#jon is standing on an edge

[fizzseed]

season four!!!!!!!!!

[cemetery14]

their first meeting being robin kidnapping jon and doing tests on him like hes a lab rat is crazy

and robin immediately getting caught by his dad

i love them sm

[bobbinalong]

honestly, as much as i want jay's feelings to get more space and be examined more closely, i'm kinda glad that didn't happen in super son. 40 pages really isn't that much and i felt like they were very needed for jon, it wouldn't have been as good if they'd have split the panel time between the both of them equally.

[pucksandpower]

Taste of Temptation

Day 17 → Lactation Kink 💋 Lando Norris

Warnings: 18+ content and dubious consent

Kinktober Masterlist

Lando leans against the edge of the pit wall, his arms crossed over his chest as Jon’s voice drones on in the background. He’s supposed to be listening. Focused. But all he can see is you standing a few feet away, talking to one of the engineers. The sun catches on the fabric of your dress, the deep V of the neckline, the way it clings to you in all the right places.

He shifts, swallowing hard, eyes dropping for what must be the hundredth time today to the way your chest looks in that dress. The low cut, the soft curve of your skin peeking out — it’s like you’re daring him to lose focus entirely. Which, clearly, is happening.

“Lando?”

Jon’s voice pulls him back, but only for a second. His head jerks in the performance coach’s direction. Jon’s got that look on his face, like he’s caught him out.

“Yeah, yeah,” Lando mumbles, dragging a hand through his hair. He tries to nod along, as if he’s been paying attention. “Sorry, what?”

Jon sighs, rolling his eyes. “Mate, we’ve been through this. Hydration’s key. You’ve got to keep on top of it, especially in this heat.”

Lando gives a vague nod, but his eyes flicker back over to you. The way your dress hugs your waist. The way you laugh at something the engineer says, tipping your head back just a little. And the way his mind goes utterly blank every time you smile. He’s barely aware of Jon still talking beside him.

“Water. You need water,” Jon says, more insistent this time, probably noticing Lando’s glazed-over expression.

“Water. Right,” Lando parrots, reaching for the bottle beside him on the bench. But his mind is still on you. Specifically, the way the soft fabric of your dress skims just below your collarbone. How it flutters a little when you move, revealing just enough to drive him mad.

He uncaps the bottle, eyes flicking between you and the opening, trying to focus. But it’s no use. You bend down slightly to tie your shoe, and Lando’s grip loosens. The water splashes out, missing his mouth entirely and drenching the front of his shirt instead.

“Shit-” he mutters, pulling back in surprise as cold water drips down his chin and soaks into the fabric. He blinks down at himself, as if confused by how it happened.

Jon bursts out laughing. “Hopeless,” he says, shaking his head. “Absolutely hopeless.”

Lando wipes at his chest with the back of his hand, but it’s useless. His shirt’s already sticking to his skin, and Jon’s laughter is still ringing in his ears.

“Shut up,” Lando grumbles, tossing the half-empty bottle aside.

“If you spent half as much time listening to me as you do staring at her-” Jon doesn’t even finish the sentence, his grin wide as he jerks his head in your direction.

“I wasn’t staring,” Lando mutters, though he knows it’s a lie. He wipes his mouth with the edge of his sleeve, glancing over at you to make sure you didn’t notice the whole debacle. You’re still talking to the engineer, seemingly oblivious to the scene that just unfolded.

“Right,” Jon says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Because you totally didn’t miss your mouth just now. Completely by accident.”

Lando scowls, but there’s no bite to it. He knows Jon’s got him. “It’s the heat,” he says, lamely, hoping that’ll shut him up.

Jon just laughs again. “It’s her, mate.”

Lando doesn’t respond, but his eyes flicker back to you, just for a second. Just long enough to catch another glimpse of the way your dress dips low, hugging your curves. It’s not fair, really. How is he supposed to focus when you look like that?

Jon claps him on the shoulder. “I don’t blame you,” he says, grin still in place. “But you’ve got a race in a couple hours. Maybe try and keep your head in the game, yeah?”

Lando shakes his head, a small smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, wiping at his chest again, though the water has already seeped into the fabric.

Jon moves on, probably satisfied he’s gotten enough teasing out of Lando for now, and launches back into his lecture about hydration and recovery, but Lando’s barely listening again. His mind is still on you. Always on you. He watches as you push a strand of hair behind your ear, the sunlight catching in your eyes.

You turn then, like you can feel his eyes on you, and your gaze meets his. For a second, Lando’s breath catches. You smile, and it’s like everything else fades away. The noise of the paddock, Jon’s voice, even the upcoming race — it all falls to the background.

You tilt your head, raising an eyebrow in that way you always do when you know you’ve got him wrapped around your finger. And you do. You absolutely do.

Lando clears his throat, feeling his face flush, but he can’t tear his eyes away from you. He thinks about walking over, about wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close, pressing a kiss to that spot just below your ear that always makes you laugh.

But before he can even take a step, Jon’s voice cuts in again. “Seriously, mate. Focus.”

Lando tears his gaze away from you, shooting Jon an annoyed look. “I am focused.”

Jon just snorts. “Yeah, sure. On her.”

Lando rolls his eyes, but there’s no point denying it. He’s not focused, not on anything Jon’s saying, not on the race coming up, not on anything other than you.

You make your way over, that same knowing smile still on your lips, and Lando feels his heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” you say, voice soft as you come to stand beside him.

Lando’s throat goes dry. “Hey.”

You glance down at his still-damp shirt, your smile widening. “You miss your mouth again?”

He groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t start.”

Jon chuckles from the side. “Told you. Hopeless.”

You bite your lip, trying — and failing — not to laugh. “You okay, babe?”

Lando gives a half-hearted shrug, but he’s smiling. “It’s your fault,” he says, motioning vaguely toward your dress. “How am I supposed to focus when you wear stuff like that?”

You glance down at yourself, then back up at him, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

Lando groans again, louder this time. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

You laugh, a soft sound that makes his chest tighten. “I don’t know, I think you’re just easily distracted.”

Jon claps him on the shoulder again, a knowing grin on his face. “That’s what I’ve been telling him.”

Lando swats Jon’s hand away, shaking his head. “You’re both the worst,” he mutters, but he’s smiling, warmth spreading through his chest as you step closer, your fingers brushing lightly against his.

“Good luck today,” you say, voice dropping to a low murmur, just for him.

He exhales slowly, his pulse quickening as he meets your eyes. “Thanks.”

Your hand lingers against his for a second longer, your touch soft and warm. Then, with one last smile, you turn and walk back toward the paddock, leaving him standing there, heart racing and mind thoroughly distracted.

Jon shakes his head, a soft laugh escaping him. “You’re a goner.”

Lando doesn’t even bother arguing this time. He watches as you disappear into the crowd, his mind still filled with thoughts of you, the race the furthest thing from his mind.

“Yeah,” he mutters under his breath, smiling to himself. “I know.”

***

Lando lies on his back, his head propped up by a couple of pillows, the dim glow of his phone the only light in the room. It’s late, and the soft hum of the bathroom fan is the only sound breaking the quiet, accompanied by the faint rustle of you finishing your nightly routine.

He can hear the running water and the occasional clink of bottles as you move through the familiar steps — cleanser, toner, serum, moisturizer. It’s a comforting routine, and Lando knows it well by now, having watched you do it a hundred times.

He scrolls through TikTok absentmindedly, his thumb flicking up the screen as random videos play in quick succession. His eyes glaze over as he watches one of those “get ready with me” videos, someone talking about their outfit for the day. He’s not really paying attention, though. Mostly, he’s just waiting for you to join him in bed. He glances at the door, hoping you’ll finish soon.

Another swipe, another video. This time, it’s a new mom talking to the camera, her face glowing with a mix of exhaustion and pride. Lando’s thumb hovers over the screen, ready to flick to the next one, but something about the video holds his attention.

“I was really struggling to breastfeed,” the woman says, her voice soft but earnest. “Nothing was working, and I was starting to feel like a failure, honestly. But then I found this cream, and I swear, it was a game changer.”

Lando’s brow furrows slightly, not really sure why he’s still watching, but he doesn’t scroll away. He listens as the woman continues talking about how she had trouble producing milk, how nothing seemed to help until she tried this one product.

“I’m not even kidding,” she says, holding up a small jar to the camera. “Within days, I started lactating. It was a godsend.”

Lando blinks, his mind catching on that word — lactating. He suddenly feels hyperaware of his own body, of the stillness in the room, of the faint sound of you moving around in the bathroom. His eyes drift back to the video, watching the woman gesture to the cream like it’s a miracle. His mind starts to wander, unbidden, to thoughts of you.

He hesitates for a moment, his thumb frozen on the screen, but his brain is already running wild with the idea. The thought of you with milk. His mouth goes dry, and he quickly glances toward the bathroom door again, half-expecting you to walk out and catch him watching this bizarrely specific video. But you’re still busy inside.

He swallows hard, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and something deeper stirring in his chest. He taps the screen, pulling up the link the woman left in the video description. The product is right there, easy to order, just a few clicks away.

Lando’s thumb hovers over the “buy now” button. It’s stupid. Ridiculous, even. Why is he even considering this? But the thought won’t leave his head. The idea of you using this cream, of your body responding to it — it sends a shiver down his spine. His heart starts beating faster, a strange kind of excitement bubbling up inside him.

He bites his lip, staring at the screen, his mind spinning with the possibilities. His fingers twitch, almost moving on their own as he clicks the button, the order processing before he can even fully think it through.

The confirmation pops up, and he quickly deletes the email notification, his fingers moving quickly to erase any trace of the purchase. His heart races, a weird thrill running through him at the secrecy of it all. He tosses his phone onto the nightstand, feeling slightly breathless, like he’s just done something he shouldn’t have.

The bathroom door creaks open, and Lando’s head snaps up. You step out, the soft light from the bathroom spilling into the bedroom for a moment before you turn it off. You’re wearing one of his oversized t-shirts, your hair pulled back into a messy bun, skin glowing from your skincare routine. You look comfortable, relaxed, and Lando feels a sudden wave of warmth in his chest.

“Finally,” he says, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. “I thought you got lost in there.”

You roll your eyes, climbing into bed beside him. “I wasn’t that long.”

“You were,” he insists, shifting to make room for you. “I’ve aged years waiting for you.”

You laugh, sliding under the covers and snuggling up next to him. “You’re dramatic.”

“Maybe,” he concedes, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you closer. “But you do take forever.”

You nudge him playfully, but you settle into his side, your head resting on his chest. “Good things take time,” you say with a smirk.

Lando chuckles, but his mind is still spinning, the image of that video replaying in his head. He glances down at you, his arm tightening around you just a little, and his mind drifts to the thought of you filled with milk. The idea is strange, foreign, but it’s lodged in his brain now, and he can’t shake it.

You let out a contented sigh, your hand resting on his stomach, fingers idly tracing patterns on his skin. “What were you watching?” You ask, your voice soft, almost sleepy.

Lando stiffens for a second, his heart skipping a beat. “Uh, nothing much,” he says quickly, trying to sound casual. “Just the usual nonsense.”

You hum in response, seemingly satisfied with the answer, and Lando relaxes slightly. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, trying to push the thought of the cream out of his mind. But it lingers, that strange curiosity gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.

“What’s got you so quiet tonight?” You ask after a moment, your voice laced with amusement. “You’re usually more talkative.”

Lando hesitates. He knows he should just let it go, that this whole thing is ridiculous, but part of him wants to say something. He bites his lip, unsure of how to even bring it up.

“I was just thinking,” he says slowly, his voice a little tentative.

“About?” You prompt, lifting your head slightly to look at him.

Lando meets your gaze, his heart pounding. “Have you ever thought about … I don’t know, trying something new?” He asks, his voice carefully measured.

Your brow furrows, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “New? Like what?”

He hesitates again, feeling a bit stupid for even considering bringing it up. But the image is so vivid in his mind, and he’s suddenly desperate to know what you’d think. “Like … I don’t know. Different things. Stuff you wouldn’t normally try.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly intrigued now. “Lando, you’re being weirdly vague. What are you talking about?”

He lets out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Forget it. It’s dumb.”

But you don’t let it go. You shift, turning to face him more fully, your eyes narrowing slightly. “No, no. Now I want to know. What ‘different things’ are you thinking about?”

Lando feels his face heat up, the words stuck in his throat. He can’t just come out and say it — hey, what if you tried this cream that makes you lactate? He’s sure you’d look at him like he’s lost his mind.

“Uh … just stuff,” he mutters, looking away. “Like, in general.”

You study him for a moment, a smirk tugging at your lips. “You’re acting really weird,” you say, your voice teasing.

Lando forces a laugh, trying to brush it off. “Yeah, well. It’s been a long day.”

You don’t push any further, but there’s a playful glint in your eyes as you settle back against him, your head resting on his chest again. “You’re such a mystery sometimes, Norris,” you say with a grin.

He lets out a relieved breath, thankful you’re not pressing the issue. He wraps his arm around you again, trying to focus on the comfort of having you next to him, on the way your body fits so perfectly against his. But the thought still lingers, a quiet hum in the back of his mind. The idea of you, your body changing in that way, is intoxicating in a way he hadn’t expected.

As the minutes tick by, the room growing quieter and more peaceful, Lando can’t help but wonder what you’d think if you found out. Would you laugh it off, or would you be curious too?

You shift beside him, letting out a soft sigh, and Lando presses another kiss to the top of your head, trying to push the thoughts away. For now, he’ll keep it to himself. But the secret sits there, buzzing quietly in the background, waiting for the right moment to resurface.

“Goodnight, babe,” you murmur sleepily, your voice soft and content.

“Goodnight,” Lando whispers back, though his mind is far from quiet.

As you drift off, he lies there, wide awake, his mind replaying that video over and over, wondering just what he’s gotten himself into.

***

Lando can barely contain his nerves when the package arrives, neatly wrapped in brown paper with no label to give away its contents. He picks it up from the doorstep and quickly tucks it under his arm, heart racing as he slips back into the house.

You’re in the kitchen, humming softly to yourself as you prep dinner, completely unaware of the small box that holds so much significance for him. He glances at you, trying to act casual, but the adrenaline surging through his veins makes his hands feel shaky.

He slips into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him. With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure you’re still out of earshot, Lando opens the package. The cream is small, unassuming, and he feels a strange thrill pulse through him as he holds it in his hands. The video flashes through his mind again — lactation — and it sends a familiar shiver down his spine.

For a moment, he hesitates. Should he really go through with this? He’s already in too deep, though. The thought of you, your body responding to this, is far too intoxicating to back out now. He tucks the cream into his nightstand drawer, hiding it carefully beneath some old receipts and random clutter. Just as he’s closing the drawer, he hears your footsteps coming down the hallway.

Quickly, Lando stands up, smoothing out his shirt and stepping back into the main area of the house, meeting you with a wide grin as you finish setting the table. You look relaxed, but he can see the faint tension in your shoulders — like maybe work’s been getting to you again. He watches you closely as you move around the kitchen, biting his lip in thought. This could be the perfect moment.

“You look tense,” he says, leaning against the counter as you place two plates of food on the table.

You glance up at him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, it’s been a long day,” you admit, rubbing the back of your neck.

Lando steps closer, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I was thinking …” he murmurs, his voice low, “maybe I could give you a massage later? Help you relax a bit.”

You lean into his touch, your smile widening. “That sounds amazing.”

“Good,” he says softly, the hint of a plan forming in his mind. “I even got some new lotion that’s supposed to be great for massages. Thought we could try it out.”

Your eyes flicker with interest as you glance up at him. “Fancy,” you tease, but there’s an unmistakable warmth in your voice. “When did you become such an expert?”

He chuckles, pressing another kiss to your cheek. “I’ve always been an expert when it comes to you,” he says, his voice playful, but there’s a sincerity underneath that makes your smile soften.

Dinner passes in a comfortable haze, your conversation light and easy, but Lando’s mind is already fast-forwarding to what’s coming next. He watches you across the table, taking in every detail of your movements, your expressions, the soft rise and fall of your chest as you talk about your day. His heart pounds harder with every passing moment, anticipation building.

Later, after you’ve both cleaned up and changed into more comfortable clothes, Lando pats the space in front of him on the bed, motioning for you to lie down. You oblige with a soft laugh, stretching out on your stomach, your hair cascading down over one shoulder.

“You’re too good to me,” you murmur, resting your cheek on the pillow.

Lando grins, feeling the familiar rush of affection surge through him. “You deserve it,” he says, settling onto the bed beside you. He grabs the regular lotion first, squeezing a bit into his hands and warming it up between his palms. He starts slow, his hands gliding over your back, working into the tension in your shoulders with practiced ease.

You let out a contented sigh, your body relaxing under his touch, and Lando takes his time, savoring every second. He loves seeing you like this — completely at ease, trusting him completely. He kneads into the muscles of your back, his thumbs working in small circles, and you hum softly, your breathing deepening.

“Mmm, that feels amazing,” you mumble, your voice sleepy.

Lando smiles to himself, continuing the massage. His hands move lower, massaging the small of your back, then your sides, and down to your legs. He’s methodical, deliberate, taking his time so you can fully relax.

After a while, he pulls back, his heart thudding in his chest. Now comes the part he’s been waiting for.

“I think you’re due for a flip,” he says with a soft chuckle, giving your side a gentle nudge.

You laugh softly, rolling onto your back and stretching your arms above your head, completely relaxed. Your t-shirt rides up just slightly, revealing a sliver of skin, and Lando’s pulse quickens. He keeps his expression neutral, though, not wanting to give away what’s about to happen.

“Ready for more?” He teases, keeping his tone light.

You nod, your eyes half-closed in contentment. “Bring it on.”

Lando reaches for the nightstand, his fingers brushing the drawer handle with a quick flick. His heart skips a beat as he retrieves the small jar of cream, careful to hide the label from your view. He sets it down beside him, moving slowly so you won’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

He starts with your arms, using the regular lotion again, his touch gentle and soothing. He rubs the lotion into your skin, working it over your shoulders and down your forearms. You sigh again, completely lost in the sensation, and Lando’s chest tightens with anticipation. He knows it’s almost time.

Finally, his hands trail down to your chest. He hesitates for the briefest second, his eyes flicking to your face to make sure you’re still relaxed. You are — your eyes closed, a faint smile on your lips, your body completely at ease beneath his hands.

Perfect.

Lando quietly switches the jars, scooping a small amount of the special cream onto his fingers. He rubs it between his palms, warming it up, and then he lowers his hands to your chest, his breath catching slightly as his fingers make contact with your skin.

His touch is gentle, almost reverent, as he smooths the cream over the soft skin of your chest, taking extra care to massage it in thoroughly. His hands move in slow, deliberate circles, making sure to cover every inch of you, but he’s careful — so careful — not to make you suspicious. He doesn’t want you to know what he’s doing. Not yet.

You let out a soft, contented hum, your body sinking even deeper into relaxation, and Lando’s heart races in his chest. He can feel the cream sinking into your skin, the thought of what it might do sending a shiver down his spine.

“How does that feel?” He asks, his voice low and steady, though his pulse is anything but.

