#lizzie from cars

[febrawryraccoon]

All of my shitty memes from 2023 and this year so far

[sugarcanesweetheart]

｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。 Meet me at the Diner 　ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

[crescentfool]

a new stream doodle from today + a few stream doodles from 2022 i never posted here! also there's my ryoji brush if you want it... link in the replies 😳

[kazooiesart]

based on a page from Bittersweet Candy Bowl

[taffetathedoll]

The vibe shifts in my head

[identityquest]

lizzie get two wolves 👍

[britneyshakespeare]

you know miley stewart is a fun character because she's in no way a "not like other girls" lead, but she still has a little bit of an outsider thing going on for being a tennessee girl living in malibu. she's a BIG girly girl and is absolutely not ashamed of being crazy about cute clothes and cute boys, but she differs from amber and ashley because she is actually nice to people.

and this was like not a hard thing to do; it feels like, pretty typical actually. this is what most female-led media was like in the early 2000s, before it devolved to toning down the overall "girliness" of many protagonists, but often without replacing it with anything much more substantial as a personality. like, the mean hyperfeminine popular bully girl trope STAYED for the antagonists, and the protagonists were not defined in many ways other than NOT being like them. they weren't supposed to be so obsessed w going to the mall anymore; the popular bitches won that in the trope custody battle. even though going to the mall is fun and should not considered a thing only vapid kids can enjoy.

[bloomingonionbitch]

obviously didn't reply because....with what??? but i totally want to see the flow chart of all possible responses i could have sent.

[jamminvroomvroom]

everything.

ln x fem!reader

in which you’re his best friend until you’re something more

hi! here you go lmao. probs the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written and i am obsessed with the concept! thank you for being here and baring with me - i loved writing this one and i’d love to hear what you think! huge shoutout to my girlies @mcmuppet and @lavenderlando ily both!

songs that set the mood: pink and white by frank ocean, daylight by harry styles, angel by finneas, enchanted by taylor swift, hate to be lame by lizzy mcalpine

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, friends to lovers brain rot, slight corruption kink, readers first time, qatar angst

6.4k words

“do you wanna talk about it?” you whispered softly, your hand resting on lando’s sagged shoulder.

your eyes were fixed on the third place plaque on his table in front of you, his very much fixed on the floor.

“no.” his reply was short and sweet, his tone conveying exactly how deflated he was.

you’d only flown in to qatar this morning, the october sun hitting you hard as you walked into the paddock, drastically different to the london climate you’d grown accustomed to. lando had all but begged you to come, your evening before spent on the phone, and you knew that he needed a friend, otherwise he never would have asked you to fly halfway around the world.

friends. that’s what you were.

you’d hugged him tight and told him that the weekend had to get better, and then his teammate put it on pole and got his first win. so, yeah, maybe it wasn’t going to get better and not even the podium could cheer him up.

his radio messages had hurt your heart, your chest aching as he self deprecated in the cockpit. he owned his mistakes, sure, but he’d taken it a step too far and you knew you had a job to do. you’d do anything, quite literally anything, to cheer him up.

you’d always found a way to be there for eachother, your friendship spanning five long years after you’d knocked a coffee over a guy you quickly recognised as the new mclaren driver. both nineteen and awkward as hell, you’d um-ed and er-ed and danced around one another in the busy pret in central london, chucking tissues at him, attempting to mop up the frothy mess all over his white sweatshirt.

eventually you’d just burst into laughter, lando immediately following suit. your cheeks were hurting from smiling at the curly haired stranger, intrigued by the very way his faced moved when he laughed, and he’d looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, not like someone that had just destroyed a brand new hoodie.

and just like that, a connection was born.

you’d gotten used to having a friend for only half the year, but he never let you feel the distance. paddock passes often fell through your letter box and you could usually be located in the background of his streams when he was home long enough to do them, the amount of times you’d been wrongfully accused of being his girlfriend a list as long as your arm. even in those moments of awkwardness, friendship prevailed and you both managed to crack up together about the conspiracy that you were more than friends.

and what an intriguing conspiracy it was.

“we should get you back to the hotel, you need to get some rest.” you told him, standing from the sofa and offering him your hand.

lando grabbed it, squeezing, his own special way of telling you he was grateful for your presence, and let you pull him up. as he tried to walk towards the door, you stopped him, hands on his shoulders. you wanted to shake him, tell him how fucking great he was. you didn’t think he’d appreciate that after an intense session in the car.

“hey, look at me. you got this, okay?” you smiled reassuringly, managing to get the smallest crack back from him, his lips upturning ever so slightly. something in his eyes told you that you’d succeeded, a small glimmer of an emotion that you didn’t know how to unpack.

friends.

that’s what you were.

-

you tried to ignore how touchy lando was being. you figured he just needed some comfort, physical touch not out of bounds in your friendship, but a new level had been reached.

on the entire walk through the paddock to his car, his hand sat comfortably on the small of your back, despite the endless amount of cameras pointed at you. his hand skimmed your thigh in the car, accidentally, you told yourself, and you had to avert your eyes when his hand graced your headrest as he reversed out of the parking space. knowing that he needed you in qatar so desperately that he’d flown you out was one thing, the way he was treating you once you got there was something else.

he’d opened your door when you pulled up at the hotel valet, helping you out of the car, his hand tucked in yours for a second longer than necessary. once again, his hand seemed to be glued to your lower back the whole way to the elevator.

the ding of the lift had you both shuffling out onto your floor, trailing towards your rooms in a heavy silence, something more left unsaid in the air.

you reached your door first, coming to a stop and shuffling around in your bag for your keycard.

“um, i need to be at the track early tomorrow. breakfast?” lando asked.

you turned to look at him, nodding your head profusely.

“of course, just drop me a message and i’ll come down and meet you.” you affirmed, your fingers finally grasping the piece of plastic that had, of course, fallen to the very bottom of your tardis of a tote bag.

you expected him to leave, but he lingered, as if there was something else on his mind.

“you okay?” you raised an eyebrow, unlocking your door. lando seemed to snap out of it then, awkwardly running a hand through his curls that had taken a brutal hit from the humidity. you liked the look on him, nonetheless.

“yeah, i- yeah, i think i just need some sleep.”

“okay, well, goodnight. let me know if you need anything.” you disappeared through the door then, the tension getting the better of you. you slumped against the shut door, wondering what he so clearly wanted to say.

-

the clock read 1:32am on your bedside.

a faint tapping had woken you up, and you groggily scanned the room, trying to find the source of the noise. you deduced that it was coming from your door, letting out a groan as you threw the cosy comforter off and trudged towards the disturbance.

you cracked it open, peeking through the gap and coming face to face with your best friend.

“lando?” you croaked, opening the door further.

“i’m sorry, can’t sleep. can i come in? it’s okay if not, i just didn’t know what to do.” he sounded so shy, something you didn’t recognise in the man stood before you, and you quickly swung the door open, ushering him inside.

“come, sit.” you waved for him to follow you across the room to the foot of your bed. he sat down beside you, the mattress dipping.

you patted your lap and he instantly knew what to do, laying down with his head in your lap. it’s something he did quite frequently when you were sprawled on his sofa at home, watching a shitty movie that neither of you were really paying attention to. you’d often be looking at him, praying he didn’t notice, and he’d be playing with your fingers, tracing the palm of your hand.

you couldn’t help yourself, running your hand through his curls. you didn’t mean to, stomach instantly twisting with embarrassment, but it was quickly twisting with something else. his eyes fluttered shut, a low groan falling from the back of his throat. it made your thighs clench, and he must have noticed, the tiniest smirk on his face.

“you okay?” lando asked, his eyes still shut, a look of relaxation finally on his face.

you coughed awkwardly.

“yeah, sorry. are you comfy?” you said teasingly, trying to cut the growing tension in the room.

“i am now, could fall asleep here.”

“you can, you know.” you whispered. his eyes flew open. your heart was hammering in your chest. this was new territory and you were worried you’d fucked up. sleepovers were also a norm, but one of you usually retired to a guest room, not the other side of eachothers beds.

“you want me to stay?” his voice rose in surprise.

“well, i mean, you can if you want, like, there’s space and-“ you rambled.

“do you want me to stay?” he repeated.

“is it gonna help?” you questioned cautiously.

“yes.” the confidence in which he replied did something to you.

“then stay.”

you crawled up the mattress, falling back into the place you’d so comfortably occupied just minutes before. you laid so still, watching with quiet curiosity as he slipped his hoodie off. his shirt came with it ever so slightly, riding up over his back, and you had to pry your eyes away, the ache between your thighs still ever present.

what on earth were you doing, allowing your best friend to crawl into bed with you? emotions were running so high, but it felt like a switch had been flipped ever since you hit the tarmac in qatar. every look, every touch was fuelled by something different to what it had been before and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

lando turned towards you, making his way back over to the bed. he looked apprehensive, as if he was thinking the same thoughts as you, wondering if there was any logic in what was about to happen. he seemed to come to the conclusion that this was, in fact, happening, crawling into bed beside you.

“is this okay?” lando breathed into the darkness of the room, his hand brushing yours. you were both as still as planks, mere centimetres separating you, the only light coming from the lamp beside the bed.

“yeah,” you took a deep breath, preparing for the words that were about to come tumbling out. “i’ve just never done this before.” you spoke quickly, sucking in another breath as you finished.

“you’ve never…”

“i’ve never shared a bed… like this.”

“like what?”

“with a… a guy?” your anxiety riddled words came out more like a question than an answer.

“oh. oh.” it seemed to dawn on lando then. “so, you’ve never… oh. i mean i can go if you’re uncomfortable.”

“lando, no, i just wanted you to know. i’m always comfortable with you.” you said, quietly baring your soul to him.

you weren’t sure why you’d basically told him you were a virgin. it held no relevance, he was just here to sleep, for some friendly comfort. he was not here for any other reason. and yet here you were, spilling the beans, all over the bed you found yourself sharing.

“i didn’t come here to, you know. i just needed you.”

you tried to ignore the pang in your chest and the annoying, minuscule butterfly springing to life in your belly.

“god, yeah i know! i didn’t think that you wanted to, well i mean not with me because why would you want me like that anyway, i get why you’re here, lando.” you rambled into the empty air. you heard yourself, groaning in embarrassment and dragging the cover over your face. lando laughed, pulling it back so he could see you again.

he was leaning over you, perched on his side, resting on his elbow.

“trust me, i’m more than happy with any part of yourself that you wanna give me.”

“don’t tease me, lando.” you scoffed. he was joking, right? right?

“i’m not! i promise, this is the one place i want to be.”

“why? why with me? i mean you could’ve called max. all he does is stream when you’re not home, think he misses you.” you were half joking, half deadly serious.

“come on, it’s you. it’s just… its been so hard this year, being away from you so much more. and then you came all the way here…” lando trailed off, averting eye contact.

you turned on your side to face him, placing your hand over his affectionately.

“you needed me.”

“exactly. i needed you. you.”

he gave you a look, one that you didn’t recognise, but you understood what it meant. it said more than anything had done since this confusingly beautiful interaction began. you got it, then, why you were here.

“lando-“

“i know that i shouldn’t tell you this and i can’t just spring this on you in the middle of the night, but i-“

“lando!”

“what?”

“kiss me.”

and god, he kissed you. the air was sucked out of your lungs, dragged out of you by the way he put his hands on your body, so urgent.

you sunk back into the mattress, his body over yours, a hand cupping your cheek while the other rested on your waist, stroking the skin there, exposed from your ridden up top. your hands were in his curls, and you revelled in the way that you could shamelessly touch them now.

he paused for a second, nose brushing yours, breathless and grinning down at you, a knowing smile that was so beautiful that it rendered you speechless.

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this.” lando breathed, scanning your face as if he was trying to take it all in. you, panting beneath him, coy smile, cheeks flushed. you’d never looked so gorgeous to him.

you leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time, relishing in the moment. you were lost in him, thinking back to the very first time you’d locked eyes and how you never thought it would come to this. this, the way he was holding you, was the best surprise.

lando pulled away, peppering your flushed cheeks with kisses, a dazed giggle passing your swollen lips.

he flopped onto his side, grinning at the ceiling mindlessly. you hadn’t seen him smile that big all weekend.

“are you tired?” you whispered, lips brushing his cheek, his light stubble rough against you. you wondered how it would feel elsewhere, scratching over your bare skin.

“no.”

“then why did you stop?” you asked, the words falling off your tongue slowly, sinking all over him like honey. you felt the way he tensed up, the suggestion that laced the seemingly innocent question making you tingle.

“i didn’t come here for that.” he reiterated.

“and i didn’t let you in for that. but here we are.” you weren’t ashamed of what you were asking, the moment was right, the one, and you knew it.

“it’s too soon.” lando was apprehensive. he was always overly protective of you, previously as his friend, but this, god, this was an entirely different ball park and he was proceeding with caution, against every natural instinct in his body screaming at him.

“says who?”

“it’s your first. it needs to be special.”

“everything about this is better than i could have ever imagined.”

“are you sure you want it to be me?” there it was again, those unrecognisable nerves that made everything inside of you flutter.

“lando, there is no one else i could ever want to do this with more than i want to do it with you. i want it to be you.”

“but… now? are you sure? i don’t want you to regret this.”

“the only thing i regret is that this didn’t happen sooner.”

“one last time. i just need to hear it one last time.”

“i want you, lando.”

and with that, the air changed, charged with a different kind of tension. lando pulled you on top of him, hands firm on your body, the action itself gentle. you steadied yourself, hands on his shoulders, his resting on your waist.

“can i take this off?” he tugged at the hem of your shirt. you nodded profusely. “words, sweetheart. i need you to use your words.” lando cupped your jaw as he said it, squeezing ever so slightly, enough to turn you into putty in his hands.

“please. yes.” you said shakily.

he smiled softly, slowly peeling the material off of your body, up over your head and tossed carelessly onto the floor. he kept his eyes on yours, despite the fact you were now left bare, aside from the white cotton panties that separated you both. he pawed at your sides, kneading gently at your soft hips.

“we’re gonna start slow, okay? gonna take my time with you.” he muttered, eyes on yours before they trailed slowly down, across your face, neck, collarbone, further and further until he was taking all of you in. he began to stroke the underside of your breast with his thumb, watching the way your body tensed under his feather-like touch.

“okay.” you choked out, head tipping back as he placed a kiss to the base of your throat.

his kiss trailed further down your body, peppered in the valley of your breasts, and then you stopped breathing, the air caught in your throat because he was looking at you, really, truly looking at you, as his tongue found your nipple. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was making you feel this good already.

lando pulled away, just for a second, just so that he could shift you from his lap onto his thigh. he was still fully clothed beneath you, totally in control, and you craved him in a way you didn’t know was humanly possible, so much so that you didn’t need the encouragement he was giving you to start rolling your hips, pussy grinding down on his covered thighs, the friction of your underwear driving you insane.

“oh, baby. you want me so badly, don’t you? should’ve asked me sooner. m’gonna make you feel so good.” his hands were on your hips, guiding you backwards and forwards on him.

“it feels so- oh, god.” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls, back arching further into him as your thighs clenched around his. he licked over your collarbone oh so slowly, a shiver running down your taut spine.

and then he was kissing you again, tongue slow over yours, his fingertips surely leaving marks where he was controlling your pace. the kiss was filthy, untameable, and you found yourself dragging against him slower, harder.

“i need you.” you panted, forehead falling on his shoulder as you pulled away from his lips, goosebumps pricking your sweat slicked skin. you were so close to an orgasm, desperate to feel him everywhere.

“i want you to come for me like this first, okay? can you do that for me, baby?” he cooed, bouncing his leg ever so slightly. “look at me.�� and you did, somehow mustering the strength to pull yourself back up and find his darkened eyes.

you were a mess of curses when you let go, your body convulsing, collapsing into him as you came. you were throbbing on his thigh, one glance down at where you were grinding against him displaying your slick. his arms went around your body, flipping you onto your back so that you were resting against the mattress.

“you did so well, baby.” lando crooned, resting over you on his forearms. you stared up at him in awe, blinking away the haze. “do you want more?”

“i want everything.” you breathed, pulling him against you. you smoothed your hands over his shirt until you reached the hem, dragging it up over his back. he helped you take it off, and then it was lost to the room. you grabbed at his shoulder blades, smooth, muscular planes of bronzed skin so warm under your touch. you felt insatiable, like nothing was enough, totally intoxicated by him and everything he was managing to make you feel.

lando’s hand slid down your body, searching for the band of your underwear. when he reached his destination, he toyed with the lacy edges, letting them snap against the pudge of your belly, teasing you. you bucked your hips, frustrated, and he used the opportunity to cup your pussy, feeling where you’d soaked through the cotton. the groan he let out was carnal, animalistic, almost needy. he could feel all of you, how you ached and dripped, how you needed the everything that you’d requested.

“you’re so fucking good for me, god.” lando almost slurred his words, voice lower than you’d ever heard it. you keened at the sound, pushing your hips further into him.

lando didn’t give you much time to dwell on it, mouth latching onto your underwear where it met the crease of your thigh. he was so close, so tantalising close to where you were aching for him and you were just about levitating off the bed when his teeth grazed your inner thigh. you couldn’t see him looking at you, losing it, inhibitions out the window. your eyes were already squeezed shut when he began mouthing over your cloth-covered pussy, spit further ruining the sodden material.

“take them off.” you cried out, tugging hard at his curls that you hadn’t even realised you were clutching for dear life. and lando was a good listener, because he complied immediately, tearing the lace down your legs like a starved man.

his tongue was on you then, everywhere all at once, running through your folds and over your clit. you didn’t know if you were dead or alive, a different kind of pleasure than anything you’d ever experienced coursing hot through your veins. lando switched between long, slow licks, his tongue flat against you, and rapid kitten licks, burying his face in your cunt.

everything was moving in slow motion, your hands grasping frantically at anything you could reach; his curls, the sheets, his shoulders. you could barely make out what he was saying, his words muffled, lost to the soft flesh between your legs. it seemed to echo, every lick, stroke, word. you snapped out of it, finally, when he pulled away.

