#drove me a little insane tbh

[fingertipsmp3]

I swear to god everything from the weather to my equipment to my neighbours to my own fucking body is conspiring to make sure I don’t get a good run this week

[fairene]

one of your girls / ln4, part two

lando norrisxfem!reader

no use of y/n, as always.

part one

a/n ⋯ I LIED IT'S COMING OUT NOW!!! i sat down for 'bout four hours after work and a family dinner to knock this the fuck OUTTTT. it's shorter than i expected, but this was the best way i could wrap up this supposed 'oneshot'. i hope you all enjoy it. and remember, it is up to YOU for what you are wearing, clothes are intentionally vaguely described for your own viewing pleasure. and tbh, i did not proof read this...don't sue me!!! I JUST WAnted it out asap for everyone@!!! pls don't let it flop!!!

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drunk hookup, choking (slight), p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, overstimulation, feral lando. sickeningly in love lando, possession, jealousy.

wc ⋯ 13.7k (unedited!)

he hadn’t heard from you in weeks. weeks. it was driving him fucking insane. he didn’t know that the girl would come back, he didn’t know she would be a bitch, and he certainly didn’t know you would react that way. to his ultimate surprise, it was a comfort knowing that you did care. however sick and twisted it was, it told him without using your words, that you wanted something. 

things had been left unsaid between the pair of you for a long time. too long. he was never in the business of guessing your feelings, assuming that you felt one way or another about him. and neither were you. both of you were too fucking stubborn for your own good. neither of you could see what was right in front of you–

each other. 

and that was the worst part for lando. it had him pushing himself harder. faster. to be better to perhaps catch your attention. to win you back through his ability to race. but you didn’t care about that. you didn’t care about how fast he drove his car, didn’t care about the number of podiums he got. you cared about him. but you never let the words fall upon his ears, and that was your first mistake. 

it was the weekend in spain. warm, but not too humid, you traveled with alexandra and the rest of the ferrari hospitality team. you had gotten close to carlos’ girlfriend, rebecca, as well. they were both great company and more times than not, lando had slipped from your mind completely. 

but not for him. 

he was a mess. a wreck without you. guilt consumed him night and day, and he would feel eternally wrought with what could have been. he’s called you, texted you, even had oscar reach out to you, but there was nothing but radio silence and the bolded words ‘read’ beneath his sent messages. it hurt more knowing that you saw him suffering and did nothing about it. 

but he deserved it. he deserved this treatment. he wasn’t going to fight you. he would roll over, belly up like a good boy for you. pay attention to me, his actions would scream. look in my direction. but you didn’t even view his stories on social media anymore. didn’t even like his posts. 

the british driver would be found pacing back and forth, staring hunchback at his phone. oscar would watch him from across the room, legs dangling from the papaya barstool. he hated to see lando this way, but he knew what he did. lando was honest with oscar, hoping to maybe seek advice in his own girlfriend. but lily simply shrugged her shoulders and her expression said enough. 

you did this to yourself. 

but little did you know is that he threw that girl out the moment you left. okay, not literally, but in ever metaphoric way possible. he never contacted her again. he hadn’t contacted any girl, in fact, these past few weeks. he would be isolated with his PR team at every occasion, refusing to even entertain the thought of hitting up a new girl. 

his loyalty to you was suddenly unwavering, but it was too late. 

“mate,” oscar said from where he sat. lando didn’t look up, just hummed, staring at your last text to him. 

‘you’re too sweet,’ 

too sweet. what would you say now? you had replied to a set of merchandise he saved for you, special edition for miami’s grand prix, and that had been it. from you. he had to scroll down through the text chain to reach the bottom. his endless apologies, desperate words, and more apologies. he felt nauseous. sick that he ever treated you that way.

his favorite girl. his girl. 

“she’s here.” 

what? 

lando’s head snapped up, looking frantically around. but there was no sign of you. 

“with alexandra. ferrari paddock.” oscar gestured his phone towards lando. he snatched it from him, letting his eyes fly across the photo. it was a picture of you, rebecca, and alexandra. posted on alexandra’s instagram story. 

you looked…

happy. 

he…

he didn’t know why he was upset by that. he wanted you to feel the same level of anger, sadness, distress, even. but here you were– looking absolutely beautiful with your bright smile. so fucking beautiful. he remembers he was there when you picked out that top. and god, he was right, it’s meant for you. 

lando threw oscar’s phone back at him, and knew this would be a long fucking weekend. 

barcelona’s air had been clean. much cleaner than miami, new york. the decor of the paddock, too, had you thinking and trailing your fingers over the textures. you had done that more– feeling the things around you. you used to do that with lando. but now he was gone, and you had to suffice to other obscurities to lay your fingers upon. 

gone. the word echoed in the chasm of your mind. gone. you didn’t realize the depth of lando’s absence would impact you this much, but that had been a mistake on your part. clearly. an oversight of your intimate relationship. that, eventually, it would end. it would end in flames, crash and burn, and ultimately never recover. as much as you thought, anyways. 

you heard your name being called from the other side of the couch. you glanced up. 

rebecca stared at you expectedly. 

“sorry,” you breathed. “what did you say?” 

rebecca huffed, but repeated herself regardless. “i said that i have a friend with me i want you to meet.” you raised your brows quizzically. “i think you’ll like him.” 

him? him? oh, fuck, here we go. 

as much as you wanted  to breeze past what happened in lando’s monaco apartment, you couldn’t. your feelings, as heavy as they were, weighed you down into the abyss of lando norris’ wellbeing. 

you didn’t sleep with anyone since him. you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. it didn’t feel right, and your own attempt at an orgasm was ultimately futile. 

but you said nothing when rebecca turned, pulling a man from conversation with carlos. he looked confused, but let his eyes settle on you. he relaxed. 

he was a handsome chap. dark hair, dark eyes. tanned skin. fit. he had a grecian nose, one that was slim and curved. not like lando’s, you thought, but brought yourself down to earth and stood. you greeted him with two kisses on the cheek, and his name was raphael. 

“so you are…” his spanish accent was thick and attractive. you couldn’t deny that. “friends with rebecca?”

“that’s right.” you nodded, bringing a bottle of water to your lips to cool down. “you, as well?” 

he shrugged, giving you a ‘so-so’ hand gesture. “carlos, really,” you let out a soft ‘ahh’ and soon realized, too, that this would be a long fucking weekend. 

the day of free practices came and went. so did your time with raphael. he wasn’t a bad conversationalist whatsoever, you were simply not interested. but you made a promise to rebecca this weekend that you would try. try and branch out instead of looking insatiably bored on live television. she was right. you needed to get over this and move on, because lando must’ve, right? he must’ve slept with that girl, given the fact that he didn’t go after you. 

did you expect him to? 

you weren’t sure. you weren’t fucking sure of anything. you weren’t a mindreader for fucks sake. but you saw his text messages. all of them. you made yourself sick with despair every night, rereading them to yourself like the fucking bible. what did you expect him to do for you? crucify himself? maybe. just maybe. 

as you were walking down the pit lane with alexandra at your side, you felt the wafting air of an oncoming storm of people. you glanced around, but alexandra was the one to point it out. 

“uh oh.” 

the papaya suits could be seen from anywhere. it’s not like they were subtle. 

you bristled and stood up straight. fuck, okay. this was happening. he’s walking this way. was he coming toward you? no, don’t be so foolish. but you hoped that he would. 

lando was approaching you, but his eyes were set forward. but when you weren’t bothering to look, he had been staring at you the entire way here. he could spot you from miles away with your countenance, your undying beauty. 

but he didn’t stop to look at you. 

you didn’t either. 

but your hands–

god your hands

they brushed past one another when he swept past your shoulder. his pinky desperately latching to yours before you let him go. you gasped lowly and he heard it, his ears twitching with the sound. but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t. 

if he stopped to turn, he would kiss you out in the open. 

you dared him to.

but you both kept on your way, and the interaction had you fuming. why can’t he care to show up? texts, calls, whatever, didn’t compare to the ability to show up. you knew he was in monaco. you knew exactly when he was there. it wasn’t a fucking secret. 

fuck him.

you didn’t care if you were being a brat. you knew what you put at stake, but you opened your heart to him. and you believed that maybe, just maybe, if that girl hadn’t interrupted, the two of you would be in a very different situation. maybe. but you didn’t let that thought linger. you couldn’t. 

“what was that?” alexandra whispered to you as you both kept walking. 

“nothing.” 

and that’s what you promised yourself it to be. nothing. when in reality, it had been everything. lando had seen you, spotted you from what felt like a mile away with a man lingering at your side. fuck. reality set in for him that you were looking. you were looking elsewhere from him for companionship. it made him fucking sick to his stomach, and he knew that had to change. he was a man on a mission now, a conqueror ready to pillage. 

it was the evening when you found yourself locked away in your hotel room. it was well past ten o’clock, and you were exhausted form today. alexandra had invited you out, but you just couldn’t bring yourself. rebecca prodded away at you, too, insisting that you and raphael hit it off today. he said that he wanted to see you again.

you had thought about it. you really did. 

but you couldn’t. 

you’d been sucked into a tv melodrama in your hotel room when you felt your phone vibrate. someone was calling you. 

you checked the time and raised a brow, lifting your phone to see the all-too-familiar contact card lighting up your face in the ambient lighting of the room. 

lando

you hesitated. 

suddenly your heart was racing, beating rapidly against the cage of your chest, and you felt like a prisoner to your anxiety. you felt it drop to your stomach, feeling queasy, but hit ‘answer call’ anyways. you lifted your phone to your ear, and let out a soft breath. 

“what?” 

your words were bitter, but quiet in the solitude of your room.

“didn’t think you’d answer,” came his raspy voice from the other end. he was breathless, as if he had been running. or fucking some girl. fuck you, you wanted to bite out, but held your tongue. 

“neither did i.” 

that earned you a cheeky laugh from him. he hesitated, too, before breathing. “are you at your hotel?”

you were confused by the question. “yes.” 

“can i see you?” 

his words hit you hard. you fell back against the pillows of your bed, hand coming to rest over your forehead. you sighed with a grumble. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

you could practically feel him wince through the phone. 

“please.”

fuck him and his soft words. his desperate tone, the pity that you felt for him grew. the fact of the matter flew from your head, disappearing with a singular plead from his cracked vocals. he sounded honest. that he truly wanted to see you, and a small part of you wished to reconcile whatever was happening between the two of you. you were not a woman of small touches– you wanted it all, or nothing. 

“okay.”

lando cleared his throat, choking on his breath, exhibiting his initial shock. “i– okay, okay, what room are you in?” 

“610.”

he hung up before you could let out a breath. your phone fell onto your nightwear– a simple baggy shirt and spandex. they were what kept you most comfortable at night. 

your hands raked over your face, pulling your eyelids with it. what were you doing? engaging with him, talking with him over the phone. the long text chains of read messages you had banished him to sat idly on your screen, staring you down with an ambivalence that you quivered before. was this a mistake? should you just pretend you’re–

there was a knock at your door seconds into your thoughts. 

you jumped from your bed, hands raking through your hair. how did he get here so fucking quick? you scrambled around your room, checking yourself in any reflection you could find. fuck, why were you so nervous? how could he possibly make you so riddled with anxiety in a matter of seconds? your heart was in overdrive once again, and you wondered just how much you could take. 

he said your name through the door. weak, pining. you dropped the brush you grabbed in the bathroom instantly, feet soaring over the hardwood floor to open it. when you did, you were face to face with the british driver. 

he wasn’t drunk. that’s a first. the thought crossed your mind only briefly, thinking that you were just a booty call in the late hours of the night. it wouldn’t be the first time. 

lando was disheveled, messy, and the white shirt he wore was ruffled. upon his head was a mclaren hat, concealing his identity from the outside. most importantly, though, that you noticed was how his face was glazed in a sheath of sweat. you cocked a brow at him. 

“did you run here?”

lando shrugged. it felt, in that moment, that things were normal between you two. that all of this…shit washed over for just a second. you felt at home. comfortable. but you cleared your throat and let him walk in, shutting the door behind you. 

you didn’t want to speak to him here. not where he could see your laundry everywhere, pairs of underwear sprawled around so he’d get distracted. not that you expected to fuck him here, though the thought didn’t upset you. fuck, you were in deep. 

you brushed past him, leading him to the small terrace just outside your bedroom. you slid the door open and leaned your back against the railing. he slid the door shut behind the two of you, and he took a seat in one of the wooden picnic chairs. he gawked at you, openly, letting his eyes run over your bare legs beneath the oversized shirt. 

“don’t do that.” you said, breaking the silence between you two. you seemed to rip him out of his dreamscape with a clearing of his throat. 

“do what?” he feigned innocence. though he knew what he was doing. he missed you, lest he verbalize that. 

“look at me,” you breathed, “like that.” 

his brow lifted, still playing dumb. dumb, as if he didn’t want to take you over this railing, ask you to be his. 

“like what?”

you scoffed. 

“like you’re in love with me.” 

ouch. your words bit harder than he thought they would, blood gushing from an open wound in his heart. he let your words settle before he leaned back in the chair, legs spreading as he fiddled with the skin of his thumbs. 

“i wanted to see you.” 

“i know,” you answered. “you saw me. now what?” 

lando shook his head. “don’t do that.” please don’t do that he wanted to say. 

“do what?” it was your turn to play dumb. your turn to pretend that you weren’t doing the same thing. pushing him away was the easiest way to deal with all of your problems. 

“act so cold.” he turned his head away from you, glancing over towards the lights of the city. “giving me frostbite.” 

“lando, what–”

“i’m sorry.” 

huh? you froze, eyes widening as you straightened upright. did you hear him correctly? it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard an apology. but this was a first to hear it in person, not in begging text messages half way across the world. 

“what–?”

“for everything. i’m sorry.” his head fell to his hands as he leaned over, gripping at the curls atop his head. you felt the same urge creeping up your spine, your hands feeling empty. you shifted on your feet, stepping a foot closer. 

“why now?”

he perked up, wondering what you meant. 

“why, now, are you sorry?” 

he was speechless. unable to form the words that could answer such a  vague question. but you had an idea, so you thought you’d share. 

“because i was with someone?” raphael. you know that he saw the two of you talking. chatting. maybe an occasional giggle so you could keep him quiet for the rest of the free practices. 

lando began to shake his head. “no, no–” 

“really?”

you stepped into his space, wedging yourself between his thighs. he stared up at you, lost in the reflection of your eyes beneath the starlit sky. his hands found your hips and you let him keep them there, at least for the moment. 

“really.” he promised you. head leaning forward to rest on your stomach. you felt the perch of his nose dig into your skin. your head leaned back, taking a large breath, feeling tears begin to well. 

“what do you want, then?” you said with a shaky breath. 

you felt his hands tense against your hips. 

“i don’t know.” his words were muffled, but you could make them out. it shattered you to hear the creak in his voice, but it hurt even more knowing that he didn’t know. you wanted something with him. a relationship. but he didn’t feel the same.

your fingers cupped his face, bringing him to look at you. “that’s it, then, huh?” your voice was dangerously soft. 

he was confused. again. 

“that’s all i’ll be?” he still didn’t catch on, too busy staring at your flushed face, reddened eyes. he wanted to fix it– take back his words. he’d do anything to reverse time. would do anything to revoke the words that spilled from your pretty lips. 

“one of your girls.”

you pushed him away, walking back to the railing with your back turned. he said your name over and over. you ignored him.

“i think,” you said, sucking in a tight breath to calm the storm of emotions that were threatening to raise hell. “that you should go.” 

“no, no–” lando stood, coming to wrap his arms around you, but you turned, holding up your hand to stop your advances. 

“we knew this would happen one day, didn’t we?” you reaffirmed, steadying your breaths the best that you could. but it was difficult. nothing about this was easy. but it had to be done. you were done waiting. done pining for someone that did not feel the same. did not burn the same. 

lando breathed your name again. you shook your head. “no. no. we can’t–” you choked on your tears. it felt hard to breathe. “i can’t keep waiting for you.” 

lando’s own eyes filled with tears. it felt like a breakup, when you two were clearly never together. you made that clear enough, and he obeyed, just wishing to feel your skin beneath his fingers, fall asleep to your heart beat. so why did he say he didn’t know? fuck, he’s such an asshole. he couldn’t take back his words now, could he? 

he tried to explain. words stumbled from his lips, nervous and riling with anxiety, but you would hear none of it. you simply brushed past him and into your room, opening the door from your hotel room for him. you said nothing else, tears sliding down your cheeks, lip caught between your teeth. 

“please,” he begged one last time. he had succumbed to his tears, too, cheeks flushed and lip wet. his hands trembled as he made one last attempt to cup your face. you let him. 

your foreheads met in both desperation and exhaustion. here, it felt like time stopped. the two of you in sync with your racing hearts, trembling hands, voracious blood churning through your veins. you looked up at him through your wet lashes and he met your gaze. it only had you sobbing harder. 

he wiped the tears from your cheeks. 

“please,” he said your name on his trembling tongue. the sound had your knees trembling, but you resisted. you had to. you couldn’t keep doing this anymore. there was a life out there, waiting for you to take hold of. “don’t make me go.” 

you let out a shaky breath, shaking your head. 

“you have to.” 

lando hiccuped. his fingers were still shaking, and he finally accepted your rejection. though he supposed he signified it first. that was his first mistake. he couldn’t take back his words without sounding like a dick, so he was trapped. trapped utterly in this pit of mayhem. 

he exited your hotel room with his tail between his legs. defeated. 

you shut the door behind him and slumped against it, your back sliding down until you hit the floor. your head fell into your hands as you attempted to stifle your sobs. 

little did you know, that he had done the same thing, fallen limp against your hotel room door. your sobs were in unison as you began to unravel, whilst he coiled into knots. forever entwined amidst your inability to be vulnerable with one another. toilsome, but ultimately true. 

you didn’t know how long you stayed there. he didn’t know how long he stayed there. the two of you stayed in parallel behind a closed door, mimicking each other’s beating heart, for you knew that they would never be one. 

when you woke, you were still slumped against the door. you stood, stretching out your painfully aching muscles, arched your back, twisted your neck. your eyes were swollen raw with your epidemic of tears the night prior, and you rubbed the crust away. the memories flooded through you. lando was here. he was here, and you had to haul his ass out.

you thought he was going to kiss you. 

but he didn’t. your lips would remain untouched by his own. 

your fingers ghosted over your mouth, shivering at the memory of him so close to you. you could feel his breath fanning over your face– the heaving, desperate puffs of air– and he felt yours, too, with the same amount of anxiety. you were a wreck before him, and he was too. 

in no time you found your phone, grimacing at your battery, and the plethora of texts from rebecca and alexandra. it was still early in the morning so you had time to pull yourself together, but you had a big day with them today. qualifying was happening, and rebecca had set you up.

she set you up with raphael for the day. you knew she meant the best. and maybe it was. this was your opportunity to uphold your promise– to move on. you had to, or else you would be strung dry for the remainder of your life, with dreary hopes and aimless romantics. you would not drown in the ocean of lando norris, despite how cumbersome he gripped on your ankles. 

you fixed yourself for the day. showering quickly, styling your hair to your liking. you threw on a formal chic outfit, perhaps trying a bit hard today to catch raphael’s eye– or someone else’s, by chance. but you left the unattainable at the back of your mind today, heart far too raw to be ripped open again.

you would stick with something safe. someone safe. raphael was your answer in the short term. you were sick of playing the long game, bested to your knees in the face of whatever conspired between you and the british driver. you were convinced it was for the best. it had to be. these emotions couldn’t be for nothing. 

it couldn’t be for nothing. 

when you arrived to the track that morning, alexandra was quick to meet your side. she had an impenetrable amount of questions for you, yearning for your answers, but you only gave her a brief overview. 

“we’re done,” you said as you walked through the pit lane. “he doesn’t want me like that.” 

she was clearly taken back. her hand flew over her heart, obviously distressed for you. you admired her care for you. you would do the same for her. “really?” 

you nodded, gulping down the lump in your throat that was tempting to choke you. 

“it’s okay.” you reaffirmed her. she made a move to speak over you, console you to the highest degree, but you stopped her. “i’m fine. swear. let’s have a good day, shall we?” you plastered on a fake smile towards her, but you knew she saw through you. but she would accept this for now when you were approached by carlos, rebecca, and raphael. 

you smiled brighter when raphael came to kiss both your cheeks. you gripped his bicep. engaging in conversation with him felt easier today, and you weren’t begging for an out. you’d catch rebecca’s eye here and there, and she glowed with happiness. if you weren’t doing this for yourself, you could at least say that you were doing it for her. 

raphael was not a bad man whatsoever. he smelled good, had good hygiene, and had a glowing smile. but he didn’t smell the same. didn’t have the same musk. didn’t have the harsh pricks of a stubble that burned into the skin of your neck. 

fuck. you missed the feeling of that stubble. 

you clung to raphael’s side for the rest of the day, a burning itch between your thighs undoing the morals of your mind. if you wanted to get over lando, you’d have to truly get over him. 

it was never a ‘string’s attached’ relationship, was it? you were free to fuck whoever you want, when you want. so why would it be so bad if you wished to see raphael bend down for you? 

or you wanted someone else, but raphael was the closest you’d get. 

the rest of the day went by smoothly. for you, at least, but not for lando.

he had come into the mclaren paddock looking absolutely awry. his hair messy, eyes dreary with sleep and emotion, whereas you…you looked beautiful. untouched by your emotions from the night before. so much so that you were cuddled against that same fucking dude, which had lando’s blood bursting to life. 

you were across in the pitlane observing the car, arms folded over your chest. that fucking guy’s hand rested on the upper part of your back, rolling soft circles with the pads of his fingers. he clenched the rim of his helmet in his hands. his teeth grinded inside his mouth, sawing down the enamel. for you, he’d have no teeth. for you were the only world he wished to bite, and even then you starved him of it. 

“y’alright, mate?” oscar’s voice interrupted his thoughts. lando broke his stare from the pair of you, ripping his eyes away. 

but you had turned, then, and let your eyes linger on his back.

