#sink or swim fic

[talesfrom-theupsidedown]

Sink or Swim [Billy Hargrove x GenderNeutral!reader] Ch. 1

Summary: Working at the local Snack Shack at Hawkins Pool wasn’t your dream but it’s a decent summer job before college. It did come with a perk of being in proximity to the recent California transfer and resident asshole, Billy Hargrove. Having a nice view of the handsome blond was good enough, but when circumstances lead you to an encounter with Billy and then a chance to become friends, perhaps even more, you can’t stay away. Maybe Billy Hargrove isn’t such an asshole after all. [Canon with a variation]

Warnings: eventual mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol, sexual themes.

Word Count: 2.8k

Author’s Note: I’m so freaking excited to finally be sharing this story! Please let me know your thoughts! Reblogs and comments are much appreciated. :) I will also be adding each chapter to AO3 and Wattpad shortly after this posts, if you prefer to read over there. I’ll be posting under the username @avengerofyourheart​ , which is also my main blog here on tumblr. Love you!! 

Part One        Part Two>>> 

Sink or Swim Series Masterlist

_________________________________________________________

The first official encounter you had with Billy Hargrove was unexpected, brief and…surprisingly sweet. Every one after that seemed to be moronic (on your part) and…embarrassing. 

Naturally. 

Getting a job at the Snack Shack at Hawkins Community Pool wasn’t your first choice, but it was just for the summer. In the fall, you were headed to college and would get to leave your small town behind. In the mean time, you would be selling junk food to your former classmates and their younger siblings every day. Awesome. 

Billy got a job as one of the lifeguards, which wasn’t much of a surprise. From what you could collect through gossip floating around the high school, the mullet-wearing, muscled, Camaro-driving asshole was a former surfer from California, so the position fit him. And despite confirmation of his prickly personality, you weren’t mad about the sight of Billy in nothing but a pair of red swim trunks, sunglasses, and a whistle around his neck. 

Hot damn.

Billy never knew you existed in school, since you were less than popular and ran in different circles. Not surprising. You saw him around, though, even sharing a few classes together. He seemed bored with school and didn’t really try but somehow still got passing grades. Billy was the athletic type, enjoying gym class but especially basketball. Or maybe it was just fun for him to mess with King Steve Harrington, and it was enjoyable for you to witness at times as well. Knowing Steve all your life, you agreed that he could stand to be taken down a peg or two. The bigger the hair, the bigger the ego and Steve’s had grown exponentially the past few years in both regards. 

Then there was graduation and the idea of freedom and new beginnings. But first, you had to survive the summer.

During employee orientation just after school let out, you were there and Billy showed up late as one could expect. A few days of training followed with you learning all the equipment in the Snack Shack and which scoop was the correct portion for every item. Not exactly rocket science. At the same time, the lifeguards were getting CPR certification and practicing rescue drills. Looked like more fun than you what you were doing. 

Billy tended to hang back from the group during the vocal instructions, sometimes smoking a cigarette when he probably shouldn’t be. But when it came to the practical learning, he was all in, practicing CPR on dummies and “rescuing” his co-workers during drills. His swimming was strong and for timed rescues he did the best. Huh. Perhaps he’s not so apathetic about everything as it would seem. 

Once the pool opened, you were given morning shifts at first, which was fine but the Snack Shack was not that busy until kids started begging their parents for lunch. Time crawled when there wasn’t anything to do, but it did give you a chance to peek at the happenings at the pool. Swimming classes were early, before the pool opened to the public. Most of the time you were just setting up so hearing the gaggle of six-year-olds arriving had you glancing over to see what was up. 

Billy Hargrove was quite the enigma. Given his reputation, yes, he could be an asshole at times. During public hours when he was in the chair, he had a tendency to blow his whistle and yell across the pool at the supposed offender, often threatening a permanent ban. Well, that’s one approach. It did seem to do the trick, though. At least they knew he was serious and it could be said that personal safety was a serious matter that justified a heavier-handed method.

During those early mornings twice a week, though, when Billy was surrounded by tiny kids in water wings and swim suits with little skirts attached, he almost…transformed. He spoke softer and smiled more than you thought him capable of. It was really sweet, watching him explain what he wanted the kids to do while on dry land before even getting in the pool. He forced the parents to stay across the way and out of ear reach, knowing that he could still get their attention should one of their precious little ones need to go to the bathroom or something. Billy didn’t seem to want the parents hovering, otherwise. Makes sense. 

The little ones adored him, surprisingly. Listening to his softer, gentle instructions when one of them was crying or lifting them up to sit on the side for a short break. Being small and learning a lot of new, scary things at once could be overwhelming, you assumed. Billy gave each one of them a high-five at the end of lessons and a few even gave him a hug. 

One morning, you had just opened the metal gate at the counter and turned around to grab some tongs when you heard a voice behind you.

“Hey.” 

Turning to the sound, you were surprised to see Billy on the other side of your counter. 

“…hi?” you replied, startled. 

“So, I’m sure you’re not open yet but could I trouble you for a popsicle? I got a little girl with a skinned knee and parents on their way. I promised her one if she’d quit crying. I can’t handle crying kids,” Billy said gruffly. Although you had seen evidence to the contrary, you just nodded. 

“Sure. Flavor preference?” you croaked out through a suddenly dry throat. 

“Nah. Whatever you have. I don’t have my wallet with me but I can swing by later and—“

“Don’t worry about it,” you interrupted, handing him the frozen treat. “Emergency popsicles are on the house.”

“Oh. Okay. Thanks.” 

Billy offered a tight smile and walked away to a tiny girl seated on a lounge chair wrapped in a towel, the saddest expression on her face. She was trying to be brave but her body was still shaken by a sob every few moments. Billy crouched down to her level and handed her popsicle, now distracted enough for him to disinfect and bandage the skinned knee. Huh. So Billy did have a soft side, if maybe not for anyone his own size. Interesting. 

A week or two later it was abundantly clear that whoever was closing up the Snack Shack was doing a shit job and it just made your job harder in the mornings. Nothing was properly cleaned and ingredients weren’t prepped like they should be. After a gentle mention to your supervisor, somehow the solution was that you would be switching to the late shift so the job would be done right. Because properly training and disciplining your co-workers was little too much work. Great. 

You mourned the loss of the slow mornings and peeks of Swim Instructor Billy for a moment, but you got over it. Afternoon shifts were crazy busy and at least the time passed quickly. You hadn’t seen Billy come by since that first morning, but that was to be expected. Since then, you had your duties and he had his. Interaction with him just never really happened. 

Until it did. 

One night after the pool closed, you had pulled down the metal gate at the snack shack counter and were finishing the last of your clean up. Suddenly, music began to play from the direction of the pool. Peeking out the side door in curiosity, you spotted Billy with a boom box, music now blaring from the lifeguard tower. He climbed down and went about his evening checklist as the sun began to set. 

Once the pool closed, the last lifeguard was in charge of cleaning the pool, properly arranging the lounge chairs even though they would be shifted within minutes tomorrow morning, and sweeping leaves off the deck. While many of the other lifeguards often bitched about the responsibility and would do a half-assed job, Billy seemed okay with it. Oddly enough, he did it well and without complaint. The music probably made the tasks more bearable. 

Returning to your own closing tasks, you finished wiping down all the counters, washed the dishes to let them air dry, and the last item on your list was taking out the trash. You could dump it on the way out so you gathered your backpack and stowed away your apron and visor. So stylish. 

Backpack slung over one shoulder, you tried to carry a rather heavy trash bag in each hand while also opening the side door and making sure it was locked. Once you stepped outside, though, a peculiar sight quickly distracted you. 

To your surprise, the supposed asshole and lifeguard extraordinaire, Billy Hargrove, was currently lip-synching while using a push-broom as a microphone stand. Billy Idol’s “Rebel Yell” blasted from the speakers as the other Billy before you head-banged to the beat and pumped a fist into the air as the words “More. More. More…more, more more!” rang out across the empty pool deck. As the chorus ended, Billy raised his face to the sky and jumped in place, his handsome features sharpened by the blue light emitting from the pool. A wide smile stretched across Billy’s face as the makeshift mic stand became an electric guitar in his hands.

Entranced by the sight, you unconsciously shifted the weight of one of the trash bags and lost your grip, knocking over a stack of empty buckets. Smooth. 

The sound caused Billy’s head to whip toward you and his posture stiffened, eyes shifting around for other witnesses. Gathering your senses, you finally let the door close behind you and raised your free hand in an awkward greeting. 

“Sorry, I—“ 

But nothing else came out. 

Dammit. Giving up at an attempt in human communication, you picked up the trash and hauled ass toward the parking lot. The short glance backward that you allowed yourself showed that Billy was back to sweeping, his head down. Your heart sank. For a split second you got to see another side of Billy. Maybe what everyone else has said was a ruse. What was Billy like when no one else was around? You sure felt free enough to be yourself in the safety of an empty space. Or that you thought was empty. Unintentionally, you had intruded on that and ruined Billy’s moment. 

Sigh. 

Maybe you could make up for it…

Tossing the trash bags in the parking lot dumpster, you walked over to your nearby bike, unlocked it, and rode home with the evening’s exchange running on rotation the whole way home. 

_______________

A few days later, you got a chance to act on your plan when it was just the two of you closing up again. If your intruding on Billy’s post-work jams made him uncomfortable, then it was time to even the playing field. 

By humiliating yourself. 

Finishing up your inside projects first, you then headed outside to place the patio chairs on top the tables in preparation of sweeping your own area. Billy spared you a glance upon your appearance but quickly returned to his attention to ridding the pool of leaves and dead bugs. His boombox blared music once again, playing songs from the local rock station. 

Heart pounding, you started to sweep and waited until a familiar sang came on. Soon the band Foreigner blasted from the stereo. Perfect. Abandoning your task, you bobbed your head to the beat as the first lyrics began. 

“Well, I’m hot-blooded, check it to see

I’ve got a fever of a hundred and three

Come on, baby, do you do more than dance? 

I’m hot-blooded, hot-blooded.”

