#he slammed the brakes and I was like there’s no way
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Entitled To You (3.6K words)
Norstaptri x Reader
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: An incident with Lance sends the boys into a frenzy. She just wants to do what she loves.
Warnings: Explicit depictions of r@pe, injury descriptions, panic attacks, Oscar plots a murder, Lando throws hands, Car crashes, Author doesn't know legal stuff, Head trauma and blood.
Notes: This one is a request from @Lily234566 I know this wasn't the original pairing but I was struggling to fit the Ferrari boys in there so I had to scale it back... I'm sorry and I hope you still like it! T_T
Side Note: Sorry to the Lance girlies reading this. AND obligatory message of I don't know these people and this is purely FICTION! HEAD THE TAGS! DONT LIKE THEN DONT READ!
Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi
“Max!” She peeks her head into his driver's room. The bright beaming smile she receives in return after their 1-2 nearly kills her. “They want me for a media thing, apparently.” HIs smile drops into a pout. The sad puppy eyes might convince her to stay.
“Again? Don’t they know we have plans!
“No, and why would they care anyway?” She looks him up and down and whines because he’s standing in front of her with no shirt on. “Just - I’ll meet you guys back at the room. It’s something to do with being a female in F1… again.”
“I’m starting to think they have nothing else to talk about.”
She shrugs as she walks out of the hospitality, waving to Christian on her way by. The goal is to get past the Mclaren garage without seeing Lando because otherwise she is not going to the interview. His pout is worse (better?) than Max’s.
To her pleasant surprise, Laura is the one conducting the interview. “I’m sorry about this being last minute! They said they wanted you to do it with someone else next week and I offered to do it now.”
The interview passes with ease and thankfully doesn’t take long at all. The banter in-between is also entertaining.
She’s exhausted when they finish. Ready to go back to the hotel and fall into bed with her boys. Hopefully They’ve ordered food - and dessert.
The paddock is nearly empty as she makes her way through. Maybe, had she been paying more attention and not focussed on her aching body, she would’ve caught on to the footsteps behind her.
They are heavy, she assumes possibly a mechanic still packing up to continue on their way to the next circuit. That’s what she still thinks when the hand on her bicep yanks her around the corner.
If she weren’t as exhausted, then fighting would’ve been a possibility. However, that seems out of the cards as he pins her against the nearest wall. Her forehead hitting the surface hard enough to make her dizzy.
“Not so confident now, huh?”
The fuck- “Lance? What are you?-” He slams her head again and cages her body against his own. She flails, only to be slammed again. “Would you stop doing that please?”
“Not after that stupid stunt you pulled today on track.”
“You mean the one where you showed you don’t know what brakes are?-” Again, her head is sent into the hard surface. She can feel her nose starting to bleed. “Must you?!” She decided to shut up when he does it again and everything starts to go fuzzy.
His fingers dip beneath the waistband of her fireproofs. The cold evening air hits her bare skin and she panics more than before. Her head is too cloudy to fully comprehend what’s happening.
“I feel like I'm entitled to a bit of compensation after that stunt.”
“You’re entitled to nothing. You took yourself out!” She hisses through gritted teeth. Still, Lance continues to get her clothes lower. And slams her head again harder - you know - because she wasn’t disoriented enough already.
“Would you shut up?” She doesn’t say anything this time. Her mouth feels numb and her ears are ringing. Her exposed lower half is met with the bare hands of someone she doesn't want touching her.
It's - well - it hurts. He's groping at her thighs, ass, even her tits which she isn't sure how he's managing. His hands are everywhere they shouldn't be.
And then nothing.
A vague awareness of what's happening seeps through her veins and invades her senses. She tries to scream. Attempts despite the sheer pain of the snap of hips she didn't ask for.
His finger beat her to it. A hand encloses around her throat and cuts off her oxygen. The black spots dance around her vision. She wants them to stop moving; they are making her dizzy. Or was she already dizzy?
“See, it's not so bad. Don't you feel less guilty for ruining my race now?” No, she doesn't. She wasn't guilty before.
She blacks out.
~~~♡~~~
Waking up with sore limbs and a killer headache is not how she pictured this night going. She tries to yell for help, but a mere creaky rasp escapes.
When did she lose her voice? The thought makes her panic more. The sob she lets out hurts more than there is sound.
Her face and hair is sticky. At least Lance had done her the courtesy of not finishing inside of her.
