#like are you more likely to have his year be the same if you like Flintwood so they can be at each others throats even more from the start
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pairing: lando norris x fem!reader
word count: 2k+
summary: your relationship with lando through the teenage years
warnings: pda, established relationship, mostly fluff, some angst | i know lando moved to glastonbury later in his life but 𤍠i also wrote this in 2 hours instead of doing because i got excited and had an idea
   You and Lando had first met when you were teenagers. Him being a lanky teenage boy with puffy cheeks and curly hair, and you being a young girl with frizzy hair and a youthful look in your eyes. It wasnât a surprise to anyone when you first started dating, itâs like you both were on the same wavelength.
You still remember the day you met him ââ how could you not? You two went to the same school so you knew who each other was, and you had heard of him from people around the town talking about his karting career. Your parents were family friends with the Norrisâs, and they never failed to talk about how proud they were of their children.
It was the start of school after the 2013 summer break. You had quite a small friend group in school so when you had classes with no one you were friends with, you tended to be quiet and focus on your school work. That resulted in you being forced to sit next to the rowdy kids. Why? You didnât know. Itâs not like it changed them, and it just bothered you. It was one of those times, and it was Lando who was put next to you. Him and his friend group tended to be the disruptive bunch. They werenât bad people or bad at school, just got a little too loud at times and forgot to pay attention.
You were sat in the middle row of your math class. The seat next to you was empty at the start of class, but at the end it wasnât. Lando and his friends got a little too loud and he was âpunishedâ by being put next to you so he couldnât talk with his friends. You looked at him when he made his way over, but that was it. He was cute ââ you could admit it. And it didnât hurt that someone cute was being put next to you, but you shook your feelings off and forced yourself to focus. At them end of class when you were grabbing your things, a hand poked your shoulder. You turned around and came face-to-face with the Norris boy. He looked a little nervous, fidgety and a small smile on his face. You tilted your head. âHey ââ I uh ââ didnât have enough time to finish some of the notes. Do you mind if I borrow some of yours?â
You were a little surprised, you didnât think he cared that much about school. Most kids wouldnât bother getting down a little bit you missed ââ not even you ââ but he did. You smiled and nodded. âSure,â you told him as you grabbed the paper out of your binder and gave it to him, âjust return it once youâre done?â He nodded. The next day in class, he walked over to you and gave the paper pack, and you figured he would go back to his friends because the seat want permanent, but he didnât. He put his bag on the ground and sat in the seat next to you. He did that, every day, for the rest of the year.
You two got to know each other well. You learned more about his competitive karting career and his family, while you told him about your family and friends. Nothing ever happened between you two, you were just friends. You had a crush on him, but you convinced yourself it was your mind tricking you because it was your first friend that was a boy. He thought the same, but he didnât not believe his, he just didnât act on it.
It was summer break, a year after you met him, when you realized you did like him. You were chatting with your grandma at her house as you were helping her sting stuff around the house. She had asked about your school semesters and how it was. You rambled on and on, not realizing that you mostly takes about Lando. It wasnât until you were putting one of the last boxes down for her that it finally hit. âYou must really like that boy, no?â You looked at her weird. âAll you did was talk about him. You must like him.â It was when she said that that you had a moment of realization. After you finished helping her you went home to your mom and talked to her, confused on how to deal with this newfound information. She just laughed and gave you a hug, telling you that almost every teenage girl goes through this with someone in their life. That made you feel a bit better.
Your friendship turned into something more a couple weeks after that. The Norris family had invited your family to come watch one of Landoâs races at Buckmore Park. Your parents agreed as they wanted to catch up . . . You agreed because you wanted to see Lando. He did well, coming 5th place. You could tell he wasnât happy about, but you were. You and your family met up with him at the end of the race. He wasnât looking too happy, but when he saw you his face lit up. When you congratulated him he blushed. Your families talked for a bit ââ mostly about how summer break was going ââ and you were about to leave when Lando called out your name.
Your family continued to leave, saying they would meet up with you at the car with your mom winking at you. You blushed. At first there was some awkward silence, and then he asked âwould you like to go on a date?â You were a bit shocked, not expecting it, and you were nervous. What did people do on dates anyway? You know adults went out to eat and drink but you were fifteen! You completely forgot that you had to answer his question, and he started sputtering out words saying that you didnât have to, and he was sorry before you interrupted him with a âyes.â It was his turn to look surprise.
You went on a date the next week, both of you unknowingly doing the same thing and panicking to your parents beforehand. It went fine, a bit awkward ââ obviously ââ but you thought it was cute. You went out for icecream and walked around Bristol. Halfway through the date he slipped his hand into yours, and you accepted it, but didnât dare to look him in the eye.
After that, you two were inseparable. You two were always together, and practically lived at each others houses. Sometimes ââ for weeks on end ââ your parents never saw you a lot because you were always at Landoâs house. His parents always updated yours on how you were, and they trusted you. During an interview for Drive to Survive, your parents swore during those times they only saw you in the morning and night, the rest of the time you were with Lando. This would switch between you staying at his and him staying at yours.
Though Lando wouldnât admit it when he was a teenager, he would do anything for you. If you asked him to jump off a bridge, he wouldnât even ask why, heâs just do it. There are so many pictures on your phone and Polaroids of him in âembarrassingâ situations ââ like one where he had a face mask on and his nails painted. You keep that one in the back of your phone case. He would let you braid his hair, practice makeup on him, help him with his skincare, and so many other things. This would always be in the secrecy of your room and when your families werenât there because he dreaded the day his family saw him like that.
He had no idea that you had shown his sisters and parents almost every single one. They promised to keep it quiet, and they did. You also know they wonât tell him that they have some of those pictures on their phones. Itâs a secret between you and them, a need to know thing.
Whenever you had sleepovers at his house, you would stay with his sisters because you werenât allowed to be with him ââ for good reason ââ and because you loved his sisters. As you got older, you bonded more with them, helping them out with boy problems and girl problems, because everyone had those girls in high school who made your life a living hell. You broke down crying when you found out they were moving to Glastonbury. How would you survive without not being able to hug your boyfriend? How would you cope without the gossip sessions with his sisters? The talks about your life over helping Cisca with dinner and talking politics with Adam? Laughing at embarrassing moments of Lando with his brother?
Before that, you had put off getting your license. You walked or took buses to most places, and it saved you money. When you found out they were moving though, you made it your lifeâs mission it get your license and a car. You were on moving day, helping the family with setting things up and cleaning up the place. You still remember the dinner you had that night. It wasnât fancy, just Chinese takeout on a table in the half put together living room, but it was one of the moments where you truly felt like family. It wasnât that you hadnât before, but it was the private ness of the situation that really hit your heart. You begged to stay over, not caring that it was a school night, but you couldnât. You hugged everyone goodbye with teary eyes, kissing Lando, and promising to be back soon.
And you were. When you had that car, you spent an unbelievable amount of money on gas. You drove to his house almost every weekend. Sometimes he would come over to your house, but it was mostly you going over there out of convenience. If Lando wanted to go to yours, heâd probably have to pile all of his siblings in the car, while you didnât have to do that. Besides driving to Glastonbury, your car was also used as a pick me up. Whenever something happened with his sisters, youâd be there in a heartbeat, telling them to get in ââ telling Lando he canât come with him grumbling something under his breath ââ and youâd go and grab food. Whatever they needed, you were there ready to do it? Boy problems? Junk food and a sad playlist. School problems? Listening to them vent and giving them advice. Period problems? That depended on that they wanted. You even remember one time on March break Flo had an experience with a boy and you took her to a rage room . . . It was so fun, and you definitely did it again with Cisca.
While you were there for all the important events in Landoâs life, he was the same. He was there when your grandma died, and you swore he was one of the few things that kept you together. He was there when you graduated high school and got accepted into your dream school.
Your relationship stayed the same throughout his whole career, you to where you both were now, living in Monaco. You still acted like teenagers, jokingly fighting over little things and teasing each other. Your love baver wavered, it stayed the same for each other, maybe even became stronger. There were periods in your relationship like when he first started in Formula One and you moved to college that it was tricky, but you go through it. You always would.
As you sat on the sofa in your home and twirled the ring on your finger, you remembered the whole of your relationship and the future of it. You were broken out of your trance by a kiss on your head. You hummed, not turning to look at him. âSheâs gone to bed. Sheâs been changed and given her bottle. You smiled and looked up at him, âthank you.â He kissed you on your lips, âof course. You ready to go to bed, Mrs. Norris?â You chuckled and got up, walking around to the couch to meet him in his arms.
âAlways, Mr. Norris, always.â
#emma writes#imagine#x reader#x fem!reader#lando norris x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x you#lando norris#ln4#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#f1 imagine#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one imagine#formula one#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x you#formula 1#formula 1 imagine#f1 fic#formula one fic#formula 1 fic
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LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - SIX
pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care; drug and alcohol addiction;
Rafe had been clean for the past three years.
Over the course of the year, things between him and you had been smooth sailing.Â
It was almost easy, something he wouldnât have believed a few years back when everything he touched seemed to go up in flames. Thereâd been a time when he was just too muchâangry, impulsive, doing all the wrong things for all the wrong reasons.
Heâd been selfish, reckless, it was intense, way too intense, and when you fought, it was like you were both throwing grenades, just waiting to see whoâd blow up first. Youâd pushed him away, heâd pushed you harder, and youâd both crossed lines that shouldâve never even been close.
Eventually, both of you learned to talk instead of shouting, learned when to back down instead of pushing buttons just to get a reaction. Youâd gotten better at letting each other breathe. Heâd pull back when he felt himself getting heated, and youâd do the same.
It wasnât perfect; sometimes youâd still get into it, still end up in an argument that felt like old times, but it was different. There were no more lines on the bathroom counter, no disappearing at all hours.Â
Until Ward died.Â
Rafe didnât know what the fuck to feel when he got the news. He knew what he was supposed to feel, right? Heâd done it before with his mom, now it was his dadâs turn. The man who had raised him, the one to teach him everything he knew about how the world worked, even if it wasnât pretty.Â
Ward was a hard man, a strong man. The kind of guy who commanded respect, even if he didnât always show it the way others might expect. But thatâs the thing, he was a man of respect.Â
To Rafe, that meant something. Everything.Â
Ward had shaped him, he couldnât just forget that, couldnât act like that wasnât important.
At first, you were there for him, no question.Â
He knew you hated Ward, you barely tolerated the thought of him even existing in the same room as you. You spent those first few weeks with him, making sure he didnât spiral back into the shit that nearly destroyed him. He needed the support, even if he didnât always know how to ask for it.
You were there, holding it down. You got through it, the late-night talk, but then, you started getting distant.
At first, it was subtleâsmall things. Heâd catch you looking at him like you didnât quite get him anymore. Youâd pull away when he needed you to listen, when he was ranting about Ward, and even though you tried to hide it, Rafe could see the dissociation.
He pretended he didnât sense it, tried to tell himself youâd come around.Â
After all, this was his grief, and no one else was going to understand it the way he did. His dad had been everything to himâmaybe not in the way you thought he shouldâve been, but that was just the reality of it.
For the first time in years, it felt like you werenât there with him. It didnât make sense to him how you couldnât see it.Â
Ward had been a tough guy, sure, cruel sometimes, but he was also a provider, a father who tried to teach him how to survive, even if it didnât always come wrapped in the right way.
He wasnât perfect, but he was the only father Rafe had ever known. He was gone all of a sudden and that was what had hurt the mostâknowing heâd never get the approval heâd always been chasing, even when he was clean, even when he was doing better. There was no fixing that.Â
He wanted to mourn in peace, but no one seemed to understand why Ward still mattered to him, not even Sarah.
Three weeks after the funeral he spent his days surrounded by a few bottles of scotch heâd stolen right out of his dadâs stash. Who was gonna stop him now, anyway? He almost laughed. Three years clean. Shit, that was something, wasnât it?
Heâd had people telling him he wouldnât make it three weeks, let alone three years. Shit, his dad sure didnât think heâd get this far. Only you.
Rafe squinted at the amber liquid swirling in his glass, then leaned back in the worn leather of his dadâs old armchair. It felt weird being in here, in his chair, in his office, breathing in that persistent smell of old cigars and varnish.
After the whole âfuneralâ, with everyone looking at him like he was a wild animal about to snap, this was the only place he could sit without someone judging him.
If youâre so clean, why are you drinking yourself half to death? He took a slow sip, letting it burn down his throat.Â
It wasnât like it used to be, that high that hit fast and hard, and didnât care if it broke him apart.
This was different, a slower, quieter process.
Besides, he was in control this time. Just a drink, he told himself, fingers tightening around the glass. No powder, no pills. That was progress.
So what if he had to take the edge off? Who wouldnât, if theyâd just said goodbye to their only living parent and had to look at their younger sisters crying like that?Â
He was practically swimming in alcohol. Rafe knew he was overdoing it, but he didnât care.
Every time he saw himselfâ on a window, mirror, whateverâhe had a drink in his hand, and something about it just felt terrifyingly right.
Grounded.
Nobody understood him; they just kept looking at him with that worried face, like he was on the verge of losing it like he used to when he was younger. Maybe he already had.
You watched himâreally watched himâand yeah, he could tell you were pissed. He saw it in that little wrinkle between your eyebrows every time he took another sip. But you didnât say anything.Â
Even Wheezie was on his case in her quiet way.
She was hanging around, throwing out old jokes and trying to make him smile, but he barely reacted. She was looking at him like she was scared, as if he was some stranger she was trying not to set off. And he hated thatâGod, he fucking hated it. So he kept his distance, hoped she would back off, let him get through this his way.
But then came that night at the beach bonfire, when everything changed.
He probably shouldnât have gone, but he needed to get out and feel normal againâeven if that just implied showing up and pretending, he was fine. He dragged you along, flashing that cocky grin you could see right through, but you followed anyway, probably just to keep an eye on him. He could feel itâthe way you were watching him, worried as hell, that just made him want another drink.
Half the people were staring, too. Waiting to see if he was gonna go off, if he was back to the same volatile Rafe he used to be, the one they loved watching spin out. And just when he thought he could ignore it, some random pogue, scruffy, half-drunk, threw out a comment loud enough for the whole group around him to hear.
âGuess Ward Cameron finally found some gold he couldnât buy his way out of, huh? What was he thinking, running off to some country where people donât just take bribes? Practically killed himself.â
It took everything in him not to lunge right there, but he was too plastered to keep the anger off his face. He pushed his way over to the guy, hands clenched into fists.
âYou got something you want to say to my fuckinâ face?â
The guy shrugged, muttering something under his breath, people were looking now, everyone watching to see if he was finally going to give them a show.
Before he knew what he was doing, he was shoving him back, hard enough that the dude stumbled, beer splashing out of his cup. The crowd around them stirred, murmurs, but nobody did a thingâthey were just staring, waiting to see the blood spill. He felt tempted to hurt someone, felt that cameron fury crawling up his throat.
It didnât matter that he was twice as drunk as he should be; all that mattered was the way his fatherâs name was rolling off this nobodyâs lips.
He felt you grab his arm, long nails digging hard enough to pull him back, he jerked his shoulder, trying to shake you off, but you werenât letting go.
âYouâre gonna waste your time on him?â
Rafe gritted his teeth, but you didnât give him a chance to argue. You hauled him back, forcing him away from the guy, who was still standing there with that smug look plastered on his face.Â
âGet out. Now,â you urged him, voice calm but with the tone that even he didnât want to test. He glared at you, mouth opening to argue, but you didnât let him get a word in. âRafe. Now.â
You were mad at him.
It was enough to knock some sense into him, and he let you reel him away, but not before you turned back.
âAnd you,â you called out, enough to silence the chatter around you. âKeep your fuckinâ mouth shut.âÂ
There was no bluff, no hesitation, and Rafe watched as the pogueâs smug expression dropped instantly, eyes widening as he realized you were dead serious, your familyâs name always had an impact around town, old money and all.
As you dragged him to the car, he muttered that he didnât need you playing bodyguard, but you ignored it, taking him out of the spotlight he hated but couldnât seem to avoid.
His head was spinning, his blood boiling, and he couldnât even look at you, not with how angry he felt.
By the time you pulled up to his house, you got out, guiding him inside with that hard, that silent determination he both hated and admired in you.Â
You were there, right behind him with that look on your faceâangry, disappointed, like he was missing something big, as if he was the one who didnât get it.
He stumbled into the bathroom, holding himself against the sink, and before he could even catch his breath, you turned on the faucet and splashed cold water in his face. He jerked back, sputtering, wiping it with the back of his hand. When he looked at you, his anger burned again.
âWhat the fuck is your problem?â he snapped.
âMy problem?â you scoffed head already shaking, âAre you serious?â
âYou donât get it,â he growled, barely controlling the rage, the shameâeverything. âYou donât know a fuckinâ thing about him. I had the right to defend him.â
You took a step forward, finger pointed at your chest, âDonât I? Because I remember standing in this very house, watching him tear you down every chance he got. Youâre so busy mourning this man who treated you like shit, that youâre pushing the people who care about you away. Itâs not just me. Itâs everyone.â
Rafe laughed bitterly, the sound humorless. âOh, here we go,â he muttered, rolling his eyes as he turned back to the sink, gripping the edge hard enough to make his knuckles turn white.
âDonât you dare roll your fucking eyes at me,â you retaliated, stepping up beside him. âI stood by you through all of it, Iâm not gonna stand here and watch you kill yourself because of him. Heâs the reason you felt like you had to be so perfect all the time, why youâre always trying to prove yourself to people who donât deserve it. And now heâs gone, and you still canât see it. Youâre still trying to be good enough for him!â
He didnât look at you, didnât want to see the indignationâor worse, the pityâin your eyes.
âJust stop,â he muttered, but you were past listening.
âNo, I wonât stop. I canât. I canât keep watching you do this to yourself again. Youâre better than this.â
He suddenly pushed himself away from the sink, and turned to face you, his blue eyes practically black with a hurt that was older and deeper than either of you could touch.
âYou donât get to stand there and tell me what I deserve.â
âI know what you deserve.âÂ
He scoffed, rolling his eyes again, though his face had gone a shade paler. âYou think you know everything, donât you?â he sneered. âThink you know whatâs best for me? Get off your high horse.â
âYouâre damn fucking right I know better than you do, Iâm not the one whoâs drowning every night in some pathetic tribute to a man who wouldnât piss on you if you were on fire.â
He could feel it now, the bitterness youâd been hiding for weeks. It wasnât just about him drinking himself stupid. It was everythingâevery fucking thing youâd been ignoring, it had festered between you two while you pretended things were okay.
âYouâre the one whoâs just tired of me, of everything that comes with me.â
You took a step back, eyes narrowing, but you didnât flinch.
âWhat?â Your rage momentarily dialed down, the sound gurgling, âYou think Iâm tired of you? Iâve been here this whole time, trying to make you see the truth, but you wonât even look at me. You wonât let me in. Youâre too fucking blind to notice.â
His breath was shaky, too fast, but he didnât care. âSo now Iâm blind, huh? I didnât see you sneaking out the door when I needed you? I didnât notice how you pulled back, how you stopped giving a fuck about me? Youâre just waiting for me to give you an excuse to leave.â
You opened your mouth to argue, but he wasnât done.
âYou donât get it! I didnât need you to fix me, I needed someone to stay. But instead, youâ" His voice cracked, the anger choking him up, "Instead, you started to make me feel like I was a b-burden. Some mess you had to clean up. How am I supposed to deal with that, huh?"
You were shaking your head, your eyes had already been filled with tears, your chest suffocating.
âIâve been here. Iâve been standing right next to you, waiting for you to pull your shit together. I didnât walk away. You did.
His stomach churned, as if youâd taken every inch of space in his chest and twisted it, just for fun. The worst part was, he couldnât even argue with you. Not really. He had been so wrapped up in his own shit, so obsessed with keeping everyone out, that he hadnât even seen how far youâd already gone.
âDonât. Donât you dare try to make this about me,â he spat, the words ugly in his mouth, it felt like they were scraping their way out of him. âYou donât get to make me the villain in your story just because youâre tired of playing my fucking hero.â
âIâm not trying to play the hero!â you screamed, stepping closer, your eyes were cold. âIâm trying to help you see that you have to fix this. Not me. Not anyone else. But you. And if youâre so fucking broken you canât see that, then maybe you really donât need me.â
The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Rafe could feel his heart racing, that agonizing coil in his chest, but he couldnât stop.
âMaybe youâre right,â he said, voice quieter, but just as venomous.
He turned his back on you, walking to the door. The sound of his boots clamped against the wood floor like a countdown.
âMaybe I donât. Grab your shit and go.â
"Donât you fuckingâ" you snarled, but he was already moving, grabbing your jacket off the hook by the door and throwing it your way, âYou know what? Fine. Maybe I will.â You shoved that stupid thing on, hands shaking as you yanked the zipper up. âDonât come running back in two days like you always do. Donât come crawling back.â
Rafe paused, hand on the doorknob, his jaw clenched so hard you could see the muscle ticking.
He didnât turn around, didnât look back at you.
âI donât need you to feel sorry for me.â
âGood. Because I stopped feeling sorry for you a long time ago,â you replied sharply, every syllable punctuated with weeks of resentment. âWhat I feel now? Thatâs just disappointment.â
You watched his shoulders lock up; his whole body wound so tight it was like he was one wrong look away from completely losing it. He didnât turn around either, even as you slipped out the door, but he knew.
That was it.
Two moths later, almost three, he was standing in front of the ER pacing like a complete fucking idiot after you passed out in his arms earlier.
Heâd told himself heâd stay away, make it easy for both of you.Â
That shitty plan had gone down the drain once he saw you speed away at that party with absolutely no regard for your safety or Topperâs. Heâd seen that wild look in your eyes beforeâthe one that said you were about to burn it all down. Or when your dadâs gala came around, and he couldnât sleep properly knowing he wasnât going to be there that year, knowing how you spiraled every time you had to step on that stage.
He had stupidly thought that maybe, one day, you two could still be friends. But today? That shit blew up in his face, for the second time in the span of a week.
He forgot what you could invoke in him when you were standing merely an inch away. He promised himself that heâd moved on, forced to consider that the love of his life might not be someone he could spend his lifetime with. Maybe you werenât meant for each other.
But how the fuck was he supposed to act when the girl who had been everything to him was hurting?Â
No, no, no.
Sofia was what he needed.
Someone who didnât know shit about his past, who didnât ask questions he didnât want to answer. She hadnât seen him the way you had, hadnât been there through every drunken rant and punch heâd thrown at the wall or someoneâs face, hadnât heard him rail against his dad or drag himself back from one of his darkest nights.Â
She hadnât called him a fucking idiot when he chose to throw his fatherâs ashes on the ocean. She wasnât going to call him a coward for it. She didnât have a clue about any of it, and that was supposed to be what he wanted.
He looked up at the ER doors for the millionth time in the past hour, his fingers clenched around his jeep keys so tight they left marks on his hand.
It was over between you two. Heâd make sure to keep the fucking distance, two whole months. If he didnât give you enough closure, youâd hate him faster and youâd both get over it.Â
So why the fuck was he about to set the whole hospital on fire as he watched John Bâs beat up twinkie pull up to the parking area? It shouldnât have surprised him, but it did.Â
Of course youâd call her, his own sisterâhis father's favorite.
Sarah had always been the golden child, Wardâs little angel who could do no wrong, while he was the family screw-up. Even now, youâd picked her, just like Ward would have.Â
He didnât think before he moved, closing the distance between him them in seconds.Â
âWhat the fuck are you doing here?â He barked right up in her face, daring her to explain herself.
Sarah didnât back down, though. She just looked up at him with that same cool, level expression she always had whenever he tried to get a rise out of her.Â
âIâm here because she called me.â
âShe called you?â He scoffed, eyebrows pulling together in disbelief. âYou? She called you?â He took a step closer, âSo what, youâre her savior now or some shit? Why the hell would she call you if Iâm right here?â His eyes narrowed, searching her face like he couldnât believe it. âAre you kidding me?â
Sarah threw her hands up, a look of pure exasperation on her face.
âAre you dense, Rafe? Youâre with someone else! Why would she want the guy who broke her heart to drive her home?â
He blinked, thrown off. âI broke her heart? She broke mine!â He laughed, but it was harsh, bitter. âI did us a favor. We were justââ
âOh, right. A favor?â Sarah cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm. âThat why youâre pacing out here like a goddamn lunatic?â
âGo away. Iâm driving her home.â
She stepped closer, her voice steely as she looked him dead in the eye.
