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goldsbitch · 4 months ago

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Four times I bumped into you and the one time I fell

There is no such thing as right time, wrong place. Once the timing is right, the world will spin on its axis to bring two souls together.

fluff, no warnings

Running late to the airport was an absolute no go for you - well, that was until you met Lando, with whom you somehow lost all the travel anxiety. But this was good twelve years before you'd officially meet. While neither of you were aware, it was him who quite literally crashed into you, as he was rushing to catch a flight he was characteristically late for.

This was your first long trip alone, so to say you were anxious would be an understatement. Airports were designed to be understood quite easily, but there you were, unsure where you were suppose to go after the security check. With head turned up to all those signs, you tried to make out where in hell did this place wanted you to go to. Just like a thunder, unexpected and attention-grabbing, Lando bumped into you from behind, full force. He wasn't expecting someone to be just standing there in the middle of the busy pathway.

"Shit," he cussed, already being late to his gate. He quickly checked whether you were ok, mad at you for standing there like a post and a bit angry with himself, for being unable to follow a normal timetable. Your left shoulder received quite a big blow, so after your squirted with pain, you looked at your left arm, before you sought the culprit. When your eyes met, you forgot about all of the pain. In front of you stood an absolutely gorgeous boy. He must have been around your age, boyish looks lacing his face. That sort of cheeky innocence late teenagers have. He was taken back, just like you were, and immediately forgot why he was angry in the first place. Both of you were shy as could be in that moment. The only thing he managed to get out of himself was a little sorry. You smiled and then looked down at your feet. Not knowing what to do, he just uttered another quick apology and set on to continue with his journey to the gate.

"Wait, sorry," you managed to get out of yourself, just as he was about to disappear into the distance. He stopped and turned.

"Yes?" he answered, sheepishly.

You swallowed and tried to speak without getting your tongue twisted. "Can you please show me which way I'm suppose to go?"

You had a true desperate look on you, one that a boy raised like him could never resist. A shot of guilt went though him once he saw you holding your shoulder, probably still bit in pain.

"Sure," he said and proceeded to look at your flight ticket. As he leaned over you, your heart stopped. His proximity was making you almost shiver. Strong perfume, or possibly deodorant given his age, hit your nose. But it wasn't like when other boys were wearing it in school. You wanted to soak yourself in it and drown. He told you some words, explaining where you're suppose to go, but you didn't get any of that. Full on panic from being attracted to him overtook your brain. You nodded, as if you'd understood, and looked him in the eyes again. Both of you held on longer than what would be considered appropriate.

"I gotta go," he muttered and made his exit once again. Didn't turn back, because just like you, he was panicking just a bit.

Once he left your eyesight, you looked at the board again, confused, perhaps more than you were before asking him for directions.

"Still nothing?" your friend asked, having no choice but becoming fully invested in your newest crush, guy you shared one lecture last semester. You checked your phone once again, but both of you knew what your answer would be.

"Nothing," you replied after not seeing his name on the list of people who watched your story on Instagram.

Funny, how you can go on an amazing backpacking trip with your bestie, live life to the fullest - and none of it matters if he doesn't give a fuck. In fact, it was infuriating. You were sitting nearby a lovely canal somewhere in Amsterdam, meeting new people every day, having the time of your life. All while checking your phone every five minutes.

Your bestie could tell you were more than annoyed. She herself found it pretty exhausting, because sometimes, it felt like this guy was on the trip with both of you.

"I gotta get him out of my head," you said finally after few minutes of silence.

"Yup. You do realize he is a loser, do you?" your friend said and you laughed because at that time, you just did not see where she was coming from. Years later, you'd be laughing about it.

"I do, yeah. I mean, fuck it, I'm in Amsterdam. This is so cool!" you said, trying to pump yourself up to some enthusiasm.

"That's more like it," your friend replied, more than ready to start talking about anything else than that guy. "Let's just, you know, look around and get inspired. We might find someone for you tonight!"

You laughed. "What, like on the street?"

She just shrugged her shoulders. "You never know..."

You observed the people walking on the other side of the canal. "What about that one?" you pointed to a guy smoking on a bridge, hoping he didn't see you.

"Could work...but there is better material around."

Few moments passed. "Uh, what about that one?" your friend pointed to nice looking guy, who was casually jogging around.

You tried to zoom in, not really sure what to make of him. "Yeah, maybe..."

And then, Lando decided to check his phone, while running, and immediately found himself on the ground, as he managed to miss a hole in the street.

Both of you people-watchers couldn't help but laugh out loud. He couldn't hear you and nobody else apart from didn't seem to notice his fall.

"Ok, maybe not that one," your friend jokes, not knowing she just marked off your future husband.

The immigration office. Dreaded place where no one is ever happy. It's also the one place where you can't send someone to just "do it for you". Lando would pay anything to be able to get out of this.

He was sat there for a good half an hour, even though he had a pre-booked appointment. He couldn't recall last time he was this bored. His recent success run had many perks, the best of them being the fact he could often jump lines and get many shortcuts. Not the immigration office. These people just don't care.

It stopped being important the moment you walked though the door and sat across from him, failing to pay any attention to your surroundings. The moment you were sat, you started frantically going through your papers, most likely worried you forgot half of the information these people wanted from you.

"First time?" Lando was not usually chatty with strangers unless they addressed him first, which had been happening a lot lately. But there was something about .you Something in the way you shuffled so nervously.

His voice was thick with British accent, which was usually the thing that made you swoon. When you first looked at him, it overcame you a bit. He was undeniably gorgeous. One of those a bit out of reach. God, he could be a model. Knowing this city, he probably was.

"Yes, first time. There was a mistake done at my embassy, so now I have to try to fix it so that I can come home."

He nodded and you wondered why a guy like that would even care to speak to you. "Home, where is that?" he asked, cheeky look burning holes into you.

You chuckled. He knew where to aim to make it count. "Funny question...I'm currently on crossroads. If I say yes to a job offer, it could pretty much be on a different continent." Lando sensed you were avoiding specific answers and found it smart actually, many creepy people everywhere.

"Well, good luck with your decision. I'm sure that what is meant to be will come to you in the right time."

"Thank you...So what do you call home?" you returned the question.

"Huh. Probably my car," he said, surprising himself in the same way you got. "Yeah, that'll be it."

A nervous laugh escaped your lips. "Are you like homeless or something?" Wave of awkwardness rushed through you, but left as soon as he chuckled at your question.

"No, not really. Just on the road a lot," he said and leaned back in a relaxed way.

"Interesting. Never thought that people on road have to deal with visa."

"More than you'd think."

His number was called in from the office shortly after that. You glanced at him a gave him a small smile. He debated for a moment whether or not he should ask for your number. In the end, he didn't. The interaction was too brief. He was on the move constantly and found everything a little too overwhelming. Hadn't learned yet how to deal with it all. Took him two weeks to stop beating himself over chickening out. But then again, it would be another eight years before he learned your name.

Flashing lights, body on body, light smoke that helped to cover the tracks and the latest electronic track to cut through it all. You were in Ibiza, on a bachelorette party for one of your friends. Truth be told, you were not keen on tagging along. You weren't exactly besties with the bride to be, more a friend of a friend. But your big break up was almost seven months ago and the fact you were counting only proved you were not doing well. In fact, it was absolute torture. A trip to Ibiza seemed like a decent distraction from the emptiness that haunted you back home.

You'd separated from the group, perhaps the shots were little stronger than what you were used to. In the middle of the packed dance floor, you found peace. People swaying back and forth, heavy air making sure you all stayed intoxicated. The world was spinning when a pair of hands found you. You could only wonder whether he was as drunk as you were or more. But at that moment, you didn't. Your body reacted to his arms holding you and it was nice to actually feel another person so closely. Perhaps that's what you came for to this island, to find the inner passion for other people again. You weren't searching for love. And of course, you hadn't found it. Because, just when you finally turned around to lock your lips with the handsome, toned guy, Lando had just walked past you, trying to push through the crowd. While he searched for his friends, you searched for the anything that random guy might have had left unspoken on the tip of his tongue.

The headache that followed was more bearable than the heartbreak that pained you before. It's probably for the best you hadn't found Lando that night. You were not ready, not for another three years.

It's been quite some time since you loved someone with the kind of intensity that makes dancing in the rain sound like the best idea ever. The kind of love that people write albums about. There was still a glimmer of hope, but with every failed situationship, the hope was harder to search for. Maybe it was just not meant to be - and truth be told, life was actually pretty good. You had great friends, fun job and late twenties were looking great on you. You lost yourself in your thoughts for longer than was probably socially acceptable when one is at a wedding so prestigious as this one was. How you got there was also such a random coincidence, but suddenly you found yourself around a celebrity wedding, where there could have been around five hundred people.

It was a lot to handle in one evening and if you were completely honest, you did feel a little out of place. To regain some peace of mind and avoid a panic attack, you snuck out into the depths of the garden adjacent to the venue.

You walked for minutes, peace and solitude uninterrupted. That was until he spoke to you "for the first time". Neither of you remembering your previous encounters.

"Look, I know this is gonna sound cheesy, but hear me out," said the voice of a person, who at that time had no idea they would go on a disturb your peace for the rest of your life. You turned around, bit surprised someone also made it this far away from the rest of the attendees.

Lando took a quick breath and spoke again. "This is a really good light you have on right now, can I take a quick photo of you?" he said and waved around with his analogue camera. You examined the guy standing in front of you. One would have a hard time looking for someone more handsome than him. He stood there, giving off rather impatient vibe.

"Photo of me?" you asked, not believing you heard him correctly.

"Yes, please. The light is perfect and it'll soon be gone."

He was right about one thing, the sunset was making the sky and the whole garden shimmer with tones of pink one rarely sees in real life. You locked eyes with this strange person and saw a demanding look, begging you to allow him to capture the moment.

"Okey," you said in a low, unconfident tone. He smiled and it was like he just had a shot of espresso, energy flew right through him. His arms shot up and he started looking for the perfect frame.

"Wait, I don't know what to do..." you protested, not being used to getting photographed. For Lando, the occurance of a camera was so common, he didn't even think about it. He found your hesistance refreshing. He quickly snapped a picture, hoping it would capture your unease. Then he looked up from his camera to you again.

"You're perfect like that, don't worry," he assured you and looked for another angle. He was quickly becoming obsessed with the way how the light made your hair shine and a shadow highlighted the contour of your face. There was something he saw in you that night, something he would spend years trying to get into a picture and never getting it fully, at least in his opinion.

Lando found his perfect angle, but by that time your face became stiff, showing you really were not used to modeling. Once again, he looked up from his camera to courage you.

He smiled at you and the two of you locked eyes for longer than strangers usually do. "I'd love to see your smile," he said, hoping he'd loosen you up.

You were beyond nervous. Whatever you were was far apart from normal heart rate.

"Well then you're gonna have to tell me a joke," you said, not knowing where it came from.

"Don't worry, we can talk about my love life after the sunset," he said jokingly and to surprise of anyone who might have overheard, you laughed.

From that moment on, history wrote itself pretty quickly.

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seellove · 1 month ago

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Try Something New // sukuna x female reader

Masterlist

// (2.7k words) // Explicit - 18+

\|/ AO3

You read about something new while your boyfriend Sukuna was gone on a mission. He gets back and you share your discovery of cockwarming with him, which he eagerly agrees to try. You both are 19 and fourth years at Tokyo Jujutsu high.

Content Tags/Warnings Throughout Work: Reader and Sukuna are Jujutsu Sorcerers in a JJK AU, established relationship, explicit smut

Your boyfriend Sukuna has been away on a mission for a week which leaves you plenty of time to peruse the internet in boredom in the evenings after school at Tokyo Jujutsu High.

Often you end up reading some story or thread where you learn about something sexual that you will ask him to try and recreate with you. Sukuna was your first partner you were sexual with, and even though he’d had many other experiences before you, he’s always excited to try things with you and a lot of the time it’s new for him too.

This one seemed weird when you first read about it, but the more you thought about it, the more excited you were to ask Sukuna to partake. He never would say no and was always willing to try anything if it involved you getting you naked and you playing with his cock in some way shape or form.

Cockwarming. The thought of him pressed up against you while his thick member was nestled deep inside of you was all you could think about after it popped up on your feed. The following days had been excruciating as you craved this newfound activity, daydreaming about how it would feel edging him to within an inch of his life while his fat tip is pressed against your sweet spot.

Suddenly there was a familiar knock on your dorm room door, the pattern was the one Sukuna used whenever he was stopping by. He must have just gotten back!

Your heart flutters in your chest as you leap out of bed, crossing the room to open the door. As you open it, you are met with your favorite man, his fluffy pink hair in a state of disarray and his shirt well worn, no doubt a result of the high grade curses he had been fighting. As a grade 1 sorcerer, Sukuna was sent on the most difficult missions students could be assigned to.

His tired eyes quickly light up as they meet yours and an excited grin tugs at his lips. He pulls you into a tight hug, strong arms pulling you against his chest and walking you both backwards into your room. He shrugs off his backpack which drops hard to your floor. He hadn’t even gone by his room first, coming immediately to you instead.

Sukuna plants soft kisses on the top of your head, the height difference making it easy for him to reach as he still has you pulled tightly against him.

You inhale his scent where you are pushed flush against his shirt, a hint of his cologne mixed with musk as a result of the vigorous physical activity he was subjected to. You don’t care what state he is in, you are just happy to have him back safe in one piece.

“Missed you,” Sukuna’s deep voice rumbles against you between the kisses he’s peppering you with. You feel his hand tip your chin back, longing crimson eyes staring into yours, before you feel his lips crash against you.

The kiss is demanding, filled with the intense yearning for you he’s had all this time while you attempt to soak up as much of his love as you can. You aren’t able to talk much when he’s away, so when you reunite, it’s usually filled with passionate desire, both of you desperate for the physical connection to be renewed.

“I missed you too,” you break away from his lips and hug him tightly, his chest and abs rock hard against your torso.

“Did it all go ok?”

“It did,” Sukuna’s hums, “fucked them up pretty good. The faster I can take care of useless curses the faster I can get back to you.”

“I got a fresh change of clothes for you out of your room earlier in case you got back,” you unwrap yourself from around him, pulling him by his hand towards your dresser where everything sits nicely folded.

“You take such good care of me,” he smiles, planting a soft kiss on your cheek.

While he grabs the clothes, you pull out a prepackaged meal from your fridge you snagged from the dining and pour him a glass of water. You tap him on the ass and point to the food and drink on your desk.

“Fuck you’re the best,” he sighs with endearment, his often serious demeanor gone in favor of the loving way he looks at you.

Sukuna quickly showers while you pull the leftovers together so they are all ready by the time he is done. He reappears in just a fresh pair of boxers, the tattoos you’ve memorized by heart on full display snaking down into his waistband that lays dangerously low on his hips.

Your boyfriend’s chiseled body never ceases to take your breath away and now is no exception. He moves lazily across the room, running his fingers through his hair to push it back into his typical slicked back look. Sculpted back and shoulder muscles ripple as he reaches down for the plate you heated up, biceps flexing as he moves the chopsticks up to take a bite.

You feel a rush of wetness pooling in your core, desire beginning to consume your body due to the time apart with how physically attracted you are to him.

“Let’s watch a show before bed,” you break yourself from your trance.

“Ok, you pick,” Sukuna responds while chewing, wolfing down the food which has you giggling. The man can put away some food, poor thing must have been starving by the way he’s demolishing it.

You setup your TV on the desk across from the bed and get one of the cooking shows you watch together ready to go. Remembering what you really wanted to do, you shed your shirt and shorts before casually climbing under the covers.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sukuna, and you knew it wouldn’t, but you enjoyed trying to be nonchalant about it knowing he was probably dying to say something.

“So are we actually gonna watch something orrrr…” Sukuna chuckles, eying you from across the room.

“Yes we are, but I wanna try something new while we watch,” you smirk, wiggling out of your panties under the covers and pulling them out so he can see.

Sukuna’s eyes widen, tossing the plate onto your dresser, the leftovers quickly forgotten. You can see his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers which Sukuna reaches down to palm while he inhales the water you had given him.

He locks your door and swiftly strides across the room, climbing over you and joining you under the covers.

“What do you want to try?” he asks through lidded eyes, glancing down to rake them over your naked body as he lifts the covers to slide under.

Sukuna’s words are husky with desire and his deep voice has goosebumps pricking down your arms. You back your ass up against his groin, eliciting a low groan from him at the sudden pressure against his hard cock.

“I wanna try cockwarming you while we watch our show, have you done that before?” you shoot him a sheepish grin, a little embarrassed at asking him this.

Sukuna’s eyes twinkle with amusement, a boyish smirk giving you your answer.

“I have not, but fuck yeah I wanna do it with you,” he eagerly tugs his boxers down, freeing his massive erection as it slaps against his abs.

He positions himself behind you so you are spooning and you feel him brush his knuckles against your entrance, fingers sliding through your slick folds.

“So wet for me already,” he murmurs, “you good if I put it in right now?” the eagerness in his words is impossible to miss. You appreciate him asking as sometimes you need some extra help getting prepped before you take him, but with the time apart you can’t wait any longer.

“Yeah I don’t wanna wait anymore,” you reach behind you to start guiding him towards your entrance.

Sukuna hisses through his teeth as you make contact with his dick, shifting to position himself lower, gently coaxing your thigh up so he can slip between your legs.

His fat tip pushes through your entrance, causing you to gasp with the stretch. Sukuna groans as he sinks deeper, his veiny cock dragging along your slicked up walls.

“Fuck baby you’re soooo tight,” Sukuna utters through gritted teeth, breathing heavy as he bottoms out within you. The tip of his cock brushes against your cervix, further proof of how deep inside you he is. He gives you a few long, slow strokes before he stills, burying his face in your hair.

You regain your composure, feeling so full from his massive cock pressing on every inch of your walls with the snuggest fit.

“Ok I’m gonna turn the show on. You can’t move and I won’t either,” you force out, unsure if you are telling him or trying to convince yourself.

“Mhmm,” Sukuna grunts, adjusting himself so your back is flush against his chest, head propped up on one arm while the other wraps around you, hand settling on your tits.

You press play, cozying up to Sukuna so you can start watching. The first few minutes pass without much incident, but things start to ramp up after a funny scene has you laugh out loud.

Apparently your laughing causes you to clench around Sukuna because you notice his grip on your tits suddenly tightens and he stiffens up behind you. His cock throbs within you which has you gushing out more, making everything even more slippery than it already was.

The sensation of your fluids mixing with his precum combined with his throbbing cock has you needing to adjust your hips, so you wiggle yourself ever so slightly to shift your body.

Sukuna inhales loudly, hands now a death grip on your chest.

“Stop moving,” he gasps from behind you, voice wavering.

“Sorry baby I-“

“And stop talking, fuckin’ pussy is flexing just from you running your mouth,” he growls.

You are surprised with how much he’s having to fight it. The power you feel being in control of his pleasure with such simple movements only turns you on more.

The brush of his fingers against your skin has your heart pounding even harder, his sturdy presence behind you now causing your arousal to spike. Your body jerks as you feel his breath on your neck.

“Don’t move,” he murmurs again, panting with hot breaths against your sensitive skin, his forehead falling to your shoulder as you feel him tense up again.

“You stop breathing on my neck,” you giggle which has his cock throbbing against your soft walls again. You both moan as a result of the subtle movements that you can’t control.

Your bodies are responding on their own to each other, bodies that have felt every dip and curve of each other countless times, perfectly in sync as lovers are. Both of you quickly begin to teeter on the edge of losing control as you drown in each other’s heat. Sukuna is so pent up from not being inside of you for over a week and your pussy is extra sensitive for the same reason.

Sukuna isn’t even paying attention to the show anymore, face buried against your neck and your hair. Every now and then he shifts his body, causing his cock to push deeper into you with a tiny thrust. You feel like he’s doing it on purpose, only perpetuating his predicament.

The pound of his heartbeat through his bare chest thuds against the skin of your back. You feel a thin sheen of sweat starting to form between your bodies, everything feeling hotter, exacerbating the situation.

You squirm again, his cock head kissing your sweet spot, causing you to moan loudly. Sukuna is practically shaking behind you, seeming to teeter on the edge of losing control.

“Baby, I-ah! Fuck baby don’t do that,” Sukuna’s words come out in a breathy whine almost like he’s begging for mercy. The way your pussy is gripping him, so warm and wet wrapped around his cock is a huge test of his willpower and as he buries his face deeper into your hair, his senses are quickly becoming overwhelmed by the scent of your shampoo.

You feel his hand leave your chest and move down towards where you are attached. Your swollen clit is his target as he starts to move his fingers in slow circles, making it impossible to stay still now.

You cry out his name, clenching tightly around his cock as his ministrations start to wind up the coil of desire deep inside of you.

“Holy shit, fuck!” Sukuna exhales against your neck, fingers trying to maintain their rhythm but you can tell he’s holding on for dear life at this point.

All the pleasure pooling within you feels like it’s been ignited as hot waves of desire begin to flow through your body. You are so close to the edge, you know it’s not a matter of if, but when you cum, you don’t see how Sukuna can hold on.

His body is trembling against yours as each drag of his digits across your clit has your pussy tightening and clenching against him. Your cunt is so wet, whenever you move the sounds of his dick shifting against your soaked walls can be heard over the show. The tiny movements only prolong the inevitable as you both edge yourselves.

“Sukuna I’m close,” you whine as you feel the pressure in your core about to burst.

“Yeah I know, better cum before I do,” Sukuna rasps out, keeping a consistent rhythm against your bundle of nerves.

One last minuscule thrust of his cock against your sweet spot has you coming undone with a toe curling orgasm. The white hot pleasure tears through your body while your vision completely vanishes as your climax consumes everything. Your cunt clenches around him harder than before, sucking him in deeper, driving him towards the edge.

“Sukunaaa oh my god,” your hips buck uncontrollably as you convulse against him with each pulse of your orgasm.

Sukuna’s breathing suddenly gets deeper and louder, abs tightening against your back.

“Oh my fucking god you feel so goddamn good,” Sukuna growls in your ear, hand leaving your clit to grip your hip like a vice. The familiar way his fingers dig into your hips and the telltale way he whispers expletives in your ear have you knowing he’s about to follow you over the edge.

“Ahh fuck!” Sukuna groans and with one final impossibly deep thrust of his cock, you feel his hot seed begin empty deep inside of you. It’s so much, Sukuna giving you everything he’s saved up for you over the last week as you feel it start to overflow and drip down onto the sheets below.

Sukuna collapses against your back, pushing you into the mattress from his weight. You both lay together as your breaths start to even out and your heartbeats slow, the heat from his body comforting as the air starts to chill your damp skin.

“Oh my god I came so hard. I fucking love you,” Sukuna finally says with a content sigh, sitting up to plant an affectionate kiss on your cheek. He rolls you towards him, his half lidded eyes and loving smile make you giddy with adoration for him.

“I love you too baby,” you press yourself against him, craving the skin on skin contact as the oxytocin floods your mind.

The show, long forgotten, is still on in the background. You shut off the tv with the remote in favor of a post sex cuddle with your boyfriend, the love of your life. His strong arms pull you tight against him and you both partake in a dance of slow, sensual kisses as you bask in the warmth of your shared love.

You both doze off and eventually fall into a deep sleep, finally able to rest in each other’s arms thanks to the strong foundation of your love sustaining you during these times apart.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk

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viennakarma · 1 year ago

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Everything I Wanted III.

LESTAPPEN x READER (PART 3/FINALE)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 10k

Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, angst, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, open ending, HEA, not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are also a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. This chapter is a tiny bit angsty. Maybe I should've mentioned it before, but both Max and Charles are single in this story. I'm sorry if it feels rushed or if it has any mistakes, I just let my heart go with the flow!

Find me on Twitter!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You spend a few days in some happy daze, just shamelessly bashing in your Championship. Everyone knew because you were positively giddy during the last race week in Abu Dhabi, you were seen smiling more during that one week than you had been seen smiling in your three years of Formula 1.

Some of the drivers were even more amicable towards you and your closest friends were even teasing you all the time, calling you Champion so they could see you blush and giggle.

“Hey there, Champ,” Lewis would greet you.

“Buenos días, campeona,” Fernando would say and laugh at your reaction.

Lando even joked to some reporter that you were in love with the championship.

There was a dinner organized by the drivers to say farewell to Sebastian. Despite knowing most drivers confirmed their presence there, you planned to go and leave early because you always felt left out whenever most drivers got together.

That’s why you texted Lewis to ask what he was wearing that night, and you ended up wearing high waisted suede pants, and a white T-shirt, finishing with a classic black scarpin in your feet and a purse.

Since you and Nando were in the same hotel, you decided to go together with his driver. Only when you got to the car, Charles was also inside the car, and you had to sit quietly by his side, his thigh brushing yours. Nando was in the passenger seat, and you started small talk with him to diffuse the tension he was unaware was happening in the backseat. You were engaged in conversation with Nando when you felt Charles fingers touching your knee. Jolting, you immediately slapped his hand away.

“You ok there?” Nando asked from the front of the car.

“Uh, yes! Just an- annoying mosquito!” You said, faking a smile.

Charles pouted, crossing his arms and pointedly looking to the window of his side.

As the three of you arrived there, half of the grid was already there, seated and chatting. Lewis welcomed you first, warning that he purposefully invited Sebastian to arrive thirty minutes later, so he was the last to arrive. As you sat beside Nando, you noticed how Charles sat beside you again, facing Pierre across the table, and you ended up facing Max. Your eyes met, but you looked away, deciding to focus on conversation with Nando and Lando, who was in front of him.

When Seb arrived, he was welcomed with a round of applause, which made his cheeks redden a little as he laughed. The dinner went well, and you shared red wine with a few of the others, some of them preferred other drinks. It was nice chatting with everyone, and it was the first time you really felt part of the group, everyone together laughing and eating.

