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thecoochiefairy · 5 months ago

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baby phat. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 4.K word count. blackfem!reader, pregnant!fem reader/kink, drabble, onyankopon, grumpy!onyankopon, sweet!onyakopon, dominant!onyankapon, masturbation, phone/facetime sex, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, creaming, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, kinda aggressive dirty talk, just a fine ass black man, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ my brain is foggy from real life so just wanted to give y’all a lil something to leave you hot and bothered. if i gotta suffer, you do too. love you.

THE SCENT OF CASHMERE VANILLA, COCOA BUTTER AND BROWN SUGAR WAS WHAT YOU USUALLY WOKE UP TO. Unfortunately, that scent was missing within the bed. You sat up tiredly as you took a deep breath, raising your fingers over the smooth swell of your belly—you were now eight months pregnant, and your husband wasn’t home as much as you wanted him to be.

With a sigh, you pull yourself out of bed to prepare for the day. Onyankopon had been in contract with the New Orleans Saints for only a couple of months now. Becoming pregnant was an accident—but spending the rest of your life with him wasn’t the worst thing in the world. You’d practically traveled to every part of the state to be there with him for games—a baby wasn’t too far along after.

The only unfortunate part of this situation was his absence. With him just being signed, he was around the state with press conferences, practices, essentially in the hazing part of his successes. You were happy for him as you knew this was all he wanted, but you missed him, and so did the baby growing inside your belly.

Thankfully, you did have the support of his mom, who was there for you as if you were her own daughter. She was there to help you with your daily routine—feeding Ony’s two large Dobermans since she was terrified of dogs, going with you to your ultrasound for the day, and dragging you into every store she saw with infant clothes. You enjoyed your time with her—but you still missed Onyankopon.

It’s not like the two of you didn’t communicate. You had your ways. Texting when he wasn’t busy, phone and video calls into the night, pictures of daily activities, or all of those options in more…intimate times. It opened up a new exploration of your relationship as you were more shy to the nastier suggestions, but as more time was spent away from him, you’d do anything to show how much you missed him.

Speaking of, it was your favorite time of the day. Your daily phone call with him was closer to the evening time, the sun beginning to set within the state of Louisiana. He was only a couple of hours away as they were in Mississippi, days away from preparing to play their kick off game against Ole Miss—but it felt like he was across the country at this point.

You adjust the bow that ties against the halter of your yellow sun dress, silver cross sat between the swell of your breasts and constantly hardened nipples due to your hormones. You were going for a more natural route with your hair, flip-over sew-in under midnight black curls, dragging all the way down your back, framing your flushed and freckles cheeks.

You back yourself up a bit as you’re seated within the master bedroom, blood red IMAC brightening against your caramel skin, camera reflecting back at you as the call rang. When it connected, you were met with the familiarity of his hotel room—seeing as the room was slightly dim, the TV’s light against his brown skin, full lips even more delectable through the grainy camera. His durag protects his hair, goatee connected perfectly, jawline prominent under his stoic gaze. He was edible.

You wave, “Hi, baby! Can you see me?”

“I can,” he mused.

His deep timbre voice was comforting as he greeted, “Hey, my pretty ass baby. Look at you,” His eyes flickered over your face, breasts, and your swollen belly, making your thighs press together, “How you’ feeling?”

You sigh, pulling your hair behind your ear, “I’m okay. You’ like my dress?”

Your voice was soft, already feeling the tiniest bit insecure as you’d just gotten back into form fitting clothes. You’d cried as your body changed in the earlier months.

Onyankopon smirks, shifting on the chair where his knees spread, “Pretty as fuck, Mama. Bout’ to bust that shit open with all that ass,” he grunts, which makes you giggle as he continues, “I miss you.”

“I miss you more, baby,” you exhale, trying not to make yourself upset, “You need to come home soon. Your big ass wolves that you call dogs are scaring your mom.”

“Oh? Now they’ my dogs. You ain’t say all that when you wanted them,” he retorts, licking over his lips.

Your eyes follow the movement of his tongue as you shift on the chair. He looked handsome as ever. You can’t help but stare at his full lips, the small dimple in his cheek, and the dark hue of his eyes as he leans towards the computer desk, pulling out rolling paper as he prepares to roll a blunt. You weren’t sure why, but it was always the sexiest thing to watch.

You blink as your eyes scan the screen, clearing your throat a bit as you raise an eyebrow, “They’ ain’t drug testing y’all?”

Onyankopon shrugs, “It’s preseason, Baby,” he murmurs as he begins to break down the tree on the rolling paper, “Besides, all I’m doing is smoking. That ain’t so bad.”

“Mhm,” you roll your eyes, “Well you better cut that ain’t so bad habit before our little Pumpkin comes,” you run your fingers over your belly.

Your eyes run across his mouth as he licks over his joint, sealing the end, “Don’t call him that shit. That’s my son,” he grabs for his lighter, “My lil’ man been kickin’?”

“Your lil’ football player has been punting in my damn stomach,” you blow out a breath, “He’s moving down to my bladder. If he shifts anymore, imma’ need a walker.”

Your fingers grip around the cross hanging between your breasts, “…You’re my Pumpkin too, y’know.”

A chuckle leaves Onyankopon as he brings his freshly lit joint to his lips, inhaling as he holds off the urge to laugh. A cloud of gray leaves his lips as he blows.

“He gon’ have my long ass legs.”

His eyes flicker up momentarily from the screen, making it fog, “You my pumpkin, too,” he repeats back, exhaling into the camera.

You didn’t want to interrupt as you watched him—the haze of his red eyes already becoming apparent. He’s sexy. Fuck.

Your fingers absentmindedly trail along your belly, feeling your cheeks become warm as you bring your eyes down. You ask softly, “How was practice?”

"We got a new tight end, nigga think he somebody. But besides that, same ol'. Just drills and shit really,” He banters, shifting forward in his chair as he stares up at you, "You know I'm bored as hell right now, Mama."

You could see the haze in his eyes grow as he slowly takes another hit of his joint—Uh oh.

You narrow your eyes, curls swaying over your shoulder, “Oh, am I boring you?”

"You?”

Onyankopon leans back against the chair, exhaling into the computer. He grins a bit as the camera is engulfed in smoke, "Nah. You could never, baby.”

You watch him with curious eyes as he shifts in the chair, groaning slightly which makes your mind wander—The only thing you could see was his face, shoulders, chest and what you could assume to be his stomach. He wears a white long sleeve, clinging to his muscular frame. You knew all the tattoos that hid under his top. But something was under the computer table…

You give him a soft, awkward smile. You know how he got when he was high. This was your husband, yet he made you nervous like a schoolgirl.

You then say, “Oh!” Standing as you search for your purse, ass directly within the camera as you question, “I got the ultrasound photos, baby! Wanna see?”

Your husband hums, low and deep as he says back to you, “Mhm,” You feel his lustful eyes on the screen, “Come show me.”

Your hands tremble as you search, almost excited for him to see the photos. Or maybe you were just nervous—again.

You drop the brown Telfar on the side of the desk, it only takes you three steps to be in front of your computer again, holding the black and white printout up to the screen.

You can hear a faint laugh as Onyankopon murmurs once again, “Bring it closer, girl.”

You fully sit down again, leaning forward as you point your acrylic nail against the sonogram, “See, that’s his little toesss, and that’s his little fingers!” you giggle, “You see?”

Onyankopon’s face breaks out into a smile as he groans slightly, “Goddamn. I lied, he got my fingers. Musta’ got your toes, Mama. Can’t see ‘em too good.”

You hum, “Guess he won’t be too good for basketball then,” you tease.

Onyankopon snorts at that as he says, “Basketball she says— You know what? Just ‘cause you said that, he’s not playin no sport. Imma’ get lil’ man his own studio.”

You giggle a bit at that, “My child ain’t finna’ be no damn rapper. You can kill that thought.”

“That’s ‘cause he’s gonna’ be a singer. Got your pretty ass voice, I know it.”

You roll your eyes, “You’ just flirting, boy. Cut it out.”

Onyankopon chuckles at that, but he doesn’t deny it. His eyes fall back to that serious gaze he had before, a soft tint of red within them.

“You’ got me thinking about you.”

His voice, it’s almost like it’s own way of peer pressure. Your hands run over your belly anxiously as you blink, “Me?”

"Yeah,” Your husband draws out, eyes flickering up and down the screen in anticipation, “Don't play all shy.”

You can see him shift in the chair as he leans back, and his eyes stare back at the screen. You can tell he was waiting for something.

At the same time, your body becomes…significantly warm. Before he was signed, you and Onyankopon had sex almost every single day. You couldn’t get enough of each other, never did. Your mind flashes to those memories, and your thighs rub together a bit. At the same time, the door to the master bedroom opens, allowing you to exhale for a second.

Gray curls come into view, brown skin and familiar eyes that belonged to your mother-in-law. She held a bowl of food with a smile.

She walked towards the camera, “Hey, Honey-Bun, you alright in here? I made you some jambalaya—“

She pauses, looking towards her son on the camera as her eyes immediately narrow, “I know your big headed ass better put that joint away.”

Onyankopon groans as his mother comes into view, “Yes ma’am,” he coughs, hovering a fist over his mouth. He was still high—which you could tell based on his flushed appearance and tone. His mother was very anti-weed, so he always tried to hide it as much as possible. You can see some movement under the table, which you assumed was Onyankopon putting the blunt away.

“Why’ the hell do you think it’s a good time to be smoking, Onyankopon? They don’t drug test y’all?”

Oh god. You knew your mother-in-law could easily begin complaining, and you wish she’d walked in at any other time as you placed a calming palm against her arm.

Onyankopon clears his throat, making his face close to the screen so you could really see his eyes, “Ma—Ma. I’m in the preseason. Ain’t got no games for a couple days. They ain’t doin’ that, they ain’t doin’ all that.”

“Preseason? The ‘hell does that mean? Are y’all playing or not? If you’re not playing then why can't you come back home to check on your mother and your pregnant wife?” She comes closer to the camera, you can’t help but sigh lightly to yourself.

Onyankopon groans again as he leans back in the chair, “Momma, I’m not finna’ get into it with you again. You and Baby know. You jus’ gon’ talk over me if I start speakin’ anyway.”

He can’t help but tongue his cheek momentarily, and your heartbeat increases with just his simple movements—but you’re brought back to reality when his mother speaks up even quicker.

“Are you at least eating? Did you get the care package I sent you? I got all your soaps, and that little teddy bear you had as a baby—you never went anywhere without Mr. Snuffles,” which makes you giggle at the familiar toy, something Onyankopon hated being reminded of.

He mumbles, “…I’m good, Momma, got your care packages. Lawd. Stop with all that…”

“Thank you for the food, Momma,” you give her a smile, “I’m not super hungry at the moment, do you mind leaving it in the fridge?”

Onyankopon’s mom gives a smile back, “Of course. I’m actually gonna head back home for the night, do you need anything else?”

You shake your head, “I’m perfect. Just gonna’ keep talking to Ony for a little while longer.”

Onyankopon sighs as his mother says her goodbyes, exiting out of the room. Now, you notice his eyes flickering up and down your curves, which makes you squirm under the spotlight. Onyankopon then repeats, “I miss you bad as fuck, girl. You miss me?”

You hate yourself for the emotions that produce randomly at times. The conversation between your mother-in-law and Onyankopon, the way he made you easily giggle, the imagery of his warmth surrounding you but not actually being there—it didn’t feel the best.

The dark fluff of your cat-eye lash extensions flutter as you nod your head, using your knuckles to lightly swipe your watery eyes as you nod, “I miss you so much, Ony…”

Your husband’s face softens slightly. He hated to see you so emotional due to his absence, and would rather be anywhere else. But you always supported his dreams, and wanted to build the perfect life for your baby boy. He mutters, “Stop all that crying, baby. Wipe ya’ face. You know I’ll be back.“

You shakily sigh a bit, nodding your head as you kneel your face down to let the tears fall that way, “I—I know, it’s just hard sleeping without you,” you sniffle, “Lil’ Pumpkin likes when you rub my stomach to sleep…”

Onyankopon sighs, “And I love rubbin’ your stomach, baby.”

He then says, “Soon as I get back, we gon’ sleep for a whole week. Ain’t nobody gonna’ bother us. I’m all yours.”

Your heartbeat increases—Onyankopon always had a way to make you emotional without even being near. It also made you somewhat…aroused.

“I miss you like crazy. I miss ya’ voice, I miss ya’ smell. I miss ya’ pu—“ he cuts himself off before he goes into that territory, which makes your body heat up slightly.

You watch as he brings the blunt back up to the camera, pulling another drag of smoke, the move always so efficient as if it was nothing. His eyes are back to being low—it makes you shift your legs again. He cuts on low background music to play, and a familiar song catches your ears, She Will, by Lil Wayne.

You hum softly, “You love this song.”

You take a moment to recall why the song gave you such a sense of Deja Vu. But as you remember, you halt.

The memory was at a family event— Onyankopon’s going away party. His family irritated him by being loud, over talking and messy—a black family’s usual antics. He’d managed to sneak downstairs with you to the car for a moment of silence, the two of you smoking, the song faintly playing in the back. You’d…remembered this vividly.

Your mind glazes over the moans you produced in that backseat, the sound of your skin connecting, your vulnerability, your legs trapped over his shoulders…

Your mind comes back to reality as you’ve been watching him this whole time. Your hand had somehow made its way to your chest…rubbing over your exposed skin, clutching your pendant again.

“Mama,” Onyankopon murmurs as he brings another drag of the blunt back on camera, blowing the smoke into screen as he spins back to his sentence earlier, “‘Got me thinking about you bad as fuck.”

He was high as hell.

Your eyes run over his large silhouette as he leans back against the chair, knees spreading out further as he makes himself comfortable, head tilting back a bit as he watches you.

Your mind wanders again, back to that song—back to that night. Your mind can’t stop. Your head is spinning with the memories, it physically makes you whimper, squeezing your thighs, tugging your pendant fully.

Your husband’s gaze grows in lust as he leans forward a bit, whispering, “Talk to me. Whatchu’ thinkin’ about?”

The hand clutched around your pendant squeezes a bit tighter as you glance towards the camera, “The song…makes me think of that night in the car…” you softly admit, rubbing your fingers over your collar bone, your fingertips bringing you warmth.

He brings the blunt back on camera again before a stream of clouds leaves his lips, “You miss that night, Mama?”

You nod your head, your entire body now hot. You could feel your nipples poking through your top again, aching in a way that almost becomes painful. Your thighs are so tightly together, as you adjust the seating position, you grind against yourself a bit, making the tiniest gasp pull from your lips.

Onyankopon groans through the screen, and you can hear his voice say, “You in our bedroom?”

He was becoming impatient.

"Go to it. On the bed," he murmurs, "Hurry up.”

“Too far from you, Ony,” you pout, bringing your hands against your breast, giving a squeeze to them, trying to relive how full they feel.

There's a pause before a deep exhale leaves his lips. His tone goes deep again, "Go."

You shudder as you stand, your legs feeling numb. You tilt the monitor more towards the king sized bed, silky black comforter set along the oversized mattress. You crawl along the sheets, turning towards him again, your knees along the bed as your dress begins to hike against your soft thighs.

His eyes flicker downward at you, and you can feel his gaze run up your smooth, caramel skin. His gaze burns into yours, giving an intense look.

You hear his voice again, “You gon’ do what I say?”

You nod your head, lightly digging your teeth against the pink of your soft lips.

“Always listen to you, Ony…”

Your man growls, “That’s right, ‘cause you good. You gon’ be good for me?”

Your hands squeeze the flesh of your breast, your nipples never being this sensitive before your pregnancy. You gasp in a soft tone, but the sound is heavier. You nod your head, “Bought something I w—wanna show you…”

You hear his breathing pick up, “Yeah? Show me,” he murmurs. “You look so muhfuckin’ good right now, baby.”

You reach behind you as you pull a toy from under the pillow—it’s pink, silicone, almost looking like glass. Big, just as big as him.

“Pretty like you, Daddy…”

"Look at that," You hear a deep noise escape his lips before there's a shuffling noise, you couldn't exactly make out what it was—then it was followed by another noise. This one you recognized; the strings of his sweatpants. His dark pink tip slaps along the sculpted muscle of his stomach, practically making your mouth water.

“You like it?” You ask softly.

You take the object and graze it lightly along your body, seating yourself fully along the bed. You’re at the most perfect angle to spread your legs.

“Yeah, baby,” he grunts, letting more of his body come into view as he’s in a reclined position. You can begin to see his toned chest come into view when there's some shuffling noises again, his breathing picking up, “Love it.”

You pull at the string of your dress, letting the halter fall over the swell of your belly, material hanging in between your stomach and hips. You were now bare at the top, hair swaying over your body and face as you shuddered a bit, “They’re starting to fill with milk, baby… sensitive…”

You can hear a deep, deep groan echo in the screen, almost sounding frustrated, “Fuck. You’ playing right now. Put that shit in your mouth.”

You bring the toy up to your mouth, spreading your full lips apart as you let it slide on your tongue, coating it with your saliva. At the same time, you spread your legs, showing off the glistening arousal bedaubed on your pussy. You were wet.

“Fuck, baby....” he growls lowly, beginning to stroke himself, “Pussy so pretty. I can feel that shit on my tongue. I’m just slurping your shit up.”

His voice is rough with desire, each word punctuated by a squeeze of his fist around his thick tip.

“Get you’ a pillow for your lower back, baby. ‘Know it hurts sometimes.”

You listen, pulling the satin pillow behind you for a bit of support, feeling the small ache in your back beginning to decrease.

“Comfortable, Mama?” He questions, you nod your head.

“Good. Rub that dick all over your clit.”

Your eyes flutter shut as you imagine his lips dropping kisses against your clit. He’d go from your inner thighs, teasing you. He’d watch as you’d squirm with every suckle of your skin, your entire body shuddering as his hot breath fanned over the hood covering the pink nub, being pulled up by his lips, being kissed by his tongue. You brush the toy against your clit that throbs, spreading your legs a little more as you whimper, lightly dragging the tip in circles on your upper pussy. The sound it makes, your pussy keens.

His hand begins to pick up speed as he pumps through his fist, “You like that, huh? Rubbing this big ass dick all over your clit?” He grunts, his voice strained with pleasure, “Slap that shit on your pussy. Get them’ pretty ass eyes rolling back."

He knew everything about your body. Including the way you’d spasm at this action, so you listened, slapping the heavy toy against your clit, your legs trembling in response, eyes rolling to the back or your head. You groan a bit, head falling back, eyes fluttering before you bring your attention back to your arousal that pools beneath your thighs, pulling your legs wider to show the gummy pink of your pussy.

The anticipation builds as you tease yourself, circling your clit with the toy, then dipping it inside your opening just enough before withdrawing again.

“Why that shit so fuckin’ wet already?” His jaw clenches, head tilting back, fist rotating on his tip, dragging down every couple of seconds.

Your folds wrap around the toy every millisecond as you slide the outsides of it against yourself, teasing so much that your eyes haven’t stopped rolling back.

The swell of your belly shifts a bit as you whine softly, “Ony…”

“Shut the fuck up,” he snaps, “Ain’t even put that shit in yet. Where’ my lil’ nasty bitch at? She would’ve been droolin’, dropping herself all on my dick. Just drenching my shit. Quit playing.”

“Right here,” you whimper, nodding your head, digging your teeth back into the plump of your lips. Instead of dipping the toy in to tease yourself, you take a palm to pull one of your legs up in the air, using your other hand to drag the toy towards your opening, separating the aching stretch of your folds as you begin sinking it’s tip inside.

You’re gasping as you watch it go in, unable to see more, yet you feel every inch swelling your walls, disappearing under the sight of your large belly.

You whimper, “It’s in there, baby.”

"Get it all the way in, baby. Bury that shit deep," he commands, pumping faster now, his breathing ragged. You’re dropping it in, inch by inch, your inhale deep as you pull it halfway out, toes curling as you sink it back in, an air pocket gushing as your arousal sops around the pink toy.

Your eyes are fluttering chaotically as you shudder, “Fuck, agh—“ you don’t stop, fist brushing over your clit as you’re dropping it down into you.

He’s talking, "You remember when we first met? Couldn’t even handle my fingers. Now look at you,” A low chuckle escapes him, "Now I got you stretching that pussy out. Dick just drop, drop, dropping in that shit…”

His words trail off into a grunt as he quickens his strokes, “You my lil’ freaky ass bitch, huh?”

You whimper, pouting at the way your pussy cries its tears, sobbing out in waves of arousal that pool each time you pull the toy out, painting the pink silicone white. You squeal lightly as its balls slap against the outside of your pussy, the fleshy sound splattering up more of your wetness as you petulantly whine, “Yeah, Ony…”

"That's right, baby. Take that shit like a good lil' slut," he says, voice dripping with lust as he watches you work the toy deep inside yourself, “Rubbing that pretty ass clit while you're stuffed. Fuck, you look so damn good."

He picks up pace, stroking harder and faster as he nears his own climax, “Gonna give you all this fuckin’ nut. You want it?”

“Want it,” you tremble, in and out, the toy’s just going in you at this point, disappearing without a trace, lost in your pussy. You’re just gushing. The sound is like a mouth blowing raspberries into one’s palm, fleshy, nasty.

“Can’t cum without you,” you pout, “Need you….I need you,” you’re opening your mouth, the sob coming deep from your chest, fucking yourself even harder, one leg shaking violently as it’s held in the air, eyes possessed as they’re rotating. You loved these moments—but they were never enough. Not even for him.

“You don’t need nothing,” He groans, his words coming out more raspy, “Keep that pussy wet as fuck. I’m coming.”

#onyankopon x black y/n #onyankopon x black reader smut #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x you #aot onyankopon #onyakapon #attack on titan smut #aot #onyankapon #anime oneshot #onyankopon smut

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gotta-winwin · 5 months ago

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nana tour seungcheol x reader

a/n: this was a request asking for seungcheol during nana tour - it deviates slightly but i hope it'll still satisfy the itch! we love ourselves a loyal man who knows what's up.

(1)

You supposed Seungcheol not being able to follow his group mates to Italy was a blessing in disguise. Of course, you knew how disappointed he was, watching as he bid farewell to them as they boarded the bus, waving goodbye with a melancholic look on his face.

“I’m sorry you can’t go.” You mumbled against his shoulder as you leaned against him, looping your arms around his waist, careful not to knock against the crutches on either side of him. “Italy sounds fun.”

Seungcheol had always been the sacrificing type. “It’s okay.” He assured you, pressing his lips against the top of your head as he spoke. “It means I get to spend two weeks concentrated solely on you.”

(2)

You could tell Seungcheol was taking full advantage of his two week break, trying to do anything and everything he couldn’t with his busy schedule. Lounging on the bed as you watched him game, you couldn’t help but snap a few photos to commemorate the moment. It was rare to see Seungcheol this relaxed, with nowhere to be and nothing pressing to do. He was purely just Seungcheol, your gentle giant of a lover and protector of your heart.

(3)

Seungcheol makes it his own personal mission to complete your checklist of places you’ve never been with your boyfriend. It doesn’t matter if the two of you will be recognized in public, he’ll rent the damn museum if he has to. The two of you spend the two weeks doing every cringey couple activity Seoul has to offer, as he tries to make up for all the times he’s had to choose work over you.

(4)

You find it hilarious when Na PD calls you instead of Seungcheol for one of his quiz games, quietly shushing the boys on the other line as you flip the camera, Seungcheol asleep with his arms draped over your stomach. He’s snoring away without a care in the world as his members laugh through the screen. You answer whatever silly question they had been given to guess, thanking Na PD for bringing the boys on their first real vacation since debut.

(5)

You’ve always said that your boyfriend also had a boyfriend. Since you had ever known him, Seungcheol and Jeonghan had always come as a pair. One could not exist or function without the other, this being evident as you would often walk into Seungcheol facetiming his other other half. Jeonghan had also cheekily given you the job of sending him what he deemed as a ‘Cheol selfie’ per day, claiming that it wasn’t fair you get him all to yourself and that he deserves compensation.

