#move for less miami

[cherriesnpapaya]

Fashion Killer - LN

In which Mr Norris is left speechless over a sundress.

Warnings: NSFW - smut. unprotected sex, oral (both male and female receiving / giving), friends with benefits, soft dom!lando,

Lan <3 - are you coming to the race?

Miami Grand Prix. In which the men on the grid couldn’t get away from models. Families definitely weren’t invited to this exhilarating mess of a weekend.

On my way sweet cheeks, please find me the coldest drink you can. - sent

Lando couldn’t care less what model they had behind him, trying to seem interested in the sport. He was watching her walk to the paddock in that ridiculously perfect sundress.

Loose, hung perfectly over her american doll legs. The cream of the linen light and only complimented by her brunette hair curled to perfection on her sides. He could practically feel how soft the stands felt as his hands gripped his bottle.

The tan she sported a crude reminder of her skimpy attire she had been living in whilst they lounged around the villa the last few days. He got them the quiet space, filled it with his friends to distract everyone and then revelled in her presence.

Bright smile on her cheeks as she waved for the cameras. Max Fewtrell by her side as they came to join Norris after supporting Fewtrell with his racing activities.

“How are you dressed in that.” She groaned, slipping onto a stool next to him. Lando had to peel his eyes off her legs before he ditched the car to catch a ride instead.

“My job, honey.” He chuckled, holding out his bottle for her. Bad idea.

He watched her lips wrap around the straw. He’s taken back to when he was teaching her how to use the bottles, and somehow ended up with a blowjob.

Final calls were being made to start the pre race media, so Lando stood up and opened his arms for his friends to fall into them.

“Go get em tiger.” She chuckled, the bottle handed back to him with the deep pink stain of her lipstick around the top of it. God how Lando wished to be a straw.

He certainly got them, coming first place for the first time in his career. He dripped with sweat, and some water he’s poured over his face, gleaming ear to ear. His tan still deep golden next to his orange suit.

The celebrations were never ending. From the crowd, his team, other garages and of course his fellow drivers. They poured into his villa, music and drinks flowing freely. The hum of chatter with the occasional cheer as the winner would join conversations. He worked his way round, trying to find the girl he’s been thinking about every second of the day.

“Thought I’d lost you.” He made her jump, slipping into her room. She turned from her position in front of the mirror, earrings in hand.

“I was just going to change.”

“But you look fit.” He could help but speak his mind. The filter between them had been lost about 6 shags ago.

“Have caught you staring a few times.”

“Oh no, punish me for my crimes please.”

He sneered, falling back onto the plush white bed. She rolled her eyes, placing the earrings down. The carpet muffled her steps, letting her slip between his open legs quietly.

“Aren’t you meant to be celebrating?” She teased, arms crossed as he peaked a look at her:

“I am, what’s my prize?” He hummed, sitting up to place his hands on the back of her thighs. Cheeky eyes gazed up at her, watching as her lip caught between her teeth. His thumbs worked circles into the soft skin. She didn’t know if she was desperate, but it felt like they slowly moved inwards.

The music vibrated through the floor, which she was quick to notice when she dropped to her knees. Lando couldn’t help the smirk taken over him, quickly removing anything in the way. He propped back on elbows as she finally took him into her hands.

Profanities rough from his throat as she took him down hers, tongue tracing the vein down the side of him. Bobbing her head, tongue piercing running over his top just how he liked. He throbbed, excitement having built up all day. She hummed, smirking when his head would fall back from watching her.

“Shit baby c’mere.” He ran a hand over her jaw, pushing her off his stained cock. He had the stamina for races in incredible heats, but she knew just how to ruin a man. He slipped off his tshirt in a blink, hands back glued to her hips as he pulled her to straddle his legs.

When she moved to slip her dress off, he caught her wrists, pushing them behind her back to drop them there. Her insides giddy with the move, grinding down slowly on his crotch.

“No chance. You’ve been teasing me with this all day.” He spoke against her neck, leaving sloppy kisses and sucks on any exposed skin. She didn’t even notice his fingers lingering over her panties, moving them to the side.

“Lando.” She whined, arms now hooked around his neck. He kneaded her arse, hips, tits as he sunk into her slowly. Her head rolled, moans covered up by the sounds of some asap song underneath them.

He could barely speak, weak moans fell from his open mouth as she took more control. Moving up and down at her own speed, occasionally rolling her hips to get him to hit that one spot.

She gasped, eyes shut as she rolled continuously into the same spot. Lando knew the tightness, he knew what it meant for you to get close.

“Just like that pretty girl.” He cooed, fingers brushing slowly over her clit in an aggravating manor. A string of swear words left the previously painted lips as she rolled, now mixing between rutting against his fingers and his cock.

Thank god for the loud music as she came for the first time that night, her body spasms into his as the rocking comes to an end.

“You good?” He checked, hands playing with the hem of her dress.

“So good.” Practically drooling, Lando chuckled at the cock drunk girl slumped into him. He attached his lips to hers, lifting her up to swap them around. Her legs rested over the end of the bed, not having a chance to even prop herself up before Lando licked a stripe through her folds.

It was a guilty pleasure of Lando’s, enjoying her body’s reactions to the way he rolled his tongue over her bud. Her legs wrapped around his head, before spreading again as she ran her fingers through his curls. She moaned out as Lando spat into her opening, the smile on his lips almost pushed her over the edge itself. And there she came, for a second time.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He complimented, overwhelmed by the look of her on the bed currently. Fucked out, face flushed and smiling. Hair sprawled out over the mattress, looking like a goddess. It made him harder to just look.

“Fuck me Lando.” She pulled him back in, heel digging into this back causing him to practically fall forward. He pretended to be shocked, moving her ankles to hang over her shoulders as he got right back to it.

“So fucking tight.” He hissed, fucking in and out of her and she swore he was in her stomach. He knew he was nearly fucked out, her nails digging into his stomach hinted the feeling was mutual.

Before he could pull out, he was pushing the warmth into her further. Moaning out probably a bit too loud, stilling completely as they both caught their breaths. Once he had pulled out, he was helping her clean up, pulling the dress back down to sit perfectly again.

“Wear that dress for me again sometime.”

“That’s a boyfriend privilege Norris.”

——————

Thank you for reading! New to the scene, so send any prompts/inspo over. I hope to write lots more for ya ;)

[f0point5]

i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body

Me too! GOD. Me, too.

It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!

✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush

Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.

You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.

This guy must be really fucking interesting.

You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.

It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.

It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.

“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”

GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”

Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”

Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”

Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.

“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.

“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”

Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.

“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.

“Max,” GP sighs.

“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”

GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”

“I’m not jealous.”

And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.

Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”

You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.

“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.

GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”

You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.

“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.

Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.

“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.

The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.

“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”

“My what?”

“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.

He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.

Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.

He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?

He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.

“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.

He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.

“Right, so,”

[lovemomhatepolice]

winner - lando norris

navigation taglist requests

pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: cursing, official relationship, p in v, blowjob, handjob, fingering, unprotected sex! (protect yourself), alcohol mention, first time sex!, English is my second language!

type: fluff/smut at the end

word count: 5k+

summary: 2024 Miami Grand Prix, which ends with Lando Norris' first victory in his career and an unexpected end to the week for a new couple

more content: formula 1 masterlist, lando norris masterlist

To say that your heart was beating fast really you would have to use the most complex terms the world has ever seen. On that day, everything seemed somehow faster.

Ever since you said goodbye to Lando and let him go to prepare quietly for the race - you were not quiet at all. And this wasn't the first time you had to check your heart rate on your watch when your boyfriend was about to have a race. Oh, it was like that every time. However, you very often experienced it from home or from somewhere other than Mclaren's official garage, as your relationship was still fresh. But now you were especially afraid for him because of yesterday's incident that took place during the sprint.

You looked anxiously around the Mclaren garage in search of more familiar faces. At first you couldn't find anyone, but soon found yourself in the arms of your good friend Lily, Oscar's girlfriend. “God, how good you are here,” you said and looked at the girl with a smile of relief. “Well, it's good to see you too” She laughed and moved slightly away from you. “How do you feel?”

You adjusted the orange dress you were wearing today and smiled at her this time with a broader smile, although you continued to feel a slight uneasiness inside. “Well, this is only my second race where Lando and I can officially show up as a couple, so it's definitely still pretty damn new to me.” You replied sincerely, combing your hand through your hair. “But I'm positive, the guys did great in qualifying, so hopefully this will help something.”

“You're right. Well, who if not them?” She laughed and comfortingly touched your hand. “Come on, let's get something to drink so you don't fall here.”

Time passed inexorably slowly without Lando, but even so, you opened up even more to the rest of the people in the team. Everyone was very nice and tried to create a family atmosphere, which you could feel. You drank cocktails that had been prepared together earlier and ate delicacies that were decorated specially in the color of papaya.

Meanwhile, Bianca has also joined you. You were so damn grateful that she was there too - ever since you met her she was like a little sister to you.

From that moment on, you were in your own world. There were people next to you with whom you felt good and you knew that you would have a nice time racing, so you practically didn't stress about what was around you anymore.

You were in the middle of a conversation with your boyfriend's team, Lily and Bianca, when you felt strong arms around your waist. You didn't wonder for a long time who they belonged to.

“Hello,” you laughed and turned around, still remaining in his arms.

Lando was now standing in front of you, smiling from ear to ear, which was nothing new at all. This boy always had a smile on his face, maybe sometimes smaller, sometimes bigger, but it definitely never left him.

“Hi”, Lando smiled at you and hugged you. “Did I surprise you?”

You laughed under your breath. "A little bit, I'll admit it," You replied and reached out your hand towards his slightly wet hair. The weather was really harsh today, let alone during the race when they had to sit in hot cars. "I thought you were getting ready for the race. After all, they were…' You stopped and glanced at the clock on the wall behind Lando. "You have less than an hour until the race," You muttered, looking back at your boyfriend.

The people who were standing with you earlier went their separate ways, giving you a place for a moment of privacy. You were very happy about this because at least for a while you could be relatively alone. Locked in our own bubble that no one seemed to get over.

“I know, but I had to see you before it started. My nerves are giving out,” the British driver replied, pulling you closer to him.

At that moment, there was nothing better for him than the touch of his girlfriend. He enjoyed the contact with you, the smell of your perfume, the softness of your skin.

“You look beautiful,” he whispered in your ear. “In the color of our team I haven't seen you yet.”

You heard his giggle and you didn't stop it either. You moved slightly away from the boy, however, still remaining in his embrace, and looked at him with an infatuated look on your face.

"Lando, I know how this may sound, but I feel in my bones that today is your day," you said and before Lando had time to speak, you continued. "Don't jump out at me here with your pessimistic talk like you're in the habit of saying, but just focus on your task, yeah?”

He laughed, and a slight redness filled his cheeks. He knew you well and knew how much you believed in him, but this time he wasn't sure. Because of the situation at the sprint, his head was cluttered with many thoughts. His self-doubt was not going away and was consuming him all over. Just as it had many times before.

"You know me so well, it's scary," Lando muttered. "I'll try, I really will, but what if I crash? Or worse, what if my engine gives up? I'm nervous, what can I say."

He muttered more quietly, as if someone would hear you, and tucked his head in the hollow of your neck. There were a lot of people around you, but hardly anyone knew what you were really talking about and hardly anyone dared to interrupt it at all.

"That's okay. Things don't always work out the way we want them to, and it's not always our fault," you replied, stroking his back and neck.

Of course you were damn scared for him. Always, regardless of the degree of your acquaintance, you were afraid of what might happen on the track. Apparently, fatal or more severe accidents didn't happen as often as you might think, but the fear continued in your mind.

Lando nodded slowly as you stroked his back and neck, feeling his heart beat faster. The touch of your hands on his body was always pleasant, but now it was different.

He drew you to him again, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and bringing your foreheads together.

"I'm grateful to you," he said, and his voice was slightly strained. This was nothing new before the races, and it continued to break your heart terribly. Despite more than 100 races, Lando continued to have misgivings inside. "It was somehow harder without you, you know? You're like my angel here."

You smiled tightly at him and moved even closer to the boy, kissing him on the lips. Quite lightly, but enough for him to feel it. All the emotions you wanted to convey to him at that moment.

"I am and will be by your side for as long as possible," you replied, smiling from ear to ear, which your boyfriend reciprocated.

Lando pulled you even closer to him, his body practically melting into yours. He was breathing heavily and for a moment he couldn't focus on anything, he was so lost in the moment. For a moment he forgot about the race, and his thoughts revolved only around you.

His eyes wandered over your face, and one of his hands stroked your waist through the thin layer of your orange dress.

“I love you,” he muttered lightly, but it was enough to completely melt you. His words were sincere and you knew it well. You could see it by how tightly he embraced you and how soft his lips were, gently brushing against your mouth.

“I love you too, you can't even imagine how much,” you replied, looking into his bright eyes.

Your time together passed inexorably fast, and before you knew it, your conversation was interrupted by one of Lando's team members, already calling him to the race.

“I'll be here waiting for you and keeping my fingers crossed,” you said, hugging him tightly one last time. “You are the best.”

Your whisper reached the boy's ears, at which he smiled widely. Oh, how much he loved you!

Lando reciprocated the smile, then stepped back to look at you. A huge smile was still on his lips. The boy reached out and gently brushed your hair out of your eyes. He took a deep breath before saying:

“I'll make you proud of me, I promise.”

That was the last thing you heard from his lips before he gave you one last kiss and with a quick step walked out towards his car with the rest of the team. You weren't able to answer him anymore, but you knew perfectly well that no matter the outcome, you would still be proud of him.

The race could already be felt around the corner...

After several minutes, there was no sign of Lando's team in the Mclaren garage. Each of them was in their own place and getting ready for the race. The atmosphere around them thickened even more, but all this time was spent in good company. Next to you, Lily and Bianca reappeared, as well as Lando's friends who were visiting Miami today.

Through the screen, you saw each of the drivers line up and looked out carefully for the orange car. It didn't take you long to spot it, mainly because of the yellow element at the top, making it easy to recognize them with Oscar. You smiled under your breath as you watched Lando gracefully park in the seat with the number 5.

“3…2…1! And off they go!” The voice from the loudspeaker rang out and the race began. And in your heart was the thought that everything would be fine.

•••

For a long time, dominance continued on the side of Max Verstappen, who overtook his rivals with quite a large time difference. You weren't particularly surprised. Red Bull had been the front-runner with Max for a long time - this year the only person to win a race besides him was Carlos in Australia, when the world champion's car had a glitch.

Drivers passed each other lap after lap, and time dragged mercilessly. The list was quite repetitive, and there were few replacements in front of you. Max, Charles, Oskar in the top three. Behind them Carlos, Sergio Perez and finally in sixth place Lando.

Finally, things started to get busy on the track. More and more drivers had PIT stops, making the names on the list change dramatically. The initial top five were also swapping among themselves, when suddenly you saw on the screen that at lap 24 the race leader was Oscar.

“Oh god!” muttered Lily, grabbing your hand.

You smiled in her direction, supportively squeezing her hand. In her eyes you could see how proud she was of her boyfriend. You weren't surprised, you totally understood that, especially now that Lando was in third place and seemed to hold it for a long time.

There was a bloody buzz in the Mclaren sphere, as well as in his garage, and people rose from their seats in fact from the moment Oscar and now Lando took dominance of the race. It was definitely their day and no matter which of them was going to finish on the podium, you were all very excited and supportive.

“Lando, you can do it,” you whispered to yourself, continuing to squeeze your hand with Lily.

“God, I can't stand it,” muttered Bianca, and approached you from the other side, grabbing the other of your hands.

And that was the turning point. The yellow flag, Sargeant's accident and the safety car. And Lando, who was out of it all, making his leadership of the race reach even greater heights.

You were well aware that there were more than twenty laps left of the race, but the sight of Lando, who calmly led the entire race driving behind the safety car this time, while Verstappen and Leclerc were treading on his heels, triggered such strong feelings in you that you would not be able to describe them in any words.

You knew this was his day. And just as you had promised earlier, you kept your fingers crossed with your whole self. Your hands with the girls were clenched so tightly that you had to finally relax so as not to hurt each other.

“I think our boy is going to walk away with the gold!” You heard somewhere off to the side from one of Mclaren's employees, making you laugh under your breath.

Everyone believed in him. Everyone knew that this was his day. Finally, after so many races, it was finally his time to show that he was somebody. To let everyone know it, not just his team and those close to him. Lando didn't talk about it out loud, but you knew very well that it was something he wanted to achieve. To show every person who insulted him and didn't believe he could, that he was not at all a silly young man who doesn't win races.

You followed each lap almost breathlessly, clenching your fists tightly. Tears appeared in your eyes, but you didn't give them a chance to leave your eyes. Everyone sat quietly, awaiting the expected end of the race. Charles in third, Max in second. And Lando in first. His dream was coming true at the moment, and it was confirmed by the words that came across the room less than a second later.

“15 times Lando Norris has stood on the podium. But never on the top step - until now. It's a landmark day for Lando.”

You heard and closed your eyes for literally a second to give vent to your tears. A huge smile appeared on your lips and you quickly felt the strong embrace of your colleagues around you, who were also touched by the situation. The whole garage was there, everyone was hugging, shouting with joy, clapping.

“Lando Norris wins for the first time in Formula One! It's victory in Miami for Norris and Mclaren!” The commentator shouted over the loudspeakers, which gave the final vent to all the emotions you were suppressing inside.

“He did it!”, Bianca exclaimed, hugging you from the side.

"He did it" You whispered to yourself and hugged the girls tightly to your body.

There was no end to the smiles and congratulations, and you all looked impatiently at the screen, which continued to show the winners of today's race. You watched with a smile as Lando celebrated with his team, who were waiting for him outside, and as each of the drivers hugged him in turn offering their sincerest congratulations. You were most touched by Lando and Carlos' hug, which made you gently scrunch your nose, giggling softly.

And that's what you loved about the racing - despite the rivalry, everyone supported each other and in moments like this one - the first win - they were like brothers to each other.

You really wanted to join him at this point, but you were further unsure about your appearance in more public places like Mclaren's garage, so you waited bravely.

Together with some of the team, you reached the place where the official trophy presentation was to take place. With a huge smile on your lips, you watched and recorded your boyfriend, who also, as was his custom, had a smile from ear to ear. You could well see a tear in his eye, however, no one could surprise him. It was definitely the best day of his life and everyone wanted to help him make it so he would never forget it.

And finally it came. Something you both had been waiting for a long time and finally could get. Yourselves in each other's embrace.

As soon as you saw each other after the boy entered the room where you stayed the whole race, you laughed. He, all sweaty and doused in champagne with tears of luck in his eyes, continuing in his racing outfit and with the prize in his hand, standing just like that in front of you, as if he had come home from his usual job. And you, laughing, also with tears in your eyes, in a dress in the shade of papaya, in which you supported him with your whole self. And not just today, you could do it to the end. You loved him in every possible form of the word.

You quickly shortened the distance that separated you, however, you didn't allow yourselves to touch yet. For now, you looked into each other's eyes, giggling under your breath like a pair of teenagers in love.

"Lando Norris, winner of the Miami GP race on May 5, 2024, huh?" you muttered, giggling under your breath, and looked straight into his eyes.

"[Y.N] [Y.L.N], the angel who stood over me the whole race and brought me luck and the most beautiful girl under the sun who is only mine, huh? he laughed and further reduced the distance between you, putting down the prize to one of the team members who suddenly appeared somewhere.

You were well aware that there were people around you, however, it didn't matter to you as before. However, now it was different - you were both drowning in even more happiness.

"Okay screw it, because I can't take it anymore." Purrs Lando and pulled you to him by the waist.

Your lips momentarily connected, but this time more firmly than usual. You felt all the emotions you had to offer the other person flowing between you and you were drowning in them.

You moved slightly away from Lando, placing your hands on his cheeks and combed lightly through his sticky curls. You smiled broadly in his direction, but it didn't take long and Lando quickly closed your lips in a kiss.

He pulled you even closer to him - if that was even possible and now you could perfectly feel the warmth of each other's bodies.

"I knew you would win," you whispered to him in a way that only he could hear.

Lando smiled broadly and stroked your hip with his large hand, leaning over you even more. This time his lips brushed the lobe of your ear, making you get goosebumps.

"You are my amulet of luck." he muttered, kissing your ear.

However, your moment could not last forever, and once again someone interrupted you. You moved slightly away from your boyfriend, but only a little - he didn't allow you to do more, but enough to make you feel comfortable.

"Lando, we have one more interview and then you can go wherever you want," Charles said, smiling in your direction. "Oh, hey [Y.N], I haven't seen you here in a long time."

You walked closer to the man and embraced him, smiling sincerely in his direction. It's true, it's been a long time since you've had a chance to see him, which you damn well regretted, because who like anyone, but Charles you adored. He was one of the drivers you liked better.

"Hello Charles, I hope we'll soon have the opportunity to spend time together somehow longer. I'm awfully excited to meet little Leo," you giggled, moving away from Leclerc to a comfortable distance.

"Oh god yes, she keeps talking about it," said Lando, jabbing you in the ribs with his finger. You smacked his hand lightly and stuck out your tongue in his direction.

"Okay good, go conduct the last interview star, and I will collect your stuff and what? I assume a moment at the hotel and celebrate?" You asked your boyfriend, but you didn't have to wait long for his answer.

Lando quickly nodded his head and kissed you one last time on the lips, then left together with Charles towards the right place. You, for your part, said goodbye to everyone in Mclaren's garage, in places stopping for a shorter or longer conversation. You said your last goodbyes to your friends, parting, in fact, only for a moment, as you were soon to end up at the same club. You grabbed all of Lando's things and waited for him on one of the couches, looking through your phone.

A slightly tired Lando sat down at the couch next to you after 20 minutes, quickly handing you his belongings so that you could help him. "The interview is hopefully finished," he muttered, leaning his head on your shoulder. His eyes were half-closed and it was clear that he was not far from falling into a deep sleep. But Lando also knew well that this moment would not last long. The whole team wanted to celebrate the victory, and the most important celebration was waiting for him. But for now, he was enjoying his peace and you.

"Come on, Lando. We are going to celebrate your victory." You said and jumped up from the couch, grabbing your boyfriend's hand and gently pulling him towards you.

•••

One of Miami's more popular clubs sparkled with all sorts of lights. It was packed with people - the more popular ones and those who just wanted to party that evening. There was a smell of alcohol and other substances, which you quickly picked up, paving your way behind Max, who had come with you to the place.

You were wearing a short black dress that glowed slightly, completing the atmosphere of the club. Lando walked behind you, holding your hand tightly so that you didn't escape his sight for a moment.

It didn't take long for him to be recognized. Immediately the moment you took your place at one of the higher walls, however, still in a good place between other people at your friends - Pierre with Kika and Max with Kelly, the drivers were recognized. To your eyes appeared a large led sign that loudly sang about Lando's win with the dancers, to which you burst out laughing seeing his embarrassment. You hugged him tightly to you, swaying to the rhythm of the song as people around you congratulated him on his first place, singing loudly.

You and your boyfriend celebrated with the others, but before long you found yourselves with only each other. You had already had one drink, so you were both giggling more than usual and were even more available to each other. Lando moved behind you, and you twirled your hips around his crotch, which made him moan right in your ear.

You shuddered and turned your head toward him. Lando didn't wait long, grabbing your face in his hands and kissing you hard. Your hands went to his neck, making the case that the distance between you was practically non-existent anymore. As you kissed, you felt Lando's hand slide down to your ass and clamp down hard on it, so the moan that came out of you went directly into his mouth.

"Lando," you whispered, bringing your lips together again.

Lando's hands roamed all over your body, but his attention was mainly focused on your hips and buttocks. He squeezed them tightly in his hand and smoothly rubbed his thumb over them. He leaned down slightly and whispered in your ear: "Damn, how much I love you."

"All mine" he moaned and squeezed you a little tighter, pushing you even closer together as much as possible.

Your kisses became more and more passionate, and his breathing became deeper. Your hands wandered over his unbuttoned shirt and light curls.

"Lando, I want to go back to the hotel," I said, looking straight into his beautiful bright eyes, signaling with my gaze that there is something I want more now than being in the middle of a crowded club with another people.