Lip-synching in an exaggerated manner, you spun around with the broom in your hands and taking a page out of Billy’s book, chose to use it as a microphone. You jerked your limbs about, perhaps to be taken as dancing, and dove into the second verse. 

“You don’t have to read my mind,

to know what I have in mind.

Honey, you ought to know. 

Yeah, you move so fine,

let me lay it on the line.

I wanna know what you’re 

doing after the show.” 

Having gotten lost in the moment, you finally took a glance in the pool’s direction to see Billy standing in place, the pool net loose in his grip. Was that a smile you could see on his face? Bingo. You finished out the song with some air guitar and a windmill or two, leaning against a table to catch your breath as the last notes of Foreigner ended. 

To your surprise, you heard clapping and you whirled around to see the sound coming from Billy. Now feeling the humiliation of your little show, you weren’t sure what to do now. Finally settling on an awkward bow in reply, you then ran back inside the Snack Shack to stow away your apron and grab your bag. Aiming to reach the parking lot and be gone by the time Billy appeared, you thankfully succeeded. You rode your bike down the street and around the corner just in time to hear the easily identifiable Camaro roar to life. 

Perhaps your next encounter with Billy wouldn’t involve personal embarrassment. The possibility was unlikely at this point, but one could dream. 

____________

The next week, you were having one of the worst days ever at your job so far. Some kid spilled a soda all over your counter and down onto the floor and the most you could do in the moment was throw down some towels. By the time you got a break in customers, you were left with a solid, sticky mess. Your manager also hadn’t staffed enough people for the weekend so you had to fend for yourself once again. 

No one else had taken out the trash and had instead piled up bags by the side door so you were taking one of multiple trips out to the parking lot long after closing. Lifting the dumpster lid with one hand, you chucked one bag inside with the other but as you raised the second bag, a sharp metal edge caught the plastic and ripped. Of course it did. The 6 inch hole began to spill out its contents of half-empty soda cups and chip bags. At least it wasn’t the bag full of food scraps. 

“God-fucking-DAMMIT!!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, dropping the bag to the pavement. 

“Oh, shit,” you heard from you behind you. 

Turning swiftly to the sound, you spotted Billy Hargrove with car keys in hand, fresh from a shower. 

Perfect. It had to be him who was still around. 

Once again embarrassed, you glanced at the mess around you, including a half-full lukewarm soda cup that was open and now soaking into your shoe. 

“Sorry, I—“ 

Nothing else came out. Once again, you couldn’t progress in communication any further in his presence. Picking up the bag but upside down, you finally got it inside the dumpster and started collecting the trash that had fallen out. From your crouched position, you suddenly saw another pair of hands helping. 

“You don’t have to do that,” you managed to squeak out. 

“It’s no big deal,” Billy replied, tossing a few items in the dumpster and then holding the lid for you to throw in the last of it. 

“Thank you.” 

Finding the courage to meet his eye, you discovered you were only a few feet from Billy. You’d never seen him that closely. Damp curls framed his face with bright blue eyes catching yours and a cautious smile on his lips. Damn, he was cute. 

“I’m Billy,” he said, offering his hand. 

“Hargrove,” you finished his name. “I know. We had two classes together last year.” You almost accepted his shake but remembered what you had just touched and pulled away. 

“Right,” Billy replied, sheepish. “Remind me?” 

Catching on, you shared your name. 

“Y/N,” he repeated. “Of course. Nice visor.” 

The blond flicked the bill with one finger, unsettling the visor on your head. 

You huffed out a laugh, tugging it back on. “Yeah, well. Not everyone can pull off the look. I consider myself lucky.” 

Billy burst out a genuine chuckle, causing a warm, happy flip in your stomach.

“Well. I’ll see you around, Y/N,” he said, walking backward toward his car. 

“Yup. Bye.” 

You received the gift of watching Billy’s backside in motion for a few moments before you had the sense to stop staring. Time to finally finish this hellish workday and go home. 

_______________________

Part Two>>>

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Thoughts??? I just love a softer Billy, okay? He deserves all the good things, starting with maybe...a friend? I guess we’ll see. :D Also I know Hot Blooded was in a ~certain scene~ but I’m choosing to take it back, mmkay? I’d love to know your thoughts on this fic! Reblogs, comments, etc., are very much appreciated. You can even send me an ask if you’d like! I appreciate youuuu. :) 

Also if you want to be added to my tag list, please let me know! 

Billy tag list: 

@every-dayiwakeup @feelmyroarrrr @someonehelpshit @ria132love @sebbytrash​ @withahintofpestoaioli​ @nogitsunbae​ @ickypuppi3​ @prettybillycore​  

[alwaysmicado]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag, lovely @kewwrites 🤍

I’m intensively working on You wanted this pt. 8. I’m soooo excited to show it to you guys, but it needs a bit more time before it’s ready. What I can tell you already is that we’ll get to know more about reader’s past and her relationship with Tommy! 🍕👀

Sink or swim

Below are two snippets (out of context):

“Fear of intimacy,” your therapist called it. “A response to sustained trauma.”

You walked out of that session and, fueled by defiance, decided to fuck the first guy who caught your eye, just to prove to yourself, and to your therapist, that you were very well capable of intimacy.

Lying in bed that night, lonely and empty, you couldn’t shake the truth of her words. You hated her guts for forcing you to confront your inner demons, but she did have a point in everything she said.

It’s an uncomfortable truth. There’s nothing in the world you fear more than the prospect of people knowing what’s going on inside your head, knowing what you feel, knowing your vulnerabilities and weaknesses—knowing the real you.

And last night, that fear came true.

– – –

“How subtle,” you scoff, crossing your arms in front of your chest. “I’m not going home with you, dude.”

“Fair enough, but at least let me call you a cab and wait with you until it arrives, hm?”

His soft voice and patronizing tone are starting to grate on your already frayed nerves. You’ve been sitting here, not taking up any space, minding your own fucking business, and even that wasn’t good enough, apparently.

Okay, world. Hint taken. 

“What the hell is your problem?” you blurt out. 

“What do you mean? I’m just–I’m trying to help you.”

“Why?” The question bursts from your lips like a dam breaking under pressure, laced with frustration. “Do you see me holding up a sign where I’m asking for your help? Huh? Or is this more about you and some, I dunno, bullshit white knight fantasy you’re acting out?”

– – –

NPT: @joelslegalwhre @getitoutofmymind @sweetenerobert @rulexofxnines @my-secret-shame @romanarose @morallyinept @corazondebeskar @sp00kymulderr @schnarfer @magpiepills and everyone who sees this! Tag meeee!

[waiting-for-my-hogwarts-letter]

Sink or Swim

L&Co AU with Mermaid!Lucy (Cot3)

Anthony Lockwood had never really believed in mermaids. Until he saw her.

Freedivers Lockwood and George stay in the same place on the coast each summer, but this time they’re not there to relax. Fishing nets have been banned for years because of their impacts on the environment and local marine life — no local fishermen use them anymore for the same reason. When a turtle washes up on the beach after being caught in a net, the boys take it upon themselves to find out who’s responsible. It turns out they’re not the only ones interested in getting justice for the sea creatures affected.

Enter Lucy Carlyle, anonymous environmental activist and local mermaid.

This summer might turn out to be more eventful than they thought.

(link in reblog)

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: "Kacchan, I think we’re supposed to—” “Supposed to?” Katsuki whirled. “Supposed to? Will you fucking.. Listen to yourself? Shitty Deku, we just woke up in a dungeon and you want to play some villain’s game? Like it’s a goddamn puzzle we can just solve?” ~ As if there's any other choice.

Author: @cinnabea

Note from submitter: BkDk get kidnapped and work together to escape from like, this criminal's saw trap setup. It's an angsty, fun time.

[ghostoffuturespast]

42

The answer to life, the universe, and everything...

[wolfie180g]

It's the Final Chapter!

5 Years in the making (ignoring that two year hiatus where my job sucked so bad... ugh. )

I am very happy with how it turned out. I hope I resolved all the major plot points that came up. I did have to edit this chapter down quite a bit to fit the goal I gave myself of 200,000 words exactly.

I also wanted to finish it before Easter and I got one day left to go! So when I'm not busy tomorrow I will be going over it one last time before uploading to fanfiction.net.

Thanks to everyone who read, kudos, liked and followed along with this story. I hope to finish both of the other WIP's soon.

Thank you and goodbye:)

[thebest-medicine]

Day 30: Caught

Tickletober 2023 - RELIC by Maz Maddox - (takes place post King & Queen) - lee!Baja

[see my other tickletober 2023 fics]

[read on AO3]

A/N: Shout out to this series for being fucking adorable. [see my other fic for it]

Words: 1.1k

—

“Fuck off, Dalton!” 

“Come onnnnnn~”

“Try anything—” Baja glares his brother down, that apex predator authority in his eye. “—and I will use you as a toothpick.” 

“You’re just mad you’re ticklish.” 

“Shut the fuck up, would you?” Baja growled.

“Oooooohhhhh.” Dalton grinned, his face suddenly full of knowing.

Baja was familiar with that look. “No.”

“He doesn’t know?!” 

“No. And you are not going to—”

Dalton’s eyes were sparkling. They flicked to the door behind his brother. 

Baja clocked it right away. “Don’t you FUCKING dare—DALTON!” 

Footfalls thundered through the ranch as Dalton tore outside as fast as he could. Simon, cup of coffee in hand, paused just in time to miss being ran over by a pink blur and—just a few steps behind, a darker blur radiating annoyance. They flew past him, tearing through the doorway. A couch and coffee table made a meager defense from Baja, separating him and Dalton so both could catch their breath. They both twitched this way and that, testing the other to see if the other would bolt. 

“Jeez, you guys are gonna tear this place apart..” Blaze winced, eyeing them and slowly backing up into the hallway he’d emerged from. He backed straight into Royal, who smiled down at him. 

“Something wrong with breakfast in the living room?” He asked thoughtfully. 

“No, it’s—”

“Jackson doesn’t know that Baja’s ticklish!!!!!!!!!” Dalton bellowed. “He’s gonna kill me but I have to tell him!” 