“Y/N, who’s your idol from this table?” Carlos asked with a smirk.

“You wanna put me in trouble,” you eyed around. Everyone knew that the people you were closest with, Lewis, Seb and Nando were your racing idols.

“Come on, your favorite, Lewis, Seb or Fernando?” Lando joined in, and the others joined too, egging you on.

“Kimi is my favorite,” you muttered before taking a sip of your wine. Everyone started shouting and calling you a liar, “fine, fine, it doesn’t mean I’m not a big fan of the other two, but growing up, I’ve always wanted to race like Fernando.”

“And now you do,” Fernando said, raising his glass in a toast, which honestly made you blush. Everyone started making fun of you because you were shy and giggly.

You ended up staying until the end, when everyone had to leave to get a good night of sleep for the free practices the next day.

Race day there was a small ceremony to say goodbye to Sebastian, and it was the only part of the week that made you a little sad, even though part of you were really happy knowing he would get to spend time with his family and dedicate himself to his projects of sustainability. When the drivers made a little corridor to applaud him, Sebastian hugged you and you felt a little teary eyed.

The race was great, and you put some effort into winning that one, because you wanted to finish the season with a bang. And a bang it was, holding the P1 trophy again, kissing it and then raising it high as homage to mom.

After the season ended officially, you went straight to Woking to visit the factory and thank everyone personally for making you a car fast enough to make you the champion. Then you had a few media commitments, had to go over some marketing and legal meetings about brands deals and whatnot interested in your image.

Finally, by the beginning of December, you went back to Monaco and slept in for a few days, relaxing body and mind.

When Lando found out you were living in Monaco, he invited you to a padel match, and despite not knowing the game very well, you never said no to any form of competitive sport that could take your mind off things.

“I’ll let you know, I’m a fast learner, Landito.” You pointed when he gave you a padel racket.

“Come on, you have 20 minutes to learn the basics before our competition is here,” he said.

“Oh, we’ll be playing as duos?” You smiled, letting him lead you to the court.

Lando taught you the basics for a while, and you were getting the hang of it when you heard voices behind you. You stopped short as you noticed your competition were Charles and Max, and as they saw you, they too seemed surprised.

“Hello,” you greeted them with a nod.

Luckily Lando didn’t waste any time with pleasantries and went straight to the game. Which was great, since that was a language you could speak. You soon noticed Charles and Max had a bit more experience than you, so you had to up your game a bit, using strategy to outsmart them.

You and Lando won three games and Charles and Max won four.

As you finished, you went to the net and shook their hands. Max stared at you intensely, but you ignored him and went grab your bag.

“You’re leaving?” Lando asked, “we were going to grab a snack after.”

“Oh, um, yeah- I gotta go, I still have a lot to do around the apartment and I’m waiting for some furniture to arrive,” you gave an excuse.

“You’re living in Monaco?” Charles asked, visibly surprised at the info.

“Yeah. So, bye. Thanks for the game.” You started walking away, but Lando jogged to catch up to you.

“Hey, uh- text me when you’re free this weekend. I wanted to talk to you privately about… McLaren” he whispered your team’s name and you raised an eyebrow, you had no idea what he wanted to talk about, but you nodded.

Lando ended up coming over to your apartment Saturday afternoon, he helped you paint your living room walls a soft green, and after you finished, you were eating a few snacks when he finally said what he wanted to talk about.

“So, I know that legally we shouldn’t be talking about it, but- for how long is your new contract with McLaren?” He breached the subject. You paused.

“What? You know my contract ends by the end of next season.”

“Yeah but- the new one-”

He silenced himself abruptly, probably realizing you didn’t get a new one. You pressed your lips in a thin line. You had a contract similar to Lando’s, that would end by the end of next year. But now- now Lando had been offered a renovation, and you weren’t.

“They offered you an extension already?” You asked, shocked.

“No- I mean- It’s just-” Lando realized by your face that he had fucked up.

“Lando.”

“Yes, from 2024 on, with possible extensions,” He said, apologetically.

“Oh” you whispered.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sure they are just taking their time putting your contract together since you’re, you know, the world champion,” Lando startled rambling, until his phone started ringing, “I’m sorry, I gotta go, I’m streaming tonight and I need to set up. I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sure they’ll offer your renewal soon.”

You bid him goodbye, still processing his words. You tried to be reasonable and not be upset, but the prospect of not receiving a proposal being the world champion didn’t sit right with you. You meditated, thinking to not let that get to you, but a few days before the FIA Gala, you received a proposal from Mercedes, and another from Aston Martin. Both were great, great contracts. They offered a lot of money, security and great publicity.

The night of the Gala, you went all out. Amanda helped you hire a glam team, so you had make up, hair and stylists helping you dress. You wore a silver dress, long with a high slit on the leg, black heels, and your hair was short now, shoulder length and dyed black. You wanted a femme fatale look, and that’s what you got.

Unfortunately, Kimi and Minttu couldn’t go with you, and you didn’t bother to find a date, opting to go by yourself. When you arrived at the ceremony, all eyes were on you. You posed a little by the red carpet and answered a few questions about the championship.

During the ceremony you sat with Lewis, chatting up until the main awards were called. You watched as Charles went up the stage for the third place trophy, he was handsome wearing some designer suit and tie, and glasses that made him even more attractive. He said a couple of words, before making his way down. Then was Max, wearing a gorgeous tux, perfectly tailored to his shoulders and waist. While he was talking, you fixed the bust of your dress and waited for your name to be called alongside the words world champion.

When you got to the stairs, Max was down there, and he offered you a gentlemanly arm to help you up, you hesitated for a brief second but then accepted, letting him guide you up the steps.

Your eyes were on the beautiful trophy. The smile on your face was big, almost giddy, as you went on the stage. You kissed your trophy, leaving a red lipstick stain on the side of it, and you stopped by the mic. After a brief second to recollect your thoughts, you sighed.

“Wow! It’s such an honor to receive this as a token of my hard work and all my years facing pushback for this dream,” you smiled down at the trophy, “I’ll try and keep it brief. I know I have already said some of this, but I’d like to thank my team, not only for making this amazing car that became part of me during this season, but also for giving me a chance three years ago. Thanks to Jace and Amanda, who were such great help this year. I’d like to thank Kimi for seeing me when I was on the brink of giving up and when no scouts looked in my direction, and Minttu for taking me in as one of her own,” you put a hand on your chest, above your heart as your voice choked a little, heavy with emotion, “Thank you, Sebastian and Fernando for accepting my friendship when everyone else turned their backs on me,” you found them both around the crowd, Nando sending you a wink, and Sebastian smiling wildly, “and last but not least, I’d like to thank my mum for working hard to put a roof over my head and food on the table while I was out there hustling for my dream.”

Everyone clapped and you waited for the applause to die down. You could end your speech there, but you wouldn’t be the Lioness if you did.

“Oh, and for those who said I wasn’t gonna go far… You can suck my-” you interrupted yourself, showing your tongue cheekily, making almost everyone in the room laugh.

That night you drank, danced and sang like never before. You woke up hungover and a little blacked out, not remembering the whole night, only some glimpses of it.

You stayed the Holidays with Kimi and his family, and despite being invited by Lando to a big New Year’s Eve party, you opted for a chill celebration. You still found time to send Sebastian and his family some Christmas presents and you managed to go karting with Fernando on his track in Asturias.

After meeting with Fernando, you went on a solo trip around Spain, visiting cities and learning a little bit about history while practicing your spanish. You also tried a few hobbies, out of curiosity. You tried playing tennis, skydiving and surfing.

Soon, you were back in Monaco to resume your training for next season and traveling to Woking to see your new car. You also sat with Amanda and your lawyer, and accepted a few brand deals, one for makeup and another for a big fashion brand. You were genuinely happy with both, you always wanted to get into fashion but never had the time or knack for it, but now with your deal, they would link you to a stylist and give you outfit options.

You entered the new season fresh, feeling good not only about your talent as a racing driver, but about your looks and new style, feeling that your championship could finally back you up.

Only if the media got the memo.

“Y/N do you believe when people attribute your championship win to Verstappen’s mistake?”

You felt fire in your throat, anger bubbling up.

“No, I believe I won the championship because I drove well the whole season. I attribute my championship to myself, my talent and my hard work,” your tone was harsh, and you didn’t even bother to sound pleasant, “I wonder if this was asked to every other Formula 1 champion of the world or just me?”

You huffed, putting your mic down, and you saw Fernando leaning towards you to whisper, “it’s good to have the Lioness back.”

It was different seeing Nando wearing green now and Sebastian’s absence was noticed from day one. He had sent you a text wishing good luck in the season.

There was also a weird shift that you noticed soon, right in the first few races. The rivalry between Max and Charles had been placated a little. They were still rivals on the track, but out of it, they were seen chatting and discussing, all in good spirits and friendly. Whatever rift had caused the tension all these years was apparently mended. So now, they were only your rivals, together against the greater evil. You.

Without a win in the first three races that season, you were sure something was wrong. Could it be your car, but it could also be you.

You came out of debriefing feeling a stress induced headache starting. You walked around the paddock aimlessly, just trying to clear your head and not face any photographer or reporter. That’s why you were around the moving boxes and trucks, trying to find a secluded spot to breathe and meditate.

Unfortunately, you ended up facing two people pressed against a wall. Frowning, you tried to understand what was going on, when you realized it was Max and Charles. Their sides were pressed on each other, but what caught your attention was that they were holding hands, whispering to each other.

You paused, trying to make sense of it. And then Max caressed Charles’ jaw. Then you decided, it was none of your business whatever they did.

Turning around, you were leaving when you stepped on something and it broke loudly. You just kept walking away, not looking back, you were almost leaving the lot when someone held your wrist, making you turn back around.

“Wait, Y/N, we- we can-” Charles’ voice failed him, visibly nervous.

“We can buy your silence,” Max added, suddenly. You frowned, shaking your head.

“I didn’t see anything,” you muttered trying to walk away, but now Max also held your other wrist.

“Say your price,” Max pressed further, making you angry.

“I don’t know what kind of psycho you take me for, but I didn’t see anything,” you say, suggestively, “I wouldn’t want someone to out me, and I wouldn’t do that to anyone else either. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Fuck,” Max whispered, letting go of your hand.

“You- you promise?” Charles asked, still not letting go of you.

“I swear on my mom’s grave.” You said softly just because you could understand their fear, you knew first hand how cruel the motorsport world could be. Whatever was going on between them was none of your business.

You left without another word, hoping they believed you.

The season kept going, and your car wasn’t as good as the year before which was really upsetting you and forcing you to work even harder to match your quality the previous year.

But also both Max and Charles stopped publicly taunting you, making people wonder if your rivalry had ended. It was annoying because that dynamic was all that you’ve known from them, and the fact that they stopped shading you because they were scared to anger you and you eventually exposed them to the world was even more annoying. You wondered if you should talk to them, to let them know it was never coming out of your mouth.

You decided silence was the best course of action. You had enough problems with your car as it was.

Before the fifth race of the season, all the drivers were called for a meeting, to talk about a few safety measures that were being put in place for paddock safety. You sat through it quietly, only listening to the FIA representative. You knew that meeting was because of what had happened to you in Zandvoort the year before, you had taken your complaints to the FIA and miraculously, they had abided by it.

You left the meeting as soon as it was over, walking away. But then, you touched your wrist as a nervous tic.

No. No.

You noticed you didn’t have your watch with you the moment you left the building, patting your pockets to make sure it wasn’t there as you ran right back to the meeting room where the drivers debrief had been.

As soon as you entered, you saw both Max and Charles checking the watch, the monegasque was the one holding it.

“Hey, uh-” you paused, trying to not sound rude, “that’s mine, can I have it back?”

Charles looked at you with that smirk as Max moved away a few steps. Charles opened his hand in your direction, handing you the watch. But as you were to grab it, he pulled back and threw it. You froze, seeing the watching flying directly into Max’s awaiting hands behind you.

“Please, don't-” you gasped as Max pretended to throw it back to Charles. But he didn’t, he just extended his open hand to you, probably noticing the worry in your face.

Skittishly, you got closer to him and grabbed the watch from his hand. He didn’t pull away like Charles had done.

But as you pulled it back, your own hand slipped the watch, and you eyed it with horror as it hit the ground immediately breaking the crystal. You felt like your heart was breaking along with your mom’s watch.

“No, no,” you whispered, kneeling down to take it back.

“Hey, what is happ-” you heard Lewis’ voice entering the room but he stopped short as he saw you almost crying on the floor. He immediately helped you get up.

Both Max and Charles were shocked, still rooted to the spot as it was the first time they ever saw you show any kind of extreme emotion, and the pain in your eyes made both of them get filled with guilt.

You stood up still holding the watch in your hand as a fragile thing, pretty much like your heart.

“Hey, kiddo. Come on,” Lewis put an arm around your shoulders, pushing you away softly after giving the other two drivers a nasty glare.

You didn’t try to get it fixed, and you still wore it even with the crystal shattered. You knew it was a relic, vintage and probably handmade since it was generations in your family. But also you were too emotionally attached to it to get rid of the watch.

After the race, once you got a P2, finally, you went to the hotel, skipping the celebration the team wanted to throw for you but still picking the bill for their night out.

It was late at night when you were rewatching the race, trying to see whatever mistake caused you to miss that P1 that was just within reach but you didn’t manage to take it. You were taking notes, typing in your laptop, when a knock on your door interrupted. You had already ordered room service, but sometimes Amanda did it for you if she thought you weren’t eating enough.

You opened the door to be faced with Max and Charles.

“Can we come in?” Charles asked, and confused, you opened the door wider to let them in.

“We came to apologize about the watch, we’re sorry.” Max started, looking at Charles for his cue.

“That was really immature of us, sorry,” Charles added.

“It’s alright,” you sighed, a little tired, “it’s not your fault, really. I dropped it, not you.”

“But it wouldn’t have happened if we just didn’t mess around with you.”

You sighed again, despite being sad about the watch, you didn’t really blame them for it. Charles took your hand suddenly, making you stare up at them, both of them looking at the broken watch you were still wearing. Max opened the bag and handed you a small box. It was a Rolex.

“We’re really sorry, Y/N,” he handed you the watch. You stared at the box, taking it as a sign of good faith from them.

“Thanks,” you whispered, “I was just eating, you wanna join me?”

They nodded, uncertain. They followed you to the en-suite, the most recent race paused on the TV. You closed your laptop.

“I appreciate the gesture, but-” you unclasped the watch in your wrist, handing it to Charles who was sitting closer to you, “it has emotional value, it was mum’s.”

You waited as they read the inscription, Charles gasping when he realized it had way more value to you than the stupidly expensive Rolex they managed to buy you. Running his thumb on the inscription, Max looked at you.

“I know a guy back home, he- he can fix the crystal,” Max told you, “would you trust me to take it to get fixed? It’s the least I could do.”

“You don’t have to,” you shook your head, “I don’t blame you for breaking it.”

“Please?” Max asked, and something inside you spread warmth in your chest.

“Fine,” you sighed, seeing Max pocket your watch in his bag, “please, help yourselves.”

They went to the table of room service and grabbed a bit of food. They sat around.

“You were rewatching the race?”

“Yeah, I like taking notes, seeing what I can improve…”

You closed your laptop and the TV, not wanting them to check your confidential information.

“How are you feeling this year?” Max asked, awkwardly trying to start a conversation.

“I’m alright, I guess. I mean, the car could be better,” you shrugged.

“And about your mom?” Charles looked at you intently.

“It’s grief, right?” You blinked slowly, “it comes and goes in waves. Sometimes they’re tiny waves breaking on your ankles, and sometimes it feels like you’re going to drown in them.”

There’s a brief silence, but when you meet his eyes, Charles’ eyes shine in understanding.

“I know.”

Max managed to change topics, talking about the track, the race and his impressions. Was a safe topic, lighter. You didn’t notice how, but you three ended up sitting in a small circle on the floor. Max was passionately talking about track adherence, and he was so focused on his explanation that it was actually funny. You eyed Charles, and you two bursted out laughing, which made Max stop, looking at you confused.

When you stopped laughing, sitting straight, Charles was suddenly very close. Way closer than before. His face was just a few centimeters away from yours, and it made you dizzy.

You snapped your head to Max, who was looking at you with just as much desire as Charles. He nodded to you, giving you permission.

Charles held your face and kissed you, softly and tentatively. You broke the kiss, looking from Charles’ beautiful eyes to Max’s. You watched as Max shifted closer to you, holding your jaw as he kissed you too.

You couldn’t wrap your head around what was happening, but you were very shocked and equally turned on.

Max’s hand slid from your jaw, down to your neck, and you were still wide eyed, your breathing progressively more shallow. You felt Charles behind you, his hand on your waist, pressing softly. You closed your eyes as Max slowly closed the distance between you again, and you felt his lips pressing against yours. With shaky fingers, your hands trailed beneath his shirt, up his back, nails grazing his skin. While you opened your mouth to deepen the kiss, you moaned, feeling Charles leaving open mouthed kisses to your neck and shoulder, goosebumps rising in your skin. It was overwhelming, because they were everywhere, hands, lips and bodies stealing your breath. Everything was so hot, you felt like removing your clothes and the pulsing in your shamelessly wet panties.

“Take it off,” Max breathed after breaking the kiss, he helped the monegasque, who quickly tore your clothes leaving you only in panties. Max pushed you until your back was on the floor, and he and Charles were kneeling on each side of your body. “Charlie, come kiss her.”

Charles laid down, kissing you gently first, then deepening the kiss until you were pawing his waist and torso under his shirt. Seeing your struggle, he removed the shirt himself, while Max watched, running both hands up and down your thighs. Max suddenly pulled Charles closer, kissing him, their kiss was just as hard and messy as the kisses they had given you. Seeing the way their lips explored each other made you even wetter, and you couldn’t help but run your finger above your slit, your pussy still clothed. They removed each other’s clothes very fast.

They stopped, and Max soon removed your panties, laying between your legs. You moaned as his tongue lapped at your pussy, tentatively and Charles leaned down to kiss you again. Your heart was running insane, so fast you thought it would stop. Charles went lower and mouthed at your nipples, and you reached for his cock.

“Spit,” you ordered Charles, offering the palm of your hand. A little hesitantly, he did, a glob of spit on the palm of your hand and you grabbed his cock again, and he moaned out loud feeling the glide of your hand.

You felt one of Max’s fingers inside you, twisting so good that you had to hold his head, grinding your hips into him. The pleasure of Max working your cunt was so blinding that you lost focus on the handjob, but it didn’t deter Charles, who just decided to fuck into your hand.

You looked down, just to see Max looking straight at you through his lashes. He sucked at your clit, watching you writhe and come undone, grinding your hips on his face, wetting half of his face as he devoured you.

“Charlie will fuck you now, yeah?” Max asked as you recovered, and he carried you to the couch, positioned you on his lap, facing Charles, who just knelt between your legs.

Charles filled you up in one swift movement, and you moaned at the tight fit, melting into Max just behind you, holding you firmly, one hand on your neck, the other across your abdomen. The dutch kissed your neck, biting and sucking your skin, but his eyes trained on the way Charles’ hips started moving into you, you pulled Max’s hand that was on your neck and put it over your mouth, to muffle your moans, he pushed two fingers in your mouth and you sucked. The pressure was deliriously good, and Charles kept blabbering about how good you felt, and how warm was your cunt, and you were making him feel so good, mixed with lots of french expletives. Charles pressed further, his chest against yours as he found Max over your shoulder and kissed him. You felt Max’s hand that was between your bodies, find its way to your clit, rubbing in circles and pushing you even faster to your second orgasm, drooling over the fingers he still had in your mouth, you hips shaking so much you were rubbing Max’s cock with your ass, at the same time that Charles came crashing down, filling you up as he moaned out loud.

“My turn now, yes?” Max said, repositioning you like a ragdoll, while Charles laid down, pulling you on all fours on top of him, as Max took his turn behind you.

Charles pulled your face closer, kissing you all sloppy and open mouthed as Max filled you up to the hilt, making your knees shake. As if he knew, and he probably did, Charles held your hips up when Max started pistoning into you, fucking you so good you could only hold onto Charles and bite into his shoulders to keep yourself from being too loud.

You did not sleep that night. Max and Charles’ stamina wa otherworldly, and you three kept fucking until morning came. Sometimes you just watched them, sometimes you took one while the other rested, sometimes you took them at the same time. With them, you tried more adventurous positions than you had tried your entire life. They had a different way of finding out the workings of your body, of discovering the rhythm you liked and the sound of your moaning echoing on the walls.

The second time they slipped into your room was almost three weeks later, under the guise that they wanted to give your watch back now fixed.

After a little chit chat Max pulled you into his lap and Charles pressed his chest to your back and in minutes you three were naked, touching and kissing and moaning into each other's mouth.

It became some sort of routine, every few weeks, they would sneak into your room, and you’d bang them any way you wanted.

Then they would stay more, bring dinner or put on a movie. They would snuggle with you in bed while the movie played, Max holding your thigh softly and you playing with Charles’ hair. It was good to unwind and forget about Formula 1.

Every day, after they left, you’d whisper to yourself.

“Don’t get too attached, Y/N. They’re your rivals.”

You didn’t want to poison all the sexy moments and all the tranquility they made you feel, but at the same time, you didn’t want to get too caught up in this. It should be fun, but it couldn’t be more than that.

Racing was never a topic of conversation between you, not only because those few hours together were sacred but also because all three of you were rivals and were in different teams, which could get very messy, very quickly.

Eventually, after Barcelona, McLaren brought a new upgrade. Which for you, it was a godsend. Finally, you could get back on your feet again. The car felt lighter and you had much more control. And in Montreal, you finally got the first win of the season. A huge weight was lifted from your shoulders and you even cried a couple of tears finishing the race first for the first time that year. And it was also the first 1-2 you and Lando had ever, which was even more reason for celebration.

You and Lando ended up closing a club for your celebration, inviting the whole team.

Max and Charles were there too, and they spent most of the night in a booth, chatting among other drivers. You knew they were watching you even pretending not to, and it was a matter of time until they had drunk enough to approach you. So you decided to not stay late and just leave.

You bid Lando goodbye quickly, telling him you were tired even if it was relatively early for a clubbing night. As you made your way to the most discreet exit, you felt a hand on your forearm, pulling you to a corner, and you were faced with both Charles and Max.

“Leaving so soon, chéri?” Charles asked, eyes glossy and probably a little tipsy.

“We came here to celebrate you,” Max said, one hand going around your waist. Wide eyed, you immediately pushed his hand away, taking a step back. They were confused.

“Not here. Too public, someone might see us, or even take pictures.”

“Don’t be like that, there is no one around now,” Charles pointed around, and granted, it was really empty on that side of the club, but anyone could walk in any moment.

“I can’t,” you shook your head, “not in public.”

“You’re ashamed of us?” Max squinted, looking into your eyes.

“I never said that. I can’t risk anything happening to my image just because I wanted to screw someone.”

“So that’s how you see us? A good fuck and nothing else?” Max pressed you further.

“Again,” you repeated slowly, your patience running thin, “that’s not what I said,” there was a tense pause and you pinched the bridge of your nose, “look, we all had more than enough to drink, and this is not the moment or the place for this conversation.”

“No, no,” Charles shook his head, “I believe you made yourself clear enough.”

With that, they walked away clearly pissed with you. Going back to the hotel, you knew there was nothing you could do at that moment to change their minds. They wouldn’t understand your point of view that easily, not only because they were drunk, but also because they weren’t a woman in Formula 1. Everyone fed off your failures like vultures, and if it leaked that you were going out not only with one, but with two other drivers, you knew you could kiss your career goodbye.

The media was never the kindest to you, and the majority of the fans weren’t either, so you knew how it would look if anyone found out about you three. They already call you slut without any knowledge of your romantic history, they would ruin your life if they were to know. And most certainly question not only your seat in Formula 1 but also your World Championship.

You just hoped you could explain that to Charles and Max when they were with clear heads.

Only you didn’t.

They never came back to your room, nor did they answer your texts.

Two entire weeks passed with only anguish gnawing at your insides, trying to reach them privately, but failing miserably. They were not only ignoring you, but also avoiding you. You couldn’t take it anymore, so in Austria, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You’d corner the first one you saw.

And that was Charles right before the drivers parade. You were the first ones to get there, which gave you some sense of privacy, well, as much as you could.

“You need to listen to me, this is a misunderstanding, Charles.”

But he straight up ignored you, not even bothering to look in your direction. With a heavy heart, you nodded, moving away from him. Making peace with the fact that maybe this was the end of your little affair. They had not understood you, and had ignored all your efforts to explain, closing the door of whatever was going on.

Resolute, you decided that maybe it was for the best. If they couldn’t understand where you were coming from, then better say farewell already. But you couldn’t help that anguishing feeling in your stomach.

It showed to be true during the race, when you were P4 fighting to get into the podium at least. Max was P3, and he fought tooth and nail to not allow you to pass, even if you had the pace to overtake him. You tried a risky move, one you had learned from Fernando Alonso. Pretend you’re going to overtake on one side, let him defend that side, then push your car to the other side and dive for the position.

You almost did the full move, but when you were going for the position, Max just pushed his car into your side, which caused you to lose control and you spun to the gravel. You just decelerated as much as you could. You left the car and went back to the pits with the help of marshals. You didn’t bother to even look into Max’s direction, feeling your eyes getting teary. You weighted with your helmet on, and only took it off inside the garage, because you didn’t want people to see you cry.

It was relatively normal to DFN because of a crash, and given the history of rivalry between you and Max, it was also very common to collide with him. What made you upset wasn’t him protecting his position, but him purposefully taking you out, like he was just getting back at you because he was angry. You had left enough space for him. Despite the overtaking maneuver being a little risky, you never once got close enough to him that you could cause an accident. He had not slipped and lost control. He had not tried to avoid you. He just ran straight into your sidepod.

“What happened today?” A reporter asked you when you went to the post race interviews.

