#And before anyone questions the language on this post. I STRUGGLED with how to word it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

immoral-stranger · 2 months

Text

𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 // 𝐋𝐍𝟒

Summary: “I got a nosebleed when you tried to kiss me. I told you — it’s like I’m fucking cursed!” — Or, in which an accident-prone girl stumbles and falls for everything, including Lando.

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem! reader

Word count: 23.2k (grab a snack)

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI ❀ Angst: injuries, hospitals, surgery, scars, blood, dead parent, mention of car crash. Smut: penetrative sex, oral (f! receiving), body insecurities, very vanilla. Fluff: idiots to lovers, so much pining and scheming. Other: inaccurate timeline and made-up race results. it's fiction, folks!

A/N: Posting this then falling off the face of the earth, because this fandom is scary. Kinda unedited for now. English is not my first language! ♡

Melbourne, Australia

Lando didn’t recognise you at first. Granted, he wasn’t the best at remembering faces, but usually if he’d met someone, he would remember them the second time around. Although, this wasn’t his second time seeing you, he would later learn. It was probably close to the tenth time. It had just been some time since your last encounter. For a logical reason, he would also later learn.

Albert Park, 2024. Race day. That’s where he saw you this time. Walking down the paddock, next to Oscar and his girlfriend Jasmine, trying to keep up as the three of you made your way to the McLaren garage. Your hair getting messed up by the breeze, annoyingly sticking to your glossy lips, feet almost tripping on the seam of your baggy jeans. You were out of your element, putting on a brave smile — and Lando could tell.

He didn’t realise he’d been staring at you, from his seat on the steps up to his motorhome, until you were out of eyeshot again, somewhere in the garage. He couldn’t quite put his finger on why you were familiar and it was killing him. If you were Australian, maybe that would explain it, since Lando had no way of keeping track of all of Oscar’s old friends.

But you weren’t Australian. As he later walked into hospitality, he overheard a bubbly British accent talking to Jasmine and Oscar, an accent belonging to you. It confused him even more, really gnawed inside of him. He should know you, yet something wasn’t aligning, something wasn’t right. Oscar wouldn’t just fly anyone halfway across the globe.

It all came crashing down when he heard Jasmine ask you a simple question.

“Bunny, can you grab me a fork?”

Standing up from the table, you gave Lando a small smile as you caught his gaze, signalling that you at least knew who he was.

Bunny, Bunny, Bunny. The nickname finally made him realise, finally made him recognise you. But you weren’t the Bunny he’d met at multiple races before. You didn’t look like she did. Or, you didn’t look like you used to. Bunny was Jasmine’s childhood friend who had gotten sick, who had stopped traveling, who had stopped coming to races at all. The girl before him however, wasn’t sick. You didn’t look weak in any sense. Nervous, fidgety, and out of place, sure — but never weak.

As you were about to say a quiet hello to him as you walked past, Lando was already falling apart — socially that is. Words were stumbling out of his mouth before his brain had a chance to keep up. He cringed internally before he could even finish the sentence.

“Holy shit, I thought you were dead!”

He shocked you, that was obvious. Your eyes went wide as you struggled to say something in response.

“Lando, you can’t just say that to someone,” Oscar chuckled from a few metres back.

“I-I’m sorry, I just… didn’t recognise you,” Lando stuttered out as you still stood dumbfounded in front of him.

“You don’t think I would’ve told you if my best friend died?” Jasmine butted in, standing from the table, placing herself beside you.

She could tell that you didn’t know how to react, already expressing your nerves about how uncomfortable it would be to attend a race after not going for a very long time, afraid that people would ask too many questions.

“It’s alright, it’s been a long time,” you finally managed to say.

Then, an uncomfortable silence fell over the four of you. It was like you knew that you should explain why it had been such a long time, but you didn’t know how to do it —casually explaining the second most traumatic experience of your, thus far, relatively short life. It wasn’t casual at all, and you couldn’t even try to fake it.

“Ehm, I’ll go get that fork for you Jazz,” you broke the silence, swiftly excusing yourself to go back to the catering table.

Oscar couldn’t stop chuckling and Jasmine looked borderline offended, something she tended to do, a resting bitch-face of sorts. Lando felt like the stupidest, most socially inept person alive, mentally facepalming himself as he watched you leave. This was going to be a long day.

Lando’s race however, was frustratingly short.

You and Jasmine watched the race from the garage, surrounded by muddled mechanics, blinking monitors and loud noises. It really was a circus, a well-oiled machine, fascinating to watch. You’d forgotten how fun it could be. Also, how nerve-wracking it was to be standing next to Jasmine while her boyfriend — love of her life, light of her eye — was going 300 km/h, head to head with insanely competitive people, in big death traps.

The early races of the 2023 season that you had managed to catch in person hadn’t been too impressive, from McLaren’s standpoint. Your humble opinion was that anyone who even sat in one of those cars was more courageous and impressive than you would ever manage to be. As the last season went on, you had learnt to trust the process, but both you and Jasmine would be lying if you said that 2024 didn’t look like an even better year for the brightly papaya-coloured team you were rooting for.

With both drivers in good starting positions and Verstappen’s brakes catching fire on the third lap, Jasmine couldn’t contain her excitement, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet next to you. Ferrari’s in the lead and McLaren fighting for that glorious third spot. It wasn’t until Lando had a chance to pass Leclerc that the castle in the air came crumbling down. Ooh’s and aah’s filled the garage as you watched the scene unfold on a monitor.

“Oh, fuck,” you said under your breath, knowing that barely anyone would be able to hear you in the crowded space. “Is it over for him?”

Jasmine had been too busy squealing over Oscar going into third that she failed to realise that it was on the cost of Lando. That was until his car came rolling into the pit lane with irreparable damage from making contact with Leclerc.

You’d seen it happen before, but that didn’t change the feeling. Your heart basically lodges itself in your throat, making you unable to breathe for a couple seconds. And then it was the aftermath… Seeing the driver leave their car, head hung low, just wanting to scream at the world in frustration but bottling it all up inside.

Leclerc wouldn’t even get a penalty, it was just how racing worked sometimes. That didn’t change the feeling of complete utter failure for Lando. You could tell that as he, with assertive steps, made his way to his driver’s room, slamming the door shut so hard that it only flew back open again.

“Bunny.” Jasmine grabbed your arm to get your attention, leaning closer so that you would hear her. “One of us has to go ask if he’s alright. He doesn’t have anyone here with him.”

“Doesn’t he have an entire team to do that?” you wondered.

Surely, they didn’t send these drivers out without having enough support from the team when something went wrong. Surely, you thought. The look on Jasmine’s face told you the opposite. The fact that no one was running after Lando to his room was also quite telling. Or maybe… they knew better than to disturb him. Maybe Jasmine was setting you up for failure by asking you to comfort someone who didn’t want to be comforted.

“He’s gonna need someone who’s not obsessed with performance and profit. Trust me, the people on this team may be nice, but they are not human when it comes to things like this,” Jasmine explained, and you took her word for it.

“Am I the best option?”

You didn’t know him. And you were awkward. But so was he… Yet, you couldn’t even get your little brother to stop crying by making him laugh or comforting him — let alone a grown man, like Lando.

“Please,” she insisted, and you could tell that she was serious. There was no point in arguing with her. Seeing the rest of the race with Oscar battling to keep his podium position would be enough of a feat for her poor emotions. She wouldn’t be able to walk away from it.

You weren’t even sure if you were allowed to walk back there, but there was also no one stopping you when you did it. Your steps were the opposite to Lando’s assertive ones as you made your way to his driver’s room. You had no idea what to expect when you reached the already open door…

… but Lando, sat on his little bench, racing suit halfway off, lazily scrolling on his phone was not it.

“I understand that I’m most definitely not the person you would want to talk to right now, but Jasmine said that you were here alone and I just wanted to ask if you’re okay,” you rambled out way too quickly.

It got his attention, looking up from his phone, but he didn’t say a word. He was mostly shocked to see that you were the first person to come talk to him. He had expected Jasmine, or maybe someone from the team that he wouldn’t want to talk to anyway. But not you. You had no reason to even be nice to him after how weird he’d been.

“Uhm, so this is me asking that,” you reminded him when his silence got too much for you.

“I’m fine,” Lando sighed, dragging his fingers through his sweaty curls, getting flashbacks of what had happened all over again.

You could tell from the look on his face that he, in fact, was not fine.

It was toxic and harmful, that his first instinct when something like this happened was to immediately check his phone to see what people were saying about it online. But he had done it anyway. And sure enough, there were people blaming him — calling him reckless and a whiny little kid, finally getting what he deserved. There were also people calling Leclerc out, but Lando somehow couldn’t focus on it.

Because the thing he saw most of when he was scrolling through twitter was your face. Maybe that was why he was even more surprised to see that it was you standing in the doorway to his room and not someone else.

“Do you know that we’ve gone viral?” he asked you, referring to the phone in his hand. He couldn’t help but let out a little laugh under his breath.

“No?”

You looked confused as Lando scooted over to make space for you to sit down beside him. You didn’t have any social media, and Lando knew. He definitely hadn’t tried to look you up after your encounter earlier to see why on earth he hadn’t recognised you. It had gotten him nowhere. You had no accounts of your own and Jasmine hadn’t posted any photos of you. He had stopped himself before searching up old paddock photos. So, it wasn’t a surprise that you didn’t know about the video that was circulating around right now.

“Apparently, someone was filming when I said that I thought you had died. It’s quite a funny clip,” he clarified, tilting his phone to show you the screen.

He watched as you looked at the clip, a gentle giggle leaving your mouth at how ridiculous it was. Your smile then turned into concern, seeing the amount of interactions the post had earned.

“Is that not bad publicity for you?”

“I don’t care about that,” Lando said honestly. “But I am truly sorry for saying that to you.”

Thinking someone had died was a new low even for him, and saying it to your face was just unexplainable behaviour. Yet, he still couldn’t understand why he hadn’t recognised you. Sure, he knew that you had been sick and then… probably gotten well again? But did that change your appearance? Maybe he just hadn’t really looked at you before.

“I can’t blame you, Lando — I probably looked dead the last time you saw me,” you laughed.

You couldn’t remember exactly when it was, sometime mid last season. Right before it got really bad, but while your condition was stable enough for you to go to races. Maybe it was Silverstone. You had a vague memory of seeing Lando on that podium. You knew that you had looked horrible either way. When you thought about it, maybe Lando had never seen you completely healthy.

“There was something wrong with your lungs, right?” he asked, wondering if he was remembering things correctly.

“Just the left one. I had spontaneous pneumothorax three times in a year,” you explained, earning a confused look from Lando before adding, “Collapsed lung, basically air was leaking from the lung out into my chest.”

He raised his eyebrows as you spoke. You made it sound a lot more trivial than what he assumed it was.

It happening one time wasn’t actually that uncommon. Apparently, lungs collapsed right, left, and centre. It was usually a quite easy fix as well, not even something that required surgery. But when it happened to you, that third time — it was obvious that the problem was much larger. There was multiple surgeries and constant checkups. There were ugly scars and never-ending breathing exercises.

It was a lot, for anyone. Even worse for someone just about to graduate from their bachelor’s programme. Your life had fallen apart, to say the least, and it wasn’t something you gladly talked about, so making it sound trivial was your way of coping. If Lando realised that was another question.

“And I’m sat here moping about a DNF,” he heard himself mumble before realising how insensitive that might’ve come across. “But you’re okay now?”

“One final checkup left, practically as good as new,” you said, putting on a smile. “You do know that it’s not comparable though, right?”

Lando didn’t understand at first, so you kept on speaking.

“Me, having a life threatening medical condition — and you, having a bad day at work?”

Maybe you were the one sounding insensitive now, knowing full well that his work wasn’t normal in any way, shape, or form. But that was the opposite of your intentions, so you kept on rambling to try and save yourself.

“You’re allowed to be selfish and angry about something going wrong in your life without thinking about how other people might have it worse,” you added. “Because let’s be honest, someone is always going to be in a worse situation. That doesn’t take away from your right to feel things about what’s happening in your life.”

What had happened with Leclerc was shitty as fuck and if you were Lando, you’d be crying, cursing everyone and their mothers that even had a slight connection to Ferrari. But you weren’t a professional race car driver. You were an emotional young woman. What you were trying to say was that Lando had a right to even be a fraction more emotional than what he was showing right now.

“I don’t know what to say,” Lando answered simply after a moment of silence.

He wasn’t used to people telling him he had a right to be emotional. He’d been told since he was a child by people in the industry that being a whiny little kid would get him nowhere. Maybe you had a point. Whatever he was doing now to deal with his emotions (which was ignoring them completely), obviously wasn’t working with how he was feeling inside.

“You don’t have to say anything to me if you don’t want to, just allow yourself to feel, because even I can tell that you’re shutting yourself out and I don’t even know you.”

Your voice was soft as you spoke. Your accent reminded him of the people he grew up around. That was something he hadn’t realised before. He was starting to think that he had been completely self-absorbed all the other times he’d met you. You were almost… pretty, when you sat there next to him in ugly fluorescent lighting. Maybe it was the way you seemed to actually care that made his brain a little mushy.

You were scared to cross a line with him by saying too much, so you decided to retreat. Standing up from the bench, creating more space between you, you took a stance in the doorway again. It felt like you couldn’t breathe in his tiny little room.

“I should probably go back to see how Oscar is doing,” you said, signalling with your hand to the garage.

Lando looked up at you with big eyes, nodding understandingly. You could almost visibly see how he was holding back from telling you that he was, in fact, not okay.

You really had no business pushing him to say something to you. But, something inside of you was calling you a coward for not even giving it a try. For not even giving it a second chance, trying to make him feel better about himself. It all reminded you a little all too well of something that your mother always used to tell you. Fuck it.

“My mum taught me to always linger in doorways for a couple extra seconds before leaving someone,” you said, feeling heat rise to your cheeks at the mere thought of how stupid this was. “That’s usually when people get to thinking about things they haven’t had the courage to say yet, since you never know when you’re next going to see the person.”

You were over-explaining it, pressing your nails into the soft skin of your palms as you got nervous. You were trying to say that you always resolved to leave people feeling better than they did before you talked to them.

Lando cracked a small smile as he watched you stumble over your words. He had now decided that you were pretty, standing in the doorway, your gaze oscillating between him and the floor.

“I’ll ask one more time and then I’ll go — Lando, are you okay?”

“No,” he sighed. He couldn’t hide it. “But I will be.”

“It’s never okay after something like that happens. I keep on blaming myself for things I have no power over, but that’s got to stop at some point, right? I have to learn at some point,” he continued, voice coming across as slightly defeated.

You recognised his mentality, Oscar usually said something similar after experiencing a setback. You still didn’t understand how he wasn’t more visibly upset, yet you now knew that he was harbouring it all inside. It made you feel better that he had actually said it out lout — that he wasn’t fine. You also felt a little bit worse, getting the feeling that his self-deprecation was far more severe than you originally thought. He blamed himself without good reason.

“I’m afraid I don’t know you well enough to say the right thing now, but for what it’s worth, I’m so impressed by you,” you admitted truthfully, hoping you weren’t showing pity. He was actually such an inspiration, such an idol. Even when he sat there, looking like he had run through hell and back, fighting his brain to not feel sorry for himself.

“Have I done enough lingering to make my mother proud, you think?” you joked, tilting your head while you looked at him.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “I’ll join you out there in a minute.”

Oscar had secured his third position and his first home race podium. Getting to see him up on that podium, covered head to toe in champagne was so special to you. Even though you were Jasmine’s friend first, you had really grown to love Oscar during their years of dating. Although, Lando never managed to make his way to the celebrations, something that lingered in the back of your mind.

You had tried so hard to get it right, to say the right thing — to make him feel better about himself. That was more than most people did. He was used to people sucking up to him, but this was different. This was honest. You had no reason to be nice to him. You had no reason to even give him your time of day. But you did it anyway. Lando didn’t even think to say thank you before you left. He should’ve, because you were right. He didn’t know the next time he would see you, hell with your track record you might actually be dead tomorrow, and it was a shame if you didn’t know that your words had helped.

Lando wasn’t sure how long he stayed in his room, sitting on that uncomfortable little bench. Letting his thoughts get the best of him while simultaneously trying to think of what you’d said to him. That he should feel, that he should think this through. He was just hoping that what he was feeling was healing more than it was self-destructing.

He stopped spiralling when Oscar came back to his room to change, just next to Lando’s. He was covered in champagne, exuding pure joy of getting a home race podium. While Lando was happy for his teammate, trying his best to give him a heartfelt congratulations, he also couldn’t stop thinking about how that trophy could’ve been his. The first one of the season.

What Lando didn’t know was that Oscar was very much aware of all of this, having learnt how to read his teammate’s expressions quite well after spending so much time together. He knew that Lando took defeat harder, or at least he showed it more clearly than Oscar ever did. He also knew that he needed someone to… turn on the faucet for him, making him feel like it was okay to spew out feelings about how the race had gone, without judging him for what he might say.

“Did Jasmine come check on you?” Oscar asked, leaning in the doorway to Lando’s room.

Lando would never be able to look the same way at a person standing in a doorway without thinking about what you had said about lingering, staying for a couple extra seconds.

“No, uhm, Bunny did,” he replied, feeling himself smile for some reason. He felt odd using your nickname, as he had no idea where it originated from. Yet, it was just so you.

“What was that look?” Oscar laughed. Lando’s smile wasn’t just a normal one. Oscar could almost guess what had happened, that was just the kind of person you were.

“She’s different from when I last met her,” Lando explained, feeling heat rise to his face as he wondered just about how transparent his emotions actually were. “Oscar, she’s trouble.”

“This is about to be hilarious, isn’t it?”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Greater London, UK

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lando didn’t have to wait long to see you again. On a week without racing, he decided on a whim to stay in England for a couple of days longer than planned after debriefing at the MTC. It was someone’s birthday — a mechanic, an engineer — he really didn’t know, but a bunch of people from the team ended up in a pub, drinking to their hearts’ content. It was nice, but most of all, it was relaxing. It wasn’t Monaco, where everyone had their eyes on him as soon as he stepped outside. He could blend in better with the masses here.

As could Oscar. Lando had never really seen Oscar drunk before. Apart from now. Putting him in a cab alone and sending him home wasn’t an option when the poor lad could barely stand on his own. That’s how Lando ended up in his and Jasmine’s shared flat. Even helping Oscar up the stairs had been a mission, especially since Lando wasn’t that sober either. It was alright, they were young and without responsibilities for the rest of that week at least. The team leaders didn’t even have to know…

“Bunny is in the guest room, but you can stay on the couch if you want,” he heard Jasmine say from the kitchen, getting Oscar a glass of water, as Lando had just watched her wrestle him to bed. Jasmine was a short woman, but when she set her mind to something, she could move mountains. Or, her boyfriend.

It took Lando’s inebriated brain a concerning amount of time to figure out that Bunny meant you. You were Bunny. And he liked you. Or he thought so. He liked the picture of you that he had built up in his head after your conversation in his driver’s room.

He wasn’t sure what you were doing here. Maybe you and Jasmine had a girls’ night when Oscar was away. He didn’t actually know that much about you, even less so when his brain was compromised by alcohol.

Lando thought he was being sneaky as he walked over to the guest room, where the door stood ajar, but the wooden floors creaked beneath his feet. He could spot your head of hair peeping out from under the sheets, shoulders covered by a papaya-coloured shirt that he assumed was originally Oscar’s. Your eyes were closed but you weren’t sleeping.

“Lando, I can feel you staring,” you almost whispered, cracking a smile but still not opening your eyes.

“M’sorry,” he mumbled, suddenly feeling ashamed.

You reached out to turn on the lamp that stood on the nightstand. Lando watched as you sat up in bed to get a better view of him, looking amused as soon as you caught his gaze. “Drunk?”

“A little.”

“Did you two have fun?”

“Yeah, I’ve never seen Oscar this drunk before,” Lando said, letting out a soft laugh. He’d been like Bambi on ice getting out of the cab and up the stairs. It was certainly a bonding experience between teammates. “Jasmine had to wrestle him to bed.”

The shirt looked huge on you, it was too big to even be Oscar’s. That was a nicer thought, for Lando. As you sat up, the sheets pooled at your waist, with a bare leg sticking out on the side. For a second, it struck him that you probably had no trousers on.

No, nope, look at her face Lando.

Your face was bare. If he stared long enough he would probably start counting your birthmarks and imperfections. It almost looked freshly washed. Maybe you and Jasmine had done face masks. He didn’t really know what a girls’ night entailed.

“Your hair is shorter.”

Lando said it out loud the moment he realised it. His drunk brain didn’t let him keep anything in.

“It was easier to manage while I was back at the hospital,” you explained, on instinct reaching up to touch it.

“Fuck, right, the surgery!”

Oscar had told him about it and Lando had somehow forgotten. He could blame the alcohol for now. You only having one checkup left and being practically as good as new had been too good to be true.

“Uh, how did it go?”

“Simple checkup turned into an emergency surgery and two weeks in a hospital bed.” You shrugged, as if you had told him what you had eaten for dinner, not showing any signs of how awful it had truly been. “But I survived.”

Lando nodded. “That’s good, I guess. Scary, but good that you’re good.”

How many times could he use the word ’good’ in one sentence?

The both of you turned silent after that, unsure of what to say next. You watched him as he stood in the doorway, his feet tentatively moving as his eyes flickered around the room. You started to smile as you realised what he was doing.

“Is this you lingering in the doorway?”

“I think so,” Lando shyly admitted. “Is it working?”

You chuckled, still smiling all sleepily at him like what he had said was funny, or special. It made Lando’s heart hurt and his cheeks burn.

Truth be told, you could’ve used some lingering right now. You had talked to your father and to Jasmine of course, but you still felt like you had this pressure over your chest for things you hadn’t said.

You could’ve told him about how you’d gone alone to the hospital because you’d thought it would be quick, but ended up getting prepped and rushed into surgery before anyone you knew even had time to make it there to be with you. There had been no one there to hold your hand.

You could’ve told him about the scar on your chest that was now worse than ever before. It was larger, more red, and way more noticeable. You’d cried trying on shirts before going to dinner with Jasmine tonight, which you hadn’t had the heart to tell her about. You’d wanted to cancel the entire thing, before sucking it up and putting on a turtleneck.

You could’ve talked about it for ages, knowing that maybe he would listen. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. Not right now. Not to him.

“I think we should both go to sleep, Lando,” you said, yawning comically loud as you turned off the light before falling back on the mattress.

Lando didn’t push you. Instead, he chuckled and said a soft goodnight. He knew he maybe should’ve pushed you to talk. He sensed that he could’ve done it. But it also didn’t feel like the right time. Not when he was drunk. Not when you were tired.

His eyes longed on you for a couple extra seconds, you looked adorable with the sheets practically swallowing you whole. He then walked back into the kitchen where Jasmine was standing, putting wine glasses into a display cabinet. Maybe you weren’t entirely sober either.

He took a seat at the kitchen island, slouching over as he rested his face in his hands. Jasmine smiled at him, tilting her head to the side as if to silently ask him if something was wrong.

“Jasmine, has she always looked like that?” Lando said, unsure of what he was even asking.

“Bunny?” Jasmine questioned, leaning her elbows on the counter, scrunching her eyebrows in confusion.

“She looks different from when I first met her.”

Maybe you just weren’t sick anymore. Maybe Lando had just been a right idiot the other times he’d met you and not properly cared to look at you. Maybe you had been shy and he had been self-obsessed. Maybe it didn’t matter what had happened before.

“Well, for a start, she has two working lungs now,” she argued, a laugh slipping out under her breath as if what she said was obvious. “Got the colour back in her skin and gained some healthy weight, I think.”

Lando hummed in response. It made sense. You did look different. That was the only sane explanation as to why you were constantly on his mind.

“Why did you ask?”

She looked at him for an answer, her eyes staring him down, searching for eye contact that he wasn’t able to hold. He couldn’t help but turn to the side so that she wouldn’t see how pink his face was.

“Holy shit, you like her!”

Jasmine let out a gasp as she realised, having to contain herself to not squeal and wake the entire building. Lando had nothing to say all of a sudden, his drunkenness not showing at all.

“You’re not even going to deny it?”

He quickly stood up to go to the bathroom, ignoring her question and hiding his dumbstruck smile.

“Goodnight Jasmine.”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

As you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt your hands grow sweaty against the stack of papers you held in them. The costume looked nice — almost too nice to be on your body. Beautiful, sparkly platform heels. Delicate lace and trims on the dress. The corset showed off a waist you didn’t know you had. It wasn’t you, so thank god you were acting like someone else.

“Go on, Magenta. Say your next line,” Jasmine urged you from her spot on the bed in your childhood room. The old canopy and fairy lights that decorated your bed made her look ethereal in a way.

There was something heartfelt, seeing your oldest friend in that room again, now a whole lot older than when the two of you would play with dolls on your floor. When you dropped out of university, you had to move back in with your dad and little brother. It hadn’t been awful, but not ideal either.

Magenta was the character you were playing in your local theatre's production of The Rocky Horror Picture Show. You’d been part of the crew at the little theatre for most of your life and now, when you had no classes to worry about and no summer job lined up for you — being part of a musical over the summer seemed like the perfect waste of time. You were going back to university in the autumn, so you felt like you had a chance to have some fun this summer.

“…to sing and dance once more to your dark refrains. To take that step to the right...”

Magenta was the opposite of you. She was bold, and sexy. She had a sultry voice and was dressed in a stereotypical maid costume. Showing off both legs and cleavage. It was a fun change, but a scary one too.

“But it's the pelvic thrust… That really drives you insane?”

Jasmine couldn’t keep a straight face as she acted like your counterpart, starting to giggle like a schoolgirl, trying not to get told off by the teacher for laughing. The lines made no sense to her.

“And our World will do The Time Warp again — Jazz, you’re not focusing!” you exclaimed, joining her laugher as you fell on the bed next to her, ruffling the huge amount of decorative pillows you had on there.

“This was so much easier when you were doing Moulin Rouge, because then I at least understood the plot,” Jasmine scoffed as she looked over the manuscript, leaning into your shoulder as you both relaxed into the pile of pillows.

“What do you meeean your character is a maid who is also an alien? Babe, why are they going to space?” she continued, gesticulating wildly with her hands at the pages.

“It’s camp, Jazz. Or maybe just written by someone on acid,” you laughed.

Rocky Horror was not the simplest of musicals to explain to someone who had never heard of it before. It was camp, and queer, and rock’n’roll. There were aliens, and virgins, and a man in golden underwear. It was a nightmare — and the most fun thing one could imagine.

“Who have you invited for the opening night? I’m so sorry again that we can’t come,” Jasmine asked, turning over to lay on her back, staring up at the fairy lights.

The premiere was only weeks away at this point, but you had known for awhile that Oscar and her were busy celebrating her parents wedding anniversary on the same exact date. She had kept on apologising and you had kept on telling her that is wasn’t that big of a deal. They could come on the second weekend, or the third, or any weekend during the entire summer. It didn’t matter to you.

“Don’t apologise,” you reassured her. “I haven’t invited anyone. Dad has to go with Matteo to his first ever football game.”

Matteo was your little brother. He was the sweetest kid you knew, albeit biased. He was also the most anxious kid you knew, so you could already guess that performing well during his game would be important to him. Your father had to be there, even for your own sanity.

“But you need someone there, cheering you on. This is a big deal!”

It really wasn’t. You’d done it alone before.

“Jazz, Matteo is 10. He needs dad there more than I do,” you remarked.

“I didn’t just mean your dad. You need someone there in general, Bunny.”

You really didn’t. You’d done a lot of things without someone holding your hand along the way.

“Lando should be in England on that day, y’know, some MTC thing,” Jasmine hinted, her gaze catching yours.

You thought you heard her wrong at first. She never talked about Lando casually. From what you had gathered, he and Oscar hadn’t even been that close up until the start of this season. Now, you knew that they hung out, but what did that have to do with you and your little musical?

“Huh? That’s just absurd. He would hate it.”

If you were allowed to be judgmental for a moment, you would assume that Lando had never seen a musical in his life. Let alone something as weird as Rocky Horror. You also didn’t understand at all why he should come watch you, on his own. That would honestly just make you feel like the joke was on you.

“I think he likes you,” she commented plainly, as if it was clear as day and not at all something from her wildest imagination.