âNo. She called me, she wants me here. Not you. So do yourself a real favor and go home before you do something even more stupid.â
A breathless chuckle escaped his lips, âShe already hates me, Sarah. Whatâs the fucking harm, huh?â He threw his arms out, as if daring her to come up with an answer that would hurt less. âWhatâs one more screw-up on top of everything else?â
âYouâre real dumb if you believe that. But if you wanna make it worse, then by all means, go ahead. Youâll just prove her right.â
He stayed rooted in place, chest heaving, the conflict ripping him to pieces. His hands shook, his throat tight with words he couldnât even begin to understand.
But Sarah had already turned her back on him, heading toward the entrance.
âWalk away,â she warned him, looking over her shoulder, âThatâs the only thing left for you to do right now.â
Rafe didnât know why the fuck he listened to her.
It was as if his body had already made that decision for him, understanding that if he didnât leave right then, heâd end up doing something stupidâsomething even more fucked up than what heâd already done. His tongue was locked in place, a curse on the tip of his pursed lips, but it never came.Â
His feet wouldnât move, his hands stayed at his sides, and that tightness in his throat wouldnât let him get a single word out, not one that would make any fucking sense. He hated that. Hated that you still had this kind of control over him.
Hated that he justâŚfelt like something was wrong.
You hadnât been this frantic, so impulsive since he had to take you home after your sister passed. He didnât want to remember that nightâyou damn near threw yourself out of his truck.
But he couldnât ignore the memory, the desperation on your face, the screams, the fight in his grip as he pulled you by your shirt back inside.
Heâd felt like he was holding on to something breaking apart in his hands, something he couldnât fix but couldnât let go of either. Heâd seen it again in your eyes when heâd caught you earlier at the beach clean-up, the way youâd tried to dodge his stare, voice cracking, legs wobbling when he mentioned the hospital.Â
Rafe still felt like heâd swallowed shattered pieces of glass every time he thought about you. And if he could just push it down, if he could just get through one fucking day without looking back, maybe heâd start to forget you.
His feet were glued to the hospital pavement, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. If you were about to crash, if this was anything like beforeâŚHe didnât know what the fuck he was going to do.
He had no reason to stay, youâd made it clear as day. He was supposed to be goneâout of your life for good. Youâd told him you didnât need him, he told you he didnât need you. So why the hell was he still standing here?Â
Perhaps because he remembered the last time heâd let you walk out, the way heâd watched you disappear, thinking he was doing the right thingâgiving you the clean end youâd both needed.
Maybe that made him sick to his stomach now, thinking of you in there with Sarah, telling his sister things you wouldnât say to him, letting her be the person he once was to you.
But youâd called her, not him. Youâd picked Sarah to be here, and that hurt like a bitch, but it was what heâd asked for, wasnât it?
This was what he deserved. He told you to grab your shit and go, forced you to leave because that was supposed to make it easier.
Heâd impulsively made his choice the minute heâd wrapped his arm around Sofia, pulling her close in front of everyone whoâd once known he was yours. Heâd talked himself into it. It was the right call, moving on was the only way to finally get you out of his system.Â
He was the one who decided itâd be easier to act like he forgot you than to actually try. He thought he could make it easyâpain-free.
Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked back toward his Jeep. He gripped the door handle so hard he could break it in half if he wanted to, feeling his knuckles strain.
If he let go, if he closed that door and stormed inside, heâd just be right back where he started.
He stared at his reflection in the window, his hardened face staring back. His pulse was pounding in his temples, his gut twisting and turning as he tried to bury it all six feet underâthe need to just go to you, to hold your hand or yell at you for making him care so fucking much.
He finally released the death grip he had on the door handle, forcing his fingers to relax, his knuckles still throbbing. He slid into the driverâs seat, the cold leather youâd help him choose, mocking at his skin as he slammed the door shut.
With a quick flick of his wrist, he threw the car into drive, the tires screeching as he peeled out of the parking lot.
He drove like he was being hunted down. He wanted to get as far away from that place as possible, praying the miles between him and you would stop the churning inside him.Â
Youâll just prove her right.
He hated her for saying it, hated Sarah for knowing exactly what buttons to push.Â
As he rounded a curve, his headlights swept across Topperâs house. Rafe cut the engine and stalked toward the backyard. Topperâs sprawled-out form on a reclining chair, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses somehow still on evenly.
He stomped up and smacked the end of his chair.
"Wake the fuck up."
He jolted, nearly tumbling off the chair, ripping his sunglasses off and squinting up at him. âJesus fucking christ, dude, ever heard of calling ahead?â
But Rafe didnât answer. He just paced, hands in his growing hair, digging into his scalp like he could rip the frustration out of his skull. Topper sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, he didnât even look at him, just kept muttering to himself, biting his lip, pacing.
âWhat the hell happened?â
Finally, he stopped, âI need you to find out whatâs wrong with your cousin,â he muttered, not wanting to admit he cared enough to ask.
Topper blinked, brow furrowing. âWhat do you mean, whatâs wrong with her?â
Rafe only shook his head, hands on his hips as he stared at the ground. âI donât know, okay? She justâŚsheâs acting off. And I canâtâIâm not supposed to care, Top. Iâm not. Iâm with Sofia now, alright? But sheâs stillâŚâ His voice trailed off, as he scrubbed a hand down it.
Topper tilted his head, eyeing him knowingly.
âRight, yeah, whatever you say. Iâll figure it out.â
If Sarah Cameron didnât walk through that hospital door within the next three minutes, youâd lose all the courage youâd summoned over the last hours. Or was it just an hour? You werenât sure how long youâd been lying there, the IV needle taped uncomfortably into your arm.Â
Your fingers curled into the thin blanket draped over you, and you wishedâdesperatelyâthat you didnât feel soâŚempty.
Ten minutes later, she strode in with a glance at the door, as if she wasnât sure if sheâd be able to get there on time. The relief on her face when she saw you was reassuring but it only made the confusion in your chest heavier.
She was so different from Rafe, yet still looked so much like him. She sat in the chair by the bed, eyes scanning your face like she was trying to gauge just how bad it was.
âHi.â
You swallowed, blinking up at the ceiling to keep the tears at bay.
âThanks for coming.âÂ
âOf course,â She reached for your hand where it lay on top of the blanket, hesitating for a split second before giving it a reassuring squeeze. âYou okay?âÂ
You felt a laugh bubble up, âNot even a little.â
She let out a small breath and nodded, squeezing your hand again. âI figured,â she said quietly, and you appreciated that she didnât pretend to have some miracle answer, âI made him leave.â
Sheâd made him leave.
You could imagine his face distorted with anger.
You wondered if heâd put up a fight or if heâd just walked away,  giving in to his sister in that infuriating, self-pitying silence heâd perfected.
You werenât going to ask, the less you knew, the better.
âGood.â You were relieved, but it felt bittersweet, âI didnât want him here.âÂ
Except your voice shook, like it simply had to let her know you were lying.
Youâd been telling yourself for so long that you didnât need himâthat you didnât want him anywhere near you. But the second you pictured him there, waiting⌠God, you hated yourself.
Hated that tiny, pathetic part of you that still wanted him to care, even if it was just a sliver of anything that wasnât anger or flat-out ignoring you.
âHe threw a hissy fight, but donât worry. Heâs not coming back.â
You nodded, half in agreement, half in frustration, âHe never listens.â
âEspecially when it matters,â Sarah added, rolling her eyes. âI swear, sometimes I think he just likes to make things worse for himself. And everyone else.â
You recalled the sound of his footsteps trailing yours earlier, the way his hand had hovered near you when you swayed, the wild look on his face when you told him to back off. He had seemedâŚhurt. Like he wanted to fix something heâd already smashed to pieces.
âI donât want to talk about him.â
She respected thatâshe wouldnât insist. There was a lot to unpack when it came to Rafe, but you didnât need to go there right now. She could tell.
"Okay. Do you want to tell me why you called me and not Topper?â
There wasnât any judgment in her toneâjust plain curiosity, confusion. And you couldnât blame her. If the roles were reversed, youâd be asking the same thing.
You had to bite your lips to avoid crying for the hundredth time that day. You hadnât planned on telling someone the biggest secret of your life in a public space, or after nearly having a mental breakdown.
Not like this, with the IV in your arm.
"Iâ" you started, the words tangled in your throat. "I don't trust him," you admitted quietly, "I donât trust him with this.â
This.
You turned your head to look out the window, the late afternoon light pouring through the blinds, but it never touched the void you felt inside.Â
âHeâs too close. He wouldnât get it. I needed someone who could just⌠not be involved, you know? I meanâYouâre still his sister butââ
Sarahâs already frowning, interrupting your pitying party, âSweet girl, you donât have to explain your reasons to me. Iâm listening either way. I donât know whatâs going on, but I get it, I understand why youâd want to keep him out of this.â
âYouâre the only one I can trust to keep this a secret,â you confessed, âIf anyone finds outâif Rafe finds outâitâs over. Iâm not ready for that.â
A shadow crossed Sarahâs face, her lips pressing into a thin line. She didnât ask questions about what you meantâabout how Rafe had ruined things before. She didnât need to.Â
âI wonât tell him,â Sarah promised, her grip tightening on your skin. âItâs safe with me. Iâve got your back.â
You closed your eyes, breathing out slowly.
This was hard, harder than anything youâd ever done before, and that was saying something considering all the shit you went through when your family died. She had no idea what you were about to say, and you couldnât help but wonder if it would change everything between youâbetween you and her, and you and everyone else.
"Sara, Iâ" The truth choked you once more, cutting you off. You couldnât breathe.
Your chest felt vacant, something was missing, something that you didnât know how to fix, but you had to say it. It was the only way out.
âAre youâ" she started to ask, but you quickly shook your head. You could hear the hesitation in her voice.
"Just⌠just let me tell you,â You begged, pushing the words out before you lost them. âI-Iâm pregnant,â you finally blurted out, as if confessing it all at once could make it easier.
But it didnât.Â
You didnât dare look at Sarah right away.Â
Your eyes were stuck on the ceiling, blinking rapidly, you didnât need her to see how much this was breaking you or how terrified you were. You could feel her eyes on you now, and your hand clenched around the blanket, your knuckles white from the lack of circulation.Â
Then, slowly, Sarah squeezed your hand again, she was giving you a moment to breathe, even though you didnât feel like you deserved it.
âRafeâs?â she asked quietly, confirming what you already knew she understood.
You nodded, not needing to say it aloud; she could sense the truth in the way your chest hitched, how you couldnât bring yourself to meet her eyes.
âGod,â Sarah breathed out, "And you... you want to...?"
You nodded again. She wasnât asking if you were sure; you could hear it in the hesitation of her question. She was asking if you were ready to make the choice.
âI donât want this,â you choked out, the tears finally breaking free. âI canât have it, Sarah. I canât. Iâm not ready for that. Iâm not sure I even know what I want anymore," you spit the doubt out with the brokenness you felt, wiping the traitorous tear that traced down your cheek. "I donât know what to do."
âIâm here. Whatever you need, however you need to do thisâIâm here,â she promised, making sure you wouldnât float away.
âI canât⌠I just⌠I donât want him to find out,â you managed between shallow breaths. âIf he knew, heâd⌠I donât know what heâd do. Maybe itâs stupid, but I donât want him to look at me like⌠like he owns me something.â
Sarah nodded, not a hint of judgment on her face, âHe wonât know a thing from me, I swear. Heâll never have any say in this, not unless you want him to. This is your choice, no one elseâs.â
You didnât know youâd been holding your breath, but it came out all at once in a shaky exhale.
âThank you. I just⌠I didnât know who else I could ask.â
âHey,â she said, her voice gentle. âThis? This is exactly what Iâm here for. Iâve got you, no matter what.â
The empathy there, the way she held space for all your broken pieces.
âNew Mexicoâs clinic rules⌠they wonât let me go through with it alone. They said I need someone with me.â You took a shaky breath. âI canât imagine anyone else but you there, Sarah.â
âThen Iâll be there,â she said, without hesitation. âIâll get the tickets, weâll go together. And if you feel like breaking down, then break down, because you donât have to keep any of this in anymore.â
Her words broke something in you that had been holding everything so tightly. The relief, the gratitudeâ âYouâre really⌠Youâd really do this for me?â
âOf course,â she murmured, pulling you close so your head rested against her shoulder, her fingers brushing through your hair soothingly. âSweet girl, Iâd do this a thousand times over.â
âI meanâheâs your brother. I donât want to mess things up between you two even more.â
She sighed, giving a small, sad smile, almost like sheâd been waiting for you to say that. âYou think heâs my priority right now? Donât you worry about me and him, we always figure it out. Trust me, Iâm used to it.â
âHe might hate me for this. And if he takes that out on youâŚâ You couldnât finish.
âListen to me,â she sighed, âIâm here because I care about you. Rafe and I, weâll always have our issuesâheâs stubborn, and he thinks he has all the answers. But thatâs our problem. Heâll never have a say over what I do or who Iâm there for. Especially not with this.â
You swallowed hard, âI donât want you to regret it.â
She gave a wry laugh, brushing a piece of hair back from your face. âYou donât have to protect me from him, remember? Heâs my brother, yeah, I love him despite all our shit, but Iâm not here for him right now. Iâm here for you.â
âYouâre sure?â you asked, the question a whisper, almost childlike. You were afraid of the answer, terrified sheâd eventually pull away.
âOf course Iâm sure,â she replied, tilting your chin so youâd meet her eyes. âWhateverâs going on with Rafe will figure itself outâBut right now, you need someone whoâs all in, no strings, no doubts. Thatâs me. You focus on you. Iâll handle him.â
You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket, âI donât think he loves me anymore,â you admitted, almost hoping she wouldnât hear it, âI was so mean when your dad died.â
When you finally looked up, Sarah was watching you with a sad smile, one that made your heart hurt in both comfort and ache. âYou really believe that?â she asked quietly, and you could hear the disbelief in her voice as if it was so obvious to her, something you couldnât see.
You nodded, swallowing down the sting in your throat. âHe doesnât want me, not really. HeâsâŚhe pulled away. Like heâd rather hate me than be close to me. Heâs with her.âÂ
The words tasted bitter, and made you want to hurt him twice as bad, but there was finally some relief in saying it out loud.
She sighed, looking down for a second, almost like she was thinking how to tell you something that hurt her to admit.
âI donât think thatâs the problem,â she murmured, with a knowing sadness. âI think the problem is that you two will never stop loving each other. Heâs still hurting from dadâs passing, heâs angry because he doesnât know how to stop loving you. And youâyouâre here, angry that he loved my dad so much, hurt that he left, trying to protect me from him, still worrying about me when you should be focusing on yourself. Youâre scared he doesnât care anymore, and heâs scared you donât need him at all."
Your lips quivered, your heart about to leap out of your throat, your tongue darted out, briefly brushing your lips.
You werenât sure you should say it out loud, but maybe you had to. âWeâre better off without each other, arenât we?â
âYouâre allowed to be someone without him, and youâre allowed to find out who that is.â
You were slipping, falling back into that spiral of guilt and shame, the one that told you maybe this was all you were good for. Maybe Rafe was right to break things off, perhaps heâd realized that, in the end, you werenât worth fighting for.
And shit, you hated yourself for still caring. For still wanting him to want you, even though you knew it was poison. Even though you knew that being with him, needing him, was only dragging you both down.
âThank you.â
And as you sat there, in the stillness of that room, with the sunlight dimming outside, you felt that maybe someday youâd be able to trust yourself too. To believe that you were worth more than the heartache youâd come to accept as your own.
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FORGOTTEN BIRTHDAY | OP81
an: happy birthday @iimplicitt everyone go and wish her a happy birthday! this is a little piece for you that will make you sadder that you're not in a relationship with oscar but it's a gift from me to you, ily <3
wc: 3.5k
The morning sunlight seeped through the thin, linen curtains, casting soft patterns on the wall, and she stirred, blinking her eyes open as she felt the familiar warmth against her back. Oscarâs arm was wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, his steady breathing a gentle rhythm against her neck. She could feel his lips brushing soft, lazy kisses along her shoulder, the way he always did when he thought she was still asleep.
For a moment, she simply lay there, soaking in the quiet closeness of it all. The fresh scent of Oscarâs cologne and the warmth of his body made her feel safe, cherished. She allowed herself to close her eyes again, smile lingering on her lips as he tightened his hold just slightly, burying his face into her hair, his fingers gently tracing patterns along her arm.
It was her birthday.
Sheâd woken up with a flutter of excitement, the way she always had since she was a little girl. There was something magical, something undeniably special about the feeling of a day that was just yours. And now, waking up like this, wrapped up in the warmth and the love of someone whoâd stolen her heartâthat feeling shouldâve been even stronger.
But as the minutes ticked by and he continued to kiss her in that quiet, thoughtful way he did each morning, not a single word was said.
Maybe heâs just distracted, she thought, feeling the slight tug of disappointment. After all, the season was coming to an end, and she knew how focused he got, especially in the days before a race. Formula 1 demanded so much of him, and she respected that. Heâd been there for her in ways she hadnât even dared to hope for, bringing more joy and care into her life than she could have ever asked for.
But... not even a whisper of "happy birthday"? Not a hint, not a knowing look in his eyes?
She felt him shift behind her, his hand slipping up to brush a strand of hair from her cheek, his thumb tracing her jawline with that same tender familiarity. His lips pressed gently against her neck, a sleepy hum in his throat. He felt so close, so utterly devoted, and yet...
Heâs just busy, she told herself, letting out a soft sigh. Itâs probably the last thing on his mind.
She sighed softly, stretching in his arms, and he pulled her a little closer, his lips brushing her forehead in that sleepy, casual way of his. His eyes were still half-closed, hair tousled, but there was a lazy smile on his face as he woke up with her.
âMorning,â Oscar murmured, voice rough with sleep, his thumb tracing slow circles along her hip.
âMorning,â she whispered back, trying to keep her tone as normal as possible. She didnât want him to sense that sheâd been holding her breath, waiting for him to say⌠well, something. A small âHappy Birthday, love,â maybe, or even just a knowing smile, some hint that he remembered. But he hadnât. And it was clear now that he wouldnât.
âSo,â he yawned, shifting his legs under the blankets, âtodayâs kinda busy. Lando and I have this thing at the sponsorâs studio. Some shoot for a promo video, I think. Theyâre calling it an âinside lookâ at race prep or something, but really itâs just us standing around talking, Iâm pretty sure.â He chuckled, rubbing his eyes. âTheyâve got us doing all this media stuff lately.â
âOh, yeah?â she replied, forcing herself to smile. âYouâll be a natural.â She reached up to run her fingers through his hair, hoping heâd look at her, maybe even catch her eye and give her a hint that he hadnât forgotten after all.
But Oscar only nodded, giving her a sleepy grin as he leaned back, stretching his arms above his head. âAnd you? Got a day at the office, right?â he asked casually, as though it was any other day of the year. âWhatâs on your agenda?â
She took a breath, trying to keep her voice light. âYep, just the usual. A couple meetings, and Iâll probably have to cover for someone at the desk. Iâll be out by five.â
He nodded, pressing a kiss to her temple. âSounds like a good day. Weâll both be back around the same time, then.â
âYeah,â she said, smiling faintly. âGuess so.â
She got out of bed, pulling her robe around herself and heading to the bathroom, where she stared at her reflection, trying to shove away the hollow feeling that was starting to settle in her chest. She shouldâve been used to this by now, she told herself. Oscarâs schedule was demanding; he barely had time to stop and breathe some days, let alone keep track of something like a birthday. Besides, she knew he cared for her deeplyâhis warmth in the mornings, his texts at odd hours when he thought of her, all the small ways he showed her mattered so much more than one day of the year.
But as she brushed her teeth, tied her hair back, and headed into the wardrobe to pick out her work clothes, she couldnât quite shake the disappointment. She wanted to laugh at herself for caring so much. It was just a birthday.
Yet the more she tried to pretend she was fine, the more her heart kept slipping. She threw on her blouse and slacks, fixing her makeup with hands that were just a little less steady than usual, and made her way back into the bedroom, where he was now scrolling through his phone, probably checking the texts from his manager.
âHave a good day, okay?â Oscar said as she slipped on her shoes. He gave her a small, warm smile as he leaned over, pressing one last kiss to her cheek, his hand resting on her shoulder as if to linger with her a moment longer.
âYeah. You too,â she murmured, giving him a faint smile as she grabbed her bag, willing herself not to linger, not to let herself feel anything other than grateful for the morning theyâd shared. She gave him one last glance, catching his gaze as he looked at her, that usual warmth in his eyes. And then she turned, heading out the door, whispering to herself that it didnât matter. It wasnât important.
The office was buzzing when she walked in. As soon as she stepped through the door, her coworkers greeted her with bright smiles, some even standing up from their desks to call out, "Happy birthday!" There was a small pile of gifts on her desk, wrapped in cheerful paper and bows, and a few balloons taped to her chair. She felt herself smiling genuinely for the first time that morning, warmth flooding her chest as she set her bag down.
âOh my gosh, you guys,â she laughed, cheeks flushing as she picked up a card signed by everyone. âThis is too much.â
âNonsense!â her friend and desk-mate chimed in, appearing at her side with a cupcake topped with a single, brightly coloured candle. âYou deserve all of this and more. We all know you make this place actually run.â
She chuckled, feeling the warmth and kindness radiating from the team. As she took in their giftsâa handmade scarf from the coworker who crocheted on her lunch breaks, a small box of her favourite teas, a lovely journal for her ever-growing stack of notesâshe felt touched, genuinely happy. Her coworkers hadnât forgotten; in fact, theyâd gone out of their way to make her feel special.
But there was still that empty space in her chest. A quiet, lingering ache as she glanced at her phone, hoping to see a message pop up on her screen. Maybe Oscar would text her between shoots, or send her a voice messageâjust a quick âHappy birthdayâ or even a simple smiley face. Something that would tell her heâd thought of her.
Yet as the hours passed, her phone stayed stubbornly silent, aside from the usual work notifications and a few birthday messages from friends. She knew that he didnât text much during the day, that his shoots and meetings usually stretched longer than he liked to admit. But part of her had hoped that, just today, he might make an exception.
At lunch, her friends surprised her with a small cake in the break room. They sang to her, a little off-key but with a lot of heart, and she found herself laughing along, feeling incredibly lucky to be surrounded by such warmth and care. She tried to push aside her thoughts of him, to keep her mind off the absence of his message. Heâs busy, she told herself, taking a bite of cake as her friends chatted around her. Itâs not a big deal.
Still, every time she felt her phone buzz in her bag, her heart leapt, just for a moment, and each time, she couldnât help but feel the sting of disappointment as she realised it wasnât Oscar. It was as if her heart was doing a balancing act, teetering between gratitude for the people around her and that quiet ache that her mind kept insisting wasnât fair to feel.
As she stepped out of the office and into the cool evening air, she felt the weight of the day pressing down on her. Sheâd kept a brave face, laughed at all the right moments, and soaked up every bit of love her friends and coworkers had poured into her. But now, alone with her thoughts, she felt the ache returning, stronger than before. She wanted nothing more than to go home, slip into a hot bath, and just let herself feel it allâthe disappointment, the loneliness, the hurt sheâd been pretending wasnât there.
As she walked up to her building, she noticed his car wasnât parked out front. Somehow, that felt like a small blessing. She was grateful for a few quiet moments to herself, to feel everything sheâd been holding back all day.
The apartment was dark and quiet when she stepped inside, the air still. She kicked off her shoes, leaving them haphazardly by the door, and shrugged her bag off her shoulder, not bothering to turn on any lights as she made her way down the hallway. She was so drained, and all she wanted was the familiar comfort of their room, a place where she could let her guard down completely.
When she pushed open the door to the bedroom, though, she stopped short.
There, spread across the bed, was a beautiful assortment of gifts wrapped in elegant, colourful paper, with a cluster of balloons tied to the foot of the bed. She blinked, her eyes taking in the soft glow of fairy lights that had been draped over the headboard. Each balloon had a photograph attachedâmoments from their time together, candid shots from races, vacations, cosy evenings at home. Her heart clenched at the sight, an overwhelming mix of disbelief and relief filling her chest.