He noticed your gaze and nodded slowly. The heat rose in your faces and your bodies were pressed firmly against each other.

"We're leaving right away," Lando whispered in your ear, taking your hand and leading you away from the main crowd.

You did not have to wait long to get there. At Lando's request, a specially designated person from his team came to pick you up and brought you safely and quite quickly in front of the hotel.

You said goodbye to the driver and, without hesitation, headed for the elevator, holding hands and giggling under your breath. Oh, the giggles that evening were endless...

When you reached your floor, a door opened and Lando led you into your room. He closed the door behind you and quickly turned to you, pulling you close to him.

His lips landed on yours once again and he breathed loudly in your ear: "I want only you tonight."

"I want you too Lando." You responded by reciprocating his kiss. "I'm really ready today."

The boy's eyes flashed. On the one hand because of the excitement, on the other hand he himself didn't know how he could describe the excitement that was tugging at him. You wasted no time, and your lips never moved away from each other. Your hands nimbly unbuttoned the buttons of Lando's black shirt, which you helped him to throw off.

"Are you sure?" He asked, pulling slightly away from you to look into your eyes.

"I'm so sure. Lando, this is something I've wanted for a long time," you replied truthfully, waiting for his reaction.

For him, these words were the most important thing because he also wanted this moment with all his heart and now he could have it.

He pulled you even closer to him again, so that your bodies touched even tighter. One hand slipped underneath your dress, up your thigh, and he whispered. "Then we're not wasting anymore time here, my love."

He leaned down and kissed you again, pressing his lips even more warmly into yours. The kiss became more passionate, more intense. You couldn't control yourself, all your senses were in his hands. You moaned softly as his warm, large hands glided over your body, slowly exploring it.

Lando breathed deeply and groaned, tightening his grip on you and pulling your hips even closer to him. A minute later, Lando pulled you into him and laid you on the hotel bed on your back.

Lando leaned over you, his hands roaming all over your body, and pressed his lips to your neck, nibbling lightly on your skin. He stepped back slightly and began to remove your dress, one strap, then the other.

He breathed deeper, and his hands moved smoothly over your curves and hips. Finally, he took off your underwear and threw it behind you. He then tilted his head back, looking at you lustfully.

"[Y.N], you are so fucking beautiful." he replied, smiling to himself under his breath.

You reciprocated his smile, pulling him to you by the back of his neck. Without waiting long, you joined your lips in a passionate kiss, feeling your boyfriend's hand go lower and lower until it reached the place where you wanted him most. You moaned directly into his mouth as his fingers began to create a circles on your pussy.

"Fuck" you hissed.

Lando breathed heavily as he felt you react to his touch in such a delicate way. Your moans were the best sound in the world for him and he couldn't resist. His hand rubbed up and down slowly and gently, and he whispered in your ear.

"Oh, you're so sensitive, baby," he whispered, and then he rubbed your clit a little more quickly.

"Lando!" you moaned as you felt his finger inside you, moving nimbly inside you.

The boy brought your lips together again, adding another finger. He didn't move away from you for a moment, with his thumb still making sensual circles on your clit, and the other two moving inside you. His mouth quickly invaded your neck, making trails down until he reached your breasts. You moaned as he began to massage one of them with his free hand and took the other into his mouth, playing with your hard nipple.

"All right," he murmured, placing wet kisses all over your chest, giving equal attention to both breasts, which were even burning from his touch.

All that touch of his, which he now devoted to your satisfaction, soon induced a state of euphoria in you, which made itself perfectly known for quite a while. The boy continued to move his fingers inside you and over your clit with his thumb, allowing you to relax after the initial sensation.

"Lando, I need you inside me," you muttered as your body stopped shaking from the first orgasm of the evening.

"Your words are an order to me," he replied, helping you to rise slightly so that you were sitting up, but you had other plans for the moment. "However, first it is time to take care of my winner as he should be taken care of," you muttered in his ear, getting down on your knees in front of the bed on which he was sitting. You slid up slightly, letting him free of his pants and boxers, which looked downright painful on his erection.

Lando looked down at you with dreamy and infatuated eyes. He could have sworn he had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. Even his win today didn't compete with what was happening and what was about to happen.

"How beautiful," you said, touching his entire length. You had to admit that the boy had something to boast about and you knew it well. More than once you had already seen each other naked and given each other oral pleasure.

Quickly his entire length was in your mouth. You moved nimbly, trying to give him as much pleasure as possible. And that's probably exactly what happened, looking at the fact that Lando quickly tilted his head back and made quiet but giving noises. Quickly with the faster movement of your lips around his dick, Lando began to make louder noises from himself.

"Fuck, how good," he muttered, looking at you with squinted eyes.

He didn't let you finish your work, however, but pulled you into his lap and joined your lips in a passionate kiss, while you grabbed his penis and directed it directly into your hole. Slowly you lowered yourself to his length, and your lips left each other with hot moans of pleasure. "God, how tight you are," howled Lando, placing his hands on your hips and helping you bounce on his lap.

Lando was in heaven. He felt your strong, warm hands and the touch of your sensitive lips as your lips pressed firmly into his. He groaned and clenched his hand around your hip, pulling you in even close as you pushed yourself forward and got him deep in you.

"I love you," he gasped, squeezing even harder and pulling you in even deeper.

“I love you so much,” you moaned, grabbing his jaw and connecting your lips in a heated kiss.

Due to his tighter grip, the boy was now moving inside you with greater speed and force, giving you sensations you had never experienced before, you felt as if you were going to faint. Additional pleasure came when Lando moved his hand between your bodies and touched your swollen pussy, giving her another dose of attention she was definitely crying out for.

"Mine, you're mine and only mine", Lando breathed under his breath and squeezed you even tighter, driving you wild.

"Yeah, only yours" you whispered against his lips, continuing to bounce in rhythm on his cock. "I am close"

"Look at me," he moaned softly and pulled you face up so that you were looking him in the eyes.

"I'm happy with my win today, you know?" he asked, waiting for your answer and you nodded. "But you know what makes me even happier? You. Just you, how close you were to me today, how close you really are all the time and that you showed how important I am to you and that now you have given yourself completely to me. Our bodies connected "I have never felt so good in my life. You are my best feeling."

He said and smiled at you. No matter how it may have sounded, these words brought you closer to the long-awaited moment of orgasm, which shook your bodies at practically the same time. You continued to move nimbly on his length, helping him come down from his orgasm. You felt all of your mixed juices slowly pouring out of you, but you didn't pay much attention to it. Your lips were as one again, as were your bodies, and you simply appreciated this moment of your first time together…

A/N: well, there's a chapter dedicated to Lando's win in Miami! God, I'm so proud of our little Lando Norris, I don't even have words to describe it

I hope you liked the chapter and will leave something behind! I would like to gain 500 followers by the end of the month, so I will be happy if you stay longer :)

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[callmemaeverick]

Good cop, Bad Boy - A. Aretas

Summary: Being part of AMMO meant that you would be working with the best on the force. But when shit hits the fan, you find yourself enlisting help from an unlikely source. Well.. maybe not so unlikely

WC: 2.1k

TW: guns, blood, death, Senor Aretas

The water calms you down, it always has. Whenever life gets too fast or too hectic, you would find yourself gravitating towards bodies of water. It was why you love Miami so much.

Taking a drag from your dwindling cigarette, you kept your eyes out onto the sea, letting the soft sounds of the gentle waves calm down your nerves. So much had been going on in the last week.

News started spreading that your beloved late captain had ties to the cartel. And then, Marcus and Mike went MIA while transporting Mike’s son, Armando, who was actually in the cartel. And then that morning, another bomb got dropped on you when you knocked on Dorn’s door and someone else answered.

After a heated shouting match about how inappropriate it was that your colleagues are dating, you decided that you needed some space and stepped out. Leaving was not an option as there were heaps of Howard’s files to go through, so you told Dorn you needed some air and stepped onto his deck.

The truth was, you were slightly jealous. With Rita becoming Captain and Rafe transferring to another unit, and now, this new development, you were left essentially, alone. No partners to watch your six and with no partners, it would mean less active work.

And that pissed you off. That and the IA nightmare this could bring.

There was a shift in weight on the boathouse and before you know it, your gun was out of the holster and aimed. Your body tensed.

Brown eyes widened and the familiar face of Armando Aretas greeted you. “Calmate,” His voice was low.

“What the f-“

A split second later, Mike was in front of you. “Hey, it’s us.” He reached out and pushed the barrel of your gun down slowly. “It’s just us.”

“Oh my God!” You gasped as you re-holstered and lunged to hug the man. “We thought you guys were dead!”

“Takes more than that to bring us down,” Marcus chimed as he ducked to Dorn’s door and knocked violently. Mike, in turn, faced his son.

“Hang out here for a sec.”

The man nodded once and your attention went to him. All three of them looked haggard, covered in dirt. Their clothes looked stolen and you found yourself wondering where they had been the last three days.

Marcus and Mike barged into Dorn’s living room and you waited outside. They were in for a surprise and you do not wanna be there when they found out.

A horn sounded in the distance and you turned back to the sea, taking the last drag from your cig before dropping the butt on the deck and stepping on it with your boots.

You could feel eyes on you and when you looked up, your suspicions were confirmed. His eyebrows quirked when you caught him.

“What?”

He gave you a once-over then moved to the door.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” You warned him and he stopped for a second before he turned the knob and entered.

You scoffed and smirked, following him in.

The scene that greeted you when you entered behind Armando was very similar to what you had subjected him to early on as you stared down the barrel of Kelly’s gun. You leaned in to his back.

“Told you,” As you side stepped him, you caught his side-eye and grinned. Your day was looking up.

xxxx

When Mike said Howard had files, he had files. Pictures, videos, case reports, manifests. It was like trying to complete a very large jigsaw puzzle with no full picture in hand and all you had to help was Armando, the only person that could identify your target.

You held up a new picture him. “Anybody ring a bell?”

He glanced at it and rubbed at his eyes. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

The glare came full force. “Sí. I know these people, but none of them are who you are looking for.” He sighed.

His eyes were bloodshot and it was only then you realized he was still in the same raggedy shirt and jeans he came in with. And worse, he hadn’t had the chance to clean the cut on his forehead. “Shit, did Dorn not…”

He leveled you with a look that said, 'What do you think?'

“Well, that’s what you get when you flirt with someone’s girl,” You quipped. “Come on, follow me,” You didn’t wait to see if he was following, you just knew. And as you passed Dorn at his console, you smacked him lightly upside the head.

“Oww! What was that for?!

“You know what it’s for!” You sniped back as your best friend watched the two of you pass. “You were raised better than to disrespect guests,”

“He’s not a guest!”

“He’s Mike’s guest, therefore he’s a guest!”

His grumbling followed you to the second floor but you ignored it and went straight to Dorn’s guest bedroom. You’ve slept in there more times than you can count so you knew where everything is.

“Spare clothes are in there. Towels in the second drawer. Bathroom is through there.” You pointed and watched as he took stock of your instructions.

“Do you need the first aid?”

“What?”

“Are you hurt anywhere? Do you need the first aid kit?”

“Oh… nah. I’m good.”

“Okay,” As you turned to leave, he caught your wrist and you turned.

“Why are you helping me?”

“This is hardly considered help, Aretas,”

He stared.

“Well, aren’t you helping us?” You asked back. “Way I see it, you’re risking your neck to help clear someone’s name. Someone very important to your father. That earns you a pass in my book.”

“How do you know I’m not doing this for myself?”

“What could you possibly gain from this?” You scoffed. “It’s not gonna earn you a pardon. So I think you’re doing this because Mike asked you for help. Am I right?”

Armando did not answer so you just gave him a knowing smile and left him alone.

xxxx

The night air was cool and the sounds of waves lapping calming you down again. It was the reason why you liked hanging out at Dorn's so much. But with the new development; you might need to find another spot.

It was almost d-day and you all have had one hell of a night. You saw the attack on Marcus' place and was thankful his son-in-law was there to protect his wife and daughter. But Mike wasn't so lucky.

Witnessing his panic attack almost triggered your own. If the indomitable Mike Lowrey was scared; you should be too. You remembered when you yourself was in his shoes, the weight of the ring around your neck heavy.

Somebody leaned on the railing next to you and judging by bronze of his skin, you already knew who it was.

"Can't sleep?" You broke silence.

When no answers came, you turned to face Armando. You took him in slowly. After a shower; he had looked better, more alive than when they first arrived at the boathouse and you were glad for it. You wouldn't kid yourself and not admit that the man is very attractive. He's capable, intelligent, quiet. And there there was the way he assessed everything around him with those eyes of his.

You had no idea how anyone wouldn't just spontaneously combust at being under his gaze.

Speaking of his eyes, you saw his attention slide to you and his eyebrows rose, so you quickly diverted your own back to the sea. Your face grew warm.

"You don't talk much, do you?"

"There is nothing to say,"

"Well, I don't do well in uncomfortable silences so.."

This time he fully turned to you making you mirror his actions. He took one step forward and instantly, your warning bells blared. Your eyes widened and you gulped.

"Do I make you uncomfortable?" His voice dropped low but his eyes blazed as they stared into yours. Holy shit, you thought.

"I - uhh -…"

A rogue smirk painted his lips, pulling your attention. The smirk widened to a grin. Then as suddenly as he was close, he stepped back and gave you back your personal space. You blinked, dazed and confused as to what just happened.

Once you retrieved your bearings, you cleared your throat. Your face was now burning. "You're a dick, Aretas," You snapped and was blessed with the low timbre of his soft laugh.

xxxx

You came to with ringing in your ears and pain all over your body. The last thing you remembered were strong arms wrapping around your body and then you were airborne.

Mike gave you both a mission and that was Callie. But then there were too many of them. And then there was the plane.

You stood from behind the overturned table and looked around. There were bodies littered all over. But no Callie. And no Armando.

Then, the radio crackled in your earpiece. Judy.

“I’ve got eyes on Aretas. Moving in.”

Fuck.

“Who’s got eyes on Armando?” You called into the comms.

Rita’s voice came on. “Last I saw he was extracting Callie. West exit.”

You bolted without thinking, praying that you would get there in time. He was your partner, you need to have his six.

You arrived from behind, just as Mike arrived from the side and you skidded to a halt as Judy’s gun swivelled to you.

“Put the gun down!”

Immediately complying, you raised your hands up. But your eyes were on Armando.

Without warning, your heart thundered at the sight of him, leaning heavily againt the tree trunk. He was breathing hard, bleeding all over. It was not looking good.

“Mom. Mom, stop!” Callie yelled. “He saved my life!”

And for the first time, Judy seemed to see someone else other than her father’s killer. She saw her daughter. Alive and safe, with barely a scratch on her.

“Please, Mom.” The girl begged. “He saved my life.”

It felt like ages, but the moment Judy holstered her weapon, both you and Mike rushed to Armando’s side.

“Are you hit?” Mike asked his son, his eyes roaming Armando’s body, looking for holes. “Are you hit?”

You were on the ground, ripping a piece of fabric off of your tshirt and wrapping it around his thigh. When you pulled tight, he grunted and flinched. As you stood, Armando had raised his arm around his father’s shoulders and leaned against the taller man. He was dazed but at least he was upright

“You did good.” Mike assured. “You did good.”

The radio crackled again. This time, it came from Judy’s.

“Howard, do you copy?”

Everyone present froze as you waited for Judy’s response. Dread seeped into your bones as she looked at the three of you and then, her daughter.

But then, by some miracle, she released her radio and met Mike’s eyes.

“Go. Before I change my mind,”

Not to be told twice, the three of you made for the trees and beyond it, the river and the little boat you had arrived on with Armando.

You stepped from under his arm and stepped away to give father and son a moment alone but not before you caught his eyes.

He was your partner for at most, 15 hours, but he was a good partner to have. He had your back the whole time and not once did you doubt him. Without your permission, your brain had started to trust him fully and it intrigued you. He intrigued you.

And now he’s leaving. You didn’t know if you would ever see each other again.

So you gave him a nod and a small smile. When you heard the motor start, you made your trek back to the van. Mike’ll find his way back on his own.

xxxx

5 months later...

The sensor beeped as it detected your facial ID and allowed you entry into the elevator that would take you down to the basement of your HQ. You got the call just that morning.

A major player just got PID'd slipping through customs and the department believed something big is going down in Miami. And AMMO had been tasked to find out what and stop it.

As you approached the center of the room, you eyes caught the familiar figure leaning against the wall in a corner. You fought not to let your reaction show, but the way you slowed your steps was telling enough judging by the smile Marcus was failing to hide.

You stowed your gear and made your way down and beelined for that same corner, ignoring the eyes and smiles of your colleagues.

God, IA is going to have a field day.

"Alright, now that we're all here," Mike began and the screens behind him lit up.

You leaned againts the console and let your shoulder touch Armando's but your eyes were on your superior.

"Welcome back,"

[tikosblogg]

GET AWAY

Summary: you’re bad omens merch girl. You all decide to go on vacation, after tour. Your boyfriend is a real dick, and Noah tells you how he really feels.

Warnings: sexual content, p in v sex, oral (f receiving), a little violence, mentions of blood, cheating. Let me know if I missed anything.

A/n: not gonna lie, it was 3am and I was exhausted. I kind of rushed through the smut. This is not edited. I’m on vacation, and posting from my phone. So sorry it looks a little rough.

We finally walked into the lobby of the condo we were staying at for a very much needed vacation. Noah and the guys just finished an amazing tour, and they all decided to go to Miami Beach for the week. I became close with the guys after landing a job being their merch girl. “Everybody got their room keys?” Matt walked up with his suitcase, making sure we were good to go. Everyone gave their confirmations, as we headed towards the elevators. “I’m so excited for this week, we really needed this.” When I got no response, I turned towards my boyfriend of 1 year Justin. Nose deep in his phone, tapping away. “Hello?” I asked annoyed for the 100th time today. He finally looked up from his phone “hm? Oh yeah, for sure.” And down went his face again.

I rolled my eyes, turning my attention back to the guys with an excited smile. “So what do you guys have planned today??” They all turned towards me, giving me their full attention. Noah speaking up first. “I think me and the guys are gonna go buy some drinks, and sit on the beach. We had a long drive. Kind of just wanna chill for the rest of the evening” I nodded my head in agreement. It was kind of a rough drive, especially being packed in a van with 7 people.

“You guys wanna join us?” As I nodded my head yes, Justin quickly spoke up. “Nah man, thanks tho. but we’re hitting up the bars tonight.” I looked up at just confused as hell. “Why do you wanna go to the bars? I thought we all came together to hangout TOGETHER?” AGAIN I was completely annoyed at his lack of consideration for me and my feelings. “Babe chill out. We literally have all week.” I quickly shut my mouth, and turned away before we got into an argument. I didn’t wanna argue with him, much less in front of the guys.

They all gave me an empathetic look, as the elevator doors finally opened. Everyone started piling in, Justin shoving in front of me with the rest of them. The elevator being at full capacity. I looked at Justin in pure bewilderment. “Seriously?” He turned towards me, and laughed. “We’ll see ya at the top! We’re all going to the same place.” Not only was I completely humiliated, but I was shocked.

Mine and Justin’s relationship was far from perfect. I just don’t understand what happened. We used to be so happy together. He used to be the best boyfriend. Then a couple weeks ago, he started acting different. He looked towards the rest of the guys, expecting them to laugh with him. As the doors started closing, a hand stopped them last second. “I’ll wait with you.” Noah grabbed his suitcase, rolling out and standing with me. The guys all gave him look, before the doors finally closed, sending them on their way up.

“Well that was a dick move.” Noah was the first to speak between us, as we waited for the next elevator. Me and Noah used to be really close friends. Best friends even. I befriended him, before the rest of the guys. He’s the reason I met Justin. I spent months, and months hung up over Noah, just waiting for any kind of sign that maybe he felt the same way. Eventually I had to move on, and Justin happened to be the one I moved on to. He was really attractive, and really sweet. We got along great, and had a lot in common.

My feelings never matched the same intensity as they did for Noah, but I was hoping the more time I spent with Justin, the feelings for Noah would eventually go away... but they haven’t. I just have to keep pushing them further and further down. I’m not sure why, but ever since Justin and I became a couple, Noah became distant. We don’t hangout anymore unless it’s with the rest of the guys. We don’t text as much, unless it’s about work. I guess that’s why it’s so awkward right now that we’re alone.

“Yeah it’s just been a long day for all of us.”

Why am I taking up for my asshole boyfriend’s shitty behavior? Not sure. We didn’t speak anymore, and continued awkwardly waiting on the doors to open. After the short ride up to our floor, we split separate ways to our rooms. “Thanks by the way….for waiting for me.” Noah turned towards me with a small smile on his face. “Always.” I felt my heart skip, as he turned back around, headed for his room at the other end of the hall. I let out a sigh walking towards our room dragging my luggage behind me.

I tried opening the door but it was locked. I banged on it a couple times, waiting for Justin to open it. Finally after a minute or two, the door swung open. “Hey. Took you long enough.” I scoffed, pushing past him, into our bedroom, slinging my suitcase against the bed. “You left me!” He huffed closing the door, before walking towards me. “Noah was literally with y/n calm down.” He rolled his eyes, plopping onto the bed.

“Yeah because YOU my BOYFRIEND didn’t! What if he didn’t wait with me??” I was getting angrier by the second. His lack of care for my wellbeing really hurt. Yeah I might be acting a tad bit dramatic but still. It’s the principle of it. “My god babe! Then you would have came up by yourself! Now come on get ready.” I gave up. I knew arguing with him was pointless. I don’t even know why I bother.

Opening my suitcase, I grabbed an outfit and my makeup bag. I went straight to the bathroom to get ready, getting drunk and letting loose sounds like a great idea.

(Two days later)

I woke up to the sound of the bathroom door slamming shut, and the shower running. Groaning into my pillow, I finally sat up grabbing my phone to check the time. 7am. Why the fuck is he up at 7am? He never wakes up at this time, much less before I even do. The sound of buzzing, pulled me out of my thoughts. I looked over at Justin’s side of the bed where his phone lay. I picked it up to answer, and let whoever was calling know that he would call them back later, until I saw the caller ID. “A” before I could answer, the call ended. I went to unlock his phone, when a text popped up on the screen.

“Hey I’m here. Can’t wait to see you ❤️”

I felt my heart fall to my ass. No way. He’s cheating on me? With who?!? I quickly opened his text threads, seeing the the same contact a few scrolls down. There it was. All the proof I needed, to confirm it. He was in fact cheating on me. Flirty texts, a bunch of selfies sent back and forth. I felt like throwing up. The bathroom door swung open, and Justin walked out towel drying his hair.

“I’m going into town for-“ he stopped dead in his tracks, staring at me like he saw a ghost. “Who the fuck is A?” We sat there silently, just staring at each other. “Just a friend babe, don’t start acting crazy” I let out a sarcastic laugh. “Just a friend huh? Okay.” I threw his phone back at him, climbing out of bed. I grabbed my phone, and some clothes headed straight to the shower. I quickly sent a text in the bands group chat that they added me in a while back, Asking if they wanted to hang out today. I hit send, stripping off my clothes hopping into the shower.

I met the guys at some seafood place, to grab some food before we hung out on the beach. “So where is Justin?” Folio asked, digging into his crab legs. My smile instantly disappeared, thinking back to this morning. We haven’t spoken since then. I’m too humiliated to tell them, and I don’t want to ruin everyone’s trip because of my relationship issues.

I smiled, coming up with a quick lie. Well sort of a lie. “Oh he’s uh meeting up with a friend, he said he’ll catch up with us later.” They all nodded, and continued eating starting up another conversation. I let out a small sigh of relief, at the attention not being on me anymore. When I looked over, Noah was staring at me with a look I couldn’t quite read. I sent him a smile, that he then returned.

After we were all finished, and stuffed full we headed to the beach. I sat in my beach chair tanning while the boys ran through the water and threw a football around. The sound of footsteps met my ears, until they stopped right beside me. I lifted my head, looking over at Noah. He was soaking wet, from being in the ocean. He looked beaut- stop it y/n. He grabbed his towel, drying his hair and body before sitting down beside me.