(6)

The night before his members were due to return to Korea, Seungcheol had pulled you aside, distracting you from your book as the two of you laid in bed, the sky outside already a dark shade of blue.

“You know I love you, right?” He whispered, snaking his arms around your waist like second nature.

Of course you knew. He never once gave you even a moment to forget.

“You know I love you more than anything, right?” Seungcheol nosed against your stomach, his face pressed against the bare skin of your waist. “And that I’d quit this job in a heartbeat if you ever asked.”

He knew you’d never ask that of him though. “I started loving you knowing that your job and its odd hours came with you.” You reminded him. “I know what I signed up for.”

“These past two weeks made me realize I want more.” He mumbled. “I don’t want to never be home when we start a family.”

Your lips curled into a smile, looping your fingers through his hair. “You’ve thought of that?”

Seungcheol nodded against you, tugging you closer. The vows you had made each other, even silently, echoed soundlessly around the two of you.

Seungcheol would choose you over anything in the world.

#seventeen imagines #svt #svt imagines #seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt fluff #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fic #svt fic #svt scenarios #svt scoups #scoups x reader #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #seungcheol x reader

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16wolke11 · 27 days ago

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Actual Girlfriend - Lando Norris

A/N Okay, okay you guys convinced me to post it! I am not hating on any the drivers girlfriends/friends/situationships or whatever, and this shot was written before the GP on Sunday, just updated slightly (:

WORDS: 2529 _____

I knew what I had signed up for when I started dating Lando Norris. Late-night calls due to different time zones, meeting in secret, and trying to stay out of the media's focus. He is a public figure and I am just about to graduate from university. Keeping our relationship private felt safe at first, romantic like in a novel, but the downside came around quicker than I thought it would.

Monaco was the downfall. The weekend, I couldn’t even attend if I wanted to. My final exam was coming up in the following week, and as much as I wanted to be there for Lando, I needed to sit this race out. Lando was understanding, even encouraging me to stay home and ace my exams, but the distance hurt deep down in my chest.

Lando made the effort to keep in touch with me. He texted me in the morning, between the sessions, and I tried to reply to him and keep things light, but it felt harder and harder with every short message or blurry picture he sent over.

Good morning, Love. Quali is today. Wish me luck?

I smile softly at his message, him acting like I might forget how important today is and I can only think about that smile on his lips when he asks for some luck.

Stay out of the barriers (:

It feels cold-hearted even to me, but I can’t bring myself to write anything else. My chest feels hollow, and I am unable to display the affection he deserves, but I hope all of this will fade when we are back together.

By the time qualifying came around, social media was buzzing. Usually, I try to keep myself away from gossip pages, but some pictures draw me to them. There is Magui, laughing in the paddock with some friends, even spotted with Lando’s parents and my heart sinks. The pictures aren’t overly confirming, but they bring on even more speculations. Fans are picturing things with the crumbs they collected over the last months.

Oh god, Magui is with McLaren!

They are so soft launching.

This is a hard launch for their standards.

May I present to you Lando “Magui is just my friend” Norris.

Guess the rumours were true for once.

Every comment feels like a knife being dragged over my heart. I know that it is just fan theories, Lando being the one loving me, but it still gnaws at me. This is what comes with dating someone famous: rumours and everything I should keep my distance from. But as much as I want to ignore it, every time I open any social media, it gets worse.

The algorithm is laughing at me while showing me more pictures of Magui around the paddock. Being in the team hospitality, lingering around Lando’s crew and even more pictures with Cisca and Adam. I stare at the last picture for a whole minute before locking my phone, throwing it face down on my bed.

I didn’t say anything to Lando, not wanting to seem jealous, insecure or clingy. But the ache is real, and it doesn’t fade during the day. It doesn’t fade when Lando gets pole, breaking the lap record in Monaco and even though a smile comes to my lips while seeing him celebrate, it doesn’t soothe anything.

That night, my phone lights up, a FaceTime call from Lando and I answer it, managing to put half a smile on my face.

“Hey there stranger.” Lando greets me, grinning widely, but his eyes are tired. Curls still damp from the shower, and it looks like he is ready to drop onto his bed and sleep until the race is about to start tomorrow.

“Look at you, breaking records and snatching pole.” I tease him, feeling genuinely happy, no matter how much my heart aches.

“You should be here.” Lando says, not accusing me of something, just simple honesty. “It's not the same without you.” He adds and it doesn’t help the aching feeling in my chest.

“You have company.” I say, tilting my head slightly, trying to indicate his parents being around him all the time, but it comes out way too bitter. Lando’s smile drops and my stomach twists, knowing he can sense my discomfort through the phone. There is a pause, dreading and long enough to sting.

“She is just around because of mutual friends and stuff. You still know that.” Lando speaks up quickly, before a sigh leaves his lips. “Right?” His eyes scan my face, like he is trying to figure out through the screen if I am serious or not.

“Yeah.” I just hum and we look at each other for a moment.

“I miss you.” Lando whispers and I hate it even more that I can’t be with him. That this dam exam has to be this week and not when there is no upcoming race weekend. But I worked so hard for this degree, and I will finish it. After that, I can go to more races, hopefully, being right by Lando’s side.

“I miss you too.” I admit, I feel the urge to explain something to him. “It just feels so hard this weekend, Lando. Seeing and reading all of this. It makes me feel like a dirty secret.” I feel bad for my feelings and know I shouldn’t be, but the pressure on my shoulders does get less with telling Lando.

“You’re not a secret.” Lando rubs the back of his neck. “You are mine and I like to keep you safe.” My heart flutters softly. Lando always had a protective side. When it comes to his family and when it comes to me. No harm through the media and the fans, especially after what happened with his previous girlfriend and every girl he just looked at for a little too long.

“Just…just do well tomorrow, okay?” I whisper, not wanting to keep this topic any longer. We will have to speak about it again, but not now. I don’t want to pull his attention away from his race and Lando’s face softened.

“For you? Always.” Then he grins softly, and everything feels like it's going to be okay. We hung up not long after, the screen going black again, drenching me in silence.

I wake up early on race day, even though I don’t want to. Having way too much time now to cover before the race starts. Revising for my exam doesn’t help, wandering around in the apartment makes waiting even worse and even though I usually don’t even watch it, I put on the prerace coverage, hoping it will help me to be distracted. Celebrities walk over the grind, Monaco shining in all its glory and then the race is about to start.

Part of me doesn’t even want to watch the race, but in the end, I didn’t move from the TV or shut it off. Curled up on the couch, cameras showing the grid for the last time, before the lights go out. Just in the first corner, I fear the race is over for Lando when he locks up, but manages to keep his car safe. My heartbeat is way too quick, but slowly the nerves die down.

Monaco isn’t the most exciting race when it comes to overtakes, but every little mistake can cost the people on the grid everything. Lando drives around with ease and with every lap nearing the end, lets a proud feeling rise in my chest. He is going to nail it.

The day would be great if it weren’t for two sentences from the TV commentators that stick with me.

“And there is Lando Norris' girlfriend.”

“Lando Norris' parents and his partner.”

All the happiness that was building up falls apart when Magui is displayed on the screens and the commentators are calling her Lando’s girlfriend. It feels like betrayal and tears rise to my eyes. I don’t even want to cry, but it seems to be the only thing that soothes the ache in my chest.

Lando wins the Monaco Grand Prix for the first time, and I cheer at the screen, softly, not as loudly as I usually would. I feel broken, but still full of pride, with a mixture of disbelief and joy. He did it.

The camera follows him when he jumps out of the car, when he is hugged and kissed by his parents. Loving to see them so affectionate, but still, heart-aching about what happened. The podium ceremony went by like a blur and I can’t bring myself to turn off the TV, just staring at it, until my phone buzzes.

It's Lando.

Please watch the post-race interviews.

I sigh, eyes focusing back on the screen, making the sound a bit louder, when Lando appears on the screen, still grinning widely. Curls damp by sweat and champagne, but he bubbles with happiness.

“Hi Lando, congrats on the race win here in Monaco.” Nathalie Pinkham starts, sounding like a proud mother while speaking to Lando.

“Thank you, Natalie.”

Then they talk about the race, making me zone out, until I hear one particular question.

“Is there anyone particular whom you would like to thank?” Lando pauses for a moment, eyes flickering to the side to his PR, before he starts to answer.

“I want to thank so many people.” He laughs softly and starts his list. „My parents, I love you; they gave everything for me, and they are the reason I am where I am.” It's sweet to see Lando’s love for his parents, and not just because of the cameras, but also in private.

“McLaren, my team and everyone believing in me.” Lando continues and then he hesitates, like he has to think about his next answer.

“Well, and of course, thank you to my love, who unfortunately couldn’t be here today, but supports me every second, no matter where she is.” My heart stops, before softly fluttering at his words. Without saying much, Lando just revealed that Magui is, in fact, not his girlfriend. I need to blink a few times, reminding me that this is reality.

“She probably screamed at the TV for a bit today.” Lando laughs and I snort softly. Usually, I do scream at the TV for a bit, but it wasn’t so bad today.

“Your girlfriend couldn’t attend today’s race?” Natalie asks after a short pause, like she had to sort her head, probably thinking the same as everyone else. Lando is taken, but not to whom everyone thinks he is.

“No, she is busy with preparations for her final exam at university next week and being at the racetrack isn’t exactly the perfect environment for learning for something so important. So, we decided she will sit this one out to ace her exam.” Lando explains willingly and for the first time this weekend, I feel warm again. A few happy tears slip down my cheeks because now it feels like everything is going to be okay again.

By now, my social media is flooded with pictures from Lando’s win. Him being hugged by his parents, cheering with the team, and celebrating with Oscar and Charles on the podium. It is like the grey clouds have been blown away by celebrations, showing the happy sun again. And I do come by one of the gossip pages again, slightly hesitating to click on the comments, but open them anyway.

Lando is silencing all the rumours about Magui by dropping an even bigger bomb.

He seems to be so in love!

If I was his girlfriend, I would be so pissed at the TV commentators right now.

A bit later, my phone buzzed again with an incoming call from Lando. and I take it without hesitating.

“Hi.”

Lando’s face fills up the screen, eyes still sparkling with happiness, hair messy and him still in his race suit. I can hear the music nearby, cheery voices and people in the background.

“Hey.” Lando says, voice tired in the best kind of way.

“Hi.” I say again, quieter this time. “You did it.”

Lando just grins, “We did it”, making me frown. This is his big moment, his big win.

“I didn’t do anything?”

“That's not true.” Lando’s gaze is soft on me and even though there are celebrations for him, his attention is fully on me.

“You were the one driving 300km/h. You are the one who won Monaco.” I remind him that it was all his effort. Steering precisely around the track, not crashing, not losing his nerves.

“And I was only able to do it because of you.” Lando hums, and just when I want to protest, he continues. “You think our late-night calls didn’t help me sleep? That your texts before quail don’t help to clear my head?” I doubt that I have that much of an effect on him, but if it makes him feel better, I believe him.

“I watched everything, couldn’t move.” I admit how my eyes were drawn to the TV, not willing to let any bit slip by without my attention.

“I felt you.” Lando promises, “I mean my engineer was yelling at me to stay focused, but it was your voice telling me not to crash over and over again.”

I laugh softly, remembering that I told him that before the qualification, “Sounds like something I would say.” Lando hesitates for a moment, eyes flickering around and I tilt my head to the side, waiting for him to speak up.

“And I meant everything I said in that interview. Keeping you private was safe, but at this point, it hurt you more than it protected you.” I blink slowly, trying to keep the tears back this time, but one still rolls down my cheek. My heart, which has been aching the whole weekend, feels like it is being hugged by Lando’s words, making the harsh cuts heal bit by bit.

“I love you.” I whisper with my whole heart and Lando’s smile gets just a bit brighter.

“Says that again.” He mutters and I gladly follow.

“I love you.”

Lando sighs, “Oh, I love you too.” We look at each other for a moment, both faces filled with adoration and happiness.

“Are you going to get any sleep tonight?” I ask him, already doubting it. He won Monaco, many of the drivers live here and partying after Monaco is kind of mandatory.

“Probably not, too many people want to drag me to a club.” Lando says, hand gesturing around and I can only imagine how many people want to party with him tonight.

“Are you going?”

“Forcefully,” Lando grins, “But I show my face and then sneak away again, back to the hotel.” He explains, making me tilt my head to the side.

“To do what?”

“Call you again, talk till the sun rises.” His soft voice, his words, the love in his eyes make all the pain go away. Cause in the in the in I am the one he loves with his whole heart. And just like that, the distance between us doesn’t feel so wide anymore.

#f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #f1 fluff #lando norris fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #hurt/comfort #f1 hurt/comfort #ln4 imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 x reader #lando norris fluff

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seobinghard · 7 months ago

Text

₊‧ʚ・ gullible ⊹ ̟˖ ʚ

18+ MDNI

dom!yunho, dom!mingi x afab!sub!reader ⭑ tags: best friend!au ⭑ tw: corruption kink, size kink, dubcon, manipulation, subtle sub/dom space, somnophilia, praising, finger sucking, unprotected sex (pls use protection), creampie. lmk if i missed anything. don't like, don't read. ⭑ summary: you should've known better.

best friends!yunho and mingi love having you sit in between them.

whether you're on the subway, at the club or on the couch binge watching old hollywood movies. you just look so small and fragile with your cute glossy eyes and pouty lips, they can't help but feel the urge to protect and be close to you all the time. sometimes, they'll sneak their arms around your waist or slip their hands between your thighs, large palms gently caressing your bare skin, but that's only because the movie is scary and they want to help you relax. right?

when you've had one too many drinks at hongjoong's afterparties, yunho would beckon you to come over and sit on his lap. "y/n, c'mere." you'll snuggle up to him like a little kitten and lay your legs on mingi's as he absentmindedly fiddles with the straps of your heels, hooded eyes flitting from your lips to the curve of your breasts.

from afar, people are staring, whispering, but you don't care. because yunho and mingi always tells you "they don't know us, baby."

and you believe them. you believe them completely because best friends always tell the truth, right?

yunho and mingi are always there to catch you when you fall.

flat tire? calling yunho. "i'm on my way, angel." bad day? facetiming mingi. "talk to me, pretty girl." every time there's a minor inconvenience in your life, you're running straight to your favourite boys because they just know how to handle anything and everything with such ease and responsibility. problems fixed. cheque signed. "it's okay, angel, we got this."

no one loves you like yunho and mingi.

they love you so much.

so when mingi tells you to wear his t-shirt and only your panties to bed, you happily nod "okay!" with no second thoughts because he only wants you to feel comfortable when they cuddle you to sleep, right? that must be it.

i mean, you do this all the time; cuddling. it's a way for them to feel closer to you; 'bond' with you, as they put it.

you love cuddling sessions with yunho and mingi, they're always so gentle with you. your petite frame a perfect fit between their broad chests, legs the perfect length for mingi to slide his knee in between as he spoons you. your skin is so soft he could tear you open like a present but he wouldn't do that. no, not to his sweet girl. so instead, he snakes his arm under your shirt and pulls you into the warmth of his body so you can feel how much he loves you.

"mhm, so perfect for me," he whispers in your hair, fingers playing with the thin lace of your panties just above your hip bone. you smell like fresh cut roses. dreamlike. dewy.

"you like it when we touch you, angel?" yunho asks calmly, tracing his finger along your jaw and down your neck. face propped on his elbow, he watches with a gentle smile as you soften under his touch, nodding and purring at the affection you're receiving from both men.

"i like it, yuyu."

"you'll do anything for me and mingi, right, baby?"

"mhm, anything for yuyu and mingi," you slur, fatigue creeping up your spine.

you feel mingi smile against the nape of your neck.

something about the air feels tight and different tonight but you don't question it. you don't want to question it. especially when yunho stares at you with so much tenderness your heart's struggling to breathe. it's intoxicating; their scents—clean and musky like the faint trace of skin.

as the night unfolds, your eyes flutter shut as sleep takes over.

you love best friends!yunho and mingi. nothing in the world comes even close to the euphoria of being the centre of their worlds, the object of their adoration.

so when you wake up to soft pants in your ear and pulsating pain between your legs, will you still love them?

"f-fuck."

mingi's low groan snaps you out of your haze as you gradually slip back into your senses only to find your panties slid to the side and your best friend's hard dick inside your barely stretched-out cunt.

the sound of skin on skin cuts through the quiet of the room as mingi slams his hip into your ass at a pace so desperate, so rough it leaves you clawing at yunho's sweater with tears in your eyes, "y-yuyu? what's happening?"

yunho looks at you with eyes you've never seen on him before—chilling and dark with lust. he's quiet, eyes trailing the way your breasts bounce with every hard thrust forced upon you from behind. soft moans slip past your lips, melding with his best friend's strained groans and the squelchy sound of your sopping cunt.

you're sobbing. from pain or pleasure? you can't think. all you know is it feels ... so–

"told you she likes it," mingi chuckles, voice crazed and raspy, one hand sliding up to grab at your neck, firm and possessive. "yeah, you like that, baby?" he grabs your chin and presses a sloppy kiss on your lips, "good girl. such a good fucking girl. tell yunho you like being woken up to my dick inside you. go on."

"i– ngnhh– i like–" your mewls are cut off when mingi slips two fingers between your folds, toying at your clit like it belongs to him. like you belong to him.

"oh, my angel," yunho coos, caressing your cheek before slipping his thumb inside your mouth. "you're so naughty."

the way he said it made your chest wring in denial. you want to tell him 'no'—no, you didn't ask for this. but who are you to act like you're not enjoying it when you're a spluttering, dripping mess in your best friend's bed.

"shh, why're you crying?" his words are so sweet yet mockery drips from every syllable. "now, now, don't cry, my angel. be good for mingi."

yunho revels in the sight of your teary cheeks as your tongue laps around his thumb, drool leaking down your cheek and onto your pillow. god, you're fucking beautiful, he thinks, feeling his dick swell with every helpless whimper you make. he grabs your jaw and slips his tongue in your pretty little mouth, sucking at your bottom lip, and swallowing any confusion you're still harbouring, because you're not meant to have any.

the rules have been clear from the start; you belong to them. not their fault you're too gullible to see what's in front of you all this time.

"you said you'll do anything for us, remember?" yunho breaths.

"y-yes— nngh—" you whimper, feeling the knot tighten in your stomach. "mingi, i can't—"

you're close and mingi can sense it from the way you're clenching around him.

"fuck, fuck, fuck— cum for me, baby. that's it ... that's it."

it only takes you digging your nails in his hair and letting out a scream of his name for mingi to cum. he empties inside you and drops his head on the pillow, letting out a guttural groan against the back of your neck as you both come down from your high.

"such a good girl," yunho whispers, stroking your hair lovingly, "always so good for us."

his smile fades.

"now turn around."

m.list

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enwoso · 8 days ago

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right swipe, right time | alessia russo

-> based on this request🩷

masterlist

alessia didn't mean to download tinder.

well... okay. technically, she did. but it was through pure peer pressure. elite-level peer pressure.

it was one of those rare, peaceful nights on england camp. no media obligations. no early morning session. just music, snacks, and eight girls crammed into one hotel room in matching lionesses training hoodies, flopped on each other's beds with face masks and football socks still on.

"admit it," ella said, sipping from a bottle of lucozade. "you're hopeless. you haven't even looked at anyone since—what, 2021 when you got with that girl in-?"

"oi," alessia replied, shoving a pillow at her hoping the rest of the sentence wouldn't follow. "not everyone needs a tinder girlfriend and a backup date."

"i need to have a backup," ella scoffed. "just let us be your wing women."

chloe popped her head up from the floor. "you, though, less? you're like a nun with abs."

"excuse me?"

"i'm just saying, you've got biceps and absolutely no one to appreciate them. it's tragic really."

the teasing escalated until ella snatched alessia's phone, cackling. within minutes, the group was huddled around it, swiping through profiles with ruthless commentary.

then chloe stopped. "wait. wait. look at her."

the girl on the screen had sun-warmed skin, a long sleek ponytail with a silver chain around her neck and a smile like it came easy.

the profile read:

y/n, 26.

📍aussie in london

dog mum, football, coffee, beach, sarcasm. swipe right if you can deal with my accent😉

alessia blinked. "she's australian?"

"even better," leah said, not even looking up from her phone. "less commitment, more fun." ella laughed and swiped right before alessia could protest.

it was a match. you messaged first.

you: ‘so... you're the type who let her friends swipe for her?’

alessia: ‘and who told you that??’

you: ‘you did. in your bio. it says not my idea.’

alessia: ‘touché.’

you: ‘how do you feel about a flat white and great company.’

you were clever. funny, but not in the exhausting ‘trying-too-hard’ way. you admitted your accent made ‘no’ sound like ‘naw,’ were fluent in football slang props to having a football mad brother and dad growing up, and had some pretty strong opinions about oat milk.

on the second day you sent a photo of your dog - a tan mutt with ridiculous ears, one permanently flopped sideways.

you: ‘this is roo. he's 40% kangaroo, 60% drama queen.’

alessia: ‘did you really name your dog after a kangaroo?’

you: ‘duh what else am i supposed to name the most aussie thing i've owned while here in london?’

alessia laughed so hard she nearly dropped her phone.

you and alessia talked for hours. that night. the next day. the next. alessia didn't want to jinx it, but something about you stuck in her head.

so when you casually said on facetime, "i know a place that makes coffee almost as good as back home. want to judge it together?", alessia couldn't stop herself before she said yes.

⸻

you arranged to meet just outside of st albans, outside a quiet café nestled between a vinyl shop and a bookstore that always smelled like cedar. the place had one of those wood-paneled signs and hanging plants framing the doorway.

you were already there when alessia arrived — leaning on the railing, sunglasses tucked onto the top of your head, wearing black jeans, a red nike hoodie with a white tee poking out from underneath the hoodie making you look so effortlessly put together.

and you brought roo. a worn blue leash in one hand as roo sat obediently at your side with his tongue lolling out like he owned the street.

"so this is the infamous roo?" alessia asked as she crouched down to scratch behind his ear with a wide grin.

you grinned cheekily, "he wanted to see if you were worth my time."

"and?"

"jury's out, depends on how good your coffee order is"

inside, you and alessia sat at a corner table by the window, roo laid under the table, head on your foot like a sleepy chaperon.

the cafe was cozy, a little too warm with soft music playing and the smell of fresh espresso lingering in the air as the conversation flowed as if they'd known each other longer than a few days.

the two of you talked football, you had played through your youth before switching to the more fitness route of personal trainer. talked music types. favourite food. best goals.

alessia recounted her childhood to you about growing up with two older brothers who tackled her in the garden until she toughened up. you had similar instead yours was more squabbles with your brother about whose turn it was to chose what to watch on the tv.

the two of you laughed, a lot and alessia found herself more relaxed than she had felt in ages.

after coffee turned into a walk through the park, roo trotting between the two of you like he belonged to you and alessia. when you both stoped on a quiet bench, the city loud and buzzing behind them. you gently nudged alessia's shoulder.

"you've got a great laugh," you said, you voice a little softer now - not flirtatious, not teasing. just honest.

alessia blinked, caught off guard a little. "that's random."

you shrugged, but there was a flicker of something more vulnerable in your eyes. "just been thinking it all afternoon. every time you've laughed, i've wanted to hear it again. i dunno. it's like.. it sounds a little like home, even when nothing else here does."

that brought alessia up short — in the best way. her pulse fluttered a little. the wind tugged at a loose strand of hair near her cheek, and you reached out instinctively, brushing it back gently with the back of your hand.

"and," you added, gaze holding hers, "i-i really want to kiss you."

alessia didn't say anything at first. she just stared at you — at the slight flush on your cheeks, the careful tension in your posture, the way your thumb brushed against her own jeans like you were grounding herself.

