the baby’s fine. It was just a bit of rain.”

Toto shakes his head. “It’s not just that. I should have been there. I should have made sure you were taken care of. What kind of husband, what kind of father am I going to be if I can’t even-”

“Stop right there,” you say firmly. “You are going to be an amazing father, Toto Wolff. You already are. Do you know how I know?”

He looks at you questioningly.

“Because you care this much,” you explain. “Because even in the middle of one of the biggest race weekends of the year, your first thought is for me and our baby. That’s what matters, not some silly mishap with a security pass.”

Toto’s eyes soften, and he moves to kneel beside you, taking your hand in his. “How did I get so lucky?” He murmurs.

You smile, squeezing his hand. “I ask myself the same thing every day.”

Dr. Müller clears her throat, reminding you both of her presence. “Well, I’m happy to report that both mother and baby are perfectly healthy. No signs of distress or illness from the exposure to the cold.”

The relief on Toto’s face is palpable. “Thank you, Doctor. That’s wonderful news.”

As Dr. Müller packs up her equipment, you turn to Toto with a mischievous glint in your eye. “So, now that we’ve established that I’m not about to melt from a little rain, what do you say we focus on winning this race?”

Toto laughs, the remaining tension finally leaving his body. “Always keeping me on track, aren’t you?”

“Someone has to,” you tease. “Now, go lead your team to victory. Your very pregnant, very proud wife will be cheering you on from right here.”

Toto leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I love you,” he murmurs. “Both of you.”

As he straightens up, resuming his role as the formidable Mercedes team principal, you can’t help but smile. Come rain or shine, paddock pass or no paddock pass, you know that you and Toto can weather any storm together.

[flickering-chandelier]

Was Any Of It True?

Pairing: badboy!Azriel x goodgirl!Reader

Summary: Modern/College AU! Az’s on-again-off-again girlfriend gives Azriel a proposition: make the new bookworm fall in love with him, then break her heart, in exchange for anything he wants. He agrees, but things get complicated when he falls for Reader for real.

Based on this request! 🩷

✨ Part 2 ✨ Part 3 ✨

Warnings: angst, sexual language?, swearing, Azriel & friends being assholes

Word Count: 10.2k   oh lord sorry besties I couldn’t shut my little brain off

“I'm telling you, Az, she's pissing me off. The professor loves her, and I saw that she got a 100 on the exam,” Claire was seething while she and Azriel lounged in his apartment, eating the pizza he'd ordered.

“Mhmm,” he mumbled around his pizza, only half listening. Claire was always complaining about something. “And what did you get?”

“98! He took two points off because I didn't answer thoroughly enough,” she scoffed. “God, I hate her. She's going to push me right off the top of the Dean's list.”

Azriel blinked. “I mean, you'll still be very near the top of the list.”

Claire groaned, throwing her napkin onto her paper plate angrily, “That's not good enough!”

He rolled his eyes and she glared at him. “Don't be an ass! This is a big deal to me.”

“Oh, I know it is. This girl is all you talk about.”

“Because I hate her. Maybe if she got laid, she’d be distracted enough to slip up once in a while,” she grumbled.

“Yeah, maybe,” Azriel said, pulling his laptop out of his backpack and setting it on the table, a sufficient signal that he didn’t want to talk about his girlfriend’s arch nemesis anymore. 

No more than a week later, Azriel’s on-again-off-again girlfriend was off-again, and honestly, he was relieved. Claire’s obsession with being at the top of the academic food chain was bordering on insanity, and he was glad he didn’t have to hear about it anymore.

He was currently at a house party that Cassian had dragged him to, with a blonde girl that he couldn’t remember the name of sitting in his lap, one of her arms draped behind his neck, the other resting on his chest. She had been whispering in his ear all the things that she wanted to do to him, before Cassian interrupted, handing Azriel a shot with a grin. 

Blondie scowled at Cassian, who just smirked back as the girl that Cass had been talking to earlier sidled up next to him, wrapping her arms around his middle. 

Azriel knocked the shot back and handed the cup it had come in to the blonde girl. “Can you get me another one?”

She seemed annoyed, but took the cup from him anyway, striding into the kitchen. 

“Sorry for interrupting,” Cassian said, settling on the couch next to him, before pulling the girl onto his lap.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Like I give a shit.”

Cassian snickered as the blonde girl came back, draping herself in his lap again, handing him another shot. He drank it, just as Claire appeared before him, her arms crossed over her chest, and her brow furrowed.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice husky.

“I have a proposition for you.”

He smirked, making a show of tightening his grip on the blonde girl’s waist. “No, thanks. Been there, done that.”

“Not that kind of proposition, you idiot. Can we talk privately? I think it’ll be worth your while,” she said, her lips turning up into a sultry smile.

“I don’t know, Claire, I’m pretty busy right now,” he said, turning his gaze to the blonde girl, squeezing her thigh. She sighed dreamily, leaning further into him.

Claire groaned. “Look, Az, I really need your help. Please?” 

Azriel studied Claire, and he could see that it was true. She was wearing her most annoyed, don’t-fuck-with-me face, but her eyes were pleading. Sad.

He sighed, glancing apologetically at the girl in his lap before turning back to Claire. “Fine, we can talk.”

She led him into someone’s empty bedroom and shut the door behind her. 

“If this is about that girl you’re obsessed with, so help me,” he said. She winced, and he threw his head back. “Unbelievable. Claire, I don’t want to hear about this anymore! I don’t care about your problems.”

“Just hear me out!”

He crossed his arms over his chest, and raised an eyebrow at her, waiting.

“She actually is threatening my spot on the Dean’s list now,” she said, looking close to tears.

He looked pointedly at her. “And?”

“And I was thinking about what I said earlier… about how if a really hot guy was interested in her, maybe she would stop caring about her grades so much,” she said, smiling at him now.

“And?” Azriel just wished she would get to the point.

Claire sighed, exasperated. “I need you to seduce her.”

Azriel barked out a laugh, leaning his shoulder against the nearest wall. “You’re kidding, right? Why would I do that?”

She stepped closer to him, trailing a finger along his chest, her touch feather-light through his black t-shirt. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, “Because I asked? Because I’ll give you anything you want,” she said, her voice dropping seductively.

He held her gaze, leaning down until their mouths were a breath away. Azriel heard her breath hitch.

Then he pulled away rapidly, and she blinked. “Sweetheart, you know I can fuck you anytime I want, right? That is not going to persuade me to help you.”

Her brow furrowed, her nose scrunching up. Oh, she was furious. Azriel's mouth turned up into his calculated half smile.

“What do you want, Az?” she huffed.

“Hmm,” he said, taking his time to think. Claire scowled. “I haven’t decided yet. But when I need to call in a favor of my own, you have to promise to do it. No matter what,” he drawled.

To her credit, she really looked like she was thinking it through, trying to think of another way to push this girl off the list. But finally, she sighed. “Deal.”

He pushed off the wall, walking towards the door. “Alright, so I just have to seduce the bookworm? Easy.”

Claire shook her head, her eyes still alight with her anger. “No, if I’m going to agree to any favor you could possibly want, you’re going to have to go further. You need to make her fall in love with you.”

Azriel bristled a bit, leaning against the door now. “I know I’m an asshole, but that seems too far, don’t you think?”

“No. If she’s going to be distracted enough that her grades will slip, you need to make it seem real,” she said, and then smiled as if she had a wicked thought.

“What?” Azriel asked.

“And then you break her heart, right before exams,” she said excitedly, her eyes burning with enthusiasm now. “You tell her, in front of everyone, that it was all fake.”

He rubbed at his bicep, a nervous tic that Claire picked up on immediately. “Jesus, Claire. I don’t want to ruin this girl’s life.”

She arched her brow. “Why not? She’s ruining mine.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and Claire pounced, “Any favor, Az. Any time, you can tell me to do whatever you want,” she smirked. 

He groaned, pinching his nose. “Fine,” he ground out. “Where do I find her?”

Claire beamed. “Where else would a nerd be? The library, of course.”

---

You shifted in your seat, starting to feel sore after poring over your notes for hours. Maybe you should go for a walk. Maybe. But, you still had so much to do…

Groaning, you crossed your arms on the table, laying your head down on top of them. Just a minute, you just needed a tiny break --

“Studying always makes me feel like that, too,” said a low, male voice. 

You lifted your head, bewildered, and nearly choked on your own spit. The guy who was for some reason deigning to talk to you was… well, what other way was there to say it? He was drop-dead gorgeous. 

His face was stoic as he sauntered up to your table, his jet black hair was just a tad unruly, his hazel eyes burning into yours. But it was his body that made the breath completely escape your lungs. He was dressed in all black, his t-shirt hugging his chest and his biceps, showing off his every muscle, and there were swirling black tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves. 

All you could do was stare as he took the seat across from you, leaning back with his arms crossed like the two of you did this every day.

“What class is that for?” he asked, nodding to the textbook open in front of you, the dozens of papers scattered around you.

“Organic Chemistry,” you said, trying to sound like you were normal and not completely surprised by this handsome stranger finding you in your favorite quiet corner of the library.

He let out a low whistle, “Damn, you are smart.”

“What, did someone tell you I was?” you asked. 

“No, I just figured when I saw all the --” he gestured to your cluttered workspace, “homework stuff.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Homework stuff?”

His mouth turned up the slightest bit, holding up his hands like he was surrendering. “You caught me. I’m not much of an academic.”

“Then what are you doing here?” you asked curiously.

“Now, that is an excellent question,” he said, and really did seem like he was questioning it. “Girls? Parties? Though I could get girls anywhere and I don't particularly enjoy parties.”

You nodded. “Ah,” you said. “Got it.”

He braced his arms on the table, leaning forward. “I take it you’re not into that kinda thing?”

A dry laugh escaped from your throat, “Definitely not. I’m really only here for the--” you mimicked his gesture from earlier, “homework stuff.”

He barked out a laugh, his stoic face completely transforming for the briefest of moments. You couldn’t help but stare. “You’re telling me all you do is study? A beautiful girl like you? Please tell me you’ve been to at least one party,” he said, looking at you incredulously. 

You blushed. “No, I haven’t been to any.”

You braced yourself for impact, for the teasing or insults to come, but he just smiled softly. “You wanna go to one with me tonight?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You don’t even know my name.”

The side of his mouth quirked up into a smile, his eyes dancing with amusement. “What's your name?”

Rolling your eyes, you told him.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Azriel.” He raised his eyebrows, “So? Party?”

“I thought you just said you don't like parties!”

“True, but I do love the thought of corrupting a sweet, innocent bookworm,” he smirked.

“No, thanks.” You couldn't imagine yourself going to a house party, especially not with a stranger.

Azriel's cool-guy demeanor seemed to drop the slightest bit. “Why not?”

You looked at him pointedly. “I don't know you. And I have no interest in being corrupted. Why do you want me to come to this party so badly anyway?”

He shrugged casually. “I like you.”

“You don't know me!”

“See, that, right there,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “You're funny. Smart, beautiful. What's not to like?”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, even as a blush rose to your cheeks. “I'm not going to a party with someone I don't know. They make true crime documentaries about that sort of thing.”

He seemed to contemplate that for a moment. “Okay, you make a fair point. What do you want to do then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can pick our first date, since you didn't like my idea.”

“What date?” You blanched.

He arched an eyebrow. “Our first date? Weren't you listening?”

You studied him for a moment. For the life of you, you could not figure out what this guy's angle was. 

As if reading your mind, he said softly, “Look, I just saw you and thought you were really pretty, and that it looked like you could use a break from studying. That's it,” he held his hands up again. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If you want me to go, I'll go.”

For a beat longer, you watched him, his body language, his ridiculously pretty face. What was the harm, really? You sighed, tore off a scrap of paper from your notebook, scribbled out your number, then handed it to him. “I need to study. If you text me later, I'll let you know where we're going on the first date.” 

His face broke out into what might have been the first genuine smile you'd seen from him. He took the paper from you, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Can't wait.”

You were half expecting to never hear from Azriel again. But just a few hours later, as you were eating dinner in your apartment, your phone chimed with a text. 

Az: Done studying yet?

It was an effort to bite down your smile. 

You: Taking a break for dinner. 

It was less than a minute before he responded. 

Az: Dinner? Is that what our first date is going to be?

You didn’t try to hide your smile this time.

You: A little cliche, don’t you think?

Az: Oh, absolutely. So… what are we doing?

You: Meet at the tennis courts at 7 tomorrow?

Az: We’re playing tennis?

You: No, but I’m not giving you my address. And I’m not giving away the surprise.

Az: So smart. So mysterious. I’m swooning.

You: Shut up.

Az: See you tomorrow ;)

You tossed your phone to the side, forcing yourself to focus back on your schoolwork.

The following day you parked your car by the empty tennis courts on campus just before 7. It was early spring; the weather finally started to warm up enough to not be too chilly in the evening. Still, you rubbed your arms nervously. You were starting to regret this. You didn’t know this guy at all. What if it went horribly wrong?

Before you could contemplate bailing, a familiar figure rode up on a jet black motorcycle. Of course this guy had a motorcycle. You couldn't see his face underneath the helmet, but you would already recognize those tattooed arms anywhere. 

He parked his bike, smoothly sliding off it and taking his helmet off before sauntering over to you. “Hey, beautiful.” 

You rolled your eyes, sure that he had said that to a million girls on a million dates before.

“What? Don’t do that,” he said softly, his smile softening and his gaze raking down your body. “You are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, giving in. 

“So,” he said, towering over you. “What’s the plan?”

You smiled. “How’s your mini golf game?”

He raised an eyebrow, looking a little skeptical. “Mini golf? That’s what you’re choosing?”

“Yes, it is. Do you have something to say about that?” you teased. 

His eyes sparked at the tone in your voice. “Nope. Nothing at all.” He nodded to his motorcycle. “You wanna hop on the bike?”

You looked pointedly at him and he laughed. “Didn’t think so,” he gestured to your car. “Lead the way.”

Your nerves started to dim as the two of you fell into a rhythm going through the course. The two of you were just talking and laughing like it was normal. It was… fun, actually.

“Shit,” Azriel muttered as he overshot the hole. Again.

You laughed and his eyes flicked over to you, lingering a bit. “You’re good at this, bookworm,” he said as he took another shot, sinking it into the hole this time. You watched, leaning against your putter, having finished that hole two shots ago. 

Shrugging, you said, “I used to go with my family a lot.”

He placed his hand on the small of your back as you walked to the next hole. You cleared your throat, focusing on your steps, on your breathing, on anything but how it felt to have him touch you so casually. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he asked as you dropped your ball onto the green. 

You took your shot before you answered. The ball landed just shy of the hole. “What’s your family like?”

“My family…” he trailed off, clearing his throat, setting up his shot. He paused to look at you for a moment before he swung. “It’s complicated.”

He hit the ball and it stopped right next to yours. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” you said, as the two of you walked further down the hole.

“No, you didn’t. It’s just… I don’t really talk about them with anybody.”

You nodded, not sure where to go from here.

Azriel smiled reassuringly, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m not worrying,” you claimed, your voice an octave too high. 

“You are. I can tell.”

You bit your lip to hide your smile as you sunk your ball into the hole.

“I think I’m going to need some pointers from you on the next hole,” he grumbled. 

“I guess I could help you out,” you laughed. 

So, when you got to the next hole, the last hole, he stepped so close that your bodies were nearly touching. You tried to control your breathing. 

“You’re gonna help me out?” he murmured, his eyes flashing down to your lips for a moment. 

“Okay,” you breathed. 

He stepped behind you, his body pressed against your back, wrapping his arms around you, his hands covering yours on the club. 

“How is this going to help you, exactly?” you asked, your voice slightly unsteady. 

His lips brushed your ear as he said, “Oh, trust me, it’s helping.”

You couldn’t say anything. Could hardly breathe.

“What do you think I’m doing wrong?” He murmured. 

You swallowed. “You’re hitting it too hard. Not exactly rocket science.”

“Mmm. That makes sense. I do tend to go… hard.”

That finally had you coming to your senses. You stepped out of his grasp, turning back to glare at him when you were a safe distance away. 

The side of his mouth turned up into a smile. “Sorry. I couldn't help myself.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him again. “Just take your shot.”

He smirked at you for a moment, before he swung, and the ball went right into the hole. 

He turned to you, his eyes wide. You laughed and he hugged you, picking you up and spinning you around. 

You let out an involuntary squeal of surprise, and he laughed, gazing into your eyes as he set you back on the ground. “Thanks for the help.”

“I think you’ve been playing me this whole time,” you joked. 

His smile fell a little, his eyes sobering. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. When he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, you added, “Azriel, I was joking.”

He blinked and then his natural, stoic expression was back as he took a step closer to you. “Right. I think you’re just a good teacher.”

You just looked at him, trying to decipher the changes in his mood, who he really was underneath the gruff exterior.

He smiled faintly, stepping even closer. “What are you thinking about?”

You had to crane your neck to look him in the eye now. “I'm trying to figure out what you're thinking about.”

Azriel's smile turned into a smirk. “I'm thinking… that I really want to kiss you. But I don't want to scare you away.”

Heat flooded your face and his smile turned softer as he cupped your cheek gently with a rough hand. “Would it scare you away?” He murmured.

“I -- don't know,” you said honestly.

His hazel eyes dipped to your lips and stayed there. “I think I'm gonna have to take the risk,” he said, his voice low, husky.

“I think so, too,” you breathed.

His free hand slinked around your waist, gently pulling your body into his. Your heart thundered in your chest as he leaned down, slowly bringing his lips to yours. He seemed to give you a moment to process, and you felt him smile against your mouth when you started to kiss him back, your fingers curling around his bicep, his shoulder.

You were breathless by the time he pulled away, and as the two of you drove back to the tennis courts, you couldn't help but hope that it would happen again by the end of the night.

When you parked your car near his motorcycle in the abandoned lot, he lingered, his gaze holding yours, dropping to your mouth again.

He shot you a crooked smile. “Aren't you gonna walk me to my bike?”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you got out of the car, walking over to the motorcycle and settling against the fence near it, crossing your arms over your chest. “Happy now?” You asked.

Slowly, he sauntered over to you, his eyes twinkling under the stars. He raised his arm, twining his fingers in the chain link fence above your head, leaning his body towards you, but not quite touching. He gazed down at you, still sporting that half smile. “Very happy,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched and when his smile widened, you knew he heard it. 

He held your gaze as he leaned down, bringing his mouth to yours again. You let yourself fall deeper into the kiss this time, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you. 

When he finally pulled away, he was grinning. “Want to go for a ride before you head home?” He said, nodding to his motorcycle.

You had stepped far enough out of your comfort zone for today. “Maybe next time.”

He raised his eyebrows in amusement. “So you're giving me a next time?”

Damn. You blushed. “I said maybe.”

“Uh huh, sure,” he said, leaning in again so his lips were barely an inch from yours. “You can't wait to see me again,” he whispered.

You shoved him away lightly and he chuckled, backing up towards his bike, but keeping his eyes on you. “Until next time, then. Have a good night, bookworm.” He winked before putting his helmet on and speeding away.

A few weeks, a few dates, and several kisses later, you couldn't deny that Azriel was on your mind quite a bit.