“What’s going on y/n?” I laid my head back down, still smiling at him. “Just tanning. What abou-“ he quickly cut me off, shaking his head. “ no I mean what’s going on? I think you forget angel…I know you. I can tell something is bothering you.” Thank god I was wearing sunglasses. I could feel the stupid tears welling up in my eyes, along with the butterflies erupting in my stomach. Angel. He always used to call me that. I assumed he stopped out of respect for Justin…but I missed it. I didn’t want to lie to him, but again, I couldn’t ruin this trip. They worked so hard, and they deserve it. So I decided to tell him half of the truth.

“It’s nothing Noah, I promise. Me Justin just had a little argument this morning. Everything is okay now though. No need to worry about it.” I gave him the most convincing smile I could muster, and he just nodded his head thankfully ending the conversation. It was now getting dark, so we all packed up our things and headed to our rooms. Exiting the elevator, I gave each of the guys a hug. When I got to Noah, he wrapped his arms around me in a tight hug. I squeezed back, not wanting to let go.

When we finally released each other, I said one more goodbye to them headed to my room.

Noah pov

After we said bye to y/n me and the guys all hung out in our condo. I spoke up, interrupting the guys conversation. “Something’s going on with y/n but she won’t tell me.” They all looked at me, nick talking first. “Yeah we could tell. Just didn’t wanna pry.” I nodded in agreement. I knew she wasn’t being honest down at the beach, but I didn’t wanna make her uncomfortable. “Probably her dick head of a boyfriend pissing her off.” Jolly sighed, flopping onto the bed behind me.

Justin. The asshole who stole the women of my fucking dreams. I don’t care how cliche it sounds. It’s true. I’ve been in love with her for two years now. Justin was my friend, or so I thought. I mistakenly told him about my feelings for y/n. I told him everything. How I was planning on telling her how I felt. When I was gonna do it and where. Then all of sudden, he walks in the next day flaunting her, and their new relationship right in my face.

I was devastated, but I acted happy for y/n. If he was who made her happy, I had to accept that. But Seeing how he treated her a few days ago when we got here, made me think differently. He ignored her the whole way here, and then was gonna leave her in the lobby. The hurt look on her face, made me rage. I’ve never wanted to beat the fuck out of someone so bad before.

I could feel my anger rising just thinking about it. I need to calm down, and quick before I go beat his ass right now. “You gonna come drink with us Noah?” Folio asked, as they all gathered their things, but I declined. “I think I’m gonna go take a walk. I’ll be back later.” They all nodded goodbye, and went back to their conversation, as I headed down to the beach.

Y/n pov

After I got back to my room, I threw my stuff in the corner sat down on the living room couch. I let out a frustrated groan, shoving my face in my hands. I don’t know what to do. Obviously the right decision would be to dump his sorry ass. I’m just scared. Other than all the shitty things. What me and Justin have is good. It’s…comfortable. Justin is also Noah’s friend. If I leave him, who’s to say Noah doesn’t take Justin’s side? Then I’ll lose my boyfriend… and most importantly… Noah.

Just the thought of losing Noah shatters my heart completely. The door suddenly opened, Justin waltzing in with a smug smile on his face. “Hey babe.” I rolled my eyes, standing from the couch. I grabbed my phone, and slipped my shoes back on headed towards the door. “where are you going?” I stopped before opening it, turning back towards him. anger filling my entire body. “I need space Justin. I really don’t want to talk to you right now.”

He scoffed rolling his eyes. “You’re seriously pissed off that I have friends!? Wow y/n get the fuck over yourself!” He really knows how to get under my skin. “Oh I’m sorry I didn’t know friends flirted with each other and sent hearts back and forth.” He threw his stuff onto the bed shaking his head. “I just need space Justin. I need to think.” He didn’t bother looking at me, as he started unbuttoning his shirt. “Whatever y/n.”

I took that as my cue to leave, and walked out of the room slamming the door behind me. I can’t believe him. I have done everything for him. I have put my all into this relationship, and he couldn’t give a fuck less. I walked down to the beach, to relax and just think. I love the beach at night. Nobody is usually down here at this time, and the sound of the waves are so peaceful at night.

I sat down on one of the wooden lounge chairs, and finally let out the tears I’ve been holding in all day. I sobbed until my throat felt raw. After a little while I calmed down, but silent tears continued to fall. If I leave Justin, I might just lose everyone. I can’t let that happen. Where did it go wrong? Can we even come back from this? Maybe we could try couples therapy… that’s a thing right?

“Didn’t expect to see you down here.” I jumped at the sudden voice breaking the peaceful silence. I quickly wiped the tears off my face, smiling up at Noah. He was smiling until he saw my puffy face. He sat down beside me, throwing his arm over my shoulder pulling me into his side. “Hey..what’s wrong angel?” There he goes with that damn nick name again.

I shake my head, ready to brush it off again until he grabs the side of my face turning it towards his. We were so close. If I moved just an inch closer our noses would brush. “You know it’s really hurting my feelings that you keep lying to me y/n. I know something is going on. Tell me.” I couldn’t control it anymore. A sob broke free again, and Noah held me tighter to his chest. He ran his fingers through my hair until I finally calmed back down.

“He’s cheating on me Noah.” I finally confessed. This is it. I’m about to lose the one person that I care about most. I felt his body go stiff, but not a word was said. I could feel his heart pounding fast against my cheek. I decided to break the silence, I couldnt stand it. “I just.. I don’t know what to do. We were doing so good. Then it all just..went to shit..we kept fighting. I was hoping it was just phase, but I was wrong.” I sniffed, pulling away slightly to look at him. He was pissed. Seething.

I was so scared of what he was going to say. Would he be mad that I was accusing his friend of such a thing? His voice interrupted my thoughts. “You don’t deserve that y/n. He doesn’t deserve you.” I was speechless for a minute. He’s choosing my side? He’s been friends with Justin way longer than he has even known me. I could feel my anxiety slowly dissipating.

We finally disconnected from each other, but stayed close. Our shoulders pressing together. “I guess I’m just scared. I haven’t been alone in so long…I just..I know it sounds pathetic. He used to make me feel so loved. When it was good, it was good. I was able to look past all the bad. I’m scared to start over. What if I don’t find someone who loves me like he did at one point?” Noah listened intently to every word.

“You’re not pathetic y/n. It’s normal to feel the way you do, but please listen to me when I say you don’t deserve it. You deserve every fucking good thing in this god forsaken world, and he is a fucking idiot.” My heart was beating out of my chest at every word that came out of his mouth. He is making it so hard not to fall deeper in love with him.

Love. Did I really just say that? Yes I did. Because I do, and I’m tired of fighting it. “You know I used to be so confident. I was always putting myself out there. Wasn’t afraid to make the first move. I was outgoing, and fun. I let him ruin me, how could someone love a person so fucked up.” The tears started falling again, as I harshly wiped them away.

“I do. You’re not fucked up. You’re hurt. I’m sure right now isnt the best time to say this, but fuck it. I’m tired of keeping it to myself. I love you. I have fucking loved you for two years now.” I was frozen in shock. I can’t believe what my ears are hearing right now. I feel like this is a dream, and I’m about to wake up any minute. We stared at each other, until I finally found my words. “Noah ..are you serious?”

He nodded his head, as we just stared at each other. “Yeah…and Justin knew that too.” Justin knew?? What is he talking about? “What do you mean?” I was in disbelief at what I was hearing right now.

“Well Justin was my best friend…or so I thought..since we were kids. I mistakenly trusted him. I told him about the feelings I had for you. Told him about how I was gonna ask you out. When and where…everything.” he looked away, looking at the ground.

I stayed quiet, waiting for him to finish. “Then the next day, he walks into the house…with you. Hand in hand.” I clenched my hand to my chest. My heart physically hurt. I can’t believe it. I could have had Noah, I almost had Noah….but I said yes to Justin. Of course I didn’t know at the time, but still. It hurts just as bad. “Noah…why..why didn’t you say anything?” He let out a small tired laugh.

“You seemed happy angel…that’s all that mattered. All I wanted..I didn’t wanna ruin that for you.” He said softly, finally looking at me again. My tears finally slowed down, and I softly grabbed his hand resting on his thigh. “Noah…if I would’ve known…” I was at a loss of words. This is my chance. I had to tell him the feelings were mutual. “I felt the same way…I do feel the same way. I thought you didn’t see me like that.. that’s why I said yes to him.”

Noah chuckled, rubbing his hand down his face. “Guess we both fucked up huh?” We both let out quiet laughs. We kept eye contact, but said nothing. Before I knew it, we were both leaning in. When our lips finally touched, my whole body melted into the kiss. His hand moved from under mine, to my cheek. Before we could deepen it any further, a loud voice interrupted us. “OH SO THIS IS WHERE YOU WENT? TO FUCK MY BESTFRIEND?”

We jumped apart, both quickly shooting up from our seats. Justin. Fuck. He was walking fast down the beach from the condos we were staying in. I quickly jumped over the chair to him. “Justin wait! It’s-“ he got in my face, before shoving me backwards. “SHUT UP WHORE! I SHOULD HAVE FUCKING KNOWN!” As I fell back, I landed on the chair, the wooden edge scraping the skin of my leg.

I looked down, to see a nasty gash on the inside of my upper thigh. Before anything could be said, Noah flew from behind me. He tackled Justin to the sand, sending blow after blow to his face. All I could do, was watch in complete shock. I’ve never seen Noah so angry. After a few more blows to Justin’s face, Noah stood back up. “DONT YOU EVER PUT YOUR FUCKING HANDS ON HER AGAIN YOU DICK!”

Justin just laid there, groaning in pain. Noah turned back around, grabbing my hand. “C’mon we’re getting your stuff, you’re gonna stay with me.” I let him lead me away, not before stopping beside Justin. I looked at him for a few seconds, he was fucked up. His nose was probably broken, and his lips were split. I calmly spoke. “In case it wasn’t obvious…We’re over.”

We got inside, and headed towards the elevator. As we waited for the doors to open, I could still feel Noah basically vibrating with anger. The doors opened, and we walked straight in, and rode up in silence. We got to my room, and luckily I only had a few things taken out of my bag. So we quickly grabbed them, stuffed them back in and went to Noah’s room. When we walked in, he sat my suitcase on the desk in his bedroom, and turned towards me.

“Shit you’re bleeding.” I looked down, and sure enough, blood was running down my leg straight into my shoe. “It’s okay, it doesn’t even hurt anymore.” He walked straight past me, and into the bathroom. I heard him shuffling around in the cabinets, and come back with a little first aide kit. I tried to protest again, telling him I’d just rinse it off in the shower. He ignored me, and bent down infront of me.

“Spread your legs for me.” Although he said it innocently, I couldn’t help the blush the covered my cheeks. He got the disinfectant wipes, and cleaned off the blood and around the gash. Pulling out some ointment and a big bandaid, and started applying them gently. As he did, I caught a glimpse of his right hand. His knuckles were busted. “I’m so sorry Noah.” My hand found its way to his head, running my fingers through his hair. I felt guilty. I ruined our trip, because of my fucked up relationship, and now he’s hurt. He froze, and looked up at me, clearly confused.

“Why are you apologizing to me?” He stayed there, waiting for me response. “Your knuckles they’re busted…and I ruined your trip.” he didn’t move a muscle, looking straight into my eyes, and just shook his head. “You didn’t ruin anything, and I’d do it again.” His voice was just above a whisper. “He put his fucking hands on you, I want to fucking kill him.” He placed a kiss to the bandage on my thigh, before slowly rising to his feet. As soon as he got in reach his lips were back on mine again. His arm going under my ass, to lift me all the way up with him, to his full height. My legs wrapped around his waist without a second thought.

Our kiss deepened, as he walked us to the bed, laying me onto it. His kisses moved down, over my cheek, and down my neck. “Noah…” I whined, ready to just feel him. All of him. He lifted his head, planting another kiss on my lips. “I know baby..” he lifted my shirt up and off of me, throwing it somewhere else in the room.

His lips instantly attaching to one of my tits, while his hand groped and played with my other one. I was a moaning mess. He was barely doing anything yet, and I’d never felt so good in my life. His lips moved down my stomach, to the top of my shorts. “I wanna taste you so bad baby.” He whispered against my skin.

.“Noah please..” I am not above begging. I finally have the man of my dreams, and I want all of him. Now. He unbuttoned my shorts, dragging them off a long with my underwear. He took no time to spread my thighs. He groaned, seeing how wet I was for him. All for him. With one last kiss to the inside of my thigh, he dove straight in. His lips wrapped around my clit, sucking it into his mouth.

I gasped in pleasure, my hands falling to his head. I grabbed handfuls of his hair softly tugging it. He groaned against me, sending delicious vibrations through my core. “You taste so good baby.” He ran his tongue up and down the full length of my pussy, until I was shaking with pleasure. “I’m so close Noah..please please”

He took his left hand, teasing my hole with two fingers before fully sinking them in. I moaned out at the feeling. He continued pumping his fingers, and licking my clit. I could feel my orgasm coming, as I started grinding my hips into his face. I came with a loud whine of his name. He moaned again, as he licked up my release.

“Fuck…such a good girl.” He leaned over me, kissing me hard. Shoving his tongue in my mouth, so I could taste myself. I grabbed the bottom of his shirt, pulling it up and off of him, throwing it onto the floor. Our lips connected again, as he reached for his sweats. He pulled them down just enough to pull his dick out.

“Are you okay?” He was panting, struggling to stay still. I nodded my head, begging him to move. He stood back up completely, holding my thighs apart, watching himself disappear inside of me, over and over again. “Fuck Noah, faster.” He felt incredible. I’ve never felt this good during sex. He sped up until he was pounding into me. He kept my thighs spread wide, pushing them into my chest. The new angle making him reach even deeper. “Fuck baby your pussy feels so good wrapped around my dick.” All I could do was moan in response. He looked back down between us before spitting directly on my clit, and rubbing over it with his thumb.

“C’mon baby, cum for me.” I was so close, and I could tell he was too. After a few more thrust, I came hard around him. Pushing my head down against the mattress, and arching my back, my head was fuzzy and light. “Good girl…fuck..” he quickly pulled out, finishing on my chest and stomach. He leaned back over, bringing me into a wet rushed kiss. “I love you so much angel..”

“I love you too.”

[vroombeams]

free use landoscar!!

Lando's entirely-totally-completely fine with it when Oscar doesn't follow through with their little agreement.

It's kind of dumb, really, when he thinks on it. Shaking hands at the beginning of the season, both of them smirky about it. That's the deal for the rest of the year: whoever finishes ahead gets whatever they want from whoever finished behind. Gets to use whoever finishes second.

It's just that so far Lando's really the only one who's cashed it in. Like, after Miami, when Lando'd let himself into Oscar's hotel room and rubbed his dick all over Oscar's slack, sleeping mouth until he'd woken up and gotten the picture. Like at Silverstone, when Lando'd sat Oscar on his massage table and bounced on his dick like he could fuck the disappointment out of them both.

It's starting to get sort of embarrassing. A bit pathetic, isn't it? That Lando's been dragging Oscar into something that he was pretty certain they both wanted.

Maybe Oscar doesn't want it. Maybe Oscar doesn't want him.

Deeply frustrating stuff. As if Lando needs more frustration in his life.

Spa is Spa, and Lando's an idiot, and he's going to hide in his trailer until someone explicitly comes and gets him to leave. He deserves a little bit of face-down-floor-time given the circumstances. The race was bad enough, and on top of that, the team photos after—he'd looked sort of desperate, hadn't he? With his flirty little pinch to Oscar's shoulder. Batting his lashes and everything, like he could tempt Oscar into finally cashing in.

But here he is! Alonedo Norris. Sunday again, no problem.

The door creaks open and Lando doesn't lift his head. It'll be Jon—no one else just walks in without knocking. He'll figure out that Lando's not actually asleep in about two seconds, because he always does, and then Lando will have to get up. But he'll milk those two seconds.

There is, however, suddenly someone standing over him. Like, one foot on either side of his hips, squeezing a bit before they sink to their knees.

"Hi," Oscar says, and he's tugging Lando's joggers down.

Oh. Well. Okay.

"Hi," Lando says back, breathlessly lifting his hips to help, and he means finally. Finally, when Oscar grabs his arse and spreads him open, spitting a great glob of saliva between his cheeks. Is he going to fuck him like this? With just his spit? Lando's never gone quite that hard but it's in their handshake agreement or whatever, that they can do whatever they want to each other.

Oscar sighs, and Lando can picture him getting his dick out, the relief of it. He's just like the rest of them, popping boners on the podium. It's uncomfortable at best, champagne-soaked suit all stuck to your bits.

Lando braces and then tries to relax all at once when Oscar's dick comes to rest against his arse. If he breathes through it, it'll be fine. And Oscar's not stupid or cruel; he'll stop if it's awful.

He doesn't press inside, though.

It's a weird feeling, when Oscar starts to fuck between his cheeks. He's got both hands on him, squeezing Lando's arse around his cock, just enough spit to make it an easy slide.

"Oh, fuck," Lando mumbles, getting his wrist in his mouth to muffle it. It feels good—like, the drag of Oscar's dick over his hole, the way the head catches when he draws back enough, the way Oscar's already panting with it.

He sounds really, really good. It's less overwhelming than having him inside so Lando's picking up on all these sounds he's never noticed before; here and there these sharp little in-out breaths like he's been hit, long, sighing groans that barely make it to audible.

Oscar spits again. Wet splat right where the head of his dick is, slick squelch when he fucks forward.

Lando doesn't move. His dick is hard at the most awkward possible angle, pressed painfully to the floor but he doesn't move, just lets his eyes flutter shut and takes it.

Oscar moves faster. The sounds, huffing and broken, pick up until he's letting out these tiny soft moans, over and over and over.

"Pull up your shirt," Oscar says suddenly. His voice cracks and Lando would make fun of it in any other situation.

This time, he does what he's told. Awkwardly, he yanks up his shirt and it's just in time for Oscar to grunt, fucking forward once, twice, and then coming in hot spatters across Lando's back. Lando breathes into the scratchy carpet. Oscar twitches over him, dripping a last bit of come onto Lando's arse as he sits back.

"Waited long enough, didn't you," Lando says into the floor.

Oscar makes a noncommittal sound but in the next breath he's rolling Lando over, and he's getting his mouth on Lando's cock, and that's not really using him, is it? But if it's—if he's what Oscar wants, well. Lando can live with that.

now on ao3

[freeuselandonorris]

it's just self-defence until you're building a weapon

(lando/oscar, mondayverse. 10.7k, rated E)

Oscar’s still in the car, fumbling with his belts. Lando remembers it, from Miami. His fingers hadn’t worked properly, shaky and thick with blood. He’d sat there for ages, unable to move, heart crashing about in his chest. Scared that getting out of the car would somehow make it less real, once he had to share it with the fans and the team and the cameras. Lando’s chest aches, like maybe someone pulled the belts too tight. Oscar had better be savouring the fucking moment. He should have told Oscar to make sure he did that. He’s been meaning to say it. -- Mondayverse: race win Oscar edition

read on AO3 (archive-locked 🔐)

[everythingne]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ➛ one and two, chapter two (ls2)

Forced to move in together, you and Logan slowly fall into an easy routine. It's not hard to act like you love someone when you do, even if they don't believe it, but you'll show him.

logan sargeant x first daughter!reader // fc: yasmin barbieri

warnings/notes: a bit of low self esteem at the end, drinking and cursing, i tried to keep this as fluffy as possible. sorry for the long wait, i made this pretty long to make up for that <3

previous / next

Apparently, according to your father, the best thing for you and Logan would be to move in together. Which... isn't a terrible thought process if you are in an arranged marriage, but you'd met Logan less than a week ago and now half of your stuff was being shipped overseas without as much as a question.

It felt... weirdly demeaning.

Despite the tension raising with your father, living with Logan is quite easy. He's late to bed, an early riser, your seperate rooms down the hall give you both space that's your own while leaving the kitchen and living room for moments where its okay to be together.

Plus, it makes it easier for you to fix your sleep schedule. The difference between London and Washington, d.c. isn’t that big, but it still throws you off for a few weeks.

And because of that, you don’t travel with Logan until the Spanish GP.

By then you’ve settled into life in London and planned your fashion shows and such around his schedule because it was more concrete than any schedule you'd make yourself.

Life in London was wonderful to you, because you able to keep a lower profile than in the states. It was nice to be able to take yourself out for coffee, or to go to your cycling class, or yoga, or pilates—or whatever you’re feeling, without too many cameras.

And you settle into life with Logan quickly.

yn.fdotus

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon, potus, and 987k others...

ynfdotus: cannot believe i let a blonde guy convince me to move from the heart of the states to a bit outside london 🩵

potus: big adventures await!

user1: shut UPPPP THIS IS SO CUTE??

user2: nah bc who convinced her.

lilymhe: yayy!!!! ur so close now!!!!! girls day.

⤷ yn.fdotus: only if @ lilyzneimer joins this time

⤷ lilyzneimer: oh babes im down 🩷

user3: wasn't she at the williams paddock for miami.... and her hug with logan after the race?? ive connected the dots.

⤷ user4: you haven't connected shit.

⤷ user3: i connected them !!

"I'm home!" Logan shouts down the hall of the flat as the door clicks shut behind him, his hand automatically reaching to lock it. You call back a greeting as you check over his meal plan notes once more to ensure you've cooked the food correctly before turning back to look at him as you turn off the burner you're using.

"You had lunch today right?" He asks as he comes around the corner and you nod softly, standing on your toes to grab some dishes out of the top of the cabinet. When your fingers miss the edge of the bowl, Logan's hand comes to your back to keep you still while he reaches up and grabs them for you, before settling them in your hands and kissing your cheek. And eyeing the dinner you're making with a bit of curiosity over your shoulder.

The quick kisses were another thing to help settle into the way you had to act for media. But honestly, they ended up being more of a habit now. But Logan would kiss anywhere but your lips, which sucked, because kissing Logan was like being shocked with electricity. It made you blush, it made your heart stutter, all you wanted was to be with him.

Logan moves back to the counter as you set down the dishes by the stove, and you turn fully to actually take him in now. He's in a hoodie and jeans, having changed after going to the gym, and you smile at him when your eyes meet, then you gasp.

"Oh! Flowers!" You exclaim as he sets down a few bags of groceries and other items you'd asked him to go run out to grab.

"I bought them for you." He smiles, genuinely real, crinkling at the corners of his eyes as you turn around to grab a spoon to get a little bit of the dish for Logan to taste before you plated it.

"Oh, what's the occasion?" You ask as you hold the spoon out to him, and he happily bites the salmon off the spoon with a content hum.

He raises his hand to his mouth and says, "There has to be an occasion? I just noticed the other flowers you have in the house are dying and these were pretty. Also, you cook this shit way better than I ever could."

You laugh out a thank you, and agree the flowers were dying as you turn to plate the food. Logan makes himself busy swapping out the flowers and getting all your little mood lights up so he doesn't have to turn the big light on when the sun finally sets. The big bay windows of your apartment letting in the last fleeting rays of golden sun, and he stands behind you for a moment to admire the way it curls on your skin.

"Hey, after dinner..." You turn, making eye contact with him and pausing at the way the golden glow lights up his eyes. The two of you just pause, sort of staring and taking in the moment before you clear your throat and you somehow manage to pull your eyes away to go set down the food.

"After dinner?" He prompts softly and you turn over your shoulder as he brushes behind you, one hand gently sliding across your back so you know he's there.

"Do you wanna walk to get ice cream? This little gelato place opened around the corner." You say softly, blinking at him with a sort of... awestruck, love filled expression. It makes his cheeks warm as he leans down to press a kiss to your hairline.

"Sure, just don't tell anyone I'm going off my meal plan."

You chuckle softly, moving to sit down next to him at the table, facing the window so you can watch the city around you moving around. Lights flickering on as the night closes in, the silence of the apartment is very soft and welcoming. Dinner is finished pretty quickly and soon you find yourself tugging on a hoodie while Logan finishes up the dishes, and then you both head out.

