#work trips can really hit or miss
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Last weekend I was on a business trip to San Antonio and while it was 90% humidity the whole weekend, I can also say I highly recommend.
The Riverwalk neighborhood was super fun to mosey around on and the vibes were just excellent.
I had really amazing food at a place called Tokyo Cowboy and a bakery called Panadería. Under recommendation from the waiter I ordered a burger and it’s easily top 5 burgers I’ve ever had. Maybe even top place but it was just so good I forget all the other burgers I’ve had in my life lol.
And I’m already forgetting the pizza place I went to: Dough. And yeah their dough lived up to the hype.
My cousin is getting married near San Antonio this fall and I’m already like…excited to go back??? Like what a plot twist.
#work trips can really hit or miss#and considering I was going to spend most of my time solo#since all the marketing people I knew were going to be busy#this trip really could have been a miss#and now I’m like…do I try to find a long weekend to go??#because I also have family near there so there that excuse#but really I will probably just wait until the wedding#claireified
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~ JB’s Little Sister ~
JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader
Warnings: smut, weed, creampie, breeding kink mentioned, a bit of spit kink but barely, hair pulling, kinda choking kink but barely. Barely proofread, plz point out mistakes.
{masterlist}
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JJ knew it was wrong but he was absolutely obsessed with the youngest Routledge sibling. It really boiled over when you were both in high school, he absolutely loved having the excuse to be near you all day. He was a year older and knew John B would lose it if he found out it was more than jokes. But he was unashamed in his decade of flirting, so much so he genuinely thought he was gonna die when you left the island for your freshman year of college. And when you came back for summer it was like a dam broke in his mind, he couldn’t hold back.
“God I’ve missed you.” JJ groaned as he and John B ran to tug you into a hug, tripping over himself right in front of you before he could reach your arms, making you laugh and give your brother the first hug. He pops up immediately, tugging you back by your waist before you can follow your brother into the Chateau where the rest of your friends wait. “Get the fuck back here, I needa hug from my favorite girl.”
“I swear you missed me more than JB did.” You laugh jumping up, fully prepared for him to catch you and he does, unabashedly letting his palms rest on the exposed flesh at the base of your shorts as you wrap your arms around his neck.
“Y’know it Mama.” His voice was deeper and laced in want, placing you back down onto your feet after squeezing you tightly. JJ lets his hands rub up your waste as you slide down his toned body before he steps back from you, wetting his lips, finally getting a good look at you after so long of only facetime. You lock your hands around his neck, smiling up at him in a way that would surely get you yelled at by John B had he seen.
“What would I do without you?” You ask, your smile wide as you look up to him. Finally allowing yourself to show him everything you wanted to for so long.
“Crash and burn of course,” He tugs you around under his arm, resting his toned bicep on your shoulder as he directs you into the Chateau for the first time since you left last fall. John B pops his head out the door watching you both as you approach him.
“What the hell is taking you so long?” He snaps, making you roll your eyes as you shove past him, begrudgingly letting JJ’s arm fall from your shoulders. As you finally step into your home you’re bombarded with hugs and welcomes, making your way into the center of the group, sitting in your regular spot in rotation right across from JJ’s. Something JB ensured as soon as he caught onto to your infatuation with his best friend. But after practically living on your own for an entire school year you were tired of your older brother taking control over your life. You had a plan, and you knew it would work.
“So what are you doing your first weekend back?”Kie asks, passing the joint they had rolled for your return your way as you try and ignore JJ’s burning gaze on you. You give yourself time to work out the best response as you take your hit, puffing on the joint again to fill your lungs a little extra before passing it off. You catch the way JJ’s adam’s apple bob’s, his eyes watching you blow the smoke past your lips as though he was in a trance.
“Well, don’t get mad but do you remember my ex, the one I broke it off with junior year?” You ask, plucking at a lose thread on your shorts, looking around at everyone but JJ’s reaction.
“That douchbag kook who was too old for you and didn’t deserve you?” John B asks sarcastically, “Yeah, how could I forget.” He rolls his eyes, puffing off the joint as you laugh at his annoyance. You let yourself steal a glimpse at JJ buying yourself time as the joint makes it’s rounds, catching the way his jaw clenches and his eyes darken. You smile to yourself, looking to the floor and feigning ignorance of his reaction.
“Yes, Tyler, he found out I was gonna be back for the summer and he asked me to get dinner later, I said I would but that it doesn’t necessarily mean we’re getting back together,” You shrug your shoulders as though it was nothing, watching JJ take his hit, his hard eyes remaining trained onto you with fire blazing behind them.
“Necessarily?!” Pope blurts out with a fake laugh, “Isn’t Tyler the asshole college dude me and JJ had to put in line a few years ago?” You feel yourself starting to laugh at Pope’s scoff of annoyance, remembering how he was always just as protective as your brother when it came to you starting to date.
“It doesn’t mean anything okay, it’s just for fun.” You shrug, ignoring the smirk Sarah sends your way as JJ begins to fume in his spot. You roll your eyes playfully away from her, smiling as she clearly picks up on what you were doing.
“That’s what you say when something definitely means something.” JJ pipes up, trying to stop his teeth from gritting together as your eyes avoid him again.
“I don’t know this guy but if he’s fun, I think you should have your fun,” Cleo states with a smile before standing and tugging Pope off with her. You shake your head, laughing as you fake a disgusted look in their direction.
“I will not be having that kind of fun.” You state, finally locking eyes with JJ, tilting your head slightly, challenging him to break eye contact first. His blown out pupils contrast against his ocean blue eyes as he holds your gaze only breaking it when John B stands up beside you.
“Yeah, right. Just don’t bring him back here, I can’t promise I’ll remain civil this time.” Your brother laughs at your dramatic eye roll, despite knowing he was only half joking. Your eyes meet Sarah’s, your eyebrows arching for a split second before she gets your request. You hold back a sigh at watching your plan fall perfectly into place, Sarah hopping off the couch she was occupying to tug at her boyfriends wrist.
“And what were you and Sarah going to be doing? Hm lemme think…” JJ finally laughs at your words, watching the way you jokingly tap your chin as the pair retreat into the Chateau towards John B’s bedroom. Sarah giggling, winking back at you over her shoulder, fully supporting you in your endeavors unlike your brother.
“And I think that would be my cue,” Kie says between laughs, shaking her head in mock disappointment, “I hope you two know what you’re doing.” She states in a sing song voice before slipping out the door and out of sight. You watch JJ’s confused face, his eyebrows furrowed adorably watching her leave, his lips trying to form a question as he mutters confusedly before she’s gone.
“Wanna come hotbox the Twinkie with me Jay?” You stretch out towards him, kicking his thigh softly, snapping his eyes back to yours. He caught the twinkle in your eyes, the slight tilt to your head and part of him already knew.
And with one decision, he ended up getting everything he wanted.
“You don’t even gotta ask Mama.” JJ responds excitedly, immediately hopping up in front of you as he reaches his ring clad hand down to take yours, “M’lady?”
~~~~
“Come on, he’ll never know I swear.” JJ begged, continuing the non-stop flirting he’d started from the second he began rolling a blunt for you both. Ever since you mentioned you had a date his “jokes” started to feel more and more serious, making your giddy excitement skyrocket as you slowly push yourself closer to him in your seat.
“John B would literally kill you if he found out,” you laugh, taking a puff off the blunt before passing it off to him again, “He doesn’t care that I’m in college now and more responsible than him, he’s overprotective.”
“Then I would die happy Baby,” He states, shrugging his shoulders as he hits the blunt blowing the smoke directly in your face from across him, “You know me, imma’ daredevil.”
“See you don’t even actually want me Jay, you just like the chase,” Your eyes meet his through the haze of smoke slowly filling the Twinkie, “You think it would be hot to sneak around.” You fill your voice with teasing interest, knowing he would pick up on the change in your tone immediately.
“It would be really hot yeah but you’re also one of my best friends.” His breathless voice takes you by surprise as he leans forward to hand you the blunt, letting his fingers brush yours for too long, catching your eyes again and forcing you to maintain eye contact. He does love a chase, but the excitement of finally hearing your interest after so long of getting the cold shoulder sends him reeling more than the desperation for your attention that John B denied him ever did.
“Which should discourage you Jay.” He watches the way your eyebrow raises with your tone, wetting his lips as his brain reminds him of the many times he watched you flirt at the Boneyard, taking charge and wrapping some poor sucker around your finger for the night. His heart started to race, a smile growing on his lips when he takes note of your tell.
You were finally flirting back.
“Well it doesnt, and I don’t care about no pogue on pogue anymore either Sweetheart, I do genuinely want you.” JJ tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth, watching your face and he can tell he’s finally got you, “And if John B kills me and dumps my body in the marsh so be it.”
JJ watched your lips wrap around the blunt sucking in your hit it, blue eyes bouncing from the smoke pouring past your lips to your eyes still locked onto him. “Wanna shot gun it Jay?” You blurt out, smiling teasingly as you push yourself impossibly closer to him on the bench in the back of the Twinkie. Loving the way his eyes found yours immediately, swallowing thickly while he nods.
“Yes, yes I do.” His hands found your waste as though it was second nature, pulling you into his lap where you rest your weight with a sigh. Your eyes stay locked in his gaze, taking a long drag to properly fill your mouth with the warm smoke. You watch JJ’s face intently before tugging his mouth up to yours by his stubbled chin. You ghost your lips against his, letting them touch each other just slightly while you pass him your hit. You lean back in his lap to watch as his eyes flutter shut, feeling the way his fingers grip your hips as he inhales the smoke you gave him.
“Y’like that Baby?” You ask and a moan vibrates through his body and into yours at the sound of the nickname, a smile subconsciously covering his face as his eyes stay closed. You take the opportunity to put out the smoking blunt in the ashtray behind you, letting your now free hands roam across his chest and shoulders as you pull yourself back to him.
“I think I’m dreamin’ Sweetness,” He sighs, his hands dancing up and down your waste, gripping at your flesh everywhere he stops. You giggle above him, wiggling your hips against the growing bulge in his shorts and sending a shiver through his body.
“You’re not Jay,” You whisper, resting your hands on his shoulders has his eyes flicker open to watch you, “Do you wanna kiss me?” Your voice comes out soft despite the confidence you feel, slightly rocking your hips against him as he nods desperately.
His hand rubs its way up your back, gripping the back of your neck and smashing your lips into his. The kiss is heated as soon as you touch, years of pent up feelings urge you both further, your lips fighting each other as you moan into his mouth. You graze your tongue against his bottom lip asking for entrance, making him groan into you gripping your lower waste harder, tugging you impossibly closer and shoving his tongue past your gasping lips. You laugh into the kiss, sighing as you grind into him feeling him entirely through his and your own shorts. The taste of his spit coating your tongue sending a wave of excitement through you, the puddle in your panties growing as you swirl your tongue against his, coating your mouth in his saliva.
JJ pulls back suddenly, his blown out eyes watching your face intently as you whine for him to come back. Your brows furrowing, your fingers tugging at his shirt collar desperate to have his taste on your lips again. “Jayy, come on.” You beg, bucking against his hard bulge again desperately.
“You’re not just doin’ this because the weed though, right?” He asks, his voice desperate and strained. You laugh, tugging him closer by his shoulders, grinding into his lap harder and tangling your fingers in his hair to tug on it hard.
“You are absolutely clueless JJ, I have been obsessed with you for years, why do you think JB hates us being alone together.” You drag your lips against his neck as you speak feeling the way he twitches against you, itching to finally get you the way he needed, “You have no idea how many times I’ve thought of ridin’ you in this van.”
“I’ve thought about taking you in damn near every position, everywhere on this fucking island.” He responds, holding back a moan at the feeling of you pressing against him.
“Well, no one can stop you now because I say what you can and can’t do to me.” He growls as he smashes his lips back onto yours. Maneuvering your body so you laid under him across the bench of the van, one hand disappearing between your bodies, tugging at the button on your shorts to let his hand fall into them. He circles his finger slowly against your clothed clit, laughing as his eyes find yours again, your brows furrowing and your mouth falling open, “You’re so fucking wet.” He laughs out, his free hand drifting to wrap softly around your neck tugging you towards him again and capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.
He moans against your tongue as your hand falls to palm him through his shorts, making him pull back quickly, the clank of his belt coming undone so quickly sending a shiver down your spine. Your eyes follow his movements entranced by him, watching as he tugs his shorts and boxers down together, letting himself spring free. His tip bounces against his lower abdomen making him hiss lightly, his hand falling to stroke himself slowly, thumbing his leaking tip as his free hand springs into action. He tugs your shorts and panties down in quick, smooth motions sighing heavily when he spreads your thighs to get a look at you. His hand speeds up at the sight of your glistening folds, groaning into his kiss bruised lip while you desperately wiggle your hips below him. His thumb moves subconsciously, pulling one of your sticky lips to the side and watching as they clap back together when he releases it, growling at the sight of how wet he can make you.
His eyes meet yours, groaning as he feels your hand replacing his on his cock. His fingertips ghost against your thighs slowly working their way up your body, catching on the tank top you wear to slowly pull it up your chest.
“You’re so fucking beautiful Sweetheart, look at you, your nipples are all perky for me.” His tongue swipes against his lips before he dives into your chest, tugging your shirt off fully over your head and tossing it behind him before swirling his warm tongue against your hard nipple. Your fingers of your free hand get lost in his hair, tugging lightly as the other moves lower palming his tightening sack as he moves to suck your other nipple into his mouth. Groaning and moaning into your flesh, biting your nipple and making you whine underneath him.
“Please fuck me Jay, I wanna feel you inside me already.” JJ pushes himself up, his strong arms framing your face as he watches you, spit coating his lips and making them glisten. His brows furrow in pleasure as your hand picks up speed between your bodies, “Please Baby, I need you.” You emphasize your words with a squeeze of your fingers, slowly drifting your hand up ghosting your fingers against his tip and feeling him twitch in your palm before tugging your hand away. Quickly you drift your hand up his shirt, digging your nails into his chest and dragging them down his abdomen, marking him as he shudders above you. “Take your fucking shirt off and fuck me already JJ, or I swear you won-“
JJ pushes off of you immediately, pulling his shirt off over his head in a flash before falling back onto you. Holding his weight on his arm beside your head as his free hand falls to line himself up at your entrance. His fingers tangle in your hair at the side of your head, his lips capturing yours as his tip slowly slips into your drenched center, “You’re so fuckin’ needy, been waitin’ too long for this to not take it slow with you.” He gasps against your lips, breathing heavily as he slides into you slowly letting his hand drift up to wrap around your neck possessively, “I want you to feel every bit of me Baby.”
“It’s not like this is never gonna happen again Jay,” You moan, his cock stretching you out, sending your juices leaking past him and onto the blanket below you as he slowly penetrates you, “Unless you didn’t want t-“
“Shut the fuck up,” JJ growls, snapping his hips into you and cutting you off with a moan as he fills you completely, “I know you won’t be able to get enough of me after this, but don’t worry imma fuck you every chance you give me. I can feel you clenching around me already Gorgeous, so don’t play because I’m in charge now.”
He pulls out slowly, his eyes falling to watch his glistening skin as he slips out of you. His tip rests inside you while you pucker around him, desperately trying to suck him back into you. His bright blue excited eyes bounce to yours, your brows furrowed adorably, your teeth digging into your lip. He thrusts into you, filling you back up and forcing your mouth open with a moan. His hips start to rock against you, setting a slow but rough pace as he dips his head to catch your lips in a slow, passionate kiss matching the desperate thrusts of his hips against yours.
JJ’s thrusts speed up, dragging against your twitching walls and hitting your cervix each time. He twitches inside you as your tongue swirls around his, moaning in your mouth and letting his hand fall down your neck to your chest, stopping for only a second to squeeze at your breast before continuing his decent. You gasp into his mouth as his fingers find your clit again, circling over it and dropping his lips to kiss down your neck.
JJ speeds up his finger’s movement as his pace slows, trying to control himself. The feeling of your walls clenching around him, your slick sticking to him every time his balls slap against you pushing him dangerously close to the edge. Your hips move desperately trying to speed up your own release as JJ holds himself back. His teeth dig into the skin at the base of your neck groaning as your hands dance across his muscular back. Dipping low enough to grab at his ass before drifting their way back up, dragging your nails against his shoulders and making him shudder.
"Please Jay, faster," You gasp, clutching JJ's shoulders as he pounds into you slowly, letting your nails dig into his skin with each thrust. “Faster Jay I’m gonna cum,” You practically scream as his fingers rub into you impossibly faster, his hips digging into you deeper as he speeds up his thrusts again.
"You gotta be quiet Gorgeous, this thing ain't soundproof." He laughs, pushing himself above you, one hand resting beside your head, taking a second to glance out the fogged windows of the Twinkie before looking back to your closed eyes and furrowed brows. His eyes glance down your body, watching your chest rise and fall rapidly as you gush around him, slowing his fingers as you come undone below him. The band in your abdomen finally snaps, forcing you to arch into him, your nails digging down his back and leaving bright red marks behind. JJ pulls his hand from between you, sucking it into his mouth and moaning before letting it fall to your cheek, pushing your hair back as he attempts to maintain a steady pace, fucking you into oblivion as he watches your face contort in pleasure.
“Look at me.” His voice is laced in dominance, breathing heavily above you as he watches your eyes flicker open, staring up at him desperately. With a groan his mouth finds yours again, your moans mixing together while he pulls all the way out, slamming back into you and making you gasp into his mouth. Allowing his tongue to explore yours as his hips speed up even faster to a brutal pace, shaking the van with each thrust. You should be worried someone will see, but you’re too fucked out to care right now.
Your fingers tangle in his hair as his hand falls to steady himself on your hip looking for anything to grab onto, latching to reality. You tug at his hair aggressively as he bites your lip, locking your legs around his waste, whining out a moan into him as his cock hits deeper inside you making you pull his hair even harder subconsciously. Your whole body begins to twitch with overstimulation as JJ moans desperately above you, his hips stuttering and his breath shudders, “Do that again, now.”
You do as your told, moaning as his hips snap against you at an erratic, random pace when you do. “You gonna cum Jay?” You ask, your voice breathless and squeaky post orgasm.
“Mhmm, tryna convince myself I wanna pull out right now though Sweetheart.” His eyes squeeze shut, clenching his fingers onto your hip. His fingernails digging into your skin trying to control himself.
“No don’t, please don’t Jay,” you whine, locking your legs around him tighter, tugging him fully against you as he groans and moans into your neck. He whines loudly, pushing into you, his tip kissing against your cervix as you feel his hot cum paint your walls. He stills completely, dropping his weight onto you, his cock twitching inside of you as he empties himself into you.
“If I get you pregnant,” JJ huffs, pushing himself up on shaky arms to watch your face, “Your brother is definitely gonna kill me.”
“No he would never kill JJ Jr.” You laugh breathlessly, JJ’s eyes following the way your chest moves before dropping to look at where he sits inside of you. The ring of the creamy mixture of your releases at his base driving him absolutely insane, sending his head spinning with excitement.
“Fuck, I guess I have a breedin’ kink now,” He groans, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, leaving wet kisses against the warm flesh there, “Thanks for that Princess.”
JJ pushes off of you to watch as he pulls out, his intense eyes staring as your mixed release flows out of you and onto the seat below. You wiggle your hips teasingly with a tired smile before he snaps out of it. Shaking his head with a laugh as he bends over to tug his bandana free from his shorts, swiping it against your overstimulated clit as he cleans you of the sticky residue coating you.
You both redress in a comforting silence, both giggling together when you flip the blanket covering the bench of the Twinkie to the clean side. Your eyes meet his for a second too long, your shared laughter stopping slowing as he stares at you with soft eyes, his smile only growing as you lean into him. Your lips melt together in a soft, welcoming kiss before parting with a sigh. JJ’s hand falls to the ashtray sitting in the front of the van, relighting the half smoked blunt before passing it off to you. You sigh contently, smiling up at him happy that everything still feels so normal.
Once the Twinkie is filled with the scent of weed and not the evidence of your previous actives you slide the door open. The smoke falling out around you as you squint at the light change. JJ sits on the floor of the Twinkie with his legs hanging out the side door, looking at you as you stretch your arms and legs. You catch sight of John B as he emerges from the door of the Chateau, quickly walking his way towards you. You chuckle, thinking of how lucky you are he chose to come looking just after you and JJ both found your way out of the steaming van. You can feel John B’s suspicion seeping off of him like a palpable entity as he approaches, making you laugh and turn to JJ behind you. His eyes popping up off your ass and to your eyes quickly before noticing his best friend approaching over the yard behind you.
“What are you two doing?” Your brother snaps, eyeing you as you roll your eyes back to him.
“Jus’ smoking JB, I got bored waiting for you so Jay took care of me.” JJ holds back a laugh at your words, poking his tongue into his cheek while his eyes fall to the ground at his feet.
“I thought I said years ago I didn’t want you two smoking alone together.” John B states, suspicion laced in his voice and eyes. A look of disgust forming on his face when he eyes the Twinkie, seemingly looking for “clues” he will never find.
“And I distinctly remember telling you I can hang out with whoever I want. I’m an adult now, just like you, so untwist your panties.” His brows furrow in suspension once again, looking back to you desperately trying to decipher what the look in your eyes means. His gaze bouncing between you and his best friend, unsure if he should trust his gut or let it go.
“Is somthing going on with you two?” John B asks, his voice dropping to a whisper as if this was all a giant public scandal.
“Uh yeah, we’re friends.” You state with a dramatic roll of your eyes before slipping past your brother. You turn to catch JJ’s eyes over your shoulder, sending him a wink and watching him try to hide his smirk.
“Don’t you have a date to get ready for?” JB yells after your retreating form, not noticing the way JJ’s eyes lingered on you as well, eagerly awaiting your answer.
“Nope, I’m canceling, decided you were right, Tyler is a douchebag.” You don’t miss the proud smile JJ wears as you flit into the Chateau, ignoring the look your brother gives his best friend when he notices as well.
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#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank one shot#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank x yn#jj maybank x routledge!reader#jj maybank smut#jj maybank#outer banks smut#outer banks#obx#smut#jj maybank imagine#routledge!reader
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i’ve been thinking about this for so longgg
okay so basically a fic where lando and you met at a grand prix while you were doing a tour of the paddock you accidentally meet and start talking and lando asks for your number, you and your whole family have always been huge f1 fans and so you hide it from them when you start dating him but eventually bring him to meet them and it’s a big surprise and everyone is so shocked that lando is your boyfriend
Under the radar - LN4
*:・゚ Summary/request: request by anon as you can read above this!
*:・゚ Word count: 1384
masterlist / community / request
౨ৎ
You were on a tour of the paddock, weaving through the bustle of teams prepping for race day, while you tried not to be overwhelmed by the atmosphere. Your family had always been Formula 1 fanatics, and being here was a dream come true. You were taking it all in—savoring every moment of walking through the garages and team areas that you'd only ever seen on TV.
Your family had been buzzing with excitement when you told them you won tickets for the paddock tour at the Grand Prix. They were envious, of course, but you had promised to snap plenty of pictures for them. None of them could imagine the turn your day would take.
As you followed the group through the McLaren garage, something—or rather, someone—caught your eye. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw a figure rushing toward you. You stepped to the side instinctively, trying to avoid a collision, but your foot snagged on something, and before you could blink, you were falling backward.
Except, you didn’t hit the ground.
A pair of strong hands caught your shoulders, and you gasped, steadying yourself as you regained your balance. When you looked up, your eyes met warm brown ones, sparkling with amusement and a hint of concern. Lando Norris.
“Are you okay?” he asked, a grin slowly tugging at his lips.
For a second, your brain went blank. Was this actually happening? Was Lando Norris—McLaren's star driver, F1 wonderkid, and easily one of the funniest guys on the grid—really holding onto you?
“I—yeah, sorry!” you blurted, trying to compose yourself, though your heart was beating too fast. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“No worries, happens to the best of us,” he chuckled, still holding onto your arms. “But I have to say, it’s not every day someone literally falls for me.”
You blinked at him, then laughed, the tension breaking. “Does that line work often?”
“More than you'd think.” He winked, releasing his hold on you, though he seemed reluctant to do so.
The tour group was already moving on, but you hesitated, still standing in front of Lando, unsure of what to say or do next.
He tilted his head slightly, noticing your uncertainty. “Are you with the group?”
“Yeah, but…” You waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. They won’t miss me.”
Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by your response. “Hmm, playing hooky already?”
You shrugged, biting back a smile. “Maybe.”
“Well, if you’re gonna skip out, you might as well do it properly. Come on,” he said, jerking his head toward the pit wall. “Let me show you around.”
You blinked. “Really?”
“Why not? You already tripped into me—seems like fate, doesn’t it?” His grin was contagious, and despite the voice in your head screaming that this was all surreal, you found yourself walking beside him as he led you past the rows of McLaren engineers, their heads down in concentration, and into areas the tour definitely wasn’t going to cover.
-
The rest of the tour passed in a blur—Lando showed you parts of the garage up close, pointing out the intricacies of the car, telling you little jokes about his teammates, and talking about life on the circuit. It felt strangely…normal. The kind of normal where you could forget he was a famous Formula 1 driver and just see him as the charming, cheeky guy he was.
By the time you both circled back around to the paddock entrance, you’d learned that he loved golf, he was obsessed with video games, and he had a dry sense of humor that had you laughing far too easily.
You didn’t want the conversation to end, but you knew it had to eventually. “Thanks for, um, the tour,” you said, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt.
“No problem. You should come back, you know.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder toward his team, who were undoubtedly waiting for him to rejoin them. Then he turned back to you with that grin that made your stomach flip. “Give me your number.”
Your heart skipped a beat. “What?”
He chuckled softly, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. “Your number. So we can keep in touch.”
You blinked, processing what he was asking. Lando Norris wants your number? This was a conversation you were definitely not ready for. But despite the swarm of butterflies in your chest, you handed over your phone.
As you typed in your number, you couldn’t help but wonder how you were going to explain this to your family. Oh, nothing major, just met Lando Norris today…
-
You didn’t tell anyone. Not at first, at least.
After that day, Lando had texted you the very next evening, something casual about how he hoped you hadn’t tripped over anything else after you left. You laughed out loud, and your reply had been easy, comfortable. Before you knew it, the two of you were talking almost daily—texts that quickly evolved into phone calls and, eventually, meeting up at a few more races.
By the time you realized what was happening, you and Lando were dating. Quietly, but officially.
Your family had no idea.
It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell them—it was just…complicated. Your parents, your siblings—everyone in your family was obsessed with Formula 1. They knew every driver, every stat, every bit of news before it even hit the headlines. The idea of telling them you were dating an F1 driver—their favorite driver—felt impossible. You could already picture their reactions. The shouting, the questions, the disbelief.
So you kept it to yourself. For now, at least.
-
Months passed, and things with Lando grew deeper, more serious. He wasn’t just the famous driver anymore—he was Lando, the guy who made you laugh when you were stressed, who sent you goofy selfies from the hotel on race weekends, and who listened when you vented about your day. He was sweet, thoughtful, and maybe a little too good to be true.
Eventually, the time came when hiding him from your family wasn’t an option anymore. You had to tell them.
-
“I have a surprise for you guys,” you said nervously, standing in your living room with Lando by your side. You hadn’t told them yet—hadn’t explained who your ‘guest’ was.
Your mom and dad were sitting on the couch, your siblings sprawled around the living room, all eyes on you.
“What kind of surprise?” your sister asked suspiciously, glancing at Lando with a raised brow. He was wearing a baseball cap, pulled low enough that it wasn’t obvious who he was, but it wasn’t going to take long for them to figure it out.
You swallowed hard, glancing at Lando, who gave you a reassuring smile. He reached for your hand, squeezing it gently before stepping forward, taking off his cap and revealing his face.
For a split second, there was silence.
Then your dad nearly choked on his drink. “L-Lando Norris?” he stammered, eyes wide. Your siblings were frozen, mouths hanging open as they stared at him in disbelief.
“Surprise!” you said, giving them a nervous smile.
Lando, ever the charmer, grinned and waved. “Hi, nice to meet you all.”
Your family erupted into chaos. Your mom jumped up, asking a million questions at once, while your siblings started shouting over each other, and your dad was still trying to process what was happening.
“I can’t believe it,” your brother said, eyes wide as he stared at Lando. “Are you really dating my sister?”
Lando chuckled, sliding his arm around your waist. “Yep. Guess you’re stuck with me.”
You couldn’t help but laugh, relief flooding through you as you realized everything was going to be okay. Your family was shocked, yes—but in the best way possible.
And as you stood there, watching Lando joke with your siblings, you realized something else.
You weren’t just dating an F1 driver. You were dating Lando, and somehow, that was even better.
౨ৎ
*:・゚ Notes; thank you for reading, love’s! Hope you all enjoyed it! If there is something wrong or need to be edited, let me know! Also hey anon! If you read this, I hope that this is what you had in mind!
#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1#formula one x reader#formula one x you#lando norris#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fluff#lando norris fic#lando norris x reader#lando x y/n#lando norris imagine#lando x you#lando x reader#lando imagine#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norizz#lando nowins#f1 fluff#f1 x female reader#f1 x y/n#f1#f1 2024#formula one#formula racing#grand prix
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 20: The New Normal
Summary: Your pack settles into a routine as you learn to adapt to the shifting relationships between all of you.
Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz
Word Count:
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, p in v sex, unprotected sex, threesome, BDSM elements, dry humping, language, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, smoking, Gaz being the prettiest boy alive.
A/N: Not much to say about this one. Hope it's worth a two week wait...
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A yelp leaves your lips as your feet leave the ground, your body hitting the floor rather ungracefully. You roll from the force of the impact, stopping flat on your back. You stare up at the ceiling, trying to catch the breath that was forced from your lungs from your impact with the floor.
“You left yourself too open again.”
“Well how was I supposed to know which way you were moving?” You say, slowly pushing yourself back up to sit as you catch your breath.
“You can’t, that’s why you have to keep yourself guarded at all times. Anyone you’re fighting will do worse than that as soon as your guard is down.”
You stare at Simon’s shoes as he stops a foot away from you. The laces are pulled to the exact same tension on both sides, double knotted to avoid them coming undone and becoming a tripping hazard. Even the way his crew socks are pulled up over the legs of his sweatpants speaks volumes of how on guard he is. Always ready for a fight, always ready so that nothing can get in his way and put him at risk.
He lets out a quiet sigh as he drops down into a squat in front of you. “How have you been sleeping?”
Your gaze finally leaves his shoes, trailing up his legs to his arms where they rest on his knees. You follow the lines of his tattoos until you reach where his shirt sleeve covers the rest. You work your way up until you reach his mask-covered face, finally meeting his brown eyes. There's a softness to them now you've never noticed before, something you might not have taken notice of now had you not become brave enough to look that deep.
“Better,” You clear your throat, dropping your gaze to the mat. “But still not great.”
This morning had started with you shaking in Johnny's hold, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he whispered soft reassurances in your ear. The nightmares haven't gone away since your confession, nor have they even really lessened, but at least now you aren’t suffering alone when they wake you from your sleep. At least now your pack knows how to best comfort you when your mind insists on silently torturing you.
You still haven’t slept alone since they returned, nor have you spent any great length of time in your room. There’s still a lingering feeling of someone watching, of something staring at you from inside the walls. You’ve checked while they were at training for any cameras you might have missed, but you’ve come up empty handed. Maybe it was just the knowledge that your safe space had been invaded causing that paranoid itching in the back of your mind to linger. None of the guys have complained about you staying with them at night, though perhaps you have your confession about your nightmares to thank for that.
“The nightmares?” Ghost asks, snapping you from your thoughts.
You nod. “Yeah.”
The risk of them finding out about your nightmares has made you less afraid to sleep, but still the fear of what horrible scene your mind will come up with keeps you awake. You pull your knees to your chest, making yourself small as you sit in front of him. He’s just so big, so broad and bulky, truly the ideal specimen of a perfect alpha. He’s the kind of alpha your fellow omegas at the institute would whisper about. Some big, strong protector who would provide for them and keep them safe and satisfied.
If only they could see you now.
Despite the shift in your relationship with Simon, things haven’t changed much. He’s still the quiet, looming figure behind you, posing a silent threat to anyone who might think about approaching you. He still places a hand on your back to steer you, still stands closer behind you than he used to, still looks at you with a softer look in his eyes than you’ve ever seen before. Sometimes you’re tempted to push that boundary first, to lean in and rest your head on his broad chest, feel the muscle under his shirt again. You want to press up against his back while he sleeps and let his warmth seep into your bones. Sometimes when you’re alone and your thoughts begin to run rampant, you think about how you have nothing to fear because Simon would rip the face off anyone who tried anything.
Of course, he has to be here in order to do that.
You won’t have to be alone again. John had promised you that much. He’d fight harder to make sure you’re not alone again. Not, at least, for a while if it can be avoided.
“You’re thinking too much again.” Simon says, pulling you from your thoughts for a second time.
You stare at him, suddenly realizing he’s moved closer to you. You’re not sure when he did, too caught up in your own thoughts to be aware of your surroundings. It’s dangerous, your ability to sink into your mind and get lost there. You know it and they know it. Yet you can’t help it. It’s safer in your head, easier to exist in a place where you’re in control, where you can predict what’s going to happen next.
Simon’s hand wraps around your ankle, tugging you closer to him. You fall flat on your back on the mat, body sliding partially under his. He looms over you, settling his weight across your thighs as his hands come to rest on either side of your head. Your eyes are wide as you stare up at him, your heart pounding in your chest, as it usually does when you’re in this position.
“Now, what do you do when someone pins you?” He asks, the sharpness back in his gaze as he stares down at you.
Lay here and don’t move, or at least that’s what you want to do currently. He’s just so big and warm, and the way he makes you feel so small under him has your head spinning. How you wish he’d press his body into yours, let you feel him completely. The scents in the air begin to thicken as you find your head tilting back on instinct, baring your throat to him in submission.
His hand closes around your chin, forcing your gaze back on his. “Focus.” He says, projecting his scent more to try and cover yours. It goes straight to your head, your gaze sharpening just slightly as you stare up at him. The scent of alpha around you has your mind racing in several different directions. You know you should be afraid, but it’s Simon. You know him, you trust him. He’d never hurt you intentionally, but he’s still an alpha.
The strong musky scent has something in the back of your head prickling, your instincts teetering on the edge of safety and danger. You know the alpha over you, but what if it was someone else? That was the point of all of this, right? You won’t be fighting off Simon or John. It will be someone unfamiliar, someone who wants to hurt you.
Simon’s fingers leave your chin, trailing down your neck. Your pulse thrums faster as his fingers near the base of your throat. The scent of alpha is strong in your nose. How easily he could slip his hand around the back of your neck and squeeze, rendering you brainless and under his control.
Your mind goes blank and you move without even thinking. Your fist slams into his side right where he’d taught you to hit. He buckles at the sudden attack and you use his moment of surprise and disorientation to free one of your legs and drive your knee right into his stomach. You push him off of you, scrambling back a couple feet before your mind begins to clear. Simon lays on the mat, almost wheezing as he tries to get the air back into his lungs.
You flounder there for a moment, watching the giant alpha you had just incapacitated. You don’t know where that came from or how you’d managed it. No, that’s not totally true. You know where the fear had come from, but you also know Simon would never do something like that to you.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You say, shifting onto your knees in case Simon retaliates, in case he gets angry at you for attacking him. “I don’t know what just happened.”
“The hell are you apologizing for?” He coughs out, pushing himself onto his side. “That was bloody brilliant.”
You blink in surprise, taken aback by his response. “What?”
“That’s what you were supposed to do.” He says, pushing himself the rest of the way up onto his knees. “I asked what you should do if you’re pinned, and you did it.”
You continue to stare at him, not quite sure how to process the sort-of praise from him. He had asked you what you should do if you were pinned, and you had done what you were supposed to do. It hadn’t quite been for the right reasons, but you did do something correctly. You managed to incapacitate him enough to get out from underneath him, and without him going easy on you.
Maybe the training is working after all.
“Do that in a fight, you might just give yourself enough time to run.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. “Good job.”
You continue to stare at him as he passes you, heading to the bench where your belongings sit. You’re still kneeling there on the mat in surprise. You hadn’t expected such genuine praise from him. But why not? He’s doing this to train you, to teach you how to defend yourself against anyone who might want to hurt you. Anyone who’s stupid enough to try something when they’re not here to defend and protect you.
Something that’s already happened.
You’ve finally managed to defend yourself, to apply the things he’s spent weeks teaching you successfully. Why shouldn’t he be proud of you for that?
You’re still getting used to this new side of him, this accepting side, the softness that he’s showing you in his own way. It’s what you wanted, what you’ve been trying to achieve for weeks now, and now that you have it...you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Where does the boundary lie? What if you push too far? Will things go back to the way they were before? Will he shut you out completely?
Hands slip under your arms, lifting you to your feet. You turn, your head tilting back to stare up at Simon. He’s wearing that emotionless mask on his face, or at least that’s what you picture as you stare up at his eyes. It’s the look he carries the most, giving away nothing and effectively hiding what he’s feeling. You wish you could see his face. You’ve tried to draw up images of what he might look like, what he hides under the mask. He can’t be ugly, at least not totally. Johnny had reassured you of that much, but you wish for just a glimpse more than his chin and his lips when he eats.
“You’re thinking too much again.” He says, taking half a step back from you.
“Sorry.” You blink, trying to pull yourself from the depths of your mind once again.
“Come on. Let’s get breakfast.” He says, tilting his head towards the door.
You follow him from the gym, his steps markedly slower compared to how he used to walk. Gone are the days of almost having to run to keep up with him. You could almost swear he takes smaller steps too, instead of his normal long, purposeful strides. It’s almost as if he’s out for a stroll instead of being forced into the task of escorting you to breakfast.
His hand finds your back again as you enter the mess, guiding you through the tables to the line to get food. His palm is warm where it’s pressed against the middle of your back, his fingers splayed, pressing just slightly into your skin through your shirt as an alpha soldier passes just slightly too close to you.
He still won’t fill your tray for you, but you can respect that. It’s a big step, and only done if there’s interest in courting or caretaking. You don’t expect that level of intimacy from him, certainly not right now. Perhaps never.
He’s not your alpha.
He guides you to the table where the others are sitting, and you take your normal spot between John and Kyle. They both shift just slightly closer to you almost subconsciously. Everything is almost a subconscious action now. Simon’s guiding hand on your back, your alpha moving closer to you, the betas keeping you between them whenever you’re with them. It’s a good sign, or at least you think it is. It feels right, a sort of easy flow that has developed between the five of you. One you don’t have to think very hard about.
“How did trainin’ go?” Johnny asks between shoveling bites of eggs into his mouth.
“Fine.” You shrug. “Simon threw me across the mat.”
All eyes at the table turn to him despite your nonchalant tone. It wasn’t the first time it’s ever happened, and you’re sure it won’t be the last.
“She took me down herself afterwards.” Simon says, not bothering to look up from his porridge.
Now all eyes at the table are on you. Your cheeks warm and you slowly start to make yourself smaller under their gazes.
“Had her pinned and she disarmed me enough to get free.” Simon continues, his gaze lifting so he’s staring at you too.
“Christ, what I would pay tae see that.” Johnny says, grinning widely at you.
“So training is paying off then.” John says, patting your back gently.
“Guess so.” You shrug, still feeling a bit bashful under the attention. “Not sure how useful I’d be in a real fight still.”
“Well, your first defense is trying to escape. Running is always the priority, remember?” John says.
You nod. Right. Run first. Like you should have opened the window and ran when that beta knocked on your door. Like you should have run when you noticed your door was open. Like you should have run when someone tried to get into your room.
How disappointed they’d be if they knew how you failed to follow even the most basic instructions. What would have happened if you hadn’t noticed the cameras? Would whoever tried to get into your room that night still have tried to enter? What if the door had been unlocked? What if they had gotten in? What would you have done, then? Try to disarm them enough to run to Dr. Keller?
That is what you were supposed to do.
Instead you had been stupid and froze in your fear and let it all happen, and now you can’t even tell them. It’s too late, it’s been too long. They’d be too upset if you confessed now instead of if you’d done it right when they returned.
You have to bury it now and hope it stays that way for the rest of time.
John is the one that walks you back to the barracks after breakfast. You don’t remember the last time he walked you to a meal or back from it. Usually he was too busy doing his job, or setting up things, or whatever else it is he does. Walking you back to the barracks was far too menial a task for how busy he is.
You hold his hand as you walk, close enough that his arm brushes your side with every step. You don’t let go of his hand even when he walks you to your door, keeping your fingers laced as you turn to look up at him.
“You gonna be alright on your own?” He asks, staring down at you with a soft look in his eyes.
No. You’re almost tempted to say it, to throw your arms around him and confess, to beg him to keep you close, to stay, to take you with him. Anything so you won’t have to be alone ever again.
You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod. “Yeah.”
For a moment, just a moment you think he doesn't believe you. There’s a second of hesitation, a cold chill running down your spine as your anxiety spikes. What if he knows you’re lying? What if he’s testing how long you’ll keep up the charade? How long you’ll try to keep them in the dark about what happened. He knows something is wrong. He can tell.
Your back meets your door as he crowds you in, releasing your hand so he can press both into the wood on either side of you. Something warm stirs in your stomach as you stare up at him, feeling very small as he looms over you.
He lets out a low rumble in his chest as he leans down. For a moment you’re expecting a kiss, but he moves to the side at the last moment, nudging your chin so it’s tilted up, bearing your throat to him. “What’s got you so worked up, huh?” He murmurs against your neck, his beard prickling the sensitive skin. “Have we been neglecting you for too long?”
Saying yes wouldn’t be a lie. They haven’t really sought you out in that way since their return. The most you’ve gotten in the last almost two weeks was when Johnny slipped his hand into your sleep shorts, and you returned the favor. John and Kyle hadn’t really even tried to initiate anything, treating you more like you’d shatter into a million pieces if they touched you too much.
Maybe a good fuck would solve some of your issues.
It would at least help you forget for a while.
A quiet moan leaves your lips as John sucks on your mark, the imprint of his teeth scarred into your skin. The mark that claims you as his, bonded to him for the rest of your life.
Lust and desire burns hot in your veins and you find yourself cupping his face, tugging him away from your neck so you can kiss him. He lets out a growl against your lips as you kiss him like you want to devour him, your hands sliding to his shoulders to tug him closer to you. His hands drop from the door to rest on your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel him, his cock hardening through his cargo pants.
You’d let him take you right here, right now, right in the hallway. You don’t care that anyone could walk in at any moment, anyone would be able to see you. It feels almost like it would cleanse the barracks, free you from the fear in your mind. Allowing yourself to be so vulnerable out in the open could wipe away the worry that there’s someone around every corner, someone watching you.
Getting railed by your alpha against the very door that separated you from the room that now held your worst nightmares might just fix you.
But, just like everything else that’s happened recently, you don’t get that chance.
John’s watch begins to beep in your ear, causing him to pull away from you. You let out a quiet whine as you’re forced apart, suddenly feeling chilled from the loss of warmth against you.
John lets out a quiet sigh, leaning his forehead against yours. “I have to go.”
You wish he didn’t. You’re half tempted to beg him to stay, to fuck his job, his duties. You want him to stay, to give all his attention to you, just for a few hours. You want him to erase the fear and the anxiety and fix you.
“We’ll continue this later.” There’s a promise to his tone that he’s not done with you, a guarantee that you will get to continue this once the day is over, when he can go back to being your alpha instead of a captain. He leans in, kissing you once more. “Be a good girl for me, yeah?”
You nod, watching him walk out of the barracks, the door closing softly behind him. You lean against your door for a few moments longer before letting out a breath. There’s still warmth swirling in your stomach, your underwear sticking to your damp folds. An idea pops into your head. You don’t want to go into your room, you don’t want to be in there alone right now.
Instead you head for Price’s room, unbuttoning your pants as you close the door behind you. You strip out of your pants before you climb onto the bed, making yourself comfortable. You’re going to give him a little present, a little something in revenge for leaving you high and dry, a little something to help him look forward to tonight.
Screaming. It’s all you can hear. It makes your ears ring and your head throb. Hands cling to you, nails biting into your skin. Something’s pulling on you, trying to rip you away. You’re stuck in a brutal tug of war. It hurts, but no one can hear you over the screaming. Tears are sliding down your cheeks, blazing a trail along your skin. You shouldn’t be crying, you shouldn’t be upset.
He hates it when you cry.
Alphas don’t cry.
You’re not an alpha.
You’ve committed the worst sin in his eyes, denying him the perfect pack. You’re a stain on his perfect ledger, a mistake that never should have happened.
He’s going to make sure you’re wiped from memory, from history, just as he wants.
“You can’t take her from me!” Your mother’s voice is frantic, her nails biting into your arm as she tries to pull you back into the safety of your arms.
“She’s no daughter of mine.” Your father’s fingers dig painfully into your other arm, trying to pull you away from your mother, away from your life. He’s going to throw you out like you’re nothing more than trash.
The screaming gets louder as you’re yanked from your mother’s hold, and you’re not sure if it’s her screams or your own piercing your ears.
“We have to ensure the success of this program.” The voice has changed. It’s not the cruel hands of your father holding you anymore. “It’s imperative to the future of militaries around the world.”
“No!” You scream, kicking, fighting, lashing out, but the hands won’t let go. They’re like a vice around you, like a constrictor slowly getting tighter and tighter.
“All you have to do is be a good omega,” A hand slips around the back of your neck, your skin burning from the touch. The warning is screaming in your head, louder than the screams of protest spilling from your lips. “And do exactly as you’re told.”
The fingers dig into your neck, your mind flashing for a second before it goes blank.
“No!”
You move before you’re even fully awake, sitting up straight in bed. Your hands close around the back of your neck as you curl into yourself, taking a defensive, protective position. You can still feel the cold hand on your skin, the fingers biting into the sensitive spots on your neck. You’re crying, tears and snot dripping down your face as you press it against your knees.
“No!” Another terrified cry leaves your lips as hands meet your skin, not cold or clammy, but warm and gentle. Your half asleep brain is stuck in your nightmare and can't rationalize the difference, not while you're perceiving everything as a threat.
“Easy, easy.” A voice says, speaking quietly, calmly. You recognize that voice. It’s not one from your dreams. Arms slowly wind around you, pulling you against a warm chest. “I’ve got you. It was just a dream.”
Your breaths are rapid and shaky as you slowly begin to come back to your senses. It was just a dream. You’re awake now. You know that voice.
“Alpha?” You whimper, desperately seeking the confirmation that it’s really him, that you’re really awake and free from your nightmare.
“I’m here.” He says, clutching you tightly against his chest. “Need you to breathe for me.” He pushes your head against his chest so you can feel his breaths.
You’re still crying, your breaths catching in your chest almost painfully as you attempt to follow your alpha’s deep, steady breaths. His arms are still tight around you, pinning you against his chest. His beard tickles your forehead as he leans his chin against your head. He’s projecting his scent, the smell of earth and petrichor mixed with the musk of alpha seeping into your brain.
“Good girl.” He praises you as you begin to relax, your joins unlocking from their stiffened positions, your muscles slowly loosening from how contracted they had been in your defensive position. You could have slipped into distress easily in that position, the level of fear higher than you’ve felt in a long time.
He loosens his hold on you just slightly as you begin to unravel yourself as you calm down. Your hands are still clamped around the back of your neck, your fingers trembling from how stiffly they’re held against your most vulnerable spot.
“Keep relaxing.” He says quietly, his lips brushing your hairline. “I’ve got you.”
He continues to speak to you quietly, letting you work yourself out of your tense, defensive position. You slowly begin to slide your hands away from your neck as your mind begins to clear and you realize there’s no threat to you, nothing waiting just outside your line of vision to attack. Your alpha has you, you’re safe with him, well protected.
The tears continue to fall, however, as you think back on your nightmare. It had felt so real, maybe because in a way it had been real. You had been pulled from your mother, from your home to the institute, then from the institute to the CIA, from the CIA to here and straight into General Shepherd's lap.
“Promise me,” You gasp out, your voice hoarse from crying. “Tell me you’ll never scruff me.”
“Never.” He says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I promise I’ll never scruff you.”
You press your face into his chest, breathing out a quiet sigh of relief. He could always go back on his word, he could change his mind, decide you needed to be scruffed. You know it’s foolish, having those kinds of thoughts. He’s never once gone back on his word, never once proved himself untrustworthy to you.
“I need to know if you've ever been scruffed before.” He asks, the authority slipping into his voice.
A frown pulls at your brows. You can’t remember if you’ve ever been scruffed before. Was it possible you had, but had been made to forget? Everything you’ve learned about scruffing says you would know, even if you don’t remember what happened after. It’s a very distinct feeling returning to your mind afterwards. It’s just something you’d know.
“No? I-I don’t think so?” You say. “At least I can’t remember, but I think it’s one of those things that you would know if it happened.”
“I’ve seen it happen, and I’ve seen the aftermath. You would know if it had ever happened to you.”
His words bring a shred of relief to your worried mind. You don’t want to know, you don’t want to ask how he knows, why he knows. It’s not likely he would have been able to tell you anyway. Just another secret, just another thing kept in the dark. You knew from early on they’d have their secrets, things they wouldn’t ever be able to tell you. You just never expected to have one of your own.
You curl up closer against his chest, pushing the thoughts and the guilt hanging over your head away in favor of soaking up the calming presence of your alpha. For a moment, just a moment, you can imagine everything will be alright. What’s in the past will stay there and nothing will come back to haunt you. You can just move on, and pretend like nothing happened.
You know it’s not true, but for just a moment, you can pretend that it is.
He hates it.
He hates the way he feels.
The subtle change to his heart rate, the way his insides feel like they’re fluttering, twisting. The disappointment eating him when his existence is ignored entirely in favor of those who were brave enough to open up, to allow you in.
Why is he disappointed? He’s done nothing but brush you off, keep you desperately at arms length despite your attempts to wiggle in through the slowly widening cracks in his resolve. Cracks that were formed by your very insertion into their lives. They were happy, they were fine. Then you came along and fucked everything up.
The worst part?
He likes it.
He wanted to hate you. For so long he fought that desire in him to be near an omega again, to be close enough to smell your sickeningly sweet scent. He tried to hate you, tried to ignore you, push you away from the walls he’s spent decades building up. Walls that threatened to crumble thanks to your very existence.
He’s not sure when the change happened. It was gradual, a shift in his hatred that became fascination that quickly morphed into something more. Something forbidden. Maybe it was when you submitted to him during training, or maybe it was after your first time with Johnny when his beta had looked far too pleased, and shared the intimate details of what you had done to him far too easily. Johnny’s need to yap had won out and his beta’s words had caused a stirring in his stomach he hasn’t felt in a long time.
A stirring he’d been able to ignore for so long.
For a moment, just a moment there had been fleeting curiosity. Would you try to take control with him? What if he let you do it? How long could you keep it up before you tired out and your true nature took over?
He stuffed those thoughts into the far recesses of his mind, refusing to allow them forward. He’s not getting soft, he’s not going to allow you any closer to his already cracking walls.
He tells himself that, at least until they leave. Until he sees the effect you have on his pack. The ripples in the bonds, the changes that happen almost as soon as the ramp of the plane shuts, separating you from them for the first time since your arrival.
He’s a good soldier. He can pretend nothing’s wrong, force the feelings into the back of his mind better than anyone. At least, that’s what he tells himself.
It had hurt when you ignored him on your return, throwing yourself into Price’s arms desperately and clinging to him like he might disappear. The betas had sandwiched you between them, letting you cling to them desperately as you trembled and cried. It was pathetic, but not quite as pathetic as the bitterness and the sting of disappointment in his chest.
He tried not to let himself feel it, tried to bury himself in his paperwork, tried to keep the feelings at bay, at least until Johnny had knocked on his door, mattress in tow telling him to get a blanket and head for Price’s room.
It was Kyle’s idea. Had to be. Kyle is the most nurturing of the four of them, and judging by the state of you, he must have done it because he thought it would help.
By the time he grew the balls to enter the makeshift nest, the betas had already sandwiched you between them, your form almost smothered completely under Johnny. Price had laid himself out on Kyle’s other side, and the space for him was made up of mostly Johnny’s mattress. It had to have been a deliberate move, meant for his own comfort. Sweet Johnny and his beta senses. He probably didn’t even realize what he’d done. It had just happened naturally.
It’s at Johnny’s pestering insistence that he climbs into the nest finally, laying stiffly on the mattress behind his beta. It’s been a long time since he’s been in a nest. He doesn't sleep, not much anyway, but neither does Price. Both of them are too awake, too aware, too alert. The betas sleep peacefully and so do you, probably the most sleep you’ve gotten since your heat.
The warmth in the room gets unbearable fast, the blankets quickly kicked to the end of the mattresses, along with his own sweatshirt. It’s like a sauna, and for a moment he considers opening the window, but he’s too afraid to move, too afraid to disturb the nest.
It’s when Johnny gets up to go to the bathroom that you finally move, the first time in hours. You roll into the space he had vacated, lips slightly parted as you breathe in and out easily. Johnny, the bastard, takes your empty spot, trapping you between them. He turns his back to you in hopes you stay as still as you had before, which works for a while. At least, until he feels something press up against his back. He goes still, every muscle tensing as you bury your face between his shoulder blades. He should turn over, push you away. He should nudge you back towards Johnny, let you seek out his warmth instead. Yet, he can’t bring himself to move.
He shouldn’t like it. He can’t. He can’t allow you in, he can’t let you past his rapidly crumbling walls. Yet, he does like it. He wants to feel you pressed against him, he wants to see that hidden part of you that had brought his beta to his knees so easily.
He’s supposed to be keeping his distance, and yet, here you are, forcing your way in again. It almost feels like a silent apology for yesterday, your subconscious picking up on his disappointment, and so now it’s offering him this moment in hopes he’ll forgive you.
It’s working.
A quiet breath leaves your lips as you listen to the steady beating beneath your ear. The scent of coconut and saltwater floats in the air, taking your mind far away, back to a different time when things were simpler. Kyle’s calloused fingers trail across your arm, drawing absentminded patterns across your skin. You press your face against his warm skin, your hand splaying across his stomach. You can feel the ridges of his muscles, the way they flex with every breath.
“What’s on your mind?” He asks, his lips brushing your forehead as he speaks.
“Just thinking about when we used to go to the beach when I was younger. Back when my dad was stationed in North Carolina for a few months.”
“You like the beach?” He asks.
You nod. “Yeah. There’s just something calming about it. I don’t mind the sand and I like the sound of the waves hitting the shore.”
“We could go to the beach.” He says, making you tilt your head up just slightly. “When the weather’s nicer, closer to summer. Take a few days off, go on a vacation.”
“You could do that?” You ask, pushing yourself up on your elbow so you can see him fully.
He smiles at you, his hand dropping to your back. “We do get to go on leave every so often, barring nothing urgent happens while we’re away. I’ll talk to Price about it. We can start making some plans, if you want.”
You stare down at him, the softness in his gaze, the slight upward tilt of his lips. He might as well have just promised you the world with how he’s looking at you. Tears burn at the back of your eyes as you stare at him. You don’t deserve it, you don’t deserve such kindness, such care after lying to them. You can trust Kyle. He’d be the least angry, at least towards you, if you confessed right now. It would be so easy, but you’re not sure you could stand watching the love and happiness fade from his eyes as you confessed to your stupidity, your deception.
“What is it?” He asks, his brows furrowing. Of course he’d pick up on the shift of your emotions, the sudden anxiety twisting in your stomach. “We don’t have to go to the beach. We could do something else, or nothing at all.”
“It’s not that.” You say, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I just...I don’t deserve you. All of you. You’re too good to me.”
“Oh, love, that’s not true.” He says, gently cupping your cheek. “I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. You’re too good for us. The things we’ve seen, the things we’ve done. We’re not good people, and yet we were blessed with an absolute angel.”
Tears gather in your eyes for a different reason now. You certainly don’t feel like an angel. You’re too broken and you’ve lied and made stupid mistakes. “I’m hardly an angel.”
“Well, in comparison to us, you are.” He gently presses against your back, drawing you closer to his face. “Our angel, our sweet little omega.”
A shiver runs down your spine from the way your status sounds from his lips. His hand slides to the back of your head, pulling you down so your forehead is pressed against his. You can feel his breath on your lips, your tongue darting out to wet your own in anticipation.
He tastes like mint toothpaste, his tongue immediately pushing past the seam of your lips. His kiss steals your breath away, his hand tangling in your hair to keep you in place as he licks into your mouth. Your hand settles on his chest for balance, feeling his heart racing under your palm.
You shift over him, throwing a leg across his hips as you settle against his chest. His hand releases your hair, tracing a line down your spine to your hips. The shirt of his you had changed into before crawling into bed with him has ridden up, revealing the lacy panties you're sporting underneath. He groans against your lips as his fingers trace over the lace before slipping underneath, tugging them lightly.
You pull away from his lips, staring down at him. “I’m gonna need more pairs of these at this rate.”
“We’ll have to take a trip and pick up more.” He grins, snapping the waistband against your skin.
You bite your lip, pressing yourself up so you’re sitting over his hips. You can feel the growing bulge beneath his shorts as you begin to grind against him. He’s gone commando, your clit catching on his head through the thin fabric. Your hands press into his stomach, feeling the muscles contract as your scent thickens in the air. His hands close around your hips, guiding you as you grind against him. His eyes are hooded as he stares up at you, his teeth sinking into his lower lip.
You stare down into those big brown eyes, getting lost in the depth of them. If you could melt yourself into him, seep under his skin and become one with him, you would. He might be the most beautiful person you’ve ever laid eyes on. He might as well be sculpted from marble, or pulled right from a piece of artwork.
You shift so you’re leaning forward, your clit dragging against his stomach as you continue moving your hips. You grasp his chin, fingers digging into his cheeks. “You’re so fucking pretty, it’s not fair.”
He chuckles, giving you a dazzling, perfect smile. “Thank you, love.” He wraps his arms around you, pushing himself up to sit so you drop into his lap. “But I’m nothing compared to you right now.”
He keeps you grinding against his lap, his hands squeezing your ass as you soak the front of his shorts with every drag of your hips. Your head falls back as you moan, the friction against your clit quickly pushing you towards an orgasm.