"i thought you'd never say it," alessia said quietly almost whispering. you smiled, just barely.

alessia leaned in, slow and sure, her hand resting lightly on your arm. your faces hovered close, breath mingling in the space between the two of you. when your lips met, it wasn't fireworks or drama — it was warm, slow, and steady. like the start of something that didn't need to rush to prove itself.

alessia's lips were soft, patient — like she didn't want to take too much, just enough to say this is real.

you smiled into the kiss, nudging your nose against alessia's as she deepened it for just a heartbeat more, letting herself melt into the moment.

roo let out an exaggerated sigh at your feet, flopping down dramatically like he'd seen this all before.

you pulled back with a quiet laugh, your forehead resting lightly against alessia's. "well," you murmured, "guess you passed his test too."

alessia's grin was wide now. "should i be relieved or insulted that your dog is the final judge?"

"trust me," you said, brushing your thumb gently across alessia's hand, "he's got excellent taste."

⸻

fast forward a few weeks — text messages, video calls, one stolen weekend when you and alessia both had a spare weekend — and suddenly it was the champions league final.

most of alessia's teammates had someone in the crowd. family, partners, whole sections of fans in their shirts. alessia didn't expect anyone but her parents and family to be there.

so when alessia jogged out for warm-ups and caught a flash of that same sleek ponytail under a baseball cap, sitting behind the dugout with a massive arsenal flag scarf draped over your shoulders, alessia's heart just stopped.

you grinned at alessia from the stands and sent a message.

you: ‘go win it, star girl. i'm here. you've got this and you deserve this so much🏆’

the final whistle blew.

the roar hit first — a wave of noise so loud it felt like it shook the air itself. arsenal had done it. champions of europe. alessia stood frozen for a second, boots rooted to the grass, blinking up at the stadium lights through tears she hadn't realised were already falling.

a brutal, brilliant final. 90 minutes of fight. blood, grit, and everything they had left in them.

now there were arms around alessia — teammates screaming, laughing, crying — someone pouring champagne over her back, another dragging her into a pile-on. alessia laughed so hard she nearly dropped to her knees, adrenaline flooding her body until she was floating.

confetti exploded from the stands like rain. gold, silver, red — blinding under the floodlights. they lifted the trophy. alessia's medal felt heavy and strange around her neck, like it wasn't real yet.

somewhere in the middle of the chaos, she remembered to look toward the tunnel. and there you were.

you stood just past the barrier, half-hidden by stewards and staff, but alessia saw you instantly. somehow, even through the din, even with a stadium erupting around her, alessia's eyes found yours.

"you came?," alessia said breathlessly as she stumbled toward you, cheeks flushed, hair soaked, half-covered in sweat and sticky champagne. alessia's voice cracked on the last word.

you smiled — wide, proud, and maybe just a little teary yourself. "of course i did. you think i was gonna miss the love of my life win a champions league medal?"

alessia froze mid-step, slightly caught off guard. "you just said—"

you smirked, raising an eyebrow slightly . "too soon? i'm australian. we move fast."

alessia laughed, dazed and glowing, before pulling you into a quick, messy hug. a one you didn't want to end, at least not yet. but before either of you could say more, a voice rang out:

"well, well, well. whose this?"

chloe kelly. grinning like a madwoman, dragging leah along behind her, both still in full kit, cheeks streaked with war paint and joy.

leah narrowed her eyes. "wait hold up... this the aussie?"

"the tinder aussie?" chloe gasped. "you're real?!"

you, cool as ever, extended a hand, voice deadpan with just the right touch of theatricality.

"y/n. from sydney. like coffee, dogs, and a certain blonde striker who wears number 23."

chloe collapsed into giggles so violent she almost dropped her phone. "she's perfect. and you've been hiding her! wait till i tell ella about this!"

alessia groaned, trying to tuck herself partially behind you. "can everyone not make this a thing?"

"too late," leah declared, already snapping a photo. "group chat is getting this in two minutes. tooney is gonna have a field day!"

you leaned toward alessia's ear, your voice low and warm beneath the chaos. "i'm stealing you in five minutes. you've earned my full attention and unlimited kisses for the night and maybe the rest of eternity!"

alessia turned to face you, her medal bumping softly against her chest. her eyes were tired and shining. "only if i get the right side of the bed."

you grinned. "done. whatever you wish, with my hoodie on the side"

and then, right there, in front of teammates, staff, her family, and 60,000 still-cheering fans — you kissed her. it wasn't rushed. it wasn't shy. it was the kind of kiss that told everyone watching: this is real.

alessia leaned into it, one hand finding the hem of your coat, the other curled into your hoodie, grounding herself. you tasted like mint and stadium air and something steadier, something safe.

when you finally pulled back, alessia's smile was soft and breathless. for once — champagne in her hair, confetti in her eyelashes, teammates heckling in the background — alessia didn't care about the noise, the cameras, or what tomorrow would bring.

for once, the chaos was absolutely worth it. alessia had swiped right for the right person. her right person

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littlegrapejuice · 1 month ago

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Grid Mum 4 | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: The calm before the storm- and the storm - that was the Miami Grand Prix.

Author's Note: idk what happened but inspo was just gone???? Like the miami gp was just not it and i wasn't motivated at all to write it, esp when i was getting ideas for the next parts given that imola was already happening😭 hope you still enjoy this part, even tho it was made w half love lol

F1 MASTERLIST🏎 | Previous Part | Next Part

You needed a break. Max needed a break.

You both debated going away for a week before the Miami Grand Prix was to happen, but then you decided otherwise. You and Max would simply stay home in Monaco, not putting one foot outside until you would have to leave for the US.

The plan was simple: sleep, eat, drink, watch stupid TV shows, and repeat that every day.

But then, the plan changed when your phone started blowing up.

You and Max had been back for a couple days already, having updated the rookies about your whereabouts and wishing them a good rest before the next race. However, it seemed that they eventually took it as their cue to invade your couple time and transform it into family time.

The first text was from Ollie, wondering if you wanted to have lunch with him after he had finished biking with Carlos.

The second was from Liam, asking if you were free to play some video games.

The third from Kimi, needing a reminder on how to use a maths formula because he couldn’t read his own handwriting.

The fourth from Gabriel, sending you a recipe that you could try together.

The fifth from Isack, just wanting to visit you.

And the sixth from Jack, offering you to join him on a shopping trip.

You were about to reply to all of them, until Max stole your phone and started typing.

“You better be nice to them!” You warned Max, trying to read what he was writing.

“I always am”, he claimed while hiding the screen away from you. “Please, don’t contact my girlfriend anymore during our break. You’ll see her next week in Miami”, Max read out loud as he typed the words. “And I signed my name, obviously.”

“Obviously”, you repeated as you rolled your eyes. “I would enjoy seeing them, though. You know that?”

“I know, yeah.” Max handed you your phone back, leaning back on the couch as he glanced at you. “But focus on me for the next few days, please?”

It was hard to refuse his request when he was looking at you with such love in his eyes, his voice soft and almost pleading. You had to admit that spending some peaceful and romantic time with Max sounded perfect right now – exactly what you needed after the triple header.

And Max was right, you could always wait until Miami to see the rookies.

But it seemed like they couldn’t wait until then.

After texting each other in a groupchat you weren’t a part of, they agreed to give you a couple days of rest alone. Then, some of them decided that they missed you a bit too much. So that’s why one evening, you ended up with a facetime from Ollie and Gabriel.

“Hello!” Ollie said as soon as he saw your face on his screen. He turned his phone to the side for a second, showing Gabriel who waved at you. “I hope I’m not bothering you by calling, but we have a slight issue.”

“Hi, you’re not bothering at all. Everything alright?” You noticed that Ollie and Gabriel were outside, and wondered if they were having a problem in the streets of Monaco.

“You can’t be mad,” Ollie warned.

“Why would I be?” Straightening up on the couch, you were almost getting worried.

“We wanted to surprise you with dinner”, Gabriel explained as he re-entered the frame, “but we got lost.”

“Lost? Wait, we’ll circle back to the dinner thing after. But what do you mean you’re lost?”

“Well…” Ollie scratched the back of his neck, seemingly nervous. “I asked Liam for your address, and he didn’t really give it. Like–”

“He just gave us directions from Ollie’s place, but I think we took a wrong turn somewhere.”

“How do you even get lost in Monaco?” Max, who had just appeared behind you, asked. He had his arms crossed, and raised an eyebrow at the rookies.

“Give them a break, Max.” You then focused back on Ollie and Gabriel. “He’s not wrong, though. Kinda hard to get lost in such a small city.”

“Not our proudest moment for sure”, Gabriel admitted.

A silence then settled for a few seconds, as you debated over your next course of actions. While you were thinking, the rookies were already expecting you to tell them to go home and forget about their surprise dinner. But you thought about how sweet it was of them, and decided to welcome them to your home after you exchanged a glance of confirmation with Max.

“Tell you what: Gabriel, I’ll text you my address and you look it up. Ollie, you stay on the phone with me and I’ll guide you if necessary. Does that sound good?”

“Yes, thank you so much!” Ollie’s smile was bright and wide on your screen. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

“I’ll set the table, then”. Max sighed and then left from where he had been standing behind you, walking to the kitchen.

For the next ten minutes or so, you stayed on facetime with Ollie. You could hear Gabriel guiding him through the streets of Monaco, occasionally confirming to him that it was the right way. Then, the two rookies eventually arrived in front of your building and you hung up before ringing them in.

It seemed that they hadn’t been lying about their so-called surprise dinner, as you noticed that they both had their hands full with bags when they entered. You helped them settle everything down on the counter, putting out the food as they listed what they had brought.

“Okay, so I made mini pizzas. Like loads of them with different garnitures, we just gotta cook them. I also brought muffins – Liam recommended a place where he bought some when he was here.”

“Thank you so much, Ollie.” You smiled at him, before handing the pizzas to Max for him to put them in the oven.

“And I brought feijoada, which my mum helped me make. It’s a specialty from back home,” Gabriel explained.

“Okay, wow. This all sounds great, thank you boys.” You didn’t think your smile could get bigger, but it did. “Go sit down if you want, Max and I will finish preparing everything.”

“You’re sure?” Gabriel asked. “We can help.”

“Yeah, we definitely can!” Ollie agreed with a passionate nod.

“It’s fine, don't worry. Just go and watch some TV,” Max told them as he motioned to the living-room. “We’ll take care of the rest, thanks for the food.”

“No problem”, Ollie said before he and Gabriel went to sit on the couch.

The rookies observed the room, trying to look for every little detail that would help them know more about you and Max. They obviously noticed the rather out-of-place simulator, which was a harsh contrast to the carefully decorated shelf next to it. They saw that there were a lot of pictures of you and Max throughout the years, amongst which a few seemed to have been taken during race weekends.

After they had analysed almost every picture depicting yours and Max’s love story, they decided to follow Max’s instructions and turned on the TV to find something to watch while waiting for the food to heat. Meanwhile, you and Max were still in the kitchen.

“So much for a bit of peace before Miami,” Max mumbled into your shoulder as he hugged you from behind.

“I know, I’m sorry. But how could I have refused when they just wanted to get dinner with us?”

“It’s okay,” Max assured you. “They’re lucky they didn’t try to pull this move last week because you were all mine.”

“I’m always yours, though. You know that,” you reminded him as you turned around to face him.

“Except when I have to share you with the kids”, Max said. His arms were around your waist, which helped him pull you closer to him.

“Even then, I’m still yours.” Your tone was soft and loving, almost making Max fall all over again for you. You gave him a kiss during which you felt him smile against your lips, before you escaped his hold. “Gonna check on the food, wait.”

Max leaned back against the counter as he observed you making your way around the kitchen, opening the oven and carefully looking at the food as if it would tell you itself that it was ready. You confirmed to Max that it was indeed good to go, and you both brought the food to the table.

“What are you kids watching?” Max asked as he stood behind the couch where Ollie and Gabriel were sitting.

“Still channel-hopping,” Gabriel replied. “We’ll just turn off the TV anyways if we’re eating.”

“Wait, no. Check the sports channel first,” you requested.

The Brazilian driver did as he was told, suddenly aware of how focused you were on the TV as you were waiting to see what was on. A couple seconds later, burnt orange filled the screen as the sound of applause could be heard.

“Okay, that seems like a good one.” You quickly sat down next to Ollie, waiting to see more info about what was happening. “Food is ready, by the way. So we can eat after they finally show who the hell is playing.”

Fortunately for you, and unfortunately for the drivers, there was a tennis match ongoing. As soon as you were aware of the current score and watched a couple points, you reluctantly got up from the couch and made your way to the table – your eyes weren’t leaving the TV and Max knew he now had to explain your attitude to the rookies.

“We’re done for, guys.” Max sighed, as he shook his head with a smile on his face. “She won’t pay attention to us if there’s tennis.”

“That’s a lie!” You denied. “I’ll talk to you during changeovers”, you told them with an innocent smile.

“Do you like those players?” Ollie wondered. “I never knew you followed tennis.”

“Because I have to pretend to like the padel you all seem to enjoy so much.” You tried to be dramatic, but there was honestly a part of truth. Padel wasn’t as entertaining as tennis to you, and you were definitely complaining everytime Max wanted to talk to you about it. “Tennis is superior, and you need to realise it.”

“You’re very passionate about it”, Gabriel pointed out.

“Trust me, she is. I remember when Sinner was in Abu Dhabi last year, she begged me to arrange a meeting between them.” Max was teasing you, never planning on letting you live this down.

“Because you were literally hiding the fact that you had met him!” You reminded him. “I had to hear about it from Oscar, who casually mentions my favourite player is in the same paddock as me.”

“Oh, I met him too!” Ollie added. “He’s such a nice guy, really cool too!”

“And that’s why he’s my back-up plan if Max ever leaves me. Those two would be as well if they weren’t happily taken,” you said as you pointed to the TV where Ruud and Fritz were playing.

“Once again, I am not planning on ever leaving you because you are happily taken too”

“You better not,” Gabriel warned. “We’ll take her side anyway.”

“True”, Ollie agreed with a confident nod.

You laughed at the support the rookies were showing you, knowing that you would win custody against Max. Not that you would ever have to fight him for it, because Max would soon make sure that you were tied to him for life.

Although it had become kind of a late dinner due to Ollie and Gabriel getting lost, the four of you still enjoyed the food while the tennis match was playing in the background. You thanked the rookies for taking the time to cook, complimenting their skills that easily surpassed Max’s – he tried to accuse you of lying, but you both knew that Max was a good cook only if you were not far away from him and the dish was simple enough.

If anyone were to observe the scene that was taking place, they could only be able to guess that you were a real family. You and Max might be seen as very young parents, probably victims of teen pregnancy, but the love and care that you were giving the rookies would be extremely obvious to everyone around you.

You thought that you would only be talking about racing with three drivers sitting at the table, but you realised that you had more in common as you all shared bits and pieces of information about your respective lives. The rookies told you about their girlfriends with wide smiles, and Gabriel promised to introduce you to his in Miami. You told them about the first time you went on Max’s jet, still unable to properly register how normal it was for him.

The atmosphere was warm and light-hearted just like when Jack and Liam had been here, but this was still a unique moment. A moment that would only belong to you, Max, Ollie, and Gabriel.

…..

It was quite late when you were done with dinner. You were munching on the last muffin – the three men having silently agreed on leaving it for you – as you noticed the time.

“We won’t have any right to complain about the new timezone if we don’t make any effort to rest before having to adjust to it”, you pointed out.

“I’m comfortable here, though. But I hate that you’re right”, Ollie sighed as he reluctantly got up.

“You’ll come to realise that she’s always right”, Max joked.

“I already realised that you are always on her side”, Gabriel said.

“Because it’s either I’m right or he’s wrong”, you explained. Seeing the gears turning in Ollie’s and Gabriel’s heads was hilarious as they tried to understand your words. “Do you want us to walk you back? Monaco’s pretty safe but I wouldn’t want you to get lost, again.”

“We should be fine”, Ollie assured.

“I’ll walk you back, don’t worry. That’ll be the post-meal physical activity”, Max said as he stretched his arms.

“I’m coming too, then. Nothing like a good late-night walk.” You were ready to put on your shoes like the drivers, until Max stopped you.

“You can stay here,” Max told you. “Finish watching your little match and tell me all about it when I’m back, okay? I’ll bring them home safely.”

You nodded, before kissing Max on the cheek and hugging the rookies goodbye. They thanked you for the hundredth time to have welcomed them into your home, and wished you a good night. You would next see them in Miami for the upcoming race weekend, hoping that this one would be good to them.

When the drivers left, you immediately went back to watching tennis as told by your boyfriend while he led Ollie and Gabriel in the streets of Monaco.

“Sorry if it annoyed you that we came tonight,” Gabriel eventually said. “We just wanted to spend time with you and her.”

“Mostly her,” Ollie added with a teasing tone. “But yeah, I know we were supposed to wait until Miami.”

“Which we absolutely didn’t”, Gabriel concluded.

“I would have refused if I didn’t want you there,” Max told them. “I know I was all grumpy about it last week, but tonight was actually nice. And it makes her happy as well to see you, so I won’t go against that. Plus, the food was great so thanks for that because we were actually ordering way too much take out recently.”

“Next time, we’ll call before we go out and not while we’re in the middle of going to yours.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Max put his arms around Gabriel’s shoulders. “Or I’ll tell Fernando to drop you, I don’t know.”

“You do know you don’t sound really threatening right now?” Ollie pointed out.

“Because I’m not trying to be,” Max admitted.

This was the type of conversation Max enjoyed having with the rookies: pretending to be a bit mad with their overwhelming presence when he was actually soft around them, almost showing them more love than you did. But Ollie and Gabriel knew that Max was being genuine. They had eventually heard a bit more from Liam and Jack’s dinner, which confirmed that it was just Max’s personality.

It highlighted how well you and Max worked together: you were the extroverted one and he was more introverted, but deep down you were both the same. Max was more subtle: he didn’t use his words as much as you did, rather showing things through actions that could sometimes go unnoticed. You loved loudly and proudly, while he did it more quietly in ways that felt just as meaningful.

And this was how it went with the rookies, which was something they wouldn’t trade for anything else in the world.

…..

If anyone asked you how you would describe Miami this year, you would answer that it was… eventful.

And not necessarily in a good way.

It had started somehow fine.

Although flashy and packed with celebrities, the atmosphere was one of your favourites. Sure, you didn’t think that three races in the US were needed; but they knew how to bring out good vibes.

Friday had gone particularly well; you were especially happy for Max and Isack, but even more for Kimi. After a good FP1 session, Kimi had become the youngest pole sitter in the history of Formula 1 during the Sprint Qualifying. Barely four hundredths were putting him in front of Oscar, and you could only hope that Kimi wouldn’t trample down the grid to get his first F1 podium.

“I’m so so proud of you Kimi”, you had told him once he was done with his interviews. “That’s a huge achievement, congrats!”

“Thank you!” Kimi was beaming with happiness, over the moon due to his performance. “I don’t know if I can keep the lead tomorrow, but I’ll try my best to at least stay within points.”

“I’m sure you’ll do great,” you encouraged him.

“Also, small request: can you tell your boyfriend to let me get a podium?” Kimi was mostly joking, but he knew he would be under threat from Max who was starting right behind the two McLaren.

“I could try, but no promises.” You chuckled at Kimi’s words, knowing that Max would do everything in his power to get above his starting position and you couldn’t do anything against it.

For once in your life, you were clearly going to be supporting someone other than Max. Kimi definitely deserved his sprint pole, and he was also absolutely deserving of a win one day. Maybe it wouldn’t happen in his rookie year, but points had been a constant result for him and a podium was therefore at least possible before the end of the season.

Still, you would obviously be rooting for your boyfriend too and that’s what you did on the next day during the sprint race. But then, everything went downhill: Red Bull messed up Max's pit stop, which led him to an unsafe release as he slightly collided with Kimi who was in the pit lane to box as well.

You couldn’t help but wince as the TV showed the replay of the incident, and you hoped that it wasn’t going to put either of them at a disadvantage given that Kimi hadn’t had the opportunity to actually change his tyres. Even if it hadn’t been Max’s fault, he would still get penalised from his team’s mistake and that would eventually lead to the less than glorious result that was P17.

Safe to say, Miami wasn’t treating your boyfriend nor the rookies well for now. The groan you let out when you saw Max’s name dropping to the last place was filled with annoyance at Red Bull, as you cursed them in your head. Due to the safety car that had been triggered by Alonso crashing a couple laps before the end, the gaps had been so close between everyone that Max didn’t have a chance of at least staying in points.

The weekend hadn’t really started as a lucky one for Max. But fortunately, he proved to everyone that he was still at the top of his game when he put his car on pole later in the afternoon during qualifying. The margins were really close between Max and the cars behind – barely a few hundreds of a second separating each driver. Kimi would eventually get another chance at a podium, starting P3 on the grid, while the rest of the rookies were scattered once again outside of points.

You wanted to be hopeful, wishing for your boyfriend and grid kids to have a good race. Max would get a second opportunity at winning something in Miami this weekend, and Gabriel would be ever so close to finally scoring points as he had reached his first Q2 of the season.

You wanted everyone to do well, you really did.

…..

However, things didn’t go as you wished and you were now clearly unwell after the race – it almost made you think that you were actually cursing the drivers with your hopes and support.

Max going from pole position to right outside the podium was something – the McLaren were in a whole other league this weekend, but four out of the six rookies DNFing was worse. You didn’t think a race this year would be as traumatising as Melbourne, and yet here you were in Miami.

Thankfully, everyone was physically fine. It was the mentally part that you couldn’t be sure about, though. It was really a sharp contrast from the joy the drivers had all felt earlier during the Lego cars race that had replaced the traditional drivers’ parade. They had all been so happy, having fun like little kids opening their presents on Christmas day.

And now, it almost seemed like they had spent a day experiencing the horrors of Ferrari with how down they all were.

“I wish we were legal so you could take us out drinking”, Ollie told you with a sigh. “We need to drown our sorrows in alcohol.”

“Even if you were, we’re not getting drunk to forget the race. Usually we get drunk to celebrate the race,” you clarified.

“Then we get drunk to celebrate my P6?” Kimi suggested.

“Shouldn’t you be working on your homework instead?” Liam teased. “It’s almost past your bedtime, and you wanna be drinking.”

The other rookies snickered at Liam’s words, while Kimi frowned.

“Says the guy who didn’t even finish the race…” Kimi mumbled, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Okay, that’s it. No race talk anymore”, you warned. You weren’t about to hear any more comments about the race results, knowing that they could still hurt some of the drivers even when disguised as a joke. “We’re not going out to drink. I think we all need a good night of sleep, so I suggest you get back to your hotel rooms and rest. Is that okay with everyone?”

“Yes, mum.”

Despite their voices being filled with sarcasm, you couldn’t help the smile that appeared on your face. You would never dare consider yourself their actual parent, but being their grid mum always left a warm feeling in your chest whenever you remembered that they actually enjoyed your presence.

After agreeing to get some sleep – and also realising that they definitely had early flights the next day, the rookies reluctantly left you alone. Bidding them goodbye, you didn’t hesitate to give a longer hug to the ones who’d had unlucky races. You could feel the way they were holding you a bit tighter than the others, not really wanting to let go of the comfort you were providing them.

Now alone, you decided to find Max. He had told you earlier after the race how he wanted to spend a bit of time on his own, which you didn’t mind. It only took him one second to answer your call, and the loud background noise that could be heard made you think that he wasn’t on his own anymore.

“So much for alone time?” You rhetorically asked with a scoff.

“Well, Lando and George were quite persuasive. Wanna join us? I could really use some moral support after this difficult weekend.” Max’s tone could only indicate that he was exaggerating, as a dramatic sigh left his mouth.

“You’re asking so nicely, how could I say no? Text me your location and I’ll be there when I can,” you told Max. Looking down at your outfit, you figured it could survive a longer night than planned.

Max was over the moon when he saw you walk up to him – the alcohol in his blood definitely made him happier – and you were immediately engulfed into a hug when you were within his reach. Chuckling at his attitude, you then didn’t hesitate to kiss back when Max’s lips were suddenly on yours.