“Amazing,” you murmur, your voice heavy with sleep. “You’re really good at this.”

Lando chuckles softly, continuing his slow, deliberate movements, his hands brushing over your chest, his fingers lingering just slightly on your nipples. He massages the cream into them carefully, making sure they’re completely covered, his touch as light as a whisper.

You sigh, your chest rising and falling under his hands, and Lando feels a wave of heat rush through him. The thought of you, your body responding to this cream, the idea of you producing milk, it’s all so overwhelming, and he has to take a deep breath to steady himself.

“Good,” he murmurs, his voice soft and warm. “Just relax.”

He continues the massage for a little while longer, his hands lingering on your chest, making sure every bit of the cream is absorbed. You’re so relaxed now, your body completely loose and pliant beneath his touch, and Lando feels a strange sense of satisfaction as he watches you.

Eventually, he pulls back, wiping his hands on a nearby towel and setting the jar of cream back into the drawer, hiding it away once again. He glances at you, lying there with a peaceful smile on your face, completely unaware of what he’s just done.

Lando lies down beside you, pulling the covers over both of you as you shift closer, snuggling up against him. Your head rests on his chest, your arm draped over his waist, and Lando wraps an arm around you, holding you close.

“You really are too good to me,” you murmur, your voice soft and drowsy.

Lando presses a kiss to the top of your head, his heart still racing with a mix of excitement and anticipation. “I just want you to feel good,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You hum in response, already drifting off into sleep, your body completely relaxed against his. Lando lies there in the quiet darkness, his mind buzzing with thoughts of what’s to come, of the changes that might happen now that you’ve used the cream.

He tightens his arm around you, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction settle over him. It’s all in motion now. There’s no going back.

“Goodnight,” you murmur sleepily.

Lando smiles to himself, his chest tightening with anticipation. “Goodnight,” he whispers, but his mind is far from rest.

***

It’s been weeks since Lando first started using the cream. Every night, he waits for the perfect opportunity: after you’ve fallen asleep, your breathing soft and even, or when you come home exhausted and practically beg him to give you a massage. He’s gotten careful, precise. Every time his hands glide over your skin, rubbing the cream into your chest, a thrill courses through him.

He hasn’t said a word, hasn’t let on that anything is out of the ordinary. Every time you lean into him with a content sigh or drift off into a deeper sleep, he feels more confident, more sure of what he’s doing. The anticipation is almost unbearable at times.

And then, one morning, it happens.

Lando’s sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling aimlessly through his phone when he hears it — your scream. It’s sharp, panicked, and it sends a jolt of adrenaline rushing through him. He’s up in an instant, his phone slipping from his hand as he bolts toward the walk-in closet where your voice came from.

“Babe?” Lando calls, his heart hammering in his chest. He rounds the corner into the closet, eyes scanning frantically until they land on you, standing in front of the full-length mirror, frozen in place.

You’re staring at your reflection, wide-eyed, your hands hovering over your chest as if you’re too afraid to touch. His eyes follow your gaze, and that’s when he sees it — the two dark spots blooming on the fabric of your dress, right over your breasts. Wet, unmistakable, and spreading slowly.

“What the hell is this?” You whisper, your voice shaky, a mixture of confusion and panic creeping in. “Lando, what is this?”

Lando swallows hard, his mind racing. This is it. The cream has finally started working, and now you’re standing there, completely unaware of what’s been happening. He can see the fear in your eyes, the way you’re trembling just slightly, and he knows he has to act fast.

“Whoa, hey, hey, it’s okay,” Lando says quickly, stepping toward you, his hands outstretched in a gesture of reassurance. “Let’s just take a second, okay? Breathe.”

You glance at him, your eyes wild, and he can see how much this is freaking you out. “Lando, I — this isn’t normal! Why is this happening?” Your voice cracks slightly, and you press a hand over one of the wet spots, as if trying to stop it from spreading further.

Lando moves closer, gently taking your hands in his. He forces himself to stay calm, even though inside, his pulse is racing with a strange mix of excitement and guilt. He can’t let you see that, though. Not now. Not when you’re looking at him like you’re terrified of what’s happening to your body.

“Okay, okay, let’s think about this,” Lando says, his voice steady. “It’s probably just, you know, hormones or something. These things can happen sometimes, right? Bodies do weird stuff.”

You blink at him, still looking unconvinced. “But I’ve never-” you start, but your voice falters. “Why now? I haven’t done anything differently. This is just … weird.”

Lando bites the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out how to spin this without raising any red flags. He can’t let you know about the cream — not now, when you’re already so shaken. He needs to make this sound as natural as possible, something that just happens, something you won’t question.

“Hey, remember that article you showed me a while back?” He says, grasping at straws. “The one about how stress can mess with your body? Maybe it’s that? You’ve been working a lot lately, right? It could be your hormones reacting to all the stress.”

You frown, clearly still confused, but Lando can see a flicker of understanding pass over your face. You do work hard, and lately, you’ve been talking about how exhausted you feel. Maybe that’ll be enough to explain this away, to keep you from digging any deeper.

“Stress can do this?” You ask, your voice still shaky but a little more composed now.

Lando nods, giving your hands a gentle squeeze. “It could. And, you know, hormones fluctuate all the time. Maybe this is just your body’s way of reacting to everything going on. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

You look down at the wet spots again, your brow furrowing as you process his words. “But I’ve never had this happen before,” you say quietly. “This is just … I don’t know, Lando, it feels weird.”

Lando pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, trying to calm the nerves still buzzing in your body. “I know it’s weird,” he murmurs, his voice gentle. “But we’ll figure it out, okay? If it keeps happening, we’ll talk to someone. But right now, let’s just take it one step at a time.”

You nod slowly, your head resting against his chest, and Lando can feel the tension in your body slowly start to melt away. He holds you close, his heart still pounding in his chest, but he knows he has to keep it together. He can’t let you see how deep this goes — how much this was part of his plan all along.

After a few moments, you pull back slightly, glancing down at the dark spots again with a sigh. “I should probably change,” you mutter, a hint of frustration in your voice.

Lando chuckles softly, trying to lighten the mood. “Yeah, might be a good idea.”

You offer a small, half-hearted smile, and Lando can see that you’re still processing everything. But at least you’re not panicking anymore, not freaking out like you were a few minutes ago. That’s a good sign.

He watches as you turn back to the closet, rifling through your clothes for something to change into. His mind is still racing, though. Now that the cream is working, what happens next? Will you notice more changes? Will you start asking questions? He doesn’t know how long he can keep this a secret, but the thought of stopping now feels impossible. He’s already too far in.

Lando’s gaze flickers to the mirror, where your reflection is visible. He watches you change into a fresh dress, the wet spots on the discarded one serving as a reminder of what’s happening. He bites his lip, torn between the thrill of seeing his plan take effect and the guilt gnawing at the edges of his mind.

You finish changing and turn to face him, still looking a little uncertain but calmer now. “Thanks,” you say quietly, your eyes meeting his. “For being so calm. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

Lando’s chest tightens at your words, a mix of emotions swirling inside him. He steps forward, wrapping his arms around you once more, pulling you close. “I’m always here for you,” he says softly, meaning every word, even if there’s a part of him that’s hiding something.

You rest your head against his chest again, and for a moment, everything feels normal — like nothing has changed. But Lando knows better. Things have changed. The cream has started working, and now, there’s no turning back.

As he holds you in his arms, Lando can’t help but think about what comes next. Will the changes continue? Will you start noticing more? He knows he has to tread carefully, but the excitement bubbling inside him is hard to ignore.

He runs his fingers through your hair, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. “We’ll figure this out,” he says quietly, though he’s already thinking about the next time he’ll use the cream, the next step in this carefully orchestrated plan.

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Yeah, I guess we will.”

Lando smiles back, but his mind is already racing ahead, filled with thoughts of what’s to come.

***

Lando lies in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room is dark, except for the faint glow of the moon seeping through the curtains, casting soft, silvery light across the room. Next to him, you’re asleep, breathing softly, curled up under the blankets. He watches you for a moment, his heart heavy with an intensity he can’t quite explain.

It’s been days since the incident in the closet, since you first noticed the signs, and while you’ve brushed it off as a hormonal blip — just as he suggested — it’s been gnawing at Lando’s mind constantly. He can’t stop thinking about it, about what’s happening to your body, about the secret he’s been carrying.

And tonight … tonight is different. There’s something humming in the air, something that feels both electric and inevitable.

Lando shifts onto his side, facing you, his eyes tracing the soft curve of your form under the covers. He watches the gentle rise and fall of your chest, knowing exactly what’s happening beneath the fabric of your shirt. The thought sends a jolt of heat through him, a heat he’s been trying to ignore, but it’s becoming too strong now, too insistent.

He knows he shouldn’t. He knows this crosses a line he’s already been walking dangerously close to for weeks, but the temptation has been building, slowly tightening around him until it feels like there’s no escape.

Carefully, he reaches out, his hand hovering just above your shoulder. You’re still fast asleep, unaware of the storm brewing in Lando’s mind, unaware of the secret desires he’s been hiding. His fingers brush your shoulder lightly, testing the waters, and you don’t stir. He lets out a quiet breath, inching closer.

His hand moves down, grazing the fabric of your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin through it. His touch is featherlight, deliberate, as he pulls the blanket back, just enough to give him access. The moonlight bathes you in a soft glow, illuminating your form in a way that feels almost surreal. Lando’s pulse quickens, and he swallows hard, his mouth dry as his hand lingers near your chest.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t.

But his body moves before his mind can stop it.

Slowly, so slowly it feels like time is crawling, Lando slips his hand under your shirt. The fabric slides up, exposing your skin to the cool night air, and his fingers move over the soft swell of your chest. He can feel the warmth there, the subtle heaviness that wasn’t there before, and it makes his head spin.

He pauses, his hand resting over your chest, his breath shaky. He’s trying to be careful, not to wake you, but his body is tense with anticipation, with something deeper, something that feels dangerous and thrilling all at once.

Lando leans in, his lips hovering just above your skin. He hesitates for a moment, heart racing in his chest, before pressing a soft kiss to the curve of your breast. You stir slightly, but don’t wake, and the rush of relief that floods through him is intoxicating.

He moves lower, his lips trailing gentle kisses along your skin, until he reaches the peak of your chest. The fabric of your shirt is bunched up just above his hand, and Lando carefully pulls it higher, exposing more of your skin. His breath catches in his throat as he sees it — the faint trace of moisture beading at the tip.

It’s real. It’s happening.

His mouth goes dry again, but his body moves on instinct, drawn to the sight in front of him. He leans in, his lips brushing against your skin, and then … he tastes it.

It’s warm, sweet, unlike anything he’s ever tasted before. The sensation sends a shock through him, his entire body lighting up with something primal, something he didn’t even know was there. He presses his lips more firmly against your skin, drawing more of it into his mouth, the sweetness flooding his senses.

You stir again, shifting slightly in your sleep, and Lando freezes, his heart hammering in his chest. But you don’t wake. He lets out a slow, controlled breath, his lips still hovering over your chest.

His mind is racing, caught somewhere between guilt and an overwhelming need that he can’t explain. He knows what he’s doing is wrong — he knows he’s crossing a boundary — but it’s too late. He’s too far gone, too consumed by the feeling of you, by the taste of you.

Lando pulls back just enough to look at your face, making sure you’re still asleep, and when he sees that you are, he dips his head again, pressing his lips against your skin once more. He’s careful, deliberate, trying to keep his movements gentle, but the sensation of tasting you, of feeling the warmth of your body beneath his lips, is making it harder and harder to control himself.

He wants more.

His hand moves higher, slipping further under your shirt, until he’s cupping your chest in his palm. The weight of it feels different now, heavier, and the thought of it sends another jolt of heat through him. He squeezes gently, drawing more of the warm liquid into his mouth, and it takes everything in him not to make a sound.

You let out a soft sigh in your sleep, and Lando’s heart skips a beat. He pulls back again, his lips parting as he stares down at you, his mind spinning. He can’t believe what he’s just done, can’t believe how far he’s let himself go.

For a moment, he just sits there, watching you, his hand still resting on your chest, his breathing shallow. His lips are still tingling from the taste, from the sensation of it, and he knows he’s in too deep now. There’s no going back from this.

Lando carefully pulls your shirt back down, his movements slow and deliberate as he covers you again. He tucks the blanket around you, making sure you’re warm, before lying back down beside you, his heart still pounding in his chest.

As he lies there, staring up at the ceiling, his mind is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He knows he should feel guilty — he knows this is wrong — but all he can think about is the taste of you, the way it felt to have that small, secret part of you all to himself.

He turns his head to look at you, your face peaceful in sleep, completely unaware of what’s just happened. The moonlight casts a soft glow over your skin, and Lando feels that same overwhelming rush of affection and desire that’s been building for weeks.

He knows he should stop. He knows this can’t go on. But as he lies there, listening to the sound of your breathing, all he can think about is when he can taste you again.

***

Lando collapses onto the small couch in his driver’s room, drenched in sweat and utterly exhausted. The Qatar heat was brutal, and the race had taken everything out of him. His entire body feels heavy, his muscles aching, his skin sticky from the mix of sweat and the desert air. His mind is foggy, still reeling from the intense focus he’d maintained for hours. Dehydration was a real issue here, and it hit him harder than he expected.

“Bloody hell …” he mutters, leaning his head back against the wall, eyes closed.

You’re there almost immediately, a soft, comforting presence at his side. You place a hand on his knee, your touch warm and reassuring.

“You okay?” You ask, your voice soft but full of concern.

Lando opens his eyes slightly, giving you a tired smile. “Yeah … just need to rehydrate. I feel like a raisin.” He forces a chuckle, though his voice is rough, throat dry from the heat.

You stand, quickly moving to the small fridge in the corner of the room. “I’ll get you some water,” you say, already pulling out a bottle and twisting off the cap. “You need to replenish your electrolytes too. You’re completely wiped.”

Lando watches you, his mind still hazy, but there’s something about the way you move, the way you’re so focused on taking care of him, that pulls him out of his fog. You’re always like this after a race — attentive, calm, making sure he’s okay before you even think about yourself. He loves that about you, the way you care for him in these quiet, personal moments.

But today, there’s something else on his mind. Something he’s been thinking about for weeks, ever since that night in bed.

Lando licks his dry lips, his heart picking up speed as a thought crosses his mind. You’ve been by his side this entire time, completely unaware of what he’s been doing, of the secret he’s been keeping. He’s managed to keep things under control, to keep his obsession at bay, but now … now he’s not sure if he can.

He watches as you return to him, holding the bottle of water and a sports drink, and sits down beside him. You hand him the water first, but he hesitates, his fingers curling around the bottle without taking a sip.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, your brow furrowed as you look at him.

Lando swallows, his mouth dry, but not just from dehydration. His eyes flick to your chest, lingering for a moment before quickly returning to your face. “I, uh … I was thinking,” he says, trying to keep his voice casual, though his heart is pounding in his chest. “Maybe I could … try something else.”

You blink at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

He hesitates, his mind racing as he tries to find the right words. He knows he’s pushing it, knows this is dangerous territory, but the thought of tasting you again — of having that secret part of you, especially now, when he’s so raw and exhausted — feels impossible to resist.

“I mean,” he starts, his voice low, “maybe I could try … you.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you glance down at yourself, clearly taken aback. “Me? Lando, what are you talking about?”

He shifts slightly, his body tense, but his gaze stays on you, steady despite the pounding of his heart. “I know it sounds weird,” he says quickly, before you can protest. “But … I’m so dehydrated, and … you know, with everything that’s been happening, I just thought … maybe it could help.”

You stare at him for a moment, clearly trying to process what he’s saying. “You … you want to …”

He nods, his throat tight as he watches your reaction. “Just a little. I mean, it’s natural, right? And you’ve been producing, so … I thought it might help. If you’re okay with it.”

You’re silent for a long moment, clearly taken aback, and Lando can see the uncertainty in your eyes. His heart pounds harder, the tension in the room thickening as he waits for your response.

Finally, you let out a breath, glancing down at yourself before looking back at him. “You really think it’ll help?”

Lando nods again, though he knows that’s not really the point. It’s not about the dehydration, not really. But you don’t need to know that. You don’t need to know how much he’s been thinking about this, how much he craves it.

“I think it might,” he says softly, reaching out to gently place a hand on your knee. “Just a little. If you’re comfortable with it.”

You bite your lip, clearly still unsure, but there’s a softness in your eyes, a desire to help him, to take care of him in whatever way you can. Slowly, you nod.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “If you think it’ll help.”

Lando���s heart skips a beat, a rush of excitement flooding through him as you agree. He shifts closer to you on the couch, his hand sliding up your leg to rest on your thigh as he looks into your eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asks, his voice low, though he’s already leaning in, already feeling the pull toward you.

You nod again, though there’s still a hint of hesitation in your expression. “Yeah. I just … I didn’t expect this.”

Lando smiles softly, trying to put you at ease, though inside, his mind is racing. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his hand gently squeezing your thigh. “We’ll take it slow.”

You take a deep breath, and then, with a small nod, you lift the hem of your shirt, exposing your chest to him. Lando’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes immediately drawn to the soft curve of your skin, the subtle sheen of moisture that’s already starting to form.

His mouth goes dry again, but this time, it’s not from the heat.

He leans in slowly, his hand sliding up to cup your breast as his lips brush against your skin. You tense slightly under his touch, but you don’t pull away, and Lando takes that as his cue to continue. He presses a soft kiss to your skin, his heart racing in his chest as he feels the warmth of you beneath his lips.

For a moment, he just stays there, breathing you in, savoring the closeness. Then, slowly, carefully, he opens his mouth and takes you in, drawing the sweet liquid into his mouth.

The taste hits him instantly, flooding his senses with warmth and sweetness. It’s just as he remembered — no, better. The heat, the exhaustion, the rawness of the race — it all amplifies the sensation, making it feel more intense, more real.

He can feel you tense again, a soft gasp escaping your lips, and he pulls back slightly, looking up at you with wide eyes. “You okay?” He asks softly, his voice thick.

You nod, though your breathing is shaky, your hand coming up to rest on his shoulder. “Yeah … I’m okay. It’s just … different.”

Lando nods, understanding, but he can’t stop now. He leans in again, his lips pressing against you once more as he drinks from you, taking in the warmth, the sweetness. It feels like he’s finally giving in to something he’s been craving for so long, and the rush of it makes his head spin.

He moves his hand gently, squeezing softly as he continues, feeling the way your body reacts to him, the way you tremble under his touch. It sends a thrill through him, a deep, primal satisfaction that he can’t explain.

You let out a soft sigh, your fingers tightening on his shoulder, and Lando feels a surge of heat in his chest. He’s careful, though — he doesn’t want to push too far, doesn’t want to scare you. He pulls back after a moment, looking up at you again with that same soft smile.

“How was that?” He asks, his voice gentle.

You look down at him, your expression still a mix of confusion and something else — something softer, more vulnerable. “It was … okay,” you say quietly. “Just … unexpected.”

Lando nods, reaching up to gently brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “Thank you,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. “I feel a lot better now.”