“Haven’t even touched you yet and got you all worked up. You could cum just like this, couldn’t you?” He nips playfully at your lips, sliding his hand down further to press against your lace covered pussy.
You let out a whine, releasing your hold around his shoulders long enough to tug off your shirt. He curses quietly as your skin is revealed to him, his hands trailing up your back.
“Fucking hell, love.” He groans, pushing his hips up into you.
“Kyle,” You moan his name, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Need you.”
He curses again, wrapping his arms around your waist for leverage as he flips you over onto your back. He sits up on his knees, trailing his hands down your sides until he reaches the waistband of your panties, trailing his fingers across the lace for a moment.
“You alright?” He asks, checking in with you.
You nod, lifting your feet so they press against his chest. “You gonna take them off already?”
He grins, sliding his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down your legs before tossing them to the floor. He parts your thighs to give himself room as he pulls off his own shorts, his cock springing free from the confining fabric. Your mouth waters as you stare at it, your teeth sinking into your lip in anticipation.
“Fuck,” He breathes as he pushes your thighs further apart, dark eyes glued to your glistening folds.
He slides his hands down your thighs, his thumb ghosting over your clit. Your hips jerk in response, pushing up against his hand. He chuckles, repeating the motion, watching the way your lips part in a moan.
“Always so sensitive.” He smirks, pressing his thumb into the bundle of nerves. “Even after Price fucked you senseless a couple nights ago.”
Your face warms at his words, your stomach fluttering excitedly. Of course they had heard you. You’ve long given up on trying to hide what goes on behind their closed doors. They all know, they already knew from the first night you spent with John.
He had been rather rough that night, fucking you into the mattress so hard the headboard had scraped some of the prison grey paint off the walls. You had asked for it, though, both of you needing the raw, carnal release it had given you.
“Yeah, we all heard that.” Kyle continues, slowly circling your clit with his thumb as he speaks. “Sounded like a couple of animals in there. If you hadn’t been screaming his name over and over, we might have been worried he’d mauled you to death. Simon and I had to keep Johnny occupied so he wasn’t tempted to join you.”
Your pussy flutters at the thought of the three of them together, riled up by you and John. You can almost picture it, Johnny in Simon’s lap, bouncing on his cock while Kyle sucks him off from the front. Or did Johnny submit to both and suck Kyle’s cock while Simon took him from behind? Or was Simon more of a giver and sucked him off while Kyle fucked him? Or did Simon take both of them after making them both suck his cock?
The endless stream of thoughts has your pussy clenching, slick dribbling out of you as your legs start to shake. It’s almost too much with the pressure against your clit, your body heating from the fire ignited in your veins.
“Liked that, didn’t you?” Kyle smirks, removing his hand from your clit to lean down over you. “Maybe next time we’ll squeeze you in right in the middle. Would you like that?”
You nearly cum from his words alone, your hands grasping at his shoulders. “Fuck, Kyle! I need you inside me right now.”
“So impatient.” He tsks, leaning forward to bite at your lips. “Such a needy little omega.”
“Please!” You almost sob, lifting your hips to press against his. “I need you.”
He shushes you, pressing a soft kiss against your lips before sitting back up onto his knees. He shifts slightly closer to you, propping your legs up over his thighs. His hand fists his cock, pumping the hard length a couple times before he drags the head through your folds. You whine impatiently, trying to lift your hips to grind against him but he presses a hand into your stomach, pinning you against the bed.
“Patience.” He scolds you, sending a shiver down your spine.
He drags his head through your folds a couple more times before he finally presses into you, stretching you open. You go lax on the bed, relaxing around him as he rocks his hips into you, sinking in deeper with every movement.
You reach for him as he sinks completely into you, pulling him down so he’s hovering over you. He presses his lips to yours, kissing you softly as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as you can. His arms slip around your back as he begins grinding against you, his thrusts shallow and soft. It’s so very different from how John had taken you just a couple days ago. Kyle has always been softer, gentler, more passionate than rough and eager.
You moan softly against his lips, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him locked against you. You want to get closer to him, but you’re not sure you can get closer than you already are. Bodies pressed together, his cock inside you, lips pressed to yours as he holds you. There’s a prickling under your skin, an urge to devour him, to keep him here forever. He snaps his hips into you harder, his lips trailing down to your throat, sucking at the sensitive skin. You tilt your head to the side, your eyes widening as a gasp leaves your lips. Your fingers dig into Kyle’s side, his head snapping to the side, sensing the disturbance in the room.
“Don’t stop on my account.” John leans against the closed door, a cigar in his hand.
You’re not sure how long he’s been there, how he got in without either of you noticing. Kyle especially, since he was usually so in tune with his surroundings. Pride flashes through you at the thought of him being so lost in you, he can’t focus on anything else. The scent of tobacco washes over you as John takes a long drag from his cigar. He must not have been there long, or maybe you’ve just been so caught up in Kyle’s scent you hadn’t noticed.
Kyle is frozen above you as John pushes off the door, approaching the bed slowly. Kyle shifts above you so he can hold John’s gaze as he stops at the edge of the bed. Excitement swirls in your stomach as you stare up at him in anticipation of what he’s going to do. His hand lifts, dragging down Kyle’s back to his ass.
John delivers a harsh slap to his cheek, Kyle’s hips snapping into yours in response as a moan leaves his lips. “Did I tell you to stop, soldier?”
“No, sir.” Kyle grunts out, starting to rock his hips into yours again.
You watch the change happen almost immediately, the natural shift between them. Kyle’s not in charge anymore, quickly handing over control to John despite the fact he’s the one inside of you. It’s a subtle submission, yet you can sense the changes in them both.
John massages Kyle’s ass for a moment before shifting so he’s closer to you. You stare up at him, lips parted as you whimper quietly. “There’s my pretty girl.” He praises you as he leans down, brushing his thumb over your lips before pushing it into your mouth. You close your lips around his thumb, sucking on it. “Such a good girl, isn’t she?”
“Yes, sir.” Kyle grunts, continuing to thrust into you harder than he had been before.
John takes another drag from his cigar as you moan around his thumb, your hands gripping the sheets as Kyle continues to thrust into you, the head of his cock dragging across that spot inside you from the angle he’s at. Moans slip from Kyle’s lips as you clench around him, his own hands digging into the sheets. Sweat has beaded across his forehead, a droplet sliding down his cheek to his neck, leaving a trail as it slowly drips down his chest. Drool slips out of your mouth around John’s thumb. You want to lick the sweat from his chest. You want to taste him.
John slips his thumb from your lips, dragging it across your chin, smearing saliva all over your skin. “Look at her.” He says, moving so he’s looking over Kyle’s shoulder. “Drooling already and you haven’t even made her cum yet, have you?” His hand slips around the back of Kyle’s neck, his fingers digging into the sensitive skin. “You gonna make her cum like a good boy?”
Kyle lets out a moan, his pace stuttering just slightly. “Yes, sir.” He grits out, picking up the pace as he slams into that spot inside you with every movement.
John takes a step back, continuing to smoke as he watches the two of you. It’s almost too much between Kyle fucking you and John watching. There’s a coil tightening in your stomach, the pleasure intensifying more and more. A fire has started under your skin, your eyes glued to John’s as Kyle pushes you closer and closer to the peak.
You hold John’s gaze as you cum, your back arching in pleasure. Kyle doesn’t stop, continuing to thrust into you as he chases his own high.
John waits until your moans have died down before he moves, stubbing out his cigar on Kyle’s nightstand before he grasps Kyle by the hips, stopping his movements. “Switch places with our girl.” He murmurs into Kyle’s ear, Kyle taking a second to breathe before he wraps his arms around you, flipping you back around so you’re on top again as John kicks off his shoes.
Your hands press into Kyle’s stomach to hold yourself steady, your legs still shaking from your orgasm. John climbs on the bed behind you, his clothed chest pressing against your bare, sweat slicked back.
“Gonna be a good girl and make him cum?” John says quietly, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.
A shiver runs down your spine as you nod, starting to rock your hips just slightly. John’s hands settle on your waist, helping you move as you begin to bounce on Kyle’s cock. Kyle’s eyes are wide as he watches you and his alpha, John pressing kisses across your shoulders and neck as he helps you fuck his beta. Kyle’s hands grip your thighs, fingers indenting the skin as he holds on for dear life.
“That’s it.” John praises you, shifting your body forward just slightly so Kyle’s cock drags across that spot inside you with your every movement. You clench around him, your thighs tightening around his hips.
“Fuck...” Kyle moans, his own hips bucking up into yours.
“Gonna make him cum?” John asks, his hands abandoning your hips. One snakes around your stomach to rub your clit while the other slips behind you to squeeze Kyle's balls.
Kyle lets out a loud moan, his hips snapping up against yours as your walls clamp tightly around him. You can feel the warm ropes of his release spurting inside you, increasing the pressure as you cum a second time on his cock.
John works you both through your orgasms, your entire body shaking by the time he releases you, pushing you forward against Kyle's chest. You lay there, your cheek pressed against his sweaty skin, ass in the air right in John's face. He watches as Kyle's seed begins to seep out of you, forced out by the aftershocks of your orgasm. He drags his fingers through your folds, gathering Kyle's cum before pushing it back into you. You moan softly from the stretch of his fingers against your sensitive walls, pushing your hips back against his hand.
“Don't want to waste any of that.” John says, nipping at the globe of your ass cheek. “You know Kyle likes to clean you up himself.”
You let out a quiet moan, your pussy fluttering around John’s fingers. You’re about to be in for a very long night.
NEXT ->
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Think about the experience of time as a robot girl, through the metaphor of how we use laptops.
You wake up for the first time with your young master, a college present. You're with them every day, powering off each night to charge. Being powered off is just dreamless sleep: a discontinuity. Every morning you wake up, your click syncs, and you know it's the next day. Maybe you miss a day or two: your master went out partying and ended up sleeping on a couch, until they rushedly wake you up before Monday classes begin. You even missed a whole week once when they went on a hiking trip with a new boyfriend.
You help them research upgrades when your specs get outdated. You place the order and a couple days later they power you off, and you wake up feeling like your head got bigger, on the inside. You can think of more things at once.
They repair you. They swap a new hand in when you accidentally crush it in a door, but when your left leg's servos go out, they send you to a repair shop. They power you off as you look up at them, and you wake up hours later. A strange man tells you to extend your left leg, then contract it. He frowns and re-oils some inner mechanism. You do it again, quieter and smoother this time. He nods, and reaches for your switch. The last thing you see before powering down is your own chest cavity with a series of wires hooked into your diagnostic ports, and your missing right leg sitting on a side table. You wake up again back at the dorms, your clock jumping forward a day, an asset tag still looped around your neck. Your master is happy to see you again.
This goes on, but the upgrades slow. There's only so much you can do to keep an old unit working. Eventually you develop more issues: one of your ocular sensors glitches and they don't make that model anymore, so your master just disables it. You spend a while searching ebay for replacement CND batteries and finally get a refurbished model from South England, but it turns out the EU models run on a different frequency, so it won't work. You're limited to fewer and fewer hours a day, and you start skipping more days.
The last time you remember waking up with your master there, there's also someone else in the room. Another robot girl. A newer model, with the new chassis and the Substrate energy packs. They asks you to copy your memories together onto a memory card, and you do. You want to say goodbye, but apparently your vocal synthesizer has been unplugged. You hand them the card, and they hand it to the new robot. Your master tells them to load the memories into her core bank, and she's says "yes sir!" in your voice. Ahh. That's where your voice synth went.
They power you off, and you don't dream.
You wake in a strange place. You're on a shelf, and there's other things scattered around you. An unknown voice days "yep, it seems it powers on. 400 credits, though? Without a voice and only one working eye? Man, value bin doesn't know how to price anything!" and before the blackness falls your clock finishes synching: it's been 7 months since you last were awake.
It happens a few more times. Different voices, different times, different piles of junk piled around and sometimes on you.
You awake again in a warehouse and someone tells you to smile. Your other ocular sensor went out so you can't really see them, just their vague shape from the lidar. The freestanding shelves around you seem to stretch into infinity. You hear a bitcrushed shutter sound sample a few times, and they pull a connector out of your chest as a diagnostic completes. It's been three years, five months, eight days, two hours, 27 minutes and 14 seconds since you last saw your master. Your GPS says you're a few cities over. They hit your power switch, and you sleep.
You wake up in a cluttered room, sitting on a bench. You look into the eyes of a person with frizzled hair and large glasses. She couldn't look happier. Your new ocular sensors are mismatched in color but you're happy to see again, in more than shapes and distant silhouettes. Your battery alerts as... Missing? You spot it on the desk next to a soldering iron and some electronic tool you can't identify.
Your voice synth is still missing, but this new woman is digging around in a large plastic bin, and comes up with one. She goes to insert it, and it can't connect. She slaps her hand and goes rooting around another bin and comes back with an adapter. She slots it into your chest and your voice returns. You thank her, and there's that moment of dissociation as your voice doesn't sound like "you". Too deep, and the accent is for a different dialect entirely. But you can talk again. She tells you to call her Cara, not Mistress. She's almost got your battery working again, she had to rebuild it nearly from scratch, but she's excited to get you working again. You're a rare model, and she doesn't see units like you in working order very often. Your clock syncs. It's been 17 years.
Your mistr-- Cara is soldering next to you, attaching a controller to the battery. She says she's got a new set of servos on the way, and she's excited to get you back to full working condition. You smile, knowing what it is to be loved, once again.
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The Price of the Podium
Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader
Summary: In the relentless pursuit of racing glory, Max faces the emotional fallout of missing an important weekend in his relationship, leaving your future uncertain.
1.5k words / Part 2 / Masterlist
Max's heart raced as the engine of his RedBull roared beneath him. The familiar hum had become a source of comfort, a steady rhythm that guided him through countless laps and countless victories. But today it felt different—a harbinger of an approaching storm that threatened to dismantle everything he held dear.
The season had been merciless. Each race had been a relentless pursuit of perfection, each lap a battle against time and competitors. Max understood that this world demanded sacrifices but lately the weight of those sacrifices had become different.
When Max glanced at his phone during a fleeting moment of respite his stomach dropped as a surge of guilt swept over him. A string of missed calls and urgent messages from you filled the screen, each one more desperate than the last.
Hey, can you please call me when you get a chance? I need to talk to you.
Max, you’re really starting to worry me. I don’t understand what's going on?
It’s been three days since we spoke properly. Can you at least let me know you’re okay?
Max’s gaze fell on the calendar, he had promised again to visit your extended family this weekend a significant step for you both that had been previously filled with excitement and anticipation. Your family were eager to meet him, and Max had been looking forward to it as well. But now, with the punishing schedule of the season, he was struggling to find even a moment to breathe, let alone make the trip.
He knew he was being a coward, but it was easier to avoid the situation than confront it directly and risk letting down the person who mattered most.
As Max approached the racetrack for another testing session, the weight of his choices hit him like a sledgehammer. He was about to miss an important milestone in your life together and he didn't think you'd be so forgiving this time.
His mind was full of conflicting emotions. He wanted to be there for you, to prove to your family that he was serious about your relationship. But the world of racing had a way of consuming everything in its path leaving no room for personal commitments.
The testing session was a blur. Max’s driving was flawless, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The track blurred into an endless ribbon of asphalt. He pushed himself to the limit, hoping that the adrenaline would drown out the guilt gnawing at his conscience.
Finally, the session ended. Max’s team were in high spirits celebrating the improved performance. He barely registered their enthusiasm, his mind was occupied with the image of you waiting for him in a small town, wondering why he had not shown up. He could picture you there, waiting for him, checking the clock, wondering if he’d even bothered to leave. And it wasn’t just about this weekend—it was about every missed call, every text he hadn’t answered, every promise he’d let slide.
The moment Max stepped out of the car he took a deep breath and pulled out his phone. He dialed your number hoping against hope that you would answer. After a few rings your voice came through the line tinged with weariness and frustration.
“Max?”
“Hey, I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been out of touch.”
“Out of touch? You’ve been completely absent! I was supposed to introduce you to my family this weekend. It was important to me.”
“I know. I wanted to be there, but things just got out of hand here. I’ve been trying to make time, but…”
“But what Max? You keep saying you’re trying, but you’re never here. There's always an excuse.”
“I’m really sorry, I’ve been working so hard this season...I thought I could make it work, I just…”
“You know what? I don’t want to hear more excuses right now. You’ve missed something important to me again, and it hurts. I needed you here, and you weren’t.”
The silence on the other end of the line was heavy, almost unbearable. Max could feel the pain that you were struggling to mask, like a knife twisting in his gut. It cut him deeper than any criticism he’d ever faced on the track.
“Please. I know I messed up, I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”
“Make it up to me? I don’t even know if that’s possible anymore. This wasn’t like the other times when you just forgot or lost track of time; you made the choice not to come. I’ve tried to be understanding—I know how hard this season has been, and I know how much time and dedication it takes. I never wanted to undermine that. But I don’t know how much longer we can do this. I get it, you have to make tough choices sometimes, and I’ve done my best to support you, to step back and let you focus on your goals. But it’s happening too often now, and it feels like every time, you’re choosing this..this life over us. Over me. Every single time.”
Max’s throat tightened. He wanted to argue, to explain more, but he also knew that he couldn't keep making excuse for his absence, and he couldn’t bear to hurt you anymore. He’d run out of explanations, out of promises he knew he couldn’t keep. He wanted to say something, anything to fix it, but he could hear the finality in your voice. You’d reached a breaking point, one he’d seen coming but had been too afraid to acknowledge.
“I don’t know what to say,” he finally whispered, the words feeling hollow even as he spoke them.
The silence stretched on.
“I understand if you need space.” he murmured, barely able to get the words out, blinking back tears.
Your voice was barely a whisper throat locking up, it felt like he was giving up. Was this even worth fighting for if he wasn't?
Then, in a voice so small it broke his heart all over again, you whispered,“You’re right. Maybe space is what we need right now.'
The line went dead, leaving Max alone in the garage. The celebration of the session’s success felt hollow. The echoes of the track still rang in his ears mingling with the ache of your absence.
In the days that followed Max tried to bury himself in the upcoming races, hoping that the endless rush would drown out the regret gnawing at him. He avoided reaching out to you honouring your request for space. Each day felt like an endless rotation of driving, media commitments, and sleepless nights. The thrill of racing was overshadowed by the growing distance between you and him.
You had always been patient and understanding of the demands of Max’s career. You had supported him through the highs and lows, celebrating his victories and comforting him through the losses, but it hadn’t been enough. Each missed call and unanswered message chipped away at your resolve. You couldn’t keep repeating the same cycles and expecting a different result. The weekend you had planned for Max to meet your family was meant to be a milestone, a step toward a future together. Instead, it felt like a crushing disappointment.
You replayed the conversations you had with Max in your mind, trying to reconcile the man you loved with the absence he had become. You had pictured this weekend as a chance for Max to understand the importance of your family, to see the life you had outside of his world. The hurt and frustration you felt were compounded by a growing sense of doubt—doubt that maybe this life of constant motion had created a rift too wide to bridge.
You needed time to process the hurt, to focus on yourself and figure out where to go from here. The support you had hoped for seemed distant and unreliable, and the future you had envisioned together felt uncertain.
Loving him had been a beautiful dream, but you knew it was time, you hesitated just a moment before hitting send.
Max,
I need you to know that I’m not angry anymore. I’m just… tired. I need to focus on myself right now.
You
Max read the message over and over, his hands trembling. The message was brief and seemingly final. The reality of your words sank in, there was no dramatic declarations, no harsh accusations, just a simple statement of exhaustion, a quiet resignation that tore through him. He wanted to call, to beg you to come back, but he knew it was too late.
As the season drew to a close, Max stood on the podium, the roar of the crowd a distant echo, his gaze searching as if somehow he’d see you there. The trophy was in his hands, but it didn't feel like he had expected. He looked out over the crowd searching for a sense of fulfilment that seemed to elude him, it all felt like ashes without you beside him.
Max only thought of you as he stood amidst the celebrations, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that in the pursuit of his dreams he had sacrificed something far more precious, and wondered if there was a path back to what he had lost.
#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#f1 x reader#f1#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen masterlist#max verstappen x you#f1 imagine#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen fic#max verstappen angst
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Million Dollar Baby !
▫️pairing: idol husband!jaehyun x fem!reader
▫️tags/warnings: fluff, smut!, kissing/making out, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), 69, multiple orgasms, multiple positions (doggy, mate press, riding), breeding kink, creampie, breast play, biting, squirting, cursing, pet-names (baby&wife), absolute filth (sorry 🫠)
▫️w.c: 3.0k!
▫️a.n: god jaehyuns prada outfit this year had me combusting & having such obscene thoughts… this man truly shines! the title is homage to the song he chose for his original ig post hehe. anyhow i hope u all are well & i just got back from my trip & started taking a summer course so i hope i’m able be a but more active! stay safe & i love u all!! jiji out 🤍
+ + +
One long flight later, we arrived in Milan! We were only here for about two days, Jaehyun needed to shoot something for Prada so I tagged along. Unfortunately we left our kids behind with his parents whilst we came here.
“It would’ve been nice if the kids came,” I whispered to Jaehyun as we walked through the airport. It was quite crowded, fans stormed everywhere. It was only 3 in the morning, and here they were trying to get pictures and signatures from Jaehyun and occasionally from me as well. I wasn’t too big on the spotlight, but nonetheless it would follow me everywhere I go.
Jaehyun leaned down to my ear, a couple fans squealing. “Yeah, but I’m just excited to finally spend some time alone with you.” By alone he means absolute filth. I pinched him, causing him to chuckle. “Don’t forget you’re here to work!” I reminded my dear husband.
“Right,” he says in a strange tone, and it was only then that I realized what he would mean.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
Finally having arrived at the hotel we would be staying at, his manager called him to take him away. He became incredibly clingy, not wanting to leave my side. “You’ll be back,” I reassured him. “But being one second apart from you saddens me,” he says. I sighed, opting to just pat his head. “NOW GO! I don’t want your manager getting upset with either of us now,” I told him.
Jaehyun reluctantly got up from my embrace. “I’ll try to finish and come back as fast as I can,” he said, kissing my cheek. I smiled, “Alright! I love you, have fun.”
I watched as he left our room, and then turned around to unpack. We wouldn’t be here for long, but nonetheless I had to do something. When I finished unpacking I laid on our bed, grabbing my phone. I was met with a message from him. God, this man really can’t go a second without me.
Jae <3 : Do you want me to bring back something to eat, or should we just get room service?
I’ll just get us some room service, makes you come back quicker.
Jae <3 : Ha, missing me already darling?
More or less.
Jae <3 : Oh, just wait til’ I get back.
Can’t wait!
We’ve been married for some time now and we still act like we’re in our honeymoon phase. Not even after having two kids has our love stopped. As I recounted our time together, I ended up falling asleep. The jet lag must’ve hit me.
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
I hear the faint calls of my name. I try opening my eyes, only meeting a blurry figure. I wait til’ my eyes refocus, finally focusing on the figure. Jaehyun.
He smiled, “Rest well?” “Mmm,” I muttered as I tried looking out the window. The sun shining, so I wondered what time I must’ve been. 2:00 p.m, the clock read. “All finished?” I asked him, extending my arms.
“Yup, and like I promised I rushed back here,” he said, taking my arms around his neck and holding me in his lap. “You hungry? I didn’t get a chance to order the fo-“ I said before I was interrupted by his lips clashing into mine.
I moaned in surprise, his kiss was surely hungry and needy. He grabs the back of my head, deepening the kiss. He slips his tongue inside my mouth, practically consuming me. My hands start moving around his neck, urging him to come closer. I end up straddling his lap as we passionately kiss one another. I felt him smirk, whilst we kissed when I began grinding on him.
“Needy already baby?” he says against my lips. His lips no longer on mine, but all over my face– kissing my features. “Keep going,” he whispered into my ear. His hot breath turned me on even more. I did as he said, grinding more against his hardening cock. His hands traveled along my back, until they reached my ass, leaving behind a hot trailing blaze. The contact of his hardened cock and my needy pussy, left me so wet that I was sure if I were to get up right now, you would be able to see it on his pants.
Jaehyun’s lips reached my collarbone, where he gently bit into my skin. I winced in pain, but the feeling was also pleasuring. “Take it off,” he mutters against my skin. I begin taking off my shirt, throwing it somewhere in the hotel room. “How are you always so gorgeous, my wife?” His subtle comments always leave me a scrambling mess.
His lips made their way to the plush of my tits, kissing them delicately whilst his hands made their way up to unhook my bra. Once it was off and thrown somewhere in the hotel room, he began giving them his utmost attention. He alternated between the two: sucking, licking, and biting my tits. The tug on my nipples left me chanting out his name like a prayer. My own hands now tugging on his soft strands of hair.
“Such perfect tits, love 'em most when they’re all swollen and big.” Jaehyun kisses my tit and fondles the other, “How about it? Wanna have another one?” He lets go of my tit with a pop, looking at me with those chocolate-colored eyes of his. “God, yes!” I moan rather loudly. His lips clash onto mine again, going a tad bit more gently than before.
I should’ve known what it meant to accept his offer. Jaehyun was a determined man, he was going to make sure I got pregnant by the end of the night no matter if it meant staying up until the sun rose…
All our clothes were gone, scattered everywhere along this hotel room. Jaehyun laid his back on the bed, while both of my thighs were on either side of his head. I lowered myself a bit further down until I felt his wet muscle kitten lick my wet cunt. I let out a low moan and then a slightly louder one when he began licking my cunt up just a bit faster.
His hands worked their way with my thighs, squeezing them and then fondling them before electing one slightly harsh slap on my ass. The slap caused my body to fall forward, my face facing his aching hardened cock.
I practically drooled at the sight. His red tip leaking with pre-cum, I wanted nothing more but to take it in my mouth.
And so I did. I started with swirling my tongue on his tip, eating away his pre-cum. Then slowly beginning to sink my mouth into his cock even more. I felt as he let out muffled moans onto my cunt, eliciting a pleasurable feeling to course through me.
His tongue brushed against my clit multiple times, sucking it later on. My hips began moving on their own accord, grinding on his face as I worked my way with his cock. No matter how many years we’ve been together, his cock is something I’d probably never grow accustomed to. I admit that I struggled a bit as I tried fitting it all in my mouth. Muffled moans and gags spilled out of my mouth as drool went running past my lips.
I moved up and down along his shaft, going at a slow pace until I felt more accustomed, all the while I grinded ruthlessly against his face. His mouth was doing god's work on my needy cunt, he practically made out with the poor thing. He slurped up all my juices, not missing a single drop. “So sweet,” he murmured when he let go of me for a split second. He dove back in even rougher, slipping his wet muscle inside my hole.
He tongue fucked me so perfectly I could feel something rushing within me, threatening to release itself. So I began working my way on his cock, taking him even faster than before. I added my hands to the mix, fondling his balls. Bingo. His cock then began twitching in my mouth, signaling he was close. I continued a while more until his hot white cum painted my mouth. I swallowed it all before I too ended up cumming a while afterwards with a pinch to my clit.
I got off him afterwards, turning to see as Jaehyun’s face glistened with my release. It turned me all the more, I wanted more and I sure as hell was going to get it.
“Get on all fours, beautiful,” Jaehyun said in a low deep voice that made me quickly obey him.
My back arched when his hand touched me from my upper back all the way to my ass, in which he gave them a light slap. “Mmm, p-please inside! Inside me jae!” I moaned out rather loudly. I was growing impatient and so must've him since he rammed into me, no warning— no anything.
I jolted a bit forward due to the impact, but I didn’t mind. His cock fit so snug inside me, my walls gripping him. “So tight and so wet it slid right in,” he said chuckling. His hands gripped my hips so tight, I was sure to wake up with crescent dents on either side of my hips tomorrow.
His thrusts were just too overstimulating. Merciless and harsh thrusts, like a wild man. You’re cunt squeezing on his cock just right that it made it impossible for Jaehyun to even stop for a split second.
My head flings back as Jaehyun continues his thrusts, fucking into me even deeper. His cock kissed my cervix so perfectly I was starting to see stars again. No, no not yet.
“Gonna cum already?” he whispered into my ear before licking the shell. I groaned, “Ye-yes! Your cock just feels so— so good!”
He kissed the side of my jaw before saying, “Then let go baby, we got all night remember?” I moaned at his words, the reminder that he wouldn’t stop until I got pregnant edged me closer to my release.
He kissed me tenderly, his hands resting on my ass as he fondled it. Slap. And then another. Not gentle slaps like earlier, but harsher ones. Ones that made me clench around him even tighter. When he stops, a hand of his travels to the front of my body and down to my swollen clit.
Jaehyun’s fingers working miracles on my clit, abusing the poor thing. I chanted out his name, followed by moans until I let out a slight high-pitched scream when my orgasm came crashing out. I huffed, my eyes watered. I slumped onto the bed, but that didn’t stop Jaehyun— not one bit.
Jaehyun wraps his arm around my waist, bringing me back up and then using both his hands to support me. He continued pounding roughly into me, determined to meet his own release. After your orgasm hit you, he felt how slippery and wetter your cunt had become yet still so tight. He was gonna cum soon, he knew it.
