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vroomvro0mferrari · 1 month ago

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LN4 | Vexing Vacation – Part 1

Summary: When you agreed to join your brother on his vacation, sharing a room with his best friend wasn’t part of the plan. Now, that you’re constantly stuck with Lando and his relentless teasing, you’re not sure whether you want to strangle him or kiss him.

Lando Norris x Fewtrell!Reader, one-bed trope, a lot of banter and a hint of forced proximity :)

WC: 3.1K

Warnings: mentions of sex/sexual insinuations, and cursing (as always)

Masterlist | Part 2

Y/N sighed as she stared at her suitcase. She would never get it closed without breaking the zipper. She opened it again, going through the selection of clothes while she asked herself which of her items weren’t absolutely necessary. The unfortunate answer was that she needed everything.

She had wild plans for the short vacation her brother had invited her on. According to him, she had been too stressed the last couple of months, and she desperately needed some time off. Along with the promise that he’d take care of everything, she had agreed to join his trip. She could use a one-night stand, or two and a little flirting to get her mind off her busy job.

However, there was the small nuisance of Lando coming along. Ever since he gained some confidence after his career took off and girls started herding him, he had been mocking her and making extremely inappropriate comments. He had changed over the years and Max had told her all about it. He told her about his new endeavours with the ladies; how he brought a different girl home every weekend and never spoke to them again. The attention was feeding his ever-growing ego, and it annoyed Y/N endlessly. He needed someone to put him in his place, and she would volunteer every time.

She smiled triumphantly when she finally zipped her suitcase closed with half an hour to spare. Sitting on her couch and scrolling on her phone, she waited for her brother to pick her up on his way to the airport. They greeted each other quickly before they took off, Y/N and Pietra catching up and discussing their plans for the week as Max drove.

Once they arrived at the airport, she spotted Lando all too quickly, casually leaning against a pillar near the check-in. He was wearing sunglasses (inside – like some lunatic) and a cocky smile on his face when he saw them approaching.

“Y/N Fewtrell. It’s been a while…”

“If only it lasted longer,” She responded.

Lando smiled at her reply, enjoying her feisty character whereas Max hissed into her ear, “Play nice.”

“Let’s board?” Lando asked. “The jet’s ready, I think.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Private?”

“Yes. Are you impressed?”

“Hardly,” she scoffed before rolling her suitcase to the plane.

The group arrived at their destination in no time – flying private really did have its perks – and drove the rental car to the resort. Taxis were a no-go when half of the people on the trip were professional drivers, and apparently, so were ordinary cars.

The porter took the bags out of the trunk and Lando handed the keys to the valet driver before they entered the hotel. Y/N took a seat in one of the luxurious chairs in the hotel lobby while she let her brother manage the check-in. She was people-watching when the group joined her.

“Okay… So, there’s been a little mishap…” Y/N looked at her brother with narrowed eyes.

“What did you do?” She said in a low tone.

“So, I may have forgotten to book an extra room for you…” Max admitted.

“What?”

“And they have no other rooms left, even the most expensive ones are taken.”

“Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not,” he paused, “but, you can share with Lando.”

Of course, Lando would oh-so-heroically offer to share his room with her. She could just smack the smirk right off his face.

“Max, can I talk to you for a minute – in private?” Y/N asked, an innocent smile on her face, before forcefully pulling her brother aside.

“I can’t sleep in the same room as Lando, Max. I had plans for this vacation, plans that can’t happen if I’m sharing a room with Lando.”

Max raised an eyebrow at her insinuation but didn’t comment on it. “Well, what other option do you have?” He said, crossing his arms.

“I could share a room with Pietra, and you can share with Lando…” she suggested, smiling up at her brother sweetly. “Please?”

Max sighed. “I don’t know about that, Y/N. Pietra and I have plans too, you know. Plans that include nightly activities. In bed,” He clarified.

Y/N pulled a face of disgust but offered her brother the same courteousness of ignoring the comment. “Are you serious, Max? You’re okay with me, your little baby sister, sharing a room – a bed, with Lando Norris? You know well enough that he’s always trying to get into my pants. This is your fault, you know. You told me you had taken care of everything.”

“I don’t like this as much as you do, but there’s not really another choice, is there?”

“Yes, there is. I told you, I can room with—”

“Y/N. Don’t be childish, you’ll be fine sharing a room for a few nights.”

“He’s going to try to take my innocence, Max. You can’t let that happen. You’re my big brother. You’re supposed to protect me, not throw me into the lion’s den.” Y/N tried, pulling out all the stops in the hope Max would change his mind. There was no other card she could play. She was tugging on his arm, practically begging him in the middle of the hotel lobby. If Lando and Pietra didn’t already know what was going on, they sure would know now.

Max rolled his eyes. “Your innocence has been gone for years, I’m sure,” Y/N gasped in offence, “It’s not going to work, make the best of it, yeah?” He concluded, patting her back before walking back to the group.

She watched as her brother walked away, frustration clear on her face, but she joined him only a couple of seconds later; she needed to make the best of this, after all, and it was too late to go home now.

As her eyes met Lando’s, she could already feel a wave of irritation come over her. He was standing casually, the stupid sunglasses still perched on his nose, hands tucked in his pockets, and a smirk plastered on his face as if he knew exactly how her conversation had gone.

“You really don’t want to share a bed with me, do you?” He asked her as soon as she was near enough.

Y/N crossed her arms, glaring at him. “What gave it away?”

“Could’ve been the part where you begged your brother not to throw you into the lion’s den,” Lando said, raising his eyebrows playfully. “Or maybe the part where you said I’m always trying to get into your pants.” He feigned hurt, putting a hand over his chest. “All those years of flirting down the drain…”

He chuckled softly at her angry expression, the sound infuriatingly smug. “Look, you’re making this into a bigger deal than it is. But don’t worry,” he added, his voice dropped as he leaned closer, “I’ll be the gentleman here. You can take the couch.”

Y/N blinked. “What?” She hissed.

“The couch, it’s all yours. I’ll suffer through the luxury of the bed.” He sighed dramatically before turning toward the elevator, casually slinging his bag over his shoulder.

“See you upstairs, roommate,” he winked, stepping inside as the doors slid shut.

Her jaw was slack as she watched him disappear behind the sliding doors. She turned to Max angrily, “What the fuck is wrong with him? Did he fall on his head as a child or something?”

Pietra laughed softly as she wrapped her arms around Max’s waist. “He’s just teasing you, Y/N. It’ll be fine. Come on, let’s go up.”

– – – – –

“I’m not sleeping on the couch,” Y/N said as soon as she entered the room.

“Oh, hello. Good to see you.” Lando smiled smugly from his position on the bed.

She glared at him – if looks could kill he’d be dead ten times over by now. “Get. Off. My. Bed.” She forced out through her gritted teeth.

Lando stretched out even further on the bed, hands behind his head. “Your bed? If I’m not mistaken, you were an afterthought to this vacation. This room was originally mine. You should be glad I’m kind enough to share it with you.”

Y/N stared at him. She wanted to rebuke him and tell him to stay on the couch, but he was right – although she’d never admit it to his face. He was doing her a favour by sharing his room, but he would never be chivalrous enough to sacrifice his bed. She took a deep breath. “Fine,” she said, her voice cold and direct. “I guess we’ll share the bed.”

“Fine with me,” Lando said offhandedly as he messed with the remote control.

“Alright, then. I’ll go get ready for dinner.”

The silence that settled over the room was awkward, at best. Y/N felt Lando’s eyes pricking in her back as she did her makeup, and the eye contact through the mirror didn’t make it any better.

“What?” She asked, hoping for some conversation to fill the quiet.

“Nothing,” Lando responded, averting his eyes and continuing to browse through the series and movies on the TV.

Y/N frowned at the response. She’ll have to raise a topic of conversation herself, then. “Why is it so cold in here?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Lando retorted.

“Do you think it’s cold or are you okay with the temperature?” She continued, but Lando merely shrugged in response.

Y/N sighed, setting down her brush and powder before getting up to look at the air-conditioning setting. In contrast to the rest of the room, it was an old-fashioned system with a disk with a pointer to set the temperature. She turned the disk, but the pointer didn’t move.

“Are you getting hotter?” She asked confused, not feeling a temperature difference in the air blowing out of the air conditioner.

“Don’t even try,” she added quickly before Lando could respond, already seeing the smirk form on his face.

It quickly changed into an innocent smile, “What? I was just going to say I don’t feel a difference.”

“Mhm, sure. I think the air conditioner is broken. I turned the temperature up, but it’s not getting any warmer…”

Lando got up from the bed with a sigh and walked closer to look at the buttons himself.

“You don’t have to get so close…” Y/N commented when she felt his breath hitting her neck.

“I’m trying to see what the buttons say, Y/N. I have to get close in order to do that.”

“You’re getting in my personal space.”

“Personal space? What’s that? I thought we were past the formalities.”

Y/N huffed, crossing her arms.

“I don’t know why it’s not working,” Lando continued, “It must be broken,” he concluded before walking back to the bed.

“What? Can’t you fix it?”

Lando looked at Y/N incredulously, “How am I supposed to fix it?”

“I don’t know… Aren’t you good with technology and stuff?”

“That thing is ancient, Y/N.”

She huffed. She’d just have to deal, then. She quickly changed into one of her dresses and finished her hair.

“Aren’t you going to change?” She asked Lando, who was still lying on the bed in his plane clothes.

“Hm?”

“We’re leaving any minute now. It’d be nice if you changed into something decent for dinner. We’re not eating at some dive bar, you know.”

Lando rolled his eyes and sighed, “Don’t you ever get tired of yourself?”

“Excuse me?” she retorted, crossing her arms as she stared him down, about to scold him when there was a knock on the door.

“You’re lucky this time,” she added, before letting Max and Pietra in.

She plastered a sweet smile on her face and complimented Pietra on her outfit.

“I can say the same about you,” Pietra responded kindly, pulling Y/N in for a hug.

“Oh, you’re too sweet,” Y/N waved off her comment.

“Are you ready to leave?” Max cuts in.

“Yes, don’t know about Lando though. He wouldn’t change.”

“I’m ready,” he interjected. “I don’t need as much time as some people here,” he said with a teasing smile.

“Okay, let’s go.” Max pulled her out of the room before Y/N could respond, her mouth already open to rebut his rude comment.

“Did you hear that, Max? How on earth am I supposed to get through the night – let alone the entire vacation – when he talks to me like that? I swear, I’m going to strangle him in his sleep—”

“Let’s not do that. You just need to adjust a little bit.”

“Did you hear what he said before? He asked me if I never get tired of myself. Do you know how insulting that is? He’s absolutely insufferable! His ego’s way too big, he could use someone to knock it down for him,” Y/N kept rambling as Max led her to the elevator, basically pushing her in before she quieted down.

Pietra and Lando joined them only a few seconds later, and the cocky grin on Lando’s face showed he knew exactly how much he had ticked her off, and the enjoyment he took from it. Y/N glared at him throughout the elevator ride. However, despite his earlier comments and the way he had annoyed her all day – if not all her life – she couldn’t deny he looked good.

The white shirt he had changed into, with the top buttons open and the sleeves rolled up, accentuated his muscled arms, and allowed her to see the glimmer of the silver chain around his neck – she had to admit he was attractive. When Lando caught her looking she quickly averted her gaze, looking at her nails as she picked at them. But he had already noticed, his grin only becoming cockier. The confidence with which he carried himself, although extremely frustrating and unnecessary, had caught her eye along with all the other girls’, but it wasn’t enough to make up for his annoying behaviour.

– – – – –

The dinner was uncomfortable.

Of course, Y/N and Lando had to be seated across from each other. And if the discussions earlier that day didn’t display their dislike for each other, the lack of conversation at the dinner table certainly did. They didn’t exchange a single word until Y/N snapped at him.

“Would you stop looking at me?”

Her patience had worn thin after feeling his eyes on her every other second, but Lando merely smirked at the annoyance in her voice, “Where else am I supposed to look?” he asked innocently.

“I don’t know. Your food, maybe?” She shot back.

Lando raised his hands in surrender, before turning his attention to Max and Pietra, who were deep in conversation. Y/N tried to focus on their discussion, but the persistent feeling of Lando’s gaze on her was impossible to ignore. Every time their eyes met, his smirk only grew, making her jaw clench tighter.

When the meal came to an end, Y/N was more than ready to leave. She quickly collected her bag and jacket before joining Pietra on the walk back. With Lando far away from her, she could finally relax and talk comfortably, without being distracted by a pair of eyes burning holes in her face. The group quickly made their way back to the hotel, and after the elevator ride, Y/N and Lando were once again left alone.

“It’s cold in here,” she mumbled, switching the lights on as she entered the hotel room.

“You don’t say,” he responded sarcastically.

Y/N sighed, deciding to ignore the comment and rather focus on the problem at hand. “Okay, we should probably discuss how we’re going to do this…” Lando looked at her confusedly, so she continued, “As concluded earlier today, we’ll share the bed. I’ll take the left side if that’s okay?”

Lando nodded, so she continued, “The bed is big, so if you dare cross over to my side, I’ll choke you in your sleep—”

“Ooh, kinky,” he interjected, and Y/N flashed him a fake smile, “or I’ll tell Max, and he’ll handle it for me,” she finished.