You smile at him, though it’s a small, uncertain smile, and Lando knows that this is something you’re still processing. But for him … for him, it feels like the beginning of something he’s been waiting for. Something he’s been craving.

As you pull your shirt back down and settle beside him on the couch, Lando leans back, his heart still racing, his mind spinning with everything that just happened. He knows he’s playing with fire, knows that this secret is dangerous, but for now, he’s content.

***

Lando is lying on the couch, lazily scrolling through his phone, the sound of the TV humming in the background. It’s a quiet afternoon, the kind of rare downtime that he savors between races. His body still feels the residual tension from the last few weeks, the physical demands of driving through the relentless heat of Qatar lingering in his muscles.

You’re in the bedroom, sorting through some things. Lando hears the occasional thud of a drawer closing, the rustling of clothes. Everything feels normal. Calm, even.

Until it isn’t.

“Lando!”

Your voice slices through the quiet, sharp and tense. His heart stutters in his chest. The way you say his name — it’s not in the usual tone. There’s something off about it, something more than the usual annoyance over small things.

He sits up, his phone forgotten in his lap. “Yeah?” He calls back, trying to sound casual, but there’s a tightness in his throat.

You appear in the doorway, and immediately, Lando knows something’s wrong. You’re holding something in your hand — a small, innocuous-looking jar. But he recognizes it instantly.

The cream. The cream he thought he’d hidden well enough.

He swallows hard, his pulse quickening. “What’s that?” He asks, feigning ignorance, but his voice wavers ever so slightly.

You step closer, holding up the jar. Your eyes are sharp, full of confusion, but also something else — betrayal, anger, hurt. “I found this,” you say, your voice tight. “In the back of the drawer. Where you obviously didn’t want me to find it.”

Lando shifts uncomfortably on the couch, his mind racing as he tries to come up with an excuse, anything to diffuse the situation. He hadn’t expected this. He thought he’d been careful. “It’s just … it’s just some lotion,” he says, but even as the words leave his mouth, he knows they’re not enough.

Your eyes narrow. “Lotion? Lando, this is not just lotion. This is-” You pause, your breath shaky. “This is the cream that’s supposed to induce lactation, isn’t it?”

He feels his stomach drop. There’s no point in denying it now. You’ve found the evidence, and there’s no going back from this. But he can’t let you stay angry. He can’t let this ruin everything. He’s worked too hard to get to this point, and he doesn’t want to lose what he’s gained.

“Look, I can explain,” he says, standing up from the couch, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender. He tries to keep his voice calm, soothing. “I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I just … I thought it would help.”

You stare at him, your expression a mix of disbelief and anger. “Help? Help with what, Lando? You’ve been putting this on me without telling me! Do you realize how messed up that is?”

He steps closer, his heart pounding. “I know. I know it sounds bad. But I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just … I wanted to try something new. I wanted to feel closer to you.”

You shake your head, incredulous. “Closer to me? By making my body do something without my knowledge? This is so far beyond okay. This is — this is a violation of trust.”

Lando feels a surge of panic. He can’t let this spiral out of control. He can’t let you leave, or worse, shut him out. He takes a step closer, his voice dropping to a softer tone, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear. I just-” He hesitates, then says, “I didn’t know how to ask for it.”

Your brows furrow, and you look away, your hand tightening around the jar. Lando can see the conflict in your eyes — the hurt, the confusion, the anger. And he knows that if he doesn’t do something now, he might lose you.

He takes another step closer, his voice gentle. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his hand reaching out to brush your arm. “I just … I couldn’t help it. I’ve been so obsessed with you, with us, and it felt … it felt natural. I didn’t want to scare you.”

You shake your head again, but your anger seems to falter, just a little. “This is … this isn’t something you just hide from someone. You can’t make decisions about my body like that.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “I know. I shouldn’t have done it without telling you. But I didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want to make things weird between us.”

You look at him, your eyes searching his face, and Lando feels a small flicker of hope. He can see that you’re still upset, but there’s a crack in the wall you’ve put up, a softness starting to seep through.

He takes another step, closing the distance between you, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “Please,” he whispers. “Let me make it up to you. I don’t want to lose this. I don’t want to lose us.”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment, and Lando can feel the tension in the room shift, just slightly. He knows he’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s close. So close.

“Lando …” you begin, but he cuts you off by leaning in, pressing his lips to yours in a soft, desperate kiss. You hesitate at first, but after a moment, you kiss him back, your lips warm and familiar against his.

When he pulls away, his voice is low, almost a whisper. “Let me show you. Let me take care of you.”

You look at him, your eyes still conflicted, but there’s something else there now — curiosity, maybe, or a need for comfort. Lando takes that as his cue to continue, his hands moving to gently guide you to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his hands moving to your shoulders, massaging gently. “I know I messed up. But I want to make it right.”

You don’t say anything, but you don’t resist either. Lando’s hands slide down your arms, soothing and gentle, as he kneels in front of you. He looks up at you, his eyes soft, pleading.

“Let me,” he murmurs, his hands moving to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up slightly. You hesitate for a moment, but then you nod, allowing him to lift it higher, exposing your chest.

Lando’s breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, the soft curve of your body illuminated by the dim light in the room. He presses a kiss to your stomach, his lips warm against your skin.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re perfect.”

You let out a shaky breath, your hand resting on the back of his head as he kisses his way up your chest, his lips trailing along your skin. He pauses at your breast, his lips hovering just above the soft peak.

“Please,” he whispers again, looking up at you. “Let me.”

You nod, your breath shaky, and Lando takes that as permission. He leans in, his mouth closing around you, drawing you in with slow, deliberate movements. The sweet warmth floods his senses, and he feels a rush of satisfaction, of need.

You gasp softly, your fingers tightening in his hair, and Lando’s heart swells with a mix of desire and relief. He’s got you now. He knows he’s distracting you, pulling you away from the anger, and it’s working. You’re softening under his touch, your body responding to him.

He coos softly, his lips never leaving your skin. “You taste so good,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing. “So perfect.”

You let out a soft whimper, your hand gripping his shoulder as he continues, his mouth moving gently, rhythmically. He can feel you relaxing, the tension slowly melting away, and it fills him with a deep sense of satisfaction. He’s in control now. He’s guiding you, distracting you, making sure you’re focused on him and nothing else.

“It’s okay,” he whispers, his voice soft and coaxing. “I’ve got you.”

Your breathing is shallow, your body trembling under his touch, and Lando can feel the shift in the room. The anger, the hurt — it’s slipping away, replaced by something else. Something more intimate, more vulnerable.

He pulls back slightly, his lips still brushing against your skin, his eyes looking up at you with that same soft, pleading expression. “I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wanted to be close to you.”

You look down at him, your eyes still clouded with confusion and emotion, but you don’t pull away. Your hand stays on his shoulder, your fingers tightening slightly as if you’re holding on to him, grounding yourself.

Lando leans in again, pressing another soft kiss to your chest, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulls back completely, sitting back on his heels and looking up at you.

“I love you,” he says quietly, his voice raw. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

You’re silent for a long moment, your chest rising and falling with deep, steady breaths. Finally, you speak, your voice soft, almost unsure. “This … this is a lot, Lando.”

He swallows hard, reading the uncertainty in your voice, feeling the weight of it settle between you. His heart races, but he knows he can’t push too fast. He doesn’t want to scare you, doesn’t want to lose what they’ve built. This delicate moment, the fragile balance between trust and something deeper — he can feel it teetering.

He stays where he is, kneeling at your feet, looking up at you with that same desperate softness in his eyes. His hands rest gently on your thighs, thumbs brushing back and forth, a soothing rhythm. He knows he has to choose his words carefully.

“I know,” he whispers, voice hoarse. “I know it's a lot. And I know I should’ve told you from the start. But …” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “It felt right. The connection. The closeness. I just-”

Lando falters, unsure if he should say what’s really on his mind. That he's obsessed with the idea of you like this, that every time he sees you, he’s overcome with a need so deep, so primal, it almost scares him. But he swallows it back, not wanting to push too far, too fast.

Your gaze softens, and although the hesitation lingers in your eyes, you’re listening. You’re still here.

“I just wanted more of you,” Lando continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not just physically, but emotionally too. It’s been … it’s been overwhelming for me too, but I didn’t know how to explain it. I thought if we … if you … I don’t know. Maybe it was selfish, but I just-”

He looks down, his head hanging low as if ashamed, his hands still gently resting on your thighs. “I didn’t want to scare you off by talking about it. I thought you might think it was weird.”

Your hand reaches out, fingers lightly brushing the top of his head. He looks up at you again, the gentleness of your touch melting the knot of tension in his chest.

“I don’t think you’re weird,” you say quietly, the uncertainty still there but softer now, more understanding. “But … Lando, this is my body. You should’ve talked to me. We could’ve figured it out together.”

Lando nods quickly, his throat tightening. “I know, I know. And I’m so sorry for not being honest. I’ll do better, I swear. I’ll never hide anything from you again.”

Your thumb grazes his cheek as you watch him carefully, the anger you’d felt earlier fading into something else. Something gentler. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t ask me.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “I didn’t want you to say no,” he admits quietly. “Because … I don’t know if I could’ve handled that.”

Silence falls between you, thick with emotion. You let your hand fall away from his face, resting it in your lap as you consider his words, his vulnerability.

Lando can see the gears turning in your head, the mix of confusion, curiosity, and maybe — just maybe — something that mirrors his own desire. He watches you carefully, searching your face for any sign of where this might be heading.

Finally, you let out a soft sigh. “So, you … want me to keep … producing?”

Lando’s eyes widen slightly, and he nods, his heart racing again. “Only if you want to,” he says quickly, his voice soft but insistent. “I won’t push you. But … yeah. I do.”

Your gaze drifts down, and you chew on your bottom lip, thinking it over. Lando’s pulse quickens, the air between you charged with tension and something deeper, something unspoken.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally meet his eyes again, your expression hesitant but open. “And … you want to …”

Lando nods again, this time more firmly. “I do. But only if you're okay with it.”

The silence stretches again, but it feels different now. Lando can feel the shift, the softening. You’re not angry anymore. You’re curious, unsure, but there’s a flicker of trust in your eyes again. It’s fragile, but it’s there.

“You could’ve just asked me,” you say, your voice softer now, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Lando exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his own smile breaking through the tension. “I know. I should’ve. I’m an idiot.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head, and the sound of it is like music to his ears. It’s a relief, like the storm clouds parting just enough to let a sliver of sunlight through.

He reaches out again, his hand gently resting on your knee, his touch warm and grounding. “But … do you want to?” He asks, his voice quiet, hesitant. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. I mean it.”

You look down for a moment, your hands playing with the hem of your shirt, before meeting his eyes again. There’s still a flicker of uncertainty there, but now, there’s something else too. Something deeper. A kind of surrender, maybe, or an acknowledgment of the strange, intense connection that’s grown between you.

Finally, you nod, a small, hesitant movement. “Okay.”

Lando’s heart skips a beat. He wasn’t sure if he’d hear you say that, wasn’t sure if this moment would come. But now that it’s here, he feels a flood of emotion, a mix of relief, excitement, and something much deeper, something he can’t quite put into words.

“Yeah?” He asks, his voice soft, a little breathless.

You nod again, your gaze steady on his. “Yeah. I … I trust you.”

His chest tightens at your words, the weight of them sinking in. Trust. That’s what this all comes down to. You’re giving him that trust again, even after everything, and it means more to him than he can express.

Lando rises slowly, his movements careful and deliberate as he steps closer to you, kneeling between your legs again. His hands rest gently on your hips, his touch reverent, almost worshipful. He doesn’t want to rush this, doesn’t want to break the fragile balance you’ve reached.

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

You nod, your breath a little shaky, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you reach down, guiding his hands to the hem of your shirt, helping him lift it up and over your head. The soft fabric falls to the floor, leaving your chest bare, vulnerable in the dim light.

Lando’s breath catches in his throat as he looks at you, his hands gently cupping your breasts. His thumbs brush over your skin, slow and deliberate, and you let out a soft gasp at the sensation.

“Are you okay?” He asks, his voice low and husky, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nod, your lips parting as you take a shaky breath. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

He leans in slowly, pressing a soft kiss to your chest, just above your heart. He feels the steady rhythm of your pulse beneath his lips, and it grounds him, reminding him of the connection you share.

His lips move lower, tracing a path along your skin, until he reaches your breast. He pauses, looking up at you one last time for permission. You nod again, your hand resting on the back of his head, gently guiding him closer.

And then, with a soft, reverent touch, Lando takes you into his mouth.

The sensation is immediate, overwhelming in its intensity. He feels the warmth of you, the sweet, rich taste filling his senses, and it’s everything he’s wanted, everything he’s imagined. You let out a soft moan, your body trembling slightly beneath him, and it only spurs him on.

His mouth moves slowly, rhythmically, savoring every moment, every drop. He’s careful, gentle, but there’s a hunger in him now, a need that he can’t deny. He’s wanted this for so long, and now that he has it, he can’t get enough.

You moan softly, your hand tightening in his hair, and Lando feels a surge of satisfaction, of deep, primal desire. He knows he’s crossed a line, knows that this moment is unlike anything you’ve shared before. But it feels right. It feels natural.

He pulls back slightly, his lips brushing against your skin as he murmurs, “You’re perfect.”

You let out a shaky breath, your body trembling beneath his touch. “Lando …”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and affection. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice raw. “I’ll always take care of you.”

And with that, you gently guide him back, helping him latch again. The room is quiet, save for the soft sounds of your breathing, the quiet intimacy of the moment wrapping around you both like a warm embrace.

And in that moment, nothing else matters. Just you, him, and the connection that binds you tighter than ever before.

[witherby]

Heyyyyy *leans on expensive car* what are you cooking up for the next mer!reader part?😌

-🌭

Heyyy hotdog 😏 ur about to see it babycakes

Human!Damian x Mer!Reader

Part 8

Masterlist is Here!

It's a very grueling two days of monitoring for you in the med bay. You're kept sedated on a wet gurney so you can be examined for wounds, but there's nothing physically wrong with you. They poke and prod you, take your blood, and run test after test after test to see what could've made you turn so bad so quickly, but those results run clean too.

It's a psychosomatic effect, then. Something is distressing you so much that your body is responding to your mental state. When asked about it, Bruce just rubs his face exhaustedly asks the team to make a new care plan that involves Damian's involvement as much as possible.

When you're deemed healthy enough to return to your tank, they wean you off sedation and carefully deposit you back into the water with a special health monitoring cuff on your wrist.

While you were gone, your castle spire had the top half turned into a removable hideaway in case you got stuck again; it now clicks on and off from the bottom half, a little like a Lego, for your safety.

It takes you a day to fully shake the medicine off, so you spend most of it in a weird daze, but when full alertness returns to you, you pick at the bracelet a while, then tiredly float to the surface to receive breakfast from Jon. And Jon is there like normal, sitting on the lip of the tank with a smile, but he's not the one holding your bucket.

It's Damian.

Damian, who looks at you with wide eyes, like he can't believe you're here and you might vanish if he blinks. Damian, who stands there and stares like you're the most fascinating thing he's ever seen. Damian, who looks just as anxious as you feel. The bucket in his hands is trembling minutely.

It's Damian. He's here. He's here. He's here.

He just stares. You don't know what to do except stare back, locking onto those brilliant, emerald eyes you practically begged to see for weeks. The sudden, unadulterated attention from him makes something twist inside you, and you don't know if it's positive or negative.

Jon clears his throat and quietly calls your name. You glance at him.

"Feeling up for a meal? I've got a couple puzzles, too, if you want them. If you're still woozy from the meds, then that's okay too."

Damian seems to pull himself together and finally offers you the bucket. You hesitate just a moment more, then reach out and take it. The tips of your fingers just barely graze his.

You hold the food to your chest, staring at him. Damian stares back. A muscle in his jaw jumps, and he opens his mouth like he's about to speak.

You quickly turn away and drift a few feet from the tank's edge, starting to eat. His stuttered gasp tells you the message was well-received.

Jon sucks in a sympathetic breath through his teeth, reaching out and squeezing Damian's forearm. "Give 'em time," he whispers. "You've been away a while, y'know? I'd probably feel a little abandoned, too."

"It wasn't on purpose," Damian mutters, eyes burning. He fights it down, refusing to cry when there is nothing to cry about. His old position as primary caretaker was reinstated (albeit, Jon is secondary caretaker, now, but he'll take what he can get), he's no longer barred from seeing you, and he's got another chance to fix this companionship. He just needs you to give him the ability to act on this chance.

He needs to earn your trust again. He can do that. He will do that, no matter the cost.

--

You're not up for playtime that day, or the day after. When either one of your caretakers mentions getting into a wetsuit, you react unenthusiastically, so they stay out of the tank to respect your wishes.

Damian is visibly distressed by your refusal to engage with him. He uses your name, he offers you toys and treats, and only tries to call you Princess once before you release a low, threatening warble, and does not try again. If he was so upset by being ignored, then fair is fair. Maybe he shouldn't have done it to you. Prick.

The stinging in your chest at the sight of him doesn't get any better, but it also doesn't get any worse. According to your vitals you're stabilizing, but the beautiful florescence of your tail hasn't quite been restored ever since that fateful incident with Bruce pulling Damian away. The missing patches of scales have regrown by now, but your entire color palette seems overall paler. Less enthused and iridescent. Almost defeated, like you've settled into a life of complacency.

The routine adjusts, and you with it. You quietly accept food at mealtimes and half-heartedly engage with toys. During the tours, you go through the motions of swimming idly around and doing basic loops. You no longer press your body against the glass to stare at and admire all the guests. You no longer steal the buckets to make your caretakers dive in and retrieve them. You no longer chirp or chitter or trill.

It's killing Damian, the guilt threatening to swallow him whole. He's tried everything to get you back to how you used to be — old games, sitting and talking to you, even getting into the water to try and play hide and seek — but you are absolutely not interested. Nothing is working.

And when nothing works, he goes back to the basics. He reenters Bruce's office and takes out your files; he pours through them all, page by page, paragraph by paragraph, to scrape together any fleeting idea of how to bring your incredible spark back.

He's flipping through some documents detailing behavior in wild Mer pods when he finds his answer, and he knows what he needs to do.

Damian asks for an hour to speak to his dad. There's an entire myriad of questions thrown at him, most he can answer and some he can't. There's almost shouting, but Bruce manages to cool them both down again. There's a lot of negotiating, a lot of it, but finally, finally, he gets the green light. He leaves his father's office feeling more confident about you than he has in weeks, and it shows.

The following morning, when you drift to the surface to get breakfast, Jon is there with the bucket, and Damian is there with a rock. It's a small thing, barely the size of your palm, but it's beautifully painted. It's not one of the rocks you've had before, meaning he's not re-gifting you something you gifted him.

It's something he made. For you. He made a gift for you.

"Good morning," Damian says, and your eyes snap to his. "I've brought you this. I want...I wanted to express my..."

He sighs, brow furrowing. You tread the water patiently.

"I am sorry," he finally says. "I'm sorry I allowed my father to separate me from you. I'm sorry I started acting like you didn't exist. I was so angry to see Jon replace me that I feared you would not need me anymore."