“fine.” 

that evening was no different than any other. for lando, at least, he succumbed to his hotel room for the night. he had no interest in going out. if he saw you with that spanish prick, he’d only lose himself even more. the guilt of losing you had been overturning, divulging into what a psychologist would declare as madness. 

but you were the opposite. you were out on the town, clubbing with rebecca and raphael. carlos was there, too, but was saving his energy for the race tomorrow. he held no drink in his hand, but you did. you were downing shot after shot. 

you were swaying your hips, grinding against raphael with a steady pace. he was into it. his dick was aggressively hard against the back side of your dress, but you weren’t scared by it. it enticed you further, in fact, and had you drawing new sensations of pleasure through you.

finally, you thought, a break from him. from lando. but the voices echoed inside the back of your mind. it bounced off the walls; he couldn’t compare. 

lando would have his hands drawing up the sides of your body. fingertips scathing the fabric of your dress, teasing touches that would have you writhing in his hold, desperate for him to fuck you in the back. 

lando would have his face nuzzled into your neck whispering bittersweet praises into your ear. he’d squeeze your hips with anticipation as the both of you would move in sync. always in sync. the two of you were one on the dance floor, one when you fucked one another senseless in your less than private moments. when he was particularly desperate for your touch, he’d go as far as taking you in the bathrooms at any club. he had no shame; not when it came to you. 

but raphael was tame. and maybe you appreciated tame. maybe this was a new start for you. fresh and free of any unknowns. 

“you’re beautiful, hermosa.” he would whisper to you, body trying its best to keep up with you. he did, for the most part, but you moved to your own beat. lando would know. he knew every inch of you. were you really prepared to be strangers? 

you spun around in raphael’s arms, wrapping yours around his neck. you offered him a cheeky smile. this wasn’t you. “and you’re handsome!” it was alcohol talking. you would never be seen so exuberant. not like this. 

it had raphael laughing, though, and it was enough for him to take you back to his place. 

the entire way back to his place you were giggling, latching onto his tanned skin. his hair was soft, sheen, and luscious. your hands never got lost in the strands of his hair– it was too combed, not curly enough. nothing was curly enough. 

and then he had you against the wall of his flat. your hands pinned against your head, and he met your lips with his. fuck, you couldn’t remember the last time you’ve been kissed. but the worst part about all of it was–

you hated it. 

you tugged his head down to your neck, letting him work the sensitive skin with his tongue. your lips felt hot. blistering with a heat you haven’t felt in a long time. it felt…it felt…

raphael’s tongue found the meeting part of your underwear and skin, “can i?” he asked with a timid voice. you let out a soft moan and nodded. he tugged the fabric down, your dress still hanging off your body. you didn’t even remember if he left kisses along your neck, your breasts, you guessed his lips weren’t that memorable. 

and then his tongue was against your slit. you weren’t wet enough. clearly. you could feel the chapped parts of your cunt, disappointed in your body that you couldn’t ‘get it up’ for him. whereas he was practically jacking off in his pants, you were left like a desert. it wouldn’t be like this with lando. 

he explored your cunt with his tongue, narrowly dodging your clit ever so slightly. he thought your noises of pleasure were noises of distress, so he avoided touching your clit as much as possible. so he tongued you through and through, until you began to become irritated. 

you couldn’t even feel tight in your stomach. the feeling couldn’t be outmatched. maybe your sexdrive had died. maybe you could never cum ever again. this was to be your fate– dry and lonely. fuck. you let your head fall back against the wall, which he took as a good sign, and kept going. instead, you threaded your hands through his hair, rolling your eyes. 

you let out a few soft, faked moans. you felt guilty– of course you did– but apparently it was an olympic sport to make you cum. he certainly wouldn’t make the playoffs. 

after another minute of this, you were fed up. 

you tightened your cunt on command, which took a lot of fucking work, thank you, and began to heighten the sound of your moans. the award for best fake orgasm goes to: you!!! you surged forward to grip onto his shoulders, even pretending to be shaking. 

you deserved an oscar. 

“didn’t think i was that good.” 

an egot, maybe. 

you let out a soft sigh, a faked chuckle, and let him lead you to his bedroom. he fell atop of you on your back, holding himself up with the strength of his forearms. he dipped his hand down, scathing over your irritated cunt. you gasped at his hand finding your slit once again, drenched in only his spit, and without warning slipped a finger inside of you. 

your mouth hung open, lurching at the sudden contact. you felt sinched beneath his weight, taught with tension. he even curled his finger inside of you. he grazed your bundle of nerves that had your squirming. squirming for more pressure. he kept hitting your spot until he pulled away. you looked confused at first, wondering where exactly he was going. 

and…then he was pulling his cock out. fuck. you really weren’t going to win here, tonight, were you? not in the slightest, it seemed. he looked down at you with a knowing smirk. the same one where he thought you came beneath his tongue. 

he thought you came. 

fuck!

“are you ready?” he asked when his cock pushed against the skin of your lower belly. he was a good size, you admit, but you had a inkling that you weren’t going to find a sweet release with his hands. you nodded, forgetting your manners, but raphael said nothing. 

he pushed into you with a discerning pace. you scrunched your nose out of his eyesight. he was too busy fucking himself into your pussy. he couldn’t even open his eyes to look at you. and, for the record, he didn’t use a condom. dick. at least you had a form of a contraceptive. you’d make sure not to let him finish inside you. that’s for fucking sure. 

he slid in and out of you with the lubrication of his spit and his own precum. you didn’t move. you laid there, bored, faking a moan and gasp here and there. 

the whole time you thought about someone else. and you didn’t feel guilty about it. you were able to find yourself comforted by the dreaming thought of lando’s voice in your ear. the phantom touch of his stubble. the amount of moles that you could count on his face. 

with a grunt, you felt raphael push off of you, cumming onto his own sheets. he laid there, panting, and you…”did the same.” 

he turned to face you, smile on his face. “did you finish?”

you nodded with an itching smile. he seemed triumphant. though you couldn’t be drier than a haystack. 

your exit from his flat quickly. it’s not like he even took your dress off. he insisted that you stayed, but you retorted that you had an early morning with alexandra. whether or not that's true, you didn’t seem to care. he didn’t fight your statement and seamlessly let you go, clearly too exhausted from his evening to even see you out the door.

you hailed a cab from your hotel shamefully. you felt icky. your lip sneered when you caught a cab and tipped the driver once you arrived back. the elevator ride never seemed so tantalizingly long. 

when you swiped into your room, you threw your belongings on your bed and turned on a hot shower. while you waited for the water to heat, you opened your phone. 

no messages from lando. 

did you expect any?

maybe. 

you decided to call him. you didn’t fucking care. it was the alcohol talking. 

ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…

no answer. 

you left a voicemail.

“heeyyy…!!” you surged into the phone as you began to untangle your dress from your body. “i–uh, i dunno i just…wanted to call you… because i…” you swore under your breath as you couldn’t get a strap off. “sorry i…” you stuttered, laughing to yourself. “i think i miss you, lan.” 

and then you hung up, singing yourself into the shower. the hot water panned over your body, fingers trailing over the mounds of your breasts. the soft skin of your abdomen. 

but with your whimsy, came a price.

lando was there. he just didn’t answer your call. he had been awake, wondering what you were doing, since you were absent on almost all forms of social media. so when he got your call, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. 

then the voicemail came.

he must’ve played it over a dozen times. hearing your soft voice, amicable and kind. you had been drinking, clearly, and he could hear the sound of the shower running in the background. he held his phone against his head, other hand running through his hair. he was a wreck over you, and you were as well. drunk dialing was never a thing between the two of you. 

especially an ‘i miss you.’ 

and how ‘lan’ slipped past your lip with such ease. the name was meant for you to use. only you. 

he found himself stroking his cock to your words, the temptress in your voice. he knew she was there, baiting him, and he was no better than a fish to bite. he fisted his cock with your name on his lips, and a reminder that yours was on his.

with a pounding heartbeat and ringing in his ears, all he could think about was you. and more or less, you the same.

your fingers trailed down your navel in the shower, coming to nib at the lips of your clit. how swollen it was, angered and annoyed, that such a man could ignore it. by association, you. 

a hand rolled over one of your breasts, twisting your nipple in hand. you gasped at the sensation you provided, flicking your clit between your fingers. you truly needed no more to make yourself cum, except the thought of lando’s voice in your ears. 

‘come on, baby,’ he would say to you, fingers gliding along your drenched slit with ease. you clenched around nothing, whimpering to yourself in the hum of the hot shower. ‘little more for me, yeah?’ he would always talk you through it. never once would you be alone when you came. he was always there, lingering, a shadow against the walls. 

you slipped a single finger inside of yourself, curling it expertly as lando taught you to. ‘just like that, sweet thing.’ he’d mutter against your shoulder as he’d fuck you on a chair facing a mirror. you could never make yourself cum before his “lessons.” 

your back arched against the marble of the shower walls. your thumb and forefinger worked just like his would against your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves until a coil inside of you snapped, and you came all over yourself with his name on your lips.

and he could feel it. amongst the cosmic plane. he had been grudgingly fisting his cock, grunting your name over his lips. it was sinful, the way that his cock was spewing cum in only a matter of minutes at the thought of your voice. ‘lan, lan,’ you would say to him, ‘need it. need you inside,’ you’d whimper against him, begging for his cum to seep out of you. 

he’d never deny you a pleasure. so he shouldn’t deny himself. he came in a matter of seconds over the palm of his hand, your name flustering his tongue. and he’d lay there, soaking in his milky cum, eyes blown wide at just how much of an effect you had on him; mind, body, and soul. 

you stood there in the shower, flustered from heat, the slick running down your thighs. your hearts beat in unison at that moment, miles apart, on the same wavelength. 

the shower wasn’t the same after that. you felt dirty, but so good. the namesake of lando’s voice in your ear was enough to have you cumming on your own fingers, but the touch of another man made you ill. what a shock that was to you. or maybe it wasn’t a surprise at all. 

clean to the best of your ability, you slept easy that night. the best sleep you’ve had this weekend, in fact, with lando frolicking through your dreams. and you in his, whispering soft ‘i love you’s’ which had him writhing with pleasure. you infested every part of him, and he did the same to you. you’d never be free of lando norris, and the thought began to settle. it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but you couldn’t forget his words. 

‘i don’t know,’ he spoke into your stomach. his nose pinched you. the words sliced clean. your stomach coiled not with pleasure, but anxiety. why didn’t he want you that way? why did he hesitate? 

you weren’t taking his rejection well. that was clear. 

but he wasn’t taking this any better. he was going through his own emotional turmoil of trying to make this up to you. it would be the last thing that he did. 

when you woke that morning with a groggy headache and a sore ache between your thighs, you couldn’t help but groan. what the fuck were you doing last night? you perhaps had the most disappointing sex of your entire life, and now, as you looked in the mirror you were nothing more than mortified. 

littered on your chest, above your breasts, were a few specks of bruises. hickey’s. fuck. fuck. that was one thing that was always far too intimate. kisses and hickeys. what did this mean, then, that you belonged to raphael? your fingers trailed up the bruises on your chest, the flesh tender beneath your soft touch. you winced at the memory of his cocky face, thinking that he had you finishing more than once. if at all. you leaned over the sink, washing your face off with cold water. 

your hands rested at the base of your neck. your reflection stared back at you, pitiful, the bruises beneath your eyes reflected a tiredness that the word ‘exhaustion’ could not begin to fathom. you were disappointed in yourself. that much was clear. 

a sigh escaped you when you finally mustered the courage to leave the bathroom. for the race today, you decided on a long dress. one that covered your chest, but hung on your shoulders. it was a beautiful piece. you’d been saving it for this weekend, and you were more than thankful that the universe seemed to be looking out for you. 

you tidied up your appearance the best you could and slid on a pair of heels, grimacing at the sore ache from the night before. raphael didn’t have a valet, so you had to walk across four blocks with his hands wandering down your sides, desperate to fuck you in an alleyway. ew. you shivered at the memory, but continued on from your hotel room.

though, you took one last glance before leaving, and let your eyes rest on the balcony. it felt like a dream to see lando sitting there, his face resting against the tender flesh of your stomach. his stubble itched through the cotton of your shirt, but it rather tickled. and then he said he didn’t know what he wanted with you, and your whole life slipped right through your fingers. 

he slipped through your fingers. 

you shut the door. 

lando’s morning, on the other hand, started off stellar in comparison to yours. he had stayed up a while longer, wondering if you would call him back, but you never did. there was a faint pang of disappointment, but much more guilt that he let you slip away so easily. he should’ve refused to leave your hotel room that night. refused by any force you attempted on him. 

but he’s just that much of a fucking idiot, wasn’t he? when he left for the paddock early that morning, he glanced at his phone one last time. one missed call, and it was from you last night. and then suddenly, his heart was warm, and there was a smile on his face.

all this told him was that there was a chance. you called him. you called him whether or not you were shitfaced. blackout drunk. in your vulnerable moments you thought of him. reached out for him. fuck, he was in love with you.

in love

he paused when he shut the door behind him, frozen in place. what? is that what this was? love? 

anxiety churned in his stomach. this feeling had been there for a while. a long time. and only now he was just realizing it. shit. 

he fiddled with his phone in his hands. thumb hovering over your contact card, he let it fall. 

it rang twice before he heard the line connect. 

“yeah?” you said, demure and quiet. he knew you were exhausted. he’s heard this tone before. the tone you had when you were viciously hungover. it had him chuckling. “what?” 

“good morning to you, too.” the words rolled easy from him. he suddenly felt calmer with you on the other end, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in the pit of his stomach. 

“good morning.” you said, like you were shocked that he was calling you to say good morning. 

“fun night?” he asked, stepping into the elevator and hitting the ‘lobby’ button. a few members of his team were already waiting for him. 

 but you had froze up in the car ride to the paddock. what? how could he know? did he know that you were with raphael? you cleared your throat. “what– what do you mean?” 

“you called me.” 

shit. 

if you weren’t fucked already, you were royally now. your hand dragged over your forehead as your head swarmed with anxious thoughts, completely forgetting about calling him and then…touching yourself in the shower to the thought of him. yikes! what a little freak you were. but lando would enjoy it. 

“i–” you stuttered, voice caught in your throat. “i’m sorry…i was just…” 

your voice trailed and you could hear his childish laugh from the other end. “no, no. it was cute.” you heard the elevator ding from his end, but it hard to focus on when there was a deep blush flustering your cheeks. 

“i didn’t mean to bother you,” you quickly said, finding the need to apologize over and over again for disrupting his night. it was embarrassing enough as is that you had the worst sex of your life, but you called the one man that didn’t want you for consolidation. what a conundrum that was, wasn’t it? 

“you didn’t.” his words were firm this time, no traces of playfulness. you perked up at this, finding yourself laughing. 

“must’ve said something dumb, didn’t i?” 

there was a pause. 

“yeah. yeah. something dumb.” 

there was another beat of silence. you shifted in the uber, the pass around your neck.

“i’ll see you there?” 

you heard him suck in a tight breath, then release it. 

“yeah. yeah, ‘course you will.” 

you smiled. he could feel it. 

“okay. bye, then.” 

he said your name softly on the other end with a salutation, and the line went flat. you slammed your back against the leather seats of the car, hands rolling over your face. you rubbed your eyes, wondering if you were still dreaming. 

it wasn’t fair that he could make you this way. that he had you in tears just a few nights before, and now your fingers shook with excitement. fuck him. fuck him for making you feel this way, and yet, there was no trace of annoyance on your face. 

just a bright smile. 

your name was called when you swiped into the paddock. it had you whipping your head up to see who it could be, but you already knew that it was alexandra. she wasn’t trailed by anyone else, thank god, and she flung her arms around you for a hug. 

you sang a soft greeting towards her, and she looked up at you expectantly. you raised a brow. 

“so…!?” 

you narrowed your eyes. 

“your night with…!” her voice dropped to a whisper. “raphael.” 

you shushed her, looking around, before you held one of her hands in yours. “you want the truth?” her facial expression dropped, but she nodded anyways. 

“awful.” 

she groaned, head rolling back in disappointment. “i told rebecca it wasn’t a good idea.” 

“the sex was…horrible. just…i mean, what the fuck?” alexandra burst out into a laugh as the both of you joined side by side towards the ferrari hospitality. you dreaded going, given the unanswered texts for him, you didn’t want to be confronted with…anything. 

“most importantly…” alexandra stopped the two of you before you entered. “are you over him?” 

him. the inevitable. 

you swallowed. 

and nodded your head.

alexandra was only slightly pleased and gave you a reassuring smile. boy, this would be a long day. 

before the race started you were wandering around the pitlane with your miniature crew of ferrari girlfriends and their friends. raphael had found you, eagerly, with a prideful smile on his face. out of kindness, you returned the gesture, and let him linger around you for the day.

ferrari’s pit was next to mclaren’s. you couldn’t help but stare. 

lando was there. in his papaya race suit. he was speaking to his engineers, and never glanced your way. look at me, you wanted to shout. please, your mind begged. but you stayed firm at raphael’s side.

he dared to stretch out his hand to let it loiter on your waist, but you shimmied out of the contact with an awkward smile. he noticed, but didn’t say anything. 

lando did too. 

but not what you wanted him to see. he saw you with raphael’s arm around your waist. you were smiling, laughing, in their presence. whereas he couldn’t even bear a night out without the cumbersome thoughts of you constricting his mind. he thought of nothing but you. and here you were, haphazardly dangling this spanish prick in front of his face. fucker. 

you turned to look at lando again, free of raphael’s touch. he was staring.

your heart beat faster, eyes widened. your palms were sweating– why were they sweating? he looked pissed, frustrated, but you didn’t know why. your brows upturned with a soft expression that he yearned for, and his envy flushed away. 

it was that easy. your gentle features. the concern ridden in your face. 

you even gave him a small wave, twiddling your fingers. he was bashful in response, and returned it with a small twist of his own fingers. 

but his eyes carried down. towards your chest. you blinked, realizing that part of your dress had slipped further. there was an obvious bruise making an appearance, and you felt guilty. guilty as if you had cheated on him, but you were never in a relationship to begin with.

you saw his jaw tightened and his hands flex before he turned, leaving you speechless. 

and then you were dragged away, just like that, into the viewing panel for the race. they were about to start their formation lap, yet you could barely focus with your racing heart. 

it past with ease. raphael tried to get closer to you, but you found excuses to stay huddled at alexandra’s side. she noticed, and even wrapped her own arm around your waist. the two of you were a picturesque vision of divine femininity. you felt untouchable at her side, incomparable to any girlfriend you’ve ever had. 

lando was fighting hard. he was aggressive on the straits, pushing past the limits of his drs. your hand traced over your chin as you watched the tv intensely, frightened when you saw him make contact with one of the mercedes drivers. 

“what is he doing…” you muttered under your breath. your nailbeds were being hacked on by your teeth, chewing them down to the stump. parts of your thumbs streamed with blood. 

little to your knowledge, your reaction had been broadcasted. alexandra’s face unfurled with a cheeky look, realizing that she had been played by your deception from earlier. you were not over him. in fact, you were entirely worse than before. your concern was ebbed through the power of media, and that wouldn’t be forgotten. 

“are you okay?” came raphael’s voice. you didn’t even look at him.

“fine.” 

he took your cold tone in earnest, realizing that there was something more at stake here. 

you couldn’t be more grateful when lando passed the checkered flag. your hand found the column of your throat, finding comfort. you let your face be consumed by a smile, one similar to raphael’s when he thought he made you came. stupid man, you thought, glancing towards the spaniard. you had a new priority now.

you had to prove that you wanted lando. but how? everything felt like it was becoming too complicated. your fates were intertwined via an invisible string. 

and you didn’t even go to his podium.

he looked for you, sweat dripping down his forehead, but didn’t see you. it had him grow weary, agitated. he raced this hard so he could prove himself to you. prove that he was better than some lowlife. 

but he fears he lost you. 

the hickey’s on your neck spoke volumes. you fucked him. fucked that stranger. his fists curled around the trophy, break-necking the medal display. 

did you come? 

no. stop that. it’s none of his business to ask–

she didn’t. you couldn’t. 

the pieces began to fall in place in his head. the phone call. you called him…when you needed him most. 

it suddenly made holding this trophy all the more worthwhile, and he even donned a smile on his face when he raised it high above his head. this, he thought, was victory. 

the night came as swiftly as the day went. you were getting ready to go out, alexandra reminding you to schedule your uber. you did. the dress you wore this evening was short. one of your favorite colors, and had a high neckline. for obvious reasons. you were entirely mortified that raphael felt the primal need to mark you like some bitch. it had your stomach twisting with anger, fingers pulsing with a punch. 

but your violent urges stayed dormant when you met up with alexandra, charles, rebecca, carlos, and…raphael. jeez, what a lot you’ve surrounded yourself with. raphael was at your side in an instant when you climbed out of the uber, refusing to give you a morsel of space. it had your lip curling, grimacing down the vomit that curdled in your throat. 

you barely spoke a word to him tonight. there was nothing more to say to him. if you were to say anything, it would be a rotten lie. 

alexandra tugged you along through the doors, charles at her flank, which you gladly let her do. anything to get away from raphael would be best for you, given how much you didn’t want to confront him. it was just for the weekend, right? no strings attached. 

no strings attached, echoed through your mind. flashes of lando’s hands on your hips, the phantom embrace that tensed around your flesh, seeped into your head. your heart plummeted against your will, looking around futilely for his bright smile amongst the sea of oncomers. 

it didn’t take you long.

but you wish that it did. 

he had his arm slung around some girl, hat backwards, first few buttons undone on his white dress shirt. hands clamming up, you tightened them together over your front, letting your eyes gawk at such a beautiful pairing. it was a different girl than the one you had rudely met in monaco. 

another one of his girls. 

your mind begged you to let it go. but your heart chained itself to lando, refusing to let go this…infatuation that had you sick to your stomach. what did she have that you didn’t? was she nonchalant? was she a cool girl? 

your staring lasted too long. lando saw you. he felt your eyes– your heated stare, beckoning his attention. he answered your call, glancing directly at you. but he did not wave. 

neither did you. 

the urge thwarted you to look anywhere else but him, tugged your attention elsewhere, but you stayed firm on his freckled face, sharp cheekbones, his daunting stare. you felt the beat of his heart from across the room, the bass boosted rap, his irritability when raphael came to rest a hand on your hip. but you did not turn away from this fight. your arsenal was loaded, and so was his. 

lando glanced at raphael, first to break eye contact, and swug the rest of his cocktail in hand. he let the glass slide across the counter of the bar before tugging the girl at his side to his front, the pair of them dancing with one another. 

fine, if he wants to play, then you’ll play. 

you were handed a cocktail by raphael. you thanked him sincerely before you downed your own in one gulp. raphael gaped at you with a slack jaw. you wiped the loose drops from your jaw, and offered him your hand. 

