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bouqette · 2 months ago

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jock!vi had just finished washing up in the locker rooms when you walked in. she turned around at the sound of the door opening, a towel hanging dangerously low on her hips. vi raised an eyebrow as you shuffled in timidly, the corner of her mouth curling up into a smirk when she took in the tight fitting, bedazzled cheerleading uniform you had on.

vi raked a hand through her damp hair, before tilting her head towards you. you froze, lips parted and eyes wide.

you didn’t know where to look.

was it her thick biceps that looked even wider than your own face? the dark tattoos adorning her skin? or the way the water droplets seemed to glimmer off her defined abs, and—

“like what you see?”

the sound of her low, teasing voice almost sent you right off the edge. you averted your gaze, body growing hot with embarrassment.

“s-sorry! i…” you mumbled, trying to come up with an excuse, but the way the pink haired jock was staring at you made your throat tighten, any semblance of coherent thought disappearing from your brain.

“no worries, sparkles.” vi chuckled as she took a step towards you. she made no effort in securing the loose towel on her hips, and you thanked whatever deity above that she had a bra on, because if she didn’t, you don't think you would have survived to see another day.

“so, what are you here for?” vi asked, blue eyes watching you intently.

you blinked. right, the reason why you came into their locker rooms.

“oh—” your voice cracked, and you awkwardly coughed to clear your throat.

shit. okay, breathe.

you willed yourself to focus on the tiled wall behind vi, because just acknowledging the existence of the ridiculously attractive woman in front of you was enough to make you brain short-circuit.

“i was told there were spare pom poms here.”

“oh? i think i know where they are.”

vi turned around, and you physically felt your heart stop for a second.

the wide expanse of her back was completely exposed, tatted, and mouth-wateringly hot. you watched her reach up to one of the cabinets above a locker, back muscles contracting under her still damp skin. you’d sell your soul to have the image ingrained in your brain forever.

“hey, sparkles?”

you snapped out of your thoughts, finding vi watching you with an amused smile. “y-yes?”

“you going to take ‘em?” vi stretched her hand forward, offering you two pom poms.

you took the two tufts of fluff from her, hands clenching tightly on the fuzzy material as you muttered a quiet thanks. your eyes flickered up to hers one more time, and you immediately regretted your decision. vi was staring down at you through heavy lidded eyes, powder blues watching you so intently you could feel a heat starting to pool in your stomach.

you quickly looked away, heading for the door before you were really going to lose your mind.

“see you in the match later.” vi called out.

you didn’t have the guts to turn back around, opting for a small nod before you hurried away from the locker rooms.

jock!vi who winked at you when she ran out into the field for the afternoon game. you could barely focus on the routine, the image of the pink haired footballer kept resurfacing in your mind, her muscles, her smile, her teasing voice — just thinking about her was enough to turn your cheeks pink.

but you weren’t the only one who was distracted.

“vi, i need your head in the game, yeah?” the coach said to her sternly during half time.

vi nodded, only for her eyes to trail off the second her coach started talking to her teammate. she smiled a little when she spotted you in the stands with the other cheerleaders, seriously wondering how she had never noticed you before.

“vi!”

vi flinched, tearing her focus away from you. “yes, ready!” she jumped up to her feet, jogging back up to the pitch.

jock!vi who couldn’t take her eyes off you during the afterparty. she should honestly be reflecting on her subpar performance, but the dress you were wearing was just a little too distracting. the fabric hugged your curves perfectly, the dark maroon complementing your complexion perfectly, revealing the perfect amount of your skin. vi watched you from a distance, staring in a trance as you talked and laughed with your friends.

for the first time ever, vi found herself desperate.

she was desperate for your attention, desperate to run her roughened hands over your soft skin, to kiss those plump lips of yours until the makeup you perfected became smudged all over.

vi downed another shot, and pushed past her teammates, weaving through the crowd to finally get to your side.

“hey, sparkles.”

you turned around, smiling at her. “hi, violet.” the soft way you uttered her name had her melting.

vi leaned into you, resting a hand on your shoulder. your friends sent each other a few knowing looks, slowly inching away from the two of you.

“enjoying yourself?” vi was so close that even under the dim lighting of the party, you could see the smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

“yeah.” you breathed out.

she was so close, way too close. you could feel her hot breath on your cheek, smell her smoky cologne … in your moment of distraction someone shoved past you, making you lose your balance. your hand flailed out, spilling the contents of your drink over yourself, soaking the front of your dress.

vi was quick to catch you, wrapping an arm around you and steadying you against her chest.

“easy there, princess.”

you could feel your heart hammering against your chest as you regained your footing. “shit…” you mumbled, feeling the damp liquid seeping through the fabric of your dress. vi seemed to have noticed that too, given that her arm was pressed up against your ribcage. your face burned with embarrassment, and you pushed yourself away from her.

“sorry, i—”

“don’t apologise.” vi interrupted you, her voice firm, but her touch remained gentle. “let’s get you cleaned up.”

jock!vi who honestly did not plan on kissing you in the bathroom. it just… happened. she was pressing toilet paper on the damp spot of your dress, and — okay, maybe she did graze her fingertips over the top of your breasts on purpose, but it was hard not to tease you, when you’d jut your lower lip out into that adorable pout. she never would have thought that you would pull her down, slotting your lips over hers.

despite her surprise, vi was eager to reciprocate.

she moved against you desperately, one hand resting on the back of your neck, holding you in place, and the other roaming slowly down your body to rest on your waist. her lips were hot and eager, pressing against yours in a delicious frenzy.

vi pulled you closer, groaning against your lips when your chest pressed up against hers. you shivered when you felt her fingertips teasing the hem of your dress, moving just upwards slightly, grazing the lace hem of your underwear.

“hurry the fuck up!”

a loud bang on the flimsy wooden door made the two of you jump. and vi was quick to turn around with an annoyed frown. she opened her mouth, about to cuss out whoever was outside, but the touch of your hand on her bicep stopped her.

vi looked down at you, and you thought she looked so pretty like this. lips swollen, eyes glazed with desire.

the door rattled with another thump of a fist, and much to her dismay, you hopped off the sink top, straightening out your dress.

“w-we should head out.” you mumbled.

vi wanted to argue, but the pleading look in your eyes shut her up instantly.

jock!vi who could not get a wink of sleep that night. every time she closed her eyes, the sight of you, face flushed, plump lips reddened, would plague her mind like a sweet, tortuous curse. vi wanted to hear your sweet moans against her ear, to have your body trapped between her hands. but most of all, she wanted to have you beside her, to fall asleep with her face buried in the nook of your shoulder, arms wrapped around your waist as she hugs you close.

oh. fuck.

jock!vi, who finally realised that she was completely and utterly smitten.

#‎ ‎ misu.writes ✧#arcane #arcane x reader #vi x reader #arcane fluff #arcane vi #arcane imagines #arcane headcanon #vi arcane #vi fluff #arcane fanfic #arcane vi x reader #vi x you #vi arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #wlw fanfic #spicy hours‎ !‎‎

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girlinterupptedsblog · 4 months ago

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On his knees

Disclaimer // 18+ content.

Summary: you are pissed about the fact that rafe was flirting with some women and to show you just how sorry he is he gets down on his knees

Pairing: rafe cameron x gf reader

────୨ৎ────

Tanneyhill was way too quiet for your liking. The only sound echoing through the grand halls was the sharp click of your heels as you paced back and forth in the living room, arms crossed tight against your chest.

You could still see it. Her hand lingering on his arm a little too long, that overly bright laugh, the way she leaned in like she owned him.

And Rafe? He just stood there. Letting it happen.

Sure, it was for some business deal—selling some overpriced property or whatever excuse he had, but did he really need to let her practically throw herself at him? For money?

You huffed, your voice filling the empty space, “I mean, seriously, Rafe? She was all over you! And you just stood there like it was nothing!”

From behind, you heard the familiar creak of the front door shutting, his footsteps heavy as they approached.

“Baby, come on,” Rafe’s voice was calm, too calm, like he wasn’t phased at all. “It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t flirting—”

“You let her flirt with you!” you snapped, spinning to face him, your frustration bubbling over. “What, was I supposed to just stand there and watch? Like I’m invisible?”

Rafe sighed, running a hand through his hair, but his eyes locked onto yours, sharp and serious now. “Sit.”

You blinked, thrown off by his sudden change in tone. “What? No, Rafe, sitting isn’t gonna—”

“Sit.” His voice was lower this time, more of a command than a request.

You sank onto the couch, still fuming, arms crossed tight.

To your surprise, Rafe didn’t sit beside you. Instead, he dropped down to his knees right in front of you, his hands resting gently on your thighs.

“What are you doing?” you whispered, your heart suddenly racing for an entirely different reason.

His blue eyes softened as he looked up at you, his thumb gently rubbing circles against your skin.

“Showing you how much I love you,” he murmured. “That girl didn’t mean shit. You’re the only one that matters. You’ve got me, baby. All of me.”

Your breath hitched as his hands slowly slid up your thighs, fingers grazing against the hem of your dress. His touch was gentle, deliberate, as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your knee before trailing higher.

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re mad,” he mused, his lips brushing against your skin, voice dripping with something dark and possessive. “Drives me crazy.”

You bit your lip, torn between staying mad and melting into him. But then his hands gripped your hips, pulling you closer, and his mouth followed, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

“You don’t need to be jealous, baby,” he whispered, his breath hot against your inner thigh. “I only want you.”

His fingers hooked under the hem of your dress, dragging it up agonizingly slow, eyes never leaving yours as he spread your legs wider. He kissed up your thighs, each press of his lips sending shivers up your spine. His hands were firm, keeping you right where he wanted you.

His mouth hovered just above where you needed him most, teasing you, making you squirm beneath his hold. “You’re already so wet for me,” he rasped, his breath hot against your sensitive skin.

Then, finally, his lips met you, a slow, deliberate flick of his tongue that sent a shockwave through your entire body. You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, tugging as he worked you over with precision, like he had all the time in the world to ruin you.

Rafe groaned against you, the vibrations making your hips jerk against his face, but he held you firm, not letting you escape the pleasure he was determined to give. His tongue was relentless, switching between slow, teasing strokes and deep, intense movements that had you gasping his name.

Your thighs trembled around his head as he sucked, licked, and devoured you like he was starved. He didn’t stop, not when your body arched off the couch, not when your legs threatened to close around him—he only growled, gripping your thighs tighter, keeping you wide open for him.