“more? you want my fingers, baby? gonna get you nice and ready for me.” you just nodded, voice lost to the air of the room.

one arm locked around your thigh, pinning you still, and the other snaked up your leg until he reached the mess between your thighs. he took a moment to take it in, how wet you were, how fucked out you looked, knowing full well he must have looked the same, unhinged as he gave into your shared desire that he’d tried his best to keep hidden. he’d never felt more stupid in his life for holding back, as he took in the ethereal delight sprawled under his touch.

when lando slid the first finger in, your stomach twisted deliciously. he watched you carefully, searching for discomfort but all he could find was sheer bliss, written all over your face as clear as daylight. he worked the digit in and out, nice and slow, curling against your walls. he could feel how tight you were, clamping around just one finger and he thought his head was gonna explode. he added another finger, watching the way you took him in, twisting his fingers.

“are you gonna let go for me again, sweetheart?” lando punctuated his words by putting his mouth back on you, teeth grazing your clit as he sucked.

you were thrashing, a silent scream building from the fire in your belly. you could just about make out the way he was spurring you on, his mouth running as you spilled over the edge, covering his fingers. you saw white, maybe god, ears ringing, and when you finally mustered the energy to look at him, you could have come for a third time. lando looked feral, lips red and coated in everything you had to offer him. his eyes were glazed over, a hazy grey that sent a jolt through your body, the aftershocks of the orgasm setting in.

“christ.” was all you could sigh out. a lazy smile painted your face, your eyes blown out, everything a little blurry. everything except him.

you could feel him scaling up your body, crawling over you until he was level with your face. he placed a kiss to your throat, your jaw and finally your lips; when he pulled away all that was left was shared giddy smile, both of you suddenly shy. you couldn’t stop the roaming of your hands, exploring all the parts of him that you could reach. when you found the waist band of his joggers, your hand grazing his abs as you did, he sucked all of the air out of the room, a sharp inhalation making him tense up.

“you still want all of me?” he breathed, his shaky breath fanning your face. lando was obsessed with hearing you say it, obsessed with how you wanted him as much as he needed you.

“all of you. lando, this is… you’re perfect.” you admitted, lips brushing his. your hands pushed the material down his hips, nails raking over him as you did. he couldn’t seem to wait any longer, kicking them off the rest of the way, his boxers quickly following suit.

you couldn’t help but stare, all of him bare against all of you. your nipples brushed his chest, his hands holding you close, your hands threaded through his curls. it was like you were sussing each other out, eyes watching lips and hands getting lost. you stayed like that for a moment, pressed together, closer and closer, until he was slotted between your legs like he was coming home. lando searched your face one last time, hunting for a smidge of discomfort.

“are you ready for me?” he whispered.

“yes.”

the initial stretch burned, but he slid into you smoothly, his cock slipping through your folds with ease. he felt you clamp down on him, his head thrown back as far as it could go, thick neck exposed to you. you bit down on his shoulder, where it met the base of his throat, trying to mask the gasp of pleasure that sent your eyes rolling back in your head. he grunted at the sensation, enjoying the sting.

“oh, fuck.” he was shuddering, trying to keep himself in check.

“don’t, oh god,” you started, meeting the roll of his hips. “don’t hold back.”

“we gotta go easy.”

“i don’t want easy.” you tightened around him then, and he saw stars.

“you’re so fucking good.” lando groaned, an edge of excitement in his voice, and then he unleashed everything that he’d held back. how much he wanted you, and a bittersweet weekend of frustration versus success came crashing down and he couldn’t do anything except give himself to you exactly how you wanted.

lando was a delicious weight on top of you, the drag of his hips slow, meeting yours hard. the pressure made you lightheaded, his body moving against yours like the thick drip of honey, smooth and sweet. you couldn’t make sense of it, of how fucking good he felt, grinding deeper and deeper into you like he’d found buried treasure. the overstimulation had your third orgasm building nice and quick, waves of pleasure making you dizzy.

“you like it like this? like when i fuck you nice and hard?” yes you did. “don’t think i can go without this now, you know that? such a good fucking girl.” you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just let his words wash over you. “so beautiful, taking me so well.”

you couldn’t process that this was your best friend lando. this was a different person, it had to be. yet, somehow, it made sense that the man you knew, the one who spoke his mind, mischievous and troublesome, would be like this, a god above you as he fucked deeper into you with every thrust. he was filthy and gentle, brutal and sweet. it didn’t make sense, but it also just did.

“are you gonna come for me? one more time, baby. need to feel that perfect fucking pussy.” well, his wish was your command, because then you were gushing. the one thing you could feel was him, none of your other senses worked, you couldn’t see past the tears that fell, couldn’t get any words past your lips. maybe you screamed, you weren’t exactly sure.

lando was kissing you everywhere. each hip bone was met with his lips, your stomach, over your ribs, breasts, clavicle, neck. your face was covered in kisses next, your cheeks, forehead, a dainty peck to your nose.

“can you look at me?”

your eyes cracked open slowly, the exhaustion hitting as you came back to reality.

“was that okay?” there he was again, this shy version of lando that you couldn’t get used to.

“okay? lando that was…” you shook your head in awe. “that meant everything to me.”

he smiled then, that gorgeous, gorgeous smile, the one with the crinkles by his eyes and his teeth on full display. you melted.

“me too. you’re fucking beautiful. so, so fucking beautiful. should’ve told you sooner.” he murmured.

his words made you think, way too hard for your current state. what happened next? lando had said some things, some pretty big things that you didn’t know how to comprehend. it was crazy, how scared you were to bring it back up to him, considering he’d just been inside of you.

“sooner?” you whispered, hardly audible. lando was midway through tucking you both into bed, pulling your flushed, naked body into his own under the duvet.

“yes. a lot sooner.” he replied, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

‘how much sooner?’ you thought to yourself, unable to stay awake any longer to agonise over it, your dreams haunted by the way he touched you so well. it was magnificent to fall asleep in his arms, and you couldn’t help yourself from wondering when it would happen again.

-

you woke up tangled with him, fingers stroking your cheek, smoothing your hair out of your eyes.

lando was always so warm, but now his tanned skin radiated sunshine, a beacon of light in your bed. you smiled, eyes still shut, shielding yourself from the streaks of light casting over the room from the crack in the curtains.

“what time is it?” you croaked, bringing a hand to your eyes to rub away the sleep.

“gone eleven. i need to go, baby.”

baby.

you hadn’t gotten a chance to take my notice of the things he’d called you last night, too caught up in the way he played with your body. now that you heard it, in the calm after the storm, it made you swoon.

“already?” you tried to hide your disappointment, not quite ready to detangle yourself from him.

“need to get to the track. i think i’m already late. i just wanted to be here when you woke up.” lando sounded so soft, not as groggy as you, and you wondered how long he’d been awake, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest.

“thank you.” you knew that you’d have spiralled waking up alone, and you were immensely grateful that he’d stayed.

lando began to get up, wincing at your whine of protest.

“i’m sorry. i’ll have someone pick you up later, okay? i’ll see you soon, i promise.”

you knew he had to work hard today, knew how much analysis he needed to do before the race. he was starting further back than anyone would have liked, and he had something to prove as well, oscar starting too close to the front for lando’s liking. there were places to make up and hard work to be done to get back to the front.

“don’t apologise. i hope it goes smoothly today.” you smiled at him, watching him collect his long forgotten clothes. you were entranced by the way his body moved, the lines and shapes that tensed and rippled as he dressed himself.

“i’ll message you.” he promised, creeping back over to the bed. you weren’t sure what to expect, but the soft kiss to your lips, almost apprehensive on his part, could have killed you off, your heart pounding.

your grinned like a fool when the door shut behind him.

-

the shower was burning hot, loosening up your muscles. you cleaned yourself slowly, examining your body, the same one that you’d given to lando. he’d taken you apart, piece by piece, and put you back together, the traces of him that he’d left behind delectably apparent.

you followed the trail of marks he’d left, starting with the love bite below your right breast that you couldn’t even remember him leaving, making your way to the litter of fingerprints that were tattooed into your hips. your fingertips ghosted over your swollen lips, the kiss that he’d left at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, reminiscing the evening. you seemed to ache everywhere, the dull pain setting into your bones so nicely.

you prayed it would happen again. you felt like it would, everything between you had changed now, changed from any possible return to the norm. you wanted it to change, you couldn’t fathom the idea of staying friends when the lines had blurred like this, when he’d kissed you so deeply, touched you so intimately.

the shower was much needed, refreshing your body that was now tainted by him in the best way. you tried to keep a clear head while you got yourself ready, taking your time to make yourself presentable to the paddock. the time of your departure was looming, the pink and white sunset outside your window indicating that the race was only a few hours away. the air had cooled slightly, and you knew you needed to make your way to the lobby.

your phone dinged in your hand as you were packing your essentials into your bag. you glanced down at the device, unruly smile gracing your face.

see you soon, the text read, an orange love heart punctuating the short but sweet text. it was safe to say that the butterflies in your belly were well and truly alive.

-

the screen beeped as you scanned your paddock pass, and you slipped through the gate, making your way into the paddock. it was beautiful in qatar, they’d outdone themselves with this structure, the glass ceilings and jungle of greenery an expression of wealth and elegance.

you made a beeline for the mclaren garage, greeting lando’s pr officer who smiled warmly at you. you recognised oscar smirking as you appeared in the garage, and as you got closer you realised why.

“nice to see you. looking for lando?” his monotonous voice held an amused twang.

“hey oscar, great job last night!” you said, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “yeah, is he around here somewhere?”

“yeah he’s just doing press i think. extra spring in his step today.” oscar gave you a knowing look, one that made you blush.

“what do you know?” you deadpanned, fighting back laughter.

“i know that this was a long time coming.” he smiled, and then he was gone, lost to the bustle of the garage.

you stood there, probably in the way, lost in thought about what oscar had just said. he was right, this was a long time coming.

you jumped a bit when a hand landed on your waist, relaxing instantly into lando’s body when he pressed himself against you, head on your shoulder.

“i’m so glad you’re here.” he whispered, pressing a secret kiss under your ear, and then he, too, was gone, before you could even react.

your nerves were shot, ushered to the back of the garage where you found a headset. you chewed your nails, anxious about it all. the race, the changes that you were surely coming. you wanted it, wanted everything from him that he’d give you, willing to commit to all of it, to him. the distance, borrowed time, chaos of his world. last night had changed everything and you couldn’t have asked for more.

eventually the lights went out and the fight was underway. you found your hands clasped together, sweating in the dry heat and the anxiety. you clapped every time he made an overtake, storming through the field. when he made it into p3, picking the pace up on oscar, the nerves resurged and you prayed for a clean end to this race.

lando’s radio messages flooded your ears, and your leg bounced uncontrollably, your shoe slapping against the floor.

“be sensible, lando.” you muttered under your breath, resting your chin on your tightly clasped hands. he would be on the podium, but you knew it wasn’t enough for him, it never was. would you be enough for him?

eventually he agreed to hold position, thank fuck, and you could breathe again. he’d driven a beautiful recovery drive, bringing the car onto the podium, and you rushed out with the team to congratulate him. you lingered at the back of the pack behind the metal barriers, watching in quiet admiration as he jumped out of the car. he slapped oscar on the back, hugging his younger teammate before bounding towards the team. his head was darting around as if he was looking for something, but you couldn’t make it out with his helmet still on. and then the helmet came off and it became clear.

he was looking for you.

lando pulled away from a hug with a mechanic, leaning over the barrier right in front of you. you gravitated towards him, somehow moving through the swarm of team members until you were pressed against the metal too. he was beaming, eyes brighter than they had been all working weekend, and then his hands were on you. the hug he pulled you into was tight and you clung to one another for a moment, unbothered by his damp race suit, or the tickle of his sweat slicked curls.

the kiss he pressed to your cheek was far less secret than the one in the garage, so was the one he pressed to your forehead, but the one he pressed to your lips, as quick as it may have been, was the one that really took the cake. you were blushing when he pulled back, a mischievous grin on his face. you shook your head in disbelief at his boldness, unable to tame your bewildered smile.

“what are you doing for dinner, baby?” he called out to you as he walked away. the podium high had clearly set in.

nothing, you mouthed back, not quite confident enough to shout across parc ferme.

“good, we’re going on a date.” lando winked and then he was gone, pulled into the chaos of post race duties.

tears pricked your eyes when he stood on the podium, a much happier man than the one you found when you’d arrived. you couldn’t put it into words, how one night had changed everything, giving you everything you didn’t realise you wanted.

then again, lando was always good at beating expectations.

-

hehe the end

-

taglist

had to remove some tags that aren’t working! let me know if you wanna be added or removed xo

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[agarafile]

Gem knows that saving the camel gives her no advantage in the game.

Actually, the camel is an active risk.

People go after what you value most, after all. Cleo thought she had done it, when she burned Gem's barn and watchtower. Jimmy used Lizzie to kill Joel and blew up The Car in a previous attempt.

Caring for things, caring for people... it made you vunerable. Made you weak.

Gem wasn't weak. Far from it.

But she still went out of her way to save the camel.

Gem's Camel, she wrote in the nametag. Not someone else's, not something she had to share. Hers.

The camel nuzzled her with its snout, almost as if it knew that if she didn't name it, it would die. Like it was grateful she claimed it for herself.

"You saved it?" Joel asked, when Gem guided the camel into her barn. Not outside, in the pen like the cows. Inside, where Gem herself lived "Of all things, you saved a camel?"

"I find camels delightful, Joel." she petted its neck, golden fur soft to her touch.

"I thought you would hate them. You know. After..." Joel trailed off, gesturing vaguely.

Gem understood what he was trying to say. She should hate them after Pearl, after the 2v1.

"Tango called it the Murder Camel 2.0." She offered instead.

"Of course he did." Joel rolled his eyes "Rumor has it you and Pearl rode together again."

"She got on my camel. Against my will, Joel." Gem scoffed "Not my fault she is obssessed with me."

Joel raised an eyebrow at her.

"And Pearl wasn't even the first one to ride the camel with me. It was Etho." Gem looked back at her camel and scratched behind its ears.

"Yeah, well. Camels are pretty much a you two thing, no?"

"Me and Pearl don't have a thing!"

"You might have to tell Pearl that, then." Joel teased, turning his head to the general direction of the Gs base, in the opposite side of the map "She seems awfully insistent on getting everyone on a camel and showing off to you."

Gem scowls and refuses to say anything back.

The thing is, its easy to look everyone in the eyes and proclaim she hates Pearl. So, so easy.

Especially because it is easier than admiting the truth. Saying she hates Pearl is easier than saying she misses her. That Gem still loves her, even after everything.

And isn't that just the worst? Loving someone down to red when they would throw all you thought you had when there are eyes on you?

Gem's camel shakes her hand off it, grunting. She hadn't realized it then, but her nails had been digging into its fur.

[gracieheartspedro]

Nobody Likes A Secret

pairing: no outbreak rich older!joel miller x fem!reader.

how to help the palestinians and what it means to write for the last of us characters

word count: 3k words

description: a rich wealthy playboy who becomes enthralled by his neighbor's daughter. it never ends well when he can not fathom having happiness for himself.

warnings: ANGSTY!!!!!, age gap (joel is in his 50s, reader is in her mid 20s), wealthy!joel, neighbor!joel, reader is pretty naive and delusional, taboo relationship troupe, mentions of parent death, VERY BRIEF SMUT, joel is borderline evil and very mean. joel calls reader "kid". joel is also a liar. talks of having children.

author’s note: I wrote this all in like... two nights. I listened to illicit affair by taylor swift and nobody likes a secret by lizzy mcalpine a lil much and it ended up here. sorry if I make you sad.

You creep into the large 4-car garage, seeing Joel pacing the oil-stained floor. He’s still in his work clothes, but he looks a bit disheveled. His eyes are wild, his face downturned into a deep-set frown. 

“Joel? Everything okay?”

He shakes his head. “He knows.”

You know only one person who would ruin this. 

‘This’ being an 9-month-long affair with your older neighbor. Months and months of meeting in dark corners, hardly ever seeing each other in the light. 

“How?”

Joel fumbles trying to pull his phone out of his pocket, showing you the 5 missed calls from your Dad. You stare at it blankly, tightening your jaw at the possibility that your Dad is too smart for his own good. Shit, he does know, doesn’t he? He throws the phone down on a nearby leather couch that is positioned near a workbench. Joel was pretty good with his hands, but lately his mind has been anywhere but tinkering with wood in his garage. 

“He came over an hour ago. Sat me down and told me that he was getting suspicious of some outings you’ve had over the last couple months. Said he realized you were not going to the places you said you were going to. So he assumed you had a new boyfriend or something. Then last night…”

You curl your hands into a fist. “Fuck.”

“Yeah. Fuck,” Joel grumbles, running his hands over his face, dragging his lower lids down in frustration, “He said that if I know anything or see anything, I am to let him know immediately. He’s worried you’re fuckin’ around with the wrong guy.”

You had snuck out of your house last night and tiptoed your way into Joel’s car, which was parked in a nearby cul de sac. He promised you a nice late dinner in the city and then he ravished you in a hotel room you two didn’t even spend the night in. He brought you home around 4 am and you snuck back into your bedroom, ensuring nothing in your home was stirred. When you woke up the next morning, your father left you a note that he wanted to do dinner with you that night. Meaning tonight. 

You know this is detrimental, and while you do not want to freak out immediately, you can not help but feel like someone is stabbing you directly in the chest. Joel’s body language is giving off negative signals, so even though you want to hug him and tell him that you can talk to your Dad, you know it’s not going to change much.

Your eyes well with tears, thinking of how this was going to ruin everything. After months and months, you thought you were being so smart.

“We can’t do this anymore,” He whispers.

And God damn, did Joel hate seeing you cry. 

But the tear-filled eyes you are giving him are warranted. You don’t turn away from him like usual. You never wanted to show him any weakness. 

This time you confront him, your nose turning upward and your eyes full of disdain. 

“You said we were being careful,” You murmur, the salty tears falling down your cheeks.

“Not careful enough.”