“dance with me?” 

raphael didn’t need to be asked twice when he took your hand. you led him deeper into the club, the led lights brightening both your faces. in this light, you supposed that he was irrecoverably handsome. and the thought slipped through your mind that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve had a good life with him. that in some universe that you could get over this feud with a man who doesn’t want you, you’d have a well-earned chance at happiness. 

but the thought left just as quickly as it came. 

your hips were against his. ass against his crotch, grinding in a rough series of movements. he began growing accustomed to how you moved, and that much you could be thankful for. no longer would the two of you be awkward on the dance floor, fragile hands trembling against your body. he felt more confident, but you could tell there was something brewing behind those big brown eyes of his. but you honestly couldn’t care less, not when you were distracted. 

not when your eyes were entranced on a man who treated you like garbage. who cried in your arms, begged for your presence. then, left your hotel room with tears streaming down your face. 

his hands were tightly wound around the girls abdomen, cocky expression glazing his face. he spoke to a few of his buddies here, too, amply looking like a douche. one that who knew exactly what he was doing to girls. fuck. 

you were just one of his girls. 

this enraged you. but it shouldn’t. but it did. there was no excuse for your fray of emotions. they simply existed, and you were going to deal with them. not in a responsible way. no, you were far too gone for that. alcohol warmed your throat, your palms, your chest. 

you let your head lean back onto raphael’s shoulder, your mouth coming to his ear. “you can touch me.” you encouraged him. he seemed to lighten at this, becoming bold enough to let his hands trail up your body. he’d indulge in your shape, letting his fingers imprint against the globes of your breasts, the lining of your panties beneath your dress. 

a light giggle left you when you let your head rise from his blades, and were met with an aggressive, terrifying, stare from across the room. 

your lips puckered. 

lando’s head was resting on the girl’s shoulder, his hips swaying with hers, but his eyes were trained on you. you, you, and more you. he was glaring at the man behind you, his gaze so bitter that it soured even your own tongue. it was the miniscule amount of guilt that flustered your head, but you shoved it down. 

lando retaliated, beginning to kiss on the girls neck. she leaned against him, a gorgeous smile lighting up the room. 

you grumbled, turning your head to meet raphael’s eyes. your eyes pleaded with a language of seduction, one that any man could understand. 

raphael took the bait. 

his lips trailed down your ear, down the column of your neck. all whilst your back was pressed against his front, you felt the outline of his dick. your palm tightened at the memory of how he attempted to fuck you, but you had to remain composed. you couldn’t fail now. 

your lip caught between your teeth for dramatics. like you were holding back a moan. 

lando was watching. in fact, he never stopped. he was drunk on the addiction of watching you. watching you grind your hips on that fuckin’ guy, not even wince when his lips were glossing over the sensitive flesh of your neck. could he make you wet with just his mouth? 

the british driver could feel his end nearing. if this progressed any further, he’d drag your ass to the bathroom and fuck you like you’d deserve. he didn’t give a fuck. not anymore. not when your lip was bitten by your top row of teeth, an illusive point to how that guy was pleasuring you. he felt fucking sick. though he was starving to the same degree. 

his chest was aflame at your teasing touches on your own body. he could see the outline of your panties, the lack of a bra. your nipples were pinching against the fabric that confined them, and he had to stop himself from drooling. you were so fucking sexy. 

the girl at his front was growing bored of her lack of attention. he, honestly, didn’t even remember her name. but he’d suffice it with a swirl of his tongue around the skin of her jaw. it was a critical move, since he knew that you’d never let yourself be kissed. you wouldn’t risk such intimacy with a man you’ve only known for a few days–

except you would. 

this was war, wasn’t it? 

watching lando suck and slurp on that girl’s neck had you desperate to come up with an alternate idea. an approach that would crown you victorious without a second thought. it was cruel, you knew this, but you were out of options. you had something to prove. prove that you were over him. though, you knew that this would end in one of two ways;

him, fucking you.

or, him leaving. 

you much preferred the latter. 

with enough fury boiling in your bones, you lifted your head to meet raphael’s eyes. with your pointer finger, you let it roll over his chin, connecting with your thumb. you glanced at his lips, your tongue wetting your own, and pulled him to meet you. 

raphael said your name into your mouth, nervous to even let his tongue explore yours. you sucked in a tight breath, lip curling to reference a snarl at how much you despised the sensation. it was messy, wet, and you felt instantly disgusted with yourself for even letting him touch your lips. you felt like you jumped too far into a relationship with raphael, even though you were certain that you didn’t want one. 

“be my girlfriend,” raphael breathed into your mouth. you hummed a laugh, thinking that he was joking. but he moved to separate you too, staring at you with a brazen thoroughness that you never wished to see again. 

“i’m serious. i want–” 

“‘scuse me, mate,” you knew that voice. you knew that voice too well. your head spun around to see lando leering dangerously close to raphael’s face, the heat of his body emanating onto your own. he stood only a few inches from you.

you felt his hand ghost over the small of your back, and you suddenly felt desperate to feel it. with your lips raw from that kiss, your fingertip glazed over the flesh, your eyes lost in lando’s tense expression. his jaw was tightened, chest doing it’s best to keep his heated expression under control. however, that control was slipping with every passing moment that you were in raphael’s arms. 

raphael turned his attention to lando, suddenly pissed. “need something?” 

lando gave him a hoarse chuckle. “yeah. can i borrow your lady for a second?”

raphael made a move to shake his head. “no, we were just—”

“thanks, mate.” lando gripped your back with his fingertips, digging into the skin without mercy. you felt his anger rolling off of him in tense waves, the urge to consolidate him overwhelming. he led you through the crowds of people with an insurmountable force, jaw tightly clenched the entire way. you could practically hear his teeth grinding against one another. 

he said nothing until he opened– no, broke the door– to the bathroom. it was a single stall– no one was in there. he allowed you to enter first, stretching out his arm as a much needed signal. you waited a moment, arms crossing over your chest. 

his eyes didn’t relent. he would wait here all fucking day before you decided to go in. and you did. he locked the door behind the two of you in an instant. 

“what the fuck are you–” you began to scold, back turned to him as you approached the mirror and the sink. you were interrupted when he spun you around, hand place firmly on your hip. the contact had you gasping, glancing down at his hand. 

“so, what?” he said, looking down at you through hooded eyes, blown pupils. his heart was electrified, hidden behind his cage of ribs, and one hand flexed as it gripped the edges of the porcelain sink. he hummed, “hm? he your boyfriend now?”you gaped at him. “you’re serious?” you stifled a laugh, unbelieving of his attitude. “what’s it to you, lando? hm?”

his shoulders tensed. “you shouldn’t be with him.” 

you rolled your eyes. lando gripped your chin, demanding your attention. “why not, then? ‘m i supposed to be your whore forever?” 

his thumb rolled over your bottom lip. “you never were,” he tsked. you were bewildered. brow raising, however difficult to focus when his hand around your hip began to swirl circles on your skin. 

“what the fuck are you saying, then, lando? you need to–”

“you let him kiss you.” 

you froze. 

“never me. why?” his restraint was slipping. his forehead edged closer and closer to yours until you could feel his breath fanning across your face. 

“why?” he asked again, his nose brushing against your own. you shook your head ‘no,’ lip beginning to quiver beneath his body. his chest pressed against your own as he got closer. he needed to be closer. “he fuck you better? hm? that it?” 

you shuddered when you felt his fingers lower from your hip, trailing circles towards your navel, the slit of your dress that met your upper thigh. 

“go on,” he urged, his voice tense from gritting his teeth. “tell me. tell me, and i’ll stop.” 

you stayed quiet except for the whimper that left your throat when his fingers curled against your panties, a dampened spot ruining the fabric. there was a deep chuckle against your face, lando’s forehead still against your own. you tightened your lips together, not daring a word to spill. 

“tell me, and i’ll let you go party with your new boy.” 

“fuck you,” you bit out, seething with your desire, angered with his jealous antics. 

“yeah? yeah? you want ‘ta fuck me?” there was no way of hiding his cocky grin. it could be seen from miles away, even when his face was millimeters from yours. 

“you’re an asshole,” you heaved, your hips bucking when he began to slide your underwear to the side. your breaths were harsh against his cheeks. 

“must like ‘em mean, then,” he cooed, followed by a deep chuckle. “‘cause you’re drippin’ for me.” you felt your slick seep around his fingers as h grazed the puffy lips of your cunt. your head was thrown back against the concrete wall, smacking against the surface. lando was quick to adjust your head, his fingers tugging into your hair. 

“fuck,” you sighed, finding his pleasures undeniable. he was so on edge from seeing you kissing raphael, that he was lost in his madness. this pent up lust was bursting from its locked away jar, pouring its fury onto you. “touch me, lando. please–” 

with a swift motion he perched you onto the porcelain sink, your head lolling against the mirror, supported by his palm. he tugged you forward so your glossy cunt stained the front of his black pants. the wet spot was pertinent, your face flushing with embarrassment. you were supposed to hate this. why did you love it? 

“‘am touchin’ you, baby.” his middle finger teased you, blessing you with a split moment of euphoria of grazing your clit. you moaned, eyes fluttering shut. “look at me,” his hand tightened in your hair. your eyes flashed open, face to face with his crooked, loving smile. “look at me when i make you cum.”

you nodded, whimpering rapidly. he grinned harder at your desperate, pleading tone. though you spoke no words, he could tell just how badly you needed him. 

“inside,” your begging didn’t cease, especially when he was still refusing to slide a finger inside of you. “please, please—”

your words were cut off when his middle finger curled sweetly inside of you, eliciting the sweetest pleasure you have felt in weeks. the moan you delivered was guttural, deep, and most of all, primal. lando’s dick pulsated in his pants, his fingers twitching at your lewd voice. 

a hand reached out to grip onto his bicep, your head falling into the crook of his neck. you felt undeniably at ease in his hold, despite the hurt that he’s caused you. 

his finger began to slide in and out of you, scissoring you to high hell and back, and you were putty in his hands. moments like these is what he favored most with you, but he would take anything to be in your presence. he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt when he swooped you up from that asshole’s arms, leaving him shocked and disrespected. lando was keen enough to twist his head over his shoulder when he led you away, watching as raphael’s face contorted with disappointment. it had his jaw tensing, resisting the urge to smirk. 

“come on, baby,” lando’s voice cut through your high, your naval tightening with a hot pressure. “know you’re close. can feel it.” 

he added a second finger, using his thumb to roll over your sensitive bundle of nerves. the stimulation was overwhelming, your throat raw with the carnal moans he drew from your depths. he’d be the only one to hear any of these ever again. he promised himself that much. 

your orgasm was imminent, the coil in your belly snapping with a hopeless yearning you’ve been deprived of for what feels like an eternity. slick covered the palm of his hand, and your eyes had locked onto his. he watched as you trembled with desire, legs twitched around his waist. with one quick move he brought his two fingers to your lips.

you knew what he wanted. 

you’ve never tasted yourself before. but your lips parted, and he lathered your slick over your tongue. you sucked in earnest over his calloused digits, lips puckering, cheeks hollowing. you swallowed, letting your tongue linger over his fingertips.

“now you know,” he whispered, clutching you tight. “why i can’t stay away.” for a brief moment, you thought he was mentioning because of the taste of your cunt. but with the deep look in his eyes, you knew it meant more. you were made for him. both in spirit and sensuality. 

lando spun you around from your seat atop the sink, having you flipped, staring at your reflection in the mirror. you look disheveled, and downright fucked. your feet met the ground, the palm of his hand spreading over the expanse of your back, flattening you to a ninety degree angle. 

“lift your hips for me, love,” you obeyed without second thoughts, rising to your tip toes as he ran his fingers along the underside of your thighs, pulling down the fabric of your panties. they hit the floor, and your cunt went rigid with the cold air. but you heard lando making fast work with his belt, his jeans, and you sifted back and forth. you even turned to look at him over your shoulder, lashes batting unintentionally at the spring of his cock against his lower belly. 

“missed this,” he breathed, saddling his hand at the base of your neck. you pushed into his hold, deepening the connection. 

your exhaustion didn’t impede your ability to get fucked. that was for sure. lando wasn’t going to spare a single effort on your behalf. he was riled, pent up, and now he wanted to see tears in your eyes as you were split open on his cock. it was a promise. 

“missed you.” you mumbled. lando’s hand tightened around the frontal base of your throat. 

“what was that?” 

you whimpered. “missed you!”

“atta girl.” he was pleased with your higher volume, and awarded you by edging the tip of his cock through your folds. you lurched forward, gripping onto the dish of the sink. a deep groan left you, and he gave you a grace period to adjust. but it took too long. you wanted him deep. bottomed out. until there was nothing else for you to give. 

“show me,” you grit your teeth. “show me he’s not good enough.” 

your words seemed to ignite a flame inside of lando that couldn’t be ignored. you felt him huff air, the sensation tickling your spine, and he thrust himself inside of you. forget a grace period, you were going straight to heaven. 

you moaned, his cock stimulating a perverse area inside your cunt that no man could ever reach. lando was out for blood to prove that he was the only man that could truly fuck you. and fuck you he would. 

the sound of skin slapping echoed through the bathroom. your moans intertwined with his mewls, creating an atmosphere derived from both of your pleasures alone. nothing would ever compare to this feeling. how he curved deliciously inside of you, how you tightened so mercilessly around his cock. he’d let himself run dry so he could feel your tight walls each night. 

the pressure of his hand around your throat didn’t relent. with his index and thumb squeezing at every point he bottomed out, you swore you were seeing stars. you were an irrecoverable mess in lando’s arms, and that’s just the way he wanted you. in the reflection of the mirror stared the fading marks that fucker left on your skin. but he was determined to make his own. and it was different that you’d let him. without a doubt, he could bite through your skin, make you bleed for all you fucking cared. 

“who’s fucking you this good?” lando asked, hand tightening briefly for your response. you were lost in your haze, unable to truly focus on his words. your brows furrowed. 

“you,” you said, breathless, clenching onto the sink with all your prospective might. 

“who?” he prodded further, opposite hand coming to rub at your clit. you seethed, breath tightening in your throat. tears burned at your retinas, the skillful work of his fingers bringing you to an oncoming orgasm. lando felt it, and paused his fingers. 

you whimpered, then looked at him in the mirror. he loomed like no man you’ve ever seen. darkened eyes, sweaty hair. fuck, he’s so hot. “you!” 

his fingers returned their assault on your clit, and you could feel the burning heat once more. you grinded hopelessly against the palm of his hand, which he responded as to pinching the bundle of nerves atop your cunt to with more pressure. 

it didn’t take long before you were keeling over the sink, his hand around your neck forcing you to arch before him. with your unbearably tight cunt, he came with you, filling you with hot ropes of cum. the feeling of him warm, vested in your walls brought you a comfort like nothing else. 

lando’s head fell forward with his heaving chest onto the base of your neck. his heart was beating so fast, you could feel it. you lifted yourself from the downward angle of the sink, his hands coming to steady you despite his exhaustion. 

“i lied to you before,” he spoke into the skin of your neck. too fucked out to really process what he was saying, you turned slightly to catch one of his eyes. “you aren’t a favorite.”

you frowned, still confused, heart feeling ripped open once more. 

“you’re the only girl.” 

you turned fully this time to face him. 

“what?”

“you heard me.” you did. that was true. but what you didn’t believe was true, was his words. 

“don’t…” you begged. “don’t play with me anymore, lan…” the nickname rolled off your tongue with ease. “i can’t…i can’t wait for someone who doesn’t…” love, “want me the same.”

lando brushed a stray hair from your forehead. he let himself lean into you. your bodies fit together perfectly. 

“what do you want, then?” 

your voice was caught in your throat. there was a million things you wanted, but there was only one thing you needed. 

“i need you.” 

need cut through his body like wild flower to barley. need was the mending his heart needed. need was the remedy of his uncertainties about you. 

his face upturned into a smile. 

“i can’t do this,” he said, taking a breath. “any of this, without you. need you here, with me,” with his forehead touching yours, you could feel his lashes against your browline. 

“lando…”

he shook his head. your name was soft on his tongue. “please, please, stay with me. i should’ve never left that hotel room. never.” 

your cheeks were wet. but they weren’t from your tears. his. his lip was quivering when you opened your eyes, his own shut as if he were too afraid to face you. 

and instead of answering him with words, you tilted your head up, and let your lips collide with his. torn into shock, lando’s eyes flew open, unbelieving of what was happening. you were kissing him. your lips on his, intimate. you wanted to be intimate with him, not just fuck him. 

his eyes fluttered shut, and his hand came to wrap around the back of your neck. he returned your kiss, tongue eager to explore the cavern of your mouth, and you let him. you had been afraid to let him kiss you, fearful that you would become addicted to this pleasure. 

you were right in your fear. there was never a universe where you wouldn’t be drunk on his tongue, craving his teeth clashing with your own. it was an ensued battle with your mouths, one you weren’t going to relent easily. but he remained victorious and let his tongue run over yours. the two of you were inseparable, body and spirit. 

there was finally a blasted knock on the bathroom door, which had you jumping. lando turned his head over his shoulder, and was quick to drop to his knees to roll your panties back up. 

“like you down there,” you commented from him on his knees. he turned to look at you with a knowing smirk, and kissed the skin of your thighs. when he stood at his full height, he adjusted his own pants, looking presentable enough. 

“beautiful.” he complimented, leaning in for a plethora of kisses. he kissed all around your mouth, your nose, your jaw, before he landed on your mouth.

“i love you,” he blurted out against your lips. you gaped at him and he was worried you wouldn’t feel the same. but the two of you knew this answer for a long, long time. 

your brows upturned. “i love you too.” 

his hand fell on your lower back, guiding you out of the bathroom. “guess you’re my girl now, yeah?” 

you slapped his bicep. “we have a lot to talk about, but for tonight…” you nodded. 

he was happy enough with that answer. 

“gotta let raphael down easy…” you mumbled as lando held the door open for you. 

“oh…!” he said in an exaggerated tone. “that’s what his name is.” 

taglist

@sofs16 @strengthandstay @mybluesoul1 @f1fantasys @cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

[marxo-fm]

Sessions

Part One. Part ii

Summary: You’re König’s therapist, and he is utterly and dangerously obsessed with you. He will do anything and everything to make you his.

Warnings: Adult themes and language, plot with smut, smut smut smut, thigh riding (omg this is crazy) stalkerish!König, toxic!König, innocent!reader, virgin!reader, König is filthy…FILTHY, praising.

Words: 4.2K

A/N: I’ve played COD before but just a little so I have no clue about it all (LMAO) but anyways my fyp is invaded with König and Ghost, not complaining, so I decided to write a little something. I heard he’s unstable (?) and there’s a bunch of fics where he has a therapist so I was like…lemme write something like this. I will give credits to writers who’ve inspired me once I find their accounts because I lost them smh. So don’t thank me for this, thank them. Also thanks to Brittany Broski, my rightful leader, for talking about König on the Broski Report Podcast. Made me want to write him some more tbh. ALSO THE GIF??? So scary in the hottest way.

It’s been awhile since König’s last therapy session with you, and it’s been driving him crazier by the minute. He realized now, just how much he wants you, how much he desperately needs you.

——

Weeks turned into days, then hours, minutes, and then seconds. Every tick of the clock had König going mental. The thought of not spending those seconds with you drove him mad and drove him with such urgency to have you by him. To be inside of you, at that.

Fists clenched then unclenched, König couldn't stand it any longer. Desperation ran in his veins like a predator watching their prey. He wanted nothing else but to see what you were up to, and visiting your home, was just the solution to his thoughts and needs.

(…)

It's been a few weeks since your appointment with König, and you're growing concerned. You look at the empty chair in your office, that's been sitting lonely for quite a few weeks. He hasn't called or informed you on why he's been absent, and you're sure he never will

In all honesty, you have no clue why you're so upset about it. Upset about a client who's been absent for weeks too much to count. Maybe it's because you can't help him anymore, well—not anymore, he's still your client. But the mere fact that he's not there to tell you about his problems and stories, or how his day was, bothered you.

Sure, he has things to do. So much more important than meeting up with your therapist right? Surely not, you want to help König to the best of your ability—but he made it so difficult.

You get a phone call that snaps you out of your haze, you pick it up. Only to hear a client of yours on the phone bringing their appointment up, which is today. "Yes! Today at six, correct." You assured, sitting down promptly on your office chair. You're glad you have clients today, something that'll keep you busy.

(…)

König is sitting outside in his car in the rain. The pattering of the rain took over his rather obsessive thoughts. Not only was he in the car alone, but he was right outside your home.

He peeks through your window, seeing only a dim light through the blinds of your house. His chest rose as he took a deep breath, chuckling to himself about how insane this all is. Going all out for your therapist? Never would he have thought to be doing such thing, but he can't help his desires.

He sighs, he gets the urge to exit his car and step foot inside your house and it made him feel dizzy. The thought of just stepping foot inside your property and seeing the items, the furniture—and so forth—that belonged to you. Something you've chosen out and purchased for yourself, with love. Now that, drove him on edge.

He finally exits his car, slamming it shut behind him. The rain drops hit his huge frame and he takes bigger steps to the front of your house. Eager to see the place you call home. The place you eat, sleep, and breathe in. It's all insane, he thought, but he's König. Insanity doesn't faze him.

"Fucking hell, the fuck am I doing?" He chuckled to himself as he somehow manipulated his way into your house. His wet boots are off and placed on the rug that says, "welcome" which is funny in this situation.

He looks around the well kept home, the dimly lit kitchen and living room, as well as the deliciously scented candle that's lit in the living room. Smells like you, coconut and bliss. He takes it in, like the maniac he is.

There was nothing really intriguing to the eye in your home, it's simple and basic, but still very homey. You had your favorite comics on the tv table and the tv was obviously shut off, books were stacked against the bookshelf and a few magazines were on the tables. You love to read, guess that's new information for König to keep to himself.

His big frame hovers over your iPad, without hesitation, he opened it. There wasn't a passcode, just a simple press of the home button and he was in, it wasn't like you had anything to hide and König found amusement in that. König chuckled, there was simply nothing on the iPad besides dates on your calendars that showed you have appointments throughout the month.

"Busy little one, aren't you, Mein Schatz?" He breathed through his mask, though he took it off for the time being, there was no reason to hide himself through a mask when home alone.

He misses you, and it's getting more painful not having you there with him, in your home. He's wondering what you're up to now, and how much time he has left before that lock of your front door turns.

It's a bad idea, he's already seen everything he wanted to see, and now it's time to leave.

Quickly, he puts his wet boots back on and turns the door knob slowly. He looks back at your place and then smiles, this surely won't be the last time he's inside. And he'll make sure it'll be the both of you inside the home at the same time.