You had never thought that someone like him would be interested in someone like you, but he seemed to prove time and time again that he did indeed like you. He texted you flirty little things every day, making you blush in class. He asked about your day, and seemed to genuinely be listening, and he would do pretty much anything you wanted on your dates. Last week, the two of you had gone to a local bookstore and he had watched you browse, a small smile on his face. He ended up picking out a book he wanted you to read and you did the same for him. He had been sending you daily updates on his progress through the book. Slowly, you were starting to let your walls down, despite yourself.

So, when he asked you to finally go to a party with him, to meet his friends, you accepted. You still felt cautious: partying had never been something that you were remotely interested in, but you trusted him.

---

Azriel knew he had to tread this next part carefully. Things had been going well with you. He let you take control of your time together so you would be comfortable, and honestly, he was actually having a really good time getting to know you and seeing where you would take him next.

And when you kissed him… God. It was always a struggle to keep his hands on your waist, to stay PG. He wished he could explore things further with you in that regard, but he wouldn't let himself go there. Not when your broken heart was the finish line.

He rarely let himself think about it -- the deal that he had made with Claire. Being with you felt so natural that he usually forgot he was supposed to be acting. That he was supposed to be leading you to Claire’s revenge.

He had convinced you to come to a party, upon Claire's request so she could see the progress he had made with you. You had said yes, he assumed because you trusted him enough now. The thought made his stomach roll. He was really starting to hate himself for getting mixed up in this.

Azriel acted differently around you than he did around the rest of the general population. At a young age he had learned to keep quiet, to not show a single emotion on his pretty face, to be tough, or be punished. 

With you… he couldn't help but smile. Couldn't stop the laughs that he usually stomped down for the rest of the world.

So, having his two worlds collide at this party…he didn't know exactly how to navigate it. Deep down, it made his heart swell that you trusted him enough to help you navigate something so far out of your comfort zone. But if his friends saw the way he acted around you, he would never hear the end of it.

This would be a mess.

If Azriel wasn't leaning against his motorcycle when you exited your apartment building, he may have fallen over. You were wearing skintight jeans and a black tank top that showed more cleavage than he ever imagined he'd see from you. His fingers flexed on his biceps. He wanted to pull you back into your apartment and spend an hour peeling those clothes away inch by inch.

He blinked the lust away, trying to maintain his stoic expression, but failed, as he always did with you. He smiled at you and you smiled back. 

He could tell by the way you carried yourself as you neared him that you were nervous. “Hey, beautiful,” he drawled his usual greeting as you wrapped your arms around his waist in your usual greeting.

“Hi,” you said, a little sheepishly. His eyes must have lingered on your curves a little too long because your eyes widened a bit, and you bit your lip nervously as you pulled away from him. He nearly groaned. “Is it too much? Do I look stupid?”

Azriel placed his hands on your shoulders gently, dipping his head to look you in the eyes. “You look amazing. Seriously.”

You blushed and murmured, “Thank you.”

He had to turn away, to grab your helmet, so you wouldn't see how much you affected him. He fucking loved it when he made you blush like that. 

Azriel turned back to you, holding up the helmet, his eyebrows raising with amusement. “You ready to join the dark side, bookworm?”

You sighed, shifting on your feet. 

“It'll be okay,” he said softly. “I got you.”

You nodded, seeming to resolve yourself, and reached for the helmet with slightly shaking hands.

He helped you make sure it was on correctly, his fingers brushing your chin, your neck. He bit back a smile as you shivered.

Azriel held your hand as you got settled on the back of the bike, showing you where to put your feet, and how to shift your weight with him.

When you seemed at least somewhat comfortable, he slid his helmet on, smoothly setting onto the motorcycle. You wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your chest into his back. You were already holding him like your life depended on it, and he beamed freely underneath the helmet.

“Hold on tight,” he shot back at you, before he revved the engine, taking off much more gently than he normally would.

He tried not to think about the feel of you pressed into him, how tightly you were holding on. It didn't work. He wanted to drive you everywhere.

He couldn't resist reaching back to briefly squeeze your thigh at a red light. “How are you doing?”

“Good,” you said. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard a smile in your voice.

Too soon in Azriel's opinion, they had made it to the party. He parked, offering you his hand to help you get down.

When he pulled the helmet off your head, he was pleased to see that you were indeed smiling.

“Have fun?” He smirked.

“I did, actually,” you said, sounding a little breathless. 

“Whenever you need a ride, you just let me know,” he winked.

You laughed, glancing behind him at the house. 

He took your hand in his, squeezing reassuringly. You seemed to relax a bit. “We can leave whenever you want, okay?”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded and smiled nervously up at him.

You were doing this for him, he realized. Because he had asked you to. His heart constricted, guilt churning in his gut again as he led you inside, your hand squeezing his tightly. 

His shoulders tightened as he led you through the crowd, making sure you were tucked in close to him. 

“You want a drink?” he asked, as you made your way to the kitchen.

“Sure,” you said.

He rifled through what was on the sticky counter, trying to find something not disgusting for you to drink, making sure you stayed close to him. 

Finally handing you a cup, he put your hand on the small of your back, guiding you to a corner of the living room that wasn’t yet very crowded. He took a seat on the couch and you settled in next to him, tucked closely into his side. 

You smiled, leaning your shoulder into his. “Is this really it?” You asked skeptically. “You just sit here and drink around a bunch of drunk idiots?”

He laughed before he could stop himself. “I mean, yeah, that’s pretty much it,” he said, dipping his head to say in your ear. “Or we could dance. Or make out,” he smiled against your ear. 

You blushed and he laughed again, kissing your temple. 

Azriel wrapped an arm around your shoulders as Cassian and Rhys showed up, grinning at you, their eyebrows raised. Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes. They had seen him laughing with you, kissing you, he knew. He had nearly forgotten where he was, why he was here with you. He loved them, but he wasn’t sure what they would say to you about him. They didn’t know about his arrangement with Claire, and he had been keeping details about his relationship with you as vague as possible.

“So you’re the one Az has been spending all his time with,” Cassian grinned. 

You smiled sheepishly, leaning further into Azriel. “I guess.”

Azriel nodded to his friends. “This is Cassian and Rhysand. They’ve been my best friends since we were kids.”

He could tell you were intrigued by that. He still hadn’t told you anything about his childhood. 

Before you could ask any questions, Claire showed up next to Azriel’s friends, her expression the very picture of friendship. It unsettled him so much that he held you closer to him, so you were practically on his lap. 

“Hi Claire,” you smiled, and his heart sank. You really had no idea how Claire felt about you. 

Claire smiled back. “Hey. I never expected to see you here.”

“I’m trying new things,” you said, smiling lightly at Azriel.

He couldn’t take it, having you so close to Claire, seeing that trust you had in him when you looked at him. He cleared his throat, standing up and offering you his hand. You took it, smiling politely at Claire and his friends as he led you through the house, out to the backyard. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked, looking up at him curiously as he leaned his back against the side of the house.

“Yeah,” he said, unable to stop the smile that rose to his face as you gazed at him with your big doe eyes. He tugged you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I just wanted you to myself for a minute.”

“Oh yeah?” you flushed, and before he could stop himself, he kissed your cheeks, feeling the heat against his lips before his lips met yours in a slow, sensual kiss.

He was still kissing you when he heard Cassian snickering close by. “Oh shit, he’s whipped.”

Azriel rolled his eyes as he pulled away from you, but kept his hold on your waist. “How am I whipped?”

Cassian’s eyes gleamed with mischief and Azriel’s heart started to pound. “Sneaking out here on your own. You’re usually content to stay on the couch to make out with your girl of the week.”

Your body tensed in his arms and Azriel groaned internally, glaring at Cassian, who smirked. “Oh, she didn’t know? My bad, Az.”

Azriel’s expression was enough to send Cassian back inside. 

Your brow furrowed as you stepped back, out of his reach. “Girl of the week?”

He winced. “He’s being dramatic.”

You raised your eyebrows, glaring at him, crossing your arms over your chest. 

It was kind of adorable, but Azriel reigned in that comment. He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, look. I told you when we met that I go to parties and meet girls there. But things are different now,” he said, taking a step closer to you. And it was true. Things were different. You had been the one haunting his thoughts since that first date. He had barely looked at anyone else since.

After a moment, you sighed, and he knew you wouldn’t resist when he wrapped his arms back around you. 

“Cassian’s an idiot,” he murmured, his focus back on your lips that he was dying to kiss again.

“So I’m not the girl of the week?” you said quietly, your eyes on his lips now. 

He smiled. “We’ve been seeing each other for several weeks, haven’t we?”

You nodded, biting your lip, before you stood up on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. Azriel was surprised by his own relief. “Are we going back inside?” you asked. 

“Not if you don’t want to,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist again. 

Pursing your lips in thought, you said, “Mmm. Let’s go back in.”

“Yeah?” he said, surprised.

You smiled up at him, resting your chin on his chest. His heart melted. “I’m trying to be brave.”

He kissed your forehead, smiling faintly. “I’m proud of you, bookworm.”

You beamed, your whole face lighting up. 

Azriel led you inside, his hand on the small of your back, trying to manage the swell of emotions in his chest. He didn’t have the time to process them right now. 

The two of you mingled throughout the party for a few hours, and you even went so far as to dance with him for a bit, your body pressed against his, your hips swaying to the beat of the pounding music. He could hardly believe it, the way you let loose with him.

He stopped in the bathroom before the two of you left. He wasn’t gone for more than a few minutes, but when he returned, he spotted you near the kitchen, backing away from a guy who was clearly very drunk and very horny. Azriel saw red. 

Before he could take a second to think, Azriel was upon the bastard, punching him in the jaw. 

He heard you yelp. The asshole staggered back, swearing, his hand cradling his jaw. Azriel barely spared him a glance, his hands gently holding either side of your face, his gaze raking your body, searching for any sign that he had touched you. 

Your eyes were wide, your breathing labored, but you seemed physically fine. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

You nodded, your eyes still frantic. 

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders as he led you outside. Claire caught his eye on the way out, hers shining with delight. He scowled at her. 

When you made it outside, he hugged you to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

“I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

You snorted. “You were gone for a few minutes. It’s not your fault that men are gross.”

“Are you okay, really?” He asked, pulling back to look you in the eye.

“I’m okay,” you said quietly. 

He held you close to him, gazing at you for another moment before you smiled faintly. “You really didn’t need to punch him, you know.”

He winced slightly, remembering the yelp you let out when he threw that punch. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you said, rising on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

Azriel held you until his heart rate slowed down, until his body was convinced that you were okay.

Later, after he had dropped you off at your apartment, Azriel stayed awake, tossing and turning, so many images from that night racing through his mind.

The way his heart constricted every time you smiled at him, the horror he felt at seeing Claire play nice, the terror and rage that flowed through his entire body when he saw that creep bothering you…

Azriel knew then, that he had real feelings for you. Shit.

---

“C’mon, baby, you’ve been studying for ages already,” Azriel murmured, standing behind you as you sat at your desk in your apartment, his arms draped around your chest, his lips trailing down your neck.

Your toes curled, heat running right through you. You wanted to give in. You really did. But…

You sighed. “I’m sorry, Az. I have this big exam on Tuesday. And finals are only a few weeks away.”

For some reason, that comment made his entire body stiffen. “Oh, yeah. Finals.”

You snorted. “Don’t tell me you forgot about finals.”

“No, I just… they’re soon.” His voice wavered a bit as he stood up fully. You twisted in your seat to look up at him. His brow was furrowed, his eyes swimming with anxiety. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, reaching up and cupping his cheek with your hand. “Do you need me to help you study?” He had never seemed to care about his grades before.

He leaned into your touch for a moment, shooting you a forced smile. “No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. I should go, and let you study.” He stooped down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “I won’t distract you anymore today.” 

Before you could even respond, he was out the door. 

You turned back to your notes, but couldn’t digest any of the information. That was… weird.

Azriel and you had been dating for months now. Though neither of you had ever put a label on it, you both knew you were exclusive. 

In the privacy of your own mind, you secretly loved that he acted so differently around you than he did out and about on campus. You felt like you got a different version of him that was saved especially for you. It made your heart swell, all the little things he did for you each day. 

You were also willing to admit, to yourself only, that you were absolutely in love with him. You had known for weeks now, and had been debating whether or not you should tell him. 

He had been the one that made you step out of your comfort zone, to try new things, to be brave. 

So, soon. You would tell him soon.

--- 

Azriel had to get out of the deal. Now.

He remembered the exact moment that he realized he was in love with you. It was a random afternoon, the two of you were watching TV at his apartment. He was laying on the couch, you were laying on top of him, your legs intertwined with his, your head on his chest. He was absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair while you giggled about something that happened on the show. 

And he had the thought. I want my whole life to look like this. 

And he knew. He loved you.

This had scared him, obviously, on multiple levels. He had never loved anyone before, never knew what that looked like. Yet somehow, he knew without a doubt that it was true. 

And then, of course, there was the deal he had made with the devil. 

He had known early on that he would have to get out of the deal. He had just been putting it off, hoping that Claire’s insanity would die down throughout the semester. 

But now his time was up. 

He prayed to whoever might be listening that Claire would listen to reason. That she would call it off. He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you. He wouldn’t do it. 

Claire smirked as she opened the door. “I’ve been wondering when you would show up. It’s been a long time, Az,” she purred. 

Azriel stalked into her apartment, barely sparing her a glance. “The deal’s off, Claire.”

She cocked her head to the side, amused. “Oh? Why is that?”

“Because it’s insane,” he growled. “You were insane for coming up with it, and I was insane for agreeing to it. I’m done.”

Slowly, her lips curled up into a lethal smile. “You fell for her.”

Azriel blinked. 

Claire cackled. “Oh, this is rich. You actually fell for the bookworm? I never thought I’d see the day. No wonder you haven’t been crawling into my bed.”

He scowled. “The deal’s off,” he repeated in the tone he used to scare people away.

She really looked at him then, her eyes bearing into his. After a moment, she finally said, “Okay.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Okay? Just like that?”

Claire shrugged. “You were right. It was an insane plan. And it didn’t even work,” she said bitterly. “You suck at your job. She’ll still be on the top of the Dean’s list, even after all your lovey-dovey shit.”

A swell of pride ran through him at the thought of your name at the top of that list.

“Alright,” he said, his brow furrowed, trying to figure out if there was some kind of angle here. But, there didn’t seem to be one. 

He left quickly, his heart and mind feeling lighter. The guilt of how the two of you started would always be there, he knew. But now when he looked into the future, it wasn’t a hazy blur of nothingness that he saw. It was you.

---

The week before finals, there were parties everywhere. So you heard. 

You had gone to a few more with Az over the past few months. It still wasn’t exactly your thing, but you didn’t mind going, especially with Azriel being so attentive to you every time you did. 

Azriel didn’t seem particularly interested in going to this one, but his friends had been complaining that they never saw him anymore, so he agreed to go. And you had agreed to go with him, if only to take a break from your near constant studying these days.

You followed him through the crowd, his hand clasping yours, as always. Drinks in hand, you made your way to the outskirts of a group of people who were dancing and you joined them, Azriel pulling you in close to him, moving against you.

A laugh burst from you, and Azriel grinned, leaning down to kiss you. 

You were so happy, you thought. So happy in that moment with him. You knew people watched you, as they usually did when Azriel was like this with you. You didn’t care.

When he pulled back from the kiss, he gazed down at you, his eyes swimming with affection. 

“I love you,” you said before you could stop it.

His eyes sobered, and he pulled you in even closer, so your bodies were flush together. He leaned his forehead against yours, and in a crowd of people, Azriel said, a soft smile on his face, “I love you, too.”

Your heart leaped and you grinned, threading your fingers in his hair and bringing his lips to yours. 

Suddenly, the music stopped, and from the TV came a voice. Azriel’s voice. 

Everyone turned to the sound, curiously, watching. The video was jumpy, filming the floor, like it was filmed from someone’s pocket. 

Azriel tensed, his arms still around you. “Fuck,” he said. “We need to go.”

Utterly confused, you didn’t argue as he pulled you through the crowd. But you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard video Azriel say, “Sweetheart, you know I can fuck you anytime I want, right? That is not going to persuade me to help you.”

Your blood ran cold, shock jolting from your heart down to your toes. Azriel was tugging on your arm, but you didn’t budge as you heard Claire’s voice next. 

Claire. He had been talking to Claire. What did he mean, that he could fuck her whenever he wanted? You hadn’t even known that they knew each other. When was this filmed?

“Baby, please, I’ll explain everything, but we need to go,” Azriel was saying, sounding frantic. 

You wrenched your arm from his grasp, weaving through the still crowd, moving toward the TV. You heard him swear, calling your name behind you, but you kept moving.

They were saying something about a deal, about him owing her a favor. You couldn’t make sense of it, not until you heard video Azriel say, “Alright, so I just have to seduce the bookworm? Easy.”

Video Claire responded, “No, if I’m going to agree to any favor you could possibly want, you’re going to have to go further. You need to make her fall in love with you.”

It was then that you noticed Claire, next to the TV, her eyes locked on you, smirking. 

You couldn’t breathe, your legs were going to give out -- 

It was all fake. All of it. 

Azriel caught up to you then, picking you up, slinging you over his shoulder. You didn’t protest, the shock setting in. You had to get out of there, even if it was him that carried you out. 

When he made it outside, you pounded on his back with your fists. “Put me down, you asshole!”

“Sorry,” Azriel said, wincing as he gently set you on your feet. “You looked like you were going to pass out.”

“Like you even care,” you spat, storming away from him. 

“Of course I care. Please, just give me a minute to explain,” he pleaded, following you. 

“Explain what?” You stopped abruptly, spinning around to face him. “That you played me for a fool? Made me fall in love with you as a sick joke? Well, congratulations, it worked,” you said, pouring every ounce of venom that you could muster into your voice. You turned back around and continued walking as tears started pricking your eyes. You refused to let him see you cry.

“It may have started out that way, but it’s not like that anymore. From the first date, I had feelings for you. I love you. You have to believe that,” he said, right on your heels. 

You knew he could catch up with you easily if he wanted to. He was hanging back, trying to give you your space. That pissed you off even more. “How could I possibly believe that?” 

“Because you feel it, I know you do,” he said, finally wrapping his fingers around your wrist.

You tugged your hand free, but stopped walking, needing to catch your breath. You faced him. “What was the point?” You asked quietly. “Why make the deal?”

It didn’t matter. But you had to know.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Claire and I used to date. When you transferred, you pushed her off the top spot of the Dean’s list. She hated you for it. She said she would give me any favor I wanted if I made you fall for me… to distract you from school.”

You were so surprised that the tears you had been holding in started to fall. You angrily swatted them away. 

Azriel continued, “I said no at first, but she was persistent, and…” he took a deep breath, darting his eyes away from you for a moment. They were shining with unshed tears. “I have no excuse. I agreed to it. I’m an asshole. But you made me want to be different.”

“Was any of it true?” You heard yourself saying, your voice breaking. 

He lifted his hand, like he was about to reach for yours, then let it drop, thinking better of it. “It was all true. From our first date, you were breaking down my walls, making me smile, making me laugh.” He smiled sadly. “I fell for you. I love you,” he said, and now a lone tear did slide down his cheek. “I called it off with Claire ages ago. I told her I was out, and she agreed. I… I didn’t know she filmed it.”

You wanted to believe him, that he really did love you. But… “Even if you do love me, that doesn’t change what you did,” you said in a small voice. 

Azriel sniffed, wiping the tears off his face. “I know. I am so, so sorry.”

Shaking your head, backing away from him, you choked out, “I don’t -- I can’t. I can’t do this right now.”