And then, as if on cue, Oscar stepped out from the closet, a tiny cupcake in his hand, a single candle flickering on top. His face was lit by the candleâs glow, a quiet, tender smile on his lips as he looked at her, his eyes warm and full of a love that nearly undid her.
âHappy birthday,â he whispered, voice soft but full of so much feeling that it made her knees weak.
She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears as she let out a shaky laugh, feeling a rush of emotions she could barely contain. âI thought⌠I thought you forgot,â she managed, her voice breaking as she took a step toward him, her hands trembling. âI thought you were too busy, that⌠that you didnât remember.â
Oscarâs face softened, and he closed the distance between them, setting the cupcake on the nightstand as he reached out to pull her into his arms. âForget?â he murmured, holding her close, one hand coming up to stroke her hair as she let out a small, choked sob into his shoulder. âHow could I ever forget your birthday? Iâve been planning this for weeks.â
She clung to him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt as she finally let the tears fall, letting herself feel everything sheâd been holding back. He held her tightly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on her back, letting her release every ounce of doubt and hurt sheâd felt throughout the day.
âIâm so sorry,â she whispered between soft sobs. âI just⌠I thought maybe with everything going on, it slipped your mind. I didnât want to feel that way, but I⌠I couldnât help it.â
Oscar pulled back just enough to look at her, brushing away a tear from her cheek with his thumb, his gaze filled with understanding. âI get it,â he said gently. âI wanted it to be a surprise, to make it perfect. But if Iâd known it would make you feel like thisâŚâ He pressed a kiss to her forehead, lingering there as he held her close. âI wouldâve done it differently.â
She shook her head, a tearful laugh escaping her. âNo, this is perfect. Itâs⌠itâs everything. I just didnât expect it, and I guess I didnât realise how much I wanted it.â
He smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. âYou deserve to feel special today. Every day, really. Iâm sorry if I made you feel otherwise.â
She smiled up at him, feeling the weight on her chest finally lifting as she took in the warmth in his eyes, the quiet thoughtfulness of every detail around them. Oscar reached over, picked up the cupcake, and held it between them, nodding toward the candle.
âMake a wish,â he murmured.
She looked at him, her heart swelling as she realised that her wish had already come true. But still, she closed her eyes, letting herself make a small, quiet wish before blowing out the candle.
When she opened her eyes, he was still looking at her, his own gaze soft and full of a promise she could feel without words.
She sat down on the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing over the colourful wrapping paper, feeling almost shy with him watching her so intently. It was like every small, careful detail had been planned with her in mind, each gift waiting patiently for her to unwrap it.
The first package she reached for was a familiar shapeâa shoebox. She unwrapped it slowly, her heart catching in her throat as she lifted the lid to reveal a pristine pair of black Dr. Martens. She laughed, a soft, delighted sound, running her fingers over the leather. âYou remembered,â she murmured, looking up at him with a grateful smile. âI was saying just last week that mine were about ready to fall apart.â
âI know,â Oscar grinned, hands in his pockets as he watched her. âI was pretty sure youâd been trying to ignore the hole in the sole. Figured it was about time for an upgrade.â
She smiled, warmth spreading through her chest as she slipped the boots aside, reaching for the next gift. It was a neatly wrapped package, smaller and heavier, with an unmistakable shape. She tore away the paper, her breath catching when she saw the coverâthe first book in her favourite series, one sheâd read so many times that the copy on her shelf was practically falling apart. But as she opened the book, her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide.
âOh my god,â she whispered, her fingers tracing over the authorâs signature scrawled inside the cover, a small message addressed just to her. She flipped through the rest of the books in the series, each one signed with a personal note. âHow⌠how did you manage this?â
Oscar sat down beside her, looking a little smug but mostly just pleased with her reaction. âYouâve talked about those books more times than I can count,â he said with a small shrug. âI figured Iâd reach out to the authorâs team, see if I could make it happen. Took a little convincing, but⌠worth it, I think.â
She looked up at him, eyes shining with gratitude and awe, feeling like her heart might just burst. âItâs⌠itâs perfect,â she said softly, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his cheek.
He smiled, brushing a thumb over her hand as she picked up the final box, smaller and elegantly wrapped in deep blue paper. She carefully peeled it open, lifting the lid to find a delicate necklace nestled inside. It was simple and beautifulâa silver pendant with both of their initials engraved on it, entwined together in a tiny, subtle script. Her heart swelled as she held it up, running her fingers over the cool metal.
As she admired it, he reached up and pulled something out from under his shirtâa matching necklace, with the same delicate initials. The pendant hung just over his heart, a quiet, constant reminder of her that he must have been wearing all day.
Her chest tightened, and she felt a tear slip down her cheek as she took it all in, the thoughtfulness, the care heâd put into every detail. She reached over, cupping his face with trembling hands as her voice broke.
âYou wore it all day,â she whispered, her heart so full she could barely speak.
Oscar smiled, reaching up to cover her hand with his. âOf course I did. Youâre with me everywhere I go,â he murmured, his voice soft. âNo matter how crazy the schedule, or how many days Iâm away⌠I wanted you to know that youâre always with me.â
She melted, letting herself fall into his embrace, her head tucked under his chin as he held her close. She felt like everything sheâd worried about, every bit of doubt that had crept in throughout the day, had simply vanished, replaced by a love so real and constant she didnât know how she could have ever doubted it.
âI love you,â she whispered, her voice muffled against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her cheek.
He kissed the top of her head, his fingers threading gently through her hair. âI love you, too,â he said, holding her tightly, as if heâd never let her go. âHappy birthday, love.â
She pulled back from his embrace just enough to look up at him, her eyes shining with warmth and gratitude. Oscar met her gaze, his hand lifting to brush a stray tear from her cheek, his fingers lingering softly on her skin. And then, without a word, he leaned in, closing the distance between them as his lips met hers in a slow, tender kiss.
It was soft at first, a gentle, lingering touch filled with all the emotion of the night. But then his hand slid up to the back of her neck, pulling her just a little closer, and the kiss deepened, becoming something moreâa quiet, passionate promise that said everything words couldnât. Her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as she poured every bit of her love and gratitude into that moment, feeling his warmth surround her, grounding her in a way that only he could.
When they finally pulled back, breathless but smiling, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, pressing one last soft kiss to her forehead. âAlright,â he murmured, his voice low and soothing. âLet me run you a bath. Youâve had a long day, and you deserve to relax.â
But she shook her head, her hand slipping into his as she gave him a gentle smile. âNo, not now,â she whispered, and he paused, a look of confusion crossing his face.
âAre you sure?â he asked, tilting his head, his thumb brushing the back of her hand.
She smiled softly, tugging him gently toward the bed. âI just want to cuddle,â she said, her voice a quiet, warm confession.
Understanding dawned in his eyes, and his expression softened as he nodded, his lips curving into a smile. Oscar climbed into bed with her, pulling the covers over them both as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. She snuggled into his chest, her head resting just over his heart, listening to its steady, comforting rhythm as his hands traced soft patterns along her back.
They lay together in the quiet, wrapped up in each other, their legs tangled and their breaths in sync. He held her with a gentle strength, his fingers weaving through her hair as he pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was perfect, this quiet intimacy, as they sank deeper into each otherâs warmth, finding solace in the simple, tender closeness.
âI donât need anything else,â she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest. âJust this.â
Oscar tightened his hold on her, his lips brushing her temple. âThen this is exactly what weâll do,â he whispered.
the end.
#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#mclaren#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri f1#oscar piastri imagine#oscar x you#oscar piastri#oscar piastri angst#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri fanfic#mclaren f1#mclaren formula 1#lando norris imagine#op81#formula one x y/n#formula one x reader#formula one smau#formula one x you#f1 x female reader#f1 fic#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 smau#f1 x y/n#f1 x oc
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Obey Me! Brothers Eyes ft; My HCs. More info on My HCs listed below!!
Lucifer:
Lucifer I wanted to look the most Mature and Handsome. I gave him slit eye pupils and ocular scarring on one eye. I imagine he got his cross shaped scar in the war, it being a mark of a curse his Father laid upon him. Because of this curse, which I imagine to be mortality, I made him look slightly sickly, with translucent skin and pallor. I imagine heâs only got a few thousand more years left to live.
Mammon:
Mammon I gave golden freckles and one golden eye. I imagine he got this eye colour from an attempted spell to try and make his eyes turn golden in hue. However because he failed his spell classes, I imagine this failed, giving him heterochromia and 50/50 heterochromia in one eye. Lucifer scolded him for his reckless behaviours. Also I HC him as Aboriginal Australian, has nothing to do with his eyes specifically but I wanted an excuse to say that lol.
Leviathan:
I Imagine Leviathan has the least humanoid Demon form (it being a massive aquatic reptile) as such he struggles to maintain a convincing human form. This shows through with his eyes, them being dark and unblinking. I imagine instead of traditional blinking he has a nicitating membrane that covers his eyes from dirt and debris. He does however require eye drops to moisten his eyes when heâs away from water. I also imagine some of his scale pattern is still visible in his human form, Showing mainly around his eyes, neck, back legs and arms.
Satan:
Satan is the most humanoid of the demon brothers. Having light freckles, regular rounded pupils, and a more youthful appearance then his other brothers. The only sign something is different is the sigil in his eye, a sign of a spell he performed to grant himself more power.
Asmodeus:
(Note I HC Asmo uses any pronouns so I may use she or they when talking about him) Asmo was difficult as I picture her as a shapeshifter, them changing their body suit the trends. However I decided his most common form has rounded feminine features, long spiky lashes, and few demonic features that he deans cute (black sclera, slit pupils, pointed ears and sharp fangs etc). I imagine they wear light makeup, just enough to accentuate her features.
Beelzebub:
Beel has mostly humanoid features, save for his eyes. Instead of having a pupil and iris, he has one large multi compound pupil. Meaning instead of seeing one large image he sees thousands of tiny images, like a fly. Because of this I imagine heâs short sighted, and colour blind. However he is amazing at noticing form movement. Again much like a fly. Also my friend HCs him as a light skin black man so I do as well :).
Belphagor:
Belphie I wanted to make slightly more intimidating. I wanted to make him look gaunt and sickly, experiencing pallor, and with his eyes more deep-set. I also imagine his eyes have a spiral in them, one that if you stare into to long you canât help but sleep. Also again, same friend HCs him as black so I do as well lol. Shout out to my boy Kris.
The Rest of the Casts eyes are coming soon. But for now we have the brothers!! Lemme know your HCs and who knows maybe I might take them on board lol.
#obey me#obey me nightbringer#om! nightbringer#om! shall we date#obey me shall we date#fanart#om! mammon#om! asmodeus#om! belphegor#om! leviathan#om! beelzebub#om! lucifer#om! satan
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Ahh, Lucanis. So let me first say, his scenes make total sense and I'm happy with what we got - we all want more from our faves, but they did manage to compact a lot of trauma and resolution in some fairly compact quests. Here's what I think happened that wasn't made explicitly clear though:
Lucanis chooses the pantry to sleep in because he's been imprisoned and tortured for a year, and he's not ready to leave captivity yet, not inside his head. He locks himself in there because it's familiar misery to him, which is easier to deal with than scary freedom.
Lucanis' letter to Rook before he asks Emmrich to bring Zara back for questioning tells us he's suicidal at that point, and probably has been for a while. Spite, however, doesn't see him as a lost cause - he never uses that to take over Lucanis' body entirely. This is so interesting to me, when we know things like that pretty famously happen all the time in Thedas. He's determined to keep Lucanis alive - and he asks for Rook's help in doing so.
We are in the NORTH now BABY! Attitudes towards spirits and demons are different here, especially in Rivain, and it seems with our Rook too, who never expresses any chantry-esque hang ups (that I've seen). Seer Rowan greets Spite as Determination, and that's how he's introduced by Isabela (with some excitement) if you fight in the hall of Valor. What happened to Spite is just as sad as what happened to Lucanis. He was violated, perhaps corrupted, and definitely trapped - and hurts Lucanis sometimes in his frustration. But, I think he likes Lucanis! He's his host's little head gremlin, and I think the relationship they have (that we don't see too much of) is healthier than any of the possessed individuals we've seen before.
Because? Lucanis is not a spiteful person. He wants revenge, yes, and he's angry, but he doesn't hurt everyone around him because he's in pain. One of the first things he does when he becomes part of the team is go shopping for them. And despite how Ilario and Caterina have hurt him - and you can argue all day whether he's right to be like this - he still cares for them.
I think that when we help Lucanis leave the prison inside his head, we are helping Spite to return to his original nature as Determination just a little more. We're determined to help our friend, and you know what? Spite is too. For himself, firstly, because Lucanis's pain is hurting him, but in the end, he's done it for Lucanis too. There's an argument there that Determination didn't get corrupted at all - just hurt, and that Lucanis, with his loving nature, has been keeping him from turning into a mindless demon of pain.
I thought for a long time that when Lucanis breaks away from kissing Rook, it was because Spite said something horrible to him. But actually, I think it was Lucanis himself, remembering how trapped he is. Thinking about the eventuality of killing himself - I strongly suspect that's what he was thinking about before he fell asleep, and that's why Spite was trying to go walkabout - trying to get out from where Lucanis can't. Lucanis got lost in the moment, but of course he doesn't want to drag Rook into that.
Lucanis making dessert for Rook and thinking that's the same as asking them out (but not actually asking them out) is so completely on brand for him I laughed. He has no idea what he's doing. It would have been nice, though, for Rook to reply to one of the companion's 'so you're together?' banters with... 'we are?' Or for Rook to be able to ask him. Unfortunately, we don't get those convos where we can spam ask questions etc like in DA:I - I did wonder if that got cut and we missed some resolution to that.
Lucanis gives no shits about everyone knowing he's Rook's love interest. He's not ashamed of himself or scared he'll hurt them - Rook has helped both him and Spite. And judging by the way Spite's wings come out to embrace Rook as they kiss Lucanis, I suspect that Spite might love them, too.
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I actually have sooo many issues with 911 lately that haven't even got much to do with any ships.
Like. They wrote out almost all of the side characters. Chris is gone, Linda and Sue are gone, Athena's kids are gone (even though Harry just moved in with her and Bobby again? Seriously, where is Harry?), Ravi is gone, Carla is gone. I know the GA maybe don't care that much, casual viewers might not even have noticed that this many characters have just vanished from the show, but in my opinion this is one of the things that give a show running as long as 911 life. Having a big cast is a good thing. Otherwise things are going to get very monotonous very soon.
Actually, that's my second point. They keep repeating storylines! Every season Hen and Karen have to fight a custody battle over one of their kids.
Every season Eddie ends up realising he has a lot of repressed trauma and issues which keep him from leading a healthy happy and free life.
Every season Bathena realise that they have communication issues and they fight about it, but then something traumatic happens and they forgive each other without ever really talking things out.
Every season we are reminded that Maddie's most prominent character trait is "traumatised", the writers just alternatingly bring up Doug again and sometimes the ppd arc.
Every season we see Buck being somewhat restless, looking and searching for something that will bring him true happiness and cycling through love interests that never stick around and each time when you think "oh, there it is, he's getting somewhere now" the writers go "BEEEP! WRONG!" and we start all over again. [This is not just about recent events aka Tommy, the break-up and Buck potentially going back to his 1.0 ways, this also happened in season 6 when he had his "it doesn't matter what other people see in me, I'm enough" revelation only to suddenly be like "omg, Natalia just sees me".]
And Chimney- he had his moment last season with the wedding episode, Kenneth Choi really ate that episode up, but his most prominent character trait is "Maddie's supportive husband". There's really not that much going on with him otherwise.
Another point I briefly touched upon above is consistency. Like Harry moving back in with Athena and Bobby and then just vanishing. Or Gerrard being more like a slightly unfriendly grandpa than an actual antagonist in season 8 when he was still spouting slurs in season 7.
And the timeline! We talked about this before ("last March", Mara's fostering to adoption timeline, Tommy tranferring to harbour "5 years ago"), but the newest "Tommy was actually Abby's Tommy" twist just adds to that. Tommy was with Abby for over 2 years. They were engaged. This was at a time when he was still at the 118. Tommy dated Abby presumably because he was in denial or maybe because he was hiding. In either case, wouldn't his team at least have heard about his fiancĂŠe, Abby the dispatcher? Wouldn't that have rung a bell when Buck eventually brought her around only a year or two later? Tommy did talk about his private life at least a little at work, even under Gerrard. It just doesn't make sense. (Not to mention this seems wildly out of character for Tommy who around the same time also said about himself "being single is easier".)
Then there's the pacing. This was a huge issue in season 7. They jumped from one personal soap opera drama to the next without taking any breathers, had almost no procedural in their drama the whole season, still somehow decided to spend one third of the entire season just on the opening disaster and also squeezed in a "Bobby begins for the third time now" episode. But okay, it was a shortened season, there were strikes, they switched networks, they were under a lot of pressure - I'll cut them some slack. At least they set up a bunch of interesting stuff for the following season.
But we're in season 8 now. The renewal was announced very early, they had a lot of time to plan this time. Also they have almost double the episodes they had last season, there's really no need to rush any of the major plots. I am done cutting them slack.
They wanna do a 3 part opening disaster again? Okay fine, you have the time now. I feel like they could've easily done it in 2 episodes (especially 8x02 felt a little "eh"), but okay. Better than the breakneck speed you were going at befo- Oh, what's that? 8x04 flying in with a steel chair. You resolved 70% percent of the plots you set up last season in one single episode with no build up, no emotional pay off and no lasting consequences? And you also squeezed in multiple unrelated calls at the same time? Damn, okay then. Good-bye potentially interesting storylines. Fuck me for being invested I guess. I thought there would at least maybe be some follow up in 8x05, but no.
Now that Halloween episode wasn't bad, it was actually the best episode of this season imo, but instead of following up on previously established conflicts and developments they just hit us with new Wilson family trauma and conflict that was also immediately fixed again. And now 8x06 has speedrun and dumped another storyline that had potential to go to deeper and interesting places. Not gonna talk too much about that though because this post is about the show as a whole, not ships.
And I am not yet convinced that there will be much more to come on the only thing that's left from last season: Eddie's deep dive into his trauma and repression. It's totally possible at this point that being told "you deserve nice things" by a random stranger actually solved all of his problems, it would be very in tone with 911's new style.
What are they even gonna do with the rest of this season? Revisiting the Hotshots set sounds fun, but ultimately inconsequential. You know what's great about a regular old procedural drama with ~20 episodes per season that comes on weekly? You have time. You can let the viewers sit with their emotions and thoughts for a week and keep them engaged by stretching things out a little.
But why should I bother getting emotionally invested in problems the characters are gonna solve within the same episode anyway? Or rather, even if I wanted to, how am I supposed to care if you don't give me the time to develop any feelings about anything that's happening? "Henren lost in court and are now completely forbidden from seeing Mara at all!" Damn, that must be so har- "JUST KIDDING! Ortiz is exposed and everything is perfect again now." Oh. Okay then, I guess.
Bottom line: The characters are all stuck in their own hamster wheels, they keep cutting side characters that could bring a breeze of fresh air (I'm honestly surprised they even kept Josh until now), they rush through all the storylines a such a ridiculous speed that I don't even have time to feel any sort of way about it, they don't even try to keep a consistency or sensible timeline going and they seem to strongly prioritise random funny bits that'll entertain the very casual viewers right now in this moment (tiger call, Billy Boils, Bee-nado, the 'Stache tm, "wait, it's the same Abby?", Gerrard being a fangirl at heart) instead of playing the long game and catering to people who actually pay a little attention to the show.
[On that last remark: I'm not talking about hardcore fans who analyse every single frame here, I mean casual fans who've watched the show on and off again for a while and who may not be involved in fandom but genuinely care about the show.]
I mean. What am I even still doing here? The show is treading water and I end up disappointed more often than not. I'm still holding out a little hope that they actually will do something interesting with Eddie and his sea-monkeys, but I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't.
#911 abc#911 spoilers#911 review#long post#911 season 8#evan buckley#eddie diaz#hen wilson#chimney han#maddie han#bobby nash#athena grant
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camraderie || mv1
summary: come right on me, i mean camraderie...but do you? warnings: FILTHY SMUT, friends to lovers,, no plot just filth, quite rough? a/n: ...i have no idea how this came to be. i feel deeply ashamed. this is honestly just pure horny, please do not interact if you're uncomfortable
you're supposed to be friends. hell, you have been for the past 3 years. but friends don't make out after winning a race, or do they?
friends don't pin each other against walls and slip their tongues in each others mouths, do they? but fuck, you just did.
max's hands wander over your body as he kisses you roughly, tugging at the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head.
you pull away from the kiss and lean down to attach yourself to his neck. you're not sure if you can, but you leave a small purple mark on the juncture of his neck and shoulder.
in a moment of clarity, you look up into his eyes, seeing nothing but pure desire. you raise an eyebrow, asking for consent. he responds with a passionate kiss, his hand slipping down under the fabric of your pants.
he kisses your neck while his fingers reach lower and lower, pushing the fabric of your panties to the side. his teeth nip at your sensitive skin, sending little waves of pain contradicting with the pleasure of his fingers on your clit.
you let out a sharp gasp, burying your head in his chest with embarrassment. you feel too much but not enough at the same time. combined with his other hand lightly brushing against your nipples, you're sure you're going to cum soon if he doesn't stop.
"fuck, max," you whisper, breathing heavily, leaning against the wall behind you. he grins. "fuck me, please..."
that seems to switch something inside max because he pulls his hand away carefully and carries you to the couch of his hotel room. the soft pillows feel nice when you fall onto them.
you tug your pants off, seeing max do the same, and fuck, he's gorgeous. he attaches his lips to yours again, lightly biting and you can feel his hard-on press against your thigh, so close but so far from where you need him.
he leaves you again, but comes right back with a condom in his hand. you giggle at the way he's walking around the room butt naked, still seeing him as your best friend more than anything.
his finger dips into the heat of your cunt, collecting some of your wetness, bringing them up to his mouth. you almost moan at the sight of him sucking his own finger clean.
with a kiss to your lips, he lines himself up with your pussy and pushes in with a shudder and holy shit, you have to cover your mouth to not be too loud.
he starts to move, setting a fast pace. you place your hands on his chest, holding onto him like a lifeline.
you feel heat pooling down in your stomach, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even closer, allowing his cock to reach even deeper inside you.
"oh fuck," he groans, hips snapping against yours, fucking you like it's what he was made to do. he decorates your neck with messy kisses, making sure to leave a few marks as well.
a moan escapes your mouth when he begins to rub your clit again, the pleasure maddening. you feel beads of sweat start to form on your forehead and your climax approaching. max places his lips on yours, swallowing all of your noises.
his fingers on your clit pick up their pace and you cry out, suddently thankful for him silencing you. "i'm so fucking close, max, baby, please don't fucking stop-"
your orgasm washes over you like a massive wave, pussy tightening around his cock and he moans as well, thrusting up into you, overwhelming you with pleasure. with a few more snaps, he spills inside the condom, drops his forehead on yours, completely spent.
you run your hand through his slightly damp hair, letting him rest against your chest. caressing his back, you sense your brain coming back to its normal state.
max groans when he gets off of you. you expect it to be awkward, but really, it's not. it almost feels...natural.
he sits next to you after throwing away the used condom, looking right into your eyes.
you giggle. "gee, at least take me on a date first, verstappen."