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Baja hissed, growing impatient and stepping over the coffee table to launch himself over the couch at his brother. 

“Oh shit.” Royal grinned. 

Before Blaze knew it, he was holding Royal’s plate, and his boyfriend, who had a long history as Dalton’s partner in crime, was tearing past him into the living room. 

“No.” Baja’s face flashed with worry. “Not you too.”

“That’s too precious! Come onnnnnnn. We have to tell him.” Royal made a grab for Baja who kicked him away and started in the direction of Dalton. 

“Or show him.” Dalton smirked. 

“I love the way you think.” Royal beamed.

“I hate both of you, and I’m going to kill you if you—”

As if on cue, Jackson walked into the living area, taking in the arguing shifters. “Uh, hey—”

Baja’s eyes wide, he tore off past Jackson and right out the door, leaving him confused —and almost run over by his two pursuers. 

“What? Um.” Jackson chuckled, confused.

“Come on!” Royal called back at him as he raced after Baja.

Dalton added. “Got something to show ya!” 

“No they don’t!” Baja yelled back. Was that…laughter edging into Baja’s voice? 

Jackson blinked, thoroughly convinced, and gave curious chase to the rest of them. His long stride helped him catch up with ease, just as Dalton caught up to Baja and jumped onto his back. Baja let out a resounding growl, scrambling to get him off. 

Seconds later, Royal was on him too, and he knew he was screwed.

“No, you fuckers! I’ll- I’ll kill you!” Baja argued as they wrestled him down against the ground and got ahold of his arms. Royal sat over his waist while Dalton struggled with his arms. 

“Aww, it’s been way too long since we’ve done this!” Dalton smirked, wiggling his fingers. 

Jackson caught up to them a few seconds later, watching with an amused curiosity. “Just what are y’all—” He paused when he saw Baja biting back a grin and tilted his head. He watched as Dalton sat on both of Baja’s arms and then started… poking and lightly grazing his fingers over the now uncovered armpits. 

The last of Baja’s resolve crumpled along with his expression. Jackson could only watch with a growing smile. 

Royal’s laugh rumbled in like thunder, reverberating through him as Baja’s legs kicked in protest behind him. He started to pinch lightly up and down Baja’s sides. 

Baja growled, fighting the grin that slowly grew on his face. When he wasn’t making some noise of annoyed protest, he was holding his breath to keep in his laughter. 

Jackson squatted down beside the brothers. “You’re ticklish?” He asked, amused. 

Baja slammed his head back against the ground and cut off the laugh that almost escaped as a whine. “No.” He gritted his teeth. 

Royal and Dalton shared a laugh. “I dunno… Seem pret-ty ticklish to me, Baja.” Dalton teased, poking a finger into his rib cage. Baja jolted under each touch. 

“Well if you’re going to be stubborn…” Royal sighed with amusement. He reached behind him with one hand — Baja’s eyes widened as he recognized what was about to happen — and then started to squeeze at his upper thigh. 

Baja’s shout dissolved into the most sweet, bubbling laughter. 

“There we go!” Dalton smiled down at him. “Doesn’t that feel better?” 

Baja shut his eyes, his cheeks growing a bit darker, and failed to keep in any of the laughter he had been trying to fight. It was impossible with the floodgates open. Royal was fighting dirty, going after one of his worst spots. 

Jackson laughed along with them and reached out to pinch at Baja’s rib cage, resulting in an adorable flinch. 

With laughter freely pouring from Baja’s lips, Royal turned his attention back where he could see, poking and scribbling and tickling at the shaking middle in front of him. He and Dalton tickled with a familiarity, it seemed, of all the spots that made Baja jump and snort and twitch and yell. They even seemed to find a few that, if pushed a little further, might even make him beg.

“Easy, don’t kill him now..” Jackson reminded them. He reached out to brush a few stray hairs out of Baja’s face as the boys slowed their tickly attack. “I have to say, though, this is some of the best news I’ve heard all summer —maybe in my life.” 

Baja groaned, catching his breath as his brothers gave him a pat on the cheek and got up off of him. 

“You’re both… fucking dead… I hope you know.” Baja scolded when he had the ability to look at them without grinning like an idiot. Royal and Dalton held up their hands, backing up toward the house before turning and running. “And you.” He pointed at Jackson. 

“What?” Jackson scoffed, laughing. 

Baja had a familiar annoyed anger in his eyes. He let out a frustrated growl. “You… weren’t supposed to see that.” He sighed, sitting up and running a hand over his face. “Don’t even fucking think about—”

Jackson cut him off with a laugh. “Oh, Darlin’, you know I’m never lettin’ this go.”

Baja rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Until I find out where you’re ticklish.” 

Jackson smiled, reaching out a hand to help him up. “Looking forward to seeing you try.” 

[nyamadermont]

You Cover Me With Water

@flashfictionfridayofficial

#FFF 206 Sink or Swim

Avatar: Legend of Korra

612 words

CW: Implied sexual content

[Image ID: A dark blue rectangle with a watery texture. The text #FFF 206 Sink or Swim" is centered, in white. /End ID]

A gift for @slowdissolve ahead of a busy day tomorrow.

Story below the cut.

Lin was running along behind Tenzin and Kya and Bumi when the earth lifted her straight up. She teetered, but kept her balance, just like Toph had taught her. 

She frowned. Toph hadn’t said anything. She was just following the others. She started to climb down the rock when she realized just how high she was. 

Back on the ground, Lin turned to her mother. “I wanna go with them!” When she stomped her foot, her whole body felt funny. 

“I know Kya is a water bender, but Bumi won’t keep track of you and Tenzin at the same time. I can’t follow you when you’re in the water, so you have to stay on the ground.”

Lin crossed her arms like Toph and Katara did. 

“I don’t need you.”

Her mother’s face changed a little, and Lin felt something strange. 

“You need me more than you think, Rock Lobster. Where is the ground? Under the water. You can’t breathe water. Don’t get in the water.”

An hour later, Lin cried herself to sleep in her mother’s lap with Katara soothing her older son. As she drifted to sleep, she heard Bumi’s voice saying, “She’s so much heavier than Tenzin, I couldn’t keep her from sinking…”

***

“Hey Badgermole!”

Lin scowled at her schoolwork and looked for something she could hurl at the infuriating Tenzin. 

“I told you not to call me that, Moon Peach.”

Tenzin skidded to a halt, his face already bright red.

When he didn’t say anything in response, she rolled her eye and slammed her pen down. “Come on, Tenzin. Out with it. I have work to do.”

“Pumice.”

Lin blinked. “Is a rock. Do you even know what a point is if it’s not on your head?”

Tenzin dug in a pocket of his robes and pulled out a small, pale, rough rock. He blew against it gently. It rolled along his hand and when it got to his fingertips, he flipped it up. He grabbed her water glass from her work table, and used it to catch the rock as it fell.

“Hey! I was drinking that!”

He shrugged. “I’m sure you can pull all the impurities out. I watched your mom train you on it enough.”

He stopped long enough to bring the glass in front of her and wait for her to look at it. 

Her irritation was growing. She had three papers to write, Toph wanted her bills paid, and she still had to pick Su up from dance class. 

“Point, Tenzin. No time, no patience.”

“It floats. Some kinds of rocks float. Even if they’re all rough and sharp to hold.”

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she frowned. 

“So what. It floats. It doesn’t write my papers or do my chores. Why are we talking about pumice?”

“You can float, Lin. Rocks don’t only sink.”

She blinked again, trying to collect her thoughts. 

But just as she opened her mouth to say… something, the rock released a little bubble of air, spun over, and settled to the bottom of the glass. 

She didn’t even look at him. 

***

The water in the pool lapped over the edge, spilling over the rocks. With a final groan, they stilled. 

Kya pressed her forehead against Lin’s, pressing down with her whole body. 

Lin’s breath shook, and slowly evened. Her arms lay weakly at her sides, her fingers caressing Kya’s legs. 

Kya kissed Lin’s face gently, savoring the soft feel of her. 

Lin inhaled, and brought her hands up to Kya’s face. 

“You cover me with water." She kissed her, pulling her closer.

"I should sink, but now I finally know how it feels to swim.”

[thesoniclibrary]

Tails cares about Sonic. A lot. But he doesn't always get to show it in the big ways, because Sonic's usually so calm, cool, and collected.

But in the rare moments he's not -- Tails is there.

Or: 5 times Tails reassures Sonic around water, and 1 where he doesn't need to.

Rating: General Audiences

Words: 40k+

Written by: @chaoxfix

Submitted by: @homahowi

Remember to leave kudos, comment and reblog! 📚🦔

[via-the-cryptid]

design for what Merry would look like in my Sink or Swim AU, in which she survived the ritual burning at Water 7

[talesfrom-theupsidedown]

Sink or Swim Masterlist

Billy Hargrove x Gender Neutral!reader

Summary: Working at the local Snack Shack at Hawkins Pool wasn’t your dream but it’s a decent summer job before college. It did come with a perk of being in proximity to the recent California transfer and resident asshole, Billy Hargrove. Having a nice view of the handsome blond was good enough, but when circumstances lead you to an encounter with Billy and then a chance to become friends, perhaps even more, you can’t stay away. Maybe Billy Hargrove isn’t such an asshole after all. [Canon with a variation] 

Warnings: eventual mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol, sexual themes. 

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five— coming soon!

_______

Last Updated: Feb 11, 2023

[alwaysmicado]

this was such a good chapter 🥺🥺

Tommy was so sweet and caring, I really liked him looking after her when they met!

And Joel telling Tommy just so he can find her and talk to her 🥺🥺 even tho nothing is completely fixed yet, this felt very healing ❤️‍🩹

Thank youuu!! 😍

Tommy was so sweet and caring, I really liked him looking after her when they met!

He just knew straight away something was wrong with reader because he's been in the same position before 🥺 and I think he's either done extensive therapy or is still actively going, and has learned A LOT.

I think it's also because he feels like he was such a burden on Joel back in the day and now he does everything to be there for the people in his life / people in general to give back.

