#look at that perfection and synchronisation

[coweye]

Just Logan

The worst Logan part ii

Logan Howlett x Reader!Loganverse| smut | 10k words

Summary: You return from the void ready to navigate your new reality with the not-quite-love-of-your life. Second Part to worst Logan.

Warning: Mentions of drugs, Canon Typical Violence, gratuitous Laura paternal love. smut, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, assplay mentioned.

AN: Fair warning my loves - this hasn’t been proof read… unless you’re reading this after the 26th August! I’m currently posting this on my phone at an airport 💖 I love you all so much and can’t express how much your love for my stories has meant to me!

Achilles once said “I would recognize you in total darkness, were you mute and I deaf. I would recognize you in another lifetime entirely, in different bodies, different times. and I would love you in all of this, until the very last star in the sky burnt out into oblivion."

For seven excruciating years you’d been without him. 

Eventually, time had dulled the ache, made it so you forgot what it was to have another hold you through the night, to make you feel safe and loved. Love was like a drug; one you had unknowingly spent the past half a decade weaning yourself from.

Then he appeared; ‘The worst Logan’ as Wade had not-so-affectionately dubbed him, and in one fell swoop undid years of hard work. He came and reminded you just how fucking good drugs were - that motherfucker was class-A narcotics and he was addictive as hell.

By mid morning you were already desperate for another hit, your eyes searching for him around every corner.  Part of you was afraid you had gotten him all wrong, that perhaps you didn’t know this man as well as you thought you did. Though at the last second Logan had shown up, unfolding him from the boot of the Honda and joining the fray, every inch the hero he insisted he wasn’t. 

You and Laura sliced a path through your enemies, side by side, the two of you moved in perfect synchronisation. In the years since his death, she had taken Logan’s position in your formation, and now the two of you fought together as naturally as breathing. 

Logan couldn’t help but watch the two of you together for a moment, though after a knife to the ribs as reward for his lack of awareness, he shakes his head free from the indulgence of his ready-made-family and returns to the task at hand, carving his way through the enemy to get to Cassandra. 

 It had been a hard-won battle, though Laura had been extraordinary. You, yourself had been outmatched with the Juggernaut, only in a position to bend the light keeping yourself from sight as you inflicted shallow cuts with your blades along his arms and torso creating confusion and pain that allowed Laura to find her openings.

Your girl sliced through his Achilles bringing him to his knees before she ended his life with four claws through his chest. 

In your eyes, as she stared down Goliath her soft features melted into a renaissance painting. A woman in her own right, overflowing with untold power, those shades making her look every inch the badass motherfucker you knew she was.

You can’t help your untimely realisation that your daughter has grown into a formidable woman as you propel her through the air with bubbles of psionic energy to deliver the helmet to her not-quite-father and Wade.   

The brief moment of triumph as you overcome Cassandra’s men is followed in quick succession by the sobering loss of Logan for a second time, as he leaps through the golden shimmering portal.

It had been the plan all along, and yet you couldn’t quite account for the stone in your stomach weighing you down at the realisation he is gone yet again.

Laura’s deep brown eyes, all too often full of difficult emotions, are hidden behind the colourful sunglasses, though you can tell from the fall in her shoulders that your girl feels the same grief. She had held out childlike hope that the two of you would stay with him despite his earlier brush off and you are far too ashamed to admit you had been harbouring similar hopes.

To have gotten him back for a single day only to lose him again, for you it is painful. For her, it must be torment.

So, you put a pin in your pain for now. Loss is an old friend, one that will no doubt visit in the dead of night when sleep inevitably evades you, but Laura needs you.

Swallowing your grief deep down, you begin by tucking her wild dark hair back behind her ears and with the bone of your knuckle you wipe an errant splatter of blood from her brow.

Around you, your team bask in the defeat of Cassandra and her people, yet the two of you mourn losing yet another Logan.

“The time we had with him was a gift.” You whisper to her. The second you touch her palm with your finger tips; her claws instantaneously retract. You interlock your fingers with her own bloodied ones. 

For a moment the two of you stand together like this, coming to terms with the loss. It doesn’t destroy you the same way North Dakota had, but it has certainly taken the air from your lungs. 

“What now?” Laura asks, burying her emotions, more like Logan than you care to admit.  

“Now we find a way to get back home, Cassandra’s not hunting us anymore, maybe we can-“

“Miss Y/LN, Miss- “At the sound of an unfamiliar voice your head whips round and you are armed with a knife before you even make the decision and from the telltale ‘snikt’ behind you so is Laura.

 “Holster your weapons.” The agent shouts as the group of forgotten heroes turn their gaze on the TVA squad who have appeared from the orange glowing doorway. “You have been offered a pardon on order of the time variance authority - please come with us.”

 Laura steps forward, though you place a steady hand on her shoulder stopping her in her tracks. “The last time we trusted you people, we ended up in this dump.” You shout across the gulf that the agents have left between you. 

When has anything in life been this easy?

 “Mr Howlett and Mr Wilson saved the multiverse. All they have asked in return is for a second chance for the people who helped them do it.”

Whilst remaining utterly compelling it still feels far too good to be true. You look at your daughter; she pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and nods once. She’s not a little girl anymore and she wants to go through the damn doorway.  With little in the way of options you decide with a deep sigh to be an optimist, which is how you end up in Wade Wilson’s apartment.

Five people (six if you include Dogpool) living in a two-bedroom apartment was …  to put it lightly, snug. Wade being the secret gentleman he was, offered up his room to you and Laura.

Nights he didn’t spend at Vanessa’s were spent sharing a bed with Al, much to her delight, which left Logan sleeping on the couch.

Logan: This Logan was nothing short of an enigma to you. 

The two of you had been friendly, smiling and laughing, sitting together at the party Wade had thrown to celebrate saving the universe.

It felt good, easy even to joke with him and Laura. You had felt like a real family as you sandwiched the young girl between the two of you, taking it in turns to make her laugh.

When she had abandoned the two of you to talk with Yukio and Ellie,  you had fallen into comfortable companionable silence. The simple fact of the matter was that you didn’t have much in the way of small talk, all of your talk was massive talk. A mountain you’d soon have to overcome, but neither of you wanted to break the spell.

So, you simply enjoyed each other’s company and when your knee knocked against his under the table, you didn’t bother pulling back. Instead, when he didn’t immediately recoil, you left it there pressed against the warm muscle. 

This casual touching was new to both of you and you were drunk on it, occasionally you’d brush his plaid covered bicep as you leaned across to stroke the monstrosity that was Mary Poppins or you’d brush your fingers against his with a smile when you handed him a fresh beer.  

It’s fair to say, you are both black belts at emotional avoidance. 

Her abandoned airbed, more electrical tape than plastic at this point, lies deflated in the corner of the bedroom, dual holes from slender claws having led to its untimely end.

With a sigh you rise, stretching your aching back. 

Wincing as it cracks from contorting on the edge of the double mattress- even in the goddamned void, you’d had more personal space than this.

Sparing a glance at the alarm clock on the bedside table, you see it’s 6:23am. In a vain hope you just listen to the sounds of the quiet apartment, no one else has awoken yet. You sigh with relief, desperate for some alone time, after living for a week with everyone underfoot. 

Closing the bedroom door behind you as silently as possible, you tiptoe with bare feet with the honest intention of going to the kitchen for some coffee.

Only you’re sidetracked by the man sprawled across the sofa looking like he was carved from goddamn marble.

The blanket is wrapped around his plentiful jean covered thighs as his bare size twelves extend comically over the arm of the sofa. Logan’s thick, veined and extremely bare arm hangs off of the leather cushion, whilst the other clutches a pillow under his head. Logan is wearing a white vest that leaves very little to the imagination, so much so you’re unable to help the flashback of stroking the abs you know linger below the almost transparent white cotton. You’re unsure how long you stand there, but it can’t be more than 30-seconds before his eyes wearily blink open, startling you.

“Paint a picture, it’ll last longer, Bub.” When he speaks, his voice is even thicker than usual with sleep, it’s like honey on gravel and it makes your skin tingle.

“Uh-” You’re lost for words after being caught ogling the sleeping man. All you can do is a quick apology as you carry on through to the kitchen.

When you’re safe from view, you slap palm to your forehead - Why? Why couldn’t you for once in your life just be smooth? 

The second you're out from under his searing gaze a million infinitely suaver responses flood your mind. ‘Don’t mind if I do.’ ‘Don’t tempt me.’ 

You’re nearly (Y/A+7 years) old, not the idiot girl that pined after the unattainable bad boy of the mansion. For the love of all that’s holy; two different versions of that man have been inside of you, and you ran away!

You’re pacing in front of the fridge when you hear his body slide against the leather of the couch. Honestly, you’re praying for the void to swallow you back up as you try to act casual, filling the coffee machine with water.

 “Mornin’.”

“Good Morning, Logan.” You reply though you can’t quite meet his eyes as you flick the switch for the drip to begin. 

“Back on the couch - Eh, I was just kiddin’ around, Bub.” He scratches his neck awkwardly.

“Oh. I, uh, I know.” You reply, finally meeting his eyes. Those hazel eyes stop you in your tracks as they scan your face for any trace of emotion. He’s as out of his depth as you are, and that thought alone calms you. “I’m sorry, If i’ve been strange the past few days… I thought…I just assumed I would never make it out of the void and I was there for months and uh-”

“Bub… y/n... I don’t hold you to what happened that night.”

“What?” You narrow your brows in confusion, you were only going to talk about the uncomfortable adjustment period to regular life.  

“You were vulnerable, I look like your guy. I get it.” His voice is still deep and he’s trying to be so understanding and noble, you can’t help as you reach out and grab his bare wrist, your forefinger can't even meet your thumb as you hold onto his thick warm flesh.

“Logan, no that’s not what I meant at all. I-” 

“-Mornin’ love birds! Don’t let me stop ya’ from takin’ care of that mornin’ wood, just getting some delicious nectar of the gods.” Wade comes from the bedroom wearing Al’s lilac dressing gown and what looks suspiciously like the older woman’s pyjamas, riding far too high up his shins to be his own for the much taller man. Wade leans against the counter next to you and the coffee machine, burying himself in the neck of the dressing gown and looking pointedly at your hand around Logan’s wrist and whispers. “Pretend I’m not even here.”

“God give me strength, Wade.”  Somewhere along the way, Logan’s rage with the mouth has dampened to the point there’s no real threat behind the warning.

As there’s probably about a few teaspoons of coffee in the machine, every fresh drop plinks against the glass jug only enhancing the newfound silence in the kitchen.

“Good Morning, Wade.” You sigh finally, rubbing your thumb against the hair covered flesh of Logan’s wrist in a promise as you try to use your eyes to communicate; we will discuss this. 

“Honestly, I’m not even here. Just go back to staring longingly at each other, talk amongst yourselves.”

“Fu-” Logan starts, his nose flaring at the man beside you, his finite patience already slipping.  

“Incoming.” Wade sings-song lowly, as he drops his head onto your shoulder.

“What are we all doing in the kitchen?” Laura asks through a yawn, her bed head innately ridiculous standing up on all sides - probably from a night spent tossing and turning, kneeing you in the spine. When Logan tears his wrist away from your hand it stings a little, but you understand, the last thing Laura needs in her life is more confusion.

“There’s a line for the coffee, kiddo.” Logan gives her a look that's somewhere between a smile and a grimace. The man’s sharp edges were slowly being worn away again and he was really trying with his daughter, though a tiny growl leaves the young woman at his words.

“She’s not a morning person.” Is the only answer you have for him when he looks your way both confused and quite frankly a little frightened as your daughter takes the first cup of coffee and returns to her room slamming the door behind her with her foot.  

“Teenagers, huh? Whatcha’ gonna’ do with them?” Wade sighs, still leaning his head on your shoulder having made no effort to stop the queue jumper.

Logan gives Wade a meaningful look and tilts his head towards the door, which the man currently invading your personal space bubble continues to ignore. 

There’s something about Wade you can’t find it in yourself to be annoyed by. 

Those years on the run with Charles, Logan and Caliban had been so hopeless, so void of laughter, that the man with the constant jokes puts you at ease, makes your heart feel lighter. Wade makes you smile which has been a rare commodity in recent years.

Perhaps it's the fact he makes the world feel a little lighter that makes you so willing to tolerate the overly familiar head on your shoulder. 

The two men are having a silent conversation, as you stare at the fridge awkwardly.

“I…uh… I think I’ll jump in the shower.” You detangle yourself from Wade and place a meaningful hand on Logan's arm. “Talk later?”

He looks to your hand, and then to your face and simply nods. 

Only, you don’t end up talking later, because after your shower, you return to your bedroom hell bent on getting dressed and heading out into the city for the day to get some distance before you start your new job tomorrow.

That’s when you find Laura twisting her hands and waiting for you. The second you close the door behind you, she stands.

“You alright, bug?” You ask, giving her the opening she so desperately needs. 

“I, um, have some news.” She can barely meet your eyes, a trait you’re sorry to say she’s picked up from you. 

“Yeah?” You prompt, taking her hand in yours.

“I want to join the X-Men.” Your mouth opens involuntarily to reply, but no words can find their way up your throat; you’re irrevocably thrown. 

In the years since the devastation Charles had wrought on the manor, you hadn’t been able to muster the strength to return to West Chester.

“I know, you might not be sold on the idea but I want to use my powers for good, I don’t want to get a normal job - not that the coffee shop isn’t great for you - but I’m-”

“It’s great, Laura.” Your voice sounds wrong even to your ears. “I’ll do my best to get used to being back in the Mansion-”

“No.” You can tell it slips out, she honestly doesn’t mean it to. “I … I, uh, want to join the X-Men, me. I want to go alone.”

“Oh.” You can’t help the deflated sound of your voice, you hadn’t foreseen your daughter breaking up with you when you woke up this morning.

“No, mamá,” She takes your hand in hers, desperate to fix it. “I love you and I can’t ever repay-”

“No, Laura.” You tell her. She looks terrified before you rush to finish. “You don’t ever have to repay me. You are fucking magnificent, so you go be an X-Man. I love you so much.” 

She wraps her arms around your middle, buries her face in your  shoulder and squeezes, she's just as tall as you are now at nineteen years old and fuck if it doesn’t break your goddamn heart.. “If you get yourself hurt with those do gooders, I’ll fucking kill you.”

After dressing and many more tearful hugs as the two of you talk logistics, it's decided she’d be heading over to the mansion in the morning. 

You start work and so does she.

Your heart drops when you hear she’s put off telling you for the past five days, ever since she’d had the offer from Ellie and Yukio at the party. 

Later that evening telling Logan goes, well, about as well as you might expect.

“No.” He growls furiously. “Absolutely, no fuckin’ way.”

“Logan-” You try.

“You agreed to this?” He’s blind to reason as he turns on you. Al and Wade both sit in the living room, having called an ‘urgent family meeting’. 

“I for one think it's a great idea! - not that we haven’t loved having-” One look from Logan does what you had up until this very moment thought impossible and shuts Wade up. 

“Logan, she’s an adult - she wants to join them. We should be supportive.”

“Supportive?!” He’s incredulous as he laughs harshly, voice utterly brimming with condescension when he continues. “You forgettin’ what happened there, huh, bub? You and I are the fuckin’ sole survivors - Last of the class! How's your Storm doing? Your Hank? Your Scott? Oh wait, their all fuckin’ dead!”

Your Logan never spoke to you this way. Never directed that fire within him at you, it's unfair, the comparison, you know this but your brain is misfiring with shock. 

Had your Logan ever truly cared about anything this much when you’d been together in those dark days? Had all the fight truly left him back then? Had the two of you just ended up together out of mere convenience?

When you don’t reply, he just stares your way, his nose flared still utterly furious, at you, your betrayal, at Laura, at this situation he’s not emotionally equipped to deal with. This Logan’s shoulders are squared like he’s preparing to go a few rounds with you and not in a sexy way. 

It's not a situation you’re entirely sure you’ve been in before; you’ve never been his enemy.  So you’re not sure how to approach this cornered animal, ready to swipe out at you in his fear. 

“If I didn’t go to that school, I never would’ve met any of you. I would be back in Y/H/T (your hometown) and I’d be lesser for it.” 

It utterly disarms him, he’d clearly been prepared for harsh words to combat his own.

Pacing like a tiger locked in a cage, he finally sighs rubbing his forehead irritability. Logan turns, grabbing his leather jacket making the doorframe shake as he slams it after himself. 

“I think he’s secretly happy for you, Laura.” Wade’s voice is light and full of sarcasm.

“That went just about as well as to be expected.” Al huffs from her position at her side as she takes Laura’s hand in her own. “I’m sorry, Sweetie. He’ll come round to the idea.”

“Yes, he fucking will.” Seeing your daughter's face crumble as he storms off like a child is apparently your breaking point.

You follow after him, though as you’re a grown adult in charge of her emotions you simply allow the door to close behind you.

“Haha! - She’s gonna beat the shit outta’ him! Its gonna’ be like 454 when she-” You hear Wade cackle as you take off.

It doesn’t take long to find him, you know the man better than you know yourself, though it does certainly help that he’s predictable as shit.

The closest bar to the apartment is where he’s pulled up a stool, his nose flares the second he smells you.

“I mean it this time, I’m not looking for damn company.”

You ignore him, just as you did the time before. 

“Two Corona’s please.”

“I don’t drink that shit.” he huffs. “Corona and a Blue Ribbon.”

It shouldn’t hit you the way it does. 

Just like before, this miniscule insignificant difference, it utterly devastates you.  

A simple fact; his favourite beer. The drink he ordered at every bar he entered without fail - is suddenly, without warning, repulsive to him. 

It just serves to remind you that the man slouched on the bar stool beside you is a complete stranger wearing the face of your dead lover.

Perhaps your Logan drank it simply because he didn’t want to hurt your feelings? 

Had he hated it all along? 

Did he only drink it because you did? 

Maybe the beer is a pertinent metaphor for your entire life.

He only drank the beer because it was there, just like he only fell for you because there was no one better around. 

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, you’re only bought out of your spiral by a bottle being placed down in front of you.

Shaking your head, you will yourself to calm down. After a few centering breaths, Logan is looking your way. 

“Thought you were comin’ to give me a talkin’ to.”

It's funny, in a way, your spiral actually has calmed you, reminded you that this isn’t your Logan. 

He’s a different man with his own set of wounds, trying to navigate this awful situation just like you are. 

“I was going to. You were a dick to her back there.” You sigh, taking a sip of your beer. “Then I remembered everything… everything you’ve lost and I thought maybe I could just cut you some slack this time.”

“That's generous.” He shakes his head, sipping his own beer. “This whole things a fuckin’ mess.”

You can’t help but agree with a nod. 

The two of you sit in silence, which would appear to be the norm these days, you have so much to say to one another, yet you can’t seem to find the words. 

Speaking to him, finding out more of the things that are different about him, terrifies you.

Little do you know, Logan is fighting a similar battle.

He hates the weight of your gaze, how it seems to hold the expectation of the great man you’d lost with every glance, it's a constant reminder how short he falls of the anchor being this world lost. 

“Where am I in your world?” You ask the question you’ve had on your mind since meeting him. He knows almost everything about you, and yet you know so little.

“Dead.” He sighs rubbing at his eyes. “With the rest of them.”

“Did we ever?” He looks your way sharply at this question, then gives a harsh shake of his head. 

It hurts a little to know you were always in the background for him - it's difficult to think of a world where you always loved him from afar, never getting to feel his skin on yours. 

“I mean - you’d have had to pay attention to someone other than her for that to happen, I guess.”

“How the fuck’-” He growls voice filled with a new emotion, one you’re not quite familiar with. Bemusement? Disbelief?  “-has this turned into me being the bad guy for not noticing you?” 

“Eh - you were a real asshole upstairs.” Smirking, you take another sip of your drink. “Question for a question? - Take it in turns?”

“I don’t wanna’ know anythin’ about your world.” He snaps, turning his head back, though you can see him watching you in the mirror beside the booze. 

It's like a countdown, you watch him battle his volatile emotions. 

5, 4, 3 , 2, 1.

“Fine.” He grunts into his beer bottle. “How’d they die?”

That throws you, you’d expected how’d we meet? What happened to Charles? Instead he hits you with that straight out the gate.

“Uh - Charles had started showing signs of a degenerative brain disease. I mean,  he was old, prone to seizures. We were desperate to find a way to control them. We were blind… to the reality of the situation.” You take a sip, resting your forehead on your hand as your eyes ache and threaten to water, this was the first time you’d ever discussed this out loud.. “Then, he had a fucking grand mal … it … it wiped out everyone within a 100,000 foot radius.” 

Unable to help it, you pick at the skin around your thumb. “It was… devastating. He killed them all. All the kids in their classrooms, our friends and family. Not even Jean could stop him.”

“He… he killed Jean?”

You're a little ashamed of the flare of jealousy at his devastation about the woman you’d always come second to. But you push that deep down, it's not the time nor place.

“How’d you survive?” He questions. 

“I was away. I’d heard of a neurosurgeon in Germany, he was developing… Well, it doesn’t matter now. But I was away, whilst everyone I cared about died.” 

You’d never had a need to speak of it, Logan had lived it alongside you - there was something cathartic about saying it all out loud. You wipe at your cheek as you gulp down the last of your drink, a heavy stone weighing your stomach now. 

“Your turn.” Logan’s voice is deep in thought as gestures to the bartender for another. He’s extending an olive branch, a kindness in the face of your vulnerability. 

You think about it for a moment, what you’d like to know. 

“We were friends at least?”

“Oh yeah, we were the best of friends, Bub. You were… uh … a lil’ younger back there, never really looked at you that way.” He scratches at his bearded chin, he’s avoiding looking your way again, uncomfortable sharing these parts of himself. “You… uh… you were gonna have pups with Pete.”

“With Maximoff?!” You squeak disbelieving, whilst taking a sip of your beer prompting a coughing fit to end them all, as you gasp for air. 

Logan sighs, slamming his open palm between your shoulder blades. He rubs the spot he just hit in a circle pattern, reminding you somewhat of the last time he drew circles.

“I had a baby with Peter?” You push your hair back from your face. “...That's why he used to stare at me … y’know there was one time…” 

You smile fondly recounting a time you caught him staring creepily across your classroom before you remember that sweet silver haired kid in your memories is dead. The smile drops from your face in an instant; you didn’t have children with him because he’s six feet under. 