She might as well have been speaking Greek. You did not understand Greek.

“Why would he like me?” you squeaked, your eyes going wide.

“You’re hot and funny, maybe a bit odd, but people like that. Why wouldn’t he like you?”

“I’m sat here flipping pages of a manuscript, while he is flipping some model over in bed,” you expressed, throwing your copy of the script at her.

Maybe that was harsh. You didn’t know Lando well enough to say something like that with confidence. But, you did know yourself well enough to say that you weren’t his type.

“So, what? He could flip you over!”

You snorted in response, hiding your laugh. Jasmine was being ridiculous right now.

“It’s like you lost all your confidence when you got sick,” she said, her voice suddenly softened. “Remember our trip to Malaga? That Bunny would’ve jumped on his dick without thinking twice.”

It was crazy how she could make your trip to Malaga sound sentimental, or like an old memory of how you used to be. Malaga had been anything but orthodox. A group of teenage girls — too young to be drinking, making questionable decisions and racking up their body counts.

“I guess I grew up, Jasmine. I also shouldn’t do something reckless with Oscar’s teammate.” You shrugged, standing up, ready to be over with this conversation and to start rehearsing again.

“That is if he actually fancied me, which he does not,” you decided.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lando didn’t know what he was doing. When he sneakily asked Oscar if he was doing something after their meetings, he had really been thinking about you. In his mind, maybe they could’ve done something the four of them, so it wouldn’t be as obvious that it was you he wanted to see again.

But Oscar had an anniversary dinner to go to with Jasmine. And you — you were in some off off-West End musical. He really had to get to know you better, because that was not something he would have ever imagined about you.

Not that he was imagining you doing things…

Oscar had told him to go. Lando had questioned his entire existence.

Yet, he still somehow ended up outside of the small theatre on a Friday night. He wasn’t even sure if he was technically still in London, that’s how remote the little community he was in felt. Going out clubbing with Max was his plan B, if this turned out to be as ridiculous as it sounded.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show — that was what the poster outside said. Nothing but a big pair of messily painted red lips were on it. He had no idea what he was in for and Google hadn’t been much help. It looked like a mixture of the story about Frankenstein’s monster and a drag queen show.

He was early, arriving right in the middle of the final dress rehearsal. Something that Oscar had recommended he did, to not get recognised as much and to be able to leave swiftly if he turned out to absolutely hate it. Lando wondered how much of an avid musical-goer Oscar was, or maybe he had just gone to yours.

The theatre was small, probably not more than a hundred seats. It was classic looking, with red velvet chairs and heavy curtains lining the stage. He slid into one of the seats at the very back, looking with anticipation at the stage. The room was maybe filled to one third with what he mostly assumed were the cast’s friends and family.

The stage was decorated with delicately handmade props. It showed a grand hall with checkered flooring, a wooden staircase at the back. Multiple odd sculptures and a wonky replica of the Mona Lisa. All under bright red lighting.

Lando didn’t even have time to take it all in before actors entered the stage.

“Are you having a party?” said a girl in a baby pink dress and a comically blonde wig. Her voice was so high and brittle that it was almost annoying.

“You’ve arrived on a rather special night. It’s one of the master’s affairs,” answered a man with a fake hunchback, his long white hair making him look nothing but creepy.

“Oh, lucky him,” said the girl again.

That’s when he heard a voice he recognised. A voice belonging to you. Sliding down the bannister of the stairs, you whipped an old-timey feather duster around.

“You're lucky. He's lucky. I'm lucky. We're all lucky!” you practically yelled as you made your way to the girl, who looked positively terrified by you. Her looser boyfriend (Lando assumed), who stood by her side looked even more frightened.

It had been two minutes and Lando already rooted for the weird people — meaning you and the man with the hunchback. You were in what he would call a… slutty maid costume. Except it wasn’t slutty; it was more artful. What was he even thinking?

Your wig was large and curly, the dark red colour of it suited you well. Your makeup was dramatic, and your entire costume was covered in silver sequins and glitter. You were not the nervous, out-of-her-element girl that he had seen in Australia a couple months ago. Right now, you were acting completely like someone else. And you were damn good at it.

Much like he imagined a musical to be, the conversation immediately turned into song. The Time Warp, he had heard of that one before. The stage flooded with an ensemble of dancers, dressed in tuxedos. The plot of this musical was still something completely alien. Maybe it barely had a plot.

Lando couldn’t decide if he loved it or hated it. He felt like maybe that was the entire point of the show. Like it was supposed to be annoying, but also so colourful and odd that you couldn’t help but be amazed by it.

Even with so much happening on stage, all he could focus on was you. You didn’t dance or sing like someone who’d injured her lungs not that long ago. You performed like you loved it, having a hard time hiding your smile even if your character was more of a moody type.

Lando, too, found himself smiling. He was astonished by how such a small production still could archive basically perfection. The singing, the choreography — it was like watching something prerecorded. It had to be a passion project for all of you, because he wasn’t sure small theatre productions were the most lucrative thing.

At the end of the number, the dance ended with everyone falling to the floor. That’s when it happened, when he for the first time in the performance, heard something that didn’t sound like perfection. No, that was the sound of someone in pain.

His eyes tried to find you in the pile of bodies on the stage.

You’d practiced it a million times. Falling over — gracefully that is — in high heels wasn’t the easiest of tasks. But never once before had it hurt like his. A stinging pain that never ended, so you couldn’t help but scream. It gathered everyone’s attention, quickly stopping the act and flicking on the normal lights.

A broken ankle. Your broken ankle and your yelping voice. It hurt like hell.

You could see how the people around you started to panic, talking about a first aid kit and getting a stand-in ready to take your place. You couldn’t focus on anything but the pain, your eyes filled up with tears, clouding your vision.

God, you would pass out if this pain didn’t stop.

Lando watched it all unfold from his seat. Seeing you sat in the middle of the stage, clenching your hands over your foot, tears falling down your cheeks, taking your mascara with them.

Ironically, something started to hurt inside of Lando, and he didn’t know how to react. Could he sneak out so you wouldn’t have known he was here? No, no. He was going to see if he could be of any help. That was the only right thing to do. In seconds, he had left his seat and started to march down to the stage.

“Lando?”

Your voice was pathetic. Your tears clogged your throat and you felt ashamed, so fucking ashamed.

You knew that Jasmine had talked to Oscar, and that Oscar had talked to Lando. But seeing him by the edge of the stage, a worried look on his face, wasn’t something you actually thought would happen. You did not understand why he would’ve wanted to come.

“Is your foot okay? The fall looked pretty bad,” Lando said as he crouched down in front of you, looking more at your face than at your ankle so as not to scare you more than what was already inevitable.

“You saw me fall? Oh fuck, why are you even here?” you groaned in pain.

You didn’t mean for it to come across as rude — you just didn’t have much of a choice over your emotions right now. It was nice that he was there, so fucking nice.

“Oscar told me to come — I mean, I wanted to come too,” he emphasised.

Lando didn’t exactly know how to help you now that he had waltzed up on the stage like some knight in shining armour. He looked around to see a man in his mid-thirties come forward with a bright red first aid kit. He tried not to raise his eyebrows too much at the man — dressed in his costume, looking like if Elvis Presley had been in a motorcycle gang.

The man tried not to look too much at Lando either — having known you most of your life and never once seen you bring a boy to the theatre.

“Darling, that’s broken,” the man said as soon as he got a view of your ankle.

Lando could’ve said the same thing.

“No, it’s not Eddie. Just bruised I think,” you tried to tell yourself, and Eddie.

Eddie, whose character in the musical coincidentally was also named Eddie, was your on-sight medic, working as a nurse when he was not busy acting and singing in his studded leather vest and greaser-like hairstyle.

Bruising meant you could suffer through it. Broken meant spending the summer in a cast and missing every single one of your performances. That’s what you got for wanting to have a fun, selfish summer for once in your life.

“Bunny, I don’t know how to tell you this in a nicer way — but it’s broken,” Eddie persisted, rummaging through the first aid kit for something to help with the pain.

“B-but the show…”

You said it quietly, but Lando heard. Your voice was heartbreaking.

It showed how much this meant to you, and he realised now that you were probably embarrassed. He drew parallels to his own life and career, and how much a clumsy mistake could leave its marks for a long time forward. Even if this was only a hobby, it was still important.

“I can wrap it up for you, but it won’t heal unless you go to a hospital,” he continued, not waiting for an answer before he began to gently move your foot.

You whimpered in pain, biting down on your lower lip to not scream as it shifted. Grasping for just about anything to hold on to, you found Lando’s hand. You didn’t have time to think it through, but Lando had a lifetime.

Your nails were painted black to match your costume, and your hand felt so small and cold in his own, yet you were strong as hell as you gripped his fingers in pain. He suffered through it, knowing that what you were feeling was a million times worse.

Eddie wrapped your ankle in a tight bandage. Lando could tell that he’d done it before. Some girl had found a bag of frozen peas in the staffroom freezer, that he then strapped over it to ease the pain. By the look on your face, it did absolutely nothing.

“I’ll drive you to A&E,” Lando offered without thinking twice. He could see Max some other time.

Then it was the trouble of getting you down the stage and out of the building. Eddie throwing you over his shoulder could’ve maybe worked, but you had this thing called dignity.

So, with one arm around Lando and the other one around Eddie, you hopped your way out of there on one foot, cursing Mother Earth herself every time you accidentally touched the ground with the injured one.

“You’re supposed to go to a UTC with broken bones,” you pointed out when you remembered it, feeling the need to correct Lando.

“You’ve broken a bone before?” Lando asked.

Eddie didn’t have to ask because he already knew about your history with hospitals.

“Twice. My wrist once from falling off a trampoline, and a finger from shutting a car door on it,” you explained.

“You’re a walking emergency, aren’t you?” Lando said, like he was joking.

It wasn’t really a joke to you anymore, though.

“You don’t know the half of it,” you mumbled, thinking he wouldn’t hear you.

But he did, and it got him thinking.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you got out to the parking lot. In your periphery, you could see how Eddie’s jaw dropped. A bright orange McLaren was not what you had expected to see, but then again, you couldn’t have said what you expected instead. The man was a Formula 1 driver, for Christ's sake.

Eddie kept his mouth shut, but the look he gave you said something along the lines of you have a lot to explain, young lady. You would have no idea how to explain how you ended up here, even if you wanted to tell him.

“Lando…” you said to get his attention. “I don’t think I can get in this car without it hurting like hell.”

“I borrowed it for the weekend. I didn’t think—” he stopped himself, unsure of how to continue.

I didn’t think you would break a bone and I’d have to drive you?

Yeah, no. He couldn’t say that.

“I was about to tell you to just shove me in the backseat, but it doesn’t even have one,” you tried to joke, earning small smiles from both Lando and Eddie.

Just as getting out of the building, slow and steady won the race. Only this time, you weren’t only cursing Mother Earth but Lando and Eddie too, blaming them for whenever your foot nudged something. You hoped they could take it lightheartedly because you weren’t angry or mad at them. You were angry at yourself.

“You, young man — take care of our best performer, okay?” Eddie said to Lando as he shut the door on your side.

You scoffed at his wording. He knew he didn’t need to take on the role as a protective older brother-like figure in your life, but you kind of liked it when he did. Lando probably met a lot of important and intimidating people with his choice of career, yet Eddie felt different. He had no actual influence, but he had a heart that cared for you. Lando couldn’t joke that away.

“I will, sir.”

The UTC was relatively calm for a Friday evening, so you didn’t have to wait long until you were rushed into a room to be assessed and treated. Nurse after nurse who saw your ankle said the same thing, get x-rays, evaluate, and hope it’s not surgical.

Lando didn’t say much, only helping you explain what had happened when your pain made you unable to form coherent sentences. He stayed by your side, though. You had half-expected him to leave as soon as you got there, making up some excuse about being busy.

But he never did.

You even had to convince him to leave to get your bag that you had left in his car. He was unsure about leaving you alone the first couple of times you mentioned it.

But you wanted to get your makeup off, and fix your hair which had been left a mess after you’d taken the wig off. You’d thought about that part, but the maid’s costume was still on your body. At least the nurses got a good laugh out of it — a barefoot, glittery maid with makeup smeared all over her face and a packet of peas strapped to her ankle.

When you were rolled off to get x-rays taken, Lando finally agreed to go outside and get it. It wasn’t like he was allowed to go with you anyway.

“Thank you,” you said as he handed you the bag. “The x-rays will take a while, but the doctor said it is most likely a simple fracture and I will only need a cast.”

You immediately took out a makeup wipe and a comb. The braids you had on under the wig were starting to feel very stiff, giving you a headache. Or maybe you were just tense because of all the other pain you were feeling.

“That’s good.” He nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the hospital bed. “Did they give you anything for the pain?”

You giggled a little, rolling your eyes, overplaying how loopy you were. “Can you already tell?”

“Just a little.” He pinched his fingers, showing just how little. “Do you want help with that?”

“You don’t have to—” you tried to tell him, but his hands had already undone one of the hair ties, his fingers moving gently to separate the braided hair.

He scooted behind you to reach better as you continued to take off the makeup, the wipe quickly turning a messy mixture of red and black with how much product was actually on your face. Stage makeup was no joke. His fingers through your hair sent shivers down your spine, but you tried not to think too much about it. He was just being nice. That’s all he’d been the entire evening.

“You probably have better things to do on a Friday night,” you mumbled.

Lando shook his head, and then he figured you couldn’t see it as he sat behind you.

“I called Oscar when I went out. He said he would tell your parents.”

“Parent. My mother’s not alive,” you whispered. “But that’s good, I guess. Did Oscar say anything else?”

You didn’t give Lando any time to think or ask about what you had said. That was on purpose. He wouldn’t have known what to say anyway, with every possible sentence coming to mind feeling insensitive or way too pitiful.

“No, not really,” Lando replied.

That Oscar had made fun of him, for getting to play a knight in shining armour as you were a damsel in distress, was something he opted out of telling you.

“He didn’t say that this was typical of me?” you muttered, rubbing your face in obvious distress.

Lando was done undoing the braids so he could move to see your face again, seeing it streaky and glittery from you having wiped off the makeup without a mirror at hand. He reached for a clean wipe, his eyes silently asking you if it was okay if he helped.

“I just… I can’t fucking believe it.” You exhaled from your nose as he wiped your undereyes clean from glitter.

“It’s always like this,” you continued, showing frustration. “Whenever I’m about to accomplish something in life, I always get injured.”

“I don’t believe that—”

You cut him off by explaining, “Well, I fucked up my lungs right as I was about to graduate.”

“You didn’t fuck them up. Things like that just happen,” Lando interjected.

“I lost my voice on the second show the last time I did a musical. Had to give up a leading role for one that was just dancing, no singing,” you counter-argued, proving that it wasn’t just some one-time thing.

Lando looked at you, waiting to see if you could come up with more examples before he told you that it wasn’t fate that got you injured. They were coincidences.

“My wrist was broken when I took my A-level exams, that was hell on earth,” you said, raising a finger of conviction. “Oh, and I had appendicitis on my 18th birthday. Jasmine still hates me for that one because I ruined a girl’s trip.”

“Is there more?” he questioned, raising his eyebrows.

You snorted out a laugh as another one came to mind. “I got a nosebleed when I lost my virginity. It didn’t stop bleeding for like three hours.”

Lando pursed his lips to not laugh, but he couldn’t keep it in for long. “I’m sorry for laughing, but the picture in my head is really funny.”

In hindsight, it was quite funny. At the time, however, it was the most embarrassing moment of your life.

“I was going to say that probably everyone experiences these sort of setbacks, but… I don’t know anymore,” he tried to comfort.

“I think I might just be cursed, Lando,” you huffed, locking eyes with him again.

You both went quiet for a couple seconds as he took in your expression. A gaze so hollow, it didn’t matter that you were trying to hide it with a smile. The smile was blacked out anyway.

He didn’t understand how you could talk to him and reassure him without making it sound like you were second-guessing things, or ever feeling unsure of what your words meant — but as soon as the subject was switched to regard yourself, you were suddenly cold. Or not really cold at all, but just not as warm as you were when you talked about other people.

Your staring contest was interrupted by a young boy saying your name. A man came shortly after him into the small hospital room. Lando assumed it was your father and little brother, as he stood up from the bed to introduce himself. And to make some space between the two of you, since you were sitting suspiciously close together.

The boy got shy as soon as he saw Lando. He looked a lot like you, with the same coloured hair and the same big doe eyes, only he was clad in a green football kit. Your father was wearing a matching one to show support.

“Hi Matteo,” you called out as your brother walked past Lando to immediately get to you. He was like that — shy with people he didn’t know and anxious to talk to them. So you saved him, by talking to him as you saw Lando shake your father’s hand. That wasn’t awkward at all.

“How did the game go?” you asked, ruffling his sweaty hair as you invited him to sit next to you on the bed.

Matteo started talking, all excited about how they’d won and that he had gotten an assist. Pretty solid for a first game, he thought. You were mostly glad that he had a good time and that he seemed to get along well with the other boys on the team. He didn’t have it easy making friends because of his shyness.

Lando overheard the conversation, taking notice of how you had asked him how it went and not if he had won. It was those little things that made you different, made the way you talked to people so much more worth it. You were so fucking lovely, and you seemed to have no idea about it.

Your father had recognised him, but Lando couldn’t tell if that was only because of Oscar or if he cared about racing.

With your family there, Lando started to feel excessive. He couldn’t exactly argue his case for wanting to stay right there in front of you, and your father. He guessed it wasn’t too late to still catch up with Max, but a part of him almost didn’t want to do it.

No, he had to leave. He couldn’t explain his reason out loud.

As he said his goodbye, he met your eyes from his position in the doorway. He didn’t have much to say to you, or maybe he had so much to say that his brain couldn’t find what was most important. His shoes almost felt sticky against the sterile hospital flooring, something glueing him to the spot.

“Will I see you at Silverstone?” Lando decided to ask before leaving.

“Uh… maybe? I’ll have to talk to Oscar,” you said unsure, still sat in the bed with your arm around Matteo.

“Can I come this time?” he whispered, looking up at you.

You were shocked by his question. He’d never asked to come before. But it wasn’t really up to you if he could or not. It was always someone else getting you race passes, so you were in no position to be greedy.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll sort you out,” Lando hurried to say, seeing the uncertainty on your face.

You let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you… for everything.”

For showing up, for driving you, for staying. He’d done so much that he didn’t need to do. Maybe Jasmine was correct. Maybe he didn’t just see you as her friend that he had to be civil to. Or maybe, he’d been dealt really bad cards tonight and had no option but to comply. Otherwise, he would be seen as a complete dickhead.

Lando nodded, pursing his lips into a smile, staying in the doorway for a moment too long, before finally walking away. You didn’t notice him doing it, but someone else certainly did.

“Bunny…” your father said.

“Mm?” you mumbled, perking up your ears.

“Did that boy just linger in the doorway?”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Silverstone, UK

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“Are you avoiding me?”

Lando’s voice shocked you as he came up from behind. You’d seen him around during the day but kept your distance. You were technically his guest today, only ever having been invited by Oscar before. But you would be lying if you said that premise had made you more liberal with how you interacted with Lando. You stayed with Oscar and Jasmine, and your father and Matteo, because that was what you knew.

The paddock at Silverstone was a lot, even for you who had been to this rodeo before. Matteo and your dad, however, would fall asleep quickly tonight with how many new impressions they’d received today. You’d only managed to come on the Sunday, with you on crutches and Matteo being, well… Matteo. It was good enough of an experience anyway.

“No, there’s just a lot of people here to see you. I didn’t want to be a bother,” you explained, nervously laughing.

It was jam-packed with friends and family, sponsors, and celebrities. Every time he had a moment for himself, it could quickly turn into a meet-and-greet if he was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Now, minutes before he had to make his way to the starting grid, it was finally sort of calm in the garage. You were standing in the viewing section, a papaya-coloured headset around your neck.

Lando shook his head and sighed. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

You could not be a bother, even if you tried.

“So, it wasn’t a make-a-wish thing after you saw me fall on my face and break my ankle?”

“Would I’ve been your wish?” he asked, voice affected by laughter.

“No, sorry, I’d pick a broadway show over this any day,” you responded jokingly.

“How’s your ankle anyway?”

The cast and the crutches you were leaning on didn’t look too dramatic. It just looked like you had broken your ankle and were now dealing with it to the best of your ability.

“It’s healing just fine,” you nodded, leaning to rest on one crutch to show Lando your palm. “The worst thing right now is the heat and the crutches giving me callouses.”

As you reached out your hand, Lando couldn’t help but gently grab your fingers to take a closer look. He was practically holding your hand. Sure, you held his when Eddie was wrapping your foot, but you were in an immense amount of pain at the time. This was something different. The callouses weren’t even that bad.

Why was he holding your hand?

In the same moment you could overthink it, he let go.

“Have you been hopping around the paddock all day? You should’ve told me, I could’ve gotten you a golf cart or something,” Lando wondered, feeling kind of bad.

He hadn’t thought about your broken ankle when he’d asked you to come.

“It’s alright. Matteo’s been having a blast all day, so… thank you,” you shrugged.

You could deal with being uncomfortable for a day if it meant that Matteo got a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

His McLaren cap was signed, and he had ice cream in his belly. He’d even gotten a wave from Sir Lewis Hamilton himself, and if that wasn’t enough to make him school ground royalty for at least a week, you didn’t know what was. Maybe you took your big sister duty too seriously, but literally nothing could make you stop caring for that kid.

“And your dad?” Lando asked.

You looked over your shoulder to see what he was doing. With Matteo in front of him, practically hiding into his side, you could see him talking to someone and smiling. You understood that he was mostly doing this for you and Matteo, but there was some underlying fascination that middle-aged men had with fast cars that you knew he was trying to hide.

“He appears to be smiling, that’s always positive.”

“He’s talking to my dad,” he revealed. That wasn’t awkward at all.

Lando hesitated, unsure of asking you what was on his mind, but soon enough, words were falling out of his mouth anyway. You seemed to have that effect on him.

“I need to get ready, but can I see you afterwards? Maybe you can come back like you did in Melbourne.”

You smiled, agreeing before adding, “I’ll watch you get on the podium first.”

The race started with both Lando and Oscar in good positions, which probably led to a false sense of security. Your gut feeling was unsure of it all.

Matteo held on to your hand during the entire start, you could tell that it was mixed emotions of excitement and anxiety. His headset was big on his little head, and he looked positively adorable as he tried to understand what was going on.

“Lando is third right now,” you explained to him, pointing to a monitor. “And Oscar is fifth, you remember them, right?”

Matteo nodded. “Lando broke your foot, and Oscar talks funny.”

“I broke my own foot, but you’re right about Oscar,” you laughed.

It was you that had to hold onto Matteo for a moment during the race when it really looked like both Oscar and Lando had a chance at winning. But after some godawful strategic calls, you realised that the podium wasn’t as secure as you thought. Hamilton was steady in the lead, and Verstappen was chasing Lando like there was no tomorrow.

You were so focused on the leaders that you didn’t even realise what was happening at the bottom of the grid. Pictures of two cars making contact flashed over the screens, and Matteo tensed up beside you.

“What happened?” he worriedly asked, clinging to your arm. “Did they get hurt?”

“No, no, it was just a little love tap,” you reassured him. They probably didn’t even have any damage — that was how minimal it was. “Like when I reversed into grandma’s postbox.”

“That was you?” your dad laughed.

“Be quiet, I’m trying to watch the race,” you hushed him, eyes back on the leaderboard.

Verstappen ended up catching Lando. P3 was the bittersweet consolation prize that Lando would have to act like he was happy about. Parade around the podium, covered in champagne, as if he wasn’t completely gutted inside. You could see on his face that he was acting happy as they celebrated. He wasn’t that good of an actor, if you were to be honest.

If only they had put on different tyres for his last stint.

Afterwards, you made your way back to his driver’s room — just as he’d asked. You could have overthought that question a million times, but you decided to just go for it. It was crowded with people, both staff and guests, rushing to congratulate him. Or maybe to comfort him. Your guess would be on the latter.

At last, the hallway cleared, and you hopped to stand in the doorway, finally seeing him.

“P3, baby!” you joked cheerfully.

Lando stared at you blankly, shaking his head as he snorted out a laugh.

“Yeah, no, that was frustrating to watch. I can’t even imagine how you feel.”

He had no words. Already having had to put on such a fake façade to everyone else he had met after the race. He didn’t want to do that to you. So, he ended up speechless.

“Should I leave you alone?” you whispered, breaking the silence.

“No!” he hurried to say. “Uhm… please, sit.”

With some struggle, you managed to sit next to him on the bench in his room. Much like Melbourne. It was, however, a lot more difficult to move in the little room while on crutches.

He sighed as you sat down, helping you rest the crutches against the wall so they wouldn’t fall to the floor. His racing suit was halfway off and filled the room with a scent of champagne. You tried to look him in the eye, but ended up focusing on how his helmet had left red imprints on his cheeks — like a gorgeous mark of endurance.

“I just… I don’t know what to say, or what to feel. It’s always so fucking close, and then I lose it.” Lando’s voice was stern and measured, his face blank.

It was a forced expression, though. He could cry if his tear ducks would’ve allowed him to. Some mental barrier stopped him from doing it. He almost wanted to do it so that you would see his true emotions.

Your heart broke a little, seeing him be so harsh on himself. Because, with your mentality, he had just done something miraculous. He’d done something mere mortals couldn’t accomplish.

“I’m impressed you get out of that car alive every weekend, so I might be the wrong person to complain to,” you softly told him.

Lando had heard those sorts of words before, how he was superhuman for even getting in the car. He’d felt the same way when he started, and maybe he’d lost that initial spark he used to have.

Your words didn’t mean that you didn’t want him to complain. He should vent, to the people that it mattered to. Get it out of his system, so that he could be sensible in front of the media.

It was funny how the sport worked that way. That he was somehow less happy in third, than Sargeant was in eleventh. That the people on the second and third steps of the podium were the biggest losers. And, they were expected to be robotic about it, otherwise, they would be deemed erratic and emotional.

What was the crime in being emotional anyway?

“I think you drove a perfect race,” you complimented him. “And then I think there were some strategic… mishaps that you’re not to blame for. Overall, this race was like the coolest one I’ve ever witnessed, and Oscar didn’t even get a podium. He’s my favourite driver!”

You tried so hard to get him to laugh again, but he wouldn’t budge. He had to tell himself not to. It actually kind of annoyed him that Oscar was your favourite. He knew he didn’t know you well enough to be your favourite, yet.

“I don’t get how you’re not proud of yourself,” you finally sighed, gesticulating with your hands as you spoke. “You have every right to be proud, annoyingly so.”

Lando knew he had to let his guard down. That was the only way he would feel better about this. This wasn’t like Australia, when it hadn’t been his fault for the bad result. He’d still blamed himself, but let it go after a couple of hours. This time, a good result was somehow his fault. It was insane, the mental game he was playing with himself. And he couldn’t let this go without talking it through.

“I’ll be that later, I just need to feel sorry for myself for a couple of hours first,” he scoffed.

It was Silverstone, after all. He’d gotten a podium on home soil. That was an accomplishment to be proud of. Last year, he was over the moon over his Silverstone race, but maybe that was because the car hadn’t been that great. This time he had a great car, but was somehow a worse driver. It didn’t make any sense to him.

His spiralling thoughts were stopped when he heard his phone continuously vibrate from the other side of the room, somewhere hidden under a pile of clothes.

“Are people blowing up your phone with congratulations?” you asked amusingly.

“No, it’s the PR team,” he said as he looked over his notifications, a confused look on his face. “We’ve gone viral again. It looks like I held your hand when you showed me the callouses from the crutches.”

You did technically hold my hand, was what you wanted to say. You decided that staying quiet felt better.

Lando regretted his wording as soon as he said it. He held your hand in a garage filled with cameras. He knew that. He was to blame for that. But was any harm done?

“I don’t get how it’s always with you that it happens,” he mumbled nervously.

He sat back down beside you, giving you a view of his phone screen. The photos were cute, if you were to be honest. But also blurry and obviously taken by someone who wanted to be sneaky.

“Always? Meaning once before?” you questioned.

That showed how little you were on social media. You didn’t know about anything other than the video from Melbourne.

“No, there were also photos of me at the hospital when you broke your ankle,” Lando explained.