Walking down the busy but slightly quieter London streets, you wander towards the roadside to look at a flyer. Logan watches as you return to his side, and after a moment of walking on his left, you feel his hand gently take your wrist and bring you to the inside of the sidewalk.

You watch his face soften a little as he takes your hand in his and at a crosswalk, pops a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

And in the moment, you forget all about the gelato, all about London, all about the world around you. In the moment, it's just the warmth of his hands against yours.

yn.fdotus

liked by logansargeant, cambridgeuniversity, potus, and 912k others...

yn.fdotus: got to teach a wonderful group of sustainable fashion designers at @ cambridgeuniversity this morning. while I'm hitching a train ride to barcelona, i'm full of love for all the creatives.

my next teaching event will land me back in the states at @ SCADFASH in savannah during september ! you can book tickets at: scad.edu/yn.fdotus.visit !s

cambridgeuniversity: it was wonderful having you! see you soon!

user1: pls tell me shes going to barcelona for the gp

logansargeant: see u soon miss america :)

⤷ yn.fdotus: you too, captain america 🩵

⤷ user2: SHUT UPPPP????

Coming into the garage, you can feel the tension across the entire building. You glance to your side, taking in Logan's half the garage, before passing over with no hesitance. Dipping through some of the larger groups of workers, you find solace in the drivers rooms. Knocking twice, you hear Logan call for you to come in, and you pop open the door before shutting it behind you.

"Hey." You breathe softly and Logan smiles as he tugs his sleeves on, coming over to press a kiss to your cheek, "good luck out there."

After a few disappointing races, you knew Logan wanted nothing more than to finally smoke out his competition. And he'd been qualifying better and better, but was having an almost George Russel level weekend luck. You figured he might be the next Mr. Saturday.

You'd missed the past two days, busy with your own work, and you note how Logan is clearly at much more ease now that you're by his side.

"Thanks, baby." He murmurs softly, pulling you into a tight hug. You reciprocate without hesitance, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as you do. But theres something stiff that makes you step back, taking his head in your hands and pressing your foreheads together.

"What's a matter?" You hum, rubbing your thumbs under his eyes and hoping and he'll tell you whats up with him. Finally, he sighs and crumbles into your hold.

"I didn't tell you on the phone," Logan murmurs, closing his eyes as he leans into your touch, "I was having steering issues yesterday, they haven't been able to figure out the source of it."

You hum softly, leaning down to peck his nose before settling your foreheads together again, "how bad was it?"

"Not the worst I've dealt with, just some understeering."

"I don't know much about these cars, only what you've babbled at me before," You start with, earning a curious look from Logan as he opens his eyes, "but could it have something to do with your like... what is it, downforce? Isn't understeer or whatever affected by that? Like DRS?"

Logan blinks, then gasps, capturing your lips quickly before whispering, "you're a genius, I didn't even think of that."

And he drags you with him into the garage as he goes to ask about a million questions about his car, you're just happy to tag along with a bounce to your step and your hands intertwined. Alex and Lily are also in the main garage area, making some sort of Tik Tok together, and you suction to Logan's side as he speaks with his engineers.

The answer ends up being something with--not the rear wing but the front wing, or at least they find another issue that might kinda fix the steering issues with some shit like downforce or something... so you count it as a success.

Logan happily pops a kiss to your cheek in thanks as his head engineer gives you a fist bump for thinking of something they'd overlooked, you say its a lot like fashion, how one wrong stitch can ruin a whole dress.

Alex goes on to call you Elle Woods, and you feel like a nickname is cementing in Williams.

Logan goes on to place P6, his highest ranking of the season, which you determine calls for getting absolutely fucked up at the club. Your plan is surprisingly well accepted by the team, and you rent out a little back private room of some club blasting songs from any and everywhere as you drag Lily with you onto the dancefloor.

You're not sure how long you're out there before Logan and Alex are pulling you both back to reality, settling you at the back corner of the bar where you can watch Lando and Oscar betting over something Max and Charles are doing a few feet away. George trying to get Alex to try some sort of liquor, and Fernando chipping in a few bucks to the bet that Alex will like it.

"How much water have you both had?" Logan asks, a beer in hand as he leans on the bar behind you.

"I had two glasses, I think?" Lily says, "I can feel I need more though."

"I'll need more water." You smile, trying to hide the fact you don't remember if you've had water at all tonight. Logan nods, and whisks off to where Yuki has flagged a bartender down.

"You two are so cute." Lily gushes once Logan's out of earshot. Alex coming to stand beside her as he now nurses whatever liquor George was trying to get him to try in an Old Fashioned glass.

"I would've never expected the First Daughter to be dating a dude from Florida." Alex deadpans, offering Lily a sip of his drink, and she's also surprised by how good the drink is.

You laugh softly, tequila on your tongue letting the truth slip, "It's a Public Relations thing."

"What?!" Alex gasps and Lily nearly spits out her second sip of Alex's drink.

"Wait, seriously?!" Lily echoes, "But how? You two are so perfect!"

"And Logan's a shit actor." Alex adds with a tiny laugh. You feel an arm slide around you, and peek to see Logan as he hands Lily a water bottle, and then hands you one as well.

"Well," Logan chimes, "It's more of a like... arranged marriage kinda deal, rather than PR."

"You got in an arranged marriage? What, are you mormon?!"

"Mormon's don't do arranged marriages actually." You hum into your bottle before taking a sip, "And it's because of my father. He thinks, because my brother was a big party guy in his mid-twenties, that I'm gonna be the same way. Which is stupid, because yeah, I'll go and get drunk, but I won't blackout and flirt with a professor."

"Did your brother do that?" Lily snorts as you nod with a loud sigh, leaning into Logan.

"So, we're arranged." You shrug, "Doesn't mean I can't still like the guy. My parents were arranged too, and they literally are sickeningly in love with each other."

"Can vouch for that." Logan laughs softly as you smile up at him and take another big gulp of your water bottle. With Alex and Lily now in on the secret, you feel a bit more at ease, not having to play anything up as much with them.

But the night drags on far longer than it should, with Logan's arm around your shoulders between the hours when the clubgets too busy to really move.

The drivers all plan their escapes around three in the morning, and it's sobering for you to have to literally lean on Logan so you don't fall and die in the halls as you make it back to your hotel room.

"Christ. I didn't know you were worse of a lightweight than me." Logan hoists you up, one arm secure around your waist so you stay cemented to his side as he fiddles with the key to unlock the door. As you both get in, he helps you settle on the bed, taking off your heels for you and letting you curl up in one of the throe blankets you'd brought. He stands, moving back from you to the dresser with a soft yawn.

"Lo, baby," You hum softly and he turns, nodding as you reach out to him.

"It's okay, darling," He says softly, moving back over to kiss your forehead as you cling to his arm, "I'm just gonna get changed and grab you something to wear that isn't... a mini dress."

"Okay." You whisper, tired from the long night, and release him as much as you don't want to. Logan works around you for a moment, getting himself ready for bed before he leans down in front of you and helps you to your feet.

"C'mon. Let's get you ready for bed before you knock out."

Logan takes your hands as he leads you to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet while he roots through your bag. You clear up which is which product, what order, and how to use them.

Logan takes the oil cleanser, pouring a little bit out and applying it to your face. The only spot he has you do is by your eyes, before he uses a wet rag to wipe it off. While he works you keep trying to wrap your arms around him.

He laughs softly, letting you cling to his side as he tries--bless him, to apply another cleanser to your face to properly clean your face now. Eventually, and after a bit of fighting with you to let go of his torso, he manages to get all of your makeup cleaned off, and skin... semi-properly washed.

"C'mon, pretty girl," he croons softly, brushing a hand across your jaw to tilt your head to face him, "Let's get you in bed, yeah?"

And even though the hotel has two beds, you coax Logan to cuddle with you in your drunk state. And you don't mind being wrapped up by his warm arms when you wake the next morning.

yn.fdotus

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon, oscarpiastri, and 978k others...

yn.fdotus: so. about last night... i don't remember much after the twentieth tequila shot... <3

logansargeant: its ok you have great dance skills

oscarpiastri: thanks for letting me win 20 in that bet

yn.fdotus: oscar. ur on thin ice.

user1: U WENT CLUBBING W THE DRIVERS???

lilymhe: my favorite lightweight <3

After Barcelona, the next race you go to is Silverstone. You've been biting your nails for weeks about this, the upgrades Williams is planning on bringing don't seem to be very... solidified. Logan tries his hardest to seem confident, but it's clear he's more worried than you are.

You do the track walk in Barcelona with Williams, idly tagging along last moment with Lily. It's more for PR, as the cameras snap photos of the four of you (Alex, Logan, Lily, and yourself) dicking around as you walk.

But theres a damper to the mood.

Sure, the weight problems in the Williams car is 'fixed' but it seems like something was taken away... something helpful.

You and Lily settle in the little watch area in the garage, you pulling out your laptop to get some emails sent out before the race, while Lily posts something on her Instagram.

Logan appears with his helmet on, wrapping an arm around you and saying, "Any last words before I get in the car?"

You look over, and pop a kiss to the little part of his helmet covering his lips--leaving a little smudge of lipstick behind as you knock three times on the side of his helmet, "Don't worry about the upgrades. You'll be fine, Lo."

"Thanks, baby." He almost grumbles, eyes squishing from his smile under the helmet. You send him on his way, and Alex scoffs from besides you where Lily is fixing his glove.

"I still don't get how you two claim you're 'just arranged.' Like, I just watched a cute couple moment." He laments, making Lily laugh as she leans back on the couch next to you.

"I'm just a great actress," You shrug, but can't deny the heat that rushes to your cheeks. You and Logan had an undeniable spark, and you acted way too romantic to be platonic even behind closed doors. But you had always just chalked it up to being for the bit, being for the media.

But... had you even done any of this for the media?

Alex bids farewell and you, with a bit of stammer and a blushing face, retire to Logan's drivers room. It's just practice today, so you find your able to get somewhat comfy, turning on the TV to show you highlights as you work in quiet solitude.

You're not sure when you doze off, but when you come back, theres something plush under your head. Blinking, you look up to see Logan, idly scrolling on his phone... with your head on his lap. Your arms are wrapped around one of his legs like you'd snuggled in, and he's thrown his jacket over your legs.

So you close your eyes and move to wrap your arms around his waist instead, and he chuffs out a soft laugh, murmuring, "c'mon, baby."

He hoists you up as he slides down to lay on his side, shifting until he's inna comfortable position. Then he slowly shifts you back into place, your head coming to his lay on his bicep as you bink your eyes open.

"Hi, sleepy." He whispers to you, "Don't worry, I saved your email drafts before shutting your laptop."

"How was practice?" You whisper and he shrugs, kissing your temple as you wrap your arm around his waist and slot your knee between his as usual. Or, your new usual since Silverstone.

"P10. Not terrible." He hums, "you were right about the adjustments. I just wasn't used to the car yet, it made me lag behind."

"You'll do better tomorrow." You murmur through a yawn and Logan draws you into his chest a bit more, firm arm around your shoulder as he lifts his chin to tuck your head under it.

"We have a bit to nap, get some rest." He whispers and you hum back a yes, the warmth of your arranged husband and the soft whir of the world outside pulling you into another nap.

You find later that night that Logan's being overly self-ciritical once again. You do all you can to coax him to at least apathy, but lay awake with his head on your chest (the hotel room now with one bed), thinking.

The next day you sneak down to a corner store to buy a tiny notebook, tape, and glitter pens, and employ both Alex and Benny to help you with your task.

You scrawl the notebook full of reassurances, word even getting to engineers, media workers, analysts, who all take turns writing little notes for Logan (and some for Alex you give to Lily)

And then you spend the time Benny distracts Logan with training to sprinkle them around his drivers room and gear. A tiny smile on your face as the stupid little idea tickles you so much. Even writing one and taping it to his water bottle.

You manage to miss Logan before qualifying, but he drives exceptionally well and ends in Q2. And when he comes back, you have a cold water bottle in hand, something Benny had started giving you to encourage Logan to drink more water.

Cameras follow him into the garage, but cut before he gets to you. His helmet is long since discarded as he leans down to peck your cheek in thanks for the water, taking a few gulps as you ask about the race.

"The race was good, it was... I felt more confident with the car." He swallows another sip of water, "I think we have a good chance tomorrow. Must be thanks to your notes."

You beam when he says that, his hand firm on your back as he holds you close. There's an air around you both for a moment, and you wish the feeling could stay forever.

If only.

He ends up getting track limits on his qualifying run, bumping him back on the starting grid by a hefty amount. You literally cannot determine where he breaks limits, but even with Williams challenging it, the penalty stays. Logan tries to brush it off, to pretend it doesn't hurt him, but you can see the stress in his eyes.

Another night you fall asleep thinking. But other than the notes you already placed, you didn't have any more ideas.

And then he places out of points when Alex snags a podium, in a stroke of luck and a safety car. Logan doesn't take the cold water you offer him, barely greeting you as he slips by to his drivers room, and you try not to feel distraught.

Benny gives him space, as does everyone else, so you follow suit and walk to the paddocks. Which is where you and Logan are finally reunited after the race.

"Hey, baby." You murmur as he walks over, slumping into your hands as you let his face be molded by their grasp, "You drove well."

"I couldn't get around Lewis." Logan murmurs in complaint, and you can feel the pant up anger starting to burn in his cheeks, "if I hadn't been such a fucking dumbass."

"Hey." you chastise, squishing his face before he pulls himself away, "You're not a dumbass, you had a shitty penalty. Lewis is a really good driver, sometimes it's hard--"

"But I can be better." Logan interrupts you, and you go to speak again before he says, "You deserve better."

"What the hell are you talking about? Deserve better?" You ask, stepping towards Logan as he tries to retreat from you.

Logan groans, turning back sharp enough you step back to avoid his shoulder colliding with your outstretched hand. Gritting his teeth, he hisses out, "You can back out of this little arranged thing, stop being so cutesy and so kind and so loving to me, because I don't deserve it. You deserve someone who wins. Because you're so fucking amazing, and I'm just... whatever the hell this is."

You are genuinely shell shocked, but Logan just continues before you squeak out a very soft,

"But I love you. Like I... I genuinely do."

And then Logan goes to backtrack, claiming you're lying and that there no way you actually do. You watch him sputter, scraping for excuses and reasons you're lying and theres only one idea that pops in your mind. Damn the cameras, damn the people around you.

"I am hard to love and you're just gonna hurt yourself trying--" Logan says as you cup his jaw before you press up on your toes enough to lock your lips to his. There's a moment of hesitation before his arm slides around your waist as he breaks to reconnect you properly.

And when you pull back, your cheeks burn as you whisper, "I do love you. And I'd crawl with bleeding knees and palms for years if it meant one day, one day, I can make you see yourself the way I do."

Logan is just staring and you stammer again, "Sorry, was that too much?"

"No." He answers quick, "No, that was what I needed. Do it again."

And you laugh, tossing your arms around his neck to pull him into a proper kiss this time. The scattering of camera flashes like the fireworks you feel in your gut.

yn.fdotus

liked by alexalbon, flotus, williamsracing, and 998k others...

yn.fdotus: all because I really like this boy 🩵

tagged: logansargeant

oscarpiastri: finally you guys have the guts to be public

⤷ alexalbon: now everyone can see how disgustingly in love they are

⤷ yn.fdotus: oh you are one to talk, alex.

flotus: so cute !!

user1: HOW DID LOGAN PULL HER?

⤷ yn.fdotus: @ logansargeant idk how did you?

⤷ logansargeant: my american charm obviously

user2: sobbing. my parents.

taglist (thank you all so much <3!!)

@stinkyjax @kroissant-content @samantha-chicago @jpg3 @mickf1loverf2too

@nixisracing @h34rts4maisey @heartsfromtaeyong @a-beaverhausen

@purplephantomwolf @insanedeathwish @llando4norris @formulaonebuff

@vicurious28 @lady1505 @lozzamez3 @kqliie @barbsschumacher

[coff33andb00ks]

After You - CL

Hopeless, The Epilogue {1 - Hopeless} {2 - Luxury} {3 - Poison} {4 - Burning} [[masterlist]]

summary: i could have loved you but you would not let me song: jealous by labyrinth pairing: charles leclerc x ex!reader (with lando norris x reader) warnings: mentions of cheating a.n.: so many people (like, 4?) begged for this scene and I promised it then immediately forgot, my apologies. I would say I hope you enjoy but it's angst, so…

When Lando came to him months ago, Charles had been confused. He looked so serious, so unlike his normal lighthearted self, that Charles had worried something horrible had happened.

"Hey, I um…" Lando had fiddled with the zipper of his jacket, looking nervous and sweaty. And Charles knows something's wrong. "Can we talk?"

Charles hadn't wanted to talk to anyone then. But he'd shrugged and said yes.

"I'm going to therapy." Lando huffed, rubbing the back of his neck. "And there are apparently things I have to do. Something I have to say."

"Okay?"

Lando took a deep breath. "It's about y/n."

Charles froze. It had been three months but still hearing the name made everything come back as though it had been that morning. "What about her?" he asked carefully, waiting for the usual. What happened? You were so good together. How did you let her get away?

But the words that came out of Lando's mouth were shocking.

"I, um… We… We had an affair."

Charles blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I'm sor…" Lando paused, making it obvious he wasn't really sorry. "We slept together…" He looked down, his voice small.

"You? Slept with y/n?" Charles asked.

Lando nodded. "It went on for months, and—"

"Impossible. She has standards." And he began to laugh. Y/n with Lando? Practically anyone else would be more believable. But Lando? He laughed harder, watching the wariness turn to surprise turn to hurt on Lando's face.

It's been over a year now and Charles is…

Almost happy.

Sort of.

It's Miami weekend and all he can think about is how much you loved Miami. The sunshine and the beaches and the pure Americanness of it all. You should be there, on his arm as he enters the paddock, and he pretends to be okay in front of the cameras.

He tried calling you, but you've still got him blocked. He wanted to let you know that he's getting help, he's taking steps to becoming a better man, but you obviously still don't care.

Standing with Lewis a few moments later, he's chatting about dogs, trying not to think about how depressed Leo had been in those first few months. Trying not to remember his own determination that you'd get over your little outburst and come crawling back to him.

He still thinks it'll happen, but just a little less and less each day.

Lewis's head turns, and Charles pauses when he sees his friend reach to pull down his shades. "Whoa."

Charles turns, wanting to see what caught the man's attention. "Ah, Lando," he says with a shrug, drawing in a breath to continue the conversation.

The crowd of fans and photographers shifts and he sees…

"Is that y/n?" Lewis asks softly.

He can't answer. His breath is lodged in his chest, his heart frozen, and he can only stare. Because it is you. More beautiful than ever. Radiant. You're smiling, and he can't remember ever seeing you this happy.

Next to him, Lewis whistles softly.

Charles's world twists upside down, seeing your hand clasped in Lando's. His eyes are the only thing that can move, darting up and down, drinking in every detail as you and Lando walk towards the McLaren motorhome. Lando leans down, speaking in your ear, and even though he's too far Charles can hear your laughter.

The breeze ruffles your hair and a split second later Lando's fingers are smoothing it back and Charles feels as though he's going to throw up.

"We had an affair. It went on for months."

He finally breathes, a rasping wheeze, and next to him Lewis doesn't say a word.

"Why are you laughing? We did. I'm not sorry for what happened, I'm sorry it happened the way it did—"

He wants to walk over, to confront you, to demand to know if Lando had been lying about the affair.

"I gave up someone that truly loved me, that made me happier than I deserved. Because I wanted us to make it."

"Who?"

"It doesn't matter. H-he won't have anything to do with me now, because I chose you."

But there he is, looking at you as though you're the sun.

"I wanted us to make it too."

"You alright?" Lewis asks quietly, once Lando and you have gone inside. The air around is still buzzing with the news – Charles can hear every word yet none of them. Apparently no one knew about it, judging by the ripples of shock that are still traveling through the paddock.

It hurts to breathe, a void where his heart should be. And he can't answer, because all he can think about is.

I wanted us to make it too.

@driverlando | @trisharee | @leodette | @littlegrapejuice | @manicpixiemom | @mistreader | @mochimommy2002

[vivwritesfics]

Keep on Rolling - MV1

Chapter Three

Summary: Lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? Impossible, right? She worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the FormulaY/N youtube channel.

After film a video including... spicy water (alcohol), everything changes between her and a certain world champion. Good thing she hasn't had a crush on him since his F1 debut, right?

Right?

1.3K words

Shorter one because I'm moving tomorrow (and I've only just started packing and sorting my living space). Maybe no update for a few days, but I've got things planned, don't you worry.

Series Masterlist

The drunken quiz video was a success. The fans were loving it, almost as much as they loved Paddock Pals. But Y/N still hadn't seen the video. She didn't watch it after James had edited it, couldn't bring herself to. She just had to trust him and his editing skills.

If Y/N had any embarrassing moments in the video, she didn't care. It was the drivers she was looking out for. She couldn't be seen to be sullying their image, an accusation Christian Horner liked to throw around from time to time.

If she really did have any embarrassing moments, they'd be turned into a meme and posted throughout her twitter timeline. They were laughing with her, not at her, she justified.

When the video came out, Y/N had her phone turned off. She was at dinner with Lando, a regular occurrence during grand prix weekends. She couldn't see the immediate reactions of her fans. When she turned her phone on she was flooded with positive messages and screenshots of her best moments.

Nobody saw her interactions with Max as anything but innocent. That's because it wasn't anything but innocent. She'd half hoped that James had taken that part out, had worried about the consequences of them being left in, but nothing happened.

There had always been Y/NStappen shippers and they took what they could get. But the video had no consequences for her. Just the way Y/N liked it.

***

"JUST FRIENDS? WE DON'T THINK SO!"

Y/N stared at the news article in horror. No, no, no, this could not be happening. She clicked on the headline, giving in.

"Formula One driver Charles Leclerc seen out on a coffee date with a mystery woman in Miami."

Below that was a picture of Y/N and Charles. They were innocently having coffee, nothing more, nothing less.

She kept reading.

"This mystery date of his was later revealed to Y/N L/N, the popular Formula One youtube. The two have claimed to just be friends for years, but we don't think so."

Before the Miami grand prix, Charles had taken Y/N to a cafe. It was completely innocent. She was hungover and he was looking after her. As a friend. Nothing more.

In the cafe Y/N had told Charles about her slight crush on Max. Now, she was in the tabloids and rumoured to be dating Charles. What the hell was she going to do.

The YouTube channel was a two man operation - she didn't have PR team behind her to help.

Her phone buzzed several times. Texts, Instagram DMs, emails and twitter notifications. They all went off at the same time. But Y/N ignored them. She scrolled through her messages until she got to the all important person.

That made her smile. Lando always did. It was why they were best friends. But suddenly Y/N felt bad. She hadn't told Lando about the Max situation and he was her best friend. Why does Charles have more of a right to know than he does? Because he was in the right place at the right time?

There were more pressing things she had to take care of. Opening her twitter , Y/N began to type.

She had to turn her phone off after that. The notifications were too much. Instead, she turned her attention to her notebook. Monaco was the next grand prix and she wanted to do something unexpected for her YouTube video. Something she hadn't done before.

A serious interview with the drivers.

She made plans, wrote down questions she was going to ask everyone. They'd have to be pre-race interviews. There was no way she was getting a moment with anybody once the real press swarmed in.

Her phone lit up, but she ignored it. She was working, didn't need any distractions.

When she had one page of questions finished, she checked her phone. With so many notifications, Y/N went straight to the important ones. Messages from Lando, James and Charles, emails about potential sponsorships and Formula One news.

"What the hell," she whispered to herself as she looked at the Formula One news. She skipped the articles about herself and Charles (glad to seen none about herself and Max) and scrolled down to the news articles about the one, the only, Fernando Alonso.

She skipped the headlines, just reading the article.

'Secret romance? Rumours have been swirling around the internet about a potential romance between two time Formula One world champion, Fernando Alonso, and world famous popstar, Taylor Swift.'

"No way. No fucking way."

She had to say something, right? She had to put out a tweet or something, surely. This was maybe the best rumour to come out of Formula One social media.