#f1#f1 x reader#formula 1#f1 fic#f1 fluff#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#formula one#formula 1 x reader#f1 smut#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen smut
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hi. i would like to request seungcheol (obviously). all i request is enemies-to-lovers. you may do with this what you wish. i leave it up to you to decide exactly how you will ruin my life đ
tysm for the request my beloved !! he is so enemies to lovers coded i had TEWWW many thoughts (and started three separate wips oops), but here we are. i hope u enjoy this !! can't wait to get the collab fics out of the way so i can torture u further with baseball dk. i picked dodgers hat!cheol just for u. âĄ
â we need to talk
pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader summary: sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at allâsometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide. genre: enemies (kinda) w benefits to lovers; frat/university au; smut, angst?, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: frat boys. gendered language and insults. swearing. mentions of drugs & drug use (vernon is literally a drug dealer đ¤ˇđťââď¸) as well as alcohol. possessive, jealous seungcheol who is extremely down bad and kind of an asshole and would be toxic af irl but is fine in fanfiction probably. this is maybe more "people who used to fuck and started disliking each other along the way bc they can't figure out their feelings" to lovers than enemies. there are very slight, very meaningless mingyu x reader undertones here. jeonghan is a bastard. feelings you think are unrequited but alas! this got softer than i intended oops. smut warnings: seungcheol truly is a man driven to the brink of madness bc of pussy idk what to say. kissing. hair pulling. mentions of masturbation. the dynamics shift in this one a lot, but to be overly cautious i will say dom!cheol and slightly dom!reader undertones that are not implicitly stated or defined. seungcheol uses the term "whore" once, sorry. oral sex (f. receiving). pussy slapping. unprotected sex. if i missed any pls lmk. wordcount: 8k. no i do not know what a drabble is, leave me alone. author's note: title from the song of the same name by waterparks but this was actually brought to you by "i'll never stop" by nsync bc it's their best song and fit the vibes perfectly. anyway, i still do not love writing smut but i am insane over this man so whatever, we persevere. everyone go shower mj in lots of love bc she's the best and deserves it. also everyone say thank u @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this for me. i did not look at this again after she beta'd it so any mistakes are of my own stupidity. <3
Seungcheol is incensed.
What in the fuck are you thinking, showing up here? Ignoring him, walking by him with nothing more than a brush to the elbow and that sultry, electric gaze? A pair of painted-on jeans and a sheer top?
Who the fuck had invited you?
He looks around the room, gaze heavy under his furrowed brow. Bass thumps in his ears, the music so loud he can feel it in his chest. Still, his feet stay planted on the floor, already sticky with spilled alcohol and god knows what else. He needs to find Vernonâjust needs something to get through this very unexpected (and very unpleasant) surprise, take the edge off.
But he canât see through the sea of people. Theyâre everywhere, occupying every inch of available space in the house, but he just needs a glimpse of that mop of cornflower blue hair. If he could justâ
Instead, he sees a streak of white-blond in his peripheral vision. âSoonyoung!â he calls, grabbing the man by the arm. âHey, have you seen Vernon?â
Soonyoung stares up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, his breath already stinking of alcohol as he shrugs and says, âDunno, hyung. Think heâs upstairs.â
Fingers still wrapped around his bicep, Seungcheol heaves a sigh. âGo find Jeonghan. Heâs on babysitting duty and youâre already fucked.â
âIâm fine,â Soonyoung argues, slurred words giving him away immediately.
Seungcheol scoffs. âBro, you can barely stand and you reek of shitty vodka. Go drink some water.â
As he sends Soonyoung away, he can feel eyes boring into him, tension wound tight in the center of his back that refuses to dissipate no matter how many times he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, already knowing exactly what heâll find, but knowing does little to stop the hitch of breath as he takes you in.
And he hates it. Fuck, he hates the effect you have on him more than anything.
Hates that heâs still pining after you. Hates that all you have to do is look at him and heâs putty in your hands. Hates that youâre the first person he looks for in a room, the last person on his mind before he falls asleep. Hates you, hates that all of this is unreciprocated, because if Choi Seungcheol is anything, itâs proud. Heâs rich, heâs good-looking, heâs pre-law, and the president of this fraternity, for fuckâs sakeâhe should not be hung up on a girl.
But heâd been doomed from the beginning. Ever since youâd been assigned to him as a challenge to overcome, an impossible task to conquer, heâd been helplessly, pathetically smitten with you.
And fuck if you didnât know it, too.
So, itâs a game now. A lifetimeâs worth of pining for Seungcheol all because his frat was misogynistic and refused to keep up with the times. Theyâd nodded in your direction and laughed at the confusion on his face, the knot between his brows. Seungcheol couldnât figure out why his initiation was to fuck a girl, one his brothers wouldnât even address by name, but when heâd approached you at a party and youâd immediately told him to go fuck himself, heâd figured it out pretty quick.
Call it determination, call it a stubborn streak that refused to quit, but the two of you soon came to a reluctant agreement: you would let Seungcheol lie to his frat, figuring he was attractive enough that people thinking youâd slept together wouldnât be complete social suicide, and heâd owe you a favor youâd keep in your back pocket for as long as it took to cash in.
Which hadnât taken long. The stress of finals that first year had gotten to all of you, and it wasnât long before you were at his door looking for his drug-dealing roommate and a quick fuck.
That was the second time Seungcheol had been doomed to hopeless pining, because once he had you, he knew itâd be impossible to let you go.
Short of outright saying the words, heâd all but told you as much during some alcohol-induced brain shortage junior year. And, in turn, youâd all but laughed in his face.
Right.
Of course.
That was to be expected.
So, youâd continued your⌠well, whatever this is: quick fucks when both of you were bored or lonely or horny, usually under the influence of something illegal; a mutually tense but beneficial relationship for each of you, because you had been Seungcheolâs initiation and the initiation itself awarded him connections and opportunities. You got a back-up plan. A safe body and warm bed to retreat to when the need aroseâone who clearly wanted it to be something more, but was, all things considered, fine with the current arrangement. Didnât pressure you.
But, as was also to be expected, it was never going to be that simple when feelings got involved. When he started feeling slighted. When he wanted you so bad he ached with it sometimes and it was beneath you to care. Which is why he really, really needs to find Vernon. If heâs going to endure an entire party with you, heâs not going to do it sober.
He takes the steps two at a time, feet stumbling onto the landing as soon as he reaches it. Vernonâs door is the third on the left, and he can hear a separate, distinct bass line from the one booming downstairs that hums louder the closer he gets.
And Vernon knows. Of course he does, because heâs yanking his door open before Seungcheol has even raised a hand to knock, the stench of weed seeping out into the hallway, and all he needs is a quick look at Seungcheol before he pulls the door open wider and says, âLadies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America,â as if heâs speaking into a microphone. When Seungcheol doesnât react, he awkwardly tacks on, âHi, hyung. Iâm assuming sheâs here.â
Seungcheol nods, dumbly, and stands as awkwardly in the center of the room as someone whoâs about to ask their roommate for drugs tends to be. âYeah.â Shoves his hands in the pockets of his overpriced jeans so Vernon canât see the sheen of sweat.
âYou looking for somethinâ specific?â he asks, rifling through the top drawer of a tall dresser. âLike, is this an Iâm about to fuck her the rest of the night visit or an I need something to help me forget she doesnât actually like me visit?â
The words come like a reflex. âFuck you,â he seethes. Vernonâs not wrong, per se, but he didnât have to go and just⌠say it like that.
Vernon just shrugs, one side of his worn-out collar slipping down his shoulder as he does so, and Seungcheol canât tell if heâs actually dressed for the party or not. âGonna guess itâs the second one, then.â
Seungcheol scoffs. âWell, itâs not,â he insists, knowing damn well he should let it go, that heâs just digging himself a bigger hole, but the truth sits in the pit of his stomach like lead.
And, really, he knows he just needs to accept it. That little strand of hope hasnât brought him anything but more painâallowed him to delude himself into thinking it could be something more, something tangibleâand itâs time to let it go.
You donât want more.
You donât want the label and the relationship.
You donât want him.
He knows this, but it still tastes sour in his mouth. Still tastes like the chill of autumn when youâd first showed up at his door all that time ago. Tastes like all the blunts youâve shared and the liquor from all the parties youâd snuck away in the middle of. Tastes like the sharp notes of your perfume, the ones thatâd coat his tongue when heâd kiss down your neckâthe same notes that stain his bedsheets.
Mostly, itâs the pitying look Vernonâs giving him that hurts the most. Heâs above pity. Doesnât need it, especially not from Vernon Chwe, but it hurts all the same to be on the receiving end of it.
âGive me whatever youâve got.â
Vernonâs face quickly morphs into surprised concern. âUh, Iâm not sure thatâs a good idea. I mean, Iâve got some pretty heavy shit here.â
Heat flares in his belly. The pity was bad enoughânow he wants to be patronizing? âThen give me whatever the fuck you think I need,â he snaps. âI donât care. I donât have time for this shit.â
âWell, you definitely need to chill,â Vernon mumbles. âYou want some dabs?â
âNo. SomethingâŚâ The word feels thick in his mouth. Stronger implies that Seungcheol does heavy drugs, and thatâs not true. âElse,â he finally finishes.
Vernon sighs as he continues rifling through the drawer. âYour dad would fucking kill me if I gave you my real heavy shit, soâŚâ He pauses, eyebrows raising in triumph as he finds what he was looking for: a small baggie filled halfway with some nondescript powder. âYou want a bump?â
Maybe he should be ashamed at how quickly he agrees, at the urgency and greed with which he grabs the baggie from Vernonâs fingers, but he just needs something. Needs the distraction, the brain fog. He shoves it in his back pocket next to his wallet. âHow much do I owe you?â
Vernon wrinkles his nose. âNah. Consider that one a freebie. No offense, but youâre a real piece of shit when youâre like this.â
The implication only pisses him off more. Seungcheol is loadedâhe can afford to pay his drug dealer, thank you very muchâbut heâs not like anything. âIâm sorry?â
True to his nature, Vernon barely shrugs. âIâll put it on your tab, hyung,â he says in a way that implies heâs not at all going to do that and is only saying so to get the fraternity president off his back.
Jeonghan (23:12) Better come get your girl. Kim Mingyuâs dick looks like itâs halfway up her ass by now. Jeonghan (23:12) Uh oh! I think I just saw a testicle
Seungcheol stares down at his phone, hands trembling in anger. Of course itâs Mingyu. That pathetic loser has been taking up residence on the subs bench ever since youâd made out with him months ago in an admittedly successful attempt at payback. Seungcheol had hooked up with some downgrade at a party one time and youâd gone and made out with his friend. It was hardly a fair trade.
Seungcheol (23:14) Good for Mingyu, he can deal with her then Seungcheol (23:14) Iâm busy Jeonghan (23:14) Doing what? Jerking off in the upstairs bathroom again? Jeonghan (23:15) Do you know what size condom he wears btw? Looks like I might need to fetch him one if you donât want to take care of another manâs baby Jeonghan (23:16) Although, to be fair, you might want to sit this one out. He has way better bone structure than you. Might be a blessing in disguise Seungcheol (23:16) Fuck you Jeonghan (23:16) Better be nice to me, Choi Seungcheolie~ that might be the only fuck you get tonight
Seungcheol needs better friends. He needs a lot of things, really, but number one on his to-do list is to never let Jeonghan be on babysitting duty ever again. Somehow heâd forgotten how obnoxious Yoon Jeonghan is when he isnât stoned and half-asleep on a couch somewhere.
For now, he just stomps down the hallway; locks himself in his room and doesnât bother to turn on the light. Heâs not going to be here long. Just enough time to do this line, change his t-shirt, and come up with a game plan, because heâs not going to let Mingyu even entertain the thought of being able to have you but he also canât appear desperate. Not just to you, but to everyone else. Choi Seungcheol is not clingy, especially not over a girl.
Especially especially over a girl who doesnât even want him like that.
But the longer he sits in the dark, the more trouble he has finding his resolve. Canât bring himself to dig that baggie out of his pocket. Canât drag his t-shirt over his head. Canât bring himself to think about anything other than Mingyuâs hands all over you, and fuck, does that image drive him insane.
Does he touch you like Seungcheol does?
Does he coax those same jagged whimpers from your mouth like Seungcheol does?
Does his semi-hard cock feel as good pressed against you?
God, heâs so fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. And he wonders if this would be as bad if heâd just kept his mouth shut, took that secret to his grave instead of fooling himself into thinking it could be more. If it wouldnât have devolved into⌠this. Youâd always told him not to get attached, that sex was just sex and there was no need to ruin a good thing. But Seungcheol is a selfish man, always has been, and what if? is a dangerous question.
Jeonghan (23:36) Wow, youâre a fucking pussy. Stop hiding in your room like a little bitch. Seungcheol (23:36) Fuck off
He canât go down there. Not because heâs a coward, but because heâs barely tethered to his sanity as it is. Something about you brings him out of his mind, makes him toss whatever good judgment he has left to the wind. Seungcheol is far too impulsive when it comes to you, reckless in ways that have all twenty years of his social training weeping in a corner; have alarm bells ringing in his brain. So, no, he canât go downstairs right now because he knows heâll do something stupid. Stick not only his foot but his entire lower body in it. He shouldâve listened, yet here he is, dick pulled halfway out of his jeans because the thought of you alone gets him hard but his pride wonât let him jerk off to the image of anyone touching you thatâs not him.
Forget whatever Jeonghan had called him. Heâs a fucking fool. A moonstruck, delusional fool whoâd tricked himself into thinking he could swim when he can barely tread water.
You (23:41) Something wrong?
Oh, here we fucking go, he thinks. Because this is Seungcheolâs gameâone heâd perfected years ago, the one where heâs coy and chilly, never too eager, never committed. Just a little bit of a tease. Barely enough to keep them on the hook, a little needy; still enough to keep them coming back. But youâd taken one look at him all those years ago and had him pegged immediately. Figured out his game and learned the rules, used them against him. Now you watch him flounder with a smile on your face.
Seungcheol (23:42) Never knew you were so needy baby. First you show up uninvited and now youre missing me?
But just because thereâs now a player two doesnât mean heâs doomed to lose. He knows how you look when youâre on your knees for him. Knows how you sound when youâre begging to cum and stuttering out his name like youâre singing hymns. Knows how you look with your eyes rolled back after heâs fucked you dumb. Kim Mingyu doesnât know shit.
Seungcheol knows heâs the only one fortunate enough to experience you like this.
And god does it kill him.
You (23:44) Donât act stupid
A pleased exhale of laughter, an equally-smug smirk. Yeah, this is still Seungcheolâs game, the crown still sitting atop his head. You can let Mingyu grind his dick against you all you want, but Seungcheol is still the one youâre seeking out, pouting at the fact he hasnât come to find you yet.
You (23:44) Mingyu invited me
Oh, youâre goodâknow just which buttons to press and how much pressure to use. Whatever smug expression Seungcheol had been wearing slides off his face immediately, tongue pressing into his cheek.
Seungcheol (23:46) And yet youre looking for me? You (23:47) Donât have to look for you to know youâre upstairs sulking in your room because Jeonghan tattled on me like a fucking five year old Seungcheol (23:49) Maybe you should come up here then Seungcheol (23:49) Away from prying eyes
You donât reply immediately. Itâs just long enough for Seungcheolâs brain to conjure up something indecentâthe way youâll straddle him, the way his cock will feel pressed against the apex of your thighs; the goosebumps thatâll raise on his arms when you work your tongue along his neck, that spot near his collarbone you know he likes. His cock throbs against the confines of his jeans when he thinks about the devastated look on Mingyuâs face when you make up some excuse to get away from him, to traipse up the stairs and fall into Seungcheolâs bed, when he realizes heâs not going to have you.
You (23:56) Itâd be pretty rude to leave my date, donât you think? You (23:57) If you want me so bad, come down here and get me yourself
Seungcheol doesnât play games; doesnât compete because he has no competition. Heâs always been given whatever he wants on a silver platter, no questions asked, so heâs wholly unprepared for this turn of events. What he knows he should do (respond to your text and tell you to fuck off, that you know where he is should you stop being a brat and change your mind) is not what he does (tucks his dick back in his jeans, finally throws on a clean t-shirt, and takes his time descending the stairs so he doesnât look too eager), because logical thought gets tossed out the window entirely wherever youâre concerned.
âAh, if it isnât our resident pissbaby making his grand re-entrance.â
Seungcheol clenches his jaw for the nth time and glares. âFuck off, Jeonghan.â
The man in question laughsâthe annoying raspy one that grates on Seungcheolâs nervesâand hands over a cup of something brown and pungent. âWell, judging from your attitude, and the fact youâre barely hiding that boner youâve got, you clearly didnât spend your time away jerking off. What finally got you down here, the promise of cheap whiskey I nicked off some freshman or the fact that your girlfriendâs about two seconds from getting a public indecency charge courtesy of Kim Mingyu?â
Well. Jeonghan may be an asshole but heâs not wrong. Even through the crowd of people and the haze of whateverâs in his cup and a contact high, Seungcheol spots you immediately. Your back is pressed against Mingyuâs chest, his fingers gripping tight at your waist as you roll your hips in time with his. Whatever manufactured filth heâs whispering to you draws a smile, causes you to reach up and tug sharply at his hair. Fuck, Seungcheol can almost hear Mingyuâs moan from across the room, and his blood quickly heats to a rapid boil.
Another chuckle from the demon beside him. âStop fucking laughing,â Seungcheol snaps, still unable to take his eyes off of you. âFuck this. Iâm going back upstairs. Make sure everyoneâs out of here by three. Iâm not paying for another noise citation.â
Jeonghan rolls his eyes. âIâm absolutely not going to do that.â He shoves a bottle of something in Seungcheolâs hand. âTake this and think of me when youâre crying yourself to sleep because Mingyu stole guaranteed pussy right out of your hands.â
âWhy do you do this?â Seungcheol asks, shoving at Jeonghanâs shoulder roughly. âYou never know when to fucking quit.â
Another streak of white-blond. âHey, no fighting!â Soonyoung slurs, trying his best to push Seungcheol to the other side of the kitchen with his useless, limp arms.
This attracts the attention of Joshua, who struts into the room looking straight out of Fashion Week, much like he always does. He hasnât even broken a sweat. âAw, are Mom and Dad fighting again?â he asks, his lips tugged into a smirk. He ignores Seungcheolâs scowl as he fixes himself a drink. âYou know Mingyu only does it to get a reaction out of you,â Joshua adds, quieter this time, as if heâs telling Seungcheol a secret only meant for the two of them to share.
âWhatâs her excuse, then?â Seungcheol fires back, because even if he doesnât like it, Joshuaâs right. This is exactly the kind of behavior heâd expect from resident campus whore Kim Mingyu, but he never expected you to go along with it.
Joshua cocks an eyebrow. âShe doesnât need an excuse, Cheol. Sheâs not your girl.â
Even though itâs a truth he already knows, it somehow hurts worse being spoken in plaintext, a hushed conversation in a crowded kitchen. Being let down gently. Seungcheol knows he needs to make a decision. He needs to let you go and start moving on with his life; canât be having these quasi-meltdowns during frat parties anymore. Canât be possessive and spiteful. You donât want him. Everyone knows you donât want him, so thatâs all there is to it. Maybe youâll want Mingyu and he can finally wash his hands of this forever, scrape the jealousy off his tongue.
He steels himself. Rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. Navigates the crowd in the living room until he reaches you and your so-called date. Grabs you by the elbowâgentle enough that it doesnât hurt but firm enough to send a messageâand says the two of you need to talk. Upstairs. Now. Mingyu just smiles like he knew this was coming and presses a pointless, wasted kiss just below your ear. Seungcheol tells him to fuck off, too, and Mingyu grins wider, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
As he guides you to his room, he doesnât think about the way your hand fits in his. Doesnât think about how this is going to be the last time he has you. Doesnât think about whoâll have you after. Doesnât bother to wonder if youâve finally changed your mind like he had all those other times heâd walked this same familiar path with you in tow. Because itâs the last time. Whatever happens once itâs over is out of his control.
Perhaps thatâs what itâd always been about. Seungcheol has always been spoiled and selfish and so terribly, terribly desperate to prove heâs more than his family name and family money. So, yeah, heâd wanted the control; wanted what was never his for the taking. Youâd always been the oppositeâhis perfect little counterpart. Always so pliant and careless and free: everything Seungcheol tried so hard to be but couldnât, and thatâs where the switch flipped.
Someone like you isnât meant to be controlled.
What he used to want so badly now tastes rancid in his mouth.
The door locks behind you. Seungcheol doesnât meet your eye as he says, âYou got what you wanted. Are you done being a fucking brat?â Itâs not a tone he usually takes. Usually heâs dirty, a little possessive, willing to let you set the pace. He doesnât miss the way your breath hitches. âI asked you a question.â
âSeungcheol��â
He clicks his tongue, stalks closer until youâre nearly in his grasp. Your eyes close instinctively as if youâre expecting his mouth on yours. Instead, he threads his long fingers in your hair and pulls. âWhatâs so hard about answering a simple yes or no question? Did you really want Mingyuâs dick so bad youâve gone dumb all of a sudden?â
You gasp. âNo.â
âNo what?â Seungcheol chides. âNo, youâre not done being a brat? Or no, you werenât just downstairs acting desperate and pathetic for mediocre cock?â He runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, follows their movements as you speak.
âI wasnâtââ
A low, mocking chuckle. âYou were, baby.â Sounds condescending; speaks to you like youâre a stupid child. Heâs so close to you now. Can smell the tang of your skin, the sticky notes of your perfume. Feels your breath fan against his own sweat-slick skin. Still avoids your gaze, because as domineering as he appears, he knows he can unravel just as quickly. âTake your clothes off. This is the last time Iâm gonna fuck you and Iâm not going to ask twice.â
Now you truly look caught off-guard. âWhat?â Still he ignores you, expensive silver rings clinking into a dish on his dresser one by one, expensive watch following. âWhat do you mean the last time?â
Deft fingers play at the buttons on his shirt. Not silk, but just as expensive. âShit. Youâre really testing my patience, you know.â Youâre still standing at the edge of his bed, staring dumbly as if heâs just going to start spilling all his secrets, give you some kind of explanation. âI believe I told you to strip.â
Unlike Seungcheol, your fingers tremble as they work at buttons and zippers and hemlines, push down denim and remove heels. Itâs clear youâre trying to work out what heâs playing atâif this is some punishment for fucking around with Mingyu or if he really means itâbut youâre not going to risk asking. Things between the two of you are already tense as it is. Seungcheol has never been wound this tight, never been so ready to snap.
âThatâs it,â he praises once youâre left in nothing but a skimpy underwear set you know he likes. âLook at you. Fucking gorgeous. I bet thatâs why you think you can get away with embarrassing me, huh?â He grabs your chin, forces you to meet his gaze for the first time since heâd dragged you up here. âGet on your knees. Iâm getting tired of repeating myself.â
Itâs not an unfamiliar sightâas it is, you usually leave Seungcheolâs room with bruised knees on a good nightâbut it settles differently in his gut this time. Because heâd dared a glance at you once and knows he canât do it again, so he watches the top of your head as you fumble with his belt buckle and looks away whenever he thinks you might risk a glance upwards. Finds some point on the wall to focus on. Hisses through his teeth when you pull his cock from his briefs, your hands cold against his flushed skin.
All he wants to do is kiss you. Draw this out. Give you a memorable last time, maybe mark you up a little. He really wants to savor the feeling of your tongue on his cock, but all he can focus on is the fact that heâll never be enveloped in that wet heat again. Heâs never going to feel your mouth working him over, feel you humming around his length because he knows you love the weight of it, you love wrenching away that little bit of control, turning him into a mess.
But heâs not going to dwell. Heâs going to thumb at the hinge of your jaw, force it open just wide enough for his cock to fit inside. Then heâs going to fist your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip it tight, use it to guide your mouth until thereâs only an inch of space between you. Heâs going to stare down at you, silently revel in how fucked out you look already even though he hasnât touched you. Heâs going to watch the way your fingers dig into your thighs because they canât touch him. Then heâs going to sayâ
âBeg me. Beg me to let you suck my cock.â
Thereâs a flicker of hesitation. Seungcheol doesnât talk to you like this. This is not the kind of dynamic the two of you have, and Seungcheol finds himself wondering if things would be different if it was. If heâd never started going so easy on you. Would you want him then? Or would you have left a long time ago?
Heâs half-expecting you to do that now. You look ready to bolt, to pull your clothes back on and tell him to go fuck himself on the way out. Probably go straight back to Mingyu, let him fuck you hard but routine, the way Seungcheol usually does, the way he knows you like. He expects you to leave, and this is the last time, anyway, so he figures he has nothing left to lose.
âIâm going soft,â he snaps, the admonishment harsh on his tongue. When you look up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrow. âYou have one fucking job and you canât even do that properly? Whoâs going to want a dumb little whore that canât follow simple instructions?â
He watches your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Wonders if heâs gone too far before deciding he doesnât care if he has. Itâs the last time, anyway, so itâs not like it matters. Watches the indents in your thighs grow deeper. Watches you inhale and try to steady your breathing.