The bitterness tastes like blood in your mouth. You want to scream at him but keep an even tone instead, “Joel… Just let me talk to him.”

“You knew where this was gonna end up,” He states plainly, his voice not wavering. 

And maybe he was right, but you enjoyed living in a loved-up delusion. Maybe it was the sex or maybe it was the looks he gave you from across densely populated parties you were forced to go to. You would put on a show long enough to make your father happy and then you would somehow sneak away with Joel. You knew if your father caught you with the much older man, he would lose his mind, so you were always cautious. You made sure the doors were locked. The moans would stay hushed. The car was parked far from your front door. And during the time spent away from the house, you would get a girlfriend to lie for you. You were always so careful. 

“Maybe he suspects it’s someone else.” you try to reassure him, but you know it’s falling on deaf ears.

“You know he knows it’s me.”

“We don’t know that for sure.”

Joel rolls his eyes. He knows that your father’s words were simply a warning. If you two continued this schtick, you know better than anyone your father would find out. You knew he already kind of had eyes on you and Joel had caught on to a couple of neighbors watching him from their bedroom windows. He gives your father credit, he was thorough. 

“We have to stop.”

You did not realize how much your heart was banking on making this work. Joel was about 25 years older, so deep down, you knew that no one would accept the relationship. But in your wildest fantasies, you imagined you two would run away together. He had tons of money, you had nothing tying you down, and it could be a perfect escape. You had brought it up one night after you snuck over to his bed and he didn’t explicitly say no. He just giggled and continued tracing circles on your bare back. 

You bite the inside of your cheek, “So you just… don’t want me anymore?”

He huffs, already annoyed you were making it seem like he had a choice.

“It was never gonna work out in the first place, kid.”

You just stare at him. The nickname hit harder than it ever has. After months of sneaking around with you, Joel only ever saw you as that. A kid. 

“Don’t call me that. Ever.”

He notices the rise in your voice and quickly realizes he made a mistake. 

“Listen-”

It’s like every terrible emotion you have ever had comes bubbling to the surface. The resentment you held towards him when he ignored your calls some nights. Or when he refused to get near you at any party. You had your grievances, but you sat there like a good girl and just accepted him the way he was.

It’s like acid in your throat, it burns. 

“No, you listen,” You snap, “You don’t get to play the kid card. You chose this just as much as I did. You told me that my age didn’t matter. You told me that you would want children with me one day. You filled my head with all this bullshit and now when shit gets real, you walk away. You’re a fuckin’ coward, Joel.”

“My reputation and livelihood is on the line for this! You think I don’t still want those things?”

“If you wanted them bad enough, you would fight for me.”

It makes his face drop. His furrowed eyebrows relax and his mouth droops down into a subtle frown. 

You do not know where to go from here. The atmosphere in his garage rises with tension, words just hanging in the air. 

The Annual Miller Christmas Party was the talk of the town. Everyone who received an invitation would proudly display the cardstock on their huge fridges and show their uninvited neighbors to brag. When Joel came over to hand deliver you and your father’s invitations, he told you to wear something sparkly. 

You searched everywhere for the perfect gown for weeks. He had only really shown you attention when forced to be in the same room as you, so you needed to be eye-catching. He was never the guy to wave to you when he was leaving for work or say a quiet hello at the grocery store. Joel was a very regimented man. He never strayed away from his routine which was usually work, hookups with random women, and sleep. He never kept a woman around for too long. You noticed the circulation of women changed every month or so. Joel never wanted to settle down. He had tried that once 15 years ago and his ex ended up with half of his company. 

But you always loved the way the man carried him. Despite his playboy behavior, you were entranced with him. You always thought he was handsome and when you came home at 25 to help your mother who had fallen sick, you knew that your crush had morphed into borderline obsession. Living next to him would be dangerous.

The dress you chose was red, which was fitting for the occasion. And of course, it was sparkly. Just what Joel ordered. 

You spent all day preparing for the evening and when you showed up on his front door on your Father’s arm, he could not peel his eyes away. You were so radiant and perfect. The twinkle in your eyes shone brighter than the glitter on your gown. 

During the night, you drank a couple of glasses of champagne and chatted up some of your Father’s colleagues. You notice Joel’s eyes following you every so often. You can vividly remember thinking, “This man wants me so bad.”

That night Joel cornered you in the hallway by the bathroom. He asked you if you were interested in literature, but really he just wanted you alone in his study. You being you, you enthusiastically said yes and followed him down the unlit corridor. Once he shut the huge wooden double doors, you knew that you would be slipping out of that gown for him in no time. 

And that’s exactly what happened. 

He drove you crazy, peppering kisses all down your body. He would groan every time he heard your shaky breath, knowing that the effect he had on you would become a dependence for him. 

When he first pressed into you, it was different than any other woman he’s ever been with. You did not throw your head back, moaning obscenities. Instead, you stared into his eyes and nodded, encouraging him to continue his movements. It was so sensual and passionate, by the time you two finished, he held you in his arms for 20 minutes. He was never one for pillow talk or aftercare, so he surprised himself.

You were different than any other woman he had ever encountered. 

You had slipped over to his front door a couple of days after the Christmas party, knocking to ask his assistant if he was home. When she brought you into his office, he told his assistant to shut the door on the way out. His eyes never left yours as you bantered to him. He loved your confidence. He bent you over his desk after 10 minutes, tugging up your skirt and swatting your ass for showing up on his doorstep looking “this beautiful”. 

Joel always made you feel so good. His dirty talk went to Harvard. He could make you cum over and over with his husky Southern accent. Every time he called you “darlin’” or “princess”, you would come undone. 

A couple of months into the entanglement, your Mother’s health deteriorated overnight. You and your Father stayed by her side when she took her last breaths. It was devastating, seeing the woman you looked up to your entire life slowly slip away. You felt like a shell of a person, unable to really harbor any feeling other than pain.

Joel called you and let you know he would not be able to attend the funeral due to work commitments. You did not care, understanding that there’s never a good time for someone to die and he had no obligation to come. You arrived at the funeral home and saw a huge arrangement of purple and blue flowers. On the card, was scribbled in his handwriting. 

“What a breath of fresh air she was. Thinking of her family, always. Joel Miller.”

When it was time for the burial, you watched a large SUV pull up right before the final words were going to be spoken. Joel hopped out the back and slowly approached, keeping his distance from you and the rest of the attendees. Once she was lowered into the ground, Joel came over to give his condolences to your inconsolable father. 

You stayed back, watching everyone except him leave. You sat in the first row of fold-out chairs, watching them throw dirt over her casket. He sat down next to you, never saying anything. His hand extended out, touching your hand that was resting on your lap. It was an unspoken thing, but you never felt more seen in your entire life. He somehow knew exactly what you needed. 

Someone next to you.

After a couple of months, you felt more like yourself. You called him one night, asking if he was available for a drive. He parked his truck in your usual meet-up spot. You crawled up into the passenger seat and asked him to drive. You did not care where. You two caught up and once he could tell you were getting back to some semblance of yourself, he made his move. He was stopped at a red light when he placed his hand on your thigh. It was the first time you had sex in his truck. That night kickstarted the affair again, which led to the secret meetings in hotel rooms. You two got more bold with your rendezvous, even taking a weekend to the mountains. You don’t even remember the lie you told your Father as to why you were gone. 

Joel always thought you were capable. He admired you for being such a dynamic woman. To be so strong and delicate at the same time was unheard of. Even though you were much younger than him, you were well-versed in everything. You were professional and smart when it came to business. All the while, you were polite and empathetic. He would frequently come to you when he needed advice about work or an opinion on something ethical. He enjoyed hearing you ramble on about things you were passionate about. And God, did he love your laugh. 

He did not expect to keep you around as long as he did. But your body was like a drug and Joel had a nasty habit. You were always eager and available, and after a while, Joel started thinking maybe it was too much all at once. When you became comfortable enough to sleep over in his bed and make him breakfast, he knew his world was tilted on its axis. 

He needed to find a way to ruin it for himself, as he had done so many times before. 

He “slipped up” one night. As he and his chatty neighbor Jeff sat outside and smoked cigars, he spoke about his desire for you. He didn’t particularly say that you two were together, but simply insinuated that he would like to have you alone. And the rumors spread quickly. Soon enough a little birdie was in your Dad’s ear, feeding him information. 

Joel kept up the act with you, even though it was not really an act. He did like you, hell, he may have even loved you. But he did not want you to need him. So when people started paying more attention to you and him, he knew his plan was set in motion. In no time, it would all come crashing down. 

“If your Dad takes this to the board, I will lose my company. Do you understand that?”

You hated that you understood stupid business jargon. You knew that Joel losing his company would be devastating. But at this point, you could not care less. Because for as long as your affair, you watched his walls fall away. He had let you in more than once and in your delusional state, you believed for a second that he would choose you over his job. 

You clench your teeth as you suck in a sharp breath, tears still streaming down your warm face. 

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then we just end it. This has already gone too far.”

You finally turn away from him, your eyes falling to the concrete floor. As soon as he says those words, chills run down your arms. 

“You know Joel…” You drift off, using your shirt sleeve as a tissue. You wipe away a couple of tears and glare back up at him, “I would have given up everything in my life for this. My job. My relationship with my father. Everything. And the fact that you won’t even give me a chance to talk to my Dad to see if he could spare you and this whole charade, really fucking hurts. I’m not worth that to you and that… That’s what hurts the most.”

“Babe-”

“No. You don’t get to call me that anymore. You don’t get to call me anything.”

The tears flow again as you watch him exhale, his hands on his hips. His hair is unkept and the tie he’s wearing has been loosened. 

“I’m sorry,” Is all he can say while your lip quivers. You are trying not to lose it completely. 

You just shake your head, “No. You’re not sorry.”

He was. He was sorry, but he could not let you ruin everything. 

Joel would soon know that you were everything. And as you left the back door that evening, leaving behind the scent of your perfume, he knew that the smell would somehow taint his sheets, even though you had not been in them for weeks. He already started to miss the feeling of your lips. When he tried to go about his evening, he swore he would see you in the shadows of his large house. He even thought he heard your laugh. You were already haunting him even though the death of your relationship happened just hours before. 

You moved on after a couple of years. Met a guy at your 9-5, settled down, and popped out a few kiddos. Some nights you would lie awake, wondering to yourself if Joel was really happy. You never learned the truth of his deceit. After all, your Father was just grateful that his warning to Joel led to his desired outcome, which was him being gone from your life entirely. 

And Joel would be haunted for the rest of his life. No woman. No drugs. No party. Nothing ever filled the void you left behind. And it was all his fault. Just like it always had been.

[cressidagrey]

The Queen of Romantasy and the Race Car Prince - Chapter 1

Pairing: Lando Norris x Elizabeth "Lizzie" Treshton (Original Character)

Summary:

Elizabeth Treshton—bestselling romantasy author, queen of fae heartbreak, and sworn devotee of a carefully structured routine—never expected her service dog to abandon protocol and diagnose a Formula 1 driver with something. But that’s exactly what happens when Mara the wonder-dog ditches Lizzie’s side to aggressively alert to none other than Lando Norris in the middle of a coffee shop.

Warnings and Notes: 

Mention of epilepsy and service animals. I don't myself suffer from epilepsy, so I asked my IRL friend, who thankfully was nice enough to let me ask her all the questions I could come up with. The rest I asked Reddit. So everything that's wrong...that's totally my fault and not on purpose.

As always big thanks to @llirawolf , who listens to me ramble

The smell of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries filled the cozy café, the kind of place that hummed with quiet conversations and the occasional clatter of ceramic cups. Lizzie sat in the corner, tucked into her usual spot by the window,  her mind was elsewhere.

The Laptop was open, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, but the words…the words refused to come. 

Instead, she sipped at her now lukewarm tea, absentmindedly, running her fingers through Mara’s soft fur. Mara’s chocolate coloured head was resting on Lizzie’s knee, watching her, her tail rhythmically thumping against the floor. 

They often came here..nearly every day, to be exact. 

Elizabeth Treshton’s life was built around her routine after all. 

She knew the exact number of steps from her apartment to the cozy coffee shop on the corner. She knew the best seat—by the window, tucked away, where Mara could curl up at her feet while she wrote. And she knew the barista always had her order memorized: earl grey tea with a dash of milk, one sugar, and a small bowl of water for Mara.

They knew them both. They knew not to bother Mara while working, even when it looked like the dog wasn’t working. She was. 

Mara told Lizzie when her body once again decided that having seizures was something it should do and then stayed with her through the whole…shitty ordeal that were said epileptic seizures. 

Still, they thrived on their usual routine. And they hadn’t been able to have that for weeks, because Lizzie had been busy with all the publicity surrounding An Autumn of Flames and Stone and the fact that her little book had reached No. 1 of the New York Times Bestselling list. 

Which meant…that she now got to write the last book in the Seasons of Fate Series…Something that she never thought she would get to do. 

This had been her dream since she was a child…and now…now she finally got to do this. This was her job! Her dream job!

And if this chapter was finally going to start going her way, then maybe Lizzie would be feeling like she actually knew what she was doing too. 

Just at that moment, Mara suddenly lifted her head, ears alert and then stood. Lizzie’s pulse spiked. She waited with baited breath for Mara to tell her that another seizure was incoming, even when Lizzie couldn’t feel anything yet. 

“Mara?” Lizzie murmured, feeling her stomach knot.

Her service dog didn’t react to her voice. Instead, Mara’s attention was locked on something—or someone—across the café. 

Lizzie turned just in time to see Mara move.

Straight toward a guy at the counter.

“Mara, heel!” Lizzie called, already pushing back her chair, heart pounding.

But Mara wasn’t listening.

Mara always listened. Lizzie had not once been in this situation. 

Mara was always well behaved. Mara had been trained so well that this was nothing Lizzie had ever needed to worry about…but apparently that day Mara had decided that her time as picture-perfect seizure dog was over and instead she would run across the cafe, straight to random guy…

The guy turned just as Mara reached him. He was tall, wearing a hoodie pulled up over messy brown curls, and he looked as confused as Lizzie felt when Mara pressed her nose against his hand.

“Oh,” he said, blinking down at her. “Uh. Hi?”

Lizzie practically skidded to a stop beside them. “I’m so sorry—she doesn’t normally—”

And then she got a proper look at him.

Her brain stuttered.

Because that wasn’t just any guy in a hoodie.

That was Lando Norris.

Formula 1 driver. Twitch streamer. Walking, talking social media chaos generator.

She knew who he was. Of course, she bloody knew who he was. 

They were literally in Woking. A stone thrown away from the McLaren Technology Center. 

And even if Lizzie hadn’t grown up seemingly right next to the headquarters of a Formula 1 racing team, she still would have grown up as the daughter of a man that believed that Formula 1 was just as important on Sundays as church services were. 

Her dad was the original F1 fan and Lizzie had easily inherited his love for the sport. 

So to say that she was…a little bit starstruck, because there was Lando freaking Norris standing in front of her, holding a  coffee cup in one hand, a half-eaten croissant in the other, looking between Lizzie and Mara with increasing confusion, was an understatement

“So, uh.” Lando tilted his head. “What’s happening?”

Lizzie swallowed hard, her mind racing. “She’s a service dog,” she managed, her voice tight. “She only does that when—”

Mara insistently pushed her nose against Lando’s hand again. When he didn’t react she started to headbutt his thigh aggressively. 

The realization slammed into Lizzie with the force of a freight train. Mara had alerted to him.

Lando still looked baffled, shifting slightly like he wasn’t sure what to do. “Is—uh—is she okay?”

Lizzie swallowed hard. “I—I think she’s actually asking you that.”

His brow furrowed, then a flicker of something passed over his face. A split-second of realization. “Oh.”

Lizzie watched as Lando’s hand curled slightly, his fingers flexing like he was suddenly hyper-aware of his own body.

“Do you feel off?” she asked, voice softer now. “Lightheaded? Dizzy? Aura?”

His lips parted like he wanted to argue—but then he hesitated. “I mean… I was feeling a bit weird this morning.”

Mara let out another small whine, nosing at his wrist.

Lizzie exhaled sharply. “You need to sit down.”

“I’m fine—”

“Sit. Down. And drink some water, for god’s sake.”

He blinked at her in mild shock, but something in her tone must’ve struck him because he moved, letting her guide him to an empty table.

Lizzie crouched next to him, all business now. “Do you have any underlying medical issues? Mara was trained to alert to my Epilepsy. Have you ever had a seizure?!”

Lando shook his head. “No, nothing like that. But—” He ran a hand through his hair. “I do get migraines sometimes. And sometimes before I get one, things feel… off.”

Oh. 

Lizzie sat back on her heels. “Then she probably picked up on that.”

Lando looked down at Mara, who had now settled next to him, still watching carefully.

“Is this—normal?” he asked.

“For her, yeah.” Lizzie scratched the back of her neck. “She’s trained to detect seizures, but she picks up on other stuff too. She’s never alerted to someone else before, though.”

Lando let out a short laugh, like he wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or concerned. “Huh. Well, I’m still here, so I think I’m good,” he finally said and Lizzie exhaled. 

“Sorry, about that,” she apologised. “She has never done that before.”

Lando grinned, slow and teasing. “Guess I’m just special, huh?” he teased. 

A pause. Then, hesitantly, Lando reached down, fingers brushing Mara’s head.

“Thanks, I guess,” he murmured. Mara’s tail gave a small, reassuring wag.

“So, like… I am not dying, right?” Lando asked her suddenly, and Lizzie let out a nervous laugh, shaking her head. 

“No. But she’s never wrong about this kind of thing.” Lizzie sighed. “Drink some water. Eat something. Just—don’t ignore it.”

Lando hummed. “Noted.” Then he tilted his head, studying her. “And you are?”

She blinked. “What?”

His smile widened. “Your name. And her name too.”

Lizzie felt warmth creep up her neck.

She bit her lip.

“I am Lizzie. That’s Mara.” 

Lando grinned, like he was committing both names to memory. “Lizzie and Mara. Got it.”

Lizzie wasn’t sure why her stomach flipped at the way he said her name, but she pushed the feeling aside. “And you’re Lando,” she said, more to ground herself than anything else.