And Joel telling Tommy just so he can find her and talk to her 🥺🥺 even tho nothing is completely fixed yet, this felt very healing ❤️‍🩹

I mean, he had to find out somehow, right? And I think at this point, it's all a so convoluted that honesty and clearing things up is necessary, and telling Tommy is one important part of that, imo.

I have Tommy and Joel's "confrontation" all mapped out already and was debating if I should put it in this part, but decided against it in the end. Maybe I'll post it as a one-shot or put it in the next part.

I'm so happy you enjoyed this part and that it felt healing for you!! 🥹 Thank you so much for following this story and for taking the time to let me know your thoughts! You're amazing ❤️

[waiting-for-my-hogwarts-letter]

Just finished part 7 sink or swim au(it took me a little longer to find the free time than usual) it was so good I'm loving this au do much and I can't wait to see what happens next!!

aaaa I’m so glad!! i can’t wait to share more with you!! im working behind the scenes on getting a concrete plan together but so far so good <3 thank you sm for reading!!

[hinadori-chan]

also if anyone wants to ask questions about my drafts i do really like them a lot even if i can’t finish them right now and would love to talk about them 🥺👉🏻👈🏻

[ellecdc]

Surprise! We're Making Love

6.8k words

this is my first real like... real smut fic? so do take that into consideration [and please be nice to me lol] but also feel free to send me a message if you have any feedback or pointers.

this is a fic based on this trope that was sent to me by @bobluvbot like a million weeks ago and became my hyper fixation for far too long. I finally decided to put it into words. thanks to @unstablereader for championing me as I wrote this and convincing me it was decent enough to post lol

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

CW: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, coming inside of someone, AFAB reader, reader is a Pureblood Slytherin, has hair long enough for Rem to feel it on his shoulders when you're straddling him, reader has hair texture that sticks to you when wet, mentions of smoking weed and being high, mentions of drinking and alcohol, mentions of arranged marriages, use of mudblood and blood supremacy

Remus doesn’t know how exactly this thing started for him.

Perhaps it was the day after a full moon when he forgot to lock the door behind him to the Prefects Bathroom and you let yourself in, nearly fully stripped before you realised he was sitting in the steaming, bubbling pool-sized tub with a spliff hanging lazily from his mouth.

“Circe’s tits!” You screeched as you hastily pulled up your towel to keep your modesty. “You didn’t think to alert me to your presence, Lupin?” You sneered half-heartedly at him as you tried to regain your composure.

“Sorry.” Remus chuckled, voice gravelly from a mixture of last night’s howling and tonight’s smoking. “My brain is moving a little slowly right now.”

You looked between him and the spliff and sighed. “Think you’ll be much longer?” You asked him quietly, cautiously, reticently. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you look so dejected.

Slytherin princess; though you never really let that dictate how you treated people, just that it levelled you with a certain notoriety within the school. You were the only one who could talk sense into Barty Crouch Junior; Pandora Rosier’s biggest defender and advocate; Snape, Mulciber, and Avery’s biggest adversary; the one who encouraged Regulus Black to reach out to his estranged older brother; and the least likely to enact revenge on the Marauder’s for their pranks.

Though Remus had never shared more than a few words with you in passing, he knew a lot about you. In addition to the aforementioned qualities, you were a Pureblood, the eldest daughter and heiress to your family’s name and fortune, Prefect, received top marks in Charms and Transfiguration, and hated the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Knowing all of that made Remus rather rueful that he hadn’t spoken to you before now.

“Listen, this tub is nearly the size of an Olympic swimming pool.” Remus started, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion. “It’s big.” He clarified. “I don’t mind...sharing if you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable; otherwise, I’ll pack up and leave it to you.”

He didn’t really want to leave; not whilst he was still nursing his post-moon hangover and the warm water was finally starting to relieve some of the tension in his bones. But you looked forlorn, and damn Remus and his bleeding heart, he’d give it up if you needed it.

“I don’t want to kick you out... you were here first.” You murmured, apparently weighing your options in your head.

“I will leave if you want, L/N, but I’m more than willing to share.”

You searched his eyes for what, Remus wasn’t sure, but you seemed to come to some decision. You threw your head back and let out a strangled groan which Remus was certain was more for dramatic effect than it was indicative of any real ire.

“Fine, turn around.”

Remus smirked at you and tried to ignore the protesting of his joints as he stood in the pool and turned to face the opposite wall, allowing you to drop the rest of your clothes and your towel and sink into the water.

“Okay...” You whispered quietly. “You can sit back down now; thank you.”

Perhaps it had begun then; he’d offered you a puff from his joint, causing you to move closer to him. He was a gentleman and avoided noticing the way your breasts sat high on your chest, buoyant in the bubbly and fragrant waters.

He ignored the feeling of your elbow brushing against his. He ignored the way your hair, damp from the steam and humidity, stuck against your skin. And he definitely ignored the way that as the weed started to affect you, you leaned your head onto his shoulder.

What he couldn’t ignore? When you asked him what you could do to help him.

“Help?” Remus asked you bemusedly, jostling his shoulder and forcing you to sit up and return his gaze.

“Yeah; you seem tense, stressed.”

Remus let out a confused chuckle from his nose. “That’s really not anything you need to worry about.”

You laughed back at him, nudging him with your elbow. “Lupin.” You chided. “You were willing to give up your private pool time, you’ve shared your weed with me, and you’ve let me intrude on your bath; let me worry about it.”

And he doesn’t know how you did it, he’s not even sure he remembers how the rest of the conversation went – one moment the two of you were sitting an entire swimming pool apart and pretending the other wasn’t there, and the next moment he was sitting on the edge of the pool with his hands tangled in your hair as you took him in your mouth.

“Christ, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He tried warning you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention.

Like the watery siren that you were, all you did was moan and take him deeper, and in another moment, he was spilling down your throat.

Remus was sure he looked absolutely wrecked; naked, soaking, exhausted, a few fresh wounds from last night, and his permanent eye bags a more dramatic purple today on account of his lack of sleep last night.

Not you though; somehow even though you’d just done all the work, you looked ethereal. Wet hair pooling in the water around you as you sunk into the suds up to your collarbones, your lips swollen and glistening from your fantastic work if you asked Remus, and eyes a mischievous magnet nearly luring Remus back into the pool completely against his will.

“Godric, you’re good at that.” He breathed embarrassingly. Thankfully, you only laughed at with him.

“I’m sure you meant that as a compliment, Lupin; but it sort of sounds like you’re calling me a whore.”

Remus cackled at that, thankful that his time in the water eased the soreness in his ribs before doing so.

“If you give me a few moments, I’ll return the favour dove.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You offered, moving back to the other side of the pool to retrieve the book you’d deserted in favour of pot, and then in favour of cock. “I’ll just take an I.O.U.”

Or maybe it started at the Ravenclaw afterparty following their win against Hufflepuff. You showed up with your friends fashionably late and clearly having pre-gamed to some extent if Barty’s uncoordinated movements were anything to go by.

He noticed you every once in a while, flitting around the party with various friends, dancing to various tunes, participating in various games over conversations; but something was different about you. You weren’t as...glowy.

Your smile never met your eyes, and your laughs weren’t carefree – not like they were in the tub. Not like they ought to be.

But hey, you helped him when he needed it, and he did technically owe you.

He brushed past you and gently pulled on your elbow as he continued moving. When you turned back to see what had happened, he nodded toward the exit.

He didn’t bother turning around to see if you were following him, he just carried on down the stairs of Ravenclaw tower before turning the corner to an empty corridor.

“Oi, Lupin; your legs are longer than mine. Slow down!” You called. 

He didn’t realise at that time how much it meant to him that you had followed; hindsight being 20/20, and all.

“Where are we going?” You queried as you caught up and walked in step with him.

“You’ll see.” He said simply, cutting across the hall and opening the door to an empty classroom.

“Going to teach me how to translate Ancient Runes, Lupin?” You joked, though your affect was clearly lacking.

“I’m going to help.” He responded simply, leaning backwards against the professor’s desk.

“Help?”

“Right.”

You smirked and raised a singular perfectly manicured eyebrow at him, looking him up and down with a suggestive glance.

“What exactly are you to help me with?”

“You seem worried, tense.” He repeated your exact words from the tub a little over a week ago.

You offered him a half smile that, once again, never met your eyes. “That’s not something you need to worry about.”

He offered you a soft smile in return. “I do owe you, though.”

Remus doesn’t know what it was that convinced you to accept his offer. One moment he was leaning casually against the professor’s desk as you watched him warily from the door to the classroom, and the next moment he had you splayed out on the desk before him with the skirt of your dress bunched up around your waist and his head between your legs.

Now, it’s important to note that Remus is a humble and modest person. In fact, he’s really quite self-conscious. He didn’t come from a notable family and compared to his friends he was basically a pauper, he was scarred and tall and lanky, and due to his lycanthropy, he avoided meaningful relationships; meaning that whilst his friends all enjoyed relationships and situationships, he stayed religiously single.

All that being said, there was something Remus knew to be true that he felt worth bragging about.

He was fucking good in bed.

So his ego was properly stroked when you threw your head back so hard that it made a painful whacking sound against the wood of the desk with just the first stripe of his tongue through your folds.

Like a man starved, he buried his face between your legs and hardly ever came back up for air. He pulled your hips flush to his chest with your legs thrown over his shoulders and his arms hugging your thighs that he used as earmuffs.

Remus could easily call this one of his new favourite places to be, especially with the sinful sounds escaping your mouth.

He used his thumb to tease your clit, thrusting his tongue in your hole a few times before bringing it back out to run through your lips.

“Oh, Merlin!” You cried, causing him to chuckle, which caused you to flinch slightly at the feeling of his cold breath against your cunt.

“Come now, L/N; you know that’s not my name.”

You let out another cry as he wasted no time diving back in, his nose rubbing at your clit as his tongue continued its assault.

Remus’ efforts were rewarded in the form of you cumming on his face and your body falling limp below him.

He allowed you to catch your breath as he fought to catch his own, ignoring his knees crying in protest from having spent the last however long supporting his weight on the hard stone floor.

“Oh gods.” You breathed finally, opening your eyes and stealing a shy glance at Remus, still stationed near your core.