The photos had been everywhere. He, and that orange car, at a hospital parking lot on a Friday evening. It was quite the headline for news outlets and gossip accounts.

“Oh…” you said, visibly surprised. “I’m so sorry if it caused you problems to be seen with a girl in a slutty maid costume.”

For a second there, Lando could watch you go through the five stages of grief, all through your facial expressions.

“You weren’t in the photos. It was just me and that… obnoxious car when I went back to get your bag,” he quickly added, calming your nerves.

You nodded understandingly, feeling yourself get less tense. “Did you have to explain it to anyone?”

“Thankfully not, I’m such a bad liar.”

What would he need to lie about?

Then you realised that someone like him probably couldn't just say that they drove a friend who had injured themselves. That would only lead to a million more questions. And, if he had said something — people would’ve been able to put two and two together as you showed up to the paddock with a cast and crutches. Maybe he was protecting you.

You didn’t know what else to say to him now, meeting his bright eyes once again. They had this way of shining, even though he was sad. It was not an uncomfortable silence, but you were starting to wonder if you’d overstayed your welcome.

Then Lando spoke again, his voice in a happier tone. “Has Jasmine mentioned Italy to you?”

“Monza?”

“No, now before Hungary,” he replied. “Oscar and I have to represent McLaren at some charity auction, and I thought about inviting you as my plus one so that Jasmine doesn’t have to be alone if we have to work a lot.”

The invitation was carefully phrased, and you recognised that. If you had been more sure about Jasmine’s ridiculous idea that Lando liked you, you would’ve made fun of him for dragging in Jasmine in his way of asking you to come with him.

“Oh,” you mused. “I’d be a fool to say no, but there has to be other people that you’d rather go with.”

Lando looked at you in confusion.

“Like, don’t invite me just to do Jasmine a favour,” you continued.

He finally broke into a smile, not being able to contain it anymore. You were clueless, and Lando found that hilarious. “It’s not like I hate your company, y’know?”

You chuckled. You hadn’t expected him to say something so direct.

“Can I talk to Jazz about it first, before I decide?”

Lando nodded softly. “Sure, I mean, the invite is yours anyway. If you don’t want to come, I’ll just go alone.”

You turned quiet again, looking him in the eyes as you took in what he’d said. The invitation was yours. He hadn’t ever thought of bringing someone else. Maybe he truly was doing Jasmine a favour. Maybe this was him sneakily making a move. He’d have to be a lot more upfront for you to catch on, though.

A tension settled over the room, an eternity passing without anyone saying anything. The mood switched, and you both could tell. It was probably time for you to leave, yet the expectation to say that last little thing was there. The little thing that would leave him feeling better about himself. You wanted to linger in the doorway, or linger on the bench, you guessed. You wanted to say so much more.

Oscar intruded by softly knocking on the already open door.

“Oscar, hi!” you squeaked out of surprise, straightening your back to make space between you and Lando.

“Your dad’s looking for you,” he explained, chuckling.

“I guess I better go,” you said, standing up, finding balance with the help of your crutches. “You both should be proud of yourselves today, or every day for that matter.”

Lando looked down at the floor as you left. He knew that whatever face Oscar put on or whatever sentence he formed, it would accuse Lando of being down bad for you.

“Did you invite her to Italy?”

“Yeah, she said she’ll talk to Jazz about it,” Lando mumbled, hiding his smile.

You hadn’t immediately said yes, but that was almost his plan by dragging Jasmine into it. She wasn’t even supposed to come with them to Italy at first. But Lando wanted the four of them to do it together. It was a foolproof plan to get to spend some more time with you that wasn’t in a paddock nor in a hospital.

“On another note,” Oscar said while he remembered it. “How the hell did you get her dad to come to a race?”

“I don’t know… I just sent Bunny three passes?”

“I’ve invited him to races since I was in F3 and he’s never once shown up,” Oscar began explaining.

Lando scrunched his nose, unsure of where Oscar was going with his reasoning.

“He’s a good man, funny even — but he does not like racing, at all,” he continued.

Was Lando being stupid for not getting Oscar’s point? Lando couldn’t tell if he was being stupid. He probably was.

Then, it finally clicked for Oscar. “You don’t know how her mum died, do you?”

Lando could do nothing but slowly shake his head, his mouth slightly open out of confusion. He could tell that Oscar hesitated to tell him. Maybe he shouldn’t be telling your story, but he trusted Lando.

“Alone, in a car crash. She died on impact. Bunny was 15 or so when it happened,” Oscar said gently, his face showing pity with a downturned smile. “Her dad has always told her not to come to races, in case someone crashes and it brings up bad memories for her.”

Now, Lando was definitely being stupid, because it still didn’t click for him. It made him understand your mentality more — that you’d said you were impressed he got out of that car alive every weekend. Because you had, close up, lived through someone not making it out of a car — a car going nowhere near as fast. But what did that have to do with your father attending a race?

“I think Bunny must’ve convinced him to come see you, specifically,” Oscar finally said.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lombardia, Italia

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“I don’t even know what I’m doing here,” you sighed, looking from the balcony out to the beautiful garden.

Fruit trees, pink oleander, and pungent lavender. Beautiful limestone houses. It looked picturesque, like something out of a movie. Yet, you were unsure if you belonged there.

“You’re spending the weekend in an Italian villa. That is what you’re doing,” Jasmine insisted, wrapping her arm around your shoulder.

The house was gorgeous. The area was gorgeous. Everything was just perfect. And you felt undeserving of it. You’d gotten to take off your cast just in time for the trip. This was your moment to be selfish this summer.

So, why the hell did you keep on questioning yourself?

“You’d have no stories to tell from this summer if it wasn’t for this trip. You need things to talk about when you go back to university, otherwise, you’ll make no new friends,” she then pointed out.

You hadn’t even thought of that. All your other friends had graduated. You still had six months of classes left because of your stupid lungs. You didn’t want to make new friends. You wanted to keep your old ones.

You crossed your arms, looking up at your best friend with a pout. “I’ll let you know that me and Jane Austen have had a riveting summer thus far in my dad’s hammock.”

Doing just about anything with a broken ankle was impossible, so reading in the garden it was.

“While you travel the world and go to races, I will always entertain you with hilarious Goodreads reviews,” you added.

Jasmine shook her head disapprovingly. “I really don’t need to know even more nasty things that you would do to Mr. Darcy.”

Deep down, you knew she got a giggle out of getting a notification on her phone with a five star review only saying Mr. Darcy could raw me and nothing more.

“Isn’t this going to be awkward though? It’s like we’re double dating all weekend!”

“Would that be so bad?” Jasmine laughed, thinking that it was probably Lando’s plan all along.

You realised quite quickly that Lando hadn’t lied about them having to work. During the day, they were off to the manor house that was hosting the auction, doing lord knows what. It was something about cars being auctioned off and sucking up to millionaires.

You didn’t understand why this type of event even existed. It felt like the 2011 classic Monte Carlo with Selena Gomez. That was at least your only experience with auctions for rich people.

While this one was for charity, it still only felt like a way for these millionaires to seem humble. They would’ve bought the cars anyway, it was only for their own conscience that the charities even mattered. Maybe you were being harsh.

You and Jasmine at least got to spend some quality time with each other in the villa. You ate a long breakfast, cycled down to the city centre to try odd flavours of gelato, and went into cute little boutiques to find her a pair of heels to wear with her gown for the auction.

Your dress was black, and so were your heels. That was how fun you were going to be.

Truth be told, it was a prom dress that you hadn’t gotten to wear because of covid, so maybe you were a little excited to get all dolled up tomorrow night.

When the boys got home for the day, they decided you all should take the bikes to a nearby lake. You didn’t have much of a say, packing a basket with antipasti for dinner. It was unbearably hot even though the sun had started to settle, so maybe going for a swim wasn’t the worst thing.

As the four of you swooshed down Italian country roads on rusty borrowed bikes, Lando and you ended up in front of Jasmine and Oscar, going much faster than they did. Everything wasn’t a race, but some things definitely were.

Oscar cycled closer to his girlfriend, asking her a question he’d been dying to ask all day. “Do we tell them something about how they are both madly infatuated with each other or will they figure it out on their own?”

“I tried to tell Bunny, but she wouldn’t believe me. It’s like she doesn’t understand that people still find her attractive after she got sick,” Jasmine said.

She didn’t know if she should sigh or laugh at your behaviour recently. She understood that your life had changed completely, but falling in love, or even just dating, shouldn’t be something to be scared about. Not when you had a boy acting like a fool right in front of your eyes.

“So, we let Lando try and awkwardly flirt with her by himself? And watch Bunny be clueless about it?” Oscar laughed

“He has to be upfront at some point, right?” she responded.

They probably wouldn’t have to wait long until Lando would scream in your face that he liked you. He had no filter left when it came to you.

The lake was small, surrounded by a pebble beach. The water looked almost artificially teal, like natural sources of water tended to do. You’d never been to Italy before, but it was quickly becoming one of your favourite destinations. It was idyllic in ways you couldn’t have dreamt of.

You threw the bikes in the grass and put out your beach towels close to the water. Feeling the pebbles under your bare feet and the sweet smell of sunscreen, you and Jasmine started to pack up your picnic basket.

There were almost no other people there, only seeing a family with children taking an evening swim on the other side of the lake.

After eating a little, the boys tested the water, groaning about how cold it was, yet somehow getting in anyway. You still didn’t know what they had done during the day, but with their lifestyles, you guessed they always needed to find ways to relax.

Jasmine rested on her towel with her nose in a book, recognising it as one you had rated highly on Goodreads. See, you knew she loved your reviews. She mumbled something about how the protagonist reminded her of you when you asked her if she was enjoying it. You took that as a good sign.

You went down to the waterside, only dipping your toes in before deciding that it was way too cold for you to want to swim in it. Instead, you crouched down to look at the rocks, all round and polished from the water, in pretty green and coral shades. You’d already gotten Matteo a local football shirt as a souvenir, but you could definitely fit some cool rocks in your suitcase as well.

Lando, zoning out from whatever Oscar was talking about next to him in the still water, tried to secretly keep his eye on you. He could catch a glimpse of a bright red bikini underneath the long, sheer white shirt you had on. His fondness had grown so large that even watching you pick pebbles warmed his heart. Or maybe that was the bikini’s doing.

Jasmine could watch it all happen through the darkness of her sunglasses, having lost focus from her book. She furrowed her brows with concern. “Bunny, aren’t you warm?”

Your hand subconsciously traced the edge of the your shirt collar, a faint smile forming on your lips. “Yeah, but I’ll scare the children away if I show the scar on my chest,” you replied, your tone light yet tinged with an undercurrent of insecurity.

“It’s not that bad,” she said, promising, her eyes meeting yours as she tipped down her shades.

You laughed a little in disbelief. “You haven’t seen it since they reopened it.” You were talking so loud that the boys in the water definitely could hear you. “I also hate touching it, so I don’t want to put sunscreen on.”

Jasmine remembered the first time she saw your scar, a jagged reminder of the surgery that had saved your life. A long red line, right on your sternum, that had faded over time. But she hadn’t seen the new scar, the one left by the recent, unexpected procedure.

“Don’t be such a wimp,” Jasmine urged, getting up from the towel, a bottle of sunscreen in her hand. “Get your shirt off and I’ll do it.”

She knew you well enough to push you to do it. You would never get over this mental hurdle without people telling you that you looked fine. People had scars. That was the way life worked.

You sighed, slowly fumbling with the shirt buttons as you tried to decipher Jasmine’s reaction. “See? It’s awful.”

She shook her head, trying to keep a neutral face. It was worse than she thought, but she could never tell you that, because it hurt more than it helped. And it wasn’t like the scar tainted your entire being. You were still a gorgeous woman, in Baywatch-esque red bikini. That was an unstoppable combo.

“It’s really not bad. It needs some more time to fade, that’s all,” Jasmine reassured you, having no problem with touching the uneven skin to apply sunscreen.

You didn’t want to look at her hand as she did it, so you looked out over the lake, catching Lando’s surprisingly… odd gaze as he stood in the water next to Oscar.

You hadn’t wanted to stare too much at him earlier, knowing that your head would get messed up if you saw him shirtless in swim shorts. But now, you couldn’t disregard the look on his face.

“Lando, I saw that look. Just tell me that it’s bad,” you said, clearly still frustrated over the entire thing.

Lando was shocked you were talking to him, struggling to find the words.

“He’s staring at your tits, it’s totally different,” Oscar suddenly said, having kept quiet for too long.

You almost didn’t know if you had heard him correctly, but Jasmine’s ringing laughter told you that it was true. Lando sternly said Oscar’s name before drenching him in water, a playful fight breaking out between the two of them, overshadowing what had just happened.

That didn’t mean it left your mind, though.

It was dark by the time you got back to the villa, stars hanging above you in the night sky. You knew it was the same sky as you had home in England, yet there was something much more magical about it this time.

Jasmine and Oscar went to bed, but you had a few things to prepare for the auction. You wanted to paint your nails and do a face mask; maybe even get in an everything-shower to save time tomorrow.

The night was still warm as you made your way out to the balcony in your nightgown, deciding that you might as well take advantage of the view while you painted your nails. The balcony felt like a secluded little sanctuary, bathed in a soft glow from the outdoor lighting and wafting in the breeze of the Italian countryside.

Behind you, the glass door slid open with a soft creak, and you turned to see Lando stepping out onto the balcony, carrying what looked like a cup of tea. You’d thought he was asleep, the villa eerily quiet.

He had an easy confidence about him — something you admired. Clad in a soft cotton t-shirt and sweatpants, the kind that looked threadbare and like the most comfortable fabric ever. His eyes silently asked you if it was okay for him to join you, and you nodded. He sat down across from you at the outdoor dining table.

“Orange?” Lando asked softly, seeing the colour of the nail polish.

“I thought it was papaya,” you joked, biting your tongue to not get it on your cuticles as you continued to paint. “I bought it for Silverstone but forgot to wear it.”

Lando didn’t care. At least he told himself that he didn’t. You were just representing his team by carefully painting your nails orange. There was no need to get all mushy inside because of it. It wasn’t like it was permanent. Only a week or so of you thinking of him every time you saw your own hands. Maybe that was wishful thinking. Maybe you didn’t think of him.

“I should’ve told you earlier, but you look great today,” he said like it was nothing, raising his cup to take a sip.

He could tell that you were slightly baffled, a line forming between your eyebrows as you scrunched your nose in disbelief. “Scar and all?”

“Yeah, of course.”

Oscar had maybe been right about what Lando was looking at when you had asked him about the scar. They had overheard the entire conversation you had with Jasmine, so when he caught a glimpse of the scar, he had imagined something much worse. It truly wasn’t that bad. It at least didn’t steal his attention when you were standing in front of him in a bikini.

For a moment, neither spoke, the silence filled only by the sounds of the night. Cicadas, a distant car, and birds chirping. Lights from neighbouring houses twinkled like scattered diamonds.

“I don’t know if you wanted me to know, but Oscar told me about your mother,” Lando’s voice trembled, confessing it to you. His eyes searched your face for a reaction, a mixture of concern and vulnerability painted across his features.

You stared down at your painted nails, adding one last stroke before closing the bottle of polish. You were scared to look at him, unsure of how this conversation would play out.

“It’s not really a secret, just a hard thing to tell people,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

You somehow felt the warmth from Lando’s body even though there was a table’s length between you. His presence wasn’t uncomfortable to you, but the conversation certainly was.

“Don’t pity me like I’m some motherless child. It’s really not that bad,” you continued, trying to keep your composure, the familiar ache in your chest making it hard to breathe.

In moments like these, it was like you could feel your scar glowing, how the tight skin wanted to rip right open to help you take full breaths.

A flicker of frustration crossed Lando’s face.

He hated how you had said it — how you tried to downplay everything that had happened in your life. He understood that it was your way of coping, but your entire being basically screamed for the emotions to be let out. You were hypocritical, and he was tired.

“It’s allowed to be bad. You were the one that told me that in Australia. You’re allowed to feel bad about things that are shit,” he insisted, his voice carrying a firmness that contrasted with the tenderness in his eyes.

His raw honesty sliced through your defenses. Your view of him blurred as tears filled your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Clearing your throat, you calmed yourself down.

Lando wasn’t actually frustrated with you. It was more at the circumstances. He didn’t want to push you, and you didn’t want to upset him. It was just a very difficult conversation to have.

“Do you ever have nightmares about crashing?” you asked, whispering.

“No, not really,” he admitted.

If he was thinking about what might go wrong all the time, he wouldn't be able to continue driving. Racing showed some people horrible fates of life. The abundant success that could be archived was harvested by others.

It was all about finding a balance, about showing respect for the thing they put themselves through, but also overcoming it by showing no fear.

Maybe it was different for you, Lando thought. Maybe you had already given in to the fear, because you’d get no success out of it no matter how hard you tried. You couldn’t get your mum back anyway.

You took a deep breath before confessing. “I do. All the time.”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

The early morning sun filtered through his bedroom windows as Lando got out of bed. He’d slept like a king. The countryside was so quiet compared to Monaco and the cities he raced in. He stretched as he drew back the curtains, getting a view of the garden, and you.

The conversation you had yesterday had left the both of you unsatisfied. Yet, neither wanted to push the other to really get to the bottom of the problem,

This morning, however, you were waltzing through the garden on bare feet, a big bowl in one hand and a small ladder in the other one. The summer dress you were wearing blew with the breeze. You looked free. And slightly out of your mind, climbing a ladder to reach the fruit trees, without anyone keeping an eye on you.

Not that you needed supervision, but climbing a ladder could be dangerous. That was what Lando told himself as he rushed outside.

“Oh god, please don’t fall down,” he said, voice laced with concern as he almost ran through the garden to get to you, keeping his steady hands on the ladder.

You glanced down at him, a teasing smile playing on your lips. “It’s a stepladder, Lando. I’m one metre above the ground,” you reassured him.

“Still, you should be careful,” he insisted.

“I’ll break your nose if you look up my dress,” you warned. You weren’t serious, but Lando felt his cheeks flush anyway. “Do you want one?” you asked, referring to the fruit you were picking.

“What is it even?”

“I thought peaches at first, but they’re not hairy. Not small enough to be apricots but maybe hard enough to be nectarines, so that would be my guess.”

You examined the fruit as you stepped down from the ladder, tossing one in the air before catching it again and placing it in the bowl.

“Are you sure you’re still talking about fruit?”

“Oh, shut up,” you laughed, rolling your eyes at the innuendo.

You picked up a nectarine and took a bite, the sweet juice dribbling down your chin. “I made breakfast, but I assume you’re on the same diet as Oscar?” you asked, voice muffled by the mouthful of fruit.

Lando stared at you in awe, taking way too long before nodding.

“Well then, I guess you can watch me eat while you stick to oatmeal,” you replied playfully.

As the sun rose above the horizon, casting a warm amber glow over the cosy balcony, you and Lando sat by the outdoor furniture, eating your breakfast. The air filled with a scent of fresh coffee and the sweet nectarines. You ate them with yoghurt and honey, and Lando was totally jealous.

You didn’t say much to each other. It wasn’t really necessary. The world around you started to wake up, but on that little balcony, it felt like time had slowed down just for you two.

Lando turned to you, curiosity in his eyes. “Why do people call you Bunny?” He’d wanted to ask you that for quite some time.

“It’s quite a sad story, to be honest,” you began, swallowing what was left of your breakfast.

He almost regretted his question immediately. He hadn’t even thought about how a cute nickname like yours could be from a sad memory. You watched as Lando’s expression softened, his eyes encouraging you to continue.

“Matteo stayed a lot at our grandparent’s house after mum died, because… well, life happened,” you explained, your orange fingernails tracing the rim of your coffee mug. “Since he was so young, he hadn’t really understood the fact that I was his sister, so I instead became the girl he would visit from time to time who owned a pet bunny.”

Lando leant his elbows on the table, captivated by your way of talking, his interest piqued.

“And Bunny was easier for him to pronounce than my actual name,” you continued, a faint smile forming on your lips.

“You had a bunny?”

“Yeah, his name was Taco,” you laughed, your smile growing more genuine.

He chuckled softly at the name. You would name a pet Taco, that was just the kind of person you were.

“Do you like having it as a nickname?” Lando inquired, his tone gentle again.

“I don’t mind it,” you shook your head. “Matteo doesn’t say it anymore, but it’s… it’s different when other people say it.”

It’s different when you say it, Lando.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

“You’re drooling, mate,” Oscar’s voice laughed from behind him as they got out of the cars.

“I am not,” Lando protested, but Oscar only shook his head.

He wasn’t fooling anyone as he watched you and Jasmine step out on the front porch, dressed to the nines, ready for the auction.

Oscar and him had picked up the two cars that were being auctioned off while you got ready. It was important that they were seen driving the cars up to the manor house as they arrived, and you and Jasmine were supposed to be arm candy. It felt both below and above your worth.

You laughed as you saw the cars, shiny and polished McLaren’s. You didn’t care enough to know the models, you just knew they were worth millions.

Jasmine walked down to Oscar with ease in her high heels, a beautiful burnt orange satin gown on her body. You watched as he greeted her with a kiss, feeling both a sense of pride and also some loneliness in your stomach.

Your feet already hurt from your own heels. Something wasn’t entirely right since you broke your ankle, but you would have to suffer through it.

Lando walked up to the porch, casually keeping his hands in the pockets of his well-fitted black suit. The white shirt he had on underneath probably had one too many buttons undone. Not that you were complaining, it looked gorgeous in contrast with his tan skin. He looked gorgeous.

You were dressed in all black, apart from your orange nail polish. Your gown with a perfectly poofy tulle skirt and a flattering balconette corset top. You looked delectable, and Lando had a hard time hiding that.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said seriously to him.

“Like what?” Lando replied, feigning innocence as he took your hand to help you down the front porch stairs.

Like you’re falling in love with me.

“Like this is some early 2000s rom-com and I’m the nerdy girl who’s just gotten a makeover by a more popular girl,” you replied, rolling your eyes but unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips.

He gave a genuine laugh, the kind that could only bring a smile to your face. He wanted to respond with some cliché statement about how it was only fitting since you looked like a movie star, but he remained silent.

Lando helped you into the car like a real gentleman, while Oscar and Jasmine got into the other one. The drive was two minutes at most.

“Did you have a dress like that lying around?” he asked, fastening his seatbelt.

You nodded, moving your hands over your lap to smooth out the fabric. “It’s a prom dress that I never got to use because of covid.”

A spark lit up in Lando’s eyes. “I never got to have a prom either, y’know.”

A moment of silence passed between them, the weight of missed milestones hanging heavy in the air. You assumed it was because he hadn’t really gone to school like a normal kid, too busy with karting. Then, with a sudden burst of determination, Lando revved the engine.

“Come on, let’s treat this night like prom.”

The manor house was bigger than anything you’d ever seen before. You couldn’t grasp it — the multiple stories, the annex buildings, the beautiful and meticulous gardens. It was all too much for you.

Lando pulled up to park the car next to the grand entrance, handing the keys to the valet before coming to open the door for you. You were met with camera flashes as soon as you stepped out. It wasn’t paparazzi, thank god — only photographers hired for the event.

Lando didn’t dare to hold your hand in front of the cameras, this time. He settled with a hand on your lower back as you made your way inside after Jasmine and Oscar.

The auction was held in a grand hall — no, a conservatory. It had a glass roof. It was filled with decorations, floral arrangements, and candle lights. A stage was built by the end of the room, which you assumed would be where they auctioned things off.

It was also filled with people, dressed in sharp suits and colourful gowns. It looked photoshopped with how perfect it was. Not a thing out of place nor a person behaving oddly. Except for you, of course. You did not belong here.

“What are they compensating for? Tiny cocks?” you whispered for only Jasmine to hear as you took in the room. This was bonkers.

“The tiniest of cocks,” she snorted under her breath.

Oscar and Lando did have to work — work the room that was, mingling and sucking up to people with big wallets.

You and Jasmine made your way around as well, albeit much slower and with less intention. You talked to some people, drank some champagne, and eyed the canapés being served around. It didn’t look like anyone was eating, so you didn’t want to be the odd one out. You already were. So, now you were both odd and starving.

You also eyed the objects up for auction. It was jewellery, cars, and destination vacations in places you’d never heard of. All in favour of some charity that was hardly mentioned once. Was this just a rich person shopping spree without the guilt of overconsumption?

Lando kept looking across the room for you, his eyes always seeming to find you within seconds. And you found him to, sharing smiles or joking faces, saying get me out of here.

It wasn’t possessive — it was more of a secret bond that existed right there in time and space, going unnoticed by everyone but the two of you.

The bond was broken when a man approached you. Lando didn’t recognise him, but he already despised him. He was flirting with you; that would be obvious to anyone but you. You didn’t necessarily look uncomfortable. It seemed more like you found the conversation he tried to have with you pointless.

You were so oblivious to the impact you had on men, or maybe on all people in general. It made him want to set himself on fire. The itchy feeling inside of him, telling him to scream for everyone in the room to hear — that you were the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. And that you should be talking to him, and only him. Not some suave-looking asshole in an ill-fitting suit. God, you made him stupid. More stupid than normal.

As Lando’s thoughts spiralled, you somehow got out of the conversation, swiftly making your way across the room and out of a door that he thought led to the garden. Or one of the gardens. This place was huge.

He had things to do inside, people to talk to — but for a moment, he came to his senses and said fuck it. He needed to know if you were alright.

His assumption that the door led to a garden was correct. The evening light cast a silvery glow over it, a tranquil contrast to the busy ballroom. From a distance, he saw you take a seat in an old stone gazebo, covered with ivy. You bent down to unclasp your heels.

Lord, was he about to risk it all.

His steps over the gravel path made you hear him, and he couldn’t help but feel busted.

“Mind if I sit down?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

You shook your head, gesturing with your hand to the space beside you. He sat down, shyly looking at his hands in his lap. On the bench, he saw what he thought was the reason you had come out here, besides that man talking to you. Dessert. Two of them in little ramekins, but only one spoon.

Lando breathed in the silence before hastily asking you what had been on his mind.

“Who was the man you were talking to?”

“Some stuck up think-tank-bitcoin-billionaire,” you huffed. “He asked me if my company was up for auction.”

It wasn’t company as in a business. It was company as in your time of day. Or time of night more likely. He was asking to spend the night with you. Would audibly gagging be too improper of a reaction? Lando had to fight himself to not do it.

“What was your answer?” he wondered, trying to keep his cool.

Your lips turned into a smug smile. “That it’s free for people who deserve it, and then I walked away.”

Lando chuckled, liking the fact that you showed a sense of pride with your actions. “Do I deserve your company?”

“Haven’t asked you to leave yet, that should tell you something,” you mumbled, shrugging your shoulders.

Lando nodded, scrunching his nose, a pink tint on his cheeks forming from the crisp air.

No, he was blushing. It wasn’t even cold outside.

“Have you had fun otherwise?” He cleared his throat, making the conversation about something else.

“I don’t know. I feel like a fraud, like I don’t belong,” you shrugged, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your dress. “I think I might have convinced multiple people in there that I’m a communist, just because I was raised with a working-class perspective on things.”

Lando suppressed his laughter for it to not be too loud. You saw his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“This entire thing just feels performative to me,” you added.

“Oh, it totally is,” he agreed.

You glanced back at the manor, hearing the sound of voices in the distance. Your face reflected a mixture of amazement and discomfort. “And don’t get me started on the way people look,” you began again. “My mascara smudged and my dress got wrinkled the minute I stepped into that humid room, yet everyone else continues to look flawless.”

Lando thought about interrupting you, saying that you still looked flawless to him. Or maybe you didn’t, and that was the best part. He understood your point fully, though.

You shook your head as you continued, a bitter sigh escaping your lips. “And I can’t walk in heels since I broke my ankle, and my dress shows my scar, and I’m just… being a miserable little twat.”

You dropped your shoulders, looking down at your bare feet as your heels were on the ground next to them. It hadn’t even crossed Lando’s mind, the shoes nor the scar, but it made sense that you didn’t feel confident about it. That he thought you should be confident wouldn’t exactly change your mind.

“Oh! And they don’t eat,” you hastily pointed out. “They just hold the food and look pretty.”

That was definitely true. He knew that you couldn’t eat yourself full at functions like this. His own empty stomach was a testament to that.