The tension in your belly coiled tighter, heat blooming through your veins as the pleasure built higher and higher until—

You shattered, his name falling from your lips like a prayer, body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Rafe didn’t let up, drawing it out, his tongue flicking lazily as he licked you through your high.

When you finally sagged back against the couch, breathless and spent, he pulled back just enough to look up at you, his lips slick with your release, his eyes dark and full of hunger.

He smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before leaning up, pressing a slow, filthy kiss against your lips.

“Next time you get jealous,” he murmured, his voice rough with satisfaction, “remember exactly who you belong to.”

#rafe edit #rafe fluff #rafe smut #rafe cameron imagines #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x kook!reader #jj mayback imagine #rafe outer banks #outer banks rafe

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shawtuzi · 5 months ago

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thinkin’ of sheriff toji!

cw include: black coded!fem reader, toji is very sweet in this hehe, lots of fluff, premature ejaculation (he came in his pants while they were making out), size kink, breeding kink, oral f & m receiving, protected & unprotected sex, squirting, creampie, backshots, pussyjob, mating press

sfw

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who was the biggest n’ strongest man you’d ever met in all your days. standing at a whopping six three and well over two hundred pounds of pure handsomeness.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who always stopped by your booth at the farmers market on sunday’s, partaking in every homemade sweet treat you had to offer. ‘these cream puffs are almost as sweet as you, sugar’ he’d always say with a low chuckle, his heart relishing in the way you’d act so bashful afterwards.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who always helped you pack your booth up after the farmers market was closed. he’d do most of the work, insisting that a ‘pretty lady’ such as yourself shouldn’t be worried about such things when he’s around.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who smells of aftershave and on a rare occasion cinnamon! he’d always had a bit of an oral fixation so best believe he was always chewing on his favorite cinnamon gum.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who was elated when he found out you were unwed and not seeing anyone. the second he saw you selling your sweet lil pastries on that fateful sunday, he was already picturing how cute you’d look next to him.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who passes by your house every tuesday and friday morning on his morning runs. you always refilled your hummingbird feeders on those mornings so each time he passed by he had to say hello bc duh! as you converse with him you can’t help but notice how….nice and toned his body is, especially when he lifts his shirt up to wipe his sweat away! the happy trail that led into his sweats definitely had you curious but he didn’t need to know that.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who picked up a habit of calling you everything but your name. pretty girl, sugar, darlin’, peach, honeysuckle—you name it!! it didn’t bother you in the slightest especially with that low country drawl of his hehe.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who is flooredddd when you bring him lunch at the station. you looked breathtaking in your pretty pink sundress and matching kitten heels, he could’ve ate you up instead if he was being completely honest.

“now what do we have here?” toji chuckled, tipping his hate up to get a better look at you. you didn’t say anything but your toothy smile said more than enough for him. you sat the pink tupperware in front of him with shaky hands, giggling when he was quick to pull the top off.

“s’nothin’ special just some baked ziti i whipped up, i remember you saying it was your favorite when you were younger! n-not that i made it specifically for you of course, but i m-mean i certainly wouldn’t mind making you a-anything you wanted….”

as toji watched you babble he couldn’t help but let his lips lift into a smirk—were you….flustered?

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who picked up on your crush on him faster than it took you to even register it. after you brought him lunch he thought it was only fair that he treated you to dinner, granted he quite literally served you meat and potatoes bc let’s face it he’s still a man. that night he learned a bunch about you, securing his bond with you even more.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who finally grew a pair and asked you on a proper date. his ears were as red as your famous fried tomatoes, and he stumbled over his words but you said yes regardless with the biggest smile he’d ever seen you wear. although he was sure you liked him just as much as he liked you he couldn’t help but be shocked that you said yes!

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who took you to the fanciest restaurant in town, insisting that you get whatever your little heart desired. he was looking as handsome as ever in his formal jacket and button up shirt, and you looked liked the most darling doll in your pastel pink dress. you recalled him saying one time he absolutely adored you in the color pink, so pink on the first date was definitely a no brainer.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who finally bit the bullet and asked you to be his darling after your third date. you both shared a steamy kiss afterwards and as corny as it sounds one of your legs did lift up a tiny bit out of instinct when his lips smushed into yours <333

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who surprisingly takes you out dancing every other week. sure dinners and picnics are fun especially there’s a little making out but he believes this is where the intimacy lies.

nsfw

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who came in his pants the first time you two made out. it wasn’t his fault it rlly wasn’t!! it’s just the way you were grinding your hips into his lap as you tongues tangled together that he couldn’t help but bust a nut right then and there!

“a-agh f-fuck,” toji growled against your lips, his hands gripping harshly onto the plushness of your love handles. “y-you okay?” your voice was breathy and boarder line whiny as you inspected toji’s face for anything wrong. he grunted something about him being fine then buried his face in your neck, inhaling the sweet smell of your vanilla n caramel scented perfume. it wasn’t until you felt a sudden warmth against your panty clad pussy that you realized what the big man was so embarrassed about hehe.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who couldn’t help but slobber all over your pussy like a dog the first time he ate you out. you’d never known what pure ecstasy felt like until you felt toji’s plush lips wrap around your swollen clit.

“to-tojiiii!” you squealed, pink pedicured toes curling in pleasure when you felt toji’s tongue draw figure eights around your clit. pulled the skin above your clit up, spitting on the pink bud before sucking it back into his mouth. he’s pulled three orgasms out of you now and frighteningly enough he wasn’t showing any signs of stopping.

“stop—mmph, movin’” toji purred, throwing his arm over your stomach to keep you in place. his skillful tongue began to draw the letters of his name, a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest when your hips bucked upwards. “can ya guess what i’m spellin’ peach?” he asked spelling his name once more. just as he finished the dot on the ‘i’ you came with a loud scream of his name, your fluids soaking his chin and neck.

toji sloppily wiped his mouth with the back of his hands before moving himself up the bed to hover over you. “you’re so smart darlin’ i was spellin’ my name,” he chuckled, squishing your cheeks together before giving you a messy kiss, which you happily returned.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who can’t help but jerk off to the thought of you daily. he’d be minding his business on patrol until he’d see something that reminded him of you and from there it was over. god did he love eating your lil pussy till you cried, he liked it so much that even the mere thought had him popping a boner. almost every night he’d call you, panting and groaning into the phone as he beat his dick to your voice—it wouldn’t even have to be sexual, you talking about just anything had him leaking like a faucet.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji whose dick was as big as his heart. i’m talking eight and a half inches and so thick that the first time he showed it to you you were worried that he wouldn’t fit in your mouth/pussy. ‘don’ worry peach i’ll make it fit’ he said to you as he ran that fat tip over your glossed up lips.

“hah! s-shit pretty girl ‘yer takin’ it like a champ,” toji grinned, teeth clamping onto his bottom lip. you whimpered around his dick, spit dripping from your mouth and foaming up at the base creating the perfect mess. toji preferred his head sloppy and you delivered, the obscene noises of you choking around his cock sounded like music to his ears.

when toji cums he cums a lot….like a lot a lot. i mean look at the breeder balls on this man, he was bound to give you a mouthful—and he did!!

“take it all sweetness, swallow my cum like a good girl,” toji growled, caressing the bulge in your cheek. it was so much it began to drip from your mouth and onto his thighs but neither of you seemed to care. he tasted salty, but there was this tinge of sweetness to him that had you moaning like a bitch in heat. toji was shocked, yet extremely turned on when you whined for him to feed you more of his cum, your doe eyes looking as shiny as ever.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who almost shed tears the first time you two made love. he handled you as if you were the worlds most precious china, his calloused hands touching you ever softly with love laced in every squeeze have gave your body.

“s’good toji,” you mewled, tightening your legs around his slim waist. toji pressed his lips against yours, happily swallowing up every moan and whine you let out. his skillful hips slammed into yours, his hard stomach rubbing deliciously against your puffy clit. “such a good pussy. y’see darlin’? told you she’d be able to take me,” he slurred, groaning rather loudly when he heard you pussy squelch at a particularly hard thrust.

he used protection of course, but the thought of him being able to nut inside you had his orgasm approaching far sooner than he wanted to.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who made you squirt for the first time ever that same night, his eyes as wide as saucers as a fountain of your essence hit his lower stomach. you were utterly embarrassed, hiding your face in his pillows as you kicked your feet at him to not tease you. he did tease you, but it’s okay bc he thought that shit was so. fucking. hot.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who made it his mission to make you squirt every single time you two fooled around.

“c’mon sugar, where that special spot of yours eh?” toji hummed, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing against your most sensitive parts. he was knuckle deep inside your pussy, absolutely determined to get you to squirt on his fingers. you weren’t even too sure what he meant by your ‘special spot’ until his fingers bumped into that spongy area that had your eyes rolling back.

“ohh? right here huh? is that the spot peach?” he smirked, increasing the pressure of his fingers. your thighs began to tremble, drool slipping past your parted lips and onto your chin. “o-oh my goodness!” you squealed, hips pushing upwards when toji pressed roughly on your lower tummy. your thighs trembled violently as your release hit you like a truck, wave after wave of your cum soaking toji’s hand and wrist.

when you finished toji slapped your pussy followed by ‘atta fucking girl, my peach is so good f’me.’

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who has a habit of fucking you on top of his patrol car. he just can’t help himself!! especially when you’re all tipsy and handsy after your dates :(( it was supposed to be a one time thing but soon every other week he’d have you on top of car, panties around your ankles while he fucked you like a madman.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who fucked you on every surface of his house once you finally let him hit raw. you brought it up randomly one night that you had started taking birth control a few weeks prior and wanted to feel him, all of him.

“fuckkk honey,” toji hissed, pushing his hips forward one last time before releasing inside of you for the fourth time that night. your legs were practically jello, your hands holding onto the kitchen counter for dear life. you didn’t even know how you ended up from the living room to the kitchen, but you were in no place to do thinking rn sooo oh well!

you gasped when toji flipped your body around, strong arms lifting you off the ground. you weakly wrapped your legs around his waist, mewling when you felt his tip press snugly against your clit. “jesus you’re worse than the drugs i lock those sorry fuckers at the station up for,” toji grinned, gripping roughly onto your ass cheeks.

“d-don’t say stuff like that honey,” you sniffled, back arching when you felt the coolness of the wall against it. toji now had you pressed against the wall, his head tilted down, “a little to the left and—mmph, there we gooo.” your dropped open when toji slipped inside you once again, your walls hugging his dick tightly. you could feel him throbbing inside you, dick begging for yet another release.