He smiled wolfishly at you. “Better?”

You laughed; a real, hard laugh that had been missing from you all night. “Much.” You agreed readily, accepting his outstretched hand and sitting up on the edge of the desk and pushing your skirt back down to cover yourself. “Thank you, Lupin.”

Remus shrugged nonchalantly as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a snap of his fingers, pushing open a window with a flick of his wand. “What are friends for?”

You snorted inelegantly; a far cry from the proper Pureblood heiress you’d been raised to be as you pulled your panties back on and took careful, albeit slightly wobbly, steps to join him at the window.

“Are we friends now?”

“Were we not friends before?” He countered, offering you a drag from his smoke that you easily accepted. He was sure his lips, tongue, and now the end of his cigarette still tasted like you.

“I didn’t think your kind was supposed to be friends with mine.” You offered, not looking at him as you passed the cigarette back.

“Blood status, really L/N?”

You scoffed derisively. “Please, Lupin. Give me some credit.”

It seemed to Remus that you looked almost hurt at his insinuation.

“I meant Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s.”

“Perhaps we can be the first.”

“Do many of your friends see you naked, Lupin?”

Remus grimaced at that. “Honestly? More than I’d like, yes.”

And there it was again, that uninhibited laugh. Remus felt vindicated in his task for this evening.

“Alright, friends then.” You agreed, reaching out for his cigarette and taking a long drag before returning it to him. “Let me know when you might need my help again, Lupin.”

“Likewise.”

And maybe it was the day that he had Avery pinned against the wall by the collar of his shirt for calling a first year Hufflepuff a Mudblood.

There was blood dripping from Remus’ nose onto the collar of his uniform shirt from an elbow to the face as he spat various threats promises of pain and maiming, when he felt a gentle hand on the small of his back.

Due to the tension radiating through Remus’ body considering how close it was to the moon, his first reaction was to throw an elbow behind him. He thanked every deity possible that you were shorter than him when you ducked expertly to dodge his assault.

“Let him go.” You said simply.

Remus felt his brows furrow as he let out a protesting grumble.

“McGonagall is coming.” You continued.

Remus looked from you back to Avery who was now smirking at him. If Remus left now, Avery would tell McGonagall what Remus did; if Remus stayed, he could tell McGonagall what Avery had said.

“He won’t say anything.” You argued - as if you had heard Remus’ internal conundrum - causing Avery’s face to fall and both boys to whip their heads to you.

“And why the bloody hell won’t I, L/N?” Avery spat.

Your eyes moved from Remus’ to Avery’s where they took on a horrifyingly cold quality, no doubt the result of your cold and indifferent parents raising you like a proper Pureblood heir.

“Because I know where you sleep.” You spat lowly.

Remus watched as Avery fought to remain defiant, but as he heard the sound of McGonagall’s footsteps approaching, let out a frustrated groan.

“Fine. Sod off.” He barked, pushing Remus away from him roughly and stalking off towards the Slytherin dungeons.

Remus angrily picked up his book bag and began stalking down the corridor in the opposite way.

His blood was boiling, the tension in his shoulders and neck was starting to give him a headache and every step he took aggravated the matter.

He turned hastily around a corner when the strap of his book bag was pulled off his shoulder.

“What?” He hissed when he turned to see you with the other end of his strap in your hand.

“This way.”

“L/N.”

“Lupin.” You countered severely, voice intoning no nonsense.

Remus allowed you to drag him by his bookbag like a dog down a seemingly abandoned corridor and into an empty classroom before you locked the doors and threw up a silencing charm.

“What are you doing?” He muttered admittedly far more petulantly than you presently deserved from him.

“Helping.” You answered simply as you began undoing your school tie.

“I’m fine.” He spat, plopping himself down roughly into a chair. 

“Right.” You said sarcastically. “And you wouldn’t have continued to punch the first arse you saw on your way back to Gryffindor, huh?” You asked as you started pulling off your top and exposing your lacy black bra. “And I may not be an expert, but you’re a long way from Gryffindor tower which means your chances of running into an arse were really rather high.”

Remus held his hands up to his face and pinches at his temples, trying to stave off the incoming migraine and the overwhelming urge to tell you to fuck off, which he knew he really didn’t want to do. 

Suddenly you were in nothing but your bra and panties, kneeling before him and fussing with his belt.

“This really isn’t necessary, L/N.” He offered without much fervour. 

“What are friends for?” You asked quietly as you pulled his belt from the loops of his trouser.

“You don’t have to.”

“Do you want me to stop?” You asked pointedly, pausing your movements and looking up at him. You were giving him a choice; an out. Did he want to blow off some steam, or did he want to spend the rest of his day pissed off and tense?

Did he want you to stop?

“No.” He admitted.

Your eyes softened, though everything else about your face remained impassive as you undid the button and zip to his trousers and began encouraging them down his legs.

He decided to give up on his temper tantrum and assist you in the unenviable task of disrobing him and pulled you up into his lap.

“I don’t need anything.” You squeaked as he had you straddle his lap, your hair falling over your shoulders and tickling his own from your place above him.

“I’m not going to get in a fight and be a selfish lover all in the same day, L/N.” He said in faux admonishment. “Friends look after each other, yeah?”

And he’s not sure what swayed you. One moment he had you perched precariously above him as he gently nipped at your neck, and the next moment he was brutally thrusting up into you with no lack of desperation. 

“Fuckin’ hells you feel amazing.” He grunted as you mewled above him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes screwed shut causing Remus to worry momentarily.

“Are you okay?” He asked breathlessly. You moaned in response and dropped your chin onto his shoulder.

“Hey, dove, you okay?” He asked again, pulling you from him and slowing his movements.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop, Lupin.” You barked before you pulled his face to yours by the ends of his hair for a searing kiss. 

He grinned somewhat maniacally into the kiss and lifted you from his lap as he stood with his cock still lodged deep within you and perched you on the edge of the desk.

“You’re a bossy girl, aren’t you?” He taunted, pushing roughly into you from this new angle and causing you to cry out. “You like telling men what to do, dove?”

You gasped as Remus found the magic little spot he’d been searching for and he doubled down in his thrusts with renewed vigour. 

“That’s okay.” He continued, brushing a strand of hair away from your face that had gotten stuck in some of your lipgloss. “I like being told what to do.”

“Please! Please, please please.” You whined, a pretty sheen of sweat dusted your skin and began to pool on the divot of your collarbone. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck me.”

“Working on it.”

You were apparently coherent enough to laugh at that which was torture for Remus who was currently hanging on by a fucking thread as your giggles caused your cunt to clench torturously around his cock.

“Come on, pretty girl. Come on, cum for me, yeah? You’re close; I can tell. Cum for me.” He started chanting, moving his hand that was currently holding your knee up near his ribs to rub circles around your clit.

“Cum for me, L/N.”

“Oh fuck.” You shouted as your orgasm tore through you; Remus felt almost sick from the effort not to follow you over the edge immediately, wanting to help you ride out yours to fruition, but your walls pulsating around him left him very little control over the matter.

“Fuck.” Remus growled, and unfortunately that was the only warning you got before slammed into you once more, twice more, and was then spilling inside you causing your cunt to grow impossibly more wet and warm.

You let out a desperate breath and fell forward into Remus’ chest; he was ashamed to admit how much he relished in the intimacy - ignoring the very intimate act that had already taken place. 

“Fuck Lupin, you’re an animal.” You breathed out with a laugh.

Remus let out a surprised bark of laughter as he looked down at you.

“You have no idea.”

And if it wasn’t any of those, perhaps it was a few weeks later, when Remus saw a regal looking owl fly into the Great Hall over the Slytherin table, and with a grand war cry dropped an important looking letter in front of you, causing the rest of your table to fall silent. 

Remus watched as Regulus Black’s jaw tightened and Barty Crouch Junior’s spoon fell back into his porridge as they watched you open it.

Remus watched as all colour seemed to drain from your face and your jaw fell slack, though not open.

The rest of the Hall seemed completely unaware of the turmoil taking place over at the Slytherin table; everyone but Remus and, apparently, Sirius Black. 

“Shit.” Sirius whispered under his breath quietly, alerting neither Peter nor James who were currently in a heated debate about whether pumpkin pasties or sugar quills were the better treat from Honeydukes.

“What is it?” Remus asked him quietly. Sirius seemed nearly surprised that Remus had noticed, though schooled his expression quickly.

“Marriage announcement, she’s been betrothed.” He sneered the word, his nose actually wrinkling in disgust. “‘Sold off’ is a more appropriate term. It’s too bad, I quite liked her.”

Remus didn’t really like the feeling that settled in his stomach when he considered you being married off, but he didn’t have time to think on it too hard before he watched you storm over to Avery, Mulciber, and Snape before grabbing the former by the nape of his neck and slamming his head down into the table.

Remus was up and over to you in an instant with Sirius close behind, beaten only by Barty and Regulus who had the advantage of proximity.

“You miserable fucking wanker! You’ll fucking rot for this!” You screamed as Regulus fought and nearly lost in his battle of holding you back as Barty began sparring with your newfound enemy.

“I’ll fucking kill you for this Avery! You watch your fucking back!” You screeched. Regulus - for what reason, Remus couldn’t know - thought now a good moment to put you down, and as you launched yourself once again for what he was sure was Avery’s jugular, Remus threw you over his shoulder and took off out of the Great Hall.

“Put me down!” You shouted.

“No.” 

“Fuck off, Lupin.” You cried, grabbing at his jumper and slamming your fists into his lower back as he took the stairs two at a time. 

“You’re fine, L/N.”

You squealed and began kicking your legs out, causing him to use both arms to pin them to his torso.

“Stop it.”

“Put me down!”

“Stop it. Stop fighting me.”

“I hate you.”

“That’s fine.” He said, though it felt anything but. But he knew, you weren’t really mad at him, you perhaps weren’t even really mad at Avery.

“I hate you.” You said quietly this time.

“That’s alright.”

You had given up on your fight by the time Remus got to his destination. He was sure his shoulder in your stomach was causing you issues and the blood had to have been rushing to your head, but you remained placid as he hoisted you back up right and set you down on the floor of the Astronomy tower. 