“No PDA tonight, please.” Lando’s voice interrupted your kiss with Max. Putting an arm around your shoulders, Lando tried to pull you away from your needy boyfriend. “You, my friend, are going to be drinking the night away with us. The party can finally start now that we have the better Verstappen here!”

“She’s not a Verstappen yet, Lando.”

“Yet?” You repeated with a smirk. “You plan on marrying me one day, then?”

“Of course, I’d be dumb not to.”

If you and Max were having this conversation just the two of you in a quiet place, maybe it would’ve been romantic. But the loud music combined with Max being more than tipsy, as well as Lando third-wheeling, just made the moment funny to you.

“Glad we’ve cleared up the obvious,” Lando said in reference to you and Max being married in the future. “Now, it’s time to have fun!”

Finally pulling you away from Max, Lando led you towards the bar where George already was.

One shot turned into two, then three. Soon enough, you weren’t really counting anymore and were simply enjoying the night. You danced with Lando – terrible dancer when sober and even worse when drunk, then with George – you had to admit he had some moves, before finding yourself in Max’s arms once again.

You were definitely having the most fun ever. It was always chaotic to party with drivers, but you didn’t care about how loud the music was or how drunk you were getting when the atmosphere was just the right one.

And maybe you would regret it the next morning, especially when your head would be throbbing in pain, but for now you weren’t thinking about the consequences.

Except that one consequence would eventually be a dozen texts from the rookies who had seen you partying – courtesy of Lando who had posted pictures – after you had told them to go to sleep early.

So much for resting

Hope the hungover was worth lying to your KIDS – Gabi

“Good night of sleep” she said🙄 – Liam

Can’t believe that “WE are not going out drinking” was actually just meant for us – Kimi

That’s like next level betrayal💔💔

We might forgive, but we won’t forget – Ollie

Unbelievable… – Isack

The fact that I was legally allowed to come with you – Jack

..........

Taglist: @umm-i-love-u @callsign-mirage @freyathehuntress @elieanana @suns3treading @fastandcurious16 @l3thal-l0lita

Thank you sm for reading🫶🏻🫶🏻 hope you liked this chap!!

Next one should be out before monaco, and it'll be a v short part focused on jack after he got sacked by alpine (I'm still sad and heartbroken for him😔)

Don't hesitate to like, reblog, or comment<3 also you can request some stuff you'd want to happen next and I'll do my best to include it if it works w what i planned to write :)

See you soon, take care of yourselves, love y'all xx

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x you #formula 1 x you #max verstappen x you #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv1 x you #grid mum series<3

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strangerexee · 1 month ago

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(5) ᴛᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ɢɪᴀɴᴛꜱ | ᴇʟɪᴊᴀʜ "ꜱᴍᴏᴋᴇ" ᴍᴏᴏʀᴇ

𝙼𝙾𝙳𝙴𝚁𝙽!𝙶𝙰𝙽𝙶!𝙰𝚄

pairings: Elijah "smoke" Moore x black!fem!reader

A/N: lmk if I forgot you in the TAGLISTTTT

Friday had felt like a movie.

You slid over to his house in leggings, lashes, and with a bag packed like it was a field trip—shower things, clothes for a couple days, a lil ‘just in case’ lingerie set…

Ain’t nobody say you was stayin’ the weekend butttt also ain’t nobody say you couldn’t.

And he let you in without a blink.

Kissed your cheek when you stepped in.

Took your bag like it belonged there.

Put it in corner you probably would leave there the next time you spent the night.

“Back again?” he teased.

“Back always,” you grinned, stepping out of your shoes.

Y’all been vibin’ for a good while.

Loungin’ in the living room, feet in his lap, random episodes of whatever playin’ on the TV.

He cooked again Friday night — stir fry this time, okay chef — and y’all ain’t do nothin’ but eat, laugh, and fall asleep halfway through a movie.

Now it’s Saturday night…

…and this man…lord…this man.

“Where you goin’ dressed like that?”

You had asked it real chill when he came out the room in black jeans and a fresh tee, chains hangin’ just right. Cologne hittin’ from the hallway.

“Out with Stack,” he said, leanin’ down to kiss your temple. “Won’t be long.”

You gave him the squinty side-eye.

“How long is not long?”

He smirked.

“Few hours.”

Mmm hmm.

You ain’t trip. Just made a lil face, rolled over on the couch when tried to touch you, and let him go.

But you was watching the time.

An hour passed. Then another.

You ate leftover takeout.

Scrolled on instagram.

Tried to start a show but ended up fallin’ asleep mid-episode.

You was cozy as hell in his tee, bonnet on, face washed, stretched out in his bed like it was yours.

And when you woke up?

He still wasn’t home.

So naturally…

You FaceTimed him.

And babyyyy.

When that screen popped up?

You was lookin’ at chaos.

Loud music. Laughter. Smoke. Some lil LED light tryna change the mood.

He was reclined on some couch, phone low like it was sittin’ on his chest. Eyes low. Shirt halfway up his stomach.

Big, thick ass blunt between his fingers.

“Yoooooo,” Stack’s voice came from behind the screen. “Is that her??”

Smoke tilted the camera slightly and Stack leaned in, grinning like a devil.

“Hiiiii baby mamaaaa,” Stack said in that ghetto ass singsong tone, throwin’ up a peace sign.

You blinked. “Boy bye.”

Smoke was smirkin’. All slow and sticky-eyed.

“Why you look like that?” he asked, voice hoarse from smokin’.

You frowned at him.

“Because you said you was gon’ be back a lil while ago. It’s almost midnight.”

He squinted like he just realized what time it was.

Then smiled wider.

“You miss me?”

You sucked your teeth.

“Answer the question.”

He laughed, real low and lazy, smoke curling from his mouth as he hit the blunt again.

“I’ma be there in thirty minutes, chill.”

Stack was screamin’ in the background, talkin’ to somebody, then suddenly popped back in frame.

“You tryna get pregnant or what?” he cackled.

“STACK—”

“Let me talk to her real quick,” Stack said, snatching the phone. “He be tryna play it cool but he always checkin’ his phone for your name, don’t let him fool you—”

Then it fumbled back to Smoke, who looked like he was too high to even argue.

“Stack drunk,” he mumbled.

You leaned closer to the camera. “You high.”

He grinned.

“You horny?”

Your whole face dropped. “WHAT?”

He licked his lips, all slow. “I said—”

“I HEARD WHAT YOU SAID, RELAX.”

Stack and them was dyin’ in the back.

You covered your face, wheezing.

“Y’all are embarrassing. Y’all need to go to hell.”

Smoke just laughed, then looked dead at the screen with them low eyes.

“Go lay down. I’ma be there in thirty. Maybe twenty.”

You squinted.

“Don’t come home on no weird high shit. I’m wearin’ your shirt and everything.”

He bit his lip at that.

“Bet.”

Then he hung up.

You flopped back in his bed.

Face warm. Heart beatin’ a lil fast. Still lowkey flattered and fake annoyed at the same time.

Now you just had to wait.

And he better not take forty-five minutes…

The last time you looked at the clock it was 12:46am.

You’d been trying to stay up. Really.

Was on YouTube with your eyes fighting for their life and your bonnet hangin’ on by a thread.

You even put one of his hoodies on top of the shirt you stole — cocooned in that big boy scent, just a lil pissed, just a lil turned on still from that dumbass FaceTime call.

And you fell asleep all curled up, thighs tucked together tight like you didn’t know what he was comin’ home to do.

And then…

POP.

You JERKED awake, eyes flarin’ open, body tensing like somebody tried to break in.

Only to hear the deep ass chuckle right behind your ear.

“Nah, don’t get to flinchin’ now.”

He’d slapped the shit out your ass. It started burning a bit from how hard he slapped it.

Woke you up out your sleep.

Real disrespectful. Real unnecessary.

You was finna swing and everything ‘til you felt his chain brush your neck from behind.

“You hit me like I owed you money.”

“You do,” he mumbled, voice all raspy from the weed and the night. “Interest been accruin’ since I left.” He rubbed the spot on your ass.

You turned over and he was standin’ there, shirt halfway off, jeans unbuttoned. Eyes low, gold grill catchin’ the light.

Face a little flushed. Smellin’ like smoke and Hennessy and the kind of sin you don’t come back from.

“Boy. It is one o’clock. In the morning.”

“And you still up.” He smirked, leanin’ down to kiss your cheek. “That mean you was waitin’.”

You rolled your eyes. “You woke me up.”

He laughed again and grabbed your thigh, lifted it up high to his hip like he was about to climb on you.

Started kissin’ up your jaw, your neck, pressin’ himself all into you.

Then next thing you knew?

You was on top.

“You want somethin’ so bad,” he said, voice low, breath hot as his hands slid up your hoodie. “Come take it.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Take it, baby.” he said again. “Ride me.”

And that’s how you ended up straddlin’ him, still sleepy-eyed, bonnet gone, tryna get it together as he leaned back on the headboard, arms behind his head like he was watchin’ the show.

You lifted your hips slow, dragged him in even slower.

He hissed through his teeth, eyes clenching shut, tongue pokin’ the corner of his mouth.

You bit your bottom lip.

Started movin’, workin’ it like he ain’t just come home three hours late.

Bouncin’ a lil faster, leanin’ back for leverage. The hoodie you had on ridin’ up over your ass, thighs burnin’ already.

You was moanin’ soft.

Tryna keep the rhythm.

Tryna not let your knees give out.

He was so damn thick, the stretch makin’ you dizzy.

“Fuck,” he grunted, hands goin’ to your hips finally. “Just like that — damn, you tryna make me come already?”

You smirked, breathless.

“You talk all that shit, now you foldin’?”

He bit his lip hard, grabbed the back of your neck, and pulled you down into a nasty ass kiss — teeth clashing, tongue heavy, breath hot.

Then he leaned back again.

“Stop.”

You froze, hips mid-roll.

“…huh?”

He looked you dead in the face, jaw clenched.

Voice serious.

“I said stop. You movin’ like you tryna win.”

You blinked again.

“I am??”

He leaned up just slightly, whispered low in your ear, “You wanna make me come, you gon’ have to earn that shit. Now come here —”

You still sittin’ there straddlin’ him, lips parted, brows furrowed like — sir?

You just gave him three minutes of your finest choreography. You damn near caught the holy ghost on that dick.

And this man got the nerve to tell you to stop.

Now he got one hand wrapped around your thigh, the other holdin’ your lower back, pullin’ you down, bringin’ you back, slidin’ you onto him slow like he finna run this now.

“Lemme do it my way.”

His voice all rough and sleepy, thick from the liquor and late hour.

Eyes half-lidded but focused, locked in like you the only thing in his world.

You couldn’t breathe for a second, ‘cause the way he filled you? Had you clenchin’ all over again.

He tilted his head to the side and smirked just a lil. “That’s what I thought.”

Now you tryin’ to ride again, but he’s not lettin’ you bounce.

He’s holdin’ your hips in place, grindin’ you down into him, movin’ you the way he want.

Slow. Deep. Pressure in every roll.

You swear you can feel everything.

The heat. The weight. The way he pulses thick inside you with every tiny lil moan that slips past your lips.

Your head falls forward against his chest and he laughs, low and cocky.

“Yeahhh, that’s what I wanted,” he mutters, thumb draggin’ up your spine under the hoodie.

“I don’t need all that fast shit. Let me feel you.”

You whimper.

Like a real whimper.

He lifts your chin, makes you look at him while you grind on him like you tryna make a baby.

You feel so full. So slow-drunk on the way he’s movin’ you, the way he knows what he’s doin’.

“You miss me?” he asks, like it’s not obvious.

Like your pussy didn’t answer that the moment he slapped your ass.

“Yeah,” you mumble, eyes glossy.

“Miss me like this?”

You nod quick, grindin’ harder, and he sucks his teeth.

“Say it.”

“I missed you like this.”

He smirks. “I know.”

Then he’s kissin’ you.

Hard.

One hand on the back of your head, tongue slidin’ deep into your mouth.

Other hand grippin’ your ass, pushin’ you down on him deeper.

You swear he hit a spot that made your whole body lock up.

You moanin’ into his mouth.

Shakin’ from how thick and deep he’s inside you.

Fingernails diggin’ into his shoulders, hoodie startin’ to stick to your back from sweat.

His lips break away from yours and go straight for your neck — you already know.

Kissin’ that spot under your ear, suckin’ on your pulse point, leavin’ a wet trail down your shoulder while you grind on him like you forgot how to stop.

And when you do try to lift up, finally try to bounce again?

He groan low, grips your waist tight, and mutters:

“Nah. Don’t run now.”

“I’m not tryna run —“

And he start movin’ his hips —

Up into you.

Controlled.

Deep.

He takin’ over now.

You can’t even ride no more — he fuckin’ you from under, thick strokes that got your toes curlin’ and your forehead sweatin’.

Eyes rollin’ and lips tremblin’ and you swear he hittin’ your soul.

“Who this pussy belong to?” he asks, voice dark.

“You,” you gasp.

“Say it again.”

“It’s yours — it’s yours, Elijah f-fuck —”

Next thing you knew — flip.

Whole body turned over like you was on a damn rotisserie.

He had you on your stomach, ass up, legs parted just a lil, still slippery from the first round.

You barely even processed the motion and this man was lining it back up.

He slid back in slow — so slow you clenched up on instinct.

You could feel every thick inch stretchin’ you open all over again.

“Mhmm,” he muttered under his breath. “Yeah, you still got it f’sho.”

You didn’t even respond. Couldn’t.

You were too busy gripping the pillow like it owed you money.

First he went slow.

Real deep. Real calculated.

Like he was tryin’ to memorize your shit.

Pushing in alllll the way — till his pelvis kissed your ass —

Then pullin’ out real deliberate, leavin’ just the tip in before doin’ it all over again.

Over.

And over.

Had your mouth open, but nothin’ was comin’ out. Just gasps. Lil shaky whines.

Then suddenly — like he changed his mind mid-stroke —

SMACK.

Hand landed hard on your ass, made you jolt, and then he picked up the pace.

Started pounding it, grip lockin’ down on both your shoulders like he was tryin’ to anchor himself.

Like you was runnin’ and he wasn’t lettin’ you go nowhere.

“Ain’t tell you to go like that,” he muttered, low and gritty, fuckin’ you through his own breathlessness. “Shit feel too damn good.”

You cried out something soft, probably ‘fuck,’ probably ‘please,’ probably your own name ‘cause you forgot his in the moment.

Didn’t matter.

He was locked in.

Elijah—well, “Smoke,” technically—you still don’t even know his full name.

But what you do know is he love him some backshots.

He worship that view.

Be behind you talkin’ to himself like ‘damn she thick.’

Takin’ long strokes just so he can watch it jiggle back on him.

Holding your ass open with both thumbs, spitting just a lil to keep it sloppy, whisperin’ shit like:

“This the part I missed the most.”

“Could nut just off this view, swear to God.”

“You was sleepin’ pretty earlier. Bet you ain’t think I’d fuck the rest of the night out you.”

He leaned over you now, chest grazin’ your back, lips brushing your ear —

“You finna come again?”

You nodded, whined, damn near cried.

Then he bit down on your shoulder, just a lil, like he was tryna remind you who’s shit this is.

“Good,” he whispered, grindin’ into you deep, finishin’ you off with strokes so raw and filthy, you felt your whole body go limp.

Legs tremblin’.

Pussy clenching hard like you tryna keep him in.

You gushed, loud and messy — like your body was spillin’ over from the pressure.

When he finally pulled out?

He was breathing heavy. Forehead glistening. Chest rising and falling like he just ran laps.

You barely got your bearings.

Still facedown in the sheets, tryin’ to remember your own damn name, when you felt him tug you up — strong ass arms slid under yours and pulled.

Next thing you know, your back hit the headboard and he was kneelin’ in front of you on the mattress, cock already hard again like he ain’t just fuck the soul outta you a minute ago.

He kissed you first, slow and messy — still breathing heavy — and his hand slid down to grip your jaw real soft before he whispered:

“You good?”

You nodded, but only glared up at the man.

You already knew what time it was.

He shifted forward on his knees, one hand guiding your face down, the other gripping the headboard behind you for balance.

“Put that pretty mouth to work,” he said low, tapping the thick tip against your bottom lip. “You got it.”

You looked up at him all slow, mouth already watering, lips partin’ soft as hell —

He slid in easy, let you suck just the tip at first, then eased deeper…hand cradling your jaw, thumb rubbing the hinge of it.

Deeper…

And he moaned — actually moaned — head falling back just a little, abs tight, the kind of sound that made you clench around nothing.

You didn’t even care that your jaw was starting to ache.

Didn’t care your lashes were stickin’ together from the lil tears in your eyes.

All you knew was his hand was resting real firm on the crown of your head now, not forcing, just guiding, and you wanted to give him exactly what he needed.

Then…he started movin’.

Real slow at first.

Pushin’ his hips forward while he kept his grip on the headboard — and suddenly it wasn’t just head, it was a full-on face-fucking.

Your headboard knockin’ lightly behind you from the pressure, your throat stretched wide, lips glossy and spit-slick, and he lookin’ down like:

“Mmm, that’s it. Look at me. Don’t look away.”

You glared up through your lashes, jaw sore, throat burning — but you didn’t stop.

Couldn’t.

You was in too deep — literally.

He kept it slow at first, hips grindin’ into your mouth like he was fuckin’ your throat the same way he fuck your pussy —

But then he started gettin’ bold.

Picked up the pace a little, started rockin’ into your mouth with a rhythm that had your whole head movin’ against the headboard —

Bump. Bump. Bump.

Like he was tryin’ to put your tonsils on sick leave.

Every now and then he’d pause, pull back and tap his tip against your tongue — watchin’ the spit fall from your lips to your chest —then slide back in all slow with a breathy, “That’s my girl…”

At one point?

He laced his fingers in your curls, held your head steady, and said with the softest lil grunt —

“I’ma cum if you keep doin’ that shit.” Then added with a smirk, “You want it?”

You nodded. Couldn’t even speak.

He let go of the headboard to use both hands on your head now, thrustin’ real slow and deep, jaw clenched tight, abs flexed as he fucked into your mouth like he was damn near in love.

His breathing turned to groans.

His thighs started tremblin’.

And finally — finally — he gave a rough groan and buried himself deep, chest stuttering as he came down your throat.

You swallowed every drop.

Because…obviously.

Afterwards?

He leaned forward, kissed you slow, wiped your chin, whispered against your lips like:

“You gon’ be the death of me.”

And you just smiled.

You barely caught your breath before he leaned back, lashes low and tipsy smirk tugging at his lips — eyes dragging over you like he was tryna savor you all over again.

Still flushed from that mouthwork he just got. Still kneeling on the bed in just his damn chain and a glistening trail down his abs.

That’s when he said it — voice all raspy and deep like he ain’t just moan your name a second ago.

“Let me eat it next…”

He bit his lip a little. “C’mon. Sit it right here.”

You blinked. “What?”

He tapped his chest, then slid both hands down his stomach slow as hell, eyes never leavin’ yours.

“Sit. On. My. Face.”

Chile.

You ain’t even get a full thought off before he grabbed your thighs, pulled you up like you was light as air, and laid back against the pillows — one arm under your ass, the other spreading your legs like he already knew the script.

“You scared?” he teased, that smirk still sittin’ pretty even with his head on the damn mattress.

And you? Tipsy off his energy now.

You climbed over him slow, shaky thighs hovering, hands braced on the headboard — and when you finally lowered down, you barely touched his lips before he grabbed your hips and pulled you all the way down like:

“Mm-mm. I said sit.”

BABYYYY.

He devoured you.

No warning. No easing into it. Just straight tongue work like he was starvin’ for it.

Mouth wide open, lips partin’ soft before he flattened his tongue and licked one long, slow stripe through your folds — and then he locked in.

Eyes closed.

Low groans vibrating right through you.

He had your thighs trembling in under thirty seconds and his grip on you? Lord. Possessive. Firm. Like he wanted the weight of you on his face.

You looked down at him, eyes glossy, and he just groaned against you like he was the one getting off. Grippin’ your ass, guiding your hips to ride his mouth like you was a lil toy.

“That’s it… keep goin’,” he muttered into you, lips wet and chin gleamin’. “Tastes so fuckin’ good…”

He ate you like he meant it. Like it was the last meal and you the last girl on earth.

Tongue fuckin’ into you, lips suckin’ your clit, switchin’ it up every time your breath caught just to keep you beggin’. You was grindin’ without even meanin’ to — rockin’ into his face while your hands clawed at the headboard, back archin’, moans comin’ out all high and helpless.

Then —

He hit you with the combo.

Two thick fingers slid in while he sucked your clit — and that was it.

You came so hard your whole body stiffened, legs tryna close on his head and he just hummed, held you open and kept going.

“Uh uh. Let me get that other one.”

You was breathless. Sweaty. Legs weak.

And he still had the nerve to pull you down closer, lickin’ you slow like he was tryna memorize the taste.

“Damn, mama…you gon’ kill me with this.”

You slid off him eventually, thighs shakin’, face buried in the sheets — and he just laid there lookin’ smug, mouth glistening, hand on your lower back like yeahhh, I did that.

You tried to move.

Key word: Tried.

But all you managed was a whisper: “You a munch.”

He smirked wider, leaned over and kissed the back of your thigh. Then both your ass cheeks.

“Yeah,” he said, voice deep and sleepy now. “And?”

Lil taglist — @sertonins - @crimsonxm00n @klssngss @juicypinksblog @mingisg00dgirl @stilestotherescue @imperfectlyperfect78 @hoouno06 @kirayuki22 @christinabae @pinkpantheris @kxllanxtdoor

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pedgito · 1 month ago

Text

ORBIT YOU ⋆⭒˚.⋆ CHAPTER TWO: SUN

↝ series masterlist | joel miller masterlist | full masterlist

summary — your relationship with joel only becomes more skewed over the course of your time back at college before summer break, spending most of the time communicating with him through a screen.

author's note — it's here! i don't have much to say other than if you read and enjoyed the first chapter, i'm glad you're back!!

content warning — 18+ MDNI, dbf!joel, virgin!reader, age gap (20s/40s), terms of endearment (kiddo, sweetheart), phone calls, old man!joel trying to figure out technology, video calls, mutual masturbation over facetime, dom!joel, edging, orgasm denial, teasing, some attention seeking behavior, handyman!joel, teasing the shit out of this man

word count — 8k

It took a month for you to cave and call Joel.

You had tried to put on a front, like…really tried.

But, something about him calmed you.

It started with texts.

Joel

Some idiot took a staple gun to his hand.

How’s the astro whatever going?

You

AstroPHYSICS.

Linear Algebra is kicking my ass.

Joel

Damn that sucks.

The wording of it is plain and obviously, monotone, but you know he means it.

He checks in on his own occasionally, not bothering to text back when he sees you’ve read it, only really needing a sign of life, but then boredom strikes and you call him one night.

But, you have a totally legit and valid reason.

There’s no greeting or pause, the moment you hear him pick up, the words spill out.

“So hypothetically, if someone was to…I don’t know, break a handle off from the inside, how fucked are they?” you ask, staring at the broken mechanism in your hand with your towel tucked tight around your body and still dripping wet from your shower.

You can hear a spoon clinking against ceramic on the other end, the beep of a machine in the background, “Depends, are they talkin’ to me right now?”

You glance at the time on your phone, nearing ten o’clock at night, “Are you drinking coffee this late?”

“Yup,” he answers easily, slurping for emphasis, “didja break your doorknob?”

“Yes,” you reply distantly, like you’ve placed your phone away from you.

You had, Joel realizes after a while, hearing some clambering and a curse on the other end.

“Joel, I’m fucking stuck and my roommate isn’t home. I’m going to die in this shitty bathroom and all I have on is a towel, oh god…I think I’m having a panic attack,” you begin to ramble, dropping the broken half of the doorknob in a panic as you reach for your phone and drop to the floor, sinking against the cool wall of the tub.