“No. You were pregnant when….” He grunts, his voice has a raw edge to it. For two people constantly at odds, your souls were in the same state of flux, continually aching for vastly different reasons, yet at the root, the same cause. 

The two of you sit in silence for a moment or two, you’re processing the fact that you almost had kids with Quicksilver and he’s no doubt regretting ever playing this game.

The game. 

“It's your turn.”

“This is why she shouldn’t join them, everyone we know is dead.” Logan has had enough of the game as he sighs, rubbing at his eyes. “Being a goddamn hero gets you killed.”

“Logan.” You touch the back of the hand currently gripping the beer bottle neck like it owes him money. “She’s strong, stronger than me. Laura is you in every way that counts. She’s ridiculously stubborn, headstrong - even when she’s wrong - and she has a kind heart. She wants to use those gifts you’ve given her for good. How can you stand in the way of that?” 

Logan’s hand flips over, his warm callused fingers coming to link around your own. 

“The kind heart is all you, bub.” 

The beers have loosened your tongue, made your anxieties seem a little further away.

“I don’t know. You have your moments.” His fingers dance along your palm, stroking the broken planes.

The two of you enjoy this easy intimacy you’d been forming over the past few days. 

“How’d we get together?” Those instruments of death you’ve seen take countless lives, glide over the soft skin of your wrist. Your eyes, usually so afraid to meet his, can’t leave their hazel captivity as you process his blunt question

“Oh, uh…” Tucking your hair behind your ear with your free hand, your eyes dart to his fingers still drifting across your flesh.

“Don’t get shy on me now, bub.” He smirks, though his heart’s not in it. 

That asshole. 

Taking a deep gulp of your third beer, you rely on the liquid courage, before raising your eyes back to his.

“One night. It was a few days after everything, we had finally got a sedative for Charles. We had a moment to take stock of everything we’d lost. You … uh … he came to me and … he cried. The first time I’d seen it.” His hand pulls back, but you can’t help it, you refuse to release your hold. You don’t want to lose this connection. Your thumb dips, rubbing at his knuckle, at the joint where his claws always caused the bone to ache. “I held him and he kissed me, it was messy. It was desperate but I think we both needed to feel something that wasn’t grief.” 

“And I thought I was special… ” His voice holds sarcasm though you can tell the sentiment behind it is anything but humorous.

“You are special to me.”

“Yeah.” His voice is dismissive, like he doesn’t believe what you’re saying.

“You are.”

“I look like the guy who’s special to you, darlin’. I’m not him, as much as you may wish I am. Hell I wish I was.” He has snatched his hand away as he slams cash down on the bar.

Logan has started the short walk back to the apartment, cutting through the alley.

He’s hurt, burying it deep beneath the rage. His anger is an old friend. One he’s comfortable confronting.

“I’m done with your stupid games. I’m done with it all. Haven’t you got the memo? I’m the worst Logan.”

“I’m so fucking sick of that! You’re so goddamn cruel to yourself.” You cry out at his leather covered shoulders, that in itself seems to stop him in his tracks. The Y/N from his world was a mousy wallflower through and through, nothing he’d seen from this world led him to believe you were any different and yet his ears weren’t deceiving him. “I loved my Logan - I fucking adored him. Yes, sometimes it's hard to separate the two of you, but I care for you.”

He stands motionless in the alley as you bare your soul. 

“I’ve known you for a week. I can’t love you the same because you’re not the same person, not entirely, but my soul knows yours. You’re Logan.” You’ve closed the distance but he still wont turn around and perhaps that's what makes it easier to say the things you’ve been desperate to say for days. “I look in your eyes and I feel safe, when you touch me everything feels like it's going to be okay. You’re not the worst, you’re not the best. You’re Logan; you’re just Logan.”

Logan is on you instantly, silencing your words with a scorching kiss. It's the kind you see in movies, desperate, filled to the brim with passion, usually taking place in the rain.

His hands find your lower back, pulling you to him as your wrap your arms around his neck, making sure he can’t escape from your grasp, as he growls and pushes you against the brick wall. 

Your nose aches from the pressure of his cheek pressed against it as he devours your mouth with his own. He is claiming your mouth with a week of pent up emotions. He grips your thigh, hiking your leg up around his waist, pressing the hardened bulge of his jeans against your core. 

“Mom? … Logan?” 

There in the street light Laura is illuminated. Her face gives nothing away, she may as well be wearing those sunglasses for all you can garner from her expression. 

“Hey Love! - I.. We…uh-” Logan slowly releases your thigh, slyly adjusting his jeans in an attempt to hide his erection. You do your best to stand in front of the -ahem- sizeable bulge. 

“How's it going?” You ask with a faux air of casualness as you place your hands on your hips, though your voice has a weird edge.

“Pretty good. How’s it going for you?” Her own voice has a coy little smile to it, which puts you at ease just a little. 

“Great, I’m great. Logan? You great?”

“Great.” He grunts behind you. 

“Great! - Everyone’s … great.” 

The three of you stand in silence for a second or two, processing what's just happened or perhaps trying to decide if great is still a real word.

“You’re so weird.” Laura snorts. “For the record I’m happy that you both pulled your heads out of your asses.”

“Baby-”

“Kid-” You and Logan speak in sync. Your eyes lock as you both try and decide how the other was going to finish that sentence.

“Laura - me and your Mom… uh… things are complicated… and we don’t want to drag you into this.” Logan, the man of very few words, has managed to find them. You’re stunned into silence as he takes control of a conversation… about feelings… with his daughter.

This is not any Logan that you know.

Laura looks to you, waiting for your seal of approval on the message.  

“I know how confusing things are already, Bug.” You close the distance between the two of you, linking your fingers with hers.  “Me and your dad, we’re working through some things.”

You notice Logan’s shoulders setting straighter at his new title, like a welcome weight has been placed upon them. She nods at your words, smiling devilishly.

“It was just a matter of time, Mama. He has a staring problem.”

“No, I fuckin’ don’t.” He growls from behind you both. Your heart feels lighter than it has in a decade as the two of you cackle at his defensive response.

He digs his hands into his pockets glaring your way, though it has no heat whatsoever behind it, in fact he looks like he’s fighting a smile.

With your hand still firmly in Laura’s you pull her back towards the apartment, linking your arm through Logan’s warm, thick leather clad one. He doesn’t take your hand, but he also doesn’t pull away as the three of you walk back to the house. 

“Can we get pizza? - For emotional trauma?” She questions.

“Baby, I’ll buy you all the pizza in New York.” You reply rolling your eyes.

“Not with fuckin’ pineapple on.” Logan groans.

“Pineapple on pizza is objectively delicious!” Laura defends from her place on your otherside, she pulls on your hand still hanging between the two of you. “Back me up.”

“I will always have your back … but…. pineapple on pizza is in fact a crime against humanity.” 

Logan lets out a guffaw of victory, as Laura snarls his way. You take a mental picture, the warmth in your chest, bracketed in by your two favourite people in the world. Life is good.

Laura leaves the next morning. 

It is a difficult pill to swallow, after seven years by her side. You can’t quite make the leap to take her to the mansion, it's something she understands. So when you embrace her at the doorway after Ellie reassures you for the 30th time she’ll look out for her, you find it hard to let go.

There hasn’t been a day you’ve been without her since you first met the scrawny 12-year old in Mexico. Laura is an extension of you, like your heart is on the outside of your body and you’re not ready for your heart to go to West Chester without you being there to protect it. 

At that moment you understand why she needs this independence, she’s 19 years old. She needs her own life, to experience everything it has to offer but that doesn’t make letting go any easier.

“You call if you need anything, anything at all.” You tell her as you push her hair behind her ears. “Don’t stay up too late but also don’t go to bed too early to make friends but make sure you get plenty of sleep.”

“I will get the perfect amount of sleep, don’t worry.” She grabs your wrists, removing your hands from her hair.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” You sigh, your anxiety is eating away at your stomach. She’s not the vulnerable child being hunted anymore, you try to remind yourself. “If you need me-”

“-If you need us. We’ll be there.” Logan cuts you off, interjecting his own amendment. 

In a show of affection you’re not quite expecting, he hugs the girl. It's somewhat awkward and clumsy, the two have known each other for a week, but when they pull back, you can see the gesture was all that really mattered.

He hands her her backpack, which she throws one strap over her shoulder. The two smile at each other in their silent language, both such quiet souls. 

When she turns back to you, you ask. “We can walk you down?”

“Stay here? It’s easier this way.” She looks so small as she pleads with you.

Taking mercy on her, you nod. 

“Okay.” Waving you watch her turn for the door. You don’t expect however when she turns back and barrels into your chest for a final time, burying her face in your neck.

“I love you, Mama.” She whispers, you can’t help it as your eyes water. You wrap your arms around her, squeezing her tightly to your chest. 

“I love you. You are my world.” You know she needs you to let her go for her to be able to walk through that door. So with a deep inhale of her hair for the road, you pull back gathering your strength. You pull her other strap onto her shoulder and push her hair back from her face. You wipe her tears from her cheeks and give her the biggest smile you can muster, despite your teary eyes and broken voice. “Give them hell, baby.”

Laura nods, giving her own matching teary smile. Her back straightens and her shoulders square as she follows Yukio and Ellie down the hall. The duo waving at you as they descend down the stairs.

You’re so busy watching your world disappear down the hall you barely feel the heavy warm hand wrap around your shoulder in comfort. You melt into Logan’s side as your heart shatters.

You wait for him to leave in a hurry, only he does the last thing you expect of the Wolverine. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you to his chest. You close your eyes as the tears begin to fall against your will. 

Logan strokes your back. He doesn’t offer any words of comfort, but he doesn’t need to, his presence alone is enough.

His trimmed beard, bristles against your hair as he places a kiss on the top of your head, burying his nose in your hair as he holds you. 

It's hard to say how long the two of you stand there like that. Only when your body stops shaking do you finally look up through tear streamed eyes.  Logan looks down at you, his face is lined with concern. 

“You good?”

“I will be.” Your voice is broken from crying. “I-”

“I know, Bub.” He smiles your way, one you’ve not seen, perhaps ever.

It's soft, sympathetic but filled with adoration. He pushes the strand of hair, now sodden with tears, back behind your ear. His finger lingers on the curve of the bone for a moment or two before he pulls back. 

“Bar?”

“Bar.”

Things change when Laura leaves. Not massively, and not entirely for the worst.

You and Logan had started sharing the bed, not like that (unfortunately), but sleeping next to one another. It was comfier than the sofa and his body curled around yours made you sleep a hell of a lot more soundly. Suddenly years of insomnia were cured by his muscled warmth curled around you like a safety blanket.

He never made a move to further it, even if you had once or twice tried to entice him by grinding your backside against his morning wood. The man was nothing if not resilient as he rolled away, grunting.

The two of you had been getting to know one another, you had resolved to treat him like a whole new man. This revelation meant that their differences weren’t such a blow anymore, you didn’t actively compare the two of them as much.

You had created a clear picket line in your head and it seemed to be working. They were two different versions of the same man, each with their own merits and disadvantages. 

They weren’t to be compared.

The two of you had started a ritual of movie nights, evenings where you’d sit a little too close on the couch and pretend it wasn’t happening. He’d share a blanket he knew he didn’t need just to get close to you. It was a little uncomfortable when Wade asked to come under the blanket but you enjoyed the time spent with the clown,  

In fact, your favourite night had been when you, Wade and Al had all sat down to watch the Notebook - the movie Logan point blank refused watch.

Yes, the movie he objected to so strongly, then proceeded to watch from behind the couch, standing awkwardly on the threshold of the lounge. Where he lingered for the first half an hour pretending to have no interest in it. 

When the end credits came around he was back under the blanket with you and Wade, utterly refusing to admit that he’d cried. 

That argument with Wade had gotten heated and he’d put three little tears in your blanket, but it was one of your fondest memories in this apartment. 

It had been three weeks now. Only two of them had been spent hunting for a room that you could afford on a barista’s salary, which was the only job you were qualified for after dropping off the planet for the past ten years.

Colossus had offered you your old teaching position though you didn’t want to cramp Laura’s style and you didn’t think you could face stepping foot back in that mansion, too many of your ghosts lingered there. The same could be said for Logan, though he had found much better paying work at St Margarets.

He and Wade did odd jobs, merc work to pay the rent. They killed bad guys and got paid for it, and boy they got paid a hell of a lot more than you.

The coffee shop below Wade’s apartment, or waking hell, as you’d come to know it was your slice of a regular life; trying to push your circle peg into a triangle hole.

Its a 24-hour coffee shop, cause who doesn’t need caffeine at 3am? Tch. New York. You’re leaning on the counter a million miles away, contemplating if the graveyard shifts are worth the illusion of paying your way when Logan makes up most of your share of the rent anyway.

Your singular customer is a young guy typing away on his laptop, desperately trying to finish what looks like a college essay. He’s eleven espressos in and has been here since before your shift started at 5pm. You haven’t been told if you can cut someone off, but surely that much caffeine must count as overserving. 

The bell above the door tingles loudly, the warm lights illuminate his red mask. 

Wade.

“Hey angel baby!” He comes to the counter, pretending to read the board as if he hasn’t been here a million times before.

“Hi Wade.” You smile tiredly at the man. “What’cha want? It's on the house!”

“Ooooh, gimme’ a Caramel Macchiato but hit me with like 6 shots espresso, extra caramel and don’t skimp on the whipped cream - I like to call this the don't stop til dawn.”

“Your insides must be a mess.” You shake your head and get to making his drink. 

“How’s the soul crushing service industry treating ya?” He asks, leaning one hand on the counter.

“It’s okay. A little boring, but not so bad, nobody's shooting at me.” You motion downwards with your eyes to the fresh bullet holes in his red suit.

“Ha! Yeahhh. But it's good old fashioned fun, beating guys to a pulp, saving kids from trees, taking candy from cats.” You roll your eyes at the man. “But they say, if you love your job you never work a day in your life! And boy, I love my job.”

You're steaming the milk when he speaks up again, shouting loudly over the machine. “You should come and work with me and Logi Bear. He’s 10% less of an old grumpy fuck when you’re around.”

He’s still shouting when the machine quietens, making your cringe a little as the kid looks your way. This isn’t the first time Wade’s broached the subject with you.

“I get you wanna move out, we love having you, but I get that Al’s old lady smell can get sorta’ overwhelming after a while.”

“Wade.” You sigh, admonishing his jokes about the lady who you’ve grown to care for in the past month. “If you didn’t live in a two bed, I’d love to stay, but it's just too small and I want you to have your bedroom back. I hate feeling like a burden.”

You secure the lid to his drink when its finally complete. “One heart attack in a cup.” 

“My favourite.” His mask contorts around the eyes showing his smile. “Oh Wolvie’s upstairs in bad shape. Something took a fuckin’ chunk outta him.”

“What the fuck Wade?! Why didn’t you lead with that?” You’re pulling off your apron and halfway around the counter before you remember your shift isn’t over for another hour.  

“Cause’ then you wouldn’t have made my fast juice.”

Ah fuck it.

“Don’t steal the cash register.” You warn the kid looking your way. “He’ll hunt you down and beat the crap out of you.”

Wade waves at the kid behind you, he has his macchiato in one hand and baby knife in his other for special effect. The kid gives a look of ‘Jeez’ before returning to his work.

“You coming?” You ask when your almost half way through the door.

“Nah - saving innocents makes me hungy. Fork hands has his healing factor. He'll be fine.” Wade replies dismissively.

Huffing you turn on your heel and practically run to the apartment. 

A chunk out of him? 

Logan's healing factor was significantly better without the adamantium poisoning but surely he could die. In an instant you’re back in North Dakota, holding his hand as he fades away. 

Your breath is heavy as you take the steps two at a time. 

Not again. 

The door is thrown open and instead of chaos you find the lights dimmed, candles all over the apartment and there Logan stands in a new plaid buttondown and his finest wranglers. He’s holding a bouquet of sunflowers in those veined hands you love so much. It's like something out of a Danielle Steel novel and you utterly melt.

The panic that had clutched your heart recedes. Your anxiety releases its grip on you. 

“You’re not hurt?” 

“No, bub. I’m fine. Sorry for the clown. He offered to help and I…”

You shake your head and smile at him, hesitantly you take a step forward. When you’re close enough he hands them your way. “I have it on good authority, they’re your favourites.”

“They are.”

“I wanna give you what you deserve, sweetheart.” He starts, it's like he’s rehearsed it in his head. Little do you know it's all his thought about for the past three weeks. “You deserve more than a romp in the woods, or an alley.” 

He seems to cringe at this before continuing.

“I’m not like the other guy. He was a goddamn anchor being, hero through and through from what I hear about him. I’m angry, I kill people and I drink too goddamn much, but when you look at me, I feel like I could be him.” For the first time, it is him that takes your hand in his much larger one. “Do you know how jealous of that asshole I am, Bub? That he got you first? That he got to have your uncomplicated love. If you’d been older in my timeline, I would've’ met you first, I wouldn’t have looked twice at another and I’d have fallen for you the second you looked up at me from beneath those eyelashes, how could I not when everything about you is so easy to love?” 

You’ve always been a crier, and this is no different. The man is stamping down every single one of your insecurities, reassuring you as you go. Making you feel more loved then you’ve ever felt before.

“I adore you. From your crappy cooking-”

“-Hey.”

“Your porny books you think I don’t see, to the way you cry at movies, how much you love our daughter. I fuckin’ love you Y/N. Its messy and complicated, I’m not sure if you could-”

In a total role reversal it is you who cuts him off, grabbing his face in your palms and dragging his face down to yours. Your mouths join for the first time in weeks, it is hot and full of desire and love. It's like the two of you are releasing all of your tension into this kiss, finally the air has been cleared and it's rejuvenating. 

You press your forehead to his, gasping for breath as his kisses steal the air from your lungs.

“Lo, I guarantee every version of me loves you, even if you were too blind to see it in your world.” 

“You were a married woman in my world, bub.”

You gasp theatrically. “Adulturerer.”

“You’ve spent too much time with that fuckin’ idiot.” He kisses your lips, though you don’t let it turn into anything deeper, as you pull back rubbing your nose against his. 

“Fornicator.” 

“tch… stop.” He groans, grabbing your ass pulling you into his bulge, you bite his lip with a giggle. “Why do you have these lined up?”

He never gets his answer as he picks you up, wrapping your legs around his back and carries you through to the bedroom. You pull away from his mouth, looking over to the set dinner table.

“The food… you went to all that effort!” He is kissing your neck, nipping and lathering the bites with his tongue. 

“Can’t cook for shit, darlin’. It’s take out, we can heat it up. I’m hungry for your fuckin’ sweet cunt right now. “

Your lower stomach clenches at his positively filthy words, you join your lips back to his. His teeth nip at your lip as he plunges his tongue into your mouth, running the tip along your teeth. 

Before there had been need, but now, you’re both desperate. You’ve had a mere taste of what the other has to offer and now you’ve starved yourself for months. 

“Not gonna’ last long on the first, darlin’.” He groans into your mouth as your hand works its way into his pants. He is eager as he throws you back onto the bed and is already working at peeling your black jeans down your legs. “Those fuckin’ shorts you sleep in, fuck. I’ve been dreamin’ about buryin’ myself in ya’ for weeks.”

“Please, Lo.” You’re not sure what you’re already begging for but you are desperate. You’re left in your uniform tee and panties, as he slowly unbuttons his button down, slowly revealing the white undershirt beneath. You’ve never found collarbones particularly attractive, but the tanned skin stretched across his is quite frankly delectable. 

You pull your shirt over your head, all too eager to be rid of the reminder of the job you should by all rights be at right now. Your bra is quick to follow.

“Those gorgeous tits, been thinking of these every fucking night.” You groan at his admission. He himself is shirtless, you have half a mind to return the same complement as your hands brush against his perfectly sculpted pecs. 

This man was the perfect specimen, it was unfair, t shirts should be outlawed for him. He grabs the waistband of your panties. 

‘Snikt’ and a rip sound and you are utterly bare before him, laying across Wade’s bed. 

Those gorgeous strong hands trace the planes of your body, circling your nipples before his mouth takes their place. 

He groans as his hands descend to your core. “All this for me? I’m gonna’ fuckin’ slide in, Baby.” 

And he does, two fingers push through your tight slick opening, three weeks of foreplay have left you soaking wet and wanting. How can you live with a man who looks the way he does, who consistently works out in the living room shirtless and not have the ocean in your panties. 

It seems Logan has had all he can take as he slides a third finger in, pumping it in and out of you, rubbing at your clit with his thumb. Gasping you grab at your sheets desperate to anchor yourself. 

He kisses up your breast, lavishing your chest in kisses and bites. Never enough to leave a mark but just enough to excite you. 

When he’s at your neck he leans in, whispering into your ear. “I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin that pussy.”

You can’t help it, maybe you’re a whore for this man, but you don’t fucking care. Your legs part even further on the bed.

“Please, Logan. I need you to fuck me.”

He grins savagely, pushing his already undone belt and jeans down his hips. He’s back up and claiming your mouth, your legs wrapped around his ass, pulling you down to him before he knows it. 

One hand is bearing his weight as the other disappears, he lines himself up at your entrance, the head of his cock breaching your folds. He’s thick, thicker than you remember, but there isn’t any discomfort this time. He settles for a moment, his forehead against yours. His mouth dips to join your lips, his tongue lashing out and fucking your mouth as his hips leap forward spearing you on his cock. The bed creaks with the power of his hips as he fucks you hard into the matress. 

Skin slapping on skin is all that can be heard as he readjusts onto his knees, he’s desperate to be as deep as possible and you need the same thing. 

“Lo-”

“I know, darlin’.” He grabs your waist, lifting you as if you weigh nothing at all and flips you over. Suddenly you’re astride him, your knees either side of his hips as his head rests in the pillows. 

His eyes are distracted by your tits as he smirks, happy with the view. 

You ache for him, so you reach down, lining his thick purple headed member with your core before you sink down in one stroke, his extended groan absolutely wrecks you as his big hands come to rest on the meat of your hips. 

You rest your hands on his amply hair covered chest, using his pecs as leverage before you raise your hips before slamming back down and bottoming him out. 

He’s so deep inside you, the tip of him must be brushing your goddamn cervix as you raise yourself once more, until he almost slips out before meeting his hips once more. 

Logan’s strength never fails to surprise you as his hands follow your lead yet help lift you through the manoeuvre. 