Your face was wet and your hair was a mess as you took gasping breaths. 

This was beyond Remus’ wheelhouse when it came to you; he was good for eating you out, blowing off some steam, quickies, and the odd toke or two, but this? This was beyond his area of expertise. 

He decided to sit down beside you - both your backs pressed against the cold stone of the castle in a way he was sure felt good against your skin that was sizzling and crackling with fury. He didn’t say anything; there was nothing to say, nothing that he could say, and nothing he’d really know to say at a moment like this. Perhaps he should have left you to your friends; to the Purebloods who got it. Though, Regulus seemed willing to let you help Barty kill Avery, so perhaps it was better that you were up here with him instead. 

That's what he’d tell himself for now.

It could have been minutes or even an hour before you finally took a deep, shuddering breath.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Do what?” Remus asked quietly.

“Stop me.”

“You stopped me first.”

You let that sit in the air as you looked out into the horizon. 

“What do you need, L/N? What… what can I do?” He begged desperately.

Remus was certain the entire school could hear the sound of his heart breaking at the devastated expression that graced your face when you turned to make eye contact with him; your eyes seemed to beg Remus for something but he couldn’t decipher what it was that you were asking of him.

“I want to…to forget.” You sobbed. “I want to not think, I want to turn it all off for a fucking, god’s damned minute. I want it all to stop.”

“Okay.” He offered readily.

“I want it to stop.”

“Okay.” He repeated, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I’m right here.” He encouraged you. “Tell me what you need.”

“I need to forget.”

“Okay.” Remus said again, pulling at your hand and encouraging you into his lap. “I’m right here; take what you need.”

And Remus wasn’t sure what went through your mind as you searched between his hazel eyes. One moment you were carefully perched above him in his lap; tear tracks staining your cheeks and eyes full of sorrow. And in the next moment, your uniform skirt was hiked up and panties pulled to the side, and Remus’ belt was undone and his trousers were pulled low around his thighs as you bounced up and down on his cock like it was the solution to all of life's problems.

Remus wished it were true, he really did. But if all he could do at this moment was help you turn your brain off and forget the unpleasantness waiting for you back in the castle for just a little bit, then that’s what he would do. 

You had your face shoved into his neck and he was quite sure you were biting down on the junction between his shoulder and his neck - in an attempt to quell your moans, your crying, or just out of frustration, Remus didn’t know, and quite frankly he didn’t care either way. You grinded down onto him and he felt you applying pressure to your clit against his pelvic bone, prompting him to start rubbing it with his thumb. 

“You can let go, gorgeous. No one’s here.” He whispered.

You bit down harder in response and began riding him with an air of desperation. 

“I’m right here.”

And then he felt it. First, he felt your tears fall onto his shoulder, then he felt your teeth break his skin, and finally he felt your walls clench around him.

You stayed latched onto him; your arms around his waist, your hands clenched into the fabric of his jumper, your teeth on his skin and your cunt on his cock as he thrusted up into you and found his own release with very little effort on account of the aftershocks still shuddering through you. 

You sat like that for some time afterwards; the gentle breeze causing goosebumps to cover each of you as the sweat began to cool on your skin, and Remus rubbed circles into your bare thighs with his thumbs.

Unfortunately - for reasons Remus wasn’t willing to ponder on at present - you pulled away, a string of spit connecting your lips to the place on Remus’ neck he was sure now adorned the shape of your teeth.

“Sorry.” You rasped, running a hand over the newest of many wounds now decorating his skin. He didn’t want you to be sorry, though, he thought perhaps this might be his favourite one; it wasn’t the result of some hideous monster who took out its rage on him, but instead marked a tender moment between him and his…friend. 

You pulled your wand to cast a healing charm over it when Remus grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t.”

Your reddened and swollen eyes looked at him inquisitively, causing Remus to flush in embarrassment.

“Leave it, I’ve already got so many; what’s one more?” He tried to joke, though he could tell as you looked back down at the bite mark, it fell flat. 

“I’m sorry.” You said again, and Remus shook his head.

“Don’t be.”

“Thank you.” You said quietly, looking into Remus’ eyes imploringly, as if trying to convey your gratitude through your very soul. “For stopping me.”

This moment suddenly felt too charged for Remus; it was different somehow, something had happened, though he wasn’t sure what.

Not then, at least.

“That’s what friends do.” He said noncommittally. “It was an I.O.U.”

He managed to force a small smile out of you for that, and he was grateful. 

So perhaps it was all of those together, in addition to the many blowjobs, many quickies, many quiet, loud, rough, or awkward fucks the two of you had in between.

But maybe…

Maybe it was the way your smile lit up the room when Barty or Pandora said something particularly outlandish or funny; your laughter echoing through the halls like an invitation to experience a secret joy that only you and your friends knew about.

Or maybe it was the way you seemed to be the only one who could weasel a smile, a laugh, or a fond eye roll out of the notoriously cold and apathetic Regulus.

Or maybe it was how a dimple in your left cheek only appeared when you were particularly proud of an achievement you made or a grade you received. 

Or maybe it was the kind way you sheltered the younger Slytherin’s from the brunt of the Marauder’s pranks without impeding their more good natured ones.

Or maybe it was the way you hexed McLaggen for hitting on Lily Evans, and then again for calling her a filthy Mudblood when she refused his advancements.

Or maybe it was the way that you could always tell when Remus was feeling sad or low and needed help, needed something, needed you.

And fuck.

He needed you.

Remus wasn’t exactly sure how this thing started for him.

One moment you were on your hands and knees in his bed and he was fucking into you from behind; his body curled around yours as he rubbed at your clit expertly to push you over that edge for the third time tonight. And the next moment you were spread out and pliant beneath him, head thrown back in ecstasy as he lazily pushed into you.

He didn’t often get moments like this; moments to just sit and admire you. 

This thing he had with you, it was delicate, precarious. It was precious. And he wasn’t going to go fucking it up by forcing it to be something it wasn’t.

You were friends.

You were friends who helped each other.

You were friends who have seen each other naked; who have tasted each other’s sweat, skin, flesh, blood, and cum. 

You were friends who have spent time with each other, on each other, and in each other.

You were friends.

That’s what you had agreed to, that was the arrangement, that was all this was supposed to be.

And then Remus’ stupid sodding heart had to go and fucking yearn for you.

It ached to sit beside you in the library without it being a precursor for one of you to be on your knees in the stacks moments later. 

It ached to ask you about your day for the sole purpose of getting to hear about it and not just as a means to help you take your mind off it by bending you over in an empty classroom. 

It ached to watch you, uninhibited throughout the day, without it causing grief, or angst, or hungry looks being exchanged. 

It ached to taste your lips without tasting the leftover sex from previous actions. 

It ached for you to climb into the shower with him after this, to throw on one of his ratty old band tees, and to stay.

It ached for you to stay.

He wanted you to stay.

But you guys were friends.

And that was enough, it had to be enough. He would make it be enough. 

So sue him; sue him for taking this extra moment to admire your form below him, when you were only his in this moment. Sue him for memorising the way your hair pooled around your head like a halo even after all the tugging and ruffling that it has been subjected to. Sue him for watching the way your breasts bounced with each gentle thrust of his hips, the way your ribs expanded and contracted with each breath, the way the two of you fit so perfectly together; your body accepting him with grace and ease as he slotted the two of you together over and over and over again.

He ached for you.

And damn him - damn him and his bleeding heart and this beautiful girl beneath him - he reached out to pull a strand of hair that laid plastered to the side of your sweaty face.

He didn’t just ache for you.

He yearned for you.

He loved you.

He was in love with you.

And Godric only knows how far gone he was or for how long now. But it didn’t matter; none of it mattered. All that mattered was this ethereal being that, for just this moment, was all his. 

He doesn’t know how long your eyes had been returning his gaze. He supposed it didn’t matter, because he knew; he knew it was written all over his face. 

He may as well have been flashing a neon sign on his forehead: “My name is Remus, and I’m wildly in love with you”. And if the sign hadn’t been enough, he was sure his actions were.

There was no longer any desperation in his actions; no destination in mind as he slowly pulled out of you and pushed back in again. His hands weren’t placed in precise locations to elicit a specific reaction of any sort, but rather roved languidly over your body in meticulous worship. 

And if that hadn’t been enough, he was sure that the way you were staring deep into his eyes, into his soul; you saw. You knew.

The jig was up.

He had been outed. 

Your eyes widened minutely and began to flit around Remus’ face as your grip on his arms stationed on either side of your body loosened. 

You knew.

Though it was all for naught at this point, Remus scrunched his eyes closed as if he could save any of his remaining dignity; not that there was much left.

This was it, it was all going to be over.

He lowered himself over your body and pressed his face into your neck, hiding like the coward he was as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.

Gently, tentatively, he felt you press a cautious hand between his shoulder blades and another to the nape of his neck. 

Somehow, the tenderness in your touch hurt more. 

He came with a strangled cry, feeling humiliating tears fall from his eyes as he filled you up for what he was certain would be the last time.

He melted into your hold and cried silently into your shoulder, and you let him.

Your hand that was stationed between his shoulder blades never moved, but your hand in his hair kneaded gentle, soothing circles into his scalp.

He wanted you to stop; he wanted you to stop because this was all he really wanted... to be here, with you, like this.

He wanted the rough and the fun and the biting and the hair pulling, sure. But he wanted the gentle, the soft, the affection, and the innocent intimacy, too. 

That wasn’t fair though; it wasn’t fair to you. You never asked for it, and you never offered it.

You never asked for it.

You never offered it.

He decided that he’d been hiding in your neck for far longer than he had any right to, and slowly pulled his face away from its sanctuary. 

He looked up at you through his curls in shame to see you had tear tracks down your cheeks too.

What a fucking mess.

He was a fucking mess; and he’d dragged you down into it.

He slowly pulled out of you and summoned a tissue to clean up the cum leaking from your folds. You hissed at the sensation and he whispered an apology before pulling on a pair of pyjama pants and throwing you a t-shirt that he hoped to fucking God was clean, and sat on the edge of James’ bed; facing you, though his head was bowed in shame.