“Sweetheart, you could always hang up and call the fire department,” Joel offers, “I’m sure they deal with shit like this all the time.

“Joel, I’m practically naked—and it’s embarrassing.”

“Worse is you dyin’ and they find you in just a towel,” Joel offers lightly and you can’t help but laugh at his dry attempt at humoring you despite your worry, “listen, can you fit it back into the hole? Sometimes it’s just because of a loose screw, if you can get the mechanism to connect long enough to turn the lock back, you’ll be alright,”

“How do I do that?” you ask candidly, slowly reaching for the doorknob as you rise to your knees and move toward the door again, carefully placing your phone against the door and putting Joel on speakerphone, “do I just—”

There’s a long silence and Joel hears what he thinks is you working away at making your escape, but it is eventually followed by a yelp and Joel nearly jumps from his seat on his couch like it would do anything.

He’s shouting your name on the other end for a solid minute before you finally answer.

“Christ, kid,” he exclaims, “what’s goin’ on?”

“Oh, my roommate showed up—I’m fine now,” you explain, “door is still definitely broken, though. I’m sorry for botherin’ you, I was freaking out a little,”

“Hey, nothin’ wrong with that,” Joel comforts you, “you gonna be alright, kiddo?”

“Yeah, Joel,” you assure him, “uh—goodnight?”

Joel chuckles, slurping loudly at his coffee, “Goodnight.”

After a couple months, those calls turn into more.

You’re working through your term paper when Joel’s name flashes in the corner of your laptop screen.

It was a video call.

That was strange.

You were barely dressed, a shirt hanging low enough beyond your waist that it covers the underwear and lack of shorts you had on, a blanket draped loosely over your shoulders.

You answered it anyway.

“She ain’t gonna answer, Tommy,” Joel speaks to his brother, presumably out of frame, “kid’s after a hell of a major at college, she ain’t got time to chat with you like that,”

“Joel,” you interject amusedly, “Hi,”

“There she is!” Tommy has never lacked in warm greetings, his smile showing bright under his thick mustache, clamping his hands over his brother’s shoulders as he leans down and into frame, “Hey, sugar, how’ve you been?”

You subconsciously pull the blanket tighter over your shoulders and lean into frame, “I’m surviving—college sucks, ya know?”

“Uh, I don’t, but, I’ll take your word for it,” Tommy chuckles, “Joel’s over here braggin’ about you bein’ a genius, like we didn’t already know that.”

Joel rolls his eyes, chewing absentmindedly at the tip of his thumb to hide the flash of embarrassment that he had been bragging about you to his brother.

“S’nice seein’ you, kiddo,” Tommy says fondly, “You’ll have to come visit us in the summer, miss havin’ you around. It’s been too long,”

“I’ll try,” you half-promise, eyeing Joel with a creeping suspicion as his head tilts up to look at his brother as he waves at you, suddenly standing and disappearing from frame to walk Tommy out, at least, that was what you assumed.

When he returns, his fingers peek into frame first and his body follows, sinking into the dining room chair with a silent look of apology, “He’s been buggin’ to see ya,” Joel explains away.

“Uh huh,” you reply as you opened up another window on your laptop to begin typing in your notes from an earlier class, “surprised you know how to work that thing,”

“I don’t,” he admits, “Sarah had to walk me through it over the phone before I called you,”

“Old man can’t figure out technology,” you tease, “I’m shocked,”

Your hand presses against your chest with a sneaking smile before you continue to type swiftly, the clacking of the keyboard audible to Joel as he leans forward again, squinting, and you catch him in the corner of your screen, laughing softly.

“You need glasses,” Joel knows it, you know it—still, he waved you off.

“Alright, we’re done here,” he says abruptly, having heard a billion and one lectures about his eyesight, “goodnight, kiddo—m’sorry if I fucked up your studying,”

“All good,” you tell him honestly, “I’ll just go and die of boredom now.”

It was a slippery path to more, neither of you expecting it initially.

Joel was practiced in keeping you at a distance without completely losing you, despite what had transpired on the camping trip a couple months prior, almost like a fever dream when your mind slipped there now.

He’s fit you into his routine—Sarah, Ellie, then you.

But, of course, you push it as far as he’ll let you.

You

Can I call you? I had a test to study for and I’m falling asleep.

Joel sends a thumbs up, which makes you huff out a weak laugh.

You’re in a similar attire to the last time he called, but the blanket was balled up at the end of your bed and your room was empty for the night—most students were out partying on a Friday night, but you were burying your head in study about Quantum Mechanics.

Admittedly, Joel had saddled himself for his own source of entertainment for the night—or well, release. The ding of your message had startled him slightly, palm rubbing over his slowly swelling cock as he scrolled through his favorite site, mumbling out a faint “Shit,” as your name appeared and hastily deciding to respond, not much critical thinking on his end.

“You’re my accountability for the night,” you tell him immediately, your face pulling up on the screen of his laptop as he clicks on the green ANSWER button, “alright?”

“Hello to you too,” Joel responds, catching a glimpse of his knee where he’s planted it up on his recliner, his elbow resting into the arm of the chair as he looks at you, face turned down as you flipped through a hefty pile of notes.

“Sorry, hi,” you correct yourself, offering a shy smile that Joel knows wasn’t that shy, “usually my roommate has music blaring and it keeps me awake but it’s too quiet, were you busy?”

Joel clears his throat, his erection not flagging in the slightest—shamefully, it had only gotten worse as he glanced at your breasts that were spilling out of the thin tank top, your bare nipples poking through the fabric and leaving very little to imagination.

“I’ll be alright,” Joel decides on, reaching for the remote to turn on his television, settling into a comfortable silence with you, “what’re you studyin’ tonight?”

“Quantum Mechanics,” you reply simply and Joel’s eyebrows raises in question, not prepared for the spillage of information on that topic, you look up at the exact moment he makes a face and giggle, “I’ll save your ears, don’t worry—so…you were busy?”

“You’re doin’ a lot of talking for someone who should be workin’,” Joel reprimands and the way your body reacts isn’t a surprise at all—maybe this was a bad choice.

“Quiet as a mouse,” you promise, shaking out your drying pen as you scribble it on the paper but it does nothing, without thinking, you stand, snug underwear on full display.

These are brightly colored and nearly see-through, hugging tight at your hips as Joel stares, entranced, at the curve of your ass and how perfectly it sits in frame as you lean around your desk to reach for a new pen, not even realizing what you had done until after sitting back down.

His eyes are wide before he can fix his face, “I—sorry, I’m rarely dressed when I’m in my room. I didn’t even think—” Joel hates how quickly his cock rises to full attention, adjusting himself further down the frame, and he makes a dismissive noise as his face morphs into a scowl, his default setting.

It hadn’t been intentional, but you’ve begun to notice something about Joel.

You spotted it back at camp, the night at the picnic table, and even now.

His gaze drifts, even without trying. He’s forcing himself to look at your face, the green light shining beside his camera, anywhere but the sight of your tits on his screen, but his self-control was severely lacking around you as of late.

And, you weren’t focusing that well, anyways.

You fake it, scribbling down some mindless nonsense in place of what should be your notes before you fake your pen drying out again and Joel had started to scroll quietly through his phone when he sees the shift on screen, but instead of turning out of frame you’re standing dead center, leaning over to reach the back of your desk.

He can see a sliver of your stomach where your shirt has raised, thighs pressing into the edge of the desk, where your panties tuck against your inner thighs, the outline of your pussy staring him down through the fuzzy camera lens and Joel jerks so hard at the sight that his camera shakes, biting away the silent laughter that fills your chest as he curses under his breath.

“Sorry, shitty pens,” you excuse lamely, returning to your seat, “what’s keepin’ you busy?”

“Answerin’ emails,” he lies, “tryin’ to get the contract for this next job figured out,”

Because, no, he hadn’t been scrolling through a list of videos to find something to interest him, subconsciously searching for anything that reminded him of you or resembled you, frustrated with how prevalent you had been on his mind since the camping trip but too pathetic to admit it to himself.

Avoidance was always the easier route.

“Riveting,” you smile kindly and survey him from across the screen, feigning a chill as you turn in your chair to spot the blanket on your bed, but Joel’s words come first.

“You’ve gotta stop gettin’ up, kiddo,” Joel pleads, face turned down but his eyes fixated on you.

You tilt your head and smile devilishly, but instead of getting up, you push your chair back to reach for the blanket—somehow, it was worse for Joel this way.

He watches you curled up in your chair, clearly enjoying that effect you had on him even from miles away, every inch of skin on display save for the few clothes you had on and it brings him back to the tent, flashes of your blissed out expression as you had listened to him so easily, bent yourself to fulfill his fucked up obsession with control over you in that moment.

The difference now is that you had the upper hand, knowing he’d never step out of place on his own, but with enough torture, Joel would inevitably break.

“He invited me out for drinks this weekend,” Joel says suddenly, desperate to distract himself, clicking his phone shut and shifting his gaze to his hands, still placed over his aching cock but unmoving, almost like punishment for viewing you this way.

You shrug the blanket around your shoulders and snap your textbook shut, trading it out for another place out of view, “You haven’t spoken to him since, have you?”

His non-answer is obvious, glazing sideways toward the front of his house in the exact direction of your childhood home and you shake your head with a dismissive smirk.

“You think he’ll take one look at you and know?” you inquire and Joel shifts back to you, eyes narrow slightly, and you add salt to the wound by mimicking him, “Sorry, I’m gonna have to skip out on drinks. I fucked around with your daughter and now I’m feelin’ guilty about it.”

“It ain’t guilt,” Joel argues.

“Isn’t it?” you challenge, “s’all well and good until you gotta face reality, right?”

You sigh deeply and snap the textbook shut, stack your papers neatly before you push them aside, “I interrupted you, didn’t I?” you ask him, glancing up at the picture frame placed behind Joel that showed the glare of the screen, the small rectangle that housed your face in the corner but the browser open and brandished with a popular adult site, slowly, you grin, “How do I compare?”

You’re being coy and it was fraying every nerve that Joel had left with you.

“See,” you begin, “the thing about technology like this—we’re miles away, but somehow it still feels like you’re right here with me,” Joel’s dick twitches at the sound of your voice, watching you lean back in your chair, the blanket falling from your shoulders, “but, it just isn’t enough.”

“We’re not doin’ this again,” Joel forces out, voice gruff and hard.

Still, his hand presses down against his cock to soothe the growing ache.

“Then hang up,” you say dismissively, pulling your straps down your shoulders, his eyes stuck like glue to the screen despite his words, “no?”

Joel shakes his head and you laugh softly at him, nodding in understanding.

“I wish I was there,” you tell him, voice softer, “wish you were here—” your fingers pull at the fabric of your top until your breasts spill out, hands cupping them together and squeezing, “and here,” your eye him, half-lidded, watching the subtle but visible movement of his hand as his laptop had readjusted purely by accident, working himself over with a rough squeeze through his pants.

Joel feels his throat swell, like he’s committing the ultimate sin.

Seeing you like this is different, vulnerable, baring yourself before him without an ounce of hesitation—only for him, not out of defiance or an itch to prove a point.

You’re needy, wanting, and he can see it in the way your mouth parts with a sharp breath as your fingers drag slowly over your nipples, trading one hand to trail further down your chest and out of frame, “mostly here, though,” he can’t see it, but your hands dip under the fabric of your panties, fingers spreading through the wetness that had gathered there, just from looking at him, knowing the effect you were having on him, “is that where you wanna be?”

Joel nods despite his mind searching for a reason to stall this from happening, palming his cock more noticeably through his sweats, and instead, he blames you, “This is all your fault,” he grits out, but you know he isn’t talking about the depravity at hand, rather the sizable bulge, then he was shifting his hand under the waistband of his pants to grab at his cock, knowing that first touch would seal his fate.

You two were already well-invested in the situation at hand, there was no end in sight.

“Is it?” you ask curiously, gasping as you dip two of your fingers inside of you and curl, squeezing tightly at your breast.

“Fuck,” he murmured under his breath, hand working vigorously now under the fabric as he leaned adjusted his laptop to the arm of the chair more securely, sweetening the angle as his face strains out of frame but it gives you the perfect view of his heaving chest under his shirt, the thumb of his free hand curling over the waistband of his pants, giving you an enticing view of the trail of hair that led down to the base of his cock, desperate to taste him, “You can’t keep doin’ this to me.”

His gaze is locked onto the screen, pupils blown wide with a mix of desire and desperation as he watches you explore yourself, though all you can catch is the way his mouth hangs open, hastily shoving his shirt up.

“Let me see,” you beg, needy, “fuck—I miss it, miss you.”

“Jesus, sweetheart,” he mutters under his breath, and you can see him shifting in his chair as if contemplating his next move. “You’re pushin’ me.”

Regardless, he listens.

He shifts the material down his legs with a sharp, messy tug until he can kick the clothing away, his cock at center frame and painfully hard, balls drawn tight as he fists his cock swiftly, tugging alongside your breathy moans.

Normally, you’d drag this out and make use of the expensive toys you’ve kept so near and dear, but Joel was beyond worked up, teetering the line of busting his load, and you were impatient.

“Go on,” Joel encourages with a grunt, “since you’ve been teasin’ me all night,”

You reach forwardly quickly and angle your screen down slightly, still keeping yourself in frame but remove your panties, tantalizingly slow as you spread your legs apart, your fingers driving down the center of your folds as you circle your fingers through the copious slick that had grown in such a short amount of time, the glint of it visible even with the shitty laptop camera.

Joel chokes on a breath, dragging his thumb over the head of his cock and around, circling the sensitive tip as he traded glances between you and his throbbing length, "Show me how much you miss this," Joel breathes, his voice straining with every syllable.

Your fingers move expertly, teasing and exploring yourself with a sense of urgency. The heat between your bodies grows palpable, words exchanged through lust-laden breaths alone, your fingers circling over your clit desperately.

His hand works faster, the slick sounds of his arousal mixing with the echo of your moans.

You can see him struggling to keep his eyes on you, but every flick of your fingers sends him closer to the edge. Your body arches away from the chair, the soft glow from your screen highlighting every curve as you give in to the heat that was coiling in your gut, breathing heavily.

“I wish you would just touch me,” you say breathlessly, “— jus’ take care of me like you always have,”

Joel’s hands tighten around himself at the thought of you—how soft you would feel wrapped around him, how perfectly you’d fit with him, “You’re killin’ me,” he grits out, “you’re fuckin’ kill me—”

“You could be here, Joel,” you whimper, voice thick with desire. “I could be there with you. We could take our time…”

“Sweetheart,” it was warning, watching his fist work furiously around his cock, open-mouthed and strung out groans as he rocker his hips up into his grip, “I’m with ya, I’m right here—”

“S’not good enough,” you say truthfully, body shuddering as your orgasm was clawing at the edge of your sanity, “I wanna feel you so bad, want you to–fuck me—”

“C’mon sweetheart,” He groans, “make yourself come while I watch,”

You let out a whimper at his words, feeling the weight of his gaze on you despite only half of his face being visible. You lean back in your chair, spreading your legs wider, giving him a full view of your glistening core as you press two fingers deeper inside alongside your fingers that work over your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Just like that,” he urges, his voice low, “Let me see how much you want it.”

You nod, breathless, feeling the pressure building within you like a coiled spring ready to pop, “Come with me,” you murmur between gasps, the distinct sound of skin sliding against skin echoing through the call, “please…please…”

Joel spills over his fist with a noisy grunt as you come, letting out a muffled cry through your palm as you hand clasps over your mouth, watching his cum spray against his stomach and drip over his fist, his breathing slowing as the moment passes.

He grimaces at the mess and you giggle, easing your shaky legs down to retrieve your underwear, leaning in close to the screen as he adjusts until his face is back in view, your tongue dragging against your bottom lip as you look at him, full seriousness, “I bet you wish I was there to clean up the mess now, huh?”

He shoots you a glare, though his scowl is visibly softer.

He cleans up hastily, watching you organize your things away quietly, collected, like you hadn’t just come apart from the sound of his voice and his leaking cock and Joel has the sense that this was always the plan, like you were always one step ahead of him, even when he wasn’t planning.

“Did you actually need to study?” Joel asks after a beat, “Or am I that gullible?”

“I found that experience…very knowledgeable, actually,” you joke, adjusting your shirt back into place and never amiss to the way Joel eyes your breasts hungrily.

Joel chuckles, the sound deep and throaty, raw, “A hell of a way to kill time on a Friday night,”

You nod knowingly, “Goodnight, I guess?”

Joel snorts out another quiet chuckle and nods, “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

–

If only it had remained that easy.

Joel goes radio silent soon after—maybe busy, maybe torn up from the guilt that always seemed to creep back in after talking to you lately, but it worried you.

That, and, Joel listened.

He listened when no one else really did.

When you ace your semester final, there’s no one to tell.

Your father never answered his phone, a voicemail box full that he refused to empty, and a devastatingly lackluster response when you were able to reach him for something. Only when you were in town did his effort feel genuine, but even then, it was sparse.

It was little things—small things that seemed unimportant to others but that you knew Joel would treat as if they were bigger than life, a warm feeling you never felt with anyone but him.

Tommy, too—but with Joel, it was substantially different.

And when you get desperate, you get reckless.

You weren’t sure how he was going to react, but you snapped the picture anyway.

You had your breasts spilling over the edge of the lacy bra, hand resting on your hip as you framed yourself in the mirror, cutting off just at the tip of your hips and the way your finger hooked into the fabric.

It takes you too long, going back and forth over this being a terrible idea or a genius one, momentarily scrolling over your father’s name with worry, knowing that even with his lack of caring, he’d still send a message after a length of time, even if it was one-word.

Then you scroll to Joel’s name, scrolling through the various back and forth calls that had taken place over the span of a month or two, feeling a sinking in your gut that pulls the courage away.

It doesn’t return until later that night, conflicting thoughts in your head as you lay half awake and scrolling through your phone again that you find the brevity, swiftly scrolling through your contacts with blurry eyes to send the photo before you second guess yourself.

You succumb to sleep quickly after, avoiding the anxiety that creeps into your chest but returns the moment your eyes open, checking your phone with not a notification or response back in sight, half-tempted to drive back to Austin in search of answers.

But, on a whim, you scroll, checking through your messages and finding your father at the top, figuring that it should be Joel, but it wasn’t—then, it dawns on you.

“Oh, fuck,” you curse, quickly opening the message to exactly what you’re suspecting as the realization washes over, the scandalous picture on full display and SENT under your father’s contact name.

You scramble, rising to your knees in bed as you panicked to text Joel a simple 911 and pray that he picked up—fortunately, he does.

You try to stifle the anger that boils to the surface at how easily he answers after radio silence for so long.

“I’m going to ignore that you’ve been ignoring me,” you interject quickly before he can speak, “but please tell me you’re home or at least close to home,”

“I broke my phone a couple weekends ago, I’ve been waiting for the new one to come in,” Joel explains passively, but he hears the panic in your voice, “why—what’s goin’ on?”

“Are you home?” you ask again.

“I’m walkin’ out my front door,” Joel begins, hearing the door click shut.

“I need you to get my dad’s phone,” you explain vaguely.

“Alright,” he sounds unconvinced, answering slowly, “and why is that?”

“I sent him something by accident,” you rush out, heart racing as panic rises in your throat.

“Wait, what? What did you send?” Joel asks, the concern in his voice palpable.

You can hear him moving quickly down the steps, the sound of his boots hitting the pavement echoing in your ear and you send the photo over without any preamble or explanation, hearing his keys fall to the pavement.

“It was supposed to go to you,” you admit, feeling heat in your cheeks despite the distance between you, already suspecting the frozen look on his face, “I wanted you to answer me.”

“Kiddo, I’ve just been busy,”

“It’s been a month, you said you’ve been trying to get a new phone for a couple weeks,”

“We’re really arguin’ about this right now?” Joel asks, already heading toward your father’s house across the street, hastily coming up with a plan in his head, “You can’t do this shit.”

He leaves you on the phone as he shoves you in his back pocket, coming up with a bullshit excuse as he asks your dad for his phone, hearing how it had been dead all morning and hadn’t had a chance to check his text from you, specifically, hearing the uptick in Joel’s tone as he urges him to hand the phone over.

You can vaguely hear something about Joel needing to add his new number, even though it clearly hadn’t changed at all, your dad reciting his code as Joel attempts to make idle conversation to distract your father, assuming he’d accomplished what he came to do, you hear the brief goodbye and then loud shuffling in your ear.

“....what happened?”

“I took care of it,” Joel tells you, before swiftly switching gears, “do you have classes today?”

“No,” you answer hesitantly, “why?”

“I’ll be there in a couple hours,” You’re not sure why the admission makes you panic.

“Joel—”

“That was real fuckin’ stupid, you know?” Joel starts,

“What? Are you gonna rush down here to punish me over it?” You retort, a tinge of frustration in your tone.

“Is that what you need?” Joel counters.

There’s a heaviness to the silence that neither of you address.

“Just be ready,” Joel says with finality.

–

“I was ignoring you.”

He’d taken you to a diner further into town, wordless upon arrival, his hands tight on the steering wheel. The moment you two receive your food, he speaks, despite how you had been staring him down the entire ride there and while you waited for your meal.

“No shit,” your laugh is hollow, arms crossed over your chest, “you remember how I gave you an out and you still said no?”

The guilt is evident, flashing across his face as he eats, pointing toward your own to urge you to do the same, halfway through the meal he wipes his mouth and continues.

“It was a couple weeks, but I couldn’t stop fuckin’ thinking about it,” not you—it, whatever had been transpiring between you two, “I’m tryin’ to hold a damn meeting over zoom about scheduling and all I can think about is how you sound,”

“Then why ignore me?” you press him, “Why?”

“Because I should care about you the same way I care about my girls,” Joel admits, twisting idly at the watch on his wrist, arms settling against the table, “I do—but you’re not…mine,”

“What does that even mean?” you ask, increasingly irritated.

“I don’t want you thinkin’ you owe any of this to me. You ain’t my daughter and I never tried to be your father, we’ll never be that,” Joel explains and while he had filled a void that was lacking, you could recognize the difference, “but me and you, doin’ all that—I mean look at you, sending that shit to him, even accidentally—”

You weren’t thinking, only acting on desire that wasn’t even fully returned.

It was your turn to sit in silence, looking briefly out the window to the passing cars.

“The other two weeks weren’t that—I dropped it on site during my break and it got ran over, tore it to shreds. I had to replace it. You’re fuckin’ lucky I picked up, saved your ass…”

“So, what was your plan here?” you ask, impatient, “Lecture me? Discipline me?”

“Neither,” Joel decides, throwing a dirtied napkin on his empty plate before he nods to leave, placing a wad of cash onto the table to pay for the ticket.

–

Joel was unsettlingly silent, still tense from the meal you had shared, but he keeps making turns and you’re becoming more and more annoyed as time drags on.

“Don’t think I forgot about your birthday,” Joel quips, turning down a darker road with no street lights, leading to a building shrouded with darkness and surrounded by a thick, metal gate, “I’ve been tryin’ to find the right time to bring you out here, been buildin’ it for the past six months and Ellie thought you’d like it, mighta…brought it up to her,”

It’s giving you emotional whiplash the way he slides back into the comforting man he always has been in your life, physical and mental feelings aside, he’s always been good at it.

The concern is etched on your face as you squint to see through the darkness, wondering how many laws you were breaking as you passed the NO TRESPASSING sign, quickly snapping your head over to look at Joel.

“I’m headin’ the project, ain’t nothin’ for you to worry about,” Joel soothes, “now you ain’t gotta forgive me and you can go back to hatin’ me after this—”

“Easy,” you reply quickly, feeling the car pull to a stop as Joel cuts the engine and removes the keys, “you know—my birthday isn’t for another few weeks, so you’re a little early,”

Nitpicky, but you had nothing else to bite at him with.