“What is there to say? I think the images speak for themselves.” You shrugged, feeling tired but not wanting to give the media too much as to not cause a PR nightmare to Amanda.

“Seems like the FIA will investigate Max Verstappen because of today’s incident.” Someone else mentioned, and you couldn’t help but scoff.

“I’m sure they will,” you muttered, voice laced with sarcasm.

The debriefing was just as bad with your Team Principal calling you out in front of the whole team not only for damaging your car but also for putting yourself at risk like that.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, I did what any other driver would do in my position!” You sighed trying to calm down, “don’t make me quote Ayrton Senna to you. If you no longer go for a gap that exists, then you’re no longer a racing driver. You and everyone saw that Verstappen didn’t have the pace to match me, so he just plunged into me to take me out!”

God, you needed an ice bath. And maybe a new punchbag.

You were getting ready to leave when Max came up to you. You didn’t say anything to him, you honestly didn’t even want to talk to him anymore. You just wanted to go home and cry under the shower.

He was red in the face and looked distressed. You couldn’t help but feel defensive, holding your bag to your chest.

“I really don’t want to talk to you right now,” you said, trying to walk away but he blocked your path.

“Listen,” he started and the moment he raised his hand to remove his cap, it triggered you, and you flinched as if he was gonna hit you.

He stopped immediately, because he knew that was a trauma response. He knew that him being angry must have reminded you of your father growing up. He knew all that because he too, sometimes, had this kind of knee jerk reaction.

But you felt sick to your stomach. It wasn’t intentional, but it made you look like you believed he would’ve hit you, and rationally you knew he wouldn’t do that. But your stupid body did.

You avoided Max and walked away as fast as you could.

Back in the hotel you just packed your bags and left, going straight to the airport to fly back to Monaco. You were exhausted by the time you made it home, but you still took a shower and cried a couple of tears under the streaming water.

In bed, you tried to convince yourself this ending for your fling with them was for the best. It was too complicated anyway.

And you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t miss the feel of Max’s lips against your neck, or the feel of your hands pulling Charles’ hair softly. Or the way Charles used to mumble French mindlessly whenever he was concentrating on something. Or how often Max would do his maxplaining with his vast knowledge of the most random topics.

Your body was so tired but your mind just did not shut off.

You were a couple of hours into staring at the ceiling when the doorbell rang. Carefully, you went there, it was the middle of the night, so you checked the door camera to see both Max and Charles by the door.

Slowly, you opened to them. You swallowed, waiting for them to say something. You felt so vulnerable, this knot in your stomach had been tormenting you since the day they walked away.

“I’m- we’re really sorry,” Max started.

“For ignoring you and mistreating you and never once giving you the chance to explain your side,” Charles took a small step inside.

It was like a dam broke, and you ran into their embrace, sobbing. All three of you hugged, Charles with a comforting hand on your back and Max kissing the side of your head. They patiently waited for you to calm down, and then closed the door and walked you to the sofa.

“I missed you,” you murmured, holding Max’s jaw to peck his lips, doing the same to Charles, “I’m so sorry about everything.”

“Can we talk?” Charles asked, “you said it was a misunderstanding.”

You nodded, taking your phone from your room. You sat on the coffee table as you gave them your phone with your instagram profile opened.

“Check the comments on my last post,” you pointed and they sat side by side scrolling through it, the horror on their faces getting worse every second they kept going.

You knew the kind of comments you had on your profile. Hateful, hurtful comments. It had been that way since you made it into Formula 1.

“What a slut” “I bet there’s a reason why Charles hates her” “She never deserved that championship! #Retire” “Ugly bitch” “Whose dick she had to blow to get a seat?” “Overrated dumb whore” “I bet she tried to fuck her way through the grid, that’s why most of them hate her” “Max should’ve crashed into her harder”

It was nothing new to you, Kimi and your PR team had prepared you for years for this type of treatment. And you honestly had grown used to it, learning to ignore.

“This is disgusting, Y/N!” Charles exclaimed, trying to put the phone away, but Max snatched it back, still reading the comments.

“That’s just a regular Monday for me,” you shrugged, “I’m not trying to victimize myself or anything, but-”

“You are a victim, this is not okay!” Charles said.

“What I wanted to say is, I can’t risk us going public. This is what I face just for doing my job, and it would get so much worse if people ever found out. They already believe I fucked my way to the top, to them, we would just confirm their suspicions,” you felt Charles holding your hand for comfort, “it is very different for a woman. And I adore what we have, but I can't put you above my career and my dreams.”

Max extended his hand to you, and you grasped it, letting him pull you to sit between them. Charles kissed your cheek.

“We would never ask you to do such a thing,” Max said.

“I’m sorry we didn’t see what you are going through with the media and our fans.” Charles muttered, pulling your hair back with a hand, and holding your waist with the other.

“We missed you,” Max whispered against the other side of your neck.

In a couple of minutes they had you spread open on the sofa, Charles’ head between your legs and Max’s lips latched on to your nipples. They made sure to apologize orgasm after orgasm, cooing your moaning mess and kissing you stupid.

Routine went back to normal after that. You still didn’t name your affair and decided that for now, it was better this way.

With the upgraded car, you actually managed to pick up the pace and find yourself rising up the standings.

Silverstone was promising, being one of your favorite tracks, and one you knew you could win again this year. You did great both of the free practices, trying to keep your focus now more than ever, to get a chance at the championship again. There were specific races that you’d amp up your security team for safety, but Silverstone wasn’t one of them.

Qualifying day, you went to the track early morning, to meet with your team, talk about the results of free practices and your input. As you walked to your garage quietly chatting on the phone, you felt a hand on your arm, pulling you aside. You yelped, jerking around and you ended up facing the person. A man, and it took you a couple of seconds to recognize all the gray hair, but the evil eyes were still very much the same.

It had been more than a decade since you saw your father for the last time. Gasping, you took a step back to walk away, but he gripped your forearm, forcing you back.

Funny how fear worked, you hadn’t seen him for years, and you always imagined that now that you were all grown up, you’d be fearless, a big girl, brave and face your father head on. But it wasn’t how things happened. Immediately your fight or fight kicked in. Your eyes darted around, trying to catch someone you knew or someone from security.

“Let. Go.” You said, with gritted teeth.

“Is that how you greet your father?” He said, and you pulled your hand from his grasp.

“I don’t have one,” you spat, anger rising in your chest, hand in hand with fear. You wanted to bolt, to ban him from your life forever, to cry and shout all at once.

“I made you. I spent thousands investing in your career so you could be here, a little gratitude would be good,” he said with a fake smile, and it disgusted you.

“I’ll never attribute my success to you, you disgusting piece of-”

He held your face with a hand, pressing your jaw with such force that it made you stumble a step back. You gripped his wrist, trying to pull away but he pressed your face harder, pressing your head against the wall.

“Very careful how you speak to me!” He rasped, gritted teeth and all, “you little shit, you think you are better than me? I turned you into who you are! The least you own me-”

“I owe you shit!” You said, and spat on his face.

“I gave money and a house to that whore you called a mother-”

You snapped, getting a hold of the fear, and you punched him in the face, hard enough for him to get away and you get space to run. You took one single step when you stumbled into someone, and your eyes found Max.

It was a brief second between looking at you, looking behind you and recognising your father. Recovering from your punch, your father tried to get to you again, but Max stood between the two of you, pushing your father’s chest so he stumbled back. Charles arrived soon after with security, as Max explained that this man was to be escorted out and never allowed to come back.

“Chéri, are you ok?” Charles asked, seeing you taking a step back and leaning against the wall.

You nodded, trying to talk but your voice caught on your throat, trying to make sense of what was happening. Your legs gave in and you slid down until you were sitting on the floor.

“Amour, talk to me, hey-” Charles was worried, you were pale and shaking. Max also knelt down beside you, holding your face to try and see if your father had hurt you.

“Get him out,” you said, and Max nodded, going to talk with security.

“Amour-”

“Guys, there’s cameras around the corner!” Lewis showed up out of nowhere.

“I’m fine,” you managed to blurt, holding on the wall to stand up.

“Hey, hey-” Charles tried to hold your arm but you took a step back.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, walking away back into the garage.

Your mind was spinning, all over the place, and through text you told Charles and Max that you were fine and wanted to be alone. The qualifying was a shitshow. Your mind was completely all over the place, and even making it to Q2, you couldn’t go farther than P14, it felt like the car wasn’t responding to your commands.

You came out of qualy completely pissed. At your father, for showing up and ruining your good streak of races. At yourself, for letting him get to your head, for still giving him so much power over you. You walked away without a second thought, went to your room and kicked your boots off.

Press talk was another shit. You couldn’t pay attention to most questions, gave monosyllabic answers, and couldn’t explain why your qualifying performance was so bad compared to the rest of the year.

You just apologized to your team during debriefing, and silently acquiesced to whatever the strategy for the race was. Kimi had texted you asking about what happened, you didn’t want to talk to him just yet.

You were getting ready to leave for the day, when Fernando came into your room.

“I don’t want to talk, Nando,” you held your bag, not even bothering to look at him.

“Good, because I do the talking then. Go, sit down.” He pretty much ordered, his face stony and serious in a way you hadn't seen before. “What happened today?”

“I’ve got a lot going on,” it was all you said.

“Your father showed up, messed with your head and with your confidence,” Fernando said, with the certainty of someone who knew you really well. You wondered if the whole grid knew about your father’s presence today. You gulped. “Look, this is something you will master with time, but I’m going to tell you now. When you put your helmet on and get in the car, you’re a racer, nothing more. Your problems, your worries, they stay back and they never cross your mind for the entirety of the race. Out on the track, you’re one with the car, doing your best is the only thing that matters.” Fernando pressed his index finger softly to your forehead, as if he was quite literally putting it in your head, “Clear. Your. Mind.”

You sniffled, wiping the one tear that came down. Fernando’s face softened, but you knew he wanted only the best for you. And he was right. You kept giving your father this power. You handed him the power. You couldn’t keep letting him get away with it. This was the one thing you knew you were good at, your calling, your destiny and all your hard work. And you’d be damned if your father would keep a hold over your life.

“Clear my mind,” you inhaled, nodding.

You did your best to study your strategy for the day, to focus on what you could do to achieve the best result.

Early the next morning, you went to the FIA, to request access to the camera footage to find images of the altercation between you and your father the day before. The representative you talked to was initially reluctant but once you told him what had happened, he was quick to help you. You explained that it was for the better that none of that came to light, and hopefully you could get your father to be completely banned from Formula One. The representative prepared a report and assured you that your complaint would be taken seriously and they’d work on the matter as fast and as discreetly as possible.

You went to meet your team and go over and over plan A, B and C. When you got in the car, ready to race, you still hadn’t talked with Max or Charles, and you were hopeful to catch them after. Attaching the helmet, you breathed in, slowly, remembering Fernando’s words.

Clear your mind.

You raced like there was no tomorrow, only thinking of the next turn and the next car you had to overtake, you didn’t think of who it was or when, you just did it. In the future, that race was going down in history as a masterclass in overtaking and taking every little opportunity thrown your way. The time passed really fast, and when you came to be, you heard Jace screaming in your ears that you had made it. You had made it to P1 and taken the checkered flag.

Your voice was shaky as you thanked the team and Jace on the radio.

When you left, running towards your team, they congratulated you and despite the great desire to run towards Max and Charles, who were on the podium with you, you somehow managed to find Fernando. You ran towards him, jumping in his arms, not even minding the way your helmets hit with a loud thud. He hugged you, removing your feet from the ground.

“Thank you! Gracias, muchas gracias, Fernando!” You shouted hoping he could hear you with both visors up.

He patted your shoulder as you had to run back to get weighted and to post-race interview.

“Wow, I’m at a loss for words right now! You were a true Lioness during this race! Can you tell us what happened after the difficult Qualy yesterday?” Jenson Button was the one to ask.

“I was in a difficult place yesterday, and I’m very thankful for a pep talk Fernando Alonso gave me, that helped me get back into my jam!” You said, breathless, wiping sweat from your forehead, “I’m also grateful to my team for making the car that matched my energy and focus today!”

“And what did Fernando tell you?” Jenson asked, probably out of curiosity.

“Well, I can’t go out telling my secrets, can I? My rivals are all around!” You winked, and left a laughing Jenson behind.

In the cooldown room, where Max and Charles were already watching a montage with all your overtakes on a screen, you walked up to Charles, taking his hand. He looked a little concerned as you had agreed to keep your relationship private. Max joined, patting a hand on your back, and the three of you made a little triangle.

You looked at them with so much adoration, that it hit Max right in the chest and he wanted nothing more than to hold your face and kiss you silly. Charles held his breath for a brief second, being in the moment with the two of you.

“You were brilliant, today,” Charles muttered, low and hoping no mic would catch the sound.

“Unbelievable, Lioness.” Max also said with a discreet wink, then taking a step back and interrupting the moment.

That wasn’t your first podium, nor your first win, but something was different when you kissed the trophy and raised it to the sky. You felt like you’d taken back control of your life and your career. There was nothing that could actually stop you if you put your mind to it, and you knew now. You shitty father couldn’t squander your dreams when you were fourteen, and he couldn’t do it now either. You were so much bigger than him, greater than that pathetic man could ever be.

And you didn’t need him.

You had a mother that, despite not being there anymore, but she’d always be in your heart, a constant source of strength and faith. You had Kimi, who believed you when no one else did, who put his own hand over fire for you. You had Fernando, Seb and Lewis, your idols in this sport, and such good friends. You had Charles and Max, your lovers, and hopefully your future.

That night, as you were laying down in your suite, sandwiched between the two men that stole your heart, came the email with your renewal contract proposition. A five year offer, possible extensions, to make you the face of your McLaren.

You made love with Charles and Max with renewed energy, enjoying yourself and the feel of their love for you. It was just the assurance you needed to say the words.

“I love you. I love you two very much,” you whispered, running your hand through both their hairs, “I can’t promise much right at this moment, like a normal, public, relationship yet, but I do love you.”

“We know. We love you too.” Max whispered and Charles took your hand and kissed your knuckles.

“We love you too much to risk you facing awful dangerous things just so we could call you ours publicly,” Charles agreed.

That year, you didn’t get a second championship as you had dreamed, but you proudly stood with your P2 trophy during the FIA’s Prize Giving Ceremony, your chest swelling with pride as you watched Charles’ beaming face with the P1 trophy.

There was some renewed sense of purpose in yourself as you held the trophy, and in your heart, this one meant just as much as the champion trophy you had gotten the year before. This year you had overcome all the demons that had controlled you for a long time, this year you had not only learned to live with the undying love for your mom, but you had also learned about new forms of love. You had somehow rekindled that love for racing, for believing you were the best and could prove it amidst adversity.

And of course, many adversities were still to come, but now you were sure you had in yourself the power to face them.

When the next season started, you had your eyes on the prize.

Even spending a great amount of winter break with your boyfriends, they were still your rivals on track.

You were fixing your suit on the pitlane when they walked up to you.

“I hope you know this championship is mine,” Max said with a smirk. You caught his playful tone fairly quickly.

“Well, I am the current champion of the world, so we’ll see about that,” Charles crossed his arms.

“Boys, no crying when I leave the both of you eating dust, yeah?” You added, biting back a giggle.

“Baby, go easy on us,” Max joked, and you shook your head.

“Never going easy on my rivals,” You added with a whisper, “not even when they’re my handsome boyfriends.”

“See you after the finish line,” Charles winked, and they both walked away.

“Hope you enjoy the view of my rear!” You said, and they left, laughing.

Always rivals, but much more than that.

NOTE: If you want to know why I chose to end the story this way, or have any questions about the characters future, or any random headcanons, drop by my inbox and I'll try to answer most! Thank you so much for the support in this little adventure! Thank you to everyone who dropped a little ask/message asking for more, I'll try and answer you if I haven't yet! (also, sorry if i missed any tag)

TAG LIST: @be-your-coffee-pot @supremebaddietrash @mellowarcadefun @cmleitora @kyuupidwrites @80sloverry @newlifeforus @soulaires @hrrorflm @redwolfxx @icarus-nex @jenniferrvsesi @bborra @leilanixx @hc-dutch @withyoutilltheendodthismess @is-just-a @freetimemachinequeen @saturnchase @butterfly-lover @eddiesbitch83 @elliott-calls @nb26fort @wcnorris @vellicora @mac-daddy-210 @hiraethrhapsody @losore-prone @gills-lounge @enrapturedbythemoon @formula1mount @mightiestheroes @cherry-piee @chezmardybum @whodis-26 @mortallyblueninja @f1mockingjay @dance-the-painting @chanshintien @magical-spit @splaterparty0-0 @maxv33rtappen @heyheyheyggg @mindflay3r @janeholt3 @lightdragonrayne @always-spaced-out @papayatifosi @formulas-bitch @ruleroftheuniverse @raizelchrysanderoctavius @scott-mccall-could-lift-mjolnir @alishamai @lanando4 @dark-night-sky-99 @comfortzonequeen @honethatty12 @urfavnoirette

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 #formula 1 #lestappen #charles leclerc x you #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #charles leclerc x reader #formula one #lewis hamilton #fernando alonso #lestappen x reader #lestappen x you #Spotify

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bunji-enthusiast · 1 year ago

Note

Slides you a paper, simple lil request

Reader is talking to Dogday and not watching where their going, they nearly fall off a ledge but Dogday, catching them, decides they don't need to walk and will thus be carried.

Ps. Lil Dogday with legs idea ^^

Note || combining these two requests cause I can.

Sypnosis || your companion seemed to be very strong, carrying you in spite of your protests.

DogDay –

Being as it is, you were hurt. Badly enough as it is, he was beginning to get worried. On the off hand, you had done so much for him already, giving back his legs so he could walk and even freeing him way before that. Your body seemed to be sorely injured, yet you always pushed on. You always liked helping people and toys alike where you can, so as long as they were sane and not conceivable in the far off ends of pure insanity after being in the factory for so long.

DogDay was, in a way, very impressed with how you managed to get so far. But now, he simply wasn’t having it.

“I swear, ‘Go back to bed, you’ll feel better in the morning’ haha–” You wanted to continue, being so enthralled with talking to DogDay who was tentatively listening to you as you two had made your roundabouts yet other things had occurred. With a yelp escaping you, you slipped and fell.

“AH!” You closed your eyes, seeing you tripped off of a ledge. Suddenly, you realize that someone had caught you. DogDay, he held you close to his chest, as if he was fearing you would get hurt again. “Angel, you should take a break from walking for a while… ok?” DogDay had tilted his head slightly at you, as if he wanted to be sure you had heard what he said.

You nodded, a little caught off guard by this sudden change in his outward personality. As if he was taking on the role of a protective familiar member, it gave you a sense of nostalgia. You sighed as your head laid against his chest, noticing the fact one arm of his was cradling your legs, the other holding your back.

“Ah fine…”

CatNap –

The crash was terrible, leaving you on the tracks numb and in pain. You didn’t understand what was happening, only blacking out and leaving the realm of the conscious for a period of time (though seemingly it felt very long). Your dreams felt terrible, running away and trying to scrape by at every possible moment. Though it was relief enough when you realized you were just asleep, though one thing had remained strange however.

Were you… being carried by someone, you didn’t get a good look at the said body. You blinked your eyes, trying to tide away the blurriness ebbing at your peripherals. You cry out when you finally make the connection, CatNap, the one you had seen before all those years ago before being recalled was carrying you.

Like a kitten being carried by the scruff apparently? You couldn’t get a good look.

‘Gods… it hurts.’ you thought to yourself, knowing full well wherever that CatNap was carrying you was not going to be a good or even convenient location in any case. You were slightly panicked, but more put off by how heavily you could hear CatNap breathing. “You really need to work out..” You pause for a moment, feeling the pain sharp in your skin like thousands of thousands of needles rubbing straight in. “More often.” At this, CatNap paused, causing you to think he was probably surprised at your choice of words. Oh, the look on his face was one you most wished to see right now.

Though he had finally resumed, continuing to walk despite the fact he had just paused for a good minute or so.

You wonder if he was truly well intentioned at the very moment.

#poppy playtime #dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #x reader #poppy playtime x reader #catnap poppy playtime #catnap #dogday x reader #poppy playtime dogday #dogday #catnap x reader #uhhh yeah

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novaursa · 6 months ago

Note

I have way to many idea so sorry for everything I’m going to send you 👉🏼👈🏼

Aemond x Niece (maybe a Nyra x daemon before her wedding!?)

He’s obsessed with her, she represents everything he want, she’s a perfect Targaryen white hair, purple eyes, huge dragon vermithor or cannibal?

But she’s engaged to Jace and he hate the fact that she is “given” to a bastard. So he tried by all things to make her his, he wish so hard to be found with her in a bad position that they obliged them to get married.

He make sure that Larys Steong see them, he even say to the maester to give her moon tee or medicinal herb for morning sickness ?! Otto find that about the maester and decided to marry them ( daemon and nyra are not ok they say It not real) and aemond took that personally and decided that they will have a child right now 🫣

The Dragon's Mark

- Summary: When Aemond found out about your betrothal to Jacaerys, he knew how all seven hells could not hold him back from taking what was rightfully his.

- Pairing: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: Reader is the firstborn child of Rhaenyra. She had a reader with Daemon before she involved herself with Harwin Strong. Daemon legitimized the reader. For more of my works visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 4 000+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

- A/N: I've changed the thing with a Maester to make it more believable. I hope you don't mind.

Aemond sat across from his mother, Dowager Queen Alicent, and his grandsire, Ser Otto Hightower, in the great hall of the Red Keep. The torchlight cast shadows over their faces, making their expressions harder to read, not that Aemond was paying much attention. Their voices drifted to him as if through a thick fog, muffled and distant. He stared at the tapestry on the wall opposite, its intricate designs of dragons entwined in battle barely registering in his mind. His thoughts were elsewhere, consumed by the image of you.

You, to him, were the embodiment of Valyrian perfection, a true daughter of Old Valyria. Your silver hair fell in soft waves, catching the light like molten silver, and your violet eyes held the depth of the ancient Targaryen bloodline. You are more than a princess; you are power personified, a dragonrider of Vermithor, the mighty bronze beast who had bonded with you when you were but a girl. Aemond could still remember the first time he had seen you astride Vermithor, your small form commanding the great dragon with ease, your expression fierce and unyielding.

Now, you are a woman grown, and in Aemond's eyes, you are perfect. You are the one he deserves, a match that would not only strengthen the bloodline but would also solidify his place in their shared history. He could see it so clearly in his mind: you by his side, the two of you ruling as a power unmatched, with dragons and fire at your command.

The thought of you set a slow burn within him, a mix of admiration and desire. He had always been captivated by your strength, your beauty, and the fire in your spirit that matched his own. You are everything he had ever wanted, everything he needed. A true Targaryen, unmarred by the weaknesses of others. Aemond clenched his jaw, pushing down the surge of emotions that threatened to spill over.

His attention snapped back to the present as his mother's voice cut through his thoughts, sharp and clear.

"...Rhaenyra has decided to marry her daughter to Jacaerys," Alicent said, her tone carefully neutral, but there was a hint of distaste in her eyes.

Aemond's world tilted on its axis, the words crashing over him like a wave. His blood ran cold as the realization settled in. Rhaenyra intended to wed her daughter, you, the one Aemond desired above all others, to that bastard Jacaerys. His hands curled into fists on the table, the knuckles white as the force of his anger rose within him, threatening to consume him whole.

"A match to solidify her claim, no doubt," Otto added, his voice dry and calculated as always. "She seeks to ensure her line continues to hold power, binding her daughter to her eldest son."

Aemond could barely hear them now over the roaring in his ears. The thought of you, bound to Jacaerys, of the union of your bloodlines through a marriage that had nothing to do with honor or strength but everything to do with Rhaenyra's desperate attempt to secure her position—it was unbearable.

His mind raced with images of Jacaerys, the boy who had always stood in his way, who had always been favored despite the question of his parentage, despite his weaknesses. And now, to think that he would have you, the woman Aemond had longed for, the woman who should have been his—!

"Aemond." Alicent's voice broke through his fury, pulling his gaze to her. She looked at him with concern, as if sensing the turmoil within him. "What are you thinking?"

Aemond blinked, his breath coming in sharp, controlled breaths as he forced himself to calm. He could not reveal the depth of his feelings here, not now. He met his mother's gaze, his expression hardening into a mask of indifference.

"Nothing, mother," he said, his voice low and measured. "Only that Rhaenyra's choices will bring about her own downfall."

Alicent frowned slightly, but before she could press further, Otto interjected, his eyes narrowing as he studied his grandson. "This marriage will complicate things, Aemond. We must be cautious in how we respond. Rhaenyra seeks to bind the loyalty of her supporters through this match."

Aemond nodded stiffly, though his thoughts were still far from the politics of it all. He would not let this happen. He would not allow Jacaerys to take what should be his.

"Perhaps," Aemond began slowly, "we should consider our own alliances more carefully. There are other ways to weaken Rhaenyra's position."

Otto raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the shift in Aemond's tone. "What do you suggest?"

Aemond met his grandsire's gaze, a plan already forming in his mind, a way to ensure that you would not be lost to him, that Jacaerys would not win. His lips curled into a small, cold smile.

"There are always ways to turn the tide," he said softly. "We need only find the right pressure points."

Alicent looked between them, her unease growing, but Aemond paid her no mind. His thoughts were solely on you, on the woman who had unknowingly claimed his heart. He would have you, no matter the cost. You will be his, and nothing, not even Rhaenyra’s schemes, would stand in his way.

The fire in the hearth crackled softly as you sat at your vanity, the brush gliding through your long, silver hair. Each stroke was methodical, a ritual you found soothing as the day's events faded into the quiet of the evening. You took a deep breath, savoring the calm, but beneath the surface, your thoughts were a swirling current of unspoken feelings, thoughts that often turned to him—Aemond.