“you’re relentless,” you hissed, manicured nails digging into his toned back. toji chuckled, flexing his back muscles to soothe the stings from your nails.

‘mmm only for you sugar’

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji whose become a serious fan of backshots ever since he got with you. you’re on the curvier side, giving him lots of soft to grip and slap to his hearts content. hearts form in his eyes every time he gets to see the beautiful recoil of your ass against his pelvis.

˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ sheriff!toji who develops a serious breeding kink the more he gets to fuck you raw. not only does the sight of his cum leaking from spent pussy draw something animalistic out of him, but he also thinks you’d make the prettiest mommy <33

“how pretty,” toji murmured to himself, pushing softly on your stomach. a flood of his cum dripped from your cunt, soiling the sheets beneath your trembling body. “y’er gonna make a such a pretty momma one day,” he spoke softly, rubbing his hands on the backs of your thighs before pushing them wayyy back.

“at this rate m’sure it’ll ha-happen soon,” your giggle was replaced with a moan when toji placed his cock between your folds, his hips drawing back before pushing forward. his tongue poked out to swipe over his bottom lip, a pool of drool forming on his tongue at the thought of knocking you up.

‘you think?’

#boarder credit @bernardsbendystraws #toji fushiguro smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x black reader #toji x you #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x black reader #jujutsu kaisen x black reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x black reader #jjk x reader

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thinkinonsense · 10 months ago

Text

PAST LIFE⋆

dofp!logan howlett x mutant fem!reader

cw:fingering, cursing, dirty talk, mentions of motherhood, fluff

masterlist

logan should've known when he accepted the mission to come go back in time to stop the sentinels that you would still be here.

"is there an issue here, hank?"

the sound of your voice made logan's heart flutter. you were barely peaking out from behind the door but logan could see you just fine. he couldn't stop staring.

"no, everything's fine." hank assured you. just as you turned to return to charles's office, you heard the door burst open. this handsome stranger hits hank right in the nose before continuing up the stairs to you.

logan had to take you in for a second. his beautiful future wife stood in front of him and had absolutely no clue that they were married because she was only twenty-five years old.

had you always been this gorgeous? was that even fair? all of these were questions that floated around in his mind.

"who are you and what do you want?" you asked as he reached out to touch you.

"so you've always been this beautiful, huh, princess?" he purred, tucking away a piece of your hair behind your ear.

sure, he was attractive in his brown leather jacket and sunglasses but this man looked in his mid-forties. logan was too busy staring down at your frilly yellow babydoll dress to notice where you were looking at him. his left hand; more specifically the gold band on his ring finger.

"i don't mess with married men." you glare at him. he can't help but chuckle darkly down at your innocence.

"oh, my wife wouldn't mind."

god, logan felt like such a pervert for coming on to you but he couldn't help it. your ethereal beauty was unreal. not that you have aged much since the present day, as you two have the slow aging processes in common. older hank would always tell logan that he should be lucky that you agreed to date him because there were plenty of people who would love to take his place. sure, logan believed him but now, he really understood what hank meant.

"where's charles at, sweetheart?" logan asks, inhaling your floral sent.

before you can respond, charles comes barreling down the stairs drunkenly calling after you.

"where've you been?" he asked you then turned to logan. "who the hell are you?"

this should be good.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"how do we know that you're actually from the future?" you asked, sitting atop charles desks, swinging your legs. hank and charles stood outside in the hallway discussing whether or not to trust logan.

"you've always been this stubborn?" logan says under his breath, rolling his eyes.

"how do we even know each other in the future?" you finally asked.

for the past hour, this man has tried to sell this absurd story about how future charles and magneto sent him here together to save mutants from sentinels. so far he's managed to convince charles but hank and you were still on the fence.

"we're married, sweetheart." logan smirks wickedly.

there was absolutely no way that you two were married. this man is grumpy, mean-looking, and wears dark brown leather. you are an academic scholar who adores pastels and helping other mutants. he had to have you mistaken.

you squint up at him and laugh, "we are married?"

logan nods, walking over to you until he's standing between your legs.

"tell me something only i would know then."

"your favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry, you hate the cold and winter, anytime you drink coffee you get nightmares, your favorite color is green, but your favorite shade is the color my eyes get when i look at you." logan could see the way your eyes widen, slowly starting to believe him more and more. he couldn't help but feel cocky. "would you like me to continue?"

"im not sure... think you're gonna have to prove it. another way." you challenge him. logan's hand trails up your thigh, playing with the soft yellow material.

"c'mon sweetheart, this is too easy." he mutters against your neck, placing soft kisses and nibbling on the skin.

logan knew you like the back of his hand. he knew exactly what you liked and disliked. sometimes you would even tell him that he knew you better than you knew yourself.

"you like when i pull your bottom lip when we kiss. you blush every time i offer for you to sit on my face. one of your favorite ways to fuck is pressed up against a wall or bent over a table..." logan could go on and on.

"we do that...?" you whisper embarrassed by this version of yourself, trying to avoid his burning gaze.

"oh, all the time. sometimes you pull me down on the floor when i come home, begging to ride me right then and there." logan says, once he captures your attention again. you chew on your bottom lip adorably.

a small whimper passes your lips before you remember that hank and charles aren't that far away from the room. one of your hands comes up to logan's chest, slightly pushing him back despite not wanting to.

"w-we should stop." you warn him. "they can hear us."

this was when logan knew that you hadn't discovered part of your mutation yet. he had already assumed that you hadn't but this confirmed it.

"need you to relax, princess," he says, moving higher up to your jaw. your body betrays everything your mouth says, eating out of the palm of his hand. "i promise once you relax, it'll feel like time has stopped."

logan's lips taunt yours; not quite giving you what you want. fed up, you overpower him and push his lips into yours. the only word floating around in your head was 'relax'.

carefully, logan lays you back on the desk. something about being held in the stranger's arms set you at ease; maybe he was your husband?

"you don't know this yet..." logan huffs. "but you can stop time."

you scoff, thinking that you caught him in a lie. "no, i can't."

"if you relax like i said, then you can." logan mutters against your collarbone.

one of his hands slides up your thigh while the other rubs circles on your hip bone. was this wrong of you? if he is telling the truth –and it seems like he is– then technically he is your husband and it's not wrong to mess around with your husband.

"open up for me, babydoll." logan mumbled against your collarbones, placing wet kisses and nibbling on the delicate skin.

your legs spread with ease as his callused fingers rub over your cotton panties. the soft material of your dress is bunched at your tummy as he tugs your panties off, pocketing them for himself. his thumb returns to rub your button.

"p-please..." you whimper, looking up at logan with bambi eyes. "need more."

"anything for you, princess." he groans, slipping two fingers inside of you as gently as he can. this earned a loud moan from you when he nudged that spot deep in your gummy walls with ease.

"see how well i know my wife?" logan gloats, pressing soft kisses to your lips but never letting you catch him. "you usually prefer it rougher than this but i'm not cruel."

"y-you can go... can go faster." you pant, never having anything quite his size yet.

"i don't want to hurt you, baby." he says in a condescending tone. "wanna know something 'bout the future?"

it was difficult but you managed to nod your head despite how clearly fucked out you were at this point.

"a couple weeks ago, you came home telling me how much you want to be a mom; how you've always wanted to be a mom." he pulls back to look at your pretty face, lust darkening your eyes and slick pouring out of you, practically dripping down his palm onto the desk. "so, every chance we get alone you've been begging for me to go raw inside of you."

logan loved how even as you're all spread out for him, you're still blushing at his filthy words.

"look at you, blushing while you soak my hand." he mocks with a smirk.

"i'm s-so close, please!" you beg so politely.

his thick fingers pick up the pace as you clench down on them; jaw dropped and head thrown back. logan's other hand supports your back while your cute painted blue nails dig into his wrist as your climax starts to wash over you.

"hey sweetheart, look out the window." he chuckles, moving your chin to stare hazily out the glass window.

you couldn't believe it. every car, bird, street light, everything was stopped. everything but you and logan.

"how did you know that i could...?"

"you can't always control it but when you calm your mind, it's easier for you to do it."

"does it always happen when we...?"

"when we have sex...?" logan chuckles as you hide yourself in his chest. you nod. "no. over time you've found ways to control it. sometimes if we need more time, you might manipulate it."

"future me sounds cool." you giggle, lifting up to look at him. "how do we meet?"

"i can't tell you that." he smiles.

"well, then where are you in this timeline? how can i meet you sooner?"

"i'm not a very good man during this time, baby. you'll meet me when the time is right."

"what if you don't want me then? how do you know we will still get together?"

logan looks down at your pouty lips, swiping his thumb across it.

"i'll always come back for you. no matter the timeline or where we are in life; i'll find you again."

"promise?"

"i promise you, sweetheart. don't worry that beautiful mind of yours." he assures, kissing the tear strolling down your cheek.

logan reaches down and kisses you tenderly, pulling you out of the time freeze. suddenly the door swings open on the two of you. thank god, logan had quick reflexes, pulling your dress back down to cover you.

charles calls your name and then asks, "what are you doing?"

"it's okay, he's my husband."

a loud laugh escapes logan at your lovey-dovey tone, almost making hank and charles eyes fall out of their heads. you couldn't wait to meet logan again in the future.

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antonioboston35 · 2 years ago

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How Trailing Stop Orders on Binance and Other Derivatives Ensure Optimum Profits?

Crypto trading market is highly volatile. On one side, it can help you earn profits but at the other time, it may also incur heavy losses. There are situations when a trader wants to avoid high losses, but trends go against him. In such a case, the most viable option to exit the trade profitably is to use a kind of stop loss strategy.

The goal of a crypto trader is to earn as much profit as possible in a short time from any kind of price movement in the market with an optimum level of risks. And, the best risk insurance tool is making use of stop or stop loss. To maximize profits with minimal risks, the trader can go with either of the two options:

Setting a take profit and move it periodically along with stop order as the price moves towards the pre-specified value

By using Trailing stop orders

Among these two options, the first one allows the trader to take the maximum of the price movement in current market trends. But, here the trader has to watch the market trends continuously and close the trade as soon as possible if there is a reverse movement. But in the second option, the trader will earn profits in long term and this order works automatically. Trailing stop is an advanced order that allows you to maximize profits while limiting the downside risks. Usually, the expert and seasoned traders use trailing stops.