You’re bouncing on his cock, quick rise and fall sporadically grinding your clit deliciously into his pelvis. 

Logan feels fucking amazing inside of you, maybe its been the buildup of weeks but you find yourself heading towards the dive faster than ever before. 

“Ride my cock,sweetheart. That’s it, make yourself feel good.”

Gasping at his words and the change of position as he sits up, wrapping his arms around you and claiming your mouth. The second you find the angle that feels amazing against your clit, you hit it again and again, grinding hard against him.

“Lo - I’m gonna … I’m gonna -” You crash before you can get the words out, your toes curl by his knees and your whole body seizes in ecstasy. The world feels right as the stars appear behind your eyes.

The world stopped for you for a moment but not for Logan. He has bought his knees up and is pistoning his hips into your contorting body. He’s holding you against him, groaning into your neck as he continues to fuck your clenching pussy relentlessly.

“Oh fuck … your so fucking tight. Fucking perfect cunt- made - for - me.” He growls into your neck, but you’re too cock drunk to hear it properly, as he frantically thrusts his powerful hips up and into you. 

“Where? ” He pulls back, never slowing his hips as he grabs your cheeks with one hand. Your sweat laden face, vacant and looking back at him, your cunt hasn’t stopped clenching around him as he plunders your depths, his voice is strained as he asks again  “Darlin’...you gotta … tell me … where?”

“...inside, Lo. Please come inside me…” Your so overstimulated, you could cry.  The sound of his balls slapping against skin as he thrusts upwards deep inside of you, whilst he pulls your body down. He’s so fucking deep inside of you, your pussy squelching from a mixture of precum and your arousal.

With another string of lewd words he’s coming hard, Logan’s head has fallen back against the headboard exposing the thick chords of muscle, you can't help sinking your teeth into it, you dip your hand and rub at your clit clumsily, you’re so fucking overstimulated from watching him you follow him over the precipice once more, giving him an insanely tight sheath to come in. 

“That’s it, take it all, sweetheart” He groans as he continues to slowly pump his seed deep within you

Gasping you fall slack in his arms, your bones are jelly and your muscles ache, you really are a pillow princess. 

“Still with me?” You manage to nod your clammy forehead against his pec, you currently have your cheek squished against. He chuckles, as he lies back against the pillows, leaving his cock still inside of you, you can feel him leaking out of you as he softens a little, recovering for what you imagine will be another enthusiastic round if history is a teacher. 

You are utterly fucked out as you lie on his chest, listening to his breath with his cum slowly leaking from your abused hole. 

The two of you have never needed words, you lie against his chest, the hands you adore so much, come out to stroke your hair.

Rubbing soothingly at your scalp before running his calloused fingers through the locks and repeating. 

When you’ve finally gathered enough strength you lean on your hands, looking up at him.

“Welcome back, bub.”

“Hello.” You smile shyly, like you hadn’t just sunk your canines into his neck whilst wantonly riding his cock to oblivion. 

“You okay?” He asks, his hand rising to stroke your swollen bottom lip.

“Someone fucked me brain dead - but yeah, I’m good.” You smirk, nipping at his thumb.

He grins wolfishly and chuckles with his whole body, the movement causes his cock to move inside of you. Slowly you feel him hardening once more.

“You can still talk, Darlin’. Means I haven’t done my job properly.” The predatory gaze in his eyes excites and scares you in equal parts. Though you’re probably asking for trouble when you take his thumb back in your mouth. 

It's light outside when you finally have to tap out. 

Your pussy is aching, your ass is stinging from the new sensation, your jaw throbs and your entire body is boneless. 

You can’t quite catch your breath and your cunt is leaking so much cum, that you’re probably 10% Logan at this point. 

The Wolverine has utterly devoured you, making up for three weeks of torment in one night. Though he’s not all bad as he feeds you noodles from chopsticks as you lay on his muscled hair laden thighs. 

When Logan had suggested food, you’d had to stop him from eating Wontons from your belly button as none of your holes were currently operational. 

The two of you have dressed, though that is a strong use of the word as you’re wearing only his button down and him only his underwear. 

You’re lazing on the couch watching reruns of Friends as your bed sorely needs fresh sheets and a new base. Poor Wade, you’d have to replace it before you move out. Like he could read your mind, Logan begins. 

“I found a new place, its nothing fancy but its got four walls and no roommates.” You smile at him around your mouthful of noodles as he takes his own bite.

Sitting up you smile. “That’s great news, Lo.”

“I uh- wanted to see, if you’d wanna come with me.”

You can’t help your grin. 

fin.

I am currently posting this at the airport before my flight. I love you all! 💖

[theonottsbxtch]

hey! please could you write a 🔥 charles leclerc

7 MINUTES | CL16

an: this celeb really has me writing for people i've never written for but here you go! rushed and not proof read lol i wanna go to bed

summary: 7 minutes in heaven, max's sister, what could possibly go wrong?

warnings: heavy make out session

wc: 3k

You were sitting on the edge of the couch, legs tucked under you, watching as the last of the sunlight fades beyond the horizon. The air still smells like autumn — damp leaves, bonfires, that kind of thing — and you can hear the muffled voices of the boys from the kitchen. They’d been drinking for hours, celebrating the end of the season. Your brother, Max , the life of every gathering, was at the centre of it all, recounting the race from last weekend like a war story for those who had missed his and Lando’s close race.

Inside the living room, the atmosphere was cosy but charged, the kind of energy that only came when the season was over and there was nothing left to lose. Someone had opened a second bottle of whiskey, and you were pretty sure it was Charles. He was sprawled out on the recliner, arm dangling over the side, his laugh loud and carefree. Across from him, Lando and Daniel were huddled together on the floor, passing around a bowl of chips like they were planning something.

Then it happened. Daniel’s eyes lit up, his smirk growing wider as he sat up straighter. "You know what we haven’t done in ages?" he said, voice slick with mischief. "Seven minutes in heaven."

You laughed, and so did a few others, but there was  that undeniable flicker of curiosity that ran through the group of you that were in the room. This was a game you used to play in secondary school, maybe year nine if you were brave, but you’d all grown up since then. Still, the alcohol had loosened everyone’s reservations, and you could see the suggestion hanging in the air, waiting to catch fire.

“Oh, come on, we’re not twelve,” Max groaned, walking in at the perfect time but even you could see a spark in his eyes that said he was not really protesting.

Daniel shrugged, still grinning. "Exactly, we’re not twelve. So why not make it interesting?"

You could feel a ripple of unease and excitement in your chest as you glanced around the room. People were starting to perk up now, their curiosity mirroring yours. And before you knew it, Carlos’ empty beer bottle was in the middle of the floor, everyone forming a loose circle around it like it was an unspoken agreement.

Your close friend Lu, had chosen to go first, the bottle spun lazily, catching the dim light from the string of bulbs hanging above the living room. The room felt smaller now, more intimate, as if everyone’s breath was synchronised, waiting for fate to land on someone. Your stomach twisted, a mix of nerves and excitement, and you wonder if anyone else felt the same fluttering tension.

It slowed, dragging the moment out. The neck wobbled a few times, then finally came to rest, pointing directly at Lando.

She grinned, all too pleased with the outcome. “Guess I’m first,” she said, pushing herself up from the floor with the grace of someone who was not nearly as drunk as the rest of them. She casted a sideways glance at Lando, who just smirked and shrugged, ready for whatever came next.

You felt Max’s eyes on you from across the circle, and you shot him a quick look — the kind that said, This is ridiculous, right? But he just smirked, raising his beer in mock salute, clearly enjoying the chaos that was about to unfold.

“Okay, Lando,” Lu teaseed, leaning toward him with a playful tilt of her head. “I think you’re my lucky partner.”

Lando let out a fake groan, but there was a spark in his eyes as he got up. “You sure? I mean, I could take a rain check…”

Everyone laughed, the tension breaking slightly as Lando and Lu disappeared into the hallway, heading for the coat closet like this is still some high school party. But the tension crept right back in as the door closed behind them.

It had only been thirty seconds, but it felt like the room was holding its breath. You sat there, heart racing even though it was not your turn, and wondered what happened next. You’d known these people for years — grown up alongside a few of them, watched your brother and his friends live out their reckless racing dreams — but now the whole vibe had shifted. It was almost like you were all teetering on the edge of something new, something dangerous.

The minutes dragged on. The muffled laughter from behind the door made everyone exchange knowing looks, but no one said anything. Then Lu’d voice called out, “Time’s up!” and the door swung open.

Lu stepped out first, her hair slightly tousled, a grin on her face like she’d gotten away with something. Lando followed, looking slightly flushed but otherwise composed. “Well,” he said, glancing around the room, “that was... enlightening.”

Everyone laughed again, a little louder this time, but you could feel the anticipation growing. Lu took her seat, and Daniel leaned forward, reaching for the bottle with a mischievous glint in his eye. “Your turn, mini Verstappen,” he said, and suddenly all eyes were on you. When Daniel had offered this game, you briefly had the idea that he was trying to pester Max, making him watch his little sister go into a small room with one of the guys of the paddock. In a room where he couldn’t do anything to stop anyone. So when Daniel passed you the bottle, you knew exactly that was his intention.

You froze for half a second, trying to brush off the nervous thrill that shot through you. “Oh no, not me,” you started to protest, but you knew it was too late. The game had a life of its own now.

The bottle clinked as you gave it a half arsed spin, and you swore it felt like the world slowed down again. The air was thick with curiosity, everyone waiting to see who fate would pick this time.

And then it stopped. Right on Charles.

You glanced up, locking eyes with him. Charles Leclerc, your brother’s biggest rival, the one who you definitely should never get with, the one who’s always wound up your brother, who knew more than he let on. His brow quirked up, just slightly, and his lips curled into a soft, unreadable smile.

For a moment, the world felt too small, the air too warm. Daniel chuckled, almost as if he had planned it. “Well, this should be interesting.”

Charles stood up, and before you even realised it, you were on your feet too, heart pounding in your throat. You forced a laugh, trying to play it cool, but you could feel the weight of every gaze on your back as you followed him toward the hallway.

Then Max shot up, “She can’t go in there with him, come on mate.” He said looking at Charles then at the rest of the group whose eyes were too locked on you and Charles. “That’s my little sister.” 

As you opened your mouth to reply, Lando stood up and looked at Max. “The rules are the rules, and unfortunately for you the rules mean your sister needs to go into that closet with Charles.” Lando then towards Max and pushed him back down onto the floor where he was previously sat. A small laugh went through the group as they looked back at you and reminded you to go towards the closet.

The door was barely closed when the silence hit. Charles leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his green eyes scanning your face. "So," he said softly, his voice cutting through the stillness, making sure no one could hear, "seven minutes."

You swallowed, leaning against the opposite wall, unsure of what to say. It felt like the world outside had faded, the only sound was the steady thrum of your pulse in your ears. There was something unspoken hanging in the air between you, a tension that had been there for longer than you’d like to admit, but neither of you had ever dared to acknowledge it. Until now.

“Well,” you said finally, your voice barely above a whisper, “what do we do with them?”

The air inside the closet felt thicker than it should, the dim light from the hallway casting just enough of a glow under the door to catch the intensity in Charles’ eyes. Your back pressed against the wall, and you could hear your own breath coming a little too fast, the silence between you loaded with all the things neither of you had said until now.

Charles took a slow step forward, closing the distance, his presence filling the small space. He was not touching you yet, but it felt like he was everywhere, the heat radiating from him making your pulse race. His eyes flickered over your face, searching for any sign of hesitation, but you didn’t give him one. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the game, or maybe it was something you’d been pretending not to feel for a long time.

His hand came up, brushing lightly against your arm, sending a shiver through you. Then, in a sudden, fluid motion, he cupped your face, pulling you toward him. His lips crashed against yours, firm but not forceful, and it was like every thought in your head vanished, replaced by the sheer intensity of the moment.

You responded immediately, fingers threading through his hair as you kissed him back, your whole body pressing against his as if you were trying to make up for lost time. The world outside the closet didn’t exist anymore — it was just the two of you, tangled up in each other. His lips are soft but urgent, like he’d been holding this back for far too long.

He pulled back just enough for a sharp breath, his forehead resting against yours. His voice was rough, low, like he’d barely be able to keep it together. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that, mon ange” he murmured, his lips brushing yours again, making your heart skip a beat.

You smiled against his mouth, your voice barely a whisper. “Then why didn’t you?”

His hands slid down your waist, pulling you even closer, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your neck as he leant in again, his lips tracing a path along your jaw. “Didn’t think it was a good idea,” he admitted softly between kisses, his mouth now teasing the skin just beneath your ear, sending a jolt of heat down your spine. “Still don’t,” he added with a soft chuckle, but there was no trace of hesitation in the way he was kissing you now.

“Why?” you whispered, trying to suppress a moan as you tugged him closer, lost in the moment, your mind spinning, body pressed tight against his. The feel of his hands, the taste of whiskey on his lips, the way your bodies fit together in this impossibly small space—it was all overwhelming, intoxicating. Every kiss was hungrier than the last, his fingers gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d slip away, but neither of you were going anywhere.

“Because now I’ve had you once, I’m going to want you forever.” He replied in a raspy voice.

The sound of footsteps passing in the hallway broke through the haze for just a moment, but Charles didn’t stop, his kisses trailing down your neck as his hands tightened their hold on you, and you realised how badly you’d wanted this too.

The footsteps faded, but the sound barely registered. All you could focus on was Charles — the way his lips moved against your skin, the heat of his hands gripping your waist like he’d been starving for this. Each kiss felt more urgent, more desperate, and you let yourself fall into it, the thrill of finally crossing a line you didn’t know you’d been tiptoeing around for so long.

Your fingers slid under his shirt, grazing the smooth skin of his back, feeling the tension in his muscles as his breath hitched. That small reaction sent a surge of confidence through you, and you pulled him even closer, wanting more, needing more. He groaned softly, his hands travelling up your sides, fingers digging in as if he was trying to ground himself in the reality of this moment.

“I didn’t think you—” His words were cut off by another kiss, deeper this time, his hand cupped the back of your neck, pulling you in. You weren’t sure what he was going to say, but it didn't matter. The way his body was pressed against yours told you everything.

It was electric — the feeling of his lips parting against yours, his breath mixing with yours as the kiss deepened, growing more intense, more heated. You lost track of time in the tangle of it all, your bodies moving together like they’d been waiting for this, like this is what they were meant for. Every second felt like it was teetering on the edge of control, the space between you disappearing as if it had never existed in the first place.

Charles broke away, panting, his forehead pressed against yours again. His voice is ragged, low and strained with want. “You... really have no idea how hard it’s been, pretending like this wasn’t... exactly what I’ve wanted.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt the heat rise in your chest as his words sank in. You reached up, tracing the edge of his jaw with your thumb, heart pounding in your ears. “Then stop pretending.”

Something shifted in his gaze, something raw and powerful. His lips crashed back against yours with renewed intensity, a fire now blazing between you, the last of any hesitation burned away. His hands roamed freely now, gripping, pulling, like he was making up for all the times he’d held back. Your back pressed harder into the wall, but you didn’t care. You were lost in the feel of him, in the way his lips trailed down to your collarbone, in the sound of his breath ragged against your skin.

Your name left his lips in a whisper, like a prayer, like it had been waiting there for years, and hearing it sent a thrill through you. You pulled him closer, fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt, wanting to feel every inch of him. His hands slipped under your shirt, his touch scorching as his fingers trail up your back, sending sparks down your spine as he played with your bra.

“You are heavenly,” he breathed against your neck, and you could feel the heat of his words, the truth of them, in every kiss, every touch. “Utterly heavenly.”

He’d said you hadn’t known how long he’d needed this but you did. Because now that you were here, with him, you realise you’d been wanting it too — maybe even longer than he had.

Just as his lips found yours again, there was a sharp knock on the closet door, startling you both. Daniel’s voice, muffled but unmistakable, cut through the haze. “Time’s up, lovebirds. Don’t make me open this door.”

You froze, breath caught, the spell broken for a split second. Charles chuckled softly, his forehead resting against yours again, his breathing still heavy. “Guess we’ll have to hit pause.”

Your heart raced as you untangled yourselves, but before you could step back, he pulled you in for one last lingering kiss, softer this time, like a promise.

“Don’t think this is over, mon ange,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “Not even close.”

You grinned, your pulse still pounding as you tried to pull yourself together. “I’m counting on it.”

Charles let out a soft chuckle, his voice low and husky. "You should probably go first."

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”

His eyes flickered down to himself, and he smirks, a little sheepishly. "Because if I walk out there like this..." He gestured toward his jeans, and you couldn’t help but notice the tension brewing once more. "Let’s just say it’s gonna be obvious what we were doing in here, and Max might not be too happy."

Heat flooded to your cheeks, and you bit back a smile. “Right.”

Charles stepped forward again, fingers brushing lightly against your arm, his gaze locked on yours. "Give me a minute, and I’ll meet you out there."

You nodded, still feeling the lingering heat between you, but you straightened your shirt and smoothed your hair as best you can, trying to act like you weren’t just tangled up with him in the small, dark closet. When you felt composed enough, you opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

Immediately, all eyes were on you. Lando was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, a grin on his face. “Well, well, look who’s back from heaven,” he said, raising an eyebrow as he took in your slightly dishevelled appearance. His eyes narrowed as he studied you, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “You look... flustered, mini Verstappen.”

Your face burned, and you weren't too sure if it was from the kiss or from the fact that your brother’s friends could read you way too well. “Shut up, Lando,” you muttered, pushing past him, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

Just as you make it to the edge of the living room, Max’s voice cuts through, louder than anyone else in the room, as if he was just realising something. "Wait a minute. Where’s Charles? Why are you coming out first?"

You froze, and everyone turned to look toward the hallway. As if on cue, Charles stepped out a beat later, looking a little too composed compared to you, though he quickly raked a hand through his hair as if to play it off. His shirt was untucked at the back, and there was a slight flush to his face, but he managed to pull himself together.

Max narrowed his eyes suspiciously, looking between the two of you, arms still crossed. "You two weren’t... actually doing anything, were you?" He tilted his head, trying to sound casual but clearly fishing for answers.

Charles shot you a quick glance, his lips twitching like he was holding back a grin. "Don’t worry, man," he said, walking past your brother and clapping him on the shoulder. "We were just... getting to know each other better."

the end.

[ninii-winchester]

Only Girl

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 1.8k

Warnings: smut, oral (m & f receiving), dirty talk, spanking, language, age gap. MDNI NSFW

Part 2 to One of your girls

A/n : I wrote smut for the first time so go easy on me please.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

Still pressed against the wall outside the bar, Y/n whimpered waiting for Dean to make a move, Kiss her, touch her, just to do anything. Dean squeezed her hips once before pulling away. She turned around to look at him, her face turned into a small frown. Dean chuckled as he noticed her disappointment.

"As much I'd like to give everyone a show like you did, I'm not fucking you outside a bar for our first time together." Dean said dragging her towards the Impala. The drive back to the motel was quick and the she didn't waste anytime walking inside. Dean slowly followed behind her.

Y/n started walking towards their room but stopped when she saw Dean stopping at the counter, "Room's this way, Dean." She pointed her finger to the hallway. He looked at her but didn't respond, instead he clicked his tongue and turned back to the clerk. She watched him put his credit card on the counter, getting another keycard. Dean took his time walking them to their new room and it was making her go crazy. She wanted him bad, she needed him to fuck her into next week but his unhurried and slow moves were driving her nuts.

He opened the room and let her walk in first, her heart was beating loudly in her chest, anticipation getting the best of her. The moment he stepped inside the room his lips were on hers. Fucking finally. She desperately kissed back, grabbing the back of his head pulling him closer. She let out whine when he pulled apart.

"So needy." He tsked gripping her waist.

"Dean please." She whispered batting her lashes at him. He smashed his lips to hers again, his hands moving down to grab her ass. A moan escaped her lips as he landed a slap on her left ass cheek. He let his tongue graze hers, moving in perfect synchronisation. He picked her up and slammed her back into the door, not breaking the kiss.

"Fuck." He pulled away from the kiss, breathing heavily. "Do you really want this?" He questioned in all seriousness, if she wants to stop better now because he knows if he went any further he won't be able to. She nodded her head. "Words, baby."

"Yes Dean, fuck me." Dean groaned when he heard her say that. "Hard." She added and Dean's eyes darkened. He put her back on her feet.

"You have a safe word, sweet girl?" He asked in his deep voice. Y/n could feel her pussy clenching around nothing and clit throbbing.

"Cherry." She replied. Dean nodded before pulling away completely. He walked backwards and she took a step but he stopped her.

"Didn't ask you to move, did I?" He questioned sitting on the edge of the bed and she shook her head, taking a step back. "Now strip, and crawl to me." Whatever self respect she had left, after the bar stunt she pulled, went flying out of the window as soon as those words left his mouth. She worked fast to get off every piece of clothing off her body, once she was completely naked she dropped to knees and crawled towards Dean. She stopped right in front of him, he gave her an approving look. "Good girl." He said grabbing the back of her hair. "You're such a slut for cock aren't you, pretty girl." He pulled her body up so she was sat up straight.

"Only for you cock Dean. I want it so bad." She whimpered, feeling an ache in her throbbing cunt.

"I know sweetheart, isn't that why you acted like a whore in front everyone." Dean taunted unbuckling his belt. He grabbed both of her hands and tied them behind her back using the belt. He unzipped his pants, pulling them down to his thighs, he pulled out his hard dick from the confines of his boxers, Y/n licked her lips watching the pre cum oozing out of the tip. "Now suck like the cockslut you are." She didn't waste a second before wrapping her lips around the tip, sucking it like her favourite candy. Dean threw his head back as she swiped her tongue on underside of his shaft, she then took the whole length inside her mouth, deep throating him, "God fuck baby." He snapped his hips, fucking her mouth, Dean sucked in a breath as she choked on his dick, breathing through her nose. He pulled her hair harshly. "Fuck, that mouth feels like heaven."

She continued licking and sucking, hollowing her cheeks intent on making him cum but Dean had other plans. He grabbed her head to pull her off him but she tightened her lips on his cock, he yanked her off harshly, a string of saliva drooled down her chin. He glared at her.  "You're fucking insatiable." He pulled her to straddle his thigh, he could feel her juices coating his bare thigh. His knuckles brushed against her clit and she gasped. "So fucking wet, just from sucking my cock."