“I’m sorry.” He offered pathetically, knowing it was not even close to helpful in this situation.

“When…” You started, voice both gravely from the sex and tight with emotions as new tears fell. “When did this happen?”

He didn’t have an answer; he didn’t know. He couldn't say.

“When,” you tried again. “When did this change?”

Your face fell into your hands as you began to cry in earnest.

He wondered what part of this upset you the most; the loss of this friend that you had in him? The pressure to offer him more than you were willing to give? The feeling of guilt over not being able to return his feelings?

You didn’t seem to be waiting for an actual answer from him, but were rather voicing the thoughts running through your head as they came to you.

“I should go.” He whispered, even though this was his room, even though you were wearing his shirt.

“Don’t.” You demanded harshly, eyes blazing with a fire he never imagined ever being shot at him. “Don’t you dare leave me here like this; not after that.”

He nodded quickly, sitting back down on James’ bed as you wiped angrily at your face.

He wished you wouldn’t; he wished you’d be more gentle.

He didn’t get to wish things like that, though.

“When, when did this become love?” You asked in a mixture of shock and bemusement; the thought of an equation you couldn’t solve was clearly insulting to you. 

Remus shook his head in disgrace. “I’m sorry.” He offered weakly.

You scoffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Sorry for what, exactly? Making me fall in love with you? Making me fall in love with you and not telling me about it?”

“You... too?” He rasped, looking at you with a slack jaw.

“Fuck.” You seethed, standing up and beginning to pace the dorm room for a few moments as you seemed to think back on the entire duration of this situation.

“When!?” You demanded again after a few moments.

“I don’t know.” He admitted honestly, placatingly.

“Fuck.” You paused in place, bringing your hands to your mouth. Remus hated it, but you paused right in front of the hearth, causing your form to be illuminated by an ethereal glow. He thought you looked beautiful.

“I’m sorry.” He said, for daring to even think such a thing.

But, maybe…maybe if you loved him too, he could think such things?

“Fuck.” You said again, still staring unseeingly at the wall of his dorm as you stood in nothing but an oversized shirt in the middle of the room.

“What-” Remus started, taking a cautious step towards you as if you were a wild animal poised to run at any given moment. “What do you want, Y/N?”

Not one muscle in your body moved save for your eyes as they shot over to him.

“Anything.” He whispered.

I’ll give you anything you want; be anything you want. Say it and I’m yours. I’m yours.

I’m already all yours.

“I need to pee.” You said plainly.

Remus’ chest deflated in relief that you weren’t asking him to obliviate this memory from your mind.

“And then…” You took a shuddering breath that made Remus want to fold you up and keep you safe in his breast pocket for the rest of his life. “And then I want to talk. About this, okay? Please?”

Remus nodded quickly, readily, so unbelievably willingly.

“Don’t leave, please. Please be here when I get back.” You whispered; eyes, voice, and body language far more vulnerable than he ever remembered seeing from you (and ever cared to see from you again).

“Always.”

And he kept that promise.

[planete777]

BAD INFLUENCE・⁠｡♪ LN4 [+ OP81]

( lando norris x fem!reader ft. oscar piastri)

READ PART 2!

IN WHICH. getting high was never on oscar's roster. getting high and enjoying it with y/n and lando wasn't either, but that just makes it much more... exciting. (based on this ask)

WARNINGS. 16+, suggestive content, drug use (as per), high hotness pt 875443, oscar cameo (woop woop 🥳), make outs, first time getting high, oscar being whipped for lando and y/n? wbk, a bit of mxm content between drivers, shotgunning coz it's my most favourite thing ever

NOTE. LANDOSCAR!! this may probably be my favourite fic and is my longest so im looking forward to you guys reading it!!! well overdue in my humblest opinion, but i delivered hehe. enjoy my luvs and a very happy new year in advance mwah mwah mwah 😚😚 i appreciate all of you readers, thank you for all your support 💓💓💓

SIDENOTE. my askbox is now closed for requests 🤍

‧₊˚✩彡 taglist @laciijane @ferrarrigirl @norrizzandpia @mimi-luvzyu (use askbox above if you'd like to be added!)

frankly speaking, a 'you up?' text from oscar piastri, whose entire persona was an antithesis of what that type of message usually pertained to, isn't something lando was expecting at 1am after a tedious race weekend. knows oscar to be one who sleeps in too early, as if his circadian rhythm was built upon the foundation of a restrictive curfew, and even fathoming the fact that he is awake past 12 is rather peculiar.

yet, with the mutually pre-established sense that lando would be awake (he's probably an insomniac, but it's not too concerning for him to actually check), and that oscar was asking if he was just for the sake of, most likely because he's, unusually, unable to sleep, lando replies with much sluggish vim.

fingers moving as if they played in a dream, he's able to reply with 'yh, why????' and sends it off before throwing his phone on the bed. he thinks, if he's sober, he would care more that this is oscar!!!! who is normally adamant about getting sleep!!! and not looking more sleep deprived than his naturally downturned eyes already make he seem to be!!!! but his mind feels like gooey viscous, and he counts about 3,000 peaks and troughs of the popcorn ceiling above before losing count and seeking solace in the spliff that burns his throat like a madman. he ponders if he's going crazy.

it's not long after that the undulating, monotonous buzz from his phone tickles his skin and with a sigh he goes to reply. and as he does so, his girlfriend, curiosity piqued, perks up from the foot of the bed.

"who's texting you this late?"

she looks ridiculously amusing: head hanging off the edge, loose and completely yielding like a dead body, and the only thing that reassures lando of her consciousness is the occasion movement of her arm to take another drag.

he wedges the joint between his reddened lips, lips curling awkwardly to speak, "piastri. dunno what he wants th- oh shit."

he's never felt such a sinking, crippling feeling of his high escaping him like a broken dam before. it's weirdly chilling, and for a good second, he feels brightly and vividly sober again. the texts just... stare at him and he almost wants to hurl his phone at the wall and watch it rain a litany of debris.

osc: just... forgot to give you back your stuff that i borrowed

osc: found some green leaf stuff in it lol im a bit concerned

lando's read it so many times, he's more than certain he knows just how many letters it consists of. fingers hover above the keyboard but it looks like they're weirdly swimming in air as he debates just what to write, and y/n is suddenly hissing his name, having sat up.

"— lan'! fucking hell, what happened?"

he moves on autpilot, back resting up the headboard, "he's found my weed."

y/n— y/n snorts. she sighs, moves back to her original pose, and lando's brain feels like static.

"love, i thought it would be worse."

lando splutters, "worse? babe, this is already bad! he could tell management for all i know." the mere thought of that makes lando's mind congeal. nevertheless, high out of his wits, he thinks he would somehow find a way to continue even if he was implored to stop.

she's disagreeing and laughing, and lando doesn't know what to make of it.

"nah, you're good. oscar wouldn't tell a soul," it's silent as he sees a burst of smoke ascend from the edge of the mattress, "tell him to bring it over."

lando fights with himself in his head. it's hilarious, really, watching his face morph from one emotion to another, and after 5 minutes with no whooshing affirmative of a message being sent, y/n exhales.

the bed curves in as she crawls up towards lando, before plucking the phone from his grip.

"it's really not that deep, lan'," her voice feels like cotton in his ears, "oscar isn't like that."

her fingers fly across the keyboard, how she does so in her inebriated state, lando has no clue, and just as quickly as she snatched the phone, she's sliding it back between his fingers.

"how— how do you know that?"

all presumptions, really, lando thinks. they may be good friends, him and oscar, but they've still got many, many steps to go before he's reassured that the other wouldn't go running his mouth to management because he found *fucking weed* in his bag.

the little voice at the back of his mind seeths, 'you shouldn't be smoking anyway', but he ignores it. what the hell does it know?

y/n goes to straddle him, crotch digging into his. its a soft wave of pleasure that oozes from the pressure, and lando lets a small moan mix with the puff of smoke he blows out. they would've fucked if only his limbs didn't feel like they've been detached and re-stitched; maybe they'd end the night with a lazy ride.

his girlfriend smirks, all cunning and undeniably hot, sucking in as much smoke as she can before blowing it all on his face. if anybody else had done this, he'd turn feral, but there's something alluring when y/n's exhale tickles his skin like feathers.

"how do i know? well, oscar, he kinda reminds me of you—" lando interrupts with a raised brow and a questioning stare, but y/n proceeds, "both of you are- you were- itching for a release. him not as much as you, but i still see it."

and lando can't really deny that, because he sees it too. in the way oscar's eyes seem to dart with dreaded uncertainty, and the way his shoulders are always up and tense, as if he has been tied like a puppet.

"that's what i call 'destined to get high'," y/n banters. it makes lando snort and roll his eyes (ultimately omitting to dwell on the sliver of seriousness that leaks through).

"dunno why you're rolling your eyes, you were basically begging me to give you a spliff," y/n taunts, and even though he groans at the reminiscence, he doesn't deny it. doing so would be like calling himself michael schumacher.

"yeah, whatever," he takes a lazy drag, a hand sliding up and down y/n's thigh, "at least i'm sexy when getting stoned."

y/n cackles, dissolving into a small giggle as she twirls her fingers through lando's curls; she never wants to let him go.

"damn right, baby."

another ping sounds from lando's phone, and subconsciously, his hands snakes to get it.

when he turns it on, he doesn't think he can be gobsmacked with such intensity twice in a day.

landooo: yh just bring it over

landooo: you can join us if you'd like

landooo: 😉

osc: uhm sure..

"y/n."

-.-.-.-.-

weed.

he'll be fucking damned.

the laugh that is punched out of him is one of disbelief, and, quite frankly, sheer horror.

he'd only wanted to borrow some shaving cream, after all, he's not one to favour the prickly itch of stubble. and in perfect, restless lando fashion, he was given the whole essentials bag and tasked with finding it himself.

which then leads him to now, palm burning with the weight of three spliffs that had somehow tumbled out of a flat metal tin.

he stares at them for so long that he might as well have burned holes into them (ironic), and in a flurry of movement, he's stuffing everything back into the bag, zipping it closed. if he doesn't see it, then he doesn't know it's there. cool.

but he's just standing, in the middle of his hotel room, completely clueless and delirious. he doesn't know how many times he wipes perspiration off his palms and onto his shorts, neither does he know how he's able to text lando about his findings.

originally, he thought that sending the infamous, suggestively connotated 'you up?' would've trimmed a bit of the tension away, yet it seems like lando, without fail, waters the situation with a fuck-ton more.