(…)

"Anything else you'd like to share, Ghost?" You question Ghost, his eyes telling you so much he hasn't said yet, and you doubt he'll tell you more. You wish he'd say more though, but you're actually proud of today’s session. He shared more than the other sessions, that's always a huge milestone.

"No." He said sternly, his British accent thick and his voice gravely. "Okay great. I'll see you next week then?" He cleared his throat and walks to the door, "busy."

"So when are you able to?" You wonder, "I'll call when I can." He opens the door from your office and leaves. You sigh, at least you tried to the best of your abilities. You close your notebook shut, putting the notebook back into your drawer as you finally set the pen down after.

So, where we're you again? Ah, it's time to go home. Finally.

Well—not just yet. As you're getting your things ready to leave, you hear your office phone ring. Your brows furrowed in confusion as to who's calling this late, all sessions are...closed.

"Hello?" You question, hearing heavy breathing over the phone—you shudder. "Schatz, it's me." The German accent rolled off the man's tongue over the phone, your heart dropped in response. König.

"K-König?" You stuttered, in disbelief at the sudden call. "Mhm, I'm calling to apologize for not coming to our sessions but if I'm being honest...I want to have a session soon this week." He explained over the phone, your brows scrunched.

You're free this week, no sessions left, well one session now. It surprised you that König chose to call you so late over an appointment, but it didn't bother you, just—stunned you. "Of course, when would you like-" König interrupts you suddenly, "tomorrow." He breathed, his voice lower than usual. Laced with huskiness and exhaustion, and need.

Tomorrow? You can't turn that down, because you know that if you do, he won't come to another session for a long time—you feared. You clear your voice over the line, heart beating faster by the second and you're not sure as to why. Must be the sudden urge to come to a session, or maybe because he wants it soon. It's not like you're busy tomorrow or anything, but the mere fact that you'll see König after God knows how long made you nervous.

Something must be wrong, you're sure of it.

"Sure! Tomorrow at two, promise me you'll be there?" He never breaks promises, not with you he doesn't. He agrees over the phone, and the date is officially set. Grabbing your pen you just placed down, you take your König's personal journal and write the date down for tomorrow.

(…)

He was trying to stay composed but it's getting hard. His desires have become more stronger by the minute, and he wanted nothing more than to have you by him.

He ended the call, smirking under the mask after finally hearing your soft voice over the phone. You invaded his mind like a virus he's unable to get rid of, but in all honesty he doesn't want to get rid of it. He would stare at pictures of you all day, and the thought that bothers him the most—the one that boils his blood—is knowing that you have sessions with other men that's not him. Most of them he despises, the other ones he's not really worried about, since well—they're his friends.

It's almost sickening how much he wants you, how much he deeply needs you. Now, König sits on his bed. Mask off and so is his shirt. Revealing nothing but his well crafted muscles and his mind going hundreds of miles per hour of just you.

And to fix that "issue" he takes his rough right hand and puts it underneath his sweats, and then under the hem of his boxers. Finally, he grabs his thick cock tightly and leans his head back. Nothing but images of you holding his dick for him instead, and that just about does it for him. Quickly, he starts to slowly stroke up and down, groans fill the silent room. His strong hand grips the sheets of his bed, the delicate fabric became victim to his touch.

The rings in his ear became louder as he swiped his thumb over his tip that was already leaking, everything around König became a blur as he thought of you continuously. He's never been this obsessed with someone until he met you. He gripped onto his dick harder and his body starts to burn with flames too powerful to put out—and his heart beats quicker.

He's closer to his high than ever, throwing his head back due to the aching pleasure that consumed him. His eyes look at the ceiling, all that hunts his mind is you. You hunt him every second of his day, even when it's König hunting for you. His insides began tightening, the way his cock began to throb in his hand and how his precum brushes against his calloused fingers when his hands move to his sensitive area.

He lets out a final grunt as he looks at the mess he made in his lap, wishing you were there to clean it all up. His orgasm hit him harder than ever, and his breath is shaky. Stunned at how good you made him feel, it wasn't him that made himself feel good, no—it was you. All of it.

He tensed at first, letting rope after rope of his come dirty his abs and sheets. "Look at what you fucking do to me, Liebe." He whispered, beads of sweat roll off his forehead.

(…)

The next day passed, the day König booked his session to see you. Of course he wanted to talk to you about what's going on, but he mostly made the appointment to see you. It's been a long long time. He puts on his uniform and mask, getting all ready for his missions and well—seeing you.

——

You hear a knock. A knock so familiar and it wasn't just like any other knocks from your clients. König had a habit of knocking exactly four times, and it's a habit he has with you. You shout, "welcome in!" as you take your notebook and pen out. You put your glasses on and present yourself professionally.

König's huge frame stands before you, and you gasped. It's been so long since you've last seen him, you’re now practically strangers. "König! You're here." You proclaimed, welcoming him with a simple hand motion to the chair. "Hello, Mein Schatz." He greets, his voice husky. He looks at you through his eyes, investigating the way you sit professionally and have everything well kept and neat. It almost bothered him, in a good way.

You broke the tension with a question, “anything new?” He continued taking a good look at you, hungrily. It doesn’t show through his mask, but his eyes tells you everything you need to know.

You cleared your throat, waiting for König’s response. “I don’t like the new addition to the missions.” He said sternly, his fists clench and you could tell that bothered him to the extreme. “Why is that? Do you perhaps think they’re weak and unnecessary?” You queried.

He shifts in his spot, “Ja, I don’t like unnecessary addictions. I find it a nuisance.”

“Is it because you prefer having the men you’re familiar with more.. than the new men looking to work the same missions as you?” He prompts his elbows on his knees, leaning closer to the conversation. He is clearly interested in answering. “Yes. Exactly. We don’t need anymore men, we have quite enough of them.” His German accent is thicker, deeper. Cutting through like knife to butter. Your pen wrote down his answers as well as your thoughts in the notebook.

He watched you like a hawk, looking at you closely while you do your job. “Is there anything else, König?” You wonder, his dull eyes sparkled when he hears you say his name. “Hm,” he voiced, “you.”

Your brows furrow at his answer, you cross your legs and place your pen down. Unsure of what he means, and well of course, the therapist you are, you think maybe he has something he needs to say about you. “Did I do something wrong?” You stammered, unable to look him in his piercing gaze.

He chuckled, and you think maybe you embarrassed yourself with such question. “No, Mein Schatz, I need you.” He put forth. Your stomach drops at his answer, crimson red swipes across your cheek and you feel as though you’re going to pass out.

Never in a million years would you have thought to hear König admitting to the fact that he needs you. It stunned you in all honesty.

“I can’t seem to stop thinking about you, Ich werde verrückt.” He points his index finger to his head, “what does that mean?” You question. The part where he spoke in German, you wonder what he means.

He stood up, and you scooted your chair back in response. “It means I’m going crazy, Liebe, you drive me crazy.” König voiced.

You mistook his answer, mistook it thinking that you made him crazy in the worst way possible. “I-I’m sorry, we can gladly stop our sessio-“ he interrupts you, and it’s not the first time.

“Ts ts, I don’t want to. I meant,” he paused, then began, “you drive me crazy with need.” He explained.

You never knew you made him feel that way, and you look around the office just thinking about how unprofessional this all is. “König, when would you like your next session?” You dismissed what he said earlier, you just need to recollect yourself. Your feelings, thoughts and emotions. He just looks at you, quietly.

You walk to the door, and he walks behind you. Each step he took was heavy—and loud, sending shudders throughout your body. He stood behind you, the heat radiating from his body and on to yours.

His right arm reaches out for the doorknob and your heart dropped into a million pieces. God, he knew how to make anyone nervous.

He opens the door for you, and he finds himself out first, but before he does, he says something. “Next week, Friday.” He states, and then walks out of your office.

You take deep breaths, like you’ve been choked and you’ve lost all oxygen. You’ve realized now, just how much König’s little actions made you feel hundreds of butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

(…)

König steps foot inside your office. It’s Friday, and what happened the last session felt like it happened yesterday. His mind is all you, it’s all its ever been. Now he will use this opportunity to his dismay. “Hello, König.” You greet professionally, seated on your black chair.

König takes a careful look at you, he misses you immensely although it’s been a week. He noticed your outfit. Your tight black skirt that hugged your curves perfectly, and your white button up accentuating your breasts. He could open your legs wide right then and there and devour you like he hasn’t eaten in days, he’s drooling at the thought.

You turn to speak, and his entire attention shifts to your plump lips. And of course, König’s mind is filled with dirty thoughts. Too lewd to think out loud.

“Is there anything in particular that you would like to discuss today?” Your soft voice made his ears ring, and he couldn’t help the bulge forming in his pants. König wanted to admit that you’ve been on his mind, but he held himself back and contained it. “I’ve just been stressed.” He admits, and it’s true. All the mission stuff had him drained by the second.

“Oh? And why is that?” You questioned, he manspreads on your couch in the office, using the space to sit comfortably. His long legs and big thighs were spread apart, making it a perfect seat for you to sit on, is what he’s thinking. You gulp at the sight in front of you, and he takes his time with his answer.

“I don’t know, honestly. There’s just something new everyday.” He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

You get up from your seat and prompt yourself next to him. His knees touching yours, and your actions shocked König—just a tad. That’s a lie, it shocked him, a lot.

He wanted to fulfill his fantasies right there, he had you in his sight and reach, but again—containing himself. “Talk to me, König.” You comfort, rubbing small circles on his hand. The action caused him to flinch, but he doesn’t say anything—yet.

After a few seconds, he answers, “I got into a fight with a lieutenant. I’d rather save that for another session.” Groaned König. “Okay, if that makes you comfortable.” You drawl, “how about coming to three sessions in a row? When would you like your next appointment?” You made sure to ask if there was anything else, but to your surprise—there wasn’t.

“Today.” He states sternly, you’re confused. “It’s already today, König?” You trailed off, dissociating at his answer. “I know, Liebe, I want our session to begin today.”

“But we’ve already finished our session for today.” You argued, all that König had contained was finally let out. He grabs his hand and wraps it around your throat, his actions made you let out a loud gasp, and with that—König lifts his mask up and kisses you.

You instinctively kiss him back, aware of how unprofessional this all is, but oddly enough—you didn’t really care.

König groans against your hot mouth, sending vibrations down your entire body. König felt like he was in a dream, finally kissing you didn’t feel real, you tasted too good to be real. He finally has you in his reach, and in his mouth. Your scent overtook his senses, and it drove him right over the edge. He could fall off and die happily, knowing he’s finally tasted you.

You deepen the kiss, and he bit your bottom lip in return, alerting you to open your mouth wider and let him in. He wants to devour you whole and you just let it happen. His tongue finds yours, and there you both are, kissing each other so roughly. His grip on your neck tightens just a little, not too hard, still allowing you to breathe. Though the kiss had you suffocating already.

More, more, more. Is what König says to himself in his mind, but you let go of the kiss. String of saliva leaves his mouth as you let go. Oxygen had left your body entirely, and you’re there gasping for air. You wouldn’t be surprised to see if your lips had been bruised from the rough and deep kiss. You’ve never been kissed like that before, or ever.

The both of you pant, you can’t believe what just happened. You’ve fully realized what he meant earlier, insisting he has another session. This is the session, and you don’t think it’s going to end soon. “Come here.” He ordered, patting his thigh. Your eyes dart to his big thighs, thighs that could crush you if he wanted to.

You did as he said, sitting right down on his right leg, in your point of view—to your left. He holds your waist tightly, balancing you so you don’t fall. Though you’re already holding onto his broad shoulders for support. “Why do you have me like this?” You question, flustered. König loves to see it, to see you flustered even though you never tried to admit it. He had that power.

“Liebe, do you know just how much I crave you? How much I’ve wanted to see you like this…?” he began, “you’re going to do as I say, right?” He asked lowly. You nod, heat rushing throughout your entire body from his needy words. You never knew how much he needed you, and it actually hit you. König, out of all people.

Secretly, you loved that. His desperation made you admire him, it must’ve been so difficult to contain such desires and feelings. Unaware of what he’ll say or do next, you wait. Patiently.

“Ride me, Mein Schatz.” Your mouth gaped open at his words, his fingers dug deep into your skirt, so deep you’re afraid it’ll leave a bruise. “K-König, what?” In disbelief, you stay still. You’ve never done anything of the sort, for fucks sake, you’re a virgin. König doesn’t know that—yet. Though you plan on telling him. And you plan on telling him now.

“I’ve never done this before, I’m a virgin, König.” You murmured lowly, but still loud enough for him to hear. “Oh, meine Prinzessin,” he looks at you like some prized treasure you are. His prized treasure that he wanted to display for the world to see. “Do you want to do this?” He consented, you look at him with eyelids so heavy.

You’re more than sure you want to do this with him, virginity isn’t a game, and you knew that. He knew that too. But you want to give it to König and you’ve already confirmed it before saying anything.

“I…I do.” You cup his face, hidden back underneath his mask. “I can’t go on if you’re not sure, liebe, tell me—do you want to do this?” He repeats his question, and you want to shout at his face the word yes, but you remain calm. “I really do, König. Show me the real you.”

“Want me to show you?” His accent is stronger laced with hunger, pulling you closer to him. He got the affirmation he needed, and you nod in assurance. He grabs your hips at once, and slowly moves them back and forth. Your brows furrow at the feeling of your soaked panties grinding against his rough combat pants. The new feeling had you addicted and König loves to see you fall apart little by little.

His cock ached and pressed harder against his pants as your hands grip onto his broad shoulder, tighter. The friction from his pants and your grinding made you let out a moan you didn’t know you were capable of making. A moan König could only hear in his head, except it became reality, and König was trapped in a haze. He saw the way your face contorted in pleasure, the way your lips pout as he helped you ride it out.

“So beautiful.” He huffs, pulling you back and forth even faster. You could feel your stomach twist into knots, alerting you that your orgasm is near, but riding against his thigh wasn’t enough. You needed more. “K-König…please.” You whimpered out, he tilts his head, getting the hint.

“Please what? Mein Schatz?” It felt like he was teasing you, but maybe he just needs to know what you’re saying please for. “Touch me.” You demand, desperately needing his rough and big fingers to touch you. “Ohhh darling, you don’t have to ask me twice.” He does just as you asked, rubbing slow circles with the pad of his thumb on your clothed cunt. He smiled under his mask at how wet you are.

The bundle of nerves formed tightly, forming at the very pit of your stomach. Flames ran through your veins and your body burned with lust. You found it difficult to hold his gaze as your orgasm is nearing. “You’re too good to me, liebe, you’re doing so good.” He praised, his eyes focused on your motions and he could just come at the sight of that. “K-König! I’m going to-“ he interrupts you, grabbing your hips with both of his hands and moves you back and forth impossibly faster.

“Come, schön, be a good fucking girl for me and let it out. I know you can do it.” He grunts, talking you through it. His praising and words of encouragement did just enough for you to reach your high. It felt like fireworks were exploding in your stomach, and your legs shook. It was all too much to bare, and you still rode it out.

“Attagirl, wasn’t so hard now was it, meine Liebe?” He appeals, holding your waist still as you tried to regain every last bit of dignity left with each inhale and exhale. “You think we’re done yet? Oh love, we’re just getting started.”

——

NOTE: This is just part 1 peeps, I honestly thought it was getting a bit too long (imo) so I thought—hey—why not turn this into a mini series? Hehe. Stay tuned for part 2, coming very soon. Also, if you’d like to be in my tag list, it’d be my pleasure. Just let me know in the comments. (Btw, English is definitely not my first language…so if there are any grammatical errors and mistakes, please let me know in the comments so I can fix them.)

:)

[rashomonss]

Hello! I was wondering if you could pair Simeon with the dumbification prompt for the Valentines Treat event 🥰 thank you for taking the time to read! I love your stories btw <3

hello hello!! so sorry I’m getting to your request so late! I planned on getting the valentines requests in a lot sooner but i ended up getting into a car accident and this past week was absolutely insane haha but i’m good now

but that’s besides the point! ofc you can and thank you sm! I’m so glad you enjoy my work, i hope you enjoy this, i enjoyed writing it. tbh I always love writing for simeon he’s one of my favs haha. anyway love ya! (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

Warning: NSFW (read at your own discretion) / gender neutral

“my cute little slut”

“What was that my love?” Simeon said with a smile.

No coherent response came from your lips, just moans and mewls of his name. Babbles or things here could be heard there as he made you finish for the hundredth time tonight.

Continuous tears fell from your eyes and you tried to think just how you got into this situation. However it was a bit difficult to think when Simeon’s cock was filling every inch of you.

“Shh it’s okay, don’t even try to bother with thinking love, I’ll just fuck all those thoughts out of your pretty little head.” Simeon smiled.

Though his voice did not match his pace whatsoever.

It was rough and deep, he made sure to hit all of your favorite spots and he practically knew your body like the back of his hand.

“Look at you, aw what a precious little thing for me. You’re taking me so well MC” Simeon said softly in your ear as his fingers worked at pinching and massaging your nipples. You were getting close, he could feel it.

It wasn’t that hard to not notice the way you would clench around his cock each time you came. Though he loved that about you. Your pretty little hole belonged to no one but him.

And, no one but him could make you feel this way.

No one but him could take away all your worries and leave you a dumb fucking babbling mess on his cock.

That was a luxury he alone had, and boy did he love it.

You had come to visit him early in the afternoon at Purgatory Hall. Luke and Solomon went out to buy dinner so Simeon was alone for a while.

Because of this you figured he was the best to vent to about your current troubles.

He understood from the moment he saw you that something was wrong, and when you explained to him how your week just continued to get worse he listened intently and gave the best advice he could.

However he also explained that he would be there for you in any way he could…and of course one thing led to another and next thing you knew you were naked on his bed with your face down in the pillow and your ass in the air.

Simon started out slow and steady making sure to tease you just a bit. He’d bring you close to an orgasm then stop and continue at a slow pace again.

After a good amount of time it drove you absolutely insane to the point you began squirming and begging him to just fuck your brains out.

So, ask and you shall receive.

Simeon wasn’t gentle in the slightest after you spoke. He grabbed your hips and roughly pounded into you until he was satisfied. You came at least twice before he finally finished in you.

That didn’t stop him though. After that he flipped you around on your back to face him and teased you as he continued to pound into you, filling you with his cock.

“You’re taking all of my cock in your tight hole so well, only I can make you feel this good huh love?” Simeon said with a chuckle.

You didn’t respond as he continued talking, all that left your mouth was moans of his name and how it was too much. He in turn noticed and began to slow down with each thrust until you noticed.

“-C”

“MC”

“MC are you listening to me?” Simeon asked with a teasing smirk, his voice now finally reaching you. He had been talking to you for a bit but you never responded so he finally stopped causing you to squirm and beg for him to move again.

“’m listening I swear” you cried out.

“Really what did I say then?” He chucked. His dick throbbed inside of you and you tried to move your hips for any type of friction since he refused to grant you any, but it was no use, Simeon just pinned down your hips with a smile.

When you didn’t respond he laughed and pulled completely out of you.

A whine was about to leave your mouth again as you were getting prepared to beg, but his cock returned inside you in less than a minute causing a gasp to leave your mouth instead; your back arched and your hips buckled into him as you came just from how deep and harsh he entered.

“You’re just a dumb little slut for my cock aren’t you?”

His words had you tightening around his dick in an instant. Out of everyone in the Devildom you never expected an angle to say something that dirty to you. It shocked you but you loved every moment of it, he could tell.

“Uh huh” you cried as you gripped the sheets beneath you.

“Who’s the only one who can make you feel this good?” He said, followed by another hard thrust.

“You” you cried softly.

“I can’t hear you love”

“You- AH…!”

Before you could even string together a sentence he made you come again. Fresh tears left your eyes as he rode you through your orgasm straight into another one.

“Don’t stress with anything else for today my love, just let me fuck you till all you can think about is me and me alone” Simeon said as another orgasm ripped through your body.

You didn’t bother answering him, besides you couldn’t even really understand what he was saying. Your mind went blank as he continued fucking you and even going so far as to whisper a few praises and a few degrading comments with each thrust.

Orgasm after orgasm he had you remember just who’s cock you were coming on.

After all his name should be the only thing you remember in that fucked out little head of yours.

[gowonminajxx]

— full bed.

a miguel o’ hara fic ~ 1st part here, not required.

— NSFW miguel o’ hara x fem!reader

you are mayday’s babysitter. miguel insists on drinks after mayday falls asleep and is picked up by peter. for a quick summary, it leaves you in his bed.

\\ quick A/N :: thank you guys for so much recognition recently 😭 im very new to fanfic writing, so i wasnt expecting the nice requests + messages i got. thank u as a whole

quick taglist :: @neverlandlostchild - @hachipachiwachi - @antiliqueorbs

// CWs :: extreme smut, biting, blood. p in v. extra shit at the end. just 3 words of fluff tbh,......

// other notes :: i’m latina myself ! although i am not fluent in spanish, so please correct me if anything is wrong 🎀🎀

“ cariño — honey, dear

miumiulicious 2023.

pain.

you were a little sensitive to it, but overall had a better tolerance for it than other people. obviously, mental pain hurt a lot worse than physical, but — why was the current state of physical pain you were in so pleasureful?

you had never found yourself enjoying something so much, allowing a pleasureful feeling to drive someone else wild, like an animal, as they grew based off of your whimpers. your cries, your shaking body, the tingling sharpness on your neck after dominant marks were placed on it. marks of miguel.

his inhumane fangs would dig abnormally deep into your skin, sucking every last bit of energy out of you — including your supper and sweet blood. the little soft grunts he'd add on after, combined with his aggressive, pessimistic words to you, just made you so crazy.

the mixture of both of your need for this kind of sexual intimacy drove you both insane, so psychotic miguel just couldn't get enough of you. his head had immediately lowered down, even if he didn't get enough of your red liquids from your neck.

his breath was hot against your naked folds, sending chills all over you, goosebumps appearing as teased you. his teasing was so soft, yet so dominant.