The quiet attraction you felt for him had always been there, lurking in the periphery of your mind, but never voiced, never acted upon. There was something in the way he carried himself, the intensity of his gaze, that made your heart quicken whenever he was near. Yet, the distance between you had always remained, unbridgeable, or so you had thought.

You placed the brush down, your hair now smooth and shining in the firelight, ready to retire for the night. But just as you were about to stand, a knock echoed through the chamber, pulling you from your reverie. You frowned, surprised by the interruption at this hour. Before you could respond, the door creaked open, and there he was, Aemond, standing in the doorway, his expression unreadable.

"Aemond," you whispered, your voice betraying a hint of the surprise you felt.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His presence filled the space, commanding yet silent, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. His eye, that piercing violet eye, locked onto yours, and you felt your breath catch. There was something different about him tonight, an intensity that set your heart racing.

"I... wasn't expecting you," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond moved closer, his gaze never leaving yours. "I needed to see you," he said quietly, his tone carrying a weight that made your pulse quicken. He was so close now that you could feel the heat radiating from him, the scent of leather and smoke clinging to his clothes.

You swallowed, your mind racing as he reached out, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down your spine. There was something in his eye, a hunger, a longing that mirrored the unspoken desires you had kept locked away for so long.

"I've thought about you," you admitted softly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "But I never—"

He silenced you with a look, his fingers tracing the line of your jaw before tilting your chin up, his gaze darkening. "No more words," he murmured, and then his lips were on yours, claiming them with a fervor that took your breath away.

The kiss was everything you had imagined and more, a rush of heat and need that left you dizzy. You responded in kind, your hands finding their way to his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath the fabric of his tunic. He pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, and you felt the world narrow down to just the two of you, the fire, and the beating of your hearts.

When he finally pulled back, you were both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to steady yourself. But before you could speak, before you could mention the name that had been on your mind earlier, he shook his head.

"Don't," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. "I don't want to hear his name tonight."

You nodded, understanding the unspoken plea, and let the thought of Jacaerys fade away, replaced by the man before you, the man who had captured your heart without either of you realizing it.

Aemond's hands moved to the ties of your gown, his fingers deftly undoing the knots, and you felt your pulse quicken as the fabric slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. You shivered, not from the cold, but from the intensity of his gaze as he took in the sight of you, bared before him. There was a reverence in his eyes, a deep appreciation that made your cheeks flush with heat.

He shed his own tunic, revealing the lean, strong lines of his body, the scars that marked him only adding to the allure. You reached out, your fingers tracing the contours of his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palm. It was all so surreal, so perfect, that you almost feared it was a dream.

Aemond's hands were gentle as he led you to the bed, laying you down with a care that made your heart ache. He moved over you, his gaze softening as he positioned himself between your legs, his body pressing against yours in a way that felt both new and familiar, as if you were made to fit together.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his eye searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

You nodded, your hand cupping his cheek, your thumb brushing over the smooth skin just beneath his patch. "Yes," you breathed, your voice trembling with anticipation. "I want this, Aemond. I want you."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss as he entered you slowly, the sensation both sharp and sweet, a mingling of pleasure and pain as he took your maidenhead. You gasped, clutching at his shoulders, but the discomfort quickly faded, replaced by a sense of fullness, of completeness, as he buried himself deep within you.

Aemond stilled for a moment, his breathing ragged as he took in the sight of you beneath him, your hair spread out like a silver halo on the pillow, your eyes wide with trust and desire. The knowledge that you were his, that you had given yourself to him, filled him with a satisfaction that went beyond mere conquest. It was everything he had ever imagined, and more.

Tomorrow, he knew, the servants who served Larys Strong would change the sheets, and the evidence of your union would be seen by those who needed to know. But for now, all that mattered was the here and now, the way you felt beneath him, the way your body responded to his.

You urged him to move, your hips shifting beneath him, and he obliged, setting a slow, steady rhythm that had you both gasping for breath. The pleasure built between you, a slow burn that grew hotter with every thrust, every kiss, until it was all-consuming.

Aemond was lost in the sensation, the feel of you, the sound of your breathless moans, the way your bodies moved together in perfect harmony. It was everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever dreamed of, and more. He could feel the tension building, the pressure mounting as you both neared the edge.

As you reached the pinnacle, your release washing over you in a wave of pleasure, he buried his face in your neck, his voice rough with emotion as he urged you to call his name, to let the world know who you belonged to. "Say my name," he breathed, his words a plea and a command all at once.

"Aemond," you gasped, your voice breaking as you clung to him, your body trembling with the force of your release. "Aemond, please..."

And then he was there, the last threads of his control snapping as he spilled himself inside you, his own release ripping through him with a force that left him trembling. Your name was on his lips, a whispered prayer, a declaration of everything he felt, everything he could never put into words.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your mingled breaths, the warmth of your bodies pressed together, the lingering echoes of pleasure that pulsed through your veins. Aemond held you close, his forehead resting against yours as you both came down from the heights of your passion.

In that moment, there were no words, no need for them. Everything you had ever wanted, everything you had ever felt, was conveyed in the way you held each other, in the way your bodies fit together so perfectly, so naturally.

As you drifted into sleep, Aemond's arms wrapped around you, you knew that everything had changed, and there was no going back.

The morning arrived as Aemond moved with purposeful strides. His mind was sharp, focused, each step a calculated part of the plan he had set into motion. The events of the previous night played over in his mind, not with regret, but with satisfaction. Everything was unfolding exactly as he had intended.

He turned a corner and spotted Grand Maester Mellos in the distance, the elderly man’s stooped figure moving slowly down the hall. Aemond quickened his pace, his boots echoing against the stone floor, and within moments, he was at the Maester’s side.

“Grand Maester Mellos,” Aemond greeted, his voice measured and calm, though there was an undercurrent of urgency that could not be missed.

The Maester looked up, startled by the sudden appearance of the prince. “Prince Aemond,” he replied, bowing his head slightly in respect. “How may I assist you this morning?”

Aemond’s expression was inscrutable as he spoke, his voice low, as if to ensure their conversation remained private. “I require your expertise, Maester. There is a matter concerning Princess Y/N—my niece—that needs your immediate attention.”

Mellos frowned, his brow furrowing in concern. “Of course, Your Grace. What seems to be the issue? Is Princess Y/N unwell?”

Aemond shook his head, his gaze intense as he met the Maester’s eyes. “No, she is not unwell. However, I wish for her to be examined… to ensure that she has not been harmed.”

Mellos’ confusion deepened, and he tilted his head slightly, trying to understand. “Harmed, Your Grace? I do not follow. What examination, exactly, do you require?”

Aemond hesitated for only a fraction of a second before he continued, his voice steady and deliberate. “Last night, she and I... shared an intimate moment. I want to ensure that she was not hurt during our union, that she was not harmed in any way.”

The Maester’s face went pale, the full implication of Aemond’s words sinking in. His eyes widened slightly, and he took an involuntary step back, his hand trembling as he clutched the folds of his robes.

“Your Grace…” Mellos began, his voice shaky as he tried to comprehend the gravity of what had been revealed to him. “You… you wish for me to confirm that Princess Y/N was… that she…?”

Aemond’s gaze remained fixed on the Maester, his expression unwavering. “Yes,” he said simply, allowing the full weight of his words to settle between them. “I want you to ensure that she was not harmed. And if any trace of injury is found, I want you to inform me immediately.”

Mellos looked as though he might faint, the color draining from his face entirely. His mind raced, trying to grasp the enormity of what Aemond was asking, and the consequences that would follow. The bloodied sheets, the confirmation from the Grand Maester—these were not just symbols of a consummated union; they were a declaration of intent, a claim that could not be ignored by either Otto Hightower or Rhaenyra Targaryen.

“I… I understand, Your Grace,” Mellos stammered, his voice barely more than a whisper. “But, Prince Aemond, surely you realize that such news… it will reach the ears of the Queen, and Prince Daemon…”

Aemond’s lips curled into a faint smile, though there was no warmth in it. “That is precisely what I intend, Maester. The sheets will speak for themselves, and your examination will confirm what is already known. My niece is now mine, and any plans to wed her to Jacaerys must be reconsidered.”

Mellos swallowed hard, the implications of Aemond’s words weighing heavily on him. The Prince’s plan was clear now, as was the role he had unwittingly been drawn into. The Maester nodded slowly, realizing that there was no turning back from what had been set in motion.

“As you wish, Your Grace,” Mellos finally said, his voice hoarse. “I shall see to it immediately.”

Aemond inclined his head, satisfied that his instructions would be carried out. He could see the fear in the Maester’s eyes, the way his hands shook ever so slightly as he turned to leave. But that fear was necessary, a tool to ensure that the plan would proceed without a hitch.

“Thank you, Grand Maester,” Aemond said, his voice as smooth as silk. “I trust that you will handle this matter with the utmost discretion.”

Mellos nodded quickly, his face still ashen as he hurried away, his steps faltering as though the weight of what he now carried was too much to bear.

Aemond watched him go, a sense of triumph settling over him. The seeds had been sown, and soon enough, they would bear the fruit he desired. His grandsire would be forced to recognize the union, and Rhaenyra would have no choice but to break the engagement to Jacaerys. There would be no way to deny him now.

As he turned and walked back down the corridor, a sense of satisfaction filled him. Everything was falling into place, just as he had envisioned. And as for the flushed and worried Grand Maester, he was merely the first to feel the ripple effects of the plan Aemond had so carefully crafted. Soon, everyone would understand that you belonged to him, and no one—not Jacaerys, not Rhaenyra, not even Daemon—could take you away from him now.

Aemond entered the chamber, summoned by his grandsire. The usual sense of foreboding that accompanied meetings in the Tower of the Hand was magnified tenfold by the figures waiting inside. Otto Hightower stood near the center of the room, his expression grave, while beside him stood Rhaenyra, her face a mask of barely concealed fury. But it was Daemon, pacing like a caged beast, whose presence dominated the space, his anger felt in the air.

Aemond, however, was unperturbed. He walked with measured steps, his posture erect, his face a picture of calm satisfaction. His eye met Daemon’s, and he could see the rage simmering there, a wildfire barely restrained. Aemond’s lips curled into a slight smile, knowing full well that it would only infuriate Daemon further.

“You summoned me, grandsire?” Aemond’s voice was even, respectful, but with an edge of smugness that did not go unnoticed.

Otto cleared his throat, his gaze flicking between the furious Targaryens and his grandson. “Aemond, it has come to my attention—” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “It has come to my attention, through certain… whispers, that Grand Maester Mellos was called upon this morning to examine Princess Y/N. An examination that has confirmed… certain truths.”

Rhaenyra’s fists clenched at her sides, her violet eyes blazing with a fury that matched the fire of the dragons themselves. “How dare you,” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “How dare you lay a hand on her!”

Before Aemond could respond, Daemon stepped forward, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword, Dark Sister. His face was a mask of barely restrained violence, and for a moment, it seemed he might strike Aemond down where he stood.

“Daemon,” Otto warned, his voice firm, though there was a thread of unease beneath it. “Violence will solve nothing here.”

“Violence is all I see fit to deal with this insolent whelp!” Daemon barked, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “He dares to defile my daughter, and you expect me to stand idly by?”

Aemond, unflinching, met Daemon’s gaze head-on, his own expression hardening. “I have done what was necessary, uncle,” he said coolly. “She is mine now, and there is nothing you can do to change that.”

Rhaenyra’s voice broke through the tension, sharp and cold. “Her betrothal to Jacaerys has been agreed upon for years. You cannot simply cast that aside as if it means nothing.”

Otto interjected, his voice measured, though the urgency was clear. “In light of these recent events, the betrothal to Prince Jacaerys must be reconsidered. It is in the best interest of both houses that Princess Y/N and Prince Aemond are wed, to avoid any… further complications.”

Daemon’s eyes flashed with a deadly light as he turned on Otto. “You would sell my daughter to this boy after what he has done? You forget yourself, Hightower. She will not be tangled into your schemes!”

Aemond stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “This is not a matter of scheming, uncle. It is done. She is mine now, and there is nothing that can undo it. You cannot deny what has been consummated.”

Daemon’s hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it. Aemond’s words, as blunt and provocative as they were, held the weight of truth, and that was what infuriated Daemon most of all.

“The marriage must happen,” Otto pressed, sensing the shift in the room. “And it should happen soon, before word spreads and this matter becomes a scandal that neither house can afford.”

Aemond did not miss the opportunity to twist the knife deeper. “Indeed,” he said, his voice smooth, dripping with a satisfaction that only inflamed Daemon’s ire further. “The ceremony should be conducted in the traditions of old Valyria, where fire and blood bind us as one. And it should be done with haste.”

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle in the room before delivering the final blow. “For I hope that soon, another dragon will be born of our union.”

The implication hung heavy in the air, and Rhaenyra’s face turned ashen, her fury giving way to something colder, more calculating. Daemon, however, looked ready to strike again, his entire body tensed with the desire to lash out, to wipe that smug look off Aemond’s face.

But Aemond stood tall, his gaze steady, unflinching in the face of Daemon’s rage. He knew he had won. The plan had worked flawlessly. The whispers from Larys Strong, the bloodied sheets, the Maester’s examination—all had been carefully orchestrated to force this very outcome.

A tense silence stretched between them, thick and oppressive, until finally, it was Rhaenyra who spoke, her voice cold and sharp as a blade. “If this is to be done,” she said, “it will be done according to our customs, and with the respect due to our house. But know this, Aemond—should you ever bring harm to my daughter, not even your dragon will save you from my wrath.”

Aemond inclined his head slightly, accepting her warning with the same unyielding calm he had maintained throughout. “As you wish, sister. I will see to it that Y/N is treated with the honor she deserves.”

Daemon said nothing, but the look he leveled at Aemond spoke volumes. It was a promise, a vow that if Aemond ever crossed a line, there would be a reckoning, and it would be brutal.

But for now, Aemond had what he wanted. He had claimed you, and soon, the two of you will be bound in marriage. The thought of it sent a thrill of triumph through him, and though he kept his expression carefully neutral, inside, he reveled in his victory.

Otto, sensing that the matter was settled, nodded gravely. “Then it is decided. The preparations will begin at once.”

Without another word, Aemond turned and left the chamber, leaving behind a flushed, furious Daemon and a conflicted Rhaenyra. He knew that the days ahead would be tense, that there would be fallout from his actions, but none of it mattered now. You were his, and soon the world would see it, would understand that he was not to be trifled with.

And as he walked away, his thoughts were already on the future, on the life he would build with you, a future forged in fire and blood, just as the old ways dictated.

#house of the dragon #hotd aemond #hotd x female reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #hotd x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye

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dwaekkicidal · 8 months ago

Text

Day 2

˚ʚLee Know x fem!Readerɞ˚

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: Day 2 of my 1K follower celebration! Today is degradation with Minho♡

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: 1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, daddy kink, degradation, name calling: ((cvm)slvt, stupid kitty, cvmdump), vibrator use(Lovense Lush), overstim, creampie (try to pee after sex pls <3), i dont think this counts as dp? 😭

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: i feel like i couldve made this much more mean dom but >< hope you still enjoy

Read the other days here!

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

Ok.. so maybe you shouldn’t have pushed his buttons or flirted with his members all day��

Minho stares down at you, eyes hooded and lips pulled back in a smirk. He sat at the edge of the bed with his legs spread nice and wide as you sat between them with his cock down your throat. “My pretty little slut… Too bad she can’t take her Daddy’s cock all the way. Like she promised.” You whined loudly around his length, leaving vibrations around his tip and causing him to groan happily in response.

Your head movements stop at the sound of a click. The vibrations between your legs go up a few notches and your legs try to slam shut around the small remote-controlled vibrator inside you; it has a little arm that sticks out and rests directly on your clit while the other side of it presses directly against your G-spot. You look up at him through teary eyes, mumbling pleas for him to turn it back down.

He already knows it's at too high of a speed for you to handle, let alone for you to not cum like he ordered, but your boyfriend is a huge menace and loves to see you struggle. So he doesn’t turn it down. He instead bucks his hips into your mouth, a nonverbal way of telling you to move on your own before he fucks your throat. When you don’t and only sit still to focus on breathing, he growls and pushes your head down harshly.

The suddenness of it makes you gag, but you push through and focus on hallowing your cheeks in hopes of distracting yourself from the constant vibrations between your legs. He moans loudly and throws his head back, berating you as he starts to fuck up into your mouth. “Stupid kitty. Can’t even suck my dick without my help… What am I gonna do with you?”

The mixture of his words and the unforgiving vibrations on your most sensitive spots have your orgasm crashing down on you. No matter how hard you tried to push it back, the vibrations were just too strong and had your legs shaking under you. Your hips move on their own and grind against the air, using the tiny movements of the vibrator to ride out your high. You think you got away with it for a second from the way he keeps fucking your mouth, but Minho knows you all too well.

Fingers tangle in your hair and pull you off his dick, tightening even more at your scalp as he leans forward. “You fucking came, didn’t you?” You yelp and play dumb, looking up with tears pricking your eyes. He stares down unamused, eyes narrowing as his breath fans your face. For a second you almost have the balls to shake your head and lie, but the promise of a brutal punishment that his dark eyes hold makes you immediately change your mind. You were about to respond but you took too long for his liking, so he pulled you up more by your hair. “Answer me, slut.”

“Y-Yes! ‘m sorry Daddy. I tried to hold it.” He stares for a moment before sighing loudly and standing up. The hand in your hair stays attached and forces you to stand up on your wobbly legs. He uses the hold on your head to push you on the bed and settles between your legs. He stands there quietly as he spreads them and slowly ghosts his fingers over your inner thighs as the vibrations go down. You let out a sigh of relief and relax thinking he’s just going to stare, maybe even play with the vibrator more. The false sense of security almost sets in once he grabs a hold of the thin arm against your clit and moves it away, but ohhhhh are you so wrong.

He instead positions it upwards, holding it in place as his tip pokes at your entrance and eases in next to the vibrator. A gasp falls from your lips and you subconsciously use your foot to push him away due to the overstimulation and the new stretch quickly becoming too much. It works well but angers him in the process. He clicks his tongue and lands a series of stern slaps to your ass cheeks. Once he’s sure you’re going to comply and stop being a brat, he pushes in again.

“Biiig stretch..” He laughs at himself, going even deeper and stretching you out while simultaneously pushing the vibrator farther into your G-spot. When he finally bottoms out you feel yourself cum again, shaking and moaning loudly as the vibrations get turned up yet again. He stills his hips to coo at your trembling body, biting his lip at the way you squeeze around him so tightly. “Pretty little slut… You're nothing more than a hole for Daddy, huh kitty?” He waits for you to nod before he moves again, still savoring your desperate pleas.

The pace he starts off with is slow; he’s grinding his hips against yours while focusing on pushing the vibrator harder against you rather than fucking you. He was thoroughly enjoying the view. Enjoying the little personal show just for him until you started to resist again, forcing him to interrupt his entertainment in order to hold you down.

“None of that. You’re gonna fucking take it like the slut you are. Gonna remind you who you belong to because, apparently, you don’t fucking remember.” He revels in the feeling for a little longer before he grows impatient. His right hand holds the vibrator in place against your clit as he drags his hips back and forth, gradually speeding up until he’s pounding you.

All this pleasure all at once on your still sensitive body is all too much. It takes you little to no time to cum again, marking your 3rd orgasm in less than 20 minutes. Then, between being close from your mouth, you squeezing him snuggly, and the vibrator rubbing along his length with each thrust, he finds himself cumming right after you.

“Mmmm.. Just like that... Now be a good little hole and take it all. Don't waste a single drop, slut.” His moans pitch and he fucks you harder despite your desperate pleas to slow down. He lets you milk him like this and watches as you cum a fourth time, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he slows. Once he deems it enough, the vibrator is turned off and he slowly pulls out.

He's careful as he does so, trying not to push your body too far despite the fact that this is a punishment. The vibrator is thrown on the other side of the bed before he hovers over you, showering your face with kisses and allowing you to catch your breath. You think it's finally over with how sweet he’s being, but he proves you wrong yet again.

He slaps his tip on your puffy folds, laughing meanly when you twitch away. “What..? You thought that was enough?” He barks out a laugh and slaps his dick against you harder then grinds against your glistening folds. “I’m not done with you yet, stupid brat. You’re gonna lay there and take as many loads as I say.”

Taglist:

@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina @rylea08

@grandma143 @caught-in-the-afterglow @yaorzu-blog @jabmastersupriseee

#sian’s writing #stray kids smut #stray kids drabbles #stray kids x reader #skz smut #skz drabbles #skz x reader #lee know imagines #lee minho x reader #lee minho imagines #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #lee know smut #lee minho smut #lee minho x reader smut #lee know x reader smut #sian's 1k drabbles

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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 9 months ago

Text

Priorities

Dean Winchester & little!sister reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: you crash Baby…somebody has to tell Dean

Warnings: car accident, injury, panic

You couldn’t help the easy smile that lifted your lips as you cruised along the road, Baby’s gentle purr comforting you as you cranked up your favorite cassette tape. You’d definitely be in trouble if Dean found out, but he was finally getting some much needed sleep in the bunker, so this was your chance. Besides, he’d never specifically said that you couldn’t drive Baby—it was just a definite unwritten rule.

You were so lost in your own enjoyment that you weren’t paying much attention to the road—after all, you’d been on this road a thousand times with Dean. But the other thousand times, there’d never been a deer in the middle of the road.

You saw it too late. You swerved the wheel with all your might, and by some miracle you missed the deer—but there was no missing the ditch that skirted the side of the road. You actually felt the wheels leave the ground before a stomach-turning crunch preceded the jarring jolt that came when the car hit down on the bottom of the ditch. Your head lurched forward, slamming against the steering wheel and turning everything to darkness.

…

You were being lifted by strong hands when you awoke. Your eyes blinked open to find a man in an EMT uniform placing you on the ground away from the Impala.

“Hey kid,” he greeted gently when he saw that you were awake. “How are you feeling?”

“My head hurts,” you groaned. “But I’m ok.”

“Ok, that’s good.” He kept up his soothing voice even as he examined you for more injuries. “Looks like you just have a few cuts and bruises. But you could have a concussion from hitting your head on the wheel. The officers over there found your phone, and they’re gonna call someone for you, ok?”

Before you could answer, one of the police officers stepped up in front of you.

“The first number on your phone is Dean, can I call him for you kid?”

“No, no!” You panicked. “Not-not Dean.” Your eyes drifted to the Impala—the front was completely smashed in from where you’d hit a tree, and there were scratches everywhere. “Dean, he-he can’t see the car like this, he’s gonna kill me!”

“Kid, we’re worried about you, not the car,” the officer said. “We’ve gotta call a guardian.”

“Sam,” you said. “Call Sammy.”

Even as the officer pressed Sam’s name on your contact list, your panic continued to course through you. Dean was going to find out, it was only a matter of time. You were so, so dead.

“Kid.” A hand on your shoulder snapped you out of your thoughts. “You’ve gotta calm down, you’ve gotta take deep breaths.”

It was only after the EMT’s words that you felt the tears trickling down your cheeks, and the haggard wheezing of your breath

“I’ve got your brother, do you want to talk to him?” The officer was holding out the phone to you, and you took it.

“S-Sammy?” You sniffled, rubbing at your eyes.

“Y/N? What’s going on? Who was that that just had your phone, who are you with?”

Not Sam. Dean.

“De?” Your hands were fumbling with the phone, they were shaking so bad. “Dean, th-this is Sam’s phone…”

“He went to the bathroom, now answer the question!” Dean snapped. “You’re starting to freak me out.”

“De, I’m…” the tears wouldn’t be stifled any longer. You were all but sobbing as you managed to say- “Dean, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry.”

Dean’s voice was getting more frantic every second.

“Honey, what’s wrong? Where are you, I’ll come get you.”

“I-I screwed up, Dean,” you whimpered. “I cra-I crashed Baby.”

“You what?!” You misunderstood Dean’s panic for anger, and it only made you cry harder. “Where are you?”

“We’re going to take you to the hospital, just to be safe,” the EMT cut in gently. He told you the address, and you repeated it to Dean.

“Don’t move when you get there.”

He hung up before you could respond.

…

You were sitting in an observation room when Dean came barging in. The doctor who had just finished examining you looked up, startled.

“There you are.” You missed Dean’s sigh of relief as you ducked your head in shame. He strode into the room, straight for you. His big hand gently lifted your chin.

“Are you ok?” He demanded. You nodded pitifully. Dean gave you a once-over to be sure, before nodding, satisfied.

“We brought her here just to be sure,” the doctor spoke up. “I believe she has a minor concussion.”

“But she’s gonna be ok?” Dean probed.

“Oh yes,” the doctor assured him. “You’re free to check her out whenever you feel ready.” The doctor pulled out a card and held it out for Dean. “This is the mechanic that they towed your car to.”

Dean stuck it in his back pocket without even glancing at it.

“Yeah, thanks. I’m gonna take her home now.”

…

You were next to Dean in the back of a cab when you finally spoke again.

“I’m sorry about Baby, Dean.”

“Would you stop saying that?” Dean huffed. “This is about more than just the Impala. You could’ve been seriously hurt, you could’ve been killed! And all you can talk about is the car.”

“So…” you swallowed. “So you’re not mad about the car?”

“I’m not more mad about that than I am worried about you,” Dean said. “You come first, always. That’s why you called Sam, isn’t it? You were scared that I’d be pissed about the car.”

You nodded feebly, and Dean sighed.

“Honey, that car is never going to be as important to me as you are. I want you to know that you can come to me, you can tell me stuff like this. You should never be so worried about me being mad that you can’t tell me when you get hurt, ever. Baby being in an accident will never scare me more than you being in an accident. Baby can always get a new engine, but this-“ Dean poked at your chest, right above your heart, and you giggled and pushed his hand away. “This needs to be protected. You understanding me?”