“Is that why you came out here with two desserts and one spoon?” he questioned, containing his laughter to not come across as judgmental.

You giggled. “Have you seen Amélie?”

Lando shook his head no.

“It’s a movie. It doesn’t really matter, but one of the main character’s favourite things in life is cracking the sugar on a crème brûlée, and I… think I agree with that,” you explained, grabbing one of the ramekins and carefully smashing the caramelised surface.

It made a slight sound. Your eyes lit up as you looked at it. “See? Did you hear that?”

He couldn’t help but grin at your reaction.

“Try the other one,” you urged, handing him the spoon.

He had tried crème brûlée before but never in this way. Never with someone telling him about how it was the best thing in life. As he cracked the sugar, he laughed so hard he felt his chest vibrate.

He knew he couldn’t eat the dessert because of his diet, but seeing you take a spoonful was almost satisfactory enough.

“Your mind is so… special,” he smiled in disbelief. He didn’t know what he was saying anymore, he just knew he needed you to hear it. “I don’t get how the universe could’ve created you.”

Your smile faded as your laughter turned quiet. “Is that a compliment?”

“In the highest form, Bunny,” Lando insisted.

He didn’t know how to read your reaction, your sudden silence was a shock for him. Had he ruined a perfect moment by saying too much? That’s when he saw it, the tears pooling in your waterline as you fought with yourself to not let them fall.

Lando was a soft mess in seconds. “A-are you crying because I complimented you?”

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to laugh but your voice came out hoarse.

“Don’t cry, it’s alright,” Lando said softly, reaching out to wipe the tears away from your face, gently cupping your cheek with his palm.

He crossed a line as he did, moving closer to you than ever before.

You knew where this was going, and you weren’t prepared for it at all.

“I just…” You were full on crying now. “I have no idea who I am, and this environment really showed me that.”

Your lack of confidence broke his heart. Things had really piled up on top of each other to now finally get to you. A stupid auction being your downfall, the thing that made you realise how much your life had put you through.

“I can’t get a degree, I can’t do musicals, and I definitely cannot fit in here. I have no way of being the girl that you want me to be, Lando,” you sobbed, your breathing picking up as your hands gesticulated out of pure panic.

Your words hung heavy over the garden, suffocatingly, as you honestly believed them to be painfully true.

“Hey… don’t say that,” Lando tried to comfort, grabbing ahold of your hands to stop you moving, centering your focus. “You have no idea what I want from you.”

“I want to hear you laugh at my stupid jokes. I want to feel your painted nails when you hold my hand. I want to see you get all giddy over a crème brûlée,” he listed things as they came to mind.

The warmth from his hands surrounded you as you let yourself relax, exhaling loudly.

“I want you to linger in every possible goddamned doorway you can find,” Lando continued, looking you deeply in the eyes. “That’s all. Nothing more.”

You were so close that he could see how colours reflected in your eyes. He liked you in ways he didn’t know was possible — for the little things that he’d never thought about before with other people. He couldn’t think clearly anymore. He didn’t want to think clearly. Lando hesitated, his eyes searching yours, as if seeking permission.

You knew where this was going, and you weren’t prepared for it at all.

He scanned your face, his gaze finally landing on your lips. You were waiting for him to move, for him to lean in, because you were too scared to do it yourself. But you wanted him to do it. You wanted it more than anything else.

But all of a sudden, the lust in his expression turned into concern, and you felt something wet drip down on your upper lip. Blood.

“Oh, fuck.” Your hands flew to your face, trying to stop the blood from dripping further.

Of course this would happen now. You were cursed, after all. What were you thinking? A pretty boy could not just kiss you. The universe had decided that happiness wasn’t for you.

“Let me help—” Lando said, trying to get a hold of you to stay still, but you had already stood up.

You moved to pick up your shoes, and Lando sat frozen in his spot. “I’m gonna walk back to the villa, you stay and do your rich person duties,” your voice cracked as you said it, taking a step back to avoid his proximity. You had panic written all over your face and blood on your hands.

Lando’s emotions finally caught up with him as he too stood up to try and stop you. “Bunny, please! Don’t go, let’s talk about this,” he pleaded, hearing how pathetic he sounded. But he felt like he had no choice.

You recoiled further away from him, your eyes glistening with tears as you started to walk, your bare feet over gravel, heels swinging from your hands.

He couldn’t understand — how you’d gone from laughing about crème brûlées, to crying, to almost kissing each other, and then to you getting a nosebleed. He also couldn’t understand how he had let you get away. Fuck, was he stupid.

His thoughts got interrupted by the sound of someone running on the gravel. He met Jasmine’s worried eyes, contemplating if she should just murder Lando now.

“Did she just leave? What did you do?”

Lando could only shake his head, running a hand through his hair, the gesture portraying his inner turmoil. “I didn’t do anything…” he muttered, sighing loudly. “I was about to kiss her, and then she got a nosebleed all of a sudden.”

Oscar came walking after Jasmine, just close enough to hear what Lando said. “That’s so typical of her,” he breathed out, baffled at how you always managed to almost comically mess things up.

Jasmine rubbed her temples. “Are the two of you actually fucking stupid?” she questioned angrily before yelling, “Lando, don’t just stand there. Go after her!”

“To do what? Get rejected again?” he gesticulated with his hands in defeat, feeling his voice crack. His own tears had started to form.

Jasmine looked back at him like he was stupid. Lando was stupid. That was a fact he now knew.

“To clean up the blood and then actually fucking kiss her — because she did not reject you, she’s just scared!” Jasmine shot back, an intensity in her eyes that made Lando listen. “All she knows is fear, and falling in love with you hasn’t exactly helped with that.”

He was stuck, his feet glued to the floor, the weight of Jasmine’s words hit him like a punch in the stomach. Falling in love — that was what the two of you were doing. Lando had been too blinded by his own infatuation to realise that you were scared of it — scared of that stability because your life hadn’t been stable for years. You truly believed yourself to be cursed.

Fuck, was he stupid. He needed to fix this, and that was quick.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

He left the auction, Oscar assuring him that he could handle the rest of the night alone. The villa was quiet when Lando returned. He didn’t know what he should say when he saw you. He didn’t even know what kind of mood you’d be in.

For a moment, he stopped in the hallway with all the bedrooms. Your door was open, a faint yellow light seeping through. He heard you moving around, the tap running in your en suite bathroom. That made him dare to move, to stand in your doorway.

Your room was a bit messy from earlier when you were getting ready, your suitcase basically turned inside out. Your dress was tossed on the floor, next to your heels. A small red stain could be seen on the beige soles.

Suddenly, you exited the bathroom. Your face was washed clean from makeup and blood, and you were wearing an oversized sleep shirt, reaching your mid-thigh.

You stopped abruptly when you saw him, first shocked, then annoyed. He had no right to use your own methods against you, even though you knew he was right. Whatever he’d said to you, he would be right.

“Now is not the time to be lingering in some fucking doorway, Norris,” you snapped, more to mask your own panic than anything else.

You walked up to the door with determined steps, your fingers hovering over the doorknob. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps as you clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms.

“I’m not letting you close that door, Bunny,” he said softly, but with an edge of determination, placing his hand on the door so it couldn’t move.

“I don’t want to hear what you have to say,” you insisted, shaking your head as if to physically ward off his words.

Lando’s eyes softened, the frustration melting away to reveal an expression of raw sincerity. “Doesn’t that defy the point? Your mother’s entire idea with teaching you to linger?”

“Don’t,” you whispered. He had no right to bring up your mother.

“We might be dead tomorrow, but you won’t hear me out?”

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded through gritted teeth, tightly closing your eyes to even bear with your emotions.

“Why won’t you let me tell you that I like you?”

He dropped the bomb. He had no option but to confess it to you. It was the scariest thing he’d ever done, yet when it was out there in the open, a weight was off his shoulders. This was meant to go this way.

You opened your eyes. “Because I’ll screw this up like I always do!” you choked out, voice thick with unshed tears. “I got a nosebleed when you tried to kiss me. I told you — it’s like I’m fucking cursed!”

“Something always gets in the way of me and good things,” you continued.

“I’m a good thing?” he whispered, but it almost echoed in the quiet room.

“That’s what you got from that?” you cried, looking up at him through wet eyelashes. “You don’t understand. Everything good that comes into my life, I mess up. I can’t even be normal around you because I’m so afraid of ruining it!”

“Because that’s the only thing that matters — that we like each other, that our feelings are mutual,” Lando explained like it was simple. “You’re not cursed. You’re just human. And so am I. We’re allowed to mess up, to be scared, to get nosebleeds at the worst possible moments.”

He took your hand, basically shaking as he held it. You didn’t move away. You let him hold you. You let him closer.

“Or… if you are cursed, then I’ll start carrying a first aid kit,” Lando continued with a small smile, moving his free hand to wipe your cheek clean from tears.

You let out a surprised snort, the sound mingling with your sobs. It was a ridiculous notion, yet somehow, it made perfect sense.

“Can I try kissing you again?” he softly wondered, a semblance of hope in his voice.

Lando watched as you started to smile at the question, nodding slowly. “Please, kiss me.”

He brought both his hands up to your cheeks, your eyes intensely locking for a moment before he softly leant closer, his lips meeting yours in a featherlight connection.

The kiss was sweet. Softer than what you would’ve expected. It was also quite telling of all the emotions that you both harboured inside, finally being set free.

Lando kissed you like it was important, like his life depended on you knowing how much it meant to him — like the two of you would never need another form of communication to tell each other things. This was for you to know that calling yourself cursed was just stupid. You were scared, that’s all. But you didn’t have to be scared anymore.

He was the one to break the kiss, his breath hot against your face as he grinned. “See? Not cursed.”

That was enough to get you laughing, turning your head down to lean against his chest as you let out a pathetic giggle. No blood, no broken bones, no compromised breathing. Okay, maybe your breathing was a little off, but that was to be expected after kissing someone.

For a long, hazy moment, the two of you simply stare into each other’s eyes. How you ended up on the bed passed in a blur, the only thing your mind could focus on was Lando’s hands on your body. His lips back on yours.

The kissing quickly grew fevered and devoted, his tongue exploring your mouth, neck, and chest as you melted against him and the soft mattress, your fingers clutching around him. He took away all of your thoughts, every lingering worry or doubt completely removed. Insecurities too, gone with the wind.

He was breathless when he stopped for a moment to catch his breath. You fiddled with your fingers to undo the buttons on his shirt, revealing a landscape of freckled tan skin before your eyes. His palms moved over your hips, up your waist, cupping the underside of your breasts through the thin cotton of your t-shirt.

As he moved to take off your shirt, you froze. Lando stopped in his tracks, waiting for you to say something.

“The scar,” you said. “It makes me feel… weak, and I don’t want you to treat me like I’m weak.”

Weak was the last word Lando would use to describe you. But he also understood.

“I don’t have to see it. It’s alright like this if that’s what makes you comfortable,” he explained softly.

You nodded, deciding on keeping your shirt on as you watched Lando remove his own. He was perfect, and you were you. Maybe that was enough.

Lando caged you beneath him again, crawling over you, leaving sloppy kisses on your face, arms, and over the fabric of your shirt. The kisses ended with him biting your lower lip as his hands found home in a tight grip on your hips, the lace edge of your underwear tickling his palms.

“Can I go down on you?” he whispered. His eyes looked for permission to continue, and you nodded, messily kissing him back.

He lowered back down your body again, his strong hands absentmindedly massaging the plush skin of your thighs, before finding the waistband of your panties, pulling them off you in a slow motion. He nestled between your legs, not breaking eye contact.

You almost felt cold by being naked, even though the room was delightfully warm. You wanted to cringe at what his sight of you must be like, but he didn’t give you a chance to do so, a string of praise words falling from his mouth.

As each word was said, he spread your wetness through your folds with a feathery movement of his fingers. Lando brushed your clit with a light touch, taking in your reaction before dipping his fingers into the pooling wetness.

“P-please, Lando, oh fuck—” Your voice was wrecked as you grew desperate for more.

He grinned at your words as his face met your heat, leaving kisses around it before finally touching the part where you needed him the most. “So pretty,” he mumbled against you, kissing your clit. That made your brain short circuit.

You reached down to push the curls of his forehead as he delved in, softly bringing you pleasure. Sucking on your clit with intention while his fingers curled deeper into you, his free hand gripping at your thigh, certain to leave crescent-shaped imprints from his fingernails as your soft skin spilled out between his fingers.

You truly did look pretty, though — through Lando’s eyes. With the evening glow of the sun shining through the windows and the white linen bedding surrounding your body, you looked angelic. As your shirt rode up, your stomach was revealed. He loved seeing your skin. Nipples pebbled through the t-shirt, hair dishevelled, skin gleaming from a thin layer of sweat. You made him painfully hard by just lying there, letting him taste you.

“I’m—” You couldn’t get the words out, voice choking on your own moans, but Lando knew to increase the intensity.

You were a fucking mess when you finished, letting that hazy feeling completely take over, whimpering his name out like it was the sweetest thing. He kept on babying your clit with the tip of his tongue until you tugged at his hair, lifting his face. He could’ve gone on forever if you’d let him.

“Come up here,” you urged him, your voice shaky. You watched him lick his glossy lips, running a hand up your body in a soothing manner before collapsing next to you.

“You should see how breathtaking you look right now,” he exhaled, looking at you with your face flushed and your eyes glossed over. You stared at him so deeply, catching your breath, as you realised you couldn’t decide what eye colour he had. They shifted from green, to blue, to brown. Fuck, you were spent.

You thought for a while, and Lando could see it on your face, a mischievous grin forming on your lips before your hands moved down his stomach, stopping by his belt buckle. He let you undo it, your bottom lip nestled between your teeth as you teasingly looked up at him.

Already worked up from before, he moaned as you started to palm him over his trousers.

“I’m not gonna last if you do that,” Lando gasped, holding your hand still with a tight grip around your wrist.

“Take them off, then,” you simply answered, earning a laugh.

He couldn’t say no to that, moving awkwardly to get both trousers and underwear off as quickly as possible. He then settled closer to you, having you basically wrap your legs around him, clinging like a koala. You shared a look between each other, making sure that this was okay. It was so much more than okay. This felt necessary, like you were meant to do it.

“I’m on the pill, so this is fine by me,” you explained to him, a tremble in your voice by having him so close to you.

He kissed you before he did anything else, settling your nerves. Feeling your bodies mould together, creating a common heat. He glided himself through your folds, touching your already stimulated clit. As an act of desperation, you moved your hips lower, grinding against him.

“You okay?” he chuckled.

You hummed against the skin on his shoulder, playfully nibbling as you kissed him all over. His eyes met yours as he pushed into you, waiting patiently to see your reaction to the light stretch. You nodded, your breath hitching as he began moving more purposefully.

The slow drags set of sparks of pleasure within you, so intense your eyes rolled back. You weren’t sure what kind of noises left your body, uncontrollable with the pleasure. Hearing Lando moan deeply into your ears made you feel less unsure.

Completely intoxicated, you tried your best to take it all in. You focused on the golden shimmer in his eyes, the scattered freckles on his face, and the scar on his nose. It was so warm, and wet, feeling him thrust inside of you. You didn’t know what to do with your hands again, just desperately spreading them over his back to his shoulders. Your sharp nails were destined to leave claw marks.

“Faster, baby,” you breathed out, ready for more.

You felt Lando grin against your cheek as he heard the pet name. It had completely slipped out on accident, but that didn’t mean it drove him any less crazy. You felt him grip your body harder as he fucked up into you.

“Doing so well for me,” he moaned out your name. “C’mon, Bunny, let me see how pretty you are when you come again.”

A litany of moans filled the room, from the both of you. That, along with the sounds of your bodies crashing together, made you fucking delirious. You were close, so close. You wanted to feel that feeling again, of him bringing you to the end.

You shamelessly used him as you felt the familiar fire spread through your veins. He wasn’t long after, almost lifting your body to get you closer to him as he finished. His moans were slow and shaky as he rested his lips on your forehead.

His hips lost all rhythm as he spilled into you, his cock twitching inside you while he slowly pumped you full of his release, thrusting several times as he rode it out. You wanted to memorise the guttural sounds and the tremble of his face muscles as he reached the ultimate high.

“We’re a mess,” he commented, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

You let out a small chuckle. “Stay still for a second,” you ordered him as you relaxed in his hold. Both of you sighed at the sensation of him filling you up completely. You would enjoy this feeling of having him as close as humanly possible for as long as he let you.

“I don’t ever want to move.” he murmured against your hair.

You caught your breaths in unity, staying close together without saying much more. You didn’t need to. Lando knew that all his future dreams would take place here, lying quietly next to you, in your own sacred heaven. You two, sharing heavy breathing and sighs, after delicately bruising each other’s bodies.

He looked you deep in your eyes, seeing how tired you were, but solidifying what was once a doubt for you. He looked at you like you were a risk worth taking. A river worth wading. A river worth drowning in.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Lando woke up the morning after feeling well rested, in a bed that was warm and the sheets scented by you. He felt you moving next to him as he came out of his slumber, mumbling something about it being too hot and how you had forgotten to open the window before falling asleep.

He didn’t understand how you felt hot when all he felt was ice cold as you left him alone in bed. The room got brighter as you moved the curtains, opening a window to let in the outside air. He opened his eyes to see you, back turned against him, stretching your body to wake up. A grin plastered on his face. He was painfully happy.

You moved to wrap your arms around yourself, lifting the hem of the shirt you’d slept in. As you pulled it over your body, Lando got a view of your entire being. He was certainly awake now. Naked, your skin glowed golden technicolour from the sunlight, in stark contrast to the white room.

You knew exactly what you were doing as you slowly turned around.

“Just look at you…” Lando exhaled. “Fucking gorgeous, Bunny.”

In seconds, you were back in bed next to him, pulling the bedding up to hide your face.

“Gonna act all shy now?” he teased, chuckling.

As you peeked back out, Lando was quick to get closer to you. He hovered over you as his hands found your body.

He didn’t even have to tell you — your lips already parting as his thumb caressed your cheek, moving closer to your mouth. You took his thumb in your mouth, softly sucking as it rested on your tongue. You saw how his eyes fluttered at the feeling, gently removing it to press a passionate kiss to your wet lips.

Lando was hesitant to let his hands wander lower, softly cupping your breasts and littering your sternum with open-mouthed kisses. His fingertips lightly pinched the sensitive peaks of your nipples, as he looked up at you through tired eyes, always wanting your reassurance, as his lips got close to the scar.

You nodded gently, allowing him to kiss it. You didn’t like touching the scar, but somehow, you had no issue when his mouth did it. He kissed it gently before moving to kiss your nipple. He smiled with pride at the breathy gasp you let out as he placed his mouth on you. You were practically whining at the pressure of him sucking at your skin.

He released you after a moment, lying down next to you. He felt your heartbeat through your chest as his head rested on top of your breast, softly padded by the plush skin. You looked down at him with joy, placing a finger under his chin so he was looking right back at you.

Slowly, your fingers traced his face. He smiled at your orange nail polish. You took your time tracing the bridge of his nose, stopping when you got to the little mark he had right across it. He had his scars too.

“My heart hurts,” you groaned quietly, as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Huh? Are you serious?” he mumbled against the skin of your chest.

“It’s a dull ache, a desire almost,” you explained, and Lando understood your point.

“I think it’s contagious,” Lando smiled. He let the words linger in the air before adding, “You should come with me to Hungary after this.”

You sighed, realising how hard it would be to say no to him in the future. “I don’t go back to uni for another couple of weeks, so…”

“I’m buying you a plane ticket right now,” he said, reaching for his phone, but your hands stopped him.

“No,” you said.

For a second, Lando started to second-guess everything.

“Join me in the shower first.”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

Thank you for reading ♡ Feedback is well appreciated!

#my writing 🪐#lando norris x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #lando norris #f1 fanfiction #f1 #f1 smut #formula 1 #lando x reader #lando norris imagine #f1 imagine #lando norris fanfic #f1 fic #ln4 #ln4 x reader #lando norris one shot #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n

1K notes · View notes

escelia · 5 months

Text

Congrats! Its A Boy!

Here's the second chapter of New Sibling Just Dropped! The inspiration train is still on track, and I've been having a lot of fun writing this. So far, my goal has been to post one chapter after I've written the one after it. I hope my motivation sticks around long enough for me to get all my thoughts typed out! Enjoy!

@flamingpudding here is your best friend mandated update tag! Love ya~

“For interrogation,” his children had said as they diligently separated their hostage and Robin from being near each other. His youngest was absolutely seething, and rightfully so. He’d been cloned several times by his mother, each one of them out for Damian’s head. His children had been right about this one though, he was different in a very strange way. He hadn’t put up much of a fight at all, and in fact had been quite obedient thus far. He seemed very confused and lost in thought. It was suspicious. He couldn’t let his guard down.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bruce had been suspicious when Nightwing and Red Robin dragged a blindfolded child on board. He’d been blindfolded and maneuvered into a seat, but hadn’t struggled at all.

When they entered the cave they immediately restrained the child in their little interrogation room. It wasn’t ideal that he was there at all, but they’d get way faster results from the DNA they’d swiped from him on their way there on the Batcomputer than anywhere else. And if he was a clone of Damian, they didn’t want anyone seeing his face. He had Tim get to work running the sample while he grabbed the folder with everything he knew about the League’s clones so far. He could have taken a tablet in with all the digital files, but it was never quite as intimidating as slamming a folder around.

When Bruce entered he zeroed in on the kid’s body language. He was tense and restless, but not in any way that indicated he was likely to attempt an attack. His gaze wandered and frequently settled back on Bruce. He certainly didn’t act like a trained assassin. He started by asking a few questions like his age and name. When he answered his age it wasn’t with any certainty, and he’d either picked a new name for himself or was really good at lying. It was also possible, of course, that he’d been a failed clone experiment. It would explain why the League was so willing to throw him into the fight and then lose track of him afterward.

“Why are you different from the other clones?” he asked bluntly, watching the child’s reaction. He didn’t falter at all when he responded that he wasn’t a clone. Bruce slammed the folder shut and watched the boy startle and tense like he would have to defend himself before leaving the room. The results should be in by now.

“Red Robin, what have we got on the DNA results?”

Tim stared at the screen with wide eyes as he typed something in. He looked to Bruce then back to the screen.

“Uh, I’m going to run the test again just to be sure, but you should sit down B.”

Bruce ignored him. He needed answers now, and while the Batcomputer worked fast, he didn’t want to wait for the test to run again. He had a family to protect. He peered at the screen over Tim’s shoulder and had to grab his shoulder to steady himself. He could see now why Tim insisted on running the test again.

“B? You okay?”

The others started to gather around him to see what was going on. Cass had brought up a hand to cover her mouth in a show of shock. Dick gripped Bruce’s shoulder in comfort and to steady himself. Tim was still gaping, looking back and forth between the screen and his family. Steph bit back a laugh, though whether it was from shock or just because of how absurd it was, no one could tell. And Damian, for the first time, looked genuinely stunned speechless by the words on the screen.

Familial Match Found

Damian Wayne- 99.7%

Relationship: Twin

Bruce Wayne- 48.3%

Relationship: Father

Run again? Y/N

“Damian, you have a twin?” Tim asked incredulously, turning his stare to the youngest.

“I… mother only ever implied– she never said it directly and didn’t bring it up often…”

“Damian, you knew you had a twin?” Bruce asked, his voice shaking with the unmistakable quiver of pain.

“No! I only had the vague impression that there had been another child. It always sounded as though they died. Mother never even mentioned a name!” the boy seethed.

“Run it again,” Bruce demanded.

Tim didn’t need to be asked twice. He was going to run it again anyway. It was just too scary to imagine. Another Damian running around terrorizing the public? One was more than enough! And not to mention the pain that had to put Bruce in; knowing that Talia had hid not one, but two children from him and those kids didn’t even know each other. Would Damian get even more stabby now that he thought he had competition for Robin? Would he get violent over not being the only blood son anymore? Tim didn’t know how they would manage if the two started fighting.

Bruce swept back into the room where Danny was waiting. His chest was tight, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, so he whipped his cowl off to take deep breaths and look over Danny properly, like a person instead of a threat. If he hadn’t been reeling, he was sure he never would have revealed his face, there was still so much they didn’t know about him.

He really did look so much like Damian that you could mistake him for a clone. Except, now that he was really looking, Danny was a bit paler than Damian. His complexion was a little closer to his own than that of Damian and Talia. Their face structures were the same, as well as their build and stature. But where Damian’s eyes were green like Talia’s, Danny’s were a bright, baby blue, like his. How had he missed that? They didn’t even have the same eye color! How could they have mistaken him for a clone? Had Tim noticed? Was that why they brought him back with them?

“Hey, are you okay?” Danny asked him. He looked genuinely concerned over someone who had essentially kidnapped him. He obviously hadn’t been raised the same way Damian had. If he and his brother hadn’t grown up together, then where had Danny been this whole time? And why did he suddenly show up in the League of Assassins’ base?

“I have so many questions,” Bruce found himself saying out loud.

“Dude, same,” Danny replied, “like why did you think I was a clone? Did you get those DNA results you were talking about? What did they say?” And why had he taken his mask off? If they were heroes like he suspected, then the man definitely knew the number one rule of ‘don’t reveal your identity to strangers.’

“My apologies– Danny, right?” Danny nodded. The man finally moved his feet to take the seat across from the kid again. The door cracked open again and the kid Danny recognized as Robin shuffled in to stand next to Batman. His fists were clenched and his posture stiff, but he was much better at concealing his emotions than the older man was. He stayed silent for now, just hovering beside the unmasked man.

“Do you know who we are, Danny?” he was asked calmly.

“I heard someone call you Batman, and,” Danny pointed at the one next to him, “you’re Robin, right?”

“Stop playing dumb!” Robin snapped at him, clicking his tongue in displeasure.

“Whoa! There’s no playing involved, I’m just dumb. From the moment I woke up to right now, I haven’t had a single clue what’s going on!” Robin looked at him suspiciously like he didn’t believe him.

“What happened when you ‘woke up,’ please explain.”

“I opened my eyes for the first time in this dimension and suddenly some guy was shoving a knife into my hand and throwing me at the tall one in blue. Nightwing, I think his name was? I literally woke up just standing there and then almost got my head bashed in!”

“Your results suggest that you’re not a clone, but there are holes in your story. Do you not have any memory of what you were doing before you encountered Nightwing?” Batman asked seriously. He seemed to finally be under control of his emotions, and if he hadn’t taken his cowl off, he might have been a bit more intimidating. Robin, on the other hand, looked to be getting more frustrated, like he was expecting Danny to say something else and was angry when he didn’t hear what he had anticipated. Danny clicked his tongue in annoyance, noticing that it sounded almost exactly like when Robin had done it, and glared suspiciously at them. They were trying to get at something but refused to say it.

“What did those test results say?”

Damian finally ripped his mask off his face to scowl at Danny properly. Their faces were practically identical to each other. Danny finally understood at least one thing, and that was why their little clan thought he was a clone.

“Oh, wow, okay,” the halfa muttered under his breath.

“Those test results seem to imply that we are identical twins! Mother made it sound like you were dead. Where was she hiding you all this time? What is your goal in coming here?” Seeing a sneer like that on a face that looked just like his own was a weird experience for Danny. The other boy looked poised for a fight and the halfa was glad that, if he was attacked again, at least he would see it coming this time.

“Cool, cool, cool. Always wanted a stabby sibling.” Dani had been a stabby sibling when he’d met her and she’d ended up being pretty cool. Of course, she’d moved on to do her own thing eventually and he never really saw her after that. She was her own person, it made sense that she didn’t stay glued to him.

Robin snapped and snarled at him, pulling out a knife from somewhere on his person (seriously, that was pretty impressive for a human) and throwing himself across the table. Danny was able to phase out of his restraints and float to the side of the chair since he’d seen the lunge coming. He’d planned on telling them about that anyway, but he was seriously starting to get tired of not being able to explain himself.

“If you guys would just chill for a moment,” he froze Robin’s feet to the floor and Batman’s cape to the chair he was on, “I’d be more than happy to explain myself! I really don’t want to fight anyone if I don’t have to. Please?”

“Guys, he made an ice pun and it was beautiful,” Nightwing whispered in awe. It seemed the door had been swung open and the others that he’d heard milling around before had come in to either stop or join the fight that had been brewing.