Now, usually, Lando wouldn’t care much for her threats, but he knew Max was protective over his sister and from experience, Lando also knew that Max would indeed fuck him up if he crossed Y/N’s boundaries. He was actually surprised that Max was okay with him and Y/N sharing a room; he was usually up her ass whenever she so much as stood near a man. He didn’t know whether to be glad about it or not; did Max think Lando was like a brother to his sister, that nothing would ever happen between them, or did he trust him enough not to do anything without her permission?

“Fine, fine. I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman,” he told her.

Y/N squinted her eyes at him.

“I will,” he repeated.

She wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not, but the sincerity in his voice suited her a bit. She nodded and quickly changed into her pyjamas in the bathroom before slipping under the covers on the left side of the bed – as promised. She lay on her side, facing away from the right side where Lando would soon settle. She stayed as close to the edge as she could without falling off, so much so that Lando raised an eyebrow at her when he returned.

“You okay over there? Not lonely or cold or anything? I could warm you up if you like,” he suggested, the amusement evident in his tone.

“I’m fine,” she muttered. She wasn’t really, though. The room was freezing with the air conditioner still blasting cold air, and the thin comforter, which would normally be fine for the temperatures outside, wasn’t helping much.

She felt the bed move as Lando shifted, but she stayed silent, quietly staring out the window where she could just barely make out the street lanterns through the thin curtains. Although she pretended not to care (and would continue to do so), being this close to him made her uneasy – not because she didn’t trust him, although she wasn’t entirely convinced yet, but because of how aware she was of him. His presence, the warmth radiating from his body, and the faint scent of his cologne were all impossible to ignore in this proximity.

She closed her eyes, willing herself to fall asleep, but her mind refused to quiet. Despite everything, she couldn’t stop thinking about how he had actually been pretty decent at dinner – apart from his frustrating staring habit – and how relaxed, confident, and hot he looked in that shirt… She hated how easily he affected her and how only he could wind her up without any effort at all.

– – – – –

Part 2

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nayziiz · 6 months ago

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Stay | LN4

Summary: A new romantic prospect puts things into perspective in the best and worst ways possible.

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Cara)

Warnings: None

Masterlist

CHAPTER 2

The golden hues of twilight bathed Monaco in a soft, ethereal glow, while Lando and Cara found themselves nestled in the cosy confines of the kitchen, their laughter mingling with the tantalising aromas wafting from the sizzling grill. With practised ease, they moved in perfect harmony, their movements fluid and synchronised as they embarked on the culinary adventure that lay before them.

Together, they diced and sliced, grilled and tossed, their shared laughter punctuating the tranquil evening air as they revelled in each other's company. Amidst the clatter of pots and pans, their banter danced like music, a symphony of friendship and camaraderie that filled the kitchen with warmth and light.

Max and Pietra, their voices drifting in from the balcony, busied themselves with setting the table, their laughter echoing in the tranquil night air. With a shared sense of anticipation, they awaited the feast that awaited them, eager to partake in the culinary delights that Lando and Cara had lovingly prepared.

Cara paused in her task of slicing carrots and cabbage for the slaw, her attention momentarily drawn towards the door by the unexpected knock. With a bemused smile, she turned to Lando, who was deftly manoeuvring around the sizzling pan of chicken strips.

“You mind getting that? Kind of busy here,” Lando's request was accompanied by a playful dodge, his focus unwavering despite the flashes of oil splattering from the pan.

With a nod of agreement, Cara set down her knife and made her way to the door, her curiosity piqued by the unexpected interruption. With a quick glance over her shoulder, she chuckled softly at Lando's antics before turning her attention back to the task at hand.

Cara's grin widened as she wiped her hands on a cloth, her amusement at Lando's culinary antics still dancing in her eyes as she made her way to the door. With a sense of anticipation, she swung the door open, fully expecting to greet Max and Pietra with a playful jest or two.

But her playful banter was cut short as her gaze fell upon Maya standing before her, her presence a sudden interruption in the tranquil rhythm of the evening. Despite the surprise, Cara greeted Maya with a warm smile, her voice tinged with genuine warmth.

“Hey, Maya,” she greeted, stepping aside to usher her into the apartment. But to her surprise, Maya remained rooted to the spot, her demeanour guarded and aloof.

“Hi, I'm looking for Lando,” Maya responded, her tone clipped and brusque.

“He's in the kitchen,” Cara replied, gesturing in the direction of the bustling kitchen where Lando's culinary endeavours were well underway. But Maya's response was curt, her words laced with a hint of disdain.

“I know where the kitchen is, doll,” she retorted, her tone dripping with condescension as she breezed past Cara and into the apartment.

Cara watched in silence as Maya disappeared into the depths of the apartment, a sense of unease settling in the pit of her stomach. And as she lingered in the doorway, the echoes of Maya's sharp words hung in the air, a silent reminder of the complexities that lurked beneath the surface of their tranquil evening.

Maya's icy demeanour pierced through the warmth of the evening. Cara felt a pang of discomfort gnawing at the edges of her composure. Yet, for the sake of preserving the fragile peace for Lando's sake, she swallowed her unease and chose to let the moment pass without confrontation.

Turning away from the unsettling scene that unfolded in the foyer, Cara made her way through the apartment, her steps measured and deliberate. The sound of laughter and chatter spilled forth from the kitchen, mingling with the tantalising aromas of grilled chicken and fresh vegetables.

When she passed by the kitchen, a brief glimpse caught her eye, a fleeting moment of intimacy between Lando and Maya as they shared a kiss, leaving a bitter taste lingering in her mouth. With a heavy sigh, she pushed the unsettling image from her mind and continued on her way, her resolve firm as she sought solace in the tranquillity of the balcony.

Max and Pietra were already seated on the balcony, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the evening lights of Monte Carlo. With a grateful smile, Cara joined them, her heart heavy with the weight of unspoken thoughts and emotions.

Cara's words hung in the air, a hesitant warning tinged with apprehension as she stepped out onto the balcony, her gaze seeking solace in the familiar faces of Max and Pietra.

“Just a warning,” Cara started. “Maya's here.”

“No fucking way,” Max's response was swift and vehement, his frustration palpable as he processed the unwelcome news. Sensing the tension mounting, Cara urged for calm, her voice gentle yet firm.

“Just be nice to her for the night. It will mean a lot to Lando,” she implored, her eyes pleading for understanding.

“It would mean more to me if he just dumped her ass,” he countered, his voice edged with a hint of bitterness.

Max's retort was swift and uncompromising, his protective instincts flaring to life in defence of his friend Pietra, interjected with a soothing tone, her words laced with empathy.

“It's just one night, my love,” she reassured Max, her hand reaching out to gently squeeze his hand in a silent gesture of solidarity.

Max's keen intuition didn't fail him as he observed Cara's restlessness with a furrowed brow, his concern mounting with each furtive glance she cast towards the door. Sensing her discomfort like a palpable tension in the air, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease gnawing at the edges of his composure.

“What's bothering you?” Max's question was gentle yet probing, his gaze fixed on Cara with an intensity that bespoke his genuine concern.

“Nothing,” she lied, her tone strained as she struggled to mask the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. Cara's response was swift, her attempt to deflect his inquiry evident in the casual shrug that accompanied her words.

But Max, ever the vigilant protector of his friends, refused to be placated by her dismissive answer. With a subtle raise of his eyebrows, he persisted, his unwavering gaze daring her to speak the truth. Before Cara could conjure up another evasion, the sound of footsteps approached from behind, heralding the arrival of Lando and Maya onto the balcony.

“Maya, you remember Max, Pietra, and Cara?” Lando asked.

Lando's introduction drew the attention of the group, his voice laced with a subtle warmth as he gestured towards Max, Pietra, and Cara. As he rested a protective hand on Maya's lower back, his affection for her palpable in the gentle press of his touch, he awaited their response with an expectant smile.

“Yeah,” Maya nodded in acknowledgment, her gaze sweeping over Max and Pietra with a casual indifference. Yet, when her eyes lingered on Cara, a subtle shift in her demeanour caught Max's attention.

The prolonged scrutiny didn't escape Max's notice, his instincts honed by years of keen observation flickering to life in response to the subtle tension that hung in the air. Sensing the unspoken undercurrents at play, he exchanged a knowing glance with Pietra, their silent communication speaking volumes in the quietude of the night.

Cara, though outwardly composed, felt a shiver of unease prickling at the back of her neck as Maya's gaze lingered upon her. A sense of apprehension crept over her, the weight of Maya's scrutiny stirring a disquieting sense of vulnerability within her. Yet, with a forced smile and a polite nod, Cara met Maya's gaze head-on.

“Dinner should be ready in about five minutes,” Lando's announcement filled the air, a sense of anticipation rippled through the group, their appetites whetted by the tantalising aroma of the meal that awaited them.

With a tender gesture, Lando pressed a kiss to Maya's cheek, his affectionate gesture drawing a fleeting glance from Cara before she averted her gaze, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass with a feigned nonchalance.

“It smells great, Lando,” Pietra's words broke the silence, her genuine compliment met with a radiant grin from Lando.

His pride evident in the sparkle of his eyes, he offered a gracious nod of acknowledgement before excusing himself to attend to the final preparations.

“It's so nice that you guys came to spend the summer break with Lan,” Maya hummed, her voice carrying a hint of genuine warmth as she settled into her seat opposite Cara at the table. “He's just been so exhausted the last few weeks.”

Cara's gaze remained fixed on her table setting, her fingers tracing idle patterns along the rim of her wine glass as she struggled to maintain her composure in the face of Maya's unwavering scrutiny.

“That's what travelling so much does,” Max mumbled gruffly, his tone tinged with a hint of bitterness as he lifted his glass to his lips, taking a long gulp of wine in an attempt to drown out the discomfort that lingered in the air.

Maya's attention shifted momentarily to Max before returning to Cara, her gaze piercing in its intensity as she directed her next question towards the silent figure seated across from her.

“Are you all staying here in the apartment while you're here?” she inquired, her curiosity palpable. Before Cara could formulate a response, Pietra interjected with a warm smile, her voice laced with genuine appreciation.

“Yeah, Lando's been such a great host,” she responded, her words a subtle reminder of the kindness and generosity they had experienced since their arrival.

Despite Pietra's efforts to steer the conversation away from the palpable tension that lingered between Cara and Maya, the latter's attention remained fixated on Cara, her gaze unwavering in its intensity. And as the uneasy silence stretched between them, Cara found herself unable to meet Maya's probing stare, her gaze averted as she sought refuge in the safety of her own thoughts.

“So, Cara, where's your boyfriend? Lan mentioned you were seeing someone?” Maya asked, changing the topic once again.

Maya's question sliced through the air, disrupting the fragile peace that had settled over the table like a jagged shard of glass. Cara's forced smile faltered, her grip tightening around the stem of her wine glass as she struggled to mask the sudden surge of discomfort that washed over her.

“Uhm, not recently,” Cara replied with forced nonchalance, her words tinged with a subtle undercurrent of unease. With a deliberate motion, she raised the glass to her lips, taking a sip of wine in a futile attempt to quell the rising tide of emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

The mention of her nonexistent boyfriend struck a nerve, dredging up memories of failed relationships and unspoken regrets. Yet, amidst the tumult of her thoughts, one thing stood out with piercing clarity—Maya's casual use of the nickname "Lan." The moniker, reserved for those who shared a deep bond of love and affection with Lando, felt like a cruel mockery in Maya's mouth. It was a name that Cara herself had used sparingly, a tender reminder of the intimacy they shared as friends. And to hear it slip so effortlessly from Maya's lips felt like a betrayal of that intimacy, a violation of the unspoken boundaries that defined their relationship.

“It's a good thing then, Monaco is full of eligible bachelors,” Maya commented with a soft giggle of amusement.

Maya's comment hung in the air like a taunt, its underlying implications veiled beneath the guise of casual conversation. Cara's forced smile faltered, her fingers tightening around the stem of her wine glass as she struggled to maintain her composure in the face of Maya's thinly veiled jibe.

“Cara! Your slaw!” Lando's voice rang out from the kitchen with a note of playful urgency.

Lando's voice cut through the tension like a beacon of light, drawing her attention away from the uncomfortable exchange at the table. With a silent nod of acknowledgment, Cara rose from her seat, her movements purposeful as she excused herself from the table and made her way back to the kitchen.

As she stepped into the familiar confines of the kitchen, the warmth of Lando's smile enveloped her like a comforting embrace, banishing the lingering shadows of doubt and insecurity that had plagued her moments before. With a grateful sigh, she returned his smile, her heart lifting at the sight of him.

“I'd finish it up, but you're the slaw master,” Lando declared with a playful grin, his eyes sparkling with admiration as he gestured towards the bowl of slaw perched on the counter.

Cara chuckled softly at his jest, her own smile mirroring his as she accepted the unspoken challenge with a sense of playful determination. With a deft hand, she resumed her task, her fingers moving with practised precision as she added the final touches to her signature dish.

As she mixed the crisp vegetables with a generous drizzle of her famous dressing, the kitchen was filled with the tantalising aroma of herbs and spices, a testament to Cara's culinary prowess. Lando, ever the eager assistant, leaned in closer, his eyes alight with anticipation as he dipped his finger into the bowl, stealing a taste of the savoury dressing before it was even finished.