"so wet, already, huh?" a once furrowed brow raised on his face as he stared into your eyes, irises swiveling and swirling with only one feeling for how this night would go on — lust.

he dominated you by getting on top, your legs being spread out right in front of his crotch. while his thick hands caressed your face as he spoke, you couldn't make out a word he was saying, your ears almost ringing as your vision felt a little hazy. must of been the thirsty blood withdrawal he performed on you.

you shivered a little as he unzipped his pants, swearing that a cold breeze had just passed by in the room while your eyes widened at his cock size. he was so easily hard, precum already seeping as his grin grew at your shock. this would be fun.

without any explanation or communication whatsoever, he slammed his hips against you, chest leaning over yours as his head redirected to the space on the bed beside yours. his arms rested on the blankets while you couldn't rest at all, your body tensing up, shrieking as your walls clenched around his hard length. your arms instantly wrapped around his wide back, clawing into the skin.

no matter if it was start or finish, miguel's cock had kissed your cervix in all the right ways, but it was so rough, screams escaping your already opened lips. his pace quickened, already nearing his climax as you felt his cock get hard inside of you.

he whispered into your ears clearly, your blurred hearing already being forgotten about. with a low grunt mixed with a seductive whisper, he spoke.

"love my huge cock inside of you, huh? hitting you in all the right ways.." he bit his lip, breath hitching in his throat as he quickened his pounds against your clit. his balls slapped against you, creating the loudest claps you've ever heard in your life. your nails dug further into his back, a natural reaction while your body loosened up just a bit.

"scream, just for me, cariño.." he groaned, combining with your muffled expanded moans. the way his cock abused your walls so roughly just felt the best, no matter the pain level.

"m-miguel.. m' gnna'.." you murmured as his hips bucked against yours, cock sending shock waves of fluids mixed with your own screams through out your body before you orgasmed. he didn't seem to take note of the fluids covering his cock, and quickened his thrusts even further, grunting like an animal — almost loudly whimpering like he was desperate for this pretty clit of yours.

the moment absorbed everything, his breath speeding up just like yours, letting out the most boisterous groans of his life, before he finally climaxed in unison with you — your second orgasm while it was his first.

almost as if he knew this would happen, his length pulled out rapidly, his thick white fluids decorating your chest and stomach like a cake decoration. you let out your last moan, panting as you felt your body finally realize its extreme heat. you felt like you were in a pot of lava, and he could relate.

his body collapsed over yours, cock resting vertically on your clit, rubbing against it a little. sighing, he placed a kiss on your neck, licking the previous wounds as if he was still searching for blood. you winced at this, before he kissed you on your cheek. your hands still held tight onto his back, before he laid next to you like a limp stuffed animal.

"fuck.." he cursed lowly, before tensing up as you wrapped your exhausted arms around him. his eyes widened despite yours shutting calmly, cheek pressed against his rib.

you smiled as his arms shortly wrapped around your back, hugging you in close.

(?) extra ::

before you left in the morning, scrambling out of bed and rummaging through the room for your clothes, miguel had scared you.

you were walking to the kitchen, grabbing your keys and phone, looking around to check if anything, or anyone was there. normally you wouldn't expect yourself to leave so calmly after a hookup with someone who paid you to babysit a child, but you did so, no words mentioned to yourself.

when you turned around, miguel had been standing right behind you the whole time, like an eagle. you were frightened at this, yelping as you stepped backwards into the counter, back slamming into it.

"it's just me, y/n." his eyes blinked like a frog, so groggily yet you still stared into his dark brown circles.

"oh." you murmured, before rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly, and without another word he handed a small paper to you.

the paycheck, you thought. what was he even paying me for if he had done all those things with me last night?

you nodded respectfully, not peeping a word as you opened the door to exit his place. you took not even one step foot out of the door before he gripped on your shoulder — a little too tight.

"take it as an appreciation token for last night." he said blankly, not even a wink or a smirk or whatever a pair did after sex. you hesitated to even respond, but instead just nodded like you did before.

he shut the door before waving, a soft smile widening up on his face before the click of the door. you walked out, heading out to travel back to your place, opening up the check steadily.

he had paid you 2x more than your original pay.

a token of appreciation.

A/N :: yayyyy i was so excited to write this for my friends + basically the whole taglist. hope u enjoyed my miguel o'papi writing!!!

[vintagecandy]

My personal reimagining of Jervis Tetch, AKA: The Mad Hatter.

So I noticed that it is really common for Gotham rogues-- but almost especially Jervis Tetch-- to get redrawn and redesigned! Which I just thought was such a fun exercise, so because I'm me and predictable my brain immediately leaped at the chance to imagine my own Jervis.... set in the 1920s. Now, the drastically different time period causes a lot of interesting dynamics. For one, I'm fairly certain Jervis Tetch's character originates from a time period of comics where people wore a lot more hats, so setting him in the past is very fitting for him. It makes a lot more sense for him to literally be an artisan hat manufacturer, as in a real hatter. BUT what's interesting is that hand made "hatter" style hats were actually beginning to fade out of favor, and one of the reasons is actually partially because there was a growing moralizing around the hatting industry's overhunting of birds for their decorative feathers, and so Jervis ( as you can see ) having this big, real peacock bird feather on his hat is sort of a defiance, a subtle expression of his bad intent. And I imagine his introduction to crime will be marked with the sudden unprompted rise of vintage style hats "regaining popularity". He's very much still a hypnotist, a master illusionist, and a scientific genius, and I was thinking- to shake things up- the hat is actually what drove him insane. Originally the hat band was created to counteract nerve damage he developed from mercury poisoning some years ago, but ended up also giving him heightened focus and an incurable bout of severe insanity. Then he later repurposed it for mind control. What insanity? Ok, look at the face I drew for him. This was on accident, but I've been looking at his face...... and I cannot shake the feeling he's a dad. Like, he has peak "wacky inventor father" energy in his face, but more sickly and evil. So I was thinking.... what if for this Jervis instead of his usual romantic Alice fixation... Alice was instead his daughter. And he loved having pretend tea parties with her, acting as the hatter. Some point after he put on the hat, his behavior was a little off but not worrying yet, but he lets his daughter wander off too far in this dangerous city and he just... never sees her again. He calls the police, they're kinda apathetic- probably corrupt tbh, he puts up posters-- nothing, she's just gone. Probably dead the more time passes. A senseless tragedy in a nonsense world. This breaks his brain! And so he decides he's going to take over all of Gotham and turn it into a game of Wonderland, part out of spite, and mostly out of total denial that his daughter is gone no matter how many years pass, in hopes that the little lost girl will find her way back to him or even that more puppets means more help finding her. But with time his insanity becomes so severe he doesn't even remember Alice was his daughter and not literally the book Alice, but he is slightly more lucid when without the hat. However, he feels sick and anxious when without it.

But as it goes in Gotham, by the time they consider you Arkham levels of insane, incurably so-- a 1920s insane asylum mind you! Which practically makes him more ill-- you sort of have no choice but to stay in the crime life forever. Which is where the tommy guns come in.

[starryriize]

some leehan thoughts...

a/n: this was based on a dream i had about him😭🤭 @chiiyuuvv heard it first and i’m so sorry if this has so many grammatical errors!! i don’t think this is my best work tbh

leehan's muscular frame towered over yours as he lightly kissed down your neck. you made the mistake of telling leehan that you'd never actually had an orgasm from your previous relationship. so, he was determined to bring you to the point of seeing stars and only saying his name between breathless gasps.

he barely started yet your mind was racing, every inch of your skin on fire. his hands grazed down to your waist, his fingers tracing invisible shapes on your belly. he glances at you, eyes searching yours for permission. placing a soft kiss on your lips, he whispers, "may i...?" once you nod your head in consent, he takes your lips in a fiery kiss, wanting nothing more than for you to lose your mind.

his hand grazes the edge of your panties, smirking at the effect he has on you. you were holding your breath in anticipation, but why, you knew what was going to happen. "leehan- please." you managed to gather your thoughts to plead for him to do something. anything besides light grazes and teasing touches. "please what- darling?" leehan's fingers were so achingly close to where you wanted him to be. but he couldn't tease you for long, how could he? you looked so pretty, waiting for him, all for him. lifting your hips, he gently took off your panties, marveling at how pretty you looked. your breath hitched knowing that he was very intently staring at your pussy, as if it was the last dessert on the shelf.

mesmerized, he was drawn in. he leaned in, licking a long stripe up your slit. it wasn't much, but god, leehan was addicted. taking your hand, he guided it to your hair, muttering, "sunshine, you can use me, you know." you were gone. no one had ever previously been this attentive and careful with you. "ah- you can do more too..." you groaned, feeling his long tongue lap up at your wetness, making you more sensitive. it was embarrassing, but leehan thought otherwise.

upon hearing this, a switch turned inside of leehan, and suddenly dipped a finger into your sopping wet pussy. his fingers were so...different from what you expected. seeing your hands pathetically grab the sheets, he resumed eating you out. “leehan- oh..” you breathlessly trailed off, wishing he could read your mind so that you didn’t have to find the words. he pulled his face up, locking his eyes to your eyes making you burn in embarrassment. “yes love? want more?” you nodded, near tears at the fact that he was prioritizing you so much.

“okay, i’ll fuck you, but let me savor you a little more. you’re absolutely delectable.” you whined when he once again, dove into your cunt. this time though, he ate you with a desperation, licking up your juices. his hands, previously holding your thighs, were now against your clit. he rubbed your clit with a pace that drove you insane.

“han- ah..slow down” you moaned, eyes starting to close from the pleasure. your lips said one thing but you knew that you didn’t want it to slow down. leehan smiled, a sweet one before cockily saying, “but sunshine, you’re clenching for me.” he laughed, his lips glistening still shiny from your slick.

his fingers trailed over your shaky figure, before plunging two of them back into your heat. if his goal was to drive you insane, he was definitely achieving it.

[boydepartment]

idk what you can turn this into but jay asking for lip balm so you apply some on your lips and start making out with him

cherry- park jongseong oneshot

a/n: sorry this took a bit :( i was working on my spooktober and homework. also i hope this oneshot is okay. i’m not very good at like makeout scenes tbh :/ so i hope it’s okay :(

MASTERLIST

warnings- obv making out, probably cursing he’s americain - lowercase intended

wc- 150-250

yours and jay’s relationship was always sort of blurry. the perfect trope to describe you both was “not dating but DEFINITELY not just friends.”

it hadn’t even crossed the lines of friends with benefits either. it was a weird grey area where you both have shared kisses that you remembered and some that were hard to recall, and if someone talked to you to him the other would get inevitably jealous.

it was a weird blurry line that made your own vision hazy when you thought about it too much. being around your friend was intoxicating to you. god forbid he wore his glasses around you, or wore that cologne that smelled a little too good.

you sat at the kitchen table of his home, he had a break and was housesitting for his parents. you decided to join him due to not getting out of the house recently, too busy with school, and your only close friend being busy preparing for tour.

you chewed on your pencil as you read over the notes for your class, it was complicated and it stressed you out. you started writing again and your chewing was drawn to your lip. you always had this horrible habit, jay would always tell you to knock it off but he’d never tell you why. you’d just assumed that it was because it was bad for you, that it’d bust your lip open eventually.

noticing how chapped they were, you dug through your bag in search for some lip balm. you found your favorite and applied it(like a normal person.) you’ve had this same flavor for years, cherry. classic.

at the very same moment your friend walked in, he had just got back from a phone call and he leaned over the table to see what you were working on. jay didn’t have personal space when it came to you. his hoodie strings waving back and forth near you.

“molecular biology?”

you hummed and finished putting on your lip balm. jay must’ve smelled the cherry on your lips and looked down at you. taking off his glasses and setting them down on the table near your laptop.

“where do you get that chapstick anyways? they don’t sell out ever?” his tone almost came off as annoyed.

you kept writing and answered, “i don’t remember maybe like the convenience store down the street. i’ve had it forever. chapstick lasts me a long time.”

jay knew you’ve had it forever, everytime you put on that damn chapstick, he couldn’t help the thoughts that would run through his head. the smell enough drove him crazy. jay sat down next to you, fairly close and moved hair out of your face.

“can i have some then?”

your eyes were drawn away from your work and they met with his. his gaze was intense, especially when his eyes kept flickering from your eyes to your lips.

adorned in that fucking chapstick.

his hand was still softly caressing your face, you grabbed the collar of his hoodie and finally kissed him. the taste of your chapstick was a drug to jay, and you weren’t about to cut him off. you’d happily enable him.

his hands trailed down to your waist to the leg of the chair. using the chair he pulled you closer to him effortlessly. how that was even possible- you didn’t know.

when you pulled away for air, jay pulled you back in to kiss him again, his hands traveling up from your knees to your waist. his hands shaking, they only shook when he was physically trying to hold himself back.

your breath hitched when you felt his lips hit your neck. softly he let his teeth nip you. jay was this close to snapping. especially when he got flashes of every time someone got a little too close to you for his liking. it drove him insane, mad, animalistic in a sense. he let himself lose control as he sucked love bites onto your skin. your chest heaved and he ripped you from your chair to sit on his lap.

“jay-“

“what.” it came off as a whisper, his hands tightening on you. the tone of voice he used didn’t even make it a question. his head immediately went back to your neck to mark you up more. you were his, even if this relationship status was a grey area. you belonged to him.

“you’re driving me crazy.”

you felt his smirk against your skin, “you drive me crazy everyday.”

[somewhereincairparavel]

Rick making Luke like Annabeth romantically by the end of TLO was probably the worst mistake ever tbh. I'm actually so salty abt this. Even after Luke asked her if she ever loved him, I never got the romantic implication? To me it seemed more like Luke was aware of Annabeth's crush on him, and wanted to clarify that he hadn't misread, since he was dying and wanted to make himself feel better that someone DID indeed love him, even after all that he did, not because HE loved her or something. But I realised that Rick WAS intending to make Luke romantically interested in Annabeth after I got the confirmation in MOA.

Because it made NO sense whatsoever. Like. At all. On the contrary, it was heavily hinted that Luke was crushing on Thalia, in the demigod diaries, where he couldn't refuse her ideas, and that looking into her eyes made him want to do anything she asked, when he said that her compliments made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, etc. if that isn't a romantic implication, then I don't know what is tbh, but it's just my opinion. Also, he was at the brink of insanity after Thalia died and turned into a tree, I feel like that's what drove him batshit against the gods . If anything, Luke loved Thalia, not annabeth. Atleast based on what was implied in The demigod diaries.

He showed no romantic interest in Annabeth in the books, and clearly only saw her as a sister. Adding that romantic bit was not only creepy as fuck, since Luke was in his mind 20's and Annabeth was still a child. But it also stripped off the found family significance that they had. I was actually marvelling at how great Luke/Annabeth's sibling dynamic was in the books up until TLO.

I always that Annabeth's crush on Luke was realistic bc it wasn't a crush, it was hero worship. She put Luke in a pedestal because he was her hero, a celebrity crush sort of thing. Very realistic writing, but Luke reciprocating? That ruined everything.

Luke genuinely regretting his actions because he failed his little sister, and Thalia, refusing to hurt both of them, the two people that meant the world to him, the two people he thought of when he was bathing in the river styx, is MUCH more meaningful and heartbreaking.

[spideystevie]

💘 hellooo, i’m so excited for your valentine’s house party! so here’s my prompt, hope you feel inspired w this one bc it’s giving me butterflies tbh “trying to hide a blush in the mornings because their morning/sleepy voice is a little too nice to listen to” from the fourth list with our guy rooster <3 idk why but roommate!rooster just hits real hard for me

this prompt was sooo cute and so real, i was so excited to write it. roommate!rooster hits hard for me too anon! and i hope i did him justice <3 - [0.7k] | join the party!

You weren’t too keen on the idea of a roommate initially. Especially when you had only just recently moved to a new city. But your friend knew a friend who had a spare room you could have and the rent was cheaper than anywhere else you’d looked. 

When you moved in, you hadn’t expected your roommate to be so, well, pretty. He was tall, his skin a golden sunkissed shade and his hair looked equally so. His eyes were warm and inviting like his smile and he had a neatly trimmed mustache sitting just above the curve of his upper lip. 

Your friend had also neglected to mention that he was a naval aviator. You weren’t sure why the fact that he flew around in giant, expensive hunks of metal for a living made him the slightest bit more attractive to you. 

Rooster, as your friend knew him, had come to prove himself to be arguably the best roommate you’d ever had. You hadn’t quite expected that. In fact, you had mentally prepared yourself that he’d be messy and gross and awful just to be pleasantly surprised in the end. 

The one downfall that came to living with Rooster was that goddamn voice of his in the morning. You could handle the low hanging sweats or plaid pajama pants and tight fitting black t-shirts he’d wear, just barely. But his voice in the morning almost felt like a deal breaker. 

Maybe you were just being dramatic. But hearing him say your name through a yawn and wish you a good morning with his voice shrouded in sleep was enough to have you falling to the floor.

Okay, you were definitely being dramatic. 

It’s a Saturday morning and you’ve woken up before him which is unusual. You use it as an opportunity to make the two of you breakfast, feeling ambitious when you find the pancake mix in the cupboards. The sun’s fully above the horizon, birds chirping outside the windows when you hear him come down the hall. 

He’s wearing plaid pajama pants this morning and an old navy t-shirt that seems to fit smaller than it once did. He yawns and tries to stifle it with one of his fists. A pinch forms between his eyebrows when he sees you cooking in the kitchen. 

“Morning, Rooster,” you greet, flipping a pancake on the griddle. There’s still traces of sleep on his face as he passes by to the coffee machine, the smallest smile on his face. 

“You know you can call me Bradley, right?” he asks and there it is. His voice is thick, still heavy from a good night’s sleep. It’s almost gravelly, rough around the edges and a notch deeper than usual. You chew on the inside of your cheek. As much as it drove you insane, it was almost too sweet to listen to. 

“Right. Bradley,” you say. You’re trying to fight off the rapidly arising butterflies in your stomach purely just from the sound of his morning voice. He comes to stand by you just as you’re sliding the pancakes off the griddle and onto a clean plate nearby. 

The proximity is making your heart race and you hope he can’t hear it. 

“These for me?” he asks. You glance at him briefly and then at the small stack of pancakes and nod, smiling at him. You can feel a heavy warmth rising in your face and up to your ears, down to your chest at the sound of his voice. God, you needed to get a grip. 

Bradley picks up the plate and in a split second decision, presses a chaste kiss against your cheek, his lips soft and his mustache brushing against your skin. It’s over as soon as it starts but it sets your heart and mind ablaze.

You freeze for a moment and your face feels scalding now. You hope he couldn’t tell just how warm your skin was when he kissed it. 

He sits at one of the kitchen barstools, facing where you stand pouring the rest of the pancake batter onto the griddle for your own breakfast. A pleased groan gets caught in his throat when he takes a bite. 

“This is so good,” he praises and you press your lips together to contain a grin. Your chin tucks against your chest only just, hoping it’ll hide whatever kind of blush or bashful look you’ve got right now.

His eyes twinkle as he looks at you, unbeknownst to you, a smile toying at his lips.

[mythicalmyles]

MYTH! Its been awhile! How are you doing? Btw im doing great!

Can i req something about like reader getting fucked stupid by a perverted and horny killer while he's walking through the woods? Like reader and his friends were just having a stroll in the woods and they end up splitting ways and reader got lost, his friends were trying to call him but he seems to left his phone in his house so they decide to look for him but they end up saw him butt naked and someone fucking him from behind!

You can choose any kinks if you want! I wont mind (Tbh your kinks and writings are the best!! And you never fail to make my day the best!!)

I hope toby is oke 🥺

Blackmail, dubcon, public, sub/bottom reader, violent, dark themes, quicky

(Name) let out an exasperated sigh as he stun in a circle, trees filling his vision. He began hating them, the dark beginning to freak him out now he was completely alone.

He paused as he spotted a hooded figure, heart beating faster. He quickly made his way to the figure assuming it was one of his friends, however dread filled him when a masked face turned to him. They stared at each other for a moment before (Names) shaky voice broke the silence. “I-if this is a joke, its not fu-funny.” He stuttered out, trying not to bolt.

Almost tauntingly the figure tilted its head, the size and build of him being unfamiliar and sending raw fear into (Names) stomach. Before (Name) could even draw another breath he was slammed against a tree, vision dancing as the bark scraped his skin. All he could do was choke out a rasp before an arm pressed against his throat, holding him into the tree. His vision started blurring as he stared into goggle covered eyes.

White fear flooded (Names) head as he gazed at the other man, stomach twisting with fear. All (Name) could do was whimper. “You wanna live?” (Name) nodded rapidly, the mans arm limiting his movements. “You make me cum, you get to live.” (Name) bit his lip, nodding again as he stared into the others eyes. “Toby, you’re gonna remember it.” (Name) shivered as he was turned around, Toby’s hands leaving indents in his hips.

“Pretty little thing, shouldn’t be out here all alone. There’s bad men out here, your lucky i found you.” Toby’s voice was laced with psychopathy, his tone almost gleeful as he made quick work of your jeans. He used (Names) own belt to bind his arms together behind his back, laughing when he voiced his discomfort. “Don’t worry princess, you’ll be just fine.” Was all the warning he got before Toby’s cock began pushing against his hole. A loud groan left (Name) as Toby slid into him, only his spit as lube.

Toby wasted no time before sliding out only to slam back in, a fiendish grin coating his cheeks as he listened to (Name) scream. Toby knew he wouldn’t have much time, not doubting for a moment that others heard it and would come looking. The thought didn’t stop Toby, rather seeming to spur him on as he set an almost brutal pace. All (Name) could do was moan, he could barely think as Toby’s cock split him open.

Toby stumbled back from the tree, pulling (Name) with him, continuing his thrusts ever moan he drew from the smaller spurring him on. His hand wrapped around (Names) neck and it wasn’t long before Toby’s hand was soaked in drool. The sudden appearance of three guys threw him for a moment, a dangerous smirk quick to slap over his face. He purposely sped up his thrusts as (Name) babbled, trying to explain himself. Toby’s murderous glare was quick to make them leave, the feeling of (Names) tight ass wrapped around his cock drove him insane, arms wrapping around him and gripping him tightly as he dove his cock into the (h/c). “Thats it pretty boy, all your friends just watched you get fucked. Bet you liked it, whore.” Despite the venom and hate in Toby’s words it didn’t stop (Name) screaming his name one last tome before falling into his arms, allowing the brunet to do as he pleased.

(Names) body ached as Toby rode out his orgasm, his large hands felt like they were going to crush him. Lucky for (Name) Toby came quick, pulling out and watching him drop. Toby’s empty eyes stared down at him. “You’ve probably got five minutes before the others are here and they cut that pretty throat open.” (Names) eyes doubled as he stared back at Toby, stomach going woozy at the sight of his smirk.

(Name) took a deep breath before rushing into a sprint, ignoring the burn at the bottom of his spine and the ghost of Toby’s hands crushing his hips.