***

Ever since the drunken quiz video, Y/N had been trying to avoid Max. She hadn't messaged him or sent him anything on social media. After he disappeared from her room without another word, Y/N hadn't tried. She didn't want to.

If Max say it as a drunken mistake, Y/N wouldn't blame him. Even if nothing happened. But that was the problem. She didn't want it to be a drunken mistake where nothing happened. She didn't even want it to be a drunken mistake.

With the Monaco grand prix coming up, Y/N knew she couldn't avoid him. It was the biggest, most spectacular grand prix. It was such a small place and it was where Max lived. It was the one grand prix Y/N was arriving late for, plane tickets booked for Friday instead of for the Monday.

Lando wasn't happy with her for that one. Who could blame him? He wanted his best friend there for the entire week. He'd even offered her somewhere to stay for the week.

On the Wednesday before the race, Lando was sick of it. He picked up his phone and called Y/N non-stop until she picked up the phone.

"No, I can't get an earlier flight," she said as soon as she picked up the phone.

Lando let out an almost childish groan. "But why not? You can come and stay at mine for the entire week."

"Lando, no. I can't. I'm working."

"Shut up, no you're not. Beside everybody wants you here. Me, Charles, Daniel, Alex and Max."

"Max want's me there?"

"Yeah, as well as Charles, Deniel and Alex. And, most importantly, me."

“Look, Lando, I’ll see what I can do. No promises, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Brilliant, let me know when you land and I’ll come and pick you up.”

Not giving Y/N any time to respond, Lando hung up the phone. Y/N shook her head as she went into her messages.

Ouch.

Well that told her everything she needed to know. But Max was right. What was there to tell? From his end, certainly nothing. For her, everything.

Y/N felt like crying. Why? Because some guy she spent a drunken evening with didn’t want to do it again. His focus was racing, not Y/N.

That was when she decided. She would go to Monaco early not let whatever was going on with Max ruin that for her. Well, according to him, nothing was going on. so that was it. She was going to go, she was going to have a nice time and she was going to watch some racing.

Opening her laptop she worked on changing her flight ticket for that evening, paid the fee and began packing her things.

As she packed she had Netflix open, downloading episodes of Drive to Survive. Y/N hadn't yet watched the Netflix series; she didn't need to when she was living it. Sure she'd seen things online, quotes and screenshots. When Y/N had Max in her videos, laughing and joking around, people commented about how badly the show demonized him.

As soon as her bags were packed, Y/N drove to the airport. She parked herself up, got her bags checked in and waited for her flight.

Taglist (Open): @sticksdoesart @eviethetheatrefreak @eugene-emt-roe @glai1023-blog @mqcherie @itsjustkhaos @chonkybonky @arian-directioner

[nicoline1998enilocin]

“do you think about me when you touch yourself?” for tony? reader asking him 🫣

Thousand Miles Away

PAIRING || Boyfriend!Baker!Tony Stark x Girlfriend!Fem!Reader

WORDCOUNT || ~ 950 words

SUMMARY || Tony is spending the night alone in a hotel room when he's away for a bakers convention, so he decides to FaceTime you to get some much-needed relief.

RATING || Explicit (E)

TAGS || Canon divergence. Everyone lives AU. Bakery AU. Age gap. Reference pregnancy. Established relationship. Explicit sexual content.

SMUT || Dirty talk. Daddy kink. Phone sex. Male & Female Masturbation. Mutual masturbation. Handjob.

A/N || This is written for my Summer of Drabbles, and takes place during the events of A bun in the oven | Part 1. Both stories can be read as a standalone. I want to thank my bestie @ccbsrmsf1 for proofreading this story; your reactions were amazing! I love you 🤍

Photo: Source || All other graphics are made by @nicoline1998enilocin

Main Masterlist || Tony Stark || Baker!Tony Stark || Summer of Drabbles

It's been a long day at the baker's convention for Tony as he settles into his bed. The outlook over Miami is a sight he will never forget as he gets comfortable. He grabs his phone to look at the time, and the photo of you, Tony, and your cat named Oliver shines back at him, giant smiles adorning your faces underneath the large numbers.

It's just past 10 PM, and he's debating what to do - go to sleep or see if you're still awake. Ultimately, he decides to go for it, his finger pressing the FaceTime button with your contact. After a few rings, he's greeted by your beautiful smile, his heart beating faster at the sight.

"Hi, Tony!" you say enthusiastically as you see your boyfriend's tired but handsome face.

"Hi, Peach. How're things going there?" Tony asks, and you tell him about your day and how things are going at the bakery. As you're about to talk about something else, Oliver comes over to say hello.

"Look who's here! Our Little Devil wanted to say hi to his Daddy!" you say as you show Oliver crawling onto your lap. Tony chuckles while Oliver meows softly.

"Are you taking good care of your Mommy when I'm not there, Buddy?" Tony asks, and Oliver responds with another meow and some purring, his paw batting at the screen where he sees Tony.

"He's taking excellent care of me," you tell your boyfriend, who hums appreciatively. You and Tony moved in less than a week ago, but he already had to leave town to go to the convention, and he has been missing you like crazy. And now is no different, except that he's feeling a little needy, too.

"I was thinking..." he says after you have told all your stories, and you raise a brow in interest.

"How about we have some fun over the phone? I've been achingly hard ever since you picked up the phone while wearing nothing but my t-shirt, and I've been missing you like crazy," he says, adjusting himself in his underwear as he does. You agree, and not long after, you're settled in your shared bed, completely bare as you're playing with your nipples, giving Tony a little show. His hand is wrapped around his cock, soft groans tumbling from his lips as he works himself up and down slowly.

"Looks so sexy for me, Peach. Can't get enough of you playing with yourself," he says, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as a moan leaves from deep within your chest.

"Yeah? Do you think about me when you touch yourself?" you ask your boyfriend, and his response is instant.

"Always. You're on my mind 24/7, Peach. Each time I have a second to think, you're invading my thoughts. The way your nipples pebble so beautifully when I lave over them with my tongue, or how your back arches as I play with your sensitive little clit," he tells you, the grip on his cock tightening ever so slightly.

"But my favorite sight is when I've got my cock so fucking deep inside your tight, needy little pussy that you're nothing more than a babbling, moaning mess for me. When all you can say is Daddy, and you're nothing more than a fucktoy for me to use.”

As Tony tells you his fantasies, you slowly work your fingers in and out of your now dripping pussy, the squelching sound being music to your boyfriend's ears.

"Show me how wet you are; let Daddy see you play with yourself," he orders, and you do as he asks. The second your dripping, stretched pussy shows on Tony's screen, he hums appreciatively as he squeezes himself at the base of his cock, pleasure flowing through his entire body.

"C-close, Daddy! Wanna cum," you tell him, your fingers keeping the same rhythm as Tony takes his fill, his orgasm also on the edge.

"Get your fingers on that little clit of yours, Peach - make yourself cum on those fingers." As he looks at you playing with yourself, he changes his camera angle to show his thick, leaking cock as well, showing you what you're doing to him. With a shout of his name, you cum on your fingers, and even though it's not as great as when Tony does it, it's still a lot better now that you're talking to him over the phone, and you work yourself through it as you're entranced by the way your boyfriend jerks himself at the sight of your orgasm.

"I miss it, Daddy; I want to wrap my lips around your cock and taste your cum," you say with a pout, but your words are precisely what he needs to push himself over the edge; a loud groan of your name following the release he's feeling in his body.

"God, I can't wait until I'm home, Peach. 'M gonna stuff you with my cock for the entire day and night when I'm there, filling you up until you're leaking with my cum," he tells you.

"Hmmm, I can't wait until you're home again, Tony," you say sleepily, and he returns the sentiment. After you two say your last I love you and goodbyes, you both sleep, dreaming about the other, and Tony makes true to his promise after walking in the door. He damn near throws you over his shoulder before you're on the bed, and without wasting a single second, he fucks you within an inch of your life as if it's the last time he'll ever get to fuck you full of his cum. But you're happy to give him the welcome home he deserves.

[formulaforza]

—the seasons of love

or: the enemies to lovers situationship fic charles leclerc x female reader summ. autumn seemed to arrive suddenly this year. minors dni. nsfw warnings below the cut. 6k. part one part two part three part four part five

18+ because: cross continent booty call, shared shower, oral (fem receiving) overstimulation, biting, begging, teasing/dirty talk and lots of emotionally immature angst

It became normal after that, routine, almost. Like clockwork, the two of you finding each other. In your apartment, sometimes, but mostly at his. His apartment, his yacht, his gym, his car.  There were days where it felt like it was all you did, Fridays where you would think that you’d spent five whole days underneath him. 

Race weekends felt impossibly long, impossibly far away. You think that his apartment doesn’t feel like him because he’s never there, because he spends all his time on a track or a yacht or the streets of Maranello. 

And you’re soft. You pretend not to be, because you wish you weren’t, but you are. You are, because you know that there is a spring in a national park in the States that looks just like his eyes, all blues and greens and browns that are so saturated they look fake. Because when you were at the club last week with your sister, someone had walked by and you knew they wore the same cologne as him. Because you see the color red and wonder what he’s doing, every single time. 

He’s in Vegas this week, a big fucking party, Miami on the hard stuff. You’re home, going through life’s motions and waiting–though you’d never admit it– for him to come home. 

You wake up in an empty bed, sprawled out in the middle of it, stretching against the white sheets with a groaned yawn.  You can taste the cottonmouth on your tongue, smack your lips a couple times before giving up and climbing out from the cozy comforter and trudging into the bathroom, feet creaking over the hardwoods as you move through the apartment. 

You phone chimes from your nightstand and you move back into the bedroom, leave the water running and the toothbrush in your mouth for your retrieval mission. Sitting at the top of a night’s worth of notifications is a text from him. Check your email. You roll your eyes, half-type out a witty response before an email notification flashes across the top of your screen. Lecharles@ferrari.com No Subject. 

You tap it, and inside the subjectless email you find two things. One, an attachment to a plane ticket to Vegas that leaves in… five hours. And two, a single Please?

You roll your eyes, toss your phone down onto the bed and return to the bathroom sink to spit out your toothpaste. He’s fucking lost it. He’s really done it this time, like, Jesus, he’s done it. 

There is nothing you want to do less than pack a bag, find a ride to Nice, and hop on a plane all the way to Vegas just to see him in some messy ass hotel room. 

(Sixteen hours later)

You’re sitting on the edge of the hotel bed when he gets back from media day, Ferrari polo and light wash jeans and a dumb smile greets you, grumpy with arms crossed over your chest. “Did you have to send me a fucking plane ticket?” You snapped.

He shrugs, kicks off his shoes and pulls his phone and wallet and pass from his pockets, sets them down on a coffee table. “You’re here, aren’t you?” There’s something masked with the smug tone in his voice, some kind of genuine relief that you’re here. It makes your stomach queasy. 

You roll your eyes. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t deny the truth in his words, or the relief you felt at seeing him walk through the heavy door. As sick as it makes you, you miss him when he’s gone in a way you aren’t supposed to; all soft and innocent and young. 

“You’re infuriating,” you say, but you’re smiling. 

He nods, closes the distance between you, sinks down onto the edge of the bed beside you. “You know you love it,” he says, the corners of his lips upturned when he kisses you, and kisses you, and kisses you. Until you’re turning purple in search of oxygen and mourning the fact that you need it, you’re kissing him. 

“Why am I here?” you ask, half breathless. 

“Are you asking me?” He replies, dodging your line of questioning with one of his own. 

You smile, laugh a little under your breath. “Who else am I asking?”

“Yourself,” he shrugs, kisses you softly. His fingers dance along your jaw, move to brush a part of your hair to the side. You let him. Because he’s kind of  cute when he does it.

“No, no,” you sigh, pull your leg up under you. “I’m asking you; Are you okay? Why am I here?” You ask, because, even for the two of you and your decades of knowing the other and the last… almost year of this muddled mess, this is weird. A first class ticket in your email is weird. You getting on the plane is weirder. 

“I can’t miss you?”

Your lips purse. Somewhere in another world, they smile. “Not supposed to,” you kiss him again, hand on shoulders, because you want to smile. 

“There’s a lot we’re not supposed to do.”

“Yeah,” you nod, fall back onto the bed with a huff. He chuckles. The white ceiling paint stares back at you. Fresh. Crisp. Clean. “No meetings today?”

“They’re done.”

“Ah,” you say. He stands up and the entire bed shifts with the loss of him. His heavy feet move across the echoey room. It’s silent but for the hum of the air conditioner, the tap of the pads of his fingertips against his phone screen on the other side of the room.  “Charles?” You ask, prop yourself up onto your elbows. 

“Hmm?” He hums, his eyes focused on his screen. “Sorry, um. Work… email.” You don’t envy his multitasking skills, but they do put a smile on your face.

“Did you fly me out here to fuck me?”

He scoffs, looks up for just a moment to meet your eyes. “No,” and then he’s back to typing away. 

You sigh, make sure he hears it. You don’t handle not having his attention well, not when it’s just the two of you. “But you’re going to, right?”

You wonder if you can get him flustered enough that he starts to type what he says. He’s been good at wrangling you recently, at reeling you in. But, if you can get under his skin you’ll surely be in trouble with him. Surely. He smiles at the screen. “If you think you can take it.”

When you scoff, his smile grows. You’re playing right into his game. “I’ve taken it every other fucking time, haven’t I?”

“So well.”

You roll your eyes, drop back onto your back. “Why do you say shit like that?”

“I like riling you up,” he quips, and you can hear the smile on his face, the dimples digging into his cheek. God, those dimples, they might just fucking kill you. 

“No!” You say, voice drenched in sarcastic awe.

“Yes!” He matches your tone, his phone clattering down against the table. You sit up again, pull your leg to your chest and rest your chin on it. His eyes are on you now, the email answered, his attention undivided. You love his attention. 

“Alright… can we, like,” you gesture into the vast space between the two of you, “get on with it?”

“Can you, like,” he mocks you, “let me fucking shower?”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth, bite the inside of your cheek, “Can I come?”

“Yeah, but I’m not going to fuck you.”

“Really?” You hate your tone, how childishly innocent it sounds, like your mother just said you could buy whatever toy you wanted at the store. You’d expected a hard shutdown.

“Yeah,” he moves past you, casual smile and strong hand pushing your shoulder, knocking you over like a glass of water onto the bed. “But, I mean it,” he warns, threatens to wag a finger at you. You’d bite it off if he did. 

“Okay,” you say, rolling yourself off the bed and onto your feet, trailing behind him a few steps. He’s already tugging his shirt over his head and you watch his shoulder blades flex with the movement. You never remember just how broad he is. It’s always a lovely reminder. 

“I’m serious,” he shakes his head. “No sex.”

You hurry forward to catch up to him, pat him solidly on the back as you squeeze between him and the door frame. “Whatever you say,” you hum. His hands make a move for your sides, to pinch the skin there and curl you over, but you dodge him with a loud giggle. 

He says your name and his tone is flat. It’s almost romantic, you think, the plainness of it, the lack of urgency. Rather than face that, you dip your hand past the glass door of the shower, turn the water on and listen to him close the bathroom door somewhere behind you. It’s just the two of you, but he clicks the lock anyways.

You glance over your shoulder at him, hand held out into the stream of water to test the temperature. He comes up behind you, bare chest against your back, arms snaking around your waist, thumbs toying with the waistband of your pants. He works over the buttons with ease, says something about making things even against the skin just above your collarbone. 

With a laugh, you push your ass back against him, bend at the waist and slowly pull off your pants and underwear. A fucking tease, he says, clears his throat and moves around you to lose his own jeans.

The shower is big, but the shower head is small in size, mediocre in water pressure. You know before your leg is all the way in that one of you will be fighting to stay warm. You also know you’ll stoop incredibly low to avoid having to stand shivering in the corner while watching him shower. Biting is not off the table. Neither is a right hook. 

It goes on like that for some time, the haphazard cohabitation of the hotel shower. 

“Would you–” you elbow your between him and the glass door, into the line of hot water. He reaches over your head, switches the flow of water to the wand, picks it up and brings it to his shoulders, the water flowing over the body, over his chest and through the muscles of his core. If you weren’t so fucking cold you’d jump him. “Charles,” you pout. 

He laughs, the kind that requires a step back to stabilize him, and then he’s holding the shower wand inches above the crown of your head, hot water streaming down your face so quick that you have to plug your nose to relish in the heat of it. 

“Thank you,” you say all nasally, voice muffled by the water that falls over your lips. He slots it back into the showerhead and adjusts the water again so you’re not being waterboarded any longer. You wipe your face with both hands, smooth your soaked hair back over your head and look up at him. He kisses you again, promptly, quickly, with childlike haste, just because he can—you suppose. “What was that for?”

He shrugs. You supposed right. 

In your haste, both of you had forgotten to grab the tiny shampoo and conditioner bottles from the vanity counter, and after winning rock, paper, scissors—and Charles demanding best of three like a first-grader—you’d made the treacherous journey back across the ice cold tile to grab the toiletries. You’d used them first as compensation for your hard work, and rather than hand them to him when you’re finished, you reach around to set them on the corner shelf.

He rolls his eyes and you smile, lathering the shampoo into your hair. 

Your head falls back under the water, eyes closed, fingers rinsing the shampoo from your hair. You hear him moving, fighting with the travel-sized shampoo bottle you’d more than almost used up. You wait for the smart comment that never comes. When you squeeze past him, switch so that he can stand under the water, your ass brushes over his leg, over him, hard and erect in a way it wasn’t five minutes earlier. His tongue clicks against the roof of his mouth and you laugh. “What happened to ‘no sex!’” you tease, do your best impression of his voice. 

“This isn’t sex,” he replies all matter-of-factly. It makes your smile grow. “This is showering.”

You shake your head, roll your eyes and reach for the conditioner. “You always shower like this?”

He laughs under the water, shoulders shaking and flexing and making your life so much harder than it needs to be. You could draw maps on his back, trace from freckle to freckle until you run out. “Only when you’re not around.”

You reach out to touch him. If he can kiss you just because, you can draw pictures on his skin just because, especially after he finds the space to say something like that to you, to make you blush from the inside out. He reacts to your touch, to your fingers cutting through the smooth sheen of water that runs over him. It puts a coy smile on your face. “I’m around now, aren’t I?” You leave a kiss on his shoulder blade. 

“You are,” he says, turns to face you, slinks his arms lazily around your waist and pulls you flush against him. “I’m not worried though. You’ll take care of me.”

You bite against your bottom lip, try to contain your smile. He’s right. You know he’s right and he knows it too. “Will I?” you hum. 

He smiles so you don’t have to, moves his lips painfully close to yours, hovering so close you can almost feel the ghost of them. “You will,” he breathes.

You can’t bite your grin any longer. “I will,” you reply, and because distance has never done you two well, you kiss him, pull off his lips with an innocent smile. “As soon as you condition your hair.”

“Fuck conditioner.”

You laugh. “Fuck conditioner?”

“Mmhm,” he hums against your lips. “Fuck it.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “I still have to rinse my conditioner, though.”

He groans like he’s just noticed your slicked back hair coated in the smooth conditioner, pushes you under the shower head, gives the top of your head a scrunch before letting you finish ringing it out. 

You stumble out ahead of him soon after, feet wet on the cold tile floor of the hotel bathroom. The mirrors are fogged and the air is thick with steam, slowly being sucked away into the ceiling vent fan. You pull a fluffy white towel down from the bar, hastily wrap it around your body, tuck it shut with a knot at your chest. He tells you that you don’t need it while drying his hair with a hand towel and you laugh–tell him there’s not a chance in hell you’re spending the night sleeping in soaked, chilly sheets. 

“You’re not going to do much sleeping,” he remarks, pats your ass over the cotton fabric. You squeal, practically skip forward at the contact of his hand and leave him behind in the bathroom. 

“You tell that to all your girls?” You ask, fingers trailing over the edge of the bed as you move past. “Or just the ones who know you’re a liar?” 

He reappears with a towel tied around his waist, the smaller one he’d used for his hair draped around his neck, damp hair stuck to his forehead and shooting out in every which direction. There’s something horribly beautiful about it. “Mm-mhm,” he clicks, “just you.”

“Oh,” you hum, turning to face him with a quirked brow and quizzical smile.”Well now I feel special.”

He opens his mouth to speak, parting his lips just so slightly before pursing them shut again. “Yeah,” he breathes out, and you barely hear it over the turnover of the air conditioner. 

“Yeah,” you repeat, and somehow it’s quieter. 

You sit down in the armchair perched in the corner and the silence lingers, heavier than the steam and louder than the air conditioner. He stares at you for a beat too long and you feel your heartbeat in your temples, stare right back at his stupid green eyes. He scoffs and walks back into the bathroom. “I’m tired of this,” he says into the mirror, wiping away the fog with a flat palm. 

“Tired of what?” You ask, fear the threat of his answer more than the actual answer itself. You know what he’s tired of; you. This. All of it, he’s tired of it all, and you don’t blame him. It’s become exhausting.

You know what he’s going to say, and still. His words hit you like a sucker punch. “This fucking hotel room shit.”

Your jaw flexes and you nervously chew on the tip of your tongue. “You’re the one who called me.”

He doesn’t leave space for the words to linger. “That’s not what I meant,” he says, turning to lean against the vanity counter, can barely glance at you. Your stare holds strong. “You know that’s not what I meant.” The thing is—you don’t know. You haven’t a clue what he means if it’s not the obvious elephant sitting between you. 

“Say it, then,” you tell him and your voice oozes a confidence you didn’t know you could possess. It’s a facade. A good one, and he still sees right through it. 

“Oh allez, tu es trop intelligent pour être aussi stupide,” Oh, come on, you’re too smart to be this dumb, he says, crosses his arms over his chest like you’ve done something he needs to defend against. 

“Say it, Charles.”

He finds the nerve to smile. You wish a ghost would pull the towel hung over his shoulders tight around his neck. Maybe then he would feel more like you do. Instead, he uses it to dry off the back of his neck and tosses it somewhere out of sight. “You say it.” 

“No,” you mutter, and then louder, you repeat, “No, I’m not going to.”

“You won’t?” He asks, pushes himself off the counter and stops in the doorway, leans against the frame and if he wasn’t so insistent on starting something right now, you’d take a picture before kissing every muscle on his body. 

“Mm-mm.” 

“Fine,” he replies all bluntly, but there’s nothing short about his tone. No, no, you know there’s no chance he’s dropping this. 

“Fine.”

He sighs, eyes closed and heavy breath and head dropping to the sky like he’s begging—or praying— for some sanity or patience or whatever virtue he so badly needs when it comes to dealing with you. Eventually, he speaks to the ceiling, and the dramatic cringe and nose-bridge pinch that precedes his words makes him look more than pained. “I want more than this. I want—” he cuts himself off like he hasn’t already let it all boil over, like there’s any chance he’d keep it unsaid, that he’d be capable of stopping himself. “I want us.”

Your heart dives into your stomach, sends them both sinking through the floor. “You don’t.”

“I do,” he speaks, still to the white ceiling. You follow his sightline. The ceiling is textured. 

“No, you don’t,” you think there’s a chance that your desperation to convince him this isn’t what he wants is really nothing more than a half-hearted attempt to convince yourself of the same thing. “You don’t, because then it’s all going to be fucked.”

Finally, he looks at you, or through you, or near you. Finally, he stops looking at the stupid textured white paint on the ceiling. “But what if it works? If we work?”

We.

“What if it doesn’t? If we try and then everyone gets invested and then it’s all ruined? Our parents and our siblings? We can’t ruin that.” You can’t. You won’t. You refuse to be the one responsible for any tension between your families, between your mothers. They’re the kind of friends that you don’t find more than once, and you wouldn’t dare to mess it all up after all this time, certainly not for a boy—for the boy. 

“So, what?” He asks. There’s a terrible ribbon of torment laced through his voice. “We just ruin each other?”

You sink in your seat, reply to him meekly. He doesn’t usually make you shy.  “Maybe.”

He says your name, that same ill-inducing tone to his voice. “If it was just us. Just me and you and nobody in our families had ever met,” he gestures between the two of you, always talking with his hands even when they’re half-limp and dejected. “Then what would your answer be?”