He took a step toward you, his eyes pleading. “Please. Please don’t go.”

Turning your back to him, you walked away, barely registering the pavement beneath your feet, the direction you were going. 

Azriel called your name, but you kept walking.

You knew he had followed you home, not letting you walk alone at night. You watched his form retreat after you locked yourself inside your apartment with trembling hands. 

You went to bed, not even bothering to change. Laying on your back, watching your ceiling fan spin around and around, you tried to identify all that you were feeling: shame, humiliation, sorrow. Fury. 

Replaying all that had happened between you, all the times he was probably laughing at you with his friends behind your back. You felt nauseous. 

How could he do this? How could he have played you for so long?

What the hell were you supposed to do now?

You woke up to several missed calls and texts from Azriel, all sent hours apart. It seemed that he didn’t get any sleep at all.

I am so sorry. I’m the worst person in the world. I know that. 

I know what you’re thinking right now. I know that you’re going over it all in your head. But, it was real, baby. It was all real. I swear it was. I love you so much.

I’m hoping you’re getting some sleep. Can I see you today?

Groaning, you tossed your phone to the side, and took a long shower. By the time you got out, someone was knocking on your door. 

You quickly dressed in some old pajamas and called through the door, “Go away, Az.”

“Well, at least you’re alive,” you heard him say. “Can I please come in? Two minutes?”

You threw the door open, furious. “No, you cannot come in. You humiliated me. You used me. You had your fun. What else could you possibly want?”

Azriel was standing on the threshold, his hands in his pockets nervously, his facial expression looked like you had just slapped him. “I want to apologize! I want to make things better, that’s what I want.”

Biting your lip to keep from crying, you said quietly, “Go away.” 

His face fell. “I love you.”

Shaking your head, you said, “You don’t.”

He took a step forward, wedging his foot on the door jam so you couldn’t close it on him. “I do,” he said, his eyes pleading, baring into yours. “You know that I do. You know I’ve never let anybody else see the real me. Nobody but you.”

Tears spilled onto your cheeks then, and he wiped them away gently. Despite everything, you couldn’t back away. “It doesn’t matter,” you croaked. “You only went out with me so you could help her ruin my life.”

Azriel opened his mouth, as if to reply, but then shut it. 

You laughed humorlessly. “See? Even you don’t have a comeback.”

His eyes softened, his rough fingers still absentmindedly stroking your cheeks. “Please,” he said again. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not enough,” you whispered, your heart breaking all over again as you looked up at him, at the pain in his eyes.

“How do I fix it?” He whispered back, tears sliding freely down his cheeks now.

“I don’t know,” you said, stepping back out of his grasp. “Please, Az. I just -- I need to be alone right now.”

He nodded, drawing his arm across his face to wipe the tears away. “Okay. Okay, I’ll umm -- I’ll see you later?”

You didn’t know how to answer that, didn’t know if you would see him again at all. He took a step back, into the hallway. 

Without another word, you shut the door.

Especially knowing where that awful bet had originated, you refused to let Azriel and Claire get in your head for finals. You buckled down, spending entire days at the library studying, writing papers, finishing projects. 

It was helpful, actually. You didn’t allow yourself to think about him, about all the memories you had that had become so tainted and confusing. 

By the end of the semester, you had maintained all your A’s, passing every final with flying colors. And thus, secured the very top spot of the Dean’s list.

Azriel had been texting and calling every day. You left them all unanswered. 

You hadn’t yet had time to think, to process through the hurt. 

A new text chimed as you were packing up your car to head home for the summer. 

Saw the list. Nicely done, bookworm. I know it doesn’t matter, but I really am proud of you. Looks like all that hard work paid off ❤️

Despite everything, there was a swell of emotion in your chest at his words. God, why did everything have to be so awful?

Later, you were hefting your last box into your trunk when you heard the distinct sound of a motorcycle slowing down behind you. Your heart raced. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to see him again or not.

Slowly, you turned around to see Azriel sliding off the bike, his helmet tucked under his arm. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, somewhat tentatively.

“Hi,” you said softly. 

He nodded to your car, his expression grave. “You’re leaving?”

“Back home for the summer,” you said, unable to take your eyes off him. He looked tired. And sad. 

A moment passed silently, the two of you just looking at each other, pain hanging in the air between you.

“I miss you,” he said quietly. 

You sighed. Willed yourself to be brave. “I miss you, too,” you admitted. 

Something like hope gleamed in his eyes. “I love you,” he murmured. 

“I --” you started, and couldn’t bear it. “I need time.”

He looked crestfallen, like you had just punched him in the gut, but he nodded. “The summer?”

You swallowed. “Okay,” you said. “Okay. I get the summer, and I’ll find you in the fall. We’ll talk then.”

“Thank you,” he said, quietly. “Thank you for… for that. For talking to me now,” he winced. “I know I don’t deserve it.”

“No, you don’t,” you said, but there was no malice in it. You were too tired. “I get the summer, Az. Don’t contact me until school starts.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but agreed. “Okay. I’ll see you in September,” he said, backing up towards his bike. “Have a good summer, bookworm,” he added with the slightest of smiles, before he slid on his helmet and drove away.

---

You spent most of the summer moping around, reading books, and trying to sort through everything that happened, all the feelings you had. 

For three months, you sifted through every moment that Azriel and you had shared together, picking them apart, deciphering every movement. 

It may have been slightly unhealthy.

You believed that what you and Azriel had was real. You believed that he did love you. And you couldn’t deny that you loved him. That maybe you always would. 

Was it worth it to deny yourself the person who had made you so happy? Who had taught you new things, who had helped you out of your comfort zone?

As September grew closer, you still weren’t sure. 

 ---

Azriel got more and more anxious as the summer came to a close. It had been torture to not contact you at all, but he knew he was in no position to be asking you for anything, so he did as you asked. 

The hurt on your face those months ago was still a clear image in his mind that haunted his nightmares. He would never forgive himself for hurting you. 

Yet, he couldn’t stop imagining what would happen when he saw you again. Would you give him another chance? You would have to be a saint to even contemplate that. But then again, you were the best person he had ever known. If anyone would be able to forgive, it would be you.

Scowling, he stomped that shred of hope down. He couldn’t go into this having any expectations. 

Soon, he would know.

---

It was bittersweet coming back to school. Academia was where you thrived. You felt right at home in the library, stacks of papers all around you. 

And you used to feel at home with Azriel. 

You sighed at the thought. The first day of classes was tomorrow. You had told Azriel not to contact you until school started back up again, and knowing him, he would take that seriously. 

Deep down, you knew what you wanted to do. It terrified you, though. 

Sure enough, the next morning, you had a text from him:

Hey, bookworm. Hope your first day of classes goes well. 

The slightest smile spread across your lips. You knew he was probably dying to ask when he could see you, but was trying to keep it light. Leave the ball in your court.

For the first time since everything, you texted him back.

Thanks, Az. Yours, too. 

He opened it immediately. After a moment, you willed yourself to send another:

Wanna meet up at the tennis courts tonight? 

His reply came at lightning speed:

7?

Reigning in your smile, you replied:

7.

You couldn’t remember ever being this nervous as you walked to the tennis courts. There were a few people playing, so you sat underneath a tree nearby, willing your legs to stop shaking. 

Right on time, a familiar motorcycle turned into the parking lot. He spotted you immediately, striding over to you with unsure steps. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he said quietly. 

You looked up at him, your heart racing at the familiarity you felt. “Hi,” you said, and after the briefest hesitation, you patted the grass next to you. You weren’t sure you would be able to stand. 

Immediately, he plopped down across from you, his knees only inches from yours as he faced you. 

His eyes were locked on yours. “How was your summer?” he said, his voice cracking slightly. 

“Okay,” you said. “How was yours?”

“Okay,” he said quietly. 

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Okay, here’s the thing. I did a lot of thinking. A lot of thinking. And I do love you, Az.”

You paused, not sure how to word what you were feeling. 

“But?” Azriel said, his voice dripping with trepidation, his eyes guarded.

“But it’s going to take some time before I can trust you again.”

Azriel swallowed, his eyes never wavering from yours. 

He seemed like he was waiting for you to continue before he said anything, so you added, quietly, “I am willing to try, though. To give us another chance.”

The tautness in his body released, relief flooding his features. “Really?” he croaked, tears swimming in his eyes. 

You could only nod before he launched towards you, knocking you on your back, before he threaded his fingers through your hair, kissing you deeply. 

You laughed, as his other hand came up to cup your face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I swear I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you,” he said against your lips.

Wrapping your arms around him, you sighed into his kiss. “I know, Az. I know.”

“I love you,” he murmured, moving to kiss down your neck.

“I love you, too.”

“I missed you so much,” he groaned before kissing your lips again.

You giggled. “I missed you, too.”

He finally stopped kissing you, settling his elbows on either side of your head, leaning his forehead against yours. “Thank you. For giving me another chance.”

Smiling, you kissed him swiftly on the lips. “Don’t mess it up.”

“I won’t. I swear I won’t.”

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon in each other’s arms, going over your respective summers. 

Eventually, Azriel propped himself on an elbow, gazing at you with all the love in the world.

“What?” you asked. 

He grinned. “You wanna go mini golfing, bookworm?”

You couldn’t help but return his smile. “Only if I can help you again.”

Azriel leaned down to gently kiss your forehead. “It’s a deal.”

A/N: wanna see more of these two?? Check out part 2!

@thalia-as-blog @saltedcoffeescotch

[mickyschumacher]

Im not sure if your request are open but if they are- a fic with Lando based off the song lose control by Teddy swims. Angst and smut, the whole works😩

But if your request are not open and you see this I hope you have an amazing day/night 🫶

(also I absolutely love your writing. Binge read majority of them the first day I got tumblr and I’m obsessed)

[LOSE CONTROL!]

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you and lando had ended things on a good note... or so you thought. you didn't expect to find him at your front door begging for a second chance. or in which lando doesn't know when to give up.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minor dni), mentions of magui (not a fan of what she's done but this is fiction), angst, jealousy, cheesy confessions, unprotected sex (pretty please use protection), teasing, slight-public roleplay? breast play, eating out, fingering, oral sex, p in v, cumming inside, mentions of crashing, technically infidelity on lando's part, poor humour, fluff, and poor proofreading.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: ex-fwb!lando norris x fem!reader, special appearances: magui corceiro and joão felix.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 9k+

𝐀/𝐍: first of all so sorry for taking this up so late! my bad... but it's done! in time for my 2k special! yes that's right, there are two thousands of you little buggers reading my work! i'm ever so grateful, especially because i'm the most inconsistent person i know! thank you for putting up with me, for reading my work, and for your cute little comments. they all make me very happy in such a tough time i've been going through. sending you my ever grateful love from the bottom of my heart ♡︎ p.s it's my 100th post shocker!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

"I miss you."

Lando's voice was always like this. Slightly croaky and brittle yet warm and full of need. For you it was a sort of drug. It always pulled you in, it blurred the line between wrong and right, and you always came back for more. And when it was paired with those brown tinged blue eyes of his and all the freckles on his face, you were a goner.

"Lando," you sighed, leaning on your door frame. It was one in the morning. You were asleep but ever so gracefully woken up to the consistent ring of your doorbell. You rubbed your face with an exhaustion not familiar to your slumber but familiar to the antics of Lando himself. The words fell from your lips in an eased flow. "You can't be here. You don't miss me. You need to leave."

You tried to avoid his pained eyes but everywhere you looked, you met them in some shape or form.

"But I do miss you. I miss everything about you. Your smile, your lips, your body, your laugh, fuck, everything."

You blinked slowly, wondering how you had got here. How is it that the decisions and choice you made in life lead to Lando Norris pleading at your front door at one in the morning?

Ah...

There was an answer to that.

As the story goes, around a year ago, you were with Lando. 'With' was a loose term. It was supposed to be friends with benefits. You had been for almost a year by that point. Naturally, the only rule to being friends with benefits was to not fall in love with each other. And as natural as that rule was, there was a common saying: 'Rules are meant to be broken.'

You and Lando both realised it. But it terrified you the most. You weren't cut out for this. Things were already hard enough as it was sneaking around.

Travelling on the private jets, facing the media and the public, having to watch Lando race every weekend and pray for him wellbeing... it wasn't exactly your cup of tea. It was exactly why you were friends with benefits in the first place.

So you ended it. Lando wasn't happy about it but he respected it.

That was the end of your story.

Or so you thought.

"Lan, you're in a relationship. For fuck's sake, please can you consider her at least?"

Lando ran a hand through his dark mop of curls, sighing while holding back the eye roll at the mention of his intricately created PR relationship. He knew you were right. You often were. But you weren't understanding him. He didn't think you ever could, no matter how much he tried to explain it to you.

You and him... you were made for each other. He knew it from the bottom of his heart. You were perfect. Together, you were perfect. There was no one like you. And for him, there was no one else. Not ever. No matter who he dated or who he was with, he'd be damned if there was someone else other than you.

Lando's tongue poked his cheek, eyes firmly on you. "Are you coming this Sunday? In the evening?"

This race weekend was the Silverstone circuit and in the same day, afterwards, was a dinner party with the drivers, families, and friends. In other words, it was a recipe for disaster.

"I don't think I should..." you trailed off, internally wincing when you knew deep down you should've just said you weren't coming rather than being open to it. When it came to the blue-eyed boy in front of you, any assertiveness you ever had was thrown out the window.

Lando reached to grab your hands, fingers automatically rubbing smooth circles into your skin. "Please come," he pleaded, "if not for me, come for mum and dad, hmm? They miss having you around."

You pressed your lips together, eyes falling onto the floor as you began to chew your lip. "Lando, I can't come. It doesn't look good... for the both of–"

"She won't be there."

Your eyes flickered up to Lando, widening slightly at his words.

With an eager sharpe intake of air, he doubled down on his response. "If that's why you're saying no, she won't be there."

You tilted your head, giving him an almost dry look. "You know that's not even half of the reason." A sigh fell from your lips. "Go home, Lando. You've got practice tomorrow. You need sleep."

Lando's eyes softened. You always kept track of those small things for him, scolding him for not going to sleep early or not taking care of himself. It was like old times all over again. His grip around your hands tightened. "I will," He promised, "but tell me you're coming on Sunday. Please."

You cursed at yourself. It was that same voice. That one with so much need and desperation. It was as if a voice gained the ability to have puppy eyes.

Reluctantly, you nodded slowly. "Fine... I'll come," you relented.

A smile finally sprawled across Lando's face, hands moving to quickly bring you into a hug. His arms felt comfortable, bringing an ease you hadn't felt in over a year. "Thank you."

Your eyes widened when you felt a quick kiss on your cheek, still lingering after Lando parted. He grinned, taking a few steps back from you. "I'll see you Sunday. "

━━━━━━━━━━━

The Sunday jitters were real. You couldn't ever truly imagine how anyone of the drivers felt on race day but you imagined it to be something like this.

The way your heart was thumping, one would think you have an odd case of arrhythmia. You were working up a sweat masked by the anxious sprays of perfume you had lathered on and all you were doing was standing.

You hadn't watched the race in person because that was equally as idiotic as going to a brunch where the person you love and his family was despite him having a girlfriend. And you didn't want to be twice as idiotic. In the end, Lando had gotten a well-earned P3 at his home race, despite the mistakes of his team.

You were happy for him. But it didn't rule out the fact you were in a serious dilemma of awkwardness as you dawdled outside of the venue. Your fingers twirled around the fabric of your dress.

You shouldn't of worn it. It was Lando's favourite. You knew that.

Hell, you shouldn't be here.

You should go home.

It wasn't too late.

Your name abruptly sprung into the air. "Is that you?"

Well shit.

You took a slow turn on your feet, a sheepish smile automatically working its way onto your face. "Mr and Mrs Norris!" you greeted.

An amused huff fell from Lando's mother's mouth. "Please! You know you can call by our names!"

Somewhere in the back of your head, you could feel your mother's voice nagging you at the very thought of calling them by their names.

Cisca smiled, bringing you into a warm hug. "God, we've miss you!" Pulling away after a few seconds, she took another few to observe you. "You've become more beautiful since we last saw you, isn't that right, Adam?"

Lando's father chuckled. "Not more than you though," he teased only to get a playful elbow from his wife. He turned to you and grinned, reminding you exactly where Lando's came from. "The girls will be so happy to see you, sweetie. Oliver too."

You laughed gently, thanking them. Your mouth felt dry. Usually you knew what to say to them. But it had been so long, you weren't sure what to say. Whether it was right or wrong. How much Lando had even said...

"Lando was telling us how you've been busy studying, is that right? You've been doing your master's?" His father queried.

Speak of the devil...

You nodded slowly. "Yes. It's research based so it's quite, uh, time consuming. So I just wanted to put a year dedicated to it. That's why I haven't been around as much."

Both of his parents nodded in understanding. His mother pouted, "While it's been sad without you, I'm very proud of you. A bachelors is no easy feat let alone a master's!"

Your heart constricted while her soft eyes met yours. His mother was always like this. Talking you... treating you as if you were her daughter. You never understood it. You'd only known each other for a couple of years including the period were you and Lando were with each other.

You asked her a month before you had ended it with Lando how she knew you so well. Her response... you could've never forgotten it even if you willed it. '"A mother knows everything. What's good and bad for their children. You know it as mother's intuition. When I look at you, I just know."'

"'Know what?'" You remembered asking.

"How important you are to Lando."

And that was when you realised you were completely and utterly in love with him.

"If you two are done talking, we should finally go inside," Lando's father continued to tease.

You sucked in a sharp breath as you walked with his parents inside the venue.

It was definitely too late.

━━━━━━━━━━━

To be honest, Lando had seen many beautiful things in life. Life, if you looked at it carefully, perhaps on a slight angle, was beautiful. And besides, they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

But the sight of you walking into the venue, arm linked with his own mother and you chatting with his father was forever etched into his brain.

He could've sworn his heart was leaping out of his chest. Everything about what he was seeing was perfect. Your smile, the atmosphere, the sun shining down on you, the sound of your laugh, your hair, the wind, the dress... God, he could go on and on.

"Lando! Look who we met outside!" His mother cheered making him grin.

"Well, well, well," Lando smiled, giving his mother a kiss on the cheek before hugging his father. He stepped back, blue eyes fixated on you. He stretched out his arms, waiting for a hug making you sigh and his parents laugh softly.

You took a step forward, reaching your hands to wrap around his back while Lando's own hands fell to your waist and brought you close. His classic Tom Ford perfume lingered around you as he whispered in your ear. "You came."

"I promised," you responded softly, pulling back only for him to tighten his grip on you. You suppressed an eye roll. "Congrats on P3. You did well."

Lando perked up at the mention of his race and finally pulled back. "You watched?"

"I–" Your voice was interrupted by another familiar Brit.

"Is that who I think it is?" Alex queried with his usual wide grin.

Now it was your turn to roll your eyes. "Depends... is it the most prettiest girl? After Lily, of course."

Alex chuckled. "Is there any other answer?"

You pretended to ponder. "Nope! That's the one." You both laughed as you gave each other a hug.

"Where have you been? I needed someone to give me company on the tracks. It's been so lonely," He complained dramatically.

And without realising it, you were back to meeting everyone you hadn't seen in a long time. Weirdly enough, you missed this. Talking to everyone, joking around, just spending time with them... it gave you some sort of peace.