“I understand,” you said. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you.”

“I forgive you,” Dean said. “Now we’re going to talk about how you’re gonna never sneak out like that again, and how you’re gonna make it up to me for stealing my baby.”

“You said you weren’t angry,” you argued.

“No, I said that you were more important,” Dean countered. “But now that I know you’re ok…

“You are in so much trouble.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

#dean winchester #the winchesters #dean and sam #supernatural dean #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #winchesters x reader #winchesters x sister #dean winchester x little sister!reader #dean winchester x sister #dean winchester x sister!reader #dean x reader #dean

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astrophileous · 1 year ago

Note

Hmmmmm for Hotch maybe him lowkey coddling reader when she gets hurt shortly during a case shortly after they start dating? Maybe the team wasn’t aware until they saw him fret this much when he had never done it to this level in the past? 🥹

Thanks for the request babes!! My first Aaron fic ever, so hopefully it's not too bad for a first 🥺 I hope this is to your liking ❤️

Warning(s): gn!reader, established relationship, talks of traffic accident, mentions of injuries, protective hotch, mean words (hotch is just worried abt you ok??)

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

You heard him before you even laid eyes upon him.

Amidst the beeping machines and the moderate ruckus of the emergency room, Aaron's voice penetrated the air like a sword. The authority dripped like lava from his tone as he badgered Derek for your whereabouts, and before you could shuffle out of the hospital bed that had been your safe haven for the past hour, the cubical curtain surrounding you was suddenly yanked open.

Your movements ceased once you locked eyes with a frowning Aaron Hotchner.

"Hey—"

"Are you insane?"

You looked at him dumbfoundedly.

"Do you have a death wish? Is that it? Or are you just stupid?"

A few feet behind him, you could see Derek and Emily exchanging silent looks between the two of them. Everyone knew that Aaron was notorious for being frigid, and he had a strong impartiality when it came to any of his team members doing something impetuous on the field, but the words seeping out of Aaron's mouth at that moment sounded overtly harsh to those who knew him.

"Hotch—" Derek took a step forward, trying to come to your defense, "—it's not (Y/N)'s fault."

"I'm not talking to you." Aaron's response was cutting and final. It baffled Derek enough for him to trace his step back.

"What's wrong with you?" you asked once the shock dissipated, returning your voice to its rightful owner once more. "Why are you being like this?"

"Me? You're asking me? I should be the one asking you."

Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "We were chasing the UnSub—"

"You went rogue," he cut you off. "Morgan told me everything. There's no point in denying it."

Derek raised his arms in surrender when your stare of betrayal slid his way. "Fine. I'm sorry I grabbed a random civilian's bike and crashed it against the UnSub's car. You don't have to worry about paying anything back, I'll figure something out."

"Is that what you think this is about?" Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. "I could care less about monetary compensations. We can deal with that later. You could've been killed, don't you understand?"

It was his last admission that finally made the pieces in your head click into place. Beneath the anger inside Aaron's words was actually a hidden anxiety ready to break free. He was worried about you, even if he was showing it in the least hospitable way possible.

Your relationship with Aaron was young; green around the edges and blooming every single day like tulips in spring. Nobody else in the world knew about it yet, and the two of you wanted to keep it that way. At least, that was what you agreed upon after having that lengthy discussion following your first official date.

And yet, none of that mattered when your fingers opted to reach out for Aaron's hand. You pretended not to notice the gasp that Emily let out as you urged your boyfriend to look into your eyes.

"I know you're worried, but I'm fine. I'm right here with you, and I'm okay." Aaron's shoulders physically collapsed at your reassurance. Every other noise in the hospital seemed to drown out in the aftermath. "The doctor's gonna clear me in no time, trust me."

"It still doesn't erase the fact that what you did was reckless." Aaron stepped closer towards the bed, overcrowding your senses as his thumb swept over your left eyebrow, just below the wound you had obtained from the crash. "Does it hurt?"

You shook your head no. The injury to your head was relatively minor. Your arm, on the other hand, was sustaining a quite sizable gash from your collision with the car.

Aaron's eyes followed your gaze that had meandered towards the gauze covering your arm. "How many stitches?"

Reluctantly, you answered, "Seven."

You heard his sharp breath before he turned around to face Derek. "Where's the UnSub now?"

Derek jerked his head to the right, where you reckoned the UnSub was being treated for their own injuries from the crash. The words of protest died in your throat as Aaron began to saunter to the other end of the ER with Derek hot on his heels.

With the two men's departure, Emily was the only one who remained.

"So—" she smiled knowingly, leaning against the foot of your bed, "—you and Hotch? When did that happen?"

You slammed your head back on the pillow, muffling your groan with your uninjured arm. "Shut up."

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wanderer-six · 9 months ago

Text

Late Night

AN: this tweet changed my life I could not stop thinking about this i needed to write this i need you all to b thinking about this too

Relationships: Hunter x Fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: You and Hunter have been together for years now, living out a happy life on Pabu. You're spending the night together, and time has done nothing to quell your desires.

WARNINGS: unprotected p in v, orgasm denial, edging (it's ok he can take it), old man hunter im dedd 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2k I did not proofread this apologies in advance if it's bad I hope u can at least get behind the Vibes u feel me

It’s another beautiful night on Pabu. The sun set over the island hours ago, and the moon now bathes the ocean in shimmering silver. As the day wound down, so too did the residents; the paths that bustle by day are all but empty now as everyone settles in for a peaceful night.

All around the island, there is quiet. The only sounds you hear now are the gentle drone of the waves, and his heavy breathing.

Like all the others, you and Hunter retired to your bungalow, but rest is far from your minds. In the dark of your bedroom, you and him are bare, chasing off any chill from the evening air with each other’s warmth. Hunter, the man you’ve loved for a lifetime, is beneath you now. You balance your hands on his broad shoulders, riding him slowly, wonderfully, biting your lip as he meets your gaze with weary eyes.

Even after all these years, making love to him still feels as amazing as it did the very first night you shared together. Each roll of your hips fills you with more of him, and you can’t help but whimper when he hits every spot you love. It seems he hasn’t had his fill of you, either. Though time has had its effects on Hunter, it certainly hasn’t changed the way he yearns for you. Even now, he hangs on your every movement, his vigilant eyes darting between your pleasured expressions and your hips taking his cock.

Deciding he’s gotten a little too comfortable, you descend onto his length at a different angle, allowing him to reach deeper than before. At the sudden sensation, a groan catches in his chest. Between his labored breaths, he chuckles.

“You feel so fucking good, cyar’ika…”

Humming through a smile, you rest your forehead on his.

“You’re one to talk, handsome…” Your fingers trail through his hair, still just as long as when you first met, but having faded to grey some time ago. “I can’t get enough of you.”

That confident, effortless smirk tugs at his lips. You’ve seen it a thousand times, yet each time he wears it, heat still rises beneath your cheeks.

“Heh… is that so?” Though his once defined, sharp muscles have softened from years of respite on the island, he still feels as strong as ever when he grips at your hips. “I guess time hasn’t gotten the best of me in every way…”

At this, it’s your turn to grin. You know it’s been a few long years since the two of you last saw combat; with the clones’ advanced aging, those years have counted double for him. But even if you’re older than you once were, you know you still have plenty of time left.

And it’s when Hunter starts to pretend as though he’s moments from death’s door that you like to remind him what he’s still capable of.

Without warning, you melt against Hunter, draping your arms over his shoulders and crashing your lips onto his. His tongue dances with yours, and as his arms hold you flush against him by your waist, you begin to roll your hips more quickly. You move faster, harder, riding him for all he’s worth. You revel in every little noise he makes, the way his eyes flutter shut in pure bliss. His fingers tense, clinging to your hips so desperately as to leave bruises.

In the Force, you feel how close he is. How near he is to losing himself fully in you…

… and right before he hits his peak, you lift yourself off of him, robbing him of the only thing he craves in that moment.

Hunter utters a groan, wincing through the torment of his denied release. He leans his head back against the wall, and you can feel his heart kicking fast against his chest.

“F-Fuck…” he hisses through gritted teeth.

Despite his anguish, you can only grin. You lean forward, lavishing him with gentle kisses as he settles down.

“Easy, Sergeant,” you sing. “I’m not done with you yet.”

As you kneel over him, he dares to glance between your legs. You’re so tantalizingly close to his aching length, and though his desperation is clear on his face, he knows better than to think you’ll be so generous. Utterly helpless, he shakes his head.

“I’m too old for you to be teasing me like this…” he mutters, a weak smile tugging at his lips. You roll your eyes at his self-admonishment.

“Oh, enough…” With a deep exhale, you rest your forehead against his, and your eyes fall shut as you bask in the feeling of him. For every experience you’ve had in every corner of the galaxy, nothing compares to having Hunter all to yourself. “I know you can handle it, even if we may not be young anymore…”

Though he’s clearly just as lost in your attentions, this remark has him prop an eye open to sneer at you.

“‘We’?” he repeats with a chuckle. Sighing, he runs his rough hands up the curves of your waist. “You’ve still got your whole life ahead of you—even if you’re wasting it torturing an old clone like me…”

Your eyes warm, and you bite your lip. With a dangerous twist of your hips, you grind against him, earning a deep grumble from Hunter’s chest. Your lips linger by his ear.

“I think I know my Hunter by now…” you purr, voice low enough to make him shiver, “and if there’s one thing he likes, it’s a challenge.”

Without a word of warning, you lower yourself back onto his cock, taking him deep inside as you begin riding him again. Hunter goes rigid, fumbling for purchase against your hips as they overwhelm him with pleasure. Nothing could ever thrill you more than the way he touches you. For as long as you’ve been together, he’s known exactly how to make your body sing for him. Even now, a desperate mess beneath you, his hands run along your skin purely by instinct.

And luckily, you know his body just as well.

Again, you fuck him harder. Again, you feel the tension in his core, the white-hot release building inside of him…

Again, you stop just short, lifting off of him right before he can come.

Your poor sergeant whines again, his head lolling back as his eyes pinch shut. Between your legs, his cock throbs, twitching in desperate need for the stimulation you’ve so cruelly deprived him of.

“A-ah…!” Between his heavy breaths, chest rising and falling arduously, he moans in complaint. “You’re… fuck, you’re driving me crazy…”

While he grovels in such a sorry state, you’re no worse for wear at all. You place kiss after languid kiss up his neck, tickling his skin with your breath.

“I can keep this up all night, handsome…” Pulling away just enough to catch his eye, you don a mischievous grin. “I think you can, too.”

In the face of your taunting, Hunter surprises you when his smile softens. He cups your face with a trembling hand, running his thumb gently along your cheek. You lean into his touch, admittedly falling victim to his sudden tenderness.

“Tell me…” he asks, “what’s it gonna take for you to let me off, huh?”

You giggle, leaning forward to nuzzle your nose against his.

“Hm… I don’t know,” you sigh, playing coy. “I think you might just be too old to manage what I have in mind…~”

With a chuckle, he pinches your cheek. “Try me.”

Pulling away just enough to meet his eyes, you flash him a charming grin.

“Tell me you love me.”

Through his lust-filled gaze, Hunter raises an eyebrow above a half-smirk.

“What… that’s all?”

You nod. “Mm-hm. That is… if you think you can handle—”

You’re cut off when Hunter’s lips catch yours, meeting you in a kiss so deep you nearly feel like you’re drowning. His tongue toys with yours, so desperate to taste you it makes heat flood beneath your cheeks. Still, you can’t help but smile against him. Though Hunter likes to act as though he’s old and grey, now, you know he’s far from gone. In moments like these, you feel the fire that’s burned inside him since the very beginning. It hasn’t faded in the slightest. You know it never will.

When he finally pulls away, he doesn’t stray far, lips ghosting over yours as he holds your gaze with intense eyes.

“I love you, cyar’ika,” he breathes, a solemn swear. “Always have… always will.”

For the first time that night, it seems you’re the one on the backfoot. Eyes wide and innocent, you’re touched by the sincerity of his words. You know Hunter, know that he does everything to the fullest. But hearing for certain that his passion would be yours for as long as you both have left… your heart can scarcely take it.

With sudden desperation, you press your lips to his, and you bury his cock in your warmth. He moans into your mouth, and you moan back, losing yourself to the feeling as you ride him again. Tense hands grip at every part of you—your waist, your ass, your shoulders—leaving marks on your skin as he tries in vain to bear the sensation. But it isn’t long until his resolve begins to break.

As a gasp catches in Hunter’s throat, his lips break from yours.

“F-Fuck, cyar’ika… I’m gonna…”

You already know. You feel his energy shifting—you feel how close he is. His delayed release has only built up to something more intense… but this time, you don’t back off. You indulge him, rolling your hips even faster than before. With what little stamina he has left tonight, he’s thrusting into you, and you whimper aloud as he hits every perfect spot inside you. You’re as close as he is…

And when you reach your climax, you’re amazed he can stay conscious.

Hunter buries himself to the hilt in your cunt, coming deep inside you. Your orgasm milks him for every last drop, and given the way you’ve tormented him tonight, he has plenty to give. By the time you’ve sucked him dry, his overstimulated cock still twitching in your walls, he’s quivering beneath you, completely and utterly spent. He breathes as heavy as he would during the war, on missions that would see him running for hours… You’re sure he’ll ache just as badly, come morning.

After taking a moment to recover, Hunter opens his eyes, gazing up at you with a precious smile. Gingerly, you tuck his hair behind his ears, supporting his head as you meet him in a feather-light kiss.

“I love you, too, Hunter…” you hum, voice barely above a whisper. “Always have, always will.”

The smile he wears is genuine. He tilts his head to catch your hand, placing a kiss on your palm.

“I’m glad. I don’t know what I’d do without you, cyar’ika.” He pauses, then chuckles bitterly as he closes his eyes again. “Even if you’re liable to kill me, putting me through nights like this…”

Your grin turns more playful. Slowly, you lift yourself off of Hunter, relishing the way he shivers as his length falls out of you.

“Be thankful I’m so generous,” you tease as you lay beside him. You rest your head on his chest, sighing in utter contentment. “If I weren’t, you would be in for another round… or ten.”

Hunter chuckles, voice reverberating in his broad chest in a way that soothes you more than anything else could. Arm wrapped around you, he traces idle shapes on your skin.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something meaner to treat me to when we wake up tomorrow,” he sighs. His gentle lips press to your forehead. “But for now, let me get some rest, huh?”

Giggling, you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck.

“Hm… all right. But only because I love you so much.”

The warm night air, the distant roar of the waves, the embrace of the man you’ll always love… you can’t imagine anything more perfect. But as always, Hunter finds a way to make the greatest things even greater.

“I love you more, cyar’ika. Always.”

AN: Thank you as always for reading mmwah mwah I hope you enjoy, always stay edging that old man ♥♥

#tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #hunter x reader #hunter tbb #tbb hunter x reader #tbb smut #hunter/reader #reader insert #W6fic

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alientee · 2 months ago

Text

Shimmer Head

Ekko x reader

6k+ words

Fem reeader

Hazbin hotel Easter egg included. Addicted song describes reader.

Warning: suicidal thoughts and actions, drug use not by choice though.

Im sorry it took so long yall I’ve been crocheting blankets for Christmas and life has been lifting with work

You were an anomaly, or at least that’s what Silco called you. Apparently he saved you at birth; one calm walk through Zaun's lanes, and your mom was an overdosing shimmer head who was getting her last fix before she pushed you out. You survived. This was something Silco never thought possible; even when you looked like a shivering, whining skeleton, you were strong, a survivor, and from that day on, you were his daughter.

As life went on, you got stronger, faster, and a little more insane; your eyes changed, looking like a wild mix of two different colors. You changed so much it confused you every day to see yourself. How the voices in your head would go from telling you to slaughter everyone to offing yourself.

Silco had you microdosed with shimmer ever since you were a newborn till now, and you handled it each and every time. You were his creation, his wild card. Even as a child, he had you by his side with torture, robbing, and meetings. You’ve done it all. There were days the voices really did get to you; sometimes it was better to hurt yourself rather than to crash. You can remember the times Silco had to stop you from hurting him and yourself. The scars on your arms, the bloodstains left on your clothes, the burn scars from throwing bone down without any care, ready to give it all up. Either you survived, or Silco was just in time.

So when you first met Jinx, your first thoughts were, This poor kid, she’s just a dreamer.

But she followed you around everywhere, calling you sis, saying she’d never leave your side, she’d never leave you no matter what. Not like her sister did. You didn’t believe her; how could you? No one but Silco ever saw you; he’s the only one that loved you.

Until she followed you to a club one night.

You spin around in the chair, listening to the grungy punk music, drunk, horny prowlers, angry wannabes, and goofy dancers mixing into the crowd. You sit in your chair in the corner of the club, drink in one hand, revolver in the other. One bullet, one drink—it was all a game to you. The gun clicked three times, and you took three shots before it was snatched from your hand. And lo and behold, it was your new shadow coming to ruin the fun.

“Hey, what gives, Blue Jay!”

“How are you going to be the big shot legacy Silco says if you're dead, dumbass!”

“It’s none of your business!”

“We’re family now, so yeah, you are!”

“You going to love me even if I try to kill Silco in his sleep?”

“I’d still love you even if you killed me with him.”

Family, huh?

“Fine.”

For the first time you didn’t take your game too far, or get fucked up and pass out behind the bar; you didn’t even have a mental breakdown.

At least the voices got quiet for a while.

After a while you started to think of Jinx as a sister. Someone you could confide in, someone who gets you. Was Silco the best dad? Nah, but he was all you had. Now you know he had Jinx too. You thought everything was ok; you could be happy with your found family; even if you were broken, you still had people to fix you up, so everything was fine.

At least you genuinely believed everything was alright.

Until Jinx’s actual sister showed up, calling her Powder, the hugging, the crying, the family reunion was cute. You haven’t seen Jinx this vulnerable in a while. Everything was calm until some Piltie came out, and then the moment was gone. Jinx threatens the redhead with the gun, and boom, the Firelights had you all surrounded.

“Jinx, if you want your sister back, you gotta be smart about this.” The silence you got back let her know she was thinking up something stupid.

Smoke and ash covered the air, bullets flying and fighting at every turn. The firebugs just didn’t know when to quit, always trying to get into business that isn’t theirs. It was fun knocking them off their boards every once in a while. You’ve faced them before with Jinx killed a couple of times; you didn’t kill any of them, though. Never had the guts to really kill innocent people; you didn’t want to know what the voices would say if you did. You didn’t want to lose yourself all the way.

As always, Jinx is shooting bullets every which way in the sky, which wasn’t bad, but using bombs to blow up the platform is very bad. Your body hurt, your ears were ringing, and you could barely breathe. You tried calling out for Jinx but got no answer. You finally dragged yourself up; you can see some fire bugs down, but you couldn’t see Jinx. Couldn’t see her sister. Didn’t even see the body lying dead somewhere.

Huh, you were all alone.

Then it dawned on you: Jinx did it on purpose. She really was a genius, truly. She blew up the platform, making a distraction; a lot of people were down and out. Nobody could see what was happening; some too injured to chase.

Looks like she could only carry her sister to safety, though.

You’ll never leave me no matter what, huh?

Hehehehehe, yeah right!

You could finally breathe again and got the strength to stand up. It was all just so funny, really.

Bunch of bullshit hahahahaha

You didn’t notice anything going on around you, the shuffling of people standing; you didn’t feel all the cautious eyes on you. Not that you cared; all you cared about were the voices screaming at you so loud you could swear your ears were bleeding.

Walking towards the edge of the platform is easy. Turning around and giving a mock salute to the firelights with a smile on your face was easy. But dropping to your death knowing the last thing playing in your headphones was your and Jinx's song, it fucking burned every lyric you tried to sing just turned to ash in your mouth.

But at least now the voices would stop forever. The air rushed through your ears and then nothing.

Out like a light

You woke up in an eerily dark room; honestly, it was predictable. Down to the moldy smell, the silence, and the creepy guy in the corner with a mask. And you honestly should’ve been more mad at yourself for getting saved; you couldn’t even die in peace!

“Why am I alive, dammit!”

The silence was so annoying; there’s no need to try and be intimidating. You’ve seen worse. You hate people who try those tactics; you can’t torture someone who’s already tortured every day. Geez, just kill them if they don’t tell you what you want.

“Look, I’m not going to tell you shit, so just kill me already!”

And then the mask comes off. You don’t know him, but you knew him, apparently jinx’s past. The boy savior, she calls him; he looks just like she said he would. You also remember what she told you about him. “Better watch out; the boy savior likes to think he can save everybody.”

Ok, you can deal with a wannabe hero.

“Your on shimmer. You are an addict; Slico has you do his dirty work, and he gives you your next fix. Am I right?”

You’re really fucking wrong. Scratch that; you didn’t want to deal with the wannabe hero.

“So how about you tell me what I need to know, and you get to lay low somewhere secret and get off that shit before you try and die again while Silco just replaces you?”

The voices started to get louder, your throat tight and blood dripping from your palms for how tight you started to squeeze them. His words were like acid on your skin. Just who did this asshole think he was?

“First of all, dipshit, I’m his daughter! Ok, not some random street rat shimmer head he feeds. Second of all, shimmer makes people stronger. I should know; came right out of my druggie mom, still living and breathing, full of shimmer! I’ve been injected with it since Silco adopted me! He says I’m perfect; he says I'm his legacy. I don’t do his dirty work; I help him make Zaun better! So you're dead fucking wrong, wannabe!”

Now he’s looking at you like you’re crazy…. And you're used to that.

“This is better? Our people are dying all around us. Kids are abandoned! People are sick and starving. How is this better?”

“Blame Piltover! Duh!”

“It’s Piltover. And Silco, are you crazy??!!”

That word. It always did something to you. You didn’t care when people looked at you like you were... but calling you crazy? Different story. Something that made all the voices laugh, an itch in your brain that told you to break, hurt, destroy, kill, and show them your insane.

“FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU, FUCK YOU! Hahahahahahahahaha. All of Piltover and Zaun is going to burn you, and your fucking bugs are going to be ash! I’m not crazy. I’m perfect. I’m perfect he said”—

Your music!?! Where were your headphones?!!?

You were so numb, in a really dark place, you never fully remembered how your episodes went. When that singed guy injected you with your first microdose of shimmer, all you remembered was the screaming and Silco whispering how proud he was. But Ekko would remember it all even in his dreams. How you banged your head against the pole you were tied against over and over again. Crying tears of shimmer while laughing hysterically until blood dripped on the side of your head. Only to end up sobbing.

The voices screamed and screamed and screamed. Until they stopped, they never just stopped without music or silco. And you never had this heavy feeling over your ears without your headphones.

Oh, it’s this Ekko guy. What is he doing? Why is he holding his hands over your face? Why is he looking at you like that?

“I’m sorry. You’re not crazy. I promise, okay? Breath for me nice and slow.”

This was nice: everything quiet, everything nice and warm. This is new, huh?

“Hey!? Wai”—

Out like a light again

“She’s a danger to the base!”

“We can help her. She’s not like Jinx! She’s the product of a bad situation. She’s not with Silco because she wants to be; it’s because it’s all she knows.”

“She’s a mess; keeping her here is like bringing bullshit to our door!”

“He’s been injecting her with shimmer since she was an infant! We can’t kick her out!”

“Can y'all shut up sleeping here?”

Bat Guy and Ekko just stared at you.

“Look, I don’t care what you do to me; can I just have my damn headphones? The voices, ya know, they’re telling me to escape and kill everyone here. Soooooo, my earphones, pretty please.”

The boy wonder hands them over and puts them over your ears. And even with no music playing, everything feels peaceful. The whole time, he and Bat Boy are still going back and forth; this time you couldn’t hear it, though. Finally you get silence, if only for a moment. You almost bit Ekko when he moved one of them back off.

“Look, let’s compromise: you get a little freedom, supervised. And we get one shimmer shipment location… not the factory, just the shipment.”

“No bullshit babysitters; it’s you or nothing.”

“...fine.”

You could’ve told him to fuck off and die. Make him eat his sappy little words. But after the way he held your ears, he looked like a kicked puppy for making you freak out. How softly he said sorry. It was different; it was new. You didn’t do soft, not that much.Silco always told you to play your enemies, so maybe giving a little bait wouldn’t be too bad.

“Fine, boy wonder, I’ll give you a shipment that’s all.”

“Thank you.”

There he goes, looking at you like that again.

Like some kind of puppy. What a sucker.

Ekko took you outside, but you didn’t want to socialize, so he kept you both at a good distance from the others. While taking you out of the base, you didn’t want to look at anyone. If you saw any leering faces and judging eyes, you knew you’d lash out.

Oddly enough, you didn’t want to smack the fuck out of Ekko's face. Maybe a little bit, not a lot. You didn’t know what it was, but Ekko was calming; his presence was like a warmth in the dark murk of Zaun. You didn’t understand how he could be so... normal with all of this around him.

Maybe it was the fact that he actually took you out of the hideout and onto a roof to look over Piltover. You could’ve knocked him out, taken his board, and run. Why is he so stupidly trusting? “How do you do it?” He raises an eyebrow. “Do what?” You raise one back “Be so happy-go-lucky when we live in a place like Zaun.” That made him stop his steps, and he looks serious; you haven’t seen him unless he’s talking about shipments.

“I have to make a change for the people who can’t help themselves; I want to give people something to live for; the firelight is my way of doing that.”

And there he goes again, making your mind feel funny again. It sounds like he means it; everything Ekko says always sounds genuine, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to believe him.

“Alright then, help me by teaching me how to ride one of those hoverboard things.” Ekko’s eyes get wide, and his mouth even opens a little. “You want to learn? I’ve been trying to get you to do that for a week. What changed?” You didn’t want to let him know the real reason, so you decided to play it off.

“Just thought I could kick your butt at something, boy wonder,” he scoffed. You knew he hated the nickname; it was too fun teasing him to stop, though.