“How do you do it? Every time it tastes better and better,” Lando groaned with satisfaction, his voice laced with genuine awe as he threw his head back in blissful abandon, his moan of pleasure echoing in the confines of the kitchen.

Lando's concern was palpable as he watched Cara, his brow furrowed with worry as he took in her uncharacteristic silence. The absence of her usual cheerful banter and infectious laughter weighed heavily on him, leaving a hollow ache in the pit of his stomach. Lando's concern deepened with each passing moment, his eyes searching her face for any sign of the vibrant energy that usually radiated from her.

“Hey, what's wrong?” he inquired, his voice soft with concern as he took a step closer, the tongs forgotten in his hand as he watched her with earnest eyes.

Cara's gaze flickered up to meet his, her forced smile faltering in the face of his unwavering scrutiny. For a moment, she hesitated, the weight of unspoken words heavy on her tongue, but she quickly shook her head, dismissing his concern with a gentle shake of her head.

“Nothing,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she avoided his gaze.

Lando wasn't convinced, his intuition telling him that something was amiss. He took another step closer, his expression filled with genuine concern as he reached out to gently touch her arm.

“I can see you're not yourself, Cara,” he insisted, his voice gentle yet firm as he searched her eyes for any hint of the turmoil that lay beneath the surface.

Cara's resolve wavered under his persistent gaze, the mask of indifference slipping further with each passing moment. With a sigh, she relented, her shoulders sagging with the weight of unspoken burdens.

“We can chat tomorrow, yeah?” she deflected, her voice tinged with a note of vulnerability.

Lando nodded in understanding, his concern undiminished as he made a silent promise to himself to be there for her when she was ready to open up.

“If you need anything, tell me, okay?” he reassured her, his voice soft yet unwavering in its sincerity.

“Uh huh,” Cara agreed, her response tinged with a sense of gratitude for his unwavering support.

He wasn't sure if pulling her in for a hug would comfort her or cause her to cry, so he opted for a soft kiss on the forehead before walking out with the wraps on a serving dish. Cara followed suit with her bowl of slaw.

As Lando and Cara approached the table, their arms laden with culinary delights, Maya's gaze lingered on them with a mixture of amusement and intrigue. The sight of Cara's slight blush and the goofy grin that adorned Lando's face only served to deepen the mystery, leaving Maya to wonder about the unspoken dynamics that bound them together.

When Lando settled beside Maya, the unexpected touch of her hand on his thigh sent a jolt of surprise coursing through him. He could feel the weight of her gesture, a silent declaration of intimacy that caught him off guard in the presence of his friends. With a subtle shift in his demeanour, he refrained from glancing at Max or Pietra, choosing instead to focus his attention on Cara, whose discomfort was palpable even amidst the lively chatter and laughter that filled the air.

Max, ever the astute observer, couldn't help but notice the subtle interplay between Lando and Cara, their unspoken connection crackling with tension beneath the surface. The way Lando's gaze lingered on Cara, a silent plea for understanding etched in his eyes, spoke volumes about the depth of their bond—a bond that Max had long suspected held untapped potential.

But Lando, lost in the tumult of his own thoughts, remained oblivious to Max's silent scrutiny. His attention was consumed by the enigmatic figure seated across from him, her guarded demeanour a stark contrast to the easy camaraderie that had defined their interactions in the past.

As he watched Cara, her eyes flitting restlessly around the table, Lando felt a pang of unease gnawing at the edges of his composure. He made a mental note to speak with her later, to unravel the mystery of her discomfort and offer whatever support she needed to ease her troubled mind.

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jamminvroomvroom · 2 years ago

Text

you bring blue lights. part 3

ln x fem!reader

read part 1: a golf swing and a trampoline

read part 2: karma rules!

FINAL PART! i hate it! what else is new? hopefully this wraps things up nicely. thank u for the luv on the other two parts, biiiiiig hugs from me to you MWAH xoxox note: heads up, the max in this series is max fewtrell lmao.

song: little freak by harry styles

in which lando goes back to work and takes you along for the ride. and max is there too. because why wouldn’t he be?

warnings: 18+ pls!! nothing major tbh, smut (mostly implied), bit of angst, bit of fluff, language, anxiety, the worlds most minor f1 incident, max being a snarky little bitch (affectionate)

4.8k words

the colour blue can symbolise many things: bravery and healing. the calm. wisdom and depth. sadness and serenity. permanence.

you weren’t sure what to make of the weather in bahrain. it wasn’t too hot, nor was it cold, but lando was still wearing a hoodie nonetheless. you sat in the passenger seat of the rented volvo, the mild temperature unable to reach you here, especially not with the quadrant hoodie draped over your shoulders. you wanted to shrug it off, the material that once symbolised an unbreakable friendship now resting uncomfortably, a weight, a reminder, but you were there to support your boyfriend, in his every endeavour.

your eyes could have watered, but you blinked, uncontrollably almost, refocusing your gaze onto the centre console, where lando’s large hand held yours. he squeezed once, twice, drawing your eyes from your laced fingers onto his.

you realised then that he’d been murmuring your name, his eyebrows furrowed, concerned. the last thing he needed to worry about today was you. it was quali day in bahrain, the first of the season, and you were sat next to a man on a mission. pull yourself together, woman. you smiled, your lips stretching unconvincingly, the corner of your mouth twitching. this couldn’t be classed as anxiety anymore, it went far beyond that. he sighed, deflated already.

“listen, if you’re not ready to do this…”

“i am. i am!” your voice was abnormally high pitched, and lando wondered where his cool as a cucumber girlfriend had gone. you hated the worry that clouded his sky-grey eyes.

it was your first time in the paddock, and naturally, you were a wreck. a picturesque mess. you’d picked out a nice outfit, something that made you look put together without trying too hard, classy without looking like you were leeching off of lando. you knew what they’d say about you, otherwise. they were already saying it. he’d tried his hardest to keep you hidden but the internet was ablaze with theories and questions and lies and judgement, so he’d suggested that you come to bahrain, viewing it as a perfect opportunity to break the ice with the media and the fans.

it had been finalised and you’d been mentally preparing yourself since the moment you’d decided to attend. but when he turned up to your apartment one day after a meeting, an anxious, babbling mess, you wondered if you’d made a mistake.

it turned out that the bahrain grand prix was a team quadrant event.

with your ticket booked, you’d chosen to suck it up, business as usual, but the idea of a weekend caught between two men that hated each other was not your idea of a good time, especially not when you were the problem. the morning that max had caught you, bare legged and lovesick in lando’s kitchen, would probably haunt you as long as you lived.

lando was angry and max? max was furious. now, they’d both just gone cold.

there was a stillness in the kitchen, ice cold all of the sudden, all of the warmth of you and him gone. you felt like a child caught in the act, nowhere to run. lando looked pale, afraid, utterly distraught. your eyes flicked between him and max, waiting for the dam to break; who would crack first? you couldn’t bare it, lips parting in a whisper.

“max-“ you barely heard yourself but max heard you perfectly, melancholic disgust in his eyes as they flitted to you. you felt small. you felt sick.

“don’t.” he barked. you sunk into yourself, shaking slightly. lando didn’t like that, stepping forward.

“listen to me, we-“ lando started.

“don’t you fucking dare.” max took a deep breath, shaking his head as if to compose himself. it wasn’t working. his eyes glazed over. “you’re not even sorry, are you?” he was looking straight at lando now, as if you weren’t even there.

lando’s lack of response spoke volumes. max cracked, a mixture of disbelief and disappointment shining through the rage. you held your breath. max turned to you, searching for solace, remorse, anything. you looked away.

“you two deserve each other.” max spat.

the slamming of the door made you wince.

lando felt selfish the second you touched down in bahrain. he watched your leg bounce on the plane, in the car, sat on the edge of the hotel bed, and wondered if this was all too much too soon. he needed you, but did you need this? the media, the fans? him? he ached watching you stare at your intertwined fingers sat on the centre console, your eyes glistening.

he was so, so selfish, a point proven over and over, and you were everything but. you were here, living proof of the fact.

the quadrant hoodie you wore, the bright blue contrasting with how you’d paled the second he’d parked the car, reminded lando of his crimes. you were blue, too, his calm amongst the chaos, an ocean that he thanked every god he could think of that he got to explore. you were a serenity, a serendipity, his bright blue light that kept him grounded.

if he’d ever doubted it before, he knew he loved you, completely and utterly, when you took a deep breath and got out of that car.

you let lando lead the way, a few steps ahead. you wondered if he could feel you shaking. you let go of him briefly, to scan your pass and slide through the gate, but he was reaching for you instantly. his thumb rubbed the soft skin of your hand, soothing you as the flashes of the cameras began to creep in the further you made it in to the paddock. you stared ahead, keeping your face as neutral as possible, letting him tow you along.

you stumbled when he stopped to take a picture with a fan, signing another’s hat, taking the moment to gather yourself. you became all too aware of your surroundings, the sheer amount of cameras pointed in your direction making you nauseous. as your hard exterior began to crumble, you felt his arm hook over your shoulder, a firm kiss planted on your forehead as you fell into step beside him once more.

“you got this, baby.” he murmured. you couldn’t help but smile up at him, finally feeling a small sense of ease. lando smiled back at you, and suddenly you wanted to frame every single stupid pictures they were taking of you both.

“so do you.” you grinned. he smiled bashfully. you knew how much this weekend meant to him.

you made your way into the mclaren hospitality, keeping close to lando. you sighed, relieved to be away from the cameras, and he introduced you to some members of his team, letting you make small talk while he spoke to his engineers.

you were intrigued watching him fall into the zone, calm, at ease, immersed into his world. you didn’t miss the way he kept an eye on you as he made his rounds. he ushered you over, pulling you deeper into the building, greeting people along the way. soon, you found yourself being led into his drivers room.

lando placed his bag on the table, small smile on his face as he moved around the room. you hoisted yourself up onto the massage table, swinging your legs, content in just watching him in his natural habitat.

“what are you smiling about, hmm?” you asked, eyebrow quirked.

“just you, being here. it’s nice.” he crossed the room and closed the gap, hands smoothing over your thighs as he parted them to stand between your legs.

“i like seeing you like this, you know. like watching you.” you placed your hands over his.

“oh, i know, love. always catch you staring.” he smirked.

“in that case, maybe i’ll just go back to the hotel.” you turned your head dramatically, leaning away from him.

“don’t be like that, you’d be lonely in that big bed without me.” he teased.

“i’m sure i could find a way to entertain myself.” you smirked at him, a frustrated groan emitting from the back of his throat as he grinned down at you.

“you’re cruel.” he murmured, giving into his desire and closing the gap.

you smiled against his lips, gripping hard at the material of his hoodie to pull him closer. his hands moved over the crease in your thighs, pulling at your hips as he kissed you harder. you threaded your fingers through his curls, tongue brushing his bottom lip. you enjoyed the noises he made, the low hum that vibrated against your mouth. your flushed body ran cold at the sudden rattling of the door handle.

you had no time to react when the door swung open, jon nonchalantly walking in, talking over his shoulder to a tired looking max and niran. your blood ran cold, hit by a sickening sense of deja vu that had you burying your face in lando’s chest. you felt lando vibrate as he cleared his throat, jon stopping in his tracks.

“shit.” jon grimaced, realising. “sorry, i- we didn’t know you were in here, someone said you were in the garage, didn’t mean to walk in on you like, uh, this.” he rambled awkwardly. a scoff from somewhere behind him made lando tense up, your eyes squeezing shut in discomfort.

“not like it’s the first time.” max muttered.

“i just came to pick up your schedule, sorry mate.” jon quickly cut in. you dared to look, peeking out from lando’s hoodie. niran was staring at the ceiling, quite clearly wishing he was somewhere else. you wished you were there too. max had his arms crossed, looking around the room. you couldn’t work out why he’d come in here.

max caught you staring, eyes hardening immediately as he took in the way your fingers curled into the material of lando’s hoodie, of lando’s hands on your hips. you could visualise the flashbacks he must have been having. he turned on his heel, leaving without another word, and you sighed. niran threw you a sympathetic smile, awkwardly waiting for jon who’d finally found the paper he was looking for, and then you and lando were alone again.

you looked up at him, noticing the way his jaw was tensed, the way his eyes had darkened, cold all of the sudden. he didn’t need this kind of stress, not when he was hours away from getting in the car. this season had no room for error, not when his new teammate was tipped to perform well, not when he was the new leader. you wondered if your being there was right.

“hey, its okay. maybe i should just go back to the hotel today, hm?” you suggested softly. his dark expression switched to one of vulnerability.

“no, no. you shouldn’t have to leave because he can’t be a grown up.” lando shook his head, frustration evident in his tone.

“you’ve got an important day ahead, babe. last thing we need is you being surrounded by all this,” you gestured around the room. “negativity.” you reasoned. his face fell further, hands moving to cup your cheeks.

“none of this is your fault, okay? you’re the only one i want here. let him sulk. i tried to fix it and he wouldn’t have it.”

“we hurt him, lando. it is my fault.” you averted eye contact as you spoke.