"Okay! Oscar, you're time's up," Lando announced, standing at the table you, Oscar and his girlfriend, Lily, were seated at.

Oscar gaped at his teammate. "But we only just met her!"

Lando gave a sickly sweet smile. "Aw... tough. Now scram!"

You shook your head as you watched the couple leave the table. "You are the worst," you said, leaning on your arm while Lando took a seat next to you.

"I haven't seen you in so long! Sue me for wanting to spend time with you," Lando shrugged in his defence, blue eyes trained on you.

You blinked, averting your eyes to the rest of the party. "I going to get some champagne," you murmured, standing up to go the table full of various spirits and juices.

You cursed silently as you caught Lando following after you from your peripheral. Arriving to the table, your fingers danced around, looking for the right glass of bubbles.

"You're ignoring me," Lando stated, hot breath skimming past your ear as he stood inches away from you.

You kept your eyes on the alcohol, letting a small laugh fall from your lips. "Gee, has anyone ever told you that you're a smart cookie, Lando"?

Lando pursed his lips. "I miss you."

You sighed at the familiar words, fingers wrapping around a glass of what you were pretty sure was Dom Perignon leisurely being given. "Lando... stop it. I came here because you wanted me to, okay? Just forget about whatever it is you're thinking about."

You sucked in a sharp breath when you felt Lando's hand travel to yours, fingers just hanging on to each other. You hated how his touch made you feel so... so tingly. As if you were having your first crush.

"So that's why you wore this dress? To tell me to stop? Because I wanted you here?" He laughed softly, playing with your fingers. He shook his head. "I can't even imagine what you'd do if I told you every single thought running through my head right now."

Your eyes widened. You shakily put back the glass of champagne.

"Lan–" Your voice cut off upon the feeling of his fingers trailing at the back of your neck. You gulped while Lando's voice continued to linger.

"How much of a mistake do you think this really is? Wearing my favourite dress? Don't think I haven't seen that necklace on you. Let's turn that pendant around and show everyone who's name is on it, hmm?"

Your eyes widened. Shit. You had completely forgotten about the necklace. You had spent all your time using it on the front side that you had forgotten about his initial's engraved on the back.

Lando's tongue trailed over his bottom lip, head tilting to the side. "Sweetheart, I'm torn. You have no idea how gorgeous you look. But you have no idea how much I would give... what I would do to take you home right now. That dress would be off and my fingers would be on you. Fuck, just imagining it, I–"

"Lando!"

You and Lando both furrowed your brows, chests heaving breathlessly. You definitely didn't say his name nor did you sound like that. Turning your head slightly, the view made you take wide steps back from Lando.

Lando mended his brows even more, only smoothing them when he saw what you had seen. "B-Baby!" The endearment failed to come out of his mouth smoothly, making you wince.

You watched Lando hug the blonde girl in front of you. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in Brazil?" He asked, only just covering up his sheer curiosity.

"I was but I wanted to surprise you... so surprise!"

A surprise... yes it was.

You blinked as the blonde turned to you, extended her hand, and introduced herself. Awkwardly, you returned the kind gesture because ultimately she had done nothing wrong to you.

You introduced yourself as Lando's old friend because it was the safest bet. And it was the truth... to some degree.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" Lando asked his girlfriend as a queasy feeling began to form in your stomach. You think you can hear her respond, settling for a glass. You weren't sure. Your ears were tuning in and out of this noise. Out of your peripheral you see the driver turn to you. "Did you still want your champagne?"

You let out a low exhale and gave the both of them a tight smile. "It's okay. I was just leaving."

The smile on Lando's face dropped. "W-What? Already?"

You nodded curtly. "Lots of things to do."

Lando narrowed his eyes. "Like what? It's barely seven... the day's almost over..."

Your eyes widened, feeling startled as an awkward laugh fell from his girlfriend's lips. "Lan, the girl said she has things to do. Stop grilling her. Sorry... must be the post-race adrenaline or something. It's a shame you can't stick around though. See you around?"

You gave a small smile, slightly irritated at how genuine and sweet she was. You actually wished there was something about her to hate. "Yeah," You agreed softly, "See you around."

━━━━━━━━━━━

About thirty minutes had passed since you left the dinner party, much to everyone's dismay.

You were exhausted.

You only just had the energy to take off your heels and put aside your purse before you fell onto your bed. Sighing, you stared at the ceiling. What even was life anymore?

You couldn't believe yourself. You were so angry and pissed off at Lando and you were jealous of his girlfriend.

There wasn't any rocket science to it. You were still very much in love with Lando. You shouldn't be but you were.

Your mother once told you that love wasn't black and white. It was the blurred line between: it was grey. It was never as simple as being in love or not. You fall in love and fall out of it and just as you did, you would fall once again but with someone else entirely. And sometimes it compelled idiotic things like infidelity or rebounds.

Love was also seasonal. It changed all the time and sometimes you enjoyed it and sometimes it made you suffer. It was entirely demanding. It drove people crazy. It was overwhelming and yet so lonely.

Point in case: love sucked.

And you and Lando had not escaped from it.

You weren't sure if you ever could.

But you had to. It was the right thing to do. Maintaining boundaries was the right way to go.

You blew some air up to your face, pushing the hair out of your face. Nodding to yourself, you told yourself you were getting over Lando.

You sat straight at the sound of your doorbell ringing throughout your house. Begrudgingly you walked towards the door, a hundred percent sure it was your neighbour a floor down. She was a sweet, quiet old lady who fit the 'crazy cat lady' persona a bit too well. Often, she came to you asking if you had seen a cat of hers but the worst part was that all of her cats were the tabby orange type. How she could tell the difference was beyond you, no more than how exactly the cats were using elevators and opening fire exits to get to your floor.

Without thinking too much, you opened the door to greet the lady but all the words you had ever known fell to the air upon seeing Lando.

"Lando," you took a calm deep breath, "Please tell me I'm hallucinating or that you're not actually in front of my door right now."

"I can't do that," Lando said, eyes burning with something a bit too familiar.

Wordlessly, you begun closing the door. But the jutted foot of Lando's quickly intercepted the act. "Please," Lando pleaded, coming into your apartment.

You let out a distressed sigh as you hear the door close. "Lando, you can't be here. You're supposed to be at a dinner party. With your friends... family, with your girlfriend, oh my God, with your freaking girlfriend, Lando."

"But you're the only one on my mind," Lando breathed, watching you walk around your house. His arm reached out to your waist, stopping your endless rounds of circles. He could feel you take a sharp intake of air, standing still at his touch. Holding you close, his lips lingered near your ear while his warmth enveloped you.

"I think I'm going crazy," he murmured. "You're in my dreams. Even when I look at her, I see your face. You're fucking everywhere, sweetheart."

You pursued your lips together. "Why do you have to make things so difficult?" you asked quietly, not to Lando in particular but to the silence of your house.

"Then tell me... that you don't want me here. That you don't feel the same way. Tell me... tell me you don't love me. Then I'll leave. I promise."

"I–" you paused, turning your body to him. You could feel his eyes searching your face but you couldn't even lift your head up. "I don't love you."

A lengthy silence ensued and it spoke volumes.

Finally, a soft chuckle from Lando's lips broke the silence. "You can't even look me in the eye and tell me that."

You threw your head back with an exhausted sigh, giving up. Your hands began to flail about. "What more do you want from me, Lando? Why can't you just leave me, us, alone?"

Lando's hand travelled to your jaw, pulling you in a mere inch away from his face. His grip was soft and warm, lulling you. "I can't leave you alone... I can't ever leave you alone. You don't get it," a cry of frustration fell from his lips while his eyes watered, "You were made for me and I was made for you. You... you are all I ever think about. I can't breathe without you. I exist for you. I am so fucking in love with you, it scares me. And i-if you tell me you love me, I'll break up with her right now."

Your eyes burned with an all but familiar salty liquid. "Lando... I can't."

Lando clenched his jaw. His voice was so quiet, a crack away from breaking entirely. "Why? Why can't you just admit that you're in love with me?"

"Because I'm terrified!"

You feel Lando's hand fall from your jaw while his brows furrowed, asking you what you were talking about. Your cheeks were flushed with heat while your fingers dug rested on your hips, digging into your flesh. You took in a shaky breath.

"I can't do this life, Lan. I can't be away from you all the time and travel with you all the time. I'm not another girl on your arm for the media. And I really can't watch you race. Every time I watch you race... I, " you blew air into your cheeks, "I watch with a sick stomach. Every spin, every crash... I always just think.. God, if something happened to you. If I love you..."

Lando fell silent. For the first time in a long time, he had nothing to say to you. All he had were the fresh tears quietly leaking out of his eyes. He blinked rapidly, using his arm to wipe off the rest of his silent sobbing. Stepping forward, with the soft pad of his thumb, he collected the tears you hadn't realised were falling.

Lando cleared his throat, breathing in while he rested his hand on your cheek, rubbing soft circles into your skin. "Ever since I met you, before I even realised I was in love with you, I've spent every race thinking about you. You're my first thought when those lights go off and the last when that flag waves. You don't know it but you are the only thing that makes me feel truly safe. And I would fight the world if it meant that you could openly love me back."

A singular tear made it's way down your face, seeping into the pores of your skin as Lando pressed a long kiss on your cheek before quietly leaving towards the door. Before entirely leaving, he stopped in his tracks. "I'm not giving up on us. I told you before. I could never leave you."

━━━━━━━━━━━

It had been a month since you and Lando had talked... whatever that was out.

The promise he had made before leaving your house that day was one he was persistent in pursuing. You knew Lando. He was stubborn. Often, what he wanted, he got.

You tried to avoid him. But the good morning and good night messages you received every day despite his ever-changing time zones still reached you. You spent the first three days ignoring them but the guilt with each passing day got heavier.

In a way, it felt like you were restarting your friendship. Taking things slow. Except the odd times that reminded you it was anything but. In particular Lando's 'drunk on horniness' messages or the sudden love confessions that popped out of thin air.

Things were... steadyish.

It was the only reason you had accepted Carlos' extended invitation to join him and the other's at a nightclub. You couldn't lie. Of course, Lando was at the forefront of your brain when you accepted. A part of you was curious.

How was he holding up?

Whether he was still with his girlfriend...

Were his plans on not giving up on you limited to his consistent texts?

But alas, as life usually worked, things did not go the way you planned.

While most of the drivers steered clear of the alcohol aside from their podiums, a practice Lando often took somewhat seriously, he was seriously considering breaking at the sight of you. More specifically, the sight of you and João Felix, the famed five-star FIFA player, mingling.

Lando who wasn't starving for any spirits was ready to down a few shots. But instead, he was completely sober, not a lick of alcohol in him, watching João, the ex-boyfriend of his own girlfriend chat you up.

Lando couldn't exactly blame the athlete. He would've done the same thing: the fixated eyes as you talked, the ear-to-ear smile when you laughed, the seamless checking out when you turned to take a sip of your drink or talk to someone nearby because Lando was a hundred percent sure you were the most gorgeous person in the room.

But he could blame João's pettiness. Lando had his ex and now he was going after you. In way, he rated it. But Lando knew you too well.

You were not interested in the player at all. The tight smiles, the absentminded nods, the readiness to jump into a conversation with literally anyone else... you were practically inviting Lando for a talk.

You could feel yourself freeze at the sight of Lando and his girlfriend walk over to the both of you. The air, all of a sudden, felt thick, fogging up your brain. You weren't quite sure what to say. This odd intertwining history between the four of you was nauseating.

"João," Lando greeted with a fake cheer. Magui, his girlfriend, gave a tight smile that bordered on pissed off – you knew the look all too well.

The football player gave a loose grin, shaking Lando's hand. "Lando... Magui," he sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh! Have you guys met yet?" He asked, brown eyes moving to you as he introduced you to the couple.

The three of you blinked at the dry sarcasm underpinning João's voice. You let a small laugh fall past your lips. "We have, actually. I'm Lando's old friend and Magui and I met not so long ago."

Lando gave you a pointed look. "You are way too down to earth. She's a special old friend," he corrected, grinning at João.

You pursed your lips awkwardly as the two Portugueses raised their eyes brows. You raised your hand to rub the nape of your neck nervously. "Uh, well, no... just old friend will do. Always the funny one, huh, Lando?" You murmured with a forced laugh.

To be honest, as the silence began to build, you were surprised to even hear Magui's voice. "I'm sorry..." she started, arm darting out to grab João's hand, making you widen your eyes, "João, we need to talk."

You incredulously watched Magui drag away the Portuguese before turning to Lando. You pondered over her words. "She still–"

"Likes him? Yup!" Lando said, popping the 'p' as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

"It's weird how similar she and I are. Lonely... and both head over heels for our exes." Lando tilted his head, eyes examining you carefully while you took a deep breath. "Can't say the same for João though," he clicked his tongue.

The comment made you raise a brow. Lando softly laughed at your confused expression. "Sweetheart... it is my worst luck that you are the most gorgeous woman to exist. João had eyes for you. From the moment you were talking till the moment we stepped in."

You folded your arms, a small grin teetering on your face at the irritated expression on his face. "So you were watching me... obsessed much?" You humoured out of pure amusement.

Lando poked his cheek with his tongue, taking a step towards you, hands still shoved into this pockets of his pants. "Oh you have no idea."

You pressed your lips together.

There were an infinite amount of things that were unhealthy. Rewatching your comfort shows five times too many, the double digits on your screen-time, a high sugar intake (although your tastebuds said otherwise)...

But for you, it usually ended up being Lando. The various facets of Lando often left you undone. And a clean-shaven Lando, stalking towards you in the loosest long sleeve polo shirt, folded at the arms and half unbuttoned so the necklace you brought him and bracelets he wore glittered under the club lights was just another one of many undoings.

"Lando..." you murmured, taking a step back, eyes darting to your surroundings. "What are you doing?"

"I haven't told you how good you look today, have I? Because you have no idea how fucking hot you look," Lando responded, ignoring your question as he took another step forward.

You swallowed your saliva at the recognisable look swirling in those blue orbs of his. Like he was going to ravage you.

"Lando," you hissed, putting a hand to his chest to maintain some distance. You breathed shakily, trying to think straight. "Have some self-control!"

"Oh sweetheart, you know as much as I do." You widened your eyes as Lando used your hand to pull you closer, merely inches away from his face. His voice, despite it's softness, is drowned in a husk that runs down your spine. His warm breath pricked the surface your skin. "When it comes to you, I have no control."

Never in your life had your throat felt so dry. You burned at his words and his touch made your stomach churn. "But..." you furrowed your brows, trying to remember what you wanted to say. "But Magui? João?" You managed to get out.

As the strobes of light glimmered across Lando, you managed to capture him closing his eyes after being trained on your lips for so long, as though he was trying to hold himself back, swimming up to the surface for some sort of consciousness.

His forehead fell to yours as he pondered those three words. "I told you..." Lando said, hands travelling up your neck to hold your face, relishing the heat your flushed state brought. "I exist for you."

In essence: fuck Magui and fuck João.

━━━━━━━━━━━

"You're kidding me," Lando flatly said, evilly eyeing the 'Out of Order' sign on your elevator.

"I'm also totally kidding that my room's on the fifth floor," You laughed softly, sarcasm underlying your voice.

Lando turned to you with a blank stare. You two had both managed to get out of the nightclub as discreetly as you could (which included the most obvious winks from Carlos and Fewtrell). While both of your patience was wearing thin, in the nature of an F1 driver, Lando was losing it ten times faster.

Lando had been waiting what felt like forever to be with you, for you to green-light him. That time he spent without you felt torturous as though he was being punished for being in love. And now that he had you, he was going to make up for lost time.

The only hitch in his plan was an elevator under maintenance and five flights of stairs.

Lando raised a brow at the anything but innocent smile tugging on your lips. He sucked in a sharp breath. "I do not like that look on your face."

You suppressed an eye roll, knowing damn well those twinkling eyes were saying something else. Slowly, you walked towards the fire exit with Lando following after you cautiously. Popping your head into the room, you looked up and the numerous staircases trailing up the building.

A quiet laugh slipped past Lando's mouth. "What are you doing?" He asked as you took your heels off and placed them on the floor.

You turned to him, resting your hand the railing of the staircase while the other found your hip. "My dear Lando," you tsked, "you didn't think it would be that easy, did you?"

You smiled at the furrowed brows he sported. "They say you should work hard to get what you want. Who knows..." you shrugged, "Maybe you'll find my panties on the third floor."

As the cogs finally clicked in place, Lando sunk his teeth into his lips. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, raking his eyes over you. "And if someone catches us?"

You jutted your bottom lip, pretending to ponder his question. "Guess you'll have to be fast then. Aren't you an athlete or something?" You teased, grinning ear-to-ear now.

"You are going to be the death of me." Lando gave you a pointed look, throwing his heading back soon after receiving a cheeky wink from your side.

The British driver watched carefully as you started to make your way up the flight of stairs. Smiling to himself while shaking his head, he grabbed your heels with his two fingers and climbed up after you.

Lando was amused and excited at the same time, seeing you occasionally turn to him with a knowing glint in your eyes. He knew himself that things were currently tame: finding your heels, purse, and jacket in his hands.

He felt dazed upon catching a glimpse of the lace underneath your dress, tight around your ample flesh, his own pants beginning to constrict.

"Not just yet, Lan." Your voice piped up in the silence. Lando fluttered his eyes open, seeing you turn back to him again. He questionably hummed in response, gathering himself once again.

"What are you going to do now?" You queried with feigned innocence, eyes flickering to your bra dangling in your hand. "Whoops!"

Lando sucked in a sharp breath, watching your bra fall to the floor before shamelessly moving his eyes to your chest, eyes bulging at the now uncontrolled cleavage spilling from your dress. His fingers clenched around all of your items while he swallowed the saliva building up in his mouth.

The sudden urge to increase his pace up the stairs made you widen your eyes with a fire-like anticipation, matching his action. As Lando grabbed your bra from the floor, he could only imagine what was coming as you arrived to the third floor.

But surprisingly enough, Lando had caught up to you, intentional on your part he was sure. He eyed your body as you sat on a stair, leg crossed over another, letting your dress ride up your thighs.

"Looking for something?" You queried, catching his attention.

"Nothing." Lando winced at the poor and croaky lie escaping his lips.

You grinned, gliding your tongue over your lip. You stood up, hand clenching around the soft and wet fabric in your hands. You could hear Lando's breath hitch as you used your free hand to trail up his leg, only millimetres away from the bulge in his pants.

Lando's eyes focused on you as you met his gaze. He felt your lips graze his own, naturally making him lean in for more but your finger pressing down stopped him, instead pulling his free hand open.

Lando closed his eyes upon the feel of the soft textured fabric in his rough palm. "Please tell me that's what I think it is."

He knew what it was. But he wanted to hear it from your lips.

You moved your lips to his ear. "What do you want to hear? That your holding my panties? Or that they're soaked?"

Lando's eyes snapped open, dropping your items to his side. His hand travelled up your neck, holding your face to jerk it towards him. You could feel his hot breath swarm your vicinity. His thumb trailed over your lips, head leaning in.

You gave him a small smile, pulling away. "We still have two whole floors, Lando. Patience is a virtue."

Lando blinked blankly at the light tap of your fingers on his cheek. He watched you leave once again. Knowing that you had no underwear unknowingly awoke something deeply sinister within him.

You were a siren. Luring him in by doing so little and yet, the most. He was sure of it.