His grin widened. “So you do know who I am.”

Lizzie scoffed. “I live in Woking. I’d have to be actively avoiding the internet to not know who you are.”

Lando let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Fair point.” He glanced down at Mara, who had finally relaxed, still keeping a watchful eye on him. “So… does this mean I have, like, a cool dog guardian angel now?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, though a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Only if you promise not to ignore your body when it’s telling you something’s wrong.”

He hummed, tapping his fingers against the table. “Noted.”

The café felt warmer than it had before as they looked at each other. Lizzie, still crouched next to Lando and Mara. The air between them felt charged, and Lizzie was suddenly reminded of a fact she had never forgotten: Lando Norris was unfairly attractive.

"So...are you here often or was today my lucky day?"

She blinked at him, caught slightly off guard by the question. “I—uh. Yeah. I’m here most days.”

Lando nodded like that was exactly the answer he was hoping for. “Cool. I might have to come by more often then.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “Because of the coffee? Or because of the dog that just diagnosed you?”

He smirked. “Both. And maybe because the company’s not bad either.”

She stared at him for a moment, trying to figure out if he was actually flirting or just naturally charming. Either way, it was… a lot.

Lando hesitated, then scratched the back of his neck. “Look, this might be weird, but—can I give you my number?”

Lizzie’s brain stalled. “What?”

His grin turned a little sheepish. “I mean, you know, in case Mara ever wants to check in on me again. Or, uh, if you ever want to.”

Lizzie exhaled a laugh, shaking her head. “That was smooth.”

“I try,” he said, dimples on full display.

Lizzie couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips, part amused and part baffled at the whole situation. She had gone from sitting in her usual spot, writing away in her notebook as Mara dozed by her feet to now crouching next to a Formula 1 driver giving her his number. What sort of alternate universe was this?

She hesitated, but then Mara nudged her hand, like she was making the decision for her. Lizzie huffed, pulled out her phone, and slid it across the table. “Fine. But if you start texting me memes at 2 AM, I’m blocking you.”

Lando chuckled, tapping in his number before handing it back. “No promises.”

Lizzie glanced down at the contact name he’d put in: Lando ‘Not Dying (Yet)’ Norris.

She sighed. “You’re impossible.”

Lando shot her a cheeky grin as he got to his feet. “It’s part of the charm.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, the smile stubbornly clinging to her face. It only widened when Lando bent down to say a quick goodbye to Mara, who promptly licked his hand in response.

Lizzie shook her head, but she couldn’t quite fight back her smile. “Come on, Mara. Let’s go before you decide to start diagnosing other random strangers too.”

As she walked away, Lando called after her, voice warm with amusement. “See you around, Lizzie.”

She didn’t look back—but her stupid smile stayed all the way home.

***

***

The morning air was crisp, the kind of early autumn chill that made your breath curl in the air but wasn’t quite cold enough for a proper coat. The park was quiet, save for the occasional jogger or dog walker, the golden sunlight filtering through the trees.

Lando arrived a few minutes early—not that he was eager or anything. He just… didn’t want to be late. Which was not the same as being eager.

He shifted on his feet, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie. He wasn’t nervous. Not really. Okay, maybe a little.

It wasn’t a date. Not officially. Just a walk. With a girl. A very cute girl. Who had a dog that might have magical powers if yesterday was anything to go by.

He heard her before he saw her—the sound of Mara’s paws on the pavement, the soft jingle of her collar. Then—

“Morning,” Lizzie said, smiling as she approached. She had a bright red scarf wrapped around her neck, her dark hair pulled up into a messy bun, and Mara trotted happily at her side.

Lando tried not to notice how good she looked or how her smile lit up her face. He was cool. He was casual. He wasn’t a blushing teenager getting flustered over a girl.

He failed utterly.

Lando exhaled, grinning back. “Hey. You actually showed up.”

Lizzie rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of amusement in her expression. Mara padded over and sniffed at Lando’s hand, her tail wagging excitedly.

“As if you weren’t expecting me to,” she said, eyes glittering with humor. “Did you really think I’d ditch you?”

Yes. Yes, he had. 

“I dunno. Maybe you’d wake up and realize agreeing to go on a walk with a random guy from a coffee shop was a terrible idea.” 

Lizzie laughed, the sound surprisingly musical. “It probably was. But you’ve got Mara’s seal of approval, so you can’t be too dangerous, right?”

She glanced down at Mara, who panted happily up at Lando, as if in agreement.

"Can I touch her?" he asked carefully. "I should have asked yesterday, I am sorry." He may had spent too much time yesterday reading up on Service Dogs. And what exactly they did for their handlers, especially if they had handlers that had epilepsy like Lizzie had.

Lizzie smiled, her expression softening. “It’s okay. I know it’s not exactly common knowledge.” She nodded. “You can touch her. She’s off-duty right now, so you’re good.”

Lando crouched down, holding a hand out, allowing Mara to sniff him. When she didn’t shrink away, he cautiously patted her on the head. Her fur was silky-smooth to the touch.

"Hello Mara," he greeted her. "I even brought  Peanut Butter for my saviour.”

He probably shouldn't have said that. At the sound of these two words Mara suddenly perked up, immediately sat down before Lando’s feet.

“You shouldn’t say the magic words unless you plan to give some to her right at that exact moment,” Lizzie said drily.

Lando laughed in surprise, looking down at Mara as she sat there, looking up at him expectantly. “She is serious about peanut butter, huh?”

He pulled the jar out of his pocket, unscrewing the cap before holding it out for Mara to sniff. She stuck her nose in it, tail wagging furiously.

“I think she approves,” he said, watching as Mara licked at the peanut butter.

Only after she had been allowed to stick her snout in there for a full 5 seconds was Mara ready to continue their walk. 

“So, how’s the head?” Lizzie asked, tilting her head toward him.

“Better. I took something last night before it got too bad and slept it off.” He glanced down at Mara. “Not sure I would’ve done that if someone hadn’t warned me.”

Lizzie hummed. “She’s good at her job. Even when she has never alerted to somebody else before.” 

Lando tried not to let that go straight to his ego. Tried.

Lando tried to sound casual as he spoke, but couldn’t quite hold back a hint of satisfaction. "I guess that means I’m extra special, then?"

Lizzie raised an eyebrow at that, but there was a laugh in her eyes. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

He chuckled, shoving his hands back in his pockets. “Yeah, too late for that.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, just walking together, the sound of the leaves crunching under their feet and Mara’s paws filling the air.

“So, what do you do, exactly?” Lando asked, trying to shift the conversation somewhere less awkward. Though he was pretty sure that the abrupt topic change was not gonna help at all. 

Lizzie smirked. “You mean besides walk dogs?” she joked. 

“Yeah. You know, because you know what I do” He gestured at himself dramatically, trying to be playful. “It’s not fair that you are the big mystery.”

Lizzie laughed and shoook her head. “It’s not fair,” she agreed. “I write books.”

Lando blinked. “What kind of books?” he asked, his curiousity piqued. 

“Romantasy,” Lizzie answered, watching him closely, waiting for a reaction.

What? 

Lando frowned. “Like… romance and fantasy?” Was that a thing?

“Exactly.”

“Is that, like, dragons? Or is it—”

“Faes,” Lizzie supplied. “And magic, and epic love stories, and usually some kind of dramatic war.”

Lando’s eyes widened as she talked, the concept of 'romantasy' sinking in. “Wow. So, like… magic powers and romance and all that good stuff?”

Lizzie nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Pretty much. And there’s always a bit of adventure thrown in for good measure.”

Lando thought for a moment, picturing tales of epic battles and star-crossed lovers. It sounded…. Nice.

“You write those books that people fight over on the internet, don’t you?” he asked. Because he was pretty sure he had seen things about Morally grey love interests and a enemies-to-lovers arc and people fighting with other people about which fictional man was hotter. 

Lizzie’s smile widened, her eyes glittering with humour. “Guilty as charged. I write the books that people have passionate debates over online. The ones where people are way too invested in the love triangle and have very strong opinions about which fictional man is hotter.”

His brows shot up. “Wait—are you, like, famous?”

She shrugged. “Depends on who you ask.”

Lando narrowed his eyes, then pulled out his phone and started typing.

Lizzie swatted at his arm. “Are you Googling me?”

“Uh, yeah?”

"What are you evening googling? Lizzie Romantasy?" she asked him with a snort. "You probably won't find me. Try Elizabeth Treshton."

The results for 'Elizabeth Treshton' appeared on the screen, and he scrolled through for a moment, articles and book covers, reviews and interviews popping up.

A moment later he got his answer.

"You sold millions of books."

Lando stared at Lizzie with a mixture of incredulity and awe. "I think that counts as famous."

Lizzie shrugged. “And yet, my dog still expects me to carry her up the stairs when she’s being lazy.”

Mara wagged her tail like she agreed.

Lando laughs, shaking his head. “I have a feeling Mara has you wrapped around her paw.”

She hummed in agreement, her hand going to the end of Mara's leash as the dog stopped to sniff at a tree.

“I swear, she knows exactly how cute she is and uses it to her advantage.”

Lando slipped his phone back into his pocket, shaking his head. “That’s actually really cool. How’d you get into it?”

Lizzie hesitated, then exhaled. “I have epilepsy. Had a lot of seizures when I was younger, which meant a lot of time in hospitals. You get really bored after a while.” She snorted. “So, I kept busy. Told myself stories, read, learned to crochet. But writing stuck. Studied English lit at uni, got a publishing deal right after. I was really lucky.”

Lando nodded. “That’s kinda sick, actually. You get to make stuff up for a living.”

Lizzie chuckled. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.” She glanced at him. “What about you? What’s it like, racing cars all day?”

He grinned. “Honestly? A lot more boring than you’d think.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “You drive 300 kilometers an hour for a living.”

“Yeah, but I also stare at spreadsheets for hours. It’s not all fast cars and cheering crowds.”

“I mean, if you didn’t look at data, I think there would be bigger problems,” Lizzie said, teasing.

He rolled his eyes. “I do look at it, I promise.”

“So, how’d you end up doing that?”

“My mum tried to get me into horses—wasn’t into it. But I wanted to drive. Did quad biking, motorcycle riding… then my dad took me to a kart race, and that was it.”

“That’s sweet. My dad and I have watched F1 together since I was a kid," Lizzie said with a grin.

Lando glanced at her. “Really? That’s awesome. So, are you, like, one of those people who actually knows what’s going on during a race?”

Lizzie grinned. “You’re just mad because I probably know more than you.”

“Impossible,” Lando said, acting affronted. “I drive the car, I know what I’m doing.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “Do you, though?”

He gaped at her. “I can’t believe you just questioned my driving skills.”

She just laughed. “I can’t drive at all, you know.”

“I can teach you,” he offered immediately.

She laughed. “I am legally not allowed to get behind the wheel,” Lizzie told him drily. “Epilepsy, you know. If I get a seizure while driving, I would accidentally murder people,”

“That sucks,” Lando said quietly.

“It’s just one of those things you get used to. You get used to not having control over that part of your life.”

Lando felt a pang of sympathy. “That must be tough.”

Lizzie shrugged. “It is, sometimes. But Mara’s a huge help. And I get by.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Lando said, glancing down at the dog, who was happily leading the way once again.

Lizzie smiled. “She’s the best. And it’s not all bad. Gives me more time to write, at least.”

Lando grinned. “I’m definitely interested in reading some of your work now.”

She laughed. “You are aware that they are all like 500 pages, right?”

Lando groaned dramatically. “You’re telling me you’ve published multiple million-selling books, and they’re all doorstoppers?”

"I am a wordy person, you know," Lizzie shot back.

Lando groaned again, but he smiled, too. “You’re making me work for it here.”

Lizzie just shrugged, her mouth curving into a smirk. “You’re just going to have to deal with it.”

” Lando grinned, already planning his next move. “Alright, super important question,” he said, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket.

Lizzie raised a brow. “Oh?”

“Who’s your favorite F1 driver?”

She let out a soft laugh. “You really want to know?”

Lando nodded, deadly serious. “This is crucial information. Make or break.”

She laughed, a strand of dark chocolate brown hair escaping her bun. 

“My dad is a die hard Ferrari fan,” she told him. “Seriously. Like you know that quote that there are only two religions in Italy, Catholicism and Ferrari? That’s pretty much my dad,” she said with a shake of her heard. “So for him it was always Schumacher…

As they strolled through the park, Mara trotting ahead with her nose to the ground, Lando shot Lizzie a sideways glance.

Lizzie hummed, drawing out the suspense. “When I was little, I loved Kimi Raikkonen.”

Lando groaned. “Kimi? Seriously?!?”

Lizzie rolled her eyes. “You asked! I was, like, ten. You weren’t even in F1 yet.”

“Still hurts,” Lando muttered. “Alright, fine. What about now? Who’s your current favorite?”

Lizzie smirked. “Are you asking because you want me to say you?”

He feigned innocence. “Noooo… but also, yes.”

She pretended to consider. “Well, I do appreciate drivers with great car control and a smooth racing style.”

Lando’s grin stretched wide. “That does sound familiar—”

“Which is why I love watching Lewis.”

Lando gasped, scandalized. “Lizzie, what the hell?”

She laughed. “What? He’s a seven-time world champion! You can’t be mad at me for that.”

“I can definitely be mad at you for that.” He shook his head in mock disappointment. “I thought we had something special.”

Lizzie smirked. “Would it make you feel better if I said you’re my favorite driver I’ve ever gone on a walk with?”

Lando narrowed his eyes at her, fighting a smile. “Barely.”

***

[wandaslovey]

𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒𝓇’𝓈 𝓆𝓊𝒶𝓇𝓇𝑒𝓁

➺ pastor’s!wife!wanda x fem!reader

wc ~ 3.4k

a/n: i just finished watching love & death for the 4th time and it made me go absolutely feral for lizzie with a southern accent. i’m debating whether or not i want to make this a short series—especially writing a second part where i better establish the background of these two characters. let me know if you guys would like a part 2!

*not proofread*

cw: brief mentions of religious background, infidelity/cheating, forbidden relationship, legal age gap, established relationship, reader almost smokes a cigarette but doesn’t, punishment, [wo]man-handling, spanking, humiliation, inspection, finger licking/sucking, praise, mommy kink, reader is kind of a whiny brat in this fic (she’s really just overstimulated), and some fluff at the end

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ ୨♡୧ ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

you pace back and forth along the side of a red and white striped tent, kicking up some dirt and rocks as your feet drag. your skin feels like it’s tingling and your ears cringing at the sheer amount of sounds coming from the carnival you were currently at. you reach into your bra, retrieving one of the two cigarettes you had secretly stashed there unbeknownst to wanda. it was very unlike you—the smoking—but it was a nasty habit you picked up during your rebellious teen years. wanda had been trying to break you of it for months now. she’d gone as far as taking it upon herself to search through your things every time you two escaped to a town over to be together. any time she found a pack or a lone cigarette, she would throw it away claiming that her “sweet baby” shouldn’t be doing such a thing as “harming her own lungs.”

you hadn’t actually smoked one in awhile, but knowing you were coming here today, you stashed a couple in case you became overstimulated, which you now were. it didn’t help that you were already in a sour mood upon arriving here. wanda was all smiles and encouragement, happy and chipper to spend time with you. you weren’t sure why you were in such a poor mood, especially since you got to be with her, but at the moment you couldn’t care less about the series of events that may have drove you into this corner.

you pat your other breast, seeking the lighter but it wasn’t there. shit, you must’ve left it in your overnight bag or maybe in wanda’s car. with the cigarette hanging limply from your lips, you stupidly look around you as if there would be something around you to light it.

as you step out from behind the circus-like tent, you scan the small herds of people surrounding the area. there were so many families here along with couples and groups of young teens out with their friends. you hated being in places that were overly crowded. stepping out into this scene only made you feel worse and just when you were about to step back to your makeshift hiding place, you spot wanda walking rather briskly over to you. she was clutching onto the straps of her purse with two hands, her eyes intent on you as she made her way seamlessly through the crowds to get to you. normally, the look on her face would make you cower instantly, but you were in no mood to give into her dominating presence.

the cigarette that had been dangling from your lips was now stuffed back into your bra, your hands shoving themselves into the pockets of your t-shirt dress.

“now just where the hell did you think you were going? i’ve been looking all over for you, (y/n).” her southern accent bled into her words, which under different circumstances you loved, but right now that fact didn’t matter.

you cross your arms over your chest, taking a step around her as you attempt to walk away to blend in with the other crowds of people. she easily falls into step next to you, looking at you expectantly.

“i just needed a minute,” you say in a monotone voice, looking straight forward as you walk. clearly, she’s not sufficed with your answer. you count three, four, five steps before you feel her arm wrap around your bicep, her fingers curling tightly but not painfully as she pulls you back to the side, ducking around the corner of a carnival game tent.

“what is going on with you? you’ve been nothing but a fuss pot ever since i picked you up.” she uses her thumb and forefinger to hold your chin in place as you look up at her, her other hand still holding onto your arm. you feel your tough facade begin to crack, fissures seeping into your mind that made you want to cave and pout like the little girl you felt like right now.

“mm’fine wanda,” you mumble, looking at her pretty blonde cropped hair instead of her eyes. when you were in a mood like this, her eyes were the most dangerous place to look. those green orbs wielded more power than any god you’d ever been told to believe in.

“(y/n). look at me.” she commands, her fingers gripping more firmly onto your chin. she gently shakes your head back and forth until she gets the desired reaction and your eyes meet hers. you immediately feel a little more wobbly where you stand, her eyes all but piercing into your soul. “do not lie to me. ever. do you hear me little miss? i know something is going on with you.”

your bottom lip quivers slightly, jutting out into a pout and wanda watches your eyes widen and go soft around the edges, mimicking that of a guilty puppy. you hold eye contact with her for another second and all of a sudden the invisible cracks in your mind remold themselves. you harshly turn your head to the side, freeing your chin from her grasp. you didn’t want to give into her just yet.