Robin looked as though he had no intention of letting it go that easily, but Bruce, whether it was because he was curious or because he couldn’t stop thinking of the floating child as his son, hummed and nodded his head to hear him out. The rest of his brigade followed suit.

“Finally!” he was still in his human form, so it felt a bit weird to tuck his legs up underneath him, crisscrossing in midair. All kinds of thoughts raced through everyone's heads from Lazarus Pit demons to genetically modified test tube baby.

“My name is Danny and I’m something called a halfa. I am NOT a clone, I do NOT have nefarious plans, and I DO NOT know why or where I woke up when you guys nabbed me. Yes, I was sent here from another dimension. No, I don’t know why my DNA results came back as being Robin’s twin.”

“Do you know why you were sent here?” Bruce asked while he processed the information the child had given them freely. He would never in a million years admit it out loud, but he felt bad for the way this had gone down. Danny clearly didn’t seem hostile and had no interest in fighting any of them or refusing to answer their questions. He’d just gotten so worked up over all the clones that had been sent to kill Damian that when they stormed the League of Assassins to deal with them and they found what they thought was a clone acting strangely, his immediate instinct had been to be suspicious and protective.

Danny thought for a moment about how to answer the question. He’d already decided to hold off telling them about the whole Ghost King thing, and he wasn’t really sure how to go about explaining the Lazarus Pit thing without bringing that up. But that wasn’t the only reason why he was there. His cheeks burned at the thought of explaining it out loud, but he’d made his mind up.

“I… do know. But promise not to laugh, okay?” They nodded their heads seriously at him.

“It’s to… it’s so I can try being a kid again.” Danny frowned when Robin scoffed at him. “In the dimension I’m originally from, I had a sister and we pretty much raised ourselves. And when I turned fourteen, I was in a lab accident that biologically changed me and I spent a few years after that dealing with the fallout of an interdimensional portal as my city’s only hero. It was hard. And I was tired from doing everything by myself. By the time everything finally settled down, my sister had already left for college, my parents forgot I was there, and my best friends were graduating high school without me.”

He took a deep breath to keep himself from crying in front of these people he barely knew. He didn’t like crying in general, but at least with Clockwork he knew the ghost understood why he was crying and wouldn’t judge him for it. Nightwing looked to be tearing up on his behalf, though.

“I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish anything I wanted to do in that world. I hadn’t had the time to go to school or develop other skills outside of my hero work. So my mentor from the Infinite Realms offered to drop me into another dimension with the opportunity to try childhood again. And you can tell I’m still a child because I didn’t ask him any questions,” he rolled his eyes, “like what family he was placing me with, where I would wake up, or how old I was going to be.” Danny began laughing at himself, filling the silence while waiting for someone to say something to him.

“So this mentor of yours just dropped you into this world with no one to take care of you? Then why does your DNA flag as this gremlin's twin?” Red Robin asked incredulously.

“Like I said, I don’t know. However, I think I have a theory, but…” he grimaced as he glanced over at the maskless Robin. Knowing Clockwork for so long now gave him an advantage when it came to stuff like this. He had a few theories actually. It was possible that Robin really did have a twin and something happened to him that had allowed Danny to take his place when he was sent here. It was also possible, though way more unlikely in his opinion, that the role of being his twin was created upon his arrival, and the world had retroactively rearranged itself to fit him into it. Something about being an Ancient, Clockwork had said, but Danny was still young for an Ancient so he didn't think it was likely.

“Did you maybe already have a twin? I could be an alternate version of a twin you already had, which would mean…” he trailed off, letting the implication that they were supposed to be the family that took him in hang in the air.

Robin tried to jerk his legs out of the ice, probably not wanting to accept another sibling, let alone one that was supposed to be his twin! But Danny started to speak again.

“But if that doesn’t work for you or you don’t want me around, I can just figure something else out like I always do!”

“Absolutely not!” Batman countered. “You’re twelve and we don’t know anything about your powerset, you are not wandering off on your own!”

“Are you sure? I could just go, like, haunt a park or something,” he asked, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the door. But it seemed like everyone other than Batman and Robin were vibrating with excitement as they started to shed their masks. And holy crap they all looked alike, their whole group really was a family unit! Nightwing was grinning wide and Red Robin was fiddling with something on his phone. Danny couldn’t have known, but Tim was already drafting up paperwork to make him a legal person in Gotham. There were two whose names he hadn’t caught yet next to them. One of them, a blonde, was holding up her phone to take his picture. He hoped her photo turned out okay with him in it. (Steph was uploading his photo into their group chat with the caption, ‘New brother just dropped,’ for everyone that wasn’t there that night.) The one next to her had dark hair and was quietly chanting, “new brother.”

“You may not originally be from this dimension, but biologically, you’re my son here. I’m not going to make you live at the park.” He moved to get up but was stopped by Danny’s ice. He bashfully muttered an apology before dispersing the ice on both him and Robin.

“You said you were a hero before, so I'm sure I don't have to remind you not to tell anyone our civilian identities, right?”

“Absolutely! My lips are sealed, don’t worry!” Danny confirmed saluting the man before he finally let his feet touch the ground again. He didn't actually know anyone's names yet either, so there was that too. Everyone started to file out of the tiny room; it had felt so cramped in there with all those people blocking the door. A dignified, older gentleman was waiting outside for them with an expectant eyebrow lifted at them. If he thought it was weird that Danny was there, or that he looked almost exactly like one of the others, he was really good at hiding it.

“I’m sure proper introductions can be made after everyone is out of costume and upstairs for the night? I’ve even taken the liberty of preparing cookies and hot chocolate.”

It was like watching a flock of birds scatter with how fast everyone started moving. Some of them even tripped over each other trying to be the first one up for what Danny could only imagine were god tier cookies and hot chocolate, going by their reactions.

“You may call me Alfred,” the man gently greeted him. “What would you like me to call you?”

“You can just call me Danny.”

“Very well, Master Danny. Allow me to fetch you a change of clothes. I’m sure Master Damian has something suitable for you to wear for now.” Alfred motioned for him to follow. Danny assumed that Damian could only be Robin, since he was the only one the same size as him as far as he could tell. He absently wondered if he should prepare himself to eventually get stabbed by his new and unwilling twin brother.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #fanfiction #batfam #damian wayne #dcxdp #update #danny and damian are twins #bruce is so emotionally incompetent he can't even panic properly #bruce is planning his text to Talia as we speak #alfred is the only one even remotely composed #and he's only there for like 5 minutes #my cat screamed at me the entire time i formated this post #he says hi

612 notes · View notes

mxltifxnd0m · 2 months

Text

boyfriend headcanons ⟡ s. winchester

pairings: sam winchester x reader, sam winchester x gn! reader

word count: 1.2K

warnings: no use of 'y/n', fluff, a smidge of angst in the beginning, some suggestive content, no smut, lowercase intended

a/n: i will make a dean version and probs a pt. 2 for sammy if I come up with some more headcanons! also did not expect this to be as long as it became lol

please enjoy and reblog and comment! i love hearing your thoughts.

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

⟡ some fears before dating you

before you got into a relationship with sam, he was very hesitant about dating or liking anyone romantically (he knows that he doesn’t have the best track record with love)

but when you came into his life, you broke down those barriers (without him realizing it), and he became more accepting of his feelings for you (even if it scared him shitless)

you had to drill into his head that whatever happened to you would never be his fault bc you knew he’d drown in his guilt if you got hurt or worse. it took time for him to accept that something would happen to you that it wasn’t his fault

okay, now onto the more happy stuff (sorry didn’t mean to start with the more heavy stuff, lol)

⟡ the actual headcanons

he’s the best partner ever!!

sam has a big heart and holds a lot of love for you, and though he can be hesitant to say the words for fear of jinxing the relationship (he’s superstitious about it), he shows how much he loves you through his actions!

he would have a mix of all of the love languages (obviously, everyone shows a mix of them), but his top three would definitely be quality time, acts of service, and physical touch

⟡ physical touch

i think that early seasons sam would be much more tactical with his touch and showing you physical affection

would use any and every excuse in the handbook to touch you in some way. resting a hand on your shoulder, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear or forehead, etc.

but post szn 5 and 12 sam, he would shy away from it at first, and you would totally understand and let him take the approach first, never initiating it until he feels like he can handle it

but this goes hand in hand with PDA in any szn, he’s not big on PDA he’s okay with hand-holding and pecks on the lips, temple, or cheeks but not overt displays of affection but behind closed doors, it's free reign for him aside from the PDA

he LOVES getting his hair played with like without a shadow of a doubt, i know in my heart of hearts that sam winchester is a fiend for getting his hair played with

is a cuddle bug doesn’t matter if it’s sweltering hot; he loves to have you in his arms no matter what secretly loves when it gets cold, you seek him out for warmth (he’s like a space heater from how much he radiates heat)

FOREHEAD AND NECK KISSES!! (and lots of them) LOVES kissing you there will be times when sam wants to make out with you in the back of the Impala. either to piss off dean or because you get no privacy in the motel room, you’re sharing with his brother.

is the best hugger ever. it’s almost criminal how his arms can wrap around you and engulf your body and instill a feeling of safety in you, like no one could hurt you while you were in sam’s arms.

⟡ acts of service

as i’ve stated above, sam doesn’t express his love through words, but he does show it through his actions

he knows all of your fav movies, flowers, music, snacks, how you like your coffee/tea, etc

he actively listens to you and keeps track of the things you mention (he has them written down or in a note on his phone) and just pulls this information out when he needs it

will do things if asked of him by you without question (but within reason, lmao)

(this also translates into fun times in the bedroom, LMAO)

don't know if this counts as an act of service, but sam loves putting things on the top self on purpose (to see you struggle a bit bc he thinks your pout is so adorable), but so you can ask him to get something for you, and does so with a smile on his face

⟡ quality time

would use any excuse to spend time with you

doesn’t matter if he just came back from a hunt and is exhausted; he would sit down and listen to you talk about what you had just read or what movie you watched while he was on a hunt

will actively plan dates with you on hunts if he has downtime, which would most of the time be in the car with Dean and asking him for help or input "they'll like whatever you plan for them. now, for the love of god, please shut up!" (sam had been pestering dean most of the car ride home about where to take you on the first date and was fed up with his little brother)

having movie nights!

spending time in either his or your room reading or just basking in the presence of each other, content with sitting in silence, grounding him with your touch as you guys fall asleep in each other’s arms.

late-night conversations in bed! more often than not, your pillow talk with sam would turn into very late-night conversations and sometimes even turning into early-morning chats.

⟡ protective

this is a given, but sam is so protective of you that it can be a problem at times

He doesn’t mean to be overbearing, but his mind is an overactive one and can be a little (a lot) protective of you

I think if you were a hunter, he’d be such a worrywart because he knows what this life does to someone and kinda hates that you are one (even if this is how you guys met in the first place lol)

but it’s the same if you’re not a hunter because he’d be paranoid that a monster would be out to get you if they knew you were even associated with him or his brother

he’d take so many precautions: teaching you the basics of hunting (but making you promise that you won’t go out and hunt), teaching you self-defense, gifting you an anti-possession charm (or going with you if you want the tattoo), painting demon traps under your rugs, salting windows, and maybe even convincing you to move into the bunker with him

⟡ some random ones

wearing his clothes his chest warms and his heartbeats faster each time he sees you wear something of his he does go a little feral when he sees you wear nothing underneath his clothes unfiltered sassy sam before the two of you started to date, you would catch glimpses of sassy sam when he would banter with dean but when you started to dish out some of your quips in the conversation and being a smartass to him that's when the sassy man apocalypse hit him, and it snowballed into him out-sassing you sometimes when the two of you could get into a back-and-forth

teases you about your height it doesn't matter if you're an inch shorter or a foot shorter than him; he can and will tease you about your height it brings him much amusement when you snap back with jokes of your own or when you blush when you don't have a snappy retort (yes, it means he has a size kink, but shhh, no one is supposed to know)

290 notes · View notes

ro-is-struggling · 2 years

Text

Slow Hands || Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer gets tired of pretending he doesn't notice the way you look at his hands, so when you show up at his hotel room late at night he decides to ask you about it.

Warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, porn without plot, hand kink, size kink kinda?, praise kink, Dom/sub dynamics (gentle dom Spencer x sub reader), dirty talk, pet names (good girl, baby, dirty little girl, slut), fingering, overstimulation, penetrative sex, choking, slight dacryphilia, a little fluff at the end, female reader, kinda rushed ending

English is not my first language

Word count: 6800

Notes: Spencer is a gentle dom and you can’t change my mind.

Also pictures aren't mine, I just put them together. I took them from this post (the one that inspired this fic) and also from this one so full credits to them!

"Why do you always stare at my hands?" The question escaped Spencer's lips before he could stop it. You had come to his hotel room to discuss something about the case you were working on and the whole time you had been staring at his hands.

It wasn't the first time you had done that, he had caught you staring at his hands in the past. It seemed that whatever he did with them you found interesting. He had never said anything to you because he honestly didn't know how to approach the subject without it sounding strange, but he was aware of what you were doing. The same way he knew you didn't admire anyone else's hands the same way you admired his, something that sparked a warmth inside him.

Spencer was pretty sure he knew why you looked at his hands so much, but he wanted to hear you say it.

"Oh," you mumbled in embarrassment, startled at being caught. "I don't know, I think they're pretty." You shrugged, looking everywhere but at Spencer. "I like hands."

"You like hands?" He repeated, looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

"I know it sounds weird but it's not! Some people notice someone's smile first or maybe their eyes or laugh, I tend to notice people's hands." It was a half-truth. Yes, you used to pay more attention to people's hands than most, but that wasn't the real reason for your inability to take your eyes off his hands. But since you couldn't admit that you dreamed every night of feeling the touch of his long, slender fingers on your skin, you thought that explanation would satisfy his curiosity and save you from the humiliation of the truth.

"Why do you like my hands so much?" Spencer insisted and you struggled to stop your mind before it got lost in the endless fantasies involving his hands that haunted you at night when you were alone in your bed.

"I don't know. They're pretty, I guess." You tried to downplay it, hoping that would be enough to ease his curiosity.

"Pretty how?" Spencer asked you and when you looked up to meet his eyes you saw a dark glint in them. He was up to something, you could see it in the innocent little smile plastered on his lips. He was pushing you to give him an answer for a special reason that you didn't know, but you assumed it couldn't be anything good for you.

Your brain was screaming at you not to take the bait, that it was dangerous and stupid. The smartest thing to do would be to find an excuse to go back to your room, where you would be safe from Spencer and his tricks. But you had never been that smart. Curiosity got the better of you, so you ignored your brain and took the bait.

"Well, for starters, your hands are big." You spoke in the most casual tone possible, trying to hide your embarrassment and excitement as you took one of his hands between yours to compare sizes.

You rarely had the opportunity to hold Spencer's hand, so feeling the warmth of his palm against yours awakened a wave of electricity that coursed down your spine. You swallowed hard, struggling to control yourself as you admired the difference in size between your hands. Even though you had long nails you weren't able to shorten the difference in length between his fingers and yours, Spencer's still stood tall against yours, which barely touched the middle phalanx of his fingers. You thought it was impossible, but his hand seemed even larger when compared to yours.

"And that's a good thing?" His soft, low voice shook you awake from your trance, lifting your gaze to look at him for a moment before returning your focus to his hands.

"Yes, especially for a guy," you said, trying to act natural under his intense gaze. "But you also have beautiful fingers. They're long and slender... perfectly balanced with the size of your palm." Your fingers traced his as you spoke, delicately caressing the skin of his hand with your fingertips. You could feel his eyes on you, following your every move. If you kept quiet you could hear his deep breathing quicken a little more with each caress you gave him, just like your heartbeat.

Spencer knew what kind of ideas the size of his fingers sparked in your imagination and he would be lying if he said he didn't have the same fantasies from time to time. It was actually embarrassing how many times he had masturbated imagining having his fingers buried deep in the warmth of your core —you moaning his name and begging him for more while he used his expert fingers to make you feel pleasure in a way no other man had ever done.

"But I also like the veins in the back of your hand." Your voice brought him out of his thoughts just in time, a few more seconds lost in his fantasies and his pants were going to start feeling a little tight. "I like the way the veins mark on your skin." Your fingers traced the lines on the back of his hand, following the paths that led up his arm, where the rolled up sleeve of his shirt prevented you from continuing.

Your fingers lingered on his arm longer than necessary, taking the opportunity to memorize the texture of his skin, the warmth of his body and the way his closeness made you feel in case you never had the chance to touch him like that again. The room fell into complete silence as you shared an intimate moment, the only thing that could be heard was the sound of your slightly accelerated breathing. There was a tension in the air that you had never felt before being with Spencer, but you barely paid attention to it as you lost yourself in your fantasies, your mind finally surrendering to your wild imagination.

But then the sound of a speeding car coming through the window distracted you from your thoughts. You pulled your hands away from Spencer quickly as you realized what you had done, ashamed of yourself for losing control like that. However, when you looked up to meet his eyes you didn't notice anything strange about them. He didn't seem to be bothered or uncomfortable by your behavior. No. You just saw that sparkle again, shining in his hazel eyes with increasing clarity.

Spencer's gaze didn't leave you as he moved his hand closer to you. You remained frozen in place, holding your breath without even realizing it as you waited to see what he was scheming. His fingers took a lock of your hair that fell over your face, playing with it for a bit before he gently tucked it behind your ear. Your heart was beating faster and faster and your brain was working hard to decipher what Spencer was thinking. You enjoyed the attention you were getting from him, but your impatient nature needed to know where he was going with all this.

However, your brain was fried the moment Spencer's hand cupped your cheek. You even forgot how to breathe as you felt his long, slender fingers caress the skin of your face. You closed your eyes instinctively, leaning into his touch as you allowed yourself to get lost in the moment. The warmth of his hand awakened a tingling sensation that spread all over your face following the path of his fingers, from your cheek bone, down to your jaw, across your chin and up to your lips. It was ridiculous how he could have you melting under his touch with the simplest of caresses. He had so much power over you... and you liked it.

You opened your eyes when you felt Spencer's thumb caress your lower lip. Your eyes met for a moment, feeling small under his intense gaze. He had never acted that way with you before, much less looked at you with the hunger reflected in his hazel orbs. And you liked it. You liked feeling small under his watchful eye. You liked feeling completely at his mercy. You liked knowing that he owned you even if he didn't realize it.

"I feel the same way about your lips," Spencer announced, staring at your mouth as his thumb continued his caresses, tracing the shape of your lips. "I love how soft they look, always tempting me to kiss them... especially when you stick your tongue out to wet them... or when you bite your lower lip when you're deep in thought. It takes all my willpower not to cross the room and kiss you right then and there."

Spencer's voice was soft and seductive, the slightly deeper than normal tone going straight to your core, which tightened around nothing, desperate for attention. There was nothing dirty in his words —he was just declaring how much he wanted to kiss you— and yet you could feel the wetness beginning to stain your underwear. There was something about his voice, the way he was talking to you and the softness of his touch on your lips that felt highly erotic. Spencer seemed to know exactly what to say and what to do to have you at his mercy. He had you in a trance, frozen in place as you eagerly awaited his next move. There wasn't a single thought in your head, just him and your desire to feel his hands all over your body.

"And don't even get me started on those lipsticks you wear," he continued, applying a little more pressure on your lips as he dragged his thumb across them, smearing lipstick on the corners of your lips. "This one is my favorite."

You parted your lips to try to breathe. You were starting to feel lightheaded, unable to move or speak under Spencer's intense stare. You wanted to, god knew there were a lot of things you wanted to say to him at that moment, but you couldn't do it. Your brain was fried, your body vibrating with anticipation. Part of you still couldn't believe what was happening, so you thought it would be best to keep your mouth shut. You would let him guide you, show you what he wanted from you. You'd be lying if you said that wasn't exactly what you wanted.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you felt Spencer's thumb push into your mouth. You closed your lips around the digit without even thinking about it, your tongue caressing his skin in an act of pure instinct. Your mind didn't process what was happening until you heard him moan softly.

"Good girl," he praised you and you couldn't help but moan over his finger, pure pleasure vibrating throughout your body. "I always suspected that behind that strong, combative attitude of yours was hiding a good, obedient girl... I didn't even have to tell you to suck, you already knew what to do."

A wave of pleasure ran through your body at his words, feeling proud to hear him call you a good girl. That's all you ever wanted to be, his good girl, and now that you finally had the chance to prove it to him you weren't going to waste it. You sucked on his finger harder to show him how much you loved his compliments, hollowing out your cheeks as your tongue played with his digit wishing it was his cock instead.

"I’ve wanted this for so long, you have no idea," Spencer sighed.

Oh but you did know. You knew exactly what he meant because you had wanted him for so long too. Every second you spent with him was torture, not only because you fantasized about feeling his hands on your body all the time, but also because you had to pretend you didn't in a room filled with skilled profilers.

But there was no more of that. You didn't have to worry anymore because his hands were finally on your body and it felt even better than you had imagined.

"Will you be my good girl tonight?" Spencer asked you, his voice barely a whisper as he moved closer to you.

You almost fainted when you felt his warm breath crash against your face, feeling even smaller under his gaze now that he was closer to you. When he removed his thumb from your mouth you had to bite your tongue to keep from letting out a whimper in protest.

"Answer me!" he demanded in a firm but soft tone that managed to snap your brain out of its trance.

"Yes," you rushed to say, maintaining eye contact with Spencer at all times. "I want to be your good girl, please."

You barely managed to get the words out before Spencer's lips crashed against yours in a kiss full of passion and desperation. You didn't even try to fight for dominance, surrendering to him without him having to ask. You let his lips guide yours, melting under the caresses of his tongue. His hands gripped each side of your face, using his hold to tilt your head so he could deepen the kiss.

It was all happening so fast you barely had time to process it, your poor brain working hard to keep up with the torturous rhythm of Spencer's lips. The kiss was much rougher than you would have imagined from someone like him. He always looked so sweet and innocent it was hard to believe he had such a dark side. But you loved every second of it. You loved knowing that he had chosen to share that side with you.

"Stand up," he ordered you as he pulled away from your lips. His kiss had left you a little stupid, so it took you a few seconds to process his words. But he didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, Spencer seemed proud of himself. He loved the effect he had on you as much as you did.

Spencer stood next to you, standing in front of you. You looked up into his eyes, patiently awaiting his next command. You lost yourself in the beautiful hazel color of his orbs for a moment, noticing a flash of his usual sweet, tender glow mixed in with all the desire and lust. That soothed the nerves that were beginning to form in your stomach from the anticipation, remembering that behind the darkness in his eyes was your Spencer, the one who always opened doors for you and brought you coffee without you asking him for it when you were stuck in the office late at night doing paperwork.

He took his time removing your clothes, his hands caressing and kissing every inch of skin he uncovered, showering you with compliments. He even knelt down in front of you to properly remove your shoes, pants and panties, taking the time to caress your calves and deposit a kiss on each of your thighs before rising back up. Spencer was tall, much taller than you. His figure towered over yours in an imposing way, but his soft and gentle touch helped you not to feel self-conscious in front of him, even when he was fully clothed and you were not. The gentleness with which he was treating you contrasted with the hardness of his kisses, but it was a change you gladly welcomed. Although it did make you wonder what he had planned for later.

"You're so beautiful," Spencer murmured against the skin of your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses as his hands roamed your body. His fingers caressed your skin ever so gently, trailing up your arm all the way to your shoulder. He paused at your neck for a moment and a shiver ran down your spine as you imagined him closing his fingers over your throat, applying pressure until it was hard to breathe. But before you could put voice to your desires, his hand wandered down your back, fiddling with your bra before unclasping it.

"Spence, please." You begged in a whisper when you couldn't stand the anticipation any longer. As much as you enjoyed the attention of his hands on your body, you needed more. Much more. Your pussy was crying for attention, staining your underwear with your arousal.

Your broken voice went straight to Spencer's cock, your desperation was music to his ears, but he managed to keep his composure. He wanted to take his time with you. "What is it, baby? What do you want?" he asked in an almost condescending tone. He knew very well what you wanted, but he wanted to hear you say it.

“I want you,” you replied, not caring about how pathetic your voice sounded. You were desperate for some relief and were willing to do anything to get it. "I need you to touch me... to make me feel good."

Spencer didn't need to be told twice. He settled down on the bed again —his long legs stretched out on the comforter and his back resting against the bed frame— and gestured for you to sit on his lap. When you moved closer he turned you over, helping you to settle onto his body until you ended up sitting with your back against his chest. He used his legs to spread yours apart, opening them as wide as he could. You hated not being able to see his face easily, but the new position was exciting anyway. You could feel his hard cock twitching against your ass and had a privileged view of his hand as he slowly moved closer to where you needed it most.

"You're so wet already and I barely touched you," Spencer whispered against your ear, his breath brushing your skin as his fingers began to toy with your clit. "Is this all for me?"

"Y-yes,"you managed to mumble between ragged breaths, struggling to control the sounds of pleasure escaping your lips. You were in a hotel room and the rest of your co-workers were sleeping in the rooms next to yours. The last thing you wanted was to be discovered.

"No, don't hold back. I want to hear you moan. I want to know how good I'm making you feel." Spencer was desperate to hear you moan his name, it was all he had ever wanted from the first moment he saw you. He dreamed of your whimpers of pleasure, but they never felt real enough. His mind could never recreate the beautiful melody of your voice to perfection. But he could remember it forever if he could hear you.

Spencer increased the speed of his fingers and you weren't able to contain the moan that escaped your lips, nor the many others that followed. But even if you could, you wouldn't have done it because he wanted to hear you and his wishes were your command. Your body belonged to him in its entirety, you were his to do with you as he wished.

"Good girl," he praised you, using his free hand to push your hair to the side so he could kiss and nibble on your neck. Each thing he did brought you a little closer to the edge. It was as if he had studied your body in preparation for this moment, as if he knew exactly what buttons to push to have you making a mess under his touch.

"Is this what you wanted?" Spencer growled against your ear, feeling his cock throbbing under the movements of your ass. Pure pleasure coursed through his veins as he listened to the whimpers escaping your lips. "Is this what you imagined every time you looked at my hands?"

"Yes! F-fuck, yes." Your voice came out in a broken moan, your brain fighting the haze of pleasure to form coherent sentences. Spencer was bringing you near climax in record time, you could feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter. You didn't know how he was doing it, but you didn't want him to ever stop. "I thought about having your fingers deep inside me all this time and, f-fuck, and how good they would feel reaching places mime can't... yes! Just like that."

As if Spencer was using your fantasies as a guide, he slipped his middle and ring fingers inside you. Your velvety walls received them gladly, clasping around them to keep them there forever. Just as you had imagined, his long fingers felt wonderful, filling you in a way yours could not, and they reached that spongy place inside you in a matter of seconds making you see stars every time they caressed it.

"Oh god, Spence it feels so good... please" you murmured between moans and heaving breaths, gripping onto your lover's arm for support. Your body was on fire, your mind lost in pleasure. It all felt like too much and not enough at the same time. You were desperate to find that sweet relief, moving your hips against Spencer's hand to reach your climax.

"You're gonna cum for me like the good girl you are?" He spoke against your neck, biting into your skin and drawing a moan of pleasure from you. "You're gonna cum all over my fingers?"

"Yes! Yes, please, I wanna cum so bad," you begged him on the verge of tears and Spencer couldn't help but growl against your skin. Knowing that he was capable of making you cry out in pleasure with his fingers alone awakened something primal in him. The desperate sounds escaping your lips were the hottest thing he had ever heard and suddenly it became his mission to keep you crying with pleasure for as long as he possibly could.

Spencer increased the rhythm of his fingers and applied pressure to your clit with his palm so each time he moved his hand you would receive twice as much stimulation. "C'mon baby, cum for me," he encouraged you and his permission was all you needed to collapse into his arms.

Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body, which was squirming under Spencer's skilled hands that kept fucking you through your orgasm. Your lungs were screaming for air, but it was impossible for you to catch your breath. The world around you became a blur for a moment and the only thing your pleasure clouded brain was able to process was Spencer's voice praising you as his hands caressed your body.

"That's it... that's my good girl." You smiled, enjoying his compliments as you tried to catch your breath.