"'join us'? fucking hell."

oscar feels absolutely scorched from the wisps of his hair to the tips of his toes, and a spark of something curls in his gut.

no, absolutely not.

it's- he flips his watch to check the time- one am for fuck's sake, and lando's— getting high. smoking weed. [most likely] with his girlfriend.

whatever it is that makes his gut its abode curls even more as he shoves his feet into the nearest shoes he can find, and tames his hair in the mirror by the doorway. finding the night already too hard to bare, he doesn't dwell on what he'd done, and heads off to lando's room with sickening anticipation swirling within the grooves of his skin.

the walk is only a few seconds long, and oscar curses the fact that they weren't roomed further apart (impractical in usual circumstances, but the current predicament is anything but usual). he guesses he stands there, navy blue wash bag clutched in a vice grip, for many minutes (his concept of time tonight is royally fucked— how has he stayed up this late?) before he musters up some courage to knock on the door. in the quietude of the night, the sound is magnified to the point where he winces and hopes that no one else on their floor wakes up.

he hears a quiet rustle from behind the door, sighs for the umpteenth time that day (honestly, he could have a smoke for himself to- no.) before it's swiftly open.

y/n stands there, no sign of a spliff in sight, but her heavy lidded red eyes (that must hurt, right?) and the pungent smell of weed is enough to tell.

"ah, golden boy is here," y/n's grinning, as much as she can do without it looking robotic, and oscar blushes.

"g-golden boy?"

"i said what i said," she opens the door wider, and oscar's vision catches a limp leg hanging off the side of the bed, "you coming in or what?"

he's never been in such a mind-tearing crossroad before. wants to be reasonable and say no, afterall his job is on the line here (just because lando hasn't been caught, doesn't mean he won't, too). but then he's thinking that he's played angel's advocate for too long, and, as if the universe wants to commit a double homicide, lando is walking over, countenance lackadaisical and bends down as he wraps his arms around her waist.

he asks for forgiveness, because such a temptation before him is completely unforgiving , and oscar finds his vascillations come to an end the second he makes eye contact with his teammate.

it's then he realises that the something that had been driving his intestines mad was sheer want, and, having a mind of their own, his feet shuffle into the room, decision finalised by the click of the door shutting behind him.

he just hopes he doesn't regret this is in the morning.

the couple, with eased familiarity, move back to the bed, leaving oscar standing there, lost and expecting. lando regains possession of the spliff, back flat against the bed and arm bent behind his head.

he's turning to oscar, several beats later, with a heated look that just pulls the australian right in.

"put the bag down, osc," he's demanding— oh fuck, "and come over here."

oscar feels rather mortified at the effect lando's assertiveness has on him. his heart curdles, drips away like goo, and he can't think straight.

toes off his shoes, sliding them out of the way with his foot, before dumping the bag on lando's luggage and tentatively making his way to the bed.

it's excruciatingly daunting, must he say, and he's sure it's blatant because y/n is grinning softly and beckoning him closer with the wave of a hand.

"you're good, oscar."

then he's fully on the bed, a thin sheen of gray blurring his vision and the stench of smoke so thick, he could get high off it alone.

lando's splayed in front of him, watching intensely as his fingers accomodate a joint between them, and y/n's at his side, right at the foot of the bed, fiddling with a metal tin of her own.

he wonders just how long they've been doing this for.

"for me, since i was 18/19 maybe. lando started about a year ago."

oscar's brain fucking spasms.

his head whips to y/n, then back to lando, who just smiles and takes another drag, "a year?!"

the girl beside him giggles, turning back to him with a freshly rolled spliff of his own, "yeah. practically drooling to take a hit."

his teammate groans, dragging a hand down his face before sitting up, they seem to go through this ordeal once or twice before.

before he can question any more, y/n points the joint at him, "you sure you want to do this?"

funny, he's asking himself this. has been ever since he read the proposition that lando (y/n) had sent, and he had replied with a seemingly confused 'sure'. heat feels like a thousands ants crawling up his body, and the silence is even worse because he's certain his ears are filled with cement.

"am i— am i gonna get addicted to... this?"

lando shakes his head just as y/n shrugs, "depends, love. if you've got good enough self control and don't rely on it too much, you'll be fine."

oscar gives a sigh of relief, but turns tense again as he looks at lando. almost telepathically, he knows what oscar is thinking.

"no osc, i'm not hooked on this. i only do it every couple of weeks or so."

his hands raise up in defense, "just asking, mate."

"and you have every right to, baby," y/n says, then scoops his hand into her grip and puts the spliff in his hand, "now take this and let lando teach you."

oscar doesn't know what to do with it. he just stares at the green stick in his hand and wills up some courage to look back up at lando. for the first time in 22 years, he's going to experience what it's like to get high, and the excitement that crawls up his spine is chilling.

"take this," lando pushes a bottle of water into his hands, and oscar looks at it in confusion.

"it's your first time, so it'll probably make you cough a ton. drinking water helps."

oscar nods, gently taking and unscrewing it open. he gulps it down like a starved animal, and almost chokes when he notices his teammates girlfriend staring bullets into his face. his heart jumps and he stops drinking.

"now put the spliff in your mouth and let me light it for you."

oscar does so, feeling the weight of the rolled joint between his lips is completely maddening.

his teammate fishes a black lighter from the bedside table, then scooches closer to oscar's crossed legs. lando's body is like a furnace of drunken heat, and it only gets worse when his hand lands right on oscar's bare thigh.

it feels perfect and oscar thinks he's surfing on the waves of euphoria already.

"this good?" lando questions his touch, and oscar doesn't waste time to nod, "alright— when i light it, you're gonna try and inhale as much as you can. don't let it stay in your throat or you're gonna cough."

oscar bobs his head affirmatively.

"if you can't, just take it in small amounts, not too much that it hits your throat."

then lando's leaning in, flame swaying from the lighter, and oscar's eyebrows scrunch as he follows it closer and closer to the spliff.

it's instaneous, the heat that fills his mouth, and in a hurried succession, oscar is inhaling and spluttering like a madman. his eyes are burning, they may already be red at this point, and his nose feels ripped off.

"take it easy, love," a hand- y/n's- rests upon his back and he finds himself needing composure, and not only from his failed attempt to smoke.

"wow uh that was— uhm..."

lando rubs his thigh, with the intention to comfort, but oscar finds himself more pent up than before. the weed is already kicking in and his mind feels chopped into pieces and mixed with cake batter, and every touch feels like a punch.

"you good to go again?" lando queries. oscar nods, his throat feeling too rough to speak up, "okay then, take your time and calm yourself down. small intakes, yeah?"

the spliff goes back between his lips, and with lando watching him like he's the best movie he's ever seen, he's sucking in the smoke cautiously and— fuck, it feels so so good. he's unravelled everywhere, not a kink left in his joint nor a knot remaining in his muscles, and when he breathes the smoke out, he lets his head fall back with a smile on his face.

"there you go," lando's voice sounds loose and airy in his mind, and oscar finds himself loving it.

"look at him, babe," y/n chimes from beside him, and his head rolls to give her an inebriated grin, "told you he was meant for it."

lando hums, agreeing, from in front of him, "gonna shotgun with him."

whatever that is, y/n is eager to see it happen, and oscar gives lando a confused look. it only evokes a cute grin from the other, who plucks the spliff from oscar's fingers.

"i'll take a hit and blow it in your mouth, if that's cool with you."

and— oscar moans involuntarily. he doesn't know where it comes from but it's practically punched out of him with how loud it is, and lando smirks widely. all oscar can do is watch as he fills his mouth with smoke and shuffles closer to him. his heart palpitates, beating like a drum piece, and his skin is damp and flushed from the intensity of it all.

lando assesses oscar's decision, confirming his consent as he nods, and slowly, lando snakes an arm around his neck, pulling him closer. oscar is compliant, body wanting and downright desperate, mouth opening on autopilot.

the second lando's lips attach to his and the smoke is pushed into his mouth, oscar fucking loses it. his eyes roll to the back of his head, and he's grabbing lando's hair and pushing his mouth deeper.

he's kissing his teammate with all he has to give, and lando— he's reciprocating it, lips hungry on oscar's, biting and licking everywhere. for a second, oscar can't think about anything, mind filled with just lando, as his tongue slips in and turns the kiss filthy.

oscar hasn't made out with anyone with such ferocity. he's encompassed in scorching heat, and the euphoria just gets better as lando trails his lips down his neck. the bites and licks are inclement, and oscar's sure there'd be marks tomorrow, angry and purple, but right now, he doesn't care. not when lando's hands creep up his shirt, and run up his torso, resting upon his nipples and twirling them around his fingers.

"oh fuck, lando," his moan is so high pitched it sounds foreign and it's almost hard for him to believe that it comes from him. but he's sure it does, because another is forced out as soft hand turns his head to the side and there's another set of lips on his in an instant.

he thinks he could hooked on y/n's kisses, warm, wet and so fucking sensual, he feels worshipped. not an inch of skin is missed by her tongue, and with every drag of her lips against his, he's concluding that this would be the perfect way to die.

oscar's so hard in his jeans from lando's stimulation, y/n's kisses, and the heightened sensation of everything from the weed, that he almost cums in his shorts. he can only imagine how plump it could be, and how a mouth on it would have him sobbing for days.

but he doesn't have to, because lando creeps a hand to his crotch and squeezes. the whine that leaves oscars mouth and into his teammate's girlfriend's is criminal.

"gonna suck you off so good, osc," lando moans in his ear, breath warm and words dirty, "you like that?"

and as oscar begs him to, he thinks that maybe getting high with lando and y/n isn't so bad afterall.