“don’t wanna talk about it. let’s just go have some fun or whatever the fuck it is you’re supposed to do in this godforsaken shit show.”

you turn from her, already out in the midst of groups of other people before wanda can think about grabbing you again. from her place at the side of the tent, she watches you walk away, exhaling slowly to maintain her nerve before she catches up to you.

for the next hour or so, you go from tent to tent, playing the rigged games and forcing yourself to “have fun.” after being unkind to a couple of the attendants and giving her attitude for the last while, wanda was at her wits end. she had no idea what was going on with you and no matter how gently or forcibly she probed, you refused to tell her what was wrong.

it wasn’t until your final throw at a bean bag toss that she decided enough was enough. after hearing your “this was never my idea to be here” comment under your breath, she grabs your arm again, all but dragging you out of the carnival. there was a group of teenagers who stopped to watch you as you huffed, kicked and dragged your feet along as wanda pulled you wordlessly to the parking lot, but neither you nor she could care about that now.

she rummages through her purse with her free hand, angrily retrieving her keys at last as she unlocks the car. she opens the passenger back seat door, all but shoving you inside of it before shutting the door firmly behind you. she hurries to the other side, coming into the backseat with you.

a thick silence falls over the car, her eyes burning holes into the side of your face as you had yet to look at her. wanda wasn’t sure what to say—which approach would best get through to you in this moment.

“i’m going to give you one more opportunity to explain yourself before you’re in even bigger trouble than you already are.” her voice was artificially calm. anyone else would perceive her now as perfectly composed, but you knew better. you picked up on all the subtleties—the slight shake in her voice at the end of her sentence and her hands twitching ever so slightly. you had really pushed her today and you knew a punishment was inevitable. as you sat there in the silence of the car, you realized that subconsciously you were making today enormously difficult on purpose to earn her harsher hand. you were normally such a good girl for her, but today was about pushing buttons—and you really were overstimulated from everything at the carnival.

you glance at her from your peripheral vision, inhaling slowly as you begin to fidget with your hands in your lap. wanda’s normally impeccable patience had gone thin though, and when another beat of silence passed over the two of you, she was done waiting. she reaches over the middle seat, pulling your body till it was flush with hers. she lifts your legs over her lap, bending them in a slight awkward angle from being pressed against the side of the door. a gentle hand lifts your face, her fingers smoothing some of the frizz from your hair before she tucks the strands behind your ear.

“what happened to my sweet girl, hmm?” this time her voice was genuine and warm, her facial expression softening. she knew that paired with her sugary sweet sweetness and being wrapped up in her arms, you would melt. you could never deny the fact that regardless of your mood, you always wanted to be her good girl and to please her.

your pout from earlier came back full force as you began to feel a pang of guilt growing in your tummy. you had been unfair to her today, giving her attitude for no reason and denying her comfort at every turn. she deserved better.

your nimble fingers find the collar of her blouse and you fidget with the material absentmindedly. your brows pull together like you’re thinking hard about something as you stare at a random spot on her chest.

“i’m sorry, wanda,” you mumble, the edge of a whine in your tone. she strokes the back of your head, beginning to gently coax you into that fuzzy headspace you both love so much.

“well i sure do appreciate that, but an apology’s not what i asked for, is it?” you shake your head at her question, curling further into yourself to feel smaller in her lap. she easily adjusted her arm to support the new distribution of your weight while the hand on her other arm continued to caress the side of your cheek.

it was almost pathetic how easily you gave in to her touch. it had barely been a couple of minutes and you were already feeling much more compliant.

“i…it was just loud and bright,” you state simply in a small voice, offering no further explanation. you hoped she didn’t need clarification since you didn’t feel much like talking at the moment.

“the carnival? was my darling girl feeling a little overstimulated?” she asks sympathetically, tapping her finger against your cheek so you know to look up at her. your eyes slowly drag up her neck and her face until you’re looking in her eyes again. you nod once, your pout becoming impossibly deeper. she hums, a hand at the back of your head as she presses her lips against your forehead, planting a kiss there.

“i’m sorry sugar, mommy didn’t know. you have to tell me these things, honey. as much as i’d like to, i can’t read your mind.” she kisses your temple, watching your shoulders shrug in response to her comment. you wished she could read your mind. there were so many things you knew you needed to communicate to her that your stubborn refusal prohibited you from sharing.

“i really am sorry you were uncomfortable today sweetheart, that was never my intention. now i know for next time, right?” she pauses for a moment, noticing your line of sight was on your fingers that were still fiddling with her top.

“however, you did fail to communicate your needs with me despite the fact that i tried to get you to talk to me. on top of that, you were snotty and rude to not only me, but a few of the workers at the fair. you understand that is unacceptable, right?” she watches your head nod a few times, your eyes glazing over and she knows that right now, you’re her compliant little girl and you’ve already accepted your consequences.

“mommy’s gonna have to punish you. you understand why now, don’t you baby?” you nod once, but still clutch onto the collar of her shirt, your thighs pressing together as the word “punishment” passes through her lips. it doesn’t go unnoticed by wanda, but she chooses not to acknowledge it for now.

wanda gently pries your fingers from her shirt, maneuvering the both of you until you were face down across her lap. she had one of her legs crossed over the other so your lower back had a nice arch, your ass sitting higher in the air. she lifts your dress up over your rear, bunching the material at the middle of your back.

she hums to herself, her mouth watering slightly at the sight of your cute ass framed by your cheeky baby blue lace underwear.

“oh baby doll, you have the cutest, spankable cheeks, you know that?” the first teasing smack lands on your right cheek, already warming the skin. you groan at her question, feeling your panties dampen and the urge to press your thighs more firmly together.

“i’m going to spank you 40 times. i want you to count and say ‘i’m sorry mommy,’ for each spank. understood?” her hand caresses over the skin she just smacked, soothing the slight sting.

“yes mommy,” you reply, your voice muffled as your face was half pressed into the car seat. wanda purrs at your obedience, giving your ass cheek a squeeze. “good girl,” she murmurs, still rubbing your backside.

the first real smack lands on your left cheek, your body jerking slightly from the force. “one, i’m sorry mommy.” you breath out. you weren’t expecting her to start out so strong.

another blow. “two, i’m sorry mommy.” she measured the hit, ensuring she hit the same spot twice.

smack. “three, i’m sorry mommy.” you bite your lip, your core beginning to tingle.

smack. “four, i’m sorry mommy.” you feel your arousal continuing to wet your panties.

smack. “ffive—i’m sorry mommy!” you press your thighs together, only relieving a bit of the ache that was rapidly growing between your legs.

you hadn’t taken an inordinate amount of spankings, but you experienced enough that you knew that on average, the pain just surpassed the pleasure after about 18 hits. by the sixteenth one, your small pitiful whimpers turned to whines, and by the twenty-fifth the first low sob tore through your throat. tears were beginning to prick your eyes, threatening to roll down your pink tinged cheeks.

wanda pauses after the thirtieth spank, unable to ignore your increasingly squirmy little body. she could see your legs pressed firmly together, your body desperately trying to grind down onto her thighs. she tuts, tapping the back of your thigh in a silent command to open your legs. you feel a singular finger trace down your slit through your panties, the sticky feeling causing you to groan.

“oh sweetheart, look at you—all wet and sticky..” she trails off, her finger purposely rubbing up against your clit before she swipes back down to your opening. “you like it when mommy hurts you, don’t you?” it was mostly a rhetorical question, your arousal being evidence enough.

she brings her arousal coated finger up to your lips, which you eagerly suck into your mouth. you hum around the digit, swirling your tongue around it as any last rational thoughts you had turn to static.

“such a naughty baby. good little girls aren’t supposed to get so aroused by a punishment.” she pulls her finger from your mouth, a small popping noise emitting from the action.

“mommy,” you whimper pathetically, not quite sure exactly what you were begging for. you were past thinking clearly.

“shhh, i know honey. just 10 more spanks and then i’ll be done,” she runs a soothing hand down your back and then presses it down in the middle of your lower back. her last 10 smacks are just as harsh if not more than the other 30. by the end, the tears that been building in your eyes were spilling down your cheeks and you begin sniffling as your nose starts to run.

her hand carefully rubs across your now red, inflamed skin. she marvels at the sight. it was a bit sadistic, but she loved seeing the aftermath of a good spanking.

“mmm, i love it when you cry for me, baby.” her other hand finds its way into your hair, her fingernails gently scratching against your scalp. you melt into her affection, your body laying limply across her lap.

“let’s see how much more sticky sweetness is between these legs now, hmm?” she readjusts her hold on you, her leg propping you upright so your back is nice and arched again. her finger returns to your panties, finding them completely soaked through and ruined. you hear her chuckle amusedly before she presses the soiled material up against your opening, her fingertip just barely pushing into your hole. you let out shrill whine, your hips backing up into her touch. she shushes you, sliding your panties to the side and you all but jump as her finger grazes up against your unclothed pussy. she gathers the wetness there, drawing a line up and down your slit, taunting you. you bite down hard on your bottom lip, your hips wriggling under her touch.

“hush now… let me see.. ohhh, my listen to that.” you moan, her index finger sliding tantalizingly slow inside of you. you can hear your pussy squelching as she does so, your walls desperately clamping down around her digit. she wiggles it as far as it’ll go, her knuckles brushing against your clit. she does an experimental bend of her finger, your body jerking in response as she stimulates your g-spot.

just when you start to finally feel some relief, she slowly withdraws her finger. as she pulls it away, a string of arousal clings to her finger, connecting your went cunt to her before she pulls it far enough away that it disappears. she was going to have you clean it off, but the sight was too delicious to resist. she sucks her own finger into her mouth, cleaning off the evidence of your wetness. you swear you hear a small purr of pleasure coming from her, but you couldn’t be sure with your heart pounding in your ears.

she smooths your dress back over your ass, grabbing onto your waist and twisting you so you were now sitting facing her upright on her lap. she reaches up and holds the side of your face, a twinge of a smile on her lips as she notices your dismayed expression. she pouts sympathetically, stroking your cheek with her thumb.

“what did we learn today, (y/n)?” you don’t stop pouting as you answer. “to not be mean and to communicate my feelings..” you mumble, your expression solemn and wounded as if you had just been told the saddest thing. it turned out one of the most tragic things was having wanda tease you and then leave you high and dry.

“that’s right, sweetness. good job.” she smiles warmly, kissing your nose affectionately.

“you did so good for me, sugar. mommy’s very proud of you.” she smiles encouragingly, and despite how mopey you felt about being denied an orgasm, you glow under her praise and affection. you purse your lips together as you try to smother a smile threatening to cross your lips. wanda chuckles at this, playfully tapping her finger against your nose.

“i see that smile, little girl. you can’t fool me.” she attacks the side of your face with kisses, a wide smile now erupting across your face as you giggle gleefully.

“you’re gonna make my face all soggy—quit it!” you protest lightly, half heartedly pushing against her chest to put some space between your faces. wanda makes a mock gasp.

“i beg your pardon, missy? i can give you all the kisses i want!” she growls playfully through gritted teeth before she plants more sloppy kisses all over your face. you squeal and giggle, finding that moving your face around did nothing but give her new places to kiss.

you were so happy and content in your little wanda bubble. you never wanted it to pop.

[taffetathedoll]

[cuteandhughesy]

Ceilings | Luke Hughes (part 2/2)

summary: you are a bet for luke and his friends, but that doesn't stop you two from actually falling in love, luke just prays you never find out the truth

[word count] 21.4K (total)

warnings: NSFW! frenemies to lovers | relationship betting | fake dating | college!au | umich!luke | angst | suggestive themes | kissing | smut | oral (female receiving) | fingering | protected!p in v intercourse | light breast play | read at your own discretion.

🎵ceilings by lizzy mcalpine

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

part seven: the kiss one week after matt

you never got texts from ethan edwards. mark texted you often when he was hanging with ariana, usually when her phone had died and he was letting you know her plans. rutger was usually sending you memes (that only he found funny) and anytime he wanted to know where luke was. dylan when he needed reassurance on homework- but ethan...never.

which is why when you finished your late shift at work and finally checked your phone in the comfort of your car: you were confused and slightly worried.

ethan edwards

something happened. can you come by after work?

his question had you feeling a bit panicked.

y/n

yeah, i'm on my way

you didn't ask questions, because you were to anxious to know the answers. getting there in record time, you parked your car on the curb by their house, jogging up the steps and knocking on the door rather frantically.

"hey," you say as ethan opens the door, "what's wrong?"

"hi," he says, letting you come inside. "after the third period tonight, there was some pushing and shoving, the other team started it. and this one guy pushed luke hard, and he fell and hit the ice. he's got a minor concussion. the doctor said he'll be good for playoffs in two weeks but right now...he's a big whiny baby and he kept asking for you," ethan breathes, "I didn't want to worry you too bad, but I wanted to get you over here so I can stop hearing about how much he misses you."

you're pretty sure you flush deep red at ethan's words, but you do a good job at keeping yourself collected. "okay," you sigh, "is he still upstairs?"

ethan nods, "yeah, he's in his room."

you nod without another word, making your way up the small staircase towards the second floor of the home.

luke's bedroom door is slightly ajar, and you knock once and peek your head through the gap, "luke?"

his room was empty.

you frown, and start walking further down the hall. you try not to overthink and make yourself sick with worry, thoughts of a missing luke were the last thing you needed. after all, you think, he could've been in the kitchen unknowingly to you or ethan - grabbing snacks or a drink. you glance over your shoulder to see if you catch him coming upstairs, but only find yourself running into a body.

you gasp, turning to face the chest you ran into. luke grabs ahold of your arms, a gentle smirk playing on his lips as he looks down at you.

at the sight of him, you body relaxes and you let out a breath you hasn't realized you'd been holding. "luke." you state gently.

"hi there," he says lightly, hands still holding onto your biceps to keep your in place. "you okay? you look worried."

"ethan texted me all frantic so I raced over here -almost hit a squirrel, by the way. and then you weren't in your room and i panicked thinking the concussion was worse than ethan said -"

"you were worried about me?" he asks you. you stop your rambling, expecting a teasing smirk and knowing gleam in his eyes, but he's only looking at you with fondness.

you swallow, "yeah."

"I just had to go to the bathroom," he admits, thumbing behind his shoulder to the open bathroom door.

"how are you feeling?" you ask gently. he lets go of your arms fully, and you try not to dwell on the emptiness you feel without his touch.

luke shrugs, "eh, i'll be okay."

you nod once more, eyes briefly meeting the floor. "I hope it's okay that ethan texted me. he does think we are dating to be fair, which we can stop now, if you want...god, sorry I'm rambling-" you look up towards his face and he looks at you with such admiration your stomach is swooping.

"well, I was the one who told him I wanted you here - so i'm glad he messaged you." luke admits sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck like he's nervous. luke was nervous around you. "so don't apologize," he says softly, "don't think I don't want you here, because I do." almost hesitantly, luke reaches towards you and tucks a piece of loose hair behind your ear.

you gulp slightly, eyes searching his face to try and read him. "you do?"

he nods, "is that okay? that I want you here?"

subconsciously, you shuffle closer to him in the dim lighting of the upstairs hallway. "more than okay." you grab ahold of three long fingers, gently tugging his hand closer towards you. you look up at him gently, tongue jutting out to wet your bottom lip.

he blushes and swallows gently. "let's go to my room."

"why?" you ask gently, and you pray the hopefulness of your words aren't too obvious.

"because I don't want somebody to walk up here when I'm kissing you."

you can't help but smile slightly at his words, pushing impossibly closer to his chest. you drop his hand in favour of pressing on his abs. "I don't care if they see, I can't wait any longer."

luke smiles, reaching forward to gently hold your face, tilting your head back until you're at the perfect angle for him to lean down and connect your mouths together. although he looked nervous earlier, the kiss doesn't have any traces of that. his lips move against yours softly but skillfully, slotting with yours like you've kissed a million times before this.

suddenly, everything made sense. anytime you had been talking to matthew - that feeling of warmth you had in your stomach was because luke was always there with you. meeting up with luke wasn't enjoyable because you were talking about matthew, it was enjoyable because of luke and luke only. stupid hockey players.

slowly, he pulls away. forehead pressed against yours as you regain breathing. you peek at him, and see him with closed eyes, brows pulled together.

you frown gently, one of your hands sneaking up to caresses the side of his face."did that hurt your head?"

his eyes snap open and he stands to his full height. the way you ask the question so genuinely makes luke feel like he's healed. he smirks lazily down at you, "no -i'm feeling really good."

"oh my god," you shake your head in disbelief, but you're blushing and smiling at him anyways.

and then, you push up on your toes and nudge your nose against his. luke gets the hint immediately, and kisses you again. the second kiss is a bit messier, and you both keep smiling into each other mouths. one of luke's hands slides to hold the back of your head, and the other wraps around your waist.

"fuck, my bad."

you and luke pull apart quickly. looking behind you, you see ethan covering his eyes, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.

"hold on, this is a common area," his hand falls from his face, "yall need to go luke's room before this escalates any further - i don't want to see anything too crazy."

"alright, alright," luke interrupts his friend with a breathy chuckle, "we're going."

once you and luke get to his bedroom and he shuts the door, he looks at you a little sheepishly, not meeting your eyes for too long before looking away.

you break the tension, "so you kiss all your fake girlfriends ? or just me?"

luke laughs, and all nerves from before have gone. the sight of your face and blush has him feeling more than relaxed. he reaches towards you, hands landing on your cheeks. "only the ones i'm falling for."

you smile softly, eyes sparking at his confession. "and how many have you fallen for?" your words are a whisper between you.

luke pretends to ponder for a moment, but his smile gives him away. "I think...just you."

you felt yourself blush deeper - because, oh my god, was this actually happening. you hold onto his wrist, keeping luke's hands on your face. "good, because it would've been awkward if I was the only one who was falling."

he cracks a big grin at your words. without another second, luke kisses you again. "I can't believe it took a concussion for you to admit your feelings."