“I wouldn’t have to answer,” you dodge. Dodge, dodge, dodge. It feels like all you can do. “You wouldn’t want me.” Your words reek of haunting vulnerability, and you hope you’re the only one who picks up on it because it’s game over if he hears it. He’ll know it all; the lie and the truth and the debilitating fear of them both.

“You know that isn’t true,” he scowls, but his voice is soft. You hate it. You do, you hate it so much. You hate it. You’re tired of this conversation. You didn’t spend all those hours three seats over from a colicky  baby and its miserable mother to argue with him about what you were. You just were, can’t that be enough?

You snap like a crunchy autumn leaf under a steel-toed boot. “Fine! Fine. Yes,” you concede to the fictional world, the alternate timeline with death and taxes etc, etc. To the universe where everything is different.  To the world where everything is different, but everything is really just as it is; where the more things change, the more they stay the same. “My answer would be yes, let’s just say ‘fuck it’ and try because why the hell not? It’s not like we got along before all this.”

“Exactly. If we crash and burn, so what? We just go back to hating each other.”

“I can’t. I can’t, Charles. I care about my family too much.”

“You’re just scared. God, you’re like a child,” he speaks without thought, letting the words fly with reckless abandon. If you wanted to argue with him you’d latch onto that line. You don’t, though. You don’t want to argue, you never did. 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” your voice cracks. It goes unaddressed by anything more than a shrug. “I don’t.”

“I want you to stop being a fucking coward and go on a date with me!”

“Charles,” you frown. Your nose burns. The gap, the gap, the gap. The impossible to bridge gap that you and he stand on either side of, waving aimlessly, begging the other with a silent plea—please. Please see what I see. I promise it’s better my way. 

“One date,” he says, barely above a whisper, holding up a single finger. It’s his plea. “Nobody has to know we’re doing it.”

“I…” your breath catches in your throat, mind racing through potential responses. You lean forward in your seat, put your elbows on your knees and bury your face in your hands before you start crying. You won’t cry, you can’t. He can’t make you cry. 

You sniffle, even though you aren’t crying—an audible reminder to yourself that you won’t be crying. That you’re eliminating the effects before they can even start. He must think you are crying, though, because the tension in the room deflates with every step he takes across the room. He lowers himself to your level, and you can feel the ghost of his hands lingering in a space just beyond your skin, like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch you. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, fuck. I’m sorry,” his voice is so guilty, his hands finally touching your knees, thumbs moving in smooth, calming circles over your skin. You don’t have an opinion on the way you melt into putty under his touch. 

When you pull your hands away from your face, they fall into your lap, find his and mold into some tangled mess of fingers. You take a deep breath—an attempt to steady yourself before finally speaking again, and with a subtle shake of your head, you’re able to silently explain to him that you’re okay, that his words are not the reason you’re so upset. 

It’s so much more than that, than being a child or a coward of anything else he could possibly throw your way. With just as many words, he searches your eyes for answers, for a why that you couldn’t give him if you tried. 

Everything with him is so unsaid. 

“Okay,” you whisper echoes around the room. “Okay, a date,” you nod. 

His furrow softens, the lines in his face smoothing over and the corners of his lips fighting a smile. “No,” he says softly, as if trying to give you an out, to free you from any perceived obligation. “You don’t have to do that.”

Your hand finds its way to his cheek, a gentle gesture of reassurance, and you lean in, pressing a soft kiss on those lips that want to smile so bad. It’s not about making him happy, though. It’s about letting yourself entertain the idea of satisfaction, of individual happiness. 

He’s so. There’s no getting sick of kissing him, there just isn't. You sigh into his mouth and stand up, and you still want more. You still want more, towels dropping to the cold floor. Your knees bump against the back of the bed and it’s all giggly, and you still haven’t had enough. You maneuver onto the bed without separating, like the world might end if you’re not kissing him, and you’re convinced it might never be enough. That you’ll always crave more. 

It’s all so comfortable, the way you two move around each other. It’s fluid. It’s calm. It’s soft, the look on his face when he’s slotted comfortably between your knees, His fingers trace your skin softly, almost ghostly in the way they graze through the valley of your breasts. You shiver. The goosebumps make you laugh against his lips. 

He takes care of you, kissing you, trailing his lips down to your boobs, taking your nipple in his mouth, moving his tongue in sharp circles. Anything to elicit a reaction—get you all perky and poised for him. He palms your other tit with his big, strong hand, and your hands find a home in his hair, running through the curls, dragging your nails through the short locks at the nape of his neck. 

You pull him up to kiss you and his hand slots comfortably on your jaw, sliding down slowly over your throat, applying a phantom pressure. It’s all bumping noses and sharing breath, him biting his bottom lip before swallowing yours again. He’s afraid to hurt you. It’s so fucking hot.

He moves you around so easily, hands on the back of your knees, pushing your legs against your chest before licking a long stipe through your cunt. You moan louder than intended, because it’s him doing it. Because it’s him doing it. He spreads them next, big strong hands inside your thighs, leaves a soft kiss on your clit. Out of necessity, your hands find something to grab in his own, spread flat over your stomach now, his tongue moving in quick, hard flicks over your clit. It makes you pant–writhe and pant and whine. 

You search for grounding everywhere when his tongue sinks inside you, nose brushing against your clit—your palm your own breasts, white-knuckle the sheets and his shoulders and the sheets again. 

His hands move up your sides and he curls his tongue around your cunt, pulls a pornographic moan from your lips. You write, moving up onto your elbows and he spreads your legs wider, wider, wider. Fuck. Fuck, he’s so good to you. An arm loops under your leg, around your thigh and over your cunt, sliding through your lips and opening you up for him all pretty. His eyes meet yours and he’s so pleased with himself, a genuine smile at the state he’s got you in and then he’s sucking down hard on your clip, pulling off with an audible pop. Your head falls back, your hole body tensing with pleasure when he doesn’t fucking stop sucking and licking and fucking. Your hands are on his again, gripping onto him for dear life, moving wherever he moves. 

Your legs shake, fight against the hand on the inside of your thigh to close around his head, but he’s stronger than you. Fuck, he is. “So pretty,” he tells you, and you shudder, smile hard against the sheets and bury your hands in his hair.

“Right there,” you say through short, heavy pants, and then it’s all out the window. Game over, and you’re coming in his mouth and he still isn’t stopping so you just keep coming—so fucking hard, grinding against his mouth without any sense of rhythm. You think you could live in this high forever.

He kisses you, moves you—god, you’d be a ragdoll if he wanted, you think you really would. He moves you under him, up on your side and kisses down your shoulder, down your arm. He’s so kissy, can’t stay off you. It’s soft and romantic and it doesn’t make you ill at all, honest. 

His words, though, they still want to keep up your little act. “You want me to fuck you, baby?” He asks, moving his dick through your slick, lining himself up to fuck you. 

“Yes, yes,” you mewl, nodding hurriedly. He kisses you, sinks into you somewhere in the middle of it and you gasp into his mouth. 

“Fff…” he trails off, bottoming out into you. “You okay?” he asked. You nod. You nod because you’re so full of him you can’t speak. The gesture is more than enough for him, provides him with the permission he needs to start fucking into you, to brace himself with a hand on either of your hips and thrust deep inside of you, bottoming out each and every time. “Fuck. Fuck, c’mere,” he groans, and then pulls you back against him, your back flush against his chest. 

You crane your neck to kiss him, moan into his mouth when he’s cupping your ass and fucking you. You moan—gasp—and he fucking laughs. “Oh my god,” you whimper. “So good.”

He breathes sharp through his teeth, the bottom of his jaw rutting out with every thrust and then he’s biting your shoulder. He bruises the skin and kisses it better. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” he says, and you want, so badly, to make him feel as good as he makes you. 

“Wanna fuck you,” you say. “Let me fuck you.”

He doesn’t need convincing. “Okay,” he nods. “Okay, please.”

You’re half-hearted in your push back against his arm. He’s the reason he pulls out of you and falls back onto his back, makes space for you to straddle him and grind against him and kiss him and kiss him and let him kiss you. 

With a cocky grin and dark green eyes he moves his cock through your slick, lets a smug laugh slip through his lips as he lines up with your hole so you can sink down on him, slow. Slow. Slow because the stretch burns every fucking time. 

“Fuck,” you stumble, “s’big.” 

He meets you halfway, lifts his hips up off the bed to minimize the time he spends not buried inside of you. He smiles all stupid and your stuttered whine. “Fucking took it all the other times,” he breathes out, fingers digging deep into the skin over your hips. 

“Fuck you,” you laugh. He winces, and it only makes you laugh harder, lean down to kiss him so your chests are pressed against each other and grind your hips. His arms wrap around your middle, big and strong and pulling you impossibly close to him and the pace that he sets underneath you. They roam your body, his hands dancing over your sides and your back and knot into your hair, keep roaming until he’s grabbing at your ass. 

“You’re so fucking wet,” he says. You don’t need his words to know that, the sounds of your cunt clenching around him audibly demonstrating just how wet you are with every single thrust. “Always so good for me.” 

It doesn’t take long for you to come again, with the new angle and the new vulnerability. It never takes long with him, like he knows every inch of your body and just how to use it. “Mhm, fuck. Jesus,” you shudder, breath choppy and desperate. He’s relentless through your orgasm, like always, and it just extends it, draws it out painfully long. “I fucking l—ah—” you clench around him, legs shaking on either side of his abs. Your spasms aren’t calmed by even his strong hands, but he keeps them there anyway. 

“I love fucking you, baby,” he says, nibbles on your ear, kisses nowhere in particular and everywhere at once. You’re filled with butterflied by his crude words. 

“Do it, then,” you beg. “Please, fuck, please, Charles.”

In a single, swift movement, he pulls you off him and flips you onto your back. Immediately, without any semblance of hesitation, you’re reaching for his cock, to guide him back to where you want him, to where he belongs. You ache when you’re this close to him, when you’re this close and don’t have him, aren’t full of him. 

His hands find both of yours, interlock your fingers and move them somewhere above your head, pinned against the sheets. “Don’t say my name like that,” he whispers.

You play dumb, but your cheeks are flushed. “Why not?”

��You drive me crazy,” he says, kisses you before you can even attempt to rebuke his claims. 

“Me?” you laugh, fingers dancing over his abs. If his eyes weren’t so fucking green , you’re sure you’d find the reaction to your touch, the flexing of his muscles under the pads of your fingers, to be quite the show. 

He smiles all soft. “You.”

Your hand pulls him to you by the back of his neck, something about you can’t say something like that and not kiss me after, and then you’re licking against his teeth and it’s all so hazy—the way he slides back inside you between gasped breaths, the way you bite down on his bottom lip when he fucks you so well, and the way your legs wrap around his waist when you come, trying to pull him closer, deeper, to feel him with every nerve ending. 

“That’s right,” he says, a rare calming presence through your orgasms. He doesn’t do this often, not with you, at least. “Atta girl,” he laughs. “Make a mess.”

He fucks you through it, he does, but it’s slow and steady until you’re finished, back in reality, and then he’s the messy one—fast, hard, fucking into you with reckless abandon. Fast, fast, faster. It’s fucking blinding. Fuck, it’s good. It’s so good. 

He groans against your shoulders, hips snapping against yours. “Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, because you’re so fucked at this point that English attempts to escape you. “You’re so fucking close, yes,” you moan, “please, give it to me, baby,” and then he’s coming, head buried in your neck. His body weight is heavy on you, every muscle tensing as you’re fucked full of his cum. 

The two of you are so close, have never been fucking closer, and it still doesn’t feel like enough. “Fuck,” you giggle, and his whole body shakes with his own laughter, moving up to kiss you. You smile through the whole thing, through the hard kiss and the soft pecks that follow, through his fingers brushing the hairs from your forehead and the feeling of him dripping down your leg. Through all of it, you’re both smiling. 

It’s giddy, almost, and God. God, you’re so fucking happy.

[adore-laur]

DEVOTION

— please enjoy harry & sawyer getting freaky in miami (inspired by this ask)💃

——

MIAMI, 1993

People are packed into the arena like sardines. August humidity suffuses the air, a cacophony of chatter overlaps, and infectious energy pulses in the room as everyone waits for Sade to hit the stage in all their sensational glory.

In the general admission area, Harry stands behind Sawyer with his arms protectively draped over her shoulders. Her footing shifts occasionally as she fiddles with his rings. He can sense her anticipation—she's been looking forward to this concert for months. When he gifted her the tickets on her birthday, she wept and kissed him with a hunger he had never experienced from her before. As much as he spoils her, she goes the extra mile to show him her appreciation.

Once the lights go out, Harry can't wait to see her vivacious eyes and dazzling smile.

Sawyer looks ravishing tonight. Her black cropped tank top has a variety of enticing little cutouts—no bra underneath, he might add—and she's wearing low-waisted denim shorts that hug her ass most temptingly. There's a reason he opted to stand behind her—two, actually. One, he doesn't want any dudes getting a sneak peek at his girl. And two, he doesn't need anyone to see his hardness through his leather pants.

She curled her hair with natural-looking spirals and teased it with spray. Her long, wavy mane has always been a hassle to manage in the summertime, so she cut it collarbone-length. Her front bangs are tightly clipped back, and she wears gold hoop earrings. She’s truly a stunner.

Prior to leaving, Harry watched her as she got ready for the concert. They live together in a swanky Orlando penthouse, where simple things like her clothes hanging in the closet and makeup supplies cluttering the bathroom sink make him unbelievably happy. While he gently reminded Sawyer that they needed to leave soon for the three-and-a-half-hour drive to Miami, she applied her mascara and teased him by showing her cleavage while bent over the vanity. Despite his provocative urges, he managed to resist giving in.

When Sawyer turns to look at him now, the room reduces to just her. Lucious lips are stained with a pomegranate-red gloss. Skin glowing with moisture. Dark eyes filled with warmth. It’s breathtaking to behold the sheer beauty of her features. Time and time again, she hypnotizes him. He's beginning to think she can cast spells on his lovesick soul.

Sawyer taps his bicep before standing on her tiptoes to reach his ear. In an instinctive move, Harry touches her hip and leans down to better hear her.

Fanning herself, she says, "It's muggy in here. I'm going to buy a water bottle and braid my hair in the bathroom."

"I'll go with you."

"But you have to save our spot," she reminds him.

Though he nearly protests, he reluctantly nods and caresses the slick skin of her bare middle back. "Fine. You have your phone?"

"In my purse. I'll be fast."

Harry kisses the spot between her eyebrows before letting her go, keeping her locked in his gaze until she disappears past the lower seating sections. In crowds, regardless of size, he doesn’t like losing her. During baseball games, it’s less worrying since she always sits in the same section in her reserved seat, but in Miami, he's extra cautious because it's an unfamiliar city. Sawyer can stand up for herself since sass and stubbornness are intertwined in her Aries DNA, but Harry remains fiercely protective of her. She's a certified sweetheart, conspicuously beautiful, and also quite gullible to a fault—if anyone attempts to take advantage of that, they'll have to answer to him.

While she's gone, Harry observes the venue. There are people from all walks of life surrounding him. The staggered seating sections flanking the floor are filling quickly, and it's reminiscent of playing at Tinker Field, where he would watch fans fill the bleachers from the dugout.

In a few weeks, the minor league season will conclude, and Harry is looking forward to taking a much-needed break from pitching and traveling. He's thankful he didn’t have a game scheduled today, which gave him and Sawyer the chance to step out for a date. It aches to know she's missed him a little more after such a long season. Due to her full-time job, she can’t always travel across America with him or attend home games, but they’re able to make it work by cherishing their time together. Next month, they plan to celebrate their second anniversary in Seville, Spain. They'll sunbathe on the scenic beaches, relish a couples massage, and take romantic strolls through the city's idyllic parks.

And, if Harry doesn't chicken out, he'll ask her to marry him.

Fondly smiling at the thought, he watches two girls strut toward him, parting the crowd like the Red Sea. They're wearing variations of the same outfit—metallic miniskirts, frilly halter tops, and chunky heels. Based on their strikingly similar features, they must be twins. Twin One holds a Canon camera, while Twin Two laughs into her hands.

Harry waves politely before shoving his hands in his pockets. The moment a fan recognizes him, he knows it. There’s a strange shift in the atmosphere when he temporarily loses his shield of privacy. It's unavoidable when fifteen thousand people are gathered in a Miami venue. It comes with the territory of being a famous Florida sports figure.

"Are you Harry Styles?"

Here we go.

Feeling abnormal but pushing past it, he says, "In the flesh. How's it going, ladies?"

"Oh my gosh, we love you," Twin One gushes. "You're hella cute. You play for the Sun Rays, right?"

"Sort of. Our team name changed recently. We're now the Orlando Cubs."

"Oh, cool," she says distractedly. "Anyway, we want a picture with you."

With a sharp inhale, Harry nods once. “Sure, no problem."

It doesn't bother him to take pictures or sign autographs. Most people are respectful and genuinely honored to meet him. Rarely, however, do people demand things from him, like right now. Then he feels prickles of discomfort. It makes him feel as though he's being exploited. It makes him feel fictitious.

As the girls swarm around him and touch him like he's a wax figure with no boundaries, Sawyer nudges her way through the crowd, water bottle in hand. As she processes the situation, her movements slow and her shoulders drop slightly. She has her hair in two messy braids, with the shorter layers springing loose. She looks effortless and... annoyed. Yeah, Harry is all too familiar with that look. He has been on the receiving end of those slanted eyebrows, those gritted teeth, and those assessing eyes. How will this play out?

When she sees Sawyer, Twin Two strokes his arm suggestively. Thankfully, they see her as a mere stranger rather than his girlfriend. His mind flashes back to past discussions about keeping their relationship as private as possible, and he decides not to sacrifice that for such a meager moment. No chance.

"Can you take a photo of us?" It was wise of her to ask, rather than demand. Otherwise, Harry's friendly mask would have definitely slipped.

Sawyer purses her lips as she meets Harry's gaze. "Do you mind?" he asks, his expression hinting at a secret message.

By taking Twin One's camera, she recognizes his unspoken signal and cleverly leaps into her role. God, he's thankful for her. He knows it's challenging to deal with these bizarre occurrences that pop their bubble, but she handles them all so gracefully. When they get home, he’ll shower her with affection.

Sawyer raises the camera to her eye and says, "I'll take a few."

Harry straightens his posture and awkwardly places his hands on both girls' upper arms. His muscles tense uncomfortably as their hands slither around his waist and linger near his stomach. Amid three flashes, he’s suffocated by the pungent smell of perfume and spearmint gum.

“There you go,” Sawyer says, giving the camera back and forcing a smile.

They browse the pictures before staring at Harry with a sickening amount of adoration. "It was awesome meeting you," Twin Two says, biting her lip. "We'll see you around at the next Sun Rays game."

"Cubs," Sawyer mumbles around a fake cough. Only Harry catches it, and he restrains himself from grinning proudly and kissing her senselessly.

"Nice to meet you both," he says, briefly touching his heart. "Enjoy the concert, yeah?"

They nod, blush, and giggle simultaneously before walking off, staring back at him a couple of times before fading into the sea of strangers. Harry releases a breath he didn't know he was holding and concentrates on Sawyer drinking from her water bottle. He's about to apologize for the unnatural situation, but the venue goes dark, and the audience erupts with deafening cheers.

The joy he expected to see in Sawyer's eyes isn't there. Silently, she crosses her arms and faces the stage with a blank expression. Harry curses at himself—he knows it isn't his fault and that it's just how Sawyer is. She takes things to heart and lets them stew until her skeptical thoughts overflow without a lid. The fact that she didn’t witness the entire interaction has made her understandably upset. Harry regrets not saying no to the fans.

First on the setlist is "The Sweetest Taboo"—sonically sensual, intoxicatingly groovy, and a fantastic way to open their show. Everybody dances to the exquisite beat and sings along to the lyrics. The energy in the room soars to an unimaginable level. It's contagious.

Harry grips Sawyer's hand so the crowd doesn't swallow her whole. She turns and smiles softly, finally bobbing her head to the music. Slowly, she loosens up, unfurling the passionate girl he knows lives within her. The one who loves to dance.

She looks resplendent as indigo lights glide across her face. Her body begins to move—the shape of her swaying hips and the pinch of her waist are irresistible. Harry settles behind her and follows her smooth movements, grinding against her backside. The warmth of his hands rests on her ribcage, and they dance, getting lost in the ecstasy of experiencing live music.

With each song, they forget about the world outside and fall more in love with each other.

——

Harry and Sawyer leave the arena on a high after being captivated by Sade's sultry voice and entrancing stage presence for over an hour. The parking lots are already congested with people trying to beat traffic, so they decide to wait until it calms down.

As soon as they get into the car, Harry starts the engine and turns on the air conditioning before reclining in the driver's seat. With exhaustion swimming through his bones, he sighs contently. It was a magical concert, but he's not looking forward to driving back to Orlando. He'll need to stop by 7/11 for an energy drink and some snacks. Fortunately, tomorrow is Sunday, so they can both sleep in and laze around the whole day.

Sawyer unbraids her hair and removes the clips, then shakes her head cutely to loosen her wild curls. She looks tired as well. They danced the night away together, not caring who saw them. He told her to climb on his back a few times so she could get a better view of the stage. During the romantic slow-tempo songs, she hugged and kissed him sweetly, and he swears he almost got down on one knee right then and there.

"I love you, baby," Harry says, watching her take off her Doc Martens. "Tonight was divine."

A smile spreads across Sawyer's face. "I love you too. Hey, listen..." She reaches over to caress his cheek and thumb the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry about my buzzkill attitude at the beginning."

Shaking his head, he kisses her palm. “You don't have to apologize. I appreciate how you handled those girls."

He hopes to forget about what happened. Honestly, as soon as the concert started, he forgot all about them. There was only one thing on his mind: Sawyer and the mesmerizing way she moved.

"I just... I got jealous," Sawyer confesses sheepishly.

Harry frowns in astonishment. Jealousy is a rare emotion for Sawyer. They’ve been dating for almost two years, and he can count on one hand the number of times she has been outwardly jealous. Since he only has eyes for her, there's no rhyme or reason for her to feel this way.

What a new and fun development, Harry thinks to himself. He loves how their relationship continues to surprise him.

Harry, however, has been caught having jealous fits many times before. Like that instance when Sawyer was invited to lunch by her so-called "cubicle neighbor." Harry is her forever lunch date, not anyone else. Even when he can't be there in person, he'll call her office fax number and keep her company while she munches her cucumber salad. Harry's jealousy grew when he discovered some guy was trying to steal that from him, so he ordered an impressive bouquet to be delivered to her desk the following day. It didn't take long for everyone to get the hint. Then there was that time when they were watching The Bodyguard, and Sawyer kept squealing girlishly over Kevin Costner's character. Okay, so he literally took a bullet for the woman he loved. Big deal! Harry smothered his jealousy by obnoxiously pretending to be Sawyer's bodyguard while exiting the movie theater and then proceeding to sing "I Have Nothing" off-key the entire way home. She just laughed, which was his goal in the first place.

"Why'd you get jealous?" Harry asks.

Sawyer's brow quirks. "Well, when I'm subjected to taking pictures of two pretty girls who are all over my boyfriend, it doesn't necessarily feel good."

"I know," he says, frustrated with himself. "I should've refused them. They kind of trapped me."

She pouts sympathetically before climbing over the console and straddling his thighs. "My sweet sunray. You're too nice."

Harry pulls her closer by hooking his fingers through her belt loops and tugging. "I'm sorry you were jealous."

"I shouldn't have been. You know why?"

"Tell me." Reaching around her, he turns up the volume of the radio to drown out the sounds of cars honking at each other. The cassette tape they listened to on the drive to Miami is still playing on loop. "Paradise" by Sade sets the mood.

"Because you're mine," Sawyer says with conviction.

Spreading his legs on the seat, he smirks. "Say that again, angel."

"You're mine. No one else's."

"Ditto," he replies, rubbing his palms along her suntanned thighs. "You've got my devotion."

His bodacious girl bites his bottom lip until it stings, then says, "Prove it."