Watches your eyes snap open, any trace of hesitation long gone. âDid you make that other girl beg for you?â
Seungcheol snorts, amusement showing all over his face. âIs that what this is about? Youâre still mad I hooked up with some other girl so you act like this?â He clicks his tongue at you, fists his cock, slicking it up. âAre you jealous?â
âNo,â you answer simply, âIâm just trying to figure out why you think you can speak to me however the fuck you want.â
Seungcheolâs hand stutters along his length before it stills, your words sharp and immediate against his skin. He shouldâve known. Shouldnât have thought something like this would work on you, that youâd like it, and heâs halfway to soft and throwing his hands up and tucking his dick back into his briefs when you say, âAnswer the question.â
âWhat?â
You tsk. Move your hands from your thighs to his, nails pressing just deep enough to leave crescent moons behind that match your own. Something for someone else to see. âDid you make her beg for you?â
Seungcheolâs brain power decreases the higher your palms go, when your thumbs press into the dimples of his hips. Can barely choke out a hissed yes, yeah, fu-fuck when your hand covers his, fingers wrapping tightly around his own as you guide it back and forth, up and down the length of his cock. âWhat did you make her beg for, Cheol?â
âToâto to-touch me.â
You hum. Tighten your grip on Seungcheolâs hand and laugh as his hips roll involuntarily, seeking the friction. âTouch you how? Like this?â
âYeahâfuck, yes, like this.â
âDid she? Did she listen to you like a good girl?â Your hand leaves Seungcheolâs only to collect the precum at his tip. âDonât get all shy now, Cheolie.â You suck your thumb into your mouth and he whines. âWas she a good girl for you?â
You sit back on your haunches. Watch him jerk himself off. âYeah,â he finally says, word cracking in the middle. âBoring, though. Not likeânot like you.â
âNo one is like me,â you admonish. âI couldâve told you that for free, before you went off and fucked someone else.â
âNot an idiot,â Seungcheol replies, the pace of his hand quickening. Heâs playing a dangerous game; approaching the cliff edge at a dangerous pace. âNo-nothing comes for free with you.â
All you do is smile, lopsided and smug. âMm, thatâs true. Guess your little dom moment earlier can just be chalked up to momentary stupidity, hm?â Seungcheol wants to nod, wants apologies to tumble from his lips until you shut him up, but his palm is so slick against his dick, fist tight enough to white out his vision. âDid you make her beg to suck your cock?â
Truth be told, Seungcheol canât remember much of anything right now. Heâs perilously close to coming, right at that precipice, and each filthy word that slips from your mouth just pushes him further to the edge. He remembers Chan inviting him to a party. He remembers a few drinks, a few hits from a blunt, compliments of Vernon; he remembers a girl making eyes at him from across the roomâeyes that had looked a lot like yours in the haze of his crossfade. He remembers a locked bathroom and the sound of his voice as he told that girl how to touch him so it felt like you. He remembers her doing whatever he told her to, remembers how eager and submissive she was, how she didnât mouth off to him the way you always doâ
Remembers how unsatisfying itâd been when he came.
Youâve ruined him.
Not a revelation. Not even close to one. Seungcheol has known this for a long time, but that doesnât mean annoyance doesnât flare in his belly at the reminder. You donât want him. Being so hung up on you isnât doing him any favors, just means heâll have a longer drop when this is all over. God, what the fuck is he doing?
He wants you so badly heâs aflame with it. He wants you so badly he can barely look at you anymore. He wants you so badly it consumes him, drives him insane, has him all fucked up and seething. He wants you, he wants you, heâ
Loves.
Reality washes over him like a cold wave. Knocks him backwards, drowning, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. In, out; in, outâand none of it changes a goddamn thing.
Four years of this. Four years of touches exchanged in the dark, behind locked doors. Four years of yearning and trying and failing. Four years of everything getting lost in translation, because itâs hitting him now, but shouldnât he have felt it before? Shouldnât all those âdrive me fuckinâ crazy, canât fucking stand youâs he spoke into the crook of your neck rang hollow?
âCheolââ you say, because you asked him something, tried to play along with this whole stupid charade, and he knows heâs frozen, just standing there, hand still wrapped around his cock, and he needs to say something, he needs to fix thisâ
âIâm a liar,â is what he comes up with. Youâre still staring up at him, brows furrowed, pinched in the middle. Move, he wills himself, but nothing happens. âIâm a liar,â he says again, because if he says it enough youâll believe it. âIâm sorry. Iâmââ
âWhat are you talking about?â
He swallows. Iâm in love with you, he wants to say. Feels the weight of the words on his tongue, heavy and pressing, and he thinks you should know. Even if you donât feel the same, he thinks you deserve to know, but the way youâre looking at himâ
He canât bring himself to say it.
But he canââCan I show you instead?â
Slowly, you nod. Seungcheol nods, too, still feeling off-kilter as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs in the contours of your cheeks. Moves them down your neck, your shoulders, down the length of your arms. You meet him halfway, twining your fingers together, and he helps you stand, careful and considerate. At full height, he places a hand in the small of your back to tug you closer, kisses you like itâs the end of the world. Whines into your mouth at your familiar taste, and if he lets himself be delusional enough, he can pretend thereâs form and substance to those sounds, that their edges are squared-off to form the words he wants to say.
Because it really might be the end of the world. Seungcheol has never known how to play the cards heâs been dealt when it comes to you. Always gets it wrong. Feints one way when heâs meant to go the other, takes the field with two left feet, always playing catch-up. Maybe the mistake was treating it like a game. Maybe the mistake was strategizing, only playing to win, because he lays you gently on his bed, fits his body in the space you create for him between your legs, and realizes he already won a long time ago.
He won the first time your eyes met. He won the first time heâd kissed you, more nerves and teeth than anything else. He won the first time you tucked yourself against his side and stared at his bedroom ceiling, half-smoked joint between your fingers, and made fun of the stupid flag heâd hung up. He won every time you took all the bullshit he threw at you and dished it right back. He won every time he had the privilege of tracing mindless shapes into your soft skin.
Every second of your time you chose to give himâall victories.
He presses in further. Groans when your hands move to his shoulders and grip tight; when your nails dig into the skin of his back. âIâve been so stupid,â he says, punctuating his words with a nip at your ear. Smirks out of the corner of his mouth at your shuddering breath. âHavenât I?â
âYeah,â you answer, rolling your hips upward. He grabs at you desperately, tries to keep you still; hisses when you swat his hands away and redouble your efforts. âYouâve been a fucking asshole for aâfor a while.â
You canât see the way he pouts. Wonders, too, if that would work on you, if itâd earn him one of those rare moments of tenderness. âWell Iâm trying toâshit, babyâtrying to make it up to you, but you seem pretty determined to make me bust right now.â
He can see the way you roll your eyes. See the way the corners crinkle after as you laugh softly, breathlessly, still trying to chase a high Seungcheol refuses to provide. âYou deserve it. You tried to dom me, you dickhead.â
Embarrassment sits obvious on his ruddy cheeks. He hides his face in the crook of your neck so you donât see it, donât have something to poke at him with later, but youâre having none of it. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, forceful enough to have him pliable, and there it is: there are stars in your eyes as you stare up at him, tender and soft just like he hoped youâd look, and he misses the feeling of your nails on your scalp until youâre tugging at the delicate chain around his neck and pulling him closer. âJust kiss me and weâll call it even.â
This is how it feels to get struck by lightning, he thinks. Every part of him is on fire, and heâs content to burn as his lips find yours. He sighs happily into your mouth, hikes your thigh higher around his middle, presses in to lay claim to what little space is left between you. Seungcheol is so close he can feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat, because this is not the way you usually kiss. What used to be dirty and quick, a means to an end, now has intent, purpose. Heâs kissing you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs to replace it with something better.
Trails those same kisses down the length of your body. Open-mouthed at your neck, your collarbones, the space between your breasts. Teasing and slow in the space between each rib, just to watch the way your skin pebbles. Hungry and insistent at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, because if heâs feeling this unhinged, he wants you right there with him. Canât bear the thought of still being in this alone. Not anymore.
âLegs over my shoulders.â You listen immediately, and Seungcheol mutters a quiet fuck at the sight before him. âGod, youâre so wet.â
âNo shitââ
He swats at your clit, delighting in the way your body jolts. âHush. The only thing I wanna hear out of your smart mouth from now on is my fucking name.â And then heâs diving in.
He eats you out like a man starved; like he could do this every day for the rest of his life and he still wouldnât be satisfied. Canât help but rut against the mattress at the way you taste, the way your thighs tighten around his head, the sting as you pull at his hair. Places both hands beneath your ass to lift and drag you closer to his waiting mouthâlicks at you wet and feverish, all of this seemingly more for him than it is for you, and youâll get tired of it soon, just like you always do. Youâll tell himâ
âDo it right, Cheol, pleaseââ
And heâll pull away and tsk, swat at you again. His responding laugh will be cocky and derisive when your body trembles again, frantic with the need for more. âWhat did I say, baby? Do you not trust me to make you come?â You cock an eyebrow, torn between throwing some sarcastic remark at him and following the rules long enough to get what you want. His voice grows serious as he presses a soft kiss to your core. âI will always take care of you.â
The rest is muscle memory.
The rest has a chorus of Cheol, Cheol, Seungcheol spilling from your lips as he suctions his own around your clit. The rest has you grinding your pussy against his face. The rest has him groaning at the way heâs so wholly consumed by you: the taste of you on his tongue, face soaked, two fingers pressed deep into your cunt. The rest has him saying thatâs it, baby, come on my face, I know you can and feeling delirious when he finally pushes you over the edge; when your walls clench around his fingers, breathing fractured, when you grab at him until youâre eye-level and youâre licking into his mouth to taste yourself.
Tastes a lot like I love you.
âWant you to ride me,â he says, gaze half-lidded and pleading. You whine as he moves his thumb back to your clit, tracing slow, slow, slow circles, oversensitive. âWill you do that for me?â
The party seems so far away. Grows even further away when you nod and straddle his lap. Seungcheol sits up, tells you to wrap your legs around him. Canât stand not touching you; needs every inch of his skin to be covered by you like a bruiseâsomething deep thatâll last for days, weeks, months. The mottled colors will change, but itâll still be there.
âNeed you, Cheol,â you whisper, kissing his eyelids. He hadnât realized heâd closed his eyes.
âYou have me,â he answers, but it sounds foreign to his earsâsounds wretched, like the words have been punched out of him. It sounds like forfeit. âAlways have.â
You pull back. Study his face. Run over his plush bottom lip with your thumb. It feels like an eternity of silence before you speak. âNo, I havenât,â you insist, tone insistent but delicate, like youâre trying to convince him of it, too. âNot like this.â
I love you.
You lift your hips just enough to sink down on his cock. Seungcheolâs moan is loud and unabashed, not afraid to let anyone hear the way you make him feel. All he can think is familiar: he knows your blinding white heat; has made countless homes in your tight grip he still holds the keys to; has done this so many goddamn times itâs second nature.
He was an absolute fool to think he could ever walk away.
You roll your hips, taking him deeper like youâve got something to prove, body moving on its own sinuous accord. Seungcheol loves you like this, when you know exactly what you want and arenât afraid to take it. When you press sloppy kisses to his neck, the column of his throat. When he grabs at your hips, tries to move you faster along the length of his cock, and you swat his hands away. When your rhythmic up-and-down turns into a slow grind that has you gasping and breathless, pussy spasming around him.
âGoddamn, I love this pussy,â he chokes out, fingers gripping tightly at the sheets since he canât touch you. Heâs mindless with pleasure, feels himself start babbling nonsense he canât make sense of, and itâs overwhelming, having you like this. Isnât sure how heâs survived this long, but maybe you were right.
Maybe it was never like this before.
Usually heâd take you from behind, quick and dirty, hands digging into the meat of your ass, palm cracking down on it every now and then, imparting white heat of his own. Usually heâd have you beneath him, knees pressed to your chest, all condescension as you told him, eyes rolled back, that he was too deep, that you couldnât take it, and heâd rub at your clit and tell you you could as he dragged another orgasm out of you. Usually heâd be so frenzied and worked up heâd take you against the door, sweats pushed to mid-thigh, forearms straining as they held you up.
So, yeahâthis is different. This is a patient, sensual dance to the finish line. This is Seungcheol in his rawest form: a live wire, vulnerable, anxious. This is the unknown, because something has to come after but he doesnât know what it is.
This is Seungcheol throwing caution to the wind, leaning in close enough to taste the salt on your skin, and saying, âI love you.â
This is Seungcheol planting his feet and fucking up into you, unwilling to hear your response. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is just bliss, and heâll willingly take either.
This is you coming undone on his cock, breathing rapid and ragged, pupils blown wide as you stare at him in awe.
âSay it again.â
Someone slams into the wall just outside Seungcheolâs door, and all at once the real world creeps back in: the thrumming bass line of the music downstairs; laughter, shouting, and yelling; fists banging on shut doorsâbut he hears you loud and clear. Presses each word into your mouth this time and groans when you swallow them. Barely makes a sound as he spills inside of you, feeling like every nerve in his body is aflame.
The two of you are quiet for a time as you try to catch your breath. Seungcheol only moves to grab his duvet and wrap it around your shoulders, smiling fondly at the small thank you you mumble, seemingly still bogged down, well-fucked.
He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.
âOkay?â
You nod, push at him until he lays back and pulls you with him, lets you use his firm chest as a pillow. That flag youâd made fun of before isnât up there anymore, but Seungcheol feels warm at the memory anyway, almost laughs at the comment he imagines youâd make.
Clears his throat. Tries to find his courage. âI really am sorry,â he tells you again, because it doesnât matter if he loves you if he doesnât know how to be good at it.
âI know, Cheol,â comes your easy reply. Youâre tracing shapes on his stomach that have his muscles contracting. âI know you love me, too.â You sigh, press your lips to his rib cage. âWho knew itâd only take making out with Mingyu to get you to admit it.â
A wild laugh tumbles out of him. âFuck off.â He can feel your grin.
âYou got a fucked up way of showing it, though.â
He hums, holds onto you a little tighter. âGo easy on me, I only figured it out about an hour ago.â
âAn hour?â you faux-gasp, make like youâre about to leave. âIâm outta here. I know my worth. If Iâm going to say it back to someone, they need to be in love with me for at least two.â
He chokes at the implication, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest and into yours. He knows he looks exactly like the moonstruck, loved-up loser he is, and he coughs to cover it. âThatâs what I said,â he lies. âTwo hours. You mustâve heard it wrong.â
No, it was never like this.
#seungcheol x reader#seungcheol smut#scoups x reader#scoups smut#seungcheol imagines#seventeen x reader#seventeen smut#seventeen fanfic#seungcheol fanfic#scoups fanfic#jewel writes#fic: wntt
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Hi, if I may request!
Barca team x teen reader [19] where R has started dating someone, maybe older then her by a year or so but decided not to tell the team because they can be -Too scary- and scare her girlfriend off but they figure it out after they see R out with the Girl, multiple times.
And after one of the matches they catch them before R could Leave and decide to give R's girlfriend 'The Talk' but like she's not scared and actually wins them over.
Change whatever you'd like :) Thank you!
I've changed this slightly but I think the concept is still the same. I wanted to make it someone within the team and I went with Patri because ... she's Patri. They don't have the talk in the conventional sense but I think its still good. I think this is kinda cute but also kinda funny. I hope you enjoy.
Older
Patri Guijarro x Reader; Barça Femeni x Reader
Description: Patri and R are concerned that the team will disapprove of their relationship. Who would have thought they would be exposed by a bra?
Word Count: 3.7k
You were 20 years old, and it was vital to emphasise this detail. Despite your age, which indicated that you were fully capable of managing your own affairs and making responsible decisions, the team often seemed to overlook it. This was especially apparent in interactions involving your partners.
Your personal preferences were well-defined. You had a particular type when it came to attraction, and it was almost a given that older women would capture your interest. In bustling, dimly lit clubs, your eyes would naturally seek out women who had a few more years of life experience, particularly those with dark hair. The dynamic of your attraction was often reciprocal â any older brunette who showed even the faintest sign of interest in you would frequently end up being the one to take you home after a night out. This pattern, though seemingly casual, was a significant part of your social interactions and personal experiences.
That was until Patri caught your eye. You werenât quite sure what shifted in you, but something was undeniably different. You had known her for well over a year at this point, but until now, she had always been a teammate, a friend. Maybe it was the alcohol, loosening the usual boundaries and inhibitions. Maybe it was the way she smiled at you with an easy grace as you handed her another drink, her eyes holding a warmth that made you feel seen. Or maybe it was the way she kept glancing at your lips as you sang along to some song whose lyrics you only half understood, her gaze lingering in a way that made your heart race.
It was during a brief hiatus from international commitments, a period when the usual whirlwind of club games came to a halt. You were dealing with a minor injury that kept you off the field, and Patri ⌠she didnât answer her call ups anymore. You had started the evening with the other teammates who were also free from international obligations. The night had begun with light-hearted conversations and the clinking of glasses, but it quickly evolved into something more intense. As the night wore on, you found yourself gravitating toward Patri. The connection you felt with her seemed to intensify with each shared drink and every stolen glance. The casual flirtation of earlier in the evening became more charged, more electric.
Before long, you ended up underneath Patri, her nimble fingers leading you to the brink of pleasure again and again. The way she touched you, with a mix of tenderness and urgency, was unlike anything you had ever experienced. It felt like a dance of its own â a rhythm that resonated with something deep inside you. For her, it might have seemed like just another one-night stand, a fleeting moment of passion with someone she had always seen as a friend and teammate.
Yet, beneath the surface, Patri was grappling with her own emotions. Was it risky to cross that line with someone she worked closely with, someone she would have to face day in and day out after this? Absolutely. But the way her heart soared when you smiled at her, the way your touch made her feel alive in a way that no one else had before, was impossible to ignore. In those moments, when the world outside seemed to fade away and it was just the two of you, the usual concerns and boundaries seemed insignificant compared to the intensity of what she was feeling.
As the night drew to a close, and the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, the two of you lay together, breaths mingling and hearts still racing. The aftermath of such an encounter left both of you in a state of introspection. For you, it was a realisation that the connection with Patri went beyond mere attraction â it was something deeper, something that had the potential to redefine the dynamics of your relationship with her. For Patri, it was an unexpected awakening, a challenge to her preconceived notions of friendship and romance.
You had entered her bed one night, and never left. The following more ⌠well, more like early afternoon ⌠she found you at her stove top, your hair piled up on top of your head, one of her t-shirts covering your body. You had presented her with a pile of pancakes, made with a secret family recipe that she had tried to coerce out of you with the promises of going back to her bedroom. The day had bled slowly into the night and once again, you were wrapped up in her arms. It was a cycle that neither of you wanted to end.
You had both agreed that you would not be sharing this particular development with the team. She was well aware of the overprotective nature of some members, and she quite valued her life. You had laughed, a musical sound that made Patriâs heart flutter before agreeing to whatever she wanted.
That didnât stop the team from prying though.
Alexia couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she was certain that something was different about you. There was an unusual, almost otherworldly glow surrounding you, a gentle radiance that seemed to emanate from within. It was as though you carried a secret warmth that made you stand out from everyone else.
Your smile, too, had changed. Where it once had been rare and fleeting, you now wore a soft, almost perpetual smile that seemed to touch every aspect of your demeanour. It was as if you had discovered a new layer of contentment or joy that was reflected in your constant, serene expression.
You were always on the quieter side during training; the pressure to perform well and the worry of constant scrutiny were always on your mind. But lately, there was a noticeable shift. The intense focus and anxiety that had once characterised your approach seemed to have softened. You approached your training sessions with a newfound ease and confidence, as if you had found a balance between your inner strength and outer performance. It was almost as if the weight of expectation had lifted, allowing you to focus more on the joy of the practice itself rather than just the results.
Outside the walls of the training ground, however, the transformation was even more striking. You always had a level of confidence to you, but it was still reserved. But now exuded a vibrant energy that matched the exuberance of Cata or Pina. Your laughter was more frequent, your conversations more animated. You were more willing to join in on spontaneous adventures and social gatherings, embracing life with a zeal that was both infectious and heartwarming.
âSomething is different with Nena,â Alexia announced to MapĂ and Ingrid. Her voice carried a note of curiosity, mingled with the faintest trace of concern.
MapĂ glanced up from the book she was pretending to read, her brow furrowing slightly. "What do you mean? She seems fine to me. Maybe even better than fine â sheâs been in a great mood lately."
Ingrid, who had been stretching on the floor, paused mid-stretch and looked over at Alexia with a thoughtful expression. "I noticed it too. She's... different. Calmer, maybe? Happier, for sure."
Alexia nodded, leaning back against the wall, arms crossed as she considered her next words. "It's not just that she's happier. It's like she's changed on a deeper level. She used to be so on edge during training, always overthinking, stressing out. But now... I donât know, sheâs just glowing. Sheâs more confident, more open. And have you seen how sheâs interacting with people? It's like she's suddenly unlocked this whole new part of herself."
MapĂ closed her book, giving up the pretence. "Yeah, she's been more involved lately. She used to stay quiet or just follow along with whatever we were doing, but now sheâs right there with us, cracking jokes, coming up with ideas. Itâs like sheâs finally letting herself have fun."
Ingrid nodded again, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "It's a good change, though. I donât think Iâve ever seen her this relaxed. Whatever it is, it seems to be working for her."
Alexia sighed, though it was more of a release of tension than a sign of worry. "I know, Iâm happy for her. But I canât help wondering what brought this on. Itâs like sheâs had some kind of breakthrough, and I just wish I knew what it was."
âBrought what on?â Patri asked, coming to stand next to the trio.
âNena is different,â Alexia answered. Patri froze, her eyes widening imperceptibly. Shit, did they know?
For a split second, Patriâs mind raced. She struggled to keep her expression neutral, to not let the panic she felt bubbling up inside show on her face. Had they somehow discovered the secret you had been carefully keeping? Or was this just idle curiosity, a harmless observation?
She forced herself to take a slow, steadying breath before speaking. "Different how?" Patri asked, hoping her voice sounded as casual as she intended.
MapĂ leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand as she studied Patri. "Sheâs just... more relaxed, more confident. Like something has shifted in her. Itâs a good thing, weâre just curious about what might have caused it."
Patri nodded slowly, her mind scrambling for a plausible explanation. She knew she had to tread carefully; one wrong word, and the others might start asking questions that neither she nor you were ready to answer.
"Maybe sheâs just finally found her groove," Patri suggested, hoping to steer the conversation in a more benign direction. "You know how it is â sometimes everything just clicks, and you start feeling more comfortable in your own skin."
Ingrid seemed to consider this, nodding slightly. "Yeah, that makes sense. Sheâs been working really hard, so maybe sheâs just more confident now that sheâs seeing the results."
Alexia, however, wasnât entirely convinced. "Maybe. But it feels like more than that. Like thereâs something else going on. I just hope she knows she can talk to us if she needs to."
Patriâs heart pounded in her chest, but she managed to keep her voice steady. "Iâm sure she does. Weâre all close, and she knows weâve got her back."
MapĂ leaned back in her chair, seemingly satisfied with Patriâs explanation. "Yeah, youâre probably right. Whatever it is, Iâm glad sheâs doing well. She deserves to be happy."
"Oh please, you guys cannot be that dense," Cata interrupted. "Sheâs having regular sex."
The room went silent for a moment as Cataâs blunt statement hung in the air. Patriâs breath caught in her throat, and she fought to keep her face from betraying the shock coursing through her. She hadnât anticipated this turn, and her mind scrambled for a way to deflect the situation.
MapĂâs eyes widened in surprise, and Ingrid nearly choked on her water, sputtering as she tried to recover. Alexia blinked, her mouth opening and closing as if she were trying to process what Cata had just said. "What? Are you serious?" Alexia finally managed to say, her tone a mixture of disbelief and amusement.
Cata leaned back, folding her arms across her chest with a smirk. "Come on, itâs the most obvious explanation. The glow, the relaxed attitude, the sudden confidence â classic signs. Trust me, Iâve seen it before."
Ingrid shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around the idea. "But who? When? How do you know?"
Cata shrugged nonchalantly. "I donât know the details, but I know what Iâm seeing. Itâs not rocket science."
Alexia still looked skeptical, but she couldnât completely dismiss Cataâs theory. "I mean... I guess itâs possible," she said slowly, glancing over at Patri, who was doing her best to appear unfazed. "But surely she would tell us?"
âI donât tell you when I have regular sex,â Cata replied with a playful roll of her eyes.