So traders! don’t waste your time seeking the right moment to buy or sell any crypto asset. Rather, you should go with Trailing Stop orders from TrailingCrypto to reduce risk and increase the profit potential. This order will unlock multiple opportunities for you to get the most from your crypto trading.

Let’s understand about Trailing Stop order in deep:

What is a Trailing stop order?

A trailing stop order is the perfect crypto trading tool that allows you to enter or exit the positions at the right moment. This order type is a variation of stop order that adjusts to market movements at a fixed value or percentage.

A trailing stop order can only move in one direction as it is meant to limit the amount of risks which crypto traders are willing to bear. For example: if the trailing stop is set to 20% in a long position, then the crypto asset will be sold immediately if the price of an asset decreases by 20% from the buying price. The usage of trailing stop order generally varies depending on the platform you have chosen like Binance, BitMEX, etc.

So, Trailing stop is an order with a stop loss which trails the market price by a specified/fixed amount or percentage whenever the price moves in favorable direction. And, if the price moves in opposite direction, this order type will protect the trader from the rapid changes in the market. With a spot trailing stop order at Binance, the trader can place preset orders at some specific/fixed distance away from the current market price of the asset.

If the price moves in the favorable direction, this order will lock-in profit by enabling the trade to remain open and continue to earn profits. But if the price moves in the opposite direction, this order type will be executed as a limit order. This way, you can protect gains and minimize losses.

How does a Trailing stop order work?

Trailing stop order can be used in two ways: Trailing stop buy and Trailing Stop sell. In the trailing buy strategy, the traders can go long. This order follows the market price as it goes down and a buy order will be triggered whenever the price rises from its pre-specified amount set as trailing distance. For a long trade, the selling price is supposed to be higher than the last price of the asset.

When the price moves up, the trailing price also moves up and if the price drops, the trailing price will stop following. While using trailing stop, make sure to keep it at a safer distance to avoid losses. The trailing stop sell order is just opposite to the trailing stop buy.

The trailing stop sell order can be used to restrict the potential downside without capping your potential gains. This order is the best option when you want to exit a long position. The order follows the market price as it moves up and triggers the sell order if the price falls from its current high by the amount set as the trailing distance.

While placing a buy trailing stop order, the stop price will be lower than the current market price, and on the other side, for a trailing stop sell Binance order the stop price will be higher than the market price.

If your trigger price is more than the market price of the asset, the buy/long will get disabled, and vice versa.

Trailing Stop example

Let’s say, a trader bought a crypto asset XYZ at $120, you could enter a trailing stop order to sell your asset with a specific price or trailing value. This trailing percentage or value will determine how far away the stop order trails the market price. If we set the trailing value to $10, this would mean our stop order ‘starts’ at $110. If XYZ falls by the trailing value ($10) at any time after placing your trade, our sell order will be triggered.

If the price of the asset moves up to $130, the trailing stop order will also move up to $120 with a trailing value of $10

And, if the price of asset continues to increase and reaches to $150, the trailing stop will also move up to $140

Once the asset price has risen to $155 and if it drops suddenly by $10 or more, the trailing stop will trigger at $145 and a market order will be placed. This means your order will be executed at the best price at that time.

More examples:

For a sell order, you can set it below the market price like the below example:

A. If you position with 1 BTC priced at 20000 USDT:

Trigger price 21,000 USDT

Trailing value 2000 USDT

Quantity 1 BTC

B. If the market price hits 21,000 USDT, the trailing stop order will be activated at a stop price of 2000USDT i.e. 21000–2000 = 19000 USDT

C. If the market price drops to 21000 USDT from rising to 25000 USDT, the stop price will remain at 20000 USDT

D. But if the market price drops from 28000 USDT to 26000 USDT, the stop price will remain at 26000 USDT

Once the market price of the asset drops to 26000 USDT, the stop order will be triggered, and a market sell order will be placed.

Another Example

For a buy order, you can set it as per the below scenario:

A. Create a trailing stop with:

Trigger price 25000 USDT

Trailing value 2000 USDT

Quantity 1 BTC

B. As the market price hits 25000 USDT, the trailing stop will be activated at 27000 USDT

C. The market price goes to 21000 USDT, and the stop price remains at 23000 USDT

D. As soon as the market moves up by 21000 USDT, the stop order will be triggered, and a buy order will be placed.

Traders can use trailing stop orders for both the spot and futures markets. You can set a trigger price to activate the order at your desired price of the asset. If you don’t enter a trigger price, the trailing stop will be activated automatically at the current market price of the asset.

To activate a trailing stop order, there are two conditions:

1. A buy trailing stop order will be activated if the activation price >= lowest price and the rebound rate >= trailing delta

2. And, a sell trailing stop order is triggered if activation price <= highest price and the rebound rate >= trailing delta

Here the activation price is the desired price level of the trader. Trailing delta is the percentage of movement in the opposite direction that a trader is willing to tolerate.

Using Trailing Stop at Binance Futures

At TrailingCrypto, the traders can use Trailing stop sell Binance strategies on futures markets to earn profits up to 125x. With Trailing stop buy/sell order at Binance, the traders can enter or exit the trades at Binance Futures at the best prices. Try it now to take advantage of several trading opportunities in the market.

Make sure to revise your trailing stop strategy timely due to the constant price fluctuations in the market. The crypto trader must always carefully consider whether a trade is consistent with their risk tolerance, financial ability, investment experience, and other considerations that may be relevant to them. Other than the range of price changes, revise the activation price based on your targeted profitability levels and acceptable losses as per your budget.

Understanding current market trends and technical indicators can help you make trading and investing decisions in crypto assets. There are numerous patterns and indications that you may investigate. Want to know more? Register yourself at TrailingCrypto and learn everything about crypto, trading bots, trading strategies, and more.

#trailing stop sell #take profit order #binance futures trading

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trailingcrypto · 2 years ago

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Maximize profits with automated crypto trading! Join TrailingCrypto for AI-driven strategies. Trade smarter, not harder! #CryptoTrading #CryptoAutoTrader #AutomatedCrypto #SmartTrading #CryptoBot #AITrading #CryptoAutomation #TradeLikeAPro #AutoTrading #CryptoAlgorithms #ProfitAutomation

#best crypto trading platform #trailing stop sell #crypto trading terminal

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gravegoer · 7 months ago

Note

now that you mentioned pirate!sevika x siren!reader I NEED it omg

just thinking about it is making me go crazy

I hear your call ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ

THANK YOU !! ive been waiting for this one i also have a mermaid one, idk which I'm putting out first but ill link it when it here when it does come out but thank you for the asks! masterlist , part 2

part 3

You lured many crews to their deaths, men followed your alluring voice into the thrashing waves of the ocean. Willingly drowning themselves in the salt.

Once they heard your song, and saw your beautiful face their fate was already sealed. You were cunning and dangerous, not hesitating to go after any ship you saw.

This didn't change when you saw a wrecked ship on the shore of an island. The pirates were obviously disoriented, and fixing their ship to leave.

One tall, strong figure commanded them, voice booming and most definitely angry. When they walked off, you took this as your chance to strike, rising onto the shore, and from between your lips came a song.

The pirates in your vicinity turned their heads to admire you in awe, at that you smirked, beckoning them closer with a finger adorned in jewels.

Unexpectedly, a woman came out from behind the trees, you assumed she was the loud voice you heard earlier. Shit.

A woman being the captain of this crew was the last thing you expected.

She didn't hesitate to pull her gun from the holster and aim it in your direction. The bullet barely missed your side as you jumped away. The sharp sound made you stop your song immediately.

The men, previously in a trance, looked around. Their eyes eventually settled on you. You pushed away from the shore, but before you could swim, heavy hands grabbed you from under the arms.

The woman had managed to seize you in all your shock, and you thrashed and flailed in her strong hold. She pulled you from the water, metal arm clawing into your flesh, most definitely leaving red marks.

You could feel her warm chest against your back. It contrasted the cold that you usually felt on mens bodies when you pulled them overboard into the icy waves.

She held you up for the men to see, "We caught us a pretty one, aye?" A short, stout man spoke.

"She would sell for a lot, y'know."

"Nah, I think I wanna keep her. She's rather stunning."

"Are you serious she tried—"

"Enough."

The womans stern voice was loud enough to quiet the whole crew. You could feel the vibration of her chest when she spoke. It was a deep and gutteral hum.

"I want to be off this island by nightfall."

All the men scurried at her order, returning to their original positions. They spoke amongst themselves and murmured their complaints, now completely disregarding your presence.

She threw you into the sand, and you landed with a thump. You didn't skip a beat before you tried to claw your way back to shore, but were stopped short by her hand grabbing your tail.

"Now, what am I going to do with you." Her voice was surprisingly husky.

You let out a yelp and turned around to face her, holding yourself up on your elbows. You were now met with her smokey grey eyes and dark scarred skin that anyone would recognize.

Sevika.

She was a ruthless leader and led an even more unforgiving crew. Her reign was seemingly endless, ruling the seas for the better half of her life. Men and women that sailed the seas all respected her alike.

You parted your lips to start a song. But before you could even let out one note, she interrupted you, "That shit isn't going to work on me."

You knew that.

It was worth a try though.

She crouched over you, one knee digging into the sand beside you, and her other leg thrown over you, boot awfully close to your tail.

She reached out to your face with a warm hand, but you pulled back, baring your teeth to her in a snarl. Then she palmed your jaw more ferociously, smirking at your actions. She tilted your head from one side to another, eyes following the trail of scales down your neck.

Her lips were parted ever-so-slightly, and you could see the small gap between her teeth, showcased by her thick brown lips.

You had never been interested in humans, especially human men. Their sexual desire outruled any curiousity you had towards them. Men completely ruined the human race for you. In fact, they disgusted you. But you had never been this close to a human woman.

Usually, you targeted pirate ships, so coming across a woman was especially rare. At one point, you started to wonder if they even existed. But your doubts were disproven as the woman on top of you caused your breath to hitch in your throat.

"What are you going to do to me." You hissed.

"Oh, so she does speak," Sevika smirked before getting up and brushing sand off her pant leg, "I could chop you up and serve you to my men.. But that would be a waste. Plus, im not a fan of killing the local wildlife."

She was clearly amused by her joke, but you werent, you glared daggers at her, now crossing her arms as she towered above you. It was a clear display of her power and authority.

" 'M gonna have to keep you in my sight until we leave." She said, more in a teasing way than strict.