Your expression doesn't change. Damian swallows thickly.

"Maybe my phrasing is poor. I don't want you to need me. I simply...I care about you a lot. And I did not think you cared as much, so I took to ignoring you almost entirely. But I thought about you all the time. I wondered if these imbeciles were cleaning your tank properly, or remembered that you don't like red snapper when they feed you, or if anyone was playing with you enough."

Damian inches a little closer to the edge of your tank. He holds the rock out to you. His hands are shaking.

"You don't trust me anymore. That's understandable, and a very logical move on your part. But I want to earn it back. I want to prove to you that I'm here to stay this time."

He leans over the edge a bit, eyes locked onto your own.

"I will do whatever it takes to ensure you don't feel alone again."

You pull your gaze away from his and move closer to examine the rock. The bright, rich colors and intricate patterns painted into it make something ease up in your chest. You feel like you can breathe just a little bit easier.

Your hands emerge from the water, rivulets trailing down your palms and wrists, and gently take the stone from him.

Damian's entire body relaxes, relief making a smile appear on his face.

It promptly vanishes, replaced by indignant sputtering when you spit a bunch of water at him. He coughs and wipes his face, then blinks to find you swimming to the bottom of your tank to find the best place to stick your present. You're moving so much faster, so much more energetically than you were before.

"There you are, Princess," Damian whispers into the water, grinning wide.

"...are they gonna come back up and eat?" Jon asks, still sitting with the bucket. "Cause...we can't re-refridgerate this with the other food. It'll have to get tossed."

[uluvjay]

So sweet- O. Piastri & L. Norris

Oscar Piastri x fem! Reader x Lando Norris x fem! Reader

In which you and Lando celebrate your boyfriend’s birthday your own way..

Warnings?; smut, poly! Relationship, p in v, penetrative sex, unprotected sex( a big no no), handjob (m receiving), switch Lando!, switch reader!, sub Oscar!, kissing, talks of spanking, suggestion of m x m, cursing, pet names, bratty lando, teasing, edging, good boy Oscar, slight food play?, sorry for any errors I missed!

This was supposed to be out weeks ago but writers block is a bitch and I didn’t want it going to waste!

You didn’t even notice what you were doing to your boys, to indulged in the sweetness of the cupcake Jon handed you you failed to notice the way both of your boyfriends eyes had locked on the way your tongue poked out to take a lick of the icing, or how their breaths hitched at the sound of your soft moan at how sweet the taste was.

“You boys should really go get one, these are delicious.” You spoke, eyes still trained on the cupcake in your hand.

You frowned noticing some of the papaya icing on your finger, not thinking twice before popping the digit into your mouth to clean it off.

A soft fuck coming from the British driver had you looking up, freezing the second you caught the looks in both drivers eyes.

Both sets of their eyes darker than their natural color, watching intently as you removed your finger from your mouth.

“What?..” you trailed looking between both men.

“Baby..c-can you eat it normally please?” Oscar spoke up first.

“I am eating it normally?” You defended

Lando groaned at your words, his large hands wasting no time as they pulled you closer by your hips, dipping his head so he could whisper in your ear.

“No, you’re being a fucking tease..sucking your fingers and moaning for everyone to see and hear.”

Your breath hitched at his words, a soft blush covering your cheeks as he pulled back looking down at you with a stern and frustrated expression.

Your eyes dropped down to their black jeans, bulges evident through the dark material everything finally clicked in your mind.

They were getting turned on by watching you eat a cupcake..

Neither of the men liked the smirk that tugged at your lips, their stomachs fluttering as your tongue poked back out this time licking the icing much more seductively.

“I don’t know what you mean, I’m just enjoying my cupcake.” You shrugged turning on your heels to head off towards Lando’s divers room, giggling as you heard both sets of their feet quickly following behind you.

You walked into the room and took a seat on the small couch, not bothering to shut the door as their two large bodies filed in right after you.

You looked up at them innocently, both men standing in front of you- Lando with his arms crossed impatiently and your sweet Aussie with his hands crossed in front of him.

“Can I help you boys with something?” You raised an eyebrow, tongue poking out for another taste of the icing.

“I-we..” Oscar stammered, always having trouble announcing what it was that he truly wanted when it came to sex, his nerves always taking over.

“Oh fuck this.” Lando grumbled, surging forward he snatched the cupcake from your hands, throwing it into the bin next to you before quickly moving to sit beside you and pull you onto his lap.

You didn’t have time to react to his rushed movements before he was pulling you into a heavy kiss, one of his large hands tangling in your hair while the other held your waist.

the mix of your natural taste plus added sweetness of the icing had him him moaning against you.

Feeling the couch shift and added weight you pulled away from the Brit, leaning over to pull Oscar into a kiss, his hands much more hesitant as they pulled you onto his lap.

“You taste so sweet.” He whined as you both pulled away for air.

“Not as sweet as you birthday boy.” You smirked, running a finger along his reddening cheek, basking in the way he leaned into you with a soft sigh.

“This is cute and all but can we fuck already? We only have an hour before practice.” Lando grumbled from beside you two.

Lando’s stomach twisted at the way your lips tugged up into a smirk at your lips, eyes switching between him and the brunette sat below you.

“Why don’t we let the birthday boy pick?” You spoke up, “What do you think Osc? Should I fuck you while Lando watches or does he deserve a little something too?”

Oscar whimpered at your words, eyes looking over at his now pouting boyfriend whose hard cock was pushing against the tight material of his jeans and he couldn’t help but feel his mouth water at the thought of Lando’s thick cock.

“W-want you to ride me while i touch lan..” he mumbled with a quick please following close behind.

You hummed happily at his words, moving back slightly to pull him from the restraints of his jeans and boxers, basking in his small moan as his cock sprung free.

“Always such a good boy for me Osc, so polite and patient.” You praised however your eyes were trained on the pouting Brit beside you, his arms crossed as he watched you slowly stroke Oscar’s length.

“Take your cock out lan, don’t leave our good boy waiting.” You instructed, both you and Oscar watching intently as he grumbled under his breath but still did as you said.

The sight of his thick and needy cock causing Oscar to whimper and immediately reach out for his boyfriend, stroking his cock at the same pace your hand moved on his.

You watched on as the pleasure took over Lando’s once bratty demeanor, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tipped back and his nails dug into the arm of the couch.

“Fuck.” He whimpered as Oscar flexed his wrist, his thumb running over Lando’s dripping tip.

You did the same to the Aussie causing small whines of his own to escape the back of his throat as his eyes moved back to you.

It was his and Lando’s turn to watch as you pushed your panties to the side under your dress and moved to hover over Oscar’s cock, air getting stuck in your throat as you sunk down on him.

Both men watched in awe as you took all of Oscar’s length, sharing a mutual moan of need at the way your body shook once you reached the base of his cock.

“So good.” You hissed as you got used to his size, it didn’t matter how many times you had either of them, you always needed time to adjust.

You soon began to rock your hips, hands resting on the back of the couch as you kept eye contact with the sweet boy below you, enjoying the way his face contorted into different signs of pleasure.

Lando watched from the side as your cunt greedily took Oscar, your tits slowly starting to spill over the top of your dress as your bounces began to pick up pace, causing the boy to whine with want.

Your smirk returned at the way Lando’s pretty eyes were locked in your breasts and you couldn’t help yourself when you pulled the top down allowing them to spill free.

Oscar wasted no time in dipping forward and taking one into his mouth, a cry leaving you as his lips wrapped around one of your buds, his teeth lightly nipping before he calmed the stinging with a roll of his tongue, his left hand still working your boyfriends cock.

“C-can I please have a taste? Please.” Lando finally spoke after a minute of watching Oscar devour your breasts, fresh marks now littering your skin.

“You think he deserves a taste Oscar?”

“Mhm, been good for me.” Oscar mumbled into your skin, his lips returning right after he finished his sentence.

You gave Lando a curt nod and soon he was on the other breast like a starved man, sloppy wet kisses all over your skin, his tongue tracing the shape of your nipple before he took the bud between his teeth lightly.

“Oh god” you moaned at the mixed sensation of Oscar’s cock hitting you so deep and having both of their mouths on you, your hands coming up to cup the back of their heads.

“M’ getting close boys, fuck!” You cried.

You pushed both of them back as the feeling in your lower stomach began to increase, grinding down on Oscar’s length as you desperately chased your release, body shaking as you tipped over the edge.

Oscar wasn’t far behind, the clenching of your cunt brining him to the edge as he cried out, filling you to the brim with his release.

You zoned out for a moment until a familiar whine sounded from beside you, looking over you found Lando with a swollen and throbbing cock.

With a teasing pout you wrapped your hand around his cock replacing Oscar’s much larger one that now rested on the Brits thigh.

“Oscar leave you hanging baby?” You smirked at the boy.

He nodded in reply, the pleasure becoming to strong for him to form anything more than a few mumbles and breathless moans.

You knew he was close when he started thrusting into your hand, his moans raising in volume as his hips began to stutter and soon your hand was covered in his warm release.

He dropped back against the couch, his chest heaving as he recovered from his powerful orgasm after two denied ones from Oscar.

You smiled at your boyfriend before bringing your hand to your mouth, making sure to clean it of Lando’s release before pulling Oscar into a breathless kiss.

It was silent for a while after you two pulled away, a comfortable silence filling the room as everyone regained their strength.

“That was fun.” Lando broke the silence, “But you two will most definitely be paying for that later.” He sat up eyes locking with yours, a dark look swirling in them before he moved onto Oscar.

The Brit went to open his mouth but a knock sounding on the door cut him off before he could.

“Thirty minutes till practice, get dressed please.” Jon announced waiting for a ‘okay’ from Lando before he retreated back to the garage.

The boy below you whimpered as you moved to get off of his softening cock, you whispered small apologies as you slid off moving to stand in front of him as you fixed yourself.

Oscar tucked himself away before standing on shaky legs of his own, his hands pulling you into his embrace as he held you close.

Lando didn’t bother putting himself away, instead stripping down completely and pulling on his fireproofs before his racing suit.

“You gotta go get ready osc.” You cooed in the boys ear, hand running up and down his back.

Oscar frowned at your words a small grumbled escaping him as he held you tighter.

“Just go get your things and get ready in here baby, we’ll be right here when you come back.” Lando spoke up.

With a bit more pushing Oscar finally separated from you, giving Lando a small kiss as he passed on his way to go get his things.

You made your way to sit on Lando’s massage table, the boy coming to stand between your spread legs as you wrapped them around his back.

“As hot as your little stunt was, your ass will be sorry for it later.” He smirked into your neck as he left wet kisses against the skin.

“Don’t tease me now baby.” You smirked earning you a giggle from Lando as he pulled back with a shake of his head.

“What am I gonna do with you huh?”

“Spank me.” You shrugged hands sliding around his neck.

“Who’s getting spanked?” Oscar questioned curiously as he walked back into the room, door shutting quickly behind him.

“Me” you smirked looking up at Lando with nothing but amusement in your eyes.

“Maybe it shouldn’t be a punishment anymore if you like it that much.” The Brit tutted with a shake of his head.

“What do you think osc? should I edge her instead, maybe make her watch me fuck you silly like she made me watch?” He continued looking over at your boyfriend.

“Wait! That’s no-“ you tried but Lando once again spoke up.

“You’re the birthday boy baby, you get to pick.”

Oscar looked at your reddened face, a pout similar to Lando’s earlier one now present as your thighs began to rub together.

“Can I think about it? Get back to you after practice?”

Your eyes almost bulged out of your head at his words, watching as they both zipped up their suits and made way for the door.

“Take as long as you need baby.” Lando smiled, leaning in to give the boy a kiss.

“Wait, boys, can we talk about this now..please?” You questioned as you shoved yourself between them in the hallway, body now squeezed between their frames.

“Sorry baby, duty calls but we’ll see you after Kay?” Lando smirked leaning down to press his lips against yours before moving forward to where Jon was.

“Love you pretty girl.” Oscar spoke, giving you a kiss as well before going to his side of the garage.

“What did I get myself into”

-

Happy very late birthday Oscar! Sorry my writers block was a pain in the ass

[the-offside-rule]

Lando Norris (McLaren) - Two Hands pt. II

Requested: yes

Prompt: this ask

Warnings: smutttt

Part 1, Sports Car

The atmosphere at the Las Vegas Grand Prix was electric. The sun reflected off the vibrant paddock, buzzing with drivers, team members, and fans. Y/n and Tate had just wrapped up soundcheck for their opening performance and were now taking in the sights. It wasn’t every day that you got invited to perform at one of the most glamorous racing events in the world. "This place is insane." Tate said, spinning her phone around to capture the glitzy energy of the paddock. Y/n nodded, shielding her eyes from the desert sun. "Yeah, it’s wild. Let’s not get lost, though."

"Lost? In the middle of this crowd? No chance." Tate replied with a mischievous grin. "But you know what we should do? Film a TikTok." Y/n groaned. "Tate, no."

"Y/n, yes. It’s perfect! We’re at a Grand Prix, we’re musicians, and we have viral audio just begging to be used." Reluctantly, Y/n agreed. She followed Tate to an open section of the paddock, where they started filming. "Okay, when I point the camera at you, you lip-sync the 'Leclerc' part and strut like you own the place." Tate instructed. "Fine." Y/n said, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a smile. The camera started rolling. Y/n gave her best sultry walk, mouthing the words perfectly as the audio played. "Leclerc! Leclerc! Charles Leclerc-"

She was so focused on the TikTok that she didn’t notice the person in her path until she collided with them. "Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!" Y/n exclaimed, hands flying up to steady the person she’d bumped into. "No harm done." The man said with a chuckle, brushing himself off. "Y/n?" Came the all-too-familiar voice from behind her. Her stomach twisted as she turned to see Lando standing there, arms crossed and his trademark smirk firmly in place.

"I see you’ve taken out my physio, Jon." Lando teased, motioning to the man Y/n had bumped into. "Oh my god, I’m so sorry." Y/n said again, her cheeks burning as she addressed Jon. "No worries." Jon said with a friendly smile, clearly used to the chaos of Lando’s world. "Nice TikTok work, by the way." Lando added, the teasing edge in his voice unmistakable. Y/n shot him a glare before grabbing Tate’s arm. "We need to go." She said quickly, dragging her friend away.

Once they were safely out of earshot, Tate burst into laughter. "That was gold! You walked straight into his team like you were aiming for it." Y/n groaned. “This day cannot get worse.”

"Oh, I think it just got better."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Back in the hair and makeup trailer, Y/n leaned back in her chair while a stylist curled her hair. Tate, however, couldn’t help but poke the bear. "Alright-" Tate started, her eyes glinting mischievously. "Spill. What’s the deal with you and Lando? And don’t say nothing.' Y/n groaned. "There’s nothing to spill."

"Bullshit!" Tate exclaimed, pointing a comb at her. "Nothing does not constitute blushong like a schoolgirl when you bumped into him earlier. What happened? Did it end on bad terms?" Y/n hesitated, but Tate’s relentless stare wore her down. "It didn't end on bad terms, it just shouldn't have happened." She muttered. "It started in Miami. I was trying to get into this club, but the bouncer wouldn’t let me in. Lando saw me outside, recognized me, and invited me to join him instead."

"And?"

"And we ended up back at his hotel room. Drank way too much from the mini-bar, talked about everything, and... yeah, one thing led to another." Tate’s jaw dropped. "You know, i would have really appreciated if you had told me you had slept with Lando before all of this." Y/n shushed her frantically. "Keep it down!"

"Oh, this is gold." Tate said, practically bouncing in her chair. "Wait. Is he why you wrote Two Hands?" Y/n didn’t answer, instead focusing on the stylist adjusting her makeup. "Oh my god, it is!" Tate exclaimed, laughing loudly. "You’re shameless."

"Can we please focus on the performance? You're like a kid!" Y/n grumbled, desperate to change the subject. "Fine, butafterwards? I am asking every question under the sun."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The stage lights were dazzling, the crowd roaring as Y/n and Tate took the stage. The beat of Two Hands reverberated through the paddock, and Y/n let herself fall into the music, swaying and singing like the world was watching. As the bridge approached, her eyes scanned the crowd. Her heart skipped when she spotted Lando standing near the drivers, arms crossed, a smug grin playing on his lips. The lyrics spilled from her like a confession:

I want them all to see, you look good on top of me. At this time, at night, I need. Not one, not three.

Her gaze locked with his, and she sang directly at him, her voice sultry and unyielding. Just your two hands on me. The smirk on his face faltered, replaced by something darker, more intense. She smirked as she turned back to the audience, the final notes lingering in the air. The crowd continued their cheers as Y/n and Tate began their dance break, before finally ending in their poses and smiling as the crowd erupted into roars. "Thank you Vegas!" Tate exclaimed before the pair ran off stage.

Backstage, Tate was practically vibrating with excitement. "Okay, wow. You really went all in during that performance. Wonder why?" She teased, winking exaggeratedly. "Shut up." Y/n muttered, though her cheeks were warm.

As they finally landed back in their hotel room, Y/n collapsed onto the bed, exhausted. Tate began rambling on about something random while Y/n's phone buzzed, and when she checked it, her stomach flipped.

Lando Come see me. Room 1208.

She stared at the message until Tate, who had been scrolling through her phone nearby, glanced over. "Oh my god. Is that?" Y/n nodded. Tate squealed, jumping up and down on the bed as Y/n thought of a response, or whether to respond at all. "You have to go!" Tate shouted, landing down beside her friend. "No way!" Y/n said, shaking her head. "Yes way!" Tate insisted. "You’d regret it if you didn’t and you know it. You gotta go."

After much convincing, Y/n found herself standing outside Lando’s door, her heart pounding. She raised a trembling hand and knocked and waited for him to answer, fumdbling with her fingers in anticipation. What if someone were to find her there? What would the media say? Not even a moment later, the door opened to reveal Lando, his grin as cocky as ever. "Took you long enough." He started as he leaned against the doorframe.

But Y/n didn’t let him finish. She grabbed his shirt, pulling him down into a kiss as she pushed him back into the room. The door clicked shut behind her as she kicked it closed with her heel. Their bodies collided, the familiar feel of his hard chest against her breasts igniting a fire within her. She moaned softly as his strong arms wrapped around her, his fingers digging into her hips possessively. "I've missed this." He whispered, his warm breath caressing her neck. "Missed having you like this."

Y/n's hands roamed over his broad shoulders, relishing the feel of his firm muscles beneath her palms. "I've missed you too." She confessed, her voice barely audible. "Missed the way you make me feel so alive." Lando's lips found hers, crushing her mouth in a hungry kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth, demanding and possessive, as if he was claiming her all over again. Y/n responded eagerly, matching his passion, their tongues dancing in a familiar rhythm. The kiss was a battle of wills, each trying to dominate the other, but it was a battle they both wanted to lose.

Breaking the kiss for air, Lando trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. His hands traveled up her thighs, lifting her skirt as he went, his touch sending shivers of pleasure through her body. "You're so fucking beautiful." He growled against her skin, his hands reaching her lace panties. He hooked his fingers into the sides, tugging them down her legs, his eyes never leaving hers. "I want to see all of you."