Still - what the fuck even happened? The fragmented memory is trying to come back to her slowly. Each small piece remembered is another broken cry.
She can't move.
It's dark again.
~~~♡~~~
The anxiety between the three boys is certainly not something they are used to. Oscar can pinpoint the exact moment Lando started overthinking and Max had to bear hug him so he didn't pace a hole into the cement of the parking lot.
The fourth seat in their car remains empty and their messages have gone unanswered. It's getting more concerning with each passing minute.
“Max, she always responds.”
“I know Lando.”
“She always calls if she's going to be longer.”
“Lando?”
“Yes?”
“Would you feel better if we went and looked around for her?”
The Brit nods his head in a fashion that might give him whiplash. It's better seeing him feel helpful then sit helplessly. Though Oscar can't help but agree with Max's original point. that they should wait there at the car just in case since that's where they were supposed to meet.
Granted, it's only been twenty minutes. It's still long enough to be murdered.
They Methodically peer around corners and wave at the mechanics who give them skeptical looks. They were supposed to be out for post race celebrations by now.
Oscar freezes when he sees it. The human shaped lump lying on the ground. He rushes over with long strides. The closer he gets, the more familiar the person on the ground becomes.
“Max! Lando! I found her!” The other two boys come sprinting in his direction. He's on the ground trying to clear her hair from her face only for it to get stuck in the sticky substance coating her features.
“What the fuck?”
Her fireproofs are still on, but it's obvious what happened. The handprints on her neck, the blood trickling down the sides of her face. “We need to bring her to a hospital.”
Max hoists her up in his arms. Mainly because Lando is on the brink of tears and struggling to breathe through his panic. He loves deeply and with his heart on his sleeve. Oscar just hopes he can keep the Brit calm until they find more help.
“Can we at least clean her up?” Lando pleads with him. Big Hazel eyes brimming with tears.
It's always a struggle to tell him no. “We can't, not if it can help us figure out who did it.” The tears start right after that.
“So that’s what happened then? Someone really-” Oscar has to maneuver the puddle of tears that is his boyfriend into the passenger seat of their rental car. Max tosses him the keys, opting to be with her in the back and keep her comfortable.
The tricky drive to emergency is more because Oscar is too far in his own thoughts to pay attention to the traffic lights. He can hear Max moving her around, attempting to put pressure where blood still flows freely.
Oscar doesn’t bother with parking. He pulls off into some empty area and helps Max shoulder her weight inside the doors while Lando runs ahead to find help.
It’s fast after that. They take her away and start patching her up while the three of them are forced to sit in the waiting room. Oscar and Lando are left to their own devices while Max paces about on the phone with Christian.
He feels like a knife is being driven through his chest each time his mind tries to come up with what could’ve happened. Who would do something like this? Unfortunately, a lot of people. The question is more of who could’ve done it and gotten away. Someone with access to the paddock this late. Security, perhaps? Maybe even a sleazy mechanic? A driver wouldn’t make any sense… right?
“When will they let us see her?”
“When she wakes up, most likely.”
He’s not sure when he falls asleep. The exhaustion finally hit him like a truck despite his persistence. He’s awoken by Max’s constant shaking and aggressive whispering of his name.
“-She’s asking for us.”
He’s up faster than Lando when Jon threatens an ice bath. They follow the nurse down the halls with an uneasy anticipation. They creep inside the sterile room and find her staring at the wall.
Lando doesn’t hesitate to move further into the room. Always having been more in touch with his emotions then the other two boys. “Hey love, can I come closer?”
She looks at him. The bandages plastered over the sides of her head and around her face now visible to them. She returns Lando’s gaze with glassy eyes. It’s damn near shocking when she tries to pull things off her body in a desperate attempt to reach for Lando.
Lando gets to her before she can get everything off, specifically the IV, and catch her arms. Oscar and Max finally pull themselves together and manage to get her to lay back down with some coaxing.
She’s shaking violently. Her grip on Lando’s arm is sure to leave bruises. “Who - who f-found me?”
“We did, schat. We got worried when you didn’t respond.” Max drags the two chairs in the room closer and pulls Oscar down into one. Lando, against all odds, manages to wriggle his way into bed with her.
“I know who it was. I - well - does anyone else know?”
“Just Christian and us.” Oscar can feel the fight Max is putting up to not ask her more questions. The way he’s grounding himself with a hand on Oscars knee instead.