[yugiohz]

i love this blog because most of you don't care about or follow bnha so i can vent here without getting dogpiled by other readers. also, everyone is welcome to comment, disagree etc. as long as you're respectful, what i don't like though is when people who haven't read bnha in years add comments/speculations ike bro you weren't there!!! anyway i put this rant under a read more ^-^

to preface this, I don't want to bitch and moan too much about this epilogue, Horikoshi seems to have given up and tbh we don't know what drove him to this point of resignation (probably overexertion).

I've made around 50 posts about the todoroki closure and what kind of ending they received, but i think there's one thing that bothered me that i never menitoned; I have a bone to pick with class 1A being granted immunity to everything while the villains have to bear the brunt of horikoshi's questionable decisions.

while i never really cared about class 1a, i've always respected that class 1A's community is a focal aspect of horikoshi's storytelling. In that regard, I wasn't surprised that Shoto would be okay with the dysfunctional state of his family because they've never been a support system for him , class 1A is his support system and where he first builds his genuine relationships and that's cute. I also think Shoto's shouout to class 1A in the epilogue tied rlly well into his fight with Dabi (the anime made it even nice imo), like i can't deny that shoto's 1st year of high school helped him so much on so many levels!

that being said, that transition from family to class 1A still left a bitter taste in my mouth because, to me (!!!!!!!!), it just felt emblematic of the ignorance and shortsightedness that permeates horikoshi's writing, especially coupled with these recent chapters; this epilogue enforces bnha's ignorant belief that as long as deku's immediate cirlce (class 1A) is fine and trying their best, we don't have to worry about anything else; Class 1A get to have their corny moments, survive heart attacks & open heart surgeries, their arms grow back, but NONE of that suspension of disbelief that it takes to accept this make-belief story is granted to the villains. The juxtaposition between how class 1A was handled vs. how the villains were handled is too jarring. This epilogue cemented to me (!!!) that heroes and villains seem to abide by 2 separate sets of diegetic rules/logic, which is just bad writing to me because there is no coherence behind it beyond the "good people deserve good endings and abjects of society deserve bad endings". you really can't be mad at "villain stans" for being incredibly frustrated when we SEE that horikoshi can very well bend some rules and make characters survive (which in itself isn't even my main gripe) and grant them kinder endings.

I love tragedies and I would be fine with some not so great outcomes (dabi) if the asymmetry between heroes and villains weren't to jarring. This epilogue made it very clear whom horikoshi deems worthy of kindness & dignity and whom he doesn't.

Class 1A getting to live in their little microcosm where they get rewareded for mere effort & can sing and dance all kumbaya while every single villain (VICTIM) dies is just insane. It feels perverse to me. and while i do think that shoto's love for class 1A is convincing and fits his arc, I also think that it's a bit ridiculous that horikoshi always emphasizes that love when shoto doesn't form significant relationships outside of the main boy circle, how come ochako is also part of that circle but he doesn't talk to her once (misogyny), horikoshi talks an awful lot about this particular bond when shoto has like 3 friends in that class, which is fine but you can't be mad at me for wanting him to put some effort into how shoto deals with his BROTHER like they should've gotten a bigger moment..........

I can come to terms with dabi's ending tbh. while i wouldn't have written it like that, he's always been a dead man walking so whatever, i can see the tragic value of it in some grotesque way even though i'd love for a victim to survive this violence. But shigaraki's ending is extremely insulting and leaves a very questionable message like what's the point of this.

whatever this epilogue is beyong ridiculous to me & horikoshi is tired so i will let this rest and not waste my time being any more upset about it hopefully. most of bnha has been very fun and the bakudeku plotline was handled beautifully imo, you can tell horikoshi put effort and love into that and for that i'm grateful <3 don't ask me anything about the villians tho

i wrote this at 7am on an empty stomach so feel free to comment/correct/remind of sth i love talking about this :)

and as much as i appreciate the much more positive reception of these recent chapters I read those posts too, I don't think it's wrong to say that, on a very basic level, bnha is extremely disappointing for failing its biggest victims

the only thing that could make me take back all of my criticism would be bnha 2.0 in which horikoshi would actually make his characters reflect onn whatever happened lmaoooo

[yeollie-plz]

All Too Well

Preoutbreak! Joel x F! Reader

Synopsis: You met Joel your junior year of college. You had been so focused on your schooling until that fateful night. You were so young, so naïve. He was only a year older but it felt like he knew it all.

Genre: angst! so so angsty its insane

Warnings: break up, fighting, kissing, Y/N insert, pregnancy, labor and contractions, death, drinking (also underage drinking), drunk people, mentions of virginity and losing it, mentions of sex but no sex scenes, hospitals, doctor talk and mentions of medical complications, funerals

Gif credits to owners!

A/N: So I don't usually like song based fanfics but I had an idea and I ran with it. Tbh after I wrote it, I fell in love with it, hopefully you do too! Also! It is obviously the ten minute Taylor's version!

Oh, your sweet disposition and my wide-eyed gaze

It was right before your 21st birthday, you had been dragged by your friend Layla to a party at some sorority house. You didn't want to be there, but she insisted.

So now you were standing in the kitchen with a beer you hadn't even sipped and no Layla in sight. Your only company was the people that would stumble in to fill their cups and not utter a word. That was until Joel walked in. He had this air to him, he was calm and collected, and you could tell there was a kindness in his eyes.

He noticed you almost immediately and started a conversation. He told you how his brother dragged him here and you marveled at the sameness of your situations.

You two talked the whole night, neither one of you drinking. It comforted you that he was also sober.

It was almost one in the morning when Layla found you again. She was clearly wasted and you rolled your eyes.

"I should probably take her home." You told Joel.

Grabbing Layla to help her walk, you made your way out of the kitchen. Before you could leave he lightly grabbed your arm.

"Wait, can I get your number? I wanted to know if maybe we could get some coffee sometime?" You stared at him with shock. You had enjoyed the conversation but you didn't know he felt that way.

"Uh, yeah sure." You quickly grabbed a pen and random receipt from your bag. Jotting your number on it, you handed it to Joel with a smile.

He returned the smile and helped you and your friend to the car. You watched him in your rearview as you drove off, smiling to yourself.

'Cause there we are again on that little town street

You almost ran the red 'cause you were lookin' over at me

Wind in my hair, I was there

A few months and a few dates later, you and Joel had become official. You had never felt more like yourself. It was crazy to say a man had done that to you but you couldn't deny the facts. Even your school work had improved!

Your favorite nights were the nights you and Joel would just drive around. The two of you would drive around the town, every time you hit a red light he would look over at you with those soft eyes of his.

You did a lot of driving and he did a lot of staring. You would drive around and just talk about anything and everything. It was so simple, yet so perfect.

You taught me 'bout your past thinkin' your future was me

He told you everything about himself on those drives. How he grew up, his life with his family, even about his petty little fights with Tommy when they were younger.

It made you happy that he trusted you with every part of him. So, you told him all about you in return. You wanted all of him and gave all you back.

And I was thinkin' on the drive down: Any time now

He's gonna say it's love

You never called it what it was

You don't know when it happened but one day you woke and realized you were in love with Joel.

You wanted to scream out into the universe how much you loved this man. But it never felt like the right time.

A part of you wanted him to say it first. But no matter how many times he stared at you with those eyes, he never did.

'Cause there we are again in the middle of the night

We're dancin' 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light

Down the stairs, I was there

You were taking a nap at Joel's house one day when you were awoken to the sound of music downstairs. It was an old song you didn't recognize. Following the sound through the house, you found Joel gliding around the linoleum of the kitchen. You let out a laugh which stopped him in his tracks.

He met your eyes with that look, the look that made you melt. The look you knew all too well. He offered his hand to you. Gladly, you took it. You two danced for the rest of the song.

He pulled you close as it faded away, ghosting a kiss on your lips. That was the night he took your virginity. There was no good reason you had waited, you just had. But it felt right to lose it to him. He felt right.

And there we are again when nobody had to know

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath

Sacred prayer and we'd swear

It became the norm, you two would drive around and talk and end up at his place between the sheets. It never made you feel dirty, it made you feel loved.

But it was the lack of actual dates or him being uninterested in hanging out with your friends that made you start to pull away.

It wasn't until one night when Tommy stopped by unannounced to Joel's and he didn't even know who you were. You drove home crying that night.

Joel found you the next day with flowers in his hands, apologizing over and over again. He made an excuse of not wanting Tommy to know about his private life and how he hadn't found the right time.

He swore he told Tommy everything that night and how he would get the three of you together soon. You took him at his word and you two ended up in the sheets once again.

Except this time it felt different.

Well, maybe we got lost in translation

Maybe I asked for too much

But maybe this thing was a masterpiece 'til you tore it all up

Runnin' scared, I was there

You decided you weren't going to just be compliant anymore. You were human and you needed, no you deserved more!

You brought it up one night and it became a huge fight. Screaming and crying, you two broke up.

You hadn't seen or talked to him for two months until those blue lines showed up on the pregnancy test.

And you called me up again just to break me like a promise

So casually cruel in the name of bein' honest

You called him after crying all night. He needed to know that you were pregnant with his child.

Joel almost let it go to voicemail, but he finally answered. But when he did, he wouldn't even let you speak. He just muttered an, "I'm busy." and hung up.

You cried all night for the second night in a row.

But then he watched me watch the front door all night

Willin' you to come

And he said: It's supposed to be fun turning 21

A week later and it was your 21st birthday. You decided to spend it with your parents since you knew if you spent it was Layla she would force you to drink. With your newly found condition, that was not possible.

All day and night you stayed in your room, not even wanting to eat. All you wanted to do was tell Joel. You hadn't even told your parents yet.

You wanted to keep the baby but you couldn't do it alone. At least you didn't want to do it alone.

It wasn't until your dad came to your room to try and coax you out, that you finally broke down and told them everything.

Time won't fly, it's like I'm paralyzed by it

I'd like to be my old self again

But I'm still tryin' to find it

After plaid shirt days and nights when you made me your own

A few more months went by and you were starting to show. You hadn't tried to make anymore attempts to contact Joel in a while. You decided to focus on yourself and the life you were growing inside of you. Whom, you found out at your last scan, was a girl.

You were out on night with Layla when you saw Tommy out on a date with some girl. Neither him nor Joel would've found out if it weren't for that night.

He saw you instantly and made his way over. He casually stroke up conversation, it felt more like a formality than anything.

You nervously swiped your hand across the table, knocking your fork to the floor. All eyes fell upon it.

"Oh, don't worry I'll get it." Tommy said as he knelt down.

As his hands gripped your fallen fork, his gaze began to move upward to your eyes but stopped at your swollen stomach. You cursed yourself for wearing something so tight tonight.

You gulped, letting his name fall past your lips. He stood back up and tried to wipe the shock from his face.

"Is that? Is Joel the..." His question trailed off, but you nodded still, knowing what he was asking.

"Y/N, why haven't you told him? He's been besides himself since the breakup."

You shook your head, "I tried, he just hung up on me."

Tommy put his hand on your shoulder.

"You need to tell him. He'll be happy, I promise."

You sighed and nodded your head solemnly. You knew you had to tell him, it was just so hard.

You went home that night and pulled out the flannel he had left at your place. You slept in it that night, his smell lulling you to sleep. Tomorrow was the day you would finally tell him.

Back before you lost the one real thing you've ever known

It was rare, I was there

The next afternoon you knocked on Joel's door. It was cold out, so you had bundled up a little more. Yet, there was still no hiding it.

His look of shock at your appearance was nothing compared to the look he made when saw your pregnant form.

He started to say something but you cut him off.

"Joel, just listen. I wanted to tell you, I tried but you kept hanging up on me and eventually I just kind of gave up. I never wanted to hide it from you. I never wanted to raise the baby without you but you had given me no choice. I saw Tommy last night and he said things that made me realize I needed to try again. So here I am."

There was a long silence between the two of you.

"Thank you." he finally uttered out.

"For?" You looked up at him, trying to read his face. All you were met with were those eyes you had grown to love.

"Everything. Showing me how to love. Giving me the greatest gift I could ever receive...for coming back." He reached out and touched your stomach. His hands moved slowly to your hips, pulling you towards him.

Leaning his forehead against yours, he finally said those three words you had waited so long to hear.

"I love you."

That's when you felt a raindrop fall on the top of your head. Both of your eyes met the sky to face the falling rain.

"It's raining." You said breathlessly.

"I'm not sure if that's a good sign or not." Joel said with a chuckle.

"I don't think it is, but I'm sure we can change that. I love you too."

He smiled and kissed you.

And did the twin flame bruise paint you blue?

Just between us, did the love affair maim you too?

'Cause in this city's barren cold

I still remember the first fall of snow

And how it glistened as it fell

You were now nine months along. You had moved in with Joel and even set up a nursery for your baby girl. Joel surprised you by painting her room purple, your favorite color. He had become that guy you had fallen in love with again and you couldn't be happier.

It was an even colder night when you woke up with a start. A shooting pain going through your spine. Shaking Joel awake, telling him you were sure you had just had a contraction.

He rushed around the house in a flurry, your eyes just following him around. He would've been making you dizzy if it weren't for the crippling moments of pain you kept feeling.

You yelled his name as another contraction hit.

"Joel, we have to go." He finally looked at you, doubled over in pain. He rushed over and tried to rub your back.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry darlin', I was so busy trying to get everything ready that I forgot how much pain you were in."

"It's fine, we just should go now before I have the baby in our living room. You can bring stuff to the hospital later."

"You're right. Let me help you to the car, baby."

Hours later and you were still having contractions but you were not getting any more dilated than before. The doctor came in to tell you they needed to do a C-section.

"A C-section? What do you mean? She can't give birth naturally?" Joel asked, confused. He seemed a little concerned as well.

"Well the baby just isn't moving along as much as we would like. So for both the baby and the mother's benefit we should do the Caesarean."

"it's fine, Joel, It's just a few cuts. We will be back to you in no time. Both of us." Joel looked at you and then back to the doctor for conformation, who nodded.

"Fine, but take care of her." Joel gave in, slumping down into his chair.

"Of course sir."

They took you away to surgery. Too long ago now for Joel's taste. Time was moving too slowly and Joel was losing it. Tommy had shown up about 30 minutes ago. He had been trying to calm Joel's worry this whole time.

The doctor finally came their way.

"Y/N Y/LN's family?"

Tommy and Joel nodded.

"The baby is perfectly healthy, congratulations you have a little girl. But, unfortunately, Miss Y/L/N began to hemorrhage as I was trying to sew her up. She lost a lot of blood and we were unable to find the source of the bleeding in time. She flatlined on the table and we were unable to revive her. I'm so sorry."

Joel just blinked at the doctor, it took him a minute to process the news. Then it hit him and he sunk down to his knees in the waiting room.

Tears began to fall from his eyes as the rain began to fall outside.

Wind in my hair, I was there, I was there

Down the stairs, I was there, I was there

Sacred prayer, I was there, I was there

It was rare, I was there, I was there

Joel didn't want to attend the funeral but Tommy made him, he said something about how the baby should be there.

He had named her Sarah. One night when you two were laying on the couch, watching a movie you had mentioned how much you liked the name. Joel made a mental note of it.

The three of them arrived at the funeral, Joel couldn't bring himself to talk to your parents. After their last interaction, there was no point. They had all but blamed Joel for your death. He even made Tommy bring Sarah over to them, knowing he couldn't do it himself. But they deserved to cuddle and love their granddaughter, after all it was the last part of you they had left.

As he watched the casket lower into the ground he remembered everything about you. The way you smiled, the way you laughed, the way you unconditionally loved him even after what he did to you.

Joel looked down to the baby in his arms. She looked so much like you. He promised himself he would protect her at all costs. He would protect her the way he couldn't protect you.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

🎶Hello. It’s me.🎶

Yeah, hi. It’s 💛. Loved the second part to Number 16 Cotton Candy! It was really cute (Torchbearer gives off “I’m not paid enough for all this” vibes imo).

As you probably have guessed, either to your chagrin or joy, I come baring another request. As we all know, Josh shirtless has become a treasured sight within this fandom (and also a bit of a meme but I digress). I was wondering if you could write a one shot about the reader feeling slightly jealous over the fact that every night of tour, he has fans of all genders screaming over him being shirtless. It can be angsty or fluffy, whatever era you want.

As always, you don’t have to do this is you don’t like it. Feel free at anytime to be like, “Nah man. That idea isn’t for me.”����

P.S. Idk if you’re chronically online like I am, but this idea was 100% inspired by the video going around TØP twitter of Josh almost taking his shirt off out of habit during one of their recent shows.

Irrational - Josh Dun x Reader

Pairing: Josh x Reader

Warnings: Some swearing, arguments between characters, angst with a little bit of fluff at the end.

Word Count: 1581 (not me literally thinking this was going to be hard to write and turn into a long story...)

Summary: On the Bandito Tour, Reader feel jealous about fans obsessing over Josh's body.

A/N: Yes, number 16 cotton candy’s Torchbearer is literally so blunt for little to no reason and it's low key cute. Tbh would be fun to write more in that universe at some point. The vibe there is like ‘I have more important things to do than worry about your feelings’. He’s the type of person that walks so fast you have to run to catch up. Don’t get me wrong tho, he cares about the banditos and everyone involved but he’s more focused on the bigger picture. And inside he’s a massive softy, you just have to crack that hard shell. Honestly took me a while to wrap my head around this request but I got there in the end. Can't wait for the next one 💛! You're the only one requesting stuff and it's keeping me going through every day!

Every night of The Bandito Tour I’d helped Josh get ready for the show, it was our little tradition, almost like a date. Back during Emotional Roadshow, I’d done the spooky jim makeup but this tour was different. Instead of the red makeup the clique had gotten so used to, Josh began to dorn the Torchbearer outfit from the new album’s music videos, a navy green shirt with yellow duct tape strapped across the front and a yellow bandana. 

“Ready?” I asked, looking up at Josh, who stood tall in front of me. He was wearing the blank green shirt he had 7 different versions of. He nodded and reached over to the table sitting in front of the leather couch in the center of the room. Not even Tyler knew how many reels of yellow duct tape we had on tour, they were everywhere. I pulled out the first piece and ripped it with my teeth, the sharp taste of the adhesive ran across my tongue. Laying it on his left shoulder, I brought it down to his hip. The second piece started from the right shoulder and ended just below his left arm. 

“All done?” he tilted his head playfully. 

“All done,” I smiled as he laid his hands on my waist and pulled me in close. The clique were starting to be let into the arena and we could see on the television screen everyone’s outfits, the sea of yellow stretching from one end to the other. While I loved the clique and the way they supported the boys, it was hard to show up every night and hear them scream for my person. They loved Josh. Every night after the shows Tyler would scroll through twitter looking for fan reactions. It was mainly for improvements and to get a good sense of the fandom but that didn’t stop Tyler from flaunting around his dressing room showing off every possible angle he could find of shirtless Josh. And while I wouldn’t normally consider myself the jealous type, to know tens of thousands of people every night were getting an up close look at Josh drove me insane. 

“You’re on in about 30 minutes,” the stage manager’s voice ran through Josh’s in-ears. 

“I heard that,” I looked up at him, not wanting to let go. 

“We’ve still got time,” he sighed, bringing his arms up to wrap around me. While I enjoyed spending time with him, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed that such an intimate moment between us was so quickly forgotten by the removal of his shirt on stage. I didn’t like that everyone was staring at him like he was some commodity. We were only a third of the way through the tour and I’d already noticed that he always took his shirt off after the first 5 songs. 

30 minutes later Josh was sitting behind the drum kit. Jenna and I snuck under the stage to watch, hidden from the fans. The curtain dropped and he lit his torch, the only light onstage. The show started soon after that and they ran through each song as usual–confetti, steam, drum island, all of it. The shirt came off during the Lane Boy intro and stayed off the rest of the show, thrown to the ground like a worthless rag, his bare chest on full display for the entire area to gawk at. I headed backstage during Morph, something about the whole crowd screaming ‘Josh Dun’ making me not want to be there. I knew this was what came with Josh’s job, I should expect it, and I did–but that didn’t mean I liked it, it didn’t mean I was okay with it. About half an hour after I’d headed back to the dressing room, I could hear trees playing. Ten minutes after that Tyler and Josh came running into the dressing room covered in sweat and chugging bottles of water. 

“That felt good,” Josh flexed his wrists and stretched each of his fingers. I scoffed under my breath but clearly he’d heard me because his head darted in my direction. “What was that for?” Jenna turned the corner and ran into Tyler’s arms starting their own conversation and allowing me a chance to slip out before Josh could say anything else. I walked through the busy halls of the venue and out to the parking lot. It was dark outside other than a few street lamps allowing me to see the bus. Normally Josh and I slept together in the back but I’d decided to set myself up in one of the top bunks. I stared up at the roof, trying to figure out if I was insane for being jealous–or even if I was jealous. But Josh being Josh, came to find me. 

“Y/N?” I didn’t answer. I wanted to be left alone. Except I felt a hand grip the edge of my shirt and creep up the skin of my back, rubbing gently. “What’re you doing up there honey?” His hands felt warm against my cold skin, his palms calloused from the drumming. I wanted to roll over and start crying about how he was mine and no one else's. 

“I don’t feel well.” That wasn’t 100% a lie. I didn’t feel well… emotionally. 

“What’s wrong?” His voice was full of worry, maybe I’d underestimated his concern. 

“Nothing’s wr–”

“Bullshit,” he removed his hand from my back and climbed up the bunk’s ladder. “Move over,” he muttered, squeezing in next to me despite the fact there was no room. His sweaty, shirtless body sprawled on top of me, practically suffocating me. “Talk.”

“It’s nothing Josh, it’s–it’s dumb,” I shook my head. “Would you get off of me?” I tried to move out from under him but it was hopeless.

“I’m not getting off of you until you tell me why you’re mad at me.”

“Why do you think I’m mad at you?” I asked, searching his eyes. 

“I know you. You’re mad at me.” It was at that moment the bus rocked. Tyler came running into bunks and pulled at Josh’s leg like a little kid who wanted his mother to buy him ice cream. 

“The girl in the pit that caught your stick got a hilarious photo of you and now everyone’s making memes,” he laughed breathlessly. “And everyone thought the torch was cool too, we’re definitely making that a permanent thing. Oh! Oh! Most importantly… Shirtless Josh is trending.” That did it. The last thing I wanted to hear was that my boyfriend’s shirtless body was trending on some stupid social media platform. 