Y/n stepped out of her panties, kicking them aside, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew Lando loved to watch, and the thought of being on display for him only heightened her arousal. She stood before him, completely exposed, her breasts heaving with each rapid breath. Lando's eyes devoured her, his gaze traveling from her flushed face down to her glistening pussy. "So fucking wet already." He murmured, his voice thick with desire. "Eager, arent you?"

He dropped to his knees before her, his hands gently grasping her thighs, urging them apart. Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she felt the warmth of his breath on her sensitive flesh. With slow, deliberate movements, Lando leaned in, his tongue flicking out to taste her. A soft moan escaped Y/n's lips as his tongue swirled around her clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. He teased her gently, licking and sucking, driving her wild with need. His hands held her hips firmly, keeping her steady as he feasted on her, his dark hair brushing against her inner thighs. "Oh, Lando." She whispered, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Don't stop, please."

Lando chuckled, the vibration of his laughter against her sensitive skin sending her closer to the edge. He increased the pace, his tongue working its magic, driving her higher and higher. Y/n's thighs trembled as her orgasm built, her body tense with anticipation. "That's it, baby." He encouraged, his voice hoarse. "Let go, cum for me." His words were all it took. Y/n's body convulsed as an intense orgasm ripped through her, her juices flowing freely. Lando lapped at her eagerly, drinking in her essence, his tongue never slowing until she was reduced to a quivering mess.

As her trembling subsided, Lando stood, his eyes blazing with satisfaction. "That was just the beginning." He promised, his voice low and dangerous. Y/n's eyes widened, anticipation and desire mingling in her gaze. She knew Lando wasn't one to hold back, and the thought of what was to come left her both excited and apprehensive. He guided her towards the bed, his hands roaming over her body, leaving a trail of goosebumps. With a gentle push, he laid her down on the soft sheets, his muscular form hovering over her. "You're going to feel every inch of me." He growled, his voice laced with raw desire.

Y/n's heart raced as she felt the bulge in his pants pressing against her core. She reached down, unbuckling his belt with trembling fingers, eager to free the hard length of him. Lando's breath hitched as she slowly unzipped his pants, his cock springing free, thick and straining. "Fuck, you're beautiful." She whispered, running her fingers along his length, marveling at the way he throbbed in her hand.

Lando groaned, his eyes closing momentarily as he savored the sensation. "I need to be inside you." He rasped, his voice rough. With a swift movement, he positioned himself at her entrance, his tip nudging her wet folds. Y/n arched her back, inviting him in, her body yearning for the familiar fullness. With one smooth thrust, he filled her completely, their bodies joining in a perfect fit. "Yes!" Y/n cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders as she adjusted to his size.

Lando began to move, his hips thrusting in a steady rhythm. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through her body, his cock hitting all the right spots. He moved with purpose, his powerful body driving into hers, his breath hot on her neck. "You feel so good." He grunted, his voice strained. "So tight around me."

Y/n's hands gripped his ass, urging him deeper, her body craving every inch of him. She matched his rhythm, her hips rising to meet his, their bodies moving as one. The room filled with the sounds of their passion—the wet slaps of skin, their labored breathing, and the bed creaking beneath them.

"Harder." She panted, her eyes wild with desire. "Fuck me harder, Lando." Lando obliged, his thrusts becoming more forceful, his cock pounding into her relentlessly. Y/n's body trembled, her orgasm building again, her senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of their union. "That's it, baby." Lando growled, his jaw clenched as he fought his own release. "Cum for me again." His words were like a trigger, sending Y/n over the edge. Her body convulsed around him, her pussy clenching and releasing his throbbing cock. Lando let out a primal roar as her climax milked him, his own orgasm building to an unbearable peak.

With one final, powerful thrust, he emptied himself inside her, his hot cum filling her depths. Their bodies shuddered in unison, the pleasure overwhelming, as they rode out their shared climax. As their breathing slowed, Lando collapsed onto the bed beside her, his chest heaving. Y/n turned towards him, her fingers tracing the contours of his face, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

"That was-" She began, searching for the right words. "Incredible," Lando finished, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction. "Just as I remembered it." Y/n's heart warmed at his words, knowing that despite the time apart, their connection remained as strong as ever. She snuggled closer, feeling his strong arms wrap around her, and they lay there, content in the aftermath of their passionate reunion.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

@f1fantasys @willowsnook @aerie717 @lifeonawhim @henna006

[lazycats-stuff]

Please a Clark fic, where reader is a new intern adn Clark is just love struck. And he slowly starts to court (?) the reader, and at some point take him home for a home-cooked meal, where the reader meets Conner and Jon. I think Conner at first doesn't really like reader, but Jon immediately clings to reader. After some time Conner warms up to reader and they all become a happy family

Of course my dear anon. Some superfam sounds good right now. Also, I have decided to make (Y/N) from Gotham... It sounds good, trust me.

Summary: Clark likes (Y/N). Conner is suspicious.

Warnings: I don't think there's any... Fluff mostly.

" Morning Clark. " Lois said to him as she passed him to get some coffee. Clark simply nodded as he booted his computer to start up. He had a piece to write about Lex Luthor scandal which for once wasn't brought to light by the Justice League.

An anonymous whistleblower who contacted Daily Planet with a shit ton of damning evidence. Clark jumped on the said opportunity to expose Lex, both as Superman and Clark Kent.

" Working on the Lex thing? " She asked as she came back, leaning on the edge of his desk, glancing at the computer screen to check the progress. " Yes, it's great to see how he's slowly crumbling. The stock share prices are going down faster than our faith in humanity. " Clark said with a smile, making Lois chuckle.

" Yeah, it's truly satisfying. Also, I have some news for you Smallville. " She said, stopping to sip her warm coffee. Clark raised his brow, fixing his glasses as he leaned back in his chair, smoothing his pants out.

" What those might be Lois? " Clark asked, turning his chair to face her fully.

" We got an intern. Someone from Gotham it seems. His name is (Y/N) and he will work in this department. " Lois stated, lifting her cup of coffee as if she was silently saying finally.

" Oh really? " Clark asked, tilting his head in curiosity. " It seems that Perry has decided to throw us a bone. We could use a courier. " Clark joked and Lois chuckled.

It's nice to have an extra set of hands. " Also, did you say he was from Gotham? " Clark inquired and Lois nodded. Clark whistled quietly. Gotham people are often tougher and more direct and even more blunt.

Clark knew that very well, ahem, read Bruce.

" That will be a nice change of pace. Someone with tough skin. " Clark noted and Lois nodded.

" Now we have someone to take as a bodyguard when we go out. Everyone is afraid of Gotham people. " She joked, sipping more of her coffee before her eyes moved forward, right behind Clark. He turned his chair around to check what she was looking at.

She was looking at the new intern who entered with their boss, Perry White. The room fell silent as Perry stood with a tall guy, (H/C) hair and (E/C) eyes in a suit, standing with a stoic look on his face. And there was a Gotham aura and vibe radiating from (Y/N).

Clark had to stifle a chuckle.

" Everyone, this is our new intern, his name is (Y/N). He transferred from Gotham. Be nice to him. I don't want chaos around here. As for you (Y/N), you'll be working with Kent. He is more than capable to show you the ropes. " Perry said and Clark raised his brow from his seat.

Being a mentor isn't new to him anymore, ever since Conner came as a clone and stepping up ever since then. And since Jon came into the picture, he had no choice but to really step it up as a father. Since the mom left...

Clark rubbed his forehead for a moment, then set his sight back on (Y/N). Clark looked him up and down subtly. He... He is drop dead gorgeous in Clark's eyes. Clark did have a few relationships with men in the past, but he was always more attracted to women.

But the tides have changed.

Clark has been struck with probably love at first sight. He never really felt like this before... So lovestruck. Oh Bruce would have laughed so hard at him in this situation...

Oh God and he is responsible for (Y/N) too? This won't be good in the slightest. He gulped quietly as Perry led (Y/N) to him and the office started bustling with activity again.

" This is Clark Kent (Y/N). Kent, you'll be making sure he gets the basics down since I'm sure Gotham Daily Planet is not up to standard with us. " Perry joked, making (Y/N) laugh.

Clark's heart did a few flips at the laughter. Oh dear God, (Y/N) is so damn adorable when he laughs. But he looks so damn tough too and it makes it a bit more difficult to read.

Gotham does make you more tough.

" Also, this is Lois. " Perry introduced and (Y/N) shook hands with her. Clark stood up and shook hands with (Y/N), whose hands were so soft. Oddly enough. For a Gothamite especially.

" Clark, nice to meet you. " Clark said with a firm handshake. (Y/N) nodded. " (Y/N), nice to meet you. " He said politely.

" Well, I'll take you around the office to show you around and then you can help Kent or whatever else he needs. " Perry said before he led (Y/N) away, telling him about the Daily Planet and how good the place is.

" You are in love Smallville. " Lois said behind her coffee mug making Clark sigh quietly.

She won't let this go.

" Don't you have some work Lois? " Clark asked her, clearly not in the mood to deal with her teasing. Lois simply snickered and raised her hand and mug in a way to show she surrenders and left to go to her desk, that was, coincidentally, right next to Clark's.

" This is will be fun. " Lois muttered under her breath, knowing fully well that Clark could hear her. Clark simply rolled his eyes. She was right, though, this was going to be fun. Clark listened intently to Perry and (Y/N)'s conversation. His super hearing is something that he can't just turn off anyway.

Might as well use it.

After a few months, Clark decided to start making his moves. He decided to start with bringing some coffee every morning to them both. (Y/N) was suspicious at first, the Gotham nature in him telling him to not trust because, again, Gotham makes you on guard all the time.

Especially when someone is nice to you. Maybe (Y/N) is a bit more cold, but every Gotham native is like that. If you try to be nice to them, they are a bit suspicious. Can you blame (Y/N)? But, Clark's ambition and patience had slowly been paying it off.

It started with small cups of coffee every morning to get the energy going for writing and editing articles. (Y/N)'s editing skills were insanely good and Clark was more than impressed the first time (Y/N) showed him the finished version.

Then, (Y/N) was being sent out on the field with a camera to capture events and what not. Perry justified with the saying, you are from Gotham, you'll be fine.

And that turned out to be true actually.

One day, while dropping off some photos at Perry's office, his face was bloody and it was clear that there was some sort of brawl or a fight. Clark and the rest of the office was concerned, but (Y/N) simply acted casually, as if nothing had happened to him.

The only thing he is said is, 'You should see the other guy.'

It made Clark think of Bruce and his nature. Tough Gotham nature.

But Clark had a lot of experience with that nature. Again, dealing with Bruce's nature made it easier to navigate (Y/N). And although (Y/N) and Bruce are two completely opposite people in every shape and form, it still gave Clark good points what not to do and what to do.

And slowly but surely, he did it.

He asked (Y/N) to come with him to his house, for some dinner. A nice good, old, home cooked meal. A recipe his mom sent him so he could impress (Y/N).

(Y/N) was pleasantly surprised and decided to say yes. As well, (Y/N) knew that Clark is a father. 2 boys, if he could judge from his framed photos on his desk. One younger and one older.

Conner and Jon if (Y/N) remembers correctly. Jon is younger and Conner is the older one. And (Y/N) remembered that Clark was a single parent.

So, (Y/N) decided to accept and say yes to the call, never saying no to a good, nice, homecooked meal. And Clark was a nice guy too so it wasn't a bad thing. He was cute too and (Y/N) slowly started to like him.

So, entering his place, he was greeted by Clark's sons, Jon and Conner. Jon is a bubbly personality, immediately clinging onto him. (Y/N) thought that he was adorable.

But Conner was a whole another story. He was more cold and calculating and clearly suspicious of (Y/N). (Y/N) respected it. Don't trust people that have just entered your life.

All in all, the dinner went well and Clark and (Y/N) went on a few dates and soon enough started dating seriously. Soon enough, after a few years, the two got married.

However, during that time, Conner and (Y/N) got more and more closer. It was a nice feeling and was rather emotional for them both. Clark was happy and soon enough, (Y/N) had two boys to call his sons, despite not being biologically related to them.

[nebulaafterdark]

Sooner Or Late

Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Y/N flees to the north before the start of the war. When it is over, Aegon will stop at nothing to get her back. Based off this request 18+ ONLY implied dubcon, mental illness & violence

Long before the dragons dance, Y/N is promised to Aegon. As a result, Rhaenyra sends her only daughter to the North in hopes of securing an alliance and to keep her half brother at bay.

His desire for the princess Y/N is deprived, even Alicent could not comprehend it. In the years Y/N is gone, Aegon yearns for her, a longing set deep into his bones.

Y/N finds real love, without sharp edges. His name is Jonathan Stark, after whom their son is named. His body now hangs like a trophy in Aegon’s garden.

The war brought one tragedy after another. Her mother and three, if not four, of her brothers were slain.

As for the greens, only Aegon and Alicent remain.

Y/N was taken back to King’s Landing, upon Aegon’s victory. She is to be his prize. As a warm welcome, he strung up her husband and allowed her to watch the light fade from his eyes.

Jon is spared the sight of his father’s remains, shielding his eyes with his mother’s dress as she whispers to him.

“I love you more than anything in this world.” She tells him, “no matter what becomes of me, you mustn’t be afraid. You must be strong.”

His hold on her tightens as they are forced into the throne room to meet the king. A man his mother has no love for. The man who killed his father.

“Ahh, good, you’re here.” Aegon grins, rising from his perch. “We need to prepare you for dinner.” The front of his robes are stained with blood.

Her husband’s blood.

“I will admit, I was not expecting two guests. Luckily, the coronation will not take place until the morrow. Which gives us time to fit robes for our boy.” The King smiles at Jonathan.

Y/N clutches her son closer as he begins to cry. “Shh.”

“Tell me now, dearest, what is his name?”

“His name is Jonathan.”

“Jonathan.” Aegon looks to the boy, clinging to his mother. “A fine name for a prince.”

“T-thank you, your grace, but I am not a prince.” The boy sniffles.

Aegon bends forward to his eye level. “You are now. In one day’s time, your mother will be crowned queen of the seven kingdoms and you our heir. Now that you are here we will be a proper family.”

“I had a family.” Jonathan reminds him.

Y/N tucks the boy farther against her side.

Aegon sighs, standing to face Y/N. “There, there, my darling.” He dries her tears with a blunt swipe of his hand.

“Please don’t hurt him, he doesn’t understand.”

“I am not going harm him.” Aegon scoffs. “He grew inside your womb, same as our children will.”

“Ours?” Y/N breathes, clutching her son’s hand. Aegon has well and truly lost his mind.

“I’m going to be your father now.” Aegon tells Jonathan. “There will be no more talk of the man who tried to steal your mother from me. Do you understand?”

Jonathan nods, against his mother’s dress.

“Good,” Aegon inhales deeply, wrapping them both in his arms. “Welcome home.”

————————————————————————

“Why are you doing this, Aegon?” Y/N asks, staring out the window to the garden.

“You were promised to me.” He tosses his chalice against the wall, stumbling toward her. “You will marry me. You will love no one but me! That is why Stark is dead, that is why his body will hang until only his bones remain.”

“How can you be so cruel?” Y/N cries, wrapping both arms tightly around herself.

“This is a kindness, my dearest love.” Aegon says draping his arms over hers, “in time you will see. You’ve lost your way. But you will learn, I will teach you.”

She has to get away. “Please-”

He sneers. “You will do a fair share of begging in our lives together, there is no need to start prematurely.”

“What do you want?”

Has he not made it abundantly clear? “You.”

“I am only a woman. You understand that, do you not?” Y/N scoffs. “There is nothing I can give you another cannot. Why chase me? Why hunt me down when you could’ve had anyone?”

“I realize we have our differences, but there is no other woman capable of evoking such passion in my heart. I love you, I loathe you. You frustrate and entice me.” He nips at her neck. “It was always going to be you, sooner or late.”

“I had a life, Aegon.”

“Now you will have a new life, with me.”

————————————————————————

As days pass, Y/N allows her mind to wander. To escape the vessel in which it’s held; far enough that she doesn’t feel. In time, it begins drifting farther and farther out to sea.

Aegon plays with Jonathan, lifting him high on his shoulders, the way her husband used to.

Jonathan takes a liking to him. Anytime he asks about his father, he is met with a sigh.

“Do you see that pretender anywhere around here?”

Jon shakes his head.

“And you never will.” Aegon snickers. “There is no need to keep asking, as you know it upsets me.”

The boy lowers his eyes, “yes, father.”

“You are a Targaryen. Not a Stark.” Aegon taps his chin, “all of this will be yours one day.”

Aegon is a madman, but he does seem to care for them, in his own demented way.

Y/N loathes herself for even thinking it.

A few weeks after, her belly begins to round with Aegon’s child. Y/N nearly forgets why she is here. Why she has to float away.

Aegon is all but tethered to the tiny bump, kissing it each day as it grows.

Jonathan is the only reason Y/N holds onto hope. Though sometimes, she can hear his father calling from the garden.

Aegon is speaking to her then, plush lips moving over perfect teeth.

It catches her off guard, the look of him. A fallen angel, cast out by the gods. So like her mother. Y/N desperately misses her mother.

Aegon smiles as she caresses the side of his face, ignoring her distant gaze. He knew she would come round, eventually.

“Why do you think my mother hasn’t come to see me?” Y/N asks, with wide, sad eyes.

Oh…you poor, poor, thing. Aegon kisses her outstretched hand. She does not remember, nor does it matter. It’s best not to upset her. “I am sure she will turn up sooner or late, my dearest love.”

She believes him, she has to.

Part 2

Aegon Taglist: @niyahnotnia @narwhal-swimmingintheocean

[mixingandmelting]

Could you please write jealousy headcanons like you did for batfam for superfam? (Clark, Conner, Jon) thank you ❤️

A/N: Heads up, Conner is written as comic version

Clark:

Despite his nickname being Man of Steel, the heart he holds for you is tender and extremely affectionate. His love tends to overflow from his heart, always wanting to be the best for you. So, when he gets jealous, he tries to be mature about it but ends up letting it get to himself. While you’re actively talking about a person that has taken your interest, he’s mustering everything to smile and stay in tune with the conversation. Awkward “yeahs” and faux enthusiasm is in his voice, trying to keep the conversation upbeat and positive so he won’t ruin your mood. Afterwards though, he gets more withdrawn and quieter, at some point even avoiding you completely. There’s no grin or his puppy-behavior where he approaches you first. Just minuscule polite smiles and a small “hey” whenever he bumps into you while getting stiff and stumbling over his words when you confront him.

When you’re talking to another person he’s a bit confrontational and on the edge, standing in front of you and close by not much (his words), protectively while questioning them on their motives as he was “curious” about them. He tries to pull you away once small talk is over, dropping hints to the other party to let you leave only to fail and suffer from getting dragged into the conversation. Eventually the other person leaves from the stink eye he gives them along with being slightly more blunt with the message he’s been trying to pass on.