"I've been a good girl haven't I? Make me cum please." Y/n whined. She was getting impatient, she needed her release now, without a thought she started grinding her pussy against his thigh.

"You've been good, go on fucking rut against my thigh, make yourself cum." Dean leaned back on his arms watching her struggle to move on his thigh with her hands bound. Tears of frustration pooled in her eyes and she let out a loud whimper.

"Dean please, need to touch you, I wanna cum on your cock." She cried and he grabbed her face kissing her, at was all teeth and tongue clashing, his hand left her face and moved behind her to undo the belt. As soon her hands were unbound she pulled at his shirt, borderline close to ripping it off. Dean flipped her, so laid on the bed. She moved a bit up and laid her head on the pillows. Dean kicked his jeans and boxers and joined her on the bed.

Dean spread her legs open revealing her glistening pussy. "Look at that, such a pretty pussy." He dragged his fingers over her folds making her clutch the sheets tightly. He didn't waste another second before latching his lips onto her clit, sucking harshly. He then shoved his tongue inside her. "Fuck tastes so good." He groaned into her pussy. "I could stay here forever." Y/n grabbed the back of his head and pushed it to her core. She locked her legs on his shoulder keeping him in place.

"Oh God yea, fuck don't stop." She yelled as Dean continued lapping on her juices. "Yes baby, I'm so close."

"That's it baby, say my name." He groaned, pushing two fingers knuckles deep inside her cunt. And she screamed his name, loudly. "Let everyone know who's making you feel so good." He moaned against her clit, scissoring his fingers inside her, hitting her sensitive spot that made her see stars. "Cum for me, sweetheart." And she did. Hard. she felt her whole body shake as her orgasm came crashing. She panted heavily, Dean continued to suck on her clit making her push at his shoulders slightly but he didn't move, he went on relentlessly, overstimulating her. "Dean fuck." He felt her clench around his fingers again, indicating her approaching orgasm. Dean chuckled darkly before he abruptly pulled away.

"Dean what the fuck." She looked down at him.

"I'm still in charge, hot stuff. You cum when I say you cum." Dean smacked her ass sitting up. He grabbed her by the ankles and pulled her closer to himself, settling between her legs. He leaned down and wrapped his lips around her right nipple, his tongue circling the hardened nub while one of his hands groped her left tit. She reached down between their bodies and grabbing his cock, rubbing the tip over her folds. Dean slapped her tit harshly, "such a whore." he said pulling away from her nipple. "You just can't live without cock, can ya?" Before she could answer he gripped her hips tightly and slammed his cock inside her cunt making her back arch from the bed. He didn't let adjust before pulling out and shoving it back in.

"Oh Dean yes fuck me." She bit her bottom lip as he continued to fuck her at a harsh pace, he pushed her legs over his shoulders, hitting her deep from the new angle.

"Look at that tight little cunt taking me so well." She heard Dean groan above her, his gaze locked on where their bodies meet. Her walls clenched around his length, he continued thrusting, hitting her g-spot. He smacked her ass multiple times, "You're squeezing my cock so hard, you like being spanked, little slut." He landed a few more slaps to her ass, "Is this what you wanted?" He wrapped his hand around her throat, "Putting up a show at the bar, begging for my cock, little slut couldn't even wait for me to get another room. You wanted me to fuck you in that room when Sammy could walk in on us huh? Such a whore aren't ya.?"

"Yes yes fuck I'm a whore for you cock. I'm your cockslut, fill me up, fuck i want it so bad."  She begged reaching down and rubbing her own clit. "I'm gonna cum." She whimpered, "please I can't hold it." She waited for him to give her permission to cum but he took his sweet time.

"Hold it baby, I'm right behind ya." Dean choked out, his thrusts faltering, a telltale sign he's close. "Cum. Fucking cum on my cock." He growled squeezing her throat slightly as he spilled his seed inside her. The coil in her stomach snapped and she let go, spilling her juices all over his cock. He stilled inside her, both of them panting heavily, coming down from their highs. He pulled out of her slowly, she winched slightly suddenly feeling empty. "You okay?" Dean asked looking over at her.

"Yeah." She replied smiling at him.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked gently and Y/n could feel her heart burst at his softness. As much as she liked him manhandling her, she was loving his softer side.

"Nope, not at all." She replied honestly.

"Okay." He pecked her lips "I'll be back in a second." He went to the bathroom and came out a washcloth. He joined her bed after he helped her clean up. He wrapped his arms around her pulling her closer to his chest.

"Dean." She called out his name softly, "this changes every thing you know that, right?" She whispered lowly.

"Yeah I know but this isn't going to be a one time thing and we'll talk about this tomorrow I promise. You need to rest okay?" Dean replied kissing the top of her head.

"Okay." In the soft after glow, he held her close, peacefully falling asleep in each other's arms.

[seonghwaddict]

one more minute — choi san

in which you indulge in some midnight snacks and kisses in the kitchen.

bf!choi san x fem!reader. genre. established relationship. fluff. warnings. a little, tiny make out sesh but nothing else. wc. 0.6k.

lilo's notes. i’m a little sick so updates on both the event and nsn will be a bit slow. but anyways, here’s a little san drabble i wrote at 3 am :>

listening to. rises the moon, liana flores.

masterlist.

your eyes fluttered open to be met with darkness, the first thing you noticed was the arm draped around your waist. turning your head to look behind you, you caught sight of your dear boyfriend, san, sleeping soundly, his face lit by the dim moonlight seeping in through the gaps in the curtains.

silent snores left his mouth and you smiled, wondering how on earth you were lucky enough to call this perfect man yours. but the silent moment of admiring him was ruined when your stomach grumbled quietly, reminding you what you woke up for. after taking one last look at san and pressing a light kiss to his forehead, you wiggled yourself out of his grip without waking him up and walked down to the kitchen for some food.

you grabbed a paper plate and put a slice of pizza from the night before on it, placing it in the microwave. then you grabbed a mug, filled it with water and set it next to the paper plate before closing the microwave's door, pressing some buttons and starting it up.

a familiar arm wrapped around your waist from the back as san’s other arm brushed your hair away from your neck, nuzzling his face into it as he dropped the hand to wrap it around your waist as well. he placed gentle pecks on your neck and shoulder, nudging the fabric of your neckline to the side to access as much of your soft skin as possible.

you chuckled and turned your face to the side, your eyes meeting his soft brown ones. without averting your eyes, you turned in his grip and wrapped your arms around him in a warm hug. he smelled faintly of peppermint and the shampoo you keep in your bathroom.

you pulled away from each other and he moved his fingertips under your shirt, his knuckles brushing against your sides. his touch sent sparks and goosebumps travelling through your whole body, a feeling you were well acquainted with.

“i love you," he whispered, lips brushing against yours.

you smiled, muttering a heartfelt, "i love you, too."

he leaned his face in and your lips connected in a kiss, moving in a slow and synchronised rhythm, lips slotting together like perfect puzzle pieces. instinctively, your hands travelled up and tangled themselves in his already messy chestnut locks of hair. his grip on your waist tightened, trying to close every remaining millimetre of space between your bodies.

he bit down on your bottom lip, his hands simultaneously gliding up and down your waist, fingertips brushing just beneath your breasts before dropping to your hips and squeezing twice. knowing what that meant with him, you jumped up and warped your legs around his torso, his firm hands supporting you under your thighs. as if you had done this multiple times before—which you have—he turned and set you on the empty counter behind him, standing between your legs.

you continued, your kisses turning desperate and bruising. but before he could take it any further, the microwave's timer rang and you pulled away with a mischievous smile and flushed cheeks. your boyfriend groaned as you inched your way around him and got off the counter to grab your food.

"baby," he whined, drawing out the last syllable, "just… one more minute?"

"i don't want my food to get cold," you laughed and took a bite of the pizza, a playful pout on your lips. "you’re very needy when you're tired."

"at least give me some of the pizza?"

you considered it for a moment before turning and walking to the living room with a broad grin. "i’m not your mom, you can get it yourself, love," you called over her shoulder, resisting the urge to giggly at his dumbfounded expression.

networks. @cromernet @blankjournal

taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu

[pitchsidestories]

Girls Girls Girls II Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1782

a/n: You guys really came through with so many great requests for Ingrid Engen x Mapi Leon x Reader. We hope you understand that we can't write them all straight away but we'll try to do as many as we can. Based off these two requests. <3

The atmosphere in the Barcelona club was electric. Every movement done inside of it felt like a promise to an eventful evening with endless possibilities. Like a blank canvas waiting to be painted with scenes of the night.

When the clock stroked midnight, Mapi Leon curiously asked her girlfriend while nodding in the direction you were standing: “Have you seen the beauty over there?”

“Are you talking about the girl sitting at the bar?”, Ingrid Engen wanted to know smirking. The Spanish woman replied grinning:” Yes, the one with an old-fashioned in her hands.”  

“She’s gorgeous.”, the midfielder admitted blushing at the sight of you in a stunningly black jumpsuit.  

Innocently Mapi played with a loose string of her hair:” Her glass seems almost empty; do you think we should talk to her?” “I think we should order her a new one.”, the Norwegian suggested warmly.

Enthusiastically the older woman responded:” Yes, I agree.” “I’ll order.”, Ingrid decided. Smiling sweetly at her girlfriend the Spaniard answered: “Thanks.” Afterwards she approached you with a flirty smile:” Hi.”  

“Oh hi.”, you gazed surprised at the two very beautiful women in front of you. Interested the tattooed one wanted to know:” Enjoying your drink?”

“Yes, I know the barkeeper, she and I go to the same Uni, so she always makes something special out of it.”, you told her. She acknowledged that remark with a lifted eyebrow:” Oh, you do?”

“Yes.”, your cheeks turned hot under their attentive eyes. Casually Mapi went on:” What are you studying?” “The arts, I love to paint.”, you answered passionately.

Delighted the Spanish woman muttered:” So you’re an artist.” “I am. Your tattoos are so pretty. What are you and your girlfriend doing? Sorry, I think you’ve not told me your names yet.”, nervously you licked your lips.

 The older woman of the two introduced themselves: “I’m Mapi and that’s Ingrid.” “Nice to meet you both, I’m y/n.”, you remarked in an honest tone.  

A big smile lit up Ingrid’s face: “Nice to meet you too.” “Thanks for the drink.”, you mumbled gratefully lifting you glass with them before taking each a deep sip. Cheerfully the Norwegian waved it off: ”You’re welcome.”

After you three savoured your drinks, Mapi confidently took your and her girlfriend’s hand:” Do you want to dance with us?” “Sure.”, the liquor making you bold in your reply to her question.

Happily, Ingrid got up from the chair she was sitting on a few seconds ago: “Really?”  “Yes, let’s go to the dance floor.”, you said self-assured.

The defender couldn’t help but to observe the reaction of your Uni friend:”Your barkeeper friend doesn’t look amused.” “Oh. But she’s in a relationship.”, you promptly explained.

A sign of relief crossed the older woman’s face:” So she’s got nothing to worry about.” “Exactly.” “Come on.”, impatiently Ingrid pulled both of you to the place people were already dancing.

“Coming!“ You immediately started moving to the music. The rhythm of your bodies in perfect synchronisation. You completely lost focus of your own body, captivated by Ingrids elegant and Mapis more powerful movements.

Mapi winked at you, pulling you close so she could whisper in your ear; “An artist and a good dancer as well.“ You bit back a smile, relieved that your reddening cheeks wouldn’t be visible in the dim light; “You two are not bad either.“

“For football players maybe.“, Ingrid added with a laugh. “Football players?“, you echoed in surprise. “Yes, for FC Barcelona.“, Mapi stated calmly. Your knowledge about football might have been limited but you did know about the Catalan club.

Lost for words, you could only mumble; “Wow.“ Ingrid used your moment of speechlessness to change the subject. “Want to come with us to our place?“, she asked, a carefulness in her voice in case she crossed a line. “Sure.“, you answered without hesitation.

Smiling, Mapi took your hand in hers; “Don’t worry. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.“ “No, I want to come with you. Really.“, you assured her, shaking your head. You refused to let the night end that early.

Ingrid took your other hand; “We should leave then.“ “Yes, let’s go.“, Mapi agreed, leading you both out of the bar after you gathered your jackets and purses.

You were surprised when they opened the door to their apartment to you. It was modern and chic but also very homely at the same time. You immediately felt welcome; “Your apartment is beautiful.“

“Thanks. Ingrid decorated it.“, Mapi grinned proudly. Her girlfriend cheeks went pink; “For the most part.“ “Almost the whole part.“, the defender corrected her amused. You let your gaze wander around the room for a bit longer and commented; “I love it.“

“I know it’s late but would you like some coffee?“, Ingrid offered politely. You smiled; “Yes, I’d like one.“ “I’ll make you one.“ “Thank you.“ “No problem.“, Ingrid waved it off and got to work. You sat down at their kitchen table. While you waited, you took out your notebook and started scribbling into it.

Some of your creative energy needed an outlet. You failed to realise that Mapi took the chair opposite you and watched you draw. Only when her beringed hand reached out for the page, you looked up at her. “Can I see it?“, she asked innocently.

Quickly, you covered your sketches with a hand; “No, I’m not done yet.“ Mapi tried again, giving you her best puppy eyes; “Come on.“ “Later, promise.“ “You should know that I’m very impatient.“, she warned you jokingly. You laughed; “Oh, I’ve noticed.“

“Hey. Rude!“, the defender complained. Ingrid gave her girlfriend a knowing look as she set down three cups of coffee; “No, it’s true.“ Mapis jaw dropped in feigned offense; “Ingrid!“ “Yes?“

But before the couple could continue to bicker, you closed your notebook and wrapped your hands around the mug; “Thanks for the coffee.“ “You’re welcome.“, Ingrid smiled sweetly.

After you tasted the coffee, you announced:” It’s delicious.”   “Do you want to stay overnight?”, the defender asked you curiously. Her and the Norwegian looked expectantly at you when you exclaimed:” Sure. Why not?” “Perfect.”, Ingrid sighed. B

Blushing you mumbled:” “If that’s okay with you.” “It’s.”, the midfielder nodded placing a light kiss on your lips sealing the oral invitation to stay tonight at their place.

Instinctively one hand went to your lips which were still buzzing from the excitement: ”I’ll stay then.” Gleefully Mapi clapped into her hands before kissing you aswell:” We hoped you’d say yes.”

In the morning the Spanish woman noticed, her voice still full of sleep:” Ingrid, she’s gone.”  “Yes, but she left a note with her number, she had to go to uni.”, the younger football player explained, showing her the note you left, on the other side was the sketch you did of them the previous night.

Impressed Mapi whispered:” So that’s what she was working on.” “It’s stunning.”, Ingrid admitted beaming. Suddenly wide awake the defender told her:” Give me her number. I’m going to text her.”  “Here you go.”, the midfielder responded cheerfully.

Pressing a soft kiss to her cheek, the Spanish woman replied:” Thanks.” “Did you ask her to come to our next match?”, a hopeful smile was on Ingrid’s lips.

Cheekily Mapi grinned at her: “Maybe.” More serious she added:” It just feels right with her, right?” “It does.”, the Norwegian nodded, pressing a kiss on to her girlfriend’s head.

Since that fateful night at the bar, you’ve met Mapi and Ingrid quite a few times, so naturally you accepted their invitation to come to one of their game, the defender was still injured, while the midfielder was in the starting line of today’s match.

In a low voice Jana Fernadez spoke to you after you sat down next to her:”Y/N, have you seen the photo of you three in the car going around on the internet?” “What? No, I didn’t.”, you answered stunned by that news.

Seriously the younger woman continued:” You might want to look it up.” “Thanks for telling me, Jana.”, you muttered. She gave you an empathetic smile and a pad on the shoulder:” You’re welcome.”

Only a couple of minutes later Mapi showed up with two drinks in her hands, one for her and the other for you, the defender was quickly followed by Alexia:”What did Jana show you?”

“This, they took photos of us three and put them online.”, you revealed, showing her what Jana had hinted at not that long ago. “Wait, let me see.”, Mapi urged you and took a closer look on what the photos were picturing. “Here.”

Mapis brows furrowed as she took in the clear photo of you three together. There was a hint of worry in her eyes when she turned to you; “I’m sorry. I don’t know how or when they took that.“ “We need to tell Ingrid.“, you decided, too many thoughts rushing through your head.

Again, the defender tried to catch your eye; “Ingrid will be fine but how do you feel about it?“ You shook your head, replying blankly; “I’m good.“ “Are you sure?“ “Yes, what do you think?“, you asked her.

Mapi tilted her head before answering; “I don’t mind people knowing that I’m with two pretty girls.“

“And me neither.“, Ingrids voice interjected. She smiled softly at the two of you, her hair still damp from the shower she took after the game. Mapi laughed; “I told you she won’t mind.“

You were silent for a few seconds, only now realising that these two people loved having you in their lives as you loved having them in yours. “Let’s put our own picture out there.“, Ingrid suggested, turning on the front camera of her phone. You smiled; “Alright.“

“Yes, come here. Let’s take on.“, Mapi said and pulled Ingrid towards her. With you in the middle, the two football player pressed kisses on your cheeks for the photo.

Proudly, Ingrid showed you the shots. “Okay, should we title it Girls Girls Girls?“, you asked with a smirk. The Norwegian smiled back at you; “What’s more fitting than that?“ “Yes, we’ll take that one.“, Mapi agreed, taking her girlfriends phone and hitting the post button.

There was nothing you could do but stare at the two women you had come to love so easily. The buzz of your phone in your pocket tore you out of your trance.

It was the first like on your post and it was from your bartending friend who watched you three leave on the first night you met. With a grin you thought back of the happy coincidences that led up to this moment. It must have been fate.

[oladyofhurtandochre]

Dragon and Wolf — The Spar

Hiiiii, this is a cheeky lil fic I HAD to get down when I got this idea. By idea I mean URGE to write for this man because holy smokes mans is FINE. I hope I did his character justice, hope all the creganwives™️ enjoy this. Reader indulges in cunty behaviour (not smut) . Please leave a like or comment to let me know what you think and if I should post more :) Seriously, interaction is my breakfast, lunch and dinner I will eat that shit up.

Pairing: Cregan Stark x reader

Summary: The new Lady of Winterfell needs to spar, but Cregan is in zone. He ends up in awe and even more in love.

Warnings: Swordfight? Violence but no blood. Use of the word bastard.

Enjoy! 💛

“My lord.”

The Lord of Winterfell does not hear your voice, enthralled in the dance of swords he is currently partaking in. He is stripped of his thick fur coat, but the loss of bulk does nothing to diminish his muscular figure as he lunges, parries and moves easily. He fights with the ease of a practiced soldier as snow flutters in the air. It is too easy to become enthralled with his arms, his brows furrowed in concentration, the sounds released from his mouth, accompanied by small clouds of warm air that disappear in seconds.

The courtyard is covered in a thin layer of snow that crunches only softly in the early winter morning. A few other men spar in pairs scattered farther from Lord Stark and his cousin. You stand beside Sara Snow, the beloved bastard of the keep, after waiting for the match to end. She turns, studying your face and how your eyes track the fight. Your annoyance at not being heard becomes more evident by the second.

“He will not hear you, not even if you shout.”

“I really should have flown with Narion instead.” You could’ve been soaring in the skies on your dragon by now, but no, you are waiting for your husband to notice you.

She laughs at the regret in your face before saying humorously: “But sister mine, the men have yet to witness your skill with the sword. It is time they see their Lady of Winterfell as more than just a Velaryon with a pretty face and terrifying dragon.” Her words become serious at the end as she turns to look at the men around her.

You shake your head, and unpin your cloak to reveal your sparring leathers underneath and the sword sheathed in the belt around your waist. “Well, I perhaps this will get his attention,” you say, quickly tying your Targaryen hair with a leather tie and stalking up behind your husband. Cregan’s opponent clocks you in a second; his shock gives the Lord the perfect opening to defeat him.

“I yield! My lord! I yi—”

“Cregan.” Your cool voice cuts him off as the auburn haired Lord of Winterfell turns in surprise, a smile on his face, about to sheathe his sword when—

You attack, he brings up his blade last minute, letting out a noise of surprise as you continue your unrelenting assault despite him not attacking. He backs up slowly, still parrying and dodging when you speak in between swipes and thrusts— “Fight me, my lord.”

He cocks his head, and grins. Cheeky.

The effort is balanced now, your swords clanging and screeching in the abrupt rythm of blades and stamina. Your vision becomes locked on just the two of you and your sword becomes an extension of your bones, parrying, twisting and thrusting. Cregan is just as invested, perhaps more so, and you both feel the moment your movements become almost synchronised; an intimate dance to which only you know the moves. Your breaths mingle when your swords cross and you resist the sudden urge to kiss him— and suddenly there is a small crowd cheering you on as your feet create a mural of tracks in the snow and your heartbeat is in your ears an suddenly there it is—

A gap. A pause.

You twist your sword in one quick movement, duck behind him, and he is on the floor with a pained grunt, sword a few metres away in the snow, you straddling him with your sword to his neck. The noise of the watching men and Sara rises in triumph and surprise. Your eyes land on his and your heart stutters. His gaze is dark, almost half lidded with desire and adoration.

“My lady.” His voice is low; only for your ears.

“My lord?”

“You,” he manages.

“Me?” You reply, grinning, head cocked to one side.

“You.”

[vilhelios]

— IF YOU'RE THE SACRED SCRIPT, I AM THE HIEROPHANT.

( if you're the holy church, i'm gonna worship . ) ; the old, dusty tomes that amund gives you state that the lemurian gods are perfect, flawless beings. not a single scar or freckle adorns their skin, no emotion creases their hallowed faces.

cw: fluff !!! ; established relationship ! ; abysswalker!rafayel <3 + brief mentions of god of the sea rafayel; slight spoilers for rafayel's sea of golden sand and forgotten sea (?) myths + siren's song anecdote; i am the self-proclaimed ceo of lemuria world building (lemuria lore headcanons!) 💪 ; not beta-read !!!

" THE GODS ART PERFECT BEINGS — FLAWLESS IN FORM AND IN ESSENCE ; THEIR SKIN IS UNMARRED, NAY SCAR OR FRECKLE ADORNS THOSE DIVINE. NAY LINE OF EMOTION MARKS THEIR HALLOWED, PRISTINE VISAGE. "

"RAFAYEL?" you ask, your voice so loud in the quiet dark of night. a hum, a shift in the arms that hold you. "i heard that the gods are perfect."