"don't start with me, luke."

you kiss him again.

again.

and again.

you had stayed the night at luke's and drove home in the morning before your first class. you actually shared the class with jacob, so you agreed to ride together.

before you could leave, luke kissed you in the threshold of the front door - for all his roommates to see. a few wolf whistled, jacob faux gagging behind your back.

you pull away with a bashful smile, leaving with jacob for class. luke watches you leave, his own smile adorning his face.

once your car pulled off his street, luke sighed.

wordlessly, he moves towards the sectional in the living room, sitting with mark and dylan. ethan and rutger give each other an amused look, but don't do anything other than smirk.

dylan breaks the ice, "looks like we get to do rutgers hair soon."

luke looks beside him at his good friend with a puzzled look, "what?"

"the bet," ethan interrupts. "she's totally in love with you."

"have you hit it yet though? that was apart of it."

luke laughs once awkwardly, "maybe we should call the bet off?" he suggests and rutger laughs. "I mean with everything that's happened with matt and-"

rutger interrupts, not talking in his teammates words. "what happened with matt sucks - absolutely and that asshole is being kicked out, but that has nothing to do with the bet."

"I just don't want her to get hurt." luke admits vulnerably.

"she won't get hurt," rutger says, "she's never gunna know. the bet is still on. it's really not that deep." rutger says, taking a sip of his protein smoothie. "and then you can just break it off when this is all over - just like a normal relationship."

but it is that deep, luke thinks. this isn't just some random girl anymore - it's you. the girl he's falling in love with.

"he probably hasn't hit it yet, doesn't want to loose." ethan chuckles wearily, very obviously trying to break the tension between the teammates. mark sends him a look, but luke doesn't catch it.

the defence man stands from his seat. "i'm not feeling well, i'm going to lay down."

luke has never felt guilt like the guilt he is feeling right now. why did he take the stupid bet.

luke was never expecting you to actually fall for him. that first day when he proposed the idea, he was hoping sure, shaving rutgers head would be comical, and maybe you would end up liking him, maybe, but now he was sure he was actually in love with you. he couldn't tell you about the bet now, it would've been different if you and matt ended up together - but now it was you and luke. he's so screwed.

part eight: the first time

luke has his arm wrapped around your shoulders, fingers toying with the ends of your hair. the two of you are watching tiktok's on his phone, laughing together in the comfort of his bedroom.

just as another funny video finishes, luke laughs, rolling his head into the side of your face to stifle his laughter. every time he does that, your stomach does jumping jacks at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin.

he scrolls after the two of your regain your composure but almost immediately, your attention is drawn to the snapchat notification that comes through at the top of his phone screen.

amy is typing...

amy sent you a chat!

even her bitmoji was pretty - long blonde hair, bright eyes and she was pretty much a hockey players type on paper. she was another ariana and your face drops.

luke can feel your body stiffen and he looks over at you. "you okay?"

you nod, cuddling deeper into your oversized hoodie. he either didn't see the notification or he just didn't care. at first, you don't want to say anything - because like technically, luke hasn't asked to be exclusive. but your heart wins, and you decide to speak up. "who's amy?" you try to ask it nonchalantly after a moment of silence.

"some girl ethan used to hang out with - she wants to hook up with me."

"oh." you huff.

"i've never though, hooked up with her, I mean!" luke says quickly. you can hear the phone click off, and suddenly luke is turned fully towards you. "don't worry, I've been meaning to remove her anyways."

"am I pretty enough to be with a hockey player?" you ask it quietly, fear of your embarrassment consuming you.

"what?" luke says it so softly, hand moving up to tuck a piece of your dark hair behind your ear. "you're too beautiful to even be thinking like that."

"oh," you blush, "I didn't know that you thought that."

"of course I think that," luke sort of laughs in his exhale, "how I managed to get you to like me is just insane."

you smile, "well I think you're like the hottest guy ever so..."

luke rushes forward to kiss you, his hands holding onto your face delicately as his lips move against your own. you moan into it, hand resting on his chest to keep yourself grounded.

he rolls fully on top of you, arms bracketing around the sides of your head. his lips move down your neck, sucking and kissing your sensitive skin until you're moaning out. you pull him back up to your mouth, your hands then sliding down and slipping under his shirt, feeling his toned muscles beneath your finger tips.

"take this off," you breathe, tugging on his t-shirt. he nods, sitting back and pulling off his shirt. you're smirking up at him all pretty and luke can feel himself throb. he leans back down, lifting the hem of your hoodie until he sees the soft skin of your belly. he keeps pushing up the top, kissing any new skin that is revealed until he reaches your bra.

your breathing heavy under him, legs spread to accommodate his body between them. "can I take it off?" he asks and you nod, letting him pull off the sweater and toss it on the floor beside his bed. in your sat up position, you unhook your bra, letting luke nudge down the straps until you're completely naked from the waist up, bra joining your hoodie in a pile.

"you're so beautiful," luke says, mouth moving to kiss you again. it isn't long before your lazily unbuckled his belt, letting the leather fall open to reveal the button of his jeans.

"luke," you whisper against his lips and he looks at you, eyes glazed and cheeks rosy. he nods. "take off my pants."

he's nodding even quicker at your words and you giggle. at your laugh he smirks down at you, one hand grabbing your waistband and pulling down your leggings until they reach your ankles. he climbs down your body, using both hands to take them off from around your ankles, taking your socks with them.

luke kisses the side of your ankle and your sitting up on your elbows, watching as his kisses move higher up your leg, right until he's where you need him the most. he doesn't touch you yet, eyes glancing up to meet yours. "please touch me lukey."

he doesn't need to be told twice. he kisses you clit over your underwear first and your mouth hangs open at the touch, head rolling back slightly. luke hooks two fingers and pulls your panties to the side, immediately using his tongue to collect your arousal, dragging up to your clit and sucking.

you moan out, probably too loudly for not being home alone, but neither of you care too much in that moment.

he uses his two fingers and plunges them into you, adding to your pleasure. he pulls your leg over his shoulder, giving him better access and you more pleasure. it isn't long before your gripping his hair, stomach tightening from his mouth. "luke, i'm gunna-"

you cum, clamping on his fingers as he brings you through your orgasim. he removes his mouth from you and sit up. you try not to moan when you see his face, your juices covering his chin and lips. "you're so hot," he breathes out, letting you grab his face and pull him into a lazy kiss, tongues swirling together in a hot make out.

"your pants next," you say, fingers already unzipping his jeans. he smirks, standing up so he could properly remove his clothes, pants and boxers meeting his shirt on the floor. he's crawling up over you again, and just as he's reaching your mouth, you push him down, straddling his hips.

"god," luke says breathlessly, eyes watching as you slide yourself over his dick. he was so painfully hard he thinks he might combust. "i'm not gunna last if you keep doing that."

you giggle. "you got a condom?"

he nods, " yeah...my, umm, in my drawer." you lean over, giving luke the perfect view of your boobs. he puts his mouth around on your nipples and grind down on him automatically, fingers grabbing the condom quickly before sitting up straight again.

he takes it from you, tearing it open with his teeth. you rise off him just enough so he can slide the condom on. immediately, you take him in your hand, lining him up with your entrance before sinking down, taking him all at once.

you both moan in unison. "you're so good for me," luke says, hands massaging your hips as you start to move, rolling against him, your clit hitting his pelvis with every movement.

"you're so big," you whine, hands pushing on his strong chest as you bounce on him. "fuck."

"you're doing so good," luke praises, thumb rubbing your bundle on nerves. he can feel your walls clench around him.

"i'm gunna cum again," you moan, still jumping on his dick roughly.

"that's it, baby, come for me."

it's only a few more bounces before your faltering, cumming hard around his cock, legs shaking as you slow.

luke brackets you in his arms, flipping you onto your back beneath him. he kisses you slow before he starts to move again, pounding into your pussy in search of his own high. "you feel so good," he says.

your hands run up his back, up into his hair. "yeah?"

"i'm close."

"come for me," you say, legs tightening around his waist as his hips splutter, spilling his load into the condom with a groan. "fuck," he says breathlessly.

and then he's kissing you again, slow and lazily as he pumps into you a couple more times. you both moan at the feeling of him pulling out.

he's on his knees, pulling off his condom before tying it and tossing it in his trashcan. you lay on his bed, staring at him breathlessly, a lazy smile on your lips, cheeks flushed.

"i'm gunna go to the bathroom," he says, pulling on a pair of sweatpants, "do you need anything? water? are you hungry?"

"i'm okay," you say gently and he smiles, moving back towards you and giving you a chaste kiss.

"i'll be right back," he says against your mouth and you nod.

you get dressed while he's gone, raiding his closet for a pair of sweatpants before climbing back into his bed. luke returns a few minutes later with a mug of water and a bag of chips and you smile to yourself.

after putting everything on his nightstand, he's crawling back into bed, shirt long forgotten. he pulls you into him, kissing your head. "you're amazing," he tells you.

you look up at him, "you're good at that you know."

he smirks, shrugging his shoulder nonchalantly, "what can I say?"

you laugh loudly, flicking his peck.

he kisses you once again. a deep hard one that has you exhaling gently, stomach swooping.

"coach texted while I was downstairs," luke says once he pulls away. the tone of his voice is definitely off and it has you furrowing your brows.

"everything okay?"

"yeah," he says, "just reminding us about the playoff schedule and like the extra practices."

"oh," you frown, "okay...what's wrong? you look worried."

he ignores how easily you can read his face. "I'm just...this is the first year of playoffs where I have two brothers playing in the NHL and they're both kicking ass..i'm worried that I won't be good enough. like, I'll just suck and let my team down - I don't want them to expect too much because I can't preform like jack or quinn."

"what? don't say that," you say, leaning up on your elbow so you can look into his eyes properly "luke...don't even think like that. I don't know much about hockey but even I know you're like stupid good at it. your team isn't expecting you to be your brothers - there expecting you. because being  you is just what they need."

he's looking at you all soft again and you run a hand through his head of curls "i'm glad you said that." he whispers.

"i'm happy you told me how you were feeling," you say immediately, "you're going to play amazing lukey."

luke smirks, wrapping his hands around your waist. "I will if you're by my side," he kisses you once quickly.

"you're my favourite hughes brother," you tease him and he laughs hard.

"I better be," he smirks, "I'm the one who put his dick in you-"

you place a hand over his mouth and giggle.

part nine: the game

"are you sure nobody can cover your shift?" luke asked you for the third time this day. you signed and rolled over to your stomach, head resting on your crossed arms. "I really want you to come baby."

"that's really nice, lukey, but I'm working." you said, running your hand through his head of curls. luke groaned, rolling off his stomach and onto his side, effectively turning his back on you.

"you can't be mad at me." you said.

"I'm not." he grumbled, back still turned.

you rolled your eyes. "look at me." you ordered him, and he did so reluctantly, flipping sides so he could see you. "I'll be watching from the tv at work, cheering you on."

"I know you will," luke says, "it's just playoffs and all the other guys girlfriends will be there and...I don't know."

you can't help but smile, "oh so i'm your girlfriend now?"

his eyes jolt up to look into yours and once he sees your playful expression. "well, yeah."

"oh I didn't know that." you shrug nonchalantly. you can't keep your expression at bay when luke jumps up, rolling you into your back and tackling you, kissing your face until your giggling. you grab luke's face to stop his attack, placing one deep kiss onto his lips, reluctantly pulling away.

he sighs again, "I wish you could be there."

"me too," you admit. "but you'll play great regardless, I know it."

he smirks, "I'd play better if you were there." you give him a look and he laughs, kissing your neck once, "I know, you have to work."

"how about I give you something else instead?" you say seductively, fingers trailing down his shirt before brushing against his waistband.

"what did you have in mind?" he inquires, a raise to his brows.

you don't say anything, instead you kiss him, hands trailing back up to hold his face to yours. you feel his hands wrap around the small of your back, slightly lifting you off the mattress. you sigh into the kiss and you can feel him smirk.

he pulls away from you, sitting up on his knees so he could take his shirt off. you bit your lip, hand touching his abs briefly before he's lifting your shirt off, revealing your gray bra. immediately, he's coming back down, ripping down one your bra cups and attacking your nipple with his mouth. your mouth hangs open in pleasure, hissing when the cold air hits your one boob while he's moving to the next one. "luke, please." you're not even sure what your asking for, but he's up immediately, tugging your leggings down your legs before discarding his own pants and boxers with them.

it's been a week since you and luke fucked for the first time, and you guys have done it many times since then, but his size never fails to impress you.

he leans back over you, grabbing one of his pillows and shoving it under your hips, all while you stroke his dick. he thrusts into your hand with a groan. "fuck, baby."

it's your turn to smirk, "put it in me lukey, before I have to leave."

he pulls your string underwear to the side, revealing your glistening wetness. he leans over you to grab a condom, ripping it open and rolling it on. he slides into you then, and you both moan out. he starts thrusting and your moans continue to get louder and more frequent until luke puts a hand over your mouth, "people are home," he says but you can't focus, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure.

luke's breathing is heavy as he's thrusting, your body jolting with every move, sending you up the bed from the force. he grabs your leg, lifting it so it can rest on his shoulder. the new angle sends you both into a new realm of pleasure, your moans silenced by his hand, luke's grunts falling into the crook of your neck.

"i'm gunna cum soon," you whine, finger blindly finding your clit to rub it. luke pushed your hand away, his own thumb replacing your fingers. "me too," he grunts.

you cum hot and loud, your walls clamping down on his cock while he continues thrusting. a moment later, his rythym picks up, hips spluttering as he releases his load into the condom.

you two catch your breath for a moment before you speak, "I thought there was no sex on game days?"

he sends you a look with raised brows, "you started it."

you scoff, "I was just gunna give you a hand job," you giggle.

he smiles, "well if we loose blaming you."

you scoff, "rude."

he pulls out of you, discarding the condom before the two of you start getting dressed (and if you have to throw out your underwear because you were too wet, that's nobody's business.)

"I should go," you say, "I work in 2 hours and I have to shower now," you send your boyfriend a look and he just smirks, flexing his arm in your direction, which has you rolling your eyes.

"yeah, I gotta head to the rink soon," he agrees.

you nod, stepping towards him and pushing up on your tip toes, to which he leans down, giving you a brief kiss. "have a good game," you whisper and he sighs.

"I will."

you get home 10 minutes later and ariana is sitting on the couch, waiting for you. "hey," you say, kicking off your shoes at the entry way.

"hey," she says, "what took you so long?"

you shrug, "we lost track of time."

ariana studies your appearance and then puts two and two together, "I don't know if i'm angry because we were supposed to start getting ready 10 minutes ago...or if i'm jealous because you just got railed and I didn't."

you laugh.

"anyways," she shakes her head, "mark dropped this off twenty minutes ago," she tosses you a jersey and you smile upon seeing the material. you unfold it, holding it up to see the back, which read: hughes 43.

"he is going to be so surprised," you settle on.

ariana smiles, "he really has no idea you're coming?"

"no," you smirk, "he thinks I have to work. i'll have to thank mark for stealing this for me."

"yeah," your friend agrees, "okay, i'm gunna start getting ready, but you like, need a shower...you smell like sex."

you laugh in disbelief at her and ariana giggles with you. "I was planning on it," you state, "I'll be back." you say before jogging upstairs for a much needed shower.

it wasn't long before it was time for the two of you to head over to the wolverines arena. luke had texted you before your supposed shift was suppose to start, once again wishing you could be at his game. if only he could see you right now.

the boys had already finished warmups when the two of you arrived. the only available seats were near the back, which was good; you didn't want luke to see you and feel distracted for the game. the wolverines had taken the ice for the first period not long after you sat down. you have never been to a hockey game before, and even though luke has tried to teach you the rules, the game was too fast, leaving ariana having to explain what offside was 5 times before the third period.

the game ended with a win for game 1 for the wolverines, and you never thought you would be cheering for your hockey playing boyfriend at a hockey game: but here you were. you and ariana had waited for most of the crowd to disappear before walking down to wait by the locker room, just like the rest of family and other girlfriends of the team.

you're not waiting too long before you see mark and rutger emerge from the locker room, who grin at one another when they see you. luke follows behind, too busy chatting with ethan to even see that you're there. but ethan sees you, nudging luke until he looks up.

"what the -" he smiles, rushing forward to wrap you in a hug. "I thought you were working."

you laughed, "I lied."

he pulls away from the hug and you let him give you a quick kiss. "I hate you," he laughs.

"you don't," you smile up at him.

"no," he whispers, "I really don't."

"alright love birds, are we going out to eat or what? i'm fucking starving and I'm desperate for some 5 guys." rutger groans, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.

you and everybody else agree, 5 guys sounds heavenly. luke wraps his arm around you shoulders as you all leave, the two of you falling a few steps behind your friends.

"where'd you get this?" his hand that's resting your your arm plucks the material of your jersey.

you look up at him, "mark stole it for me. does it look good?"

he takes your hand and twirls you around, much to your dismay, but you're laughing anyways. "you always look so hot in my clothes, even when it's sweatpants and a tshirt." in that moment you think back to the party, before you and luke got together, back when you pushed your feelings for him deep down: the night when you had to change out of your dirty uniform and into his clothes. look at you now. "if you think i'm not fucking you in that jersey, you're wrong."

you gasp in shock, hitting his chest. but he just smirks down at you, the two of you continuing your way to the car.

part ten: the truth

you're standing in the kitchen of luke's home, pouring yourself and luke another drink while he and the rest of his teammates party: the guys had a healthy amount of people over to celebrate the win of the first playoff game. there's another girl in the kitchen with you, a brunette that rutger has been hooking up with - she's really sweet, a little dipsy, but who are you to judge.

the two of you are chatting amongst yourselves when somebody else enters the kitchen. you glance over your shoulder to see luke, cheeks rosy from the alcohol and smile bright as he spots you. "what's taking so long?" luke asks you, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you back against his chest.

"i'm just chatting with lacey," you laugh at his drunken state, the way he was clinging onto you - he was so cute.

"okay, well, come back...I miss you," he lazily kisses your cheek three times and lacey has to laugh behind the rim of her plastic cup.

"okay, okay," you giggle, "i'll come socialize if...you go upstairs and plug my phone in for me?" you turn to luke with a hopeful grin and luke playfully rolls his eyes, plucking your phone from the back pocket of your jeans.