âEw,â MapĂ muttered, wrinkling her nose, though there was a hint of a smile on her lips. The tension in the room eased slightly as the conversation took on a more teasing tone.
âBesides, you guys can be pretty scary when you want to be,â Cata continued, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. âRemember when Jana brought Jill to one of the Champions League matches? You nearly bit her head off.â
Ingrid snorted, unable to hide her amusement. "That was different! We were just... protective."
"Protective?" Cata shot back, raising an eyebrow. "You were practically interrogating her, asking all those questions like you were her older sisters or something. If I were her, Iâd be a little hesitant to bring anyone around you guys too."
Alexia opened her mouth to argue but then stopped, realising that Cata might have a point. They were a tight-knit group, and while that closeness brought comfort and support, it could also be intimidating, especially when it came to personal matters like relationships.
Patri took the opportunity to steer the conversation further away from any potential landmines. "Cataâs right, though. We can be a bit much sometimes. Maybe sheâs just enjoying this part of her life privately, and thatâs okay. We donât have to know every detail."
MapĂ sighed, nodding reluctantly. "Yeah, I guess. I just hope she knows weâd be happy for her, no matter what."
"Weâre just being nosy, as usual," Ingrid added with a chuckle. "But we should probably let her come to us if she wants to share."
Cata nodded in agreement, her playful demeanour softening slightly. "Exactly. If sheâs happy, thatâs all that matters."
You and Patri had been relatively successful at keeping your relationship quiet. It helped that you already lived in the same building, making it easy to slip in and out of each other's apartments without drawing too much attention. The close quarters provided the perfect cover â no one thought twice about seeing you together at odd hours or spending time in each other's spaces. It was just what friends did.
Patriâs naturally tactile nature also played a significant role in keeping suspicions at bay. She was always affectionate with everyone, always the one to throw an arm around a teammate, pull someone into a quick hug, or casually rest her head on a shoulder during team meetings. Her easygoing, physical approach to friendship meant that no one batted an eye when she touched you â no one suspected that her touches lingered just a little longer, or that her gaze softened whenever she looked at you.
This façade had worked well for months. You could share secret smiles across the room, brush fingers when passing each other in the hallway, or steal a quick kiss when no one was looking. It was thrilling in its own way â like you were both in on this wonderful secret that no one else knew about.
But as the weeks passed, the subtle changes in you were becoming harder to hide. The joy of being with Patri was seeping into every part of your life, and it was starting to show. The way your face lit up when she walked into the room, the newfound confidence that had everyone talking, the soft smile that seemed to have taken permanent residence on your lips â all of it was evidence that something had changed, something more than just a good mood.
Who would have thought that your carefully constructed illusion of smoke and mirrors would come crashing down over a bra? It was a very pretty bra â almost entirely see-through mesh with little blue flowers and vines draped artistically over the cups and bands. Delicate and elegant, it was a piece Patri had chosen carefully, knowing you would appreciate the details, knowing you would appreciate it immensely against her tanned skin.
It had been one of those rare, lazy mornings when you and Patri had lingered in bed longer than usual, wrapped up in each other and the comfort of your shared space. The early light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the tangled sheets. The world outside felt distant, and the pressures of your busy lives seemed to melt away in the quiet of the morning. There had been laughter â Patri had a way of making you laugh, really laugh, even when you were trying to stay serious. Soft kisses followed, the kind that spoke of unspoken promises, of shared secrets, and of the deep affection that had blossomed between you. Whispers filled the room, conversations so tender and intimate that they made the rest of the world fade into insignificance. It was just the two of you, in your own little universe, where nothing else mattered.
When it finally came time to get up and face the day, the reality of the outside world came rushing back in, and the easy rhythm of the morning turned into a scramble. You had dressed quickly, grabbing clothes off the floor in a hurry, not thinking twice about which items belonged to whom. There was no time for careful sorting or folding â just the frantic rush to stuff everything into your kit bags before heading out the door. In the chaos, it hadnât even crossed your mind that something as small as a bra could unravel everything youâd worked so hard to keep hidden.
The rest of the day had passed in a blur â training, meetings, more training. You hadnât thought about the bra once, too focused on your performance, on the game coming up, on the usual demands of your life. It wasnât until you were all gathered in the common room later that evening, relaxing after a long day, that the forgotten piece of lingerie decided to make its dramatic reappearance.
Technically, it was Patriâs fault â she had pulled her stuff out while gathering her towel before heading to the shower, a familiar routine in your post training haze. The bra had slipped from her pile of clothes, falling carelessly onto the floor and lying there, unnoticed, as the team of you rushed to get ready. It was a simple mistake, the kind that happens in the rush of daily life, but in your situation, it was a mistake with consequences.
Jana was in between you and Patriâs lockers when she spotted the lacy material sprawled carelessly on the ground. She picked it up with a puzzled look, clearly intrigued by the delicate piece of lingerie. The room was bustling with the usual post-training chatter, but the atmosphere seemed to shift subtly as she held up the bra.
âHey, I think you dropped this,â Jana called out as you approached your locker, extending the bra toward you with a slightly raised eyebrow.
Your reaction was almost instinctive. You had been caught up in the rhythm of the conversation, and without thinking, you waved off Janaâs gesture. âOh, no, thatâs Patriâs,â you said dismissively, barely registering what you had just revealed. The words slipped out before you could fully process their implications.
The instant the words left your mouth, the room seemed to go still. Alexia, who had been chatting with MapĂ and Ingrid, turned sharply toward you, her eyes narrowing with curiosity and a hint of suspicion. âAnd how would you know that, nena?â she asked, her tone carrying a mixture of intrigue and challenge.
Your mind went blank, a wave of panic washing over you. You could feel your face flushing as the realisation of what you had inadvertently confessed began to sink in. You froze, your mouth opening and closing as you scrambled for a plausible explanation. âUhhhhh,â you stammered, struggling to find the right words. âN-no reason.â
Alexiaâs gaze was unwavering, and the room seemed to hold its breath as she waited for a more satisfying answer. âHow do you know that bra belongs to Patri, nena?â she asked again, her voice firmer this time.
The question felt like a spotlight shining directly on you, exposing your every thought and emotion. Your heart raced as you tried to piece together a response that wouldnât draw more attention. The easy-going vibe of the room had vanished, replaced by an uncomfortable tension that seemed to settle over everyone.
Patri, who had returned from her shower at completely the wrong time stiffened visibly at the mention of the bra. Her face flushed with a mix of embarrassment and resignation. You could see the internal struggle reflected in her eyes as she glanced between you and the inquiring teammates. Her mouth opened, but she didnât say anything, leaving you to fend for yourself.
âUh, well,â you began, trying to regain your composure. âI just â â The words felt inadequate, and you could see the doubt in Alexiaâs eyes growing with each passing second. You glanced around, hoping to find a way out of the situation, but all you saw were the expectant faces of your teammates.
Jana, sensing the rising tension, looked between you and Alexia with a mix of confusion and concern. âMaybe it was just a mistake,â she suggested, her tone softening as she tried to defuse the situation. âI didnât realise it would be such a big deal.â
Alexiaâs eyes softened slightly, but she wasnât ready to let the matter drop completely. âI get that. But if itâs Patriâs, then itâs a bit more personal than just a forgotten item of clothing. So, how did you know?â
The pressure was mounting, and you could feel the weight of everyoneâs gaze on you. You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. âAlright, fine,â you said, your voice steadying as you faced Alexia. âPatriâs my girlfriend, thatâs how I know itâs hers.â
There was a collective intake of breath as the truth finally came out. The room seemed to shift, the realisation settling over everyone like a sudden wave. Patri, though visibly relieved, still looked a little flushed. You could sense a mixture of surprise and understanding in the reactions of your teammates.
Alexiaâs expression softened from curiosity to a look of genuine acceptance. âOh,â she said quietly, a smile forming on her lips. âWell, I guess that explains a lot.â
âIt does?â You and Patri asked simultaneously.
âYeh, it does, Patricia. Nena has the sex glow and you look at her like she hung the moon and stars.â
#woso community#woso x reader#woso#barca femeni x reader#woso fanfics#woso blurbs#barca femeni#woso imagine#woso oneshot#fc barcelona#barça femeni x reader#barça femeni#barca women#barcelona femeni x reader#barcelona femeni#fc barca#fc barça#patri guijarro#patri guijarro x reader#patricia guijarro#patricia guijarro x reader#alexia putellas#mapà leon#Ingrid engen#cata coll#espwnt#espwnt x reader#spain wnt#spain women's national team#woso fic
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ok: let me be very REALISTIC about project 2025. if youre on the same page that project 2025 is insane and would have massive implications for your life, and you're worried, read this post.
important considerations
the "project 2025" for trumps last term only had about 2/3rds pass rate, and was much less extreme than the current agenda
after the last trump administration, or during, a good chunk of the most extreme was undone or overturned by the courts or legislature (paris accords, trans kids in sports)
organizations like the aclu have already committed to continuing their work of the first trump administration, where they alone entered 434 legal challenges and overturned some of trumps most extreme policies (muslim ban, family separation)
lets also not forget the shadow of the last 8 years of the republican party, their extremist infighting cost them tons of priorities when they had majorities
do not forget trump is also spectacular at alienating his competent aides and replacing them with more loyal, but much less experienced and competent staff
what i want you to take away
it is beyond reasonable to be afraid, confused, and angry. life will change for the worse in america.
you should be preparing plans for your safety with your doctors, family, and friends. explore your healthcare, housing, education, and employment options to the fullest extent
it is very unlikely that project 2025, especially its most extremist plans, will be implemented in their entirety. no government is a perfect law passing machine. advocacy groups are laying down and dying until 2028.
take a deep breath, make some appointments, and take care of yourself
#us politics#project 2025#lgbtq#election 2024#feminism#blm#hastily made this over my morning tea#if youre gonna be a doomer on this post just dont
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More than anything || Lando Norris x fem!best friend!reader
Word countâ 6.9K
warnings â angst undertones, reader and Lando love each other but they are in denial about their feelings for each other.
Smut, oral fem receiving, brief fingering (fem) P in V unprotected sex, Lando and readers are both switches, soft!dom Lando brief soft!dom reader, praise and body worship.
Tagging â @astraeaworld @ashy-kit @alwayzbeenale @67-angelofthelordme-67 @amatswimming @a-casual-romantic @bblouifford @badassturtle13 @bbtoni @barcelonaloverf1life @charlesf1leclerc @crashingwavesofeuphoria @clowngirlsstuff @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @eugene-emt-roe @embrosegraves @faithsotherhouseofchaos @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hangmandruigandmav @hollie911 @jeffs77 @ironcowboycopnickel @lipringlrh @lightdragonrayne @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @moss-on-tmblr @natailiatulls07 @llando4norris @omgsuperstarg @oconswrld @otako5811 @purplephantomwolf @scotlynaurora @toasttt11 @uluvjay @vellicora @venusisnothere
You had been friends with Lando for as long as you could rememberâback when the world was simpler, and the only thing that mattered was which video game you were going to play or which movie youâd queue up for a late-night marathon. Youâd met at the race track a few years ago, and the connection had been instantâeasy, comfortable like youâd known each other for years.
But lately, things have been changing. And neither of you was brave enough to address it.
"Hey, you alright?" Lando's voice broke through your thoughts as you fiddled with the edge of your drink, staring into the cup more than you should. He was leaning on the table, casual as ever, but the way his gaze lingered on you for just a fraction too long made your stomach flip.
You blinked, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."
He raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. âYou sure? Youâve been kinda off tonight.â
âIâm just... not used to these late nights,â you shrugged, a half-lie, but it was easier than admitting what was going onâyour thoughts had become a jumbled mess of Lando this and Lando that, and you were pretty sure that it wasnât just a passing phase anymore.
Lando tilted his head, clearly considering pushing further, but he just gave a small nod. âWell, if you need me to kick anyoneâs ass for you, just say the word.â
You laughed, trying to shake off the tension. âYouâre such a dork, Norris.â
He grinned, and for a moment, it felt like nothing had changed. Like you were still the same two idiots who spent hours arguing about nothing and everything at the same time. But then, for a split second, you saw the way his eyes softened, and for the briefest of moments, you couldnât shake the feeling that maybe... maybe he wasnât joking about being there for you.
Lando felt a pang in his chest at your wordsâit was so obvious you were deflecting, but he couldnât press any further without giving himself away. The truth was, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the way his heart sped up whenever you were around, the way his skin tingled whenever your hand accidentally brushed against his.
But he couldnât say anything. There was too much at stakeâthe friendship youâd built, the comfort and familiarity of it all. It was too good to lose over a silly, confusing crush.
He sipped his drink, trying to act casual, but he could feel the tension growing between you bothâawkward, charged, like the air before a storm. He wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, but every opening line he could think of sounded wrong in his head.
Instead, he just settled for watching the way your eyes darted around the room, never really focusing on anything for more than a second. You seemed... off, and the fact that you wouldnât tell him why was eating him alive.
Finally, he couldnât take it anymore. He leaned a little closer, his voice lowering to a whisper. âSeriously, youâre sure youâre alright? You can tell me if somethingâs going on, you know. I mean, weâre friends, right?â
He didnât miss the way you tensed up at his question, and it sent a pang of anxiety through him. Had he said something wrong? Was he pushing too hard?
You forced another smile, trying to maintain the facade. âYeah, of course, weâre friends. Just like always,â you said.
Landoâs frown deepened. That wasnât the response he was expecting. He had a feeling there was more going on than you were letting on, and the thought was driving him crazy.
He chewed on his lower lip, weighing his words. âThen why do I get the feeling that you're not telling me something? You've been acting weird for a while nowâyou're not as yourself.â
He waited, studying your reaction. There it was againââŹâthat flicker in your eye whenever he mentioned something to do with your behavior.
You swallowed hard, the guilt churning in your stomach. You wanted to tell himâyou did. But the words lodged in your throat stuck somewhere between fear and uncertainty.
âIt's...it's nothing, I promise,â you insisted, trying to keep your tone light.
But Lando wasnât buying it. He knew you too well at this pointâhe could read the signs of a lie better than the track maps he studied religiously.
Sighing, Lando set his mug on the coffee table before gently taking yours out of your hand, setting it right next to yours, and holding your hands in his own.Â
Lando's touch was soft, his eyes fixed intently on yours. The heat from his hands soaked into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.
âPlease, just talk to me,â he said, his voice unusually serious. âI know something's not rightâI can see it, okay? Do you think I haven't noticed that you've been acting weird around me? And you won't even tell me why.â
You could hear the worry in his voice, see it in the lines of his face. Dammit, you had made Lando Norris worry. Guilt clawed at your chestâyou hated that you were the one to cause that look in his eyes.Â
You swallowed hard, your throat feeling tight. You wanted to pour out all your feelings right thenâabout how every touch lately made your skin blaze and how you stayed up at night listening to old voice notes he sent you.
But instead, you just sighed, your shoulders slumping in defeat. âItâs just...itâs complicated, okay?â
Lando tilted his head, a silent encouragement to continue. He was listening now, really listening, his gaze never leaving yours. âDid someone hurt you? Because if they did tell me Iâll take care of it.â Lando says slightly panicked he couldnât stand the thought of you being hurt in some way the whole thought made his stomach upset.
Your heart clenched at his wordsâhe was always so protective, so quick to defend you from any possible harm. The thought of him going to bat for you was both endearing and a little heart-breaking.Â
âNo, no, itâs nothing like that, I promise,â you reassured him quickly. This wasnât what you had been worried about, but somehow, your lie only made you feel worse.
âThen darlin tell me whatâs bugging youâ he pleaded. There was that nickname again. The one that made your heart skip a beat and your palms start to sweat. You bit your lip, hesitating, wondering if you were ready to bear your soul to him like this.
âItâsâitâs stupid, really,â you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. Lando leaned in closer, a crease forming on his forehead. âHey, look at me,â he said, gently tilting your chin up to meet his eyes. âIf itâs bothering you like this, itâs not stupid.â
Your breath caught in your throat at his touch, the soft pressure of his fingertips on your skin. Lando was closer nowâso close that you could see the flecks of gold in his normally blue eyes. Somehow, despite everything, your feelings for him had only grown, intensified and there was no burying it anymore.
âIt's...it's you,â you blurted out before you could stop yourself, your heart racing. It was like once you started, the words just kept coming.
"Every time I'm around you, I just...I feel different. Like, I get all fluttery and nervous, and my brain turns to pudding. And I can't stop thinking about you, and..."
You paused, your words catching in your throat. You hadn't meant to dump it all out like that, but once you started, you couldnât stop.
Lando's eyes widened as you spoke, disbelief and surprise warring on his face. Heâd known something was up, but he hadnât expected thisâto hear that you were going through the same things he was.Â
For a moment, he just sat there, dumbfounded, his grip on your chin still loose but his touch still there. Then, softly, almost reverently, he breathed a single word. âMe?â
You almost laughedâ it was so typical for Lando. Even when you were pouring your heart out, the idiot still found some way to be charming.Â
âYes, you,â you said flatly, rolling your eyes in a vain attempt to hide your nerves. âWho the hell else would I be talking about?â
Lando chuckled, a soft rumble in his chest, and somehow, you could feel the tension slowly seeping out of the situation.
âI justââŹÂŚI canât believe it,â he confessed. âIâve been going crazy over the same thing for months now, I didnât think youâd feel the same wayâ
He trailed off, looking at you with a mix of disbelief and something bordering on awe. You stared at him, your mouth open in surprise. Had he just confessed what you thought he had?
âWait, back up. Youâ You pointed a shaky finger at him, your words coming out in a jumble, âYouâve had a crush on me for months?â
Lando looked sheepish, like a kid caught sneaking cookies. He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish little smile on his face. âYeah,â he almost winced at the admission, like he expected you to start laughing any moment. âI know, itâs stupid, but I couldnât help it. Every time we hung out or talked, or even just it was like Iâd just lose my mind.â
He huffed a dry laugh, looking down at his hands, âI never thought I never thought you felt the same.â
Your heart felt like it could burst out of your chest at his words. Lando Norris, the flirty, carefree prince of Formula 1, had a crush on you, a normal, average girl. It didnât seem real.
âGod, weâre both idiots,â you breathed, the words slipping out before you could stop them. Lando looked up at you, eyebrows raised, a mixture of amusement and relief on his face. âWhyâs that?â he asked, a hint of a smile on the edge of his lips.
You huffed, shaking your head. âBecause neither of us had the balls to say anything until now.â Lando barked a laugh, leaning back against the couch. âThatâs a fair point.â
He glanced sidelong at you, some of the easy confidence returning to his usual swagger. âAlthough I have to say, Iâm still a little surprised you never noticed.â
You gave him an incredulous look. âHow was I supposed to notice? Youâre a big flirt. How was I supposed to know I wasnât just another one on your list?â
âI could never let you be just another girl on my list,â Lando murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, as he gazes deeply into your eyes. The weight of his words hangs in the air, and an electric tension envelops the space between you. You can feel your heart racing, each pulse resonating with the intensity of the moment. Landoâs expression is earnest, revealing a vulnerability that makes your breath catch in your throat. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you, locked in this intimate moment, where all your past encounters seem to dissolve, and only the possibility of something deeper remains.
Your heartbeat hammers in your chest, a cacophony of emotion swirling inside. Lando's confession is more than your racing mind can handle. You hadn't expected to hear those words from him.
You opened your mouth, trying to find the right response, an appropriate reaction to the raw honesty in his eyes. Yet, no words come out. All you can do is sit there, caught between wanting to believe his words and a lingering uncertainty. His eyes are unwavering, fixed on yours, waiting.
Lando looks at you, his gaze unwavering. He can see the storm of emotions playing over your face, the way your mind is racing to make sense of all this. But he isnât deterred. For him, this isnât just another flirty banter, another attempt to charm someone into a night of fun. This is real the realest heâs ever felt about anything in his life.
He reaches out, his fingertips just barely brushing your cheek. The touch is light, and gentle, as if heâs afraid of scaring you away with too much pressure.
The soft touch of his fingertips against your skin sends a shiver down your spine, a stark contrast to the chaotic thoughts swirling in your mind. And yet, despite the confusion and surprise, you find yourself leaning into his touch, almost unconsciously.
âI mean it,â Lando says softly as if reading the unspoken doubt in your silence. His eyes are earnest and intense. âI donât just ⌠I donât just âflirtâ with everyone. Youâr⌠youâre different.âÂ
Your heart clenches at his words, his quiet honesty. Part of you wants to believe him, to take a leap of faith and trust that this isnât just empty words. But the other part, the part ruled by doubt and fear, keeps you rooted in place.
âHow am I different?â you ask quietly, barely daring to meet his gaze. Lando takes a moment to think before answering, his fingers still tracing light circles on your cheek. His touch is soothing, and grounding a small patch of calm in the whirlpool of emotions.
âYouâre different because youâre you,â he finally replies, his voice firm, certain. âYouâre not just another girl I flirt with. Youâve been my friend forever. You know me better than anyone. And yet, somehow, you still like me. For me, not just for the thrill of it all.â
The words hit you like a wrecking ball, knocking the air right out of your lungs. He was right. You had been more than willing to accept Lando for all his flaws, his quirks, his vicesâeverything that made him who he was. And somehow, miraculously, he was offering you the same in return.
âBut what if it doesnât work out?â you whisper, your voice wavering, betraying the lingering threads of doubt. Lando's expression softens, his touch becoming more gentle, more reassuring. âI canât promise weâre going to be perfect, darling,â he admits quietly. âThereâll be rough spots, I know that. But I can promise Iâll be there for you, through all of it.â
He takes a breath, his gaze never leaving yours. âI can promise Iâll try, with everything Iâve got. To make you happy, to keep you safe, to be good for you.â You look up at Lando, your heart in your throat. Everything in you wants to believe in his words, in the sincerity behind his eyes. But the fear of the unknown, the uncertainty of what the future holds, still whispers doubts in your ear.
âI want to believe you, Lando. I do,â you confess, your voice barely audible. âBut Iâm scared. Iâm scared of getting hurt, of losing what we already have.â
âI know,â Lando nods, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. âI get it. Iâm scared too.â
He takes a moment, swallowing hard. âBut Iâm also tired. Iâm tired of pretending. Tired of dancing around what both of us have been feeling for months now.â
His hand cups your face then, his touch becoming firmer, more certain. âIâm tired of not having you as more than a friend. And I think...I think you are, too.â
Your eyes flutter shut at his touch, your breath catching in your throat. You hate that heâs right, hate the way his words resonate deep within you. You had been longing for this for monthsâyears if you were being honest with yourself.Â
You open your eyes again, meeting his gaze. The fear is still there, the doubts still niggling at the edge of your mind, but now...now theyâre overpowered by something else. Hope.
âLando?â
Lando lets out a quiet hum, keeping his gaze fixed on you. He looks as if heâs almost holding his breath, waiting for you to speak.
âYeah?â he replies, his voice soft, almost tentative.
âKiss me please?â you ask your voice barely above a whisper. Landoâs eyes widened a fraction, the shock on his face quickly giving way to a look of breathless awe. He looks at you like he canât quite believe what youâve just said.
But then, his lips pull into a smileâa bright, brilliant, beautiful smile that makes your heart skip a beat.Â
âI thought youâd never ask,â he breathes out, and then his hand moves from your cheek to cup the back of your neck, pulling you in towards him. The moment your lips meet his, it's like the world disappears. All the noise, the worries, the doubts, they all melt away, leaving nothing but the sensation of Lando's lips on yours.
His mouth is warm, gentle at first, and then with growing confidence as he deepens the kiss, pulling you closer to him. His touch is electrifying, sending shockwaves through your body as his hands pull you onto his lap.
You reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, and tasting the sweetness of his lips. Youâve been craving this for so long years of yearning compressed into this single moment of release. His hands move under your shirt, skimming over the bare skin of your back, making you shiver against his touch.
The kiss seems to go on forever a sweet, slow, burning kind of kiss that makes the outside world fade completely. Thereâs only Lando, only the heat of his body against yours, the pounding of your heart, the way his tongue teases yours, sending sparks straight to your veins.
Finally, you break apart, both of you gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together as you cling to each other. Landoâs eyes are dark, pupils dilated with something primal, something possessive. âGod, you have no idea how long Iâve wanted to do that,â he whispers, breathless, his hand still tracing patterns across your bare skin, sending shivers down your spine.