“they are supposed to be, yes.” rafayel murmurs, hands gently carding through the strands of your hair. the desert is quiet tonight, not a single howl of wind, or a curious fennec fox or gerbil, race across the expanse of sand. the only sounds in your ears are the mingled breaths and synchronised heartbeats of you and your dear abysswalker, tangled beneath the sheets in your shared tent.

his blue-pink eyes stare, searching your gaze. the dark circles beneath them are prominent in the shadows cast by the silvery moonlight. you watch as he takes in a deep breath, and then exhales: "... what books did amund give you today, my love?"

"you know very well that all amund gives me are books and scrolls about lemuria," you huff, thinking of the stack of dusty old books the old man had shoved into your hands at noon, "which would not bother me, if he did not sneer so condescendingly while he gave them to me."

"alright, alright." he sighs, there will be things to discuss with amund in the morning, if the slight exasperation in his tone is anything to go off of. and then, he asks, voice gentle: "what did you learn about the gods, my heart?"

" OUR GOD OF THE TIDES HATH BEEN TAINTED. HIS SKIN HATH BECOMETH SPECKLED. HIS HEART HATH BEEN SURRENDERED. NAY LONGER PERFECT IS HE, WHO IS'T HATH, IN LOVESICK FOLLY, GIVEN BOTH LIFE & DOMAIN. "

"they say you are no longer perfect." you murmur, brushing your lips against his jawline, "using their definition, perhaps they are right. you have scars, and little beauty marks."

"the scars are inevitable. you should know it yourself, my heart." he sighs, solemn, "but they dissolve with us during each seamoon ceremony — i am not reborn with the scars of my past."

"and the beauty marks?"

he hesitates, a bit. there's a far-away look in his eyes that you've grown used to seeing. "they persist and accumulate." rafayel states eventually, as if it's fact, "new ones appear, but i never lose them."

"you never lose them?" you echo, and he nods.

leaning into him, you inspect his face as best as you can in the moonlight. your lips graze his cheek, right above where one lies below his eye. another lies at the tip of his nose, and you repeat the action, rafayel's breath hitching beneath your touch. another sits at the bridge of his nose, and you feel his eyelashes flutter against your skin as you continue.

"there is something about them, in the books." you start, a hand coming up to cup his cheek. rafayel leans into the warmth of your touch (after all, you think, grimly, a stray dog will take all the food it is offered, afraid to go hungry again), and you continue with a smile against his skin, "they say that they represent where your lover loved to kiss you, in your past lives."

rafayel hums, holds you ever closer in his arms, considers the thought. when he falls silent, you know he is aeons away; somewhere below the waves, somewhere thirty thousand years away—you patiently wait for his return, like the shore that welcomes a weary sailor home. a gentle kiss is pressed to right above where his heart should be, and another in the middle of his collarbone. it's instinct, second nature, as natural as the way waves lap at the shoreline and leave seafoam in their wake.

"perhaps there is some truth in that." he finally says, returned to your side from his reverie. he presses a kiss to your temple, a gentle smile against your skin, "after all, it seems you still do as you used to, even now. determined to uphold tradition, are you?"

( & aeons ago, beneath the waves, lies the first mark; the first bearer of sin in eden. a young god of the sea laughs, a rumble in his chest, as his beloved kisses right above where his heart should be. every touch is reverent, like tending to an altar. it is no wonder, then, that he entrusted his heart to such a devout worshipper — after all, it will be in loving hands. )

a/n : hi hi hi i think lnd needs to CALM DOWN with all the rafayel banners or i'm gonna intervene. quite rushed and not as deep symbolism woooo as the last one because i was in a haze.... abysswalker my beloved is as odd to write as usual but i think it's not too ooc... also this is just a little manifesting/tribute thing for my god of the sea rafa myth pulls today i want him to come home !!! i'm so so excited for the myth story !!!! good luck to anyone pulling! may the god of the sea give us his heart without us needing to open our wallets 🫧💕 if you sent in a request recently for the follower event, thank you! it'll still be a bit until i can answer them, but it shall be done !!! <3 will be crossposted to my ao3 if you prefer the fic being in actual capitalisation and in normal text!

update: i had to drag him home with 130 pulls ,,,, i also spedran the myth,,, guh buh,,, whadahell,,, someone please talk to me about them,,,,

[nayziiz]

One Night in Miami | LN4

Summary: An eventful night with a close friend turns Lando’s world upside down when he’s forced to confront his true feelings about her. As they return to normal, he cannot seem to forget their time together and neither can she. Will they find each other once again?

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Renn)

Warnings: Smut, a lot of angst, fluff

Masterlist

Chapter 2 - Monaco 2023

Decisions were made impulsively. Neither regretted it. In the dim glow of the hotel room, they had let go of all pretences, lost in the raw intensity of their connection. They had shared a night that left them both breathless, filled with a mixture of passion and comfort that neither had anticipated. Yet, come morning, reality intruded, and they agreed to leave it at just a one-night stand between good friends.

But it wasn't that simple. The regret settled in, not because of what they had done, but because they had confined it to a single night. It sucked even more because they were always around each other due to their tight-knit friend group. Every gathering, every shared glance across the room, only served to remind them of what they had experienced and what they had tried to bury.

Lando didn't intend to remember every inch of her body, but he did. The way her skin felt under his fingertips, the curve of her waist, the sound of her breath catching in her throat - it was all imprinted in his mind. He found himself replaying the night in his head, the memory clinging to him like a second skin. Renn didn't intend to mishear him every time he mentioned her name in conversation, but she did. Each casual utterance took her back to the way he had moaned her name that night, his voice husky with desire. She found herself daydreaming about the feel of his hands, the taste of his lips, the way they had moved together in perfect harmony.

They had been too thorough that night, exploring each other with an intensity that left no inch untouched, no desire unfulfilled. The memory of that night haunted them in the best way possible, a tantalising ghost that refused to fade. The only way to solve the problem, they both knew deep down, was to do it all over again. And again. They craved that connection, the release, the comfort of being with each other. It was a need that gnawed at them, a hunger that could only be sated by giving in to their desires once more.

Their resolve broke one evening, weeks after their initial encounter. The group had gathered at a friend’s apartment for a casual night in, filled with laughter and easy conversation. Lando and Renn kept their distance, the unspoken tension between them a blinding force. As the night wore on, their friends gradually began to leave, trickling out until only Lando, Renn, and a few others remained. The air was thick with unspoken words and lingering glances. Finally, Lando stood, the need to be close to her overwhelming. He walked over to where she sat on the couch, his heart pounding.

“Renn,” he said softly, his voice tinged with the weight of everything they had left unsaid. The sound of her name on his lips was a whisper of desire and regret, a plea and a promise all at once.

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with the same longing that burned in his chest. Her heart raced as she met his gaze, the intensity of his stare making it clear that he felt it too - the unquenchable need to be close to her, to relive the connection they had shared.

“Lando,” she breathed, her voice barely a whisper, a soft acknowledgment of the bond that tethered them together.

"Shall we go, too?" he asked her, extending his hand for her to take. His eyes searched hers, hope mingling with uncertainty.

She didn’t hesitate, not for a second. The moment his hand reached out, she grasped it, their fingers intertwining in a firm, reassuring hold. The touch sent a shiver through her, a silent affirmation of their mutual desire. They stood up together, their movements synchronised as if they had rehearsed this a thousand times in their minds.

They exchanged quick goodbyes with their friends, the smiles and waves masking the electric undercurrent between them. Their friends barely noticed as Lando and Renn slipped out the door together, their departure blending into the natural ebb and flow of the evening.

The night air hit them as they stepped outside, cool and refreshing after the warmth of the apartment. The city lights glowed softly around them, casting an almost magical sheen on the world. They walked hand in hand, the silence between them comfortable, charged with anticipation. Renn and Lando walked side by side, the hum of the city a gentle backdrop to their conversation. Renn glanced at Lando, watching as he took in the familiar sights of the Monaco Grand Prix circuit.

“How are you feeling about the race this weekend?” she asked him, her voice soft but curious. Lando sighed, his gaze drifting over the tight corners and narrow streets that made up the most famous circuit in Formula 1.

“Honestly, it’s a mix of excitement and nerves,” he admitted. “Monaco is always a challenge. It’s so demanding, both mentally and physically. One small mistake and it’s all over. But it’s also one of the most exhilarating races of the season.”

“You’ve done well here before. You have the skill and the experience. You just need to stay focused,” Renn nodded, understanding the pressure he was under.

“Thanks, Renn. Your confidence in me means a lot,” he looked at her, a small smile playing on his lips. 

They continued walking, the conversation flowing easily between them. They passed by the famous Casino Square that always sent a rush of adrenaline through Lando’s veins. Renn could sense his anticipation and the intensity of his focus, but she also felt the underlying tension.

“Do you ever feel overwhelmed by it all?” she asked gently, her eyes searching his face. Lando considered her question for a moment.

“Sometimes. There’s so much at stake every time I get in the car. The pressure from the team, the expectations of the fans, my own drive to succeed - it can be a lot to handle,” he confessed. Renn squeezed his hand, offering silent support.

“You’re not alone in this. You have a whole team behind you, your friends, your family. We all believe in you,” she gently reminded him. He smiled, squeezing her hand in return.

“I really appreciate you being here this weekend,” he told her, his expression growing a tad more serious than she expected.

“I’m happy to be here supporting you, Lan,” she assured him.

And so, they found themselves entangled once more, unable to resist the magnetic pull between them. The allure of each other was too powerful, too consuming to ignore. The night had drawn them together, their unspoken desire igniting like a spark catching flame. They had walked all the way to his apartment, the tension between them growing with each step.

The moment they crossed the threshold of his apartment, it was as if a dam had broken. They stripped each other of their clothes with a desperation that spoke of pent-up longing. Jackets were shrugged off, shirts unbuttoned, and shoes kicked aside in a flurry of movement. The air was charged with electricity, their breaths coming in rapid, heated bursts. Lando guided her to his bedroom, his hands roaming over her body with a mix of urgency and reverence. Their lips met in a messy, hungry kiss, their bodies crashing against walls and furniture as they fumbled their way toward the bed. They stumbled and laughed breathlessly as they fell onto the bed.

“I’ve missed you,” he told her, his voice thick with emotion, before bringing his lips to hers yet again.

The words hung in the air, adding a layer of bittersweet longing to their heated reunion. Renn’s response was a soft moan as she melted into the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair. Yet she couldn't bring herself to say those words to him too. The fear of vulnerability held her back, a nagging voice in her mind reminding her of the risks. She hated the war within her, the battle between her desires and her fears. She tucked her fears away as she continued to kiss him, pushing aside any romantic attachments she may have been developing, to simply enjoy the intimacy with the person she was most comfortable with. Lando had become a significant part of her life, a source of joy and comfort amidst the chaos. And for now, that was enough.

“Fuck, Renn,” he moaned, his voice rough with desire, ripping her back into the moment. She felt his hardened shaft pressing between her legs, a stark reminder of the physical need that consumed them both. The intensity of his gaze, dark with longing, sent a shiver down her spine.

The urgency in his voice ignited a fire within her. She arched her back, pressing her hips against his, feeling the heat of his arousal against her skin. Their breaths mingled in the scant space between them, the anticipation building like a storm.

Lando’s hands moved with a frenetic energy, sliding down her sides to grasp her hips, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. His lips crashed against hers, the kiss searing and desperate, conveying the depth of his need. She responded with equal urgency, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she clung to him.

Their bodies moved in sync, a rhythm born of familiarity and intense desire. Lando’s mouth left a trail of kisses down her neck, his breath hot against her skin, each touch sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. Renn’s head fell back, a moan escaping her lips as he lavished attention on her sensitive spots.

His hands continued their exploration, fingers brushing over her breasts, teasing and kneading until she was gasping for more. He moved lower, his mouth following the path his hands had taken, lips and tongue worshipping her body. Every touch, every kiss, stoked the flames of her arousal higher, leaving her desperate for him. When he finally settled between her thighs, his breath ghosting over her most intimate places, she thought she might come undone from the anticipation alone.

“Lan, please,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. He looked up at her, his eyes blazing with an intensity that made her heart race.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, before lowering his mouth to her clit, his tongue flicking out to taste her. The sensation was electric, and she cried out, her hands fisting in the sheets as pleasure washed over her in waves.

He took his time, bringing her to the edge again and again, only to pull back and leave her wanting more. It was sweet torture, and by the time he finally moved up to kiss her again, she was trembling with need. His lips were slick with her arousal, the taste of her still on his tongue as he kissed her deeply.

“I need you,” she whispered against his lips, her hands roaming over his body, feeling the hard planes of muscle and the rapid beat of his heart.

“Then take me,” he growled, positioning himself at her entrance, his eyes locking onto hers. The connection between them was palpable, a thread of understanding and mutual desire that left no room for hesitation.

With one powerful thrust, he was inside her, filling her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and completeness that made her gasp. They moved together, finding a rhythm that spoke of their need for one another. Each thrust, each movement, brought them closer to the edge, their bodies communicating in a language all their own.

His hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as they rode the waves of their passion. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, her own moans mingling with his as they spiralled towards their climax.

The world outside ceased to exist; it was only the two of them, lost in a sea of pleasure and need. When they finally reached the peak, it was with a shuddering intensity that left them both breathless. They cried out each other’s names, their bodies tensing and then relaxing as the waves of orgasm washed over them.

They collapsed together, a tangle of limbs and sweat, their breaths coming in heavy pants. Lando pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, his hand stroking her hair as they came down from their high.

Once she had gathered herself and steadied her breathing, Renn sat up and started collecting her discarded clothes to get dressed again. The room was thick with the aftermath of their intense encounter, the scent of their passion still lingering in the air.

“Why’re you getting dressed?” Lando wondered as he propped himself up on one elbow, his expression a mix of confusion and disappointment.

“Well,” she hesitated once she met his eyes, “uh, you should rest up before the weekend.”

“Renn,” he sighed, realisation dawning on him as he read the determination in her gaze.

“It was supposed to be casual, Lando, and not the stay over and cuddle kind of casual. Remember, after Miami?” she countered, slipping her dress on again, her movements deliberate and almost mechanical as she tried to mask the emotion threatening to break through.

“I know, I know. Sorry, I just… Sorry,” Lando quickly apologised, his voice tinged with regret as he got out of bed to help her find her shoes, pulling on his boxers that lay nearby.

“It was great, Lan, but we can’t do all of that,” she reminded him, her tone firm yet gentle, trying to keep the moment from becoming more painful than it already was.

“I know. I just like having you here and you always keep me grounded. I’m just being selfish,” Lando quickly retorted, his eyes flickering with vulnerability.

She paused for a moment and caressed his cheek, seeing the inner turmoil swirling in his green eyes. Her touch was soft, reassuring, but it also carried the weight of their unspoken agreement to keep things simple.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” she said to him, her voice softening as she picked up her handbag, trying to ease the sting of their impending separation.

“See you tomorrow, Rennie,” he mumbled, watching her leave his apartment, the door closing behind her with a finality that left him cold and alone, like she was never there to begin with.

As she walked down the hallway, Renn felt the ache in her chest intensify with each step. She hated leaving him like this, but she knew it was necessary to maintain the boundaries they had set. Casual, no strings attached - that was the deal. Anything more would complicate their lives and the delicate balance they had found in each other.

Lando, back in his apartment, ran a hand through his hair, frustration mingling with the sadness in his eyes. He knew Renn was right, but it didn’t make it any easier. Their connection was undeniable, but the fear of ruining what they had kept him from pushing for more. He valued her presence in his life too much to risk losing her entirely.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, staring at the empty space where she had been moments before. The scent of her perfume still lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder of what they shared. He sighed, lying back down and staring at the ceiling, trying to shake off the loneliness that crept in now that she was gone.

Renn, meanwhile, walked through the quiet streets of Monaco, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. She replayed their conversation, the way he looked at her, the vulnerability in his eyes. It took everything in her to stick to their agreement, to not let her heart overrule her head.

As she reached her hotel, she paused before unlocking the door, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She knew she would see Lando tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that. They were intertwined in each other’s lives, and that was both a blessing and a curse. She pushed open the door and stepped inside, closing it behind her with a sense of finality. She leaned against it for a moment, closing her eyes and letting the silence of the room wash over her. It was easier this way, she told herself. Keeping things simple, keeping their hearts safe.

But as she climbed into bed, alone and wrapped in her thoughts, she couldn’t help but feel the weight of their actions, the lingering touch of his hand, and the echo of his voice saying her name. She buried her face in the pillow, trying to chase away the ache that settled deep within her chest, but it ended up just another sleepless night thinking about him.

------------------------

Taglist: @f1fantasys

[holllandtrash]

chasing fate | lance stroll

pairing: lance stroll x hamilton!reader

after months of lingering looks and shy smiles, all the two of you need is a little push in the right direction, but when that direction ends up being in circles, you start to wonder if there's even an end in sight

word count: 5k tags/warnings: soft and sweet, literally so pure and innocent

To put it simply, Lance Stroll was an introvert. 

He loved his career, he loved the people on his team, but when the weekend ended he wanted nothing more than to go back to Montreal and hide away in the comfort of his house until he had to fly to the next country.

The worst was when there was no break in between races. When he had to fly from one race location to another, Lance struggled to hold in his complaints. 

Oftentimes during the race weekend, he sought out places where he could find temporary comfort. Away from the crowds, away from the team sporting the matching Aston Martin colours. He just needed to breathe and he couldn’t do that with someone at his side. He couldn’t do that if he was called away for media or autographs. He couldn’t do that if he had to sit through yet another pointless meeting.

He lucked out in Monza, finding a spot early Thursday morning. Somewhere behind the motorhomes, a route that emergency vehicles would take so it wasn’t accessible to the public. 

There was a bench, even somewhere for him to put his feet up. Absolutely perfect, he thought. 

He sat there in between media sessions on Thursday, taking deep breaths, in through the nose, out through the mouth. 

He didn’t have anxiety, he just got overwhelmed easily. 

All he wanted to do was race, he wished he could do that without the fifty thousand other agreements he never thought would become more and more unbearable as the races continued, as the years went on. Wasn’t it supposed to get easier the longer he did this? Why was he always counting down the minutes until he could just go home, or at least go back to the hotel?

Lance waited a minute or two more before standing up from the bench. He avoided the puddle that was near his feet and looked up at the sky. The clouds were a light grey, but no rain was supposed to be expected for the rest of the weekend, hopefully.

He was still looking up as he walked around the motorhome, thinking about how bad a storm would have to be for a race to be cancelled.

And you were looking down at your phone as you walked down that same dirt path, not caring about how the mud was going to stain the sides of your shoes because if you were being honest, you hated that you had to look your best during these weekends.

You hated that Lewis had turned the paddock into his own personal fashion show because the days you showed up with him, people expected you to also make some sort of statement or rep some expensive brand with your outfit. After all, you were the younger sister of 7 time world champion Lewis Hamilton, and your association came with upholding his image.

But god you were tired of it sometimes. You loved watching the races, but you could do without being asked what you thought about your brother's career, how you felt his battle was going, if he was going to retire soon. 

You didn’t care, truly. 

Lewis knew what he was doing, all you wanted to do was watch and support and not be sucked into whatever drama was circling his life that week.

That's how you found yourself looking for a seclusive spot to just get away from it all. 

When you bumped into Lance, you were both taken off guard. You hand went to his chest, his hand went to your arm to keep you both steady.

“Sorry, I wasn’t-” You started to say, the same time Lance said “I didn’t see-”

You closed your mouth, dropping your hand to your side as he took a step back. The synchronised apologies didn’t need to be finished, it was clear you both weren’t looking where you were going. 

“Is this your hideout?” You asked, a faint smile on your face when you saw the bench and the black boxes he had turned upside down to rest his feet on. 

Lance looked behind him, inhaling a quiet breath before he smiled too, “Yeah, but I don’t mind sharing it if you’re in need of one.”

“How generous,” you teased. 

Lance moved to step around you and had you kept walking towards the bench, you would have missed the way his smile dropped when he spotted the crowd of people on the other side of the motorhome. 

But you caught it. 

You didn’t say anything, but you felt bad for him, knowing that he had it so much worse being an actual driver. There was the stress of delivering and getting points every weekend on top of what he had to face when he stepped out of the car.

At least you got to go home after this and not think about Formula 1 until you decided to attend another race. This was Lance’s life.

And you liked Lance. You didn’t speak as often as you would have liked, but he was always very polite to you when you were in the paddock. Whereas most of the drivers kept to themselves and their teams if they were heading somewhere, Lance would send you a smile if he recognised you.

You knew he was shy, which is why you were always a little surprised if he did go out of his way to talk to you. Again, it wasn’t often, just a simple ‘How are you?’ or ‘It’s nice to see you’. 

You liked his faint lisp as he spoke, you liked his Canadian accent, it made chatting with him more amusing for you. You were sick of the French and the British, you liked that when Lance spoke, there was always a sense of optimism to his words, even if he didn’t intend for it.

But most of all, you liked that despite being the son of Lawrence Stroll, despite having a paid seat, he fought hard. He worked his ass off every weekend to earn points for the team, he put effort in that not many other paid drivers would. He loved this sport, he loved racing, and you could see that even when you sat at home and watched the race from the comfort of your living room.

His effort in F1 seemed to go unnoticed a lot of the time. He had Seb as a teammate the last few years and now he was with Fernando. Two very prominent names and yes, two incredible drivers that helped him out immensely, but the attention always went to them.

So yeah, you felt bad for him.

You couldn’t relate to the driving aspect, but you understood what it was like being in someone's shadow. Something that you never once blamed Lewis for, just like you knew Lance would never blame Seb or Fernando. 

It was just the cards you had been dealt, it was the fate you found yourself accepting.

You didn’t think twice before cupping your hand around your lips, calling out to Lance, “Hey!”

He turned right before reaching the paddock, eyebrows raised, but when your mouth curved into a warm smile, he reciprocated it before you even said anything else. 

“Good luck this weekend,” you said and he chuckled, yelling a ‘thank you’ in response.

Four little words, but it showed him that someone was on his side. 

And that someone was you, which Lance needed a second to process as he walked through the paddock.

He admired you, really. 

He had been following you on social media for a while, he saw the work you put into Lewis’ organisations, how much of a role model you aspired to be. He liked the calming aura you carried into the paddock, it was something that drew Lance to you from day one.