"I need water." You shot back at her, slightly grateful that she wasn't going to kill you, but the sun might just kill you itself if you didn't get back to the sea.

"Alright. I'll let you go to the shore. But if you even seem like you're going to swim away, I won't hesitate to shoot," She pulled her gun out of its holster again, flashing it to you as a warning.

At that, you turned to start clawing your way back to the rocks where you orignally resided. But you felt a large arm scoop you up instead. You were basically folded over Sevikas forearm, her hip balancing some of your weight as she walked you to your destination. You couldn't do anything but let your arms dangle over your head, fingertips brushing the ground. (maybe not if your short)

How embarassing.

When she plopped you into the water, you sighed deeply, feeling your gills thank the salt in the sea. The crew was now hidden from your view as the rocks were big enough to fill your vision. Sevika, on the other hand, was sitting atop one, eyeing her men.

You could take this perfect opportunity to swim away, but a part of you knew that she wasn't looking away because she trusted you to stay. She was looking away because she trusted herself to be able to shoot faster than your tail could hit the water.

So you opted to keep your place. You saw her shake her head at what you assumed to be the antics of the crew. Reaching into her pocket, she grabbed a zippo and lit a cigarillo that was now between her fingers.

You rolled your eyes at her, gills retracting when she blew out hot smoke in your direction. You rested your chin on your arms, laying against a smaller rock.

"What? Not a fan of tobacco?" She mused.

"I am not a fan of any human trinkets." Your lip curled in disgust at the smell.

She eyed the sparkly jewerly that hung from your limbs, "Doesn't seem that way to me."

You got defensive, "Enough. I found it myself."

That wasn't a lie. You kept a lot of the treasures you found in mens pockets, jewerly, watches, and compasses.

You didn't exactly fancy small talk, but Sevika insisted that they would be there for several more hours until her ship was fixed. So you would tell her some stories and let her look at your treasures.

The sun started to set on the horizon, and eventually, you were sitting on the rock next to her, her large hand tracing your scales with intrigue. You didn't feel disgusted by her touch or bored with her presence. This feeling was forgin to you, and you wanted to let your guard down.

But you also wanted to wrap your cold fingers around her throat and strangle her until her warm breath left her body. Leaving her there to swim back into the ocean.

You disregarded that and leaned into her touch, watching the sunset. Some kind of ease has settled itself into your bones, knowing that you couldn't control her with song or seduce her with melody.

And maybe you were finding yourself too much in thought, but you might have her wrapped around your finger without help from the sea. And maybe she was allured by your fantastical stories and airy laugh.

Suddenly, your train of thought was interrupted by a scraggly voice, "Aye, cuddling up to the captian?"

You jumped into the water, away from Sevikas side. She grabbed the handle of her gun with wide eyes before stopping when she saw you, unmoving and clinging to a rock.

She wasn't lying when she said she would shoot you at any attempt to flee. But a pang shot through your chest anyway.

She cleared her throat and spoke, "What could you possibly want."

He tilted his head to the now finished ship. "Told ya we could do it, cap."

She sighed, standing up from the rock and sparing you one last glance before walking back to her ship.

I guess this was your queue to leave, but after the day you spent with her, a part of you couldn't leave. She had piqued a feeling that nobody ever had before.

So you watched her speak to her crew from a distance, bobbing in the dark waters. Your lips were curled down in a pouty frown.

She let everyone board before her, patting a heavy hand on the last man's back. Just before she stepped onto the ramp, she caught your gaze. Her eyes widened, and you dipped back under the water, out of sight.

She sighed and started to ascend the ramp to the deck, but not before hearing a splash from beside her. It was you, your fingers grasped at the wood, head balancing just above the ramp. Your torso was completely out of the water, and it dripped from your skin.

Her heart lurched at the sight, and she reached towards you, bending down into the water. You lowered yourself back into the sea as she closed the distance between you now. Her hat barely balanced itself on her head when she stroked a thick finger down your cheek.

You held her hand against your face and closed the gap between your lips completely. Sevikas lips were thick and warm and tasted roughtly of tobacco.

She was so unlike you, but you yearned for her deeply. Her form was rugged and large compared to your swift elegance and shiney scales. But when she pulled away and you looked into her eyes, you didn't seem to care whether she had legs or a tail.

Only that she was yours.

"I'll follow you wherever you go."

can you tell that i love pirates, and this is my favorite trope.. ALSO, tell me why i rewrote this 3 times because tumblr kept deleting it.. and not proof read pls correct me on anything! and reposts + feedback is always appreciated <33 thank you for reading !!

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lavender3312 · 7 months ago

Text

Say I’m yours

Warning: nsfw, smut, cat Sylus

“Say I’m yours”

Sylus's words barely registered in your brain, his movements overwhelming you as you struggled to focus. His hands held yours, pinning them above your head, his cat tail wrapping tightly around your thigh and his face buried against your neck, getting drunk in your scent, each touch of his making your body burn with desire.

"Say it, my lady," he ordered.

Your breath hitched as his thrust deepened, the sound of your moans and skin against skin filling the room.

"You- You're mine," you whispered, the words coming out in a breathless rush. He slowed his hips for a moment, seeing your struggle to get the words out.

"Again, louder," he commanded, his voice soft but insistent, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Sy-Sylus... you're mine," you said this time, your voice trembling but stronger than before.

"Keep saying it," he urged, his hips resuming hi rhythm, quickening as you wrapped your legs around him, your body moving along with his powerful thrusts.

"Mine," you whispered over and over again, your soft voice murmuring such possesive words bringing him closer to the edge.

Suddenly, his movements stopped completely as he pulled away from you, leaving you breathless and confused for a moment. Without a word, he repositioned you, laying you onto your stomach and placing a pillow under your hips.

He positioned himself on top of you, gently turning your face to his to give you a messy and desperate kiss as he pushes inside you again, his mouth capturing the moans that scape you as he starts pounding into you from behind.

His lips trailed across your skin, leaving marks that would last for days on your skin. His tail curled back around your thigh, grounding you in the moment.

You could feel the heat building in your lower stomach.

"Sylus..." you murmured, trying to let him know.

"I know, my lady," he said softly, he could feel you were close, his voice almost a growl as he kissed your shoulder. "Me too."

It was when he sneaked a hand between your legs and teased your clit that you finally reached your release, arching your back against his chest , your body trembling as the intensity of your climax reached its peak.

“F-fuck” you heard him groan behind you when he felt you clenching tightly around him, shaking slightly as his own climax reaches him, still moving with sloppy thrusts as he finishes inside you.

You feel Sylus’s relaxing as he collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight, his breath uneven as he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. Your bodies still shuddering from the intensity of it all.

"Sylus..." you murmured, coming back to yourself.

He groaned softly, allowing you to turn in his embrace, resting his head on your chest as you held him close. You could see his tail moving around lazily, content and relaxed.

You reached for your phone, checking the time and remembering the reason you were here. As much as you’d love to stay there with him in your arms, you had a mission to complete.

"Sylus," you said softly, tapping his back to get his attention. "We need to get presentable. We have to meet up with snowy owl soon."

He groaned, nuzzling further into your chest, tightening his arms around you unwilling to let you go just yet.

"Are you still going on about that?" he grumbled.

You shifted in his embrace, letting out a small sound of protest when you felt him still inside of you.

"Are you really going to sell me to her?" he asked, finally letting you sit up, though his grip on you remained firm.

You cradled his face with your hands, and caressed his cheeks softly.

“How about this? As soon as we finish this mission we can cuddle for as long as you wish” you stared into his red eyes trying to show him how serious you were about this.

He stared at you for a moment, his expression not revealing anything that went through his head.

“Fine…” he finally spoke ”but I think cuddling isn’t the only thing I’d want to do, sweetie” his hands that were on your waist tightened slightly, trying to subtly tell you what his intentions were.

You blushed slightly, your pulse quickened with desired at the thought of what could happen between you two in just a few hours.

You smiled sheepishly, leaning closer to him and brushing your lips against his.

“That’s fine by me” you whispered, sealing your words with a hungry kiss.

#love and deepspace #lads #sylus #lads sylus #lnds #l&ds sylus #l&ds #l&ds x you #l&ds smut #l&ds x reader #sylus x you #lnds sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x mc #sylus x y/n

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pitlanepeach · 1 month ago

Text

Radio Silence | Chapter Thirty-Two

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, so much fluff, strong language

Notes — This is my favourite chapter so far. Out of all 32. It's also a long one, so grab a snack and send me your thoughts!

2023 (Belgium — Japan)

The light in Nice always felt soft, like it was passing through a filter of sea salt and old stone. The sun hadn't reached its full height yet, and the market was still in that gentle hum of mid-morning, not too busy, not too still. Just alive enough.

Lando walked half a step behind Amelia, letting her pace guide them through the maze of stalls and awnings. She wasn't a talker in the mornings, not really, and that suited him just fine.

She stopped at the long flower stand, fingers trailing over a bunch of pale yellow ranunculus. He didn't say anything, just watched her examine the petals with her usual precise sort of softness. Then, after a pause, she looked back at him and tilted her head slightly.

He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a crumpled bill, handed it to the vendor without a word. Amelia's lips curved just a bit.

Two stalls later, she passed him a tiny basket of sliced figs drizzled in honey. He didn't ask where she'd gotten it or how much it cost. He just took it and pressed a kiss to her temple, because of course she would know he was hungry before he even had a chance to say anything.

They moved like that; in orbit, but in sync.

At one point, a vendor selling lavender soap called out to them in a thick accent, something about being a "cute young couple." Lando smiled, striking up a polite conversational exchange. Amelia didn't say anything. After they passed the stall, she reached down and laced her fingers through his, without looking.

She didn't do that often — didn't like to be the one to initiate physical contact, especially in public.

He felt it in his heart every time she did.

They stopped near a stall selling fresh olive bread, and Amelia pulled out her phone, tapping something into her notes app. Lando leaned over.

"What's that?" he asked, voice low and warm.

"List of food I like," she murmured. "Reminding myself."

He nodded. She paused, then handed him the phone wordlessly. There were twenty-seven bullet points. He scrolled through them.

"You liked the brown seeded rolls yesterday too. With the chilli jam," he said. "I'll add that."

She didn't reply. Just looked at him for a long second, then blinked, slow and deliberate. That was the silent Amelia version of I love you — subtle, but unmistakable.

They wandered on.