“You don’t have to tell us.” He attempts to reassure. Maybe calm her mind by giving her an option. “Just know we’re here, alright?”
“I don’t want it to be a big story. It’s already going to be since I can’t be in the car for the next four weeks. Oh fuck - everyone is gonna know-” Lando hushes her; gets her to somehow hold him tighter.
“Christian said it’s up to you, whatever happens.” Max nods at her encouragingly. “We go at your pace.”
“They did a rape kit. They’ll know who it is. It was all over so it couldn’t have been hard to get DNA - oh fuck”
Her heart rate picks up. The nurses rush in. They send her back to sleep.
~~~♡~~~
Max wants to know who it was who touched her. The rage simmering underneath her skin is almost too much to keep contained.
On the more fortunate side, they were allowed to stay since she wouldn’t let go of Lando. Then when he did have to get up, they rotated.
The doctors and nurses learned to approach her like she’s a scared animal. The heavy footsteps seem to set her off and there is now a sticky note on the door saying to tiptoe when entering. It’s endearing to see her doctors and nurses trying so hard not to startle her. But seeing as they’ve now had several incidents where she’s panicked, they are taking more caution.
Oscar and Lando have meandered away in search of food. Max opted to stay put and made the promise to bring him back cheat foods. He’s too stressed to not eat something of comfort.
Her physio is supposed to come by today with the stuff she left at the track and get an update from the doctors themselves instead of Max’s botched attempts at repeating back. It will also be nice to see her comfortable, as the one blanket that travels with her everywhere will also be dropped off.
“Max?” He tightens his hold to show he’s listening. “It’s not fair… You, Lando, and Oscar make a mistake on track and nobody does that to you. I - It wasn’t my fault.”
The thing is, Max is smarter than people give him credit for. The only incident on track was with Lance. An incident that was his own fault. “He’s at fault, not you. None of this is your fault.”
“They are going to say I was asking for it or something.”
“In those fireproofs? The only ones asking for it are me and Oscar… for obvious reasons.” He chuckles proudly at his little self compliment.
It also manages to get her to crack something of a half smile. “Are you complimenting your own ass?”
“And what if I am?”
She doesn’t eat anything despite it being sat in front of her. Soft foods are the only thing she’ll be eating. Her throat, albeit not as bad as it could've been (thank you F1), is still damaged and needs to rest as much as possible.
They had to keep her for observation due to where the head wounds had been. It’s been a rough thirty-six hours, but they are managing.
Despite the hectic situation, Max has come to learn that the female lying in the hospital bed is a better person then the rest of them. Oscar was detailing a full proof murder plan while she was telling him not to make it a bigger deal then it is. To which Oscar politely put his ten step plan with four contingencies down and told her that it’s ‘what he had coming to him’.
Max has not had to stop someone from assassinating a rival before, but Oscar seems like a reasonable guy. “Death is too good for him.”
“Mm, you’re right, I’ll just make sure he doesn’t die then and can’t see my face.”
“Or, we make his life a series of inconveniences! I feel like daddy’s money could get him good therapy. It can’t solve every minor problem.” Lando has a gleam in his eyes.
Him and Oscar start pouring over ideas once more. The girl simply shakes her head and goes back to eyeing her pudding like it’s assaulted her. “I don’t want to leave here, Max.”
“Why not? I’d assume you want to go home? Sleep in a comfortable bed?”
“Out there, they can get to us. Here is safe.”
He considers how to reassure her. Only, there is nothing he can think of. The truth is that outside of this hospital room, there is no guarantee they won’t run into trouble.
“I can’t promise that we'll never have something bad happen again. But-” He looks to the McLaren duo brainstorming ways to make the Aston Martin garage regret existing. “We’ll be there for each other. We’re here for you. When you want us and when you need us, yes?”
“Pinky swear?” She extends her pink to him.
Max accepts and curls his pinks around hers. “Pinky swear.”
~~~♡~~~
It’s not fair really, that they had to leave to go do things. Lando would prefer he at least stayed with her so she isn’t alone. Alas, they are preparing for her discharge and he had to run around getting things together for their trip back to Monaco.
He comes back to a partially opened door and smiles at the other two boys being able to get back before him. Then again, as he gets closer he can hear the angry tone. One that Max uses when he’s pissed off about something.
Lando panics and rushes inside. Only to be met with the sight of the last person he wants around right now.
Now - he wouldn’t say he’s prone to violence. Lando prefers to keep the peace when it comes to conflict unless he’s trying to piss someone off on purpose to get a reaction. This is not one of those times.