Maybe that’s why he wasn’t afraid to talk to you, maybe that’s why you were one of the few people he didn’t shy away from. He hated crowds, he hated the obligations that came with being a driver, he hated struggling to find the right words to say when a camera was shoved in his face.

But you were different. 

He could spot you halfway down the paddock and it made his job a little easier.

And if he just so happened to perform better when you were in attendance, well, no one really had any issues with that. No one even knew you were the reason behind it, behind his insane lap times during practices, behind his incredible qualifying finish that put him third behind Max and Checo.

Almost everyone was clueless, and that included Lance.

The one person who wasn’t clueless, was Lewis.

He bumped into Lance in the paddock, it was nearing sunset on that Saturday before the race and you had already gone back to the hotel at this point, telling Lewis you’ll see him later and congratulating on his P5 grid position.

Now, unlike you, Lewis was intimidating. Sure, he was probably the nicest driver in the paddock and wore his heart on his sleeve, but the man held seven world championship titles and knew a thing or two about racing. 

So naturally, when Lewis approached him, Lance stood up straighter, slid his phone into his pocket and was ready to listen to whatever the British driver had to say.

“P3, mate, good job,” Lewis congratulated him, arm going around his shoulders to pat his back as they walked through the paddock.

“Yeah, thanks,” Lance smiled. “It was close there, in that last session. I just lucked out.”

“Nah it’s not luck,” Lewis laughed. “You’re a good driver. It’s only right you’re fighting for the big points.”

Lewis was a fierce competitor, but he showed every driver on the grid the respect they deserved. Lance was appreciative of his words, but it also left him stunned in response. 

You were easier to talk to than your brother, that’s for sure.

“You’re doing well this year,” he then pointed out. 

Ideally, Lance would have liked to be doing better. It was September and he found himself seventh in the standings. Better than last year, for sure, but Lance expected more of himself, more from the car. 

But what was he supposed to say to Lewis, ‘I disagree’? Lance just thanked him again.

“Do you know what I’ve noticed?" Lewis, still with one arm around Lance, laughed quietly to himself. It wasn’t threatening by any means, but Lance felt like he was missing something, he wasn’t in on whatever Lewis found so funny.

“What’ve you noticed?” He asked.

Lewis nodded and he stopped walking. Lance did too and watched as Lewis tried to hide the faint smirk on his lips, tried, but failing 

“You do better when my sister’s around.” 

Again, Lance was unsure how to respond. This wasn’t something he could agree with or find an answer for, it honestly wasn’t even something he’d thought about. 

But Lewis’ face said it all.

He had noticed the way the Canadian driver worked his way up the grid faster if you were watching the race. He kept track of Lance’s starting positions when you were in attendance compared to when you weren’t. He saw the way Lance, all around, was in a better mood and had a better weekend, if you were there.

“I don’t-” Lance shook his head, thinking maybe he had done something wrong. He didn’t want to cross any lines, he respected Lewis, respected you, your whole family. Why was he suddenly nervous that Lewis had caught onto something that had gone right over his own head?

Lewis continued on, not giving Lance a chance to defend himself or argue that he was wrong, “So you like her?”

Again, Lance struggled to get a proper sentence out, “No, I mean- I do, but not like-” he ran a hand through his dark hair. “I don’t know what the right thing to say here is, man.”

Lewis found humour at how on edge Lance became all of a sudden. His intention was not to get in his head or make him stutter, but it was entertaining. 

“She’s-” Lance swallowed, “Nice. She’s nice.”

“Nice?” Lewis repeated, still stifling his laughter. “Yeah, tell her that mate, I’m sure that’ll win her over.”

“What, I’m not-” Lance shook his head again, that was all he could seem to do. He felt the need to defend himself, for something he had no control over, “I’m not trying to win her over.”

“Okay,” the older driver nodded, figuring now was probably the time to quit playing mind games. He patted Lance’s arm, “Just saying, if you did want to win her over, you probably wouldn’t have to try that hard. I think she likes you too.”

Lewis let those words sit with Lance as he turned and walked towards the gates of the paddock, leaving the Aston Martin driver standing in the middle of the walkway, repeating the sentence in his head over and over again. 

‘I think she likes you too.’ 

When Lewis returned to the hotel, you were in the lobby scrolling through your phone. Lewis plopped down next to you, arm resting over the back of the couch and when you eventually looked up, you noticed the devious little expression on his face.

“What?” You asked, eyes narrowing. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Lewis sighed, “I guess if you wanted, you could call me-” he raised his hands in front of him, mimicking the motion of shooting an arrow. “-cupid.” And then he looked at you, with that same mischievous grin.

Now you were really confused. 

“Who the fuck are you playing cupid for?”

Lewis hesitated, “Lance.”

That was certainly not the name you expected to hear. 

“Lance?” You repeated. “Lance and who?”

“Lance and that girl who always lingers in the paddock when he’s nearby and gives him a more genuine smile than she gives her own brother.”

It took a second for it to hit you and then you hit him, smacking your older brother in the chest as he just took the abuse and laughed. 

“Am I wrong?” Lewis asked, still unable to keep from grinning from ear to ear. Your reaction to your unrecognised feelings was so much better than Lance's. “Come on, Y/N, I’ve seen it for months now.”

“You haven’t seen anything,” you argued, crossing your arms over your chest in a very childlike form. Avoiding eye contact with Lewis made this conversation easier, but that didn’t mean he was about to let up. 

“So you’re telling me you don’t like him?” He questioned. “That you don’t have feelings for that pale Canadian?”

The thing was, you probably did. You just never let yourself think about it. You didn’t spend enough time around him or go to enough races to let yourself sit in those feelings or act on it. You exchanged a smile and kind words when you were around each other, but it never went any further than that and you never let yourself hope that it would.

There was no point, you’d both be gone after the race weekends, back to your lives, your respected homes. 

“I think you’re delusional,” you turned this around on Lewis instead of facing what was right in front of you. 

Quite literally, right in front of you.

You looked across the lobby right as Lance was walking inside, looking down at his phone as he lugged a backpack over his shoulder. You felt Lewis nudged your side and in response you hit his hand out of the way, inching closer to the corner of the couch.

And then Lance looked up, his eyes finding yours almost instantly. 

It was hard to put into words how you felt because up until now, you refused to admit you felt anything. You took the smiles and glances in the paddock as a sign of friendship, nothing more. 

All of a sudden, it was naive to think those moments were just friendly. 

You didn’t want to admit anything, you didn’t want to have feelings for a driver who lived on the other side of the world. You didn’t want to look at him and imagine a future where you’d be standing in his garage, attending events at his side, holding his hand when the pressure of the crowds and cameras became unbearable because as long as you could squeeze his fingers and let him know you were with him, it would be easier to breathe, for both of you to breathe.

Oh, you were fucked.

Because that was all you wanted.

You just didn't realise it until now.

Lance sent you a shy smile, purposely avoiding Lewis’ knowing stare and devious smirk as he walked towards the elevators. You felt yet another nudge in your side and it was at this moment, you couldn’t tell if you hated or loved having Lewis as your brother.

The teasing you could do without.

But if it weren’t for him, would you have ever let yourself accept that you did feel something for Lance? Or did it take Lewis pointing it out for you to realise it was impossible to ignore?

“So are you going to do anything?” Lewis asked and you really didn’t have an answer. 

All you could do was shrug and tell him that you’ll sleep on it. You told yourself that if you saw him in the paddock tomorrow and still felt that pull towards him, still thought about what it would be like to act on those feelings, then maybe, just maybe, you might do something.

But Monza ended up being a wild race to follow. You barely left the Mercedes motorhome in the morning, the race was littered with yellow flags and your focus was on Lewis and his fight rather than trying to find time to see the Aston Martin driver. 

In fact, your attention didn’t even go towards him until the end of the race neared and you noticed he was sitting in fourth place. In the back of your mind, you rooted that he would podium, but when Lewis finished second, you celebrated with him and his team. You didn’t give yourself a chance to think about Lance and his fourth place finish.

You didn’t see Lance in person at all on Sunday and you took that as a sign. 

A sign that whatever Lewis put in your head last night was not something you needed to act on.

You stayed in London during the next three races. While Lewis did invite you to come with, he always did, travelling from Singapore to Japan to Qatar seemed exhausting and you could support your brother from the comfort of your flat in London.

Lance noticed your lack of presence in the paddock though. 

He didn’t want Lewis’ words to get to him, but they did. He tried to perform his best during those races, but the most he could do was pull off a P5 finish in Japan. In Singapore he finished 7th and he had to retire in Qatar. 

Maybe he did do better when you were there.

Lance knew he should have acted on Lewis’ advice to make a move, win you over, when he had the chance to, when you were both in Monza, but you slipped right through his fingers. He saw you once in the morning, when you were walking into the Mercedes motorhome, but you were balancing a phone between your shoulder and cheek and Lance couldn’t bring himself to interrupt you. Not when he didn’t even have an idea as to what to say.

It was Monday morning in Qatar and Lance was at the airport when he pulled out his phone and mindlessly opened up Instagram. Was he hoping to see a new post from you? Yes, but he would never admit that out loud. 

But he saw it. A photo with a group of your friends at some restaurant in London. Your smile was illuminating, you were having fun, you were enjoying yourself. 

Lance was envious. Not because he wasn’t enjoying himself, but because he wanted to be there with you, he wanted to know what it was that made your head tilt back in laughter at the same time the photo was taken. 

“She’s going to New York.”

Lance looked up from where he sat in the secluded corner of the private lounge. It wasn’t uncommon to run into a driver or two in the airport the morning after a race, and it was more common to see them in the designated first-class lounges too. 

Lewis sat down across from him, eyeing the phone in his hands. He must have been behind lance when he was hovering his thumb over your photos, trying to decide if liking it crossed some sort of line. He was cautious. He didn’t want to overstep, especially with Lewis watching the two of you like you were some sort of blockbuster movie and he had front row seats.

“She’s going to New York,” Lewis repeated, doing his best to keep the sly grin off his face. “And then she’ll be in Austin for the race, but she’s going to New York first.”

Lance sighed, carefully treading the waters, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you didn’t do anything in Monza.”

“Do anything?” He asked, but the clarification was just for appearances. They both knew what Lewis was referring to. 

“She’s going to New York,” Lewis repeated for the final time, palms hitting his legs before he stood up. “Do whatever you want with that information.” He patted Lance on the shoulder as he walked towards the opposite end of the room, letting Lance sit there in tense uncertainty.

It would be stupid for Lance to go to New York, wouldn’t it? 

It would be stupid for Lance to go home to Montreal only to stare at his phone when you posted a photo of a restaurant in New York and then something on your story of the lobby of a hotel that Lance was fairly certain was the Mandarin Oriental in Manhattan because he had stayed there before and the walls looked horribly familiar.

It would be incredibly stupid of him to call up his friend who just so happened to live in Manhattan and make up some bullshit excuse that he was visiting the city and how it would be fun to catch a Rangers game, that way he had a reason to post New York on his story without it being too obvious that he was in New York the same time you were.

Lance knew that all of this was childish. Book a last minute trip to New York in hopes that it would get your attention? Who did that?

Lance, apparently.

You were in your hotel room on Saturday night when Lewis texted you. There were no words, just a screenshot of an instagram story that clearly showed Lance in attendance at a hockey game. You texted back saying ‘stop trying to play cupid’. 

But you had to admit, you were a little happy to hear that Lance was in the same city as you after not seeing him for over a month.  

You could have let it be, let fate decide whether or not you two would run into each other, but sometimes fate needed a little push.

So when you went out for drinks with a friend that night, you made sure to publicly post which lounge you were at. 

To anyone on the outside, you and Lance were sharing your personal lives on social media, something that you often did anyway, but Lance was an introvert, so this caught the curious eyes of a few of his friends and fans.

No one had an idea that this was the two of you communicating. That this was you saying I’m here, come find me, knowing that Lance would see and respond.  

His friend invited him to a bar after the hockey game, but Lance said he had other plans, which he did. He wanted to find you. He ordered a car to the restaurant you had posted on your story and it wasn’t long until he was wandering through the booths, keeping an eye out for you and your friends.

When he felt a tap on his shoulder, Lance got his hopes up. Thinking that finally timing would work out in his favour. 

But it was one of your friends. He recognised her from the pictures you shared. She had a glass and her phone balanced in one hand and she eyed up the Aston Martin driver with a bit of hesitation.

��Lance, right?” She asked, having recognised him as well. “I’m Y/N’s friend.”

“Is she-” he glanced up, one more look around the lounge. “Is she here?”

“She left about ten minutes ago,” your friend nodded, sounding about as disappointed as he felt. “She really thought you’d show up.”

“Yeah, fate’s not on our side I guess,” Lance tried to laugh it off, raising his hand up to scratch the hair on the back of his head. He then realised just how underdressed he was for this lounge, repping a Rangers jersey while everyone here was dressed with the intention of leaving a good impression. He didn't even think about changing first, he just wanted to find you.

Lance headed back to his hotel, trying to ignore the pitiful look from your friend. It seemed like a few people in your life wanted the two of you to finally connect outside the paddock. 

But it shouldn’t have been a shock to anyone when the paddock was what finally brought you together.

You left New York the next day, heading straight to Texas to meet Lewis. He had work to do aside from Formula 1 obligations, work that involved his charities and that also involved you. So while you went to the Southern state earlier than expected, Lance was stuck in New York, trying to figure out his next move. 

And you were also trying to piece together what was going to happen next.

Your friend had texted you, saying Lance did end up showing up after you left and you wanted to scream into the void, asking yourself why didn’t you just hold off a little longer. 

You could have taken it as a sign. Another reason why you should just push your feelings aside. You two just couldn’t seem to get it right. 

Lance entered the paddock on Friday morning, holding his card against the gate scanner. Sunglasses covered his face from the scolding sun, but there wasn’t much he could do to get away from the cameras that lined the walkway.

He waited until after the morning briefing to look for a hideout, something he did at most races. Just a place to breathe if he needed it and right now he did. 

Was he intentionally walking in the direction of the Mercedes motorhome in hopes that he would spot you? Lance would say no, but the all-knowing smirk Lewis gave him when they passed each other said otherwise. 

Lance had just walked past Mercedes when the doors to the motorhome opened and you stepped out, shielding your phone screen from the sun with your hand as you tried to read the text Lewis sent you. 

‘Come outside, turn right.’

You looked right, expecting to see Lewis, because why else would he tell you to go outside? 

But instead you recognized the green Aston Martin t-shirt in the soon to be growing crowd and you knew that, even though you had just missed each other once again, you couldn’t take this as a sign to go back inside and wait for the next chance encounter. 

You had to make your own fate.

You walked down the steps and picked up your pace until you reached Lance. He had one of his airpods in, so he didn’t hear you approach from behind but he did feel the faint touch of a hand on his arm, guiding him to stop walking. 

Lance took the airpod out and looked at you. Eyebrows slightly pinched together as he tried to figure out if now, here, in the paddock was the right time to do something, to finally let those feelings he had for you win. 

“Hi,” you breathed out. 

And then you smiled and Lance knew he was done for. 

He was tired of waiting too, tired of dancing around the idea of you and him. This is what he wanted and he knew now, this was what you wanted. 

“Hi,” he smiled back, absolutely glowing under the Austin sun, but he could say the same thing about you. Lance glanced down the paddock, “I was just going for a walk. Did you want to join me?”

“I’d love to.”

The lack of hesitation on your part gave Lance the confidence he needed to keep going, to not let this be restricted to just race weekends.

“What are you doing later?” He asked, and then laughed at the ridiculousness of his question. “I mean, after practice? Do you- do you have plans? Do you have dinner plans?”

You liked that he was a little awkward and a little unsure. He was cute, he was sweet, he was standing right in front of you after god knows how long you spent denying that he wasn’t anything more than someone you smiled at in passing. 

“Are you asking me out?” You asked, keeping the teasing tone to a minimum. You weren’t Lewis, you didn’t want him to overthink the idea of you two being together. 

Lance nodded, “I guess I am.”

Your smile grew, which was a response in itself. The two of you probably looked like young idiots as you stood in the paddock, both too giddy to get another word out. But that’s how it was supposed to be. You wanted to be with someone who made it hard for you to put together a sentence, you wanted to be with someone who made you smile so much you felt the discomfort in your cheeks. You wanted to be with someone who wanted you as much as you wanted them. 

And Lance was that someone.

---

ynhamilton

liked by lewishamilton, chloestroll and 65,827 others

tagged: lance_stroll

ynhamilton something about fate?

view all 6,182 comments

lance_stroll life is better with you in it

lewishamilton you are welcome

danielricciardo this was your doing? lewishamilton just call me cupid

chloestroll the cutesttt

tbh im not in love with this and there will probably be another lance one shot coming soon to make up for it

[mysticworks]

Late Night Walk ~ LN4 x Reader

Prologue can be read -> here

Part i to the "Your eyes" series

Word Count: 2.3k

Genre: Reader is feisty and Lando is whipped

It's late at night. Lando insists to walk you home. Deciding this is his perfect time to get to know you

------------------------------------------------------------

C H A P T E R O N E:

Today had been exhausting. 

You were drained - it had been another day of back to back meetings as the team reflected on the seasons’ analytics. 

Data had been scrutinised, reports written and discussions made; intense decisions being the result of it all. 

Not that you wanted to recall any of it.

The clocks had moved past 10 at night and with no dinner, just mugs and mugs of coffee, it was time for you to call it a day; the hunger had begun threatening to let your more ‘primitive’ nature loose. 

As you left the building, the warm spring air from this morning seemed to be replaced with an unwelcoming chilly breeze, remnants of the winter still lingering in the air as the seasons transitioned. 

This phase of weather was always one you expressed distaste towards, never quite knowing the best way to dress for the ever changing temperature. 

You tugged on the sleeves of your hoodie, letting the fabric wrap around your fingers in a mild attempt to retain that fraction of warmth. 

To top it all off, your late leave from work meant that the last bus of the day had long since left. 

The prospect of an hour long walk back home haunted your mind - yet you trudged on anyway, eager to be home and in bed.

You sensed the presence of a figure come up, beside you, falling into step as you continued down the cobble path. 

With no intention to engage in conversation - your patience having been worn thin at this point - you continued on, sparing not a glance to the uninvited company.

“You were really cool in the meeting today, challenging Zak head on like that.”

The voice made you halt mid step. It was one you knew, all too well - from replays of interviews, to PR content displayed on the company screens, Lando Norris’ voice was more than familiar, and not in a good way.

He was the absolute last person you expected to approach you, the daggers you’d sent him in passive criticism earlier that night being something you assumed would deter him from ever consulting you.

And somehow you were wrong. 

Here he was, walking besides you, praising you for the storm you’d sent his way.

Raising a brow, you spared Norris a narrow look, wary of his intent, adamant not to entertain conversation.

He continued alongside you anyway, ignoring your glare completely and instead outstretching his hand in offering, “Ice cream?”

“No thanks.”  

You looked pointedly straight ahead, refusing to make the acknowledgement. 

He gave a shrug of his shoulder, biting into his own cone; exaggerated humming to signal how great it tasted.

Something about the racer was really, really setting you off - maybe it was how mirthful he always was - too immaturely peppy and buoyant - even way past 10pm in the night, after a horrendous working day. 

You’d caught his expression in the meeting earlier - the same smirk on his face sending a hangry rage coursing through you.

You had the urge to speed walk away - when a huge rumble erupted from your stomach. 

The chortle from Lando was enough indication that he’d heard your body's plea for food, and he shoved the ice cream cone into your hand once more, “I think you need that, actually.”

Embarrassed wasn’t a strong enough word. 

You felt the heat in your cheeks swallow you whole, as you pried the cone from his grasp, taking a sheepish bite in. 

You mumbled a thanks. Despite the cold night air, the ice cream was savoured - some food after hours of none, a much needed relief. 

Not that you’d admit that to Lando anytime soon.

A silence fell between you, and you almost forgot Lando was walking beside you - the pair of you busy in tucking into your cold treats. Your steps had synchronised, a slow walk through the company complex. 

By now, you’d walked well past the car park, exiting the compound from the main gate and onto the main road. 

Lando peered at you, raising his brow, “Waiting for a ride?”

A click of the tongue conveyed your refusal, “not everyone has a personal chauffeur Norris.”

He stopped his pace and you continued on, leaving him behind in what seemed bewilderment.

“Most of the population uses public transport, or walks.” Your unnecessary dig at his wealth was ignored completely - he seemed entirely unbothered, jogging to catch up with you instead. 

“Would you like a ride then?” His expression was soft - something you hadn’t expected, and he seemed genuine in his offering. 

Your answer was curt, “No.”

“Why not?” 

“I’m not getting into a stranger's car.”

The driver feigned mock hurt, placing a hand on his chest as he gave a dramatic gasp, “I’m no stranger.” 

“No, no, of course not. We’re childhood best friends.”

You rolled your eyes, the sarcasm oozing from every word and Lando replied with a huge grin, his eyes sparkling as he resumed his simultaneous steps beside you. 

“I guess I’ll just have to walk you home then.”

“I’ll pass - I'd prefer some peace thanks.”

“Please, allow me, I take pride in being quite the gentleman.” He threw a wink your way, and you had to swallow the urge to swat at him - to which he only giggled himself silly. 

You offered him a scoff in reply. “It’s quite a walk - I don’t think the celebrity in you will make it.” 

“Oh please, I’m a high performance athlete. I’m sure I’ll survive.”

With a dramatic flex of his biceps, Lando wiggled his brows, and you found yourself chortling. 

You had to admit, although irritating at times, there was a charismatic nature to Norris. 

Something light hearted that made him just that slight bit more bearable. 

“So why are you so adamant to give me a walk home anyway?” The question had been lingering on your mind, and at some point you couldn't hold it back anymore. 

It didn’t make sense to you.

Why would The Lando Norris - famous racing driver and McLaren’s star - come and walk with you in the first place? 

Especially after you’d pointed multiple fingers his way, in the meeting, merely hours ago.

Lando sent a look your way, pondering for a second, as if coming up with a suitable reply, before pointing ahead, “because of things like that.” 

You followed Lando's gaze.

On the opposite side of the road, a brawl seemed to be conjuring; a group of intoxicated people scrambling out of a nearby bar and spilling on the streets.

Each seemed to be shouting at the other, a few hands flying and throwing fists into the air - senseless. It was quite the barbarous scrabble; rowdy in the night's silence.