Conner:

The flashiest of the supers, brimming with self confidence and arrogance while having a heart of gold. He is always passionate with the people he cares about but you hold his heart and very being. You accept everything about him without any exception so how could he not be committed and whipped for you? With him being prideful, he’s direct and doesn’t hide his jealousy. He doesn’t like how much interest you have taken to the other person when you show more interest to someone who isn’t him, grumbling and getting grouchy with his replies. He would ask what’s the big deal about the person and why you’re so interested in them, sometimes going as far as comparing their “amazingness” to his. He does admit he’s jealous when you ask if he is, but after talking in circles for a while.

When you’re talking with the other person, he has no qualms in dragging you away. Flashes the other a smile, having enough tolerance for small chit chat before straight up making an excuse up on spot to pull you away from them. Then, unlike the others, actually proceed to physically drag you away, gently holding your hand and all. He’s either pouting with puffed out lips and cheeks or looking as if he had something sour, lips thinned to the straight line when he does it, not answering your questions. He’s still careful and considerate when he does it and lets out a laugh when you display annoyance at him.

Jon:

A ball of sunshine, inspired to walk the same path as his father in helping those in need and keeping Earth safe. For him, you are the person who he loves so purely while at the same time, his best friend he can always rely on. He’s able to hold it in where he would show interest out of curiosity during the first few minutes but then he starts sulking when you don’t stop and continue to go on. Lips and cheeks are puffed out which is obscured as he would prop his head onto his hand. A fraction of his annoyance slips through when he can’t help and asks if you happen to like the other person. He does try to cover his jealousy, albeit poorly, with attempts of using the uno reverse card or distracting you with a related, yet different topic.

During the times you’re talking to someone else, he gets childish, giving the other party a suspicious look before going back to standing right next to you with arms crossed as he stubbornly waits for the chat to end. He doesn’t bother to get along with the person, pouting when you jab at him to be nice and go back to continuing what he thinks has lasted for hours. He’s able to naturally cut the conversation and pull you away where, during the past few minutes of trying to distract himself as he waited, he’s able to find something that would definitely interest you which helps in making a believable and reasonable excuse.

[urhoneycombwitch]

Hi, cutie 😘 Slutty metalhead for your thoughts?

oh SO many thoughts but u know the main one rn is… nostalgia 😭 look at that fresh faced baby boy. made me think of revisiting that spot in your later years with Eddie… back in town for a wedding, mayhaps…? I love u sooooo much sarah!!! muah muah muah 

(cw: drug & alcohol mention, R wears heels+ a dress and has breasts, fade-to-black sex SOZ mdni +18 as always!!)

Eddie looks so good in a tux. Except right now, he’s yanking at the loop of his tie like it’s choking him (it isn’t, he’s being dramatic), and shedding the confines of his smart black tailcoat into a messy pile in the back of the van (on loan from Uncle Wayne for the duration of your visit, the engine still running miraculously smooth after all these years).

Nancy and Jon aren’t getting married until tomorrow so now that the rehearsal dinner is done with, everyone is under strict instructions to rest up for the big day- but based off the gleam in Eddie’s eye and the corners he’s taking at light speed, you’re guessing the guest bed at the trailer isn’t the main destination right now.

You get comfy, too, kicking off your heels, tucking your feet up underneath the silk of your dress train, giggling as Eddie talks a mile a minute. It feels like old times; the passenger window gets rolled down, cool spring night air of Hawkins breathing life back into the both of you. 

It was stuffy, hot, and crowded in the main hall, a raucous ball of light and music and hugs over tables loaded with food; you both went delirious with happiness at seeing everyone in one room again.

Even so, the stark contrast of the still, dark forest is a relief. Eddie parks at the edge of trees just outside Hawkins High, pools of light from the parking lot swallowed by the thick perimeter of sycamores. 

You’ve never been on this side of the forest before- the two of you were friends, in highschool, but Eddie was a deft hand at keeping you away from his less savory dealings back in the day. 

Now, he takes your hand, confident and sure-footed, your bare feet pressing into the soft underbrush as you follow close behind. 

After a minute, your eyes adjust- at dizzying heights, the trees split apart to reveal the sky, twinkling pinpricks of stars lighting your path to the centre of the woods. Eddie’s laughing while he recounts the time an old gym teacher caught him out here, and points out the exact tree he had to scramble up to get away. 

Your fingers are warm, weaved in between his, and it’s either the champagne or the love that makes you tipsy, leaning into the twine of arms, resting your forehead against his shoulder- “Wish I could’ve seen it.”

“Nah.” Eddie kisses the crown of your head, strokes his thumb over your knuckles as the picnic table appears into view. “Glad you stayed out of trouble and let me be the one to get into it.”

The wood table is decidedly much older than in its heyday as a pharmacy counter, but in good enough condition to hold your weight as you sit right on top, leaning back into your hands- “Got into plenty of trouble, I was just a bit better at hiding it, s’all.”

“That right?” Eddie comes to stand between the v of your spread legs, hem of your dress climbing along with his hands that settle on either side of your bare thighs. In the moonlight, the sleek black of his hair glows, backlit in white like a halo.

He’s grinning. You are, too, no sense in playing coy- but you’ve got another card to play, before the chase is up. 

“Actually, I kind of brought you out here for something.” You sit up, pressing the length of your body against his, breasts to chest, nose notching to the side of his own; Eddie sucks in a painfully sharp breath. 

When your leg hooks at his hip, pelvis pulling flush with yours, his grip tightens.

You kiss your way up the column of his neck, then whisper, “I was kinda hoping I could buy some weed off you.”

“I- whuh?” Not quite words, Eddie talks around a tongue that’s gone limp; his head swims from the feeling of your teeth behind his ear. “You wanna… I don’t. I won’t charge you.”

You tsk, pulling away just far enough to give a reproachful look- “Come on, did you give up the goods this easy for every pretty girl who asked?”

“Nope. Just for you.” An easy and honest answer. Eddie slots himself further into the warmth of your body, the growing bulge in his slacks making contact with the strip of wet fabric between your thighs; you moan into his kiss, tongues a greedy slide of want in the others’ mouth.

Trying to keep up some semblance of the roleplay, you gasp out- “You didn’t even… let me offer to pay- oh, fuck, there- with an alternative method…”

Eddie gets a hand past the cup of your bra, massaging the fat and catching your nipple in a twist between thumb and forefinger. Your spine arches into the touch, giving Eddie’s other hand ample room to press against your low back, keeping you rocking forward in a slow grind.

“Let me guess.” His breath is a ragged heat at the side of your neck. “Was sex on the table?”

“Exactly.” 

With a tug to his roots, Eddie follows you down flat against the creaking wood, laughing at your quick wit, relaxing into your body- there’s nothing scary about these woods anymore. 

[novaursa]

Legacy (the pyre)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: castle black

- Next part: of snow

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal

The icy air of Castle Black was sharp and biting, but it did nothing to temper the fire in your veins. The courtyard was eerily silent, save for the crackling of the massive pyre that had been constructed in its center. Snow fell gently, the flakes catching the golden glow of the flames that now licked at the edges of the wooden platform.

Before the pyre stood the men who had betrayed Jon Snow—Alliser Thorne, Bowen Marsh, Othell Yarwyck, and the boy Olly, along with several others who had participated in the mutiny. Their hands were bound, their faces pale and tight with fear. Some muttered prayers to the Seven and the Old Gods; others stared ahead defiantly, their fates sealed.

Above them all loomed Viserion, her pale gold and cream scales glinting in the firelight as she shifted restlessly, her massive wings stirring the air. Her eyes burned with an intelligence and ferocity that made the gathered men tremble. The dragon’s low growl reverberated through the courtyard, a promise of what was to come.

You stood tall before the pyre, your silver hair whipping in the wind, your violet eyes cold and unyielding. The snow melted as it touched the heat of the flames, steam rising around you like a shroud.

“This is justice,” you declared, your voice carrying over the crackling fire and the muffled sobs of the condemned. “You betrayed your sworn brother, a man who sought only to protect you. You plunged your blades into the man I called my son. And for that, you will burn.”

Alliser Thorne, standing at the forefront, glared at you with unbroken defiance. “You call this justice?” he spat, his voice hoarse but strong. “This is vengeance. You’re no better than a Wildling queen, riding a beast of flame and fury.”

You stepped closer, your expression hardening. “You think yourself noble, Alliser? You who killed a man in the dark, surrounded by cowards? You think you can shame me with your words?” You gestured to the pyre. “This is mercy compared to what you deserve.”

Olly, the youngest among them, whimpered, his eyes wide with terror. His fear tugged at something deep within you, but you pushed it aside. He had made his choice, just as the others had.

Raising your voice, you called out to your dragon. “Dracarys!”

Viserion let out a deafening roar, her neck arching gracefully as she reared back. The air grew unbearably hot as fire erupted from her maw, a torrent of golden flames that engulfed the pyre and the men bound to it. Their screams pierced the night, a terrible, haunting sound that echoed across the Wall. The flames danced higher, consuming everything in their path, as the snow melted into slush beneath your feet.

The assembled men of Castle Black stood in stunned silence, some looking away while others watched with grim faces. Justice, vengeance, or horror—it was all the same to them now.

As the screams faded and the fire roared, Davos Seaworth burst into the courtyard, his face pale and drawn, his breath visible in the cold air. He pushed his way through the onlookers, his eyes wide with urgency as he called out to you.

“My lady!” he shouted, his voice cutting through the crackle of flames. “You must come back inside! At once!”

You turned sharply, the cold expression on your face softening into confusion. “What is it, Ser Davos?”

“It’s Jon!” he exclaimed, his voice thick with something you couldn’t quite place—fear, hope, disbelief. “The Red Woman… she’s done something. You need to see this.”

Your heart lurched, your breath catching in your throat. Without another word, you spun on your heel and began striding toward the keep, the heat of the pyre and the cold of the night forgotten as you followed Davos back inside.

Viserion let out a low rumble behind you, her wings folding as she settled near the smoldering pyre. The crowd parted as you passed, their eyes lingering on you with a mixture of awe and fear.

Inside, the air was heavy with an unnatural stillness. You could feel it in your bones as you ascended the stairs to Jon’s quarters, your footsteps quick and determined. Davos stayed close behind you, his expression grim but focused.

When you reached the room, you stopped short at the doorway. Melisandre stood at Jon’s side, her hands outstretched over his still body. The ruby at her throat glowed faintly, pulsing with a dim, otherworldly light. The air around her shimmered, as if the very fabric of reality bent to her will.

“What have you done?” you demanded, your voice sharp and filled with suspicion.

Melisandre turned to you, her face serene but lined with exhaustion. “What I was meant to do,” she said softly. “The Lord of Light has not abandoned us.”

You stared at her, your heart pounding as you stepped closer to Jon’s lifeless form. His face was pale, his chest still. For a moment, it seemed as though nothing had changed. But then, you saw it—a flicker of movement, the faintest rise and fall of his chest.

Your hand flew to your mouth as your knees threatened to buckle. “Jon…” you whispered, tears spilling down your cheeks as you reached for him. “Jon.”

The room held its breath as you watched, the faint pulse of life slowly returning to the man you had thought lost forever.

The halls of Dragonstone were quiet, save for the soft patter of servant footsteps and the distant crash of waves against the rocky cliffs below. Tywin Lannister sat in his solar, a fire crackling in the hearth as he reviewed reports from the capital and updates from his emissaries scattered across Westeros. The weight of governance was a familiar burden, one he bore with ease, yet tonight his focus was fractured.

The absence of his wife weighed on him—not as a distraction, but as a variable. Her sudden departure to the North, riding Viserion under the cover of darkness, had left him both irritated and uneasy. She was strong, fearless, and determined—but also unpredictable. It was a trait he admired, even if it vexed him.

A sharp knock at the door broke through his thoughts. Tywin’s sharp green eyes lifted from the parchment. “Enter.”

The door creaked open, revealing a flustered young servant carrying a squirming Damon in her arms. The boy’s face was red and tear-streaked, his small fists balled as he wailed loudly. The servant, clearly out of her depth, struggled to soothe him.

“My lord,” she stammered, her voice trembling, “the young master… he will not settle. He misses his mother, and none of us can calm him.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, his gaze flicking to the boy with a mixture of irritation and something more subtle—concern. He set down the parchment and rose from his chair, the firelight casting his imposing shadow across the room.

“Bring him here,” Tywin ordered, his tone even but firm.

The servant hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, gently setting Damon on his feet in front of Tywin. The boy’s cries quieted slightly as he looked up at his father, his violet eyes were wet with tears, which only made pale green flecks in them more pronounced.

“Damon,” Tywin said, his voice softer now but still commanding. He knelt slightly to bring himself closer to the boy’s level. “What is the meaning of this?”

Damon sniffled, his bottom lip trembling as he wiped his nose with his sleeve. “Mama’s gone,” he whimpered, his small voice cracking. “I want Mama.”

Tywin’s expression remained stern, but his gaze softened imperceptibly. He placed a steady hand on Damon’s small shoulder, his touch firm but not unkind. “Your mother will return,” he said firmly. “She has important matters to attend to. In the meantime, you are here, under my care. You are a Lannister. Do you know what that means?”

Damon blinked up at him, his sobs quieting as he listened. “It means… I’m strong?” he said hesitantly, his small voice unsure but hopeful.

Tywin’s lips curved into the faintest shadow of a smile. “Yes. It means you are strong. And strength is not shown by tears but by how you endure. Do you understand?”

The boy sniffled again, nodding slowly, though his tears hadn’t completely stopped. “But I miss her,” he said softly, his voice breaking again.

Tywin’s gaze remained steady. “Missing someone does not make you weak. But letting it control you does. Your mother would not want to see you like this.”

Damon’s small fists unclenched, and he wiped his face again, this time with a little more determination. “I’ll be strong,” he said quietly, though his voice wavered. “Like you.”

Tywin straightened, his hand still on Damon’s shoulder as he regarded the boy. “Good,” he said simply. “Now, come. Sit with me.”

He led Damon to the large chair by the hearth, lifting the boy effortlessly and setting him on his knee. The boy leaned into his father’s chest, still sniffling softly but beginning to calm. Tywin picked up the parchment he had been reading earlier, holding it in one hand while his other arm rested around Damon, steadying him.

“Do you know why your mother left?” Tywin asked after a moment, his tone conversational.

Damon shook his head. “To punish bad men at the Wall,” he said, his small voice uncertain.

Tywin nodded. “Yes. She went because she believed it was the right thing to do. She acted with purpose and conviction. That is what it means to be a leader. To put the needs of others before your own desires. Do you understand?”

Damon tilted his head slightly, his small brow furrowing in thought. “I think so.”

Tywin allowed a faint smile to touch his lips. “Good. Because one day, Damon, you will be a leader too. Dragonstone, Casterly Rock—they will be yours to command. You must be ready.”

Damon’s eyes widened slightly, the weight of those words dawning on him. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Tywin replied, his tone firm but not unkind. “You have the blood of lions and dragons. Never forget that.”

Damon seemed to draw strength from his father’s words, his small hands curling into determined fists. “I won’t forget.”

For the first time that night, Tywin allowed himself a moment of quiet pride. He returned his focus to the parchment, the boy settling against him as the fire crackled softly in the hearth.

The servant lingered near the door, watching the scene with a mixture of awe and relief before quietly slipping away. Damon remained nestled against his father, his small breaths steadying as sleep began to claim him.

And for a moment, the weight of the world outside the walls of Dragonstone seemed a little less pressing.

The morning sun was barely visible through the dense fog rolling over Dragonstone. The air inside the war council chamber was strained but orderly as Tywin Lannister stood at the head of the table, his sharp green eyes scanning the map of Westeros spread before him. Jaime Lannister was sitting nearby, arms crossed, while Varys lingered in the shadows, his hands folded neatly in front of him.

The quiet hum of conversation among the assembled lords and knights was abruptly shattered as the heavy doors to the chamber burst open. Two of Tywin's men, their faces pale and their breaths ragged, stumbled inside, their armor clinking with every hurried step.

"My lord!" one of them exclaimed, his voice filled with panic. "Dragonmont… there's something inside. Something that attacked us!"

Tywin straightened, his gaze narrowing. The room fell silent as every pair of eyes turned toward the men. "Speak clearly," he commanded, his tone icy but composed. "What happened?"

The soldier swallowed hard, sweat beading on his brow despite the chill of the castle. "We went to prepare food for Viserion, should the lady return with her dragon. But something else was there… something smaller, but just as deadly. It—it killed one of our men, my lord. Ripped him apart before we could do anything."

A ripple of unease spread through the room. Jaime stood up, his golden hand resting on the pommel of his sword. "What do you mean, something smaller?" he asked, his voice calm but edged with curiosity.

The second soldier, his hands trembling, spoke up. "A dragon, Ser Jaime. It was about the size of a horse, but it moved faster than anything I've ever seen. Its scales were dark—black, maybe, with streaks of red. It burned the others alive before taking flight deeper into Dragonmont."

The weight of those words settled heavily over the chamber. Tywin’s expression remained impassive, but his gaze flicked to Varys, who raised a brow in faint amusement.

"A second dragon," Varys mused, his voice smooth and measured. "How curious. Could it be that one of Viserion's eggs hatched after all this time? Such a creature would be far too small to have been here before."

Jaime frowned, his gaze shifting between Varys and Tywin. "If it was one of her eggs… I didn’t think any were viable. That’s what we were told."

Varys offered a faint, knowing smile. "Tales of dragons are often filled with mysteries and half-truths. Perhaps the heat of Dragonmont was enough to awaken the dormant life within one of the eggs. Or perhaps something else entirely is at play."

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line as he considered the implications. "You’re suggesting that this dragon, if it truly exists, is newly hatched?"

"It would seem so, my lord," Varys replied smoothly. "A creature of such size could not have been hidden here for long without discovery. If it is indeed from one of Viserion’s eggs, it raises… intriguing possibilities."

The soldiers shifted uneasily, their fear still palpable. One of them ventured hesitantly, "My lord, what should we do? That beast… it’s dangerous. And if it’s still in Dragonmont—"

Tywin raised a hand, silencing him. His gaze was cold and calculating as he addressed the room. "If there is a second dragon, it belongs to my wife—and by extension, to House Lannister. Its presence here may be unsettling, but it is an asset, not a threat."

Jaime stepped closer to Tywin, his expression skeptical. "And what do you propose we do with it? You saw how difficult it was to control Viserion, even with Y/N. Another dragon, unbonded and unchecked, could be catastrophic."

"Which is why it must be secured," Tywin replied evenly, his tone brooking no argument. "I want a team sent into Dragonmont immediately to confirm the creature’s presence and ensure it does not escape."

"My lord," the first soldier stammered, his voice shaking, "with all due respect, no man will willingly go back in there. Not after what we saw."

Jaime smirked faintly, though his humor was grim. "So much for Lannister bravery."

Tywin’s glare silenced him. "If none of you have the spine for it, I’ll see to it that others are brought in who do. This dragon will not roam unchecked."

Varys tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. "Might I suggest that, should this dragon indeed be viable, we consider how best to use it? Dragons do not merely symbolize power, my lord—they are power incarnate. To possess a second would tip the balance in our favor."

Tywin didn’t reply immediately, his mind clearly working through the layers of this revelation. Finally, he turned to Jaime. "You will lead the effort to secure this creature. Take only those you trust and proceed cautiously. I will not have any more unnecessary losses."