At the end of the market, they sat at a chipped café table and shared a small tart filled with goat cheese and roasted tomato. Amelia leaned into his side without thinking, her head resting on his shoulder as she chewed, still watching the crowds drift by.

Lando let his hand fall into her lap and tangle gently in the fabric of her skirt. Hers moved to rest over his without needing to look.

They didn't speak much.

And that was the thing with them. It wasn't just that they loved each other — it was that they understood how the other one loved. In gestures. In silence. In half-smiles and shared fruit and shoulders leaned into shoulders in beautiful, morning-sleepy cities.

—

The MTC sim room was cool and quiet, lit by the blue glow of monitors and the soft hum of tech. Amelia stood with her arms folded, watching the data stream from Oscar's run, her expression intensely focused. She didn't speak until the run ended and the rig slowed to stillness.

"Turn 7's still sloppy," she said bluntly.

Oscar pulled off the headset and blinked at her. "Define 'sloppy.'"

"Four degrees too aggressive on throttle reapplication. You're losing rotation mid-corner, which is fine when tyre life doesn't matter, but it will in Spa." She passed him a tablet with the graph already up. "Look."

Oscar studied it. "You memorise this?"

"I don't memorise, per se. I just... know it." She paused. "I'm pattern-oriented. You keep breaking the pattern. It's very irritating."

Lando, seated cross-legged on the floor beside the second sim rig, laughed. "She's not wrong. You are driving like a goat on ice in that sector."

Oscar shot him a look. "You crashed in Miami trying to out-brake a Williams."

"Shut up, mate." Lando stood, brushing imaginary dust off his joggers. "Alright, my turn. Fix me, genius wife."

Amelia arched a brow. "You want feedback?"

"I'm asking for it, yeah."

"Good luck," Oscar muttered, climbing off the rig.

They traded places, and Amelia slid the headset onto Lando with surprising gentleness, muttering something under her breath that only he could hear. Whatever it was made him grin.

Lando's sim run was cleaner, smoother — but not perfect. He clipped a curb on Lap 3, losing the rear slightly. Amelia exhaled loudly through her nose.

"You always hit that curb," she said. "Every year. Just lift earlier."

"I'm trying. The curb keeps coming at me," he groaned, throwing her a grin through the screen.

"Don't be stupid," she shot back.

Oscar snorted. "She's brutal today."

"She's always brutal." Lando sighed. "But it's helpful, so..." he shrugged.

Eventually his run ended. Amelia crossed to his console and tapped a few notes in; suggested setup tweaks, minor aero preferences. Lando watched her hands work.

"You're so smart, baby. How do you do it, hm?"

She didn't look up. "I watch. I notice things. I write them down. Easy"

He smiled. "You're like a high-functioning racetrack AI."

Oscar added dryly, "That occasionally hits things when she's angry."

"That too," Lando agreed, with a lopsided smirk.

Amelia looked up at both of them, expression unreadable for a beat. Then she said, very softly, "You're idiots."

Oscar grinned. "That's a compliment from you."

Lando moved to nudge her shoulder, but she stepped out of reach — except not out of irritation, just anticipation. She knew exactly what was coming.

"You're going to try to gang up on me now," she stated.

Lando blinked. "Why would we—"

Oscar pounced first, grabbing her wrist and lightly jabbing at her side. "We would never," he said with mock innocence.

Amelia shrieked and jerked away, but Lando joined in, carefully — always mindful of her reactions, but not holding back so much that it felt patronising. His fingers found her ribs, tickling just enough to get her laughing — real, loud, unfiltered laughter.

"Stop! I hate this!" she wheezed, kicking at the air as she twisted out of reach.

"You're smiling," Oscar said.

"That's involuntary!" She yelped, breathless.

They finally relented, letting her drop onto the padded bench near the wall, still catching her breath. Her face was flushed, her hair askew, and she looked... radiant with happiness.

"Jerks," she muttered, but her voice was light.

"You love us," Lando said, crouching beside her.

"Only sometimes," she said flatly.

Behind them, just outside the glass-panelled door, Zak stood watching.

He hadn't meant to intrude. He'd only come by to drop off a briefing packet. But when he'd seen the three of them — his daughter, laughing and safe, surrounded by two young men who not only respected her mind but held her heart with equal reverence — he'd stayed where he was.

He didn't move. Didn't interrupt. Just watched for a little while longer.

Amelia, who'd grown up unsure of where she fit. Amelia, who used to hide in closets with puzzle books. Amelia, who didn't make friends easily but somehow had forged these bonds — raw, steady, honest — with Oscar and Lando. A best friend and a husband.

Zak blinked hard.

When Lando looked up a few minutes later and spotted him, he just gave a little nod. Not a word passed between them.

Zak nodded back and slipped away.

Inside the sim suite, Amelia stood again, brushing herself off.

"Back to work!"

Lando and Oscar groaned in unison.

"Fine," she said. "But if either of you miss apexes like that in Spa, I'll point and laugh at you on live television."

"You'd love that," Oscar said.

"She would," Lando added. "Humiliation. She likes embarrassing us."

Amelia just smirked, already queuing up the next run. "Well. I'm not ruling it out."

And as the next session loaded, the screen filling with the digital outline of the track, she brought her hand up to apply a heavy load of pressure to her hip.

Grounding. Safe.

—

Later, much later, the sim rigs had powered down for the night.

Amelia sat alone on the low bench, knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around them. Not in discomfort; she wasn't overwhelmed. She was just... processing.

Oscar had ducked out a few minutes earlier, mumbling something about protein bars and his "cramped spine." Lando had promised to bring back coffee. That left her here, in the comfortable lull, with space to think.

Oscar.

It had taken her a while to really begin to understand Oscar Piastri on a personal level. He was quiet, like her. Dry, like chalk. Flat-voiced in a way that people often mistook for aloofness. But Amelia had recognised it immediately — that instinct for silence. The calm observation. The way he didn't try to fill air that didn't need filling.

He had become somewhat like a younger brother to her — not in the way people throw that phrase around when they mean someone's simply "less experienced," but in the very real, familial sense. She worried about him. Checked his telemetry obsessively. Snuck 'drink water/have a snack' notes into his strategy folder. Looked for signs of overwork in his eyes before every qualifying session.

And he, in the way Oscar was able, quietly looked after her too.

He never flinched at her directness. Never called her intense or difficult or cold when she snapped out instructions without pleasantries. In fact, he appreciated it. He understood that when she called something "icky," it wasn't a personal attack; it was an opportunity for precision.

After a race where she'd gotten particularly sharp with him over comms, he'd found her in the engineering room, dropped a packet of salted pretzels on her desk, and said, simply, "You were right. I just wasn't ready to hear it in the moment."

And that was all.

That was the kind of person Oscar was. He saw her and he didn't need to explain that he did.

And then there was Lando.

The loud to her quiet. The warmth to her ice. The one person on earth who could decipher her entire emotional state by the mere shape of her shoulders, or the angle of her fingers curled around a water bottle.

They were married now, still new enough to feel surreal when people called her "Mrs. Norris" in emails, but the foundation they stood on had been built long before the vows. He was the only person she could touch when her skin physically hurt from overstimulation. The only one who could joke with her during a meltdown and have it feel safe instead of cruel.

Lando understood her chaos. He never tried to change her, only to interpret.

Like when they were in the grocery store, and she couldn't bear the way the overhead lights buzzed, and he just... squeezed her hand once, without saying anything, and then diverted them to the sunglasses section and slid a funky pair onto her nose.

Or tonight, when she'd needed the sim session to be productive, and he'd let her lead, followed her notes, asked questions only when her tone said she was open to them.

And then — when she was finally starting to relax, he'd poked her ribs and made her laugh until she curled up on the floor.

Lando gave her a kind of emotional mirroring she'd never thought possible. Like her feelings were real and reflected, but never judged. He loved her not just in spite of who she was, but because of it. Bluntness, hyper-focus, sharp tongue, and all.

Very quickly, Lando and Oscar had become one of her safe zones.

One was home. The other had become family. Both made the world feel a little less jagged.

She rested her cheek against her knees and exhaled.

They didn't tiptoe around her needs. They didn't act like they were noble for understanding. They didn't talk about her like she was a puzzle or a pet project. They just treated her like Amelia; sharp, driven, autistic, brilliant, flawed, enough.

It was rare to feel seen. Rarer still to feel seen and protected.

The door eased open then, and Lando returned, holding two takeaway cups. He handed her one wordlessly, sat down beside her, and bumped her knee with his.

"Hey, baby. You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah." Her voice was soft. "Just thinking."

"Dangerous."

She smiled. "I'm just feeling grateful, actually."

Lando tilted his head. "For?"

"You," she said simply. "Oscar. All of it."

He didn't tease her this time. Just leaned his head against hers for a second, warm and grounding.

"You're my person," he murmured. "My wife. My love."

She nodded. "I know." She whispered. "And you're mine."

—

Spa

The rain hadn't started yet, but it always smelled like it was about to in Spa. The mountains curled thick and green around the paddock, clouds hanging low. Amelia tugged her Quadrant hoodie sleeves over her hands and squinted at her tablet. Oscar's long run data looked steady, rear temps maybe a touch high, but manageable.

She heard the approach before she looked up. Soft-footed, deliberate. Someone in flats, not heels.

Oscar appeared first. Then, behind him, a woman with the exact same eyebrows and the same unbothered stillness in her eyes.

"Amelia," Oscar said, ever direct, "this is my mum."

Nicole Piastri smiled. warm and unfussy. "Nicole. It is so lovely to finally meet you."

Amelia didn't immediately move. Not because she didn't want to, but because her brain caught on the sudden shift in social rules; the expectation to greet, to be personable, to be human-shaped instead of work-shaped. She blinked once, then reflected the woman's smile as best as she could.

"Hi," she said. "Sorry. I was looking at tyre deltas. My brain's still... there."

Nicole just smiled. "Oscar warned me."

Amelia turned her head. Furrowed her brows. "Warned you?"

"He said you'd be brilliant but a bit intense. That I'd like you." Her tone was easy. No condescension, no forced warmth. Just observation.

Oscar folded his arms. "Didn't say 'a bit intense.' That was Mum's addition."

Nicole raised a brow. "You said she made a Ferrari engineer cry once."

Amelia blinked again. "He ignored my pit safety brief three times."

Nicole laughed, not unkindly, and that was the moment Amelia relaxed, just a fraction.

"I like your son," Amelia said simply.