“It's not a safe time to be out alone at night.” 

Lando asserting protective behaviour certainly took you by surprise, filling you with a strange feeling. One you couldn't quite describe. 

With every passing moment, as you got to know him, the assumptions you'd made about him, expelled little by little - a sense of guilt beginning to gnaw at you.

Maybe he wasn't too bad after all. 

Lando mumbled on, continuing, “that, and you have the most beautiful eyes.”

You blinked hard trying to digest his response. 

Lando Norris flushed deep red.

He looked gobsmacked at his own words - as if they'd spilled out unintentionally and his hands flew to cover his mouth, uncomprehending. 

An awkwardness filled the air, neither saying a word as you walked on.

You looked eagerly for a way to avert the conversation, to break the deadly silence you'd been submerged in - but Lando beat you to it.

“So what's your role in the team? Since you were in the meeting I'm guessing you're one of the higher ups.” 

You gave him a wry smile, “Well the official title is, Senior Data Analyst, not too high up actually.” 

“Senior Analyst? Do you get any cooler?” His expression was incredulous, gaping at thin air. You felt a playful thump on your forearm, “Miss y/l/n - the big shot.”

It was your turn to become a shade of pink - never really being complemented before on your position. 

Although you’d been proud of moving up the ranks soon after joining McLaren, you’d never been given the opportunity to really grow, well deserved promotions turned away in ‘under the table’ favours.

“Eh, not really, I missed out on the lead position.” 

Lando sent you an inquisitive look, urging you to elaborate. 

The memory brought a tug at your heart- as if it was being pinched from within- a clear sign you’d never really moved on from the rejection you’d faced that day. 

You shrugged your shoulders, “Let’s just say: nepotism, inequality and business politics.”

You'd realised that Lando was an attentive listener.

He'd always wait for you to finish before drawing out more with exactly the right phrases. 

“That really sucks - I'm positive you would've been the better fit, with how intelligent you seem.” 

He changed his tone, giving it a more hopeful, brighter edge, “I'm sure you'll bag a promotion soon. Maybe even take over. Zak was threatened, that's for sure.” 

He nudged you a little with his elbow, and the pair of you found yourself breaking out into a fit of hysterics - replaying the meeting from both perspectives. 

It was encouraging to hear someone say those words. Affirmation of your career being a success - someone rooting for you out of pure kindness and not some warped, twisted ill-intent. 

For the first time that night, you felt grateful Lando was beside you. 

His words gave you the inspiration you never knew you were missing.

Eventually your conversation drifted, moving on to how you'd never seen a formula one race - live, the fact shocking Lando - who promised he'd somehow get you the full experience. 

“You have to see me racing - it'll blow you away seeing how talented I am. Maybe if you're nice I'll even invite you on the podium with me.” 

He'd seemed so proud - giving himself a pat on the back.

You'd snorted at him in snide sarcasm, poking fun, “Yeah, sure. I'll have to pray for you not to crash.”

He couldn't fathom how a respected team member, had never been invited to a race, and you'd fallen into explanation of how your role meant during races you were sat in the headquarters race control room - ambushed with screens and screens of numbers.

“Maybe when you're CEO you'll help me win a championship.” 

You raised your nose in the air, “Nope. I'm kicking you off the team first.” 

Lando fell into a dramatic feign of tears, puffing out his chest in a show of pride, “You'll be losing such great talent.” 

Somehow between the start, to now, the distance between the pair of you had closed, little by little. 

As you turned the corner of your street, you felt the back of Lando’s hand brush against yours, ever so slightly. 

Neither of you moved away- skin tingling with every bristle of contact. His knuckles were calloused, evident as they touched momentarily against yours. 

A deep fluttering erupted in your stomach, one that forced a gush of heat to take over your body. It was remarkable how such minimal contact could cause such a torrent of butterflies.

Your apartment was fast approaching now, and you sneaked a glance his way from the corner of your eye. 

Lando was biting down on his lip, blushing beetroot red.

-----------------------------------------------------------

L A N D O ’ S P O V:

Time had gone too quickly.

I felt as if we'd only just started talking and yet here we were, having walked an hour away from the office, outside residential apartment blocks, home to Miss Senior Analyst.

There was still so much more to say. So much more to ask. 

Every exchange with her had been so interesting. 

Her intelligence shone through her words - but there was something more...she was genuine.

No sugar coats, no fake laughs, no pretend kindness.

It felt like the first time I'd been seen. 

Like someone had been unafraid to speak to me normally.

Mumbling a goodbye with a hand flick for a wave, I watched y/n turn her back towards me, the distance between us growing with every step she took.

I felt a pull at my chest forcing me to say something, anything, before she really left. 

I had to find a way to see her again.

“Hey!” she turned her head in my direction, blinking, and I gulped involuntarily - gosh those eyes were so intense. 

It was hard to get used to them, so piercing and bright, like they saw through me even though I had nothing to hide.

“Do you-” 

She picked up on the slight stutter of my sentence, her brows cocking up in amusement.

I brought my hand up to my hair, raking through the tangled mess of curls with my fingers- searching for the right words.

“Would you be up for maybe…some sort of... us two...together ? We could - you said you've never -”

The words weren't coming out right and my stomach clenched, exasperated. 

She waited, expectant.

I took a deep breath, swallowing. “I'd like to take you on a hot lap around the Silverstone track, if you'd be up for it?”

The pause between her reply felt like an eternity, my heart thudding louder with every passing second.

“I'll consider it. Maybe.” I could hear the smirk in her voice - playful - teasing. 

She was messing with me, refusing to offer the satisfaction of a confirmed “yes” but keeping me thrilled without a flat out “no”. 

It drove me insane - the constant teasing - the snide remarks - the sarcasm.

It all drove me so insane.

She turned on her heel, up the steps to her apartment, leaving me grinning like the fool I felt.

I now had a hot lap to arrange.

Time to bribe, convince my manager.

[emeritusemeritus]

Wanna Bewitch you in the moonlight. Pt. 1

[F.W X Reader X G.W ]

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Title: Just wanna bewitch you in the moonlight.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader x George Weasley

Timeline: Predominately set between GOF and OOTP (some canon has been altered to fit the story)

Summary: Both twins like Gryffindor!reader. Reader likes both twins. How will she decide who to chose in the end? Amortentia might be able to help, or not.

Warnings: Smut, mentions of sex, established relationships, threesomes, friends to lovers, all the good stuff. NO Twincest. Mentions of illness, Brief mentions of vomiting.

Tags will be updated along the way.

Part 1

"Oh, y/n dear, how wonderful to have you with us!" Mrs Weasley said wiping her hands on her apron before she threw her arms around you, embracing you in a warm and maternal manner as you stepped inside the Burrow.

"Mrs Weasley, thank you so much for having me," you smiled, wrapping your arms around her, smiling at the comforting feel and smell that encapsulated the entire Burrow and each Weasley inside.

"Oh Mrs Weasley," she laughed pulling apart, "how many times do I have to say, call me Molly!"

"Maybe just once more," you joked, smiling wide as she huffed out a laugh, rubbing your shoulder.

"We're back too you know," Fred said from behind you, leaning on the doorframe with George fixed to his side. She hurried over smiling, pausing briefly to hit Fred's shoulder at his tone, before wrapping her arms around both the boys at the same time. It was a sight to behold, seeing little Molly Weasley trying to reach up to give her two 6ft 3 sons a hug but it was completely heartwarming, seeing their smiles.

"Oh how lovely to have my boys back," she smiles, standing beside them. The entire scene was entirely endearing, particularly the hint of a blush that spread almost in perfect sync upon the twins' cheeks.

"Is Ginny not with you?" She suddenly asks, realising that two of her expected children were not present.

"No they're stopping by Hermione's to get some things before they come home," George replies absently, wandering over to the counter where a fresh batch of scones caught his attention, sat cooling on a wire rack. He reached for one and was immediately intercepted by Molly, earning a swift slap to his hand in a silent warning.

"Right, y/n dear," she says, turning to you with a smile. "I wasn't sure what the sleeping arrangements would be for you all so you can either share Ginny's room with her and Hermione or," Molly began to say, trying to do the mental arithmetic of sleeping arrangements until she was interrupted by George.

"She can stay with us mum, we'll move our beds together and pop up the old cot from Charlie's room," he says, sounding like he had already planned it out in great detail.

"Oh, yes I suppose that would work," she says, completely unaware of the relationship blooming between the three of you. You knew she'd never agree to you sleeping with either of the twins alone, but having the other one in the room seemed to ease her mind that nothing untoward would happen.

"You aren't making her sleep in that old thing!" She suddenly says, horrified at the thought of her guest having to sleep on the death contraption that had been in their family for decades.

"No mum, she can have my bed, I'll sleep on it," Fred says, moving forward to place his hand on your shoulder, doing his best to act innocent, though you could see straight through it.

"Wonderful," Molly says, clapping her hands together as she moves away and busies herself in the kitchen again. She shouts to the boys to help you with your bags, to which they both reply in perfect synchronisation that they already were.

They usher you up the stairs, each twin carrying one of your bags as you make your way to their bedroom. It's exactly as you remember, except it looks like it's been cleaned recently, no doubt by Molly.

"You're not really sleeping on the cot are you?" You ask, turning to Fred. He gives you a look of bewilderment before snorting out a laugh, reaching out for your hand to pull you into his chest, his right arm securing you to his body as it wraps around your waist.

"Not for a single second," he smirks, reaching up to play with a strand of hair that had fallen in front of your ear.

"But we are pushing the beds together," George says from behind you, moving closer to you both.

"And you are going to sleep right in the middle, between both of your handsome," Fred adds.

"Charming," George.

"Well endowed..."

"Boyfriends," they both say, sandwiching you between their bodies. You couldn't help but smile at their antics, realising that they had clearly had this planned for quite some time.

"So I get to sleep on the divide of the beds and fall between in the middle of the night? How romantic," you joked, reaching up to play with the collar of Fred's jacket.

"Ahh we've thought of that too," George says from behind you, reading down to place a kiss to the side of your neck.

Suddenly, both twins pull away and start organising the bedroom. Fred pulls away the small cabinet between the beds and places it next to you near the door, winking at you as he moves back to help George move the beds. They drag Fred's bed over from the right towards George's on the left and create one large bed in the middle of the room. George rushes off to get the cot from Charlie's room and unfolds it for decorative purposes in the space left behind where Fred's bed used to be.

Fred suddenly pulls back the sheets from both beds and then pulls out his wand and casts a charm you'd never heard of. The bed is immediately fixed together through magic, causing you to raise your eyebrows in amazement. He throws the covers haphazardly over the beds before doing the same to the sheets, making it one large duvet. He turns his head to you, seeing you look on in amazement and shoots a cocky smirk towards you.

"Your boyfriend's good right?" He smirks, causing you to roll your eyes slightly. George then moves the cabinet beside you towards the back of the room, sliding it under the space of the desk, kicking the little waste paper bin to the side.

"Fit for a Queen," George smiles, gesturing towards the large bed.

"Or for a fit Queen," Fred quips, gesturing towards you. "Crash test?"

You huff out a laugh at the terrible pun and move to throw yourself down onto the newly extended bed, instantly surprised by the lack of divide between the two and the fact that it was actually quite sturdy.

"You know we could test it out in different ways," George says smirking as he looks at you, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. You look up at him with a sultry look, liking the idea very much, before you turn to look at Fred with the same pointed look.

"Boys! Y/n! The others are here and lunch is ready!" Molly's voice radiates surprisingly well up the stairs of the burrow, effectively ending your next moves and the boys immediately huff and grunt in frustration. You offer them a sad smile before reaching your hand out to George for him to pull you up. He instantly reaches out for your hand in his large one and pulls you up towards him effortlessly.

"Later?" You ask with a small smile, reaching up and pouting so that he'd kiss you. His eyes light up just slightly as he silently nods enthusiastically before reaching down to give you a sweet kiss. You then turn to Fred who is not so patiently waiting his turn before he drags you out of his brothers arms and into his own. He also reaches down to give you a sweet kiss, though his is much more loaded than George's, his tongue licking along your bottom lip as he fights to deepen the kiss. You pull away with a chuckle, placing your hand on his chest. "Down boy," you joke and he grins down at you.

"Not me you need to be telling princess," he cheekily grins, wiggling his eyebrows and poignantly flicking his eyes down to his groin, which seems excited to say the least. You bite your lip and drag your hand down his chest towards his excited member, placing your hand gently over the bulge in his trousers. You flick your eyes up to his face as he stands with wide eyes and his lips parted in a little 'o' shape, following your movements very carefully.

"Down boy," you whisper, teasing as you suddenly pull your hands away and move to walk out of the bedroom door. You can hear George's laughter as you descend the stairs and then a little commotion and 'ow' from George, no doubt caused by Fred.

You greet Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny in the kitchen, followed by George only a minute later and then by Fred five minutes after that. You don't miss the little mock glare he shoots you as he takes a seat at the table, one twin either side of you. All you can do is give him a little innocent, doe-eyed smile before you focus your attention on the array of food that Molly had prepared.

"So, y/n, what are your plans whilst you're here?" Ginny asks you from across the table, pausing at the end to frown at Ron who had shovelled as much food as possible into his mouth and then asked, with a mouthful of food, for Harry to pass the bread rolls.

"I'm not really sure," you smiled with a little shrug, not really considering what was on the agenda.

"She's busy, whatever you've got planned," Fred says bluntly as he pokes at his food, already disliking the idea of you spending time with anyone else whilst you were away from school. You immediately elbow him roughly in the shoulder, earning a laugh from George who watches on silently.

"Never too busy for you Gin," you said, winking at her with a smile. She smiled back and began talking about you girls having a sleepover one night, which did sound fun. Fred muttered something under his breath but you gave him a swift kick to the shin under the table which George snickered at, keeping quiet himself as to not also feel your wrath.

As soon as Fred and George had finished eating they all but dragged you away from the table and up to their bedroom, pausing only briefly for you to shout out your thanks to Molly for a wonderful lunch.

As soon as you were back in their room, you threw yourself down onto the bed, rolling to lie on your stomach as you watched them pull out their trunk of tricks. You'd already agreed earlier on that morning on the train home that you would help them with their new idea for their business, some sort of new confectionary, no doubt with a sinister twist.

From your conversation and actions before lunch, you'd assumed the boys had dragged you upstairs for another reason entirely, but it seemed that their current developments had overshadowed their needs. You had to hold back a laugh at the pair, realising that they were the only two men you knew that would focus on their pranks over sex with their girlfriend.

They had assured you not long after that they had the afternoon and evening all planned out and they would only spend a little time doing this before you could do something more exciting, something you'd really enjoy.

"So they're like puking pastilles but not?" You asked from your position on the bed, bent legs swinging behind you as you watched them concentrate on their project. Fred simply nodded, eyes never once leaving the prototype, his tongue poking out the corner of his mouth as he tried to perfect the recipe.

"Kind of, angel," George explained, using his nickname for you, flicking his eyes up to yours as he spoke, "but they don't make the eater sick, just make them turn pale and sickly looking."

"Ahh make them turn into a Weasley then," you joked. George immediately threw a piece of whatever he had in his hand at you in retaliation and Fred simply snorted, still focusing on the task at hand.

It was the most you'd spoken since they began tinkering, their full attention and focus on their creation. It wasn't exactly the day you had in mind and you were quite frankly thoroughly bored, something you very rarely were in the presence of the Weasley twins. You couldn't blame them, they were in the development stage of their new product, which meant perfecting the recipe and then the antidote which took time and patience.

"Are you adding them to the skiving snack boxes?" You asked after a few more moments of silence, trying to occupy yourself as you sat bored in their room.

"No, they're more like an additional add on," George explained, reaching up to grab something beside you on the bed, briefly pausing to touch your leg as he leaned beside you.

"Ah a savvy business move," you replied cheekily.

When it fell silent again, you rolled over onto your back and stared up at the disjointed ceiling, watching how the wooden beams interlocked at awkward angles and looking at all the various memorabilia and stuff that littered the walls of their room. You briefly considered going to visit Ginny and the others before your eyes started to close on their own accord.

———————————

"Bugger bugger bugger!"

You frowned at the sudden burst of noise, your eyes struggling to open and then focus as you realised you'd fallen asleep on the bed. You sat up, squinting at the light from the windows around you and watched in confusion as George paced around the room in a tizzy.

"George?" You asked weakly, your voice not quite working yet. He turned around with such a speed it was almost alarming. His face looked panicked and nervous and you immediately sat further up in concern, your sleepy haze fading rapidly as worry took over you. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Fred, I told him not to but you know what he's like when he gets something in his head and he wouldn't listen," George babbles, messing with his hair as he paces the room.

"Fred? What's wrong with Fred?" You asked, trying to figure out what George was saying.

"He ate the bloody thing!" He says, throwing himself down onto the rickety metal cot in the corner of the room. It suddenly all made sense to you and a lingering unease settled in your stomach as you thought about the dangers.

"Where is he?" You asked quickly, worried that he wasn't in the room.

"Toilet," George mumbles, running his hand through his hair again.

You immediately leapt off the bed and ran out into the corridor, trying to be quiet as to not alert anyone else as you quickly scaled the wooden staircase that lead up to the next level of the burrow where the toilet was.

You quietly knocked on the door, "Freddie?"

You heard a brief, slow shuffle on the other side of the door and the door creaked open to reveal Fred who looked bloody awful.

"Bloody hell," you said without thinking, looking upon the appearance of your boyfriend. He quickly pulled you into the bathroom and closed the door behind you both. You scrunched your nose at the vague smell of sick that hung in the air but you quickly got past it, moving to stand in front of Fred.

He looked ghostly pale and a little green in his undertone, sweat forming like droplets on his forehead where he had pushed back his hair. His eyes looked sunken and dull, no longer twinkling like usual and his under eyes were almost purple looking. You tried not to react, already feeling bad about your subconscious outburst at seeing him and tried to wipe away a few beads of sweat off his brow. To your surprise, they wouldn't actually wipe off and had become an effect of the sinister sweets they'd created. "How you feeling Freddie?" You asked, trying to keep your voice even.

"At least we know they work, a little too well," he says, deflecting the question. He suddenly lurches away from you and shuffles quickly to the toilet as he heaves whilst clutching his stomach, though nothing comes up. "Sorry," he cringes in embarrassment at you seeing that, "thought I'd got through the worst of that."

"How long does is take for the antidote to kick in?" You asked, concerned about the lasting effects, not knowing exactly how long ago he'd eaten it. He didn't verbally reply but instead gave you a little uncomfortable smile, telling you everything you needed to know.

"Fred Weasley!" You whisper yelled, striking him in the shoulder as you realised he hadn't created the antidote yet. "You frigging idiot!" You hit him again and he just stood there and took it, though he did seem to lose a little of his balance.

"It was more to test out the taste," he said quietly, as if it was an excuse for eating the contraption. "Which definitely still needs work by the way, bloody awful aftertaste, too much caramel." You shot him a look of utter bewilderment as he heaved again, frustration building in you as he didn't take it seriously at all, despite looking like a walking corpse and heaving all over the place.

"Come on, you need to lie down," you said, extending your hand to his to lead him back to his bedroom. You lead him down the stairs and into his and George's room, carefully avoiding anyone else in the house.

"Bloody hell," George said, looking up from his hands, not moving an inch since you'd left, as his brother entered the room, seeing him look absolutely awful.

"At least we know it works," Fred says with the hint of a smirk, though his eyes still looked sad and glimmer-less.

"Bed. Now." You ordered, annoyed at his joking especially at a time like this. Surprisingly, Fred complied without any qualms and threw himself down onto the bed, his eyes closing in relief as he lay there. You tipped out a few loose crumbled papers from the waste bin next to the desk and placed it beside the bed incase he needed it.

"George, can you get him some water please?" You asked, turning your attention back to the notes they'd made on the recipes, trying to figure out if any of the ingredients had a reverser you could use to cancel out the effects.

Fred heaved again and you tensed, turning to offer him some help, only to see him half flinging out of bed to lean over to the bin. You stood and reached out for the bin and placed it into his arms, where he kept it secured and never out of reach.

"What do you mean he's sick? Fred, er, George move out the way!" You heard Molly's voice getting louder and louder, matching the influx of panicked footsteps that seemed to be running up the stairs. She immediately burst through the room and made an ungodly sound as looked upon her son, seeing his frighteningly pale complexion and overall malaise as he clutched his bin, looking helpless.

"Oh my boy," she said, running over to him. She immediately put the back of her hand towards his head and frowned at feeling a lack of temperature.

"That's odd," she mutters. "Are you two okay?" She asks, turning to you and George who are standing off to the side, both a little scared of her reaction and Fred's symptoms.

"Yeah mum."

"Yes Molly," you both replied at the same time, trying to sound completely sincere.

"Did he eat anything on the train?" She asks, trying to smooth his hair down in the front to keep it away from his face. You could tell he tried his hardest to hold back the impending heave but he couldn't hold it any longer and dry heaved once again into the waiting bin.

"Cauldron cake," you said, thinking quickly, "he did eat a cauldron cake on the train, but we shared some fizzing whizbees, didn't we George?" You looked at George, imploring him with your eyes to go along with it.

"Yeah," George said suddenly nodding as he looked at you before turning to his mum, "maybe the cake was bad?"

Molly mumbled something in frustration as she looked at Fred before zooming out the door, muttering something about her apothecary kit which might be of use.

"Georgie," Fred says quietly as he tries to get his brother's attention. George moves closer to Fred and leans down so that Fred can whisper in his ear. You frown, watching them secretly converse, wondering what they are saying.

Molly returns not a moment later, armed with an array of various potions and elixirs which could hopefully cure Fred.

The truth was, the only thing that was able to cure their inventions quickly were the antidotes, otherwise the symptoms would stick around for roughly 24 hours at most, the effectiveness of the enchanted foods rapidly decreasing once the 12 hour mark passed with the entire malady vanishing after 24 hours. You and George both knew that Fred would be okay tomorrow but it wouldn't hurt for him to at least take some of the potions to ease his queasiness.

"Here eat this, slowly, that's right," Molly says, thrusting some form of wafer towards Fred. He pulled a disgusted face as he ate it but to his credit he did manage to consume it without gagging and keep it down. "Dehydrated ginger root, it should help with the nausea," she explained to no one in particular as she faffed about in the little case, searching for a specific bottle. She eventually gave up and pulled out her wand, mumbling accio to bring the thing she needed to the front.