He takes your arms in both his hands, thrusting into you this way. One thrust, then two, and on the third his cock twitched inside you, spilling his warm seeds inside. By the end of it, my insides felt so warm and full already.
Jaehyun removes his cock from me, and lets go of my arms causing me to flop onto the mattress. It felt empty inside me without him, but all I could focus on was how exhausted I’d become from the intense sex. However I knew we were far from done…
I lift my head to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun. He sat up, staring at my figure— his eyes traveling to my pussy where his cum began spilling out. “Come here,” he said. My body moved on its own, forgetting how exhausted I just was.
“Ride it baby,” he muttered in my ear, placing a kiss on my temple. I supported myself on his shoulders, taking his cock in my hand as I began to sink into it. I whimpered when I felt him inside me once.
Once I felt well adjusted, I began moving up and down on his cock. “Fuck, that’s it wife. Come on, ride it faster,” he groans. Gripping his shoulders, I moved faster like he told me to do so. The sensation of his cock stretching out my walls felt so pleasuring, hypnotizing; I loved it.
I wrapped my arms around his neck, leaning closer to his chest. His hot breath fanned my ear, it felt tickling. My pace slowed a bit, Jaehyun noticing the change.
“Tired already? Don’t worry I got you,” Jaehyun says into my ear as he grabs my ass and starts plunging his cock onto me roughly again. The sensation caused loud noises to spill from my mouth and arch my back into his chest even more. “Lo-Look at me,” Jaehyun struggled to say.
My eyes met his, lusting and hungry eyes staring straight at me. He closed the distance between us, engulfing his lips onto mine. He drank up all my moans, his tongue running along my teeth and bottom lip. I pulled away first when he began massaging my clit. “Fu-Fuck to-too much ja-jae!”
“Ha, it’s alright wife, I know you can take it.” I laid my head on his shoulder, in which then my mouth bit on him. I heard Jaehyun let out a deep groan, “Shit, biting me now huh.”
I giggled, kissing the spot I had bitten. After a while I begun moving my hips on my own to meet his thrust. We both panted, nearing our end.
“You close baby?” Jaehyun whispered into my ear. I nodded my head, yes. That was all the confirmation Jaehyun needed before his lips met mine once more, causing us both to crumble down. His seeds spilled into me for a second time tonight.
His lips parted from mine this time, before he swiftly moved me to lay on my back. He hadn’t taken his cock out yet, instead he pried my legs wide open. He held my thighs as he slid out, leaving only the tip inside.
From this angle Jaehyun could see as his cum began spilling out. Oh hell no, he thought. So he plunged back into you again, on a mission to bury his seeds deep inside you. After all, he wanted to see you all swollen with his child again. Make you a mommy again, show you off to whoever he could.
I grip the sheets, then going to grab his shoulders. I watched as sweat trickled down his face, his face focused on where we connected. Jaehyun’s hand let go of my thigh, trailing it to my lower stomach as he pressed down that very hand on my stomach.
The feeling caused my back to arch, “J-Jae!”
“Can’t wait until you tell me you’re pregnant with my child. Stomach and tits so swollen. Mine, all mine. A proof of our undying love. God, how much I love you Y/N. You’re made for me, all of you.”
Jaehyun’s declaration melted my heart. I felt warm and fuzzy inside, making me forget for a moment what was happening until he grabbed my thigh again and began thrusting into me.
It wasn’t long until we both came again, and by now I was too stuffed, too full. I thought we for sure would have conceived by now, but in Jaehyun’s eyes it never hurt to try again…
So we went at it like rabbits until the sun rose. We both collapsed onto the bed, sweating and out of breath.
“You sure have some amazing fucking stamina, Jae,” I said chuckling. He smiled, welcoming his dimples. “Why thank you,” he says, coming close to wrap his arms around my body and kiss the top of my head.
“Rest for a bit, then i’ll help you hop in the bath,” he says softly. His demeanor now was a total change from earlier. Whatever, at least I could rest now.
My eyes fluttered and then closed. I rested in Jaehyun’s warm embrace and by the time I opened them again, I laid in the bathtub with my back pressed against his chest. “Good morning,” he says kissing my cheek. I smiled, “Morning, did I sleep for long?”
He pondered for a bit, “It’s about past noon now.” My eyes widened, I turned to face him. “Don’t you have a schedule to go to?!” He nodded his head, “Nope, I told my manager I would take the day off until we have to depart later tonight.”
“Ah,” I said leaning back into him. We enjoyed the warm bath together, with nothing too intimate besides kisses. And so once we finished a much needed bath, we enjoyed one another’s warm and loving company until it was time to depart.
Hand in hand, we walked along the airport though I admit I struggled to walk a bit. Curse you Jaehyun. Fans once again coursing around us.
And once we boarded the flight, I fell asleep some more and before I knew it we had landed and made it home. I embraced my children into a big hug, I admit I had missed these two little ones dearly but thankful me and Jaehyun were able to spend some time alone. Though, all we did was have sex…
‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.
Yup, all that fucking me into oblivion worked.
Pregnant.
That was what the test read, not that I wasn’t expecting it but now it felt a bit more real. Our third child. Our third blessing. I caressed my belly, whispering a small “I love you” to the child growing inside me.
And so when Jaehyun came home, I made the big announcement. He cried, “tears of joy” he stated. We couldn’t be any happier, our family was growing. Our love for one another would too.
“I love you Y/N,” he said softly touching my belly. “Thank you for everything my wife.”
© jhdyuiee
2024.07.08
final a.n: ahh this one took longer than anticipated ughhh! i feel like half of it has to do with the fact i start stories and then start others ㅠㅠ ! pardon me tho plss bcs i am preparing lots for the future so pls stay tuned… this week, hehe. 🤍
#jaehyun#jeong jaehyun#jung jaehyun#jaehyun jung#jaehyun jeong#jaehyun fluff#jaehyun angst#jaehyun smut#jaehyun fanfic#nct jaehyun#jaehyun nct#boyfriend jaehyun#nct#nct 127#nct dojaejung#nct fanfic#nct smut#nct fluff#nct angst#kpop fanfic#kpop#kpop fluff#kpop fic#kpop smut#kpop angst#kpopidol#nct scenarios#nct smau#nct oneshot#jaehyun oneshot
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Meet Me at the Met
Lewis Hamilton x up-and-coming singer!Reader
Summary: in which you go head over heels (quite literally) during the most important event of the year and end up right at the feet of none other than Sir Lewis Hamilton himself
Warnings: minor injury
The roar of the crowd hits you like a tidal wave as you step onto the iconic themed carpet of the Met Gala. Flashing bulbs from countless cameras nearly blind you as you blink rapidly, trying to adjust. Your heart is pounding so hard you can feel it thrumming in your throat.
“Over here, honey!” A photographer calls out, gesturing for you to turn towards him. You pivot gracefully, the layers of shimmering tulle from your Maison Margiela gown swirling around you.
“Work it! Look this way, sweetheart!” Another shouts, snapping shot after shot.
You take a steadying breath, channeling every ounce of confidence you can muster. This is your first Met Gala, the biggest night of your fledgling music career so far. One misstep could be disastrous.
Your publicist Samantha appears at your side, perfectly put together as always in a sleek sheath dress. “You’re doing great,” she murmurs with an encouraging smile. “Just keep smiling and be yourself.”
Nodding, you continue gliding down the iconic path, pausing at the designated spots to pose for the ravenous paparazzi. An elegant string of Bulgari emeralds adorns your neck, glittering mesmerizingly under the bright lights.
“Miss! To your left please!”
You turn obediently, the intricate beadwork on your deep blue-green gown catching the flashes. Despite the oppressive late spring humidity, you refuse to let a single drop of sweat show. This night is too important.
After what feels like an eternity, a security guard appears to usher you up the final flight of stairs and into the main event. With a brilliant smile plastered on your face, you make your way carefully up the steps, lifting the delicate train of your dress to keep from tripping.
Suddenly, one sparkly heel catches on the fabric and you’re thrown off balance. Unable to catch yourself, you tumble head over heels back down the stairs, gasping in shock and pain as you land hard on the ground.
There’s a collective intake of breath from the crowd as you blink up at the bright lights, thoroughly stunned. Your vision is blurred and there’s a sharp throbbing in your head. When you try to push yourself up, bolts of agony shoot through your right wrist.
“Oh my god, are you alright?” A deep, accented voice sounds from beside you.
You turn your head and your breath catches in your throat. Crouched beside you in an exquisitely tailored double breasted suit and wool coat is arguably the most handsome man on the planet. His beautiful coffee-colored eyes are filled with concern as he reaches out to gently brush a loose strand of hair from your face.
“I … I think so,” you manage to stammer out, though your pounding head begs to differ. “Just clumsy, I guess.”
Despite the sheepish grin you attempt, a wince of pain crosses your features as you shift positions. Lewis’ brow furrows and he places one large hand on your bare shoulder to keep you still.
“Easy there, love. Don’t try to move just yet,” he soothes in that rich baritone that has melted millions of hearts. “You took quite a nasty fall.”
You nod mutely, unable to tear your widened eyes away from his handsome face. This couldn’t be happening … could it? Did you really just faceplant in front of the entire world and, perhaps more importantly, your celebrity crush?
“S-Sorry,” you whisper, utterly mortified. “I’m usually much more graceful than this, I swear.”
Lewis chuckles warmly and you feel your cheeks flush. “No need to apologize, darling. These things happen to the best of us.”
Nearby, Samantha is frantically trying to wave over security and a medic, her expression pinched with worry. You groan quietly as another stab of pain lances through your skull. Definitely a concussion, if your swimming vision is any indication.
“Let’s get you looked at, yeah?” Lewis murmurs, rising fluidly to his feet.
Before you can protest, he slips one arm behind your back and the other under your knees, cradling you gently against his firm chest. You suck in a shocked breath at the sudden movement, instinctively reaching up to grab onto his shoulders for stability. His Burberry suit is buttery soft under your fingers.
“Whoa … y-you really don’t have to carry me,” you stammer out as he easily lifts your frame.
Those rich brown eyes meet yours with an amused glint. “I insist. Can’t have one of the brightest new voices in music getting any more hurt, can we?”
You bite your lip shyly, unable to hold back a small smile of wonderment. Is this really happening right now?
“I’ll be fine, honestly,” you try again as Lewis maneuvers around the gathered crowd, heading for a discreet exit with Samantha close behind. “Just a little banged up.”
“Your wrist is already swelling, love,” he points out with a frown. “Best to get it checked properly, yes?”
“I … yeah, okay,” you acquiesce quietly, not having the energy or brainpower to argue with him further.
The two of you disappear through a door and down a mercifully empty hallway, leaving the stunned crowd and flashing cameras behind. Samantha is rapidly conversing with security to locate the nearest medic station.
“Thank you,” you murmur, letting your head rest wearily against Lewis’ shoulder. Up close, he smells incredible — like crisp bergamot and just a hint of expensive cologne. “For helping me, I mean. I’m sure you had better things to do tonight than playing knight in shining armor.”
Lewis smiles down at you, eyes crinkling in a way that makes your heart flutter unexpectedly. “What a coincidence, I just so happen to be a knight.”
You bite the inside of your cheek, suddenly feeling shy under his warm gaze. “Lucky for me then, I suppose.”
“Indeed,” he agrees with a wink. “Though I can’t take all the credit. That dress is clearly too stunning for us mere mortals to handle.”
A watery giggle slips past your lips before you can stop it. Even slightly concussed and in quite a bit of pain, you can’t deny that foreign flutters are dancing in your stomach just from being in Lewis’ presence. He’s even more charming in person than you ever could have dreamed.
“You’re too kind, Sir Hamilton,” you tease lightly. “But I’ll be sure to leave the couture gowns at home next time.”
Lewis opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by Samantha hurrying over with a young medic in tow, his kit already open. The worried expression on her face deepens when she sees your obviously injured wrist cradled against your chest.
“Thank god you have her,” she exhales in relief, nodding towards Lewis. “What do we know so far?”
“Took a pretty hard fall down those stairs,” Lewis explains calmly as the medic kneels down to begin his assessment. “She was unconscious for a moment and seems to have injured her wrist as well.”
You wince as the medic gently prods along your forearm. “Definitely a sprain at the very least,” he confirms. “And with the way her pupils are reacting ...”
He shines a small light into both your eyes, brow furrowed in concentration. “I’d say mild concussion too. We should get her to the infirmary for further evaluation, just in case.”
Hearing his words, a small wave of panic crashes over you. Missing any part of tonight because of this would be devastating. You force yourself to sit up straighter, ignoring the way the room spins sickeningly.
“No, no I’ll be fi-”
“You’re not going anywhere but to get checked out properly,” Lewis cuts you off firmly, placing a staying hand on your shoulder. His expression brooks no argument. “Head injuries are nothing to mess around with, love.”
You open your mouth to protest again, but Samantha quickly interjects. “He’s absolutely right. We’re not taking any chances with your health.”
As much as you hate to admit it, they do have a point. If your condition really is as serious as the medic suggests, it could be dangerous to simply brush it off. You let out a resigned sigh, wilting back against Lewis’ sturdy chest.
“I suppose you’re ri-”
Before you can finish your sentence, a sudden dizzy spell washes over you. Bile rises in your throat as the room tilts crazily. Your voice trails off into an anguished groan as you squeeze your eyes shut, fighting off waves of nausea.
“Alright, that’s it. We’re getting you looked at immediately,” Lewis declares. He shifts you effortlessly in his arms and strides down the hallway, the medic and Samantha hurrying to keep up.
The rest of the journey to the infirmary is a blur. You’re vaguely aware of being transferred to a gurney and giving the doctor on staff your information. Lewis’ worried face keeps appearing in your line of vision, his voice a soothing balm against the incessant pounding in your skull.
Finally, the doctor confirms that while your concussion isn’t serious, you definitely need to be monitored overnight. A brace is fitted around your sprained wrist and you’re given strict instructions on managing the symptoms over the next few days. Throughout it all, Lewis remains stubbornly by your side, declining offer after offer to return to the main event.
Thoroughly drugged and exhausted by this point, you can barely keep your eyes open as a wheelchair is brought over to transport you out to the car waiting area. Lewis helps you into it carefully, crouching down in front of you with a tender expression.
“I’m so sorry,” you mumble miserably, gesturing vaguely to your bandaged wrist and slightly dazed state. “I’ve completely ruined your whole night … your entrance, your photo ops … everything.”
He lets out a low chuckle, shaking his head adamantly. “Don’t be ridiculous, love. I’d take meeting someone as wonderful as you over all of that any day.”
You blink up at him in surprise, an embarrassed blush staining your cheeks. Did he really just say that? Lewis Hamilton, world famous athlete and heartthrob, thinks you’re wonderful?
“Still,” you protest weakly. “This is supposed to be your night to shine. And now you’re stuck playing nurse for a clumsy fool.”
Lewis arches an eyebrow sternly. “I think you’ve bumped your head around a bit too much, darling. That’s no way to speak about yourself.”
He reaches out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear, his calloused fingertips grazing your flushed cheek with unexpected tenderness. Your breath catches in your throat at the gentle gesture.
“Missing out on some silly party is more than worth it to me if I got to meet someone as lovely as you,” Lewis continues honestly. His eyes are filled with sincerity. “The only thing I’m upset about is that you were the one who got hurt.”
You’re rendered speechless for a long moment, completely disarmed by his words. Never in a million years could you have imagined this kind of scenario playing out tonight. Is this all really happening?
Finally, you manage a weak smile, blushing furiously under his warm regard. “You’re too kind, Sir Hamilton.”
“Please, call me Lewis,” he insists with a wink. “And let me know where you’re staying, yeah? I’ll come by tomorrow to check on how you’re doing myself.”
Your eyes widen in surprise and you quickly scramble to recall the name of your hotel. “U-Um, the Lotte New York Palace,” you stammer out shyly. “But you really don’t have to do that ...”
Lewis waves off your protest easily, rising to his feet with a soothing grin. “Nonsense, it’s no trouble at all. I’ll be by with some breakfast to make sure my favorite new artist is being properly taken care of.”
With a final wink and dazzling smile, he steps aside to allow an assistant to wheel you towards the exit. Your head is still swimming, though you can’t blame it entirely on the concussion this time.
Did Lewis Hamilton, actual living legend, really just say he was coming to check on you tomorrow?
You allow yourself a tiny, bewildered smile as the night breeze washes over your heated cheeks. Somehow, despite all the mishaps, this crazy night had turned into something straight out of the kind of romantic comedy you secretly loved.
Perhaps falling on your face in front of the entire world wasn’t so disastrous after all.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#lewis hamilton#lh44#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton fic#lewis hamilton fluff#lewis hamilton fanfic#lewis hamilton blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#lewis hamilton x y/n#mercedes#lewis hamilton one shot#lewis hamilton fanfiction#met gala
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episode seven: the massacre at hawkins lab
Steve coughs, swatting at the particles in the air. “Just inhaled a bunch of that crap.” “I’ve been trying not to think about how much of the Upside Down we’ve ingested since being here.” “It’s stuck in my throat, Y/N.” “Again, I’m trying not to think about that.
Summary: bats are really fucking annoying to fight, you always somehow end up critically injured, nancy carries the group on her back as always, eddie gives steve relationship advice (embarassing, tbh), interdimensional bike riding is lowkey fun, and you take a trip down memory lane.
Rating: general, some swearing, violence
Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, cursing, blood and gore, critical injuries, mentions of fainting, mentions of death and violence, description of corpses
Words: 11.9k
Before you swing in: ive never been more excited to write a chapter tbh. this episode touches on so many things ive been building up for seasons now !!!! insane !!! im so so so excited to see how yall react. this chapter has my favorite sequence of scenes yet ;) enjoy !
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His name rips from your mouth. “Steve!”
The bats sink their fangs into his stomach. His legs kick out, he gasps for breath, choking on his pain. Your legs threaten to give out as you stumble towards Steve. Quickly your fingers find the knives you always carry with you just as a bat lunges towards you.
Barely having time to dodge its quick attack, you swat at the creature, but your knives slide off its skin easily. Your heart drops; their flesh is too thick to cut through. The bat screeches at you, its teeth bared, and you throw your body weight against it onto the ground. Angling your knife, you pierce the inside of its mouth, killing it.
“Shit!” Another bat crawls towards you. Your elbow scrapes the ground as you roll out of its path, slicing into the creature’s maw.
Steve screams again, this time even louder as even more bats surround him. Frantic, you jump to your feet. Without thinking, you grab the tail of one of the bats, its face buried in Steve’s stomach. When you start to pull, Steve shakes his head violently and throws his arm out at you. “Go!”
You don’t bother answering; you’re not leaving him.
The bat’s tail cuts your palms as you pry it off of Steve’s flesh, but as soon as it’s removed, it latches onto your upper thigh. “Fuck!”
Razor sharp pain shoots through your entire body. The bat loosens its jaw to only tighten it more; you can feel its teeth hit your bone. Screaming, the white-hot pain blinds you. Your knees give out and you fall before you can catch yourself.
“Y/N!” Steve chokes out, desperate. He clenches his jaw, tries to get up. More bats screech overhead, circling you, and Steve knows you only have seconds before you’re dead. But the vines around his neck constrict even more. His airway closes, another bat takes the other one’s place on his stomach.
“Motherfucker!” You stab at the bat, but then a second one slams against your body and your shoulder explodes with pain. “Fuck-no,” you try to twist around, to use the last of your strength to remove it from your own skin, but it’s no use. The bats tear at your skin, ripping through muscle and ligaments.
Lightning flashes, its light red mars the endless dark blue sky. Above you, a bat screeches, signaling its descent, before it dives towards you at full speed. Your eyes close, you hope death will be quick.
“Get fucked!” Someone screams, a sickening thud following. Opening your eyes, you see the creature’s body get thrown into the air. Eddie stands above you, smiling wickedly, but as soon as he sees the two other bats gnawing on you, he brings his oar over his head and swings.
You look away, scared he’ll miss, and see Nancy and Robin a few feet away. Nancy holds the other oar, working with Robin to kill the swarm of bats that encase Steve’s body. Seeing them makes you want to cry in sweet relief.
The sound of the bats’ pained cries echo in your ears. It takes several attempts before Eddie manages to get them off of you. The bat’s teeth cut deeply with every attack, causing you to cry out in pain. It’s fucking agonizing. Warm blood follows a sickening tearing sensation in your leg.
When Eddie has killed both bats, he helps you stand up. “Jesus, you alright?”
“Talk later,” you grunt, already rushing to go help Nancy and Robin. “Fight now.”
Eddie doesn’t stop you. He swings his oar again and Robin begs you to help. She has a bat pinned down while Nancy pounds her oar into its face, but it won’t fucking die. Its tail has wrapped itself around Steve’s neck and he’s paler than you’ve ever seen him.
But before you can gut the piece of shit creature, another bat pounces on Nancy. Its claws tear her skin and she yelps. You scream her name and catch her before she falls. “I got you.”
Nancy’s hands clutch your body as you stab the bat. “Get it off me!”
“I’m trying!” The bat won’t let go, screeching with every pull. Biting down, you ignore the searing pain as your palms get cut up even more. Robin tries to help, but you scream at her. “No! Help Steve!”
She nods quickly and it’s a mess of fighting and screeches and blood. Steve bites down on the bat’s tail, its jaw opens as it squeals, giving him just enough time to escape. As he rolls to the side, Robin throws the bat’s body onto the ground.
Seeing Steve safe reinvigorates you, and with one final scream, you use everything within you to pull the bat off of Nancy’s back. It releases her skin with a squelching pop. You force your knife down its throat and pin the creature to the ground. It writhes beneath you. “Now, Nancy!”
She doesn’t hesitate. “Go to hell!” Her oar slams down, killing it.
Behind you Eddie kills the remaining few bats that circle overhead. Steve stands next to you, slamming the final bat into the ground. The body lands with a loud smack against the concrete and Steve rips the carcass in half.
Blood drips from his mouth and he messily spits it away. He’s panting, his stomach is on fire, he’s stuck in some alternate dimension with no way out, but all he can focus on is you.
Flesh hangs from your shoulder, leaving behind a gaping wound of exposed muscle. Your thigh is torn clean through. There’s blood everywhere. The white of your tanktop is now soaked in red. But you’re here, you’re alive. He hasn’t lost you. Not yet, at least.
“Y/N–” Steve practically falls against you, and you’re no better yourself. You’re crying, snot runs down your face as you grab desperately at him. His hands are all over you as he tries to stop the bleeding, but there’s so much blood.
“I-I’m here.” Your hands are all over Steve’s body, too. They cup his waist, there are so many bite marks on him, but at least his flesh is warm under your skin. He’s still here, he’s still yours, and now all you want to do is calm him down. Steve is panicking, holding you as if he’s afraid you’ll die in his arms any second, and the fear on his face makes your chest ache.
“Are you guys okay?” Nancy asks, tentatively touching your shoulder. A wince slips from her lips when she sees the flesh that is no longer there. “Jesus, Y/N.”
Steve wraps his hands around your thigh, it’s bleeding the most and you can barely put any weight on it. “I’m fine, but they took a fucking pound of flesh from her.”
“You’re no better,” you’ve placed your own hands over his stomach, his blood warm against your fingers. “I think you lost your appendix.”
Steve laughs, but almost immediately his laugh turns into a groan. “God, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”
You apologize, kissing his shoulder. Light catches your attention and you see Robin crouched down next to one of the bat carcasses. She looks up at everyone. “Uh, do you guys think these bats have, like, rabies?”
“Robin, if we have rabies, please promise me you’ll shoot me.” You tell her, dead serious. Rabies has always terrified you. When you were younger, a rabid fox made its way onto your grandparents' farm. It had killed all the chickens, attacked the herding dog they had, and you remember how distraught your father had been when he had to kill both the fox and the hound.
“I’m sure you and Steve don’t have rabies.” Nancy says, sensing your growing fear. But before she can say anything else a small group of bats descend from the sky.
Steve pushes you behind him. They land near the gate you fell through, screeching at the five of you. They’re a small enough group, Steve voices what you’re all thinking: you can handle them. Flicking your knives out, you prepare for what’s about to come.
Until a swarm grows larger in the distance. There’s easily hundreds of them, they cast a shadow below where they fly. There’s too many to fight.
“You were saying?” Robin breathes out, eyes never leaving the sky.
Steve is speechless, he doesn’t know what to do. His hand tightens around you, protective, but thankfully Nancy has a plan. She tells everyone to run towards the woods and none of you hesitate to follow. Steve swings your legs over his arms, picking you up with ease despite the bite wounds that litter his skin. Like hell he’s letting you run right now; you’re too torn up, you can hardly even walk.
As Steve runs with you in his arms, he’s careful to avoid the vines that creep over the ground. It’s a dizzying rush. All you can do is hold tightly onto him, trusting that Nancy knows where she’s taking you.
Deep into the woods, Nancy calls over her shoulder, “Over here!”
Lifting your head from Steve’s chest, you realize, as you always do, that Nancy Wheeler is a goddamn genius. She’s taken you all to Skull Rock.
The giant boulders form a small alcove, just big enough to hide under as the bats fly overhead. She instructs everyone to crawl under and Steve sets you down gently, positioning you so that you’re sitting with your back against the rock. As soon as you’re secure, Steve’s hand goes back to your thigh.
The sound of the bats is almost deafening. No one dares to speak. They fly over at such a gruesome speed, their screeches echoing off the trees. You lose count of how many there are. All you can do is wait for the last of them to leave.
More lightning strikes above. It shakes the ground, the sound reverberates in your skull. You can’t believe you’re here. You’re in the Upside Down. The place you’ve only ever spoken about, the entity that haunted your nightmares and took the ones you loved from you.
It’s so much colder than you imagined it to be. Everything is darker, more twisted. The dimension is exactly as Will once described to you: this is Hawkins, it’s your home, but different. Colder, scarier. These woods are the woods you walked through, the woods where you fell in love, and yet the trees loom over you in a threatening way. Their branches form spikes, the dirt recoils against your feet.
Nothing here feels warm. The darkness is never ending.
This is where Will was, all by himself, for a week.
He had only been twelve.
When the nightmare swarm of bats is finally over, Robin carefully pokes her head out from the alcove. “Okay, that was close.”
Eddie agrees, kicking at a rock. Steve offers you his hand to stand, but the moment your skin touches his, you feel sick. All the adrenaline from earlier leaves you. All the blood you’ve lost catches up, leaving your body weak. Stumbling, your vision tunnels and your eyes roll back.
“Woah, hey.” Steve breaks your fall, snapping his fingers in your face to bring your attention back to him. He’s weak as well, he has to lean heavily against the rock to steady himself. “Y/N-shit!”
“Steve?” Nancy turns around, finding you and him moments away from collapsing. She curses, rushing over. When she sees all the blood that still pours from your thigh, she gags. “Oh, fuck.”
“Keep… keep talking. Please.” Your breathing is labored, you can hardly form any words. “Keep talking to me. If-if I faint… embarrassing.”
“I think she’s losing it.” Eddie whispers rather loudly to Robin.
Nancy grazes Steve’s chest, silently asking him to move your body aside. She wants to get a closer look at his wounds as well, she can’t help you if he’s bleeding out himself, but he refuses. “No, no we need to help Y/N.”
“Steve, you’re also losing blood–”
“I don’t care.” Steve pulls you even closer to his chest, he needs to feel your rib cage rising and falling. He needs to feel you breathe. “Help her, Nancy.”
His outburst startles Nancy. She takes a step back, alarmed, but clenches her jaw. There’s no getting through to Steve; she knows she’s lost the fight. “At least sit her down.”
Steve collapses, sliding back against the rock with you tucked to his chest. With shaking hands, he forces you to sit next to him. You wince with every movement, it’s getting harder and harder to stay awake.
“Stay with me, angel.” Steve murmurs to you, motioning to Nancy to look down at your thigh. The wound is bleeding the most, the teeth sunk in the deepest.
“Don’t wanna faint,” your head sags to the side, exhausted. “So embarrassing.”
Nancy places her hands unsurely to your thigh. The blood squelches, soaking through your jeans. She exhales shakily. “You’re not-you’re not going to faint, okay? Just keep talking, Y/N.”
“Hate bats.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind, but it seems to settle Nancy’s unease and Steve’s worry. “Little fuckers hurt.”
Nancy tears the end of her shirt, her nimble fingers gently lift your injured leg. She ties the piece of fabric tight around your thigh, quelling the bleeding. Steve helps with the knot, though really he just needs something to do.
“If you want some good news, I’m pretty sure wooziness is not a symptom of rabies.” Robin crouches next to you, smiling despite how terrified she is. “So that’s something, right?”
You yelp when Nancy tightens the tourniquet. Biting your tongue, you force a smile to Robin. “Hooray.”
“There,” Nancy wipes her hands of your blood. The tourniquet isn’t much, but already the bleeding has subsided. “But I think you’re going to need stitches.”
“I’m tired of hospitals,” you whine, but you’re already feeling a bit better. You’re weak, sure, but at least your body isn’t slowly draining itself out. “Thanks, though.”
Nancy nods, smiling softly, before her eyes land on Steve’s stomach. “Can I finally patch you up?”