Joel grins and beckons you out of the truck, shoving his key into the lock on the gate as you approach close by, snaking under his arm as he raises it to pry the gate apart, following in close behind.

“Lately we’ve been stickin’ to residentials but,” the door opens, hefty and solid metal as Joel urges you inside, “ain’t never built an observatory before, first time for everything ya know?”

Your eyes widen at the sheer size of the inside, the roof expanding high above your head to accommodate the large telescope that sat in the center of the room. The walls were adorned with intricate diagrams of celestial bodies, constellations mapped out with careful precision, and the ambient light was soft but inviting, casting a gentle glow over the room.

It felt like stepping into a sanctuary dedicated to the stars and space.

“Wow,” you breathe, your voice barely above a whisper, taking in the sight of the observatory with an honest, authentic surprise before you pause, peering at Joel with a slight hint of worry, “—this is…breaking at least a few rules, isn’t it?”

Joel nods admittedly.

You walk around aimlessly, admiring the craftsmanship before your fingers trail along the lens of the telescope, dancing around the question without asking.

“All yours,” Joel tells you.

“Did you like it?” you ask suddenly, squinting to peer through the open slat of the ceiling and into the sky, astounded by the detail it shown, frozen for a stretch of time before Joel makes a noise, something between a huff and laugh, looking back over to find his hands settled against his hips, eyes squinting as if he’s searching his mind for the right answer to your question.

“Don’t lie,” you tell him, “I just…thought that you would like it. I’ve never taken one before, for anyone…”

“Look,” Joel starts, his tone growing serious as he moves closer to you, “I don’t think you need me to answer because you already know—you just wanna hear me say it,”

Damn, he was good.

You turn slowly on your heels to meet his approach, arms crossing tightly over his chest to close himself off to you, but you only step closer.

“Then say it,” you challenge him smugly, watching him swallow quietly under your gaze.

“We’re not—”

“Oh, save it,” you interrupt in a snarky tone, “I know the moment you get home you’re gonna jerk off to it and then try to pretend you’re better than all this,”

“It ain’t that,” Joel says defensively, “when the fuck are you gonna understand that?”

“Pull it up,” you demand him, nodding your chin toward the phone buried in his pocket.

Joel sets his jaw and yanks his phone from his pocket, realizing that his phone was still open to the exact photo you had sent him earlier, eyes lingering on the photo before you press a finger against his chest, “It would kill you, you know, to admit that you might want me,”

You casually lean over to click on the message, promptly deleting it.

“Is that all you’re worried about?” Joel asks, “You’re reckless, you don’t think about the consequences of shit like this? If your daddy had seen that photo—”

“Take me back to my dorm.”

“What?”

“Where do you draw the line, Joel? Is it only the thought of fucking me that repulses you? Oh, but telling me how to get myself off isn’t off the table, letting me jerk you off in the middle of the night and lick up your cum, that’s fine, right?”

His jaw clenches at your words, the tension thick in the air between you two.

You can see the struggle in his eyes as he fights against the pull towards you, his mind racing with conflicting feelings and thoughts.

“Stop,” he commands, though his voice lacks conviction.

He takes a step back, but you follow, closing the distance between your bodies.

“Why?” you ask defiantly, tilting your head slightly to meet his gaze, “Why should I stop when you’re clearly thinking about it?”

“This ain’t the place for that,” he mutters, but even as he says it, his eyes flicker down to your lips, and there’s a primal hunger lurking just beneath the surface before he grabs your biceps and hauls you back out and to his truck, opening the passenger side door with a less than gentle manner as you climb inside, closing the door when you’re safely inside before slipping into the driver’s seat, silence settling.

He shifts in his seat, a growl of frustration escaping his lips. “This ain’t a game,” he warns, but his eyes betray him—showing a flicker of interest as they devour you whole, “if you can’t understand that—this, it can’t happen.”

“I think you really underestimate me,” you retort.

“No, I’m fuckin’ terrified of you,” Joel admits suddenly, “and how you’re makin’ me feel.”

Empathy has always been your weakness, but you’re hesitant with him now.

Guarded.

“If you didn’t want this I’d rather you say it instead of draggin’ this along,” you tell him.

Joel's gaze hardens, the tension between you thickening as you challenge him.

He was caught in your web, and he knew it.

“I want you,” he finally admits, the admission hangs in the air like a charged storm cloud ready to strike lightning down on the cab of his truck.

“Then stop fighting it,” you breathe into him, moving closer now but still keeping a distance, his face melting against your touch as you turn his head to look at you, “I can keep your secrets, Joel.”

He doesn’t answer with words, but he looks at you.

Right at you, eyes stuck on the way your lips part, taking in a shaky breath.

“I’m still wearing it,” you admit, voice raising a subtle octave higher with a sudden nervousness, “if you wanna see?”

Joel’s eyes drag to your chest instinctually, looking around quickly to survey the area.

He knew there wasn’t anything to worry about out here, covered in a thick shadow of darkness save the gentle light of the moon and he nodded, the weakest you’ve ever seen him.

Your heart races as you slowly lift the fabric of your shirt, revealing the delicate lace of the bra beneath. The air thickens with a hunger that washes over Joel’s gaze, his hand slowly drifting to rest against the knee that had shifted over his spread leg

“Fuck,” he breathes, as if he can barely contain himself. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

It was the way he looks at you, like you’re the only thing in the world that matters to him at this moment that sends a thrill down your spine. You continue to tease, inching the straps of your bra down over your shoulders, as your fingers curl over the lacy cups and pull down.

“You can have a taste,” you whisper, your breath catching in your throat, “if you’re willing to get over that no-touch rule,” you notice the way his hand has already seemed to bypass it, squeezing at your knee gently before his fingers slowly curl around the side of your waist, pushing and pulling at the same time until your chest is presented to him, his eyes lingering on you for a brief moment before he places kiss at the center of your chest.

The warmth of his lips leave a sting as he trails, each side of your collarbone, your shoulders, down your chest again, the gentle contact sending shivers racing through your body.

You gasped softly, arching your chest further toward him, craving more and willing him to close the distance. “More,” you urged breathlessly, your hands finding their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands as you pulled him closer.

Joel’s mouth moved lower, kissing down your torso with a fervor that made your heart race.

His lips trailed over your abdomen, hot and possessive, as his fingers tugged at the fabric until it folded over, hanging uselessly under your breasts.

He paused for only a moment before lifting his gaze to meet yours again—his eyes dark with desire before you’re moving, quick and sudden as you spread yourself out over his lap, gasping at the feeling of his teeth dragging over your nipple, his tongue swirling around the skin as it hardened in his mouth.

Your back arches in response, thighs pressing tightly against him as you let out a low moan, watching him place gentle, but sloppy kisses as he looked up at you, gauging your response.

Your eyes are heavy, weighted down with pleasure as you sigh, head falling back in response.

“You have me,” you tell him, like a mantra, repeating with every touch of his lips.

Joel wasn’t planning on letting you go.

–

Joel watches you through the tiny screen of your phone as you fiddle with the new doorknob a day later, face contorted in concentration as you twist the screw into the fitted hole, “If this doesn’t work I’m kicking this door down,” you sigh, giving the screw one last tight turn before it clatters to the floor.

“I just walked you through, step by step,” Joel argues, “I’m startin’ to think you just don’t trust my advice…”

“Jury’s still out,” you respond absently, rising to your feet as you wiggle the doorknob to ensure it was secure before closing the door and opening it a few times, feeling satisfied went it doesn’t wobble when you pull, “....alright, you did good,”

Joel snorts tiredly, his camera fuzzy and badly lit as he laid in the dark, glasses hanging from the bridge of his nose as he looked at you through the screen of his phone.

He listened, clearly. You had nagged him over his terrible eyesight for years.

“You should be paying me for my expertise,” he jokes, a lazy grin creeping onto his face despite the late hour and you smile at his growing openness to flirt with you.

“Is that right?” You ask, slowly lowering yourself onto your bed, “What would you charge for a handyman like you?”

“For you, pro bono,” Joel says softly, rounded out by a yawn.

“I know something you can bone,” it was so bad it made Joel groan in disgusted amusement.

“Go to bed, sweetheart,” He urges, and the words have never sounded sweeter.

–

A couple days later, you’re holding up his work for a much needed opinion.

The dress hugs your figure perfectly, but you’re still undecided.

“I like the green one more,” Joel adds, his backdrop dull and grey, blank aside from the scattered post-its—he was calling you from work, which was new.

“You just said you liked the purple more,” you argue, easily stripping the dress over your head and walking toward the camera topless, his gaze flicking up cautiously out of habit even if he was protected on all sides.

You fit the green, pattern embroidered dress over your body and examine yourself through the screen, not quite sold, and neither is Joel.

“If you say you like the purple one again,” you warn him, “I’m blocking your number.”

“Can’t help it, kiddo,” he shrugs, “M’just feelin’ indecisive.”

Most of your interactions had been held purely over phone calls or video chats lately, desperately awaiting the end of your semester before summer break, attempting to make the best of the situation despite Joel’s still…occasional weariness about your relationship.

He was waiting for the other shoe to drop—knowing that no matter what good he had in his life, something was bound to fuck it up.

“Guess I’ll just go naked,” you decide, pulling the dress off in frustration before tossing it into the pile of clothes at the foot of your bed,

“Say that again,” Joel orders, his actions pausing on the other end as he stares you down.

“I guess I’ll go naked,” you say with emphasis, pushing your phone back slightly to prop against your pillow as your breasts push together by the force of your arms as they press into your mattress.

“Don’t joke like that,” Joel threatens, though his intention is empty. The tension crackles between you, thick and electric, a mixture of anticipation that never fails to send your heart racing.

You smirk, teasing him with a playful shrug as you lay out on your stomach, chin resting against your curled fist, “What are you gonna do? Drive down here and stop me?” Your tone is light and playful, but Joel isn’t finding it amusing.

“You keep actin’ like a brat—” you’ve never seen him so serious, immediately pulling back on your teasing, “then yeah, I will.”

“Jeez, sorry,” you laugh slightly, “I’ll cool off then.”

“You wouldn’t listen to me even if I begged,” Joel says decisively, “so fuckin’ hardheaded,”

“I can,” you argue playfully, “for you, yeah.”

“Touch yourself,” he orders suddenly, your eyes widening at the command.

But, he waits, not a single ounce of wavering on his end.

“You’re serious?” you ask incredulously, half-laughing.

“Dead serious,” he replies quickly, “I’m not playin’ with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you consider it, the thrill of submission sending a rush of warmth through your body. You adjust your position slightly, arching your back to subtly tease him before slowly slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your panties.

“Go on,” he encourages, “play with yourself, sweetheart.”

Admittedly, it was too easy.

Having him there, stern gaze stuck on you as your fingers circled your clit with a newfound urgency, free hand fisting into the sheets so hard you think the stitching might rip.

“Keep goin’,” Joel speaks distantly, “look up at me, kiddo,”

You do, embarrassed at how desperate your expression read through the camera, teeth sunk into your bottom lip as your hips rocked against the hurried movement of your fingers.

“Yeah, you close?” Joel asks, watching you stifle a moan into your arm.

You nod frantically and release a sharp, shaky breath.

“Stop,” he demands suddenly, your body listening so intensely that you don’t even think when your fingers stop moving, they just do.

“What the fuck, Joel?”

“Hands off ‘til summer,” Joel orders—it wasn’t that far, but enough that you scoff, which Joel takes as an act of defiance and raises an eyebrow in question, “that a problem?”

Shamefully, you shake your head.

“A couple weeks won’t kill you,” Joel assures you, “but if I find out you have…”

“I won’t,” you promise him, meaning it.

“Green, by the way,” Joel adds casually, “I like the green.”

You roll your eyes playfully at that, hearing his muffled but sincere goodbye as you hang up on him, your airy giggle like a melody as it sings through his speaker.

If only he could hold himself to the same damn rule.

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divider credit: @/saradika-graphics

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us fic #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #x reader #reader #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #dbf!joel #my writing #fic: orbit you

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lazysoulwriter · 28 days ago

Text

only hers. - pedro pascal.

requested! thank you. ♡ content: Pedro Pascal x established relationship!reader, long-distance feels, Cannes setting, soft gift from a fan, FaceTime call, pure love, emotional reunion energy, a man so in love it hurts

---

You hadn’t seen each other in weeks.

One of those cruel work stretches — the kind you used to fantasize about avoiding when you first moved in together. You'd promised: no matter what, we’ll make time. But no one tells you how busy life gets when both your dreams are coming true.

Time zones stopped syncing. Schedules clashed. FaceTime calls were short, sleepy, often interrupted. Texts became quick check-ins that ended with the same bittersweet words: “I miss you more than I can say.”

But Cannes was louder than distance.

Pedro was there for his film’s premiere, wrapped in satin lapels and that signature warmth he carried no matter how polished the setting. The night glowed — flashbulbs, velvet ropes, long stairs, champagne glasses held just-so. He smiled, posed, gave the press what they wanted.

But something was missing. Or rather — someone.

He felt it in the back of his throat every time someone asked him, “Who are you here with?” and he had to say, “Just me tonight.” He felt it in the hotel mirror, adjusting his tie alone. He felt it most when he was standing still — because that’s when he always wanted your hand in his.

And then, as he was signing posters outside the Palais, it happened.

A fan — sweet-faced, with a nervous smile — handed him a small velvet pouch along with a Polaroid to sign. “This is for you,” she said, voice soft. “It has her name. Because… I don’t know, you two make love look possible.”

Pedro blinked, caught off-guard. “What?”

She just smiled. “It’s nothing big. Just something nice.”

Inside was a delicate bracelet — a slim cord in black, with a tiny golden charm in the middle. Your name. Engraved in careful cursive. Not flashy. Not loud. Just you.

He swallowed, already smiling before he even slipped it on.

He couldn’t stop looking at it.

The rest of the night blurred past in a daze of interviews and red carpet questions, but his thumb kept brushing the charm like a nervous habit. He found comfort in it. In you — even this small piece of you.

His chest ached, but in a good way. In a real way.

He called you that night.

It was past midnight in France, and even later where you were. But you answered on the second ring, blurry-eyed in your robe, hair twisted into a messy bun, smile blooming the moment you saw his face on the screen.

“Hi, amor,” you murmured.

“Hey.” He shifted the camera slightly and held up his wrist. “Look what I got.”

You squinted, leaned in — then gasped. “Wait… is that—? Is that my name?”

He turned the charm toward the light so you could see it clearer. “A fan gave it to me. Said we give people hope.”

You blinked at the screen, caught between laughter and tears. “We do, huh?”

“You do,” he said, voice soft. “I just orbit around you.”

“Pedro…” you whispered, pressing your fingers to your lips, then to the screen.

He exhaled, like he’d been holding it in all day. “I miss you so much it’s ridiculous.”

“I know. Me too.” Your voice cracked just a little.

“I wanted you to see this before I fell asleep.” His voice was getting slower, lower — the kind of softness that only came out when he was tired and full of love. “I’ve been holding it all night. Like I can hold you through it.”

You were quiet for a beat, studying him. “You look tired.”

He nodded. “I just want you here.”

“I will be. Soon.”

He smiled faintly. “I know. But until then…”

He lifted his wrist again, eyes on the charm — your name — glowing in the dim hotel light.

“…I’ll wear you.”

You felt your heart squeeze.

And even from a thousand miles away, you knew — You’d never been loved quite like this.

---

✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

---

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the-shedevil-writes · 19 days ago

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Please Please Please (Jake Seresin x Reader)

DESCRIPTION: Growing up with Rooster as your big cousin meant that you were always protected. He made it his mission to keep you out of trouble—whether you wanted him to or not. But after you're transferred to the North Island base, there's little he can do to stop you from being intrigued by the witty playboy pilot that is Jake 'Hangman' Seresin. Everybody's warning you not to... but that just makes the chase more fun.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k WARNINGS: Sensual jokes and innuendos, cussing, fighting. Your call sign’s ’Cowgirl’ ;) NOTES: Jake Seresin is so Short n' Sweet by Sabrina Carpenter. MY MASTERLIST - READ ON AO3!

Growing up with a big cousin like Bradley meant that every summer was spent in San Diego, basking in the hot summer sun and running around, causing trouble. Even though Y/n lived across the country in Alabama, she was incredibly close to her cousin. Technology got better as they got older, and things like texting and FaceTime made the distance after summer ended much more manageable. She looked up to him. He always gave her advice and took care of her. Of course, she worried about him when he decided to follow in his father’s footsteps and join the Navy Air Force. But nothing compared to his reaction on Christmas morning when she told him that she also had enlisted. A mix of pride, anger, and dread surged through him, but he eventually came around to the idea.

After a few years of hustling, she eventually and finally got transferred to North Island. Bradley’s home. She was not just going to be there for the summer, but for the indeterminable future.

When he found out, he ecstatically started preparing for her arrival. He told the Dagger Squad about his little cousin and how she was being transferred over. One night, he turned to FaceTime and explained all the members of the squadron he worked with. She had heard all of these call signs before, but had never put any names to faces.

She stared at the Instagram post he was talking about over the phone. A group photo of all of them at this bar, which they apparently frequented. Bradley at the piano, and the rest of the pilots surrounding him. They seemed like a fun bunch. One pilot immediately caught her eye. A tall built blonde in the middle with a smirk that said ‘yeah right.’

“Who’s the blonde?” She asked

“Glasses or no glasses?” Bradley asked, the small square of him in the corner had him in his dark room.

“No glasses. He’s cute.”

The sound that escaped him was a mix between a groan and a dreadful laugh. “Ohhhhh no. Oh no no no no. You are not getting with Hangman.” He said.

She smirked and raised her brows. They both knew she wasn’t one to back away from a bad idea. But this often led to tears being shed, and Bradley having to hold back his ‘I told you so’ for later on.

“And why’s that?” She asked

“I think our moms would kill me if I let you get played by Jake Seresin.”

“So he’s a player?”

He rolled his eyes. “And a major dick. Just… don’t. Why not Bob? Blonde with the glasses.” He offered.

He wasn’t overprotective in the way that nobody could date her. That’d be unreasonable. He just felt that he could tell the difference between a good and bad decision. Bob was a clear good decision.

She looked the guy over in the picture and shrugged. “Ehhh, he’s cute. But he looks nice.”

Bradley looked straight into the camera like he was Jim from the office.

“The problem is that… he’s nice?”

That made her laugh out loud, “Yeah! Bradley, you know my type. And it’s never been guys whose call sign is Bob.”

“You’ll love Bob, though. If you aren’t into him, you’ll at least be great friends.” He said. And that painted a picture in her head. San Diego beaches. A lovely work schedule, Monday through Friday. A group of friends already waiting for her there. And her days spent flying jets with her favorite and only cousin.

Touching down in San Diego felt incredible. Her whole body felt electric with the prospects of new beginnings. She had worked in many rural states so far, never in a city like this. She practically tackled Bradley to the ground when she found him waiting at the gate. It had been years since either of them had gotten to see each other in person.

“Bradley Bradshaw! I didn’t know you existed outside of my phone.” She cackled.

“Hey, it’s Rooster to you now, Cowgirl.” He said, referring to her own call sign.

She fake shivered, “Weird. Weird!”

Her first week was spent moving into her apartment, and Bradley helped her put together furniture after his shifts. On Friday night, he insisted that she come to The Hard Deck. And who was she to deny a few drinks on her first weekend in North Island?

Walking up to the homey dive bar, a sense of adventure zapped up her spine. The lights inside lit up the dark beach, and she could hear the waves faintly behind the classic rock playing inside. They didn’t have anything like this in Alabama, that’s for sure.

She didn’t get many opportunities to dress up nicely, so she decided to go all out. But now she felt a little overdressed in her white halter top and denim mini skirt. A pair of heels sank into the sand. Her blown-out hair lifted in the sea breeze. Even the people walking in front of her were in simple T-shirts and shorts. She swallowed. Maybe she overestimated ‘bar on the beach’.

She walked in and looked around for her cousin. After a few seconds of anxious scanning, she found him over by the pool table, playing darts. It wasn’t hard to notice him and his whole group, still in uniform.

“Hey, Rooster!” She called happily, strutting over to meet him.

He turned around and smiled. “Hey, Cowgirl!” He ecstatically walked over to greet her with a side hug.

She didn’t notice the squad’s jaws dropping and the surprised looks they all gave each other. THIS was Rooster’s little cousin? Hangman, the most surprised, went from leaning down on the table, lining up his starting shot of pool, to slowly standing, taking her all in.

Rooster led her to the table. “Guys, this is the little cousin I was telling you all about. This is Y/n.” He said, introducing her.

She smiled and waved on instinct. “Hi.”

“Jesus Christ, she’s related to you?” Hangman said with a smooth voice, capturing her attention. The cute guy from the photo. And wow, he was even more better looking in real life. Tall, blonde, and muscular. His green eyes reflected back the amber lights above, as he stood leaning on his pool cue. He looked like a Ken doll, and his voice was like butter. She understood immediately how he garnered the rep that Rooster scared her of.

“That’s Hangman.” Rooster disappointingly introduced, and he pointed to the rest of the gang, “There’s Phoenix. Bob. Fanboy. And Payback.”

She nodded, keeping track of the names. “Got room for one more?” She asked.

“Yeah. Of course.” Bob said, welcoming, sliding over so she could move into the space.

She turned and looked around for a cue on the wall, but didn’t see any. When she turned back around, she found Hangman standing there with two in his hands.

“I got you.” He said, handing her one.

She looked up at him, unable to resist the smile that grew on her face. The smile that Rooster knew very well growing up. The one that meant trouble.

“Thank you very much.” She said, reaching for it, but he gently pulled it away first with a teasing look on his face. After a daring head tilt, she snatched the cue from his hand, purposefully making their fingers brush. Sure, this Jake Seresin was cute, but she could play that game, too. He clearly had never heard of Y/n Bradshaw. She walked past him, towards the end of the pool table. Nobody questioned that she was now suddenly starting the game.

She leaned over in her low-cut halter and mini skirt without a care in the world. Though it sure made Bob avert his eyes and give Rooster a scared look. She knew exactly who wouldn’t look away… Jake. She could feel his stare boring into her, and even with her focusing on the rack in front of her, she could guess the stupid smirk on his face.

“Your technique’s all wrong.” Jake started, “I can teach you, if you’d like.” Practically textbook flirting.

Rooster stared daggers into him. “I’ll kill you, Hangman.” He did his best to walk over and stick to his game of darts with Payback and Fanboy. But that didn’t stop the nervousness.

She chuckled and pushed the cue forward, sending the ball flying hard against the stack. They all scattered, sending many more stripes in than solids.

“I’m stripes. Bob, you’re on my team.” She said, calling him over with her head.

Bob’s eyes widened, but he nodded and joined her with a smile. He seemed just happy to be included. It took all her effort not to laugh at Jake’s face dropping.

Jake let out the tiniest scoff then leaned on his cue. “Losers buy a round for the squad.”

“You sure seem confident,” She teased as Phoenix lined up her shot.

“I’m the only Naval Aviator here with a confirmed air-to-air kill. I’ve got good aim.” He bragged.

“If you’re wanting a measuring contest, I can go toe to toe.”

“Oh really?”

Phoenix got her shot in naturally, and Bob went to take her place, finding a good spot to get a stripe in. But who cares what they were doing? It felt like they didn’t exist. It felt like the entire bar didn’t even exist, and it was nothing but this sweet, sweet tension between her and Hangman. That feeling when two people know they’re attracted to each other, so they’re treading the line between what’s too far and what’s not far enough. You could cut it with a knife.

“Well, I’m an early bloomer with a hundred carrier landings and two air medals.” She announced, walking closer to stand in front of him. She looked up and smirked, “One of them with V.”

He whistled. “Guess, we’ve got ourselves a good game on our hands then, folks.” He said, but only stared directly into her eyes.

“Guess, we do, Hangman. You’re on.”

The game was tight. And it felt like she and Jake were playing their own game amidst Phoenix and Bob. Jake was good. He had dead aim and could get a solid from across the table straight into a pocket.