Jaime nodded, though his expression remained doubtful. "As you command."

The anxiety in the room remained as the soldiers were dismissed, their relief evident as they hurried out. Tywin turned back to the map, his fingers tracing the edge of the parchment as he considered his next move.

"If it is true," he said quietly, almost to himself, "then House Lannister’s strength will grow tenfold."

Varys inclined his head, his smile faint but knowing. "And with it, your enemies’ fear."

Jaime left the room to begin his preparations, his steps purposeful despite the uncertainty etched on his face. Tywin remained behind, his gaze fixed on the map as the implications of the morning’s revelation took root.

Far below in Dragonmont, the shadows stirred once more, and the low growl of a young, hungry dragon echoed through the depths.

The dim light of the candles in Jon Snow’s quarters flickered as though trembling in anticipation, the air heavy with an almost suffocating silence. You stood frozen near the door, your hands trembling despite the warmth of the room. Ghost, normally a calm and watchful presence, paced uneasily at Jon’s side, his red eyes glowing with something primal and unsettling. His low growls filled the room, vibrating through the wooden floor beneath your boots.

On the table lay Jon, his chest rising and falling faintly, the stillness of death having given way to something impossibly fragile—life. His pale skin seemed to glow under the dim light, and his dark curls were damp with sweat. Beside him, Melisandre stepped back, her face unreadable but her eyes flickering with the faintest glimmer of something resembling awe.

Behind you, Davos Seaworth lingered, his presence steady but subdued. His voice broke the silence, a soft and reverent murmur. “He’s breathing, my lady. He’s alive.”

Your breath caught, a lump rising in your throat as you stepped forward, the weight of the moment pressing down on you like a storm. Jon Snow, the boy you had raised as your own, the man you had grieved for, was alive—but at what cost?

Ghost let out another growl, his ears flattening as he stood protectively over Jon’s prone form. His unease mirrored your own, a gnawing fear that this miracle carried a terrible price.

As you approached the table, your voice trembled. “Jon?”

Jon stirred at the sound of your voice, his head shifting slightly on the table. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing his grey, haunted eyes. His gaze was unfocused at first, his breaths shallow and uneven. But then his eyes met yours, and something shifted. Recognition dawned, faint but unmistakable.

“Mother,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and weak, yet filled with a depth of emotion that broke something inside you.

A sob escaped your lips, and before you realized it, you were at his side, leaning over him. Your hands cupped his face, your fingers trembling as they brushed against his cold, clammy skin. “Jon,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Oh, my sweet boy… you’re alive.”

Jon’s gaze softened, though it was still clouded with confusion. “You… came,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I… saw you. I think I saw you. In the dark.”

Tears streamed down your face as you leaned closer, pressing your forehead to his. “I’m here,” you whispered. “I’ll always be here.”

Your arms wrapped around him gently, pulling him into a careful embrace. His body was weak and unsteady, but he leaned into you, his breaths shallow but real. The relief that flooded through you was overwhelming, a tidal wave of joy and anguish that left you trembling.

Behind you, Davos remained silent, giving you the space to grieve and rejoice. Melisandre watched from the shadows, her ruby pendant faintly glowing, her face serene yet enigmatic.

But even as you held Jon, a storm raged within your mind. He is alive, you reminded yourself over and over, clinging to the joy of it. But the voice in your mind, the one that whispered truths too dark to ignore, would not be silenced.

"At what cost?" it asked, gnawing at the edges of your relief. You thought of the flames roaring in the courtyard, the screams of the traitors as they burned alive. The thought made your stomach churn. Was that the price?

You pulled back slightly, your hands still cradling Jon’s face as you looked into his eyes. “Jon, do you know what happened? Do you remember anything?”

He shook his head faintly, his brow furrowing. “I… I was in the dark,” he said softly. “It was cold. Empty. And then… I heard voices. Yours.” His gaze flickered with uncertainty. “And hers.”

Your jaw tightened as you turned to Melisandre, your tears giving way to a sharp glare. “What did you do?” you demanded, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and fear. “What price did you pay for this?”

Melisandre met your gaze evenly, her voice calm and unflinching. “I did what the Lord of Light willed. Life was taken, and life was returned. The flames of the traitors were accepted as a sacrifice.”

You stiffened, your mind racing. Her words rang with a grim truth, and the memory of the pyre flashed before your eyes—the heat, the screams, the finality of it all. “You’re saying that burning them made this possible?”

“Yes,” Melisandre said firmly, her voice carrying the weight of conviction. “The Lord of Light requires balance. Death for life. Your act of justice in the courtyard satisfied the flames. It allowed me to call him back.”

You clenched your fists, your body trembling with anger and unease. “You used me,” you said, your voice cold. “You waited for me to carry out your god’s will without telling me the truth.”

Melisandre inclined her head slightly, her expression serene but unapologetic. “It was not deception, my lady. It was fate. You made your choice, and it was the right one. The Lord of Light guided your hand.”

You stared at her, your fury mingling with confusion and unease. The room seemed to grow colder, the weight of her words pressing down on you like the icy winds beyond the Wall.

“I will never forgive you for what you’ve done,” you said finally, your voice trembling but resolute. “If you ever try to manipulate me again, I will ensure the flames take you next.”

Melisandre said nothing, her gaze lingering on you for a moment before shifting back to Jon.

Jon stirred again, drawing your attention back to him. He looked at you with a mixture of weariness and gratitude, his lips parting as he whispered, “You saved me.”

“No,” you replied, your voice softening as you stroked his hair. “You saved yourself, Jon. You’ve always been stronger than you know.”

Ghost, still uneasy, let out a soft whine, his red eyes fixed on Jon as though sensing something neither of you could. You placed a reassuring hand on the direwolf’s head, silently promising that you would protect Jon, no matter what.

In the quiet of the room, you held Jon close, your tears falling freely as the storm inside you raged on. Joy and grief, relief and fear—they swirled together, leaving you raw and vulnerable. But one thing was certain: Jon was alive. And no matter the cost, you would ensure he stayed that way.

The cavernous tunnels of Dragonmont were dark and suffocating. The air was filled with the sulfurous stench of the volcano’s dormant power, and every step taken by Jaime Lannister and his men seemed to echo endlessly in the vast emptiness. The group moved cautiously, their hands gripping swords, spears, and crossbows as they ventured deeper into the mountain.

Jaime led the way, his expression a mask of determination. The stories brought back by Tywin’s terrified soldiers had been troubling enough, but the idea of a second dragon hiding within Dragonmont was something that could not be ignored. If it truly existed, it was both a threat and a potential asset, but Jaime couldn’t shake the unease settling in his gut.

“This place is cursed,” one of the soldiers muttered under his breath, glancing nervously at the darkened passage ahead.

“Quiet,” Jaime ordered, his voice low but firm. “Keep your eyes open and your mouths shut. If there’s a dragon in here, you’ll hear it long before you see it.”

Another soldier, younger and less disciplined, whispered, “Do you really think it’s a dragon, Ser Jaime? Couldn’t it just be some… creature from the depths?”

Jaime shot him a sharp look. “You heard the men’s accounts. It’s a dragon. The question is how large and how dangerous.”

The group pressed on, the tension mounting with every step. The tunnel began to widen, the walls shimmering faintly with deposits of obsidian. The heat grew more oppressive, beads of sweat forming on the soldiers’ brows despite the chill of fear running down their spines.

“Tracks,” one of the men said, kneeling near the ground and holding his torch closer. The faint indentations in the dirt were unmistakable—clawed feet, larger than any normal beast, but still small enough to suggest youth.

Jaime crouched beside him, studying the marks. “It’s fresh,” he said grimly, rising to his feet. “Whatever it is, it’s close.”

The sound of heavy breathing broke the silence, a low, guttural rumble that sent a shiver down everyone’s spine. The soldiers froze, their eyes darting around the chamber as the noise grew louder.

“Form up,” Jaime ordered, his voice steady despite the mounting tension. The men moved quickly, forming a semi-circle with their weapons raised, their breaths coming in shallow, panicked gasps.

From the shadows ahead, two glowing yellow eyes appeared, narrowing as they focused on the intruders. A low growl rumbled through the air, and the ground seemed to tremble beneath their feet.

“Hold your ground,” Jaime barked, drawing his sword as the creature stepped into the torchlight.

The dragon was small—about the size of a horse—but no less menacing. Its sleek, black scales glinted in the dim light, streaked with veins of deep crimson that pulsed like molten lava. Smoke curled from its nostrils, and its sharp teeth gleamed as it opened its maw, letting out a piercing roar that echoed through the cavern.

The men faltered, their grips on their weapons tightening as the beast reared back, its wings spreading wide and casting long shadows against the walls.

“Steady!” Jaime shouted, stepping forward to rally his men. “It’s just a beast. Remember the plan.”

The dragon lunged forward, its talons scraping against the rocky ground as it advanced. The soldiers held their positions, waiting for the creature to step into the trap they had carefully laid—a series of reinforced nets and spiked restraints designed to hold even a young dragon.

“Now!” Jaime yelled, signaling for the men to spring the trap.

The nets shot forward, ensnaring the dragon’s wings and pinning it to the ground. The creature thrashed wildly, its growls turning into enraged roars as it struggled against the restraints. The soldiers moved quickly, driving iron spikes into the ground to anchor the nets.

For a moment, it seemed as though they had succeeded. The dragon’s movements grew more frenzied, but the nets held, and the men began to cautiously close the distance.

Jaime held up a hand, signaling for them to stop. “Wait,” he said, his eyes fixed on the dragon. “Let it tire itself out. Don’t get too close.”

But the dragon was far from finished. With a deafening roar, it surged upward, the muscles in its powerful wings straining against the netting. The iron spikes began to creak and groan, and before the men could react, the restraints snapped free.

“Fall back!” Jaime shouted as the dragon burst from the trap, its wings unfurling and sending a gust of hot air through the chamber. It lunged at the nearest soldier, its talons raking through armor and flesh with terrifying ease.

Chaos erupted as the soldiers scrambled to retreat, their shouts of panic echoing through the cavern. The dragon turned its fiery gaze toward Jaime, smoke billowing from its nostrils as it prepared to strike again.

“Hold your ground!” Jaime roared, though his own heart pounded in his chest as he raised his sword.

The dragon reared back, its head darting forward with a hiss, and Jaime swung his sword in a wide arc, the blade narrowly missing its snout. The creature roared again, its massive wings sending rocks and debris clattering to the ground as it leapt toward the shadows.

“Regroup!” Jaime shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Back to the entrance! Now!”

The soldiers obeyed, retreating toward the relative safety of the tunnel, their faces pale with terror. Jaime lingered for a moment longer, his eyes fixed on the dragon as it disappeared into the darkness, its growls echoing ominously.

As the men gathered near the tunnel’s mouth, gasping for breath and tending to their wounds, Jaime turned to them, his jaw clenched. “This isn’t over,” he said grimly. “We’ll trap it again. And this time, we’ll make sure it holds.”

But as the dragon’s distant roars echoed through the mountain, Jaime couldn’t help but feel a flicker of doubt. This creature was no ordinary beast—and it wouldn’t be subdued so easily.

[lov3darlings]

darlings thoughts, figureskater!reader (18+)

cw: slight angst, bashing other skater lol, multiple orgasms, crying, mean!lando

lando sighed as he puts away the gym equipment. "mate you good?" his trainer, jon asked. "yeah, just a lil tired. let's continue this tomorrow," lando says getting up and wrapping up the gym session. lately, you and him were getting into arguments about you not spending enough time with him. "lando, the olympics are so near i cannot slack off, like at all," you yelled at him earlier the week. and since then the entire house was silent. both of you giving each other silent treatment. unable to understand another.

he drove to your rink. you mentioned something about having practice with another male skater because you both were selected to do some gala show together. the said male skater was recently blowing up for his numerous attempts to keep up with you in terms of jumping quads. but obviously lacked the skating skills as you do.

"it's pure bullshit! i am sick of this. you can't even hold the edge for lutz." lando hears you yell. your coaches declare a small break. your fellow skater leaves the rink, "to get freash air," he said, taking the coaches with him. you lean against the boards, body hot from sweat and anger. lando does the same, from the other side of the board. "what happened to my good girl? yelling at everyone now are we huh?" he humms.

your head shots up at his voice. "baby," your immediately filling up with tears. lando moves to hug you over the boards. "i'm so sorry," you sniffled as he rubs your back. you squealed when he lifted you over the boards. "you don’t understand how angry i am right now," he says as you mumble a string of apologise in his ear. standing on your tip toe to reach his height, despite still being in your skates.

"how about sucking me off as an apology," he hums. lando lets out a chuckle as your hands reach the waistband of his pants. "darling we're at your ice rink," he says. "do you want them to hear you being such a slut?" he added, pulling you into a hug. them, in question being your male partner and your coaches. "i dont care who’s outside," you reply as the older man held you in his embrace

lando pulls you into a kiss, his hands caressing your neck as he kisses you. it wasn't a gentle kiss. it was rough, as if he was desperate for it. he kissed you like a parched man, as if your lips was the water he needed. he pulled away as the burning sensation in his lungs grew, saliva still connected to your lips. "i want to make a mess of you," he says, breathing heavily. his fingers running through your hair strands, pulling onto a few of them.

"he's terrible. can't even hold a deep fucking edge on a lutz," you complain making the man chuckle. "yeah i heard you. don't you worry you'll be twice loud when moaning my name."

lando was man true to his words. he did made a mess of you when he had you at his mercy on his bed. moaning his name, like it was some holy mantra, twice as loud you were yelling.

he placed his lips on yours. heated kisses, his hands on your bare skin, yours in his curly hair, lips nibbling, biting, moaning into his mouth. it was one of those kisses that left you heavily breathing after.

"where do you need the most huh baby?" he teased, despite know the answer very well.  you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and guiding him to where you desperately need him, your cunt. "fuck, you're soaking wet for me, baby," he says.

lando smirked as he maintained eye contact while he gathered the wetness from between your legs with his fingers and sucked it off a little with a satisfied hum. he bought his fingers to your lips "clean my fingers, this is your mess," he commanded.

lando moves down between your thighs. he lazily licked at your sweet slit as he nosed at your clit. your hands gripping on his curls. he groaned a little at the soft touch. his tongue moving in circles as you pushed yourself closer to his face, practically begging him for more.

which was exactly what he was giving you. pushing two finger inside you. his lips and tongue slurping, sucking, and licking at your clit. you eyes rolled back as he pulled, what? thrid orgasm from you. lando makes sure to lick you clean. "fuck, sweetheart," he groans, smearing your cum all over his lips, breathing heavy, and lean up to kiss you with it.

"suck on it." he commands, leaving you suck whatever was left on his fingers. "good girl," he praised. lando doesn't give you another moment to ride down your high as he inserts his cock in your cunt. "lando wait—" you whined. "take it like a good girl and stop whining," he barks.

lando didn't move. instead he started kissing down every inch of your body he possibly can, murmuring against your skin how beautiful you are, showing how much he loves you. but it wasn't the time. you were far to needy for the man. "if you want something, you have to use your words," he mummrs.

"baby please, please, please, please fuck me, please," you whined. and that's all it take to get lando started, after all how can he ignore such a pretty angel who was warming his cock and begging for it. he rocked his hips in you with such pace that you saw stars, groaning and cursing in your ear.

your nails started scracthed his back again. lando hissed as you accidentally drew blood. he held your both wrists with his one hand. arms over your head, mouth gaping while he groaned, pressing and thrusting himself up into you. "just, like that, oh.. god," you mumble.

something that lando knew about you was that you often teared up as you reached your fourth orgasm. "gonna cry? go ahead cry f'me baby. let me see it," he said as the tear works starts flowing. he knew that you were sobbing not because it hurt. but because his cock was kissing the softest parts of you.

lando laughed at you as more tear drop fell. he actually fucking laughed. the sound had you squeezing his cock harder, and lando only laughed harder, his laugh mocking you. "tu, tu, tu, such a cry baby," he says wiping your tears. feeling cocky that he made such mess of you.

"oh—fuckfuck—lando," you gasped as you came around his cock. "oh my god—lan! it's too much!" you babbled, but lando only jutted his bottom lip out in a mocking pout. he loved you, truly he did, but there was a thrill he got from seeing you cry. cheeks puffy and wet with your trembling, parted lips. it was his favourite sight. "so pretty when you cry," he groaned as he finished in you. using his fingers to stuff his cum back in you.

"come 're," he says pulling you in his embrace, falling next to you. his fingers traveled down to your swollen cunt. "lan—too sensitive," you curled up to him as he fingers you at a tortures slow pace. "you've been too good for me tonight darling, just a lil more," he whispers.

"oh gosh," you sobbed on his chest as you feel your orgasm take over you. lando inserted another finger in you making you latch onto him tighter. "so pretty, so obedient," he praised. "that's it, there we go," he says as you cum all over his fingers again. lando pulled out his fingers from you with a faint pop. sucking on your cum that coated his fingers.

he then kissed you making you taste yourself on his lips. "so pretty for me," he muttered placing a soft kiss on your forehead. lando looked down at you, "i love you," he whispered. you smiled, feeling butterflies for the man next to you. "i love you too," you pecked his lips making him smile.

[daniellewritesfr]

𝐌𝐲 𝐋𝐚𝐝𝐲

Paring: Jon Snow x f!Reader

Summary: You arrive in Winterfell lending aid to House Stark but seeing Jon brings back lost feelings you both share.

Warnings: mentions of drinking, kissing, fluff.

Word count: 1.4k

Your heart pounded in your chest as you rode through the gates of Winterfell the familiarity of the high stone walls and the sight of Stark banners bringing back the memories of your childhood. You had, in the past, spent many years in Winterfell growing up with the Stark children. Your father became a good friend of Ned Stark; while fighting alongside each other during Robert's rebellion. Leading to many years spent in the castle. 

You arrived in the courtyard of Winterfell, the cloak you’re wearing doing surprisingly little to suppress the cold winds of the North. You had been called as a bannerman of house Stark to lend aid and fight the white walkers beyond the wall. You look around, all the people of Winterfell seem to have solemn faces ‘it’s quieter than I remember’ you think to yourself while dismounting your horse stirrups rattling, the stable boy rushes over to take the reins from your gloved hands leading your horse away. Your men follow you, dismounting their horses, gathering their things and moving supplies, all of a sudden the yard is buzzing with movement.  

“Y/n!” you turn at the sound of your name to see Sansa walking towards you, “lady Stark” you bow slightly she lets out a small laugh as she embraces you, “you mustn't call me that y/n” she smiles “well you are lady of the North are you not” you ask “that I am yes, but to you it will always be just Sansa” she states “very well than Sansa” you smile “take me to Lord Snow.” 

The castle is darker than you remember, as Sansa leads you through the doors of the great hall, you catch sight of Jon, the young man you once remembered as a solemn and brooding child.  

Walking past the large tables in the middle of the hall you pull off your gloves, you look up to see Jon sitting at the high table reading a letter “Jon” Sansa says he looks up, his face breaking into a warm smile when his eyes land on you. You can’t help but smile back. You haven’t seen Jon in a long time, not since before he left to join the Night’s Watch. “My lord,” you take a slight bow, he stands and begins to walk towards you not saying a word, his gaze lingering.  