âI think I might have some idea,â you reply, your breathing still ragged. âYouâve made it pretty damn obvious, you know.â
You can see the hint of a cocky grin on Landoâs face as he ducks his head, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his hands gripping your hips tightly. âCan you blame me?â he mumbles against your skin, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. âYouâre pretty damn irresistible.â
The feel of his teeth, the scrape of his stubble against your skin itâs driving you insane. Every nerve in your body is on fire, every sense keyed into his touch, his breath, his voice. âI feel like Iâve been going crazy,â Lando murmurs as he nips at your earlobe. âMonths of trying to keep my hands off you, trying to pretend I didnât want you more than Iâve ever wanted anything. I thought I was going to lose my goddamn mind.âÂ
âImagine what itâs been like for me,â you reply, your voice hitching as he finds a particularly sensitive spot just below your ear. âWatching you smile and flirt with everyone but me. Listening to you talk about your datesââŹÂŚit was torture.â
Lando pulls back at that, his expression turning apologetic. âGod, Iâm sorry, darling. But you werenât exactly making it easy for me either, you know. Looking all cute and pretty and yeah,â he finishes lamely, his face reddening.
You canât help but smirk at that. âNot my fault you canât handle a little temptation,â you tease, poking his chest lightly. Lando huffs, his competitiveness flaring as he nips at your finger. âOh, I can handle temptation just fine,â he retorts with a hint of a growl. âIâve been handling it for months, thank you very much.â
He pulls you back onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you, possessive, and suddenly his mouth is on your neck again, his teeth scraping over your pulse point, making you gasp.
âYou were handling it, were you?â you tease between gasps, arching against him as his tongue trails down the column of your throat. âDoesnât seem like you were handling it very wellâ
His hands slide under your shirt, his touch roaming over your back, your waist, his thumbs dipping under the edge of your bra.
âTrust me, love,â Lando says in a low voice, his hands mapping out every inch of your skin, âYou have no idea what kind of self-control Iâve had to exercise. There were times I wanted to pin you against a wall and just..â
His words trail off, but the way his hands grip your hips, the way he tugs you flush against him, make it pretty clear what he wanted to do. âWhat stopped you, then?â you ask, biting back a moan as his lips find your collarbone, his teeth grazing over the sensitive skin. âYou seemed to have no problem going after every other girl you wantedâ
Lando lets out a soft huff, his forehead resting against your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. âBecause it was never just a one-night thing, darling,â he mutters, almost too quiet to hear. âNone of them they werenât you.â
His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, and when he looks at you, thereâs a vulnerability in his eyes thatâs almost staggering.
Your heart clenches at his words, the raw honesty in his eyes robbing you of speech. Youâd expected flirty charm and cocky banter, but thisââŹÂŚthis was something else altogether. Lando Norris, the heartthrob of Formula 1, the man who could have any girl he wanted, was admitting to you, just you, that heâd never wanted anyone the way he wanted you.
âLando I need you so bad,â you say hoping for something to happen between you. Landoâs breath hitches at your words, his grip on you tightening slightly as if heâs barely holding himself back. âYeah?â he breathes out, his voice shaky, laced with desire. âHow bad, darling?â
âBad enough that I donât think I can take it anymore,â you confess, your voice quivering. Everything in you is on fire, every nerve endings craving his touch, his lips, his body. You want him, desperately, urgently, and you can see in his eyes that he wants you just as badly.
Lando curses under his breath, his hands gripping your hips as he holds you against him. You feel the hardness of his arousal against you, and the knowledge nearly makes you dizzy. Lando leans forward, his lips finding your ear, his breath hot against your skin.
âYou have no idea the things I want to do to you, darling,â he murmurs, his voice rough, gravelly with need. âShow me,â you breathe out, your voice hoarse, filled with aching need. âI want to see. I want to know.âÂ
Lando lets out a low moan, his fingers digging into your hips as he turns you so youâre laying on your back on the couch, with him hovering over you, his weight pressing you into the cushion.
His lips are back on your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as his hands slide under your shirt, pushing the fabric up and off, revealing your bare stomach. His mouth follows the path of his hands, leaving a trail of scorching kisses down to the edge of your bra.Â
Lando looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire, a silent question in his gaze. You nod, breathless, your body yearning for his touch. Lando hooks a finger under the elastic of your bra, the touch of his knuckles against your skin making you shudder. He tugs the bra off, tossing it onto the floor, and then leans forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss.Â
His hands roam over your bare chest, fingers dancing over your sensitive skin, igniting a thousand little fires everywhere he touches.
Lando moves his kisses from your lips down to your chest, his mouth trailing down to the valley between your breasts. You arch against him, your body craving more, needing more of his touch, more of him.
âGod, youâre stunning,â he murmurs between kisses, his voice wavering, filled with awe. âIâve wanted you like this for so long, darling so damn longâÂ
âIâm right here,â you gasp out, arching your back as his lips close around one nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. âItâs not just you whoâs been going crazy, you know Iâve wanted this too, god, so many times I thought I was going to go crazyâ
Lando chuckles against your skin, the vibration sending another wave of heat through you. âGood to know I havenât been the only one going mad,â he murmurs, his mouth trailing down your stomach, his hands roaming over your sides. âI couldnât focus in a race for weeks just thinking about you like this, darling, about how youâd look, how youâd how youâd tasteâ
He kisses the inside of your hip, his beard scraping against your skin, and then his thumbs are hooking under the waistband of your sweatpants, beginning to pull them down. You lift your hips to help him tug them off, your heart hammering against your ribs in anticipation.
Lando looks down at you, his eyes roaming over your body, taking in every inch of bare skin. He curses under his breath, his pupils dilated with desire. âGod, look at you,â he mutters, running a trembling hand down your side. âYouâre so perfect so goddamn perfectâ
He moves between your legs, his hands gripping your hips, his touch firm but gentle. âAll these months, Iâd fantasize about this, about you, laid out like this just for me,â he mumbles, leaning down to press kisses along your inner thighs. âI never thought Iâd get to see it for realâ
âI never thought Iâd let you see,â you reply breathlessly, your hands tangling in his hair. âBut Iâm all yours now, Lando. All yours. Show me what youâve been thinking aboutâ
Lando groans at your words, his thumb rubbing circles on your hip as he positions himself between your legs. His lips are back on your skin, kissing and sucking and nipping, slowly moving up your thigh until you can feel his breath against your aching core.Â
âYouâre sure?â he asks in a gravelly voice, his eyes meeting yours.
You nod, words failing you. Desire is coursing through your veins like a drug, making you dizzy and needy and aching for more. âPlease, Lando,â you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. âPlease, I need you donât make me wait anymore.â
Lando lets out another low moan, his breath hot against your skin. âGod, I love it when you beg,â he mutters, his voice rough with desire. âIâm gonna give you everything you need, darling everything you wantâ
His mouth finally finds your core, and itâs almost enough to make you scream. His tongue is doing glorious things, and itâs all you can do to keep yourself from bucking against him, the pleasure almost too much to bear.
âL-Lando,â you gasp out brokenly, your hands twisting in his hair, holding on for dear life.
Lando hums against you, the vibrations sending another wave of pleasure through you. His grip on your hips tightens as his tongue continues its wicked dance, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
âGod, you taste even better than I imagined,â he mutters, his words muffled against your skin. âI want to hear you, darling want to know Iâm making you feel good.â
You canât help but obey, his words and his touch driving you to the brink of madness. A steady stream of moans and gasps falls from your lips, and Lando groans in response like heâs enjoying your pleasure just as much as you are.Â
Just when you think you canât take any more, Landoâs mouth moves away from your core, leaving you feeling bereft, aching with unfulfilled need.
âWhyâd you stop?â you gasp out, looking down at him with hazy eyes. Lando grins at you, his lips glistening with your desire.Â
âBecause Iâm not done with you yet, darling,â he murmurs as he moves back up your body, his body settling on top of you, his weight pressing you into the couch. âYouâre cruel, you know,â you murmur, a shiver running through you as you feel the hard length of his arousal pressing against you. âLeaving me like that all needy and aching for you.â
âYouâll just have to suffer a little while longer,â Lando replies, his voice dripping with feigned innocence, his lips curving into a smirk. He nips at your shoulder, then brushes his lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. âJust think about how good itâll feel when I finally give you what you want, love how good Iâm going to make you feelâ
You whine in frustration, arching against him, your body desperate for release. Lando laughs against your skin, his hands roaming over your body, igniting a thousand little fires everywhere he touches.
âLook at you, all needy for me,â he murmurs, his voice gravelly with desire. âGod, I love seeing you like this all desperate and begging me I could get addicted to it, you know.â
Youâre helpless against him, your body putty in his skillful hands. Every touch, every press of his lips is sending electricity through your veins, lighting up your nerves. Youâre so close to the edge, clinging to it desperately as Lando continues to drive you wild.
âPlease, Lando, please,â you plead, your voice breathless, desperate. âI need you I need you so much I need I needâ
âWhat do you need, love?â Lando murmurs, his fingers tracing a path up your inner thigh, dancing ever closer to where you need him most. âYouâll have to use your words, darling I want to hear you say itâ
You let out a strangled moan, your body quivering with tension. âI need I need you to touch me,â you finally manage to gasp out, your voice thick with need. âPlease, Lando make me feel good I canât take anymore I canâtâ
Lando lets out a low growl at your words, his hand finally moving to where you need him most. His fingers dip between your folds, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves and stroking it lightly, making you shudder in ecstasy.
âYouâre so damn wet, love,â he mutters, his voice rough with desire. âSo goddamn responsive for me ... .I've just been touching you for a few minutes and youâre already falling apart in my arms âFeels feels so good,â you gasp out, your body arching against his touch. Your senses are completely overwhelmed, your whole world narrowed down to the feeling of Landoâs fingers, the sound of his voice, the feel of his weight on top of you. Everything else is distant, hazy, and insignificant compared to him.
âThatâs it, darling,â Lando murmurs, his fingers moving more quickly, his touch firmer. âLet go Iâve got you Iâm right here Iâm gonna take care of you .â
His other hand is cupping your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek, his eyes fixed on yours, dark, possessive, intense.
âI need to feel you,â you gasp out between moans, your body clenching tight around his fingers. âPlease, Lando I want you I need you.â
Landoâs breath hitches at your words, his eyes darkening even further. âGod, you have no idea what you do to me,â he mutters, his voice shaking. âYouâre goddamn perfect, you know that? Perfect and mine. All mineâ
âMore,â you murmur, your body pleading for release. âPlease, Lando, more I need more.â
Landoâs thumb is circling over your clit, his fingers moving deeper, faster, driving you to the brink of insanity. âIs this enough, darling?â he asks, his voice rough but his touch still gentle. âOr do you need even more? Tell me what you want, love Iâll give you whatever you need.
âYou.â The word comes out barely coherent, but you manage to force it out in a gasp. âI want you. I need you. All of you. I canât take this anymore, Lando. I canâ please.â
Landoâs eyes widen at your words, a guttural moan escaping his lips. âChrist, darlinâ,â he mutters, his voice tight with control, âyou keep talking like that, and thatâll be over before it even starts.â
âThen donât make me wait anymore,â you beg, your body trembling with need. âPlease, Lando, I donât think I can take it I need to feel you I need you nowâ
Landoâs fingers continue their torturous rhythm, his other hand holding your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. You can see the struggle for control in his eyes, the tension in his body, the barely contained desire. Heâs just as desperate as you are, just as needy.
âAre you sure, darlin?â he asks, his voice strained with self-control. âOnce I give you what you want, I wonât be able to stop. I wonât be able to hold back anymore Iâll take you right here and now, just like you want. are you sure youâre ready for that?â
Youâve never been more certain of anything in your life. You nod, the word tumbling out of you, pleading, desperate. âYes. Yes. God, Lando yes, Iâm ready. More than ready. I want you, all of you. Now. Pleaseâ
A guttural moan escapes Landoâs lips at your words, the sound raw and primal. âGod, youâre going to be the death of me, darlin,â he mutters, his hands moving to your hips, gripping them as he positions himself between your legs. âBut goddammit Iâm not going to fight it anymoreâ
He leans down, his lips claiming yours in a fierce, possessive kiss, his body pressed fully against yours. You can feel his need, his desire, his desperation mirrored in every movement, in every slide of his tongue against yours. His hands shift to your thighs, spreading your legs wider, aligning your bodies perfectly.
âGod, youâre gorgeous,â he mutters between kisses, his voice rough, hoarse with lust. âSo goddamn perfect all laid out for me all mine.â
His hips press against yours, the heat, the hardness of his arousal making you gasp against his lips. âI need you, darlin,â he mutters, his hands skimming up your sides, his touch sending sparks of heat through you. âI need you so damn much it hurts I canât hold back anymore I canâtâ
âThen donât,â you whisper, your body arching against his, pleading for him. âPlease, Lando donât hold back anymore Iâm all yours pleaseâ
Lando lets out another guttural moan, his control finally snapping. âGod, darlin, the things you do to me goddamn â
He shifts his weight, positioning himself at your entrance, the tension in his body like a coiled spring. âYou sure about this, love? Youâre sure?â
âIâm sure,â you murmur, your body aching with need, your heart filled with a certainty youâve never felt before. âIâve never been surer of anything in my life, Lando. I want you, goddammit, I need you and Iâm yours just please.â
Your words are like a match to a fuse, igniting the last shred of his control. Lando lets out a guttural moan, his hands gripping your hips, his body tense, trembling with the effort of restraining himself. He takes a shaky breath, his blue eyes meeting yours, dilated with desire.
âYouâre mine, darlin,â he repeats, his voice a hoarse whisper. âAll mine.â
And with that, he finally surrenders to his need, his control shattered. His body sheathes itself within you, filling you, stretching you, claiming you in a way thatâs primal and possessive and perfect. A moan tears from your throat, your body arching against his, sparks of pleasure dancing through you, igniting every nerve.
Lando lets out a guttural groan, his body shuddering against yours. âGod, you feel so good,â he gasps out, his hands gripping your hips tightly. âSo damn perfect youâre going to be the death of me, darlinâ
Your world narrows down to the sensation of him within you, his body moving against yours, the feel of his hands, his mouth, his body on and around you. Your whole world is Lando: his breath against your skin, the taste of his neck, the feel of his body moving against yours.
âGod, yes,â you gasp out between moans, your body meeting his every thrust, your hands tracing over his back, feeling the shifting muscles beneath your palms. âLandoâLando God, you feel so good so perfectâ
"Oh, lord have mercy-" you gasped your eyes rolling at the back of your head.Â
 "Oh, he had plenty when he made you. My. fucking. Friend." Lando says between thrusts.
Landoâs words are like fuel to the fire, igniting a heat within you thatâs almost primal, almost feral. You cling to him, your body quivering, your nails digging into his skin. He lets out another guttural moan, his body trembling with the effort of holding back, his restraint paper-thin.
"I donât think Iâm going to last much longer, darlin," he gasps out, his voice rough, strained. "You feel too good too perfectâ
"Just let go, Lando," you breathe out, your voice hoarse, a plea, a command, a plea. "I want you to. Come for me show me how good I make you feel"
Landoâs body shudders at your words, his control finally, blissfully breaking. âGoddammit, darlin, you have no idea what you do to me,â he mutters, his voice a hoarse growl. âYou drive me wild, love god damn I canâtâI canâtâ
He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes locked on yours, his body trembling, taut, quivering with tension. âAre you close, darlin?â he gasps out, his voice tight, strangled.
You nod, your body clenching around him, your hands clinging to his shoulders, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. âImâIâm so close, Lando,â you manage to gasp out, your eyes meeting his, filled with a mixture of pleasure and desperation.Â
Landoâs eyes darken at your words, a possessive, primal spark igniting in his gaze. âThatâs it, darlin,â he murmurs, his body moving faster, harder, deeper, his breath coming in ragged gasps against your skin. âLet go for me. Let go for me I want to feel you I want to feel you come undone in my armsâ
Youâre helpless to resist his pleas, your body quivering, ready to burst. His voice, his touch, his body, itâs all too much, too intense. Youâre teetering on the edge, so close to the precipice, hanging on by a mere thread.
âL-Landoâ you manage to moan out, your voice shaky, breathless. âIâmâIâmâIâmâ
Landoâs body trembles with the effort of holding back, his restraint hanging on by a thread. âThatâs it, darlin,â he gasps out, his voice ragged, tight. âLet go. Let go, darling. Iâve got you Iâve got youâ
The tension finally snaps, your body seizing up, a wave of ecstasy crashing over you like a wall of fire. You cry out, your nails digging into Landoâs back, your body shuddering with the force of your release.
Lando lets out a guttural moan at the feeling, his body tensing, his hips stuttering, his control finally, blissfully broken. âGoddammit, darlin,â he mutters, his voice a hoarse gasp. âThatâs it thatâs it Iâm right there with you, darlin,â he gasps out, his body shuddering against yours, his release crashing over him like a tsunami. âGoddamn youâve got me completely wrecked, loveââŹÂŚI donât know if Iâll ever be able to recover.â
You cling to him, both of you trembling in the aftermath, holding onto each other for dear life. The room is filled with the sounds of your panting breaths, the thump of your heartbeats, the rustle of the sheets beneath you.
Landoâs arms wrap around you, his body pressing against yours, holding you tightly to him. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. Heâs still shaking, still quivering with the aftershocks of the pleasure youâve just experienced together.
"Goddamn, darlin," he mutters, his voice low, rough. "You wreck me. Every time. You completely wreck me."Â
You let out a soft, contented sigh, your body relaxing into his embrace. âThat wasââŹÂŚthat was intense,â you murmur, your fingers tracing lazy circles over his back. âI donât think I can feel my legs.â
Lando lets out a soft, hoarse chuckle at your words, the sound vibrating against your skin. âThatâs what I was aiming for, darlin,â he mutters, his lips brushing over your neck. âI wanted to make sure you wouldnât be able to walk straight for a few days.â
âYou succeeded,â you say, a smile curving your lips, your body still tingling, still humming with the aftermath. âI donât think Iâm ever going to be the same after that.â
Lando lets out a soft, possessive moan at your words, his arms tightening around you. âGood,â he mutters, his lips moving over your skin, âbecause I plan on doing that to you again and again, darlin. Over and over. Until you canât even remember your own name.â
You let out a soft, contented sigh, a shiver of anticipation running through you. âIs that a promise?â you murmur, your voice soft, sultry.
Lando lets out a low rumble of affirmation, his lips finding the sensitive spot behind your ear. âItâs a promise, darlin,â he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. âIâm going to keep you in bed for days, love. Until you forget everything except my name.â
You shiver at the possessive, primal note in his voice, the promise in his words. âYouâre going to wear me out,â you murmur, your body already stirring with renewed desire.
Lando lets out another low rumble, his hands beginning to wander over your body, reigniting the fire between you. âThatâs the plan, darlin,â he mutters, his lips moving down your neck, âto wear you out and then wear you out some more. I canât get enough of you, love. I never will.â
You let out a soft, wanton moan, your body arching against his, your heart swelling with a mixture of pleasure and desire. âYouâre insatiable,â you murmur, your fingers tangling in his hair.
"Only with you, darling . Only you,â
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In a moment like this, only one man can help Bruce Wayne through this difficult time: Michael Jon Carter, THE Booster Gold.
Bruce: I am a master of my craft. Dedicated myself to living two lives and sheparding many others. I have made gods themselves penitent. How the hell am I supposed to cope with this...this humiliation?
Mike: Settle down, my Bat-bestie! This is tabloid drivil. It'll blow over in a few days, tops. You have no idea how often I have to deal with the gossip mags calling me a huge slut.
Ted: (laughing from the other room) Lmao what no you don't.
Bruce: Get to the point, Booster.
Mike: OK so the number one tactic here is to remember that the public has the attention span of a macaque blitzed on Four Loko. Don't ask me how I know that. Just jingle some new keys and they'll forget all about the "Bruce Wayne is Batman is a huge slut" thing.
Bruce: First of all, I actually respect the public. Second, I know it can't be that easy.
Mike: Correctamundo! If you want to dislodge a smear campaign, you gotta taunt TMZ with something at least as juicy. It's like physics! I think. Skeets still refuses to explain science to me after the whole macaque incident.
Bruce: I'm not starting another rumor just to cover my own ass.
Mike: No need! I'll do it. Did you know Superman has a tattoo?
Bruce: He doesn't.
Mike: I'm shocked. Shocked! We share a locker room and you've never seen it? Right on the inner thigh, near his super-you-know-what. Looks like a cat.
Bruce: This is nonsense. Superman does not have a tattoo of Streaky on his thigh.
Mike: Who the heck is Streaky?
Bruce: Superman's cat.
Mike: We're allowed to have pets!? Skeets! Are you a pet?
Skeets: (from the other room) I always thought of myself more as a "friend."
Mike: Anyway, pretty weird of Superman to have a tattoo of his pet cat, Stinky, near his Kryptonian ding-dong.
Bruce: That's not...sigh. Look. I appreciate your intent, Booster. But you clearly don't know anything and cannot help me here. I'll figure out my own way out of this.
Mike: And yet, we're not talking about super-slut Bruce "The Batman" Wayne anymore, are we?
Bruce: ...
Mike: Or macaques.
Bruce: I...owe you an apology, Booster. In all my years as the greatest detective on the planet, I may have overlooked the possibility that such an inane solution to a problem would have real-world efficacy. Thank you, and I'm sorry.
Mike: No problem, Batso! I know you'd do the same for me.
Ted: (from the other room) Hey, babe, why's Cat Grant running an article about "Booster Gold's monkey drug parties?"
Mike: I'm gonna need the "do the same for me" part, pronto.
I'm sorry, we as a society do not talk about the fact that in order to maintain his playboy billionaire status Bruce Wayne had to sleep with a lot of people,, a lot, of people in order to maintain that.
And I'm not shaming him for that, get your hot girl summer brucie hell yea, but what I will say is can you imagine,,,
How hilarious it would be that when eventually Batman's identity gets revealed- it's not the reaction he was expecting.