"Here, drink this, it's dandelion root and burdock oil, it will help with your complexion and ease your tummy," she said to Fred, smoothing back his hair again as another wave of gagging ran through him.

He took slow sips of the potion and raised his eyebrows at the taste, clearly not expecting it to be so tasty.

"We have that at home," you said, not really sure of why you said it but it was funny to see the wizard if equivalent to a muggle drink.

"Really?" Molly asks, turning to you with a surprised look on her face.

"Yeah but it's just a fizzy drink, not really medicinal anymore," you explained with a laugh, feeling a little silly about your random tangent.

"We need to get some," Fred mumbled, drinking down the rest of the potion enthusiastically, causing Molly to loudly warn him to take it steady.

"We could nip into the village and get some for you?" You turn to George, asking him with your eyes if he'd join you, "I know where they sell it." George nodded with a little shrug. You then turned back to look at Fred and Molly who looked at you in surprise, "if it would make you feel better." Fred nodded enthusiastically with a little smile, already seeing a little more colour coming to his face.

"Oh, how lovely, what a lovely gesture," Molly said with a warm smile. "You can take your father's car, as long as you are safe," she said, fixing George with a look of warning.

"How little you think of me," George said sarcastically.

"Or how well she knows you," you snorted, reaching behind him to search for a sweater in your trunk.

"I'll go get the keys," Molly says, taking her apothecary case with her as she moves out of the room.

"Fuck," you mumbled, still searching for a sweater but not finding any.

"What's wrong?" George asks, moving to stand behind you.

"I can't find my sweater," you mumbled again, trying to dig through your belongings but coming up empty handed.

"We've got plenty, borrow one of ours," George says casually, walking straight over to the drawers on the left side of the room and pulling out a thick knitted cardigan that you'd remembered the both of them wearing to the quidditch World Cup. "This okay?" He asks, extending it towards you.

"It's perfect, thank you," you smile, reaching for it and slipping it around yourself, feeling the warmth and coziness of it already, the wonderfully comforting scent of the twins surrounding you. You couldn't help but raise the fabric of the sleeve up to your nose for a closer smell, your eyes closing as you smiled at the scent. You could tell this one was Fred's from the unmistakable but subtle marshmallow sweetness of his natural scent which George didn't have.

When you looked up, the boys were both watching you with smirks on their faces, clearly seeing everything you'd done. You blushed under their intense gazes and turned away, grabbing a few things you'd need and placing them into the little bag you'd brought, making sure you had your little coin purse of muggle money.

"You ready?" You asked George, who was stood next to Fred quietly talking. He turned and nodded, mumbling out 'nearly' and walked over to the little wardrobe hidden in a nook in the corner before pulling out a blue patterned shirt. He slipped off the polo shirt he'd been wearing and you couldn't help but watch as he stood shirtless, slipping into his blue shirt and slowly buttoning it up. You couldn't take your eyes away from him, admiring his naked torso and staring at the small patch of hair on his chest and the beautiful trail that started just below his naval and stretched downwards. He looked at you, amused with his eyebrow raised as he caught you looking and for the second time in minutes you couldn't help but blush. "Ready," he said with a firm nod, appearing by your side.

"Do you want anything else?" You asked, turning to Fred but found him sleeping, clearly exhausted by his sickness or one of Molly's potions had knocked him out cold. George reached for your waist and smiled as he guided you out the door, slowly closing the wooden door as to not wake his brother as you both went on your little adventure.

[saintmurd0ck]

i've got you, darlin'

masterlist

pairing: frank castle x afab!reader

summary: frank makes getting your period a little easier to bear

warnings: mentions of heavy periods (cramps, pain, body aches, but no bleeding), fluff and frank looking after you, protective frank!!!

a/n: for my sweet @chellestrash 💗 who deserves the world (and frank castle)

He knows, even before your eyes flutter closed and your grip tightens on the sheets. He knows, just from the way his name comes out in a hoarse whisper, more of a plea than a prayer.

Frank kneels onto the ground, his voice a gentle cadence in your ear. "That time again, huh?"

You swallow harshly, unable to stop the pained grimace distorting your face, at a loss of how else to say yes. It seems like a simple answer, a candid one, but it's a response you've come to loathe. 

Because every month, not unlike clockwork, it's an age-old reply to the same question.

Your body starts to seize, despite the breathing exercises running rampant through your head — in through the nose for three, hold for four, out through the mouth for five — and the heavy blankets doing absolutely nothing to warm your frigid skin. 

Ice and searing fire glitter in your veins, a complicated dance with no ending, not bothering to tiptoe around the white-hot knife twisting into your stomach. 

"M'right here, sweetheart," Frank murmurs, at the ready, dropping Advil into your gnarled, outstretched hand, before lifting a glass of water to your lips. 

He helps you upright, making sure the pills go down, watching your reaction to see if you need anything more. 

Your eyes dart to the kitchen, a silent communicator of the one other thing that's missing, but Frank shakes his head, placing the heat pack across your abdomen in near-perfect synchronisation. "Already got it."

A meek "Thanks, Frankie" is all you manage amongst the bouts of blinding discomfort, more of a rasp than intended. Curling up into a ball, you bury your face into the pillows, doing your best to ground yourself, to let his scent settle over you in a wave of calm. 

The mattress dips as Frank sits down next to you, dragging a soothing hand across your back, alternating his touch between long, languid strokes and featherlight circles. 

"Honestly sweetheart," he muses, the hint of a smile flitting across his face, "you'd make a great Marine."

You blink at him, disconcerted.  

He gestures towards you, chuckling. "I tell 'ya, the guys thought they were tough shit, but one week of this and they woulda been beggin' for mercy. You put 'em to shame."

You roll your eyes, mustering a weak smile. "Well it's not like I have a choice, do I?"

"Yeah? And? Ain’t makin’ me any less proud."

The next cramp snowballs into you before you have a chance to respond, impending fatigue crawling up your spine in lashes. 

And then his hands are on you, his body sheltering yours, encasing you with every ounce of protective warmth he can muster. He holds you closely, nestling your head in the crook of his neck, letting his arms fall into place. 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, into your hair. “I’ve got you, darlin’. I’ve got you.” 

Sharpness turns to a throbbing, dull ache, though it reverberates in your bones, turning your muscles to jelly. 

Still, you grasp at him, clutching him tighter, as if he’s the one thing in the world that could actually get you through this. 

You suppress a bout of muted laughter. You’re always going to be the one getting yourself through this, no matter what, but…

At least Frank makes it more bearable. 

“It’s going to be a long week,” you sigh, your words muffled against his chest. 

And it’s true. You’re going to be here for a while. 

But he’s got you. 

And it’s gonna be okay. 

[gdjyho]

❝ peaches and cream ❞ pt.2

sypnosis ; he wants to have you. at a house party.

pairing ; jungkook x female reader. (fwb kinda?)

warnings ; s.x at a party, public s.x, mentions of drinking, marking, overstimulation, highschool au, best friends little sister.

✭ ✭ ✭

you’re perfect, to him. tits sat perfectly in the cups of the black shimmery dress, moving in all sorts of directions while you dance your best friend. jungkook stands in the corner, observing you. he shuffles his dark love to the side as he watches your ass bounce up and down. can’t stop thinking about you and your tight pussy after the other day during school.

he wants to go over there, grab you and fuck you right there, but taehyung was here, who he was currently standing with. “look at mae-jin, deffo gonna have that ass tonight” jungkook just chuckles, putting the red solo cup to his lips and shortly grimacing while the alcohol burns it’s way into his system.

he watches taehyung whisper something into her ears as she giggles and runs off, watching you walk over to him. he smiles as you return the gesture. he sips his drink again. “ it’s been a while since we spoke” you say, filling in the awkward silences.

“it’s been a while since i tasted you” he grins after he says that, and you can’t help but get a little bit wet. “you can do it again” you suggest, more like ask but he gets it. “i can do it right now” he places the cup on the counter top. “good” you look right into his eyes as they glisten.

the next thing you know, you’re in a bathroom with blue lights and banging music seeping through the walls. “fuck” you say happily between breaths as he strips you completely. he takes a minute to admire you, to make you feel special. he grabs you by the chin, forcedly sucking on the skin and then leaving a wet path up until your lips as he devours you.

you stick a hand into his hair and the other one you loosely strap around his neck. “ you’re so good” he simply whispers, pulling away from your plumpy lips. he pulls his pants and black briefs down to his knees, pumping his shaft a little before the vein on the side appears. he strokes your pussy lightly, earning a breathy whine from you.

jungkook sticks himself into you, balls deep with no warning whatsoever. you almost scream, tears already compromising your vision. “so good” you slur, already kind of going dumb. “pretty bitch going dumb already? i haven’t even started” he chuckles as his hot breath fans your collarbone. he connects his lips and your skin, sucking lightly and making more purple stains on your skin.

sounds of skin joining together and slapping along with the sweet symphony of moans fill up the room. he interlocks his sweaty fingers with yours. he plants his free hand into your side, snaking then round your back and ass to grope the soft flesh.

the force of his dick causes you to go back into the mirror above the counter of the sink. you look down at him, busy figuring out how to make you feel good. he takes his hand away from yours to work on your damp folds. he spits on his slender fingers, tracing around the bits of your pussy that weren’t being penetrated by him.

at this point tears are falling uncontrollably which he wipes away along with the strands of hair sticking down to your sweaty forehead. your senses have been completely fucked away. you try to tell him your cumming but just moan and hold on tighter. only jungkook knew how to do this for you. to you.

“more!” you demand from him, to which he responds by massaging your free tits, something he’s wanted to do all night as he saw you slutting around for everyone else to see. he chokes out a low moan as your walls tense around him.

tears make their way down your neck as you cream on his cock, cum mixing with his from his synchronised orgasm. you’re still high on him but you slowly ride it out. “good” he kisses your forehead after you praise his skills. he picks up your dress and the piece of fabric you call underwear and helps you into them.

you look at yourself, sighing as you stare at the mess jungkook has made you into. mascara lacing down at your neck, hair clamped together. no one else was capable of doing this so why was he?

- i just loved writing for the ecstasy series so i thought i’d treat you guys to another one. 🫡

[watchingblsnowandforever]

Hello!!

The crack post saga continues... =D

Warning: long, long post 😊😅

To be very honest though, for today's ep I will be getting serious more than usual, because it was quite significant in the flow of the plot, and also had moments of communication (this emotional constipation is what makes me yearn for Cherry Magic ah) that need to be studied a little closely.

HOWEVER, there will most definitely be crack because this group of friends is (unapologetically) batshit crazy and my brain refuses to not make comments at the most inappropriate times.

Peem: NO ONE SAW ME CUDDLING MY CRUSH TO SLEEP RIGHT?!

The sheer panic in his movements, oh my gods. It should not be as hilarious as it is 😭😂

To be very honest though, I would've panicked a bit in his place too, with friends like those, they'd never let him live it down

Peem is so cute 😭

Nothing to see here, just a guy getting shy over how his prince charming hom-ed him, and they kissed through his hand and cuddled all night hehe

Phum: here he comes again :) *eye twitch*

Peem's expression, how he's still holding his hands as if he has the cup, Kluen's disbelief, and Phum's smug af face-

I'm wheezing 😭🤣

Kluen, I'm kinda starting to like you, but no.

You don't stand half a chance against them and their situationship.

Hope you find another boyfriend to fall in love at first sight with (and leave my boys alone please, they don't need any more complications) <3

Oh, Fang knows too. Of course he does, that's his little brother right there

We all know how protective of his brother he is, there's no way he'd let anybody else take care of him... unless, he knew Phum liked that person

les voila

Poor Tan, his theerak just ignoring him T-T

*looks between them* yeah, pretty much the same pic 👀

And here it is. The root of all his fears.

See, in this camp, almost all of them are paired up in the sense that they usually stick to that person. Even Beer has MIck. But then comes wild card Kluen, who's hogging all of Peem's attention as much as he can and that leaves Phum. Alone.

I will be getting back to this running motif of Phum being alone and how it changes through the ep in later scenes as well

Also, after they went back, both Mick and Beer asked if he really was okay, which made me smile, because maybe, Phum isn't as alone as he thinks himself to be. There are people who care for him, who are concerned, who'll support him, and of course, he always has Fang, his beloved phi

My poor babie Tan 🥺🥺

Also, notice how the shot is taken in such a way that they're the only ones in the frame, and are also standing within one specific part of the wall? (Ignore Kluen's head and hands please). It reflects how they're in their own world with each other, especially Tan

The nosy peeps gang strikes again!

Jokes aside, the synchronised strides, the background music together set the perfect levels of suspense and comedy

Peem, smug: yes! that emotionally constipated dumbass is finally getting out of De Nile

Pun: wait... is my plan actually working? Ah, of course it is

Toey: head empty, no thoughts, but... DOES P'Q ACTUALLY LIKE ME OMG I'LL DIE

Oh gods, FINALLY. I wish them a happily ever after. Sadhu 😌🙏🏼

Pun forgetting all about being quiet when Toey finally confesses is so on character 😭👍🏼

Also... what's even the point of being quiet? Q and Chain have been friends with these idiots since high school, of course they know they're peeking

Toey: *shooketh*

Gays in thai bl and staring off into the distance 😭

This scene was so, so beautiful and also quite important for both Q and Toey

Q knew what was up, more or less, but his confusion stemmed from his knowledge of Toey

Would Toey really go to these lengths? For him?

"Why? Are you the only one who can tease me?" <- Q says this to tell Toey that he might have been angry, but now he understands that Toey didn't really have any bad intentions

Hugs always get bonus points from me, and this was pretty up there

Pun hiding behind Chain is so on point

His friends: you're an idiot so we had no choice but to intervene 😭😭

Matt's (JJ) comedic timing is >>>>>>

Toey and Matt's friendship is also given weight in the series, and I'm happier for it.

Also revenge is sweet ehehe *coughs*

Moving on.

If there's no live singing dedicated to your One True Love, is it even Thai BL??

We Are making generous use of MSP songs 😭👍🏼

This scene.

The apology. It is at this point that they're leaving all the past pain, grief and anger in the past

Q makes sure to tell Toey that yes, he may have loved Milk Frappe Boy, but now, in the present, all his love was for Toey, his lovable annoying mentee

This apology is not only to Toey, or Milk Frappe Boy, but to himself as well, because by causing pain to a person he loves twice, he'd caused himself pain too

The perfect sweet and romantic moment, but also with a teeny bit of teasing, because that's who they are

No joke, I gasped and nearly stopped breathing when he said this

Peem's reply, his soft but kind of hurt voice were just so painful to hear

But it's also this moment that Peem gives Phum a reality check – if he really didn't want to, he wouldn't be doing any of this, and Phum had no business trying to control his life

The conversation outside with Q was significant, but also a diluted reflection of Peem's earlier (in ep. 7) talk with Q

Even a few episodes earlier, Q would have gone ballistic on Phum for treating his bestie like this, but now, he asks Peem how he feels for Phum, tries to understand exactly what their relationship is

It was at this point that he knew, he fucked up

Beer is a godsent. I love him <3

I think Toey says "I asked hia Tan to blow it up for me."

Also, Tiw and his rubber duck floater from MSP anyone? 👀

And, we are back to square one where Phum is left alone again

As I'd said before, this a repeating motif throughout the series, but especially the last two episodes

This is how it has always been in Phum's life: he has been left behind. He does have Fang, but now even Fang has a boyfriend. And while this does not affect his brother's affection towards him in anyway, it does introduce a new strand of lonliness for Phum because 1. no matter what, he loves his brother a lot, and knows how much he loves Tan, so he definitely will try to stay out of their way at least sometimes and 2. he wants a boyfriend too. Further, he wants Peem, but there's a push and pull there, and after what he said, in his mind he had pretty much ruined his chances with his crush

This is the moment Phum starts to hope that maybe, just maybe, his feelings aren't as unrequited as he'd thought.

On the other hand, Peem is the one afraid here. What if the deal is all that's holding them together? What if without it, Phum will have no reason to be as close to him?

Peem, baby, for one, your groups are already merged, and secondly, this guy is head over heels for you, no way he'd stop following you like a lost puppy

(Apparently, it's not Peem's turn with the communal braincell this week 😭)

Here, Phum is technically alone, but he's surrounded with friends, and he's smiling

He isn't left behind here, for once, he's sitting there by choice (to shamelessly ogle his crush, but shh we don't talk about that) with the comforting knowledge that when/if he jumps in, he won't be left out, Kluen be damned

Once the floodgates of affection have been opened to Q, there's no going back <3

(Also, notice how Tan is already asleep on Fang's shoulder? 👀)

FINALLY

I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT SINCE PEEM KICKED PHUM'S BALLS

Jokes apart, this moment is so, so beautiful. The kiss, the soft question "are you ready for my answer now?" (maybe Peem isn't, but hell if he denies this man his kissies).

Everything leading up to this point is also so very delightful

Phum helping them out in the cafe, despite probably having never worked a day in his life, discovering how Peem still kept the roses and finally, finally, the completed painting. This sight, above all, is what convinces Phum that Peem might have feelings for him after all; because which fool would lie about not having completed something that would free them from being a slave to someone? A fool in love, that's who

ALSO,

if they don't get together and have the fluffiest moments in the next ep, I swear to god, hands will be thrown *grumbles* they're already making me wait a whole damn week

Anyways, that's all for this week, see you next ep! (I cannot promise I won't be jumping around and screaming, but then again, this is supposed to be a crack post so-)

And if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading! 😊

Here, have a bubble tea and a sandwich 🧋🥪

[If you'd like, here are my previous posts: Ep 8 and Ep 9.]

[sirianasims]

The Don Diaries

Back in the Lothario household, a miracle has happened. Gina. Has. Picked. Up. The. Baby. Granted, Don is at work so for once there was no one else to do it, but still.

Matteo probably wonders who this strange woman is.

Gina. Gina, your son is really smelly. Don't just stare at him, do something about that diaper. Please.

Gina does nothing, so I intervene and make her change him. She finally does it, only to then immediately deposit Matteo on the floor like he was some sort of Sims 2 baby.

She had some very important stretching to do, you see. Infants are kinda heavy WHEN YOU'VE NEVER HELD ONE BEFORE.

Immediately after Don arrives home, one of Gina's lawyer colleagues invites her to a lounge to celebrate her recent promotion. Gina doesn't really know (or like!) her colleagues so I figure they need the bonding time, and it means less time to start fights with Don.

Gina is having a hard time staying interested in her colleague though, and decides to get to know whoever this dude is.

Her poor colleague (who is on her second drink already - to cope with Gina's company, I'm sure) is struggling to keep her engaged and Gina wanders off.

The lounge entertainer, some pianist named Mitchel, is apparently taking a well-earned chess break from entertaining.

... that's quite a lot of heart-farting there, Mitchel.

Especially considering that you're extremely married and have a teen daughter.

Gina's attention span has suddenly improved vastly, something I'm sure has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Mitchel's household funds are - let me check - WAIT, OVER NINE MILLION?!?

I send her home before she can cause any damage, but I have a feeling that it may not be the last we've seen of Mitchel the Pianist. God, the jokes about this guy are gonna write themselves.

Back home, Don is teaching Matteo to stand and both he and I continue to have zero chill about this baby.

Look at him. Perfection. Even the drooling is cute. 10/10.

Gina gets home from her adventures at the lounge, and Don makes another desperate attempt to rekindle some sort of intimacy after putting Matteo to bed.

Don has a very high libido, but he and Gina haven't really been intimate at all since Matteo was born and Don is getting increasingly frustrated.

But as usual, Gina turns him down. I guess she still has Mitchel the Nine Million Pianist on her mind.

The next day starts out well enough, Matteo has found his feet and spends some time getting to know them.

He is then introduced to banana with the help of the not-useless nanny.

It's another success!

But wait, what's this? Gina has apparently had a big day at work too. Not quite as big as discovering banana, but it's something!

Gina makes the decision to speak out, I guess it's the fame and money, but... there goes her promotion again. As if Gina needed another thing to be angry about.

Furious and disappointed, Gina approaches their neighbour and more or less tries to bully her into becoming a client.

Gina, I don't think the suit is the problem.

The tension in this household is at a breaking point, but we still have one more thing to get through.

Enjoy this synchronised father/son facepalm, because tomorrow, things get slightly out of hand - it's time for Sidney and Nathan's wedding!

[ihareyhis]

Spideys as incorrect quotes

Pavitr: That's ridiculous, Hobie doesn't have a crush on me.

Miles: Yes he does.

Gwen : Yes he does.

Hobie: Yes I do

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Miguel : I have the sharpest memory here - name one time I forgot something!

Hobie: You left me, Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr in a Walmart parking lot at 2am a day ago.

Miguel : I did that on purpose, try again

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Gwen : How is the most beautiful person in the world?

Miles: *blushing* I—

Hobie, butting into the conversation: Pavitr is perfect, thanks for asking

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Peni: What’s it like being tall?

Miles: Is it nice?

Gwen : Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?

Noir : We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb four chairs, two boxes, a small coffee table, and six oddly placed stools to get what they want.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Peter. B, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha.

Miguel: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Miles: Who's in charge here?

Peter. B, shrugging: Usually whoever yells the loudest

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Miguel: *speaking Spanish*

Peter. B: I know, I know.

Gwen: You speak Spanish?

Peter. B: No. I just know the phrase, 'this is all your fault' in every language Miguel speaks.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Gwen: Peter,  what are you doing?

Peter. B: Making chocolate pudding.

Gwen: It's four in the morning, why are you making chocolate pudding?

Peter. B: Because I've lost control of my life.

Peter. B: Here's your pudding, Miles.

Miles: Oh that's okay, I'm not hungry anymore.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Miles: Look, I know you think my judgement's clouded because I like Gwen a little bit.

Pavitr, holding Miles's notepad: You doodled your wedding invitation.

Miles: No, that's our joint tombstone.

Pavitr: My mistake.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Hobie: You've been given a new job to do, but I'm worried it might make you angry.

Pavitr: Just say it quick, like ripping off a band-aid.

Hobie: You have to teach Miles how to drive.

Pavitr: ...put the band-aid back on.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Pavitr: Is there anyone here who’s actually straight?

Gwen: *raises hand*

Hobie: *puts Gwens hand down*

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Miles: Everyone synchronise your watches.

Pavitr: I don't know how to do that

Gwen: I don't wear a watch.

Hobie: Time is a construct.