"Good fuckin' lord," Harry murmurs against her mouth before diving in. He kisses her ravenously while fumbling to unbutton her shorts, eventually helping her shimmy out of them. Sawyer shoves her hand down his pants and grasps his bulge, stroking it purposefully. He gasps and slides his pants down halfway, revealing his tented boxers.

"Are you mine?" she asks, sitting right on his cock and sending shockwaves of sex drive down his spine. Her body's heat is addictive.

"Yes," he says breathlessly, kissing her flushed neck. "I'm your man."

"Then act like it. Show me who you belong to."

A shocked laugh escapes as he greedily grabs a handful of her ass. "Sawyer Alejandra, what has Miami done to you? Ay, Dios mío!"

She smiles seductively. "It's Sade's fault."

"Is that right?" Harry cranks the volume up even more before allusively sliding his hand under her top and cupping the swell of her breast. It fits perfectly, and when he teases her peaked nipple with his thumb, Sawyer's palm slaps against the window as she grinds against him. The glass is fogging with the A/C running, sweat drips down his back, and the song's driving bass line pulsates loudly through the speakers. It's filthy what they're doing, considering potential onlookers surround them. It's a good thing the car has tinted windows.

The thrill of their sexual escapade pulses through Harry's body. As he kisses Sawyer's heaving breasts through her top's cutouts, the pleasure becomes borderline intolerable. His lips search for any sliver of skin, and in response, she tugs at his hair and whimpers softly. Her skimpy lace underwear is damp, and he switches his attention to her clit. He rubs it with his knuckle, causing Sawyer's hips to momentarily stutter before she leans into the movement and stamps sloppy kisses all over his face, her cherry-flavored lip gloss transferring to his cheeks, nose, and jaw. They're as sweet as sugar.

"Almost there," Sawyer whispers, running her hand across his broad chest. Her fingers grip the material of his bejeweled sleeveless top to keep herself balanced, and Harry would let her rip it apart if he hadn't spent several hours meticulously hot gluing rhinestones onto it.

After kissing down her stomach and blowing air onto her belly button ring, he teases two fingers past her wet entrance, and it's all she needs to unravel completely. As she orgasms, she leaves love bites on his neck and moans. Her body language is desperate; the arch of her back and the tightening of her thighs against his own help her through her release.

"Nice and easy, baby," Harry murmurs, squeezing her waist. "Take your time."

From the gratifying pain she inflicts on the tender flesh of his neck, Harry comes in his boxers, his pelvis jerking as goosebumps rise over his skin in transient tidal waves. It feels equally divine and unholy to do what they just did. Tiredness kicks in as they both breathe heavily. Gradually, the condensation on the windows disappears. Sawyer's handprint is the last thing to vanish, and the sight will undeniably haunt his memory in the most marvelous way.

Harry opens the glovebox and finds the stash of napkins. After cleaning Sawyer and himself, he pulls his pants back up, shuts the radio off, and says, "I've made up my mind."

"About what?" Sawyer asks, sitting sideways on his lap so she can stretch her legs. In just her cropped top, underwear, and adorable ruffle socks, she's a masterpiece. And all his.

"I'm going to marry you one day," he says. It's something he's known for a long time. He hopes that easing her into the topic will make him more confident about proposing next month.

Sawyer pinches his earlobe. "Don't say dreamy things like that."

"Oh, that’s bogus," he retorts. "You say heart-stopping things to me all the time without even realizing it. Especially after sex."

"Not marriage-related things!"

"Does that mean you don't want to marry me?" he asks, fishing for a reaction.

When she goes quiet and stares contemplatively at him, Harry's stomach swoops. He knows her exceptionally well, which means he knows she tends to shy away from substantial conversations regarding their future when they're sprung upon her by his spontaneous nature. Perhaps it's too early to propose a lifelong commitment, but hasn't she imagined sharing a life with him before? The moment he kissed her for the first time, he fantasized about settling down, buying a house away from the city, tying the knot, and having curly-haired babies.

Eventually, Sawyer says, "I would marry you in this parking lot right now if you asked me to."

Harry feels an internal splash of relief and plays it cool by saying, "Please raise your standards."

"Are you saying you wouldn't want to marry me in a parking lot, lover boy?" She tosses her version of his question back to him with a frisky smile.

"I'd find you and marry you in every lifetime. How's that for an answer?"

She’s speechless for five full seconds before lurching forward to hug him, her heart hammering. "You're crazy. I love you so, so much."

"I adore you," Harry whispers. He reaches for the 'S' pendant hiding under his top's neckline and pulls it out. "I'm forever yours."

Sawyer kisses him repeatedly and says, "Forever."

During the journey home, she falls asleep with her head in his lap, holding his hand while he drives. His thumb absentmindedly strokes her ring finger, and he feels a surge of emotion and excitement knowing he will get to spend the years to come by her side.

Years filled with being deeply devoted to her.

——

[mattsturniolosmuse]

You're Like Me

Young Dexter Morgan x Reader

Summary: You are also a serial killer, for the same reason as Dexter. You only kill people who deserve to be killed. When Dexter gets bullied, you stick up for him, starting a friendship.

Warnings: SMUT, oral male receiving, p in v, unprotected sex (please practice safe sex)

"Look! It's Dreadful Dexter!" Someone says, pointing to Dexter and laughing.

You looked over. Dexter was sitting at a picnic table, picking at his lunch. You felt bad for him. He was always a target for being picked on. He was just so much different from everybody else.

"Hey, leave him alone, won't you?" You call towards the bully. He looks at you and chuckles.

"What're you going to do about it, Miss Prissy?" He asked, crossing his arms.

You could do lots of things. Usually involving a roll of duct tape and a chainsaw.

"If only you knew." You say. He laughs and walks away, picking up a basketball off of the court.

You approach Dexter.

"Hey, Dex." You say. He smiles shyly.

"Hi. And... thanks." He says, packing up his lunch.

"No problem. Want to walk to class together?" You ask. He nods. He was in your biology class, and he was really smart. Right now, you were doing dissections, which you and him seem to be the only ones who enjoy it.

The walk to class was pretty much silent. You looked at him. His long hair was brushing over his face, and he was biting his lips.

You had to admit, he was pretty cute.

"You want to hang out after school today?" You ask to break the silence.

He shakes his head. "Sorry, I have... something to do."

You nod.

"Tomorrow after school?" He says instead. You smile and nod. You got to class, and you find your desk, and he finds his.

>>>><<<<

You were in the forest just outside Miami, looking for some new spots to take your victims. After an hour, you had found an old shack.

Perfect. You thought to yourself.

But when you entered the front, you heard voices coming from inside. You froze.

"What about her? Remember her?" A familiar voice said.

"No- no! I swear!" Another voice said, trembling. Then it started screaming.

You went further into the shack. Layers of plastic sheet covered the walls. And then you see him.

Dexter standing over the naked body of an older man, who was duct taped to a table. A saw was slicing through the mans arm.

Dexter jumps when he sees you.

"Y/N? I-i can explain!" He says, looking at you with fear in his eyes.

You just smile.

"Dex, you're doing it wrong." You say, taking the saw from him.

"You have to cut in a smooth motion, tip to blade. It helps make a cleaner cut and takes out less blood." You say, demonstrating.

Dexter looks at you.

"You're like me." He says, lips barely parting to say the words. You nod and blush, looking down.

He takes a step closer to you, and your bodies are touching. You look up into his bright blue eyes. But they aren't bright anymore.

Soon enough his lips are on yours. You freeze, not knowing what to do or how to do it. But soon enough, you're kissing back, your hands in his hair.

Dexter tilts his head, so you do the same, the opposite way. His hands trail down your sides and rest on your waist. He squeezes gently and you gasp. Dexter takes this opportunity to slip his tongue in your mouth. He spins you around and pushes you against the wooden wall behind him.

"Jump." He says, his voice deep. You obey, jumping. He catches you and wraps your legs around his waist, still pushing you up against the wall.

"I'm gonna fuck you so good, baby." He says, his lips moving to your neck. He leaves a few love bites across your throat and jaw. You tug at the hem of his shirt, and he pauses to lift it over his head and off of his body.

His lips attack yours again, his tongue forcing its way past your lips. You trail your hands down his stomach. He doesn't have abs, but he's still in good shape.

Dexter's hands fumble with the strings of your sweatpants. He finally gets them off, and his hand rubs circles through the fabric of your underwear. You moan slightly and throw your head back.

"W-wait, Dex." You say, looking him in the eyes.

"You ok?" He asks, suddenly scared.

"Yeah, I just want to try something first." You say. He puts you down and you push him against the wall, kneeling in front of him. You tug his jeans down along with his boxers.

"God, baby." He says as you kiss his tip, throbbing red and leaking precum. His body jerks as you take all of him in your mouth.

"Mmm..." He moans, tangling his hands in your hair. He tugs slightly, and you hum, sending vibrations down his dick. He pushes your head into him, and he hits the back of your throat, making you gag and drool.

"S-so good, baby." He whimpers. You feel him twitching, and not long after, his warm cum shoots down your throat. You stand up, wiping the excess off of your chin and kissing him. He turns you around once more, and you jump automatically. You grind into him, and he groans, hastily pulling your panties off. You unzip your sweater and reach your hands back to unbuckle your bra, still not breaking the sloppy kiss.

You are both now fully naked.

"You ready?" Dexter asks you, making eye contact. You nod, and he pushes himself into your wet folds, letting out the loudest moan yet.

You gasp at the new feeling. Sure, you've had fingers in you before, but this was different. He was a tad bit bigger than your little fingers.

"S-so tight, baby." Dexter says, pushing in and out of you, slowly getting faster in pace.

"D-dexter! Faster, please!" You moan, nails digging into his skin. He obeys, fucking you at an inhumanly pace. His face is buried in your neck, gently kissing the skin.

His lips trail down to your breasts, leaving huge hickeys all over. He lifts one nipple into his mouth, roughly kneeding the other.

"I'm s-so close, Dex." You say, cock drunk.

"Me too." Dexter responds. His pounds started getting slower and sloppier, and soon you feel his seed shoot into you. He keeps going, waiting for you to orgasm. You clench down on him. He moans sinfully.

"Come on, baby, cum all over my cock." He whispers in your ear. You release, whimpering in his ear, toes curling.

Dexter pulls out of you and places you on the floor, handing you your clothes. You guys silently dress and he pulls you in for a hug.

"I love you. I never knew I was capable feelings until I met you." He says, kissing the top of your head.

"I love you too, Dex. Now, what are we going to do with this body?" You say, gesturing towards the bloody mess on the table.

[deadmandead10845]

Brady - Fat2Fit2Fat

(243lbs) Brady works at an insurance agency in Kansas City. He’s far away from everything, and hates his job. He hates commuting and has two acquaintances and no real friends. He’s let himself go pretty badly, but he doesn’t have the will power to hit the gym or change any part of his life. Thankfully, he’s been at his company for 10 years and earns a 3 month sabbatical with full pay to use.

(243lbs) Brady took the first part of his sabbatical to hike in the mountains solo. He stumbled upon what looked like an abandoned shack with smoke coming out of the chimney. He knew nightfall would be soon so he wanted to ask the local if he could crash at their place for the night. He knocked on the door and it opened itself. He let himself in and called.

BRADY: Hello!!!

(243lbs) A mysterious figure appeared around the corner. The woman introduced herself as Cora.

CORA: I’ve been practicing witchcraft in the mountains since I was little and now I am the only one left. Some witch will reveal too much about herself and then she’s hunted by the locals. I chose to reveal my house and myself to you because I can tell you’re not from here and you have an open mind.

BRADY: I definitely have an open mind. I came here to the mountains to find myself. I am on a sabbatical trying to find some sort of motivation.

CORA: What is one thing you don’t have control over that you wish to have infinite control of?

BRADY: *looks down at his soft out of shape body and looks up*

His body has always been a sense of insecurity that made him feel inadequate and less than because he wishes he was fit.

CORA: Nothing with power, career, money?

BRADY: I just want to like how I look and control what I look like.

CORA: *rummages through the cabinet and throws some leaves into what looks like a brewing potion. Once all the ingredients were stirred in, the liquid began to glow a pale orange color.*

BRADY: Is this legit going to help me?

CORA: You drink and find out. Or you can go beg your doctor for Ozempic and forget you came here. At least this is free!

BRADY: I’m not being drugged right now?

CORA: You are, just not a bad kind.

BRADY: *takes the vial of orange liquid and drinks it*

CORA: How do you wish to look?

BRADY: I just want to lose like 75 pounds.

(165lbs) Brady’s pants fell down immediately and his blue polo shirt wore him like a dress.

BRADY: Holy shit I must be hallucinating.

CORA: You’re not but I figured you’d have this reaction. Sleep it off.

Cora snapped her fingers and Brady’s vision blacked out.

—

Brady woke up in his hotel room down at the base of the mountain. He walked to the bathroom and sure enough he was completely thin. He went to put on an outfit and quickly realized nothing in his suitcase would fit him. Everything he had was a 40” waist and all his shirts were XL. He ran through the closest Walmart holding his shorts bunched up in his hand hoping he wouldn’t drop them and bought a new pair of 30” waist shorts. He was so happy.

After his 3 months concluded, he returned to Missouri and submitted his 2 week notice. He wanted a fresh start where he could show off his new skinny body and get laid for once. He was a gay man living in the Midwest with approximately 5 blank Grindr profiles within a 25 mile radius.

(149lbs) Brady packed up all his belongings and moved to Miami. He looked in the mirror and audibly said “I wish I was a twink.” And in the blink of an eye another 15 pounds disappeared off his body. He met Javi at Twist, the local gay club near his apartment. After almost 2 years, the two fell in love and became inseparable and lived together. Javi told Brady he should start going to the gym and getting big arms and a six pack because he wasn’t super into twinks. Brady quietly looked at himself in the bathroom mirror once or twice a week asking for just 1 pound more trying to subtly get larger for Javi without alerting him to his powers given to him by the witch.

(195lbs) Brady had gotten extremely fit and did no work for it. The potion he took two years ago was unbelievable. Javi loved Brady’s new extremely fit body and Brady loved the attention. Brady however, wasn’t sure he loved how he looked. Javi was going away on business to Houston for a month, so Brady booked himself a trip to Hawaii by himself to hopefully ground himself.

(210lbs) Brady wished another 15 pounds of muscle onto his body before he left for Hawaii. He wanted to look his best for the beach so he could post photos of his body online for attention. He wasn’t the happiest, so the online attention helped. Once he landed in Hawaii he took the private boat to the small isolated island resort he had booked.

(175lbs) Brady hated how he looked so he wished 30 pounds off his body because he thought a leaner look would suit him and he tried to walk around the beach and feel comfortable but he really wasn’t sure why he wasn’t comfortable with himself. Brady had an idea, he went to the surf shop in the lobby and bought himself a pair of 2XL swim trunks and went up to his room. He bought himself a case of beers and drank away. He got in the mirror looked at himself and asked for a dad bod.

(280lbs) Brady, still very much in shape but much larger (100lbs larger to be exact) walked down the beach with his beer gut and massive arms. He was happy. He actually liked how he looked. No one recognized him from earlier and all the other guests just thought he was a new arrival to the resort. Brady went back to the surf shop and bought a 2XL Hawaiian shirt before returning home to Florida.

(305lbs) Brady was a huge guy. He wished himself even bigger and squeezed himself into the premium economy seat he booked on points and flew home to Florida. He spent nearly 12 hours total on the plane and when he walked in the door felt like everything was all wrong. He was skinny Brady in Florida, not big and beefy. Javi was due to arrive at any minute. When Brady heard the lock turning, he ran to the bathroom and wished his body back to his 195lb self.

Javi found the 2XL shirts and asked and Brady told him he was trying oversized fashion and didn’t like it, so he threw the shirt away. Brady couldn’t stop thinking about his little escape he had in Hawaii and after a few months went back to the bathroom and wished to be a bit bigger. Javi hated it so much. Javi kept telling Brady to hit the treadmill and to eat less.

(243lbs) Brady was back at the same weight he was before he met Cora the witch. However, he had so much muscle on his body he was a lot smaller than Javi still hated it. Brady loved his small belly and missed playing with the belly he once had when he was an insurance agent back in Missouri. The two attended couple’s therapy to no avail. Ultimately, it let to Brady and Javi breaking up. Javi kicked Brady out of the apartment. Just to get back at Javi, Brady lost all the weight before coming to the apartment to collect his belongings.

Brady needed a new start so he called one of his buddies in New York who was starting a boutique insurance agency and cofounded it with him.

(327lbs) Brady wanted a fresh start in New York so he bought a 3XL hoodie and sweat at the last Walmart before the Holland tunnel, and sat in traffic looking in the mirror and wished to be fat. He’d never been as big as he was now. He watched his body tighten the dress of a hoodie he had put on and fill it out. Compared to last week in Miami, he was completely unrecognizable. He was truly starting over. Once he showered in his apartment he got a look at his new fat body covered in stretch marks and rolls. Brady was generally happy with his size. The only drawback and he couldn’t find much clothing in the city stores that fit him well so he was barely able to dress well.

(327lbs) Four years went by and Brady’s joint venture had taken off. He was able to buy an apartment and afford more than ever. He seemed very content. He was overworked. One fateful day on the train he dozed off. In his dream he was even fatter than he is now. The dream was so vivid he could feel his body sloshing with every step.. when in reality the jerky subway train was sloshing him around. He missed his stop and rode the train to the end asleep. In the dream, Brady said he wanted to get fatter and…

(415lbs) He woke up. His shirt had ridden up his entire belly and his pants completely ripped. He was huge. Brady embarrassed walked to the next departing train that would get him home attracting the stares of everyone for the lack of clothing he had one, especially for his size. Brady decided to take several months remote from work after that, to give his business partner a believable timeline for his nearly 100lb weight gain.

(415lbs) Brady went to Industry, a New York gay bar and opened up his shirt in hopes he would find a chub chaser. Unfortunately he just got stares.

(451lbs) Brady had to get an entire new suit made for him because of his sheer girth. His seamstress couldn’t believe the size of him. She had made him his suit four years ago when he weighed more than a hundred pounds less. Brady knew it wasn’t going to last long because he planned to put a little more weight on. His business partner couldn’t believe the size of him either. Brady needed to remove the armrests on his desk chair so he could fit.

(485lbs) By the summer, Brady had willed another 35lbs onto his body. He attended a big party on Fire Island having fun with his friends. All of the sudden he saw a familiar face.

Javi.

BRADY: Javi???

JAVI: Hiiii…. Have we met?

BRADY: Javi it’s me

JAVI: Where have we met you look so familiar??

BRADY: It’s me, Brady

JAVI: Brady who?

BRADY: Your ex boyfriend.

JAVI: There is just no way. I thought you lost all the weight you put on.

BRADY: Then I gained it back, and then some

JAVI: Holy shit Brady you look awful, do you need me to get you a nutritionist? I am worried.

BRADY: No not at all. I am super happy the way I look.

JAVI: Weren’t you happy when half of Miami wanted to f*ck you?

BRADY: No, but I am happy now.

JAVI: Can I ask how much…

BRADY: How much I weigh?

JAVI: ….

BRADY: Four Hundred Eighty Five pounds last I checked. I don’t really fluctuate.

JAVI: God, this is just insane to me..

Javi walked away.

About 10 minutes later, Javi’s friend Andres walked by and…

ANDRES: Brady?

BRADY: Andres long time no see

ANDRES: I’m sorry Javi said all that… he’s just insecure and projecting on you.

BRADY: Yeah that’s why we broke up all those years ago.

ANDRES: Well, let me tell you. I like the change

Andres grabbed Brady’s belly from underneath and leaned in and kissed Brady on the cheek. He began to walk away.

BRADY: Wait a second, Andres!

Brady grabbed Andres’s hand and pulled him back for a real kiss. Andres’s hand found its way back to under Brady’s belly jiggling it while the pair made out.

Javi watched from a distance fuming with anger.

BRADY: Does a guy like me get to ask you for your number?

ANDRES: Definitely.

Javi walked over

JAVI: Wow Andres making out with my fat ex in front of me is really classy.

ANDRES: Sorry you’re too superficial to understand what a big guy can give you.

(508lbs) After texting for weeks, Andres invited Brady to go golfing with his friend.

ANDRES: Hey big fella.

BRADY: Hey handsome, ready to play?

ANDRES: Yes it’s been a while.

BRADY: It’s been too long for me too.

ANDRES: Shirt’s a bit small Brady…

Brady, embarrassed tried to pull the shirt down over his belly. He knew it was way too small but wanted to test Andres.

BRADY: Wow, I seem to have grown out of it…

ANDRES: Been a while since you wore it?

BRADY: I think this fit me when we met a few weeks ago.

ANDRES: Are you going to try to tell me it shrunk in the wash then?

BRADY: No, I just have put on about 25 pounds since that pool party and haven’t bothered to go shopping.

ANDRES: Wha— … how?

BRADY: Guess I’ve been hungry

Andres knew that Brady was the man for him in that moment. The two began dating.

(528lbs) Brady had gotten into the bad habit of putting 15lbs on every time he was going to be seen at an event to show that he was a growing man. He attended one of his friend’s backyard weddings and knocked over one of the displays with his huge belly.

Everyone who saw him at this point was asked if he was doing ok or if he needed anything. Some of the attendees even offering to give him a doctor referral for weight loss drugs. He assured them he was perfectly ok.

(600lbs) Brady admittedly took it too far. Brady had weighed in at 551lbs this morning. He had some room in his suit and had a big event for his company. He and his business partner were announcing the sale of their company to a big insurance company. He stood on the scale and watched the number go up until he hit 600lbs on the dot.

He was now basically 75lbs heavier than he was 4 months ago. After the sale of his company, Brady was to retire with enough money for him and his grandchildren (if he ever had any) to live comfortably.

When he got home, he totally forgot he would be facing Andres.

ANDRES: Brady…

BRADY: Hey honey.

ANDRES: Something is different

BRADY: What happened.

ANDRES: You look different. Something is just off.

BRADY: I am not sure what you are talking about.

ANDRES: Wait. Is that the suit you had made last week?

BRADY: Yes

ANDRES: Then why does it look like it’s about to pop.

BRADY: Oh yes something is different.

ANDRES: What.

BRADY: I got fatter.

ANDRES: Since this morning?

BRADY: Babe I think it’s time I tell you something.

Brady explained to Andres the whole story about his past life in Missouri. His sabbatical, meeting Cora the witch. He explained how he lost all the weight for Javi. Went to Hawaii and experimented with his body in different sizes.

ANDRES: What do you expect me to believe you have powers or something?

BRADY: Watch this

Brady walked into the bathroom, and willed himself to be a twink again. He walked out weighing 150lbs adorned with abs.

Andres walked to the kitchen and splashed cold water in his face. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

BRADY: I would never tell anyone about this.

ANDRES: You chose to be fat?

BRADY: If I didn’t I wouldn’t be living with the man of my dreams so let’s not.

ANDRES: Ok you’re scaring me you look emaciated.

BRADY: Oh yeah.

The two started to make out while Brady’s body slowly inflated back to 600lbs. Brady’s face filled out and his abs disappeared. Slowly a belly started to form along with soft supple moobs. His love handles expanded outward and his body started to widen. His thighs began to push against each other as they filled with fat.

Andres was so horny watching his boyfriend blow up to such a massive size and came hands free when he watched the fat pad swallow up Brady’s dick.

ANDRES: So how much do you weigh now?

BRADY: Let’s go see

The scale read 600 pounds.

Brady maintained 600 pounds for a while and about a year and a half into dating Andres, knew it was time. He popped the question getting down on one knee.

He couldn’t get back up after getting down which was very hot to Andres, who eagerly said yes.

(705lbs) Brady returned to the mountains. He bought three aur plane seats and filled them up with his girth. He struggled but he hiked his way all the way up to Cora’s hut wearing a suit to thank her for her potion that changed his life.

Brady knocked on the door which immediately opened. His belly knocked over a beaker off the table which led to Cora running into the room.

CORA: How did you get in here??

BRADY: I opened the door.

CORA: How did you find my house?

BRADY: I’ve been here before.

CORA: Who are you??

BRADY: Do you not remember me?

CORA: No, and I would.

She looked down at Brady’s belly.

BRADY: Oh right would this help?