“hey, look at me. look at me.” you met his eyes again, which had warmed up significantly as he gazed at you. “i want you here. i need you here. don’t let him get to you. he’ll be doing work stuff anyway, you’ll hardly see him. i want you to be a part of his, okay? try and have some fun.”

you sighed, realising that your desire to be near lando, to support him, outweighed the guilt you felt towards max. after all, as cruel as it may have been, that’s why you’d chosen lando. that’s why you were here, every discomfort that you felt pushed aside. you nodded your head, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“now, i need to get changed. try not to stare too much, darling.” he pecked your lips, tension melting away as the smirk returned.

you pushed him away playfully, choosing to scroll through your phone as he started to prepare himself, letting your eyes wander occasionally. he’d wink every time he caught you looking.

despite the blush on your cheeks and the smile you couldn’t contain, you couldn’t help the bad feeling that crept in, lurking at the corner of your happiness. this would be a long weekend.

lando busied himself with his race suit, changing quickly. every time he looked up, throwing you a wink, he pretended that he wasn’t spiralling. he could see you thinking too hard, worrying, acting like you weren’t. all he wanted was for you to have a nice time with him, experience something so important to him, and already that idea, that visual of you becoming a bigger part of his world, it was crumbling all around him.

he let himself be angry at max sometimes, framing him as the source of your anxiety, but that was just a pitstop he made before he placed the blame back where it belonged; this was all lando’s fault. but this mess, this chaos, this love? he was willing to pay for his mistakes forever if it meant that every race weekend started and ended in your arms.

and so, lando did what lando did best. he kissed his girlfriend, got in his car, and made his way into Q3.

lando had qualified well, better than what had been expected, hugging you right when he’d bounded into the garage. you’d been surprised at how nervous it made you, watching him drive out of the garage and onto the track. you found yourself unable to take your eyes off him on the screen ahead of you, nails chewed down anxiously for the entire session. you clung to him, letting out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. you allowed yourself to kiss him, just a quick peck, settling.

you let him leave once more, comforted by the fact that his biggest danger now was the media that awaited him, and navigated yourself out of the garage. you couldn’t pretend you weren’t a little bit lost in the winding corridors, but finally you stumbled out of the tunnel, the one your boyfriend always tapped the top of, a superstition, and into the sunlight. you hovered in the entrance, staring out at the bustle of the paddock.

it felt so surreal, overwhelming to be here for lando. with him, at last. you just couldn’t seem to shake the fear you felt watching him get in the car. the thought of the impending race made you nauseous.

as you stood there blocking the entrance, lost in your thoughts and the complexities of your relationship, you were reminded of the only hurdle it faced, at the unimpressed clearing of someone’s throat.

you turned quickly on your heel at the noise, snapped out of your thoughts. you gulped.

“can i get past, please?” max asked, refusing the eye contact that you were desperately trying to make. you didn’t miss the way his eyes rolled at the sight of the blue quadrant hoodie covering your frame.

“i should probably let you, shouldn’t i?” you smiled, weakly, a feeble attempt at breaking the ice.

all max did was nod ever so slightly.

“will you talk to me?” you took note of just how pathetic you sounded.

“i can’t, i have somewhere to be.” he said, quiet with emotion, careful with his tone.

“just a minute, please max.” he flinched at his name falling from your traitorous tongue.

“i can’t do this right now.” he tried to side step you, but you blocked him.

“i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry. if you believe anything, believe that.” you begged.

“i don’t know what to believe anymore.”

you didn’t fight him again, defeated as you watched him walk away.

you seemed different when lando found you later after the media rush, in the quiet of the paddock. you seemed sad, although you kept it carefully concealed. he noticed the way you held his hand tighter, kissed him softer. he wanted to get you out of the paddock, away from it all, take you back to the hotel where he could touch you and hold you and take away this dull pain.

he prayed that you weren’t getting too blue, that you wouldn’t go cold in his presence, the more you adapted to the bittersweet realities of his lifestyle.

he wondered if his anxieties were misplaced when you kissed him with everything you had and tumbled into the white bed linen with him, burning for one another.

lando reminded himself that you were still here. he knew all too well that you didn’t stay for just anyone.

lando looked beautiful when he was asleep. he was always so busy, always on the go, so you cherished these mornings dearly. a stream of sunlight made its way over the sheets, creeping up his body, bathing him in warmth. you hadn’t shut the curtains properly, urgently falling into bed with him, but you were thankful for it now as he stirred. the only thing better than watching the soft rise and fall of his chest was watching him wake up.

his eyes fluttered open, his arm stretching out and over your waist. you gazed at the blue-green of his eyes, rolling over and into his side. you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, engulfed by the heat of his bare skin pressed against yours. you stayed there quietly, letting him wake up.

suddenly, he let out a groan, rolling on top of you, curls falling in his eyes. you’d told him one night in dubai, after a cocktail too many, that he should grow his hair out. you’d whispered something seductive in his ear about having more to pull on. he’d quickly taken you back to your suite, and happily obliged with your request ever since.

you’d spent last night in a similar situation, pouncing on him immediately when you’d gotten back from the track. a day spent watching him drive had riled you up, and paired with your neediness, you were gagging for it by the time you got him alone. lando pulled you out of your daydream with a kiss, his body melting into yours.

“what’s on your mind?” his voice was low, gravelly from where he’d just woken up.

“nothing, just thinking.” you mused. he leaned in closer, lips brushing yours.

“about what? because i’m still thinking about last night.” lando murmured. you smiled coyly up at him.

“why? what happened last night?” you faked confusion, eyebrow raised.

“this beautiful woman could not keep her hands to herself.” lando feigned shock.

“that must have been so difficult for you.” your voice oozed sarcasm.

“it was very hard.” he grinned, devilish, leaning down to kiss you again.

you could feel the press of his body, every inch of his warm skin against yours. your hand slid softly across his face, brushing his curls back, tugging gently at the strands as his lips left yours and trailed down your jaw.

the air got hotter, charged, when he nipped at your neck, your collarbone, and dug his fingers into your hip, kneading your soft edges. your mouth hung open, panting slightly in anticipation, skin alight as his hand worked across the crease of your thigh. lando gripped your inner thigh, spreading you open, letting his fingers run rampant.

he continued to mouth at your shoulder, biting down gently as he found your clit, the medley of pleasure and pain making your eyes roll back. the rest of your morning was a blur.

lips on yours, fingers working you open. his name, a prayer. your legs, wrapped around him, numb. sweat and bliss, you and him. your legs shook, vision bleary.

lando was all yours, belonged to you, your name tearing sweetly from the depths of him as he let himself get lost.

you stared up at him, breathless and grinning.

lando had one singular thought when he managed to pull himself from the crook of your neck, languid and tingling. between the chaos and the quiet, you found a way to bring him back to earth, gleaming blue.

i love you.

“are you looking forward to the race?” you’d heard him ask.

it had been quiet for a while, your unrelenting bout of morning sex leaving you a tangled, sleepy mess.

“i don’t know.” brutal honestly seemed to be your forte.

“ouch.” he teased.

“i don’t know how to be okay with watching you.” it was the realest thing you’d said to lando all weekend, mumbled into his collarbone where you hid your face.

“you’ve seen me race.” he shifted, as if he was trying to find your face, your eyes, voice laced with confusion.

“yeah, but that was before.”

“before what?”

“just…before.”

before i knew what you meant to me.

before i broke your best friends heart.

before i fell in love with you.

you spent the duration of the formation lap looking for the nearest exit, telling yourself that you were being ridiculous, and wondering how every other loved one coped every race weekend. to your surprise, max was stood on the other side of the garage. you figured he would have chosen to be anywhere else, but his fingers drumming against the countertop, in an identical fashion to yours, made you wonder if he shared the pit in your stomach.

your eyes flitted around nervously, taking short breaths as the cars lined up on the grid. five lights went on, and then out, and you held your breath.

lando made it through turn one, turn two. through lap one, lap 17, lap 34. he was having a good race, a great one even, the byproduct of a strong start, his race craft and a calculated strategy. you made the mistake of starting to relax.

you gasped when an alpine tagged his car. one hand flew to your mouth, the other gripping the wire of your headphones in sheer, gut-twisting panic. your eyes fixed on the screen, watching him spin, spin, spin across the track. you were frozen, utterly unmoving, time stopping around you until his car suddenly did out on track.

he was fine.

he skidded to a halt, making his way safely back onto the track, carrying on as normal. he was completely, totally fine.

you burst into tears.

you heard the headphones clatter gently against the surface top, a blur through your tears, and quickly left the garage. you blindly made your way through the stupid, little corridors and back into that tunnel that led to the paddock. you slumped against the metal wall, sobbing, no use in wiping your free flowing tears. how were you supposed to do it, to live this life, holding your breath every time lando went to work?

you heard footsteps approaching, a pang of embarrassment flashing in the pit of your stomach that made you want to disappear. you took a shaky breath, wondering how you could possibly escape, when you heard the footsteps coming to a halt, the mystery person stopping. you looked up shyly, blinking away tears. you were shocked to see max was stood opposite you, leant against the wall behind him. he sighed.

“stuff like that happens. he’s fine, you know?” max reassured you. you couldn’t quite believe that he was here, let alone offering you some shred of comfort. the tears made a comeback.

“how do people do this? i barely made it through turn one.” you sniffled, voice cracking.

“you just learn to live with it. that fear that you’re feeling, it never quite goes away. but watching him succeed? it becomes worth it.” max spoke with a quiet admiration, one that made your heart ache. you were reminded of just how human he was.

“what if i can’t do it? the idea of something happening to him…” you trailed off, shaking your head.

“i can’t believe i’m about to say this but,” max sighed once more, reluctant to admit what he’d come to realise. “he needs you here. and i know you, you wouldn’t be doing any of this with him if you didn’t want to. if i believe anything, it’s that.”

you looked down at his words, the echo of yesterdays run-in ringing in your ears. he knew all too well that you wouldn’t be in a relationship that you didn’t want to be in. the guilt crept back in.

“i didn’t mean for any of this to happen the way it did.” your voice wavered.

“well, you can’t help who you fall in love with.” max shrugged.

“what?” your head snapped up to look at him, blindsided by his words. was it so obvious?

“what? you do love him, don’t you?” max asked, confused.

“i, well, we haven’t- i mean, i haven’t-“ you rambled.

“don’t tell me you guys fucked me over for nothing.” max teased. you looked up at him like a rabbit in headlights. he laughed at your expression, and you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. you joined in, laughing with him as the tears finally dried up.

“you should tell him.”

“if i do that, are you gonna hate me even more than you already do?”

“i don’t- i could never hate you.” max’s gaze softened. “and as much as i’d love to right now, i could never hate him, either.” he rolled his eyes.

“talk to him?” you suggested, cautious. max smiled.

“don’t push your luck this weekend.” he grinned. “you ready to go back in there? the race is pretty much over.”

you nodded, smiled, walking alongside him in comfortable silence back into the garage. the team were elated, a decent recovery made after the shambles of last season, but all you could focus on was how desperate you were to see lando. max walked back to the desk where he’d been watching the race, throwing you a reassuring wink. you smiled softly.

max was the first person that lando really saw when he entered the garage. the air seemed to have thinned out, lighter, somehow. he’d ask questions later.

max smiled, small. lando could barely contain the grin he returned the olive branch with.

something clicked, somewhere deep in his chest, and the healing process began. in progress, finally, slowly but surely.

lando inhaled, and for the first time in forever, it felt easy. he almost couldn’t remember what that felt like.

then, lando saw you, a bright blue light, starlike, his beacon, waiting for him in the corner of the garage. he weaved his way through the sea of people until he was secure in your arms.

oscar walked in first, the team cheering him on after his first race. lando followed soon after, getting his own celebration. you watched on, a warmth filling your chest; you knew max was right. you watched lando walk through the garage, met with slaps on the back, ruffles of his messy curls. he smiled wide, wider somehow when his eyes landed on max. it was a welcome surprise, one that drenched you in relief.

lando’s eyes darted around until he found you, catching you staring from the back of the room. he made a beeline to you, engulfing you in a hug. his eyebrows furrowed, confused, perhaps, at your puffy cheeks and red eyes, but your hands flew to his cheeks, lips meeting his. he kissed you back, smiling against your lips. you pulled back, grinning up at him.

“are you okay, sweetheart?” he whispered.

“i’m just so proud of you.” you murmured.

“i’m so glad that you’re here.” he gently squeezed your waist, nose bumping yours.

“i need to tell you something.” your stomach twisted, this time in excitement; butterflies.

“what?”

“i love you, lando.” his whole face changed, his smile bigger than you’d ever seen it.

“i love you.” he replied, cupping your face. his thumbs grazed your cheekbones. “god, you have no idea how much i…” he trailed off, searching your eyes for a moment before he kissed you again, deep and slow. the tears that hit your cheeks weren’t your own, and you held him even tighter.

you broke apart, his head falling into the crook of your neck, hot kisses pressed to the exposed skin. your fingers ran though his hair, toying with the curls at the nape of his neck.

over lando’s shoulder, you could see max, hint of a smile on his face. your eyes watered again, meeting his across the garage, and he smiled, properly.

all the pieces fell, messily, into place.

max watched on, aching at the way you clung to lando, your hands in his hair, lando’s lips pressed so intimately to the delicate skin of your neck. max felt a dull sense of happiness sneak in; you and lando were the picture of what love was supposed to look like. you’d never looked at him the way he’d always caught you looking at lando.

it didn’t hurt any less yet, but he was starting to realise that it would.

thank fuck that’s over

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @turningxstrange @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @yeolsbubbles @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @organasith @micks-afterglow @blueflorals @juno-1610 @lqvesoph @wilmasvensson @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @h0e-xoxo @mattxxamryli @pjofics

(i’ve removed tags that weren’t working - lemme know if you wanna be added or removed xoxox)

#lando norris #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #lando norris fluff #lando norris angst #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #f1 fic #f1 smut #f1 #f1 fluff #f1 angst #f1 imagine #lando norris imagine #max fewtrell #max fewtrell fic

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oeuvrinarydurian · 5 months ago

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Gutting. Lovely. Devastating. Beautiful.