“Alright, alright. If you’re so confident, then I’ll teach you. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when you end up falling off a few times.”

“I’ll be a pro; just you wait and see.”

You were in fact not a pro. Your knees were scuffed, and the dirt on your clothes was a testament to just how many times you hit the dirt. “Sorry this is taking so long; I feel fucking stupid.” Ekko grabs your hands and pulls you up, grabbing the board. “Don’t; it takes everyone a minute to learn this is no different. How do you think I feel? I made it; I had to test it and fall a lot.” You give him a nod, deciding to take the board back with a little more confidence this time. “What a boy genius you are,” you got a snort in return.

“Now, remember, hoverboards are pretty sensitive. You have to find your balance and keep it steady. And be careful not to lean too far to one side or the other, or you’ll tip over.” Ekko watches you carefully as you mount the hoverboard, his arms crossed over his chest. The hoverboard begins to move forward as you lean, slowly at first, but steadily gaining speed.

You could hear Ekko yelling behind you, “There you go, you’re doing great! Just keep your balance and focus on the path ahead.”

“What about turns!? What if I fall??”

“Don’t worry; I’ll be right here to catch you if you fall.”

You got the hang of it after a while; you both went back to the base riding your hoverboard and even racing some of the kids. It was a good time, no responsibilities, no expectations. It still hurt you; there was no Silco, but at least you had distractions.

Ekko seemed to show up when he wasn’t asked; it’s like he knew when to butt into people's business.

He was there during your worst moments of loneliness. When the darkness was too much, when the voices kept repeating the insults louder and crueler. Telling you to kill yourself, that you're nothing, worthless, not good enough, burn the firelight base to the ground, and watch everyone around you die. You’ll only end up alone anyway. The smell of ash and blood, you could remember it by heart. Tears pouring out of your eyes continuously, you didn’t even sob. You had nothing to be sad about in the moment. You just naturally cried, and all you could do was scream, hoping I’d stop. Sitting in the dark waiting for it all to end. Thinking, hoping that just maybe one day you’d be blessed enough not to wake up.

It wasn’t until you felt Ekko's heavy gloves on your shoulder. Asking if you were ok, if you needed anything, if you needed him. Looking at you like you're the only thing that mattered in the moment. Moving to sit next to you, his shoulder lightly touching yours. “You don’t have to talk; just know I’m right here with you. I’m not going anywhere.” Those days were hard, but it always felt nice to have Ekko lying on the floor next to you, no words, just his company.

He even let you into his little workshop. His words: “You don’t have to knock. If you need me, just come in” You’d hand him his tools and use all the knowledge you had on tech to help. You used to make a lot of trinkets that helped your day-to-day life. You didn’t like to make weapons like Jinx, but you could make a mean bomb. You’ve even fallen asleep to his tinkering and his little nerd-out moments. “You're such a dork.” He wouldn’t even take his eyes off his invention.

“Shush if you're not going to help.”

“Touchy touchy. Here, let me look, boy genius.” When you actually put in effort to help him, he’d look at you from the side of his eye, and you’d pretend like you didn’t notice the small smile creeping up on his face. Sitting by his side until late at night, making new things to help out in the base. Both your giggles and the metal clanking were the only things heard at 3 am.

And that’s how it was for a month. Ekko is coming in, trying to coax you into giving up Silco; you give him a little info, and he folds and gives you what you want for the day. You had a good thing going. So why’d he want to ruin it now? You were fine seeing the kids; you made small talk with one of the firelight girls, but that’s it. Everyone else you dealt with in passing. So why was Ekko so set on you interacting with more people?

“How about we hang out with the group for a bit?”

“I’m fine; I hate people.”

“Look, I’m just trying to—“

“I don’t need help! I don't need friends! I—I need my dad; I need…. I need to feel in control. It still feels like I’m a fucking prisoner even if you say I’m not.

Ekko doesn’t talk for a minute; you can tell he’s trying to choose his words wisely, his white locs covering his face. “I don’t know what you see in Silco, even if he took you in…. You can’t tell me you truly see the good in what he’s doing.

You didn’t answer him. Afraid you’ll say something you’ll regret by lashing out. He didn’t get it; he didn’t get you! Silco was your dad; Silco helped you ignore the voices; he loved you even if he had a funny way of showing it.

“He’s not the best dad in the world, but he’s my dad. He helped me when I had no one. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Ekko didn’t answer you; it’s like he wanted to argue, but he knew you needed this.

“Just... just give it a chance; you may find your people.”

If he heard your scoff, he didn’t react to it.

I don’t have people; all I have is my dad and myself, even when I don’t love myself.

Ekko’s soft words pulled you out of your thoughts.

“You have me too.”

“Until how long, hmmm, till I run out of information?”

“That’s no—“

“Hey, Ekko, tell me how I survived the day I jumped.”

Ekko went back silent; he was giving you that look again, and you hated it. It’s like he saw everything within you, and it made you feel naked, like you couldn’t hide.

“Oh that… flew down to save you.”

“Why?”

“When you smiled at us before you fell, I thought you were asking for help.”

You giggled at that; only Ekko would think of saving his enemy who tried to off themselves in front of him. “Your something else, Sunflower.”

“Sunflower!? What kind of flower is that? We don’t have those in Zaun.”

“Alright, take me out or whatever it is you want.”

“D-don’t say it like that. Come on, I’ll introduce you to the kids.”

You never knew Zaun could look like this, or even have a tree, and now the name firelights makes sense: nothing but a lush green tree with the fireflies all around it. It’s peaceful, plush; it’s nice. You got a few looks here and there, but it’s fine; ekkos here, and you weren’t forced to hang out with who you didn’t want to.

And that’s how you spent your day bonding with Ekko and even the kids; they weren’t as judgy, and you appreciated it. Even when they had questions, it didn’t feel pointed. “Why do you always wear those things on your head?” your headphones; you never took them off, never could bring yourself to part from the one thing that helps stop the voices, no matter how battered and dingy they are. “They’re headphones. They help me when I’m scared or upset.” “Oooooh, I get it; my mask helps me! Makes me feel stronger!” “Good, use your strength to become the best firelight you can be.”

That’s how the day started and ended: you playing with the kids, running around, playing tag and hide and seek until the night came. The kids gathered around, using common objects around them to make a little band; music brings a lot of the firelights together, and somebody brings an actual scrap-made speaker playing louder music. Some even start to dance. And in this moment you couldn’t help but think maybe Ekko was right; maybe these people were ok.

You grab the overworking leader by the arm and pull him with you. “What is it?”

“Come on, Ekko, let’s dance!”

“Dance?”

“Yeah, you scared boy wonder?“

“Not at all, but um… why?”

“Who doesn’t like dancing!”

That’s when the music hits and nothing else matters. Ekko moves effortlessly, his body flowing in perfect harmony with yours. He keeps you close, his chest pressed against yours as he twirls you around. The world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble. Your body’s moving in rhythm as the music gets Ekko pulls you closer, one hand resting on your waist while the other takes hold of your hand, spinning you. He begins to sway gently, guiding you in a slow dance. Holding each other’s sides, swaying back and forth. Every minute you got to look in Ekkos's eyes, seeing him smile at you like that did something to you; he really was something else.

You couldn’t let those eyes shake you, though. You knew it was only a matter of time before it all went to hell; no one really gives a damn about you, no one except Silco. But maybe if you were a better daughter, he would’ve found you by now.

Ekko could only look at you in confusion when you walked away from him, away from the gathering. He thought it was a good moment that he was finally getting through to you. But he wasn’t one to push, not when he knew what you’d been through, but he followed you up the stairs to the treehouse.

And when he found you, the silence was heavy but comfortable. That’s how it was with you too, and you’d never say it out loud, but he made you feel safe.

“Do you want to stay here?”

You timidly glanced into his eyes before you took a deep breath. “I don’t know,” you looked away, closing your eyes, trying to stop yourself from getting out of hand. Ekko hummed, leaving more silence in between you both, and then he asked another, “Even if you know Silco loves you, it isn’t healthy.”

You opened your eyes as a bitter taste remained in your mouth. Your face contorted into different expressions as you debated with yourself on whether or not you would share.

“My mother was a shimmer addict; she had me right as she overdosed. And Silco found me; I was different; I survived even with a small, premature body full of shimmer. He said I was unique, that I could change all of Zaun. I believe him. I’ve done a lot of great things… at least I think so. Even if you don’t agree with him, he saved me.

“But you're not okay—

“Don’t tell me what I am! I’m perfect as I am; he said so! I may not be normal, but I am living instead of surviving, Ekko! Can’t you see that?”

“I do. But you know what else I see? I see how happy you are riding your board; I see how sweet you are with the kids, especially when you steal yarn from the top side and crochet stuff for them; I see how you care for Raven when you think she’s not looking by finding her favorite things to surprise her without letting her know it was you; I see how you truly care for the people you're loyal to. You touch people's lives and leave light in your wake. I see how beautiful you are inside and out. You’re your own person, not what Silcos made you! You can do better than what he has you doing.”

“Is that what you’ve come up with in your mind? That I’m just this lost, misguided girl who was groomed to be fucked up? News flash! Boy Wonder, I’m in Zaun. I was going to be fucked up regardless of Silco! Who do you think I am, huh? Don’t act like you know me, 'cause you don’t! Stop trying to change me into something I’m not! I’m not some knockoff version of Jinx you can fix just because I decided to be nice a few times. What?! I’m your little powder passion project. Couldn’t save her, so you’re trying to save me because we both have family, daddy, and abandonment issues?!”

You knew it was a low blow, but even though she left you, you couldn’t help but think about Jinx’s words, taking them to heart, and everything she told you. “He likes to think he can save everyone.”

He narrowed his eyes at your response; you could see him clenching his fist and clenching his teeth. His eyes no longer looking at you with acceptance or worry like you were used to, only irritation

“I wasn’t trying to change her; I thought she was in danger. I didn’t know she went with that piece of shit willingly…. I thought I could save her; I needed to because she was my friend.”

“Ohhhhh, that’s right, you’re the boy savior!”

His eyes went from a glare to cold and lifeless.

“Fuck you. You know nothing; you only know Jinx's pain but not mine. You’re right about one thing, though: you and Jinx are similar. So I don’t know why I was stupid enough to try and help you; just like her, you don’t deserve it.” That just pissed you off more.

“I didn’t ask you to help me! I didn’t ask for you to save me from offing myself! I didn’t ask for you to try and fucking fix me or my life!”

“I’m not trying to change you; I’m trying to give you something better! A chance! Silco didn’t give you a chance; he used you! Your work, a tool! If you survived on shimmer this long since birth, you're proof that his product can lead to something greater than he thought. But it’s at the expense of you and your health.” His voice lowers, his breathing heavy. “Please… tell me you see it. You have to know that keeping you on shimmer as long as he has wasn’t to help you. Only him.”

In the back of your mind you knew; you always knew. And yet the faith he put in you gave your heart love you’ve never felt before. How he always stated he was proud of you, said you were the best thing to happen in his life, that you're his legacy, his daughter. But what was the cost for your heart, suicidal thoughts, breakdowns, nightmares, and dissociation? A mother that never wanted you, a father that loved you but not enough to see your pain, only your potential. “Hey Ekko, thank you. For saving me and making me realize. I don’t want people to end up like me... because I’m not ok.”

“Then let me he“—”. He didn’t get to finish before you pushed back, making him crash into the tree behind him. You jumped from the stairs on the tree; you didn’t care about the fall because it’s the freest you ever felt. You could hear the other fireflies yelling, but the adrenaline and the wind in your ears helped you ignore them. As soon as you fell, you pushed forward, not caring about the pain in your legs and ankles. Grabbing a hoverboard before speeding off and out of the hideout.

When Ekko got up, he didn’t chase you, nor did he call out for you; all he could do was watch. Scar rushed up to him, looking at him expectingly. “She’s going to go back to Silco!? We have to catch her before she rats us out!?” Ekko didn’t react to his words, only looking forward to where you had run. “Ekko!” And when Ekko finally looked at Scar, he just shrugged. “She’ll be back when she’s ready.” “She’s not coming back." Ekko, she’s been waiting for an opportunity to escape, and we let her!”

Ekko just shook his head, picking up something off the ground. “She’ll be back.” “How do you know!?” Ekko moved his hand in front of Scar, showing him what he picked up. “She left her headphones.” Scar just scoffed. “That doesn't mean anything.” Ekko just shook his head. “Trust me, if you knew her like I do, you’d know it meant everything.”

You wandered around one of Silco's biggest shimmer factories, where most of his shipments go. You walked around the rooftop, pacing back and forth. “I’m addicted to the madness~” You turned on your headphones, singing along, tuning out the noise below, scummy workers and henchmen everywhere. “Let me leave my soul a-burning; I’ll be breathing it in.” Sneaking down through the crawl spaces, you laid out bombs everywhere you could stick them. You set up trap after trap after trap after trap. You knew this place like the back of your hand, so it was easy to get in and get out.

“I’m addicted to the feeling, getting higher than the ceiling~” This place had meaning to you… this was the first place Silco took you when he felt like you were ready to work for him. The first place where he showed you the ropes was the same place he had you start your injections. The same place you had your first breakdown. This felt like a goodbye to the past, the pain, everything that made you feel inadequate. You don’t know what you’d be without Silco; you knew the voices would never fully leave, but at least with this you could let your dad know you were ok and that you were going your own way.

“Just concede and give in to your inner demons again~” You hit the button, and it all blew up—the building, the workers.

And you too. Hopefully, Silco can forgive you for not saying goodbye.

It’s been 3 months; Ekko waited for you to return. But after a while he could only assume you’d either gone your own way or something terrible happened. Missions still happened with no sign of you with Silco's goons, and there’s talk about the huge explosion that happened, so he couldn’t pinpoint what had happened to you; all he had to give him comfort about your departure was your headphones. He never touched them, only keeping them by his bedside with your memory lingering with him whenever there in his sight. But today at 12 am, he finally had the courage to tinker with them, hopefully fixing them up.

He was concentrating so hard he didn’t hear the door open; it was Scar. “Your stray is back,” and as soon as he came, he left.

“Hey sunflower,” he jumped and turned around so quickly you thought he’d fall out of the chair. He did slip a little as he rushed to hug you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to laugh.

“Missed me?” He squeezed your torso, chuckling a little. “Missed your humor, not your bullshit.” You poked at his side, making him jump. “Lies, you missed that too. Everyone else is boring.

He pulls you over to his patched-up couch, both of you plopping down. You lean into his touch, laying on his shoulder. Neither of you said anything; you didn’t need to. You don’t know what you expected when it came to his reaction. But you’re glad Ekko didn’t pressure you to talk about anything or question what you’d been doing. You’d tell him one of these days. The withdraws, breakdowns, you almost ending it all. But right now you just wanted to enjoy his company; being alone for months took its toll, so it’s good to be back in a warming presence.

It took everything in you to not go back to Silco, to everything that was easier. But you pulled it off, and you hope Ekko could see that you really are trying. “Was it you?” He spoke so softly you thought you just imagined it, but Ekkos looking into your eyes let you know it was real. And you knew what he meant; your explosion was nothing but destruction, but you wanted to leave that behind you. So you said the only thing that was closest to the truth. “I’m following my own path now, Ekko.” When you looked back at him, it almost took your breath away. Those stupid, big, brown eyes looking at you with so much warmth you could’ve melted right then and there. It made you sick.

“I’m happy for you... So you’re just visiting?”

“Geez, trying to kick me out already, huh?” He shook his head. “Of course not. I just…. I want you to be happy and go your own way, even if it’s not here with me.” You looked away, biting your cheek. “So what if I wanted to be happy here?”.

“Then I’d make a space for you right now; you’re always welcome.”

“Even in your room~”

“Yeah, you can stay with me if you want.”

You felt all your thoughts falter and come to a stop once the words were out of his mouth. You paused and looked at him, face red. “Easy there; we don’t want everyone jealous that the big boss in charge is playing favorites.” He pulls you so close, too close. His nose and forehead touching your own. You don’t know this Ekko, Ekko who always was too shy to flirt back, who was always the gentleman, who only gave fleeting touches like he was afraid to break you. “You are my favorite; you’ll always be someone special to me.” You couldn’t help pushing his buttons, not wanting him to see your face reddening.

“Leaders shouldn’t show favoritism, ya know. I’m going to need something for me to keep quiet; wouldn’t want to hurt the kiddies feelings, would you? out of all the things you expected Ekko to say, you didn’t expect what he’d do.

Ekko leans down, capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. It’s slow and tender; the brush of his lips is so soft. He takes his time, savoring the feel of your lips against his, pouring all of his love and affection into the kiss. He leaned back and smiled warmly as he continued to gently caress your cheek. He looked at you with a soft, affectionate expression, his gaze filled with adoration thatyou’d noticed before. You just never had the guts to call him out on it.

“Is that enough to keep you quiet?”

“It's a start.”

#arcane #ekko #ekko arcane #ekko league of legends #ekko lol #ekko x reader #leauge of legends #the arcane spoilers #firelight ekko #ekko x you #jinx arcane #arcane silco #silco #silco and jinx #arcane league of legends #arcane lol #arcane ekko #arcane fanfic #arcane fandom

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viasdreams · 3 months ago

Text

Nightwalker ཐི❤︎ཋྀ ~ chugged a thing of toilet bowl cleaner

you stared intently at the bottle of everclear as you, sloppily, attempted to pour another shot for you and hyuck. three shots in and you were starting to really regret your choice of vodka. you thought that maybe it would be strong enough to get hyuck drunk, but apparently, 95% abv means nothing to vampires.

"why do you keep taking these with me if they don't do shit?" you asked as you handed him his shot.

"because i'd feel bad if you had to endure this poison yourself" hyuck chucked from across the bed.

the space between you felt as expansive as a canyon, the distance seeming to only grow with each shot.

"wait that's so sweet of you," you smiled at him, raising your shot to cheers him.

he hmmed in acknowledgment, bringing the glass to his lips and shooting the shot with ease. meanwhile, you gagged into your chaser. (which was water because, as hyuck put it, you don't really go to the grocery store to buy drinks when your food comes from the cashier)

as the night continued, so did the shots. six shots in and the car crashes were starting to hurt your head.

"hyuckie can we please turn this off, i feel like one of the victims right now" you slurred out.

"shit, yeah of course," he ran his hands across the sheets for the remote, eventually figuring out that he had been sitting on it.

"do you want more water? or i could doordash you some food?"

you slowly shook your head, closing your eyes.

"no, i think i just need to lie down"

"yeah do whatever you need, i have more blankets in the-"

his sentence was cut off as you crawled over to him, laying your head in his lap. maybe everclear actually was a good choice because you never would have done that if you were sober.

"um yn?" hyuck awkwardly mumbled.

"hmm?" you peeked open one eye, looking up at him.

"the pillow is over there" he gestured to the headboard.

thankfully, the vodka didn't fully cloud your judgment and you were able to clock the nervousness in his tone.

"oh sorry hyuck, i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." you started to sit up when you felt two hands push you back down.

confused you looked at him to gauge what was happening, but he refused to meet your gaze, looking at the ceiling.

"no it's ok you can," he slowly brought his eyes to your, "you can stay there."

a smile spread across your face as you relaxed into him.

the two of you stayed like this for a while, hyuck gently playing with your hair as you lay. just as he was about to lay down too, you quickly sat up with a gasp.

"HOLY SHIT!" you exclaimed, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking.

"what? what happened?" hyuck questioned you, his voice coated in concern.

"SUCK MY BLOOD!"

"w-" he stared at you, very much taken aback, "what?"

"SUCK MY BLOOD HYUCKIE!" you shook him with more vigor.

hyuck grabbed your hands, bringing them in front of you to keep you still.

"why are you asking me to do that yn?"

"the alcohol in my blood hyuck! it will get you crunk!" now shaking his hands in excitement.

when laying in hyuck's lap, the fact that he couldn't be drunk with you consumed your thoughts. you wanted him to experience what you were feeling, and that's when it dawned on you.

"yn im not going to hurt you like that just to get a little tipsy. plus i don't even know if it works like that."

"then let's try." you pulled your shirt to the side exposing your neck fully.

hyuck could feel two things, his fangs coming in, and the intense hunger bubbling in his stomach. it had been a bit since he had eaten, and that combined with the fact that you're the one offering him blood, created a deadly combo for him.

"i don't want to hurt you though," despite his words, he slowly leaned towards you. "what if i take too much?"

"i know you won't, i trust you hyuckie," and despite your words, you scrunched your eyes shut, scared to be awake while this was happening.

your sent overtook his senses, drawing him in.

you could feel his breath getting closer, his hands cupping your face.

you attempted to tilt your head to the side to give him better access, but he held you in place.

both of you knew that your heart was racing. you did your best to calm yourself but to no avail.

"just breathe okay?" he whispered onto your skin.

"o-"

before you could finish, you felt hyuck's lips on yours.

the kiss was soft, you could feel him trying not to press his fangs against you. he didn't move, just held his lips against yours, waiting for you to react.

you, rather clumsily, pushed back against him. his lips were cold and you desperately wanted to warm them up.

however, he pulled back before you could, laughing as he brought his forehead to yours.

"why did you do that?" you asked, the reality of what just happened hitting you.

"i told you, i don't drink human blood." he leaned back onto his palms, shrugging. "i appreciate the offer though, ill have to ask the guys if drinking drunk people's blood works. if so, i might give a chicken a bloody mark because hyuckie needs a drink."

"but why did you stop kissing me?" you asked, half because you really wanted him to do it again, and half because you were scared he thought you were a bad kisser.

he glanced over at the half-drained handle of everclear, "i don't think right now is the best time to be doing that."

"but," you protested.

"i'll kiss you again in the morning when you're sober yeah? i want to make sure you actually remember it."

you could feel your cheeks heat up. why was he so smooth? this was not the same loser (said lovingly) from the bookstore, not that you were complaining.

"yeah okay."

he patted your thigh and headed to the door. "im going to sleep on the couch. the bathroom is down the hall to the left, if you don't make it to the toilet, please puke on jaemin's stuff. wake me up if you need anything."

"hyuck wait!" you practically yelled at him as he left the room.

"what's up?"

"goodnight."

you could barely make out his smile in the dark.

"goodnight yn."

you in fact, did not make it to the toilet. now you were walking aimlessly through the hallway, looking for anything to clean off the vomit-coated hairbrush you were holding, which you really hoped belonged to jaemin.

"yn?"

you jumped, almost dropping the hairbrush.

"is that my hairbrush?"

thank god you puked on the right one.

"oh hey jaemin, why are you up so early?" you tried to direct the attention away from the brush.

"im just going for a run, you don't look this good at 418 years old by sitting on your bum." he shook his butt a little at that last part.

"bum?"

"i spent some time in england, picked it up."

"cool, well i dont want to keep you from your run, so bye." you picked up the brush and rushed back to the bathroom.

"yn wait, can i say something?" his tone reeked of remorse.

against your better judgment, you agreed. after what hyuck told you, weren't the biggest fan of jaemin but you did puke on his stuff. the least you could do was hear him out.

he took in an excessively long breath.

"look, im really sorry. im sorry for lying to you, for hurting you, and for just being an asshole. i have a lot of issues i'm dealing with right now, but i shouldn't have brought you into that. i was so focused on getting your blood for hyuck, that i forgot to think of you. you didn't deserve that. i'm really sorry."

he said all of that in one breath, making it extremely hard to keep up with his words.

"wait jaemin, you were getting my blood for hyuck?"

"yeah he asked me to help curve his cravings for your blood, but nothing was working so i started taking from you."

"so he was drinking my blood? when you took my blood, he was the one drinking it?"

jaemin gave you a confused expression.

"yeah? did he not tell you that?"

he did not.

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saursoob · 1 year ago

Note

OK HEAR ME OUT!! RIKI X READER WITH THIS PROMPT: "I know it was a dream, but I felt you here."

A/N: AAA THANK U FOR THE REQUEST SORRY FOR THE WAIT HERE IT IS!! (i made this before the fate tour ended so just imagine 😁)

synopsis warnings: niki is exhausted and misses you, crying, sobbing, sad, comfort, fluff

word count: 708

niki slowly awoke to see you only inches away from his face with a faint smile as you admired him, “good morning” you said as you kissed him on his forehead. he backed away quickly, his widened eyes in shock, “w-what are you doing here y/n?” you laugh at his question like it was a silly thing to ask. “niki what are you talking about?” his eyebrows tightened, “but y-you’re at home? you’re not here with me...” his eyes became watery as his confusion shifted into sadness. he was aware you weren’t actually with him. “i- i miss you so much y/n” he said as he pulled you into a hug, tightly wrapping his arms around you as he began to sob. “i want to go home but i cant. you’re home”

niki awoke in his hotel bed with dried tears in his eyes. that dream was too real, too cruel.

niki’s day went on and finally ended after another draining concert. exhausted, he sat on the hotel bed resting his head against the headboard, he sighs deeply as he restrained himself from crying. it was all crashing down, all the feelings he pushed aside towards the dream he had this morning all coming back to him.

unwillingly tears trickled down his face, he couldn’t handle it anymore. his heart ached, he was so physically and mentally exhausted and you. you weren’t here to make it better. he missed your touch, your kisses and cuddles.

he thinks that ultimately it could be worse. you do call and text after every concert but— its not the same.

shit. you always call after a concert.

his phone next to him lit up as the words on the screen illuminated “incoming facetime from y/n <3”

he quickly wiped his tears before answering and made sure his face wasn’t showing on screen to prevent you from seeing his puffy eyes.

he only showed the ceiling of the room as he picked up. “h-hey y/n.” he stuttered and his voice came out shaky. you look at your screen took aback, it was obvious something was wrong. you softly asked, “niki, is something wrong?” you could hear faint sniffing coming through your end of the phone as he responded, “no nothing.. i just— really miss you y/n” his voice sounded dejected, it broke your heart to hear. “me too.. i miss you too niki” he slowly showed his face to the camera, the room was darkly lit with only the lamp on, his cheeks a pink hue and had tears streaming down his face. “but- it’s different, i- i cant do this without you.”

you sighed as you quickly adapted to the situation you have to be strong for him and for you, but being honest seeing your boyfriend in this state made you want to cry as well. be strong. you have to find out what happened for his emotions change so significantly in only a days time. “‘ki- what caused this, i swear you you fine yesterday? did something bad happen?” he shook his head, “no, nothing bad happened..” “is that really true niki.” his lips turned into a slight pout, “its just i ..i had a dream last night that you were here. it felt so real and i knew it was fake. i knew it was a dream but i felt you here. it was such a cruel dream.”

trying your best to shift his mood you put on a smile, “i know its been hard for us but we can push though it, we have before yeah?” he nods his head to that, “yeah we did.” you giggle, “and we will again.” he wipes his tears, sighing dramatically as he rolls his eyes, “i do miss your kisses though” you laugh, “ill make sure to give you tons of kisses when you get home” he moves the phone extremely close to his face, “you better, i’ve been deprived enough” you suddenly come up with an idea, “niki get closer to the camera” he lowly chuckles, “uhh okay” as he approaches to get closer you rush to quickly kiss the camera “there a kiss” he lets out a surprised laugh before saying, “wait i didn’t get to kiss you back”

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viennakarma · 1 year ago

Text

Everything I Wanted II.