But then you felt the hand that was still in your pussy begin to move once more. They were slow thrusts of his fingers inside you, but it was still a lot for your abused cunt, too sensitive from the orgasm it had just had. Your hand clutched at his wrist to try to stop it, but as you opened your eyes and looked down you couldn't help but let out a moan. You were convinced that there was no more erotic sight than that of his veiny hand buried in your pussy, moving in and out of you, giving you a glimpse of his skin glistening with your arousal in the dim light of the room.

"One more," Spencer told you, tugging on your hair to force your head back so you could look at him. It was a little rough, but you loved it, the pain going straight to your center. "I want one more and then I'll fuck you."

"I can't... too much" you tried to say, but your body betrayed you. Your pussy was dripping with excitement, your walls clinging to Spencer's fingers with desperation. Your hips were moving to his rhythm, following his lead and not yours. Your body no longer responded to you, it no longer belonged to you. It now belonged to Spencer and if he wanted you to cum one more time then you would.

"You can, I know you can," he encouraged you in a soft voice that contrasted with the roughness of his movements. He kissed you, his lips pressing against yours with a desperation that took what little breath you still had, and you surrendered completely to him. You stopped fighting your body's urges, trusting that Spencer knew what was best for you. He always did.

"That's it, baby. Let go for me, c'mon. I want to feel you cum on my fingers one more time." His words went straight to your pussy, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. It wasn't long before you started to feel like it was too much. Your legs shook uncontrollably with pleasure, but when you tried to close them Spencer didn't let you, using his to keep you wide open for him.

"'S too much… too much… can't" you mumbled incoherently as you felt the pleasure take over your whole body. Tears of utter pleasure streamed down your cheeks, each movement of your lover's hand bringing you closer to the edge you weren't sure you'd be able to cross.

"Shh you're okay, you're okay" he reassured you, showering his kisses all over your neck and shoulder as he used his free hand to hold you in place. "You can do it. C'mon, I got you."

You clung to Spencer's arm as you braced yourself for the explosion of pleasure that was coming, your nails digging little half moons into his porcelain skin. He held you in place as your body shook violently as your second orgasm hit you, enjoying the incoherent cries of pleasure escaping your lips as you soaked his fingers with your arousal. It was music to his ears, the sweetest melody he had ever heard.

"That's it, such a good girl for me." He praised you, but you were too lost to process his words. Your mind was completely lost in a fog of pure bliss, the world around you forgotten as your body twitched with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You could barely breathe and you couldn't remember your own name, but a smile formed on your face. Those had been the best orgasms of your life and you hadn't even had Spencer inside you yet.

"There you are!" you heard him say next to you. When you opened your eyes you discovered that at some point he had moved you, and now you were lying on the bed with him staring at you at your side. "Are you okay?"

His voice was soft as his fingers gently caressed your cheek. It was quite a change from the man who minutes before was demanding you cum on his fingers, but you liked it. He was more like the usual Spencer and that was what you needed at that moment as you recovered from the two most intense orgasms of your life.

"I'm fine," you assured him with an ecstatic smile. You really were. Spencer had demanded a lot from you, but in the best possible way.

"Do you want to stop? Just say the word and I'll let you go to sleep."

"What? No, please, I want to feel you inside me." You begged with glazed eyes and Spencer let out a chuckle.

"Are you sure you can handle it?" he asked, looking at you with a raised eyebrow and you nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes! Please, I want to make you feel good. I want to be your good girl."

Spencer silenced your pleas with a kiss, his lips caressing yours ever so gently. Unlike the previous times, when desire, passion and desperation prevailed, this kiss was slow and sensual. He was taking his time to enjoy the moment, memorizing every little detail of your lips and your reactions to the caresses of his tongue. He wanted to experience everything with you, the urgency of passion and desire, as well as the tenderness of such an intimate moment. He wanted it all with you.

When he pulled away you let out a whimper in protest, missing his warmth the moment he got out of bed. However your protests were silenced when you rose up on your elbows and discovered that he was undressing. Before that moment you didn't think it was possible that the image of a man loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt could be so erotic, but Spencer proved you wrong. Your mind raced wildly with the thought of everything he could do to you with that tie or the belt, which fell to the floor with a metallic clank as he peeled off the layers of clothing.

Anticipation bubbled up inside you once again as you stared at Spencer crawling towards you, looking at you like an animal at its prey. He gave you one last slow, tender kiss before settling between your legs, taking his cock in his hands and stroking it a couple of times before lining it up with your entrance.

"You ready, baby?" he asked you one more time to make sure you were okay, his voice no more than a raspy whisper that awakened a new wave of arousal inside you.

"Yes, please."

He was gentle as he entered you, giving you time to adjust to the size of his member as he enjoyed the warmth of your velvety walls. You both let out a moan as he bottomed out, your pussy tightening around his cock as you felt him deep inside you.

"So tight and warm for me," Spencer growled in your ear as he began to move, slowly dragging his cock almost all the way out before slamming back inside you with a quick, punishing thrust. "Taking me so well."

It was clear from the erratic, desperate rhythm of his hips that Spencer wasn't going to last long. He was so worked up after having you wriggling on his cock as you came twice that he was already close to the edge. But he still tried his best to drag the moment out as long as he could, thoroughly enjoying the way you had surrendered to him completely. He hadn't even had to ask you, you had simply accepted your role, desperate to be his good girl just as he had imagined.

"You look so pretty like this, making a mess on my cock as I fuck you stupid," he praised you as he noticed your moans increasing in volume and incoherence. He felt you tighten around his member, letting out a pathetic moan of pleasure as you increased the rhythm of your hips, which moved against his in search of your orgasm.

"Feels s-so good, Spence… please." A couple of tears escaped your eyes as you begged him for relief, awakening that primal desire deep inside him again. There was something so erotic about the way you were moaning for him, crying for his cock, begging him to bring you to your climax one more time. You looked completely ruined, mascara running down your face and lipstick smeared across your lips after so many kisses, and he was the cause of it all. He was the one you were moaning for. He was the one you cried for. He was the one you begged for more even though you were completely ruined. He was the one who was making you feel so good. He and only he. You belonged to him.

"You want to cum again, huh?" Spencer spoke in a condescending tone as he increased the pace and roughness of his thrusts. "Two orgasms are not enough for my girl? Is that it?"

You tried to ignore the way it made you feel to hear him call you 'his girl', attributing the warm feeling that spread through your body to desire and arousal. Though deep down you knew there was something more pure and innocent behind your reaction.

"Please, don't stop. I'm so close, f-fuck." The pleasure was overwhelming, coursing through your entire body, consuming every cell of your being. Your vision was blurring again, the tight knot in your stomach threatening to snap at any moment.

Then Spencer lowered one of his hands to where your bodies joined as one, his fingers losing themselves in your wetness as they played with your clit. Your body began to twitch beneath his, your moans increasing in volume and quantity as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the sweet relief. You reached out to him, grabbing his arm in an attempt to ground yourself, frightened by the force of the powerful orgasm that threatened to destroy you completely.

"I know, baby, I know." Spencer comforted your incoherent cries of pleasure, feeling your whole body tighten around his to hold him in place. The warm walls of your cunt clenched around his throbbing cock with every movement he made. Your legs hooked around his hips, pulling him even closer against you, his cock reaching deeper inside you with each thrust. You were both so close to cumming, but he wanted to feel you come undone around him first.

"Just let go for me, I got you."

You moaned his name, appreciating the tenderness in his voice as he encouraged you to cum. But you needed more, something to push you over the edge. And you knew exactly what that was.

Loosening your grip on his arm, you guided him up your body to where you needed him. Your hand rested on top of his as you gently settled it on your exposed neck, closing your fingers —and his— over your throat in an attempt to make him understand what you wanted.

Spencer looked at you with a surprised look, but you could see that flash of darkness shining in his eyes that let you know he liked the idea as much as you did. "Are you sure?" he asked you to make sure you were both on the same page about it.

"Please," you begged him with glazed eyes and Spencer felt his cock throbbing inside your pussy, feeling his orgasm approaching. You were definitely the perfect woman for him.

He began by applying a little pressure to the sides of your throat, feeling your veins pumping blood under his fingers. His hand was so big that he could almost wrap it around your entire neck, giving him a sense of power that awakened a wave of pleasure that coursed through his entire body. Knowing that you trusted him enough to let him choke you gave him a strange sense of relief. He wasn't the only one.

But what really sealed the deal for him was hearing your strangled moans as he applied enough force to limit your breathing a bit.

"You're such a dirty little girl... you like getting fucked like a slut, huh?" Spencer asked the question on purpose, knowing you weren't going to be able to respond other than incoherent sounds from both the pleasure you were feeling and the pressure he was putting on your throat. But he knew you loved it, he could feel it in the way you were clenching down on his member.

"Cum for me, c'mon. I want to feel you making a mess on my cock." His command was all you needed to let yourself be consumed by pleasure, the combination of his dirty words, his punishing thrusts and the pressure he exerted on your throat finally pushing you over the edge.

Your whole body trembled beneath his as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through every inch of your body. You felt like you were on fire, floating in pure bliss as you heard Spencer praising you in the distance.

"That's my good girl, doing such a great job for me." Spencer's movements became more erratic and sloppy as he chased his own orgasm. His grip on your neck softened, but you didn't let him move his hand from there, grabbing his wrist to hold him in place.

"Please Spence, I want you to fill me up... I want to feel you cum inside me, pleaseee," you begged him with what little strength you had left, trying to push him over the edge. You looked at him with half-closed, slightly unfocused eyes, completely lost in the pleasure that flooded your insides. It was the hottest image Spencer had ever seen. You were ruined, so fucked out that you could barely think, and he was the one to blame for that.

You whimpered from the overstimulation, the sweet sound of your raspy moans driving him over the edge. He came with a grunt of pleasure, emptying his load inside you. He painted your velvety walls with rope after rope of cum, enough that the pearly white liquid trickled down your thighs and onto the bed. Spencer earned one last moan from you as he pulled out of you, collapsing beside you as you both struggled to catch your breath.

"Are you okay?" he asked you as he regained the ability to form coherent sentences. He shifted his body towards you, rising up on his arm and resting his head in his palm so he could look at you. "I wasn't too rough, was I?"

"No, no. You were perfect." You were quick to say, opening your eyes and turning to face him. He had his soft, innocent expression back, looking at you with adoration as he analyzed your face to make sure you were telling the truth. If it weren't for the smell of sex that flooded the room you would find it hard to believe that he was the same man who had fucked you until you forgot your own name.

"Everything was perfect." You added with a satisfied smile on your face that he mimicked.

A silence formed as you tried to process what had happened. Now that your mind was clear of the fog of desire and passion that blocked your thinking you realized the position you had put yourselves in. You were friends and co-workers and at the time you had no way of knowing how this slip-up was going to affect both relationships. You figured you would have time to sort it out, but for now you needed to get out of there before you fell asleep and the rest of the team discovered you leaving the same room in the morning. So you carefully got up, holding onto the bed frame until your legs got used to supporting the weight of your body again, and looked for your clothes that had been left behind, scattered on the floor of the room.

"What are you doing?" Spencer asked, watching you struggle to put your underwear back on.

"Putting my clothes back on?" you replied as if it were obvious, grabbing your shirt off the floor. "I need it. Unless you want me to walk down the hallway naked I-"

"Stay," he interrupted you, grabbing your hand to force you to stop. "Please." He sounded so soft and vulnerable that there was no way you could say no, even though you knew it was a terrible idea.

“What about the team?”

“We can wake up a little earlier so you can sneak back to your room.”

You weren't fully convinced. There were a lot of things that could go wrong —what if you were called away in the middle of the night? how would you explain that you were not in your room but in Spencer's room sleeping with him if one of your co-workers knocked on your door before you got back?—, but Spencer kissed you and all concerns left your system. You let the soft movement of his lips quiet the voices in your head, surrendering to his charms once again.

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up so we can go to sleep." He whispered against your lips, giving you one last short kiss before guiding you to the shower. You let him take care of you, allowing him to wash your hair and carefully massage the soap over your body, and in gratitude you did the same for him. The tenderness and intimacy of sharing a shower contrasted with the rough sex you had had, but you liked it. The same way you liked sleeping snuggled in his arms. He was your favorite pillow, the warmest and most comfortable blanket you had ever slept with.

You were pretty sure you couldn't go back to normal after discovering how happy it made you feel to be surrounded in Spencer's arms, but you were okay with that. You had plenty of time to talk about your future in the morning. For now all you wanted to do was enjoy the moment, letting your lover's deep breaths lull you to sleep.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #criminal minds

6K notes · View notes

azrielslittleslut · 3 months

Text

"The Lost Queen"- Chapter 1

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: A magical incident causes Azriel to unexpectedly tumble through a portal into modern-day Earth. Confused and injured, he is discovered by a compassionate human woman with a hidden past. She takes care of him and helps him discover the complexities of the modern world, completely unaware of who she truly is. Meanwhile, Azriel struggles with his conflicting desires: his duty to the Night Court and his growing love for the woman who saved him.

Their journey unfolds amidst ancient prophecies and the looming threat in Prythian. As they uncover the truth about forces conspiring against them, they must confront their deepest fears and make choices that will change their lives and the world forever.

Warnings: language, also kinda angsty, magic being weird

Word Count: 2.8k

series masterlist

a/n: hello, it's me.. the most impatient person ever. posting early because i have no self-control. enjoy!

Prythian, Present Day

Azriel stood at the edge of the Whispering Woods, his shadows swirling around his shoulders and wings. He listened intently to their whispers, knowing they would warn him of any sudden dangers. The Mother only knew what terrors could be lurking in these woods, and he needed to keep all of his defenses up to return to Velaris safely. He looked up, feeling somewhat small standing beneath the tall, ancient trees that towered overhead.

Nobody knew how the Whispering Woods were created. The legends of old said they were created by a powerful Fae guardian, long before Prythian even came into existence. Before this mission, he had read countless texts trying to uncover some information to help him prepare, all to no avail.

Still, he had decided it was worth the risk. His family and his court were in danger. Hell, all of Prythian was in danger.

The first sign of trouble had occurred a few months ago. It had started with a disturbance in the natural weather of the courts. A harsh winter had happened in the Spring Court, and a blazing summer happened in the Winter Court. Horrible thunderstorms, unlike anything Azriel had ever seen, had pounded Velaris, causing damage to the buildings in the city. In all corners of the world, the weather became unpredictable.

The blight hadn’t stopped there. It began to affect the plants, which in turn caused absolute turmoil in the agriculture of the courts. Az had heard rumors of plants growing rapidly, while others died altogether. Some people were starving while others were rejoicing.

The last straw had happened once it started affecting the magic. Azriel remembered the day Rhys’s power completely gave out, almost causing the Night Court to descend into utter turmoil. Suddenly, his power had returned in such an overwhelming wave that he had blacked out for a few moments. He could no longer use his daemati gifts because, sometimes, he would inadvertently project his thoughts into someone else’s mind, or he would get overwhelmed by the thoughts of others.

Azriel had never seen his brother in so much distress, not even when Feyre had been pregnant. His ability to lead the Night Court was being questioned, as he was unable to remain stable enough in his magic to rule.

This is why Azriel stood at the edge of this ancient forest, searching for an artifact that probably no longer existed. The Moonstone Amulet was rumored to have the ability to heal the land. Supposedly, it can harness healing magic, soothing whatever dark forces were at work.

The only problem: nobody had ever seen it. Its existence was all based on legend and hearsay, but Amren was convinced that it was placed in these woods centuries ago by an ancient Fae goddess.

Now, the trust had been placed in Azriel to find the damned thing. He had agreed, of course. He hadn’t questioned Rhys as his brother had borderline begged on his knees for him to start a search. If anyone could find it, it would be Azriel.

The Spymaster of the Night Court never failed a mission, especially when those he loved were in danger.

Azriel took a deep breath as he stepped into the thick mist of the woods. “You are immortal,” he murmured to himself, recalling the words that had gotten him through the darkest times. “You are very hard to break.”

Although it was dark, the air shimmered with a strange glow. The mist was so thick, it clung to every surface. Azriel squinted his eyes, struggling to see through it. He relied on his shadows to guide him, listening to their soft voice.

This way, they murmured into his ear. Follow the pulsing.

In the distance, Azriel could indeed hear a faint pulsing sound. It sounded like the beat of a war drum, only softer and less threatening. He felt a wave of unnatural calm wash over him, easing his nerves. He walked on, feeling like he was in a trance, but he couldn’t stop. The pulsing got louder and louder, and his heart started to beat in time with the rhythm. Even his shadows had calmed, content to lounge on his shoulders as he stumbled through the dead leaves.

Suddenly, the mist parted, revealing an opening in the trees. The pulsing beat stopped, and Azriel groaned as a tidal wave of ancient power washed over his body. He came back to himself, blinking rapidly as the fog cleared from his mind. He staggered back, unsheathing Truth-Teller from his thigh. He held the blade high and level, and he willed his mind into a cool calm. His cobalt siphon pulsed, preparing to strike against any danger.

Another wave of that power roared through the clearing, knocking Azriel down to his knees. His siphons winked out, the swirling blue in them turning black, as if they had been drained. It took his five centuries of training to keep his hold on his dagger.

His shadows swirled around him, preparing to winnow him back home. “No,” he snarled at them. “I have to finish this.” He stood on shaking legs, taking small steps forward until he stood at the center of the clearing. He stopped as a faint glow caught his eye. It had an iridescent sheen, and he could see the moonlight reflected in it, almost like a mirror.

The Moonstone Amulet.

Under normal circumstances, Azriel would have let himself feel a little prideful at his discovery. After all, he had just found a lost artifact. But these were not normal circumstances, and if he were being honest, he was about to shit himself in fear.

Without thinking, he ran towards the glowing light, reaching out his scarred hand to grab it. His shadows surrounded him once again, ready to take him far away from this gods-forsaken place once he had it in his grasp.

His fingers had barely touched it when everything went to shit.

His shadows dispersed, recoiling as a power he had never felt pelted his body. His skin turned to ice, and he was frozen where he stood. The wind stopped. All sound stopped. It was as if time itself stood still.

Azriel looked at the reflection in the stone, and a terror he had never felt washed over him. He could see figures, like people moving about. He saw great metal things roaming across the land. He saw massive buildings and bright lights. He felt as if he were having an out-of-body experience.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe.

Bright light seared from the stone, hitting him in the head. He fell back hard against the earth, unable to keep Truth-Teller in his hand. His wings were bent at an awkward angle, causing him to cry out in agony. A deafening ringing sound filled his ears, and he fought like hell to stay conscious.

He wouldn’t die like this. He had a court to protect, to defend. He had his friends, his family…

Reality warped and shifted, and Azriel dug his fingers into the cold ground as voices and whispers filled his head. They echoed softly, their words carrying a strange cadence. It was a language he had never heard, but he slowly started to understand. The words flowed over him, punctuated by an accent unknown to the world of Prythian.

His heart stuttered and his breath was sucked out of his lungs as he was pulled into the stone. He cried out as he heard a voice speak, so cold it was devoid of all emotion.

“Across the veil, in worlds apart,

A warrior's heart seeks its counterpart.

Where ancient blood and shadows meet,

The lost queen's reign, his fate shall greet.”

Maybe he would die like this.

For a moment, faces flashed across Azriel’s blurred vision. He saw Rhys and Feyre laughing as they watched Nyx. He saw Nesta and Cassian in the training ring with Gwyn and Emerie. He even saw Elain, working diligently in her beloved garden. He heard Mor and Amren laughing together, but the sound and sights were gobbled up by the throbbing pain in his head.

He had failed them.

As Azriel’s body was pulled apart, he sent out a quick prayer of forgiveness to the Mother. Protect them. Help them.

At last, he closed his eyes, welcoming the sweet darkness that overtook him.

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

New Orleans, Louisiana, Present Day

High above mountain peaks, you soar through the sky, wings ablaze with fire. Down below, you can see a battle raging, the forces of light and darkness clashing with brute strength. On silent wings, you descend into the chaos, igniting the enemy with the flames from your wings. You hear them scream as they burn.

You hear people cry out and cheer in a chant of victory.

“Rise up!” they roar as you fly overhead. “Rise up, rise up, rise up-“

You jolt awake, sitting up straight in bed. Your body is covered in sweat, and the sheets are tangled around your waist. You place a hand on your chest, forcing yourself to calm your breathing.

This was nothing new, so you didn’t know why these dreams still affected you. You have been having some variation of the dream since you were a child. At one point, your parents had been so distraught, they thought it was best to take you to a psychiatrist.

“She just has an active imagination,” the woman had said. You had laughed internally at the diagnosis while you were staring at the degrees lining the walls of her office. She had a lifetime of student debt, and the only diagnosis she could offer was an active imagination.

Apparently, you still had an active imagination twenty-five and a half years later.

Once your heart rate calmed, you looked over at the clock on your nightstand. Three o’clock in the morning, on the dot. For some reason, you always wake up from these strange dreams at this time. You laugh softly, remembering what the locals always said about “the witching hour.”

A time when supernatural activity is heightened, and the veil between worlds is at its thinnest.

You didn’t believe in all of that voodoo bullshit. Your body just hated you, and it always woke you up at the most ungodly hours.

With a loud sigh, you decided it was best to do what you always did when this happened: go for a walk. You still had a few hours before your shift at the hospital, and that was the only way to clear your mind. Plus, you knew it was better than any medicine that a phony psychiatrist would have given you.

You quickly threw on a hoodie, a pair of black leggings, and some tennis shoes. You didn’t bother doing anything with your hair, even though it was plastered to your face from sweat.

Who was going to see you at this hour anyway?

Making your way out of the front door, you breathe in the smell of the bayou. The air was thick with the scent of cypress and oak trees, and the earthy smell calmed your nerves. This was why you had decided to move out of the city once you were old enough.

Bayou St. John was located next to City Park and the bayou, but still close enough to the city for work. Overlooking the water, your cottage in the small town was the epitome of Southern charm. It has a front porch with hanging baskets of flowers and vines. It was traditional Creole style, but still modern enough that you didn’t feel old living there. You had saved for years to purchase the place, but all of that work had been worth it.

Making your way down the gravel driveway, you turned right at the edge of the water. You smiled at the sound of the cicadas singing their songs to the twinkling stars above. It was a calm night in the bayou, and you silently thanked your past self for moving here.

You took back your thanks when you felt a presence fill the air. You stopped walking, and even the cicadas went silent. Your breathing was loud in the now-silent night. You shivered as you felt an otherworldly cold come over you. You wrapped your arms around yourself, holding your hoodie close to your body.

“Fuck this,” you murmured to yourself, turning around to walk back to the house. The strange feeling in the air intensified, and the air started to shimmer around you.

What the actual fuck?

You broke out into a sprint, your eyes locked on your front door. You were so close. Only a few more seconds and you would be back inside the safety of your home. Your mind scrambled as you tried to think of what to do. Do you call the cops? Do you call your parents? Were you still dreaming?

Yeah, that’s it. You were still dreaming.

You started to shake yourself, trying to wake up.

From the corner of your eye, you saw something move in the water. You stopped running, slowing down to a jog. More than likely, it was an alligator or something, but your curiosity had you jogging over to it.

You started to walk towards the form, taking small steps until your feet almost touched the edge of the water. It was black, wrapped in something that looked like leather, almost scale-like. You bent down, turning your head to the side to get a better look.

You remembered laughing at horror movies with your friends, wondering how the main characters always managed to get themselves killed.

Well, this was how.

Despite the warning bells going off in your head, you reached down to grab onto the scales. Beneath your fingers, you felt warmth, as if it were alive. You pulled, leaning back against the damp earth for leverage. The form was dead weight, but it moved with you as you haul it out of the murky water. Once it is pulled free, you were able to get a good look.

You scream as you see a hand, a fucking hand, lying against the grass. It was covered in brutal scars, the swirled and smudged skin covering every inch. You covered your mouth as you saw black hair through the darkness, splayed in wet tendrils on the grass.

There was a body outside of your house.

You scrambled back, trying to get away. How did they get here? Are they alive? Do I need to call the cops now?

You stood up and started to pace, cradling your face in your hands. “Breathe,” you tell yourself. “Just breathe. It’s just a body in the bayou. Nothing weird about it.”

All right, it was really weird. But if you were honest with yourself, your whole life had been weird. Between the strange dreams and the constant feeling like you didn’t belong here, you had grown accustomed to seeing weird shit happen.

You decided it was best to at least haul the body the rest of the way out of the water. That way, when the cops got here, you could say you tried to help the poor soul.

You pulled at the person’s clothes, your muscles straining at the weight. He was definitely a man. Beneath your fingers, you could feel cords of muscle, and a part of you was sorry that you hadn’t met him while he was alive.

As you finished pulling him out of the water, he rolled onto his back, and you were stopped dead in your tracks as you took in the most beautiful face you had ever seen. He was all sharp angles, with full luscious lips that looked rather kissable.

“Stop thinking like that. He’s dead, you freak.” Still, he was rather pretty to look at.

You looked at his chest, taking in the straps crisscrossing over it. They looked like they were made to hold weapons or something. Maybe he was into cosplay? You knew many hot men who were into that. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you almost didn’t see his chest moving.

Holy shit. He’s breathing.

You fell onto your knees beside him. You started to slap his face as you said, “Sir! Sir, wake up!” You did nothing to hide the panic in your voice. Had he inhaled water? “I need to call an ambulance.”

You started to stand but were stopped by a hand wrapped around your wrist. Slowly, you turned around, and you were met with a hazel-eyed stare.

Eyes that were full of confusion… and utter agony. You met his gaze, and you filled your eyes with as much compassion as you could.

At that moment, there was an inner voice inside your head, telling you that your whole life was about to change.

I should have just stayed in bed.

tag list: @starofanotherworld @lilah-asteria @melmo567 @xxemmarldxx @a-frog-with-a-laptop @saltedcoffeescotch @that-one-bibliophole @happyt0exist

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #acotar fanfiction #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #the lost queen #dee writes

310 notes · View notes

yuyu1024 · 7 months

Text

Roommate

Pairings: Yunho × y/n

Genre/tags: first time

Warning: smut/angst 🔞🔞🔞 unprotected sex, pet names, a lot of cursing, mention of masturbating

~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 2.6k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: another random drabble i just wrote before i slept the other day. But forgot to post 😅 no storyline

***

Typical. Everyone around you is either holdinh hands with their partner or just basically eating each other's face like you don't exist in their friendship group.

You love your friends, you do, with all of your heart, however sometimes you just want to slap them across their faces and tell them to stop being showy of their love, affection and horny asses while you are with them. They know you are single and lonely. They can try to control it right?

It is not like you are single solely by choice. It's not like that. You also wanted to date. You wanted to try. But the problem is, no one is even willing to try it with you. Basically, you think, you are not attractive enough for boys or men to even look back to you and talk.

Just thinking about it makes you want to cry.

You did what you can to change so that society can notice you. You started wearing contact lenses to let them see your eyes that usually hides behind your thick glasses. You even styled your hair. Not a drastic change but your friend says the layering cut fits you. Then you also updated your wardrobe. You still have the comfy ones in there but you added some basic blacks, whites, browns and nudes color for basic mix and match for future dates.

However, no future dates ever happened since then.

You thought, who are you kidding? No one wanted to date you when you are you so how can anyone date you now as well when you are trying to be 'normal' and same as the others.

"Here is your pineapple juice." San, your bestfriend, brings you your nonalcohol drink.

"Thank you..." you say as you take it from his hand. "Where is your girlfriend?"

"Ah, she went outside to meet his big brother..."

"Brother? She has a brother?"

"Are you even not listening to any of our conversation for the past year?" He raise his brow at you

You roll your eyes. "Oh sorry... how can I listen to your conversation when all I could see is your mouth nibbling her neck whilst your hand is on her boobs and squishing it like I'm not here!" You rant

San laughs at you. "Babe! I'm sorry!" He puts his arm around you. "You know I can't get enough of my girlfriend..."

You scoff. "I know! Like it's not obvious. I see it every week we go out and hang out!" You push him away jokingly.

"You act annoyed and disgusted by us... but when you get yourself a man... you'll know how we feel." He says, laughing

"IF... I get myself a man. You know I'm struggling here..." you sigh, shaking your head.

"Hi I'm back!" San's girlfriend emerges from the crowd, pulling a tall guy with her. "Got my big brother here."

"Hey! Yunho! Long time no see!" San gets up and hugs his girl's brother.