ENDEAVOUR First and Last

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da-rulah · 10 months ago

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Okay ghesties, please help me choose my next AU...

As some of you will know, I'm working on a Mary Goore AU that got away from me recently. It was meant to be two parts max, and right now, it's becoming longer than I thought...

BUT

I can't choose between two AU ideas I'm desperate to write after this one, so I need you guys to pick for me.

Below are the summaries for each of my ideas, with some warnings about the content in them. Both of them will be multiple chapters in length, longer than anything I've written to date. Read them carefully, and choose your favourite. Whichever wins, is the one I'll write first...

Folié a Deux – Cardinal Copia x OC Female Character (1st Person POVs)

Rating: Extremely dark and explicit fiction, laced with trigger warnings incl. but not limited to: sex trafficking, sexual assault, coercion.

The Ministry has many fingers in many pies... ‘The Ghost Project’ is simply not the only endeavour they focus on. Between fundraisers for the poor, advocating for minorities, vigilante justice and even legal representation, the Ministry is a busy and international organisation.

One such project – The Rush Hour project – was new. A project that focussed on known sex trafficking rings, discovered on the dark web and through underground contacts. The aim was to infiltrate and free their captives, give them new lives and begin to heal the trauma forced upon them.

On one particular night, Cardinal Copia is entrusted with infiltrating an auction, buying a woman the Italian mob is hoping to sell on. Except, he falls short... Too lost in the hauntingly empty eyes of the beauty before him, he is unable to focus, and thus, he loses his chance.

But he had to have her. She will be his.

By any means necessary.

Can You Hear the Thunder? – Papa Emeritus IV (Copia) x OC Female Character (1st Person POVs)

Rating: Explicit with horror elements incl. but not limited to: torture, violence, paranormal entities, religious trauma. (This is my own personal idea of how the lore could continue while we wait for any new updates...)

Papa Emeritus IV is plagued by dreams of a time long forgot, before his papacy; before any part of his Ministerial career. They are incoherent, patchy and make little sense to him. Still, he continues his work under the guidance of Sister Imperator, Mr. Sultarian and the Clergy.

Now home from another highly successful world tour with The Ghost Project, Papa finds himself having his dreams more frequently. Night after night, they grow longer, fragments of memories flickering through his mind like a child’s flipbook until one night, the thunder comes...

And then they find her, laying on the steps of the Ministry amongst the worst storm California had seen in a decade.

A woman with nothing about her person except the ragged nightgown soaked and tattered in the storm, and a strange and deliberate carving on her back.

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morsesnotes · 4 months ago

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After Exeunt aired there was a lot of annoyance about Max's relationship with Morse being forgotten, but I think it actually makes sense.

Throughout Endeavour, Morse and Max definitely have an unspoken understanding and they're friends, but there was also more distance between them because of Max being less directly involved in the cases and similar to Morse in liking his privacy/solitude. With Thursday, Jakes, Strange, Bright, and even Trewlove they spent a lot of time with him.

I like the idea of them becoming much closer and starting to hang out together in the 70s.

#itv endeavour #endeavour #endeavour morse #max debryn #endeavour: exeunt #morse x max #thinking thoughts

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oeuvrinarydurian · 5 months ago

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Somebody else will certainly put it over the top before I do, but I am in the homestretch of a piece. I’m going as fast as I can. Unfortunately, I have a job, or I would just write my ass off. Hopefully it’ll post by Wednesday!

The Endeavour AO3 tag, is only 1 work away from hitting 2000 stories!

What an amazing milestone for a small and wonderful fan community!

Well done writers!

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summerkoya · 2 years ago

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the next right thing

Chapter 3

aemond targaryen x original female character , aemond targaryen x wife!oc

summary: Aemond and Myria need each other just as much, but one of them is bound to make the first move

warnings: smut , aemond is a tease, a TEASE , fluff.

****

Myria opened her eyes, as she felt a warm beam of sunshine glimmering on her face. She stretched an arm to her right, and found the space empty, as always. She had a dim recollection of Aemond kissing her good morning, but she must’ve been asleep at the time. More often than not he started his day hours earlier than Myria, but he always made sure to kiss her before leaving the bed.

She rolled over, sighting in loneliness. It had been three moons since Max was born, and they still hadn’t spent a night together. Sure, they slept in the same bed every night, but they had yet to endeavour in an activity Myria had been particularly yearning for quite some time. She knew Aemond was just trying to be respectful of her, and she knew how lucky she was for that, most husbands weren’t that thoughtful; but she was growing relentless, and wished he did something.

Myria shook her head, deciding she would not let her day be ruined by such bothersome thoughts, then looked towards the window, and smiled. The weather was clear, the sun was shining and only a few clouds covered the sky. It was warm, and she was already feeling like her old self. No pain whatsoever, no excessive tiredness, not feeling utterly bloated anymore, and she wanted to take advantage of that and spend time playing with the boys once again.

So she hopped out of the bed, and put on a nice, rose dress that she had brought back from Dorne. It was made out of silk, and was tight on her waist, where a small knot tied the dress closed over her chest. It elegantly fell to just below her knees, and only covered her up to her shoulders, showing her bare arms. She guessed it could be seen as a slightly indecorous gown by the people in Westeros, but the day was unusually warm, and the dress made her feel like home. She was a Martell, first and foremost, which meant she thrived in the heat.

After leaving Max with a Septa, Myria strolled towards her children’s room and gently shoved the door open, smiling with fondness at the sight of the two boys sleeping. “Good morning, my sunshines!” She whispered with love, as she kissed each of them awake. Trystan started to sit up on his own, while Griffin remained in bed, snoring deeply. She bent down once again, and started tickling him, which managed to make him open his eyes in a smile. “Do you want to go with me to visit Rhaexar and Maelar?”

The boys sheepishly agreed with happiness, and jumped out of bed. Myria was fast to dress them, and then bolted across the castle’s hallways, as she pretended to chase after them. As much as they loved their little brother, the boys had missed being able to play with their mother, and she had missed doing so just as much. Myria complained sometimes about the wild souls the boys were, failing to admit both of them had certainly inherited such a trait because of her.

They reached the entrance to the castle, which also happened to be the training patio, and Myria helped the boys into a carriage, so they could all be taken into the dragonpit. She was more than happy to simply hop a horse and take them herself, but Aemond insisted on such precautions.

“Alright darlings, stay here,” she instructed them, after settling them down, “I am going to look for Yago, I’ll be back in a second.”

The few times the man wasn’t outside her door, he spent training, as she very well knew, so she figured he had to be somewhere around the patio. There was only one problem: the place was so cramped, Myria was having a hard time spotting him.

There was a big crowd near a corner, gasping in awe and cheering about something that was happening within the circle of people. Myria recalled Yago liked to get into practice fights, so she approached the multitude, hoping to find him. She gently pushed some people around, and stood behind two women, who were very openly blushing and rallying.

Myria then realised the crowd was franticing about two people duelling, and she was surprised to see her husband as one of them. Aemond was sparring against Ser Criston Cole, and quite dangerously as well. They were striking at each other with all of their strength, and she couldn’t help but feel her heart leap each time Aemond narrowly ducked one of the Commander’s attacks.

Myria knew she was supposed to look for Yago, but she couldn’t draw her eyes away from Aemond. She was aware of her husband’s impressive skills with the sword— his reputation preceded them everywhere they went, but she never knew how good indeed he was at it. She rarely saw her husband fighting, given that Aemond didn’t like to participate in tourneys and she wasn’t one to usually have incentive to go down and watch him, since she thought watching men sparring wasn’t that thrilling a diversion. But that day she stood corrected.

The way Aemond swirled the sword with his fingers, the hostile scowl that tightened his jaw, the grunts that left his lips each time he bolted towards Cole, and how easily he dodged all of his strikes, had Myria feeling a certain type of way, and her brain started to rush through a torrent of thoughts no honourable lady should have in public. She thought about his muscles, all very well known to her, flexing under his shirt; about him shoving her into bed with the same strength he pushed Cole, and him muffling his groans on her bare shoulders—

Before she could realise what she was doing, Myria found herself on the edge of the circle, watching with a much too improper gaze at her husband, if not openly ogling him.

The fight seemed to be reaching an end, since Aemond clearly had the upper hand. On a clever move, he aggressively hit Cole’s shield with his sword, making it snap in two, one of the parts landing just before Myria’s feet. With a kick, Aemond knocked Criston over, who fell to the floor with a thud, poked his neck with the tip of the sword, and smirked. Victory. People all around her cheered, the two women at her side maybe much too enthusiastically, but Myria was awfully entranced by him to notice.

“Well done, my Prince.” Cole smiled, as Aemond extended his arm to help him on his feet. That’s when the Prince turned around to search for the broken shield, and spotted her, his wife, gaping at him, eyes sparkling and cheeks faintly blushed. His eyes travelled to the hand she was pressing against her breasts, covered only by a thin, impossibly tight fabric, and heat ignited in his core, as his heart fluttered at the sight. He had to bite an arrogant smile away from his lips, proud about the fact that he could stir up such an improper reaction from her, away from the intimacy of their shared room.

“Be careful, my lady,” Aemond said out loud, pointing at the shield next to her feet, while strolling towards her. As he reached her, Aemond looked around, to make sure everyone was distracted, and drew his lips close to her ear. “I could see you drooling from six feet away, princess,” he whispered, subtly smirking at her.

“Mmm.” She dopily hummed, eyes fixed on the heartbeat on his neck, still much too entranced by her husband to understand the words coming at her. “Oh!” She gasped in embarrassment, once her brain catched up with her hearing. Myria looked down at her feet, as shame flushed her cheeks a bright, rose tinge. He was rather fond of that colour.

Aemond gently grabbed her chin, and lifted her gaze up, forcing her to meet his. “You don’t need to hide your arousal from me, dear wife.” He murmured against her ear. Myria felt the burning feeling of desire travelling down her stomach, and couldn’t help but to exhale a little whine as her husband dropped her face, and backed a step away from her, bending down to pick the broken shield.

“What is it, then?”

“I— I’m sorry?” She asked, face scrunched up in confusion.

“I assume you didn’t come here to indecently stare at your husband, or has lust simply made you bolder, dearest?” He sniggered, with a mischievous grin.

“O—oh,” she stuttered, “I was looking for Yago, so he could escort me and the boys to the dragonpit.”

“I’ll come with you.” He instructed, throwing the sword and broken shield on a table by their side. He then placed his hand on Myria’s lower back, and guided her towards the carriage.

The trip towards the dragonpit was loud, Myria thanked the Gods, as she spent most of the time struggling with keeping the boys away from jumping from one side to another, which distracted her from the butterflies her husband’s teasing had left fluttering on the depths of her core.

“Come on, boys!” She pulled them apart, as the carriage came to a halt. “Let Yago help you get down, that’s it.” Myria called, as she made sure the little boys jumped into the man’s arms safely. She was about to hop from the carriage herself, when a hand grabbed her waist and pulled her back inside. Aemond then pushed the door close, and gently shoved her against it. He placed a hand against the wall, right next to her face, and drew his face near hers, his hot breath making her tremble under his touch.

“W— what…”

“Do you want something from me, my lady?” He whispered, letting his lips brush against her cheek. “Is that why you put on that gown…” he added, trailing the edge of the dress with his fingers, around her shoulders, collarbone, cleavage… “and why you stared at me with such an insolent blush on your cheeks?”

…breasts. Myria slightly whined at his touch, at the delicacy with which his fingers rubbed against her chest, wishing he was rougher. She knew he was playing with her, but Myria wasn’t strong enough to resist. She was a pawn on a game he had already set the rules to.

Her body and soul became entirely his the moment he looked at her; her clever, witty and bold character surrendered before Aemond’s touch, like sand melts under fire. Myria fixed her gaze on his lips, with an almost famished expression on her eyes.

He placed a hand on her nape, gently pulling her towards him. “All you need to do is ask, my sweet wife.” His lips were so close, he might as well be already kissing her, and so she closed her eyes, and slightly opened her mouth, waiting for him to just take everything from her and then—

Agony.

Before she could realise what had happened, Aemond had stepped away from her, opened the carriage door, and was forcing her impossibly clumsy feet into the floor, as his steady hand rested on her lower back. Her heart kept on racing as they followed Yago and the boys towards the massive doors of the dragon pit, trying to pull herself together quickly.

She jogged towards her sons, as the sound of steps coming at them from a lower platform reached their ears, and soon enough two dragonkeepers were approaching them. Rhaexar, Trystan’s dragon, was four years of age, so he had to be brought in chains to avoid any problems, whereas Maelar was so small still, he was perfectly happy to cling on the man’s shoulder. Griffin wasn’t yet being fully trained to master him, since he was far too young still.