"anything for you baby," he says, leaving you to make his way upstairs.

"wow," lacey says, "you have him wrapped around your finger." she observes. you shrug nonchalantly, but that doesn't stop your smile and cheeks from blushing. "you love him?"

you are kind of shocked at her question because what? it's only been two months- almost three since you've started hanging out with luke. but then yeah, you think, how could you not love luke. In a world full of boys he's the gentleman. so, "yeah," you say, "I think I do."

she giggles, "rutger must be devastated then."

you furrow yours brows, "what? why?"

she quirks a brow, "the bet. he mentioned the guys get to style his hair or cut it...whatever: if he lost the bet." lacey can see the confused look on your face and squints at you, "you know, the bet."

"I don't know about a bet." you say hesitantly.

"the one he made with luke," she says it nonchalantly, organizing all the bottles of liquor as she talks, "that if luke could make a girl fall in love with him by playoffs, they get to style or cut rutgers hair however they want- you know how he is about his hair," she laughs. "and if he couldn't, luke had to dish up $200, but clearly, he could do it. you're in love."

when you don't respond, lacey looks over to you, only to see your eyes trained on the counter, a look of anger settled on your face. lacey gulps, "I thought luke would've told you."

"will you excuse me," without waiting for her response you storm out of the kitchen. you don't see luke in the living room: he must be upstairs still with your phone. you're pretty sure mark calls your name, he can probably tell something is wrong by your face, but you ignore him, stomping up the stairs and pushing open luke's bedroom door, slamming it shut behind you.

"jesus," luke chuckles, "you scared me." he turns to look at you and his face drops when he sees the look on yours. "hey, what's wrong?-"

"I'm a bet," you seethe, interrupting him. even in the dim light of his bedroom you can see his face pale, his body tensing. he doesn't say anything, just stares at you until you become angrier. "was I just a bet? answer me."

luke knows he's caught, "yeah," he whispers, "i'm sorry." he stutters.

"god," you say while your knees buckle slightly and your eyes start to water. "so this whole time - everything we've done together was all so you could save yourself fucking $200! what the fuck luke!"

"what? no, that's not it."

you weren't listening to him. "is that why you offered to help me with matt? so you could try and crack me? just get me in your bed? huh, luke. tell me the truth."

he goes to reach out to you but you send a lethal glare in his direction so he retracts his hand. "I thought that if we were seen spending more time together- my roommates would think we were dating so then I came the fake dating idea and - y/n I didn't want to hurt you."

your lip wobbles. "that's why I couldn't tell anybody we were only fake dating, right? because then your little plan might get messed up?" all luke can do is muster up a nod. "the reason you started talking to me at that party...was because you were trying to get me to like you? so what, was I was just the first girl you saw?"

"rutger got to choose. he chose you because you don't date hockey players." his words are a whisper and you laugh in disbelief.

"oh my god! so what, flirting with me, kissing me, dating me, sleeping with me, was that all apart of the bet too?"

he's looking deep into your eyes, the guilt evident in his face. he looks down towards the hardwood then, no guts to keep your eye contact "ethan he umm, said I had to sleep with the girl - but that's not why I slept with you, y/n!"

you sigh and your legs give out, sending you to the ground as a sob rips through your chest. luke drops down to his knees infront of you, and you don't have the energy to push him off when his hands touch your knees. "did I really mean less than $200? why did you lie to me?"

luke's lip trembles slightly. "no, no! you mean everything to me, baby. I haven't even thought of that stupid bet in forever! I didn't flirt with you, or kiss you or fucking sleep with you because of the bet! I did it because you're my girlfriend."

"I wouldn't be your girlfriend if it wasn't for a bet, luke. I can't believe this...I thought ...," you sob again and luke can feel his own eyes well up watching you cry.

"please forgive me," he whispers, "I hate myself for what I did. I should've told you."

"god and your roommates! they all know, have they just been making fun of me this whole time? that's why they were always watching us! and why you needed me to act like we were together in front of them! the basketball game...the parties....stupid me, right, falling for a guy who was just going to discard me."

"I wasn't going to discard you!"

"were you ever going to tell me? even if i didn't find out?" luke stays silent and your lip wobbles as you look at him. his silence is enough of an answer for you. "I hate you," you whisper.

"please don't say that," he says, "please, can we just talk about this."

"we've talked enough, luke. I can't even stand you right now," you spit. "i'm going home."

"please don't. just stay and in the morning we can-"

"no, luke!," you snap, "we're done. enjoy cutting rutgers hair," you laugh in disbelief as you're standing up and luke can't even register you leaving until you're out the door, slamming it on your way out.

you start walking down the hall, tears falling down your cheeks. at the top of the stairs, you spot rutger, a guilty look on his face. you're not sure if he overheard you and luke or if lacey had told him she spilled the beans, regardless, you pause and look him dead in the eye, "screw you."

he sighs and starts to apologize but you brush past him, making your way down the stairs and out the house. the front door open and closes behind you, alerting you that somebody has followed you outside, but you don't look behind yourself.

"y/n," mark calls out, "let me drive you home."

"did you know?!" you spin around forcefully, eyes full of anger. "about the bet."

"please just let me drive you home." he sighs, "it's a far walk and...you're drunk."

you don't feel like fighting anymore so you just nod, a sob ripping from your lungs as mark leads you to his car.

a knock sounds on luke's bedroom door and he wipes his eyes briefly, just in case any tears had fallen. he opens the threshold to see rutger. "I really don't want to talk right now," luke says.

rutger sighs, "I should've let you call it off dude. i'm sorry, I didn't think it would be this bad..."

"well it is!," luke says powerfully, "it so fucking bad dude! i've lost the only girl i've ever loved and only because of your stupid bet!"

"I know," rutger says, "dude, I said I was sorry."

"yeah, I know," luke scoffs, "just...leave. get out. I need to be alone." he says and rutger just nods. he apologizes once more before he leaves but luke ignores him, letting him go with nothing but the shut of the door.

lukey 😍 (12:47)

y/n, i'm sorry. please let's talk

tomorrow

lukey 😍 (12:50)

please

lukey 😍 (12:52)

I fucked up but please give me

a chance to ask for your

forgiveness

lukey 😍 (12:53)

please baby

part eleven: the end

tears are leaking from the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision briefly before they fall, rolling down your temples and dripping on your ears.

the ceiling above you has never been stared at longer. it's been almost three weeks since you found out about the bet: since you broke up with luke. you don't know why you were so upset, you'd only known luke for three months, only had been intimate with him for two weeks or so: but you just felt so....heartbroken.

you barley had any energy, only mustering up enough to work your shifts and attend important classes. thankfully, you hadn't run into any of the boys often. you'd seen mark the most, usually running into him coming out of the bathroom in your home, and well, you couldn't escape him there.

when you first told ariana about what happened that night at the hockey house, she was shocked and so very heartbroken for you. she had cuddled you on the couch all night, sharing junk food and watching sad movies as much as your heart desired. she gave mark an earful when she saw him next and you had never been more grateful for your best friend.

luke texted you a lot. usually just saying sorry, or asking you to meet up. you only responded once, about two days ago and you told him to give you space: you hadn't heard from luke since. you felt so stupid. it's similar to how you felt when you realized you were wrong about matt, expect this time it was worse. worse because it was all fake, even when luke comforted you about matt and what he did to you : none of it was real. the feelings, the friendship, the sly smirks and longing looks. you were probably the laughing stock of the wolverines hockey team - god, you think, he's probably described your face during sex -

a knock on your door has you sitting up off your bed, ariana's head of blonde hair poking through the door frame. "hey," she says, "i'm off to the game." you nodded because even if she hasn't said anything, you could tell by her perfectly styled hair and the michigan letter jacket she was sporting.

"okay."

she frowns slightly, "are you sure you don't want me to stay here?"

you shake your head, "no. just because my boyfriend was an asshole and I'm not going to- doesn't mean you shouldnt watch yours play, besides, they're doing good, right? it'll be a good game." ariana had told you that the guys had won first round and were currently in the second, only two wins away from moving forward.

"okay," she hesitates by the door and gives you another look. "are you positive?"

you laugh briefly and the skin of your cheeks feel dry from the salty water you cried before. "go," you urge.

"i'll send luke dirty looks for you," ariana promises and you smile slightly. "i'll text you when i'm on my way back, or if I end up staying at marks."

ariana left after that, making it to the bustling arena full of michigan students and staff alike, all sporting school colours and team jerseys. the game was fast and rough, rutger had even got into a fight in the third period. despite their efforts, the wolverines lost the game 3 - 2.

mark texted ariana after the game, asking her to wait by the locker rooms for him. so there the blonde stood, around a couple other girlfriends, all waiting for the boys to make their appearance. ethan comes out first, nothing more than a nod in ariana's direction before leaving the rink. rutger and mark come out together, chatting amongst themselves as they make their way over to her, luke trialing behind them, his now usual sour expression evident on his face.

"hey," mark greets, giving her a quick kiss. ariana greets him back, "good game."

"could've been better," rutger says. "did you see me lay that guy flat?"

"yeah," ariana nods, "I can also tell by that impending black eye you got going on." rutger smirks proudly.

"you want to come back to ours?," mark asks her, squeezing her shoulder until she's pushed into his side.

ariana winced, "I shouldn't, y/n is home alone and...yeah."

luke's eyes meet hers and ariana raises her brows at him. he swallows hard, "how is she?"

"dude," mark sighs.

"why would I tell you?" she snaps, "it's not your business...not anymore."

"I know," luke agrees, "I just thought id ask...I still care about her."

ariana really looks at him then and she has to stop her frown forming. he looked miserable. he had terrible bags under his eyes, and his cheeks looked gaunt, no colour when they once were always rosy. he was struggling, by only at his own fault. in a moment of weakness, ariana sighs, "she's not great. y/n, I mean. she's sad all the time but she's getting there."

rutger coughs, "hey, mark, wanna help me with something outside?" mark nods slowly, understanding the situation. he sends his girlfriend a small smile and then the two leave luke and ariana alone.

"I fucked up," luke sighs.

ariana scoffs, hands tucked into her jacket pockets. "yeah, i'm aware." luke just runs a hand over his face so ariana continues, "you know, when she told me that you and her started dating, I was shocked because she hasn't had eyes for anybody but matt since freshman year...but then I saw the two of you together, and I understood why she liked you so much. you treated her good, and you were always so supportive and then she told me it was fake...a bet. how could you do that to her?"

"it wasn't fake," luke sighs and then he backtracks, "well, yeah you're right. it started as bet and I never thought I would actually...or that she would...I thought by the end of this it would've ended differently. and then I fell in love with her and everything changed."

"you love her?" ariana asks softly.

"yeah," he admits.

"does she know that? what you just said...all of it, does she know?" luke shakes his head no and ariana sighs, contemplating if she's really about to say what she wants to say. "you need to tell her, luke. she's home right now and I think she needs to hear that. and i'm not saying this because she will forgive you, because I don't know if she will. but she deserves to hear it."

"okay," luke says, "I will go...right now. thank you."

ariana nods and watches him walk away, his shoulders a bit higher than before.

you're just hearing downstairs when your phone buzzes. expecting a message from ariana.

ariana 😈

i'm sorry in advance

you furrow your eyebrows in confusion, your thumbs start moving, ready to type your response and then there's a knock at your door. even more confused, you pocket your phone, making the short trip to the front entryway and pulling on the door. luke stands there, and he looks even worse than you. good, you think, you should feel bad.

"what are you doing here?"

"I need to apologize. a proper apology, not like the lame excuse of one I gave you at that party when I was drunk and filled with guilt. you deserve a proper explanation," he says it quickly, as if you would shut the door in his face at any second. you give him a look of hesitation, "please, y/n, just 5 minutes and then you can kick me out."

you nod once, moving aside so he can step in. you gesture for him to sit on the couch, and he tried not to freak out at the lack of words from you. you walk past him, grabbing yourself a drink before joining him again. "how was your game?" you ask without looking at him.

he nods and then remembers you can't actually see him in that moment. "we lost."

you just nod, finally turning to face him. "you have 4 minutes left."

luke wipes his hands on his pants as a nervous habit. "I have never felt worse than I have felt these past few weeks. I shouldn't have agreed to that bet, and I definitely shouldn't have let rutger pick you. you are so much more than just a bet...you are the most beautiful, the kindest, most loving girl i've ever met...and I hate that i've upset you."

"then why? why did go through all that trouble if you knew..."

"I thought that it would work...the fake dating idea. I thought by the end of this you and matt would be together and then i could've told you about the bet. you probably still would've been mad at me, but it wouldn't of mattered because it worked...you would've got the guy. I wasn't expecting it to be anything."

"but it did become something."

"I know," luke agrees, "at that point the stupid bet was a distant memory. and I'm going to say it again; I didn't kiss you, or date you or sleep with you because of a bet, I did it because I fell in love with you."

your eyes go wide at his words but luke isn't looking at you but rather the hands in his lap, fiddling with the string of his pants. "and i'm not just saying that because I want your forgiveness or want to get back together with you, of course I do, but im not here for that. i'm here to try and heal your broken heart."

you grab his face softly and his eyes snap up to meet yours. "you love me?"

luke nods gently. "i'm sorry for not telling you about the bet and im sorry there was a bet in the first place...but if im being honest, im glad rutger picked that bet for me, because if he didn't i would've never found love with you."

you're crying now and it's luke's turn to hold your face. "you can kick me out if you want, or you can scream at me or hit me...whatever you need to do -"

"I love you too lukey," you sniff and you watch luke's eye go wide.

"really?" he breathes, his shoulders falling.

"yes," you nod, "and I can - in some twisted way - understand why you didn't tell me: you just didn't want to hurt me. I just wish i found out from you, instead of lacey. i'm not saying I completely forgive you, because that will take time but we can work on it." you press your forehead to his, "I'm glad matt ended up being a total creep because i like the guy I ended up with much better."

you watched him smile, and you laugh through your tears, "kiss me already."

and he does, pressing his lips to your plump ones in a toe curling wet kiss that had you gasping into his mouth, his hands tangling in your hair to hold you closer. he drops one hand, wrapping it around your waist and pulls you closer until your straddling his lap. "hold on," you breathe.

he looks up at you with concerned eyes, "did I do something?"

"no," you say immediately, "I just need to thank ariana,"

he smirks as you grab your phone, making a mental note to also thank your small blonde bestie. luke studies your face, cheeks flushed, lips pink and eyes wide, much different from when you first opened the door. in a moment of boldness he says, "I told you that you and I have chemistry."

you smile, playing with the hair at the back of his head as you think about that very first night when luke had found you at the party. "I didn't believe you back then."

"do you believe me now baby?"

"I guess so lukey." you tease and he smirks before kissing you again.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[tsunodaradio]

come find me ⛐ 𝐂𝐒𝟓𝟓

♫ forgive me, peter carlos, please know that i tried to hold on to the days when you were mine.

ꔮ starring: carlos sainz x childhood best friend!reader. ꔮ word count: 4.4k. ꔮ includes: romance, friendship, angst with a happy ending, hurt/comfort. mentions of food. childhood best friends, right person/wrong time, canon compliant -ish, minor spanish. heavily inspired by taylor swift's peter. ꔮ commentary box: ho is u okay,, @binisainz planted this idea in my head and i had to go full throttle with it. one day we will write happy things (today will not be that day). 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

♫ waiting room, phoebe bridgers. ceilings, lizzy mcalpine. cool about it, boygenius. boy who has everything, annika bennett. car's outside, james arthur.

▸ THE GODDESS OF TIMING ONCE FOUND US BEGUILING. SHE SAID SHE WAS TRYING; CARLOS, WAS SHE LYING? MY RIBS GET THE FEELING SHE DID.

The cake is lopsided.

It doesn’t matter, though. Carlos grins like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. His mother places it on the kitchen counter with a laugh, brushing flour off her apron. The candles wobble precariously as she adjusts them, and you and Carlos press your palms to the table, watching like the fate of the world hinges on whether or not they’ll topple over.

They don’t.

Carlos cheers as if it’s a victory in its own right. He tugs at your wrist until you’re at his side. The kitchen smells of sugar and vanilla, and the late afternoon sun spills through the window, turning the terracotta tiles into a checkerboard of red and black.

His father ruffles his hair, chuckling under his breath. “Blow out the candles, campeón.”

Carlos turns to you, eyes sparkling with that mischievous glint that always means trouble.

“You do it with me,” he insists.

“It’s your birthday,” you argue, but he’s already inching closer, shoulder bumping against yours.

“Please?” he says, and you know then— even at this age— that you’ll never be able to say no to him.

So you do it together, squeezing your eyes shut as you make your wishes. When you open them, the candles are snuffed out, a faint curl of smoke rising toward the ceiling.

His mother claps, and his father nods. They share a knowing look. The kind of knowledge adults carry like a secret; the certainty that some people are just meant to orbit each other. 

The goddess of timing must be watching, amused and benevolent, because even the universe can’t help but indulge in this small, perfect moment.

There are murmurs about your friendship. Of course there are. Sainz Jr. had a friend, a next-door neighbor who indulged his every whimsy. 

And you had Carlos. 

Carlos, who chases your bullies away with sticks from his backyard. Carlos, who hurtles down the street on his bicycle so he can get the two of you the freshest bocadillos. Carlos, who will halve the chances of his birthday wish being fulfilled if it means you get to have a quarter of a wish, too. 

Later, after too much cake and games in the garden, you sit beneath the lemon tree. Dirt streaks your legs; frosting sticks to Carlos’ fingers. Your best friend leans his head against your shoulder.

His hair is damp with sweat, chest rising and falling in the slow rhythm of someone perfectly content. He’s only 10— que horror, the dreaded double digit!— but he acts like he already has all the answers in the world. 

“I’m going to be a race car driver,” he tells you. As if it’s a prophecy. His God-given right. 

You hum, picking at the grass beside you. “I know.”

“You’ll come to all my races?”

“Of course.”

Carlos sighs with satisfaction. “We’ll always be friends,” he promises, prophesies.

You’re too young to know that people change, that you can’t possibly predict the years to come. Right now, with the sun dipping below the rooftops and the sky blushing pink, it feels like forever could be this simple. 