Lando took in a deep breath, closing his eyes once again. He was also sure that the next thing about to come off was the last thing you had on: your dress. And he wasn't confident he could handle it at all. His cock felt impossibly tight against his pants, aching in such a way that begged for release.

"You're missing the show, baby."

Lando looked at you, gathering your items and slowly walking up the stairs, watching you carefully take the straps off your shoulders, emphasising 'L' on your necklace. His tongue rested at the corner of his mouth, preventing them from tugging upwards when you realised you had to deal with the zipper of your dress.

"Need some help?" Lando asked, catching up to you once again.

You pouted at his amused expression. "Lan... I had a thing going," You whined. You had used a damn string and paperclip to pull the zip up earlier this evening. And now? Now you had a lover who drove a papaya-coloured car for a living with a shit-eating grin.

"How about," Lando started, moving your panties to his other hand to wrap an arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him, "I help you get out of this dress and you stop being a little minx so I can fuck the tease out of you, hmm?"

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, feeling Lando's bulge push up against your ass. Your skin pricked with a wave of heat that you hadn't felt in a long time. You hear Lando hum in your ear, waiting for a response as he nestled his chin into your collarbone, fingers grazing up and down your body.

"Fine, fine," you relented, turning to grab Lando by the hand before you hurried up the last flight of stairs.

"I thought you said patience was a virtue!" Lando huffed, smiling at your pace.

You rolled your eyes. "You're one to speak."

Lando chuckled softly, trailing after you with the same eagerness sparking within him.

━━━━━━━━━━━

You peeked your head into your empty hallway, hand still around Lando's. There were four flats on your floor. Two of which were empty thanks to the cost of living crisis and the other, your neighbour, who was often out of town.

In other words, you were free to be as loud as you want.

With as much humbleness and reserve you could manage, you tamely walked down your hallway, hearing Lando mumble something about how your hallway belonged in a horror movie.

"Gee... that's so sexy, Lan. Keep going," you dryly encouraged, turning to grab the keys in your purse.

Lando jutted out his hand, letting your keys dangle from his fingers in front of your face. "I'm just saying," he said defensively with the corner of his mouth tugging upwards in amusement.

You shook your head, failing to suppress your grin as you shoved the key into the door, waiting to hear the obscene click. Opening the door, you smiled timidly at the state of your flat. "Well... this is my humble-ish abode... that you've seen a bit too much recently," you teased.

Lando laughed softly, following after you, hands still full. "What are you on about? I love your flat. It's so... you."

You turned to Lando with a raised brow, watching him put down all the trinkets you had left him on the shelf near the door. "Is that a diss I hear?"

The driver rolled his eyes, walking towards you with a knowing glint to his eyes. His arms stretched out, travelling to your waist before pulling you in. You could feel his breath graze past your skin as he held your gaze. Lando's voice was a mere whisper in your ears. "I mean I love you... so I love your cute little flat."

"Oh," you lamely said before blinking back to reality. "I mean not 'oh' like 'oh,' I mean like 'oh... I love you too?" You questioned, slowly dying on the inside at your stupidity.

Lando grinned at your pained expression. "Nice save," he murmured against your lips. "Now... where were we?"

"Hmm?" You idly queried, unable to take your eyes off of his lips. "Uh," you cleared your throat, "something about fucking the tease out of me?"

"Ah, yes," Lando agreed, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. "You have been pretty awful today. First walking in with João..." He clicked his tongue, finger trailing the underside of the strap of your dress before pulling it down your shoulder. "Then this dress, fuck."

You let out a shaky breath, feeling his fingers skim past your neck as he walked around you to meet the zip you had been battling all day. Lando's mouth met the side of your ear while he pressed the cold metal of your zip down and against your back.

"And now your little theatrics. It's not very nice of you, sweetheart. I've waited so long... you're on my mind every second of every day. I think about you so much, I don't think it's healthy. But..."

Lando stopped himself, lips brushing against your burning skin.

"But?" You repeated, turning your body to face him.

"But... I don't care," He finished with a small nonchalant shrug and a balance of softness and cockiness drowning his voice.

You didn't waste a second, moving your hands to Lando's neck, pushing yourself forward as you pressed your lips to his.

You could feel his hands immediately wrap around your waist. Your skin pricked with a familiar burn, warming at the touch of Lando's fingers skimming your bare skin.

Even though a fire was whirling within you, your body still had managed to create waves and waves of goosebumps as the hairs on your skin stood straight. You could feel Lando's tongue dart out, nudging your mouth to open a bit more to explore every crevice.

A mix of a grunt and high-pitched moan slipped past Lando's lips making your thighs clench at the tingling rippling through your core. You were positively going to combust.

Lando was equally sure he was going to lose it. He had waited so long to feel your lips and the sheer happiness he felt right now... it couldn't even compare to his imagination. To feel his teeth graze your lips while his one hand roamed your bare back, ever slowly inching towards your ass... the other tangled in your soft hair... he was almost afraid to admit he daydreamed of this.

His pants, fuck, they were tight before but this was something else entirely. He was in a some sort of twisted pain as your hands moved from his neck and crept up the hem of his shirt, brushing his taut torso, remembering exactly where all his little moles were.

"Shit..." Lando sighed out, holding you tighter against him. His lips moved along your bare shoulder, meeting the nape of your neck to attack it with purple written love letters. "Get on the bed, baby," he managed to get out, half-focusing on the honey-drenched moans falling from your lips while he waddled you towards the bed.

You sat back on the mattress breathlessly, chest heaving up and down as you watched Lando eye you down with a lust-driven softness. A gentle smile sprawled across your face, making him gulp cautiously. Coyly, you stood up, barely a few centimetres away from him as you peeled off your dress as slowly as you good.

You could hear Lando's breath hitch before he sucked in a sharp intake of air, eyes fixed on your breasts. They looked lonely... as if they were waiting for his touch. His tongue rested on the side of his mouth, tilting his head while your dress skimmed past your thighs and off your legs.

Lando's head fell back. "Fuck... you are going to be death of me." He shook his head, inching back towards you.

The small laugh that had fallen from your lips made him smile. He watched as your fingers pinched the edge of his shirt, lifting it up at the same rate of his arms flying up. Removing his shirt, your hands danced towards his shorts but Lando's hand caught your wrist.

You flickered your eyes to Lando, eyebrows raised at the pained look on his face. "If I let you do it, I swear to God, I might cum right here."

Your eyes slightly widened at his words, mouth all of a sudden feeling dry. You raised your hands in defence, watching him try to take off his pants in amusement.

"Don't think I don't see that smug smile on your face, sweetheart," He murmured, blue eyes averting to you. A smug smile of his own formed on his face as his arms caged you in, your knees bucking at the feel of the mattress or Lando – you couldn't tell.

Lando's head dipped into the valley of your breasts, hot breath letting goosebumps litter your bare skin. "I missed these sweet tits of yours," he murmured, watching his own hand skim past your pebbled nipple, ears perking at the quiet gasp coming from your mouth.

You could feel the ghost of Lando's smile against your skin before his hand stretched to fondle the soft mound of tissue while his tongue wrapped around the other, circling the hard nipple with his warm saliva.

You let out a small sigh, hand immediately travelling to the mop of brown curls Lando sported as you revelled in his touch. You could tell what he was doing. Making up for lost time. Ensuring you knew how much he missed you by spending the uttermost time and care with your breasts alone.

His thumb and tongue moved in synchronised circles, paying attention to each nipple, savouring the way your body arched into his touch and the small sighs and whimpers of admission dancing into his ears.

Detaching his tongue from your nipple, Lando looked at the sight of the ample flesh of your tits filling his hands. Fuck... it drove him insane.

Your body quivered as Lando's lips trailed down the valley of your breasts, a line of purples following right after his wet kisses. "Lando," you hissed, "People are going to know."

A huff of amusement crawled from his throat. "I know."

Lando watched you roll your eyes while he came down to pussy. His hands glided across your thighs, gripping your plump skin as a wave of tingles bubbled within your core.

Planting a small kiss on the side of your thigh, he flickered his blue eyes to you. "Think I still need to get that brat out of you," he murmured before gently pulling at your labia.

He watched your folds clench around nothing as his hot breath grazed the surface of your pussy. Lando smiled knowingly. "You are simply drenched for me, sweetheart."

You sucked in a sharp breath, feeling his finger slide down your slick folds, going up to ever so slightly to gather your arousal and graze the sensitive bundle of nerves near the top. A gasp left your mouth, making him grin.

You feel his fingers move away from your heat, skimming your thighs while hearing the hitched breaths fall from Lando's mouth as if he was the one affected. You could see his eyes travel across your body, wondering where to start. He wanted everywhere.

His mop of curls on his head dipped down, warm lips pressed up against the valley of your breasts to your stomach. And as he reached your navel, he could hear your shallow breaths, the ghost of his smile tickling your skin.

Heat prickled every inch of your body and yet a shiver of what could only be explained as some sort of electric current ran through you. You felt a tap on your thigh, bringing you back to reality.

"Don't lose me now, baby," Lando murmured softly, hands gripping your hips to yank your body closer to him.

Before you could breathe, before you could imagine the mere consequences of the way Lando's breath felt against your core, his mouth dived down into your folds.

Your mouth fell open as your head found comfort in the mattress. His tongue grazed over your clit with a tantalisingly slow pace, letting your legs tremor in his grasp. You could feel his lips curve, smirk practically dripping off his face.

You opened your mouth, preparing a witty comeback only for a string of moans to come out as Lando traversed deeper into your burning core, taking on every crevice and fold.

A groan escaped Lando's lips, pulling away for a brief second. "I missed how good you taste, so fucking sweet," he sighed out, delirious.

Your toes curled at his words, hands reaching for his head as he returned back to your pussy, Lando's own hands moving to your inner thighs to expose you entirely to him. His tongue had found your clit once again, unleashing his torturous attack.

"Oh God," you cried out, hips bucking themselves further into his tongue as the signs of your upcoming climax approached. You didn't think you could last any longer, especially not when Lando slipped two fingers inside you, making you clench around around him.

"Fucking hell," Lando rasped against your clit, speeding up his pace. His fingers move in and out of you rapidly, tongue flat against your clit as you trembled in his hands.

The dazed look in your eyes, the sunken teeth, the clenching of your walls...

Lando eagerly pulled you closer if possible, hoisting a leg over his shoulder, sending an entirely different realm of pleasure across your body.

"Lando!" You sobbed, hands tightening their grip on his hair.

He moaned, maintaining his pace. "Come, baby. All for me, come on. Show me how good I make you feel."

You felt undone at his words, body convulsing as the big waves of your orgasm hit you hard. Your walls clenched and pulsed around his fingers.

Lando couldn't tell whether his heart was fluttering or whether his cock was throbbing, probably both, but he had once committed this ruined sight of you to his memory not too long ago, and God, he had been dying to see it again.

The strain in Lando's voice was impossible to miss. So was his aching cock standing straight against his stomach. "I need you... so bad," he murmured, pussy-drenched lips against your ear.

You couldn't help but shudder at his words. Only minutes had passed since your orgasm but fuck, you needed him as much as he needed you.

With a series of nods, you beckoned him over, bringing your lips to his for a brief minute. Your hands trailed over his chest, grazing the back of his neck before finding their place on his upper back.

A low sigh blew from Lando's lips, his eyes trailed to where your hips met before coming back up to meet yours. For a moment, he allowed himself to revel in your touch before holding your gaze firmly. He called your name. "I love you. So fucking much. You're all I want... forever."

His confession made you warm all over. You could feel your eyes water slightly. With a tight smile, you brought your hand to caress his cheek, feeling him lean into your touch. "I love you too."

Those words were music to his ears. Without a second to waste, his hips moved, cock thrusting into you so deeply that you can't help but let out a small cry of pleasure, hand covering your mouth.

Lando wanted to fold. Right there and then. You felt so good around him. As though heaven had found him. But all he could do is moan your name, feeling you tightly clench around his cock.

His eyes flitted to your face when he heard your muffled moans. His arms stretched out to keep your hands away from your mouth and on his back. "Let me hear you, baby. Yell my name. Tell me how good you feel."

Your body jolted as his thrusts became deeper and somehow, you felt like you were only becoming more aroused. Your skin felt sticky, riddled with sweat as your slickness coated your thighs.

Lando groaned at the sight. You were making a mess of him, dripping all over his cock as your eyes became lost in a haze. His hand reached out, jutting your chin to make sure you were looking at him. "Keep looking at me. Look at what you do to me."

Lando's grip on your waist tightened, pulling you over so you straddled his cock, riding him into a new oblivion.

And you did look. You watched him fuck into you with a speed and depth you had missed so dearly. You watched him memorise you as though he was afraid to forget you. You watched him make love to you.

Your second orgasm began to build up as the obscene sounds of your skin slapping against one another filled the room. Your body shook at the feel of Lando's thumb against your clit, rubbing you as he entirely ruined you.

"Lando, I–" you mewled, unable to get the words out.

"I know," Lando responded, holding the same level of restrain and pleasure as his own climax built up. "Cum," he almost cried out, "please."

You could barely keep your eyes open as the tight coil in your stomach snapped. You trembled in his grasp, cumming all over his cock, hips almost unstoppable as they chased those waves.

The tight clench your orgasm brought around his cock sent him over. Lando fingers sunk into your skin. "Fuck, where, tell me where," he begged, impossibly close.

You quivered, still in the remaining moments of your orgasm. "Inside," you panted, "please, Lan." There's nothing more that I want than your cum."

Lando rasped, hips stilling at your words as his cum spilled into you, filling you in all the the right places. His grip on you loosened as he slowly pulled out of you.

You shivered at his fixated gaze of your mixed cum seeping out of your pussy. Lando fell into the bed, closing his eyes, muttering things under his breath to restrain himself. You held in your laughter as he left the bed, almost painfully, to grab a wet towel from the bathroom to clean you up.

You kissed his cheek gently, thanking him as he finished cleaning all the witness dripping your thighs. Putting aside the towel, you pulled the duvet over you and Lando, nestling up to his warm body.

You could feel the softness of your mattress and duvet conform around your body while Lando rested beside you, taking you in. You mended your brows at the sudden silence. "Penny for your thoughts?" You queried, poking his cheek before rubbing his face with the pad of your thumb.

Lando leaned into your touch, warm blue eyes grazing over your face. "I missed you," he murmured, pressing a kiss onto the side of your hand. "Every day without you felt miserable and now... I can't believe you're actually in front of me. "

Your eyes softened. "I'm here," you reassured, "forever."

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[fayes-fics]

Rebel

Paring: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: You only wanted a quiet refuge away from the ball, you got a lot more than that…

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, rake!Anthony, innocent!reader, frottage incl. clit stimulation through clothing, female and male orgasms.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: For all the Anthony fans, sorry it's been so long since I posted a fic for him alone. I don't recall where this idea originated from other than my wanting to do a trapped-together trope for him. It turned out sweeter than I expected tbh. Thanks to @colettebronte for an awesome betaing, as always. Enjoy! <3

You are grateful to find a little oasis of calm. A small storage room that is cool, dark and quiet—a world away from the loud, stuffy ballroom. The perfect hideout from the undesirable whirlwind of your first-ever society event, escaping your aunt’s clutches at an opportune moment as she was detained by a verbose member of the Ton. Slumped against the wall, shoes removed, and eyes closed, you finally find a calm reverie, your flushed skin cooling….

Until that is, your refuge is rudely invaded.

There is a shaft of almost blinding light and then a whirlwind of movement. The door makes an odd clicking noise as it is practically slammed shut again. 

And then a deep, wracked sigh that is decidedly male.

All of your serenity evaporates, a prickle over your skin at the realisation you are not alone. In fact, you are unchaperoned in a darkened room with an unknown man. 

Fretting for a few moments, you know it's impossible to slip past him unnoticed. So you hope you can stay quiet enough and pray he will leave again shortly. Perhaps it's the darkness that heightens his hearing; maybe it's that you are unable to silence your breathing sufficiently in such a small room, but your hope is instantly dashed.

“Who is there?” his voice rings out loudly, and you wince, knowing it's probably pointless to stay silent but seemingly unwilling to speak.

There is the rasp of a match being struck, and then a tiny flame appears to illuminate the lines of a face. It looks youthful, handsome, well-bred… and very annoyed.

“What in God’s name are you doing in here? And who are you?” He questions as he swings the flame around, looking for a sconce to light, making a quiet sound of victory as he locates one near the door.

“I…I came to escape.” Your confession is easier with his back turned as he lights the fixture. “I'm Miss y/l/n. And you are?”  

He guffaws as he faces you again. “Hah …”

“Did I say something amusing?” you squint slightly as you adjust to the light after considerable minutes alone in the dark.

“I believe you did...” he chuckles, bemused that you do not instantly recognise him. “Well, ‘tis of little consequence,” he sniffs, “as this is occupied, I shall bid you adieu and find a different private space….”

It appears he was looking for escape as much as you. But, what he probably hoped would be his parting words, accompanied as they are by a brusque nod, turn out to be anything but. 

The polished brass door knob spins in his grip, but the door does not relent, staying firmly within its frame. He tries a few more times before huffing and starting to rattle it more insistently. Then, beginning to lean into the door with his weight as if hoping that would shift it.

The door opens inward, idiot… you roll your eyes unseen, assuming the man is playing a prank at first. But the more he repeats the same move, each a shade more frantic than the last, the more you realise it is perhaps not a comedic bit.

“We are stuck?!” You check, indignance flaring. The door was just fine before he got here.

“It would appear so, Miss,” not pausing in his actions as he answers, a curl of hair flopping rather fetchingly over his forehead.

You start to pace back and forth, only a few steps possible in the small room, but an overwhelming need to move to dissipate the nerves creeping up your spine.

“Well, bang on the door then!” you gesticulate, forgetting any manners in your growing disquiet.

“Outspoken...” he pauses to mutter under his breath, but it’s begrudging respect more than chastisement. He starts to do exactly as you suggest: pound his fist on the door and call out for anyone. He presses his ear to the door, hoping to hear an approach. When there appears to be none, he repeats. “You could help, you know…” he throws out pointedly, side-eyeing you.

“Tis not becoming of a lady…” you counter sarcastically.

“Neither is ordering me around, but you seemed to have no issue in that regard,” he retorts, raising an eyebrow that calls your bluff and has you springing to his aid.

With both of you thumping on the door, you hope discovery is imminent, but after a few attempts, no one comes to assist. 

“Urghh! The ball is likely too loud, and this corridor too seldom visited,” you surmise.

“Most likely,” he concedes, a flash of what looks like admiration flitting across his features. “Perhaps we will need to remain in here until the ball is quieter.”

“That could be hours; my aunt will wonder where I am,” you slump your head into your hands before moving to pace again.

“Then maybe she will dispatch a search party. You are not the first debutante to hide in a storage closet, believe me. This may well be the first place they come looking.”

“Not exactly ideal, or did you forget it would be a scandal if we are found here together?!” you point out tartly.

Again, there is a flash of something over his face, as if he enjoys it when you behave the very opposite of polite.

“Of course, I did not,” he gruffs, then softens his countenance. “I shall conceal myself in that alcove behind the door,” he gestures to the corner where, indeed, there is an almost hidden indent in the wall. “Your search party shall be none the wiser. I can make my escape once the coast is clear.”

His suggestion immediately assuages you, believing the sincerity in his tone. There is a beat as you both nod to each other as if sealing this pact.