Maelar was the first to spot them, opening his wings and flying towards them. He landed on Myria’s arm, and started to softly screech, red scales fluttering with content.

“He missed you Mama!” Griff giggled.

“Rytsa, Maelar,” she chuckled, “I missed you too.” She gently patted his head, and then kneeled down to place the dragon in Griff’s arms.

While the two of them were playing with the small, harmless dragon, Aemond took Trystan by his hand and guided him towards Rhaexar. He motioned to the dragonkeeper to step away, since he wished to be the one to teach his son how to bond with his dragon.

“Alright, byka raqiros,” he sighed, bending down so he could match the toddler’s height, and very gently held his chin with his hand “as always, don’t make sudden or harsh moves, and don’t try to approach him unless you know he is in the mood for that.”

“Yes, papa.” Trystan nodded, squeezing his arm, and then started walking towards the dragon, nervous of letting his dad’s hand go, but Aemond wasn’t worried. Rhaexar was still a pretty small dragon, and he was one of the gentlest he had ever encountered. He had never even roared at the boy, much less tried something dangerous. He could be a bit of a rough player, sure, but he was simply matching Trystan’s character.

“Come on, ask him to serve you.” Aemond whispered, following close the steps of the boy. Although the dragon still kept a friendly demeanour, he was thrilled about seeing his soon to be rider, and couldn’t help but to move around, happily pumping his pale blue scales up, golden eyes shimmering with excitement.

“Dohaeragon, Rhaexar.” His little voice commanded. The dragon stood still in his place, with a pleasant semblance.

“Sȳrī,” Aemond smiled, “now go on, get closer.”

The toddler confidently closed the gap between him and the dragon, and placed a small hand on its back. Rhaexar amiably grumbled at the gesture, and started gurgling nonsense.

“Sȳz valītsos, Rhaexar, sȳz valītsos,” Trystan giggled, confidently petting the dragon. With a chuckle, Aemond took a step forward, and stroked the dragon’s neck.

“Papa,” the boy said, lifting his gaze, “can I say it?”

“Say what, ñuha zaldrītsos?” He asked, with a fond, loving expression on his face.

“You know what.” The toddler mischievously grinned.

Aemond looked around, to ensure his wife and son were far enough, and returned his gaze to the boy. “Go ahead.”

“Dracarys, Rhaexar!” Trystan instructed.

The dragon stared at the boy, and Aemond could swear he saw the toddler’s grin reflected on its face. Rhaexar lifted his neck, loudly screeched, and then spat the biggest flare his young body allowed him to.

Trystan returned to his father's side, jumping from excitement, and clutched on his leg, while laughing. Aemond instinctively lowered his hand and rubbed the toddler’s back, with a proud smile on his lips. Trystan might match his father in looks, but his laughter was all Myria’s. The wide smile, the way his eyes turned into half moons, the hiccups, and how effective it was in spreading joy for everyone else around. Aemond adored seeing his wife reflected on his children.

“Well done, ñuha valītsos.” He chuckled, sharing his laughter. “Soon enough you’ll be riding him, Trystan.”

“And will we go on rides together with Vaghar?” The boy asked, eyes sparkling with hope.

“Everyday,” Aemond nodded, “you’ll see.”

The whole show catched Myria and Griffin’s attention, and they started walking towards them. Excited, Griffin let go of Myria’s hand, and bolted towards Rhaexar, but Aemond catched him in his arms because he could reach him.

“Never run towards a dragon that is not yours, Griffin.” He scolded him, with a soothing voice. Not even if the situation demanded it was he able to yell at his children. “It could hurt you.”

“Yes, papa.”

Myria reached their side, and ruffled Trystan’s hair. “Mama, did you see that?!” He asked, bouncing with happiness, and a sweet, so heart—wrenchingly adorable smile on his lips.

“It was amazing, sweetheart!” She cheered, bending down so she could hug the boy. She caught his face with her hands and left, one, two, three kisses on his cheek.

“Mama, why do you always kiss us so much?” The boy complained, with a little giggle nonetheless.

“Because I just love you both so, so much!”

“How much?” Trystan teased her.

“Like this much!,” Myria took the toddler by the armpits and threw him into the air.

Trys giggled in delight as his mother caught him back, and hugged her head with his little arms. He suddenly turned his smile into a scowl, and stared at her with seriousness.

“Can we bring Max next time?” He asked.

“He’s far too young to be here, sweety.” She explained. “Maybe when he is older.”

“But his egg will hatch in no time, I know it!”

“We’ll see about that.” She smiled. She lifted her gaze towards Aemond, and catched him staring at her, lovingly. He wasn’t one to show affection like that so openly, so Myria guessed he must’ve been too distracted indeed. And then her mind, already wired to participate in Aemond’s game, realised his distraction provided her with a chance at coming back at him.

Myria noticed Trystan had dropped one of Rhaexar’s chains, and slowly bent down more to grab it, knowing the dress would hug her in all the right places. She placed the chain on Trystan’s hand, and instructed the boys to guide their dragon towards the dragonkeepers.

Myria turned around, and looked at Aemond with a smirk on her lips. Her husband simply stared at her, lips drawing into a fine line, “Hm,” and then raised his voice. “Boys!” He yelled. “Go with Yago, he’ll take you back to the castle.” He then placed a hand on Myria’s back, and softly pushed her towards the exit. “Your mother seems to be the one in need of a few lessons on how to behave in front of a dragon.” He added, with a whisper.

Myria couldn’t help but giggle, as she placed a hand over her mouth, heart fluttering like a teenager’s who is about to flee away with the boy she likes to give him a kiss. Little did she know Aemond had much more than a kiss in mind.

“Where are we going?” She laughed, as Aemond attentively guided her through a rough path in the mountain.

“You’ll see.” He replied, tightening his grip on her abdomen, making sure she wouldn’t do as much as tripping under his hold.

A few minutes later, they were reaching a cliff near Rhaenys’ Hill, where Vaghar liked to nest, since she was much too big for the dragonpit. A gasp escaped her lips as they approached her, feet coming to a halt, and Aemond turned around with a cocky smile on his face.

“Are you scared?”

“I—It’s just been so long since I last went for a ride with you.”

“She won’t hurt you.” He reassured her, holding her hand. “Now come on, it’ll be fine.”

Vaghar lifted her head in curiosity as they got close to her, but there were no aggressive gestures in her whatsoever.

“Gīda, Vaghar.” Aemond called, placing a hand close to the dragon’s mouth. He then turned towards Myria, who had remained a few, safe steps away, and extended a hand towards her.

Myria took a hold of it, and cautiously walked towards the dragon. The beast let out a timid growl as she laid a hand on her.

“Told you,” Aemond grinned, “she still likes you.”

“Nyke hae ao tolī, Vaghar.” She smiled, confidently stroking the dragon’s scales. No matter how many times she saw the beast, Myria would never grow past the feeling of utter astonishment. Vaghar was magnificent.

Aemond let them bond for a bit, before grabbing Myria’s waist to help her mount her. She climbed her with a strong hold, with Aemond following closely from behind, resting a hand on her back just in case. They reached the top, and he positioned himself behind Myria, and helped her get settled. He grabbed her hips, and pulled her as close to him as their bodies allowed them to, pressing her back against his chest. He let his fingers linger around her body for much more time than he needed to, which made Myria’s cheeks flush in arousal, a gesture that thankfully went unnoticed by him.

Aemond rested his chin on her shoulders, and brought his lips to her ear. “You say it.” He whispered, lusciously licking his lips.

Myria slightly tilted her head towards him, confused. She caught a glance of his gaze, eye laced with lust, before he stretched his arm to grab her chin, forcing her to face forward. “Hm. As you heard.”

Myria cleared her throat, and spoke with a small voice. “S—sōvegon, Vaghar.” But the dragon didn’t move.

“Louder, ñuha ābrazȳrys.” He whispered, as his hot breath on her nape sent a rill of heat between her thighs. “I want to hear you screaming.”

“Sōvegon, Vaghar!” She commanded, this time with strength on her cords. The dragon shifted below them, like an island coming out of the sea, and after a few large leaps, she jumped into the void, as her gigantic wings stretched across the sky. With a holt, Vaghar faced above, and started flying into the clouds.

Myria was sure she would’ve fallen straight into the ocean, if it weren’t for Aemond’s strong grip around her chest. She closed her eyes in fear, as Vaghar roared towards the sun. Once the initial shock passed, Myria dared to open her eyes, and turned around to find Aemond chuckling against her shoulder. By the Gods, he just loved riding on Vaghar with her.

She joined him in his laughter, as the wind and droplets of water against her face reminded her once again how much she enjoyed flying, few things in the world could compare to the feeling of freedom she found up there. Myria sighed in content as Vaghar finally stretched across the clouds, and lowered her pace, as she started hovering under the sun. She fixed her gaze nowhere in particular, enjoying the feeling of nothingness around her. No noises, no heaviness, no sights beyond the endless sky, just her husband behind her.

Myria shifted on her place, to get closer to him, and had to swallow down a moan when she felt his very obvious arousal against her ass. She unclenched one of her hands from the dragon’s mount, and placed it on Aemond’s leg. She then lifted her other arm, and caressed Aemond’s cheek with her fingers. She shifted her face so she would leave a peck on his lips, but that wasn’t enough for him. No. Dragonriding always gave him an appetite.

He hungrily took on her lips, biting on them, occasionally kissing her neck as well. On a bold move, he unclasped the one hand he was using to hold the reins, to rub against her bare arms. His touch went higher, and then lower, as he snuck a hand through the opening on her chest, and softly started trailing her collarbone, down to her breasts.

“Aemond…” she whined, closing her eyes at his touch, and placed her hand above her dress, just on top of Aemond’s, forcing him to tighten his grasp on her body.

“What is it?” he implored, letting go of her mouth, leaving wet kisses all around her nape and shoulders, “Show me what you want, my love.”

Myria snatched his hand from her chest, and guided below the fabric of her dress, towards her thighs, against the wetness in between. That was all Aemond needed to decide they should cut their flight short.

• • •

Aemond kicked the door to their shared room open, as he carried Myria in his arms. He dropped her gently on the bed, and leaned above her. He greedily kissed on her neck, leaving red marks all around it, until he found her lips again. Her smell was intoxicating for him, and she was warm, so damn warm. Myria brought her hands to the back of his head and hastily removed his eyepatch, throwing it into oblivion.

“There,” she nodded, out of breath. Aemond muffled a roar with her lips, pressing down on them, feeling as though he simply couldn’t have enough of her.

Invigorated by her gesture, Aemond grabbed one of her legs and started raising until it harshly pressed against his back, urging her to pull him closer. He didn’t remove his hand from it, instead, he started trailing it down her leg back to the hem of her dress.

With one hand, he tore the frail fabric of her dress, as she worked on removing his shirt. She whined in sheer deprivation as his hand finally reached her cunt, and she dug her nails into the skin on his back. His muscles tightened at her touch, as the sweet, electrifying pain brought a smirk to his lips.

“Do you want me, my sweet wife?” He grinned, as a malicious smile claimed his lips.

“Mmm.” She whimpered, biting down on her swollen, flushed lips.

“How much so?” He teased her.

“Please, Aemond…” She whined. In any other time, he would’ve enjoyed teasing her more, tormenting her until she pleaded, praying to the Gods for him, but that would’ve tormented him just the same.

To say that he had been yearning for this moment would be an understatement. He had been a gentleman, thoughtful of his wife and what her body went through for their child, but he would’ve been lying if he said he hadn’t thought about having her for moons now.

“As you wish.” He kissed her, eager to feel her moans on his lips, as he introduced two fingers between her tight, wet walls.

“Oh, Gods…” Myria cried.

“Not a God,” he smirked, “just your adoring husband.”

As always, Aemond made sure his wife’s pleasure was attended to, before he even started to think about his. After a loud sob left her lips as she reached her orgasm, he started to undo his belt, while taking her lips with his once more.

Myria noticed her husband undressing, and hummed in pleasure as she caught a glimpse of the enlarged shape under his clothes. She stretched her hands to help him get rid of his pants, and he couldn't help but to groan, as his jaw clenched in desire.

He hastily started to tear the rest of her dress, and at first she was helping him do so, until she changed her mind.

“Wait, Aemond,” she said out of breath, “you shouldn’t…”

“What is it?”

“I—I just don’t…”

“Are you in pain?” He asked, concerned, resting both his hands on the mattress, as he stared deeply into her.

“No, no, not at all it’s just…” she lowered her gaze in embarrassment, “my body has changed since the baby, Aemond. I’ve got… scars around my belly…”

Aemond lowered himself to leave a sweet kiss on her lips, and delicately kept on opening her dress, as a shameful blush covered her cheeks. He threw the dress away, and stared into her eyes with a loving expression, before reaching down to kiss the marks on her stomach.

“You always tell me I should wear my scar with pride,” he hummed, “you should do the same. They’re marks of courage, marks that you’ve carried my dragons. I cherish them with awe, Myr.”

She sighed in adoration as he bent to kiss her lips, low enough that she felt his hard cock press against her thigh. She whined at the feeling, and pushed his hips even closer to her.