Brady pulled out his phone and showed her a photo of him from about 10 years before. A photo of him and Javi together where he was less than 200lbs.

CORA: What was your name.. Bradley?

BRADY: Brady, close enough.

CORA: Did I do something wrong with the potion, brew it wrong?? I am so sorry!! Let me help you slim down.

BRADY: No, I am this big by choice. I could get down to this weight again any time.

CORA: Why?

BRADY: I was skinny for a while and I just didn’t like it. I was constantly making adjustments to my body so other men would see me as hot. My boyfriend left me when I decided to try out a *very slight* dad bod.

CORA: So you did this? You could’ve been half the size and still been fat.

BRADY: Well some days it just doesn’t feel like enough.

CORA: I never expected you to look like this. I expected you to have gotten massively jacked and been narcissistic.

BRADY: You were wrong

CORA: Very.

BRADY: I came here to thank you. It took me a long time to get up the mountain, but I knew that before long it would not be possible with my size.

CORA: You could’ve shrunken down to climb up here…

BRADY: But that isn’t me

CORA: Well I am happy.

BRADY: Being confident with my size and my body found me the best fiance ever.

CORA: You mean a chub chaser?

BRADY: —

CORA: Right.

BRADY: Well I mean you would have to be to like me at this size anyways. People stare.

CORA: I am staring.

BRADY: Well thank you for doing this for me.

CORA: Any time. Here, let me get you something.

Cora made a green cocktail of ingredients. She bottled them up.

CORA: You two are getting married?

She said looking at the Lock Screen on Brady’s phone.

BRADY: Yes

CORA: Wait until your wedding night to drink this. You both need to drink it for it to work.

BRADY: What is it?

CORA: You two will never break up or fight.

BRADY: This is perfect.

CORA: You also will never get health issues from your weight because you look like a heart attack waiting to happen.

BRADY: Hey!

CORA: So don’t have one before your wedding!

(750lbs) Brady and Andres had a lovely wedding.

The two got married and after the reception concluded, drank the potions together.

(785lbs) Brady loved going out and seeing the reactions on everyone’s faces seeing his size. He would eat for hours just for show and go home stuffed.

(830lbs) Brady was walking through Central Park. Let’s be real, he was barely moving and barely waddling. Suddenly he saw a familiar face again.

BRADY: Javi!!

JAVI: Holy fuck Brady you are huge.

BRADY: I know. Why are you here?

JAVI: I moved here for work. I got a job at an insurance company.

BRADY: You mean the one named after my last name that I just sold?

JAVI: Oh my god..

BRADY: Yup!

JAVI: What's new with you. I haven't seen you since you hooked up with my best friend at a pool party. I haven't seen him either that was so messy and rude of you.

BRADY: We got married.

JAVI: What…

BRADY: Yes we've been married for just about a year.

JAVI: Bet he didn't expect you to get fatter than you already were.

BRADY: He probably didn't but he loves it. He takes care of me and all the things I can't do anymore.

JAVI: I am so glad I left you before this happened.

BRADY: Me too. Next time you see me, I'm sure I'll be even bigger.

Andres walked up between the two of them.

ANDRES: Javi?

JAVI: This is insane. You married him??

ANDRES: Yes.. of course

JAVI: Why did you let him get this big

BRADY: I’ll answer that. He likes his men big, and I wanted to get big.

JAVI: Is that why you tried to get a dad bod all those years ago?

BRADY: Yes, and now I weigh more than eight hundred pounds.

ANDRES: 830 to be exact.

Javi stormed away.

The end.

[itsnevercasual]

RISK PART III

pairing: mafia!harry styles x singer!reader

summary: Harry is in town for some.. less than legal business, and you're a local singer trying to get your foot in the door, and also planning your wedding. And maybe Harry is a little too interested in you.

warnings: mentions of death & blood, mentions of abuse, cursing, that should be it!!

-

Almost immediately, his browser was flooded.

Y/N L/N and Mason L/N: The Internets Favorite Siblings

Y/N L/N - Youtube

Mason L/N - Youtube

Mason & Y/N - Youtube

#prayfory/n on Twitter

Y/N and Mason L/N’s Incredible Work with Band ‘The Diamonds’

Well, you two certainly had an online presence. He sighed and clicked on the first article.

Mason L/N (20) and little sister, Y/N L/N (15) have quickly become the internet’s favorite dynamic sibling duo! The duo rose to fame in 2012 when Mason began vlogging their adventures living alone in Miami.

After a near-death incident with her mother read article here, Y/N was put into her brother’s care. The two grew up in Wimberley, Texas, on a farm. Mason’s earliest videos on YouTube were in 2010, when he posted videos of 11-year-old Y/N singing onstage somewhere.

Since moving to Miami, Florida in 2012, at age 13 and 18, they formed a band called The Diamonds and started a successful YouTube career. Most of the videos, now posted on a shared account entitled Mason & Y/N, they show their day-to-day lives, backstage previews, clips of the songwriting process, and more.

Mason is the producer of his sister’s band— in which she is both the songwriter and lead singer. The band, though not as successful as their YouTube, has a decent following on both Instagram and YouTube.

Also featured on their accounts is Y/N’s childhood best friend— Jodie. There is nothing of Jodie online, so we aren’t sure of her last name. We only know the story of how Jodie moved right before Y/N’s near-death experience, and the siblings moved to Miami to see her again.

We look forward to seeing more of the iconic duo! Best of luck, L/N siblings!

Well, that gave him next to nothing.

Read More:

Smalltown Tragedy: Violet L/N attempts to murder daughter, Y/N L/N.

Jesus fucking Christ, Niall wasn’t joking about shitty.

He skimmed through the article.

Coming home from school—

Walked through the door—

Stabbed—

Authorities were quickly contacted by brother—

Violet pleads innocent in court case—

Y/N and Mason attest to their mother’s innocence—

Guilty verdict—

Sentenced to life in prison without bail or parole���

Added charges of child abuse after bruises found on both children—

Siblings go on news after the verdict was given—

Claim it was their father—

Well. He was starting to regret looking you up.

He sighed, running a hand over his face. After how nice you were tonight, he felt incredibly bad knowing this is what the result of invading your privacy was.

Yet, he didn’t shut the laptop.

He clicked back to the original search tab.

Mason & Y/N - Youtube

He pulled up the page, and his eyes widened.

925.4K Thousand Subscribers. 493 Videos.

Holy shit.

He scrolled to the last updated video—

BACKSTAGE AT THE DIAMONDS: LIVE AT DAYTONA BEACH BANDSHELL. June 1, 2016.

He didn’t want to watch it. He didn’t want to intrude anymore than he already had. That’d be wrong.

But Harry also never claimed to be a good person.

As he tapped on the video, your brother’s face filled the screen. Or.. he assumed, it was your brother. He looked similar to the articles of the two of you, only older.

“Hello, lovely people! We’re back! We are currently backstage at the biggest show yet of the best band ever—“

“Oh, my God, you’re so stupid,” a voice laughed. It was slightly familiar.

The camera turned, and he realized why. It was you.

“Y/N tries to be rude, but we all know I’m her favorite here.”

“Uh, no, bitch. I’m her favorite. Back off.”

Jodie.

“Dude, you have a boyfriend. You back off!”

“Yeah, but Ni’s not here yet, so… I win.”

“How does that even— okay. Anyway, my lovely sister is currently shoving food down her face—“

“Mason! Shut up, oh, my God! I’m literally curling my hair, you ass!”

“Hey, language!”

“Oh, boo-hoo. You taught me how to cuss when I was, like… seven.”

“.. Yeah, I did do that. Alright. Whatever. We’re gonna give the camera to Y/N so she can give y’all a sneak peak at the set list!”

The camera was now sitting in front of you. Younger you.

“Hello! It’s the better sibling—“

“Hey!”

You grinned at him, “And this is the setlist for tonight, which is super-duper top secret. So… shh! Okay! We’re opening with my personal favorite, Girl I’ve Always Been! And then we’re gonna transition that… somehow… into Vicious. And then.. I Should Hate You, little break to introduce the other Diamonds, Should’ve Said No, Picture to Burn, All-American Bitch, Stranger, another little.. break thingy.. Florida, Happier Than Ever, and then we close with.. Better than Revenge! But we have an encore, so we come back for one song, which is Nothing You Can Take!”

He skipped ahead in the video.

“Jodie, where are we?”

“Backstage!”

“Ni, what are we about to do?”

“You’re about to kill it onstage!”

He skipped a bit.

It was a circle of you and a bunch of girls, and one of two guys, that he recognized. The same people who’d played with you tonight.

“We worked our asses of for this, and we’re gonna make it count, right?”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Okay, Diamonds on three. On.. two.. three.. Diamonds!”

Skip.

“Y/N, how you feelin’?”

Harry could hear the crowd and music in the background, and he assumed that you were about to run onstage.

“I’m gonna puke!” You laughed.

“Ew. Don’t.”

“Gee, thanks. Real supportive.”

“I’m being honest—“

“Y/N, you got ten seconds.”

You screamed.

He skimmed the rest of the video. Some of it was clips of the show, some of it was after.

Well, that didn’t do anything except make him feel shitty. One, because he knew he shouldn’t be watching, and two… because you and your brother seemed close, and he, obviously, was dead.

He went back and clicked on the Twitter link.

#prayfory/n on Twitter.

Daytona News: Internet Star Mason L/N Fatally Shot in Robbery.

thediamondsupdates: OMG. GUYS IM ACTUALLY SOBBING WTF I FEEL SO BAD FOR Y/N. SHE WAS THERE😭😭 #prayfory/n

Bingo.

He clicked on the article.

Late last night, after The Diamond’s Only Night Only on Main Street, the internet star siblings Y/N and Mason went to a gas station for celebratory snacks. Unfortunately, while they were checking out, the gas station got robbed.

Y/N told Daytona Police that the robber had aimed for her when he shot, but her brother shoved her at the last second. Both Mason L/N and the store clerk, who is yet to be identified, died. Y/N came out with only a few scratches. Witnesses say she tried to keep her brother alive while waiting for police.

The siblings were swarmed by paparazzi as they got hauled into the ambulance, where Mason unfortunately died on the way.

Harry clicked back to the hashtag.

user001: omfg guys someone got a video of the store after the robbery where mason l/n died. ONE VIDEO LINKED.

He clicked play, knowing he’d regret it.

“Oh, my fucking God,” the person recording spoke.

You and Mason were covered in blood. You were in hysterics, holding your brother on your lap.

“Mason! Mason!” you were shouting. “Someone call an ambulance! Oh, my God! There’s so much blood— why is there so much blood? Mason, answer me! Are you okay? You have to be okay—“

The video panned away from you as you screamed, showing the store that’d been ransacked.

It ended.

Harry shut the computer and went to bed, feeling sick to his stomach.

-

When you woke up the next morning, it was to a weight on your chest.

“What the— Jodie, get the fuck off of me. I’m gonna die,” you grumble, shoving her.

She falls off the bed with a thud. She gasps, “Are you calling me fat?”

“No, you called yourself fat.”

“You’re so mean in the mornings,” she pouts.

“I’m only mean when you wake me up at ungodly hours by sitting on me.”

She shrugs, “Oh. Yeah. Well… come on, get up.”

You whine. The bed was comfy.

“Up!”

“No, I’m tired.”

She stands up and yanks your arm. You, too, fall off the bed.

“Ow! What the fuck?”

“I didn’t really think that one through,” she admits.

“Clearly. Alright, I’m up now, I guess. What did you want?”

“We’re going to brunch with Harry and Ni. Get ready.”

“Brunch? Harry doesn’t seem like a brunch guy.”

“What do you mean?” her brows furrow.

“He just.. is very intimidating—“

“He was nice to you, though, right? He better have been, or I swear—“

“No, he was,” you quickly cut her off. “He just… seems like he’d rather gouge his own eyes out before her went to brunch.”

She sighs in relief, “Thank God. I like him, so I didn’t wanna kill him for being rude to you. But, yeah.. probably. But he basically does whatever I say because, as he admitted once and only once, I’m like his little sister and he feels bad saying no. That, and I’m annoying when I don’t get my way.”

You snort, “That’s… yeah, that seems more likely.”

“But.. Niall also said he likes you, too. Maybe not in the, y’know, little sister way, but you’re right. He is usually an asshole, but he was extremely friendly yesterday. Kinda threw me off, to be honest.”

“Dude, I thought he was gonna bite my head off.”

She laughs, “Yeah.. oh, well. Get dressed and dress slutty!”

“Why slutty?”

“Because we invited Asshole of the Year, and if he shows up, he’s gonna wish he was Angel of the Year.”

“Jodie..” you sigh.

“I know. You don’t wanna piss him off. But.. if you just happened to grab a slutty dress… what’s the harm?”

“Get out,” you laugh.

-

You don't wear the slutty outfit Jodie wanted you to wear, mainly because the brunch spot was a nice restaurant and you don't want the looks from grandmas.

Instead, you wear a white dress with small, green leaves. You throw on heels that were slightly dressy, but comfortable and also barely make you any taller. You put a green ribbon in your hair after tying half of it back.

You haphazardly do your makeup once Jodie began spamming your phone, urging you to hurry up.

You rush out of the room, sighing once you saw the other three sitting at the kitchen island.

"Sorry I took so long. We can go, now, though!"

“Took you long enough,” Niall teases.

“Shut up. This is why you don’t have any friends.”

“I have friends!” he protests quickly. “You! And— Harry!”

“Mhm. Got any more?” you laugh. “I don’t count because I’m friends because of association. You get one point for Harry, though. I guess.”

“No point from me,” Harry spoke up. “We’re work friends.”

“I knew I liked you.”

Harry smirks at you.

Niall glares at the two of you. “I hate you both.”

You grin, “Aw. Love you, too.”

“Aright, children. We’re gonna be late,” Jodie reminds you.

The three of you chorus agreements and head to the car. Niall drove, Jodie sat in the passenger seat, and you and Harry got into the back.

“You know, you look crazy familiar.”

“Who, me?”

“No, the ghost sitting in between us. Yes, you.”

He pauses before shrugging, “Probably just got one of those faces. I don’t remember meeting you before.”

“Yeah, that’s what��s weird. I swear I know you, but I’d remember if I met you.”

He smirks, and you regret phrasing it like that. “Oh, really? What’s that supposed to mean, lovie?”

Lovie? What the hell? Is he a psycho? Are you a psycho?

Connor. Engaged to Connor. Can’t break up with him.

“Nothing. I just meant I have, like, a good memory,” you huff. “You’re right. You’ve probably just got one of those faces.”

One of those faces.

One of those faces.

One of those faces you know you recognize.

-

Brunch was short, but sweet. The food was good, and it was fun. Connor didn’t show.

You and Jodie made Niall and Harry wait in the car while the two of you ran into Sephora to restock your respective makeup collections.

“I kinda wanna try a new perfume..”

“I thought you always got that.. whatever one it is, because it’s Connor’s favorite?”

“I do. But.. the smell has been giving me migraines. Plus, he’ll get over it. He can hardly stand to be around me for longer than, like, twenty seconds, so… I doubt he’ll even notice.”

“Seriously, I still don’t get why you’re getting married. To him, of all people.”

“Because. I do love him, even if he’s an ass. And it’s.. safe. He’s safe.”

“Safe from what?”

You huff, “If music doesn’t take off. He has a good, stable job.”

“The band will never take off if you get married, babe. He hates the band. He’ll make you quit, and you know it.”

“Then maybe it wasn’t mean to be,” you shrug.

Jodie stops in her tracks. “How can you— no. Absolutely not. I do not care if you love him or if you wanna marry him. You are not throwing away your dream for some guy! Any guy! If it was— fuckin’, I dunno, Harry, who was like this—“

“Harry? Ew! I just met him—“

“He was the first person that came to mind! The point is, if anyone you dated pulled that, I’d say the same thing. It isn’t just because I don’t particularly like Connor.”

“Jodie—“ you sigh.

“No,” she cut you off. “You’ve been singing and writing songs since as long as I can remember. That was all you wanted. Since we were six, you’d tell people you’d be a singer when you’re older! You and Mason planned this for years! You can’t just quit because some stupid, no-good, ugly guy tells you to! Music is who you are. If not for yourself, then for me. For Mason. The band was meant to be, but maybe you and Connor weren’t.”

“Jodie.”

“I know. I know. But I’m serious. If Niall treated me like this, you would’ve roundhouse kicked him by now.”

“It’s complicated—“

“But it doesn’t have to be,” she argues.

“.. I don’t wanna talk about it. I don’t, okay? I won’t quit music whenever we get married, okay? He’ll get over it eventually.”

-

When the four of you return home, Connor is on the couch. He's fuming.

You roll your eyes as you walk through the door, ignoring him. The others seem to follow your lead, both not acknowledging his presence.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks, storming over to you as you set the Sephora bag on the kitchen counter.

“You’d know where I was if you bothered to show up.”

“I wasn’t invited.”

You gave him a deadpan look, turning to Jodie, Harry, and Niall.

“I did invite you, dumbass,” Jodie scoffs.

“Yep. Invited,” Niall nods.

“.. Invited,” Harry echoes, visibly confused but still going along.

“Well, excuse me if I didn’t feel welcome after my own girlfriend told me to leave my own house when she was gone—“

“Not your own house. Your name isn’t on the lease. And why is that? Oh, right. Because you don’t pay fucking rent like a grown adult.”

“I don’t got a job right now, babe. I’m not stable—“

“Oh, and I am? I sing for a living. You think that’s stable? No. But I do it because I want to, and when I’m not making enough there, I have another job. Jesus, you act like you can’t problem solve.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“Then what is your point, Connor?” you sigh, crossing your arms and leaning against the kitchen island.

“My point is that you care more about your career than me!"

"Connor, babe, that isn't true, I just-"

"It sure seems like it."

"I just.. I really love it, and it's-- it's what I wanna do with my life, y'know? I don't mean to make you feel that way. I invite you to every show, you just.. don't show up, and-- and that's fine, but I try to include you."

"Yeah, whatever. I guess I forgive you."

You smile, "I love you."

"Love you, too."

The two of you retreat to the bedroom, and it was silent for a moment.

"What the fuck?"

"Welcome to a normal day for us, Harry. Havin' fun yet?" Jodie sighs, patting his shoulder as she walks past him.

-

The next day, you and Jodie went out to look at wedding and bridesmaids dresses.

"So, what are we looking for here,?" Jodie asks you as the two of you stop for coffee in between hitting dress stores. You'd been aimlessly trying on dresses for the better half of the day, and none of them felt right. "I feel like you were just trying on everything, but you weren't happy with a lot of them. So, when you envision your wedding, what is the exact dress you want?"

"I want.. like.. flowery lace with a decent neckline. I want it tight, but kind of flowy once it hits my legs. And.. bell bottom sleeves. The rest I could adjust, but bell bottom sleeves are a must."

"Flower lace, tight top flowy bottom, halter neckline. Got it," Jodie grins. The barista calls your name and you run to go grab the drinks and snacks. The two of you began walking down the street.

"So.. how does Ni know Harry, anyhow?"

"Uh... work, I think? I can't even remember, it's been so long! I think they met before Ni moved here, and then reconnected through work. I could be wrong, though. Ni only told me once when I first met Harry, and that was years ago," she laughs. "But I think it's work, mostly. You don't mind him staying, right? Because, he's sweet, don't get me wrong, but he's also kind of... promiscuous, I guess? Not that he's.. pushy about it! He just is extremely flirty and doesn't really have boundaries sometimes."

"No! No, God, no, he's perfectly fine. I like him. I was just wondering, because I can't remember either of you mentioning him ever," you explained.

"I'm sure we have once or twice, you've just got the memory of a goldfish."

"Shut up! I do not!" you giggle as the two of you walk into the next dress shop of the day.

"Hello! How may I help you?" a woman greets the two of you.

"Hi! My friend here is getting married, and she has a very specific dress in mind! She wants flowery lace, halter top neckline... kind of tight at the top and slightly flowy at the legs? Oh, and bell bottom sleeves. That's the only ones that are non-negotiable."

The woman nods and glances at you.

"I'm pretty sure we've got something exactly like that in your size. I'll bring you a few options."

"Thank you so much!" you tell her and Jodie and you set your things down and sit on the couches by the changing rooms. The two of you talk idly about plans for the band until the woman reappears.

"Alright, love, here's a few similar to what you want. But I think this one is closest to what you want," she smiles kindly as she hands you a stack of dresses, and then one singular one.

"Oh, it's beautiful!" you gush.

"Try it on!" Jodie tells you. You laugh and walk into one of the changing rooms. Obviously, the first dress you try on is the one closest to what you'd envisioned. You couldn't help the smile on your face as you looked at yourself in the mirror.

"Hurry up!" Jodie urges.

"Calm down, woman, I'm coming!" you huff as you push the curtain aside and step onto the pedestal.

"Oh, Y/N/N... I think this one might be the one. It's gorgeous!"

"It fits you like a glove," the woman grins.

"I love it!" you squeal. "Here, get a video of me in it. I wanna show Ni whenever we get home."

"Okay. And.. recording!" Jodie tells you.

You spin around in the dress, and it has just enough train to spin with you a tiny bit. You squeal in excitement and jump up and down. "I love it! Bury me in it, honestly."

"I won't send it now just in case he's with Connor, so we'll show him when we get home. But.. and this isn't me saying don't get the dress, I think you should, but I thought Connor didn't want you to get a... revealing dress, I guess is the words?"

You pause and your smile fades, "Yeah, he doesn't. He likes the ballgown ones more, but.. it's my wedding, too, right? I should be able to get my own dress. Besides, he won't see until the day of, and then it'll be too late to be mad. And he can't be mad on our wedding day," you shrug.

"Fair enough. How much is this dress, again?"

"Oh, I forget. Turn and let me check that tag, dear."

You turn so your back is to the store owner.

"It is... three thousand dollars."

You and Jodie both pause. Three thousand? You weren't sure you had that type of money. Not yet, anyway.

"Y/N, I can-"

"Jodie, absolutely not. You can't pay for my wedding dress."

The woman looks between the two of you awkwardly.

"Um.. is it possible to put the dress on hold?" you ask after a beat. "It's just.. I wanna make sure that price is good with my fiancé."

"Oh, of course, love. What's your name?"

"Y/N L/N."

She grabs a sticky note and scribbles it down.

"It'll be on hold for about.. two weeks, does that sound good?"

"Yes, please. Thank you so much."

-

"'Eyyyy, they're back!" Niall cheers as you and Jodie walk in through the door. He and Harry were both on the couch drinking beers, watching something on the TV. "C'mon, I wanna see the dress!"

You and Jodie both laugh and move to the couch. Jodie sits between Harry and Niall while you perch on the armrest as she pulls the video of you in the dress up on her phone.

"Awwe, Y/N/N, you look gorgeous," Niall grins.

"Thank you! Took us forever, but we finally found one that is exactly what I wanted."

"Where is it? I wanna see it in person!"

You and Jodie both hesitate. "Uh.. we.. didn't get it."

"What?" Niall furrows his brows in confusion.

Harry finally chimes into the conversation, "Why the hell not?"

"It was.. um... three thousand dollars. We put it on hold, but.."

"Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you to just use our card? You know I have enough money-"

"I know. Jodie offered, but I feel bad using your money. I don't even know if Connor would like the dress, so maybe-"

"Fuck Connor. Sorry," Harry suddenly says, "excuse me if this isn't my place, but you're the one wearing the dress. If you like the dress, get the fuckin' dress, Y/N. You look great in it."

".. Thank you. I just- I don't really have three thousand dollars," you sigh.

-

At damn near four in the morning, Jodie and Niall prefer to be asleep. However, Harry didn't really seem to care all that much when he came barging in.

"What's the name of the shop?"

"What?" Jodie asks harshly.

"The dress shop. The one Y/N found that dress she likes. What's it called?"

"It's... fuck, it's, like, Wedding Dreams or some stupid shit like that."

"Why are you even asking, Harry? It's fucking four in the morning, go to sleep," Niall grumbles.

"I have to buy a three thousand dollar fucking dress."

"What?"

-

a/n: when he buys ur wedding dress cause ur broke how cute

taglist: @angeldavis777