LESTAPPEN X READER (PART 2)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 8.9k

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport categories inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. This chapter is very angsty and none of it is an attack at the drivers nor their fans and personalities, please.

I know I KNOW, this got out of hand, AGAIN. I promise next part (and hopefully last) is more focused on the romance, and the happy ending reader deserves.

Find me on Twitter!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You spent Christmas with your mom, sharing a lot of presents and watching a bunch of stupid Christmas movies. New Year’s was now a tradition to spend with the Raikkonen Family, joined with the closest friends for a little get together. It was a good opportunity to reconnect with Kimi’s kids who missed you a lot during the season.

Charles never contacted you during winter break, which you were sure was the best after that mistake. You hated each other too much and the only thing that could come out of that was toxicity from the both of you. You refused to even acknowledge what had happened and its implications, that wouldn’t and couldn’t mean anything.

During the pre-season testing in Bahrain, you and Charles were back to whatever your relationship was before that one lapse in judgment months before.

Nobody noticed anything.

One day, Fernando pulled you aside for a little chat. You two sat side by side on big moving boxes, sipping on energy drinks.

“There’s something I have been wanting to talk to you about since last year,” he started, seemingly pensive, distant.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Remember after we first met when you asked me if I had advice for you regarding your career?” Fernando said, and you remembered.

Right after you had gotten close, you asked him for advice, you always did, especially about racing. But one day, you were chatting about his career, and you asked if had any lessons you should never forget. He had laughed joking about read all your contracts then asking if you were calling him old, but he said if he ever had any advice, he would tell you.

“Yes, have you got my answer yet?”

“Sí, Nena,” he paused, looking deep into your eyes, “enjoy.”

You frowned and he saw the confusion on your face.

“I see much of my younger self in you, you know? The same passion, this fiery desire to win, your goal for the championship, to conquer the world…” Fernando paused, looking up to the clear sky, the sunset coming around, “And I did. But I wish I had enjoyed it more. I should’ve gone to parties, I should’ve visited the countries we went to and tried the food, I should’ve made more friends, I should’ve had more lovers… I was so focused on winning, on getting my hands on that trophy of champion of the world, that I missed out on a lot.”

You felt your eyes tear up, and you wiped it before the tears came down. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you smiled at him.

“It’s such an honor race with you. And an even greater honor to have you as a friend, Nano” you whispered to him, you two laughed as his eyes watered too, and slapping his shoulder you laughed, “don’t make me cry, you old softie!”

You took his advice to your heart.

You went to the parties, you met new people, and that’s how after two entire seasons, you managed to befriend Lando, your teammate. You two had to open your hearts a little bit and meet in the middle. Which proved to be great, the whole team loved the change in your dynamic. You still weren’t besties, but you were close colleagues, and that was great. Everyone noticed the change and it reflected on how you started racing as a team instead of individually.

The car was even better than the year before, and the first race of the season you got a promising win.

That win, Lando’s pestering, and Fernando’s advice was how you ended up in a party after the Bahrain GP. Wearing a skimpy mini dress and 5 tequila shots deep, swaying your hips to the sound of Rihanna. You were dancing and singing with Lando and a few of his friends, loudly screaming the lyrics.

When it was way too hot for you, you grabbed a water bottle and beelined your way out of the crowded dance floor. You found a corner of the VIP section where the AC seemed to be working better, and as you stumbled inside the small space, you ran chest first into someone.

“Sorry,” you said, taking a step back and pressing your back against the cold wall.

“Enjoying your win?” Your head snapped up as you recognised Max’s voice. You had run into him.

Lando had mentioned inviting Max to the party, he had gotten a P2 in the race but you doubted he would go to a party he knew you would attend. You were obviously wrong.

“You know I am,” the victory was so good that nothing could ruin your mood.

“Well, then enjoy it. I’m coming for the win, again.” He warned you but his voice was devoid of anything, just sounded like he was casually telling you about the weather. But you knew that he was implying his championship the year before, rubbing it in your face.

“Don’t be so confident, Max,” you finished your water, smirking at him, “Enjoy the view of my rear!”

You flipped your hair, feeling his eyes on you the whole walk back to the dance floor.

And yet-

Somehow-

You ended up back at that small corner, dancing with your body pressed between Verstappen’s and the wall, his hand holding your jaw firmly, you rolled your hips against him, feeling the way his body responded to yours.

“We can’t-” he said to you, still, his eyes hadn’t left your lips, like he was so oh so tempted.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed. Sober you would never do that, but then, that was a problem for later. Checking to see if anyone was looking at you, you hooked a finger around his waistband and pulled him towards the bathroom.

As soon as the two of you were inside, you locked the door and Max pressed your back against the door, latching his lips to yours in a very desperate open mouthed kiss. You hugged his shoulders, opening your lips to him, his hands went down your sides and he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. But that wasn’t enough, so he held your thighs and pulled up, carrying you. You locked your legs around his waist, and he stopped the kiss to walk, sitting you on the marble side of the sink, still between your legs, forcing his bulge against your panties, and eliciting a moan from you.

He took a half step back to hike your dress up, palming your cunt over your panties feeling the dampness of it, he tried to press his hand under your panties, but the lacy fabric didn’t leave much space, so he simply tore the bottom of them, exposing you to him. He just ran a finger over your slit, collecting your wetness for a brief moment before pushing a finger into you. Max watched your face with concentration, studying your body’s responses. Your hips shaking at the movement of his finger, and when the second one joined, you got louder. He curled his fingers up, his thumb pressing your clit, and you had to use both hands to hold onto him, your head lolling back against the mirror.

“Take it and shut the fuck up,” he grunted between clenched teeth.

He was pressing your insides so good, the slick sound of his fingers going in and out, his heavy breathing, the loud music outside and his laser focused fingers had you coming against his fingers in minutes. When he noticed you close, cunt spasming against his fingers, he pressed the other hand against your mouth, covering your moans when your toes curled and you orgasmed on his hand.

Max barely let you recover as he opened his jeans and stroked himself twice before pushing his cock into you in one swift move, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“That’s what you wanted, right? Fucking teasing me all night,” He pushed particularly hard, hitting your g-spot, making you see stars, “you’re a fucking menace, y’know that? Fucking insufferable,” then his words became a mumbling of something dutch you couldn’t quite catch anymore with the way his hips snapped against yours, taking all your focus away and turning you into a mess of moaning.

Max fucked like he raced, focused and relentless, brutal. He hugged you with one arm around your waist to keep you in place and the other held you face, tilting your head so he could kiss you, or whatever that mess of saliva, tongues and teeth was. Your orgasm crashed through you unexpectedly, and you only hugged him tighter, pressing your face against his chest, biting into his skin through the fabric of his T-shirt to silence yourself, your teeth sinking into him was enough to send him also over the edge, coming with moans against your ear.

That night, you went home with shaking legs and an incoming headache, as Max left with the scraps of your panties in his pocket and your lipstick stain on his shirt, above his chest.

It was the seventh race of the year, Monaco, and you absolutely hated that specific track since your years of F2. During your two first years in F1 you had awful experiences, the rookie year you DNF and the year prior you had barely managed a P7. You were trying to keep your head up, be hopeful that you could at least try for top 5.

But since you couldn’t catch a fucking break, an old video of your teenage years resurfaced.

You were walking to your first round of interviews when Amanda, your PR manager, started walking by your side.

“There’s something. An old video of a karting competition resurfaced, where Max and Charles pretty much call you stupid,” Amanda was always direct, you could give it to her.

“Let me see the video” you asked, offering your hand for her phone.

“We don’t have time, but everyone will ask you about it. I need you to be the bigger person and act like it isn’t important, yes? They will try to taunt you and get a bad reaction from you, I need you to dismiss everything they throw at you. Agreed?”

You sighed. You knew the stuff from your teens were pretty bad, you rarely badmouthed Max or Charles, but they always felt threatened by you, so there were lots of instances they attacked you. Honestly, you just didn’t want to come out of this victimized. So as you entered the first round of interviews, you decided you were going to downplay anything they asked you.

“Y/N, have you seen the footage of you, Max and Charles from your teenage years that resurfaced recently?”

“No, uh, I haven’t.”

Someone pushed an iPad in your hands because of course, they wanted a live reaction from you. You pressed play, reading the subtitles someone put on the video. It was an amateur recording like a post race interview made by another teenage guy. First as Max walked out of the track, the guy asked what he thought of your win.

“It was luck, she’s not bright enough to think of a strategy,” Max said, walking away, clearly pissed having lost to you.

There was a cut and the camera was turned on again when Charles walked toward the guy asking the question. He repeated exactly the same question he had asked Max.

“Y/N, I don’t worry about her long term. She’s not going very far in this sport anyway,” Charles shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

As the video cut again, it showed your face, you remembered when that was. You were 14, and your dad had dropped you a few months earlier, so you were working your ass off balancing school, work and karting.

“Hey, Y/N. What do you think of your result today?”

“Uh, I tried a new strategy I learned earlier this week, thankfully it worked in my favor,” teen-You dried your forehead with your coat’s sleeve.

“What are your plans for this competition?”

“Well, I hope to be good enough to get into F4 next year, and work my way up into Formula 1,” you smiled softly and walked away after a quick bye.

The video ended and you still spent a few seconds staring at the black screen of the iPad. This interview didn’t come to your mind in more than a decade, but it was nice seeing how you made your 14-year-old dream come true.

“So, what do you say?” The reporter extended his mic to you.

“I guess I proved them wrong, right?” You giggled a little, “don’t take it to heart, really. We were all hormonal teenagers, I’m sure if someone digs, they will find a video of me saying the same stuff about them,” you shrugged, despite that being a lie, sounded dismissive enough.

“So it doesn’t upset you?” The reporter insisted, and you knew he wanted a scandal you weren’t willing to give.

“Of course not. I’ve always known my worth, and I’m P1 in the driver’s championship as of right now. So I don’t really care.”

The interviewers soon let the video go, when they realized you didn’t care about it. You weren’t sure if anyone would also approach Charles or Max with questions about the same video, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to avoid drama for the time being so you could focus on the championship instead of this bullshit.

On the morning of qualifying, you were in your room, trying to meditate and clear your mind, when a knock interrupted you.

“Guys, I asked for twenty minutes so I could-” you stop yourself when you realize it isn’t anyone from your team, but it’s Max and Charles, “what are you doing here?”

“We came to apologize about the video,” Max started.

“Did your PR teams send you here?” You looked around, trying to catch a camera or even a phone recording.

“No uh, we realized we were very immature with you, and this video is just proof of how silly that was,” Charles sighed, seemingly embarrassed.

“You don’t need to apologize, I mean- the two of you really had it out for me, you called me dumb a lot,” you pointed to Max, then Charles, “and you called me ugly countless times. I don’t know why it would make any difference now.”

You were just so used to being defensive, to protect yourself from hatred you found it hard to believe them, to give them a chance to apologize because you couldn’t believe it to be genuine.

“Even if you don’t take it, or believe it, I would like to apologize for that behavior. I was just a stupid kid.” Max looked deep into your eyes, which could’ve made you uncomfortable if he didn’t seem so honest.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. It was too idiotic to be like that to you, growing up. You were just a kid too.” Charles added.

You understood where that apology came from, it was stupid and embarrassing for all three of you this teenage rivalry when you all were barely mid racers back in the day. Sighing, you looked around, dropping your façade for a second, allowing yourself to display the same honesty they showed you.

It was hard and required some sort of deprogramming because you could only see them as rivals, like your dad had whispered in your brain so many times before, like their actions towards you had cemented dad’s words. They had said things that were on your mind for so long, that had made you defensive and deflective.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Whatever happened back then, it’s water under the bridge,” You shifted on your feet. As they started walking away, you added “this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

They only nodded before leaving. Your routine went back to the same, and as the next scandal went on, people forgot about the silly video, but a very specific part of the fans started shipping you and both your rivals.

The rivalry never died down though.

Then, out of nowhere, Sebastian pulled you and Lewis aside to a conversation. Then he told you that he was going to retire by the end of the season. It was the first time the two of them saw you cry, and Sebastian hugged you tight, shushing your crying softly.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, petting your head.

“No, don’t apologize,” you let him go, drying your face, “I have listened to you talking countless times about how you missed the kids. Don’t apologize for choosing to be a great dad. I know Hanna and the kiddos will be ecstatic.”

“You two are my closest friends here, that’s why I wanted to tell you first, before my announcement.”

“Thank you, Seb,” you said, eyes still watering, “I’m going to miss having you around.”

“Thank you for telling us beforehand,” Lewis said, also visibly emotional.

The season was writing itself to be just as close as the year prior, but now you were slightly better at keeping the lead most.

That is until Zandvoort. This GP was always a nightmare to you, because it was full of Max’s fans, and they absolutely hated you for being his rival. You had been booed when you were on the podium the year before, so now, you and Amanda decided it was best to keep your head down during the whole week. Not out of shame, but more of a matter of safety, you didn’t know how far the crowd could go in antagonizing you. When you were booed the other year, Max had said it was part of the sport and dismissed the conversation.

The morning of free practice, you went into the paddock very low-key and kept to yourself. You arrived with a little cup of coffee and got mentally ready for a hostile environment the whole weekend. That, until you spotted a small group of people dressed with your color and wearing your number, waving wildly to you.

In a spur of the moment decision, you went there, getting close to the barrier to sign a few caps and take a few selfies. In retrospect, you knew you shouldn’t have done that, especially with only two bodyguards accompanying you.

You were finishing chatting with your fans when you felt something heavy hit the side of your head and the impact made you stumble backwards, you were confused as you heard the screams and felt one of the bodyguards pull you back, as the other jumped the barrier and started running. You patted your temple and something wet and sticky was dripping down the side of your face. You stared at the small group of fans who were looking at you horrified. Staring at the hand, you saw the red staining your fingers, and as the bodyguard kept pulling you away to somewhere safer, the thing flowed even more and got into your left eye.

You wondered if it was blood as you touched your temple but felt nothing, not a gash nor small cut. You covered your left eye as it started to sting from what you supposed smelt like paint.

“Hey, hey, what happened? You’re bleeding!” Max jogged up to you.

“Not blood, just paint” you muttered, trying to use your coat to clean your face.

“Someone threw a paint ball at her,” the bodyguard said.

“Fuck, it’s burning!” You exclaimed, feeling tears in your left eye.

“Come here, the RB hospitality is close,” Max said, holding your wrist, he stopped shortly pointing to your bodyguard, “and you, sort this and find the person who did it.”

You let yourself be taken by Max into the RB territory, the burning so annoying that you rather take whatever solution he was thinking of. He held your waist and placed you sitting on a sink, and then you felt water streaming down your face.

“Stay still,” Max commanded, holding a hose over your head, pouring water down your face, “now blink slowly, let the water wash it,” his voice soft as you did what he told you to. Slowly but surely, it washed the paint away, relieving your left eye from the stinging. Max held the hose up and held your chin, tilting your head up so he could check your eye, still letting the water stream down your face.

You took a few minutes, breathing and regulating your heartbeat from that scare, trying to come back to normal and understand fully what was going on. From what you gathered, you were chatting with fans when someone else came and threw something with paint at you.

“How does it feel?”

“It’s better, already stopped burning,” you told him, feeling your heart miss a beat at the close proximity you found yourself to him. You were sitting on a sink, Max standing between your legs pretty much like you two had done months before for entirely different reasons.

“Open your eye, let me see,” he asked, and you tried to blink it open, “can you see?”

“It’s a little blurry but I believe it will get better,” you explained, and he didn’t let go of your chin. Suddenly, he covered your right eye with the other hand, leaving you only with your left eye sight.

“How many fingers am I putting up?” He showed it to your left eye. The vision was a bit blurry but you still could make out the shapes very clearly.

“Four, Max. It’s just a little bit blurry, probably will get better in a few minutes” you sounded annoyed, you tried to move but he pressed a hand against your waist, keeping you in place.

“Now, what happened?” He asked finally. You ignored the proximity, and the hand still on your body.

“We’re in Zandvoort, that’s what happened,” you shrugged, really annoyed about it.

“What do you mean?” He was visibly confused. You scoffed because you knew it wasn’t something he didn’t know, since the year before he has dismissed the importance of how hostile people were to you.

“We’re massively surrounded by your fans, Max.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They hate me because you hate me, and they think because you hate me they’re justified in their hostility towards me,” You explained, with a sigh, you pushed away from Max, “this GP has been like this for me ever since Rookie year.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said, brows furrowed.

“You do. And they do too,” you pointed down at the paint that had also stained your shirt as proof.

“I don’t,” he insisted and you rolled your eyes, jumping off the sink, but he didn’t give you space, which made you stand chest to chest with him, “I promise.”

You stared at him, breathless. That wasn’t part of the game you played, being kind, sounding worried and making promises. None of that was part of this whole rivalry. Pushing his chest, you tried getting away but he caged you against the sink, body flush against yours.

“Do you believe me?” He asked and your eyes fell to his lips, and you allowed yourself to remember the desperate and chaotic kisses you had shared in a dimly lit bathroom, “I don’t support any of this behavior.”

You heard voices and steps approaching, which made you finally push him away, walking towards the door. Whatever little magic had been happening between those walls was undone the moment you remembered none of that would’ve happened if he had politely put a stop to it earlier.

“It’s part of the sport and I have to deal with it, right?” You returned the very same words he had said about you when you were booed by the crowd the year prior.

As you opened the door, you were faced with Sebastian. He stopped, taking you in and then pulling you in a hug.

“Are you ok? We just heard what happened!” He murmured, guiding you out of the bathroom. He held your shoulders and looked at your face, checking how your left eye was still a little red, “we should take you to see a doctor, come on.”

Lewis soon arrived at the entrance of the RBR station, he warned about the reporters crowding outside, waiting for a glimpse of you after the attack. The British man gave you a Mercedes coat so you put it over your head and avoid the cameras waiting outside. With the bodyguards and both Lewis and Sebastian leading you away, you ended up at the medical center, and after a quick examination, the doctor gave you eye drops to put throughout the day.

Your Principal suggested you sit the FP1 out, letting the reserve driver take your place while you recovered. By the middle of FP1, your eyesight was 100% and you went to get ready for FP2. The whole day you felt like everyone was being extra careful, tiptoeing around you. You hated feeling like you were being pitied, so when the inevitable round of interviews came, you knew what you had to do.

“We heard about your incident earlier today, how are you feeling about it?” Someone asked.

“I’m pretty upset, to be honest. Formula 1 is a sport loved around the whole world, and the paddock overall is supposed to be a safe place not only for the fans, but also the workers and drivers. What happened today is unacceptable and could’ve been much worse. I’m voicing my dissatisfaction and I intend to, through legal means, take this complaint to the FIA.”

Later that night, as you laid awake on your bed, scrolling through the repercussions of the day, you stopped when you saw a snippet of Max's interview.

“What happened today was dangerous and unacceptable, I don’t support this behavior and I stand with Y/N,” that was all he said, but Max usually was a man of few words, always knowing when it was enough.

You knew he should’ve voiced that much earlier in your career, specifically after the booing the year before, but still- He also could have opted to not say anything at all, and he didn’t.

Amanda also sent you the news that the fan who had attacked you was found and banned for life from Formula 1.

After calling Sebastian, you managed to get ahold of Max’s phone number and texted him a simple message.

Thank you. Twice. - Lioness

The text went to read almost immediately, and the three dots appeared from his side of the screen. You wait, and wait, and wait. And then the dots disappeared, and an answer never came.

After a solid P2 that weekend in Zandvoort, you went home for the summer break. You and your mom had planned to go to Monaco for a little while since you were planning on buying a place there. From there, you and your mom would go all around the French Riviera to enjoy the sea and spend a few days in a spa resort. Then, you would go back home and relax before going to Ibiza for a weekend to meet Lando and his friends to enjoy some partying.

Everything went according to plan, but one day when you came back home after the trip to the French Riviera, you found your mom passed out on the living room floor.

You called an ambulance, quickly taking her into the hospital. Everything was a blur, the tests and scans, your mom still unconscious on a hospital bed, and the results. The results that pulled the floor from under your feet.

Your brain couldn’t fully compute what was said. Cancer Stage 4. Surgery. Palliative care.

The world was muted around you as you sat on a chair in the waiting room, hands shaking when you tried to understand what was happening. You somehow ended up calling the one other person you trust.

“Y/N? What happened?”

“I don’t understand- she just- she just passed out and I thought- but- but they said- palliative care” you try to come up with words.

“Talk to me. Are you sick?” Kimi’s voice is so focused and a little soothing.

“It’s mom”

“Send your location, I’m going there,” that’s all he said.

Waiting for Kimi gave you some sense of purpose, because it’s Kimi. He could fix anything. He fixed your life when you were 14, he can do it again. He would get there and find a way to help. Your mind got so clouded when the word cancer was thrown in the conversation, that you probably missed the part about treatments and- and surgery and stuff.

In your mother’s room there was a comfortable couch where you tried to settle to sleep, but you only spent countless hours awake. You hoped to see the doctor again to try and get him to explain everything for a second time.

You wished you were smart and quick, but no, you just sat there holding onto the hope that Kimi had a way to fix this.

Kimi arrived early the next morning, knocking on the door before entering. You stood up, hugging him tight.

“What happened?”

“It’s pancreatic cancer, they said. We need to see more about surgery and- and treatments.”

You and Kimi found the doctor, who explained again, and in that moment you finally understood what he meant the first time around. She was in a late stage of pancreatic cancer, which was usually a very difficult illness to find before it is too late, due to the placement of the organ in the body and late symptoms. The only options were either to try a very risky surgery and chemo so she could extend her life for around 8 months to a year. Or she could go home to live her last few months the way she wanted.

You begged and cried and bribed and offered every single solution your brain could muster to try and save her. Kimi held you when you fell to the floor, sobbing.

When your mom woke up and you and Kimi told her the diagnosis, she cried too, sobbing in your arms as you tried to hold it together for her sake. It took a couple of days for her to choose to go home. The two of you spent the last days of summer break traveling around the world a bit more, visiting temples and statues, and seeing nature and everything good the world had to offer, going to places motorsport hadn’t taken you to.

Your mom went to every race week from there on, even when she felt especially weak, even when you had to hire a full time medical team for her.

Your focus on the season was solely on the moment between entering the car and leaving the car. You still managed to race like you’ve done before, calm and controlled, with the help of your engineers and team, you still could put the car where you wanted it, paving your way for a solid world championship that year. It was like your brain was seeing racing as the one thing in your life you had full control over, so sometimes you even felt like you and the car were one.

You didn’t tell anyone about her. Though every driver noticed how distant you were, even Charles and Max and the ones that weren’t very close to you noticed how you were only fulfilling your obligations and leaving, you weren’t even celebrating your wins, leaving the fastest you could after a race.

The Singapore GP was tough for you, having to leave your mom home alone with the medical staff and a couple of friends from her book club, since she wasn’t strong enough to travel anymore. Your attention was failing all throughout media day and free practices. Qualifying was shit compared to your performance the rest of the season.

In Q3 you did a reasonable sector 1 and 2 but you messed up sector 3 completely. It was a complete accident when you got in the way of a Ferrari when he was doing his fast lap, and you ended up messing his qualy too. Jace let you know it was none other than Charles Leclerc, who was setting the pace for a pole position. Out of 19 drivers, you had to ruin his lap. In the end, Max got pole, Charles qualified P3 and you qualified P5.

You went through the motions during the post qualifying press. You were about to leave after debriefing, when Charles Leclerc found you on the way to the parking lot. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself protectively as he walked up to you. You were hoping to escape his fury at least until after the race the next day. Before he could even get a word in, you started.

“Look, I know I messed up your pole. I know you won’t believe me, but it wasn’t intentional. I really thought there was no one doing fast laps on the track, I thought everyone was either still doing out laps or in the pits, so when you-”

“Calm down, breathe,” he interrupted you, “I’m not here to fight.”

“No?” You frowned, confused with the kindness in his eyes.

“We know you’re going through something, and I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but you’re not alone. And you should really consider talking with someone on the grid. They’re all- we’re all worried about you.”

The words felt alien coming from his mouth, but the gentleness was so comforting you felt a lump in your throat.

“Why do you think I’m not ok?” You muttered trying to sound confident, but your voice failed, betraying you.

“You’re skinny and you look sleep deprived for a few weeks now,” Charles said directly.

“Damn, thanks.”

“I don’t mean it like that, you know it,” he paused, putting both hands on his pockets, “have you been eating?” Your lack of response made him press further, “have you eaten today?”