“Please, Aemond…” Myria whined, and her voice was like honey to his ears. So warm and sweet, he had to bite down on his lips to avoid a loud groan from escaping them.

“What do you want, my love?” He cocked his head, voice raspy.

“You,” she whined, as her lips turned into a pleading pout, “I need you, Aemond, now.”

He simply groaned in response, too aroused to mumble any words but a grunt. Aemond grinned at her, and gently opened her legs, so he could slide into her.

The moan that left her lips as he entered her, sent shivers of embarrassment to her face, and a shameful, burgundy blush covered her cheeks, as she was sure no honourable lady should ever make such a sound. Myria opened her eyes to stare at him, foolishly expecting to find a grim on his face. Quite the contrary. If only, her obvious, almost irrational yearning for him had but managed to make him even more aroused, were that even possible.

“Had I known you were this needy for me…” He grinned at her, as another loud sob escaped her lips. “Your unsatisfaction falls on me like as veil of shame, my lady. Don’t ever let me leave you this unattended.”

Myria pressed her leg even harder against his back, forcing his hips closer to her, which managed to snatch that oh so provoking smirk away from his lips, his usually vexed expression softening in utter bliss, as he muffled a moan against her neck.

“D— did you miss me?” She somehow managed to ask, deciding it was her turn to taunt him.

“I couldn’t possibly find the words to express how much.” He hummed, letting a groan escape his lips each time he thrusted into her.

“Then show me.”

Aemond's pace came to a halt, and a cry escaped her lips. Gods, she shouldn’t have gotten so cocky.

“My sweet wife…” he teased her, out of breath, pushing himself inside her in an agonisingly slow motion, “I couldn’t possibly show you how much so and remain a gentleman by the end of it.”

“T— thank the Gods I didn’t marry a gentleman, then” she grinned with difficulty.

Aemond tilted his head, overcome with devotion at the sight of his wife’s mien. Her cheeks, covered in the sweetest, most shameful blush; her brown eyes, wrinkled in pleading under her frowned eyebrows; lips, pressed in an insolent pout.

Had Aemond truly been the root of such a display of imploring, then by all means declare the game over, for she was the winner. He was forever hers.

• • •

How long he had spent claiming her dignity, Myria couldn’t possibly tell. The only thing clear on her mind, as she felt her husband’s heartbeat against her lips, was how much indeed she loved him.

She loved what a great father he was, despite how neglected he had been by his own as a child; she loved his sapphire eye and the butterflies such sight brought to her gut every time she got a glimpse of it; she loved how mean and taunting he was towards everyone except for her; she loved how sharp his features were, and how soft they became when he looked at her; she loved how much he couldn’t say he loved her, so he always made sure to express such feeling with actions. She so deeply loved him, she felt as if she could burst out of it. If feeling so flamingly were a sin, then she prayed to the Gods they took mercy on her soul.

And so Myria turned around, and sat on his lap, pressing her breasts against his bare chest, her lips against his own.

“I love you,” she whispered, in a serious voice, staring deep into his eye, “I love you so much, thinking about what might have happened if your father hadn’t suggested we get married always manages to bring me to tears. I can’t live without you, Aemond.”

Aemond couldn’t but stare back at her, knowing his gaze matched his wife’s, loving and full of adoration. He felt as though his body was being torn open. His whole life he had succeeded in keeping such a thing locked, key thrown into the ocean, to where no soul could reach. But Myria had somehow managed to make her way through it; and he felt entirely defenceless to her. Every smile, every laughter, every touch, every word that came from her pierced through his chest, leaving his heart in the open, all for her to take if she desired so.

She didn’t want a world without him, but the inverse cut his ability to breathe. He couldn’t live without her.

“We will always burn together.” He promised her, kissing her knuckles. “Avy jorrāelan, my Myr.”

That wasn’t the first time Myria had heard him dedicate her such words in Valyrian, but that was the first time she could tell, without a single doubt, what they meant. She grabbed his head with both her hands, and left a kiss on his lips, sealing their promise.

****

a/n: okay so smut is not my fort at all so i hope this wasn't too bad ahah. i didn't really do a proof read so it might get slightly edited within some days. as always, thank you so much for reading!

@cherryaemond

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unisexobject · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter VIII. Sirens (Part II).

Eddie Munson x Fem! Reader

Summary: After finding Eddie and learning about Hawkin's hidden world, you share an intimate moment with your bestfriend, revealing your inner most feelings.

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of abuse, domestic violence, alcoholism, drug use, lil bit of fluff, two dumb dumbs who don't know how to communicate, etc...

A/N: Part 2 baby!

The car rolled to a stop with a hiss. As all five of you hopped out of Steve's car, panic struck you hard. You had explained on the way over that you were at Eddie's trailer in the morning, only to find police and media crew nestled in every goddamn nook and cranny, like an infestation of flies lining the inside of a rotting corpse.

Whatever you couldn't explain, Dustin did. And while you were albeit confused at his extensive knowledge, you noted his words carefully. You were surprised that Robin and Steve would even listen to Dustin, considering that he was a child and that they barely knew Eddie.

You sensed some sort of undercurrent of knowledge that you did not possess. The knowing glances they exchanged and lingering stares that arised between the four of them, filled you with anxiety and discontent.

You clicked on your flashlight to illuminate the dark night as Dustin used the pad of his thumb to ring the doorbell of Reefer Rick’s house. Apparently it was an address found in the Family Video computer and because he was in prison, it could be a possible hideout for Eddie. You always wondered who supplied his drugs or how he could even fund his endeavour, but always found it best not to ask - "the less you know the better, sweetheart" he'd say.

When no one answered, Dustin splayed his palms flat and banged on the door loudly.

"Eddie!" He exclaimed wildly. "We just want to talk!"

To Steve's dismay, he didn't stop his unrelenting bangs and bellows.

You peered your flashlight through the window, hoping to see his rigid form illuminated through the dusty glass. All you could see was dated furniture and the swirling of kicked up dust.

"Rick! Reefer Rick!" Dustin continued, adamant that someone would answer his frantic roars.

As Steve tried to pry Dustin away from the old and dilapidated house, you walked around to the side, noting a boathouse in the distance. Max followed suit, her blinding flashlight casting you in a shimmering radiance.

You turned toward her, motioning to the light which shone arch at the front of the dark boathouse.

"Hey guys?" She called out, gaining the attention of Steve, Robin and Dustin.

The whole group of you decided to walk toward it carefully, peeking through windows once more in hopes of seeing your best friend.

Robin pushed open the door first.

"Hello? Is anyone home?" She posed to the cold night air.

Everyone followed behind her.

"What a dump." Steve remarked, focusing on spots where streams of light from his torch brightened.

You wandered around thinking of nothing but Eddie. You were desperate to find him. Whatever happened, you knew it wasn't in Eddie's nature to hurt anybody - let alone kill. Hell, he wouldn't even throw a punch back to Jason when he was being pummelled into concrete oblivion.

The thought of him murdering someone felt so far away and illusory. Like a horrible fable told to scare children, but grown adults learn that it was a lie and know never to believe.

As the five of you kept inspecting and searching for signs of Eddie, Steve flicked off his torch with a click. He picked up an ore and started stabbing a plastic tarp that was bundled up in an abandoned boat.

"What are you doing?" Dustin questioned impatiently.

"He might be in here."

You quietly smirked at Steve's incredulousness as the two of them bickered like an old married couple. It was the first thing to make you slightly soften all day.

"Hey, look over here." Max remarked, pulling you and Robin out of your reverie.

She started to cast her flashlight onto open wrappers and empty glass bottles.

"Someone was here." She muttered, noting the amount of food wrappers that were scattered across the table.

You came up behind her, hoping to find some sort of evidence of Eddie in the rubbish, but saw nothing. Your shoulders deflated as you looked over to Robin solemnly.

She regarded you with pity.

"Don't worry, Steve will get them with his ore." Dustin remarked playfully, teasing Steve and his choice of weaponry.

He continued to poke the bunched up tarp aggressively.

"Well, considering most of us in this room have almost died a hundred times, I don't think it's funny to-"

Suddenly, Steve was cut off as a large black shadow erupted from the tarp and rammed Steve against the shed wall with an echoing thud.

"Woah, woah, woah, Steve!" Dustin yelled, as the four of you backed away from whatever or whoever was attacking Steve.

As if your heart knew before your brain did, you recognised Eddie.

"Oh my God, Eddie." You exclaimed breathlessly, eyes never leaving his feverish form.

You took in his frantic state as he held a jagged bottle edge to Steve's throat. His hair was unkempt and he was still wearing the same clothes you saw him in on Friday. Eddie's chocolate eyes were widened in fear, his whole body shaking with tremulous convulsions.

He snapped his head to the right, making direct eye contact with you after hearing your voice. Steve squirmed under his forceful grip, writhing against the shed wall where Eddie had him pinned.

Desperation filled Steve's eyes as he struggled to breathe with such a sharp edge near his throbbing throat vein.

Eddie whispered your name in bewilderment, still shaking and manic.

You nodded your head slowly, stepping a little closer. You watched as he followed your figure disbelievingly, almost certain that you were a figment of his imagination.

You looked over at Steve, who appeared as if he were about to pass out any second.

Eddie couldn't believe that you were here, standing before him. He wished for you desperately as soon as Chrissy floated and crumbled before his eyes. In the aftermath of what he was certain was her death, he sobbed violently, afraid of what you would think of him - a murderous deadbeat just like his namesake.

"Eds, you gotta let Steve go. He won't hurt you, isn't that right?" You implored, begging Steve to play along with your implicit glare.

Eddie looked away from you, his dark eyes trained on Steve. He didn't trust him, that is if the past Eddie had with king-of-the-school jocks meant anything. But he didn't want to hurt anyone, especially not someone you seemed to speak of fondly and so often, even if he was a little suspicious.

"Yep." Steve strained. "That's right."

"Why don't you drop the ore Steve?" Dustin suggested.

The loud clank of wood hitting the harsh concrete floor made Eddie push into Steve further.

You took another tentative step closer, standing merely inches apart now. Eddie watched you with a pained look on his face as glistening tears began to escape his chocolate button eyes.

"We're here to help, we swear on Dustin's mother."

"Yeah, on Dustin's mother." Robin hummed in agreement.

He clenched his jaw tight and against his own trepidation, let go of both Steve and the bottle.

The brown sticky glass smashed to the floor with a piercing clink, shards of glass scattered across the concrete like a shattered mosaic. The moonlight peering through the boathouse windows glimmered in the shards.

Eddie huffed a deep breath, almost collapsing directly into your arms as you held the weight of him in a comforting embrace. In unison, everyone had let out a deep sigh, a moment of relief swirled through the air.

You stroked Eddie's wild mane and encouraged him to breathe in time with you, hoping to fall in sync with the boy who had you so desperately worried for the last 24 hours. Eddie buried himself into your neck, breathing your scent in and clutching at the shirt adorning your body.

Dustin rushed over to Steve, who practically collapsed onto the floor from both lack of oxygen and fear of teetering on the edge of death. You liked to think that it was because he had been in such close proximity to Eddie, he seemed to have that effect on people - especially you.

"Eds, it's going to be okay." You crooned, rubbing a circular motion on his back. He didn't dare to let you go. For someone so deprived of touch, Eddie took it willingly.

"We just want to talk." Robin suggested, voice void of interrogative interest.

In the moments between seeing Eddie in such a fractured state and the news on TV, you grew unsettled at the idea of what happened. But that's all it was, an idea. You had no clue as to why Eddie was so perturbed, why there was a dead body in his trailer and why he was currently taking shelter in a boathouse as old as time.

You would be lying if you didn't say that you were slightly worried.

"You..you wouldn't believe m-me." He replied shakily into your neck.

You ruminated on his words. You've always known Eddie to be the most soft hearted boy, a reputation that wasn't entirely indicative of his kindness toward people. Despite being stunned by a mysterious death, you were mostly certain that Eddie was not capable. Of course you were worried, but never afraid of him.

"Try us." Max remarked.

After regrettably peeling Eddie off of your now cold skin, Dustin, Robin, Max and Steve all gathered around patiently waiting for him to explain. You kept a comforting hand on his lower back, a gesture that did not go unnoticed by the observant members of your group.

Chrissy’s death was more of a shock, a horrendous reminder of the frailty of existence. That life is like a chess game and one wrong move is enough to force us to resign, to lay down our pieces and never return.

You had only spoken to her yesterday, her words of wisdom still ruminated deep within you.

"Her body...just like, floated into the air. And uh, she just...hung there. In the air. And her bones, her bones..."

Eddie clenched his eyes shut, momentarily unable to speak about what he saw. He took a second to gain purchase back into reality.

"Her bones started to snap. Her eyes man...it was like, there was something inside her head, pulling."

Dustin's eyes widened in horror as he watched Eddie's hand movements.

"I didn't know what to do, so I uh...ran away."

Eddie disappeared into his mind, festering on the horror of seeing Chrissy die in such a horrific way, let alone how he reacted afterward.

"You all think I'm crazy, right?" He muttered, running a stressed hand through his wild mane.

"No, we don't. Not at all." Dustin replied comfortingly.

Eddie furrowed his brows and looked at Dustin as if he were insane. A few more wayward tears escaped his eyes and trickled down his flushed cheeks.