"Yeah... it's been quite some time now..." Yunho responses. "But I'm back... but... homeless..."

"Homeless?" San questions as they all sit down.

"He's moving back here... he just resigned from his job and looking for a place to live." San's girl answers. "He is staying at my place for now... but my unit is not big enough for the two of us..."

"Right... hmm... I would suggest my building but currently all units are full." San says. "Oh wait! Y/N!"

All of them looks at you with dear eyes whilst you were drinking your pineapple juice.

"What?" You ask San

"By the way, she is my bestfriend... Y/N.... and Y/N... Yunho... Her brother..." he introduces you

"Hi..." you greet, smiling.

"So," San claps his hands, grinning. "Didn't your roommate just moved out?" He asks you

"Yes..." you are lost why the sudden question. But then your eyes met San's girlfriend's eyes. "Wait... are you suggesting..."

"Don't worry about him!" She stands and sits beside you. "His work is nighshift so... when you are home he's not! So it's like living with no one..."

"Huh? Wait. Why my place?"

It's not that you are being rude but it is a bit awkward since you just met the gorgeous guy a second ago.

"Girl... just accept it." San suddenly whispers to you. "He have a ton of friends... goodlooking ones..."

"Are you suggesting to let him stay with me in return to find me a guy?" You hiss at San and then hit him on the arm.

"Don't worry... it's just for a mean time... while he's saving up and looking for a place to move near his work. Which is oddly same area as your place."

San is really enjoying this sitution. You don't like what he is doing. You're guessing he is either playing cupid for you and Yunho or he's trying to make you look good for Yunho so he could also help you find a man.

Wow. You're bestfriend is so desprate to get you laid and have a life.

"Maybe her building have an extra unit?" Yunho asks

"Well... my place is more like a 3 story apartment building... the owner lives at the house next door and the two units under me are all taken." You explain

"Her place is outside the city yet not to far to get to." San explain

"Hers is more quiet than my place. You definitely could get your sleep in the morning." His sister adds

"Really..." his eyes then shifts to his sister to you. "Don't worry... I could pay rent if you like... I could share with the food too."

That's fine you guess. Right? Since it's going to be just for a mean time? What could go possibly wrong of having a guy in your apartment just to sleep during the day while you are out at work...

***

"San!" You hiss while you slowly close your bedroom's door. "I don't think I can do this." You whisper on your phone

"What do you mean?"

"You and your girlfriend missed out an important detail about Yunho... before you let me take him in my place!"

"What detail? Yunho is a nice guy. He's not going to hurt you or anything... he's very kind too and caring. He is a decent guy Y/N."

You sigh as you go on further your room, making a ton more distant from your door so Yunho won't hear you.

"Yeah, he's great. Sure. I get that. But..."

"But what?"

How can you explain to your bestfriend that whenever you wake up in the morning to get ready for your day, not just one time but like a few times now in the past month, THAT you caught your new roommate masturbating. Like seriously moaning outloud and out and about. He does not even try to close his door or anything!

"Y/N? You're still there?"

You snap out of it. You try to stop imagining it all over again. But fucking hell, how can you remove the image and the sound in your head? It is now engraved in your brain and it echoes in your ears.

"Hello? Are you still alive?" San asks

"Yes... I'm still here..."

"So... what is it?"

"Fuck..." you hiss. "Nothing....nevermind... I'll just.... whatever. Yeah... I just hope he finds a new place soon."

You say outloud. It's not like you don't like him now just because of what you keep witnessing every now and then. It's just awkward for you. Awkward in terms of..... you don't know what to do about it. The dirty thoughts building in your mind is too much for you to even handle.

You don't want to be a pervert or a freak imagining him fucking you. Especially with the length he got? Oh dear. Just imagine him pounding you and making you lose your shit.

"Good morning." Yunho greets you the second you got out of your room. He just finished showering and preparing breakfast. "I made something quick.. scrambled and toast..."

"Thanks..." you try to avoid looking at him. Not because you caught him today.

He was not doing it today actually but because, the reason you called San in panic mode is becauss you dreamt about it. And that's not okay. It made you, wet early in the morning. Even for someone who is a virgin and only knows sex through books and movies.

"You're not up early today." He asks before he bite his toast

"Ah... it's my off today." You say as you pour yourself a cup of coffee.

"On a wednesday? Middle of the week?"

"Yeah..." you then add sugar and milk to your drink. "Forced leave actually... since I don't use them much and my boss thinks I'm a workaholic." You take a sip and exhale satisfaction. "He said... I should use a few days and just... relax... plus the weather lately is not good so... it's okay..."

Both of you look outside the window and watch how strong the storm is.

"Yeah... it was a struggle to get to work last night and even get home earlier..."

"Glad you got home safe." You say, "A friend of mine at work lost control during his drive... he almost hit a tree..."

"That's bad."

"It is..."

You glance at him and saw him looking at you. You try to smile it off and ignore the fact that he is starring and just continued to look outside the window and drink your coffee. But then...

"You know... you look cute with your glasses on." He suddenly says. "Hmm no actually... I think... you look sexier with your glasses on."

What the fuck was that?

"S-sorry...?" You can't process what he just said

"I'll go ahead and sleep..." he smiles. "Enjoy the breakfast I made for you." And as he walks pass you, his hand slightly brushes off your ass like he tried to touch it but didn't actually. "Goodnight, Y/N..." he says before he disappears to his room.

You thought that, THAT one thing. That morning is just a fluke like he was just being nice and flirty. But it has no malice.

Because you thought, why? Why would someone like him? Tall, handsome, sexy and someone nice will take interest to someone like you? Someone no one seems to like.

But then... a few more weeks of being getting to know each other more, sharing flirtatious gazes and catching him still masturbating. Well, like probably any smut books you've read, it all ended up having a spicy moment with your roommate.

"Y-yunho.... Yu..... Yunho...!" You are out of breathe and probably about to pass out. That's how tired and weak you are right now. "I... I aaaah!!! I think I'm going to explode!" You cry, grasping onto the headboard for support.

"I can't stop.... I can't." He grunts as he pushes himself in you more and more. "You're sucking me in real fucking good!" He snarls. He is breathing hard and heavy as you are. "Fuck!"

What happened? How did you end up like this? Legs spread open, naked and being pounded by Yunho.

"Fuck!" You moan as he constantly hit your spot. "Yunho! This is fucking insane!" You are tearing up but its not from the pain but its from the high its giving you. It tickles you from the inside.

You never knew sex would be this damn good.

"Shit!" Yunho hisses before he locks his lips to yours. "What the fuck are you doing? You are getting tighter and tigher... fuck so good! Aaah!!" He wraps his arms around you, caging you more close to his body. "Y/N!" He calls your name, "shit... holy shit."

You are not sure what you are doing. But your body is tense and reacting very well to him fucking you.

"I'm dizzy because of the alcohol..." you exhale. "I don't know... how can.... how I even..." You stop to scream as he pounded you real hard and you felt it in your gut. "Fuck!"

"Come for me..." he then says before he nuzzles his face on your neck. "You even smell so good."

Right. You two celebrated your promotion. You're supposed to celebrate with San and his girl too but since the weather is bad and not safe to really go out, you decide to just do it with Yunho. Bad idea was to drink alcohol with him to help you to warm up a bit since it's snowing bad outside. Coz now... it got you fucked and still getting fucked up.

"Oh god! Yunho!" You moan. You actually think you exploded. You feel more wet down there. But Yunho don't seem to mind. Because he's not stopping yet

You got pretty close already after a decent amout of months living with him. But tonight, is another level of closeness. The alcohol vamps up both your horny asses.

You being curious about how sex feels, craving it even if you haven't done it yet ever and him, being vacant in that 'section' for months and months now since he is single and busy. So... the combination of that got you to your position now.

"How do you feel?" He asks, looking at you eye to eye

Your mouth is open and breathing loudly but you still managed to answer him. "A-amazing..."

Your answer made him smile. "I'm close..." he says, "Do you want me to pull it out?"

"Pull out? Why?" You whine

He faintly laughs and then kisses you on the corner of your lips. "We don't have protection. We got so excited that I forgot to grab a condom."

Then you extend your legs and wrap it around his hips. "Don't. I want to know how it feels.... I want to feel it. Everything... give it to me..."

"Fuck Y/N...." he snarls before biting his lower lip. "You're making me more horny by saying that."

"Please...?"

"Hold on then..." he says before he picks up his pace.

He thrusts more faster and stronger. He is running to reach his climax. And it didn't take long for him to break since you clench so tightly whenever he hits your core perfectly.

"Fucking hell!" He gasp for air and your embrace the moment he lets go of himself. "Y/N... you are one dangerous woman..." he mumbles, "fuck..."

"I should be the one telling you that... you seduced me..." you says as you softly kiss his cheek

"Oh baby it's the other way around..." he pulls out of you and lays flat beside you. "The moment you came out of your room wearing my hoodie by mistake..." Yunho covers his face with his forearm, hiding his smile. "I lost it."

You giggle as you find him adorable. He is embarassed right now but when he asked you if could fuck you hours ago, there was no hint of shyness in him.

"Y/N...?"

"Hmm?"

"Can I be your permanent roommate?"

"What?"

"Because..." He pushes himself up and turn to face you. "I don't think I'd allow myself to not have a taste of you every fucking day now..." he leans forward to your chest area and let his tongue swirl around your hardened nipple.

You squirm, feeling it from your boobs to your core. Your cheeks also becomes as red as the cherries on the cake you have left on the dining table.

"Looks like... you're body wants to go again..." he teases while he is still licking you up

"Fuck... My nipples are so sensitive plus it feels so good... I think... I think... I'm horny again..." you breathe. Your hips are already out of control moving just from him teasing your nipple.

"I can go again if you like..." Yunho then kisses you on the lips. "I told you... I'm... the perfect... roommate for you." He says in between kisses

"Really?" You smile

"Yes..." Yunho scoops you up making sure he gets more access to your other boob.

"Fuck me again...?" you ask, eyes closed

You hear him smile. "I'll never say no to that."

#yuyu1024 #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic #atz x reader #ateez smut #ateez x female reader #kpop fanfic #yunho fanfic #yunho x reader #yunho smut #ateez yunho #ateez scenarios #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours #atz yunho #atz yunho fanfic

188 notes · View notes

aemondsvisenya · 2 years

Note

Hello! I saw you were taking requests for House of the dragon and wanted to request something if that’s okay! I had this idea for quite a while but haven’t been able to find any fics like this. I’d like to request a Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader hurt/comfort fic in which the reader comforts him after Viserys’ death. Maybe she finds him having a breakdown and like breaking things so she goes to hug him (with the head bump thing he does when he hugs people bc that makes me melt) and he just lets go for once. I know this sounds a bit ooc for him but I’ve heard that they cut off the scene in which he cried for Viserys and his daughter and I can’t get over it. I believe Daemon is actually more emotional than how we see in the show and that he feels a lot and is a very complex character. I’d love to see a scenario in which Daemon actually can’t hold his emotions in anymore and someone is there for him. Idk I just love him🫶🏻

Sorry for my english, it’s not my first language. Anyway, take your time and feel free to ignore this if it you’re not really inspired, have a great day!

Hi anon! Of course it’s absolutely okay to request! ☺️ I love this idea so much, oh my gosh - I actually did write a fanfic a couple of months back about Daemon in episode 10 (grieving not only his brother but also his daughter and stepson), and I totally agree that he’s incredibly complex. It’s a shame there were scenes showing his complexity cut from the show!

Anyway, I apologise for it being kind of short but I've been busy with work unfortunately! I also apologise if it sucks!

Grieving | Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of illness/death, angst, hurt/comfort, Daemon using his favourite four letter words beginning with c and f

Also, a note: Obviously this isn't canon-compliant - you're in a relationship with Daemon in this fic, so you could assume he's not married to Rhaenyra but... anyway.

The first thought on your mind when you heard the news of Viserys’ death was not of the inevitable power struggle for who would be the one to seize the throne, of the inevitable war and pain for both sides this would cause, or even your own feelings of sadness at the king’s passing.

No, the only thing on your mind was Daemon.

It didn’t take long for everyone around you to busy themselves with plotting how best to help the king’s named heir take the throne that was rightfully hers, Daemon chief among them; to anyone else, he appeared angry, filled with a dangerous rage that threatened to boil over and destroy everything in his wake, his desire for war and revenge clear. It was true, you admitted; it was obvious that your lover wanted to hurt each and every person who had caused his brother pain, who had disrespected that same brother’s wishes, who had held any part in usurping a niece he held dear. There was no question that Daemon Targaryen wanted revenge or that he would be the one to swing the sword as he sought it.

But you knew him well enough to know that there was more than just anger and hate driving him - everyone thought him a heartless man, incapable of loving or truly caring for anyone, but you knew this assumption couldn't have been further from the truth.

As darkness fell over Dragonstone that evening and the council meetings drew to a close, you saw the Rogue Prince leave quickly; his face was grim, mouth set in a firm line and a hand on the sword he kept with him at all times. No one noticed as you silently slipped away after him, too occupied in their own politics and war to care what you did or where you went - you were of little importance compared to the lords, princes and queen, after all.

You knew immediately where he had gone - there was only one place in the castle he would go now after a long day like this, especially in the aftermath of such news. In no time at all you were standing outside of the chambers the two of you were occupying during your stay, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself before ordering the guard posted outside of the doors to let no one else in unless of an emergency; the knight agreed, bowing his head low as you entered the room.

"FUCK!"

A goblet clashed against a stone wall, thankfully empty and not filled with wine that would stain the rugs. Your prince barely seemed to notice your sudden presence, so consumed by his anguish and rage that it seemed to blind him to all else; you tried not to wince as he next overturned a large table, sending the books and scrolls that had decorated it clattering to the floor in a mess. You had known he would take the news harshly: the king had been his older brother, his only brother or sibling for that matter, and while their relationship had been somewhat uneasy over the years, it was clear that they had loved and cared for each other despite any quarrels or disagreements they may have once had.

He let out snarl, kicking a nearby chair. "Those bastards... those fucking Hightower cunts..." He picked up a nearby vase and threw it to the floor; the object shattered upon impact, something else the servants would have to clean come morning. Most would have been afraid by his behaviour, by this violence - but not you. You knew he would not hurt you, that his actions were merely his way of expressing his pain and hurt.

"Daemon..."

He spared you a glance, enough to acknowledge you, before letting out a harsh exhale and stalking over to the window; he sat on the ledge underneath it, resting an arm against the glass and leaning his head against it. Like this, you could not see his face - but you knew what the small tremors that shook his shoulders meant, what he needed from you even as he tried to hide.

"Oh, love..." You crossed the room and without hesitating cupped his face, turning it towards you. "Come here."

Daemon looked at you once more, his eyes glassy. "My brother..."

"I know," You whispered. "I'm so sorry. I'm certain he knew you were loyal to him, that you loved him - he knew it until the end."

"He's gone," He said, voice thick with emotion that he was only now allowing himself to feel properly. "Viserys is gone."

Your heart broke at the pain in his voice. "It's okay, Daemon... you don't have to be strong here, not with me."

There was a moment's pause before he leaned forwards, forehead gently bumping against your chin as he pressed his face into your chest. As your hands started to run through his hair almost absent-mindedly, knowing that this action helped to soothe him, he began to let go for you; his hands reached for the fabric of your clothes as if to clutch onto you, to hold you closer, and soon the tears came.

Very few people had ever seen the Rogue Prince cry, for he hated to be seen as weak, but the love and years you had spent together meant he trusted you enough to be vulnerable in front of. It didn't take long before his tears turned to quiet sobs, muffled by the way he pressed his face into you; all you could do for now was hold him tight and whisper comfortingly to him, to to be there for him by giving him the freedom he needed to grieve his loss.

Daemon would avenge his brother, of this you had no doubts - but for tonight he allowed himself to let go and mourn, and you were all too willing to be there for him when he needed you most.

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #daemon targaryen imagine #hurt/comfort #daemon needs a big hug let's be honest #it feels right that my first request filled is about daemon considering i met matt smith like two and a half months ago

432 notes · View notes

exhuastedpigeon · 5 months

Text

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Not gonna lie, I've been really struggling to write since I wrote my last fic. It kind of feels like all of my writing beans left me when I posted it, but this lil game makes me really want to write.

How many works do you have on ao3? 155 (holy shit????)

What's your total ao3 word count? 682,114

What fandoms do you write for? Currently? Mostly 9-1-1, but occasionally Teen Wolf stuff

Top five fics by kudos: 1. Queer Robins Club 5246 kudos DC | Mature | 4.9k words

2. Dustin's Dad(s) 3783 kudos Steddie | Teen | 5.2k words

3. give me a sign, I want you next to me 2528 kudos Buddie | Teen | 7k words

4. let me see them tan lines 2399 kudos Buddie | Teen | 2.8k words

5. On the Ropes 2349 kudos Sterek | Teen | 5.4k words

Do you respond to comments? Yes! I try to respond to every comment!

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? With a Whimper probably. It's also the only first person POV fic I've ever written lol.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Basically all of my fics have happy/hopeful endings? Maybe there ain't no turning back?

Do you get hate on fics? I have before but not recently!

Do you write smut? I do :)

Craziest crossover: Back Alley Deals is a crossover between Batman and Teen Wolf where Stiles goes to Gotham and ends up hooking up with Jason Todd.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yeah a couple times in the Sterek fandom! I don't found out because some friends found them.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! A few of them have been. I'm always open to translations.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes! There was a Jaytim WIP exchange last year that I took part in.

All time favourite ship? I can't pick one? Either Sterek or Buddie probably.

What's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Right now it feels like all of them, but probably my fic affectionately titled The Repression Symphony where I go through the movements of a symphony and dive into Eddie's religious trauma.

What are your writing strengths? I think dialogue and descriptions probably.

What are your writing weaknesses? Endings are hard!

Thoughts on dialogue in another language? I don't really do it because I only speak English I don't want to use google translate to write it.

First fandom you wrote in? Harry Potter

Favourite fic you've written? I can't pick one!!!

give your heart and soul to charity Teen | 12.5k | Buddie Eddie finally address his Catholic trauma and guilt.

lay your cards down, down, down Mature | 6.3k | Buddie Buck and Eddie wake up married in Vegas

there ain't no turning back Explicit | 28.3k | Buddie Buddie healing road trip, my beloved

every road and every highway led me right back to your door Teen | 2.5k | Sterek A woman gives Derek a baby and then turns to mist, he calls Stiles.

it hurts to hope for more Mature | 15.6k | Buddie Buck experiences a major non-romantic heartbreak and is forced to look at his life in a new way.

Tagged by @honestlydarkprincess @devirnis @dangerpronebuddie @diazsdimples @wikiangela

@jesuiscenseedormir @cal-daisies-and-briars @bi-buckrights @neverevan

No pressure tagging @rosieposiepuddingnpie @inell @sunshinediaz @spagheddiediaz @jeeyuns

@elvensorceress @watchyourbuck @shitouttabuck @thekristen999 @thewolvesof1998

@acountrygirlsfun @actualalligator @tizniz @rainbow-nerdss @eddiebabygirldiaz

@generatorcat @glaciya @withmyteeth @loserdiaz @monsterrae1

@spotsandsocks @underwaterninja13 @steadfastsaturnsrings @jesuisici33 @wildlife4life

and anyone else who wants to share!

#fic writer game #tagged #my fic #buddie fic #sterek fic

49 notes · View notes

mithrilhearts · 5 months

Text

20 Questions for Writers

I was tagged by @elvain! Thank you so much! 💖

1. How many works do you have on AO3? We're currently sitting at 29 (28 for Tolkien, and 1 for OFMD)

2. What's your total AO3 word count? Based on everything I've POSTED on ao3, we're at 659,963 words, but I have plenty of things that I've yet to post!

3. What fandoms do you write for? Tolkien (Bagginshield), mostly. Though I've written for OFMD once, and wouldn't mind revisiting that fandom!

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? May Your Forge Burn Bright / (Take Me Back To) The Night We Met / Dragonhearted / An Ink-Stained Vow / Concerning Dwobbits

5. Do you respond to comments? I always try to, anyway. There may be some that I just don't get to (I'm sorry!)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I am predominantly a "happy ending" fic writer, I don't actually think I've written something that has a sad or angsty ending?

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? All of them are happy endings, if I can help it! I think my favorite happy ending so far is from When Darkness Shines Brightest - the fic overall is so angsty, and for it to have a happily ever after, it makes it worth it.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I have, yeah, and it's not a fun feeling.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I do write smut for Bagginshield, so m/m, and nothing too crazy I don't think? Very simple, very vanilla lol

10. Do you write crossovers? I don't. I DO have an idea for one, though, it just may never actually happen.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have, yep!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Bagginshield, hands down!

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? This is a hard one, I have so many IDEAS that have yet to reach WIP stage, so I don't know. I am pretty hell-bent on finishing everything that's actively in progress, currently.

16. What are your writing strengths? Descriptions, maybe? I am wordy...and like establishing every single little detail if possible. I also like to think the dialogue I put out is pretty decent!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Definitely angsty content/dark themes, battle scenes, but also just overall self-confidence? I think I struggle with maybe being a little TOO wordy sometimes.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I'm definitely okay with it! Khuzdul, for the win!

19. First fandom you wrote for? For actual fanfic, Tolkien!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? I love all of my fics for various reasons, but I think my absolute favorite right now has to be Bookbinder//Songwriter, which is still ongoing. But Dragonhearted is a close second - a mashup of The Hobbit and Beauty & The Beast? Yes!!

Tagging: @myeaglesong @i-did-not-mean-to @scyllas-revenge @blueberryrock @perkynurples @ahufflepuffhobbit @blairsanne @cilil @niennawept @fishing4stars and anyone else who wants to play tbh

#tag game #razzy's rambles #razzywrites #bagginshield #i guess lol

33 notes · View notes

callsignfate · 9 months

Text

I'm not planning on leaving you.

Day Eighteen of Writemas

If you want to see the scheduled posts go here If you want to see more posts like this go here

TW: Mention and talk of injury and hospital, If I've missed any let me know!

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡ Kate quickly discovered your soft spot for her; your quips were less aimed at her as a person and more at her job, often calling her a glorified babysitter or something along those lines.

You were an intimidating person with an air about you that could fill up a room before you even spoke. Your stare was hardened, often appearing angry even when you were simply looking at someone passively or lost in thought over a matter you had to handle.

Kate often heard rumors that you were a mean, sarcastic person with plenty of things to say. You barely listened to anyone and often did your own thing, leaving others to question how you even got into a position above them with more power. Kate knew it was your skills that had dedicated focus since you could ever remember, and you would listen and be quiet when needed.

So when you heard that Kate was injured, you dropped everything to rush to your wife's side, even if it meant being in a yelling match over leaving your men who you knew could handle the job alone early.

The door slammed open after your heavy steps echoed in the halls, your jaw locked tight in anger and fear. "She had a good knock to the head," you had heard before you stomped down the hallway.

"Are you alright?" You said immediately, your tone tight and tense as your eyes looked over her entire figure.

Kate looked up from her hospital bed, a mix of surprise and relief crossing her face at your sudden entrance. Your usually stern expression softened, revealing the genuine concern you held for her. The room seemed to feel your intensity, as if the air had thickened with your presence.

"I'm okay, just a little banged up," Kate reassured, her own stoic demeanor cracking slightly as she took in your worried expression.

You pulled a chair closer to the bed, your focus unwavering. "What happened?"

She explained the mission, downplaying the risks and the intensity of the situation. As she spoke, your features shifted from concern to an understanding nod. You had been in similar situations, and the unspoken language between you conveyed a shared understanding of the challenges they faced.

When Kate finished recounting the events, you sighed, running a hand through your hair. "You scared the hell out of me, you know that?"

A faint smile crossed Kate's face. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. The room seemed to exhale with the shared relief as you sat there, silently providing the comfort and support that your words often struggled to convey. "I know you can handle yourself," you admitted, your tone softer now. "But it doesn't stop me from worrying. You're my world, Kate."

She reached for your hand, squeezing it lightly. "I'm not planning on leaving you alone in this world anytime soon."

You chuckled, a mixture of emotions playing in your eyes. "Good. Because I wouldn't know what to do without you."

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

If you want to see the scheduled posts go here If you want to see more posts like this go here

#kate laswell #kate laswell x reader #laswell #call of duty laswell #laswell cod #laswell mw2 #cod laswell #kate laswell x wife #laswell x reader #kate laswell fluff #kate laswell x you #kate laswell x fem!reader

61 notes · View notes

randombrambles · 1 year

Text

Okay...going to wade into the Sabezra discussion. May the flying spaghetti monster in sky have mercy on my soul...

I guess you could call me a "causal viewer" because, despite being a life long Star Wars fan, I'd never watched an episode of Rebels before watching Ahsoka. I just never got around to it and I've only watched a handful of eps of The Clone Wars too. But anyway once I started Ahsoka I was like "this show will clearly make more sense if I watch Rebels" so I started. I'm almost done season 3 of Rebels as of writing this post. And really loving Rebels btw. Part of me of like "why didn't I watch this earlier?" but on the other hand I don't have to wait for the next episode and I know the major spoilers already so I'm not going to get the rug yanked out from under me.

So back to Ahsoka and Sabezra...the big questions. Did I see the romance "coding" (not sure I agree "coding" is the right word but whatever, that's semantics) in Ahsoka? Yes. Sabine's actions definitely come across as her being in love with Ezra to me. That said I can also see the platonic angle, especially after having watched some of Rebels, so I'm not going to tell anyone they are wrong for viewing Sabine and Ezra's relationship as platonic. These things are subjective and open to interpretation until anything definitively romantic or definitively not romantic happens on screen. And at this point nothing definitive has happened either way on screen. Nobody has been proven right and nobody has been proven wrong yet. Sabezra is basically schrodinger's cat right now.

Next how did I interpret the "like a sister" line in Ezra's holo. Um...full disclosure the first time I viewed that scene I didn't even register that he'd said she was "like a sister" to him. I'd never even seen Rebels at that point so I didn't know Ezra yet. So as a causal viewer my take away from that scene was Ezra meant a lot to Sabine and Sabine meant a lot to Ezra. And I'd be wiling to bet that that was the takeaway for most causal viewers.

So on rewatch do I think the "like a sister" line means that Ezra truly sees Sabine as a sister? No. On rewatch, paying close attention to the body language, and after having watched some Rebels, I think Ezra is both struggling to find the words to tell Sabine how important she is to him and telling her what he thinks she needs to hear in that moment. The problem is that in English we don't have a word to describe someone isn't technically family but who isn't a lover either but who's also way more than "just" a friend. Sister is the best word Ezra can come up with in that moment but you can tell from his awkward body language and his literal scoff as soon as he says it that its not the right word. And yeah I think Ezra thinks that Sabine sees him as a brother so he tells her what he thinks she wants to hear right before he heads of on what very well could have been a suicide mission.

Do I think Sabezra is going to be made canon on Tuesday's final episode of Ahsoka (of season 1 at least). No, but hold on nobody panic!!! I also don't think that means Sabezra is dead in the water either. And frankly I'm kind of mystified as to why Sabezra shippers seem to think that the next episode is make or break for Sabezra when its clearly not? If there isn't a love declaration or a kiss or both (which is what I'm assuming people would interpret can them being made canon) its not like either Sabine or Ezra are going to marry someone else on Tuesday either. And since much of Ahsoka has been set up, meaning not much is actually going to get resolved in the next ep (Thrawn hasn't even left Perida[?] yet! I fear we are ending on a cliff hanger), we'll be seeing Sabine and Ezra again. There's no rush for them to get together romantically (and I know that's hard to hear for people who've been shipping for years but its true).

And further to the "there's no rush" point I actually have to say I that I think its WAY too soon for anything definitively romantic to happen between Ezra and Sabine yet (and again I get how hard that is for those who've been shipping them for a long time). And I say that as both a "casual viewer" and someone who's also watched a good chunk of Rebels now. For the causal viewer who hasn't watched Rebels, which is probably a big chunk of the audience for Ahsoka, they barely know Sabine, have just met Ezra and have only seen them interacting for ONE episode and don't know any of their history. A kiss or a love declaration would seem out of the blue at this point I think. And as someone who's getting into Rebels I still think its too soon. While I agree that Sabine is very likely in love with Ezra I don't think she's admitted to herself yet (that's why Baylan used the word family when he was getting her to hand over the map thingy imho) no way is she ready to tell HIM. And as for Ezra...dude is clueless that Sabine might might have non platonic feelings for him so no way is he going to risk ruining their friendship by blurting out that he's in love with her. And not only that they've been separated for 10 YEARS ffs. They need to get to know each other again before anything romantic can happen, again imho. I want Sabezra to become canon but I want it done WELL. Sabezra is a friends to lovers ship, they are still firmly in the friends stage right now, it needs to be a sloooooow burn.