“You still have not told me your name…” a need to know it after this gentlemanly gesture.

“You honestly do not know?” prompting an attractive furrow between his eyebrows.

“No. This is my first ball. I am here at the behest of my maternal aunt. I have no earthly idea who most of these people are,” you huff, gesturing towards the jammed door.

“Some may argue lucky for you….” his response laced with amusement before he squares his shoulders to continue. “Bridgerton. Viscount Anthony Bridgerton.”

“Oh…”

If there is one name your cousin has warned you about before tonight, it's the Bridgerton brothers. All handsome, rich, intelligent… and very unlikely to take a wife. It would be wiser to howl at the moon than expect the pursuit of a Bridgerton—her stark words of warning echoing in your mind as you sense him observing you curiously. Your response is obviously not what he expected, that forehead crease reappearing. 

“Oh?” he mimics. “What on earth is that supposed to mean?”

“I am… aware of your family…” You confess, unsure what else to say.

“It does not sound a pleasant recollection,” he astutely surmises. “Am I to assume my family has done yours some harm?”

“No!” you reply quickly. “Nothing of that nature…”.

“Then what?... Out with it!” a mild irritation rising as you hesitate.

“My cousin warned me about the Bridgerton brothers,” you blurt out.

He barks a brief laugh but takes a step closer, his stance relaxing and gaining a swagger.

“Oh, did she now?” his voice changed; deeper, smokier, firing something in your belly.

“Yes…” it's your turn to square your shoulders, crossing your arms defensively for good measure. The trouble is, it just draws attention to your breasts. You don't miss the way his eyes flick down briefly.

“What did she tell you?” he seems to move inexorably closer, dark eyes sparkling in the low candlelight.

“That I should not seek a dance with you,” you admit, seemingly unable to avoid answering this man truthfully.

“And why might that be?” his cadence almost a rumble now.

“You are not marriage material.”

“And is that what you want? Marriage?” Skillfully deflecting an admission it’s true.

“It’s what’s expected of me. What I may or may not want is irrelevant,” you sniff.

“What a pity. I think what you truly want may be something far more… interesting,” Anthony’s tone is like velvet as he draws closer, towering over you. Your body responds almost against your will, a flush running down your torso, a tingle in your arms.

“Irrelevant,” you repeat, as you defiantly glare up at him, heartbeat racing.

“Is it…?”

He seems to know you want this precisely because it's what you should not be doing. The tempting taste of rebellion wrapped up in a handsome face.

A warm hand rounds your elbow, and his lips suddenly brush your ear.  “Also, it seems unfair to condemn me a rake based on the words of another, does it not? Should a man not get the chance to defend himself? Surely you are of sound enough mind to draw your own conclusions?” 

The irony of attempting to defend himself against the accusation while acting the archetypal rake is not lost on you, even as you fight every twitch in your body, a want to grab and be grabbed, almost an itch on your skin.

“Your current actions, my lord, do not exactly dispute her assessment,” you counter boldly, pleased you can tamp the waver in your voice.

His laugh is a warm gust down your neck that makes you shiver.

“Perhaps not,” he concedes, “and yet… here you still are…” 

You can’t argue with that. You could indeed easily move away, his hold on your elbow symbolic…. No, it’s that you most definitely don’t want to.

“You are a rake,” you murmur, even as your lips brush his cheekbone.

“And you like it…” he breathes raggedly, skittering across your skin as your heart pounds in your ears.

God, if that isn’t the truth.

“Do I?” you sass and pull back a few inches.

Anthony’s nostrils flare, and his eyes flash. The pluckier you get, the more it riles him up and reels him in.

“There is something you could teach all the other debutantes out there,” he tilts his head to one side and reaches for the dance card tied to your wrist, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.

“Enlighten me…”

“That a feisty young woman is far more attractive than a demure, meek girl,” he breathes, a finger now tracing the ribbon on the card, lingering on the delicate skin of your wrist.

“So you can domesticate a free spirit?” you sneer disapprovingly.

“Oh no, no. The very opposite. To let her run wild…” his fingers trail up your forearm, causing goosebumps in their wake, your breath quickening. Then he leans in, his lips by your ear again, breath hot “....and hang on tight because that will be the ride of your damn life.”

“Rake,” you murmur.

“Rebel,” he rumbles in return, goading.

Exhilaration makes you turn a fraction into his cheek, and it’s the permission he needs, moving to capture your lips with his. 

Fireworks explode in your body as, for the first time, a man kisses you. And not just a peck. No, it's a soft, sensual dance at first, his lips warm and wet, opening yours and inviting you to take it further. And you do. Grab his jacket sleeves, feeling the muscular outline of his biceps underneath as his hands move to grasp your waist and haul you against his body. The kiss turns hot and electric, his tongue entwining with yours, you following his motions, a flash of heat spiking through you as if struck by some powerful force. He pulls back, breaking the kiss, both of you breathing hard and staring at each other. 

“Tell me to stop…” he challenges, but everything in his demeanour tells you it's the opposite of what he wants. And it's definitely not what you want.

You bite your lip and shake your head.

There is a noise, male, hungry, utterly arousing, and then he is back on you. Kissing like wildfire and walking you backwards against the wall, velour wallpaper tickling the skin of your shoulders where your dress scoops lower. His hands are hot through the thin silk of your gown, grasping your waist and pulling you into him. His mouth tastes of whiskey, a hint of smoke and something earthy that is sinful.

“What do you want to know?” he asks teasingly, his mouth ghosting over yours. “Do you wish to know a man’s body, to know pleasure, or possibly both?” 

Each option sounds wonderful, tempting, perfect even. But there is one that trips from your tongue.

“Pleasure,” you answer greedily, feeling selfish to continue chasing this fizzing effervescence you have inside, both sweeter and tarter than any champagne.

“Mmm, I thought you might say that,” he chuckles, nuzzling your cheek. 

“Next question. And I shall offer no clues as to what this might mean if you do not know already…. But do you want…” he pauses to swipe his tongue sinfully into your mouth, “tongue…” he breathes, pulling away a fraction, “or…” his hand cups your chin, then two fingers push between your lips, an earthy, smoky taste from holding cigars now lingering on your tongue, “...fingers.”

Instinctively, you close your mouth around the invading digits and suckle lightly, his eyes flaring, and a groan catches in his throat.

1“Good god, I wish you had said you want to know a man….”

You have no idea what he might be referring to, but you can't resist suckling harder on his fingertips, feeling wanton but enjoying the power you seem to hold over him in this moment, his entire dazzling focus on you.

“You did not answer my question, y/n,” he scolds gently, slowly removing his fingers from your mouth and trailing your saliva over your own throat.

“Whatever you will,” you breathe, already missing him in your mouth as his fingers trail lower, leaving a dampness over the swell of your breast that makes your breath quicken.

His lips are back on yours, demanding, plundering kisses that have you wanting more. So much more. As he pulls away, his lips are red and damp, and his dark eyes intense, sparkling in the candlelight.

“Perhaps my fingers are best, for this circumstance at least,” he opines, sounding a touch reluctant, “less incriminating should we be swiftly interrupted…”

Part of you wishes there was some furniture you could push against the door so no one could disturb you, let him do whatever - everything - he wants. Because if it makes you feel anything like what you do now, you’d know you would allow it, consequences and propriety be damned.

“Pull up your dress,” he orders lowly, his lips on your cheek.

He makes a tiny noise of approval as you put your hands at your hips and grab handfuls of your dress and chemise until the hem is high above your knees, looping the fabric over your forearms, the air cool on your thighs. He drops a little soft kiss upon the shell of your ear as if to reward your obedience.

But then you gasp as suddenly his hand slides down your front and cups between your legs, so much heat through the thin layer of your silk undergarment. He makes an approving noise, apparently liking what he finds, pulling your earlobe into his mouth and grazing it softly with his teeth. Two of his fingers drag achingly slowly against the soft material. Your skin seems as if it could vibrate straight off your body and you cling to him, eyes going wide at the intensity from just a light touch.

“So perfectly responsive”, he gusts. “I almost forgot how very beguiling an innocent can be… and such a keen one at that.”

You can tell from his inflexion it's intended as a compliment; he seems so very charmed by your willingness. And you are so very eager for him, for the sensations he is wringing from your body never to cease. As those fingers keep stroking, your mouth is slack, and you press your breasts into him, wanting no inch of your body away from his. His lips are hot on your cheekbone, the other arm caged around you. 

He doesn't make any move to discard your underwear. Instead, he just keeps stroking over a spot between your legs that is rapidly swelling under his touch, viscous warm liquid leaking into the silky material and seeping through onto his fingers.

“Perfect,” he growls and moves faster.

“It feels so different…” you gulp, then clarify, “...to when I touch myself.”

He inhales sharply, his eyes flashing dark, and his fingers curl more insistent against your nub.

“You do this to yourself? An innocent?” He looks unbridled now with both admiration and lust.

You just nod, biting your lip.

“My perfect little rebel….” he lauds.

He is huffing into your hairline now, scenting you as you writhe instinctually on his questing fingers. Someone else’s touch is a magnified experience of what you have done alone before. This is wholly other: another human with you in this moment, him panting with desire, his body heat seeping through clothing, his fingers calloused in a way that catches perfectly on your swollen flesh as his resonant voice and smoky mint breath pleads with you not to stop. 

Grabbing onto his lapel, needing an anchor, you stare up into his deep brown eyes, the look on his face utterly triumphal, his lips lowering to cover yours, breathing each other’s air. Something hard pressing into your hip bone as you ride boldly upon his fingers now. A shiver runs up your spine at how good this is, little sparks firing from the pinpoint of pleasure between your legs. The coiled spring of desire is so much more profound with him, a delicious tension in your whole being. He keeps muttering low words of praise of how well you are doing, and how beautiful you look. Your skin flushes with arousal and exertion, and a bead of wetness runs down your inner thigh just as you are climbing to that point of no return. 

Suddenly, he withdraws his touch, your responding whine trailing off as his fingers swipe through that trickle of moisture. Then you stare transfixed as he brings it up to his mouth and sucks the dewiness from his fingertips, a hungry noise hitching in his throat as he does. It makes you desperate for him, for this. To reach that pinnacle with him. A burning want to do it time and time again. To find your pleasure with him, for him. To experience everything that can happen between a man and a woman.

“I want to know a man too,” you exhale unevenly, not able to censor your wayward thoughts, your abandoned clit throbbing hard in your soaked underwear.

He groans, the vibration of it quaking through him and that hand now cups your jaw. “By god, you will,” he asserts roughly, and you can smell traces of your arousal on his fingers as he leans in and kisses you deeply, the flavour of it tart on his tongue.

“Please touch me again…” your voice a broken plea.

His smile is devilish handsomeness personified, as he does just as you ask. You cry out over his lips as he expertly swipes over that spot again, rubbing even faster now. Rocketing you right back to the point where you have to cling to him, your knees buckling.

His other hand snakes around your body and grabs your breast through your dress. It makes you groan loudly, a yearning for him to strip off the layers, rip away your stays and snag your pebbled nipple between his teeth.

“What are you thinking?” he demands hotly, and you realise your face must give away something of your licentious wishes.

“I want your mouth on my breasts,” you confess the truth raggedly, riding his fingers again, whimpering and moaning with each expert flick of his fingers.

He growls, more untamed creature than man, and he pinches you through the layers, seemingly knowing exactly where your nipple is. The sensation, even though dulled through cotton and silk, makes you shudder and call out loudly. To the point he hushes you, deciding next to swallow your cries with kisses. Stealing your breath with his tongue as his fingers swirl in a rough circle between your legs, a drag that is so delicious, it hurls you right over the edge you skate and into oblivion.

Your whole body convulses, him pressing you into the wall to stay upright, your lungs tight as you scream your release into his mouth, vision swimming, a complete fuzziness as you float away. Nothing like you have experiences alone, a hundred times more visceral, carnal—utterly addictive.

As you return to the room, he is rutting himself against your hip bone, a solid mass between his legs. The feral nature of his movements awakens something in you, and you grasp his neck and pull him down to your lips.

“Do it,” you challenge through gritted teeth. 

Wanting him to reach his peak as much as you just have. Not yet understanding fully what is happening, but everything between your legs clenching and aching for something you can't articulate as he follows your bidding and ruts himself against you furiously now, grunting. You kiss him with ferocity and reach around to grab his shapely rear to encourage his movements. 

That’s the catalyst he needs, and, with an almost howl, he stills, pressed harshly into you, his face contorted, slack-jawed, and you feel a bloom of warmth through the wool of his trousers.

There are no words spoken for a few moments, just harsh breathing, the air heavy with the tang of sex. Then he moves to cup your face tenderly, closing his eyes and tilting his forehead on yours.

“Good god,” he sounds gravelly, sated, floored. “I….”

But he is interrupted by the sound of the door handle being jiggled violently, making you both spring apart lightning fast, clothing being rapidly rearranged. The door finally relents, and a footman’s face appears in the crack. He likely can surmise, and perhaps indeed scent, what has just transpired. 

“I wondered where you had got to, Sir,” he clears his throat, “but then I was passing by and knew this had to be you,” a barely contained smirk suggesting he could well have been guarding the door for a while.

“Jenkins!” Anthony’s relief is palpable. 

“The carriage, Sir, I presume?” he offers pointedly.

“Yes, please,” Anthony nods. As the man disappears, leaving the door ajar, Anthony’s hand slips into yours. Then, in a tone that brokers no argument - not that you have an ounce of interest in doing so - he declares, “You, my delicious little rebel, are coming with me….” 

masterlist • wips • taglist (must be following this blog to be tagged)

Anthony taglist pt 1: @makaylan @longingintheuniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @crowleysqueenofhell @queenofmean14 @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @elizah99 @fictionalmenloversblog @malpalgalz @amanda08319 @delehosies @m-rae23 @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kmc1989 @desert-fern @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @vane28282 @kisskissshutmydoor @y0ur-favgerman @sya-skies @urfavnoirette @cinnamoodles @blackdxggr @alexandrainlove @witty-wallflower @black-kitten-imagines @detectiveviridian @themadhattersqueen @tinypinkdragon @fudge13 @fanfiction-she-wrote

[jo-com]

Oscar but with a very dear-like girlfriend (she's very shy, skittish and very rare to see on social media because she avoids the cameras like the plague)

🩰 ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ୨ৎ ➛ Bambi

Oscar Piastri x Fem!reader

Summary: Based of the request☝🏻

Genre: Fluff and a little bit of SMAU

Fc: Kathryn Bernardo

Note: there are some grammar errors and i am sorry if i just answered this request now, i was finishing some of my og works in my draft soo i hope you enjoyed this!!.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ⊹⁺ 💋⋅˚₊𐙚 ─ ───────

The bustling city roared with excitement— the mix of music and chatters filled the lively streets. Within that, two friends were walking amongst the crowd when they suddenly spotted one particular driver that was walking at the side with a girl?

With nerves that fueled both their curiosity and joy, they slowly approached the couple with smiles that stretched across their faces.

One of them lightly tapping Oscar’s shoulder making the couple turn around to completely face the two. “Uhm hi, me and my friend saw you guys and were wondering to get a picture?”she spoke, some of her words came out stuttered.

Before answering, Oscar looked back at you— his eyes curling into questionable ones,”Is that alright with you my love?” He asked, his tone soft and gentle. Like he always have with you.

“Yeah baby it’s fine” you muttered, your voice barely audible, but was loud enough for him to hear.

Oscar knew how anxious and shy you get whenever there are others; it was a habit you developed when you were small that came with you throughout adulthood. Luckily you met a guy who was willingly patient for you to open up.

And you were forever grateful for that.

The two friends looked at awe at their relationship, their eyes shined with adoration, but their minds still processing the new found information.

It was never said or announced that Oscar had a girlfriend— she was also rarely seen in both the media and the paddock. So they were shock to see a girl that nestled close to his embrace.

Oscar coughed, getting the attention of the two, he smiled at them and answered back politely, “yeah sure, we can take a picture.”

The two girls squealed with happiness as they put out their phone and took one or two shots of pictures.

After that, the friends thanked them both and let them to enjoy the lively city.

…

Liked by 3,678 others

Randm_girlie OMFG JS MET THE OSCAR PIASTRI (I still can’t believe it)

Tagged; @M_Bff

View all the comments

Username1 WAIT WHO IS HE WITH

Username2 wth who is she!?!!

Username3 Does @Mclaren know abt this!

Username4 EWWW WTF

Username5 I’ve not seen her in the paddock

Randm_girlie CHILL GUYS, it’s his gf and she’s very pretty in person💕

Username6 ohh gross

Username7 js like u??

Username8 WAIT I JUST SAW HER INSTA

Username9 damn that fast?

Username8 It’s @Just.yn but it’s private

Username16 saw them once, they’re perfect

Username17 SHES NICE ASF AND GETS VERY SHY I LOVE HER

…

With that single picture— the two of you have been the talk of the social. People from his circle and friend group asked numerous times who you were and whether or not the rumors were true.

They were honestly begging for details.

“My baby is so famous”, Oscar joked, his hand sliding up to caress your cheeks.

You playfully rolled your eyes and pouted, “Not funny osc, you know how i hate attention.”

Oscar let out a few giggle and pinched your cheeks. “Too late baby, you’re just too adorable that people are so interested in you.”

“Should i be jealous?” He added, his face jokingly shifted into a shock.

You happily laughed back at his antics. The two of you sharing a laugh as you guys joked around some more.

…

Liked by Mclaren, Just.yn, Charles_leclerc and 4,789,701 others

Oscarpiastri Compilation of me and her (this is the closest you will get to seeing her pictures)

Tagged; @Just.yn

View all comments

Username10 SHES SO PRETTY WHAT

Username11 R U GATEKEEPING HER SIR??

Oscarpiastri yes she’s mine forever

Username12 CAN SHE BE MINE

Oscarpiastri uhm no.

Username13 Admin come get ur boy

Landonorris No wonder you don’t hangout with me anymore🙁

Oscarpiastri she’s way better ngl

Username14 BRUTAL😭

Username15 WAIT SHE KINDA FINE

Oscarpiastri KINDA??? Girl please she’s hella fine

McLaren We need to teach you some selfcontrol☺️

…

I hope i did it okay?? Idk it felt off🥹🥹

[kpopppopsmuts]

After The Shoot

NewJeans Hanni x M reader

Warnings: creampie, facial

Words: 1.6k+

"Aaaaaaand pose!" You scream as you do your job as NewJeans' newest photographer.

Hanni poses with such grace, staring into the camera with her eyes ever so shining. She tries to look as hot as she can but it always comes out cuter than she wants it. And yet you can't help but stare at her body, as she flaunts her butt towards the camera while looking at you.

You took more photos of her before wrapping things up.

As the crew sets down, and the other members of New Jeans leaving, Hanni approaches you. "You were great, Y/N! Thank you for today. I love how beautiful the photos turned out," she tells you shyly.

"My job was made easier because of you, Miss Pham."

"Please, just call me Hanni! I think after all the staring you did, we got a lot closer than you think," she giggles as she teased you but her eyes were glued on yours like it was with a hint of seriousness.

"Oh-- Uhm, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare a lot," you defended yourself. "I couldn't help it when someone like you is in front of me."

"You're so sweet, Y/N." Hanni stood there, twirling her body while looking at you, as if waiting for you to say something.

"Don't you have to go?" You ask her, with an answer you're already wishing for in your head.