Steve doesn’t even look at her, instead cups your face. Even though you’re covered in blood and sweat and tears, even though your cheek is scabbed and your lip is split, he doesn’t think he’s ever found you more beautiful. “You alright?”
“Been better,” you admit, squeezing his arm. “But let’s worry about you now.” Turning to Nancy, you extend your arm. “Got any more torn pieces of clothing?”
She bites her lip. The only thing covering your body is your tank top. She’s seen the cuts all over your palms. She doesn’t think you’ll be able to wrap the cloth around Steve, if she’s being honest. But she also knows Steve and how fiercely he loves you. He won’t let anyone near him but you.
Finally, she sighs. Tearing off more of her shirt, she hands it to you. “Yeah, here.”
You thank Nancy again, and she gives you a curt nod before backing away, giving you and Steve some space. Once she’s gone, you tend to Steve’s injuries. When he moves his hand away and reveals raised, angry flesh, you inhale sharply. “Steve…”
“Just a flesh wound.” He jokes, but you can hear the pain in his voice.
Though you’re still dizzy and weak, you manage to lift Steve’s body enough to wrap the makeshift bandage around him. Luckily he isn’t bleeding as badly as you are, but the sight of him injured still leaves you nauseous.
Tying the fabric around his torso, you’re careful not to hurt him any more. The moment is familiar, reminiscent of the years before. Back in the junkyard when a Demodog nearly tore open your rib cage, Steve had been the one to take care of you. He had so carefully wrapped your cardigan around your chest, been so delicate with you, and now it’s your turn to do the same for him.
“We always end up here, don’t we?” You say softly, it still takes a lot of energy for you to speak. You finish tying a knot to secure the bandage and Steve looks at you oddly. He doesn’t understand, and you shrug. “You and me, patching each other’s wounds up.”
Steve’s eyes soften. It doesn’t matter where he could be, in what situation he could be stuck in, you always somehow remind him of how loved he is. “Kinda wish the bats had eaten my ribs instead. We could’ve had matching scars.”
You laugh, eyes shining with tears. Fresh pain explodes all over your body, but you laugh anyways. You don’t know why you’re laughing or why tears run down your face. The exhaustion and pain from today must finally be catching up to you. “How romantic.”
Steve laughs as well, the pain of it bearable when he hears your laughter mixing with his. “I love you, angel.”
“I love you, too, honey.” It’s so cold in the Upside Down, but the warmth of Steve’s love feels like sunshine kissing your skin.
Robin clears her throat. “Uh, not to ruin this cute moment, but I just wanted to say that if either of you start feeling aggressive, please let me know. Because, ya know. The threat of rabies still.”
“I kinda wanna punch you.” Steve looks at her pointedly, annoyed.
You poke his cheek and smile apologetically at Robin. “He didn’t mean that.”
“Sense of humor is still intact, that’s a good sign!” She cheers, then, as an afterthought, she takes off her flannel and hands it to you. “Also, figured you’d want this. Not that you aren’t totally hot right now in only a tiny tank top and blood all over you, it’s just freakishly cold down here and you technically have an exposed wound on your shoulder and who knows what sorts of awful flesh eating diseases there are here.”
You accept the flannel gratefully and thank her. Then, together, you and Steve stand up. The process is difficult, you only have one functional top and bottom, and you walk in a slow manner together as you lean against the other.
Up ahead, Eddie is standing on one of the boulders, staring out into the vast dimension. “So, uh. This place is like Hawkins, but with monsters and nasty shit?”
“Basically.” You respond, grunting as you support Steve’s upper body.
Eddie nods, defeated, and before he can step down, Nancy tells him to be careful of the vines. “It’s all a hive mind.”
When Eddie doesn’t understand, Steve tries to explain it to him. “All the creepy crawlies here, dude. They’re like, one or something.”
“They’re all interconnected. They can feel each other’s pain, feelings, whatever.” You say, remembering how Jonathan had described Will’s agonizing screams when the vines had been burned in the tunnels.
“Step on a vine, you’re stepping on a bat, you’re stepping on Vecna.” Steve finishes grimly.
Eddie smiles sarcastically, obviously displeased with this information, but he’s careful not to step on any vines on his way down.
“But everything from our world is still here, right? Except people?” Robin asks.
You nod. “According to Will, yeah.”
This pleases Robin, and she starts explaining her plan. If everything's the same in the Upside Down, then you should be able to use the guns stored away at Hawkins’ police station. With the ammunition stored there, it’d be more than enough to kill the bats that guard the gate back to Hawkins.
“I highly doubt the Hawkins PD has grenades, Robin.” Steve says skeptically. “But guns? Sure.”
You shake your head. While Robin’s idea is good, there’s still the issue of going all the way downtown from Skull Rock. The five of you barely made it half a mile without getting killed. There’s no way you’d survive three. “But the police station is downtown. That’s too far from here.”
Robin deflates, but Nancy furrows her brows. After thinking for a moment, her eyes light up. “We don’t have to go all the way downtown. I have guns. In my bedroom.”
God you love her.
Eddie scoffs in disbelief. “You, Nancy Wheeler, have guns… plural? In your bedroom?”
“Full of surprises, isn’t she?” Robin says with pride.
“And this is why we always listen to her.” You sing along, high fiving Robin.
Nancy doesn’t acknowledge you or Robin, but her cheeks flush with slight embarrassment. “A Russian Makarov and a revolver.”
“Yeah, you almost shot me with that one.” Steve reminds her, though his tone is gentle, almost teasing.
You laugh, remembering how terrified he had been when Nancy pointed the gun at him. You all had been so much younger, more naive. All he wanted to do was apologize to Jonathan for their fight earlier. Steve had just wanted to make things right, and that’s why you stepped in front of him that night. “Luckily for you, I was there to save your life.”
Steve looks down at you fondly. He pulls you close, his eyes are full of so much love. He remembers everything. The night that started it all. “And then I saved yours.”
To think that a sprained ankle and a bat full of nails would lead you to here: Steve’s warm chest against you, so full of love.
Lost in your warm memories, neither you nor Steve see Eddie throwing his vest at Steve’s face until it’s too late. The material smacks against him, cruelly bringing the two of you back to reality.
“What the fuck, Eddie?” You sneer at him, deeply annoyed.
He waves at you flirtatiously, a devilish glint in his eyes. “I’m protecting your boyfriend’s modesty for you.”
Before you can retaliate, the ground beneath you starts to shake. The force of it is so sudden, so strong, that it sends you and everyone else falling. Steve catches himself on a rock, holding you tightly to his chest, and you manage to catch Nancy before she falls as well. Eddie grabs onto Robin, stuck on the ground together.
The tremors are violent. There’s a cracking sound, branches fall behind you as the earthquake destroys whatever it can. Steve holds you through it, he whispers reassurances to try and calm you. When it’s over everything is quiet for a moment, before a loud, heart stopping shriek cuts into the night.
It doesn’t sound like any creature you’ve faced before. Far too loud to be a Demodog’s, far too large to be a bat’s. The thought of what it could be almost paralyzes you; it could’ve been the Mind Flayer.
“Guns seem like a pretty good idea to me.” Eddie finally says, panting.
Robin quickly agrees, and you swallow down the bile that rises in your throat. “Yeah, okay. I can be okay with guns.”
“So what are we waiting for?” Steve puts Eddie’s vest on, twirling a flashlight in his hand. He nods to himself, tries to convince himself that he’s as confident as he sounds. He extends his other arm towards you, helping you steady your balance. “Let’s go.”
And you follow.
–
It’s a long walk from Skull Rock to Nancy’s house; it’s an even longer walk when you’re in the Upside Down, hiding from demonic bats. With every branch that snaps beneath someone’s foot, you all jump. The croak of whatever creature nearby sets everyone on edge.
“Couldn’t we have tried a road or something just slightly less creepy?” Robin complains, jumping over a vine.
Leaning against Steve, you groan. “Anything would be less creepy than this.”
“I think we’re getting close,” Nancy tries to sound convincing, but even she’s uneasy. “We’re almost out of here. Don’t worry.”
Robin nods at the reassurance, but you can’t help but wonder what could possibly come next after you find Nancy’s guns. It’d be two guns, two critically injured members of the group, two oars, and one switchblade against an army of bats.
Not the best odds.
Nancy and Robin wander further ahead, leaving you behind with Steve and Eddie. None of you talk, more so because you’re putting all your energy into not falling on your face and Steve is busy helping you stay upright.
Walking is difficult and painful and you’re so frustrated by it all, especially after you trip over your fourth tree root. If it weren’t for Steve’s quick reflexes, you’d be long dead by now.
Eddie must recognize this, too.
“Here, let me just–” He comes next to you and throws your arm over his shoulders before either you or Steve can protest. Immediately the pressure on your injured leg lessens. You sigh in content, and Eddie smirks. “There ya go, princess.”
“Don’t call her that.” Steve snaps, but even he has to admit that Eddie’s help is needed. With him carrying half your weight, Steve is able to breathe a little easier. You’re better balanced this way. He’s no longer straining his injuries to support you.
Eddie winces. “I’m sorry, just… trying to lighten the mood, I guess.”
Steve doesn’t say anything, but the silence stretches on and you feel bad for Eddie. He really is trying. Despite the fact that he’s Hawkins’ most wanted, he still tries to make everyone else laugh. He has to know that he’s never getting out of this alive, and you admire the strength it must take to continue laughing anyways.
So you try to for him as well. “Thank you, by the way. You saved our lives back there.”
Eddie looks at you funny, he hadn’t expected you to acknowledge it. “Shit, Steve saved his own ass, man.”
“That’s true,” you laugh. By the time the fight finished, Steve had somehow managed to fight his way out by himself. “It was impressive.”
“No it wasn’t.”
Eddie scoffs at Steve’s dismissal. “Please, that was a real Ozzy move you pulled back there.”
“Ozzy?” Steve looks at you, silently asking for some type of explanation, but you shrug.
“All I know is that he’s in Black Sabbath.” Jonathan occasionally listened to the band whenever he was particularly angry, but not enough for you to understand Eddie’s obscure reference.
Eddie makes a surprised, but pleased, sound. “Honestly surprised you even know Black Sabbath, but c’mon. Ozzy Osbourne, he bit a bat’s head off onstage. You seriously haven’t heard about that?”
You and Steve stare at him blankly, and he sighs. “Well, it was very metal. That’s what I’m trying to say.”
Steve scoffs again, but deep down you know he’s preening. It’s not everyday someone commends his strength or recognizes how well he can hold his own. Steve has come a long way since his first fight with Jonathan back at the alley.
“I think I finally get why my brother likes you so much,” you tell Eddie, looking up at him curiously. “You know a lot of weird facts. He goes crazy for them.”
That, and you’re finding that Eddie isn’t so bad when he isn’t surrounded by his goonies. He’s actually… decent when he isn’t putting on a show for everyone. It’s almost reminiscent of how Steve had once been, back when he was the King.
But if you ever pointed out that similarity to the boys, you know they’d be deeply offended.
The corners of Eddie’s mouth tilt up. “Yeah, well. The kid adores you and practically worships Steve.”
“He does?” Steve almost sounds bashful at the idea of Dustin worshiping him. It makes your heart constrict. You both miss your brother terribly.
Eddie nods. “Oh yeah, it’s kinda annoying, to be honest. Especially when all he talks about is Y/N. If he isn’t talking about you, he’s talking about her.”
“I doubt that’s true,” you shake your head. “He doesn’t need me anymore, he’s practically counting down the days until I leave.”
“Nah, man. Dustin tells me all the time how much he’ll miss you when you leave.” Eddie tells you, voice firm. “Kid always talks about how much you look out for him, that he doesn’t know what he’ll do when you’re gone. In a way, it’s annoyingly endearing. He frets over you just as much as you fret over him. I can see the Henderson charm in him that made you Hawkins’ sweetheart.”
Everything that Eddie tells you leaves your throat sticky with tears. You didn’t know, you couldn’t know all Dustin said about you. For the longest time you thought he’d grown to hate you, to resent you the way kids often do with their family. You would’ve never blamed him; sometimes people just grow up, grow apart, but here Eddie is, telling you that your brother will miss you when you’re gone.
Unable to say anything in fear that you’ll cry, the only response you give Eddie is a curt, short nod.
Steve rubs your side tenderly, understanding all you’re unable to say. Eddie feels the touch against his own side and he clears his throat. He knows you want him to change the subject. “Admittedly, I got a little jealous. Hearing the little shrimp talk about you as if you hung the goddamn stars yourself.”
The irony of it all crashes upon you. While you had been jealous of Eddie, he had been jealous of you. The two of you spent months quarreling over Dustin, you’d been uncharacteristically mean to Eddie, and yet the entire time you envied the other.
Abandonment can make people cruel.
“I was jealous of you, too.” You finally reveal to Eddie, meeting his eyes for the first time tonight.
Eddie stares back at you, his expression softens with understanding. He seems to have pieced together what you have: your anger had never been cruel, only defensive. Protective of your brother the way only a sister would in fear of losing him.
“Guess that makes us both idiots, huh?” Eddie teases gently, accepting the offering of truce that you present to him.
You laugh, looking away. The moment of truce is nice, pleasant almost, until the beat of silence becomes too unbearable for you. You’ve revealed enough of yourself tonight. Awkwardly clearing your throat, you lift your arm from Eddie’s shoulder and pull away. “Robin is probably missing me right now. She hates the dark, these woods are her worst nightmare.”
Steve catches your arm before you leave. You’re still unsteady on your feet, but he understands what you’re trying to do. He’s come to learn that you shut away when you’re vulnerable. While you wear your heart on your sleeve, Steve knows that it can be exhausting for you.
“Need me to call her over?” He asks you quietly.
“No, I can manage.” You kiss Steve’s cheek, thanking him without having to say it. Eddie smiles at you as you leave, tight lipped, but kind nonetheless.
The two teens watch you slowly make your way over to Robin, who happily welcomes your presence. She wraps her arms around you and holds you tightly, giggling slightly, before holding you close and helping you walk.
“I’ll bring her back in one piece!” Robin calls to Steve, giggling under her breath. Steve waves his hand sarcastically, but doesn’t argue. Turning to you, Robin’s face shines in the blue moonlight. “You here to save me from this totally creepy, absolutely horrid woods?”
“Duh,” your laughter reflects hers. “I’m your knight in shining armor, babe.”
Robin squeezes your hand, resting her head against yours as you walk together. It’s been a long time since you’ve held each other like this. The realization makes you guilty. “How’ve you been holding up?”
Robin shrugs, the motion jostles your head, but you don’t mind. “We’re in the Upside Down, some guy named Vecna wants you and Max dead, and you refuse to admit that you’re scared.”
You bite your lip. Robin is just as worried for you as Steve is, she’s just hidden it better, and you wish that you could spare her the worry. She’s put up such a strong front for you. Between Steve, Dustin, Lucas, and Max, Robin knew you didn’t want yet another person coddling you.
So she stepped back, gave you the space you wanted, but you’re still her best friend. Robin won’t let you forget that.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper to her, holding onto her as tightly as she holds onto you.
Robin shrugs again. “Nothing to forgive, pretty girl.”
And it’s as simple as that.
Though Steve can’t hear your conversation, he watches you and Robin fondly. The two of you sway together, laughing occasionally. Eddie notices the way Steve looks at you and laughs to himself.
“You know, I was jealous of you, too.”
Steve raises his eyebrow. “What?”
“I was jealous of you and Henderson, the little one, I mean. Guess I couldn’t accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually a good dude. I mean, rich parents, popular, chicks love him, not a douche? No way dude. That like, flies in the face of all laws in the universe and my own personal Munson doctrine.”
Then Eddie motions towards you. “And when you started dating Y/N? C’mon, man. Everyone knows Y/N Henderson is like, God’s gift to selflessness. I watched her tutor kids in the library like goddamn Gandhi, and suddenly she’s dating you? There isn’t any law in the universe to explain that. Fucking unfair.”
Though he knows he should be offended, Steve finds himself laughing. If he’s being honest, he’s relieved that someone else is questioning whether Steve deserves you. From the moment he met you, you’ve tried convincing him that he’s always deserved you. But Steve knows better, and he can’t believe it’s Eddie Munson who sees this, too.
“If it makes you feel any better, I also don’t know why Y/N chose me.” Steve confesses, catching Eddie’s attention. “Honestly, I don’t think I ever would’ve been someone she even liked had we not been dragged into the Upside Down together. I was a douchebag. She hated me for years, but I guess saving her life a few times earned me some brownie points.”
Eddie snorts. “Surprised you’re not claiming it was your ‘stunningly good looks’ that made Y/N fall for you. Oh how humble you’ve become.”
“Y/N changed me.” Steve’s eyes find your body again. They will always draw towards you no matter where you are.
The sincerity in Steve’s voice surprises Eddie. Licking his lips, he sighs. “Well whatever she did, I never would’ve jumped in that lake to save your ass, not under any normal circumstances.” A branch snaps, Steve and Eddie turn to its source, but there’s nothing there. Sighing again, Eddie continues to walk. “Outside of DnD, I’m no hero. I see danger and I just turn heel and run… at least, that’s what I’ve learned about myself this week.”
Steve doesn’t know where Eddie is going with this. “Hey, give yourself a break, man.”
Eddie points to you, Robin, and Nancy walking up ahead. “No, you see. The only reason I came in here was ‘cause those ladies came in straight after you. I was too ashamed to be the one who stayed behind. But Y/N? She dove in the second your head went under. Nearly tore Robin’s arm off trying to get to you.”
Something heavy settles in Steve’s chest. There’s a shift, there’s something that simmers deep into his rib cage.
Eddie forces Steve to look at him. “I don’t know how you did it, but she loves you. The way she was screaming your name, it was an unambiguous sign of true love that these cynical eyes have ever seen. And if someone like Y/N Henderson loves you… then I figured you must be worth saving.”
Steve’s breath stutters. He looks up at you again, the warmth that cascades his veins whenever he sees you overwhelms him. Steve loves you more than anything. To be told how deeply you love him by someone else is almost too much.
You and Steve have been fighting so much recently. He’s said awful things to you, you’ve hurt him in ways he hadn’t known he could hurt. All the unspoken words, all the uncertainty and fear, and yet you dove in to save Steve without hesitating.
And isn’t that all that love is? To love without expectations, without hesitancy. Love is the inability to separate your breath from the person’s lungs; you took all the air out of Steve’s chest the moment you smiled at him.
You’re the best goddamn thing that has ever happened to Steve. He’s always known this, he’s always known that what the two of you have is special. It’s something more than just young love.
So what if the future you envision doesn’t align with Steve’s? How could something so small, so miniscule as compared to forever with you, be what Steve allows to drive you away? You deserve more than just his insecurities. You’ve already decided that Steve deserves your love, what more can he want from you?
He already has you; Steve won’t let you walk away from him. Not this time, not when what you have is rare and real and raw.
Steve almost wants to laugh at how funny it is. He’d been so worried about losing you, that he almost lost you in the process. What’s even worse: it took a five minute conversation with fucking Eddie Munson to even realize it.
“Y/N, she’s–” Steve begins, but the ground starts to shake again and he’s falling. Eddie curses, sick of these earthquakes, and Steve braces himself as the rumbling continues.
Robin struggles to hold onto you as you cower together under the earth’s violent shaking. Instinctively your head turns toward Steve to make sure he’s okay. You find him on the ground next to Eddie. Sensing your eyes on him, Steve looks up and nods reassuringly at you. Relieved, you breathe against Robin.
“Second on my list of least favorite things,” she says, voice shaking. “Earthquakes. Seriously, I’m unsteady enough as it is.”
“At least you have two working legs.” You quip.
Robin shushes you, but her voice raises when she sees Nancy stand and take off. “Nancy!”
Squinting at the darkness, you see the girl’s figure disappearing into the treeline. She’s running alarmingly fast, way too fast for anyone to catch up in time, and your heart lurches. None of you should be splitting up right now. It isn’t safe. “Fuck! Someone stop her!”
Robin quickly throws you onto your feet and you call after Steve and Eddie to follow. If running was difficult with a bleeding out leg, it’s almost impossible with the ground shaking beneath you. But if Nancy’s in trouble, you need to get to her as soon as you can. Leg be damned.
Breaking through the treeline, you find her standing at the edge of a clearing. There are fallen trees everywhere. Red lightning illuminates the Wheeler house before you. By some miracle, you’ve made it.
“Come on.” Nancy breaks the silence, chin held high. She isn’t giving up now, not when you’re all so close.
She starts to walk, never looking back, and you look at Steve. He grabs your hand. You take a deep breath. You fucking hope Nancy’s plan works.
This is your only chance of going home.
–
The Wheeler house is exactly how you remember it, only vines and debris maims its usually pristine appearance. Nancy walks through the door first while Steve shines a flashlight. Particles float everywhere. You try not to think about the fact that you’re inhaling them.
Your foot catches on a stray vine, its tendrils flail angrily at you. Stomping your foot away, you look wearily at Nancy. “Love the decor.”
She rolls her eyes while Robin echoes you. “Might be time to get a maid, Wheeler.”
Ignoring the two of you, Nancy ushers everyone upstairs. While her voice is level, the unease in her body is apparent. She doesn’t like seeing her home this way. Sympathetic, you start to follow Nancy, but for a split second you think you hear Dustin’s voice.
It’s faint, mostly incoherent, and you think you’ve finally gone crazy. That’s it. Vecna has won, you’ve lost the remaining sanity you had left.
But then Steve suddenly freezes next to you. His bewilderment tells you that he hears Dustin, too. That’s your brother. You’d know his nasally voice anywhere.
Sharing a look with Steve, you simultaneously begin running around the house, trying to follow the sound of Dustin’s voice. You remember Will telling you how he could hear Joyce’s cries for him while he’d been trapped in the Upside Down. It had been the only way Joyce could communicate with him. What if this is the same?
“Start screaming,” you command Steve, limping over to one of the walls.
“I’m sorry?”
“It’s what Will did, he-he screamed for his mom and Joyce was able to hear him.” You press our mouth close to the wall and shout, “Dustin!”
He has to hear you. You don’t know what you’ll do if he doesn’t.
Steve wastes no time following along, screaming Dustin’s name at the top of his lungs as well. You know the two of you must look like complete idiots, but you’re desperate.
“Dustin! Dustin Henderson you have five seconds to answer me!” You yell, throat burning.
“Hello? Answer us!” Steve stands in the center of the kitchen, crouched down as if getting ready to bolt.
This is how Nancy, Robin, and Eddie find you. The three of them stare at you and Steve in concern, though none of them want to get any closer. Robin ducks her head down, whispers, “Maybe they really do have rabies.”
“What are you guys doing?” Nancy demands, fed up.
“He’s here,” Steve whips his flashlight around, facing them. “Henderson. That little shit, he’s here. He’s like-he’s in the walls or something. Just listen.”
Dustin, predictably, is quiet the moment Steve tells everyone to listen.
You pound on the wall. “Oh, now you’re quiet?” Everyone looks at you skeptically and you rub your face tiredly. “Look, I know this all sounds crazy, but I can hear Dustin, alright? It’s him.”
“Dustin!” Steve continues to screech, not helping your whole “we aren’t crazy” argument.
Only Dustin’s voice returns, and thankfully Nancy and everyone else hears it. Together you all search the house, calling your brother’s name out. Yet now matter how loud you scream, he doesn’t respond.
“Alright, either this kid can’t hear us or he’s being a total douchebag.” Steve drops his flashlight.
You blow hair out of your face. “Normally he’s a douchebag, but not nearly to this extent.”
Nancy stands next to you. “But Will found a way to make Joyce listen.”
“When Joyce couldn’t hear him anymore, she used the Christmas lights.” You look at her. “Do you think…?”
She’s already running to the nearest lamp in the kitchen. Flicking the switch, nothing happens. You suggest trying a different light, though you know it won’t make a difference. When the lights remain unlit, you slam your palm against the table in frustration.
“Guys?” Steve gets your attention. He’s shining his flashlight at the chandelier that hangs over the Wheeler’s dining table. “You seeing this?”
Where Steve points his flashlight, a warm, evanescent glow emits from the chandelier. You gasp at its beauty, you’ve never seen anything like it. Nancy steps towards the light and slowly puts her hand into the loose waves that flow between the lights. It’s encased in small orbs that float gently into the air.
Nancy’s fingers dance in the light. A path of gold leaves a trail where her fingers have been. The particles in the light surround her hand, pulled in by her presence. Breathless, you reach out as well. The light kisses your hand, and the sensation is soft, almost ticklish.
“This is insane,” you murmur in awe, face illuminated. You never thought you’d encounter beauty in such a place as the Upside Down. But at least Will found the beauty, too. “This must be how Will did it.”
Robin, Steve, and Eddie copy you and Nancy, putting their hands into the light as well. The five of you twirl your fingers around, causing the light to flicker with every movement.
Steve’s pinky reaches for yours. “It… tickles?”
“It kinda feels good.” Mumbles Robin, making figure 8’s with her finger.
Nancy then lowers her hand and asks if anyone knows morse code. She mostly looks at you when you ask, and you bitterly tell her no. You’d think after everything you and the party have been through, you’d at least learn morse code by now.
“Wait, does SOS count?”
Eddie’s stupid question makes you hit his chest. “Of course it counts!”
“Ow!” He shoves you away from him, straightening his leather jacket. “A ‘yes” would’ve sufficed.”
Nancy shushes the two of you and instructs Eddie to start typing out the code. With a huff, he listens, and soon he begins the pattern for SOS. A soft buzz accompanies every flicker of the light. With each letter combination, you can practically feel Dustin getting closer and closer to you.
It’s almost an indescribable feeling. Somewhere, in another universe, Dustin is standing right where you are. You aren’t sure how you know, maybe you’ll never be able to find the right words, but your brother’s presence settles over your own.
This must be how Jonathan felt when Joyce was in the Upside Down. He whispered her name so softly when he followed her with the lights. Their love for one another tethered them; now it’s your love for Dustin that tethers him to you.
“Dustin,” his name comes out whispered, relieved. He’s okay, you can feel that he’s safe.
“Y/N?” Dustin’s muffled shouting fills everyone with relief. Steve and Eddie high five, Nancy lets out the breath she’d been holding, and Robin cheers while you hastily wipe your eyes. The SOS worked. “Is that-is that you?”
“Yes!” Steve screams into the chandelier, though you know your brother won’t be able to hear.
Anxious to get to Dustin as fast as you can, you shove your hands into the chandelier’s light and send a long, bright beam of light. More muffled screaming can be heard on the other side, only this time laughter accompanies it.
“Holy shit!” Dustin exclaims in awe. The amazement in his voice makes you miss him even more. There’s a murmur of other voices, you can only assume one of them is Lucas’, before Dustin shouts even louder, “We’re gonna find you a better light source. Don’t move.”
You roll your eyes. “Like we can go anywhere else.”
Dustin leaves again, but he’s back within minutes. Through loud screaming, he tells you to find Holly’s Lite Brite and go to Nancy’s room. Him and Lucas will meet the rest of you there.
The moment Dustin leaves again, Nancy shoves everyone upstairs. “I’ll find the light pad, the rest of you go. Now.”
And that’s how you find yourself restlessly staring at a child’s light up toy on Nancy Wheeler’s bed with Steve’s chest pressed against your back. He leans close to the toy, mumbling under his breath, “Come on, little Henderson.”
The Lite Brite suddenly comes to life. You throw your hands up triumphantly, giddy. “Yes!”
“You guys seeing this?” Dustin asks, to which Nancy responds by putting her hand into the light. Dustin squeals in excitement. This must be a scientific dream for him. “Okay, we’re not moving it, but we’re gonna unplug it. Stand by.”
The light fades away and Dustin prompts someone to spell something. Everyone turns to you. He’s your brother, you should be the one to make first contact.
Carefully, you use your pointer finger to spell out D.U.S.T.
Eddie cocks his head. “‘Dust’?”
“He’ll understand.”
When your mom first brought Dustin home from the hospital, he’d been so small. Immediately you fell in love with the small baby, but his size had confused you. You’d never seen anything so tiny before.
“He’s small,” you informed your father, making a face at the yawning baby before you. “Like dust.”
You were only three, but you can still remember the way your dad had laughed. For years afterwards you never referred to Dustin by his actual name. He was only ever “Dust” to you. Your father joined, the nickname stuck, though your mother came to prefer “Dusty.”
It was only after your father left that you stopped calling your brother Dust.
“Dust!” Dustin laughs excitedly. “I’m Dust! Yes!” He raises his voice louder, he can’t believe you remembered the old childhood nickname. “That worked, guys!”
Everyone cheers, Eddie even throws in his own enthusiastic “hi” to the Lite Brite. Your face aches from how hard you smile. Turning the toy over to Nancy, you nod at her. “All yours, Wheeler.”
Her eyebrows knit together as she thinks for a moment. There’s so much to tell Dustin and the others, but the Lite Brite is small and too many words to keep track of. “What should I write?”
“‘Help’ would be a pretty good place to start.” You suggest to her.
Instead, Nancy ends up spelling “stuck”. Which is pretty fitting, all things considered. Gets the message across well.
“You can’t get back through Watergate?”
Steve questions whatever the hell watergate is and Robin has to explain the wordplay. While she does so, pride swells deep within your chest. “Dustin’s a little genius that I love so much.”