And finally do I think Sabezra will become canon? Honestly...I don't know. I'd like it to, it would be really nice to have a non problematic ship, especially after the sequel trilogy robbed us of FinnRey and tried to force freaking r*ylo. But I think Filoni and the other powers that be over at DLF (he is NOT the sole person calling the shots here, keep that in mind everyone) are probably testing the waters right now and waiting to see what the audience reactions are like before they make any decisions. I'd be wiling to bet that by the end of Tuesday's episode the door will be left wide open for pretty much anything to happening shipping wise. So we'll just have to wait and see. Time will tell, it always does.

#sabezra #ahsoka show #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #sabine wren #long post #that was long #sorry

91 notes · View notes

crxssjae · 3 months

Text

Chapter One: Anew Revist

Summary:

Jey doesn't know who this "Sami" guy is, as he and Jimmy return to NXT after receiving a request from Hunter.

You can read the other fics from my WWE masterlist here.

"Something About You" is posted on AO3 (here) and Wattpad (here)

Warning(s): 18+, language, it's 5k (or close to 5k idk) words so I had to warn y'all

<- CH.ZERO

__________

"Aight, aight, aight! Y'know what time it is: pick a choice!" Jimmy exclaimed, hands gripped on the steering wheel with a goofy grin.

No matter the travels aboard on the road, their shenanigans never fail. On occasions, the car is in charge along with its revving engine in the background to cut out silence; no exchanges, just peace while tasking their careers weren't new to them.

Three years passed, and on to their fourth year as wrestlers. Life of wrestling can be either a simple rise or a struggle after entering its world; it'll crawl half of the brain firsthand and will refuse to be gone by the end of months. Skilled ones would tell them when they step forward and keep going, it'll be like an endless cycle that'll never break. For the twins, however, theirs were full of balance.

They listened while exchanging jokes— Jey often gets aggravated and nonchalant whether Jimmy mentioned a humorous past he had if they were kids, teens, or a few years back. Despite the never-ending bickering, Jey's spirits are always uplifted with happiness and not isolation, thanks to his brother.

Although he questioned himself before, there's never a simple term why at the end for being bored in the first place.

It's obvious Jimmy tried his hardest not to ruin themselves, so Jey promises he'll be helpful, too. Sort of.

"Here's the catch," Jimmy began. "Which is worse? Gettin' our ass beat each time one of us gets a singles match?"

The twins' expressions mirrored the wince with cringe. One of the worst memories Jey will and will not forget.

"Not every week... but 'kay." he cleared his throat with a chuckle, continuing. "Or 'dat time at my wedding day wit’ Naomi when yo' face got smashed wit' cake 'cause you want s'um strawberries?"

Jey smacked his lips. "You still can't let go 'bout it, huh? I'd rather pick the first one than the second."

Jimmy shook his head, laughing. "At least you got a good taste n' eatin' like it's yo' favorite ice cream."

Jey groaned, earning another laugh from Jimmy. He did not want anyone, especially his brother, to mention the cake situation ever again. "If you don't shut up n’ drive, Uce."

Serene air in the car signaled its atmosphere. His mind wandered into the thoughts now; forty minutes they've been on the road. One of the songs Jimmy chose is playing on the radio, the best way to beat the silence— nevertheless, they still fuss over the best music genre. So far, it went well, unless they weren't acting like little kids. But that's how siblings do.

He was supposed to drive in case Jimmy could have a chance to munch the remaining snacks or snooze; instead, Jey's stomach had other plans for him when it rumbled with hunger. Jey gave up, seated in the passenger's side, chomping some chips and drinking soda, glimpsing at the city he never thought coming back: Winter Park, Florida, where NXT took place.

Its welcome recalled the months and years of September 2011 to October 2012; fans saw Jimmy and Jey as twins who looked alike but couldn't tell apart. No matter the charisma they held, none viewed their tag team potential due to many losses, pushed back in the line like decoys for other duos to receive their opportunity. The unforeseen chances were higher, so Hunter took notice and sent them to the NXT roster for a year and one month.

Through trial and error— from being rookies who received the most unsuccessful opportunities, standing at the back of the line, to a spotlight above them where everyone can gawk and recognize— the beloved Tag Team Champions. Second chances can be remarkable.

Old memories resurfaced, and new memories arose once arriving back to NXT, though the request Hunter gave bothered Jey, so he had to ask.

"Ay, Jimmy," Jey began, lips pursed.

"Yea?" Jimmy responded.

"'Bout Hunter, he said he'd paired us with… wit’ Samuel, right?" Jey questioned, confusion etched across his face.

"Sami, not Samuel," Jimmy corrected, shrugging. "I dunno 'bout him either. All I know is that he beat two opponents in his debut. First was Curt, then was Cesaro."

Jey stared at Jimmy, letting out a huff. "Y’jokin'. There's no way in hell he faced two guys on the same night."

"Not everyone can pull it off. S'um but not everyone. Don't forget, DB did it n' win at WrestleMania with injury."

"But nobody can wrestle two dudes in one night on their debut. Dat's not fair! They'll tire themselves out!"

"Aww, you at least took the time to be worried." Jimmy teased in a fake emphatic tone, grinning like an idiot. "See? I am a good and smart ol' brother! Be proud for once."

Smack the taste out of his mouth would've been another achievement on the list; then again, the scolding from Rikishi's voice was one thing he and Jimmy wanted to avoid.

Another glimpse outside the window of Winter Park, his mind wandered deep, surveying the strangers strolling alongside friends on the cobblestone sidewalk, the cafés, and the opening restaurants. The discussion with Jimmy floated, pushing the peace aside, stuck like glue as his eyes broke contact, narrowing down at his sneakers. Jey hated to admit it— his brother was correct.

In WrestleMania, confronting an opponent in a match while being injured to get a chance to be in the Triple Threat for the main event; after achieving the win in a tired state, having no choice but to face two guys, yet at the end, got the championship and given a standing ovation.

In a debut? That's tough to do. Faced against the first challenger in the opening match and won— while obtaining a second win against another later, without the body being exhausted in one night.

Who would do that for a debut, though? How the hell does Samuel— Sami— manage to keep up?

An upcoming rookie. No matter, he'll meet him soon, put some sense into him, and teach him what and what not to do in the wrestling business.

"Stop thinkin' so much."

Jimmy's voice interrupted his thoughts. Jey rolled his eyes, even if the encouragement was getting him. "Whatever, man," he grumbled.

He steadied when Jimmy sighed, knowing how the response went.

"Look on the bright side," Jimmy said, his tone sincere. "At least we can greet s’um new Superstars n’ not always the many crowded strangers of Sami."

"Can y’stop mentionin' Samuel? Sheesh, man, y’makin' it worse," Jey retorted, didn't bother to correct the man's name.

"Sami, it's Sami. You callin' the name wrong."

"And? Whatchu gon' do?"

Jimmy groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Pettiest brother ever."

In which he is.

__________

Jey and Jimmy did not expect crew members and their coworkers to scramble across hallways to rooms like dozens of mice— spotting an area to hide. Compared to 2011, it used to be a small group in a developmental brand— now evolving in a slow, smooth, recognizable process.

Fast-paced greets and conversations, out of breath due to in-ring wins or losses, alongside admirations of wrestlers from those who are fans had a chance to say hello and given advice; reeled in the surprise shoved on the face without blank stares. For a moment, Jey gaped, taking in the changes, then shifting back to his usual mood, keeping things professional.

One year after leaving the NXT roster, fresh faces came from left to right, while some stayed longer due to Hunter's approval. Nothing questioned if locker rooms got bigger. It must've stayed the same, still having decorations for each individual among logo signs.

Meaningless to think, some are keeping the old stuff as a souvenir.

Inside their room, well, compared to the men's main roster, the twins began the usual routine of face paint. Before ending up at Winter Park earlier, both had the final agreement: use green to apply and white as an outline to match their current attire. It will never feel correct if the colors are mismatched.

Tedious could be, Jey managed to get it done. He did the outline on the right side of Jimmy's face, and even though his trembling right hand struck a nerve, he stroked with green without smudging the white. Of course, blaming Jimmy is one hundred percent on the list for not settling down, yet Jey is like him, too. Once he completed the right side, Jey passed the materials to Jimmy, letting him color the left side of Jey's face.

With a couple of deep breaths and small jokes his brother can come up with, Jey's mind eased with peace—

The sound of a creaking door startled the twins. Jey whipped his head, ignoring a strip of white on the nose Jimmy did by accident. Neither thought the reminder to knock before entering.

"We're busy, get out—"

Any words stuck in his throat after uttering, brows rose in surprise at the presence of the man, whose hazel eyes glinted in welcome like a golden retriever vowing to introduce himself. Who is he? A rookie? Why does he have no manners?

His ginger hair was scuffled with a towel encircling his neck, exposing bits of hair on the slightly above-average physique; wrists wrapped in white tape— and red-black elbow pads, arranged to get in the ring, double-checked to straighten the tights. What a sight to behold, Jey would say.

He doesn't understand. Why did he keep a smile on his face? No smugness, all of it is dotted with kindness and shyness like he regretted barging in without speaking.

How stupid would it be if Jey yelled to leave?

Embarrassment. That's what he thought.

"Sorry," he spoke, fiddling his thumbs. "If you're busy, I... I can leave and wait."

Jimmy grinned, first to interact. "Don't be. It's all good." His voice raised before the man could close the door, seeing him look back. "Yo’ name's Sami Zayn, right?"

"Um, yeah." Known to be Sami, nodding in response. "That's me."

Jey stared in disbelief. "Yea, right, you're not Samuel."

"Sami, not Samuel." Jimmy forced himself to correct the name, much to worsen.

"... Sami," Jey grumbled through gritted teeth with a forced smile. He does his best not to snap at his brother in front of him. "Can you please knock next time without being—" He paused, searching for the right words, and responded, "Rude?"

"Sorry. I won't do it again," Sami answered, rubbing the back of his neck and letting out a soft giggle. "So you guys are the Usos?"

"Yup!" the twins responded in unison.

"Jimmy with the right paint, and Jey with the left paint?"

To Jey's astonishment, Sami got a sharp eye.

No matter who either fans, crews, coworkers, or a boss like Hunter— almost all call out the wrong brother's name with or without face paint. Jey would've guessed Sami had experience with twin brothers, sisters, or siblings. He has to give him credit.

As for Jimmy, he had a wide smile. His face would be hurting the next day if stretched too wide.

Here we go, Jey rolled his eyes, unamused.

"Thank god!" Sami sighed in relief. "I was worried one of you would say I'm delusional. There are a couple of people I've met who look alike and get names wrong—"

"Hold on, pause, take a breather," Jimmy interrupted, and Sami's lips sealed tight. "No need to get overwhelmed, my dawg. Y’good, we don't bite at all."

Yet.

What a chatterbox. Jimmy had the urge to call Sami "his dawg" straight away. It'll take forever for Jey to get into trust like his brother did. Hard to explain; he didn't have to be swooned by the person flashing a bright smile he had never known in his life, then become great buddies the next day without the intention of wanting to be friends.

All fixated on the time, the questions can be asked later. Jey tapped Jimmy's shoulder twice to bring his attention.

"Tell Hunter we'll be there," Jimmy told Sami.

"I will, and nice to meet you both," Sami responded and turned his heel before closing the door behind him. Jey knew from the tone he was eager to be paired.

Ten minutes closed in, the preparation needed to be quick.

Jimmy managed to wipe the white mark off Jey's nose with a thumb. He refocused on painting Jey's face while noting the conversation earlier. "Why can't y’just be nice, Uce?"

"I dunno. Why y’call him 'my dawg' when we only know a lil' 'bout him?" Jey mimicked Jimmy's friendly voice, receiving a glare from his brother, but he couldn't care less.

"'Cause he's nice! What y’want me to do, be grumpy n’ sayin' get off my ass? Y’wanna be rude 'cause y’couldn't get his name right."

"Nuh-uh, don't start dat comparin'. I'm— I'm tryna learn."

"Sure, sure, correctin' yourself is not workin'," Jimmy mocked.

"Y'did the same wit' Pops, too, so you can't deny."

Jimmy couldn't help smacking his lips. He finished the outline, taking the green paint to color the rest. "Glad I ain't a hothead like you."

"Says someone who yelled timeout for five minutes n’ sayin' they cheatin' for two."

Embarrassment crept Jimmy on the trail. Lips curled into a sly smirk as Jey watched him squirm and shake his head in denial.

"Be quiet n’ lemme finish," Jimmy grumbled.

Jey snickered. His mind wandered back to Sami; a misunderstanding earlier, or so thought, except Jimmy. What an odd, odd wrestler.

He can ask later if there's a chance. Until then— everything is pushed aside. Disappointment is not on his agenda; prestige is.

__________

NXT Tag Team Champions, The Ascension: Konnor and Viktor. Their duo efforts are no joke to others who overlooked them.

A year and six months. Their respect was earned, putting in lots of hard work and doing their best to beat the duo during the tag match. It's unfortunate, left a bite in the dust after the Ascension won at the end. Punctured a gnaw as a mistake of failure for the twins. Though lessons go over throughout their years as a tag team.

Konnor and Viktor are sincere people, so is another man grouped along. Jey's brows knitted with wonder. What's his name again?

His eyes lit up: Corey Graves, the Savior of Misbehavior.

Isn't his gimmick name? Does it mean to protect the misbehave or cause the misbehave? Why does a gimmick grind Jey's gears into confusion?

Corey is a couple of new guys Jey and Jimmy met. Had a short decent chat earlier, and he isn't bad at all, just a good person. A man like him can leave a scar to become the future champion with a cold-hearted gimmick like that; no pun intended.

Christcontrol blared from the speakers outside the arena after the producers played the theme. Boos rippled across the crowd outside, voicing out their hate for villains as usual. Jey felt his shoulder brushed against Corey's, eying at him with an impressed look. The surge of the gimmick came alive once Corey exited the gorilla position and entered through the curtains— his smug smirk danced between his lips.

Jimmy leaned against Jey. "He has potential." His voice lowered in a whisper. "One look, he gets into it."

One look. It felt like two or many looks of skill. For charisma, Jey is unsure since he met Corey a few minutes ago.

Rebellion rang in. Konnor and Viktor strolled past Jey and Jimmy, gripping the NXT Tag Team Championships. Four of them exchanged nods as the twins watched their coworkers head out. The intimidation never wore off the Ascension. Dominance revealed in front of coworkers and the fans' gaze.

This theme is unrecognizable to Jey when Lower the Boom chimed. A firm pat on the shoulder caught attention and he glanced at Sami, who nodded to him, then Jimmy. Luck is needed now, but for Jey, can it be good to trust that man?

For the audience's reaction— it seemed so from the cheers.

Sami let his lips spread a wide smile like everything was positive. "See you in the ring, champion."

With one thumb up, he went out there in front of dozens of fans, itching to see him in action.

Jey froze, taken aback at being called "champion". He doesn't get it. What is this man trying to do? Taunt him? Throw him off the bus?

Was it praise? Champion. But Sami never said tag team champion, only champion in one word. Only to him.

Sami must've said the same to Jimmy. Jey doesn't know. His mind spiraled in bits of confusion.

"Don't lose focus, Uce." Jimmy's snickering snapped Jey out of his thoughts. One half of the Tag Team Championship belt already encircled Jimmy's waist. He patted Jey's shoulder. "C'mon, get on cue."

Jey wanted to tell Jimmy and shout at his face that it was none of his business, though the producers signaled they were next to go on. He'll worry later as he adjusted the belt and followed him.

__________

The Usos' theme, So Close Now, became familiar. Two years in a row. Fans caught up along the dance and pyro, except it's not used as of today, the arena is moderate. The passion behind each person in the audience never burned off. Their roaring cheers rippled the muteless air.

Commentators would show excitement for live TV and the energy of the announcer in both.

The twins strolled from the entrance ramp to Sami as soon as possible. High-fived; Jimmy exchanged a smile, and scurried ahead while Jey, being bouncy, left behind, glancing over at Sami. Words exchanged, unheard over the crowds' wooing, the corner of his mouth quirked a smile told all.

Took a quick second as Sami whipped his head in Jey's direction. Determination wisped in his dilated pupils with no surge of uneasiness. "Let's go." he mouthed to Jey.

Brows furrowed, Jey lacked reading lips, though nodded in response rather than asking now. He followed Sami without further excuses.

The trio has gone into the ring, and their presence is known. So Close Now faded, voices of cheering fans expressed. The referee double-checked each man in while the twins handed their tag team belts to the staff from the ringside for safety. Six men stared down for only a few seconds; Jey, Sami, Corey, and Konnor went on the apron. Jimmy and Viktor are first.

The match began once the bell rang. Spark of tiny hope yet doubt in his heart Jey wouldn't botch the whole thing. Hope neither of them mess up.

Viktor, out of the blue, lunged. Jimmy caught on without effort. Smooth evaded to the side, a focused gaze at Viktor's tensed body and huffed in his nostrils like a bull. Both readied their next move and darted. Hooked in a grapple struggle— Viktor locked Jimmy in a rest hold. Not tight, made sure a breath of air was needed. Other seconds came and released the hold. Viktor ran the ropes and bumped Jimmy with his shoulder to the mat with a thud.

No joke. Skills were swift, chemistry well and strong. Jey can tell; this agitated the fire. Mystified why is fascinating to learn.

Running the ropes again. Viktor increased speed, unknown that Jimmy caught up; a chop to the chest slowed the time. Jey's praises caught Jimmy's attention, looking over his shoulder with a confident grin.

Jey gave a careful eye on Corey. Tagged in, slithered into the ring for Viktor to back out. The killer stare sent shivers down Jey's spine, acting as "the Savior of Misbehavior" character quite well.

"Tag me!" Sami leaned in, esteem oozing in his tone, yanked the white rope from the turnbuckle pad. His hand reached out to Jimmy. "Tag me in! Come on!"

Unable to hold back a smirk, entertainment danced in Jey's heart. He'll give this man credit.

Not bad, Samuel. Not bad.

Tag made with Sami after Jimmy tagged out. "Olé" chants were vocal, unavoidable to make it known. Bit of a stare down, Sami pranced with Corey, circling the ring. Ache for an attack, his fingers flexed, calculating Corey's next move; not long for Corey paced back to the corner where the Ascension was, tagging out with Konnor. A slow eye roll Sami did. Disappointed, yet unsurprised.

Jey snorted at Sami's reaction.

Slow, cautious step in from Konnor, glared down at Sami, four times tall. The struggle didn't drawl for either of them. Konnor's foot booted him in the abdomen and hammered his fist into Sami's back, forcing him to be unbalanced. An elicited grunt from Sami, being shoved to the corner. He stumbled away while composing him, unaware Corey tagged back in, much to Konnor's dismay.

Perfect. Sami glimpsed up and dove towards him. Flurries of fists were unloaded, wild. Pounce after pounce while Corey scrambled for escape. Jey knew the task Sami had in mind: get his hands on Corey Graves. Managed to shuffle against those fists, Corey tagged Viktor.

Fewer seconds pass in an expedition. Double team from Sami to Jey, Jimmy to Jey, all in a cycle tag team technique. This isn't bad. Their teamwork became likable, how it steadied so far. Better yet the sudden teamwork between him, his brother, and of course, Sami.

Still, he isn't giving in to the "trick".

I know what I'm doin’. I know what I'm doin’.

He doesn't.

Sami tagged him, there's victory coming forward. Yet Viktor's malicious clothesline broke Jey's attempt to further offense onto the floor, flattened. His luck lessened. Mussitation of curse words sputtered to himself, strained grunts, the dizziness emerged back and forth; Jey shook it off.

Stay awake, keep resolute.

Backgrounds into muffles. His vision clouded, the figures of Sami and Jimmy blurry. Hand stretched, doing his goddamn best to tag either of them. Only to be slipped away, being hoisted in the arms of Viktor before being carried into the corner.

Another tag is made. Jey blinked, shut his eyes, then opened, glancing at who Viktor tagged: Konnor.

Beatdown. Powerslam. His arm was hovering off distance, reaching them.

"C'mon, Uce! C'mon, Uce!" The shouting voice of Jimmy is inaudible.

Jey's heart pumped ear to ear while quickened in his chest, stumbled back to his feet. Gaze fixated on Jimmy, on Sami. Their mouths are moving, now a blur. Konnor clotheslined him to the top rope onto outside the ring.

Seconds to lengthy minutes. Viktor's boot dug into Jey's chest for four seconds. Withered in agony, Jey was still on the task of tagging either Jimmy or Sami. Mind the tag, never the match. Viktor must've switched with Konnor, so another beatdown was received again.

A scoff escaped his lips. Jey got a favor in return and swung a slap at Konnor to the face. Another slap didn't affect the chance, Konnor swung him down. Jey's mane gripped hard through Konnor's fingers, scalp burning in anguish, wincing before a punch to the side of his head. His body being pressed against Konnor's and held for the pin.

"One! Two!"

Kickout. Good.

Now hooked in a rest hold, Jey inhaled a couple of times, gnashed his teeth, fingertips marked on Konnor's arms. Thought of a plan, a light bulb clicked an idea though risky. His feet staggered around to stand, elbowed to the stomach. This didn't give anything he had due to Konnor being unfazed, being thrashed to the mat.

Jey Uso the punching bag. Ridiculous. He tried not to become one throughout this match. Jimmy's words. Sami's chants. Fans clapping for encouragement. Not yet, not yet he won't.

Corey's turn. Again, Jey is unsurprised.

Stomp, after stomp, after stomp. Another beating, Corey pushed him down onto his back to a second pin. The referee slid for the count after communicating with the other men to stay in the apron.

"One! Two!"

Second kickout. Hard to tell if it's a miracle.

Rest hold again. Broke free with ease, Corey shifted into a headlock, both onto their stomachs. One arm of Jey scrambled, hand clenching, unclenching, not to tap out too soon. It's obvious he didn't pass out while coming up with a strategy. Rolled to his back, shoulders down.

"One!" The referee banged the mat, keeping a watchful eye on the pin. "Two!"

Third kickout. Corey never released the headlock, though.

"Come on, Jey! You got this!" Sami yelled with motivation, at the same time distress filled his tone. Tapped the apron, alongside Jimmy who shouted in sync.

No I don't, man!

Liar.

Twisted his body, enough for his knees on the mat, glance hardened at Jimmy. Outreached, fingers wiggling— a little more— a little more inches. One fist to the spine from Corey halted Jey and earned an erupted, helpless yelp. A lost chance for the hot tag, given the advantage for Corey tagged out, Viktor tagged in. Immediate stomps, further beat-ups.

Plenty of stamina left in the tank. He fought back.

Harsh chop to the chest, Viktor returned one. Jey did the same. The whole short trading chops fest will be left with marks by the time they finish. Seeing stars, his vision blurred in.

All those moves Viktor gave turn inside out, his body boneless, slumped, close to rolling out the ring. Didn't give a chance as Viktor tugged his arm, dragging him with ease like a corpse, going for the pin.

"One!"

It shot Jimmy's anxiety and pressure on the roof. "Get up, get up!"

"Two!"

Kickout again. Would've been two in a half, but Jey couldn't care less. Thank Jimmy.

Viktor locked Jey's head, tighter around the neck, unable to breathe through the throat pipe. Exchanged words in a low voice, given the next move. Jey squirmed, clawed, kicked, anything to evade the headlock like the other two.

Claps. Jimmy's voice of encouragement. Sami's words. Helpful for him to change the game, this match.

A couple of punches to the belly, able to break free. Jey lifted Viktor into a backdrop. God, it's good for him. He can tag either of them, it'll be a breeze.

Lost opportunity again. Came out of nowhere, Konnor grabbed him by the hair and shoved him. A single realization never perked his expression, Jey took the chance to run the ropes, pulling a schoolboy pin on him, shoulders down.

One. Two. Kickout.

His brain circulated. Without thought, he scrambled at the same time along Konnor— a quick slap right to the temple, stunning him. Slouch on the mat trembled, Jey focused on Jimmy and Sami motioning to approach the noise. Konnor stood in ease. With a grunt, tried to manhandle and stop him from tagging. Jey didn't let up, throwing Konnor across the top rope, even if his strength was less than his.

Glimpsed over at Jimmy, then Sami— or Samuel— he can make it.

Go to the noise. Go to 'em, c'mon.

Beaten for seven or ten minutes. Somehow survived, somehow pulled it off. He needed a tag from either of them. A slow crawl to his brother, his partner. Give himself some rest a bit and let those two take over.

All of a sudden, a grasp on his ankle. Whipping his head, Konnor tried to prevent it again. But Jey is quick to think, nudged him using his feet, and goes back to crawling. Absorbed into tagging, unaware Viktor leaped over and struck Sami, then tried to attack Jimmy.

Jey looked up, wide-eyed. An opening in front of him, Jimmy avoided Viktor's hit. Snuck and crawl between the legs, he smacked Jimmy's hand— a hot tag was made, left the ring with a roll.

Successful yet pure exhaustion.

Chest heaving, sharp breath, back on the floor. Looked over to the staff who gave a signal if he was okay, and Jey gestured a thumb up. Flipped himself onto his stomach, his gaze caught into Sami's. Is he telepathic to him if he's okay? Doesn't look like Sami's expression full of agony, seemed fine.

He understood his stare though didn't. Time is little and it is despised to wait between questions on what happened. The only evidence Jey saw was the burn of passion in Sami's pupils. Credit earned for him pulling off like a cat earlier. He should've teased him.

Took one blink of Sami rushing over to the apron, tagging in with Jimmy. Where the hell did he receive all this fuel from?

Set eyes on the chemistry between Sami and Jimmy choreographed. Twenty minutes early, they're strangers now buddies all because his brother called someone his dawg. Bought into awe, and seemed to have a decision on whether or not to connect with the rookie. Will talk to them later; finishing comes first.

Jey arose and went to the ring steel steps. Make silent eye contact with Sami, both clasped their hands, tag has been made.

Viewing Sami and Jimmy's chemistry one more time, lips quirked up a soft smile, excitement bloomed within his chest. He climbed to the top rope, steadied as he locked on. Inhale, exhale. Leaped, executed an Uso Splash, his body slammed onto Corey, going for the pinfall.

One. Two. Three.

Bell chiming. The match is over.

So Close Now replayed for the second time on the speakers aboard with the fans' pop for the Usos and Sami's victory. Jey soaked in the noises, leaning against the ropes, mumbling a cuss word that the referee was unable to hear. Hair damped with sweat beading over his skin, face paint fainted a tad.

Felt a metal tap on the shoulder, Jey drifted to his one half of the Tag Team Championships, lifting his head; Jimmy's triumph grin holding the belts and Sami's blithe expression. The fact suspicions about Sami made a second choice.

Stood tall with the help from Jimmy, handed with the championship, he wondered a question: should he hug him?

His twin embraced Sami without hesitation. Thanking, giving compliments while exchanging smiles. Come to think of it, Hunter would be disappointed if Jey never did, so he had to for the sake of feeling his wrath.

Fuck it, I guess.

He joined in the fray and embraced, patting Sami's back. Normal, still normal, fine. A pair of lips grazed against Jey's ear, causing an eyebrow raise.

"You did a great job. Thank you."

Astonishment overtook his face.

Those words are going to be a full-on field day from now on.

__________

Thank you for reading!

Tagging: @southerngirl41 @coolpandasblog *@bbkquartz @rosiel77 *@katiewayne2020 @afterdarkprincess *@invictusrey @harmshake @wrestlingprincess80

If your username is in bold with an asterisk, it means Tumblr won't let me tag you.

Taglist for samijey/jeysami shippers those who wanted to be tagged for my future fics of samijey-> here

#sami zayn #jey uso #samijey #jeysami #sami zayn fanfiction #jey uso fanfiction #samijey fic #wwe fanfiction #s.a.y-verse fics #crxssjae writes

20 notes · View notes