"I'd hope so," Nicole replied. "You're guiding him."

Amelia nodded. "He listens. He understands things without needing them repeated. He's good."

Nicole gave her a look. "He's also stubborn and sometimes pretends he isn't tired when he absolutely is."

Oscar made a wounded sound. "Mum."

"True," Amelia said, folding her arms. "I've started watching for the eye-rubbing thing. It's his tell."

Nicole grinned. "Exactly."

There was a beat. A moment of quiet. Amelia stepped back slightly, giving herself a little more breathing room from the interaction. Nicole didn't follow, didn't press. She just let the silence exist.

That, more than anything, made Amelia feel at ease.

"You're welcome to come sit in for the long-run review," she said. "If you want."

Nicole's eyebrows lifted. "You'd let a driver's mum sit in?"

Amelia shrugged. "If it were any other mum, maybe not. But you raised Oscar. And he doesn't let nonsense slide. So I assume neither do you."

Nicole beamed, warm and wide. "You really are as blunt as he said."

Amelia nodded. "I'm autistic. Directness is safer for everyone."

Nicole, without missing a beat: "Well, I'm Australian. Directness is our native language."

Oscar looked between them, then shook his head with a half-smile. "This is going to be terrifying."

"Don't be dramatic," Amelia said, already turning back to her screen.

Nicole patted Oscar's shoulder, but her eyes lingered on Amelia with quiet gratitude.

She saw it.

Not just the brilliance, but the care.

And for a mother watching someone else guide her son at 300 km/h, that mattered more than anything.

—

It had rained sometime during the night — Amelia had heard it, soft and steady against the hotel room window, the kind of sound that settled right into soul and lulled her into deeper sleep. But now the world outside was damp and quiet, and inside, everything smelled like Lando: clean cotton, a little citrus, faint cologne lingering from yesterday's press outfits.

She was already awake. Always woke up earlier on race days.

Propped against the headboard, hair still messy from sleep, she had her iPad balanced on her knees — telemetry overlays already pulled up from FP3, tyre strategy notes highlighted in orange and blue.

The bed shifted as Lando stirred beside her.

"Mm... it's so early," he mumbled, voice rough and slow. "Why are you working already?"

"I'm not working," she replied, glancing down at him without shifting her hands. "I'm just reviewing."

He cracked one eye open. "That's working."

"I'm not writing anything new," she said. "I'm checking the data I already have. That can't be classed as work."

Lando groaned dramatically and rolled onto his side to face her. One arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back down into the pillows, iPad and all.

She made a small protesting noise, stiff in the unfamiliar position, but didn't push away.

"You're not a robot," he murmured against her shoulder. "You're allowed to spend your morning being sleepy and stupid—like me."

"I know," she said. Bbut being still had always been difficult. There was always something to check, a variable to account for. "But I always feel better when I've gone over it one extra time."

He was quiet for a moment. Just breathing. Then he kissed the bare slope of her shoulder, soft and deliberate.

"Alright," he whispered. "One more time. And then you let it go for an hour. Just long enough to have breakfast. With me."

She didn't answer straight away. He felt her fingers tap lightly against the back of his hand — the same rhythm he'd learned years ago. The one that meant she was thinking. Processing.

Then, finally, she turned her head and nudged his forehead with hers.

"Okay," she said. "One hour."

He smiled, satisfied.

They stayed like that for a while. Her eyes flicking between data points. His thumb tracing lazy circles against her hip beneath the blanket. They didn't need to speak — didn't need to fill the air with reassurance. That was the magic of it, really. They understood each other in silences too.

Eventually, Amelia closed the iPad with a decisive click.

"Tyre data's solid," she said quietly. "Oscar'll be fine. Track temps are stable. We're good."

Lando pressed a kiss just beneath her ear. "You always say that. And you're always right."

"I'm not always right," she replied, voice flat but self-aware. "But I am today."

He laughed and leaned up on one elbow, eyes crinkling. "God, I love it when you sound like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you believe that we're going to win."

She blinked, then tilted her head a little. "You are going to win. Or close to it. I can feel it."

"Feel it, huh?"

"Yes. Based on my extensive logic and my faith in both of you."

"That's a dangerous combo." He grinned, then leaned down to kiss her — soft, not rushed. The kind of kiss people only share when they've been through everything together and still feel like choosing each other again in the quiet moments.

When he pulled back, her hand was resting lightly against his jaw.

"You good?" he asked. "Like... really good? For today?"

She thought about it. Then nodded. "Yeah. I'm regulated. My head's clear."

He smiled at that — the way she named her emotional state like an engineer running diagnostics. He loved that about her. Loved that she'd learned to say it, and that she trusted him with the truth.

"Then let's go race," he whispered, forehead pressed to hers.

And for a few more seconds, they just breathed, tangled together in a warm, sleepy cocoon, before the noise and chaos of race day swept them back into the world.

But for now, in this tiny window of stillness, they had each other.

— The air was heavy. Dense with mist, thick with tension, and wet enough that Amelia had already pre-loaded five different strategy trees before the lights went out.

Oscar had out-qualified Lando again.

She was laser-focused on Turn 1. Always Turn 1. Always La Source.

Amelia's fingers hovered over her tablet. Not touching—just tapping in the air beside it in a rhythm: four slow, one sharp. Then again. And again.

She didn't have to think as she walked Oscar through the formation lap. It came to naturally now, like a dance you couldn't forget.

Lights out.

"Oscar launch good," came one of the spotters in her ear.

She blinked. Tracked the orange blur to the inside line.

Then a flash of red, Sainz's Ferrari. sweeping across far too aggressively.

The sound in her headset crackled with team chatter, voices overlapping. She tuned most of them out and locked in on Oscar's feed just in time to see his onboard camera jolt. Not a bump. A collision.

The screen stuttered. Then black.

"Yellow flag. Incident Turn 1. Piastri, Sainz. Debris."

Amelia didn't speak.

"Amelia?" It was one of the performance engineers. "Oscar's saying steering is compromised. Damage right side—maybe suspension."

Still, she didn't speak. She tapped once against her palm. Hard. Her throat clenched. The pads of her fingers tingled like they did when she short-circuited.

She hit the comms.

"Oscar. Talk to me."

"Yeah—um—something's broken. I can't turn right properly. Think it's done."

And it was. Less than a lap.

She closed her eyes, just for a second, trying not to fall into the spiral. Not here. Not now. There was a job to do, Lando was still out there, but Oscar was her driver. Her ducky. He trusted her implicitly. And now, for no fault of his own, he was crawling back to the garage with a wounded car and nothing to show for it.

The red mist tried to rise in her chest—anger first. Not at Oscar. Not even really at Carlos. Just at the sheer waste of it. The injustice. The gut-punch of preparation ruined by recklessness. The voice in her head hissed, He finished the sprint in P2 yesterday. He deserved better than this.

She pulled her noise-cancelling headset tighter. The extra pressure helped, grounding her in physical sensation. She curled her toes in her shoes and focused on her breath.

Lando's voice broke through on the other channel, calm despite the chaos.

"Hey—did Oscar retire?"

Will gestured for her to respond.

"Yeah," she said, quietly. Then louder, "Yes. First corner damage. Focus up."

"Copy." A pause. Then softer, "That sucks."

It did. It sucked.

But Amelia didn't get to crumble, even though every part of her was fraying. She was still on the pit wall. Still working. Still leading.

Oscar's car was pushed back into the garage. She caught sight of him from across the paddock—helmet off, jaw clenched, walking quickly past the media scrum with his shoulders stiff. She didn't call him over. Not yet. He needed a minute. So did she.

By the time Lando crossed the line in P7, she was steady again. Not okay. But functioning.

—

Oscar was sitting on a flight case, race suit peeled to his waist, water bottle tucked under one knee. Amelia sat beside him without asking.

"You alright?" She asked.

He gave a dry laugh. "I made it fifty seconds. New record."

She didn't try to make him feel better. That wasn't her way. Instead, she said, "You made the right decision boxing the car immediately instead of dragging a damaged car around the track. Steering arm was shattered. You did everything right."

He nodded, but his mouth was tight.

She nudged her elbow against his.

"Still proud of you," she said.

He finally looked at her. "Even after I didn't finish a lap?"

"Especially then," she replied. "You stayed calm. You brought it back safe. You're my driver, Oscar. One racing incident that ends badly for us doesn't erase that."

His eyes softened, just a little. "You're getting sappy."

She rolled her eyes. "No I'm not. I don't even know what that means."

That made him laugh, a small honest noise, and she counted that as a win.

—

They had a brief respite in Monaco before heading to Zandvoort.

They looked at a few apartments. Didn't like any of them.

When they arrived at Max's place for dinner on the Wednesday, he took one look at their downtrodden expressions and laughed. "It is always more difficult the second time."

—

Zandvoort

The race at Zandvoort was marked by unpredictable weather. Lando finished P7, while Oscar managed to finish just inside of the points — P9.

Amelia saw it all unfold from the pit wall, her eyes scanning the monitors. The intermittent rain was a nightmare.

After the race, she found Lando in the garage, reviewing data.

"You did well," she commented.

He looked up, surprised. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "You adapted to the conditions very well."

He cracked a smile, pulling her into a brief embrace. "Thanks, baby."

That night, as they lay in bed, the sound of rain tapping against the window, Amelia whispered, "I'm really, really happy, Lando."

Lando tightened his hold on her.

—

They escaped to Lake Como for a short break between race weekends.

On the first morning of their mini vacation, they took a boat out onto the lake. Amelia sat at the bow, the wind tousling her hair.

"This place is so beautiful," she said. "Everything looks like something you'd see in a movie. Or on Pinterest."

Lando was steering the boat. He glanced at her and nodded toward his disposable camera, "Take some pictures, baby."

She picked it up and brought it up to her eye, squinting through the mini viewfinder.

He watched her fondly.

—

Monza

At Monza, Lando finished P8.

Things didn't go so well for Oscar.

Amelia let her head fall into her hands as the confirmation of the penalty came from the FIA.

"Shit," she muttered.

Her dad gave her a sympathetic grimace.

—

Japan

Amelia's fingers were a blur. Tip of her pen flicking rapidly against the plastic corner of the radio console. Three taps, pause. Three taps, pause. She hadn't even noticed the motion — her go-to stim when her body couldn't contain everything pressing up behind her ribcage.

Oscar was crossing the line. P2. Behind Max, of course; but ahead of Charles, ahead of Lewis.