"As a matter of fact, I don't! I actually have the rest of the day off. The girls went ahead 'cause they wanted to rest."

"Oh, then would you want to grab coffee after I pack things up? Would your manager allow that?"

"You know what, Y/N, how about we meet up at this place instead," she shows you an address on her phone and you took note of it. "This is my friend's private cafe. Meant for idols to unwind in. Non-idols aren't allowed but I'll tell her you're with me."

"Alright then. I'll see you there in about 2 hours?"

"Make it 1, Y/N. I want to talk with you more!" She smiled at you and hopped away, but looked back as if she knew you'd stare.

---

You make your way to the address she gave. "Only idols allowed inside," the big tattooed bouncer stopped you.

"He's with me!" Hanni shouted from inside, letting you enter.

"Hi, Hanni. You look great."

"Thank you, Y/N! You're very sweet. Let's take a seat! Order what you like. They have coffee but they also serve alcohol," she winks at you as she said it.

You and Hanni talked for about 2 hours without noticing the time, laughing and smiling the whole time. The cafe was closing and so you both had to leave.

"This was fun, Hanni. Thanks for inviting me here!" you say as you stood up from the table to go.

"Wait, Y/N," she said with hesitation. "Actually, nevermind."

"What is it, Hanni?"

"You know, my place is right around the corner. Manager's asleep and the girls are probably in their rooms by now. Do you want to come over and chat a little bit more?"

"I'd love that!"

"Okay, come on! Here, this is my room number, and go there in about 5 minutes so no one sees we're together!"

You sat there, waiting for 5 minutes before heading to her place.

---

Knock knock knock.

Hanni opens the door.

"Hi Y/N! come in, hurry!" She pulls you in, and closes the door immediately. "Sorry, idol things, teehee," she said with a hint of playfulness.

She grabbed your hand and led you to your room quietly. "Again, I'm sorry. None of my members can see you in here. I need you for myself."

"Wh- What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean, Y/N," she grabs your arm while looking at you with eyes filled with lust, much different from the eyes she had back in the cafe -- more like the eyes she gave you during the shoot.

"You felt it too right, Y/N? The tension?"

"I did but I didn't want to assume anything. You're an idol after a-" she cut you off with her finger to your lips to shush you.

"I'm just like you, Y/N. We all are. Except we have to be hiding when we're doing things like this." She leans forward but before she could do anything, you grabbed her by the hips and leaned your face towards her to kiss her.

She said no more words. Her hands are now wrapped around the back of your neck. Your tongues intertwined. You hold the back of her head to kiss her harder.

Hanni moans while you kiss her. Your hands travel the small of her back slowly, sending jolts down her spine. You feel her get goosebumps as you run your fingers down, before reaching and grabbing her shapely ass with your whole hand.

"Mmmm, that feels good, Y/N. You like my butt? I tried to show it off to you earlier tee hee!"

"I knew you were doing that on purpose. I fucking love your ass, Hanni."

The two of you continue kissing while slowly moving towards the bed. Hanni's expressions now are that of pure lust. None of the cutesy image she portrays online. Both of you fall onto the bed, with you going on top of her. You kiss her lips, her cheeks, you go towards her ear and whisper "Do you like this?" Hanni can only nod. You nibble on her ear, tickling her, causing her to arch her back on the bed. You make your way down her neck before taking her shirt off. Hanni wasn't wearing a bra any longer.

"Damn, you must have been waiting for this."

"You don't understand, Y/N. I've been so horny the whole shoot for you."

You play with her nipples with your tongue, occasionally with light nibbles and bites. The room, now filled with nothing but your moans.

Hanni takes your shirt off and marvels at your body. She grabs your crotch, "You're so hard, Y/N." "I'm all yours tonight, Hanni."

You continue kissing her while Hanni takes your fat cock off your pants. Her soft hands felt good on your hard cock.

"Y/N, stand up."

You could only follow what she says now.

"I want to suck your cock, Y/N."

"Every inch is yours to take, dear."

She kneels below you, tying her hair up into a bun, before giving your tip a kiss. She licks your dick from top to bottom before slowly, but aggressively, sucking your cock head, inching her way down your whole length.

Hanni would glance up every chance she gets and you appreciate just how this cute, innocent idol is now the total opposite. Her eyes would smile when she sees you enjoying.

"Fuck, that feels so good Hanni."

"Mmmm." The sound of her sucking intensifies, with your cock now coated with her saliva. She finally stops and takes it off her mouth. Her lips are connected to your tip with a string of pre-cum.

"Y/N, please fuck me," and before you could say anything, she was lying down, removing her shorts by herself. You see her pussy completely hairless, wet, wanting cock inside it.

"I want to eat you out Han-" "Please fuck me NOW Y/N," she begs of you.

You nod your head and position yourself on top of her. You line your tip to her slick and slowly, inch by inch putting it in her tight pussy.

"Oh fuck, you're so tight Hanni!"

"You're just so big, Y/N"

You kept going until you were fully inside of her. Now you start moving, slowly and gently, before picking up the pace and fucking her with deep strokes.

"That's it, Y/N! Pound me!"

The sound of your skins hitting each other and your cock messing up her insides almost musically harmonizes with the sound of each of your moans.

"Turn around Hanni. I want to see that ass you've been flaunting."

She gave out a horny giggle while panting, turning around. Hanni knew how to position herself. She planted her head down, raised her ass up, arching her back.

You could see clearly the ass that she bragged about. She was right to be proud of it. It felt very smooth on your hands. You reached for her hips and pounded her from behind.

"Spank me, Y/N!"

The spanks would make her shriek in joy.

"I'm close Y/N, harder, harder, harder, aaaaHHHH"

Hanni tightened around your cock, pulsating as she came hard.

You leaned in forward towards her ear, "Do you want me to keep going?" "Yes, please, Y/N!"

You fucked her harder than before and felt yourself close. "Where do you want my cum?"

"I want it on my pretty face please"

You pulled out and Hanni kneeled in front of you, tongue out, mouth open, eyes closed. You painted her face with your thick cum. "Fuck, Hanni. That was amazing" She told you where to get tissues and wiped her face.

"You were great Y/N. You know what would be better?"

"Yeah?"

"Me immortalizing this with a photo."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll take a selfie right now. Just after you've cummed on my face. They won't even know I just had my photographer fuck me hard, I'll be glowing. It'll be between you and I."

"There, posted," said Hanni.

"Wow, you're a horny gal, huh."

"And you're a horny guy."

"Only for you."

"We should do this again next time, Y/N. But for now, you have to go before any of the members see you. Haerin in particular was thirsty for you earlier too. teehee!"

Hanni sent you off with the memory of the best sex ever.

As soon as you got home, you receive a text.

"I'll hit ya up when I want to be fucked like that again. Or when another member wants to ;)"

You just know there's more to come.

-----

A/N: That's it for my first NJ smut! Sad about their label news which triggered this story. Hope you all enjoyed it!!

[swarvey]

how they would propose | sdv bachelors x g/n!reader | part two

-> summary: in game, the farmer is always the one to present the mermaid's pendant to their lover — what if it was the other way around?

pt. 1

a/n: here are the rest of the boys! i'll do the bachelorettes next, i might do all of them in one post. sorry for the slow updates y'all <3

harvey

wants it to be a completely special, private moment between the two of you

he knows how prone he is to getting overly anxious about moments like this, so he prepares months beforehand

if there is one thing in life he refuses to mess up, it's his proposal to you

and what's more flawless than tying everything back to the start?

harvey smiles as he watches your eyes grow big, following the sun as it steadily heads for the horizon. the hot air balloon rises into the sky slowly, to his relief — a little extra time to prepare never hurts.

a couple seasons ago, on a rainy, fall day, harvey had told you he had some errands to run before heading down to the beach. he'd been slightly shocked to actually see the old mariner standing there in the rain, despite the speculations that had always circled around town. despite the fact he was apparently a ghost, he had actually been patient with harvey, answering all of his questions with wisdom and guidance.

after nearly two hours of standing under his umbrella, harvey had finally made up his mind, handing a small bag of coins to the old mariner in exchange for the pendant.

"took ya long enough," the older man huffed as he handed the necklace over.

now, harvey waits until the air balloon is higher up in the sky before gently reaching for your hand. you look at him, a small smile on your lips.

"are you enjoying this as much as the first time i brought you up here?" he asks sweetly.

"maybe a little more," you admit, looking over the side again. "i was a bit nervous coming up here in the first place, you know, and seeing you all stiff and anxious didn't help."

"you can hardly blame me!" he laughs. "my fear of heights is deathly, i only did it because you were there with me."

"yeah? and how about now?"

"well, nothing's changed, has it?" he squeezes your hand, looking down at your intertwined fingers. "you're still here."

"i am."

when his eyes meet yours again, he feels warmth bloom across his chest — the setting sunlight seems to make you glow, and he suddenly feels unstoppable.

you squint at him, trying to read his face. "you know," you start softly, "you have the same look on your face as you did back then."

"i do?"

"yeah, you do." you pause, watching as his other hand reaches for his pocket. "harvey, are you—"

"y/n," he interrupts, "that day, when the two of us were up here for the first time, i felt something i never did before — i felt brave, strong. i never thought i was capable of feeling that way, but you proved me wrong, as you always seem to do, and i can only hope i make you feel at least somewhat the same way." he inhales deeply, feeling his face burn red as he takes out his hand from this pocket and opens his fist, the mermaid's pendant gleaming in the light.

"harvey," you breathe, rendered speechless as your eyes widen even more than before.

"you mean the world to me and more, honey," he says quietly, and you can hear the tears he's holding back. "i promise i will do everything in my power to make you as happy as you've made me, so please . . .

"will you marry me?"

after a beat, you let go of his hand, and harvey's heart drops.

then, you grab the necklace and pull it over your head, watching as it shines against your neck.

"yes, harvey," you answer, smiling widely up at him. "the answer has always been a yes."

tears finally fall from his face as he gently kisses you, resting his forehead against yours before pulling you to his chest.

"thank you," he whispers. "i promise, i won't let you down."

you laugh. "this isn't a business contact, you know."

"i know, i know, it's just . . ." he grabs your hand again, pressing a firm kiss on the back of it. "you've already done so much for me, dear," he says, the sun finally dipping beneath the mountains.

"it's time for me to return the favor."

sam

bought it like a week ago since it happened to be raining and he was on the beach

i mean, you'll say yes, right? there's no reason for you not to. so why should he be nervous? he's not nervous at all. not one bit.

at least, that's what he keeps telling himself as he keeps scheduling a bunch of dates with you, thinking there'll be a moment during one of them when he'll make his move

(the moment has yet to come, by the way)

sam slaps his face sharply as he paces around his room, continuously glancing at the clock. he honestly can't believe the pendant is still in the small pouch his mom gave him and not around your neck — her scolds after he returned home with the necklace still in his hands for the fifth time rings in his ears.

"sam, this is an important moment in both of your lives!" she had said, hands sternly placed on her hips. "you can't keep making these plans, just to avoid them at the last second because you're scared. you need to go show them how much you love them, properly!"

he shivers. his mom rarely ever yells at him, so he knows she must have been serious. how was i supposed to know proposing would be this scary?

after realizing he was due to meet you in a few minutes, sam rushedly left his home, heading towards the park where he told you to meet him. he smiles as he sees you sitting on the swing, but before he can get a word out, you're standing up and walking to him, face scrunched in worry.

"sam, is everything alright?" you ask, fidgeting with your fingers. "i've been thinking about it, and you've been worrying me a bit."

"worrying? why?" he grabs the sides of your arms gently, tilting his head. "did i . . . do something wrong?"

"i mean, no?" you shake your head slightly, sighing. "it's just, you've been asking to do so many things, which is great! this just isn't what we normally do. i'm a little worried you're not telling me something."

"wh-what?" he stutters, huffing and shrugging his shoulders. "honestly, sweetheart, i have no idea what you're talking about, really. i mean, do i seem like the type to hide something from you?"

you stare at him blankly for a moment. then, you deflate, a twinge of sadness in your eyes.

"are you breaking up with me?" you question quietly. "is that what this is? because i'd really rather you not drag it on like this, sam—"

"whoa, whoa, what?! break up with you? are you crazy?" he half-shouts, his own heart breaking that he made you think that. "baby, no, i would never."

"i don't know what to think!" you exclaim, a sudden emotion taking over your voice. "you've been acting so odd recently, i didn't know what to think."

he shakes his head, letting out a deep sigh. guess this is what i get for not listening to mom.

"here, why don't i just show you?"

"what?"

trying his best to keep his hands from shaking, sam reaches into his back pocket, holding up the small pouch in front of you.

"you see, i, uh, have been trying to figure out the right way to give you this," he finally admits, running his other hand through his hair nervously. "every time we went out together, i thought i would figure it out, but i guess i couldn't. i'm sorry for worrying you, y/n, i really am — i hope you can forgive me, though, or else i seriously have no idea what i'll do with this."

you open your mouth to question him once more, but before you can ask, he opens the pouch and lets the mermaid's pendant fall into the palm of his hand.

"i love you so, so much, honey, more than my words can describe," he rushes passionately, voice determined as he bends his head down and lifts the pendant up. "all i know is, being with you makes everything feel new again. like, the music we listen to, the places we go, the food we eat, everything is better when i do it with you. if i'm being honest, i'm not a hundred percent sure what comes after this, but i do know that i think we'll be okay, as long as we're together." keeping his head down, mainly to hide his flushed face, sam lifts the necklace even higher. "i guess what i'm asking is, will you marry me, y/n?"

sam feels your hand cup his chin to tip his face back up, revealing to him your watery eyes and pink cheeks.

"of course i'll marry you, sam, that's all you had to ask," you say, laughing lightly.

he stands up straight suddenly, whooping and throwing his arms in the air before picking you up and spinning you around. after putting you down, he hastily puts the pendant around your neck and kisses you, feeling your hand entangle itself in his hair as he pulls you close.

"you're such a dork," you tease after pulling away. "what were you so nervous about?"

"what were you so nervous about?" he fires back, crossing his arms and raising a brow. "did you seriously think i would break up with you?"

"like you gave me a reason to believe otherwise! when have we ever gone on dates for an entire week straight? we usually just sit in your room!"

"hey, we do more stuff than that!"

you look at each other in annoyance for a moment before bursting into laughter. unbeknownst to the two of you, abigail and sebastian had seen the whole thing as they were passing by, looking at each other in amusement as they continue toward the town.

"they sound like a married couple already," seb grumbles, and abigail laughs.

"just shows they were meant to be."

sebastian

similar to harvey, he wants his proposal to be for your eyes only, so he decides to do it while the two of you are alone at the lake near his house

determined to do the whole thing by himself, but his mom ends up seeing the jewelry in his room

got the pendant the last summer, it’s the start of spring now

(he’s spent every night since then falling asleep with it in his hands)

sebastian waits for you anxiously near the edge of the water, looking at the pendant in his hand. part of him still can’t believe this is his reality — someone like him, getting married? he scoffs, covering the jewelry with his fist and looking out towards the lake. the water shines under the moonlight, soothing his heart just a bit.

“seb!”

just like that, his sense of peace is gone, blood rushing to his face as he turns to greet you. he smiles softly; you’re wearing one of the coats he gave you since it didn’t end up fitting him properly. he always thought you’ve looked good in his clothes.

“hey,” he greets, hugging you to his side and pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “how was your day?”

“a bit busy,” you sigh, melting into his arm. “spring always jumps on me before i know it.” he hums, subconsciously pulling you closer as he plans out his next words. “how about you? everything okay?”

“hm? yeah, ‘course,” he replies, the necklace clutched tightly in his hand. “just . . . couldn’t sleep that well, is all.”

“why? are you feeling okay?” you ask worriedly, turning to face him.

“stop worrying.” he pokes your forehead, pushing you lightly. he huffs a laugh at your frown. “i had some stuff on my mind.”

“like what?”

like his mom’s advice. seb chews his lip as he quickly thinks back to what his mom had said after finding the necklace lying on his desk.

“this is a serious decision, seb,” she’d said, sitting with him in his room. “you’re sure you want this?”

“of course i am,” he’d retorted sharply. he’s always been a bit defensive over you. “why wouldn’t i?”

she’d sighed, smiling at him warmly. “that’s not what i meant. i’m over the moon about this, i am, i just want to make sure you understand what marriage means.” she paused, lightly placing a hand over his. he’d let her, just that once. “promise me you won’t treat it lightly, okay? they deserve the world, you know that.”

seb smiles slightly. though he’ll never admit it, he’s glad his mom spoke to him.

“about you, actually,” he replies. “i’ve been thinking about you a lot recently.”

“oh yeah? am i that hard to resist?” you say jokingly.

he rolls his eyes, but doesn’t disagree. instead, he calmly shows you the necklace in his hand, silently reading your reaction. your eyes widen, darting between the pendant and his face.

“i’ve never met anyone like you, y/n,” he finally says, swallowing thickly after hearing how shaky his voice has gotten. “you know it’s never been easy for me to open up to people, but it never really felt that way with you. you always seem to know what to say, no matter what i talk to you about. i mean, seriously, i don’t really get it still, but i do know it would be stupid of me to let someone like you go.”

“as if i were going anywhere,” you say, voice watery and quiet.

he gently grabs one of your hands, intertwining your fingers.

“well, now i know i’ve got you all to myself,” he replies amusedly. “i’ll take that as a yes?”

laughing, you lightly push him away. “you didn’t even ask me!”

“fine, fine— y/n, will you do me the highest honors and stay by my side for the rest of—“

“alright, stop, stop! you ass.” he laughs as you smack his arm, feigning hurt before grinning. “i could say no, you know.”

“yeah, sure you could, sweetheart.” he places the necklace around you and uses it to pull you to him once more, wrapping an arm around you to kiss you lovingly, the moon brightly shining down on the two of you, as if it approves.

“i’m sure you could.”

[fifty555]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ poetry? no, pottery!

a lil’ love between you and little lando norris 💞 with a twist as you’re a ceramist/potterer!

content warning; none! just enjoy the fluffs! ah, there’s a bit of explicit language (i think?), but nothing drastic! enjoy 😽!

summary; childhood friends reconnect after years apart—he’s a formula 1 driver, and you’re a ceramist.

hey, lover! part two here!

Lando Norris was used to his friends teasing him. Whether it was his golfing misadventures, his love for Twitch streams, or his occasional emotional outbursts on team radio, there was always something to make him the subject of banter on and off the grid. But the one thing they had yet to figure out—something that he was genuinely proud of—was the pottery.

It started innocuously enough. A vase here, a decorative bowl there. The other drivers had assumed Lando had simply developed a newfound taste for ceramic art after moving to Monaco. Carlos had even joked once, “You’re just trying to look posh, mate.”

But no one had noticed the small etchings at the back of each piece: a simple ‘Lan’ with a heart. Subtle, personal, and not exactly the kind of thing you’d put on items for sale. That mystery had lingered until one fateful evening when everything unravelled in the most chaotic way imaginable.

It was post-race at Silverstone, and the whole grid had gathered for dinner at a private venue. Spirits were high after a spectacular British Grand Prix, with plenty of laughs and, naturally, plenty of friendly ribbing.

Lando sat beside Oscar, carefully monitoring his phone, knowing full well that at any moment you might call. You were in your apartment in Mexico, finalising details for an art exhibit while simultaneously working on personal pottery commissions. Lando adored how dedicated you were to your craft, even if it often left you so absorbed that you forgot things—like where you’d placed your keys, or, as he was about to find out, something a little more important.