ââOh my god. Oh my god, Bruce Wayne Bruce Wayne the the bimbo Sexy billionaire boy. He is the stoic hard-ass Batman. There's no way-âthat's not the reaction. The reaction is
âholy fucking shit I've slept with Batmanâ
Three quarters of that city and beyond is sat in front of their TVs, their radios, their phones,, I don't care. They're sitting there, agape going âI have slept with the Dark Knight. I have seen Gotham's Bat naked on his knees-â
bruce wouldnât be able to look the justice league nor his kids in the eyes for weeks after the reveal, solely due to the gossip channels or smth
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This is for the @6esiree contest that they are holding! I hope you enjoy it, and even if it doesn't perform well, I am glad to have made something long! Word Count 3.5k Alastor x Gen Z Reader Based on Song Older by Isabel LaRosa TW: Sexual content, stubbornness, gen gap, age gap, tentacles, begging
Dying wasnât the first thing on your list of exciting things to do. I mean, yes, you were a 23-year-old living in 2024, so of course, your will to live was low, but that didnât mean you were ready for it when it happened. No, instead, death came hard and fast, all because you had some serious FOMO and a quite pitiful YOLO moment.Â
One minute, you were having a great night out with friends, you had a handsome silver fox wrapped around your finger, and then the next thing, you woke to a red landscape of what you only assumed was hell. With your life, it made sense why âHellâ was where you ended up. You died partying and sleeping with the older man, so it only made sense that this was where you would consequently end up.Â
A deep sigh left you as you looked at the chaos around you. The only good thing you saw so far out of this event was that you didnât have bills to pay anymore. It looked like as long as you played your cards right, you could get anything here without needing money. As that thought crossed your mind, an ad for redeeming sinners played on a nearby radio.Â
The voice on the radio was alluring as all hell and had you questioning your life and undead choices. Not even five minutes into being dead, and you are already fawning over an older man's voice. It's good to know that living habits donât die with you in the afterlife.Â
Your resolve not shaken, you make your way to where the voice spoke of the Hazbin Hotel and find yourself at the base of a hill, looking up at a grand building with flashing lights. A shiver runs up your spine as you realize how powerful whoever runs this place must be. Maybe pretending to want to be saved would be well worth your time, then.Â
Letâs get one thing straight here: you are no damsel; you may like your men older, but that doesnât mean you need one. No, you are an independent queen who can do what she pleases. She just also realizes when to fold and when to hold her hand. Right now, seeking refuge from the fires and sex work was worth it; however, that didnât mean you wouldnât earn your keep all the same.Â
While you thought about these prospects and made your way up to the door, you noticed it was open without you even having to knock. Pushing your head through more of the door, it was clear to see what type of establishment this wasâŚa chaotic one.Â
Just standing in the entryway, the sights before you were hilarious and intriguing. A cat at the bar grumbled as he watched a spider dance on the bar. A young lady resembling a lamb hurriedly tried to stop the provocative dancing while a gray woman yelled at the spider. A cyclops laughed hysterically while tossing what you could only imagine was a bomb. A small woman rushed around laughing and stabbing the air while a man who looked a little like the lamb girl walked through the room.Â
The deer caught your eye the most, though, and it seemed you caught his, too, as he was the only one looking at you and your entrance. You two held eye contact, a shiver running up your spine. Oh, you definitely could get used to staying here.Â
Nodding more to yourself than the deer man, you walked in further and cleared your throat, everyone stopping to look at you. With a slight wave, you smiled brightly and introduced yourself. âHeya, Iâm Y/N. Nice to meet ya,â
The room was silent, causing you to laugh awkwardly. As you slowly backed away, thinking maybe this wasnât a great idea, the lamb girl came over and jumped on you. Holding your arms and bouncing, she spoke excitedly.Â
âOh my goodness, a new arrival! Hi, my name is Charlie. I am the hotel's owner,â She beamed proudly at the statement and motioned to the others all in the lobby area of the room, âAnd this is the Hazbin Hotel residents and staff! The cat is Husk, then Angel Dust, Vaggie, Cherri, Nifty, my father,â She leaned in and whispered, âAlso known as Lucifer,âÂ
Laughing at your surprised face, she pointed to the deer man last. âThis is Alastor. He is the hotelier; he helps me run the hotel! Was it his broadcast that brought you in?â
You shook your head at the information overload and laughed softly. Nodding to the question, you looked at everyone around. âYes, I actually passed not too long ago, and as I was weighing my options on where to go, I heard the message on the radio.âÂ
Charlie beamed proudly at Alastor, who just smiled at you precisely as he had been this entire time. You couldnât lie. He was drop-dead gorgeous. He was tall and fit, and if his voice sounded anything like how it did on the radio, you would be a goner for sure. He was an enigma and one you knew you had to be careful of if you wanted to make it out of this hotel with your head screwed on straight.Â
âMy my, I am quite honored my radio show was able to bring in a petal quite like yourself, dear,â He spoke so smoothly, and you knew right then how right you were; you were a goner. âI do hope you are staying here with us to be redeemed as Miss Charlotte wishes; I am eager to learnâŚmore about you, miss Y/N.â
You swallowed thickly, nodding. Looking at the others, you laughed and began some small talk while they decided where would be the best place to put you. The conversations ranged from how everyone died to how people got here, and you learned more about how hell worked. Learning that Alastor owned many souls only made him more appealing and dangerous.Â
As Charlie led you to your room, she made sure to inform you of the dangers of getting mixed up with Alastor. Being mindful of her warnings and the blaring alarms in your head that did not match the alarms between your legs, you made it a goal to avoid falling for Alastor at all costs. Oh, how wrong you were for that.Â
Alastor had his eyes on you the minute he felt your presence near the hotel. You were unlike any other woman he had seen. You looked young and still full of life, so how could someone like you have died so carelessly? Not to mention, he did find you oddly attractive, and your calm demeanor was refreshing. He wanted you and in more ways than just your soul.
He knew the best way to any woman's heart was to court her and get her to fall for him slowly till she needed him and him alone. However, you were a tricky one to get under the skin of. You were so damn stubborn and stuck in your ways of being the lead in your own life that allowing him any control seemed futile. However, the challenge you possessed was all the more thrilling to him.Â
It started off simple: He escorted you around the hotel. He wanted to lead you around like a gentleman, but you had your own plans. As he talked and explained a specific part of the hotel, your attention was elsewhere in your explorations.Â
âY/N, dearest, are you even paying attention?â he asked you sharply as you looked at the paintings for the millionth time since your arrival. You really wanted to listen to him, but this was kind of boring. After becoming close with the others, you were eager to hear more about their lives than be trapped with the man you swore not to sleep within this proximity to you.Â
âSorry, Alastor. Yes, I am listening. I was just wondering about some of the paintings; they are quite pretty.â You were honest, at least in the fact that you enjoyed the paintings. Someone had a knack for art, and you were not shy to admit it. However, when you soon learned it was he who chose all the art minus a handful, you quickly shut down your praise.Â
The next time Alastor tried to win you over and claim your soul was when he began opening doors for you. He never thought the day would come when he saw someone challenge him so brazenly. However, that was probably the day he fell in love with you, as he allowed it to happen.
âUhâŚAlastor, what are you doing?â You looked at the opened door with your arms crossed, your body still midstep from when he raced ahead to open the door.Â
âI am being a gentleman, Miss Y/N, that is all.â He looked so innocent, but you had heard more stories and learned so much about him from the shadows. He was no innocent man but a cold-blooded killer. You wouldnât lie, though, that his past and present only made you that more attracted to the idea of him. You wanted him biblically, and it only made you hate his advances more, as you didnât want to lose your soul.Â
âNo, thank you, Alastor. I can open my own doors.â You quickly took the door from him, closing it and reopening it before walking through. The look on Alastor's face was akin to pain and frustration. He was not a fan of your independent attitude and was willing to bet he could break you before the year ended.Â
Alastor resorted to making sure you always walked on the right side of the road, that your chairs were pulled out for you, and that your food was pre-cut; he even went out of his way to acquire a simple ruby necklace for you to wear so others knew you were accounted for. However, you were stubborn and not taking on his advances. All you would give him was that Cheshire grin and stubbornly push his buttons by mimicking his chivalry with your version.Â
When it came to Alastors courting skills and all his advances, you managed to turn them down in the same stubborn way. However, it didnât go amiss by Alastor that each turn down went from cold and distant worry to more playful and light-hearted jests on your part. Was it possible you were falling for him, too?Â
He admitted to himself a while ago, just as you had that the immediate attraction you two felt despite the age and generational gap was mutual. He didnât know how to break you while you were too worried about becoming his next meal, even though the way he wanted to eat you was not how you were thinking.Â
That was until one fateful day when the hotel was barren except you two. You had sat perched in the library reading some trashy romance novel, hoping to get yourself off while Alastor was busy with his work. Busy working till his shadow happened to inform him of what you were reading.Â
The book you had chosen was interesting in that the main female lead was a time traveler who managed to end up in the olden times as a helpless damsel needing a strong man to care for herâthe complete opposite of what you were as a person. However, you wouldnât lie that the thought of letting Alastor take care of you wasnât electrifying; it just went against everything you stood for.Â
However, reading the book and getting to the more intense sex scenes where the woman is restrained and taken care of sexually only caused you to feel more of a heated desire for the man who had plagued your thoughts since you made eye contact with him all those months ago. Sighing deeply, you flipped to the next page and moaned softly at the words, wishing it to be you. You wondered how long your and Alastorâs game of cat and mouse would play out until one caved.
Alastor entered the room and looked over your shoulder. He was enamored with you rutting into your leg as you read the heated pages. He smirked as a tentacle wrapped around your throat and pulled your attention up from the book to his eyeline. âMy dear, what do we seem to have here?â He practically purred, and you whimpered softly.Â
You were already so close to release on your heel that you didnât realize the pleas coming from your lips. You needed an older man badly; you needed Alastorâsomeone who would worship your body. As the pleas left your lips, it didnât take long for Alastor to pounce on you, his pent-up desire for the independent brat growing.Â
Alastor wasted no time and already had your sleep shorts pooled at your ankles, ratty nightshirt hiked up your back and drooping off one shoulder. Your inner thighs were slick and glistening with arousal from your earlier menstruations while reading.
 Alastor hummed in amusement, bending you over the couch, his cold tentacles holding you in place as he moved down your back. His soft breaths tickled you as much as they excited you. He hummed as he saw your pussy in full view, a smile growing on his face. He touched it softly, slick coating his hand as he spoke, âMy dear, you are already soaking; you were thinking about me, werenât you? Thinking about me taking you just like that man does in that book.â He smiled wider, lining his face with your slick. âAll you had to do was ask, beautiful.â
A tender hand pushes down on your back, further squishing your chest into the soft plush of the couch arm, his other hand grasping firmly at the fat of your backside where Alastorâs face is lapping at your dripping cunt. Soft mewls cry from your lips, hands reaching back to grasp his head, fingers tangling through the soft red and black locks, being mindful of his ears. He only grunts in response as he continues his onslaught on your most sensitive area.
What felt like minutes and hours at the same time passed; your legs were trembling, knees threatening to buckle under you with three orgasms already coaxed out of you on his tongue alone, milking you of your sweet, slick nectar. Your quiet, strained cries did nothing but aid the tightness in Alastorâs dress pants, his cock oozing arousal in his boxers, dampening the fabric beyond. Every involuntary shift of his hips causes more friction and tension with the fabric, sending a groan throughout your pussy.
Alastors noises vibrate against your cunt, shocking your overstimulated and oversensitive clit. All you can do is cry out as he pushes himself deeper, closer. his tongue is merciless and selfish as he threatens to swallow you whole. At this point, you're begging for him to relent, repeated pleas of his name falling from your lips as the familiar heat builds in your core, and you writhe under his hands. The cold slick of his tentacles digs into your skin as he takes hold of your ankles and wrists now to keep you open.Â
Everything becomes overstimulating as the world begins to spin. Your jaw goes slack, and saliva pools in your mouth as it threatens to spill over your swollen lips. Tears are streaming down your flushed face, your hair is frizzy, and your eyes are practically rolling to the back of your head as yet another release washes over you, sending a shudder through your body.
Alastor finally pulls his face away from the space he has claimed as his between your thighs, not without flattening his tongue over your cunt for a last taste gathering all of you he could. The tentacles held you tighter as he smirked and sat upright, admiring the mess he had made of you. A slick shimmer on his face as he licked his lips, âDelicious, better than any venison I have ever had, dove.â
As he stands up, his hand on your back pushes you back onto the couch arm. He kneaded the flesh of your backside, groaning at the sight in front of him. His hands meet your hips, pulling you back on his clothed erection. A small yelp escapes your lips at the friction against your sensitive area. Your frayed nerves against the soft material that soaks up your arousal and previous releases.Â
You whine as he rocks his hips slowly, grunting as he watches the material dampen quickly before he pulls away from your hips. His movements are hasty, and he does not waste any more time as he uses more tentacles to help not only hold your wiggling form but also get his clothes off him. He liked this sight of your half-dressed attire as he held purchase over you, dominance you refused till now to give up.
Once he was undressed, he bleated softly at the warmth of your puffy, swollen folds as he rubbed his cockhead up and down your pussy before catching your willing slit. He groans at the tightness that welcomes him; the slick, clamping, spongy walls that pulse around his dick almost milks him of every last drop of cum.Â
Your voice is hoarse, almost gone by the time his cock is sheathed in you, his cockhead brushing your sweet spot as you feel him abuse your need for him. You can feel every prominent vein of his cock against your spongy walls; they're practically ingrained in you as your pussy is molded to take his dick.
A creamy, white circle forms at the base of his cock as he pushes his length inside, his girthy dick stretching your weeping pussy with loud, lewd squelches. He doesn't give you time to compose yourself. He's selfish tonight, unapologetically so, because you had been toying with him for too long. After almost a year of cat and mouse, this is finally how he takes you. You drove him mad.
It isn't long until your backside is red, his hips pistoning into your sopping cunt, the sight of your slick pussy swallowing his red, angry cock so needily, sucking him in so desperately and clamping around him was addicting, and the feel even more so. His pace isn't lovely; he's mean, relentless, and bruising.
"Fuck sweetheart, so needy for me; you could have just told me how much you wanted this from the get-go. Saved us both precious time," he whined in your ear, his cock drilling into your tight hole as he nipped at your earlobe. Claws out, he uses his hands, kneading the fat of your ass, a sharp slap to your skin causing it to turn even more flushed and red as he fucked himself stupid using your cunt.
He was growing more and more pussy-drunk, drool forming in his mouth and pooling in his permanent smile, leaning over to place his lips onto the expanse of your shoulder. He pressed lewd, wet kisses against your supple skin, adding to the marks and bruises from his teeth as his demonic form began to take precedence.
With how hard he was holding on to you with his hands and tentacles, you were covered in bruises. He was marking you as his not only with chivalry and jewels but pretty marks that will mar your skin for weeks. He tightened his hold around your throat, pulling you up to a sitting position. He pumped into you harder, watching your stomach grow with his length in you. He groaned heatedly as he transformed more; his hand was pulling you up while his other hand began pushing down on the spot on your belly where he was poking through.Â
As you both whined and felt relief, he growled in your ear, âI will make you all mine, my Doe. Not a single person can have you now.â He pushed harder for a few more pumps before you two were spilling over one another. He filled you to the brim, his seed spilling out before he could even pull out of you. With a satisfied hum, he let his body slowly return to normal as he slid out.Â
You were fucked out beyond belief. He smiled, gently picking you up and placing your clothes back on you. He held you in his arms and sighed, acting as if he didnât just release eons of pent-up sexual tension on you. He snapped his fingers, redressing, and walked with you in his arms to his chambers. There, he would repeatedly remind you who you now truly belong to. Soul or not, he was the one to dominate the disobedient brat you were.
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@teagantheamazing Hope you don't mind, but I wanted to pull this reply out to talk about a little more in depth, because I think it is important that people understand this as we move forward.
Also, I am speaking as a private citizen here, not as an employee of the Forest Service.
In the United States, wildland fire response is handled at three basic levels: Federal, State, and Local.
Federally, it is further broken down into the Bureau of Land Management and the Forest Service. (Some parks have their own fire crews as well, but that varies from park to park, and they're usually still technically Forest Service.) There's really not a ton of difference between the two aside from whose name is on your paycheck. Pay is the same across each, structure is the same across each, training is the same across each. Federal crews and resources are, generally, the main and biggest responders to wildfires because wildfires tend to happen primarily on federal lands.
At the state and local level things vary a lot from state to state. You can have things like the Colorado Division of Fire Prevention and Control in Colorado and Cal Fire in California, and you can have local structure departments that also have wildland divisions and/or training. Some of the local departments will be volunteer. State and local responders also work closely with federal responders, but how much and for how long varies from fire to fire.
Then, on top of all of that, you have private/contract crews. They are what it says on the tin: private crews of firefighters. Some of these crews are great! Very professional, very skilled. Others are...ah...not.
Now, what I am concerned about specifically as we head into this new administration is what is going to happen at the federal level. As I mentioned in the original post, the Forest Service is already struggling. It has ALWAYS been struggling. Without giving you a whole huge history lesson, the Forest Service was founded in the early 1900s by Teddy Roosevelt to protect public lands and preserve them for future use. People threw a FIT about it, specifically people who wanted to basically strip mine the forests for every single available resource. Taft was elected after Roosevelt and basically started undoing everything his predecessor had done. The budget for the Forest Service was destroyed, protections were rolled back. The only reason the Forest Service survived was because in 1910 there was a MASSIVE fire. It was, at the time, unprecedented and the Forest Service was able to use it to lobby for better funding going forward. But the same cycle has repeated ever since. An administration that doesn't value conservation will come in, shred the budget, there will be deadly consequences that make the next administration pad the budget some, and then it will start again.
It's a lot like people who stop taking their medicine because they think they're cured since they feel better, but they only feel better because they were taking their medicine.
So what happens now? Well, it's already happening and it happened under Biden, and will only get worse under Trump. To keep it simple, there are two kinds of federal employment: seasonal, and year-round. Most of the federal Forest Service jobs are seasonal, because the work is seasonal. This includes firefighters, but it also includes things like park rangers and trail maintenance crews. From late spring to early fall there are tooooons of people working. Then, the rest of the year, its a skeleton crew of year-rounders doing mostly maintenance work, controlled burns, paperwork, stuff like that.
Now, with all of that said, here is where we stand at this specific moment: the decision has already been made that the Forest Service will not be hiring seasonal workers outside of firefighting next year. This means no seasonal park rangers, no seasonal maintenance people, none of that. This means next year parks are going to be a MESS. Bathrooms will not be cleaned regularly, campgrounds will not be maintained, trails will not be maintained, and a ton of other stuff. The year-rounder skeleton crew will be all we've got. And, crucially, there will be less professionals monitoring the woods looking for new fires. Rangers, even ones not working directly on fire stuff, are a crucial level of protection for spotting and reporting fires.
Secondary to that is the pay issue. Even if you're a year-rounder, the pay is abysmal. Your average out the gate, newbie wildland firefighter is going to make around $17/hr base pay if they work for a federal agency. Now, there's a ton of random stuff that can bump that pay up even without the retention bonus we're currently getting. You get a night differential and a Sunday differential for starters, and hazard pay when you are actively working a fire, plus there's ALWAYS overtime, sometimes an insane amount of it. Then there's per diem if you are traveling for a fire, and that can be a nice little bump too. But the point/problem is that the pay is VERY unpredictable. You can have a massively busy season and be swimming in money, or you can have a slow as fuck season and end up scrapping by because the base pay isn't enough. The Wildland Firefighter Paycheck Protection Act is supposed to fix this by bumping up the base pay, but that can has been kicked back and forth in the government for yeeeears now.
Now, as you mentioned, people CAN transfer their federal qualifications for fire to state and private crews. It generally pays better if you do. But we do not want to privatize fire response. Given the size of this country, given the spread of the population within it, we have to have a federal firefighting force. Leaving it to the states and private companies will not be enough.
That is where we are starting the new administration: abysmal pay, failing departments, and slimmed back hiring. Given Trump's repeated insistence on slimming down the government, on withholding aid in blue states, on getting rid of things like the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (which is also crucial for firefighting), and other things in that vein, I think we are staring down the barrel of a very, very dangerous time.
So, some action items if you want to help:
Call your local representatives and insist they pass the Wildland Firefighter Protection Act NOW, before the new administration comes in. The new administration could still screw it up, but we've gotta at least try.
Be patient and understanding with Park Rangers in the coming years. They are doing their best with what they've got.
Take responsibility for your use of public lands. Clean up after yourself, pick up litter when you see it, and donate if there is a way for you to do so.
Educate yourself and your community on wildland fire even if you don't think you are in a wildland fire prone area. Learn about and implement defensible space around your homes and communities. I'll be doing a lot of education around this going forward, so if you have questions or want help please ask me!
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"Legislative momentum against PFAS has surged this year, as at least 11 states enacted laws to restrict the use of âforever chemicalsâ in everyday consumer products or professional firefighting foam.
The legislation includes bans on PFAS in apparel, cleaning products, cookware, and cosmetic and menstrual products. Meanwhile, lawmakers in some states also passed measures that require industries to pay for testing or cleanup; order companies to disclose the use of PFAS in their products; and mandate or encourage the development of PFAS alternatives, according to Safer States, an alliance of environmental health groups focused on toxic chemicals.
In total this year, at least 16 states adopted 22 PFAS-related measures, according to the group. Since 2007, 30 states have approved 155 PFAS policies, the vast majority of them in the past five years.
The thousands of chemicals categorized as perfluoroalkyl and polyfluoroalkyl substances, or PFAS, do not naturally break down and are found in the blood of 97% of Americans. Some PFAS compounds can harm the immune system, increase cancer risks and decrease fertility...
Earlier this year, the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency released new standards limiting PFAS in drinking water. Water systems have five years to comply with the rules. Even before the EPA action, 11 states had set their own limits on PFAS in drinking water, starting with New Jersey in 2018.
Water utilities and chemical manufacturers are challenging the new EPA standards. But states also are heading to the courthouse: So far, 30 states have sued PFAS manufacturers or key users for contaminating water supplies and other natural resources, according to Safer States...
Sarah Doll, national director of Safer States, said one reason states have been so successful in enacting PFAS limits is that more companies are willing to stop using the chemicals.
âWhen California restricted PFAS in textiles, all of a sudden you saw companies like REI saying, âWe can, weâre going to do that. Weâre going to move to alternatives,ââ Doll said.
In Vermont, state lawmakers in April unanimously approved a measure banning the manufacture and sale of PFAS in cosmetics, menstrual products, incontinence products, artificial turf, textiles and cookware.
âThe same as everyone else, like Democrats, we want to make sure that we remove PFAS and get it out of products as soon as we can,â said Vermont Republican state Rep. Michael Marcotte, who said his district includes cosmetics manufacturer Rozelle Cosmetics, in Westfield.
Democratic state Sen. Virginia Lyons, the chief sponsor of the Vermont bill, said it is particularly important to get PFAS out of products that are essential to consumers.
âThere are some consumer products where you can say, âI donât need to buy that, because I donât want PFAS,ââ Lyons said. âBut itâs really tough to say that [about] a menstrual product.â
Californiaâs latest PFAS measure, which Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom signed last month, specifically bans the use of PFAS in menstrual products. Democratic Assemblymember Diane Papan, the author of the bill, said it was particularly strong because it covers both intentional and unintentional uses of PFAS, so âmanufacturers will have to really be careful about what comes in their supply chain.â
While more states enact laws focused on specific products, Maine is preparing to implement the worldâs first PFAS ban covering all consumer goods. The Maine law, which is scheduled to take effect in 2030, will include exceptions for âessentialâ products for which PFAS-free alternatives do not exist. Washington state has also taken a sweeping approach by giving regulators strict timelines to ban PFAS in many product categories.
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My father stares at me. âIâŚcould ask the same thing.â
I wave off my soldiers around the room. âItâs okay. This is my father. Stand downâ
He watches as they sheath their weapons, returning to their posts along the walls. His eyes travel the room, taking in all the Fae who are watching the exchange.
I clear my throat. âAttention, please. My receiving hours are over for today. Apologies to those of you who did not get an audience. I will open my courts tomorrow as well to make up for it.â
The throne room empties slowly, mostly without grumbling. A few Fae cast anxious glances at my father, glaringly human in the midst of so much magic.
âI- I-â he stammers. âYou are⌠queen? Of all theseâŚthings?â
I gesture for him to sit. âI will explain. But you must listen and not interrupt.â
He nods, and I begin my tale.
âTwenty years ago, I was playing in the front garden on Mamaâs birthday. I knew you wished to be alone, even at 4 years old. While you were talking to her grave in the clearing, I was stolen by a group of radicals, traitors to the Fae crown.Â
âIt was a civil war.
âIt was almost two years before the resistance was tamped out and I was rescued by the crown. The previous queen was old. Her husband had died in the war, leaving her running the war with only her 8 year old son to help.Â
âAbout 10 years ago, she crowned him King of the Fae. We struck up a friendship, which turned to courtship. We were joined - married - about five years ago. The old queen died shortly after.Â
âSo here I am, Queen of the Fae.â I smiled kindly at my father. âIf you had come a few days earlier, you could have met my husband. Heâs away right now, helping in one of the Eastern provinces.â
My father looks hurt. âThey didnât let you come home?â
I shake my head. âFather, you were so hurt after Mama died. You never really seemed to care much about me. I knew you loved me, but I assumed you would have thought I was dead and left it alone a long time ago. Besides, once I came to live with the old queen and prince, I loved it here. And once we began courting, they made me fully Fae. I can never live normally among humans.â
My father looks away uncomfortably. âIâŚnever meant to make you feel that way.â
My voice is soft. âI know. Itâs okay, Father. Youâve found me now! Iâm alive. Iâm happy. What more could you want? You can go home and live your life.â
My father steps forward. âI want you to come home with me! You canât truly be happy! Look at this place, these people! They stole you from me. Now I can steal you back.â
I take a step backwards. âI am happy, Father. You are welcome to stay here for as long as you like, although you canât stay permanently. But I will be staying. These are my people, and if you threaten them, me, or my family, I will not hesitate to take action against you.â
He does not fight me. My father agrees to stay for a little while, wanting to meet my husband.Â
Two weeks later, after a few strained dinners between my father and husband, I woke in the middle of the night to see my father standing over our bed with a knife.
He did not leave the palace after all.
His daughter was stolen by the Fae. Two decades of fruitless searching later, his time for vengeance has come. He kicks in the door to the Queenâs throne room as she flies to her feet, grabbing the hilt of her sword before recognition flashes across her face. âDad⌠what are you doing here?â
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