And Lando... Lando was P3.

"Piastri, across the line — that's P2! Double podium for McLaren!"

The garage exploded; engineers leaping into the air, radios dropped, shoulders clapped, bodies turned into celebratory chaos.

But Amelia stayed locked in her seat at the pit wall, still staring at the screen, her breath stuck like static in her chest.

She couldn't move. Not yet.

Oscar's voice cracked through her headset, just the barest edge of disbelief in his normally even tone.

"Holy shit. Amelia. We did it."

She exhaled sharply, finally, a sound like relief and triumph tangled together.

"You drove it," she said, her voice clipped but shaking. "You followed every direction. Managed the tyres well in every stint. Well done, ducky."

"Wouldn't have got here without your mad plans." He was laughing, light and breathless. "Tell me I wasn't hallucinating this whole race."

"You weren't," she said, and suddenly her throat closed up, emotion catching on the edges of her usually flat tone. "This is real."

Will's hand landed on her shoulder, not jarring, just grounding, and she blinked up at him, eyes wide and wet.

"You can go," he said softly. "Garage's already heading to parc fermé."

She stood on instinct, legs shaky. Her hands were flapping now — the stim automatic, rapid-firing like her brain needed somewhere to put the excess. Pride, relief, noise, lights — it was too much. And it was perfect.

—

The second she caught sight of them — Lando and Oscar, helmets off, both laughing like kids who'd just stolen something valuable, it hit her like a gut-punch of joy.

They'd done it. Both of them. Her husband. Her driver.

Oscar caught her first, jogging toward her as the crowd swelled behind the fences.

She barely got a word out before he threw his arms around her.

It wasn't their usual style; they weren't overly physical, weren't the sentimental type. But she folded into it with a small, shocked laugh, her hands fluttering uselessly against his back.

"You really are mine now," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I'm not letting anyone else engineer you ever again."

Oscar pulled back with a crooked grin. "No complaints here."

And then she saw him.

Lando, weaving through the throng, his eyes locked on hers even before she noticed he was moving.

He reached her in four long strides and didn't say a word — just pulled her in, full-body, sweaty, burning fuel smell and all. His arms wrapped around her waist, grounding, safe. "You did this," he whispered into her ear. "You did this."

She shook her head, face pressed to his shoulder. "No. You and Oscar. You drove so, so well."

His hand was in her hair now, warm against her scalp. "You made the car better. You kept Oscar calm. You brought us here. You're the one who held it all together."

And suddenly, she couldn't stop the tears.

Not loud or dramatic — just silent, uncontainable release. Her body started rocking a little, barely perceptible — a comfort motion, side to side, tiny and rhythmic. She pressed her face harder into Lando's shoulder, hiding it the way she always did when the emotions got too big.

Overwhelmed. Elated. So proud she could barely breathe.

Lando didn't flinch. He just held her tighter and whispered, "I've got you, baby. It's okay."

Oscar was still hovering nearby, giving her space now, but watching with a half-smile, the kind that said he understood. And in a small way, he did.

Because Oscar had learned her tells. Her voice drops when she's overstimulated. Her stimming when she's overwhelmed. Her flinch when unexpected noise hits too hard. And still, he trusted her implicitly. Trusted her to guide him through a Grand Prix like Spa, where one mistake could end everything.

And now they were here.

P2. P3.

Double podium.

Amelia finally looked up, eyes shining, flapping her hands once more to bleed off the weight. Lando caught one, laced their fingers, and kissed the back of it without a word.

Zak was there too — in the background, watching. And for a moment, he didn't see his driver or his race engineer or the numbers on the screen.

He saw his daughter, overwhelmed but alight with joy, held safely between two young men who'd become her fiercest allies. Her husband, her teammate, her family.

He smiled to himself. He didn't say a word.

She didn't need him to.

—

The post-race buzz was elevated. Team shirts were drenched in champagne, and the McLaren hospitality tent was buzzing with an electric excitement.

Amelia didn't usually do broadcast interviews, that was more Lando's territory. But this time, after this race — a double podium, both drivers flawless, Sky had requested her by name.

The paddock mic stand felt too tall. She adjusted it twice.

"Amelia Norris," the reporter began brightly, mic held between them. "First of all, congratulations. Double podium for McLaren — Lando second, Oscar third — how are you feeling right now?"

Amelia blinked. Twice. She hadn't stopped moving since the chequered flag. Still hadn't properly eaten. Still had telemetry fragments dancing in her brain. She opened her mouth, paused, and then nodded slowly.

"I feel... good," she said honestly, voice low and a little clipped. "A bit overwhelmed. But proud. They both drove amazingly today. Especially Oscar. He nailed every brief."

There was something endearing about her calmness — like she was one breath away from shutting the whole operation down to explain exactly how Oscar had maximised delta windows through Sector 2.

The interviewer smiled. "And fans have been picking up on your dynamic with Oscar, especially from the radio. You called him 'Ducky' today — again. Can you talk us through that? Where did the nickname come from?"

Amelia blinked again, then huffed, not irritated, just... caught slightly off guard.

"I give people nicknames when I trust them," she said simply. "'Oscar' is what everyone calls him. 'Ducky' is mine."

There was a beat of silence, the reporter briefly stunned by the directness. But it wasn't defensive or awkward — just the truth, laid bare like everything Amelia said.

"Well, it's clearly working," the reporter recovered, grinning. "Because his defending against Perez and Charles today was phenomenal."

"Yes," Amelia said. "Because we planned for it. He did exactly what I asked of him."

"Did you expect a podium today?"

"I expect possibility," she said, quick. "Expectations are dangerous. But the data said we could be there. And then Oscar delivered on it. So did Lando. That's why I build cars. That's why I stay up all night running simulations. For this."

Her hands moved a little as she spoke — stimming subtly, thumb flicking against her palm. But her voice was steady.

"Would you call this the best day of your season so far?" The interviewer asked, lowering the mic slightly.

Amelia took a breath. Looked out toward the pit wall, where orange and black were still gathered like a tide of fire. Lando was being hauled in a bear hug by one of the engineers. Oscar was still helmeted, leaning back against the barrier and grinning in that quiet way he always did when something mattered to him.

Then she turned back to the camera, deadpan:

"Yes," she said. "But I plan to beat it."

The interviewer laughed. "Love it. Thank you, Amelia. Congratulations again. And give our best to Oscar and Lando."

She cracked a tiny smile, adjusted her headset, and turned back toward the garage, already thinking about what she'd tweak for Quatar.

—

They were supposed to be taking a break from apartment hunting.

It was a quiet, post-race Monday. The heat was clinging to the Côte d'Azur like a second skin.

And sure, their little two-bedroom near the Port had started to feel a touch claustrophobic. Not because it wasn't nice — it was. It had been their first proper home. But between Lando's racing gear, Amelia's engineering schematics, and the six different pairs of shoes he was tripping over daily, the place was bursting at the seams.

Still, they weren't in a rush.

Until Lando had said, offhandedly over breakfast, "Should we just go see that listing from yesterday? The one with the big balcony and the weird layout?"

She had blinked, then nodded. "I did like that one."

"And?"

"Okay. Sure. Let's go."

So they did.

They ended up viewing three places that day. One was too sterile, the kind of cold marble and glass aesthetic that made Amelia feel like she'd been dropped inside a very expensive hospital. Another had a stunning view, but a persistent echo in the living room that made her skin crawl. It was the kind of sound most people didn't even notice. Lando did — but only because he noticed her the second she tensed up.

Then came the last one.

The agent had apologised in advance. "It's a bit... odd," he'd warned, as they stepped into the building.

Amelia, eyes scanning the corridor, shrugged. "So are we."

Lando grinned.

The apartment was on the top floor — a penthouse. A strange little split-level with slanted ceilings and sun that pooled in lazy patches across the wood floors. Amelia felt it first — not a lightning bolt, but a quiet hum under her ribs. She wandered through the kitchen, into the living room, and paused.

There was a swing.

A proper sensory swing — heavy canvas, anchored securely into a ceiling beam. It was suspended just off the floor in the corner of what looked like a reading nook, draped in soft light from a low window.

Lando stopped just behind her.

"Oh," he said, voice going quiet.

Amelia didn't speak. She walked straight to it, ran her fingers along the reinforced ropes, then sat down slowly. She shifted, testing the weight, and the swing gently curved to cradle her. The instant pressure across her hips and lower back was like flipping a switch in her chest — her breathing slowed, the tension in her shoulders eased.

It felt like being held.

Lando crouched in front of her, hands braced on his knees. "You like it?"

She nodded once. "It's perfect."

He didn't need to ask why. He already knew.

Amelia rarely explained her sensory profile to anyone. But Lando had learned it like a second language — not because she asked him to, but because he wanted to. He knew the way certain fabrics made her retreat, how sharp noises cut through her thoughts like glass. He knew the difference between her shutting down and zoning out. And more than anything, he knew what it meant when she found something that made her feel safe.

He tapped the side of the swing gently. "We could put a second one on the balcony. So you can stargaze."

She blinked. "You sound like you've already decided that we're moving in?"

"You decided," he said, standing up and offering her his hand. "You just didn't say it yet."

She took his hand. He pulled her up slowly, kissed her temple, and added with a smile, "You did say you liked this one."

—

They got home late. Amelia lay on the sofa, bare feet tucked under a throw blanket, Lando stretched out with his head in her lap. Her iPad was open beside her, a checklist of questions about the new apartment left half-ticked. But neither of them were talking.

They didn't need to.

Amelia was stimming softly, tapping the curve of Lando's shoulder in a light rhythmic pattern. He hummed when she changed tempo, like he could feel her thoughts moving.

"It felt right," she said, finally.

"I know."

"I don't mean just the swing. The light. The acoustics. Even the flooring. It was all right."

"I noticed," he murmured. "Your hands didn't twitch once while we were there."

She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "It felt like it was built for me. Which is statistically improbable. But still."

"Maybe it was waiting."

She looked down at him. "Places don't wait, Lando. They're inanimate structures."

"But what if this one did?" He said, eyes half-lidded. "What if someone built it weird on purpose so that one day a very particular girl with a very particular brain would walk in and go oh, this feels like home?"

Amelia blinked. Her mouth twitched. "That's not how architecture works."

"It's how love works, though."

She blinked again, slower this time. Then leaned down and kissed the side of his head.

When she pulled back, she whispered, "Let's make it ours."

NEXT CHAPTER

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