Amid the loud chatter, Lando’s phone buzzed, and your name flashed on the screen. Without thinking, he swiped to answer. “Hey, love,” he greeted, but before he could say anything else, your panicked voice filled the room.

“Lan, I lost my ring! I don’t know where it is!”

Shoot, he forgot about the speaker.

The room fell eerily silent as the unmistakable sound of your frantic cries echoed from the speaker.

Lando froze. His brain short-circuited as he realised his phone was still on speaker. Every single driver at the table—except for Oscar, Alex, and George—was staring at him like he’d just confessed to murder.

“Oh, for fu—” Lando scrambled to turn off the speaker, but not before you continued, “Baby, I don’t know where it is! I can’t even—”

He interrupted, voice strained with embarrassment. “Have you checked the wet clays? That’s usually where you’d lose it.”

The line went quiet for a second as the realisation hit you. “Shit. I’ll go check. Thanks, love. Enjoy your dinner with the boys, bye!” You ended the call abruptly, leaving Lando to deal with the aftermath.

“What the hell was that?” Daniel was the first to break the silence, leaning forward with a grin that practically screamed mischief.

“No, who the fuck was that?” Max followed, his bluntness cutting through the rising chaos like a hot knife through butter.

The room erupted in questions. Pierre was halfway across the table, trying to pry answers from Lando, while Charles was practically yelling over everyone else. Meanwhile, Carlos gave Lando a pointed look. “Mate, don’t tell me you’ve got a secret girlfriend and you’ve been hiding it from me?”

Lando’s cheeks burned as he fumbled to explain. “Look, it’s not a big deal—”

“Not a big deal?!” Charles’ voice reached a pitch that only dogs could hear. “You’ve been holding out on us! Who is she?”

Amidst the chaos, Alex calmly took a sip of his drink and glanced at Charles. “You’ve met her before.”

“I have?” Charles frowned, genuinely confused.

George pulled out his phone, scrolled through his photos, and handed it over. “Here, this’ll jog your memory.”

The photo showed George, Alex, and you at a karting event years ago, laughing over slices of pizza. You were unmistakable, even with the short haircut and boyish charm you used to sport.

And the fact that you used to terrorise Charles on the grid.

Charles’ eyes widened. “You’re telling me that demon is Lando’s—”

“Fiancée,” Lando corrected with a smug grin, cutting him off. “She’s my fiancée.”

If the table had been chaotic before, it was nothing compared to the uproar that followed.

“Fiancée?!” Charles looked moments away from fainting. Pierre had to physically restrain him from climbing over the table.

Max, ever the straight shooter, raised a brow. “How long has this been going on?”

“Since October 2020,” Lando admitted, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms defensively.

“You kept this a secret for three years?” Daniel looked simultaneously impressed and horrified. “And all we got were vases?”

“Wait,” Carlos interjected, pointing a finger at Lando. “The pottery—don’t tell me that’s her doing?”

Lando smirked, finally finding his footing in the conversation. “Actually, most of it’s hers. But I helped with a few pieces.”

“Explains the hearts,” Pierre muttered, earning a round of laughter.

Meanwhile, back in your studio, you’d found the missing engagement ring embedded in a chunk of wet clay. You snapped a quick photo of your clay-covered hands, the ring perched delicately on your finger, and sent it to Lando with the message: Found it. Your forgetfulness is rubbing off on me.

Lando responded with a selfie of his own, a defeated look on his face, and the message: The cat’s out of the bag.

You could only laugh, imagining the absolute carnage he was dealing with at dinner.

Now, the question is, how did you guys meet?

Well, let’s take a trip down memory lane, yes?

It started at a karting track in Guildford when they were both nine years old. Lando was already making waves on the circuit, a scrappy kid with untamed curls and an infectious grin. You, on the other hand, were a quiet but fiercely competitive racer, constantly being told you’d never make it because you were a girl.

That day, your paths crossed in the most cliché yet heartwarming way. You’d crashed during qualifying and sat on the sidelines, fuming as you inspected the damaged kart. Lando, fresh off his own session, wandered over with a bag of gummy bears and an awkward grin.

“Want one?” he asked, holding the bag out to you.

You glanced up, unimpressed. “Unless it fixes my kart, no thanks.”

“It doesn’t,” he admitted, plopping one into his mouth, “but they’re good for sulking.”

Reluctantly, you took one. That was all it took. From that day forward, you became friends—rivals on the track, co-conspirators off it. The karting world was small, and you often found yourselves travelling the same circuits, sharing snacks, and occasionally teaming up to prank the other kids.

But all good things come to an end, and for Lando, the end came when you abruptly quit karting at twelve. One day you were there, racing alongside him, and the next, you were gone. No explanations, no goodbyes—just a void where his fiercest rival and closest friend had been.

Years passed. Lando threw himself into racing, climbing the ranks to Formula 1, but he never stopped wondering what had happened to you. He’d hear whispers—something about pottery, about you exchanging one love for another—but nothing concrete.

Then, in 2020, he walked into a pop-up art gallery in London and froze. There, amidst a sea of ceramic sculptures, was a name he hadn’t seen in years: yours. And standing by a display of hand-thrown vases, chatting animatedly with a small group of people, was you.

Lando hesitated, heart pounding as he watched you laugh, looking so effortlessly radiant it hurt. He was a world-famous F1 driver now, but at that moment, he felt like the same awkward boy offering gummy bears to his angry rival.

Finally, he worked up the courage to approach you. “Hey,” he said, trying to sound casual. “Nice vases.”

You turned, your eyes widening in surprise. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, as if no time had passed at all, you grinned. “Nice curls.”

The conversation flowed as easily as it always had. Over coffee the next day, you explained why you’d quit karting. Your parents had pulled you out, worried about the pressure and the toxic environment you were facing as a girl in a male-dominated sport. You’d turned to pottery as an outlet and never looked back.

“I missed it, though,” you admitted, stirring your latte. “I missed racing. I missed… you.”

Lando’s heart clenched. “I missed you too.”

The transition from friendship to romance was seamless, almost inevitable. But given Lando’s high-profile career, you both agreed to keep the relationship private. It wasn’t easy. There were stolen weekends in Monaco, secret visits to your studio in between London and Mexico, and countless moments when you had to play it cool in public, even as your heart raced every time you saw him.

The secrecy was worth it, though. For three years, you built a world of your own, filled with laughter, late-night phone calls, and the kind of love that felt steady and enduring.

The proposal came during a quiet evening at your studio. You’d been working on a commission, hands covered in clay, when Lando appeared in the doorway, looking unusually nervous.

“What’s up?” you asked, wiping your hands on a rag.

He hesitated, then held out a small, unassuming box. “I, uh, thought we could make this official.”

You stared at him, heart pounding. “Lando Norris, are you asking me to marry you in the middle of my studio while I’m covered in clay?”

He grinned, the familiar boyish charm shining through. “Well, I figured it’s where you’re happiest.”

You couldn’t argue with that. Laughing, you took the box, opened it, and saw the ring—simple, elegant, and unmistakably you. Tears filled your eyes as you nodded. “Yes.”

For a while, life went on as usual. You returned to your pottery, Lando to his racing, and your engagement remained a secret known only to close family and a few trusted friends. But secrets have a way of slipping out, and yours did during that fateful post-Silverstone dinner.

By the time Lando returned home to Monaco, the internet was ablaze. He’d soft-launched your engagement on Instagram with a series of photos: your clay-covered hands holding the ring, more of you holding your ring in defeat after possibly losing it, and a final shot of the infamous ‘Lan ♥’ signature on one of your vases.

The caption read: ladies and gents, the chronicles of my fiancée losing her ring. she says that my forgetfulness is rubbing off on her apparently but she sadly chose to say yes to me 😌.

The response was overwhelming. Fans went wild over the reveal, speculating about your relationship timeline and falling in love with the wholesome chaos of it all.

Despite the initial embarrassment, Lando wouldn’t change a thing. Sure, Charles might never let him live it down, and Daniel would probably bring up the ‘wet clay incident’ at every opportunity, but none of it mattered.

As he watched you work on your latest piece, the soft hum of music filling the studio, he felt a sense of peace he rarely found anywhere else. You glanced over your shoulder, catching him staring, and flashed him a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

“Back to work, Mr. Norris,” you teased, pointing at the pottery wheel.

He grinned, sliding into the seat beside you. “Yes, ma’am.”

If this was what forever looked like, Lando was more than ready for it.

Because in the end, every gummy bear, every secret, and every chaotic dinner had been worth it.

i hope you guys liked it 🥹 tbh, this was originally a gift for my friend to motivate her but now she wants to actually marry him… i take no part in that declaration.

also, this y’all man 🤨☝🏻 damn, he’s okay, i guess.

i’m still very new here, so, there’s some things i absolutely know nothing about… BUT, i’ll get through it ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-!! i love y’all, strangers ‘round the internet 💌 MWAH!

[itneverendshere]

maybe wheezie or even sarah needing rafe to pick them up from school or attend a back to school night. like the school calls rafe to pick up sarah after getting in a fight. or the teacher calls him in to discuss that wheezie struggling in math

thank you for the request!!! 🫶🏻🫂 i think rafe's always had a soft spot for wheezie so i did this one for her cause i personally can see their dynamic being really cute.

 we're both older now - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

Sitting in the passenger seat of Rafe’s truck, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him. His hands were on the wheel, jaw clenched just enough for you to notice, but not enough to freak out.

It’s been months since rehab, and you swear, you’ve never seen him like this before—so focused, so... responsible. It’s kinda hot.

But that’s not what you’re here for. Not right now.

You’re headed to Wheezie’s school because, apparently, she’s been struggling with math. She didn’t want to tell Rafe because Ward’s rarely at home these days and she didn’t want to bother him. When you found out, you could’ve smacked her. You get it—Rafe’s been under a lot of pressure lately—but you don’t think she realizes how much he cares about her. That’s why you two are heading to a parent-teacher meeting like it’s the most normal thing in the world. It’s not. 

“I should’ve known something was off,” Rafe mutters, breaking the silence.

You look over at him. “You couldn’t have. Wheezie’s good at keeping stuff to herself.”

He shakes his head, his grip tightening on the wheel just a little. “I’m her brother. I should’ve noticed.”

You reach over, resting your hand on his arm. “You’re doing your best, baby. That matters.”

He lets out a breath, his tension easing under your touch. God, sometimes it’s hard to believe he’s the same guy who used to pick fights at every chance he got just a few years ago. It’s been almost a year since his last relapse, but every day you see him fighting to be better—for himself, for you, for his sisters. And honestly? It does something to you, seeing him like this. 

You pull into the school parking lot, and he parks the truck, turning off the engine. For a second, he just sits there, staring straight ahead. You know what he’s thinking. He’s wondering if he’s good enough to handle this, to handle all of it.

“You got this,” You say softly.

Together, you walk into the school, and after a quick conversation with the receptionist, you’re led to Wheezie’s teacher’s classroom. The room smells like dry-erase markers and stress, the kind you remember from my own high school days.

Except, this is a private school, completely different from what you were used to, and back then, you loved school. You were good at it too—really good, actually. Straight A’s, honors, full ride to a decent college…but life had other plans.

You look at Rafe as you wait for the teacher to start the meeting. He’s sitting up straight, listening intently, and your chest tightens a little.

The same guy who used to blow off any responsibility now sitting here, laser-focused, ready to step up for his little sister. The teacher starts talking about Wheezie’s grades, how she’s been falling behind in math, and you can see the guilt in his face. You squeeze his knee under the table, trying to ground him, but honestly? This was hitting a little too close to home for you, too.

“I can help her,” You hear yourself say before you’ve even really thought about it. Rafe turns to look at you, surprised, and you shrug like it’s no big deal.

The teacher blinks, probably not expecting the girlfriend to jump in with a solution. “What did you score on your final exams?”

You move in your seat, not expecting the question but not exactly shy about your answer either. "I got a 1600 on my SATs," You said, trying to sound casual about it, even though you could see Rafe’s eyebrows shoot up next to you. 

The teacher’s eyes widen slightly. "That’s impressive," she says, "You must’ve had a lot of options for college."

You shrug again feeling that familiar feeling of bittersweet regret. "Yeah, I had a full ride to a few places.”

“And you didn’t go?”

The way she says says it—like she can’t imagine why you wouldn’t go—hurts a little. 

"Yeah, well... life happened." You try to brush it off like it doesn’t bother you.

Rafe’s hand slides over to yours under the table, interlocking your fingers and giving you a gentle squeeze. It’s subtle, but it’s enough for you. To remind you that you made the right choices, even if they weren’t easy ones.

The meeting wraps up pretty quickly after that.

The teacher gives Rafe some advice on how to help Wheezie stay on track, and you both thank her before heading out of the classroom. As you walk down the hallway, he stays quiet for a bit, and you can’t really read what’s going through his head.

By the time you get back to the truck, he turns to you, his brow furrowed slightly, like he’s still processing everything. "You got a perfect score on your SATs?"

Three years into the relationship and he’s still learning things about you every day.

You let out a small laugh, brushing some hair behind your ear. "Yeah. It’s not a big deal."

"That’s kinda insane," he says, looking at you like he’s seeing a whole new side of you. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

You shrug for the millionth time today, suddenly feeling a little shy. “I don’t know. It just never came up. It’s not like it matters now, anyway.”

"It does matter." His voice is firm, and when you glance over, you can see how serious he looks. "You gave up a lot to help your sister. That’s not nothing."

Your throat tightens, and you have to swallow down the emotion rising inside you. The way Rafe says it, like he actually gets it, means more than he probably knows. "I just did what I had to do."

He nods slowly, like he understands that feeling all too well. "You didn’t have to offer to help Wheezie today. But you did.”

You don’t want to make a big deal out of it. "I want to help her. She deserves it."

Rafe doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with this soft, almost disbelieving expression. Like he can’t wrap his head around the fact that you’re still here, beside him, helping his family without a second thought.

"You’re amzing, y’know that?" he murmurs, his voice low and warm in that way that makes your stomach flip.

You feel your cheeks heat up, a shy smile tugging at your lips. "Stop."

"I mean it." He reaches over, cupping your face gently with his hand, thumb brushing lightly across your cheek. His eyes soften as they meet yours, filled with so much adoration it makes you want to hide. "I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m really fucking grateful."

You bite your lip, glancing down at his other hand on your knee before looking back up at him.

"You’ve been working hard. For yourself, for us. I see that."

His jaw tightens just slightly, and he looks down, almost like he’s not sure how to take the compliment. But when his eyes meet yours again,

"I’m trying," he says quietly. "I’m trying to be better."

"And you are," you whisper. "Every day."

The months of hard work, the late nights when you’ve held him through his doubts, the mornings when he’s shown up for his family even when it was hard. It’s all there, between you, unspoken but understood.

Rafe leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath warm against your skin. "Thank you," he whispers. "For everything."

You close your eyes, letting the moment settle around you. "I’ll always be here," you whisper back. "We’ve got this."

“I don’t think I would’ve made it this far without you.”

You swallow hard, trying not to let it hit you too deep. But it does. Because for all the mess you’ve been through—his ups and downs, his relapse, his constant fight to be better—it always comes back to you. To this.

“I’ll always have your back,” You remind him quietly. “You know that, right?”

He nods, like there’s absolutely no doubt in his mind. “I know. You’re really good with her," he says after a beat. "With Wheezie. And with Milo."

You smile, leaning back in your seat. "Yeah, well, someone’s gotta look after the kids, right? Might as well be me."

Rafe’s lips twitch into another smile as he leans over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple, "Thank you, baby.”

“For what?”

“For sticking around,” he says, pulling back slightly to look at you. “Even when I didn’t make it easy.”

 “You make it worth it, Rafe. You always have.”

Because seeing him like this—happy, strong, responsible, and healthy—it’s more than just him trying. It’s him becoming the person you always believed he could be, from day one on that stupid country club. And that? That’s something you’d stick around for any day.

When you and Rafe pull up to Tannyhill, the sun’s already setting. You grab your bag from the backseat, and he takes a deep breath, his hand hovering near yours like he needs to hold onto you just for a second longer. When you step into the house, you’re greeted by the usual stillness that fills the place. It’s huge, but it always feels too quiet.

Wheezie’s sitting at the kitchen island, hunched over her phone, clearly trying to distract herself. Her leg’s bouncing nervously under the stool, and you don’t even have to say anything to know that she’s been dreading this moment.

As soon as she sees the two of you, she freezes, eyes wide, "Hey," she greets, her voice shaky.

Rafe glances at you, and you give him a small nod. You know he’s trying to figure out how to handle this—he’s never really had to play the role of ‘responsible older brother’ before. But he’s doing it. He’s trying. And that’s what matters.

"Wheeze," Rafe starts, as he walks over to her, and you can see the panic rising in her eyes as she sits up straighter like she’s preparing for the worst. "Why didn’t you tell me?"

She bites her lip, glancing between the two of you. "I-I didn’t want to bother you," she mumbles, her voice small. "You’ve been dealing with a lot, and I thought— I don’t know. I thought I could handle it on my own."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. He’s quiet for a second, and you can feel Wheezie’s anxiety practically buzzing out of her. She’s probably expecting him to yell, to go off on her, but instead, he takes a step forward and pulls her into a hug.

"You ever keep something like that from me again," he mutters into her hair, his tone firm but warm, "and you’re grounded."

Wheezie’s eyes go wide in shock, like she wasn’t expecting that at all. Her arms wrap around him a little awkwardly, but you can tell she’s relieved. She pulls back after a second, staring up at him with those big brown eyes of hers. "You’re not mad?"

Rafe shakes his head, but his expression is serious. "I’m not mad. I’m worried, Wheeze. I’m here, okay? I got you."

"I’m sorry," she whispers.

He sighs again, rubbing a hand over his face before looking at her. "Don’t be sorry. Just don’t do it again."

She nods quickly, and you step closer, offering her a small smile. "You’re not in trouble, Wheezie. I’m gonna help you with the math stuff, okay? I promise."

Wheezie looks over at you, clearly surprised, and then back at Rafe. "You’re… really not mad?"

Rafe rolls his eyes but in that big-brother way that’s full of affection.

"No, Wheeze, I’m not mad. But next time you’re struggling with something, tell me. That’s what I’m here for."

She nods, relief washing over her features. "Okay. I will."

Rafe reaches out and ruffles her hair, something so casual and brotherly it makes your heart swell.

"Good. Now go do whatever you do, and remember—grounded if you pull that shit again."

You slap his arm, “Will stop cursing in front of her?”

He shoots you a half-smirk, looking completely unbothered. "Please baby, she’s sixteen. You think she doesn’t curse?"

Wheezie lets out a small laugh, covering her mouth as if she’s trying to keep it together, but you can tell she’s relieved. 

"Yeah, but maybe not in front of her big brother," you tease, raising an eyebrow at him.

Rafe shrugs, looking like he couldn’t care less. "If she’s smart enough to hide it from me, more power to her."

Wheezie giggles again, and you can’t help but smile. "Yeah, yeah," you sigh, rolling your eyes at him playfully. "You’re a great role model, Rafe Cameron."

He groans, “Please don’t use the full name.” The corners of his mouth tug up in a grin that makes your heart skip. “Alright, no more big brother lectures tonight. We’re good, yeah, Wheeze?”

Wheezie nods, still smiling. “Yeah, we’re good.”