"Look, don't bullshit me man. I know how this sounds." He exclaimed, working himself up again.

"We believe you." Both Robin and Max asserted, much to Eddie's dismay.

You pulled him in close, unsure as to what you should say. It wasn't that you didn't believe Eddie, you just found it hard to wrap your head around the whole ordeal. To see Eddie wounded and hysterical somehow rendered your brain unable to comprehend anything at all - let alone the goddamn rapture in his living room.

"You know how people say Hawkins is...cursed? Well, they're not way off. There's another world, hidden beneath Hawkins. Sometimes, it...bleeds into ours."

Chills started to run through your body, the same chills that traveled up your spine the second you crossed city limits. The sense of dread which permeated the late night air and the feeling of something otherworldly beneath the pavement that you and Eddie would roam.

"Like, ghosts and shit?" Eddie posed, trying to understand what Dustin was attempting to articulate.

"There are some things worse than ghosts." Max replied.

"Like monsters." You retorted, sounding like a statement more than a question. It made you think of your horrible dream the other night.

He wasn't Matt, it was a monster.

"If these monsters are back again, we need to know."

Initially you found it terribly difficult to believe. You gawked at Steve, Dustin, Robin and Max confusingly, waiting for them to elaborate on these monsters. The way they looked so serious and spoke about this world in such earnest filled you with dismay.

"That night, did you see anything?" Robin asked carefully.

You turned to face Eddie.

"No man, there was nothing you could see. Or touch. I tried to wake her, but she couldn't move. Like she was under some kind of spell..."

"Or curse." Eddie reaffirmed, looking to Dustin for confirmation.

Both you and Eddie sat in silence, ruminating on the discovery. The idea of an "upside down" interfering with Hawkins through Vecna's curse made your head spin. To think that your day had started so causally, only to finish with a catastrophic end was triggering.

After Eddie's storytime, everyone had decided it was best to keep Eddie's hiding spot a secret, so that they had time to figure everything out and prove his innocence. Instead of going with them, you remained with Eddie to keep him company and stay as a lookout. You planned tonregusely bring him food to sustain him, not caring how long the whole process of clearing his name would take. Eddie hated the idea of you having to babysit him, afraid that you would grow to resent him. But you implored that you could never hate him - let alone for something he had zero control over.

When Dustin, Steve, Robin and Max left, you still remained silent, unwilling to speak about the events of the night.

You and Eddie had also been fighting just before everything happened, and even though you felt that didn't matter now, the tension was still very much present.

You ended up next to Eddie in the boat, curling into yourself and falling asleep for the night.

You awoke to a gentle nudge.

"Hey." Eddie whispered softly above you. "It's a little lonely up here, do you mind?"

You hummed quietly, inwardly thankful that Eddie had decided to break the tacit tension.

"Not at all." You muttered in reply, stretching out your stiff limbs - not caring to mask your exhaustion.

You had somehow fallen asleep sprawled across Eddie's lap, with the two of you squished together against the creaky bow of the boat.

Even though you were awake, neither of you made any effort to move. Instead, Eddie played with the loose strands of hair around your ear as you slowly drifted back to consciousness. His touch was feather light and you were melting beneath the soft movement of his fingers.

You forgot that you left the radio on, as I'm On Fire by Bruce Springsteen began to play softly in the background.

"I was really worried about you, Eds." You mustered, teetering the edge of sensibility.

"I know." He replied softly.

"I'm also really sorry about our fight."

You turned over so that you were flat on his lap, with your face gazing directly up at his. Eddie's hands hovered above you as you adjusted, waiting until you had settled again before tangling his fingers in your strands once more.

"S'okay, I'm sorry too. I was being an idiot. Thought I was invincible...but I guess not." He muttered, caught between this moment with you and his harrowing memory of last night.

He chuckled dryly at the juxtaposition.

"You weren't an idiot Eddie." You replied, catching his hazel gaze. You had been the one to push him away, always keeping him at arms length.

Eddie's movements halted.

"I feel like one."

You peered up at Eddie through your eyelashes, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest. It was hard to see him in this state - eyes rimmed red, hair a mess, lips pressed into a flat line.

It took everything in you not to shake the boy back into reality, to implore that everything will be okay even if it didn't feel true now.

"Whatever this...curse is, it has nothing to do with you, Eds. Just wrong place, wrong time. You should have been with me, but I pushed you away like a big fat idiot."

Eddie's soft chuckle brought a smile to your plush lips. He enjoyed the moments where you let your guard down and acted silly. He cherished them like a dried flower pressed firmly between two pages of a favourite book.

He knew cared for you too much to bring you into this. Whatever on earth was going on in Hawkins right now was far too dark and dangerous for someone as precious as you. Despite whatever past you might have, he knew that you shouldn't be subjected to this - especially not for his sake.

A small part of him worried that you were far too kind to actually believe him when he spoke about what he saw that night. He wondered if you were just too much of a good person for you own good, lonely but caring in the aftermath of something so impossible.

His insecurities latched onto the thought.

"Can I ask you something?" He questioned, voice gentle and laced with insecurity.

You nodded your head slowly, hair catching on the knee of his ripped jeans.

"Do you believe me?"

Eddie's question pulled you out of your laxened state. You sat up, twisting your body so you could sit beside him properly.

You noted his pained expression, like he were an illustration painted with the vivid colours of fear and shame.

"Of course I believe you, Eds. I just...don't know what's real anymore."

The last few days had been awful. From the fucking rapture occurring in the living room of the Munson residence, to your unrelenting nightmares of Matt taunting you - your life had begun to grow less black and white. Anything could happen at the drop of a hat, including the threat of interdimensional monsters destroying the innocent youth of Hawkins.

It felt as though your life was currently taking place somewhere else and terribly far away. Almost as if you were a helpless spectator suspended behind a film screen, forced to remind yourself that this is in fact your life and not the projections of a crazed mind. You weren't an audience member at all, but might as well be with your unimaginable lack of control over the unravelling narrative.

"I didn't hurt her." Eddie whispered.

"I know. You'd never hurt a fly, Eds." You replied, leaning in and pressing a comforting hand on the small of his back.

With your words, he leaned into your touch and turned to face you.

The boathouse was cold, dark and damp, and the thought of Eddie spending the next few nights in this surrounding made you shiver.

"I said that I'd never be like him." Eddie mumbled in the low light.

His round hazel eyes bored into yours, articulating a feeling that wasn't tangible.

"Like who?" You asked softly, before your mouth formed a silent oh in understanding.

Eddie never really spoke much about his father, not that it was a touchy subject, but rather something that didn't come up very often between the two of you. And it if did, it was always fleeting and sometimes in a joking manner.

Except one night Eddie mentioned how his father dropped a curly headed 8 year old on Wayne's doorstep, clutching a hastily scribbled note scarcely explaining why. The same night while Eddie was fast asleep and probably comatose from sampling his own product, Wayne explained how they both didn't know if Eddie's father were dead or alive, and how he used to drink and often physically abuse Eddie and his mother.

While you sat on the couch opposite from Wayne, he explained how she left in a hurry, driven away by the man who was supposed to love and care for her. Your gut twisted at how she left Eddie behind.

You didn't know what was worse - being abandoned or not knowing why.

Wayne's eyes drifted to a far away place when he mouthed the cruel words that his father would use against Eddie - and if you didn't know any better you'd think that the term "freak" was coined by him.

"My nephew looks tough, but he's gentle." Wayne had said afterward, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

You were grateful that Eddie had Wayne in his life. He seemed to always have such infinite wisdom, putting things quite plainly in his gravelly voice. He was such a stark contrast to your own parents who had been through a tragic ordeal and hadn't been the same since. You wondered what advice he'd give you if you explained what happened to you before Hawkins.

He appeared to be a man who wasn't phased by very much.

You thought Eddie's chaotic upbringing was why he was kind to the outcasts and took them under his makeshift wing. You were surprised that someone with such a fucked up childhood could possess such love and compassion for those around him. It made your heart soar.

"I'm scared that I'm going to end up just like him." Eddie muttered, voice wavering with each word.

"Why would you think that? You're absolutely nothing like him."

If anything, Eddie was like Wayne. The absolute antithesis to the violent unsympathetic asshole that was Eddie's father.

You scooted imperceptibly closer until your side was firmly pressed up against his. Maybe it was the cold night air or the looming threat of uncertainty, but you wanted to be close to Eddie. You wanted to treat him with care, articulate that you weren't and couldn't ever be afraid of him.

He wasn't a monster, he didn't have it in him.

"He was always on the run, wanted by cops. Look at me now. Aren't I just like him?" Eddie posed, voice dripping with a sincerity the likes of which you couldn't believe.

You winced at his words, you couldn't take it anymore. Gripping both of his hands tightly, you gazed deep into his hazel eyes.

"Listen to me, Edward Munson. You are nothing like your father. You may share a name and a face, but nothing more. I would never look at you and see someone violent or unkind, because you are the best person I know." You started, plaving an emphasis on each word.

You hated how Eddie thought such terrible things about himself. You could only guess how he wouod lay awake each night, tossing and turning as he tortured himself with untrue and fallacious thoughts. A habit that must have gone into complete overdrive since Chrissy's mutilations and subsequent death.

Eddie might look inconquerable, but on the inside he was regrettably insecure.

"Eds, when I first met you, you took one look at me and saw right through. You knew straight away that I wasn't okay, and I think that you're the only person on this planet that makes me feel like maybe one day it could be."

Your conviction was so strong that you hadn't even noticed how close you were to him in that moment. Your hands were still holding his, with your side soft and warm. Eddie momentarily forgot how to breathe, suddenly intoxicated by your lush words and inviting proximity.

"I take it back, this is the nicest thing you've ever said to me." He mumbled, clenching his eyes shut momentarily like he were in pain. In reality he was thinking back to the moment you first met in the woods, where your icy demeanor slowly thawed the longer he spent around you.

He lightly giggled at how far away and illusory that memory felt. Like none of it were even real and the golden sunlight you bathed in on top of the table, was just the imaginings of a terribly sleep deprived Eddie.

When he opened his eyes, his glowing black irises wavered between your eyes and your lips. He studied your face like his life depended on it. Hoping to find some sort of evidence or inclination in your expression that suggested whether or not you were also a crazed imagining. When he realised that you were right here with him, he decided to move in closer.

You didn't move away when his forehead rested against yours, or when a delicate hand made its way to the tender flesh of your neck. Your breaths were intermingling and you could see every fine line and wrinkle in Eddie's soft skin.

There was something so innately boyish about Eddie that you could only see by being this close. He smelt of cigarette, cedar and an undercurrent of thick musk.

He tilted his head to the side a little, his nose brushing yours with the gentle movement. Your eyes fluttered closed in a half lidded haze. His thumb traced the hard front of your throat.

You felt like you had died and awoken in heaven to the desperate touch of your best friend.

"Eddie." You whispered - more of a prayer than anything.

"Sweetheart." He mumbled in return.

And there it was, that nickname that made your eyes heavy and knees weak. You were like clay beneath him, and his clever hands could mold you however he desired.

You wanted to close the distance and feel his lips with your own, but you were afraid. Eddie had just been through hell and back. The whole town was ready to hunt him down like he were the monster in Frankenstein, all they needed were pitch forks and burning torches.

Of course Eddie would be lonely, having a moment of weakness and craving the physical touch of whoever was closest.

It just happened to be you, right? It doesn't mean anything.

He just wanted to be held and you couldn't blame him for that. If anything, you wanted it just as bad. You'd do whatever Eddie needed to feel better about the previous night. But you were too afraid to tell him that he could have whatever he wanted, even if it meant that it would be all over before it had ever started.

Instead, you did what you do best. You pushed him away.

"We should get some rest." You mumbled, tucking a stray coil behind his ear. Your hand trailed down to his chest, lightly pushing him to create some distance.

And oh how you rued sleep and wanted to settle your mouth on his instead. How you wanted to crawl into his lap and kiss his world apart. How you wanted to let Eddie lay you down in that rusty old boat and do whatever he wanted, however he wanted.

The revelation was sobering, you were in love with your best friend.

"Yeah, okay." He affirmed, retracting his affectionate hand from your collarbone.

Eddie tried his best to act like his heart wasn't crushed by the weight of a double decker bus when you pulled away. But what was he even thinking in the first place? What came over him?

Springsteen's words mocked him softly in the background, as he inwardly set himself alight at his ill thought attempt at trying to kiss you. Of course you wouldn't want to kiss him, especially after becoming a fugitive wanted for Chrissy Cunningham's murder.

He tried to stifle a wince as he retracted himself from you, shifting away so he could lay down in the boat and go to sleep. He begged that you didn't see his physical affection for what it was, an invitation to be his and only his.

The rest of the night you slept back to back, far too afraid to approach the inevitability of your misguided interaction. You lied next to Eddie, reeling over your feelings for him and running through a million possibilities of what could happen if you both made it out of this kerfuffle untarnsihed. Deciding to stay silent for Eddie's sake and for the sake of your lives and futures, you drifted off to sleep, imagining a world where Vecna's curse didn't exist, Chrissy was still alive and you could hold Eddie in your arms without the barrier you so miserably upheld.

A world far sweeter than the one you and Eddie were about to face.

#eddie munson x yn #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic

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