“God do you ever shut up Tyler?!” I shouted. There was no going back now. Tyler’s face dropped immediately. I could tell he had no idea what to say–and Tyler always knew what to say. 

“I–uh… huh?”

“Get out!” I fumed. Josh jumped down off the bunk, clearly sensing something was terribly wrong. Tyler quietly escaped the bus and Josh followed him out. I was alone again. I could hear them yelling at each other just outside the door. 

“What was that for?” Tyler. He hadn’t done anything wrong, he’d done the same thing he did after every show. There was no way of him knowing he’d upset me. 

“I–I don’t know what’s wrong with her.” Josh spoke. I switched bunks so I could see outside the window and watch the boys, although the condensation on the glass wasn't helping.

“Well, I definitely didn’t do anything wrong. Jenna said she was acting weird all show and went backstage earlier than normal,” Tyler looked out into the empty parking lot. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Josh removed his cap and slicked back his hair before putting it back on. 

“Fix it.” Tyler knew what he was doing, he was good for Josh, made him think.  

“I think she’s mad at me but I can’t think of anything I did wrong. She was fine till after the show and then she ran off to the bus and lost her shit when you mentioned the trending–shit.” Bingo. 

“What?”

“I gotta go talk to her,” he turned towards the bus and I darted back to the other bunk. I heard the door close and the bunk move as he climbed up. 

“I know what’s wrong,” Josh reached for my hand and held it tightly in his. “Of course you’d be upset about that of all things,” he chuckled. 

“It’s not funny Josh,” I grumbled, scrunching up my face. 

“Kinda is considering you should know by now that I’m yours. Just because I’m famous and fans like to look at me doesn’t mean anything is different for us.” I knew he was right, but I didn’t want him to be, it just proved me irrational. 

“I’m sorry… I felt jealous and I just cracked when Ty came in and started joking about it trending and–”

“Don’t apologize to me. We’re okay–me and you,” he nodded between us. I cupped his face, he knew me so well. Closing my eyes, I leaned in for a kiss, our lips brushing just slightly. “Wait.” I could hear my heart cracking, he’d stopped me. 

“What?” I sighed. I’d royally fucked up this time. 

“One, I need to shower before we do anything because I stink, two, we need to go to bed soon, and three, you need to apologize to Tyler,” he explained. 

“I hate that you’re right,” I sighed. 

“Mhm, yep,” he hummed, “always am.”

//

Please submit any requests y'all have! I love to write so let me know if you've got any!

[marszippan]

i think i’ve realized part of why anne’s post-rescue characterization has kind of bothered me. i’ve been thinking about it and tbh if i was already living a high-pressure lifestyle with high expectations of myself imposed on me by other people and somebody randomly killed my horse and locked me in a dimensional time prison that drove me insane and broke down my sense of reality for like 3 months and my appearance was drastically changed when i got back and i had to start from scratch with my horse with a now-altered relationship dynamic i think i’d go fucking crazy like when is anne going to snap, and to add insult to injury if i had the druids in my face bossing me around and acting like they know better than me while not explaining why half the time after ALL of that i’d go a little goofy, LET HER HAVE HER MOMENT LET HER BE ANGRY

[spicysix]

fake it 'till you make it | jonathan byers X reader

“It was all Nancy Wheeler's fault. I mean, literally. Quite from the beginning. Because it was all about Nancy Wheeler, wasn't it? It was all because of Nancy Wheeler, it was all for Nancy Wheeler.” or: you and Jonathan create a plan to make Nancy jealous

warnings: fake relationship, in between S1 and S2, gn! reader (no pronouns, no gendered terms, no y/n used). mostly fluff, a pinch of crack taken seriously at the beginning just because i love it, right before all the fucking feels hit in. and my already known absurd use of italics.

word count: 9.1k

a/n: based on this request, thank you so much anon. your request drove me completely insane, i had a few out of body experiences and ended up with 9k words of love and devotion to Jonathan Byers. don't worry, no Nancy hate in here, it's almost as much of a love letter to her as it is to Jonathan tbh, Reader just doesn't know better in the first paragraphs. hope y'all like it! don't forget to reblog if you do, and comments are always treasured and kept in a little golden box in my nightstand for me to delight in them on lonely nights ♡

↳ ao3

It was all Nancy Wheeler's fault.

I mean, literally. Quite from the beginning. Because it was all about Nancy Wheeler, wasn't it? It was all because of Nancy Wheeler, it was all for Nancy Wheeler.

Okay, let’s start from the top.

Jonathan has always kind of been there. He didn't say much, he didn't present himself much, he didn't get quite noticed. But he has always been there. And you had a thing for those who weren't actually seen, but that had always been there anyway.

Your interest was purely out of curiosity, though, of course. Because you wanted to understand the whole thing. Sure, you had the bigger picture — abusive, absent father, overprotective mom, young brother, and the whole heavy weight of teen parentalization on top of Johnny-boy's scrawny shoulders.

Multiply that for, like, a billion, and we get what we got after November 6th: missing young brother, over-overprotective mom, asshole opportunistic father, and the whole heavy weight of guilt on top of Johnny-boy's scrawny shoulders.

And, in the middle of all that, enters Nancy Wheeler.

Okay, wait, from the top again.

It was mid-May, and Jonathan was just there, as usual. Revealing some photos, the bigger and the smaller pictures you were so deeply curious to see. A precisely requested assignment for a History project — you really loved History, you'd put all your effort into it — and, oh wow! You were also there!

Both of you revealing your pictures, Johnathan had used that shiny new camera he showed up with after Christmas break — after Nancy Wheeler's boyfriend, Steve Harrington, broke the previous one (I mean, if the rumors were true, Johnny-boy was being kind of a creep. But apparently he apologized or whatever, because after Steve's purple eye and Will Byers' death and resuscitation thing, you've seen Johnathan, Steve, and Nancy Wheeler having lunch all together. As crazy as it all sounded).

That’s a digression, back from the top again.

You and Jonathan were sharing the silence only a red room and its buzzing little red lamp lights could provide, minding your own business. Well, he was minding his own business, you were kind of curious about the bigger and the smaller pictures. Minding his business as well.

Shoulder to shoulder as you worked on your photos, you hanging your own as Jonathan took his down from where they've been drying.

It was literally a bigger and a smaller picture, okay, I kid you not.

Jonathan seemed to get lost in his thoughts as he analyzed the bigger one, the one you've seen already — what seemed to be a reunion of sorts between the Byers and the Wheelers, parents and children, and those other two little gremlins that Will and Mike (was it Mike? Nancy’s younger brother, Will’s best friend) were inseparable friends with.

The younger ones were sitting on the floor, those huge smiles on their baby faces, happiness exhaling from, well, probably finding out that their friend that had gone missing for a week wasn't actually dead.

The parents, Joyce Byers, and Karen and What's-His-Face Wheeler were sitting on the couch behind the kids, pride and joy in the mothers' faces and boredom on the father's face — it was his permanent state, you were aware of it by now from seeing him from time to time on the streets.

Pretty, preppy, prissy Nancy was standing behind the couch, just behind her daddy, younger baby sister in her arms as she smiled that tiny little pouty smile of hers. No pretty, preppy, poshy Steve in sight, you wondered where he was, as Jonathan was standing beside Nancy and the baby, hands in his pants pockets, that perpetual blank stare in his eyes of someone being constantly haunted.

You found it cute, somehow.

Cute in, like, a curious kind of way. Wanted to find out what was haunting him so badly.

And then. In the present, real, out-of-picture time or whatever, Jonathan snapped out of his thoughts as he went to get the other picture — the smaller one — from where it was hanging. His hand stopped a single inch before touching it, and you saw from the corner of your eye that he was looking at you from the corner of his eye. Combine the peripheral vision situation with his hesitancy to grab the smaller picture, your life-long curiosity and an impulsive strike, and before you even thought about what you were doing, you were suddenly grabbing the fucking picture before Jonathan could.

You grabbed it, and he let out what sounded like a gasp and a whimper at the same time, and you walked backward until your back met the wall behind you. And Jonathan was all over you in a second, trying to grab your arms as you put them behind your back, hiding the picture — you didn't even get to see it, had no idea what he was so mortified about. He was saying, or screaming maybe, something at you that you couldn’t distinguish because his head was too close to yours. Distress all over his cute scrawny face, and you barely had the time to register the guilt bubbling in your stomach — because, fuck, why did you do that? It was a personal thing, you weren't even friends, you had talked to him like five times tops if you didn't count the whole trimester where you were basically best friends because of that Science project in freshman year.

You missed freshman year.

Anyway, there was no time to think about freshman year.

Over from the top, for real this time!

In the middle of all that, enters Nancy Wheeler.

Literally, physically enters the red room while you and Jonathan are pressed together against the wall, your arms behind your back, his arms on your arms and waist or maybe hips — you were unfocused, to be honest, by the fact that he was basically manhandling you with all his scrawny kid strength.

Well, Jonathan did win a fight over Steve Harrington, handed the School King's ass to him on a golden plate, so you shouldn't be that much surprised.

Alas, Nancy stopped at the door, her huge doe eyes getting even huger, sharp jaw going slack, long pointy fingers wrapped so tightly around the door handle that her knuckles were white.

"Oh! I- Jesus, I'm sorry! Jonathan, I-" Jonathan hadn't said a word since she entered, his whole body had gone frozen, and you were afraid he had stopped breathing altogether. "I'll come back later? I- Or, you'll come find me? I- Oh, god, I'm sorry!"

She ran off after her eloquent speech, not waiting for an answer and slamming the door behind her. Jonathan walked away from you and started murmuring something under his breath while walking in circles within the tiny space in the red room, forgetting about you and your stupid kidnapping of his picture, and finding out a new something to stress about.

You brought your arm to your front, finally looking at it and seeing what he really didn’t want you to see in the picture.

Guess who?

Nancy Fucking Wheeler.

It was on the same day as the other photo if Nancy’s clothes were to say, and she was away from the camera, her profile showing. Holding a single flower — you had no idea which one, you didn’t understand much about flowers. You knew it wasn’t a rose — in between her thin fingers, nose close to the petals, a delicate smile on her lips. She was in front of a window, the light from the outside encompassing her in a kind of godly aura, specks of dust around her, and yet she was the main focus of the whole frame.

As far as a picture could talk, this one was screaming ‘love’ so loudly it was deafening.

Something stirred in your belly, something raw and annoying and mean, but you ignored it and approached Jonathan carefully — as he was still kind of shaking, palms pressed tightly against his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, already stretching your arm to give him back his Nancy Wheeler love portrait. “Curiosity killed the cat and whatnot,” you muttered as he looked at you with anger and snatched the photo from your fingers.

“Yeah, and it’s gonna get you killed too.” His voice was restrained, his whole strength going into not yelling at you again even if his words were threatening enough. “You should go,” he commanded before remembering that his pictures were ready and yours weren’t. “I should go.”

He gathered his photos, his tools and his backpack, and you couldn’t will yourself to tear your eyes from every single movement he made, even if it was painful to watch because he was so clearly pissed at you — and rightfully so.

“If it’s any worth, she looked jealous,” you said, right before he left the red room.

Jonathan paused, door half open, his hand gripping the handle so tightly his knuckles were going white — a perfect mirror image of what Nancy looked like just a few minutes before. He didn’t turn to look at you or to answer your remark, just huffed, shook his head, and left, slamming the door behind him.

You rubbed your face, felt like tearing your hair off your head, took a few long, deep breaths before resuming your task of revealing the photos for your History Project. Buried every single feeling into your head and heart, they weren’t worthy to feel or talk about, and you had more pressing urges.

The History Project. Something about your local community, how a small town revolved around its few citizens, and you thanked every god you could come up with that Jonathan left before you revealed your last picture. Or, that you distracted Jonathan enough by prodding onto his secrets before the revealing liquid did its job and revealed the secrets you were hiding yourself.

You took the picture from the container with the revealing liquid and hung it alongside the other ones you had already put up to dry. You looked at your secret smaller picture.

Out of frame, you knew that Joyce Byers was at the cashier counter of Melvald’s, handing little Will some random candy as he looked excited at the gift. In the frame, in the picture, focused on, behind Will, was Jonathan. Also on his profile, almost the same angle as his own picture of Nancy. He was smiling softly at the sight of his family once again reunited in such an uneventful task such as grocery shopping. The natural daylight from outside the store made his skin glow, and the little crisp texture and reflexes of the not-so-clean window between you and him made the picture look somehow cozy — the opposite effect of distancing that you’d think it would give it. He was at the very center of the frame, soft brown jacket over his shoulders, hands holding plastic bags as he waited for his brother, his pink cheeks making your own face heat up — you remembered. You were infatuated with how relaxed he looked, some of that whole heavy weight finally off his scrawny shoulders; so relaxed that he didn’t even notice you from across the street, taking the picture like a fucking weirdo stalker.

And as far as a picture could talk, this one was screaming ‘love’ so loudly it was deafening.

Thankfully, your own ears were the only ones at range. And accustomed to the noise already.

-✧-

“I fucked up.”

Those were the first words you heard from Jonathan after the whole Nancy Wheeler love portrait fiasco in the red room. It was Friday already, and three whole days had passed - not that you were waiting for him to come talk to you sooner, because you never even talked before that, but something about the way you’d cross eyes in the hallways of the school made the air between you two weighted with something other than your crippling guilt.

“Come again?” you asked, setting down the Bukowski book you were pretending to read for your English class - ugh, Bukowski annoyed you.

Jonathan, for some reason, seemed annoyed at you.

‘Some reason’, okay, other than the obvious reason.

“I avoided Nancy after that day for as long as I could, but then she cornered me earlier today and I got too nervous and might have made the whole situation worst than it already was,” he answered, looking around him as if someone in the school parking lot was about to come out from behind a car and punch him in the face.

Hm, maybe Steve Harrington would.

“How did you manage that?” you asked again, crossing a leg under the other where you were sitting on the bench.

“I might have told her we, you and me, I mean, are… in a relationship.”

There was a ringing in your ear that kind of popped before the world went abruptly silent. You could see Jonathan in front of you, staring at you, waiting for your answer, but he was kind of blurry and the people walking behind him seemed to move in slow motion all of a sudden. It felt like years before you gathered just enough brain power to answer him.

“You. What.”

He groaned, and that made the world go back to normal inside your head, before he rubbed his eyes with the tip of his fingers.

“She came at me, asked who you were and if everything was okay that day, and all I could think of was you saying she had been jealous and, I don’t know, it felt like I blacked out or was possessed or something and then, out of nowhere, I was saying we were dating.”

“To make her more jealous?” you confirmed, and he shrugged violently.

“I guess!” he almost yelled, and then curled over himself in embarrassment. He hid his whole face behind the palms of his hands and you wanted to push them away, hold his cheeks yourself and-

Nope, block that thought out.

“Okay,” you said instead.

“Okay? ‘Okay’, what? Jesus, are you even more insane than I thought?”

You shrugged and pretended his words didn’t sting. “I’m saying we should go for it.” You saw his mouth opening, and spoke before whatever words were going to come out of him could hurt you further: “I can be your fake lover, you make Nancy jealous, she finds out she wants you and not Steve, dumps his ass and you and her will live happily ever after.”

Why were your impulsive thoughts making you so willingly throw yourself into a scenery that was only going to hurt you badly? You had no answer for that.

Jonathan frowned and actually seemed to consider, which was probably worse because you were pretty sure he was going to immediately deny your offer. It was a crazy fucking offer after all, who did you think you were? Molly Ringwald in a rom-com?

Well, apparently Jonathan thought he was Anthony Michael Hall, because the next thing he said was: “Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Dude. You’re kidding me?” you asked, twisting your entire body to fully face him and he seemed confused. “I was being sarcastic!” You weren’t, not really, but he didn’t know that. “We can’t do that, it won’t work! Just grow out some balls and ask her out, or whatever.”

You got up and started gathering your stuff since your free period was coming to an end, but Jonathan held your wrist before you could leave, a wave of shock starting where your skins connected all the way up to your brain. You ignored it.

“I already embarrassed myself too much in front of her. Please?” he begged, those sweet eyes of his staring deeply into your soul, and you huffed.

Closed your eyes so you wouldn’t see him, pulled your arm away so he wouldn’t touch you. He had too much power over you — and he had no idea.

“You owe me one, boyfriend,” you said just in time for the bell to ring, and then you were on your way to your English class, Bukowski ignored and forgotten, Jonathan’s pleading eyes the only thing on your mind.

“So, boyfriend, how did our love story begin?” Your question startled Jonathan, who hadn’t seen your approach.

He was sitting on the bench furthest from the entry of the park, looking at every direction around him just as he was in the school parking lot earlier that day. Still scared Steve Harrington would pop out of nowhere to beat his ass in revenge a few weeks late.

Jonathan had the luck of not sharing a single class with you over the rest of the school day, so he slipped a little note into your locker at some point, like a middle schooler trying to flirt. His note, however, did not read “WANNA GO GET MILKSHAKES WITH ME? [ ] YES [ ] NO - MARK WITH AN X”, but a simple “meet me @ train station park after school, gotta plan this right” instead.

Underwhelming.

You, however, were a pro at nothing else except committing to a bit, and it had been your stupid idea after all. So you went to the damn train station park to meet him and plan your damn love story, just so the two of you could make damned Nancy Wheeler jealous.

Jonathan was jumpy and kept as much distance in between you on the bench as he could, as if he was afraid you were going to attack him and devour his flesh like a monster coming from a sci-fi horror. You buried all your thoughts and feelings for him in the deepest of corners inside your mind (you’ve been doing that a lot, lately) and tried not to take any of his skittish reactions personally.

The two of you worked nicely, considering all the circumstances, and came up with some ideas that weren’t half bad. If you stopped to think why you were even doing all that in the first place, you’d have a hysterical laughing fit, so you just pretended like you were rehearsing a school play or something.

“You… need a ride?” Jonathan asked and you thought for half a minute before denying.

Surely it would be better if the two of you spent more time together since you were supposed to be dating. But Jonathan was still acting weird — more than usual — and you really didn’t want to impose or to feel worse than you already did from all his mistreatment.

“Uh, no, house’s not that far,” you lied, it was a good walk to your home, but Jonathan seemed relieved at your answer so you felt like you picked the right one.

You suppressed the need to huff, roll your eyes and push him in annoyance or do something else a middle schooler would do.

You also suppressed the will to smile politely at him as you said your goodbyes because, frankly, he wasn’t so deserving of it.

Phone numbers were exchanged in case of emergencies or needs to plan further, and you left before he could come up with something else. You were tired, drained really, from suppressing so much the whole day, and you couldn’t wait to sleep throughout the whole weekend if you could. Hoping no ‘Jonathan Byers loves Nancy Wheeler and would do anything for her’ emergencies would come up. Building up the courage to continue your own ‘You love Jonathan Byers and would do anything for him’ stupid plan.

-✧-

From all the worldviews you had to deconstruct as you grew older — you know, like, Santa isn't real, Reagan’s not a good president no matter what your grandpa said, vegetables are good for your health, and no, U2 wasn't actually that great of a band-

Well, the hardest and also easiest mental worldview deconstruction to be made was that Nancy Wheeler was actually a nice gal.

It was easy because it happened only after your first lunch with your brand new boyfriend Jonathan, and his great best friends Steve Harrington and Nancy Wheeler herself.  Because it took Nancy one single lunch to win you over with all that wit, brains, charm of hers. And it was hard because, let's be honest, you've been holding a grudge over her for absolutely nothing (let’s call it nothing, okay?) for… a couple of years, now.

It happened Monday, and Jonathan was waiting for you outside your classroom right before lunch break, ready to take you to meet his friends or whatever they were. You were caught by surprise, but you were also a great improviser, and so you tucked his hands into yours (ignored his astounded demeanor and the blush in his cheeks, and that electric wave that hit you again) and let him lead you down the hallways.

You tried not to pay attention to all the looks you received. If all that had happened before November, you wouldn’t even be noticed — neither you nor Jonathan noticeable enough to gather attention from your peers. After his… well, after everything that happened to him and around him after November 6th, though, Jonathan was a little more perceived around school grounds.

Your face burned and your palms sweat with all the eyes turned on you, but you mastered the art of looking blasé all the way to the cafeteria. All the way to the table where Steve and Nancy were sitting side by side, his arm over her shoulder as they talked quietly.

“Hey,” Jonathan greeted as you reached the table, and the couple looked up at you. Steve raised an eyebrow and Nancy’s face contorted in some way before settling into a smile. Jonathan introduced you by name. “we’re dating,” he said, mostly to Steve who didn’t seem to know the news.

“Oh, wow. Cool, man. And nice to meet you,” Steve nodded at you with his million-dollar smile.

“Same,” you answered before letting go of Jonathan’s hand, sitting down and getting your sandwich from your backpack.

Jonathan sat down beside you and you could feel how stiff he was moving. You’d normally reach out and try and reassure him through physical contact if he was a friend of yours. But even though you were dating, you didn’t know if he would react nicely to that. So you kept to yourself.

“It’s nice to finally meet you properly,” Nancy called out, reaching across the table to rest her hand against your arm. Her skin was warm. “I’m sorry about… the other day.”

Steve turned to her clearly confused, and you answered before he could ask questions.

“Don’t worry about it. Hey, we have Math together, don’t we?” you asked instead, and Nancy nodded before going on a rampage about the Math teacher who was an absolute asshole.

She didn’t seem like a huge talker, but that was just one of your misconceptions about her that she went off on proving you wrong about. She seemed cold and distant, but she was actually really attentive and asked questions about you all lunch. She seemed uptight and annoying, but she was actually really funny and amusing. She seemed arrogant and presumptuous, but she was actually really down to earth and offered to help you with some English assignments in exchange for you to help her with some Math assignments.

She talked quietly and smoothly, and had witty remarks to every single comment her boyfriend made — not all of them were dumb, and not all of Nancy’s answers bordered on mean, but some of them certainly did. Steve didn’t seem to mind, though. He looked at her as if she hung the Sun all the way up in the sky. It was funny to see them side by side. They had a lot in common, physically. Top line, casual-chic clothing, elegant fabric softener smell, ironed to no faults. Sharp-edged jaws and expressive eyes, silk-smooth tongues and winning smiles, charisma all over.

That’s as far as it went, though.

Her nerdy comments went in through Steve’s left ear and out through his right. Jonathan laughed at them. Her journalistic eye caught onto little details that went unnoticed by her boyfriend. Jonathan noticed them with her. Steve smiled politely at Jonathan’s dry jokes, not always understanding them, but Nancy hid her laughs behind her wrist.