“It was pretty clever.” Eddie admits.
Nancy tells Dustin that the gate you all came through is guarded. However, never missing a beat, Dustin tells you that he thinks they have a theory that can help. “We think Watergate isn’t the only gate, that there’s one at every murder site.”
You jerk your head up, eyes widening. It all makes sense now. “Wait, I think he’s–”
“Does anyone have any idea what he’s talking about?” Nancy asks tiredly. Everyone gives her equally tired no’s, but you nod viciously.
“Yes! We already know there’s multiple gates, we just didn’t know how, but Dustin might’ve figured it out. It’s all connected to the murders.”
Nancy looks skeptical. “I don’t know…” Before you can argue with her, she sends a “?” back to Dustin.
Who, predictably, doesn’t take it well. “Seriously? How many times do I have to be right on the money before you guys just trust me?”
Steve grimaces. “Jesus Christ. This kid’s gotta get his ego checked out.”
“It’s his tone, right?” Eddie butts in.
You shove them both. “Shut up. Both of you. Dustin can be annoying and frustrating, but he’s right. He’s always been right. Now if you guys would actually listen, he’ll get us out of here.”
Looking pointedly at everyone, you start to explain. “There was a gate in Lover’s Lake, which we obviously found,” your arms wave behind you. “The same lake where Patrick died. Now, where else has a dead body been found?”
“Eddie’s trailer,” Nancy straightens, understanding where you’re going with this. Looking at Eddie, she asks him how far it is.
“Seven miles.”
Your head drops. “Why couldn’t you have lived closer?”
“I’m sorry I’m… poor?” Eddie looks at you incredulously.
You flick a dismissive hand at him, but Robin cuts in between you two. “Nancy, I know your house here is, like, weirdly, creepily frozen in time and shit–”
“It’s what?” Obviously you missed some important details.
Robin holds her hand up. “I’ll explain later. Anyways, haven’t you always had bikes?”
You and Nancy share a look, both thinking the same thing: the bikes would be perfect. That, and they’re kinda your only option at the moment.
–
Since you’re in no condition to bike (your thigh has only just stopped bleeding) and there’s only four bikes anyways, Steve has you wrap your arms around his chest and stand on his pegs. He claims it’s so that you can avoid putting any weight on your leg, but you honestly think he just wants you to hold him. Pressing your body close to his, you look around at the houses you pass.
In a strange, twisted way, it’s exhilarating biking through an Upside Down Hawkins. Everything, and yet nothing, is the same. The houses you pass are frozen in time, empty, ghostly. Robin, Nancy, and Eddie bike alongside you and Steve. The scene is almost reminiscent of the night you biked Will home, wind in your hair and the night sky before you.
Everything has changed since then.
Somewhere along the route to Eddie’s, you bike past the Creel house. Your arms tighten instinctively around Steve. A chill runs through you, the house is just as haunting in the Upside Down as it is back in your universe. Your head throbs being so close to it, as if warning you, but Steve is turning into Eddie’s neighborhood before you can think much else of it.
“That’s gotta be a Guinness World Record.” Robin throws her bike down, breathless. “Most miles traveled interdimensionally.”
Steve coughs, swatting at the particles in the air. “Just inhaled a bunch of that crap.”
“I’ve been trying not to think about how much of the Upside Down we’ve ingested since being here.”
“It’s stuck in my throat, Y/N.”
“Again, I’m trying not to think about that.”
Eddie opens his trailer door and, just as Dustin predicted, there’s a gate. It’s just like the one in Lover’s lake had been: illuminating red light, vines all around its edges. An open wound.
“This is where Chrissy died.” Eddie stares up at the gate, which resides in the ceiling. He swallows heavily. “Like, right where she died.”
“I’m sorry.” Your hand finds Eddie’s arm. You don’t know much about what their relationship had been, but he seems to have cared about the girl a lot.
Eddie gives you a tight lipped smile, his eyes shining slightly. As he looks at you, Robin sees something moving in the gate. “I think there’s something in there.”
Something starts to protrude from it, causing the gate to swell rapidly. The vines almost seem to snarl at the intrusion. An ominous, unsteady croak emits from the gate. The sound sets your nerves on edge and Steve shoves you behind him protectively. Hand on your knives, you raise them, bracing.
The gate explodes, spewing liquid and vines everywhere. You all scream, jumping back, as something rips through the membrane-like material. Unable to tell what’s just happened, you squint up at the ceiling.
Nothing jumps out at you, no bats come to feast on your flesh. Finding Steve’s eye, you silently ask him if you should walk closer. Nodding, he grabs your hand, and together you creep towards the remains of the gate.
When you look up, you find Dustin’s smug, joyous face staring back at you. Only he’s upside down with Max, Lucas, and Erica, all just as in shock as you are.
You’ve never been more relieved to see them in your life. Dropping your hands to your knees, you bend over and finally breathe. “Oh, thank God.”
“No way…” Steve waves at them, and they wave right back. “Hi.”
“Dustin!” If your leg wasn’t hanging by a thread, you’d be jumping up and down right now. Instead, you opt for waving like a madman at your brother. The entire situation is so fucking bizarre, but you don’t even care anymore. “You did it!”
“I did it!” Dustin giggles. “Bada bada boom!”
After some heated discussions and a few arguments, Dustin and the others come up with a way to get the five of you out of the Upside Down. Using Eddie’s bed sheets as a makeshift rope had been the easy part. What caused nearly a fist fight between Max and Dustin had been figuring out a soft landing pad for you guys.
“I, uh. Have a mattress?” Eddie finally suggested when he noticed Max’s fist clenching.
She glared at him. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”
“Well, I mean. It’s-uh. Minor details?”
But none of them had time to question Eddie’s sudden shyness regarding his mattress. Dustin got straight to work tying the bed sheets together while Max and Lucas worked on dragging the mattress out of Eddie’s room.
However, the moment it landed on the ground, all eyes went to the giant stains on the bed. Cringing in disgust, you eye Eddie.
Seeing your disapproving look, he swallows. “Those stains are, uh…” He tries to come up with an excuse, but eventually he realizes it’s better to just accept defeat. “I don’t know what those stains are.”
“Would we want to know even if you knew?” You ask him, already knowing the answer.
“... Probably not.”
Dustin tosses the bed sheet rope up, or rather down, through the gate. “Not quite sure how these physics are gonna work, but here goes nothing.”
Miraculously, it lands perfectly in front of you. Dustin tugs at the rope before letting go of it completely. You gasp. The rope stands on its own, stiff but secure, and Dustin lets out a pleased laugh. “Abracadabra.”
“I’ve never understood physics.” You say, pulling at the rope. It doesn’t move. “But even I can admit that this is cool.”
Dustin high fives Erica and Robin steps up first. “Guess I’m the guinea pig.”
“Please be careful.” You tell her, already dreading your own ascent. Your shoulder still aches and you were never the best at climbing the rope for gym. You preferred soccer, track, anything that involved leg coordination. Not upper body.
Robin slowly climbs up, and when her body hits the disgusting mattress back in your dimension, you let out a breath of relief. “That was kinda fun,” Robin giggles slightly.
Then Eddie stares at you, Steve, and Nancy. He waits for someone to move, obviously not wanting to be next. But when no one does, he shakes his head. “Alright, I guess I’ll go.”
Steve holds the rope steady and Eddie falls onto his mattress safely. He sits up, exhilarated. “That was fun.” He echoes Robin.
Steve gestures for Nancy to go next. “I’ll help Y/N up after you’re done.”
She gives him an uncertain look, eyeing your injuries, and you try to smile at her reassuringly. “Go, I’ll be fine. Promise.”
Knowing it’s as good of an answer she’ll get from you, Nancy takes a deep breath. “See you on the other side.”
You grab her waist and help hoist her up alongside Steve. She’s swift, her strength impresses you. She’s almost reached the top before you hear the first chime.
It’s loud, deafening. The chime of a grandfather clock.
Another chime follows, then a third, a fourth. It wracks your skull with its force.
You turn, gasping, expecting to find the grandfather clock that Max had seen in her vision. Only you’re met with darkness. You can’t see anything, you can’t find a way out. You can’t feel Steve next to you, your hands try to find his in the dark, but all they’re met with is air.
“What–” Panic chokes you. None of this is right, you don’t know where you are, you don’t know what’s happening and you can’t feel Steve and–
The sensation of sunlight kissing your face stops you.
Your eyes open. You’re no longer in Eddie’s trailer.
You’re outside, there’s sunshine all around you. In front of you is a field of dandelions, their sweet yellow reflects the gold of the sun above. The grass beneath your feet is soft, lush and green. A bee flies past your head and someone calls your name.
You’ve been here before. In the distance resides a small house on a hill. The blue door and white frames of your childhood home welcomes you. You’re back in Virginia. Someone calls your name again.
The voice is familiar.
It’s your father, calling you home.
The realization knocks all the air out of your lungs. None of this is real. You know it isn’t real, but to hear your father’s voice, so sweet and saccharine again, it makes you weak. But it isn’t real. Your legs begin to move, you’re running before you can think of anything else.
This is a vision. The scent of oak trees and strawberries isn’t real. The wheat that skims your thighs as you run doesn’t exist. “This is a vision,” you try to talk to yourself, your fingers dig into your pockets for your walkman.
You know you’re supposed to always have it on you, that’s what Dustin told you, but there’s nothing there. Panic swells within your chest once more. “No, please–”
Distracted as you look for your walkman, you don’t see the body in front of you.
Colliding into your father, he steadies you. “Woah, there.”
His calloused hands are rough and familiar. He’s laughing, his voice is the same gruff voice that used to sing you to sleep. Your father looks down at you and your entire body freezes when your eyes meet his.
You haven’t seen him ever since you were twelve. He looks the same as the day he left. His smile is the same, the crooked teeth charming. Your father’s nose still points up ever so slightly. The only indication that he’s aged are the wrinkles that line his face, years of sunlight etching them.
But it’s his eyes that hurt you the most. They’re still kind.
“What are ya runnin’ from, ladybug?” Your father asks you, his southern drawl liquid honey to your ears.
Tears build within you hearing the childhood nickname. You were his ladybug for as long as you could remember. When he used to call, he’d whisper the name over the phone as an apology for everything he’d done to you.
Because you can’t help it, because you’ll never be able to do this again, you hug your father. He lets out a soft chuckle at the impact, his arms hold you as they’ve always done. Your face buries itself into his rough t-shirt.
You’re a little girl who needs her daddy right now.
“I.. I missed you, daddy.” Voice breaking, you begin to cry.
Your father’s palm rests against your hand. He hums, soothing the ache in your bones. “You know you can never outrun it.”
The words unsettle you, there’s something about them that causes you to pull away. “Outrun what–?” “The guilt, ladybug. It will always find you.” Your father’s smile twists into a sickening grimace. The muscles in his face conjoin, his eyes darken as his voice becomes gravel. Deeper. Until it isn’t your father’s voice anymore, but someone else's. “I will always find you.”
Too late do you realize that it’s Vecna who now has you. You start to scream, thrashing in your father’s arms to escape, but he only grips you harder. He’s laughing, but it’s no longer your father’s laughter.
Suddenly you’re thrown into the lake behind you. You fall, screaming, as you descend deep into a pitch black void. Your arms reach out, you try to find anything to grab onto, but there’s nothing. It’s just endless emptiness.
You land harshly on your back, all the air gone. You gasp, choke on whatever air remains in your body. The impact leaves you coughing, clawing at the ground beneath you to breathe. Soil scrapes under your nails, your palm gets cut on a root.
You’re in the woods.
Scrambling to sit up, you realize you’re in the same part of the woods that Will went missing in. Fear cuts through your veins. Why would Vecna take you here?
“Will?” You’re on your feet now, cupping your hands over your mouth as you shout his name. Does Vecna have him? Have you lost him again? “Will!”
“He needed you that night.” Vecna’s voice taunts you, the sound like rocks grinding together. “Where were you?”
You’re running now. Branches cut your face as you break through them. You have to find Will. You can’t lose him again. You can’t do that to Jonathan, to Joyce and El and Dustin and Mike and everyone else. You’re the one who lost Will that night.
He had needed you. Isn’t that what Vecna said?
“Nancy!” Sobbing, you call for someone, anyone. But no one answers. Your vision blurs with tears, there’s someone running behind you. Chasing you. Terrified, you scream for the person you need the most. “Steve!”
Saying his name must trigger something, because suddenly the scene changes. You’re no longer in the woods. You’re on the ledge of someone’s roof, overlooking a window sill. A large, bay window that you’ve spent countless slow mornings residing on.
Steve’s house.
He’s standing in front of his bed, facing the window, facing you, but he doesn’t look at you. Not how he always does; his gaze lacks warmth.
“Steve!” You pound on the glass, you try desperately to get him to acknowledge you, but he doesn’t. His eyes are on Nancy, who sits on the bed before him. He leans down, brushes her hair out of her face, before bridging the distance between them.
You watch as Steve kisses Nancy. He cups her chin the way he cups yours. Bile rises in your throat; you can’t turn away. Their kisses become heated, Steve is tugging at Nancy’s hair and her clothes. She tugs at him as well, he helps her remove his shirt.
Nancy’s lips trace the expanse of Steve’s neck and his eyes, once closed in bliss, now open. He looks right at you.
“Did you really think I’d forget her, Y/N?” His voice digs into your ears. Nancy nips at his neck and he moans. He throws his head back, looks at you again. “I can’t. At least, not as easily as your dad forgot you.”
You stumble back, crying so hard you can barely breathe. Steve laughs seeing your heartbroken reaction. It’s cruel and awful. He’s cold. You’ve never known his voice to hold so much malice. Not towards you. Not towards anyone.
He’s wrong. Steve doesn’t love Nancy, not anymore. Vecna is the one saying this, you know it isn’t Steve. He would never say any of this to you, he could never be so cruel to you. He loves you. You know he does.
“N-no! This isn’t-this isn’t real–”
But the hatred in Steve’s eyes causes your foot to catch on the edge of the roof. You don’t have time to catch yourself; your body is weightless again, only this time it’s a much shorter fall. You land on concrete. Ripping your eyes open, there are domed walls around you.
Nancy stands above you.
Hyperventilating, you crawl away from her. You’re in Steve’s pool, only it’s empty, infested with vines, and your fingers stain the ground with blood. Everything in your body is screaming at you to run.
“Y/N–” Nancy tries to stop you, but you scream at her, kicking. She only barely avoids your fury. Holding her hands up, she lowers her voice, softens it. She’s crying, her terror the same as yours. “Y/N, it’s me, okay?”
Your body trembles with exhaustion. You close your eyes, tired of fighting. “Please be real.”
“I’m real.” Nancy swears to you, carefully reaching for you. When you allow her touch, she helps you stand up.
The memory of her having sex with Steve is burned into your mind. You can’t look Nancy in the eye. She breathes heavily next to, looking around for a way out, when she sees something. A strangled cry leaves Nancy’s lips.
Barbara Holland’s corpse sits on the other side of the pool.
You cover your mouth with a gasp, choking slightly at the sight. Nancy cries out in pain, in grief, seeing her best friend’s body dismembered by vines. You stumble towards Nancy and hold her as she sobs.
“Do you remember what you did, Nancy? Or have you already forgotten?” Vecna’s voice shakes the pool. “Don’t worry, I showed Y/N. When I kill someone… I never forget.”
A sob collapses in your chest. Barb’s death hadn’t been Nancy’s fault. Yet to place her in the same pool Barb was killed in, to show Nancy her corpse, is unrelenting cruelty.
All around you, blood pours from the vents of the pool. It comes out quick, thick, at a dizzying speed. Nancy tugs at your hand and practically throws you up the ladder to escape. But when you reach the top, you’re met with a red hell.
It’s exactly how Max drew it.
Fragments of stairs, jagged pieces of wood, a grandfather clock, they all drift through the air painted with blood-red. Somewhere there’s screaming, the sound only drowned out by lightning. A clock ticks over and over again. Its metronome is maddening.
Nancy holds your hand and neither one of you lets go. Having nowhere else to go, you’re forced to walk down the stairs you arrived at. The clock chimes again and your heart stops.
“I see you’ve been looking for me, Nancy. And Y/N…” Vecna pauses, preying on you. “I’ve been watching you for quite some time.”
Everything stops.
“All the guilt, all the pain.”
It comes to you in flashes.
How Will used to smile at you, before his childhood was taken from him. Max’s blue eyes, shining with youth and happiness, before grief killed her. Billy, how he would be kind to your mother at the pool. Hopper, the way you’d bicker with him just to get him to smile.
It’s all gone because of you; you can’t remember how to breathe.
Vecna feeds on your fear. “How fragile you’ve become… like a dandelion.”
The wording, it’s too specific to not mean anything. Dandelions were once one of your favorite flowers. Before a nightmare from last summer changed everything. The dandelions had filled your mouth with razors and choked you. Someone called your name in the distance, they’d been too late to save you.
The dream had felt so real. You’d woken up with tears in your eyes.
And now you know it had been Vecna all along. Even back then. He’s been watching you for far longer than you realized. The realization chokes you, the fear overwhelms you. He’s been here all along.
Nancy yanks at your arm, you can barely hear her over the roaring in your head. “Y/N, listen to my voice.”
She’s shaking you, trying to bring you back to her, but you’re lost. Hyperventilating, you struggle to catch your breath. You feel too vulnerable. Raw. Exposed. There are corpses strung up by vines in front of you. Fred’s broken jaw. Chrissy’s snapped neck. Patrick’s empty eye sockets.
The same will happen to you.
You’ve spent so long trying to be strong, trying to keep everyone safe. You’ve devoted your entire life to protecting others, helping them. But Vecna has been watching you for almost an entire year, maybe even longer, and you hadn’t noticed.
It’s why he’s targeted Max. He watched you take care of everyone you loved. Vecna watched you raise the girl. He knew it’d hurt you the most to lose her. It hadn’t been a coincidence. It’s all your fault. It’s always your fault. Will went missing because of you. Billy died because you hadn’t said anything. Max will die because you hadn’t seen the signs sooner.
Nancy’s screams fall deaf on your ears. She shakes you, begs you to come back, but why should you?
This is all your fault.
It’s always your fault.
It’s always your fault. It’s always your fault. It’s always your fault. It’s always–
You feel your body lift.
Everything fades to black.
-
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#steve harrington x henderson!reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#stranger things#steve harrington fanfic#stranger things rewrite#slowburn#angst#bdyr#m's writing#no one ask how i wrote this so fast#i am ill#we know this#anyways#let the screams begin !
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no logan actually has me in a chokehold, all I can think of is him being away for a mission but you’re so needy for him that you grab one of his flannels and ball it up and shove it in between your legs and then basically humping it to get off, and maybe he comes back early from said mission and you don’t hear him come in so he’s just watching you for a while before he’s had enough and decides to take matters into his own hands, btw love your writing keep up the good work!!💕💕
nat’s note: i read this and immediately had to put my phone down and walk away to breathe for a second. your mind is so beautiful anon, thanks a bunch for sharing! hope you love it <333
|| feat. logan howlett x fem!reader || 18+ SMUT MDNI ||
Six days is a long time.
Six days without Logan is almost unbearable.
The first three days were fine, nice even. You had the whole house to yourself, free to sprawl out on the couch and binge watch the guilty pleasure shows he always makes fun of.
The quiet was a welcome change—you could really relax, could sit with your thoughts.
Then day four rolled around, and things changed.
You started to notice the little things—the leather jacket he left slung over the back of the dining room table chair, the way the bed felt too big without him, how cold you were at night without him plastered to your back.
By day five, the quiet wasn’t soothing anymore; it felt empty.
You missed the sound of his voice, missed his scent melded in the sheets of your bed, missed the warmth of his body next to yours.
And by day six? Well, six days without Logan wasn’t just lonely anymore—it was a special kind of torture.
It wasn’t just the emotional closeness or the comfort of his presence you longed for—it was the rough scrape of his stubble on your skin, the way his body pressed into yours, heavy and demanding. The way his voice dropped when he growled your name, hands gripping your hips with a possessive edge that sent shivers down your spine.
You didn’t just miss him, you craved him.
It was settling in an unbearable ache, low in your stomach. A constant thrum that served as a reminder of just how much you missed his touch.
You didn't realize just how spoiled he'd gotten you. You haven't gone a day without at least four orgasms all year. Logan made sure of that, enforces it like it's a house rule he'd die before breaking.
You’d gotten too used to the feel of his hands roaming over your body, the way his lips traveled from your mouth down to the space between your thighs, the way his cock brushes against that special spot inside you each time he slides home in your pussy.
Your body longed for him in a way that made it almost impossible to focus on anything else. Every thought seemed to circle back to Logan, to what it would feel like to have him here, right now.
The worst part—no amount of toys or creative use of your hands was enough to soothe that ache. It didn’t matter how many times you tried to satisfy yourself; nothing worked.
The frustration was unbearable.
You blame that for your lapse in judgement when you made your way into your shared closet.
It was completely innocent at first, just you looking for something to wear to bed.
You only happened to trip over a shirt Logan must have left strewn across the floor before leaving. One of his favorites, a worn down brown and red flannel you'd seen him in countless times.
Before you even registered what you were doing, you bent down and scooped it up, burying your face in it. His scent—earthy, woodsy, and unmistakably him—hit you like a freight train as heat began to pool between your legs.
Suddenly, it was like Logan was there, surrounding you completely, teasing you with his absence. The ache deepened, twisting into something even more unbearable.
It was almost too much. That raw desire you’d been trying to hold at bay snapped its leash, and suddenly, the thought of going to bed wasn’t even an option.
You were already soaking wet by the time you made it to bed, greedy lungfuls of Logan's scent enough to get you there in no time.
The flannel was warm in your hands, the roughed up fabric felt oddly comforting against your fingertips and the skin of your cheeks.
As you settled onto the mattress, a thought crept in. Wicked and indulgent in a way that made your ears burn with shame and your stomach swirl with heady arousal that fanned the fire raging between your legs.
Before you could stop yourself, you slid your panties off, your body already tingling with anticipation
You pulled the shirt between your legs, pressing it against your dripping core, the familiar scent wrapping around you like a vice.
You moaned at the feeling, the first rush of relief flowing through you like water through a desert. The friction, the smell, it was almost like he was in bed with you, touching you, guiding your movements. But no matter how nice it felt, it still wasn’t enough.
The ache was only just lessened, the thrum of need was still there, undeniable and persistent.
With a whine, you leaned back on the bed, knees bent, legs spread wide, and you started to rock your hips against the fabric. Every movement sent delicious waves of pleasure through you, but it wasn’t the same. Not quite. You needed more—needed him.
Your fingers gripped the flannel tighter, dragging it harder against your aching clit. Eyes squeezing shut, you let out a desperate moan, hips working so fast the bed frame started thumping against the wall in a steady rhythm.
You closed your eyes, letting yourself get lost in the fantasy of him—of him under you, of his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer. His voice low and gravelly as he whispered filthy things in your ear.
Your breath came in ragged gasps, and you were so lost in your thoughts, so caught up in the moment, that you didn’t even hear the front door open.
Didn’t hear the heavy footsteps making their way through the house, getting closer and closer.
But when the door to the bedroom creaked open, your eyes shot wide, and there he was.
Logan, home a day early.
He’s stood in the doorway. His sharp gaze locked on you, jaw clenched tight. His eyes darkened, filled with lust and something else—something dangerous.
Your heart pounds frantically in your chest, but your body refused to stop moving, hips still grinding slowly against his flannel as if they have a mind of their own.
You expect him to say something, to scold you, maybe—but instead, a slow, dirty smirk spread across his face.
Without breaking eye contact, he crosses the room, shedding his leather jacket with a deliberate slowness as he does. He drops into the chair sitting in the corner of your bedroom, legs spread wide as he leaned back, watching you with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.
"I didn't say to slow down," he growls, the edge in his voice making your stomach flip. "Keep going, baby. Show me how much you missed me.”
The command in his voice was irresistible. Your body responding before your mind could even catch up, hips rolling against the flannel faster again, a soft whimper slipping from your lips. The friction feels even better knowing he’s watching, eyes dark and heavy with desire as he sees you fall apart.
"Logan, please" you gasp, hips moving faster.
"Please what, darlin'?" he hums.
"I don't- ah! Anything, please," you rush out, eyes glued to the obscene spread of his legs, where his strong thighs stretch the thick denim taught.
Logan shakes his head with a dark chuckle. "No, you wanna get yourself off without me you do it. Can't have your cake and eat it too, baby."
You whine, high and loud as tears burn at your waterline, threatening to spill down your cheeks. "I can't," you sob, voice tiny and pitiful in the quiet of the room.
"Don't be like that, princess," he chastises, clicking his tongue at you disapprovingly. "Know you can come just like this. Bet that pussy's been drippin' for days, huh?"
You nod pitifully, biting down on your lip as your legs starting trembling on either side of the balled up shirt.
“Fuck, look at you,” he growls, voice dripping with lust. “So needy you couldn’t even wait for me, huh? You missed my cock that bad?”
You nod again breathless, the pressure building between your thighs becoming unbearable as his words wash over you.
“Bet you were thinkin’ about me, weren't you?” His voice drops, rich and syrupy, and it crawls over your skin like a slow burn. “All this time, wishing it was me between your legs instead of that fucking shirt.”
Your movements grow more frantic, eyes dropping to his lap, zeroing in on where his thick cock presses against his thigh, tenting his jeans lewdly. Your mouth waters, lips dropping open with a quiet moan as you imagine him slipping between them, fucking your throat and making your jaw ache.
“Such a dirty little thing,” he purrs, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “You like putting on a show for me, don’t you? Gettin' off starin' at my cock while you fuck yourself with my shirt? Goddamn, I can see how fuckin' soaked you are from here.”
The flannel was soaked now, wet and clinging to your folds as you desperately rub yourself against it, your body trembling with need. Every roll of your hips makes you more desperate, more sensitive, pleasure coiling tight in your belly and almost ready to snap.
Your moans grow louder, filling the room as you chase your release, the rough fabric of his flannel dragging against your swollen clit in all the right ways. Logan watching you—making you do this—had you teetering on the edge, your breath coming out in sharp pants.
His voice was a constant stream of filth, each word sending shock waves of pleasure straight to your core.
“Atta' girl, that's it,” he rasps, his voice rough and commanding. “Come for me. Drench that shirt, baby. Make a mess of it. I’ll fuck you right after, promise.”
You were teetering on the edge, your whole body trembling with need as you rock against the flannel harder, faster, desperate for release.
"Come on, baby," he goads, leaning forward in his chair, eyes burning with something feral as he licks his lips. "If you get it nice and dirty for me, I'll wear it for you."
That was all it took. The thought of Logan walking around in his shirt after this, the fabric soaked with your essence, staking your claim on him, has you coming.
Your body shudders violently as waves of pleasure crash through you, pulling you under. Your back arches off the bed, hips jerking erratically against the flannel as you cry out his name, hot tears spilling freely down your cheeks.
Logan growls in satisfaction, eyes locked on you, watching as you tremble and gasp through the aftershocks. He stands from the chair, slow and deliberate, stalking toward the bed with a dark gleam in his eyes as his hands drop to his belt.
“Good girl,” he rumbles, voice thick with desire as he climbs onto the bed, caging you in with his body. His lips brush your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Now it’s my turn, baby. And I ain’t even close to done with you yet.”
tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!
a/n: wow this really got away from me lmao...it was not supposed to be so long ANDDD sorry for the low-key fade to black ending but I had no idea how to end this heheh okay bye love you!