After a beat, Carlos pipes up, “What did you wish for?”

“I can’t tell you,” you snort, “or else it won’t come true.” 

“Not fair!” he whines. “It’s my birthday!” 

You bicker and roughhouse until Carlos’ mother has to intervene. The question is forgotten when you two are called in for dinner of polbo a feira and tapas.

It’s one of those memories you wish you could keep in a snow globe, forever immortalized. The dining table, the conversation, the company. 

The wish you made, buried in your mind like the spare house key under a mat. 

I hope Carlos gets everything he wants. 

▸ AND SOMETIMES IT GETS ME, WHEN CROSSING YOUR JET STREAM— WE BOTH DID THE BEST WE COULD DO UNDERNEATH THE SAME MOON.

The trophy is heavier than Carlos expected.

His hands ache from gripping the wheel, knuckles still buzzing from the adrenaline of the last lap. All the same, he refuses to put the prize down. He clutches it like proof that the last three years weren’t just a dream; inwardly, he’s scared that letting go might somehow undo the third place finish.

The victory party spills across the hotel’s rooftop, lanterns swaying in the humid breeze. His father shakes hands with team managers. His mother beams at anyone who glances her way. 

And Carlos— Carlos searches for you.

You find him first, dodging through the crowd with practiced ease. There’s a scrape on your knee from tripping over a curb in your rush to get to the podium, and your hair is a mess from running down the track, but Carlos doesn’t care. 

You look at him like he’s conquered the world, and he feels like maybe he has.

He casts aside the trophy. Suddenly, it’s not as important as what he’s about to hold. 

“You did it,” you’re breathing, and he’s reaching out to pull you into a hug. “Cariño, you did it.” 

“We did it,” he amends. You laugh like it’s a joke, like Carlos isn’t being a hundred percent sincere. 

Nobody bats an eye at the show of affection. You’ve been around since Torneo Industrie. You were there for the podium finishes and the falls from grace. 

Carlos Sainz’s best friend. The one who was keeping a promise. The one he sought out after every race, win or lose.

Not just any girl in the crowd, but the girl. 

Carlos sways the two of you back and forth, feet shuffling in a clumsy imitation of a slow dance. There’s a live band playing the ballads his parents like, so his effort to keep you close is rather awkward and off-putting. 

He’s not about to be called out on it, though. Not when this is his moment, and he’s keen on sharing it with you. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” he mumbles into the crown of your head. 

“You could have,” you respond firmly, the words spoken into his clothed shoulder. “You would have.” 

I don’t want to, he almost says, but he bites the words back. Carlos doesn’t want to need you too much. Doesn’t want to put his career in the palm of your hands.

He pulls back, still gripping your arms like he needs the anchor. The party swirls around you both. A snow globe celebrating him while he reveres you. 

“We’ll do this forever,” he says. A shadow of that childhood promise. “You’ll come to all my races.”

You’re older, now. A little wiser. Not so immune to the whispers. 

Carlos, who is built for bigger things. And you— the amalgamation, the imposition. El destino.

His destiny, if he were to want it badly enough. 

You smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The moon hangs low in the sky, watching over you both like it knows something you don’t.

“Of course,” you say, pretending it’s still that simple.

▸ YOU SAID YOU WERE GONNA GROW UP, THEN YOU WERE GONNA COME FIND ME... YOU SAID YOU'D COME AND GET ME, BUT YOU WERE TWENTY-FIVE.

You remember what it looked like— the night Carlos made his choice. 

The car, idling by the curb, its headlights spilling across the pavement. Carlos, leaning against the gate of your house. His fingers tapped restless patterns on the metal; his sneakers scuffed against the ground. 

He looked young. He was young.

Stripped of the helmet and the race suit, he was just a 16-year-old boy with too much of the world ahead of him and not enough words to say what he meant. 

“I’ll call you,” he assured, voice breaking the silence. The third time he had said it that night.

You nodded and crossed your arms over your chest like you could hold yourself together that way. “I know.”

Carlos let out a breath, rubbing at the back of his neck. His hair was longer, curls falling over his forehead. It didn’t hide the way his eyes flickered with uncertainty.

He was always so sure of himself on the track— confident in every turn, every overtake— but he looked lost now, standing in front of you like he couldn’t figure out how to leave.

“You can still watch the races,” he had tried, the joke falling flat between you. “On TV. It’s almost the same.”

“It’s not the same,” you said, and you inhaled sharply when it came out sounding sharp. You shook your head and tried again. “It’s fine, Carlos. You should go.”

Instead of taking your advice, Carlos had taken a step closer. 

His hand twitched like he wanted to reach for you, but he shoved it into his pocket instead. “I don’t want you to think I’m leaving because I want to,” he said, words tumbling out too fast. “I have to do this. I just... I need to try. But I’ll come back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.” He swayed on his feet, desperate to make you believe him. “I’ll get it out of my system, and then I’ll come back.”

The way he said it— like racing was a fever that needed to break, like the only cure was time and distance— made your chest ache. You’d never seen him without racing, couldn’t imagine a version of Carlos that wasn’t chasing speed like he was scared of what might catch him if he slowed down.

“How long?” you whispered.

Carlos opened his mouth. Closed it again. 

The truth is, he didn’t know. It could be years. It could be forever.

But he had looked at you like he wanted it to be tomorrow.

“Just wait for me,” he begged, voice barely above a whisper, “please.”

As a teenager, you had not thought it to be cruel. It was simply a parting remark, a best friend’s desperate plea. When you nodded and let Carlos plant a kiss to your forehead— as if sealing the deal— you didn’t expect it to feel a lot like a death sentence. 

It’s been nine years since. 

Carlos slips in and out of your life like Spanish summers. He’ll spend a week or two of off-season in Madrid, soaking up as much of you as he can. Every year, there is something new to report. 

A co-driver he dislikes. A team trying to poach him. An entire life where you are a footnote— a ‘best friend’ back home. 

This time around, he is 25 and gearing up to join McLaren. He had texted you about it when he first got the news. 

The papaya team, you said good-naturedly, and he responded with a selfie with his curly-haired co-driver. 

I told him all about you, Carlos said. You were not sure whether to feel grateful or heartbroken. 

Tonight, the dinner plates have been pushed to the side, remnants of your meal forgotten in favor of stretching the night out just a little longer. Your best friend sits across from you, elbow on the table, chin propped in his hand. 

The kitchen of his family home is quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the ticking of the wall clock. His parents have given you some privacy. Even now, they are still rooting for what they think is the soft epilogue you both deserve. 

Carlos’ eyes soften as you top his glass. The same warm brown as when he was fourteen and winning his first championship, as when he was sixteen and making promises he couldn’t follow up on.

You tilt your glass of wine, watching the way the liquid catches the light. “So,” you start, voice steady, “have you gotten it out of your system yet?”

You can see the guilt settle over him, the way his shoulders tense and his gaze drops to the table. He scratches at the wood grain with his thumb, jaw tight. 

“I’m close,” he says, and you hate how desperate he sounds to convince you. “Just a few more years.”

“A few more years,” you repeat, like you can make the words sound like less than what they are. You nod, pretending not to notice the tremor in his voice. 

You lift your gaze, studying him. The sharper angles of his face, the subtle lines that years of racing and travel have carved into his skin.

The way he looks at you— that hasn’t changed.

“I will come back,” he promises, leaning in, eyes wide and earnest. “I swear, I just—”

“Carlos.” You reach across the table, fingers curling around his hand. 

You squeeze his hand, trying to memorize the shape of him, the feel of his skin against yours. And then, slowly, you stand, tugging him to his feet with you as you move around the table. 

He follows you instinctively, like he always has.

You’re the one who finally, finally does it. In the dim light of this kitchen that has witnessed everything, you kiss him. 

It’s soft and lingering, a slow unraveling of years of almosts and maybes. Carlos doesn’t hesitate; he melts into it, hands coming up to cradle your face.

He kisses you like he’s trying to make up for every goodbye, every missed birthday, every time he said he’d come back and didn’t.

He tastes like the wine you’d been drinking, like everything you want but can’t have. 

You pull away and briefly rest your forehead against his, fingers brushing through his hair. Carlos chases your lips, but you step back. 

“You don’t have to come back for me,” you exhale, voice breaking on the words. “Just come back when you’re ready.”

Carlos stares at you, eyes glassy, chest rising and falling like he’s about to argue.

He doesn’t. He’s never raised his voice at you. He was not about to start tonight. 

You slip away, the same way that summer might end on an unassuming September afternoon. 

And so this must be what winter feels like, Carlos thinks as he watches you go. 

▸ ARE YOU STILL A MIND-READER, A NATURAL SCENE STEALER? I'VE HEARD GREAT THINGS, CARLOS, BUT LIFE WAS ALWAYS EASIER ON YOU THAN IT WAS ON ME.

You find out the way everyone else does.

The announcement is plastered across every sports site you frequent, and someone in the office even mentions it in passing like it's a casual thing. For them, it is.

For you, it's something else entirely.

Carlos Sainz signs with Ferrari, replacing Sebastian Vettel. 

The sting isn't sharp, but it lingers. A dull ache of realization. 

You used to be the first to know these things. You used to get the late-night texts, the excited voice messages, the hastily snapped photos of team gear before anything was official. Now, you're like everybody else, learning about Carlos’ life through headlines and curated press releases.

You wonder, briefly, if it's the kiss that ruined things. You haven’t exactly stopped talking, but the texts are infrequent now. The check-ins, more obligatory than organic. 

Still, you swallow the feeling and shoot him a message. Not because you have to, but because there isn’t a world where you wouldn’t give Carlos Sainz the flowers he deserves. 

Congratulations, mi campeón, you text him. Ferrari red suits you. 

Your phone rings in the next five minutes, your screen lighting up with a childhood photo of you and Carlos. 

“I was waiting for you to text,” he says, voice laced with relief. “I wanted to tell you myself, I swear. I just... Things happened so fast.” 

You close your eyes, resting your forehead against your hand. You realize that you don’t know where he is. Maranello? Monaco? 

In the house right next doors to yours— back home, where you once thought he belonged? 

You want to let him explain, want to listen to every single word, but your boss shouts your name from across the room. You’re reminded of your place. These white walls and linoleum floors; cubicles and desk set-ups that Carlos never would have settled for. 

“Lo siento, cariño,” you say hurriedly. “I’m at work. I have to go, but— I mean it. Congratulations. I am happy for you.” 

It’s small, almost negligible. The emphasis you choose to put on the word ‘am’. I am happy for you, you’re saying, as if you’re still trying to convince yourself of the fact. 

Carlos, on the other end of the line, exhales heavily. 

He doesn’t say he will call later tonight when you’re free. The two of you are no longer in the business of getting each other’s hopes up. 

“Thank you,” he says, the platitude sounding heavier than it should. 

You end the call and shove the phone into your desk drawer, hopeful that it will keep you from doing something stupid like reading up on Ferrari or texting Carlos a dozen apologies. 

The ache lingers. 

It always does. 

▸ I WON'T CONFESS THAT I WAITED, BUT I LET THE LAMP BURN. AS THE MEN MASQUERADED, I HOPED YOU'D RETURN.

Carlos shows up at your doorstep like he doesn’t know where else to go.

You don’t have to check your phone to know why he’s here. You step aside wordlessly, letting him into the familiar warmth of your home. He exhales, as if stepping over the threshold takes something out of him. 

Maybe it does. Maybe this is the last place he can let himself be like this— untethered from the world that has just tossed him aside.

For a long time, neither of you speak. He lingers in your living room, shoulders hunched as he stares at the floor. Carlos doesn’t have to know, but the laptop in your bedroom bears dozens of articles, like you were a crime scene detective trying to make sense of all the details. 

Lewis Hamilton to replace Carlos Sainz at Ferrari for the 2025 season. 

It had felt like a punch to the gut just reading it. You can’t even imagine what it must’ve felt like to be him.

“Carlos,” you begin, but he’s already shaking his head, a wry smile playing at his lips.

All these years between the two of you— despite most of it being spent apart— makes you a language that Carlos is fluent in. He knows. Knows that you were about to offer some comfort, some reassurance, some platitude. 

He shifts on your couch. Your knees bump against each other. 

“Maybe this is it,” he murmurs. “Maybe this is the end of the road for me.” 

Then, softer, like he’s telling himself as much as he’s telling you, “Maybe after this season, I’ll finally fulfill what I’ve always promised you.”

You hate that your heart leaps. Hate that for a second— one fragile, selfish second— you wonder if this is the universe finally setting things right.

This is the universe course-correcting, is it not? The years, and the distance, and the missed calls were all just detours leading him back here.

But that’s not how it works. 

Not for him. Not for you.

This is not fate. It’s heartbreak. 

And you would never let Carlos Sainz’s heart break, if you could do anything about it. 

“Carlos,” you say again, firmer this time. 

He looks up at you. You recognize the glint in his eyes. The part of him that’s already bracing for the fight. Ready to convince you, to convince himself, that this— this is the checkered flag, the final lap. 

You don’t let him. 

“This— racing— it’s who you are. You can’t give that up,” you say earnestly, the words for me hanging in the air between you. 

Carlos laughs. It sounds more like a sob. “I’ve already given up so much for it,” he says wretchedly. “And still, it’s never enough.”

You swallow the lump in your throat and shift closer, reaching out to rest your hand over his. He doesn’t pull away.

“If this is the end of the road,” you say softly, “then walk it all the way to the finish. Don’t let them decide when it’s over.”

Carlos fixes you with his gaze, his eyes dark and unreadable. After all this time, he still looks to you like you have all the answers. 

Like you are the answer. 

After an eternity, he sighs and nods once.

For the rest of the night, you don’t talk about racing. You let him linger in the safety of your home, the two of you orbiting around each other like you always have. Two people bound by a history neither of you can seem to let go of.

You exchange stories. You watch reruns of some old telenovela. 

You keep your hands off each other, because you don’t want this moment to be a Band-Aid on a bullet wound. You respect each other too much to settle for that. 

When Carlos falls asleep on your couch, you quietly drape a blanket over him and let the lamp burn through the night.

Just in case he wakes up and needs to find his way back to you.

▸ WITH YOUR FEET ON THE GROUND, TELL ME ALL THAT YOU'D LEARNED 'CAUSE LOVE'S NEVER LOST WHEN PERSPECTIVE IS EARNED.

Carlos turns thirty with a new team, a new beginning, and a birthday party that feels like it was always meant to end here.

The Sainz family home buzzes with celebration— laughter spilling through the rooms, wine glasses clinking, plates scraping against each other as people help themselves to seconds. The scent of his mother’s cooking lingers, grounding everything in a familiarity Carlos hadn’t realized he missed this much.

And then there’s you.

Carlos stands by the cake, the glow of the candles flickering across his face, and he’s not looking at anyone else.

“Come blow the candle with me,” he says, holding out his hand.

You blink, caught off guard. A couple of snickers ripple through the room. Not everybody is privy to the lore, but they don’t really have to be. They all know how much you mean to Carlos. 

“It’s your birthday,” you say. The same thing you’d said two decades ago. 

His grin is boyish, teasing. “I’m thirty. I need the help.”

His mother hides her smile behind her mug. His father shakes his head, mumbles something like estos dos as déjà vu hits like a truck.

The room is full of people certain the two of you belonged to each other long before you ever understood what that meant.

You step beside him. Carlos counts down under his breath, his hand resting over the small of your back. 

The flame is extinguished. Another bottle of champagne is popped. You have some vague memory of the wish you made the first time this happened, but you can’t say for sure if it has come true. 

The party stretches into the night, but Carlos stays close, his shoulder brushing against yours every time he moves. He doesn’t say much— doesn’t have to. It’s enough to just be here for once. 

When the crowd thins out, he grabs his jacket without question, ready to walk you home like he always used to.

The streets of Madrid are quieter than they should be, as if the city is holding space for the two of you. The stars are bright, scattered across the sky like promises.

Carlos shoves his hands into his coat pockets, scuffing his shoe against the pavement. “What did you wish for?”

You exhale a soft laugh. “You can’t ask that.”

“I can.” He glances at you, half a smile tugging at his mouth. “I’m thirty now. I’ve earned the right to know.”

You don’t answer immediately. You watch him instead— the way he looks at peace, even with the weight of starting over. His new Williams contract is a fresh start, a lease on life he almost lost.

He’s not done racing. Not yet. But he’s here, he’s here, and you want so badly for that be enough. 

You stop walking. Carlos notices a beat later, turning to face you. His eyes are careful, searching.

“Racing is never going to be out of your system,” you say, as if it’s a fact of life. The sky is blue, the sun is warm, and Carlos Sainz will chase the thrill of a podium until his final breath. 

Carlos winces, looking almost guilty as he responds, “I didn’t mean to—” 

“I know.” You cut him off gently. You’re both now, and you understand that it is not simple. It never was. But that does not mean it is worth anything less. 

“I’m glad you didn’t quit,” you add, just to make things clear. 

Carlos steps closer. “I would’ve come back for you,” he says, voice rough with sincerity. “I think— I think I will always come back to you.”

You smile up at him. It’s bittersweet and small, but it’s all his. All for him. 

He lifts a hand to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin. “You never told me what you wished for,” he whispers, his forehead resting against yours.

“I’ll tell you mine,” you say as you lean into him, chest aching with something that feels like forgiveness— for him, for yourself, for all the years you lost trying to outrun what was always inevitable, “if you tell me yours.” 

Carlos doesn’t answer with words. Instead, he leans in to kiss you like he’s been holding the promise of it for years. A quiet, patient kind of love finally breaking the surface.

It tastes like every birthday cake you ever shared, every race you ever watched, every almost that never quite unraveled into more.

This, he saying as he kisses away all the versions of love that didn’t quite fit before, is what I wished for. 

Somewhere in the universe, the goddess of timing breathes a sigh of relief. She had never lied. 

Te tomó bastante tiempo, she whispers through the breeze in your hair, through the constellation in the sky, through the flower that takes root over the spot you shared a kiss. 

It took you long enough. ⛐