But she had strategy on her side. She’d aim for what seemed like the riskiest route, but would get multiple balls in at the same time. Faster when she was on a lucky streak, slower when she wasn’t. Leading to the two of them neck and neck.

One of the last turns of the game had her and Bob with 3 balls left, and Hangman and Phoenix with two.

“Shaking in your boots yet?” Hangman said lowly as she lined up her shot. It was tough. Trying to include the one ball in an awkward spot was almost impossible.

She shook her head firmly. “Nope.”

“Oh, you will be.” He said, leaning over next to her, trying to distract her.

“That a promise?” She asked quickly before shooting. The ball hit straight into the awkward one, sent it in, and bounced back to hit her last two remaining into pockets.

Jake watched it with wide eyes. This woman.

She smirked proudly. “How ‘bout you? Shaking in your boots yet?” All she needed to do was get the 8-Ball in on her next turn, and she and Bob would be winners. Unless…

“Not even close.” Jake started setting up his shot.

Phoenix observed the board. “Hangman, we’re fucked. You can’t get that six in without hitting the 8-ball.”

“High risk. High reward.” He said before shooting, without even a thought. And yup. He sank the 8-ball in too early.

Bob and Y/n cheered with a high-five. “Nice work, Bob.” She complimented before Jake walked back over to them. “I drink Michelob Ultra.” She rubbed it in.

He shook his head. “How about you come with me to get this round?” He said.

She looked over at Rooster, who was playing some songs on the piano as Payback and Fanboy danced and sang along off-key. A mischievous grin formed on her face. “Sure.” She said, walking away with Hangman. Bob and Phoenix looked at each other with worried faces.

As they walked over to the bar, Jake looked over at her. “Getting to buy you a drink is a pretty fantastic punishment.”

“Dreadful, isn’t it?” She said.

“Horrible. Didn’t want to do it at all.” He replied just as sarcastically.

This felt… good? Even though Rooster had warned her so heavily about him, she felt that she had met her match. After plenty of lackluster guys and boring conversation, she was talking to someone who could keep up with her. But she didn’t want it to seem like she was falling for him. No- she couldn’t let this man have the higher court. She was not going to be just another girl for him. He was gonna have to square up to get anywhere past this fun flirting with her.

They sat at the bar. “Penny, could I get five more of our usual and…” He looked over at Y/n, who sat with a proud smile, “And a Michelob Ultra. All on me.”

The bartender nodded, “You got it.” She said, sliding over the mass of drinks and looking over at her. “A new face around here.”

“Yeah, Hi! I’m Y/n, Rooster’s cousin.”

And at that, Penny widened her eyes at Hangman, as if to say, ‘What are you doing?’ She took a surprised pause before going. “Well, welcome to town.”

With that foreboding interaction, her stomach squeezed. What was any of that supposed to mean? But she mentally shook it off and looked back over at the gorgeous man next to her.

“I think I know why your name’s Cowgirl.” He stated with a sly smile.

“I think I know why your name’s Hangman.”

“It does hang.”

Jesus Christ. That took her off guard, but she wasn’t about to let it show.

“It’s cause I’m from Alabama, dumbass.” “Texas.”

Their dialogue was like a western shootout. Constant banter, and no time to breathe.

“You leave people out to dry,” She said.

“Well, the women are usually-”

She raised a brow that told him not to finish that sentence. In a single look, she told him that she was not the type of woman to hear about his conquests. He tilted his head with a wavering smirk. An exhale escaped through his nose.

“I like you.” He said, wagging his finger at her. “You’re fun.”

“And that’s all you are. Fun.” She said pointedly, “I hope you know that tonight’s been fun, but I’m not looking to wake up in your bed.”

His face dropped. “You’re gonna listen to Chicken instead of forming your own opinion?” He asked, clearly a little taken aback.

“Well… I don’t fuck and find out.” She replied, opening her beer can with a hiss and strutting back to the pool table, waving hi to Bob and Phoenix. She looked back at Jake, who looked like he had just seen pigs fly.

The next week was her first week on base, and she couldn’t wait. She was itching to fly again. She hadn’t been able to since her move, and she needed it like water. They were training for a strike mission, something she was very familiar with.

She sat on a bench in the locker room, putting on the underclothes for her flight suit. Just a black tank top and underwear, as Phoenix did the same, a few lockers down from her. Her hesitant gaze could be felt.

Awkward silence.

“Phoenix, you seem like you wanna say something,” Y/n said with a chuckle, not even looking at her, as she got up to grab her flight suit.

“I’m debating on warning you against Hangman or if you’ve already heard enough from Rooster.” The brunette replied point-blank, “You have to know he’s a bad idea.”

She shrugged as she set her suit on the ground so she could step into it. “I know he is. That’s why I’m not sleeping with him.”

Phoenix raised her brows. “Right now. But you guys were practically one step away from screwing each other on the pool table at Hard Deck last weekend.” She said, and was met with silence as she pulled up the bottom half. “I’m just saying. He gets girls wrapped around his finger all the time. Don’t think you’re gonna change him to be a relationship type of guy.”

Y/n put on the arms of her suit. “Well, if he wants me, he’s gonna have to. I’m not that type of girl anymore.” She zipped herself up, “Trust me. If he wants to be stupid, it sure as hell won’t be in front of me.”

Phoenix shrugged. “Whatever you say, Cowgirl.”

Walking out into the hangar side by side with Phoenix was invigorating. She looked around, taking in the base. It felt a lot bigger than the ones she was used to. And the weather was gorgeous. A cool breeze whizzed past her face, not protected by her hair anymore, now that it was up in the sanctioned bun.

Then she saw him. Hangman walking out with Fanboy towards the jet. He looked fantastic in a flight suit. The dark green sleeves were folded up over his elbows, and the sight of his tense forearms made her swallow like a Victorian man seeing an ankle.

He looked over and saw her, a grin appearing on his face.

“Good morning, ladies. Cowgirl.” He said to the two, making Phoenix roll her eyes and walk away towards Fanboy. “You sure make a onesie look good.” He said once she left.

“Right back at you, Bangman.” She teased, making him laugh.

“I don’t mind that nearly as much as you think.” He said, crossing his arms.

“Well, you should.” And for some reason, that comment got under his skin a little. She could tell by the way he tensed up slightly.

But before she could recover, Rooster came by. She wondered if he was just passing through or if he saw her talking to Jake and decided to intervene. “Hey, Cowgirl! Ready for your first day?”

She nodded excitedly, “Very. I’ve been waiting.” She said happily.

Rooster patted her back, then looked over at Hangman with a warning glare that could turn a man to stone. But then Phoenix called his name from the distance, and Rooster looked over at his little cousin. “You’re gonna kill it. Be careful. Be safe.” He said before running over. But it didn’t feel like it was the planes he was warning her about.

After a moment, Jake looked back at her, “I actually wanted to-”

BZZZZZZ. The P.A. system turned on. “Pilots, please report to the flight line for pre-launch checks. Stand by for further instructions.” A gravelly voice said.

An excited smile lit up her face. “God, I’m so excited.” She said, practically radiating as she looked over at the line of Hornets. She didn’t even notice Jake admiring how pretty she looked when she was excited about something. She turned back, and his face returned to normal, hiding the small smile he had. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

He opened his mouth, but then thought about it. “I’ll tell you later. We should go.”

The next few days were hard, but rewarding. Dogfights and practicing in difficult terrain. But she and Jake developed a lovely, banter-filled friendship between them. Every day, she’d walk into the hangar to find Jake had already grabbed her coffee. And they’d tease each other about their flying habits and mistakes.

“I mean, you fixate so hard on the kill shot that you forget about your position. It’s a rookie mistake.” She shrugged, sipping her coffee.

“What can I say? I just like getting what I want.” He said, leaning closer.

Her head turned, challenging. “Clearly…” She said softly, “But then you end up dead in the water.” She stated, breaking the tension and walking away towards her jet. Jake watched her with a gnawing ache in his chest that grew every day.

Up in the sky, a week later, she and Jake flew, teamed up for an exercise. They hadn’t started yet, waiting for Maverick to catch up.

Over the direct comms, Jake’s voice piped up in her helmet. “How’s your week been, Cowgirl?”

She smirked, looking over to see Jake in his jet giving her a two-finger wave through his canopy. “It’s been good.” She radioed in.

The loud rush of the air against them was calming, and it was nice just casually flying down the area with one of the most breathtaking views she’s seen as a pilot. The beach was not too far down from them, giving them a clear view of the ocean.

“Just good?” He asked. She could practically hear the curl of his lips, “How about I make it great?”

“Didn’t know you had a spicy margarita in your pocket there. How’d you fit that?” She teased and saw him shake his head.

“Dinner. Saturday night. I can guarantee a spicy margarita. Or a Michelob Ultra. Whatever you’re feeling, Cowgirl.” He said, remembering her order from a few weeks back.

She thought about it. Maybe it was the adrenaline of being in a jet. Maybe it was her hankering for bad decisions. Or maybe it was the fact that he’d been well behaved. He’d been keeping up this amusing give and take with her for the past two weeks. He was a fast learner. He quickly learned to never insinuate that she was going to sleep with him. And to never bring up other girls.

“It’s a date.” She radioed in and looked over to find him staring at her with a surprised smile.

He spun his jet into a barrel roll, making her laugh.

“YOU’RE WHAT?” Rooster almost slammed the brakes on the blue Ford Bronco on their way to The Hard Deck. But they were in the middle of the street, so he just looked over at her, horrified, and back at the road. “Y/N! What the hell did I say about Hangman?”

She crossed her arms, already annoyed. “He’s been so… sweet.” She said, shrugging.

“I’m sure that’s what all the girls in god damn San Diego say before he buys them a drink.” He said.

She groaned. “Rooster!”

“Cowgirl!” He replied worriedly. “I’m not trying to be a dick. I’m trying to be your older cousin who doesn’t want you to make bad decisions.”

“And when have I ever listened to you?”

“Never. But this time, I’m telling you. This isn’t prom with Chad Garter. This isn’t that biker guy in your stats class. This is a guy I know for certain just wants sex.”

“And how do you know that?!” She asked, exasperated.

“Because I’ve seen him pick up girls at Hard Deck.”

That made her laugh. She shook her head. “Oh, Bradley, I’m so glad you didn’t see me during my community college phase.”

His eyes widened. “Jesus Christ, Ew! Don’t let me think about that.” He said, disgusted.

“Look, I’ve done my fair share of one-night stands, too. I can’t judge. And he asked me out on a date. An ACTUAL date. Dinner.” She said

There was a silence in the car as Rooster shook his head disapprovingly. She looked at him with pleading eyes.

“And if he tries to go further than dinner, I’ll say no. And that’s that. It’ll be awkward at work for a bit until he mans up. But that’s how it always is.” She tried to convince him.

He looked over at her and saw the look on her face. The desperate look of his little cousin, whom he loved like a sister. And unfortunately, he knew her so well that he knew there was no stopping her. “If he hurts you, I’ll kill him. I’ll actually do it. And you’re paying for the funeral and my bail.”

“And it’ll be well deserved.” She nodded happily.

Rooster and her arrived a bit later than usual. They spotted the usual gang over by the dartboard, sitting around, taking turns. Except someone was missing. She didn’t see Jake, and he was hard to miss considering his height and stature. Rooster walked ahead, already towards the group, but she paused, looking around.

Then she saw the stray khaki uniform sitting at the bar. The back of his blonde head was obvious. And with the flip of her stomach, she saw a beautiful woman sitting next to him in a gorgeous bodycon dress. She reached up and slid her hand up his shoulder, and he looked down at her with a polite smile.

That was enough. She wasn’t about to cause a scene, but she sure as hell wasn’t about to be played right in front of her eyes. She spun on her heels and walked toward the door.

Rooster, now noticing she wasn’t following, ran back over to her. “What? What’s wrong?” He asked, immediately reading her face.

“No. No, I’m stupid. I was just- He was just-” She stammered, and Rooster turned back to see Jake patting the woman’s hand.

He turned back. “I’m gonna kill him. I’m actually-”

She grabbed his arm. “No. Don’t. Don’t make a big deal out of it. Otherwise, it’ll just make it worse.”

“No. No, he doesn’t get to do that to you.” Rooster said. “Not you.”

He turned back around and strode towards Jake, who was getting up from the bar now. “ASSHOLE!” Rooster yelled, pushing Jake back against the bar. The woman who was next to him yelped in surprise.

“HEY!” Penny called out. The whole bar was watching now.

Jake looked around, confused and wide-eyed. “What the hell?”

“You think you can just run through Y/n like she’s nothing to you, huh? Get her fucking hopes up like an asshole and then go home with another girl?!”

Jake looked over Rooster’s shoulder and saw her standing there, covering her mouth in shock and embarrassment. He quickly realized what had happened. But Rooster kept going.

“I fucking told you. I told you! That if you did anything to her, I’d beat the shit out of you.” Rooster said, grabbing his shirt, but Jake pushed him back.

“I wasn’t flirting with her!” He finally said loud enough to make the bar go quiet. The upbeat classic rock from the jukebox was faint and clashing, just making the tension worse. “She was with me, and I rejected her. I felt bad. I was trying to be nice.”

Rooster looked over at the scared woman on the stool next to them. She slowly nodded, confirming his story. He stepped back, and they both looked over at Y/n, who just stood red in the face. Angry at both of them. Humiliated more than anything. She couldn’t stop the fact that tears were streaming down her face. And when she looked over and saw Phoenix and Bob’s worried expressions, that was the last straw. She stormed out of the bar.

“BOTH OF YOU. OUT!” Penny yelled.

Rooster and Hangman walked out with their tails between their legs to find an empty parking spot where Rooster’s car used to be. Scarred tire marks were scorched on the pavement.

“Classic. Classic Y/n.” He said, throwing his arms in the air.

Jake couldn’t help the smile that brought him. “God, that girl is something else.”

“Yeah. That’s why she doesn’t need you, Seresin.” Rooster spat. “We should find her.”

The blonde looked at him. “You know, you think you’ve got me all figured out, huh? You think I’m just some playboy genius trying to hit a big score.”

Rooster nodded. “Uh yeah, that’s actually exactly what I think.”

Jake put his hands on the back of his hips and shook his head. He was actually gonna admit this.

“You know she’s the first girl I’ve asked out on a real, genuine date in years?” Jake pointed out. He saw the surprise on the brunette’s face. Years? “For the first time in a long time, a girl’s got me so nervous I can’t stand it. Everytime I see her, the only thing I can think about is not screwing it up. So I’ll be damned if I let you or that random woman back there get in the way.”

There was silence as Rooster just looked at him, stunned.

Jake huffed. “Get in the Jeep, Chicken. Let’s go find her.”

Rooster knew exactly where she’d be. Spending every summer there since they were practically born made it easy to know her favorite spots. They parked on the cliffside of a small beachside mountain. If you could even call it a mountain. It was just an elevated view of the whole beach.

She sat on the ground with her knees to her chest, taking in deep breaths. Her hair blew in the higher wind. She could see Hard Deck as a tiny spot in the distance. That wasn’t there when she was growing up. A lot of the buildings actually weren’t there when she was growing up. It used to be nothing but sand and grass. And the newfound metropolis taking over was a little overwhelming.

The sound of a car pulling up startled her. She turned back and saw a white Jeep parking right behind her. It idled there for a minute before Rooster finally hopped out of the passenger side. Who the hell was driving then? She squinted her eyes, trying to see through the windshield, but from where she was sitting, the sun hit directly against it. A shadowy figure. Kind of looked like Bob?

“Hey, kid,” Rooster said, walking over and sitting next to her.

She didn’t say anything for a moment. “Thanks for humiliating me.”

Rooster sighed. “Yeah, for once, you were kinda right.”

“For once?” She raised a brow.

He chuckled, “Fine. Fine. I should’ve listened to you. I shouldn’t have gone to kill Hangman.”

She sighed, “You know, if he was actually flirting with her, I would’ve totally let you.” She said, and noticed Rooster look back over his shoulder for a second before turning back.

“Yeah… Well, I can confirm now he wasn’t and he’s not six feet deep, at least.” He said, noticing that she still wasn’t happy. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m so humiliated. It feels like everybody has been waiting to watch me crash and burn with Jake. And that kind of just proved it.” She threw her hands up, then back around her knees.

There was a small silence before Rooster put his thoughts together. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have embarrassed you. It’s just that you’re my best friend, and I hate to see you get hurt. You know I’d do anything to avoid that.”

“You told him to stay away from me?” She asked about what he said at the bar.

Rooster nodded and shrugged. “Yeah, after the first night. But he’s just like you, unfortunately. Stubborn as a mule.”

After a second, she let out a heavy sigh. “I can’t be mad at you. You’re my best friend, too, and you were just protecting me like you always do.” She said still a little defeated, “I just hope that Jake doesn’t think I’m batshit crazy now.”

“Well… about that,” Rooster started, then looked over his shoulder again before nodding his head.

She followed his gaze and watched Jake get out of the driver’s side of the jeep.

“Oh!” She yelped, taken off guard. She wiped her face, hoping there weren’t any stray tears.

Rooster looked at the two of them and saw the bashful look on Hangman’s face. He had never seen that look on him before. The vulnerable look of pure nervousness. She… she might be in good hands here.

“I’m gonna park the Jeep down the hill.” He said. And when he got up, Hangman tossed him the keys, clearly having planned this. An effortless catch and toss.

She stood up and walked towards Jake as Rooster got in the car and started pulling away.

“Hey…” Jake said. He gently brought his hands up to her face and moved some stray baby hairs out of her face. The wind was blowing them everywhere.

“I’m so sorry.” She started, “I swear- all I saw was her putting her hand on your back and you smiling at her, and I-I didn’t wanna make a big deal out of it, but then Rooster saw.” She explained nervously.

“Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He said firmly, he brought his hand to cup her cheek and brushed his thumb back and forth. Her breath hitched at that. He pulled away to put his hands back in his pockets, and she wished he didn’t. “I hope you know that I’m not just trying to… get you in bed with me.” He said, looking down, embarrassed, then looking back up to see her reaction.

“Everyone said you were.” She admitted.

“I’m aware. Very aware.” There was a small silence between them for a moment. “Do you still believe them?”

She thought about it for a moment, staring up at him. Then she slowly shook her head. “No. Or at the very least, I don’t want to.”

His mouth upturned to a small smile at that. “Good.” He said, moving forward closer, “Because I’m… I’m serious about you. Ever since that night at Hard Deck, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re just incredible. In every sense of the word.”

Now that brought a small smile to her face, and it was her turn to walk forward closer. “Hmmm… And there’s no other girls?” She interrogated lightly.

He shook his head with a smirk. “No, ma’am. Got my hands full with you.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she naturally put her hands on his cheeks. This just felt right.

“Good.” She said before closing in the gap between them and kissing him.

They held each other so close that it was like they wanted to merge. Weeks of tension and banter, and forbidden nature, all exploding into this one gesture. Her lips soft against his. His hands calloused against her waist. The taste of evergreen between them.

She pulled away and looked up at him, just admiring his features. He chuckled as he watched her examine his face.

“Still good for dinner tomorrow night?” He asked

“You’re on.”

#Jake Seresin #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick fic #top gun maverick #top gun #top gun hangman #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #top gun hangman fic #glen powell #glen powell fic #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman fic #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fanfic

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shy9-29 · 2 months ago

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Can i request a fic where reader finally says " i love you " to bf Jay after 4 months of dating and it feels as if he hit the jackpot and he's just so ecstatic to the point he can't stop kissing you and telling you how grateful and lucky he is to be yours and to be loved by you

OMG OFC this is so cute jay is such a cutie and I feel like this fits him so much. Im in love 😻 also happy birthday jay!!!

synopsis: after 4 months of dating jay, you finally muster up the courage to tell him you love him. Ever since, he’s been stuck to you like glue. ✉️ wc. 2.7k

You were lying on the couch, legs lazily draped over Jay’s lap as he scrolled through his phone, completely unaware of the way the golden hour light spilled across his face. He looked too perfect to ignore, so you reached for your phone and angled it just right, switching to the 0.5 lens and snapping a photo without warning.

Jay stretched an arm behind your head, pulling you closer until your cheek rested on his chest. “You’re always taking pictures of me,” he murmured, voice quieter now, more thoughtful. “You gonna run out of storage at this rate.”

He blinked up at the sound, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Did you just take a 0.5 photo of me?” he asked, squinting playfully as he tried to snatch your phone.

You giggled, pulling it out of his reach. “Caught you in your natural habitat.”

“Looking flawless?” he teased, leaning back with a smug grin.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile as you took another shot—this time catching him mid-laugh. That one, you knew you’d save forever.

“I’ll just buy more,” you said softly, your fingers drawing lazy patterns on the back of his hand.

He didn’t respond for a moment, just traced little circles on your arm with his thumb. Then he whispered, almost like a secret, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy before.”

Your heart thudded once—loud and sudden—but you stayed quiet, just let the warmth of him, the moment, sink in.

Jay looked down at you, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You always look at me like that,” he said with a grin.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re about to say something big.”

You swallowed, feeling the words rise up your throat, right there on the tip of your tongue. But instead, you smiled. “Maybe I am.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “You don’t have to,” he whispered. “I already know.”

And from that day forward, he was always closer, always touching—his arm around your waist in the kitchen, his fingers laced with yours on the train, his lips brushing your temple when he thought no one was looking.

You hadn’t said it yet. But somehow, he already acted like you did.

Jay was supposed to be at your place thirty minutes ago, but the minutes kept ticking by with no sign of him. You tried not to worry, tried to tell yourself that maybe he just stopped to grab something or took a longer route—but when your phone stayed silent, your anxiety crept in little by little. Finally, you gave in and called him, thumb hovering over the screen until he picked up on FaceTime.

The screen lit up with his familiar face, a little flushed from the heat and frustration, one hand on the wheel. “Hey, babe,” he said, glancing between the road and the camera, his brows slightly furrowed. “Sorry, traffic’s a nightmare. I’m like crawling at 5km an hour.”

You exhaled in relief, though your eyes widened. “Jay, you’re driving—should you really be FaceTiming me right now?”

He chuckled, the sound already easing your nerves. “I know, I know. But I had to let you know I wasn’t ditching you.”

You smiled, even though your voice came out a little scolding. “Oh, then I should probably hang up. I don’t want you to get distracted.”

But he shook his head, his expression softening as he looked at you again. “No, it’s okay. I insist. Hearing your voice actually makes me more focused.”

Your heart melted at that—warmth blooming in your chest at the sincerity in his tone. He wasn’t just saying it to make you feel better. He meant it.

“Okay,” you murmured, the corners of your lips turning up. “But keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Romantic.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned, and you stayed on the line, talking about nothing and everything while the city lights passed by slowly behind him.

It was nearly dark when Jay finally arrived, and you heard his familiar footsteps jogging up the stairs before the door flung open with dramatic flair. You barely had time to get up from the couch before he stepped inside with his arms completely full—three large bags swinging from his wrists, a drink tray balanced carefully in one hand, and… was that—?

“Movie night!” he declared in a sing-song voice, holding everything up like a proud delivery man who had just completed the world’s most romantic DoorDash run.

You blinked, your mouth slightly open. “Jay…”

“Wait, wait,” he said, carefully setting the bags down one by one with exaggerated care. “One—your favorite takeout. Two—those weird fizzy grape sodas you love even though they taste like cough syrup. And three—”

He reached into the last bag with a flourish, his grin practically splitting his face in two. “The Jellycat sheep you’ve been dropping hints about for, like, three months.”

He held it out proudly, and you gasped, recognizing the soft, round, floppy plush immediately. “No way.”

“Yes way,” he said, handing it over like it was made of gold. “She’s all yours. I had to fight off a grandma for her, but worth it.”

Your face was already burning with affection and secondhand embarrassment as you reached for the plush, but not before giving his arm a half-hearted smack. “You’re so embarrassing.”