As if god was trying to show you that opposites attract, and if the devil was trying to give him a counterpoint of: no, actually, similars attract. All happening right in front of your skeptical eyes in the middle of school lunch, in between Science and PE.

Jonathan walked you to your next class after it was all over, and you were overwhelmed with how much you enjoyed Nancy Wheeler’s company. Which made it all extra difficult, since now you understood Jonathan’s infatuation with her.

“See you later,” he said his goodbye at the gym entrance.

A group of people walked past the two of you and Jonathan thought it was a good idea to land a kiss on your cheek. Your breath hitched and you didn’t have the time to say goodbye back before Jonathan was walking to the main building, to his own class.

Your cheek burned the whole day, and so did the hand you used to hold his through the hallways, and your heart ached with the thoughts on your mind of how much Jonathan and Nancy seemed meant to be, and how much you wish they weren’t.

-✧-

It was two whole weeks of that. Two whole weeks walking hand-in-hand with Jonathan and sitting with him, Nancy, and Steve at lunch. And sitting beside Nancy at the Math classes you shared, because she invited you to and you couldn’t say no.

And there was something about the three of them, something weird that they seemed to have in common. When they’d reminisce over something that happened around the time Will went missing, and they would stop and look at you mid-sentence sometimes, and one of them would suddenly change the subject.

You were curious, of course, it was part of your nature to be exceedingly curious at all times.

But they all seemed to hate to talk about it, even if they brought it up from time to time, and you seemed to recognize that constantly haunted look of Jonathan in his friends’ faces as well, and the look wasn’t as cute anymore.

So you didn’t pry.

Somewhere between the end of May and the beginning of June, Nancy and Steve asked you and Jonathan to go out with them on a double date, as if reading your mind for what could possibly be your worst nightmare, but again you couldn’t say no.

You might have picked your best outfit, and you might have done your hair more carefully than you usually did, and you might have put on an extra ring or necklace. And your parents might have noticed, and you might have lied and said you were going to a colleague’s birthday party and not on a double date to the movies and a restaurant with your weird fake boyfriend and his weird preppy friends.

Jonathan picked you up at seven sharp in his old Ford and he didn’t seem much different than usual outfit-wise, but he was definitely using cologne.

“You look nice,” he said as you entered the car and you tried not to swoon at the crumbs of his attention.

“You smell nice,” you answered, and it pleased you enough to see that blush of his creeping up his neck and cheeks.

Steve and Nancy were already there waiting under the marquee. Jonathan parked and the two of you left the car and went on your way to meet the other couple. Nancy greeted you with a tight hug. You wanted to throw yourself into oncoming traffic just as much as you wanted to stay in the unusual embrace for a long time.

“This is where your boyfriend gave me a taste of his amazing right hook,” Steve said to you, pointing at the little alley by the theater.

“Steve!” Nancy reprimanded, but it seemed like she was holding back a smile.

“What was all that about, anyway?” you asked, giving into your curiosity, eager for the whole story now that you could finally have it.

You forgot that dating Jonathan should probably mean that you’d know what it was all about already. He would’ve told the person he was dating, right? Thankfully no one seemed to notice your little slip.

“Jonathan was a bit of a creep, I was a huge of an asshole and Nancy sadly got caught in between us,” Steve answered honestly. “We’re all good now, though, aren’t we? All in the past.” He smiled at the other two, who nodded along and smiled back.

Jonathan and Nancy’s smiles didn’t seem as sincere as Steve’s. And that didn’t feel like the actual whole story, but again you didn’t pry because they were getting that weird haunted look.

Steve threw his arm over Nancy’s shoulder. “Let’s get some popcorn, my treat,” he said and started walking into the theater. Jonathan touched your lower back, guiding you, and you held back a sigh.

You were in for a long evening.

Indiana Jones conquered the Temple Of Doom, or whatever. You didn’t pay much attention, it was hard to with Jonathan’s arm draped over your shoulder the whole time and the whispered little comments he would make with Nancy — instead of you — through the film.

You went to a restaurant after, Nancy’s choice, not too far from the theater so you all walked there. Hand in hand again. Nancy and Steve behind you, talking about the movie. Jonathan tried to rile up a conversation about it with you — finally — but, as you hadn’t paid much attention, you didn’t have a lot to say.

Food was good and thankfully the topic of conversation wasn’t the movie, because you couldn’t pretend to have paid attention to it in front of the three of them at the same time. Instead, you talked about your summer plans. Well, mostly Steve’s summer plans, he was going on vacation with his parents, somewhere on the East Coast, maybe Hawaii? Nancy was just going to see her grandma for a couple of weeks up in Chicago. Your parents weren’t fans of travels, and Jonathan was… well, the guy was poor. So Steve’s plans were the most thrilling ones.

“Too bad your parents won’t wanna travel, you could have the house to yourselves,” Steve said with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows.

You laughed loudly — mostly nervously — and Jonathan blushed. It was your usual responses at this point.

“Sure, yeah,” you said, if only not to leave a weird silence up, before looking at your wristwatch. “They’re very strict anyway, and look at that! I gotta be home soon,” you continued, and Jonathan coughed to hide a laugh.

“We should ask for the check,” he said and raised his hand to get the waiter’s attention.

That weird conversation was over, finally, and you paid for the dinner individually. By the grace of gods Steve didn’t comment on Jonathan not paying for you, since he paid for his own girlfriend, but he sure eyed you curiously as you handed your money.

“This was so nice, we should do it more often!” Nancy commented on your way back to the cars, her arm intertwined with yours as Steve and Jonathan steered behind. “It feels nice to have a normal friend after-” she stopped herself and her eyes widened, and she gulped loudly and didn’t finish her sentence.

You remembered Barb Holland, and her great English essays and her amazing grades in History, and her suspicious disappearance near Will’s back in November. How she supposedly ran away from home. How she didn’t seem at all like the type to do that.

Nancy was looking guilty and haunted, that look the three of them shared, and your curiosity was turning into apprehension of knowing what had happened. She let go of your arm, and she never finished her sentence. The boys also went quiet behind you. There was a weighted tension on top of the four of you.

You reached Steve’s bimmer and he touched Nancy’s arm to lead her to the passenger side, and she was still in a kind of haze as she waved goodbye from the window. Steve seemed worried, and so did Jonathan, but none of them said anything. And neither did you.

Jonathan took you home, one of his hipster band’s tape on the sound system, the stars out brightly and the most awkward of silences between the two of you.

There was no one out in your street to see you as he parked in your driveway, but he kissed your cheek goodbye all the same. And you held him tightly in a hug, wanting to comfort him even though you had no idea what haunted him. Crippling curiosity equal to a crippling fear, wishing for the truth and wishing to never having to find out the truth.

-✧-

You had two final weeks of school before Summer and the great excuse of having to finish your essays and projects to hide in the library and not have to talk to the trio that confused you more and more every day.

But still, sometimes Nancy would stop by and study with you. Always helpful, and kind, and nice. You never talked about that night. Sometimes she’d bring Steve with her, and she’d tutor him and they didn’t bother you, and it felt good to have the company.

Sometimes Jonathan would stop by. He’d bring you lunch, he’d bring you books, he’d bring you comfort. The warmth of his presence was addictive, reminding you of late freshman year and the Science project you built together. And you dreaded the day this would all end, he’d forget about you with Nancy Wheeler in his arms, and you’d be nothing but an embarrassing and funny story to maybe tell their grandkids.

You were able to escape them one single day, to retake your final picture for that History collage, the one you used to replace Jonathan’s love portrait. As the class to present the projects came up, you shared a knowing look with him when you noticed he also replaced Nancy’s love portrait on his own collage. A secret between you, him, and little red lamp lights. A secret neither of you talked about. Those were starting to grow.

“How cute that you two have so much in common, you even chose the same format for your projects! I love collages,” one of your colleagues said to you after class was over.

Jonathan was waiting beside your table for you to gather your stuff, and you felt your knees weaken at the way he smiled from the compliment, none of that blush anymore, a pinch of almost confidence. You couldn’t know if you loved it or hated it.

“Mine doesn’t look as good, though,” he answered, pointing at your pictures as if he wasn’t the professional photographer, and you weren’t just someone with a hobby.

“You’re both adorable,” the colleague said before leaving, Jonathan thanked her all nonchalant as if used to it by now.

And you couldn’t come up with any words throughout the whole conversation, your throat constricted with the need to tell her to shut up and tell Jonathan how you felt for him, beg him to let you go. It wasn’t fun anymore.

He didn’t let you scurry away to the library, no more excuses to do so since the History project was the last one, and he held your hand through the hallways, and he held your bag for you, and he sat so close to you at the table bench, while Nancy ranted on about her Spanish essay, that you could feel the heat of his thigh pressed against yours, but his eyes never left Nancy’s as she spoke.

It felt as if there was an elephant at each of your shoulders, and you couldn’t stop staring at him, and he didn’t spare a single glance your way even as his arm was almost glued to yours with the heat and the sweat and the stickiness of early Summer. Your heart tight in your chest, beating fast and loud and strong against your ribcage, as if begging to be let out, to go rest on Jonathan’s hands where it belonged.

-✧-

Summer came, and you stayed home. Not many friends to go out with, not many party invitations in your mailbox, no one else to see on a day-to-day basis except your parents. They asked about Jonathan once, because they saw him picking you up and bringing you back on that double date you had with Nancy and Steve. You said he was probably traveling, that you weren’t so close, you didn’t know, and they knew better not to ask again.

It was August already, a whole long month of Summer break where you’d missed him every day, missed his sweet smile, the way his blush would start by his neck and go up until it reached his cheeks, missed his calm and soothing tone of voice, missed the way he’d smell of pancakes and mint shampoo in the mornings.

Didn’t miss the way he would look at her.

But you missed her too, though. You missed Nancy’s company, and her sweet smile and her calm and soothing tone of voice. You even missed Steve and the way he’d compare everything to a basketball game, and how he high-fived you when Nancy quizzed him on the library and he’d get an answer right. In the weirdest turn of events, they became your friends. And you missed your friends.

Your body seemed to know how your brain thought and your heart ached, because when your father asked you to get groceries, your feet automatically walked further than needed and took you to Melvald’s on Main instead of the market near your house.

And of course he was there.

You knew he’d be there. He told you (and Nancy, and Steve, during that double date) he’d be taking a summer job with his mom, was dreading the tasks already but he could use the money.

He was stocking, standing in the cereal aisle seeming a little confused about where to put the Honeycomb and the Fruit Loops. And that same natural daylight from the outside reached him and made his skin glow, and there were no dirty windows between you two as you reached him without even noticing you had been walking towards him.

“Hey,” you called out, and he turned to you and smiled weirdly wide.

“Hi. Long time no see. How’s your summer?” he asked, putting down the cereal boxes.

You shrugged. “Nothing exciting. How’s Melvald’s treating you?”

“It’s not so hard. Not a big place,” he shrugged as well, and he was still smiling and he was taller than you so the sunlight behind you was hitting his eyes just right and your heart thumped.

“You’ve seen Nancy?” you asked because you liked to suffer, you’ve come to know. “She’s back from Chicago already?”

“Oh, I think she is. Will went to Mike’s yesterday, but I haven’t seen her, no.”

“Don’t you want to?” you pressed, because you weren’t suffering enough, apparently. He shot you a comically puzzled look before shrugging and smiling again.

“I guess? No more than I wanted to see you, though. Or, like, Steve, for that matter,” he answered and you huffed.

“Sure. Anyway, where’s the pasta sauce in here?” you changed the subject and he pointed towards a specific place.

You started walking without saying anything further and, to your surprise, he followed you.

“What, you didn’t miss me back?” he was teasing you, and it would’ve thrilled you just a few months ago how close you got to each other, and you would’ve reveled in any kind of attention he’d paid to you, but you just wanted to scream because it wasn’t fun anymore. It was painful.

You didn’t answer, because you wanted to tell him the truth, and tell him that yeah, you’ve missed him so much it ached, you’ve missed him so much you cried yourself to sleep once, you missed him so much and you couldn’t have him, he wasn’t yours, but you were his even if he didn’t know. Even if his eyes were never focused on you as yours were focused on him.

“C’mon, don’t go breaking my heart,” he teased again and you stopped abruptly right in front of the tomato sauce stand.

“Jonathan, please don’t do this,” you asked, voice wavering, and his smile dropped instantly at the sound of it.

“I’m sorry. What is it?” he asked earnestly, really had no idea, and you didn’t have it in you to be patient enough to spell it out for him.

“How long do we have to keep this up for?” you pleaded, turning to look at him. Your heart ached, your eyes burned, how could he not see it? How could he not see you? “We can just call it off now, yeah? We haven’t seen them yet, don’t even know if Steve’s back already, we can just say it happened over summer when they weren’t here.”

“What are you talking about?” he pushed the knife in deeper, your hands were shaking, you were almost begging for him to look at you, to see right through you so you wouldn’t have to say it out loud.

“Really, dude?” you asked loudly, saw his mom looking up from a magazine at the cashier counter to look at the two of you. “Our fake relationship thing? That amazing fucking plan of ours? It’s clearly not heading anywhere, Nancy and Steve are still together and she’s actually become my friend so it sucks to be in this position.” You gestured around you as if your mentioned friends would pop out of nowhere to your surprise. You were still loud, and you didn’t care. “Just do as I said that day, grow out some balls, and tell her the truth.”

Rich advice, coming from you.

Do as you say, don’t do as you do, or whatever.

You didn’t wait for an answer and forgot about the fucking sauce, and just started walking towards the store entrance so you could let all of this go and never have to deal with the ‘Jonathan Byers loves Nancy Wheeler and would do anything for her’ fiasco.

Joyce — Jonathan’s fucking mom, for Christ’s sake — called out to you as you stormed out of Melvald’s, you didn’t even know she knew your name, but you didn’t stop anyway. Not until there was a warm hand holding your arm, and you knew that hand by now, all its softness and its calluses, bends and curves and dents, and your heart was already broken but it somehow hurt and bled even more.

“Dude, please!” you begged again, and he was looking at you, searching for something in your eyes and yet he still couldn’t see it. Couldn’t see you.

“I’m sorry, what did I do? What can I do?”

“There’s nothing you can do, I think, just leave me alone,” you answered, and he let go of you and he seemed hurt by your words.

You walked back to your house and apologized to your dad for not bringing back his groceries, and he didn’t ask why when he saw your wet eyes. He made you tea, patted you on the head and you cried yourself to sleep again.

-✧-

“A friend of yours is here,” your mom said as you left the shower, three whole days after your (fight? Was it a fight?) encounter with Jonathan. “Waiting in your room,” she said.

It should have confused you, made you wonder. But it didn’t. You knew it was him. Who else would it be?

It was Nancy Wheeler.

Sitting on your bed, and her hair was shorter and her cheeks were a darker shade of pink than they were when you last saw her on the last day of school before Summer break.

“Hi?” you said or asked, and she smiled when she saw you were there.

Got up and walked towards you and hugged you tightly, you missed that hug, and her freshly cut hair smelled of something floral.

She pulled you by your hand until you two were sitting in your bed, side by side.

“I broke up with Steve. Jonathan told me everything,” she said, and your tiny broken heart still had some strength in it to break even further, shockingly.

“Uh, good for you, I guess?” You shrugged, not sure what she wanted you to say. “When’s the wedding?” you clouded your pain with humor because, when didn’t you?

“I just said I broke up with Steve, what wedding?”

“Yours and Jonathan’s?” Why were they so difficult? Oblivious. Why did they enjoy torturing you?

“No, listen,” she called your name as if you weren’t paying attention. “Jonathan told me everything. The whole deal, the whole plan, the whole picture, everything.”

It was a funny déjà-vu. There was a ringing in your ear that kind of popped before the world went abruptly silent. You could see Nancy in front of you, staring at you with a weird misplaced smile, waiting for your answer — what did she want you to answer, honestly? — but she was kind of blurry. It felt like years before you gathered just enough brain power to answer her.

“He. What.”

She giggled, and that made the world go back to normal inside your head, before she rolled her eyes with amusement.

“You two are so dense,” she said, still smiling. “I had to spell it out for him, and I kinda saw it coming, but not from you.”

“Nancy, for the love of all things holy, what are you talking about?” You held her hands in yours, and she looked at your hands held together for a second before looking into your eyes again to talk.

“You’re in love with him,” she answered, and you weren’t surprised that she knew.

“Fucking duh, he’s the only one who can’t see it.” She laughed, and her eyes twinkled.

“And he’s in love with you,” she completed, and it wasn’t funny anymore.

“No, he’s not.”

“You’re the only one who can’t see it,” she threw back at you and you rolled your eyes at her wit — you loved it so much.

“Nancy, he likes you. Literally how we got here in the first place.” You gestured around you as if she could see how miserable you’ve been lately without him, and without your study sessions and your lunches together as a group. “If not to get with him, why did you break up with Steve?” you asked.

“There is… a lot that held us together. Not just Steve and me, but us and Jonathan as well. And I was just using Steve as a crutch, trying to pretend everything was fine and normal, but it isn’t, and it isn’t fair to either of us. And I noticed all that thanks to you being my friend.”

You remembered the date — again — and the way Nancy recoiled to herself at the end of it, and your friends’ collective haunted guilty look, and Will Byers and how he came back, and Barb Holland and how she did not.

“Jonathan came to my house to talk, we got a little lost in the middle of it all but he knocked some sense into me, and I like to think I’ve knocked some sense into him back,” she said, and she was still so calm and collected, but she felt lighter somehow, and she never stopped smiling sweetly at you. “You should go check.”

It was all Nancy Wheeler's fault.

I mean, literally. Quite from the beginning. Because it was all about Nancy Wheeler, wasn't it? It was all because of Nancy Wheeler, it was all for Nancy Wheeler.

She convinced you to go talk to Jonathan, and at this point you trusted her so freely that you did just that. She convinced you to give him a chance, and you convinced yourself you were doing it because she asked you to, you were doing it for her and not for yourself or Jonathan. She was a very persuasive little lady, you’ve come to find out.

The street where the Byers lived was weird as fuck, and the forest surrounding it gave you the worst chills ever, but you kept your calm as you rode your bike all the way to the Byers’ front yard.

You knocked, and Jonathan answered. He seemed surprised to see you, and that blush of his creeped up from his neck to his cheeks and you fell for him again just then.

“Hi,” he said, still staring.

“Hi. Can we talk?” He shook his head, came back to himself, and opened the door to let you in. “Where’s your family?”

“Mom’s still at Melvald’s, Will’s at Mike’s,” he answered, and started going down the hallway, so you followed him.

His room looked, felt and smelled like him and it was both comforting and distressing to be surrounded by Jonathan in all senses. You were still scared of how this conversation would go.

He went digging through some stuff in his desk, and when he found it he walked closer to you where you were still standing awkwardly by the door. He handed you something, a picture.

“You called it ‘Nancy Wheeler love portrait’, that day at the train station park,” he said while you observed again Nancy’s profile in the photo. You had it memorized at this point, burned to the back of your eyelids. “It really was,” he continued and you shot him a puzzled look. “It was a love portrait, it was love I guess.”

He shrugged, and only then you noticed he was holding something behind his back. He moved his hand, brought it forward and you saw that it was another picture but you couldn’t see what it was about. He smiled down adoringly at it before handing it to you.

It was you.

A photo taken of your profile. You were sitting at a desk at the school library, in front of a window, the light from the outside encompassing you in a kind of godly aura, specks of dust flying around you and a big smile on your lips as you looked down at your hands resting on top of the table.

It was so similar. It was the same angle, the same lightning, the same pose. And yet it was so different from the Nancy Wheeler love portrait.

“Your own love portrait,” Jonathan said, voice almost a whisper, and you wanted to look at him and check if he was blushing the way his voice made it seem like he was, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the photo. “Steve and Nancy are out of frame, you were laughing at something he just said, so relaxed and happy around our friends you didn’t even notice me taking the picture like a weirdo.”

He softly touched your hand that was holding the picture, just the tips of his fingers, and they were enough to ignite a spark that made your whole body burn. You stared at that contact of your skins for the very few seconds they lasted before Jonathan pulled his arm back and continued talking.

“I got a little lost in the middle of it all, I think. Forgot there was a plan. Forgot why it all began. Forgot about Nancy, and all I could think about was you. How I wanted to see you again day after day, and hold your hand through the hallways on our way to lunch, and sit beside you at the cafeteria table. And take you on dates without Steve’s stupid comments, just you and me, and you’d laugh at my jokes ‘cause you always do. And to take more pictures of you. Take pictures with you. Just, do stuff together. All the time.

And I was so scared that you’d notice that change in me, notice how far gone for you I was. I didn’t want to spend time apart but I also couldn’t even look at you without wanting to kiss you so bad. I’d be glued to you at all times, hurt from wanting you so much, and yet I couldn’t let you go. Didn’t want to ask you to let me go.”

You finally looked at him and, yes, he was blushing. But he was so determined, so confident. You decided you loved it.

“Me and Nancy, we… got a past. Not even romantic, but, we’ve been through a lot and I’ll tell you all about it, but. I think you’ve always been there, ever since that Science project freshman year, you’ve been there on the sidelines, and when we started talking again because of our stupid plan, I realized how much I’ve missed you. And I didn’t care about the plan anymore, and I didn’t want it to end because I just wanted it to be real.”

It was unbelievable how much you recognized those words, as if you were saying them yourself. You couldn’t help but smile, and Jonathan smiled back at you, and you wanted to kiss his smile senseless.

So you did just that.

You held the pictures far from your bodies, because you didn’t want to damage them, and you threw your other arm around his neck. He hugged your waist close to him and you kissed his smile, and he kissed your smile back. He tasted of pancakes and maple syrup and coffee with cream no sugar, and you feasted on that meal as if it was your last. You let your fingers wander through his hair, and it was soft and it smelled of mint shampoo, and your senses were overwhelmed, surrounded by Jonathan in all senses and it felt like dying and going to heaven.

You kissed for a long time before your lungs ran out of air, and your lips separated but your foreheads were still touching. You handed the pictures back to Jonathan, and he took them with a confused expression. You fished something out of your back pocket, your wallet, and you fished something out of your wallet, a picture. You handed that to him too.

“Jonathan Byers love portrait,” you both said at the same time and laughed together.

You kept your picture of him and he kept your picture of you, and you held onto his face that was still blushing and warm and soft, and he kissed you for a long time. And the plan didn’t work out, not really, but it kinda did, and it was all Nancy Wheeler’s fault.