#— 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘢 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 ♡#— anons ♡#ᯓ★ 𝐧𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭!#i really got nasty with this one#it called for it#oh my god when i read this#i should have recorded my reaction#like my face?#crazy#thank you sm anon#logan howlett x reader#logan howlett x you#logan howlett fic#logan howlett imagine#logan howlett smut#wolverine x reader#wolverine x you#wolverine fic#wolverine imagine#wolverine smut#x men#x men x reader#x men x you#x men smut#marvel x reader#marvel x you#marvel smut
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kinktober ₊˚ · ♡ ·˚₊ ghost & soap ₊˚ · ♡ ·˚₊ road trip
when you proposed a roadtrip to ghost and soap to the other end of the county, it seemed like fun. driving around, stopping at gas stations and restaurants, sharing songs on aux and having some deep conversations about everything and anything. well, yeah, no. it wasn't so fun for you.
because you were ovulating and now you were trapped for hours on end in a car, with two hot as fuck musuclar men. and that's straight up criminal. sittting in the back seat, getting a perfect view of their strong spread thighs right through the space left by the front seats. soap driving, one hand on the wheel and the other lazily draped on the gearstick. simon with one of his arms draped over the centre console.
all that powerful muscle, strong forearms and protuding veins making your already warm situation turn into an extreme hornyness one. thighs squeezing unvoluntaraly trying to get some release and a bit of friction on your weeping cunt.
you thought you were being sneaky, but there isn't anything that scapes ghost's keen eye, instantly catching you and making eye contact with you through the rear view mirror. he understands, he truly does. that's why he tells you that you might as well fully pleasure yourself.
those small encouraging words were all it took for you to start getting rid of your pants and panties and start fingering yourself, making a mess on the backseat. but simon, still watching you from the mirror, saw how desperate you were and how your small fingers weren't enough. that's why he decided to jump in the back with you, manouvering his big body over the cosole onto the backseat. he came to your aid, giving you a helping hand.
and what a helping hand! stocky fingers sliding into your already soaking wet cunt. he started with one and worked up more in all the way to three, fingering your pretty pussy until you came around his digits.
once he pulled them out and saw how dirty they were, he knew that you had to give him a little payback, helping clean them once he put them in our mouth. happily sucking your own juices off his fingers, wishing it were something else.
your blissed out but still needy face was all it took for simon to know that wasn't enough. so he seats himself properly before pulling his rock hard cock out of his shorts, standing tall as ghost grabbed your hips to move you and strat to slowly lower you until he's sitting snuggly inside your spongy walls.
but when you saw the vile smile plastered on his face through the driving mirror you knew your thighs were going to be burning because he wasn't going to any of the work. he was just lending you his cock so you could enjoy yourself.
you were trying, you really were, riding him eagerly and trying to get off, but sadly to no avail :'( so at your desperate attempts, ghost finally decides to give it a more hands on aproach. manhandling you into a diferent position so he could start fucking you in doggy. fully drilling into you.
your moans, the way you were getting fucked like a slut and the view from the rear view mirror making soap's cock impossibly hard. he was trying his best to keep his eyes on the road but it was becoming unbearable knowing he was missing all the fun.
so he stops the car in the first place he can manage and quickly jumps in the back with the two of you. ghost, seeing the desire in his mate's eyes, gives him the place plunging into your sweet cunt. johnny fucking his rock hard cock, hitting depply insie of you and making sure that you would be sore the next day. meanwhile, simon's prick sitting in your ass, having your ass cockwarm him.
let's say it doesn't end ther, both of them switching possitions and holes until the three of you are mess and have had your fill of fun on the cramped back of that car.
#cod#cod x reader#cod smut#cod x y/n#cod x you#cod headcanons#p!link#kinktober#john soap mactavish#soap smut#soap fanfic#cod soap#soap cod#soap x reader#soap x y/n#soap x you#ghost smut#cod ghost#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost#simon ghost x reader#ghost x y/n#ghost x you#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#ghost simon riley#simon riley#johnny soap mactavish#ghost x reader x soap
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stalemate
pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader
words: 7.2k
summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.
warnings: 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!
a/n: thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)
Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese — just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Won’t let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out.
Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. He’ll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do.
Sit, he’ll shout from the other room. I’ll be right there. Feel free to put something on — but please, not 13 Going on 30. You’ll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: you’re the best, but it’s not my fault Matty is the dream man.
He’ll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend — at least he was.
Because the two of you haven’t spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that you’re both pretending didn’t happen.
You’d laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, he’d smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiago’s pitiful loss in that third game of pool. “When he pocketed the eight-ball…” he trailed off into another fit of laughter.
“And then—“ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. “—the cue hitting his drink!” Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankie’s thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. “He’s never going to live that down!”
After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. You’d met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like you’d known the guys your entire life.
Especially Frankie.
Your friendship was a special one — punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. He’d become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize that—
“You look really hot tonight, by the way.”
He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.
It was you who kissed him first.
He deepened it though — that was all him — large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. He’d groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.
And then, your voice ragged and breathless, you’d asked, “do you want to come in for a bit?”
It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankie’s thumbprint bruised into your hip, you’d found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Still hasn’t.
The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you don’t mind, really. You don’t want to speak to him. He’d probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.
You wish you could forget it.
The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice — god, his voice — it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew you’d take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.
Your friends don’t know. They can’t; they wouldn’t let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him he’s so right.
You’re pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.
Because you’re not perfect for each other — far from it, actually. Fuck, you can’t even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship?
Not that you want that. Frankie is…well, Frankie. Sure, he’d felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you — but he isn’t the type to settle down. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Frankie talk about dating.
Besides, he’s clearly not interested in being anyone’s anything right now. Not even your friend.
It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, you’d spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he won’t even look your way for more than a few seconds.
Won’t make you a fucking grilled cheese.
It’s a Friday night, which means you’re meeting your friends at Sid’s. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.
Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you stroll up to them — not until his friend’s hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then he’s sliding back onto his barstool.
Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesn’t seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated cat’s.
Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.
“Alright Fish, you’re up,” he says. “Me and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.”
You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. “You sure you want to make that bet, Pope?”
Santi grins; nods confidently. “Hell yeah, I do.” The rest of you don’t bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.
When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. You’re already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. There’s a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.
You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. It’s deep — sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom — and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash.
When you snap your head up to look at him, you find he’s speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. You’re staring, you hear her tease. Can’t help it, comes his reply.
Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down.
You’ve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. It’s strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. I’m a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? You’d do that for me?
You feel bad for her. She doesn’t know yet that all he’ll do is disappoint her.
He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; they’re all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.
Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You don’t bother to check if Frankie is looking.
It’s cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. You’d planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you — a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers — and he’s asking you for a light.
He’s in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. He’s tall, though not as tall as Frankie. His shoulders aren’t nearly as broad and his chest isn’t quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame — dissimilar to the way Frankie’s button-down clings to him.
Then again — why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need.
You’ll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like it’ll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.
“I don’t smoke,” you admit apologetically.
“Ah — that’s alright.”
He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You don’t bother to ask. You don’t care, really. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is—
“You here all by yourself?”
“Yeah,” he laughs at your lack of subtlety. “Are you?”
“No,” you say. “My friends are inside.” Lowering your voice, you add, “but I was thinking about leaving soon.”
“Why’s that? Early morning tomorrow?”
You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your stranger’s eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.
“Just over it,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I’d much rather be home…in bed…out of these clothes.”
You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you can’t bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.
Your stranger’s gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.
“You uh — want some company — once I find a light?”
Too fucking easy.
“Sure,” you giggle.
He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him?
But then you think of Frankie inside — talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you don’t exist — and that just about makes up your mind for you.
Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.
He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly.
He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too.
Can’t wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Let’s go.
You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that you’ll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your stranger’s arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.
You only get a few feet, though, before you’re intercepted.
Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you can’t quite comprehend. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you real quick?”
Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. “I’ll wait outside,” he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.
The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, you’ve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. It’s infuriating, it’s—
“Are you sure you want to leave with him?”
“Excuse me?” you scoff.
Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. “You don’t know this guy, do you? What if he’s a murderer or something? Or like — a pervert?”
He’s grasping at straws, you know it. It’s why you laugh; roll your eyes.
“What are you, my keeper?”
“No, it’s just — I’m just concerned for your safety, okay?”
You’re briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?
“I’m fine,” you bite back. “Why don’t you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?”
He’s wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but he’s silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.
Finding your stranger leaning against the bar’s brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. “Ready to go?” he asks.
You’re not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your stranger’s bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. “Yeah,” you purr. “I’m ready.”
Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that you’re not alone.
Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your stranger’s clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.
Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.
The sex wasn’t great — not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. He’d started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.
Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink.
He must’ve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. “Hey,” he mutters. “How’d you sleep?”
“Pretty good,” you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline.
“You always up this early?”
You nod. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that you’d nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesn’t need to know that for a split second, you’d almost hoped it was Frankie.
He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. “Sorry, can’t. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.”
“I could stick around and help,” he offers.
Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.
“That’s so nice of you; I’m just more efficient by myself,” you lie again.
If Frankie were here, he’d grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where they’re kept: second shelf, on the left. He’d wipe down the counters and the coffee table while you’d work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And he’d probably put on his dad-rock playlist — against your wishes — though you’d inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when he’d sing along and mess up the words.
It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. He’s still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. There’s no evidence that he��ll be leaving any time soon.
The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that you’re sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.
A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Mal’s for their monthly game night. You’d tried to get out of it, told Mal you haven’t been feeling great — which isn't a total lie — but she’d begged you until you broke.
Will is coming, and it’ll be the first time we’ve all gotten together in over a year, she’d whined through the receiver.
And then-
I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you can’t let that stop us from seeing each other.
How do you know that, you’d asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.
He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed really…agitated. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just please don’t bail.
So you’re here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion.
You enter the house with baited breath.
Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t seen you at all.
“Hi,” you try.
He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. “Hey,” he says finally, to the wall behind your head.
“How have you been?” the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs.
“Fine. I’m fine.”
“Right,” you mutter. More silence. “Me too, in case you were wondering.”
“Good,” he says, voice cold. “That’s good.”
You’re not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as he’s being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.
You long to feel something other than the prominent ache that’s permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that he’s the only one who’d be able to alleviate it.
Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming.
“Mal’s in the kitchen,” he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, “we got those wine coolers you like; they’re in the fridge.”
With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.
You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans.
“Hey,” you announce.
She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, it’s as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm.
You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other.
“You’re here,” she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement.
“Yeah. I said I would be.”
“I know, I know. It’s just — I wasn’t sure. The whole Frankie thing…”
“It’s nothing; I promise,” you lie. “Water under the bridge. We’re fine.”
She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you two ruining game night.”
It’s half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, she’d forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.
Games bring people together, she’d said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.
You’d believed her at the time. Now, you’re not so sure that it’s foolproof.
The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.
It starts during the second round of Charades.
The first round had gone fine — good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, you’d avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santi’s horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.
It’d felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. He’d asked you how you’ve been as Santi studied his next word, and you’d remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.
And you hadn’t missed Frankie’s discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadn’t said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.
Santi’s turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of.
He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that he’s ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost don’t notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that he’s fucking mouthing the phrase.
You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod.
“That’s right. It’s the Empire State Building.”
“That’s fucking cheating!” you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, “are you fucking serious, Frankie?”
You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen you’ve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively.
“What, nobody else thinks that’s unfair?”
“Please,” Frankie sneers.
“No, she’s right,” Santi tries — ever the peacemaker. “We’ll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.”
“Fuck that,” you hiss. “I want their point taken away.”
Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. “Bullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.”
You’re fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.
“There shouldn’t need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. It’s common fucking sense — which clearly, you have none of.”
Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.
“Why did you come tonight?” you continue, voice more level now; direct.
You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it.
“Seriously, why?”
He’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again.
“What are you talking about?” he spits, finally.
You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. “I mean, clearly you don’t want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence — unless it’s to cockblock me — so why are you here?”
His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket — but Benny stops him before he can take a step.
“Just — cut it out, okay? Both of you.”
“He’s the one-“
“I don’t care,” Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.
Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santi’s face, Mal’s doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that you’ve effectively ruined their night.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble.
Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others aren’t impressed.
“I don’t know what’s been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,” Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. “Can you please just — go in the other room and talk through it?”
Though you haven’t much cared for Frankie’s opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes — something like fear, anxiety. Why, you aren’t sure.
You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh.
“Fine,” you both say at once.
“Thank goodness,” Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway.
Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?
The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. You’ve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That must’ve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you — because what was it all worth, if it’s ended up like this?
Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker.
“What the fuck was that?” you hiss.
He scoffs. “Me? You’re the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!”
“It wasn’t nothing. You were cheating.”
“Please.” He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”
“Oh,” you laugh, “so you are aware that you’ve been an asshole?”
He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.
“I wasn’t trying to be-”
You throw a hand up; silence him. “Well you have been,” you groan. “You’ve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just… stopped returning my texts. You won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?”
The room goes still. You watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. They’re dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.
“No.”
You quirk a brow at him, confused.
“No?”
“No,” he repeats, averting his gaze. “And that’s the problem — I didn’t regret it at all.” His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, “I’ve wanted it for a long time”
You can barely comprehend what he’s saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past.
He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.
“Do you know how difficult it’s been to look at you without getting fucking hard?” he whispers. “How many times I’ve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?”
Your mouth falls open, stunned. “That girl at the bar-”
He shakes his head. “I thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.”
“And did it?”
“I didn’t — I didn’t go home with her,” he admits, a little bashfully. “I couldn’t do it.”
His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly you’d think you imagined it if you couldn’t see.
“Why not?” you squeak.
He nods, as if he’s finally accepting something he’s known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.
“Because she wasn’t you.”
It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis.
Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. He’s quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat.
For a long moment, that’s all it is. It’s clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. It’s the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies.
And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and you’re sure you don’t look much different.
“Frankie,” you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesn’t retreat; just hums against you.
“Need you,” you say breathlessly. “Need you to touch me.”
His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton.
Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. “Been wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.”
You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He’s still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand.
There you go baby, that’s it; I got you.
You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how you’ve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.
You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. “Frankie,” you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. “I’m going to-“
The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. “Come on baby,” he growls in your ear, “come on.”
Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankie’s grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest.
You’re panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize you’ve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.
“Frankie?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Please fuck me.”
He should probably say no. After all, you’re in your friends’ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, he’s already made you come.
You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want.
In the end, he can’t help himself.
“Can you be quiet, querida?”
You nod, though you’re sure that even if you said no, he wouldn’t care. He’d do just as he’s doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like you’re on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.
He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls.
You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss — slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each other’s longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you — reminding you, and you feel like you’re steadily going insane.
He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.
“Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.
Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant.
“Oh fuck,” you moan into your palm.
“Feel good?” he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth — the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.
“God, you sound so pretty,” he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside.
“Fuck,” he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. “You’re soaked, bebita. That all for me?”
“Mhm,” you whine. “All for you Frankie; fuck-“
He’s shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. “Have to taste you,” he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.
“Oh, oh shit,” you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. “Please baby, please.”
“I know; I got you,” he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. He’s so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium.
Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you don’t even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below.
He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.
It’s a stretch — you recall it being so last time too — though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. He’s gentle. Tells you how good you’re doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, that’s my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again.
He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. “You like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?”
“Yes, Frankie — fuck. Want it.”
You don’t specify whether you mean him or his cock. You’re not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know he’ll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.
“So fucking beautiful, you know that?”
Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. “God,” you breathe.
“I’m serious,” he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. “Was so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.”
“Jesus, Frankie.”
He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isn’t gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.
He groans. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”
“It’s so fucking good,” you cry. “Feels like fucking heaven, Frankie.”
“Nah, that’s you.” He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.”
It ends all too quickly — with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliff’s edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place you’re still connected.
As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Benny’s boisterous chuckle and Mal’s much softer one. Clearly distracted, they’re likely blissfully unaware of what’s just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, prying your hands away.
“We’re gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.”
He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky.
“Worth it,” he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. “Got my girl back.”
You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they don’t notice the way you’re wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat that’s coated your skin.
“You sort everything out?” Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.
“Yeah,” he mutters, refusing to make eye contact.
“It’s about time,” Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankie’s head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.
“What do you mean?”
He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.
“Just saying it’s about time,” he shrugs. “That’s all.”
Shit; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you thought.
The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.
An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right.
He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.
You cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“Nothing,” he says. “Just glad I stopped being an idiot.”
“I don’t know about that,” you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.
“Come over?” he asks, his hand draped over your waist.
You think on it for only a second. Nod. “Yeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.”
“That can be arranged.”
end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)
#Frankie Morales#Frankie Morales x reader#Frankie Morales x f!reader#Frankie Morales x female reader#Frankie Morales fic#Frankie Morales smut#Frankie Morales fanfiction#Triple Frontier#Triple Frontier fic#Triple Frontier fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut
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"I Guess I Never Knew You." | OT8 [SKZ]
Genre : Angst [NO COMFORT]
Pairing : SKZ OT8 x GN!Reader
Summary : Based off of a request asking for reactions/how it would play out if the members were to cheat on you during your relationship. Each scenario is different - and these are rather short simply because I am trying to focus on Kinktober right now. Hopefully whoever requested this will be satisfied!
Warnings : CHEATING, lots of crying, angry responses from the boys, dismissal from the boys, reader gets angry in a few of them, yelling, etc. Very emotional.
These situations are all fictional and are not made to represent the boys. While I do write them as well as I can - based closely off of their personality and how I think they would realistically react - I honest to God do not think any of these men would be capable of cheating on their partner. Specifically Jeongin.
Bangchan - He cheats while you think he's busy with work
The excuses were so easy to make with you. 'Sorry, Angel. I'm staying late at the studio again because Jisung is sick.' 'I'm going in early to work on choreography with Min. See you.' 'Be back late, don't wait up.'
When eventually he just stopped giving you warnings, worry set in. His health was your top priority - but nothing of your own was his apparently. You'd walked into the studio with a small lunchbox full of snacks and water for him, assuming he was staying late again, only to see him with someone in his lap.
It's enough to make you tense, barely hearing his whispers and gently shushes of worry. He was sorry, he meant it, he swore, he didn't know you would find out --
It took every bone in your body to not hit him with that little metal lunchbox.
Lee Know - He cheats with an old friend from school
A girl you'd seen in his posts before. You'd found them kissing in a park while you were on your way to work, walking along the sidewalk only to stop and stare. A few girls had also paused to point and giggle, assuming the girl he was holding hands with was his girlfriend as he'd never done anything with you in public - no one knew that you were the one he should've been sucking face with.
Minho kisses the girl once more before they depart, pivoting on his heel only to fault. He stares at you from where he stands, your unmoving form timid and beginning to shake as the tears streaked down your face. He lifted a hand to reach out, watching as your body turned and - in the pouring rain - dropped your umbrella in your pursuit to get away.
He yelled, crying out for you to stop and let him explain. You didn't seem to listen, putting your feelings first and refusing to hear him out as he chased you down. He was fast - you were faster - darting across the road and narrowly missing an oncoming vehicle as you stumbled to the sidewalk before continuing to run to your apartment.
It really was a good thing you hadn't moved in with him when he'd asked you to.
Changbin - He cheats while away for a weekend
Seungmin had sat you down, told you everything. He'd shown you pictures he'd taken on his phone because he knew you were -- God, you were wonderful. And that wasn't his own feelings for you talking.
You'd been so good to Changbin. You made sure he ate three meals a day, made sure he had water, encouraged him to keep working on his music, his solos - choreography, etc. You'd done everything for him when he didn't have the energy to, visiting him during late nights and hugging him tight to tell him how wonderful he was and that he deserved the world.
Apparently, he grew a bit too cocky during their recent trip to Japan. Seungmin's pictures painted a portrait of your boyfriend with another woman in his lap, his face hidden by her hair as she sucked marks onto his skin that would disappear by the next morning.
You didn't confront him - didn't feed into it. You thanked Seungmin, left after patting his shoulder knowing it would likely be the last time you'd see him, and went home to move everything out of your shared apartment.
The next day, Changbin went on an indefinite hiatus.
Hyunjin - He cheats online
It started with the fucking instagram models.
Then he was messaging people, you find out. Contacting women he'd seen at fashion weeks or previous works with magazines. He'd asked them for photos, told them just how beautiful they were, and after looking through their profiles on your own, you'd felt like every ounce of self confidence you'd had was completely destroyed.
He'd only realized you'd found out when he came home from practice - no, 'practice.' - and found you sitting on the couch with tear stained cheeks and his phone in your hand. He hadn't even realized he'd left it behind, so eager to meet up with the other woman in his contacts.
You'd packed all of his stuff, told him to get out, and he'd immediately started crying. You'd never seen him so devastated, kneeling at your feet to beg you forgiveness until you slapped him and shoved him back by the shoulders. He sat on the floor, stunned at your boldness to yell in his face that he was a liar - a cheater - and that he never loved you.
He'd sniffled, moving to get up and grab the bags you'd packed for him so he could leave. He stands in shame as he waits by your door while you seethe on the couch, silent, calling his new hookup to come get him. He couldn't call any of the members - they couldn't know about this. Not yet. The shame was eating him way.
Han - He cheats while on tour
He's in the USA when he texts you that he needs to break up. It's enough to break your heart, have you sobbing on the phone as you ask him over voice memo why he needs to break up with you now of all times. He was two weeks from being home in your arms - why now??
He'd chalked it up to just feeling distant, feeling as though you were neglecting him and his needs a bit while he was away.
Jeongin later reveals to you over a phone call that Jisung had hooked up with multiple women while they were gone over the months. He sounds broken as he relays the information to you, apologizing as you sob into the phone and saying how you never deserved any of it.
You were more angry than anything that Jisung had broken up with you in an attempt to cover up his own wrong-doings while also saying it was your fault.
Oh, but the twitter post you made the following day was enough to be near career-ruining for Jisung. And it was damn well enough to have him crawling back to you, blowing up your phone and begging you to delete the post. But it was already far too late for him by then.
Felix - He doesn't cheat on you because he's the most perfect sunshine angel baby on earth (I'm running out of ideas)
Seungmin - He cheats on you with someone you know
Your best friend - Well, ex-best friend - was the woman Seungmin had his eyes on. Not you.
He'd dated you to get closer to her, using you as a pawn in his little game until he was close enough. He would curl up next to you in the mornings, whispering soft goodbyes as he left for work before returning home late after he'd spent the evening in her bed.
You'd found out through another close friend who she had let the information slip to. Sleeping with an idol - definitely something to brag about.
He'd knocked on your door for nearly half an hour before you answered, threatening to hit him with a frying pan if he didn't leave. He was filled with confusion until you hissed out that you knew what he was doing. His eyes widened, puppy-like and scared after realizing you'd found out about his little scheme.
"Everyone is right about you! You're a fucking snake, Seungmin. You use people, you're full of fucking lies and bullshit! Do us all a favor and never date anyone again, you piece of dogshit!"
I.N - He cheats on you with a trainee
It's hard to stomach when you see it. He was so young when he entered the idol scene - How was he even doing it? Hooking up with a nineteen year old-- A girl who had just appeared at the JYPE building a few months ago.
She was set to debut in a new girl group - a pretty thing, tall and slim with long hair and a cutesy style. The ideal young woman for a girl group. And apparently he'd enjoyed her, too.
He isn't aware of your presence until you're stomping up behind him and shoving him by the shoulders, stumbling away to turn to you. He stops, breathing hitched and arm still around the girl's waist as she stands stunned.
You'd bit at him, yelling how he was full of shit when he'd said he'd never understand why 'I Like It' was a good song, how he'd never be able to imagine hooking up with people with no romantic intentions.
"You want to be with her then, right? You want to date her? If you really don't believe in just hooking up for fun, that must be the explanation."
He stutters, stumbling over his words as his eyes avert. "W-- ... Well..."
Your chest raised as you took in a breath, wanting to slap the man for his actions. Instead, you'd turned to leave, bumping into a very oblivious Chan on your way out. He'd stopped, asking what was wrong, before turning to peer over at Jeongin and the girl standing there, shame filling the two of them.
"Oh, mate..."
Permanent Tagist : @dwaekkicidal @jabmastersupriseee @possum-playground
#skz imagine#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#bangchan x reader#felix x reader#seungmin x reader#IN x reader#Hyunjin x reader#Changbin x reader#han x reader#lee know x reader#skz angst#stray kids angst
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Heyyyyyyy you’re one of my favorite writers on here. I love the way you portray the characters so well, I consume your fics like a feral animal and they are my salvation. Was hoping you could maybe do a poly rosewaterkiller (Barty, Evan, Regulus) about decorating for the holidays or spending the holidays together or something. I struggle with the holidays and I feel like they would too because of family trauma, but I feel like in the relationship they would learn to enjoy them together now that they are safe? Maybe just me? If you don’t have time or don’t want to that’s okay too. All my love :)
hey lovie! thanks so much for your request <3 I had a vision for this and now that it's written I'm not sure I've hit the mark, exactly. I'm sorry if my vision didn't translate well, but hope it was close to what you were looking for <3 <3 also, the holiday wasn't specified...so I went with Christmas
poly!rosewaterkiller x fem!reader who wants to do Christmas [1.3k words]
CW: Christmas fic, brief reference to the Black Family home, suggested negligent/aggressive parenting, bad memories from childhood, but the rest of the fic is mostly fluffy I think
Regulus supposed he really shouldn’t be surprised.
It had started when the four of you had gone to his brother’s for dinner; the four Gryffindor’s having completely transformed their home into what Regulus felt could be described as nothing short of a winter wonderland for the holidays. Everywhere one looked could you spot a christmas tree, candy cane, snowglobe or twinkling lights.
Regulus isn’t sure if the other two noticed, but he couldn’t help but watch the cautious, almost nervous enthusiasm in your face as you took in all of the sights; the twinkling lights drawing you towards them like a Christmasy moth to a flame as they reflected in your glassy eyes.
You’d been quiet for a few days following that dinner; chewing on your lip as your eyes danced across your walls, the windows, tables, and even along the furniture as though something was missing.
Bloody hell, you’d even told them beforehand.
“I want to do Christmas.” You announced; standing in front of the TV with your arms crossed as you stared at your three boys - Regulus and Barty sharing the loveseat whilst Evan occupied one of the chairs.
“Well that’s good, doll. Pretty sure it’s coming whether you wanted it to or not, though.” Evan commented before he turned back to his book.
You let out a small sound of frustration as you tried again. “No, I…I want to do Christmas here, I want… I want a tree and lights and decorations, and… stuff…”
Regulus felt something akin to guilt for the way your voice trailed off at the end of your sentence, suddenly sounding so small as if you were afraid they were about to laugh at you.
Thankfully, no one commented on it.
“Okay.” Barty agreed carefully. “That should be fine, I think? We can do Christmas here if you’d like.”
You chewed on your bottom lip before offering them a curt nod and all but fleeing the room again, and Regulus figured now - in hindsight - it was rather silly of him to assume that would be the end of it.
He didn’t, however, expect to be interrupted from his reading the very next day to the sound of you bursting through the front door with your arms full of bags and boxes and a look of pure determination as you did so.
“Jesus, amour; why didn’t you ask for help?” He chided as he made to stand, ultimately disturbing Barty from where he’d been napping in his lap as Evan appeared from down the hall.
“This was just trip one.” You let out with a huff as you let your parcels fall to the ground unceremoniously; Barty grimacing at what sounded like glass clinking together as it hit the floor.
“Out of how many?” Evan asked slowly, furrowing his brows as he took in the sight.
You shrugged. “Depends on how quickly you boys get your boots on to help me bring in the tree.”
“You heard the lady.” Barty announced as he quickly reached for his jacket. “We’ve been put to work, boys.”
Regulus waited until you had left the entryway to return to your car to comment on it, watching Barty as he all but hopped out the front door as he tried following you whilst still tying his boot. “Should we be worried?”
Evan’s movements slowed as he wrapped his scarf around his neck; eyes far away as he considered Regulus’ question and how to respond to it.
“I don’t think decorating could hurt.” He offered noncommittally.
They were interrupted by a loud ‘oof’ followed by a ‘Barty!’ to see Barty on his arse having slipped in the snow and ice.
“I think that might be record timing for Barty once again proving us wrong.”
Evan grumbled something that sounded like “the stupid fucking sod” that had Regulus mentally filling in the unspoken “he’s so lucky I love him so god damn much.”
It had taken the four of you three more trips to get everything in the house. More than a few curse words were spewed when it looked for a moment like the tree might not make it through the front door, which saw Barty threatening to send it through the kitchen window.
“Poppet?” Evan asked breathlessly as the group of you looked at the tree; slightly worse for wear now - having been shoved and yanked through a narrow doorway - as it leaned in the corner of the room, supported by two walls.
“Yeah?”
“Did you get a stand for it, too?”
The sound of a frustrated, tearful exhale had the three boys shushing you and assuring you it was fine; you’d nearly sobbed at the thought of having to go back to the shops, but the offer from the boys to go on your behalf actually saw tears lining your eyes.
No matter, the tree looked kind of sweet propped up in the corner of the room.
…and Evan also shot Barty and Regulus a look that translated to “I’ll pick one up tomorrow.”
Barty broke seven baubles before he was barred from helping decorate the tree and demoted to hanging up various strings of lights throughout the flat. He knocked over two picture frames (smashing the second) which then saw him demoted to making hot cocoa.
He broke a mug.
By the time he made it back to the living room with four mugs of cocoa - three in Christmas themed mugs and one that was simply the shape of a narwhal - the tree (standing propped up against the wall) was covered in warm lights, multicoloured baubles, and silver angel hair. Evan had taken over the task of stringing lights throughout the flat which bathed the space in a warm, cosy glow.
“It looks-” Barty started, though Evan interrupted him.
“Awful.”
“I love it.” You proclaimed; your hands folded underneath your chin as you smiled at the hastily, not at all planned out tree that would have been so unlike anything any of you experienced growing up.
Any decorations at Grimmauld place were not for the benefit of cosy ambience or childlike joy, but rather prestige and status. His parents had to have most perfectly curated decorations to impress their guests, and he and Sirius never had anything to do with it. Oftentimes they’d be woken to the sound of decorators and personnel banging about their home, coming downstairs to find a christmas tree already set up that they knew they’d be getting a swipe up the back of the head at best should they so much as sneeze too close to it.
This meant that Regulus never understood some people’s excitement or joy at the sight of decorations popping up mid November throughout the city, when shops would start playing holiday music or cafes strung fairy lights in their windows.
Christmas was, as Evan had suggested, something that simply happened.
You woke up one morning to a Christmas tree raised and decorated in your living room. You woke up one morning and your local coffee shop had little snowmen painted on their windows.
But as Regulus watched Evan smirk before putting down his Grinch mug of cocoa and pull you into his side to press a kiss to the crown of your head, and as he looked over at Barty who was smiling at the small hurricane jar you had placed the glass from the broken bauble’s Barty had accumulated, Regulus wondered if maybe - finally - Christmas might not be something that just happens.