Jay just laughed, brushing your hair gently behind your ear. “But you love it.”

You clutched the plush sheep to your chest, still unable to hide your smile. “Yeah,” you said softly, looking up at him. “I love you.”

His face stilled for a moment, the teasing energy shifting into something warmer, deeper. He stepped forward, hands now free, and cupped your cheeks like you were something precious.

“I love you too,” he whispered, eyes searching yours. “So much.”

You thought he’d kiss you right then—but instead, he pulled you into the tightest hug, rocking you back and forth like he needed to feel every part of you against him.

“I missed you today,” he murmured into your hair. “Traffic sucked. But thinking about coming here, seeing you—made it worth it.”

You hugged him back just as tightly, heart full to the brim. “You’re ridiculous,” you whispered. “You brought enough food to feed a village.”

“A very lucky village,” he quipped, pulling back just enough to look at you again. “C’mon. Let’s pick a movie. I’m voting rom-com. I earned it.”

You rolled your eyes and tugged him toward the couch, Jellycat in one hand, his fingers laced with yours in the other.

And as the night went on—blankets tangled around your legs, the sound of the movie playing softly in the background, and Jay stealing kisses every time you looked away—you realized that this wasn’t just a good night.

It was one of the nights you’d remember forever.

The atmosphere between you and Jay had shifted into something a little more intimate, though neither of you had really said it out loud. You were curled up on the couch, his arms around you, legs tangled in the blanket. Jay looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, and before you knew it, he was pulling you into his lap, his hands settling on your waist as he shifted you comfortably on him.

“Jay—” you started to protest, but the words got stuck when he began to kiss your neck, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. The heat from his body was almost overwhelming, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to pull away.

He chuckled softly against your skin. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” he whispered, his breath warm and teasing.

You squirmed a little, trying to focus on the movie, but his attention was relentless. His hands slid up your sides, gently pulling your shirt over your head. You blinked, caught off guard, but before you could say anything, he was already taking off his own sweater with swift movements, revealing a white tank top underneath.

You were about to protest, to tell him to stop, but then he draped the sweater over your shoulders. “Here,” he said, his voice a little deeper now. “Wear this. You look cold.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you took the sweater, letting him help you pull it on. It smelled like him, warm and comforting, and suddenly you felt like you could stay in it forever. But that didn’t stop him from continuing his onslaught of soft kisses along your jawline, his hands now tracing circles on your back through the fabric of the sweater.

“Jay, please,” you whimpered, pulling away just slightly to look at him, your hands pressing against his chest. “We have to watch the movie. Can we, like… actually watch it?”

But he only grinned, eyes filled with affection and a touch of playful mischief. “Who needs a movie when I have you right here?” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours as if he couldn’t stop himself.

You gave in to the kiss, your hands curling into his shirt as you melted into him, the movie completely forgotten for the moment. But then, as if on cue, you broke away, breathless.

“Jay!” you laughed, though it was more out of frustration and desire than anything else. “I’m serious, we need to at least pretend we’re watching this thing!”

He groaned in mock annoyance, but you could tell he was only halfheartedly giving up. “Fine, fine,” he said with a resigned sigh, though his hands were still lightly resting on your hips. “We’ll watch the movie. But I’m not making any promises that I won’t kiss you during it.”

You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. You didn’t really mind. Not at all.

You settled back into his lap, adjusting the oversized sweater around you as Jay wrapped his arms securely around your waist. His chin came to rest on your shoulder, and he pressed one last, lingering kiss to your cheek before whispering, “Okay. Movie mode. I’m locked in.”

You picked up the remote and hit play, the screen lighting up with the familiar opening scene. For a solid five minutes, things were normal. His arms stayed still, his breath warm against your neck, and for once, he was actually watching. Or so you thought.

“Wait, what just happened?” he asked suddenly, blinking at the screen.

You turned slightly, suspicious. “Seriously? Jay, that was like the most important part.”

“I was distracted,” he mumbled, nuzzling into your neck again. “You keep wiggling around, what am I supposed to do?”

You tried to stay firm, but the way he pouted made it impossible. “I’m trying to watch, not wiggle.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, then leaned in to kiss your neck again. “Can’t help it. You’re warm. And soft. And in my sweater.”

You bit back a laugh, your heart fluttering all over again. “You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re in denial,” he whispered, sneaking a kiss behind your ear. “You love how obsessed I am with you.”

You turned your head, catching his lips in a quick kiss before he could sneak in another. “I do,” you whispered, barely above a breath. “I really do.”

Jay’s eyes lit up with that boyish sparkle you adored, and he kissed you again—slowly this time, like he wanted to memorize the shape of your mouth.

You let yourself melt for a second, but when he made a move to deepen it, you pulled away with a giggle, smushing his face gently with your palm.

“Movie,” you reminded him, trying not to laugh as he groaned dramatically.

“Fine. Movie,” he repeated, resting his head back on your shoulder with a sigh.

And even though he finally quieted down, his arms never left you, his fingers gently tracing little shapes on your thigh, his lips brushing your temple every now and then like he just couldn’t help himself.

You never thought movie night would feel like this. Like home. Like love. Like everything.

Halfway through the movie, you felt the growing urge to pee and finally sighed, untangling yourself from Jay’s hold. He immediately sat up with you, as if he was about to follow you into battle.

You blinked at him. “Jay… I’m just going to the bathroom.”

“I know,” he said, already trailing behind you like a very clingy, very tall shadow.

You laughed under your breath, reaching for the bathroom door. “Go watch the movie. I’ll be like—two minutes.”

But he didn’t stop. Instead, he stepped right inside the bathroom with you like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You turned around, eyebrows raised. “Jay.”

He blinked innocently. “What?”

“Just wait outside,” you said, trying to nudge him back out with a hand to his chest.

He let out the softest, most dramatic pout, stepping back with slumped shoulders like you’d just rejected him on national television. “Fine,” he grumbled, dragging his feet as he stepped out. “But I’m waiting right here.”

You rolled your eyes fondly and shut the door, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous he was being.

When you came out a moment later, he was standing right outside like a loyal puppy, arms crossed and eyes lighting up the second he saw you.

“I survived,” he said solemnly. “Barely.”

“You’re insane,” you giggled, giving his hand a playful squeeze as you walked past him. “I’m just grabbing some water.”

But of course, Jay followed you into the kitchen, right on your heels. You could feel his presence hovering behind you, not even giving you a few inches of space.

As you reached up to grab a glass from the cabinet, his arms slid around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against his chest.

You let out a surprised little laugh. “Jay!”

“What?” he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I missed you.”

“I was literally gone for two minutes.”

“That’s two minutes too long.” His voice was soft, almost sleepy, and his arms tightened around you just a bit. “Let me be clingy. I’m in love.”

Your heart fluttered again, like it always did with him. You leaned your head back against his shoulder, smiling to yourself as you filled your glass.

“Okay,” you whispered. “Be clingy.”

And he didn’t let go, not even when you finished drinking your water. He just walked you back to the couch, arms still looped around your waist like you were his favorite person in the whole world—which, judging by the way he looked at you… you were.

The credits were rolling by the time Jay finally stopped kissing the side of your face and let you actually focus on the screen. The movie ended in a soft silence, the only sounds in the room the faint hum of the TV and your steady breathing as you leaned into his chest, your head tucked right beneath his chin.

Jay didn’t say anything right away. He just held you close, arms around you like he never wanted to let go, his thumb gently stroking circles against your arm. The weight of the moment seemed to settle in his chest all at once—the quiet, the warmth, the feeling of you so close, so comfortable, so his.

“I feel like I hit the jackpot,” he whispered suddenly, barely above a breath.

You tilted your head to glance up at him, eyes curious. “Hmm?”

He looked down at you, eyes soft and sincere, no teasing, no grin—just pure honesty. “Being yours. Being loved by you. I don’t think I’ve ever been this lucky.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you blinked, completely disarmed by how serious he sounded.

“I mean it,” he continued, brushing his fingers through your hair. “You’re everything, you know that? You make everything feel lighter. Better. Just being near you feels like… like home.”

You stared at him, speechless for a second, heart swelling in your chest until it felt too full to contain.

“I never thought I’d have something like this,” he murmured, voice almost cracking as he rested his forehead gently against yours. “Someone like you.”

You cupped his cheek with one hand, your thumb grazing his skin. “You do,” you whispered. “You have me.”

And Jay smiled then—not his usual cocky grin, but something softer. Something real.

“Forever?”

You nodded, barely able to speak past the lump in your throat. “Forever.”

He kissed you again—slowly, gently, like a silent promise. And when he pulled you into his chest, holding you like a secret he never wanted to share, you both knew neither of you would ever stop feeling lucky.

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coolemmasulivan2 · 4 months ago

Text

A Beautiful Mess | 2

Pairing: Lando Norris

Summary: Two neighbors who can’t stand each other, until an accidental kiss changes everything.

Word count: 3125

You can read part 1 here, part 3 here and part 4 here.

Do we need somebody Just to feel like we're alright? Is the only reason You're holding me tonight 'Cause we're scared to be lonely?

It had been a week since you last saw Lando. After his visit to the school, it was like he had vanished. You knew he was home because, as always, he made sure you knew that, but beyond that, there was no sign of him.

The touch of your lips has haunted you ever since. You cursed yourself, telling yourself that you should have pushed yourself away the moment your lips met, you shouldn't have frozen.

"You're not getting it! Our lips touched." You practically yelled at your sister over FaceTime. She burst out laughing. "It's not funny. I hate him."

"If you hate him so much, why are you this worked up?" She teased you.

You frowned. "Are you implying I felt something?"

She shrugged. "Did you?"

"NO!"

At the same time, Lando was telling Max, who was stuffing clothes into his suitcase, since he was going back to Lonon, what had happened.

"It was an accident, dude!" Max said, watching his friend with amusement. "Just forget about it."

"I can't forget it!" Lando groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Our lips touched, Max. I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it."

Max snorted. "Sounds like you liked it."

Lando spun around. "Are you insane? I meant goosebumps in a bad way. Like… I feel sick."

"Yeah, sure." Max smirked, barely holding back laughter.

You downed the last sip of your coffee, grabbed your bag, and stepped out of your apartment. Today was going to be a good day. You could feel it.

You had woken up early, gone for a run, had breakfast, and still had time to stop by your favorite bakery at the end of the street. Everything felt perfectly in place.

For once, Lando Norris was the last thing on your mind. Or at least, he was supposed to be.

You stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the ground floor, as you shifted your bag onto your shoulder, but then, just as the doors were sliding shut, a hand shot between them, forcing them open.

Your stomach dropped.

Lando locked eyes with you, before stepping inside. He didn't said anything and neither did you. The doors closed, sealing you both inside the small space. The building had a few years, so the elevator was not that spaceous.

He looked at his watch and run a hand through his curls. He looked like he was in a hurry.

Just five more floors.

Four.

Three.

Then... A jolt.

The elevator shuddered violently before coming to a stop. The lights flickered once, then settled into an unsettling dim glow.

You both froze. Then Lando sighed, pressing the emergency button. Nothing happened.

"You've got to be kidding me." Lando muttered, dragging a hand down his face. "Great. Just my luck." He let out a long sigh, pacing in the cramped space. If the elevator had felt small before, it felt suffocating now.

You, far too calm for his liking, pressed the emergency button a few times. "Can you stop moving?" You snapped, growing irritated.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I bothering you?" His voice dripped with sarcasm.

You shot him a look. "Yes, actually. You've been bothering me for a while now. Thanks for finally noticing."

Lando scoffed. "Excuse me if I'm not as relaxed as you!"

You could see he was nervous. "If you keep panicking like that, you're going to run us out of oxygen."

His head snapped toward you, eyes wide. "What--?! Aren't you supposed to be a teacher? That's not how you tell someone to calm down!"

"You're not a kid, are you?"

Lando let out a fake chuckle. "Fuck. Why did I have to get stuck with you?"

You crossed your arms. "Trust me, I'm wondering the same thing."

He let out an amused breath, shaking his head. "Please! This is probably going to be the highlight of your day."

"You really think you’re that special? You're just an idiot, Norris." You said, crossing your arms over your chest.

Lando smirked, taking a deliberate step closer. "Well, then it seems we're not that different, princess."

"Don't you have anything better to do? Grow up, please. That pretty face of yours isn't going to get you out of everything forever."

"Oh..." He tilted his head, his smirk widening. "So you think I'm handsome?"

You exhaled sharply. "That's the only thing you got from what I said? You're impossible."

Somehow, the space between you had vanished. You weren't sure who had moved first, but suddenly, he was close. Closer than necessary.

Lando's gaze flickered down to your lips, as he licked his own. The air grew thick. The bickering stopped and he elevator fell into silence.

Your breath caught in your throat. Every logical thought screamed at you to move, push him away, to say something, but you didn't. Neither of you did.

Lando's hand twitched at his side like he was debating whether to reach for you. His chest rose and fell in deep, controlled breaths, but you could see it. He was just as caught in this moment as you were.

Then, just as his face leaned closer and your lips were about to touch, the elevator jerked back to life.

You stumbled slightly, as you immediately took a step back away from each other. He run a hand through his hair and you looked away from him. The air was thick, but neither of you acknowledged it.

The doors slid open and without hesitation, you stepped out, ignoring the concerned doorman who asked if you were okay. You didn't spare him, or Lando, a single glance as you strode out of the building.

Lando watched you go, jaw clenched, hands on his hips. He let out a breath and muttered under his breath: "What the fuck just happened?"

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Even surrounded by a classroom full of energetic kids, you couldn't shake the thoughts swirling in your head.

Why hadn't you pushed him away? Why hadn't you moved? Had you actually… wanted to kiss him? The questions run in your mind, each one making you more frustrated than the last.

By the time you got home, you felt exhausted, not physically, but mentally. You barely made it to the couch before grabbing your phone, dialing your friend number without hesitation.

"Let's go out tonight!" You blurted before she could even say hello.

A beat of silence. Then, suspicion. "Go out as in... clubbing?"

It had been a while. You weren't exactly the party animal type, so your sudden enthusiasm was unexpected.

"Yes!" You confirmed, already sitting up. "I need a distraction. Let's get dinner and then let's go out. Call the others."

"Okay, who are you and what have you done with my responsible and sensible friend?"

"Just be ready."

Determined to wipe the morning from your mind, you took a long shower, letting the heat ease the tension from your shoulders. Then, you dug through your closet, finding a dress you barely remembered owning: it was a red dress that hugged your body in all the right places. Paired with black heels that made your legs look like they belonged on a runway and a swipe of bold red lipstick. You felt powerful and it was just what you needed.

Lando leaned against the DJ booth, his drink on his hand as his friend, Martin Garrix, animatedly talked about his upcoming tour dates.

The club was packed, people moving to the heavy bass, neon lights flickering across the dance floor. It was the perfect place to blow off steam, to forget about the week.

Or at least, it was.

But the moment you walked in with your friends, all thoughts of relaxation evaporated.

Lando stiffened, nearly choking on his drink. "Oh, for fuck's sake."

"WHAT?" Martin shouted over the music.

Lando gestured toward the entrance. "Do you see that group that just walked in?"

Martin followed his gaze, spotting a group of friends laughing as they stepped into the club. "What about it?"

"The girl in the red dress. It's my neighbour!"

Martin's eyebrows shot up. "Wait... The neighbor? The one you kissed?"

Lando rolled his eyes. "We didn't kiss."

"Yet!" Martin smirked, clearly enjoying himself seeing Lando's annoyed face. He turned back to glance at you again. "She's beautiful."

Lando made a face, scoffing like the idea was ridiculous. "She's a nightmare, that's what she is." Martin chuckled, seeing right through him. "And she's a kindergarten teacher, bet it's gonna be real awkward for some parents to see their kid's sweet little teacher dressed like that."

Martin laughed, draping an arm over Lando's shoulder. "Dude, you're so jealous already."

"Shut up. What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's obvious!" Martin smirked. "You like her. And you hate that every guy in this club is about to spend their night looking at her. I can practically see smoke coming out of your ears, mate."

"Fuck off."

Your feet ached, but you didn't care. You were having the time of your life. Hours had passed in a blur of music, laughter, and drinks, and you and your friends hadn't left the dance floor for more than a few minutes at a time.

The alcohol had done its job: Lando hadn't crossed your mind all night. (Well, except maybe now. But that doesn't count.)

Leaning against the bar, you waited for your drink when a man approached you. Tall, broad shoulders, very handsome. And exactly your type.

He flashed you a smile. "Do you come here often?"

You blinked at him before bursting into laughter. "Oh my god. That pick-up line does not match your face."

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Yeah, that was terrible. I panicked."

You smirked. "I can tell."

"Not much of a flirt, I guess." He admitted, laughing along with you.

"Clearly."

He stuck out his hand. "I'm Eric, by the way."

You shook it, still grinning. "Y/n."

Lando leaned against the railing, beer in hand, eyes fixed on the bar. He told himself he was just people-watching, just casually scanning the room, but his gaze kept landing on you.

And the guy standing way too close to you.

The guy who looked like he'd stepped straight out of a fashion magazine. Tall, charming, and irritatingly good-looking. The kind of guy who knew exactly how to play his cards.

Lando took a sip of his beer, jaw tightening as he watched you laugh at something the guy said. You were drunk and from the way the guy leaned in, so was he. Too close. Way too close.

"You look like a creep." Martin shouted over the music, snapping Lando out of his glare. "Stop looking at her."

"I'm not looking at her."

Martin snorted. "Right. You're just analyzing the guy she's with." He nudged Lando's shoulder. "Worried she might take him home?"

Lando scoffed, tearing his eyes away. "I don't fucking care."

"Sure." Martin smirked, taking a sip of his drink. He didn't press further, letting his friend drown in jealousy.

You stumbled outside, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin like a slap. Eric followed closely behind, his hand steady on your back as he helped you sit down on a nearby bench as you waited for the cab.

"You're really nice, you know that?" You mumbled, tilting your head to look at him as he sat down beside you.

Eric smiled. "Thank God. I was worried I screwed up my chances with that terrible pickup line."

You laughed softly, resting your head against the cool metal of the bench. "You saved yourself."

"I'm glad!" He admitted, his voice warm. "I had a good time tonight."

"Me too." You sighed, your stomach swirling uncomfortably. You cleared your throat, barely above a whisper as the words slipped out. "I wish you were him."

Eric frowned. "Who?"

Before you could answer, a voice interrupted you. His voice.

"Y/n?" You and Eric both turned, and there he was. Lando. Hands in his pockets, his gaze locked onto you.

Eric's eyes widened in recognition. "Wow. Lando Norris?" He sounded excited, most likely a fan.

But you barely registered his reaction. Your stomach twisted again, and before you could stop it, you shot up from the bench, turned away from them both, and emptied your stomach onto the pavement.

Lando instinctively moved toward you, but Eric was faster. He was by your side, gathering your hair in his hands and rubbing slow circles on your back.

Lando clenched his jaw, watching the way Eric took care of you. It shouldn't bother him, but it did. The guy was too perfect. A walking green flag.

"Are you okay?" Eric asked gently. "Think you can stand?"

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, groaning as you nodded. Eric helped you to your feet, keeping you steady against his side. "Where's that damn cab?" Eric muttered under his breath, glancing around.

"I'll take her home," Lando said suddenly.

Eric turned to him, brows raised. "What?"

"We're neighbors. She's most likely going to pass out on the way back."

"Yeah, we drank quite a lot." He looked between you and Lando. "Y/n? You okay with that?"

"Hm?"

"Are you okay with going with Lando? Is he your neighbour?" He asked you, and Lando could almost hear himself rolling his eyes. The guy was seriously too nice.

"Yes!" You confirmed. Lando took a step forward and stretched his hands. You blinked up at him, your head heavy. "You're so annoying. Why are you always everywhere?" Despite your grumble, your hands slowly found his.

Eric's lips twitching into a sad smile. He gently let you go as Lando pulled you closer, steadying you against him.

"Thanks for taking care of her." Lando said.

"It was my pleasure." Eric replied, his gaze soft as he looked at you. "She's something special. And I just met her, so…"

You chuckled. "I like you, Eric."

He smiled. "I know, Y/n." Then his expression flickered, just for a second. "But I'm not him, right?"

Lando frowned, watching as you only groaned in response.

Eric let out a small breath before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your cheek. Lando's grip on you tightened.

"It was nice meeting you." Eric said. "Call me sometime, yeah?" He turned to Lando, extending a hand. "Big fan, man. Nice to meet you."

Lando shook it briefly. "Yeah. You too."

Eric gave you one last glance before walking off.

Lando glanced down at you, your body leaning heavily into his side. "Come on, let's get you home."

You hummed, already half-asleep. "Still annoying."

"Yeah, yeah."

Lando pulled into his parking spot, turning off the engine with a quiet sigh leaving his mouth. When he glanced to his right, he wasn't surprised to see you fast asleep, just like he'd predicted.

Your head rested against the window of his McLaren, your mouth slightly open, breaths slow and steady. One of his Quadrant hoodies was draped over you.

Lando exhaled, leaning back against the seat as he stared at you. He'd never really taken the time to look at you before, not like this. You looked… peaceful. And you were indeed a very beautiful woman.

His fingers moved on their own, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it gently behind your ear.

"What the hell am I doing?" Lando muttered to himself, running a hand down his face, he groaned under his breath. "I must be crazy."

Shaking off whatever the hell that was, he reached over and carefully pulled your head away from the window. Then, he stepped out of the car, circling around to your side and pulling the door open.

"Y/n?" He called, his voice quiet but firm as he nudged your arm. "Wake up. We're home."

"Hm?" You groaned, keeping your eyes firmly shut.

"Wake up. Come on."

He turned your face into the seat, snuggling deeper into the warmth. "Let me sleep!"

Lando huffed, crossing his arms as he glanced around the dimly lit garage. "If you don't wake up, I'm leaving you here." Nothing. "I cannot believe her." With a sigh, he leaned down, sliding one arm beneath your legs and the other behind your back. He hesitated for a second before carefully lifting you into his arms.

You instinctively curled into his chest, your face pressing against the crook of his neck, a small sigh leaving your lips. Lando froze for a split second, his heart racing in his chest.

Lando stepped into the elevator, shifting you slightly in his arms to press the button for his floor. You were still dead weight against him, your warm breath fanning against the side of his neck. He clenched his jaw, doing his best to ignore the way you seemed to fit perfectly against him.

When the doors opened, he carried you down the hall, stopping in front of your apartment.

"Alright, time to go home." He muttered, adjusting his grip. "Where's your key?" You mumbled something against his neck, your lips brushing against his skin. Then, before he could even react, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. "Y/n." He tried again, shaking you gently. "Where's your key?"

Another muffled murmur. He sighed, dropping his head back against the door in frustration. Since you refused to answer him, and since he couldn't exactly rummage through your purse while holding you, he had no choice.

"Alright, you're coming with me." He muttered, carrying you across the hall to his own apartment.

He walked straight to his bedroom, gently lowering you onto his bed. As soon as your back hit the mattress, he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. But just as he moved, you reached out, your fingers curling into the fabric of his white shirt, right where it gaped open.

"Stay." You murmured, eyes still closed.

Lando froze. "You're drunk!" He reminded you, gently prying your fingers off him. You groaned but refused to let go, gripping his shirt again, this time tighter. His breath hitched as your fingertips brushed against his bare chest. "Y/n!"

"Lando!" You snuggled against the pillow, your grip unrelenting. "Stay." You whispered.

Lando clenched his jaw. He should go. He needed to go. But the way you held onto him, the way you looked so small and vulnerable in his bed… it made something twist inside his chest.

With a heavy sigh, he gave in. "Fine! But just until you fall asleep." He told himself that.

And yet, as he laid down beside you, feeling the warmth of your body so close to his, he had a sinking feeling that this was only going to make things a lot more complicated.

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#lando norris #formula 1 #lando norris x y/n #lando imagine #lando x reader #lando x you #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 fic #ln4 imagine #ln4 #ln4 x reader

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