You pressed your lips together, not wanting to answer that.

“Let’s go, I’ll drive you to the hotel, we’ll stop on the way to grab some food,” Charles gestured to his car, a few meters away. You stood there, shocked as he started walking away, then he stopped looking over his shoulder, “come on, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

As you sat in his Ferrari, Charles put music on and you didn’t do much talking, but it was tranquil. He called the restaurant to order take out on the way, and 30 minutes later he dropped you off at the hotel with a bag full of food.

“Thank you, Charles.” You whispered before leaving the car.

You ate the food while on a video call with your mom.

You recovered well during the race, finishing P2, behind Max and ahead of Charles.

Your mom passed away a few days after the Japanese Grand Prix, the one you had won and dedicated it to her from the top step of the podium, even if she wasn’t there, just watching from home. You went home and stayed with her, holding her hands and hugging her as much as you could.

Some part of you knew she was somehow fighting, because she had promised you the year before she would be there when you became world champion. You could see she was hoping to make it to the end of the season, but you also knew she wouldn’t, and you rather she didn’t have to endure any more pain just for your sake.

“You don’t need to fight anymore, ma,” you whispered before she went to sleep, “you raised a strong woman, too. I will see you on the other side, ok? You can rest now, I love you.”

“I’m so proud of you, honey. I love you to the moon and back.”

You made it through her small funeral, following what she had written down before passing. An intimate funeral, full of flowers and a toast to her life. You cried the whole time, with Kimi and Minttu taking turns at comforting you as they could. Coming back to an empty home smelling of cleaning products made you almost lose your mind, and the sight of you in such despair was enough for Kimi to convince you to stay with them until you had to travel for the next race, in almost seven days.

The days passed in a crying blur, you let part of your team know about your mom’s passing. Only Amanda, Jace and your Principal. Jace tried to convince you to take a break and not go to the next race in Austin, but you quickly shut it off. Not only because racing was the one thing keeping you sane amidst the chaos, but because you were so close to the championship, and it was still close competition with Max and Charles, so you couldn’t afford to lose a race and the points that could come with it.

You had to honor your mom in some way.

That’s how you ended up on a plane to Austin with Kimi and Amanda. You knew Kimi had convinced you to let him go because he was sure you’d have a mental breakdown anytime along the weekend, but deep down you appreciated the company. Arriving there, Jace was the first to hug you and whisper his condolences, as well as your TP too.

You survived the entire weekend without breaking down crying in public, but that was your worst race in a few months, the first time out of a podium since Spa. You ended up P5, which luckily wasn’t too bad because Max finished P4 which you were grateful for as he was the one who was P2 in the driver’s championship close behind you.

After that week, you packed your stuff and moved to the new condo in Monaco you had bought during summer break. Despite loving your mom to pieces, you couldn’t manage to live alone in the house you bought for her a couple of years before, it was lonely and it hit you with overwhelming waves of sadness all the time. You distracted yourself a lot with buying furniture and decorations for the new place, and discovering Monte Carlo in a whole new way. The one comfort in all that, was knowing your mom wasn’t suffering anymore.

Then you went straight to Mexico for the next Grand Prix, this time, Kimi left you because he had to come home to Minttu and the kids. Amanda had been such a support for you, that you knew you had to give her something special for the holidays, out of gratitude.

Everything was going as expected until the press conference. You were there with Charles, Max, Sebastian and Lando. You suspected they were putting you always in the same group as Max and Charles because, as the season nearing the end, only three races left, they were your close competition.

While someone asked something of Charles, you were whispering with Sebastian, chatting about Mexican foods you wanted to try after the race. Then, something bizarre happened, and phones started to ping all around the room, between reporters, cameras and everyone else started checking their phones. It seemed like something out of a black mirror nightmare.

You reached for your phone but then remembered you left it to charge in your room.

“This question is for Y/N,” a reporter asked, reading something from his phone, “there’s a new article that just came out saying your mom passed away a couple of weeks ago, is that true?”

Your blood ran cold, and every sound felt like it was muted inside the room. Wide eyed, you searched for Amanda, who was somewhere on the opposite side of the room, and when you found her, she was pale. Then, there was a cacophony of voices and cameras and questions, that made you suddenly overwhelmed.

Swallowing, trying to reassess, you found Sebastian already standing, holding your shoulders. Looking around you noticed how the other three drivers had stood up, making some sort of shield around you, protecting you from the cameras and reporters swarming around.

“We can go, ok? Come on,” Sebastian was saying when Amanda caught up to you, leaning beside Sebastian.

“We can leave, right now,” she said, holding your hand.

Still a little confused, you nodded and let them both guide you back to your room.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sebastian hugged you, running his hands on your back for comfort.

“How- how did they find out?” You ask Amanda.

“An article came out, I’m not sure. Someone was probably digging into your life, but don’t worry, I put the team on it already.”

“How do- how we diffuse this? How do we proceed? We need to address this, right?” You started blabbering, trying to wrap your head around everything.

“That was very disrespectful of them to ask like that!” Sebastian exclaimed, making you two jolt.

“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you want me to release a note asking for privacy?” Amanda suggested.

“Can I write something and then run it by you?” You asked, she only nodded.

After a moment, both Amanda and Seb left you alone as you typed a note on your phone. You rewrote and deleted a few times before settling on something heartfelt and respectful but also, calling out the invasion of privacy.

My mom passed away a few days ago after battling with cancer for the past few months.

She had requested of me to keep it a secret until after the season was over, so I could mourn her without the weight of racing over my shoulders.

But obviously someone went digging and disrespected not only one of her last wishes but also disrespected my grief and my right to privacy. I love my mom but I’ll not be answering any more questions about her illness or death, please respect me and respect her memory.

All the love, Y/N

Nobody asked anything over the weekend, but again, it felt like everyone was tiptoeing around you. As soon as you first saw Nano the next day, he held you tight for almost a minute whispering his condolences, and it made you almost cry again. Lewis also spared you a hug, saying if you ever needed anything, to contact him.

You survived that weekend, and decided to go straight to Brazil for the next GP instead of going back to Monaco. In São Paulo you mostly slept your worries and fears away. You had promised yourself to try and focus on the season only, to make your dream come true, to fulfill your mom’s promise in some way.

With Ferrari’s bad strategy in Mexico, they had ruined Charles’ chance at the championship. Now your only competition was Max and the Red Bull rocketship.

You rewatched the race a couple of times as you usually did, to try and catch any mistakes you or your team may have made, to fix it for the next one. But also to try and notice any weaknesses of your rivals, if it was something you could use in your own favor.

You noticed right away in the FP1 that your car wasn’t adhering to the track, you were losing balance and needed more force than usual to keep yourself in place. By FP2, you managed to control your car better, but that caused your tyres to wear off way more quickly.

Quali was one of the shittiest you’ve ever done in your career, taking you out in Q2 for the first time that year, placing you for a start at P12.

“Listen, we’ll do better tomorrow, ok?” Jace told you as soon as you entered the garage, seeing Max still out with a shot at pole position.

“Give me a few minutes to unwind, please,” you asked, dropping your helmet, balaclava and gloves at a nearby table.

You went straight to your room, searching for your phone. Immediately calling Kimi, you waited for him to pick up.

“I watched it,” he said first and foremost.

“If I do bad in the race tomorrow, and Max does well, then I’m gonna lose the championship, Kimi,” saying that out loud made you shiver in horror, “FUCK!” You screamed, kicking a chair.

“First of all, even if you did bad tomorrow, you’d still have a chance to fight for the championship in Abu Dhabi. You know that,” Kimi warned you as if he was scolding a little kid, “second of all, I never taught you this loser mindset. You’ll have to find a way to work around the problems in your car tomorrow.”

“Shit, I’m so fucked! How? How could I even-”

“Remember when I first met you? Your kart was with almost this same problem, yeah? Remember you got P2? You went ahead and fixed it. That’s what I need you to do tomorrow, don’t focus on what you can’t do, only focus on what you can do.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“No trying. Do it.”

After spending the entire night crafting plan A, B, C and Z with you strategists and engineers, you barely got any sleep, but you forced yourself to rest. In the morning, you went to the track early to meet with your team again, to run your strategies one more time, when you had an idea. You’d still follow the plans you had carefully crafted with the team, but you decided to make a Plan Star, as you had called. Interlagos didn’t have any safety car in the last two years, so it was dangerous to fully count on one. But your plan star consisted in the case of a safety car in this one specific window of laps, you’d go to the pits for hards, counting on everyone else being on old softs or mediums at that specific point in the race. But for it to work, you had to be the first of the front field to go in.

As the lights went out and you accelerated, you got already three positions up, landing in P9, and luckily, the points zone. Jace was worried in your ears, talking about the car and the tyres management. With controlled calm and Kimi’s voice in your head, you managed a few more positions in the first 14 laps, landing P7. You lost a bit of time there, since Nando was P6 and everyone knew how tough it always is to overtake him. But you eventually managed to get the position. Unfortunately, it was the moment you had to go to your first pitstop. Due to the problems in your car wearing off your tyres, you would have to go for a two-stop, which ended up costing you three positions again. But you were patient and you were rewarded when the other cars had to pit, which gave you back the four places you had lost.

The race you went on and you barely moved up or down from your P5, but you managed to concentrate.

Jace, on the other hand was sounding more and more worried about your second pit stop, about the difficulty in get closer to P4, about the P6 trying to enter DRS zone behind you, with your tyres wearing off, with the-

“Jace, I love you but please shut the fuck up, I know what to do,” you were praying for a miracle when suddenly, there was a yellow flag, and the safety car went out during the perfect window of laps, “fuck, Jace, this is plan star.”

“Copy,” he paused, his voice sounding secure, “Box, box.”

You changed into hards, no one else went to the pits, and the race restarted after three more laps. The safety car had closed the gap between you and the P4, which made you overtake him easily.

Jace was still keeping quiet to help your concentration, he only interrupted to warn you about overheating your tyres, and your velocity per lap compared to the next position. You started overtaking like a madwoman as much as your tyres allowed.

“That’s P1, Lioness,” Jace told you.

“Copy that.” You said with your voice shaken.

As you managed your P1, you went back to be aware of your surroundings, seeing a Red Bull right behind you, trying to overtake but you managed to hold position.

When you took the checkered flag, you sighed with relief, Kimi was right.

“Congratulations, Y/N! That’s a brilliant, brilliant win!” Jace’s voice was sounding shaken too.

“You’re crying, Jace?” You laughed softly.

“It’s an honor to tell you that you, Y/N Y/L/N, are a Formula 1 world champion!” Jace shouts, and behind him you can hear more people screaming.

“What? Jace you’re fucking with me!”

“No, Lioness, you’re the 2022 champion of the world!”

“But- but how? There’s one race left? And Max was right behind me!”

“No, Verstappen DNFed during that one yellow flag. Behind you was Perez.”

You made the calculations quickly in your head. Max was P2 in the championship, but this DNF meant no points, and even if he managed to win the last race in Abu Dhabi, he wouldn’t be able to equal you in points. So-

“OH MY GOD, oh my god!” You screamed your lungs out, feeling the tears streaming down into your balaclava, “Fuck yes! I’m Formula 1 World Champion! Thank you, thank you so much guys! Jace, holy shit, I’m the champion!”

“You’re the champion!” Jace confirmed.

You felt joy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long, long time, as you stopped your car on the number one spot. Still a little dizzy from the thrill, you left the car, going straight to your team, heavily waiting for you. They all hugged you, hitting your helmet, saying congratulations and everything. You took a moment to hug Jace and Amanda, who had been of great support throughout the year.

After getting weighted and being congratulated by the other two on the podium, Perez and Hamilton, the latter hugging you tight as he took you off the floor, you drank water as you waited for the post race interview with Nico Rosberg.

You were giddy, barely holding yourself together with how happy you were feeling, how you wanted to hold the trophy, how grateful you were and more importantly, how you felt a great weight being lifted off your shoulders.

“Y/N, congratulations on becoming a World Champion! I have to say, as a girl dad, it is great to see you become the first woman ever to win this title. How do you feel? What do you want to say?” Nico offered, with a kind smile.

“To be honest, I can barely contain myself. It’s such an honor to be here and be the world champion. I look at the past and see my younger self who never thought would make it to Formula 1. It’s such a dream come true, after this year’s hardships, I’m glad to achieve the greatest dream of them all!” You said, kinda quickly, rambling as you tried to put into words all the emotions mixed with the happiness, “I’m sorry, I know I’m taking up all your time, I just want to dedicated this win, and this championship to three people who saved my life: Kimi, thank you for being the salvation of my career when we first met; And my mom, who’s not here anymore, thank you for being the light in my darkest days. And lastly, I want to thank myself for working my ass off and never giving up.”

You muttered a thank you as Nico only laughed at your rambling. Before you moved to the cooldown, you grabbed the mic back again.

“May I add one last thing?” You asked for Nico, who only nodded, pointing to the camera again, “This is to my father: I made it, you asshole.”

You wanted to send the middle finger too, but you knew you couldn’t because of the FIA’s guidelines, and you were already risking a penalty for cursing on live TV. In the cooldown room, you sat beside Lewis, watching a few highlights of the race on the screen. It showed a couple of your overtakes.

“Damn, you overtook like crazy,” Lewis muttered, seemingly amazed.

“I pulled a Lewis Hamilton in Interlagos last year,” you joked, and he laughed.

That podium felt like the culmination of everything you had worked for your whole life, felt like recovering your love for the sport for what it was, for the fast cars and the adrenaline. Being on that podium in Brazil as a World Champion shifted something inside you forever. During your anthem, you laughed, and when you got the trophy, you cried, pointing the trophy to the sunny sky with a silent prayer to your mom. You barely noticed, but you felt the champagne raining on you, and opened your arms to shower in it. Putting the trophy down, you splashed the other bottle, laughing and wetting everyone that was close to you, Lewis, Checo, Jace, who had gone up representing the team.

When the celebration ended, you stayed behind a little more, watching the crowd from the podium, and they started chanting. It took you a few seconds to realize they were chanting your name.

You raised your trophy at them, and they cheered even louder. Then you pointed it to the sky again.

“Look, ma, I made it” you whispered to yourself, feeling the tears streaming down your face.

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #lestappen #lestappen x reader #Spotify

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eddiesxangel · 10 months ago

Text

Downhearted | E.M

Cw: reader with bad mental health (depression/anxiety), bestfriend!Eddie x fem!reader, hurt/comfort, smut 18+ Eddie takes care of reader.

2.4k (this was suppose to be a blurb… oops)

Recently, you have been feeling very low, and despite your best efforts, you are struggling to get back to your usual self. However, your best friend Eddie has not given up on you. He has been by your side, trying to uplift your mood and bring back your smile, but nothing seems to work. Eddie has tried everything in his power to help you, from taking you out for lunch to watching funny movies together, but once you are on your own, everything seems to be crashing down on you even harder.

Your friend is worried about you and wants to see you happy again. He understands how challenging it is to deal with mental health issues and how it can affect your life. That's why he has come up with a last-ditch plan to lift your spirits and make you feel better. He hopes that this plan will work and bring a smile to your face once again.

To make things worse, you have been distancing yourself from your friends for weeks now, and you feel terrible about it. You feel like you're letting them down, especially Eddie, who has been there for you through thick and thin. He has come over at least three times a week since your mental health started to deteriorate again, and he has never given up on you.

This isn't the first time your mental health has plummeted, but this time, it's worse than ever before. You don't even have the energy to try and get better, and you feel like everything is falling apart around you. However, Eddie's unwavering support and his last-ditch plan to lift your spirits give you hope that things will get better soon.

Living alone didn’t help. You would go days without talking to someone, and that only made things worse. So Eddie made it his mission to be there for you. You’ve always been there for him; it’s the least he can do.

You haven’t left your bed today or all week. You’ve been on your phone all day but not really doing anything; you’re numb. Not even videos of kittens could make you feel anything.

You’ve been ignoring Eddie's pleas to help you. Text after text, his contact would pop up, but you paid no mind. So when you hear the knock on your door, you groan, knowing it’s him. You want to do anything but get up, but how could you leave your best friend standing out there? The thought made you sick to your stomach. You don��t deserve him. He’s too good to you, and all you do is bring him down with you.

As you sniffle back your tears and your inner demons, you wrap yourself in your blanket and pad your way slowly to the door.

You open it, and Eddie’s smile falls when he sees you. You haven’t looked at yourself in over a week, and you also haven’t showered in over a week. As Eddie takes in your state, a small, heartbroken “sweetheart” leaves his lips.

He felt so guilty for not being able to visit you last week. He’d been working doubles and was exhausted. Today was his first day off in six days, and he was so excited to spend time with you.

Your vision blurs as you see Eddie standing there with a bag of groceries with food, actual nutrition that you've been depriving yourself of, only aiding your demons.

He drops the bag and wraps his arms around your frail frame, and you break.

“I don’t know what's wrong with me?” Your voice cracks. You can’t remember the last time you spoke words aloud.

Your breath is shaky, and you tremble as you feel Eddie’s strong arms wrapped around you.

His familiar smell only calms you a little, but you’re so exhausted you can no longer hold it together.

He coos you and strokes your greasy hair, not caring how dirty it feels. He understands, he knows.

“Come, let’s get you feeling a little better, ok?”

“I can’t,” your voice shakes.

“Yes, I’ll be right here to help, okay?” He cups your face, gently forcing you to look into his eyes.

He walks you to the kitchen table, and he begs you to drink some water and eat the sandwich he brought over for you.

While you eat, you see Eddie unpack the groceries and then go to your room. A few minutes later, he comes out to throw your sheets in the washer and pulls a fresh pair from your linen closet.

You finish eating as much as you can when Eddie returns from making your bed.

Eddie coerced you to the bathroom. He helps you brush your teeth and convinces you to shower, not daring to joke about how you smell. You say you will as long as he stays in there with you.

Washing yourself was too much to do on your own. So he stood on the other side of the curtain, and you just stood there under the hot water, unable to move.

“Sweetheart? You doing okay?”

Your tears are camouflaged, but your gasps aren’t.

“N-no”

“Do… do you want me to help?” He cringes.

You don’t answer, and it worries Eddie. Had he overstepped? You were naked behind the thin material separating you.

Eddie waits for a few more beats; his heart is pounding. But he releases his breath when he sees your hand push the curtain aside to invite him in.

Nothing would be able to prepare him for the sight before his eyes. You had already started but didn’t get far; some soap suds had already been spread across your chest.

He tried hard to ignore how the blood flow immediately started flowing south. This was not the time to get a boner.

You watched how Eddie removed his shirt and pants in a daze. He kept on his boxers, but you could see the small tent forming.

You didn’t even care that you were naked in front of your best friend because you felt nothing.

You just wanted to feel something.

Eddie stepped in with you and pulled the shower curtain closed. It was so intimate; you and Eddie hadn’t been this close in this way before. But you trusted one another, and there was no awkwardness or hesitation once Eddie squeezed the shampoo in his hands and started.

I felt Eddie’s fingers massage your scalp, and it was nice. The last time someone took care of you like this was when you were a child when you were not old enough to do it yourself.

Eddie ensured that everything was rinsed properly, and then he moved on to the conditioner. He made sure to saturate all your hair before he took the loofa and your body wash.

Now this, was where Eddie got a little nervous. He didn’t want to overstep.

As you stood there, almost catatonic, he lifted your arms to get your armpits, then he ran the soap down your arms, across your back and down your legs, avoiding your more intimate areas.

“You think you can help me out, sweetheart?”

You slowly nod your head, and he passes you the saturated loofa.

Eddie watches as you run it across your chest, lifting a breast to get underneath. Eddie tries not to, but he can’t help but feel aroused. He tries to push it away, but the last thing he wants is to make you uncomfortable.

He knows you trust him; you’re asking him to help you in your darkest hour.

He shifts, trying to avoid your gaze; it’s only making things harder. Literally.

He pushes away those thoughts and makes sure you’re fully rinsed off. He turns off the water for you and goes to get your towel. He’s soaked, but he doesn’t care; your wellbeing will come first, even if he’s sprouting goosebumps along his flesh.

He takes your hand to guide you out of the tub. You feel slightly better, but it’s not enough.

When a thought pops into your head, you don’t care if it’s stupid, so you act on it without giving it any more thought.

You reach out and graze your hand over Eddie’s soaked boxers. They are taught to his skin, not hide anything, and you can see he’s ready and willing to go.

He steps back at the sudden touch.

“Please, Eddie, I need to feel something, anything. I don’t know what else to do” you sobbed.

As you stand there, feeling lost and alone, Eddie's embrace envelops you, pulling you in closer. In this moment, you know that you are not alone and that your friend is there to support you through thick and thin. Eddie's hug is so tight; he needs you to know that he would let nothing in the world hurt you. You close your eyes and breathe in deeply, grateful for your friend's unwavering support.

“Shhhhhh y/n, it’s okay. I have you.” He wraps the fluffy bath towel around your body, keeping you warm.

“Please Eddie”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. I won’t let this change anything between us, I swear.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Okay,” he didn’t know if this was a good idea, but he had to do something to make you feel better; he would do anything for you; he would get the moon for you if there was a way. So he will do this for you.

He surprises you by lifting you up bridal style and carrying you to the bedroom. He's much stronger than you thought as he gently placed you down on your fresh sheets.

“Tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

“I promise, Eddie.” You nod.

Slowly, Eddie leans down to kiss you gently. The mint toothpaste still lingers on your breath. His lips feel so soft; it’s nice to be kissed.it's nice to be kissed by Eddie.

You feel his lips detach from yours, moving across your cheek and lowering your neck. The water from his hair trickled into your skin, making you shiver.

Eddie wanted to know your body, what made you tick, what made you moan, what made you needy with desire. He focused on the side of your neck and was proud when he found a spot that made you whimper.

“That okay, sweetheart?”

“Mmhmmm”

He could feel your chest rise and fall with heavy breaths. He could see he was getting you worked up the way you needed.

His timid fingers spread your legs wider so he could feel you and to Eddie’s surprise, you were still dry. He thought he would feel your slick as he slowly rubbed your pussy, but it wasn’t there.

“I uh- um. I don’t think you’re enjoying this.” he sits back, a bit defeated. This hasn’t happened to him before.

“It’s not you, Eddie; it’s me. I-I want to... You’re doing good; it’s just that sometimes girls need help if they’re like… this…”

“Oh,” Eddie understands, you're still in your head,” Eddie understands, you.

“I have lube and condoms in the nightstand”

Eddie reaches over you to grab it. The crack of the hard plastic lid is so loud in the silent room that you flinch a little.

“Sorry”

“It’s okay,” you whisper. Suddenly you’re very aware you’re naked in front of your best friend, but that is brushed to the side when you feel his slippery fingers make contact with your pussy once again.

“Ohhhh,” you breathe in.

Eddie smirks and leans in to kiss you once again. You feel his tongue slick its way past your lips; who knew he was such a good kisser.

Slowly, minute by minute, you’re actually feeling something—pleasure. Eddie brings you back to life with each touch, brush, and kiss.

“Eddie,” you moan as his fingers slip inside you.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“More,” you pant.

You don’t have to tell him twice. He will do anything to make you feel better, which seems to be working. He rips open the condom, and you surprise him by reaching up to cup his balls. He gasps, and a smirk spreads across your face for the first time in weeks.

“I knew there was a little freak you were hiding from me.” Eddie laughs, and he pulls one out of you as well. His heart swells when he hears the sound leave your lips.

“There’s my girl,” so much relief is behind his eyes.

“Hi, Eddie.” You look up at him like he’s given you all the stars in the sky.

“You still want to do this?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” he brushes your wet hair behind your ear and softly kisses you. It becomes needy quickly, and desperation takes over both of you.

It didn’t matter that you were only best friends, that you weren’t okay, that he was in just as much pain as you were. All that mattered was one another, two physical entities in your own little world. Your mind was completely erased; for a moment, you finally forgot everything weighing down on you.

Eddie continues to kiss you as he guides himself in slowly. You can’t help but take a deep breath as he pushes his way in.

As Eddie entered you, you melted into his touch. Nothing could have made you feel this good. He was consuming every inch of your being. With every brush, every thrust, every nip, kiss and bite, you were coming alive again.

Eddie’s hands travel all along your body, squeezing your breasts, tweaking your nipples, making you twitch and grind up into Eddie’s touch. Your hips are ungulate with his, and your moments become one as you and Eddie perform the perfect dance.

The past picks up faster and faster. Eddie brushes the spot inside you every single time, and you’re crying out his name.

Eddie can’t believe he’s making you feel this good, this wanted. His beautiful best friend was here helping you, holding you, and doing this for you.

“Eddie, please”

“Let go, baby”

The pet name accidentally slipped past his lips and didn’t go unnoticed. It only aided your orgasm to come that much quicker.

A wave of pleasure crashed over you as it washed through your whole body without warning.

Eddie watched as he was the one who made your body quiver, to make your eyes roll back, to have you silently screaming for him. He couldn’t hold on anymore, either. Your cunt clamped down so tightly on his cock he shook as he spilled into the condom.

His sweaty body collapses on you, and the only thing you can hear is your erratic breaths.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you sniffle, and Eddie quickly pops his head up because you’re crying once again.

“Baby, please don’t cry. I can’t take it anymore.” he holds your face, wiping away your tears with his thumbs.

“No, it's- it's happy tears; you helped me feel something. I thought I was broken. Thank you, Teddie.”

“I’ll always be here for you; I love you, sweetheart."

You didn’t care if he only meant platonically or romantically; he was your person forever and always.

“I love you too.”

Tagging some mooties!: @nailbatanddungeon @taintedcigs @hellfirenacht @littlexdeaths @andvys @rebelfell @xxbimbobunnyxx @rowanswriting @voyeurmunson @asimpforthe80s @mmunson86 @slutty-thevampireslayer @strangerstilinski

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson x depressed reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x best friend reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson angst #bestfriend!eddie munson #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader

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