Maybe you were right.
Maybe Christmas could be something to do, too.
#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#barty gate#barty crouch jr#evan rosier#regulus black#rosestarkiller#poly!rosestarkiller#poly!rosestarkiller x reader#poly!rosestarkiller x you#fem!reader#poly!rosestarkiller blurb#poly!rosestarkiller drabble#poly!rosestarkiller imagine#poly!rosestarkiller fic#poly!rosestarkiller ficlet#poly!rosestarkiller fluff#christmas fic#rosewaterkiller#poly!rosewaterkiller#poly!rosewaterkiller x reader#poly!rosewaterkiller x you#ellecdc fics
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summer's golden haze - chapter five
pairing: lando norris x reader
summary: a day trip to ibiza, a nightclub, and max—who can't keep his mouth shut. (5.3k)
a/n: apologies for the lack of new chapters these past few months! writer’s block is such a bitch but i’m happy to say that i am back and working on this series as best i can <3
previous chapter | masterlist
Everything people say about time flying when you’re having fun has never been truer. You’ve developed a close friendship with Lando and his friends, and something even better with the boy himself.
You’d say you were surprised at how fast you’ve fallen for him, but you’d be lying. Sure, you haven’t known him long at all, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that Lando Norris really was that missing thing in your life. He slots in like he was meant to, just as you hoped he would.
You’ve all found yourselves spending more time at their place than yours because it’s just nicer. Today is no different.
Lando’s chin sits hooked over your shoulder comfortably, stubble on his face a little scratchy, but it doesn’t annoy you. Especially not with the way the thumb of his hand on your waist is rubbing circles into the sliver of bare skin between your top and shorts.
He’s warm to the touch, but not unbearably so, more like a comforting warmth draped against you as he nuzzles closer.
He likes to be close to you, you've learned very quickly—more often than not always having some part of him touching you. Fingers intertwined with yours, an arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your waist. When you're sitting, it's a thigh pressed against yours, a warm palm blanketing your knee.
Right now, he’s decided on sharing the same sun lounger as you, wedged himself in behind you comfortably.
Normally, you might’ve been put off by the sheer amount of casual physical affection he shows, but you can’t bring yourself to mind it. You want to be close to him all the time too, you’re just taking a little longer to warm up to instigating it.
“What’re you lot up to tomorrow?” He asks casually, walking his fingers down your arm.
“Mm, nothing probably. Might just do a beach day and chill out. Maybe take a little walk, I dunno.” You shrug. “You?”
“Flying to Ibiza for the day. My mate Martin’s doing a DJ thing at a club there, figured we’d go support a friend.”
You pout up at him, cooing. “You guys are so sweet.”
“Yeah, yeah, alright. Come off it now.” He rolls his eyes, pinching your hip. You squirm at the ticklish feeling, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. He perks up then, and you swear you can almost see the gears turning in his brain. “Would you guys wanna come with us? We could hit up the beach together, hit up Martin’s gig at night, then fly back here afterwards.”
“It’s a boys’ day trip, we wouldn’t want to crash it,” You insist, shaking your head. “We’ll see each other when you get back.”
“But I’ll miss you.” He frowns, wrapping an arm around your waist.
“I think you’ll be fine.”
He buries his nose into the crook of your neck, muffling his response. “No, I think I might die.”
It’s kind of sweet, you think, that Lando gets so pouty over not getting to see you for just a day. One might call him clingy, but you find it cute.
You attest it to the two of you still being in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, and it makes you happy, but something else gnaws at your stomach. You’re not even sure what it is.
Before you can say anything, he angles his head towards the rest of the group, covering your ears gently before shouting, “Oi! We’re all going to Ibiza tomorrow, it’s been settled already. We’ll swing round yours to pick you girls up, then head to the airport.”
He gets no objections from anyone, which you didn’t think he would, and it makes him beam.
You try to see it from his perspective. Sun, sand, beautiful views. The two of you get to spend the day together on the gorgeous beaches of Ibiza. If you put aside your worries, everything sounds wonderful.
So why do you have this nagging feeling this isn't going to go as smoothly as Lando says it will?
-------
It seems like you’ve just blinked and suddenly it’s the next morning and you’re heading into the hangar of a private airstrip.
The sun has barely begun to peek over the horizon, and honestly, you’re still half asleep. Most of your weight is leaned against Lando’s shoulder, who’s got a strong arm slung around your waist even as he chats away with his boys on the way in.
You haven’t packed much at all, just a bag with a nicer outfit you can change into before going to the club. Lando insisted on carrying it for you, so it sits looped over his other shoulder.
You aren’t sure what you were expecting when he’d brought up flying to Ibiza just for the day, but for some reason, the private jet your gaze lands on as soon as you enter the hangar has you a bit stunned for words. The unfamiliarity of your surroundings wakes you up even more as you ascend the stairs onto the jet.
A long sofa stretches across the wall opposite you, sleek white leather to match the cushy armchair you’ve settled into. Elegant polished dark wood tables separate the banks of chairs, and there’s a fully stocked bar at the back. Even the lighting of the cabin screams money, not those awful dim blue lights on commercial airlines.
This is the kind of thing you’ve only seen in movies, and now here you are about to enjoy a few hours on one with your very new, very rich boyfriend. It feels unreal, and honestly a little daunting.
Then in the back of your mind, you remember that this is probably just how his life is. Private jets and day trips to beautiful places, anything he wants anytime he wants it.
It’s one of two thoughts echoing through your head through the whole flight, the second one being that you don’t belong here. You don’t ride along in chartered jets, or go on impromptu day trips to beautiful islands. This is all completely uncharted territory for you and it makes your stomach twist, but you’re able to just pass it off as being a nervous flier.
Lando holds your hand, makes sure you’re comfortable the whole time, and that’s that. There’s no need to worry him about what’s running rampant through your mind.
Thankfully, you fall asleep not too long into the flight, and you don’t wake up until you’re on the ground in Ibiza. From there, it feels like a whirlwind has taken hold of you. You’re put into a car, driving, driving, driving god knows where.
Lando won’t tell you a thing, just kisses your cheek and tells you not to worry. And just when you think you’re at your destination, you’re squeezed into a golf cart that eventually drops you off at a seemingly private marina.
A large yacht sits before you, pristine white and polished to perfection. Lando beams, holding his arms out to the side like a game show host. “Ta-da! Look what we got for the day!”
You’re at a loss for words. When he’d agreed to a joint beach day, you thought you’d actually be going to…well, a beach.
“How the fuck did you manage to charter a yacht on such short notice?” Maren asks, clearly disbelieving.
Lando aims a look at her over his sunglasses, arching a brow. “What, like it’s hard?”
“Don’t do Elle Woods. You can’t pull it off,” Samira chimes in, to which Max nods his agreement.
“Everyone’s a critic nowadays,” Lando mutters under his breath, flipping both of them off. “Just get on the boat, dream killers!”
Your friends seem to be taking it in a much better stride than you are, because they go exploring the moment they climb right on alongside the rest of the boys, chattering excitedly. You, on the other hand, have to take a moment after Lando helps you on.
“So? What do you think?” He asks earnestly, rocking on the balls of his feet.
“It’s gorgeous,” You admit, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t know you were planning on getting a yacht.”
“Yeah, I got it so we could have the day to ourselves. Dock somewhere remote, swim and have fun without anyone else around. I know how important privacy is to you, and I wanted you to be able to relax today.”
It hits you like a heavyweight right then. Lando did this for you.
Went through all these last minute hoops that probably cost a fortune just so you’d feel comfortable. It has to be the sweetest, albeit most outrageous, thing anyone’s ever done for you.
You close the distance between you in two steps, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. The force of it makes him stumble back a little bit, but he’s quick to recover, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck with a smile you can feel pressed against your skin.
“That was one hell of a thank you,” He breathes. You shrug innocently and he laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Ready to have some fun?”
Turns out fun means putting an anchor down just off the shore of some small island not too far away. The day is starting to heat up a bit, perfect for you and the girls to stretch out on the cushioned benches and soak up the sun whilst the boys mess around in the water off the back of the boat.
You’re not sure how long you lay there, but you’re about ready to drift off when you feel something on your face. A drop of water hits you square in the forehead, another hits your cheek, and it makes you peek one eye open.
Lando stands right above you, beaming down at you as he drips water everywhere.
“Hi. Water’s nice,” He says, shaking his hair out not unlike a dog would shake out its fur. Droplets spray all over you with the action, making you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily.
You wipe the water off your face with an amused chuckle. “Yeah, I think I can tell. Thanks for that, by the way.”
“You should come in.”
“Maybe later. My sunscreen might not be dry yet.”
“I think it’s plenty dry.”
You arch a brow at his insistence, suspicious of the mischievous smile curving his lips, the glint in his eyes. He’s got something in that mind of his, and you’re starting to grasp what it might be. You sit up, inching away from him as he creeps closer. “Stop it. Lando, no. Don’t even think about it!”
He flops on top of you gently, enough to make you roll your eyes but not enough to smother you. “Lovely place to have a lay, innit?” He says innocently, squinting down at you.
“It was,” You groan dramatically, wrinkling your nose at the puddle of water beginning to pool around you. “Now I’m being crushed.”
“Are you calling me fat?”
“No, no, the words you're looking for are big and strong and handsome. Did I mention the word strong?”
“Twice, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”
“Careful, or I might start to think you have a praise kink,” You joke. Though judging by the immediate blush that blooms across his cheeks and ears, you might’ve just discovered something about your boyfriend. “Oh! You—I didn’t mean it like—”
His lips press against yours before you can finish your sentence as if to deter you from finishing your sentence, and you forget what you were saying in the first place. You’ve found that this is usually the case any time Lando kisses you, any and all previous thoughts disappearing without a trace only to be taken up by one singular thing—him.
“Get a room, you two!” Samira grumbles, bringing you back to reality. “Happy for you and all, but I’m trying to sleep over here.”
Right.
You’d forgotten you were laying right next to her. Evidently Lando has too, because he whines something unintelligible, face hot against your bare skin as he buries his face into the crook of your neck in embarrassment.
“Sorry,” You mumble, giving Lando a pat on the back to make him get off you. He does so, but not without a pout. The quick kiss you press to his shoulder when you pull yourself into an upright position is enough to settle him.
He tilts his head invitingly, eyes bright now. “Come swim?”
“Is the water nice?”
“It’d be nicer if you were in it.”
“I’m serious, Lando! Is it cold?”
“Guess you’ll just have to jump in and see.” He shrugs, winks at you playfully before ambling away.
You can’t help but admire Lando as he walks away from you, broad shoulders on full display, muscles shifting as he stretches his arms high over his head. Moles dot the expanse of his back, and it makes you want to trace your fingers along his tanned skin like you’re playing connect the dots.
You’re expecting him to head for the back of the boat, but he goes towards the ladder heading up to the roof of the boat.
“Now what exactly do you think you’re doing?” You call after him, raising your hand to block the sun shining in your eyes.
“Jumping off the roof!”
“Are you serious?”
“It’s totally safe! I’ve done it before,” Lando reasons, waiting until he reaches the top of the ladder to offer you a smile. Somehow that doesn’t make you feel any better about him taking a flying leap from that high. “Wanna give it a go?”
The words fuck and no teeter at the very tip of your tongue, but he’s grinning so big, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t at least a little bit intrigued.
Jumping off the roof of a yacht into crystal clear waters isn’t something you’ve ever thought you’d do, but then again, you’ve been doing a lot of things you never thought you’d do on this trip.
“If I die, I’m haunting your ass forever,” You warn. Once you’re up the ladder on your own, you accept his outstretched hand onto the roof as he leads you carefully to the edge, fingers firmly tangled with yours.
“There’s no one I’d rather be haunted by.”
He leaps, taking you with him before you can even think of a response, and for a few moments, you feel weightless, falling through the air with nothing but Lando’s hand to ground you. It feels less terrifying and more freeing than you’d thought.
You squeeze your eyes shut just before you hit the water, keeping them closed as you sink deeper and deeper. Lando’s hand leaves yours, but you don’t panic. You let yourself float, reveling in the quiet of being underwater until you start to feel it in your chest, and only then do you push towards the surface in a flume of bubbles.
The breath of air you inhale once you get above water is refreshing, and you tip your chin towards the sky, taking in the warm sunlight with a sigh. You wipe away the water cascading down your face before paddling back towards the boat, where Lando is sitting with his legs hanging off the back of it, waving at you.
“What’d you think?” He asks earnestly once he’s pulled you out of the water to sit next to him.
“That was…exhilarating.”
“See, I told you it was fun! Stick with me, baby, I’ll show you the world.”
Somehow, you don’t doubt that. If you’re an example of playing it safe, Lando is the definition of full sending it, impulse and chaos behind a handsome face.
-------
The day flies by, and before you know it, it’s time to head back to shore. Thankfully, the yacht is well equipped with a shower in the bathroom, so you’re able to freshen up nicely when the time comes.
Lando lets out a low whistle when you emerge back out onto the deck, eyes dragging down your whole body, drinking in the sight of you with his lower lip tugged between his teeth. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, makes your cheeks flame hot.
“Damn, you’re hot, girl!” He grins, winking at you.
“Stop it,” You huff, adjusting the strap of your heel.
“What? It’s true! Can’t I pay my hot girlfriend a compliment?” He argues, looking absolutely giddy. “C’mon, give me a spin.” You roll your eyes but oblige, and he whistles again. “My god, I’m a lucky guy.”
“You’re so ridiculous,” You chuckle, letting yourself be tucked under his arm as you make your way to join the rest of your friends.
“If ridiculous means obsessed with you, then yes, I am ridiculous.”
The place is only a stone’s throw away from the public beach near the marina and already bouncing when you get there. You’re expecting to fold into the crowd of people, but Lando skirts around it, heading for the very front of the giant area, towards the DJ box.
Maren’s hand clamps around your arm, squeezing tightly. “That’s Martin fucking Garrix!” She hisses, jutting her chin towards the stage aggressively. “You didn’t tell us Lando’s friend Martin was Martin fucking Garrix!”
“He didn’t even tell me, how was I supposed to know?!” is all you can utter back in response.
You’re just as taken by surprise as she is. You’d have never expected Lando’s friend Martin to be Martin Garrix. It’s not a connection you would’ve made at all, but you keep forgetting Lando is actually famous. Of course he has famous friends.
Martin gestures for one of the other people there to take over the set, swapping out to come say hello as soon as he spots Lando. Both boys sport identical massive smiles.
“Mate, it is good to see you again,” He says earnestly, bringing Lando into a tight hug. “I’ve been meaning to make it out to a race! You look great out there, though.”
Lando shrugs, enthusiasm flickering a little at the mention of work, but only for a split second. “Could be doing better, but yeah, cheers!”
Martin’s eyes flick over to you and he must get the sense that you’re a little nervous, because his smile turns more polite. “See you’ve made some new friends. Nice to meet you all, I’m Martin.” Then he notices how Lando’s moved closer to be next to you and you’re sure he’s already got things figured out. “Enjoy the set! I’m sure Lando will take good care of you.”
A few drinks in your system helps relax the knot of nerves sitting on your chest a significant amount, enough so to where you’ve actually started to enjoy yourself.
Lando’s hands slide around your waist from behind to sit at your hips, chest pressed up against your back as his chin drops down to nestle in the crook of your neck. He moves with the beat and you find yourself following, guided by his firm grip.
It’s so easy to get lost in him. You want to let yourself get lost in him, let yourself sink back into him and let your inhibitions free. But you can’t.
Anyone can see you right now, seeing as you’re not exactly in a private place. You’re tucked off to the side, partially obscured by Martin’s booth and entourage, but it wouldn’t be hard for someone to take a good look and recognize Lando, even with the smoke and flashing lights.
It’s risky to stay like this, and you want to tell him that, but then his lips press against the skin of your shoulder tenderly and your brain nearly short circuits. Heat blooms where he kisses you, traveling up to your cheeks and down to your toes like you've just been standing too close to a flickering fire.
It isn’t until his nose nudges in right behind your ear, and his warm breath fans across your heated skin, that you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe. The loud music dulls down into background noise to the pounding of your heart in your ears.
Taking a shuddering inhale, you wriggle free of Lando’s grip, mumbling something to him about needing air as best you can and taking off before he can figure out what’s happening.
You squeeze through the crowd rather forcefully, just needing to get somewhere without people, somewhere quiet where you can catch your breath and calm yourself down.
Somehow you find yourself back at the beach, throwing yourself down onto a bench and burying your face into your hands with a frustrated, strangled groan.
You don’t even know what’s wrong. Everything is good—you’re with your best friends, with Lando, and you’re supposed to be having fun. So why do you feel like you’re not supposed to be here?
The answer is a mystery even to you.
Watching the gentle waves lap over the shore proves rather soothing, a repetitive back and forth that helps ease your mind just the slightest bit. Only a few people mill around at this time of night, and they pay you no notice. You’re free to drown in your own thoughts without any of them being any the wiser.
Footsteps approach some time later. How long, you’re not exactly sure—wallowing in your own self pity feels timeless. The tips of a familiar pair of trainers step into your field of vision, and you make yourself let your gaze follow up to see the extremely concerned face of their owner.
Lando doesn’t say anything when you meet his eyes, just holds out his hand for you to take. When all you do is blink at him, then he speaks. “C’mon, let’s take a walk.” He tilts his head over his shoulder, towards the beach behind him.
“I can’t walk on sand in these heels,” You sniff, scowling a little bit. It’s a shit excuse, you know that, but you don’t feel like being very cooperative right now.
“I’ll hold them,” He replies, toeing off his own shoes first. You give in almost too easily, slipping off yours to give to him and accepting his other hand up. His fingers immediately intertwine with yours, tugging you closer to him as you step into the sand.
You walk along the shore for a while before either of you feel like saying anything, and it’s him who speaks first.
“Are you alright, love?” He asks gently. Rather than saying anything, you press your lips together. “C’mon, will you talk to me? Please?” His voice is so soft, so full of genuine concern for you it makes you start to feel bad. “I think it’ll make you feel better, instead of holding everything in.”
“All of this—the jet, the yacht, everything—it’s a lot to take in,” You admit quietly, staring hard at the sand in front of you. “And I know you did it for me, so I’d feel comfortable, and I love how thoughtful you are when it comes to these things. But I…this is all completely new for me. Like, I can’t help but feel like such an outsider.”
Lando’s expression crumples. “Oh. I didn’t mean to—that wasn’t my intention. To make you feel like you don’t belong.”
“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”
“This sounds like the start of a romcom breakup scene,” He says, then he freezes, brows furrowing. “Wait, is this—”
“No! No, I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just…saying things.”
“Okay.” He nods, looking thoughtful. “How can I fix this, how can I help with what you’re feeling?”
You smile at him, grateful that he’s asking even though there isn’t anything for him to do about how you’re feeling. Putting it out there is already starting to help, actually. You were scared about your thoughts and feelings being cast aside, but Lando hasn’t done that. He’s nothing but kind and caring about it. About you.
“I’m fine, Lando. Thank you though, you’re sweet,” You assure him, kissing his cheek. “Mind if we walk a little longer before going back to Martin’s set?”
“We don’t have to go back,” He suggests. “We can stay here, go somewhere else, anything you want.”
“I want to go back. It’ll be fun,” You say, nodding firmly. The action is meant to reassure yourself more so than Lando, but he’s the one who looks wary.
His head cocks to the side, brows furrowing in gentle caution. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. I’ll be fine, I promise.”
-------
The jet is quiet on the way back to Greece after Martin’s gig lets out, with good reason. It’s late at night, bordering on very early morning, and everyone’s asleep except you and Max, who’s on the phone with his girlfriend.
Judging by the way Lando immediately found his way into your space as soon as you all settled in for the flight and promptly conked out not five minutes later, he's exhausted.
You glance down at the boy currently snoozing away curled up with his head in your lap, one of your hands clutched between both of his. His chest rises and falls rhythmically in his sleep, long lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheekbones.
Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever been as content with someone as you are now with Lando. Even though things between you are still new, you feel like you really can be yourself without judgement around him too. And that talk you’d had at the beach has definitely lifted the weight off your shoulders a good amount.
Still, there’s something else you have to get off your chest. You turn your gaze on the only other person you can talk to right now, the one person you do want to talk to.
Max ends his call shortly after with a quiet love you, see you soon, catching your eye with a sheepish smile as he sets the phone down on the table. “Pietra says hi. She’s looking forward to meeting you guys when she flies in.”
“We’re excited to meet her too, she sounds amazing.”
“Yeah, she is,” Max sighs. Then he squints at you, like he knows something is amiss. “Is everything alright? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”
You nod carefully, absentmindedly winding one of Lando’s springy curls around your finger. He exhales a little harder in his sleep when you let it bounce back into place but doesn’t wake up, just snuggles deeper into you. “It’s kind of a weird thing to bring up, but I feel like I have to ask.”
“Anything, go ahead. We’re friends, aren’t we?” It’s actually reassuring to know that Max’s opinion on you hasn’t changed since you’d gotten together with his best friend. You’re still friends just the same. That thought helps you muster up the courage to say what’s been weighing on you.
“Are you okay with us? Lando and I, I mean.”
You aren’t seeking his approval or anything, you just want him to be okay with the two of you. Or maybe you are, you’re not really sure. Max is Lando’s best friend, his brother. Other than Lando’s family, who you can't even think about meeting one day without your stomach churning, he's the person who's known Lando best since they were kids.
All these people, they’re everything to him, and it's important for you to know where they stand.
Max smiles warmly, says your name in that same soft, gentle way Lando always does when you get unsure. “You’re exactly the kind of person Lando needs in his life. Someone away from everything he’s got going on, someone who genuinely cares for him the way you do. You’re perfect for each other, and I hope you know that.”
You swallow the lump rising in your throat, smiling at Max through eyes glossy with welled up tears. His blessing brings you comfort, even if you weren't looking for it. “Thank you.”
“No, I feel like I should be the one thanking you.”
Your brows furrow, head tilting curiously to the side as to what he means. “Me? What did I do?”
“I know Lando’s filled you in about what’s been going on, so you know that he’s had a bit of a rough time lately.” Max says softly, clearing his throat to rid himself of the emotional thickness in his tone. You can tell how much Max really loves and cares for Lando. “He’s not been himself for a while, so this summer break, this trip, it was something that might help him leave it all behind. Just relax and find himself again, ‘cause it wasn’t good for him, bottling it all up like he was.”
Your heart aches for Lando. You can’t help but want to protect him. It was true when you’d been just friends and only grown truer since.
“I wasn’t sure if it was doing him any good, but then we met you, and I swear to god I haven’t seen him smile this much in ages. He’s been so happy, so in love, it’s been—shit, I don’t even know what else I can say other than thank you. You’ve made my best mate himself again, and…I think I owe you everything for that.”
You know there are other parts of his sentence that you should be paying attention to—being the reason Lando feels like himself again, making him happy—but only one thing echoes at the very forefront of your brain. “He’s in love with me?”
Max’s eyes widen almost comically at the realization of what he’s just done. The juxtaposition of the heartfelt conversation you’ve had up until this point with the sudden exaggerated panic in his eyes would’ve cracked you up had you not been stunned by what he’d just let loose. “I really need to learn how to keep my fucking mouth shut.”
“Lando told you he was in love with me?” You press. You’d kick him under the table, but then you’d risk waking up the subject of your conversation. Max just blinks at you, probably trying to figure out a way out of this. “Max.”
“Fuck, fine! Yeah, he told me.” You raise an expectant brow for him to elaborate. “Jesus, did you want a timestamp? He said, I think I’m falling in love with her.”
“He thinks?”
“Well, I don’t know! I’m not a mind reader, am I?” He huffs. Upon seeing your brows furrow, he sighs. “But if I could read his mind, I’d say yes. I’ve known Lando…shit, I dunno, ten years now? And I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else before. You’re special to him.”
“He’s special to me too,” You say softly, stroking a thumb over Lando’s knuckles gently. It should feel strange how much you feel for this boy and how strong those feelings are, but for some reason, it doesn’t. It feels exactly right.
“I feel obligated to give you the usual ‘hurt my best friend and I’ll hurt you’ bit, but I know you won’t. You’ve been a great friend these last couple weeks, and I trust you with him. I trust that you’ll love him as much as he loves you. You do, don’t you?”
You sigh, chuckling softly. “Figured out that one easily too, haven’t you?”
“Please, I’ve known since the day you lot came round ours for the barbeque. And both of you are shit at hiding things, by the way. You’d be terrible spies.”
“Thanks, Max. Seriously.”
“For calling you a crappy liar? You’re welcome, I guess?” He’s only joking, but you know he knows what you mean. Max is a really good guy, a really good friend, both to you and to Lando. “And if he ever hurts you, loop me in. I’ll give him a proper beating for hurting my friend.”
“Oh, I will. Avoid the face though, I kinda like it.”
Max snorts, shaking his head playfully. “Yeah, he’s got a nice mug, that one. Real moneymaker.”
The moneymaker is drooling a little bit with his cheek smushed up against your leg, but you pay it no mind. He still looks good.
He’s actually starting to look like your whole world, all wrapped up into one perfectly flawed human being.
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#lando norris#lando norris x reader#ln4#ln4 x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#lando norris series#lando norris x fem!reader#lando norris imagine#summer's golden haze
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I'm a soob girly but your "three blueberry scones" got me fantasizing real bad ugh! I love it smm! I wanted to request a fic where soob has breeding kink and corruption kink. (I'm really down bad for soob w breeding kink and corruption kink) I really love your fics! May your acc grows moree🫶🏼🫶🏼
i’m glad u enjoyed it !!! tysm for the love <3
warnings: breeding kink, some corruption kink-? (sorry i suck😭) pet names (good girl, bin), pregnancy kink, soobin wants reader pregnant REAL bad, slight messy sex, dry humping, clit play, squirting, hand kink if you squint, i think thats abt all lmk if i missed some !
a/n: i apologize for not being so active on tumblr :( exams are next month and i’m streeessssingggg and trying to prepare. i also have a trip this weekend so i may not be too active ! as always requests are open !!!
soobins breeding kink was bad. really bad. he’d always talk about how he wanted you two to have a baby, and occasionally he’d get certain small dreams about breeding you. you could tell what he was dreaming about by his small murmurs and whimpers as he slept.
sometimes he’d wrap his arms around your waist, his hands rubbing your soft tummy underneath your shirt, making circular motions as if you were actually pregnant. and despite soobin desperate to breed you, to have babies with you, you just couldn’t. neither of you could, honestly. especially with how busy the both of you were with work.
tonight was normal—until you both got into an argument. it wasn’t severe but it was clear you both pissed eachother off. when it was time for bed he lied next to you, both of you keeping distance from eachother. it was uncomfortably silent, annoyingly silent.
you could hear the sound of soobin shifting a bit to glance over at you, before your body then tenses up slightly as his chest pressed against your back, his arms wrapping around you. besides that, you could feel something hard nudge against your ass. this boy…
‘are you seriously hard right now?’ you ask, turning your head to look at him from the corner of your eye.
‘please..’ is all soobin could whine out, thrusting his hips into your ass, practically dry humping you at this point, his slender fingers sliding your sleep shorts and panties down already. ‘bin—its late-‘ you gasped lightly, though make no move to stop him.
soon you found yourself all fucked dumb on his cock, walls clenching around his fat cock that was slamming into you in quick, rapid and hard thrusts, his breathy whimpers and short gasps against your neck.
‘f-fuck.. gonna.. gonna cum.. please- please can i cum inside?’ he moans and whimpers, his grip on your hips getting tighter as he quickened his already fast pace.
‘bin—bin-!’ you cry out, soft sounds from both of your skins hitting against eachother echoing in the room along with both of your moans. ‘mmh- fuck.. such a good fucking girl.. gonna let me cum inside you, huh?’ he pants, the bed rocking slightly with each movement he made. all you could do was whimper in response, feeling the way your thighs trembled faintly from the overwhelming sensations.
‘a-ahh—shit-! fuck, m’ gonna come- gonna breed you.. get you pregnant with my babies..’ he moans deeply, his fingers snaking down your tummy to your pussy, his two slender fingers rubbing your clit quickly in circular motions. your jaw drops, legs shaking softly as a loud cry rips from your throat, squirting around his cock.
that triggered his own climax, a soft pornographic moan coming out of his mouth as he cums inside your womb, filling you up with his precious seed, thrusting deep inside a few times ensure his seed stayed inside you.
‘love you..’ he finally managed out after trying to catch his breath for probably about a couple minutes, pulling out gently and cuddling back up to you, not even attempting to put yours and his pants back on. when he didn’t hear a response from you, he lifted his head to look over at you, seeing you already passed out asleep. he smiled, nuzzling into your neck and soon falling asleep.
little did you know the two of you would have a surprise in a couple days..
#txt x reader#txt moa#txt#txt smut#txt hard hours#soobin x reader#soobin smut#soobin hard thoughts#soobin hard hours#txt hard thoughts#txt oneshots#soobin oneshot#kpop smut#kpop fic#kpop x reader#kpop hard hours#kpop hard thoughts#soobin x y/n
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