Finally he speaks “My lady”. He lets out a small laugh before wrapping his arms around you, you can feel the warmth radiating off of him even with the layers of fur between you, he lets go resting his hands on your shoulders before they move to cup your face.

 “Look at you” he mutters, eyes raking across you he pulls away “I didn’t think you’d come.” 

“I’m sworn to House Stark my lord” you reply “it is an honor to fight for your family.” 

 “My lord” Jon repeated “since when were you one to be so formal”? He teased.  

You can’t help but smirk, while walking past him with your hands clasped behind your back making your way to the table running your fingers along the edge,the teasing tone in Jon’s voice luring out your own wit. “And here I thought that being declared King of the North automatically earned you the title of ‘my lord’.” 

Jon chucked, a low rumble escaping his throat, “yes it does except, we grew up together there is no need for formality between us.” 

“I suppose you're right” you agree, your voice lightening. “However don’t let that get to your head, a little formality never hurt anyone.” 

Jon raises an eyebrow playfully. “Is that so? Then perhaps I should start using ‘my lady’ whenever I address you.” 

You laugh “you can certainly try but, I can’t promise I won’t retaliate” 

Jon shakes his head, a smile dancing on his lips. 

A fortnight had passed since you'd first arrived back in Winterfell, and tonight you were dining with the Starks and their men in the great hall, enjoying the loud conversations and laughter ringing throughout the room. It had been a long while since you’d allowed yourself a good time. You spent the night laughing and socializing with the others. Not noticing the way Jon was looking at you. 

As the talking and laughter slowly began to die, people began to retire to their chambers, you being one of them as the fatigue from the day's ride was finally wearing on you. Standing up making your way out to a long hallway lined with sconces providing a small amount of light as you pass various chambers while walking to your own.   

Opening the door you’re greeted with warmth radiating from the fireplace, you walk to a small table in the corner of the room picking up a few letters that you had yet to open, before dropping them back down rubbing your temples knowing that the night would be full of endless reading.  

Jon hadn’t put much thought into what he was about to do, maybe it was the wine or maybe it was just pure ignorance he thought to himself, as he was making his way through the dimly lit corridors. When he arrived at the door, his heart was pounding in his chest taking a deep breath before he raised his fist to leave a soft knock. 

While on your 3rd letter of the night you hear a light knock at your door, getting up from your seat at the table curious as to who it could be. Unlatching the door expecting it to be Sansa you were startled to see Jon standing on the other side.

“Jon” you said surprised “it’s late” 

For a moment he didn’t say anything, his gaze lingering on your face. 

 “Evening” he said “I hope I haven’t disturbed you”   

“No, it’s alright” your eyes scanning his face for any indicator of what he was there for. Tilting your head slightly to one side. “Has something happened?” you asked 

“No, no, may I come in?” 

“Yes of course. Please come in.” 

Moving aside Jon steps through, making his way to stand in front of the fireplace. He looks nervous, still thinking something had happened you ask once again. 

“Jon” you pause, he looks up, his eyes finally meeting yours. The look on his face starting to worry you. 

The silence hung like smoke in the air as you awaited his response. 

 He mumbles, moving one of his hands to run through his hair, turning back to face the fire watching the flames dance. You cautiously walk up behind him reaching to put a hand on his shoulder, he turns to face you leaning into your touch.

 Long forgotten feelings wash over you.   

“Jon, please tell me” you insist, your hand now resting at his jaw he leans further into your touch before covering your hand with his. You stayed like this for a short time relishing in the moment, the unspoken understanding filling the space between you. Removing his hand from yours to cup your jaw as he draws himself closer, his eyes searching yours for permission.

You quickly nod, before he closes the gap between you, lips brushing together. Your lips part slightly, letting his tongue slip inside. His hand glides to the nape of your neck, then moving to your waist, pressing your bodies together. You moan into the kiss, hands running through his hair while he trails gentle kisses leading from your jaw to your collarbone, small breaths escaping your lips. 

Pulling away, his gaze meeting your own.  

“You have no idea what you do to me” he whispers. 

The look in his eyes was evidence enough revealing what he felt without uttering a word. Yet he continues to speak. Hands coming back to hold your face.

“I-” he pauses for a brief moment gathering his thoughts. “You are my every thought” He breathes. “The only person able to ground me, make me feel whole. Not a day goes by where I don’t think of you. How I wasted all those years believing I had no chance, only to be standing here right now. With you.” 

Tears begin to swell in your eyes threatening to fall. 

“You consume every part of me, body and soul.” He gently wipes away the tears that begin to fall. “You are everything to me.” 

You smile at him, leaning into his touch. 

“I love you.” 

The words feel heavy. 

He starts to speak afraid of your rejection, you cut him off colliding your lips together for a brief kiss before pulling away resting your forehead against his, shallow breathing filling the room. 

“And I you.” 

The words so lightly spoken, Jon wasn’t sure he heard them. 

Leaning in to kiss you softly once more, running a hand through your hair, his eyes full of nothing but affection. “My lady.” 

[hippielittlemetalhead]

Part 3 (One of Us) of 'Never Took The Time (To Forget)' previously known as 'Hopper Adopts Steve But Make It Sad'

Part 1 (Hop fucks up), Part 2 (Pride and Prejudices: Joyce Edition), part 3, Part 4.1 (With a Capital 'P'), Part 4.2 (Robin's Boy), Part 5 (Man Of The Hour)

Here's a bit more for you filthy animals 😘

Much like he's come to expect from the small soldiers these children have fashioned themselves into he's not surprised when they come pouring out of whichever of the twins' rooms they shoved themselves in like codependent sardines. He's not surprised by the looks of anger and disappointment and confusion. Claudia Henderson's kid -Dustin- looks on the edge of tears with a grim set to his mouth that reminds him of when the kid's mom is beyond words in her slow-burning fury. El and Will have matching looks of disappointed confusion.

What he's not expecting is the way Mike and the younger (usually more volatile) Sinclair are holding onto an incensed looking Lucas. Lucas who has always been the polite one when it came to addressing adults and the one to preach caution and thinking plans through. Lucas who has been quiet and withdrawn since Hop came back, spending his days at the edge of Party affairs when not helping in the rebuilding efforts around town or sitting at Max's bedside.

"What the fuck, Hopper?" The kid spits out and that seems to snap the rest of The Party into action. Will goes to join the two holding Sinclair back but Dustin starts near incoherently yelling in that screechy pitch only that kid seemed to be able to hit about bullshit cops and useless adults and to let Lucas go. "He idolized you, man! Would tell us all the time that you were 'one of the good ones' that if we ever needed anyone and he wasn't there, to find you. That you would take care of us because that's just what you did for people. Because you were good!"

"Lucas, chill out man." Mike pants though he's also glaring daggers at Hop.

This is where Joyce (god bless her) decides to step in. "Lucas, honey-" She says with her soft voice and big wet eyes and that warmth she seems to infuse into everything she touched. "It's complicated. There's some things you just don't understand and-"

"No! You two don't understand! Steve is GOOD. He's good and he cares and he takes care of everyone else and he always kept us safe." The kid seems to be losing some of his steam, pulling at his friends less and resigned to shaking in barely contained fury. "He gets hurt and he gets back up and he apologizes for taking a fall in the first place! He's just Good."

"I know he's been good to you kids and I appreciate that, I really do Lucas." Joyce says, her voice a little stronger, that steadiness returning. "Sometimes people in our lives can do bad things to others and we don't see it because we care about them and that's not always a bad thing. But we have to remember that the people who were wronged are allowed to be upset and that's normal to feel and-"

"You mean like Jonathan?" The room goes quiet. Will looks resigned but not surprised by Lucas' question but the rest of the kids look just as confused as him and Joyce. "Did you really think Steve broke his camera -in the school parking lot of all places- for the hell of it? Did you seriously never question it?"

Hop feels something twist in his gut. He had been so caught up in the search for Will and wrangling a frantic Joyce that he hadn't paid any attention to small-town squabbles like two teenagers having it out in the school parking lot, the destruction of personal property or what might have triggered it. He looks over the kids' heads to see Jonathan and his stoner buddy standing just outside his door. The friend looks confused but Jon is looking at his mom who hasn't noticed him yet like a man preparing himself for the gallows.

"Mom." Joyce's eyes snap from where they were locked on Lucas up to her oldest son. "Mom, I-"

"What are they talking about Jon?" It's quiet. Quiet and scared because everyone in the room knows that whatever secret reason Lucas (and maybe Will?) seems to be the only one to know Steve had for picking a fight isn't going to be good. Jonathan's mouth opens like he's going to say something but no words come out. "Honey, what did you do?"

"He took pictures of Steve and his friends the night Barbara Holland disappeared."

"Will?" all eyes except Lucas' (who is still glaring daggers at Hop) are on the two brothers. One scared and almost pleading the other disappointed and resolved.

"He hid in the bushes and took pictures of Steve and his friends with Nancy and Barbara. There were pictures of Barbara at the Harrington place before she died and he never told anyone. But there were also-" He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes like he can't look at his older brother who has hung his shaggy head under everyone's heavy gaze. "There were pictures of just Steve and Nancy. Alone together. In Steve's room."

There's a sharp gasp that he thinks came from Joyce but he's too busy watching the young man he's come to consider a son. His head is still lowered and his shoulders are curving in on themselves as he shakes off the hand his long-haired friend tries to place on his shoulder.

"Oh baby," Joyce's voice is wet again. A tone of horrified disappointment to it that Hop has only heard her use when talking to or about one other person. "Tell me you didn't."

"Then he-" Will clears his throat like this one is what gives him pause. "He was caught developing the pictures in the school's darkroom. All of the pictures. And he had zoomed in on Steve's window. Nancy was the center of the shot." The kid's eyes flit over to Mike (who is now turning an interesting shade of red as he glares at Jonathan) before he blushes and looks at the ground, "She uh-"

Lucas does not seem to share Will's newfound hesitance in the face of an enraged Mike Wheeler. "Most of the upperclassmen argue if she had a bra or not but they all seem to agree she didn't have a top."

"Oh my god." Everyone was frozen as Joyce began to crumble. "Oh my god." He reached out to catch her, her nails digging into his arm through his shirt sleeve as she stared unseeing at her oldest son.

Jonathan started forward. "Mom, I-" a hand in the middle of his chest stopped him. "Will, please, I need to-"

"Just stop, man." Lucas sighs. "You started this shit, you gotta deal with it before you hurt someone else besides Steve."

"I didn't mean to hurt Steve."

Hops feels himself frozen to the spot in a way he's not used to anymore these days. His mind is working overtime picking out all of the charges that could have been pressed even against a boy of 15/16 if any of the kids in Harrington's inner circle had told an actual adult about the situation. The veritable legal hell that would have been brought down on Joyce while searching for a son legally assumed dead.

"Is that what you told yourself when you helped Nancy cheat?" And it just kept getting worse.

Joyce gives off a whimper and the kids gathered make varied sounds of shock and disgust.

"They were broken up."

"Were they? Cause everybody at school and half the town seems to all know about you and Nancy disappearing together when Steve was still calling her his girlfriend and then you all showed back up to school, Steve beat to hell again and Nancy hanging all over you. The basketball team STILL talk about it."

He's heard enough. "Alright, that's it!" He yells out over the children yelling and Joyce demanding answers and Jonathan's friend trying to say something about there being some sort of explanation. "This doesn't help us help Steve."

Lucas shakes off the loose hold Erica and Mike still had on him and crosses his arms as he rolls back his shoulders and tilts his jaw up to fix him with a glare. The kid's stance is almost arrogant but Hop can't help but notice the way he rests his weight on his off side, his shoulders back and his posture straight without his chest puffing out ridiculously like Hop is used to from teenage boys gearing for a fight.

"I think you've helped enough, Hopper." It's quiet and biting and he lets himself have a moment of grief for the childhood these kids lost, and the fact that he's almost positive Lucas didn't pick up this easy confidence from anyone else in their monster fighting club but Steve. "You and Mrs. Byers want to play nice now cause you feel guilty and that's all well and good but what happens when Steve does something else you don't agree with without explanation? Or he and Jonathan or Nancy get in another fight? When we finally get rid of Vecna and the Upside Down for good? What happens when you don't feel guilty anymore?"

"I can't make any sort of promise you lot will believe. And lord knows I'm pretty shit at keeping them anyways. I just want to be able to try."

"He mourned you, you know. When we were told you didn't make it." That weight is back in his chest. "He held himself together around us but there were- there were moments we could tell. He and El really bonded over that. Over you. Over losing you."

"I didn't know."

"Of course you didn't. You didn't want to know."

"There's no way I can make you believe me. That I want to fix this."

"We want to, Hopper." Dustin butts in, placing a hand on Lucas' shoulder and limping up next to the other boy. "But from what you and Mrs. Byers were talking about... There's just a lot that makes a lot more sense and it doesn't inspire a lot of faith in either of you."

"We need to discuss this as a Party."

"Okay."

"That means letting us take care of it. Steve's one of us and you hurt him."

"I understand."

"So you and Mrs. Byers have got to wait till we say you can talk to Steve. That he's ready for it."

"Now, kids-"

"No they're right, Joyce. We fucked it up on our own and- and he trusts these little shits more than he trusts us right now. We've gotta do the same."

Joyce sighs, "Fine."

She's not happy about it and honestly neither is he. But if the last few years and his stint in a Russian gulag and the subsequent escape taught him anything it's maybe he needs to trust his people to do what they need to do.

The kids scurry back to whichever of the Twins' room they came from, led by a newly determined and involved Lucas and a furiously muttering Dustin. Jonathan and Joyce make their way to the kitchen and Hopper decides he's going to let them have that conversation in as much privacy as they can with a house as full as theirs.

Hopper sits in the living room, runs his hands through his hair that's finally growing out and pulls them down his face before resting his chin on steepled fingers. He hates sitting and waiting and relying on someone else for the next steps. But all he can think about is the sound Steve made. The look in his eyes. The pride in his voice the last time he heard him say, "My Hop."

That's it!

He stands up so fast his bad ankle protests and his knees pop. He limps to the front door, yelling out to the house that he has to go, has something to do. Calls out he has his walkie and that El needs to be ready on time. Then he's out the door.

Part 4.1

More coming soon! Hopefully! Work went from an active team of about 12 to 5, not including the managers we lost ssssooo... Yeah fun times. 🙃

So here's a tag-list, hope I didn't miss anyone. Feel free to yell at/with me in the comments or ask box. If you see your old tag in my list tell me your new one so I can fix it.

@thelittleclare @jackiemonroe5512 @0body0disphoria0 @strangersteddierthings @lingeringmirth @dead-cherry-bitch @irethsune @ink777 @the-daydreamer-in-the-corner @ledleaf @pansexuality-activated @paintsplatteredandimperfect @kinryuuki @katdeerly @yikes-a-bee @altocumulustranslucidus @ohimamarigold @child-of-cthulhu @samsoble @sensationalsunburst @xxbottlecapx @y4r3luv @rocochen20 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @flustratedcas @rootbeerandmusic @vinteraltus

[bumblesimagines]

i've never been like that with anyone before.

this... isn't my bed.

Jon Snow

this... isn't my bed.

i've never been like that with anyone before.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

The hammering in his head reminded him of the time he and Robb snuck a bottle of their father's finest wine into his room to drink as boys, only to awaken the next morning with pained and clouded minds. Jon squeezed his eyes tightly and groaned quietly to himself, internally cursing Grenn for convincing him to drink as much as he did. As he waited for his body to catch up with his mind, his ears picked up the sound of wood creaking and sighed quietly, eyes parting and mouth opening to greet Samwell. 

"Morning, Snow." The familiar voice made his head jerk back, luckily into a feather-filled pillow, and his body tensed at the sight of the Night's Watch First Ranger, (Y/N) (L/N), standing over the bed. The ranger's lips curled into an amused smirk and he set a cup down on the nightstand beside his head. Suddenly aware of how dry his throat felt, Jon pushed himself up and took the cup, bringing it to his lips and drinking without thought. His nose crinkled at the metallic taste that filled his mouth, but he forced himself to swallow it down. Beet juice. A common remedy for a night of drinking.

"This..." His eyes finally absorbed unfamiliar the room he rested in. "Isn't my bed."

"Ever the perceptive one, aye?" (Y/N) laughed and Jon felt his cheeks warm. "I would've sent you back to your room but... you fell asleep and wouldn't budge. I didn't mind the company, though."

"Fell asleep?" Jon repeated quietly with furrowed brows. He forced the fuzzy fog in his mind to lift, finally allowing the memories of the previous night to fully flood in. They'd been given a night of relaxing and fun thanks to the Commander's good mood, and even Thorne hadn't been able to sour Jon's mood. Green and Pyp had jumped at the opportunity to drink and convinced Jon and Samwell to indulge themselves as well until Jon had staggered out of the main hall for some fresh, cold night air and found (Y/N) sitting alone. The exchange had been brief and filled with longing for their homes until Jon's tipsy mind urged him to plant a kiss on the lips he often found himself gazing at. His skin lit ablaze at the memories of what followed and he avoided (Y/N)'s amused gaze.

"You remember everythin' now, Snow?" 

"Yes, sir, I do." Jon noticed (Y/N)'s smirk turn crooked from the corner of his eye, and wanted nothing more than to take a running leap off the top of the Wall. (Y/N) snickered under his breath and reached down to collect the layers of clothes scattered across the floor before dumping them on the bed and nodding toward them.

"Get dressed, Snow. Not many are up yet. You still have time to head back before anyone notices." His voice verged on authoritative and Jon felt inclined to follow his every word. After the disappearance of his uncle, Benjen Stark, Commander Mormont had appointed (Y/N) as the new First Ranger, despite his young age and Thorne's disapproval. However, Jon couldn't tell if he followed his every word loyally because of his position or because of the heat that spread whenever (Y/N) entered his vicinity. 

"I... I've never been like that with anyone before. I've... never been with anyone at all." Jon confessed quietly. He had plenty of chances, of course. Giggly servants, brothel workers, the daughters of his father's friends. Even with his status as a bastard, many still expressed their interest. But he always chickened out sooner or later. 

"Ah.." (Y/N)'s lips pressed together. From the way he'd taken charge during their night together, Jon easily deduced he wasn't his first nor would he be his last. Jon grinded his teeth together and cleared his throat to rid himself of the embarrassment and jealousy. He finished the beet juice and set the cup aside before swinging his legs over the edge and standing. Pain and soreness shot up his spine and (Y/N)'s hand shot out to stabilize him. "Take it easy, Snow."

"'M fine," Jon murmured with a wince. (Y/N) released an unconvinced hum and cupped both of his shoulders, keeping him still and balanced as Jon rolled his shoulders and stretched out his aching muscles. When Jon's eyes remained lower, (Y/N) hooked his fingers around his chin and jerked his head toward him. 

"I'm not dumping you aside, Snow. I'll take care of you if that's what you want." Jon swore his face couldn't get any hotter and swallowed thickly. He meekly nodded.

"I'd like that."