Lando’s knuckles collide with the Canadian’s jaw faster than he can fully become aware of what he’s doing. Lance stumbles backward and holds his jaw, glaring at Lando like he’s the one in the wrong here.
“Get out!”
“We were just talking-”
“I said. Get. Out.” He’s seething. The thudding in his chest becoming louder with each second Lance remains in this room.
He’s not prone to violence.
Really, he’s not.
Yet the second crack of knuckles into Lance's chin gives him some sick satisfaction. Isn’t there something about equilibrium? Can he pin this on restoring the balance or something? Regardless, he isn’t going to dent the fact that it feels good.
The nurses come running and start asking questions. Max and Oscar have to drag Lando away kicking and screaming.
Worse is when they try to tell him that there are pictures out on social media. Christian has been calling Max non-stop. Oscar has been dealing with Zak. Their relationship isn’t a secret and neither is their current location.
“They're sending us a different car to see if we can’t get out discreetly.”
“What happened with Lance, Lan? Are you alright?”
Everyone is panting. Their eyes trained on the door. “I punched him. I restored the equal-brey-um… thing.”
“Equilibrium.”
“Yeah that!”
He’s not sure how they get on the plane. He’s still amped up about the whole punching thing and running purely off adrenaline.
They’ve been sitting in silence, mulling over their options. Creating statements they can put out. It’s hectic and they keep trashing them because nothing fits.
The female has been apathetic. The last thing she wanted was for this to get out and now it has. Seemingly everything is flashing before her eyes. Her career will be gone soon enough, so what’s even the point?
“Don’t post anything. We don’t have an obligation to confirm or deny the rumors. If anything, we can say that you were just driving me to the hospital and being good friends or whatever.” She won’t look at them. Still - Lando can hear how upset she is, the waiver in her voice. “I’m going to be kicked out anyway.”
“Christian said-”
“Damn what Christian said! He knows this isn’t going to get any better and if I say who it was then Daddy’s Money is just going to pay his way through.” She's hyperventilating now. Her body collapses against her seat and Oscar makes an effort to get her to lean against him. “It’s not fair!”
lando Can’t help but share her feelings.
~~~♡~~~
She stays holed up in the Redbull garage the next weekend. The appearance is hard, people want to ask her questions. Her boys had been caught in the middle of the riptide and haven’t come back to shore yet.
At least she’s here. She’s trying her hardest to look stronger than she is. On the inside things are falling apart.
The team knows to give her space and not ask about the ordeal. She takes refuge in Max’s room when things are too much and the other drivers keep their distance.
They know it was one of them. She’d been adamant on not saying who it was, but it’s obvious there are sixteen who it could have been, given her partners insistence that none of them go near her garage for the time being.
She just wants this whole thing to blow over. She wants to lay in bed with her lovers and not flinch when they go to touch her.
She knows, however, that until she deals with things that healing can’t happen like it should. Or at least, that’s what her therapist says. The one she is now required to see.
Things get worse when she’s back in the car. Her media duties are limited so she can focus on driving and ‘listening to her body’ as her physio likes to say.
She can’t hear her body over the sound of her mind going staticy as Lance closes in on her. The catalyst for everything. She panics and ends up in the wall. Not the worst crash ever, but certainly hurts her pride more than it has already.
The thing is, it keeps happening. Even as she’s able to let her boys back in. As her podium finishes start to come back. Her fireproofs (which they’d gotten her all new ones) start to feel comfortable again and she doesn’t feel the need to be out of them the second the race is done. Still, Lance is using this to his advantage.
Finally, after he almost killed her on track (again), she’s had enough.
The trial goes better than she thought it would. Despite the money differences, Lance won’t be able to race anymore. It’s not some grand spectacle either, just an announcement like usual. It’s more the closure she needed versus the publicized drama it could have been.
She wins the next race.
“If I ever see him again, it will be too soon.”
“It’s been over a year now, Lan. I’m getting better.” There is a genuine smile on her face. The car awaits to take them back to the hotel. It was here that it happened. She almost considered not racing because of it.
“Lando got a taste of blood and now he’s feinding for it.” Max has a comforting hand around her waist. A grounding presence.
“I mean, I never threw away my murder plot…”
“You’re a genius Oscar!”
She shakes her head. It’s not like any of this has been easy. It never is. Still - her boys are here and they��ve been so patient.
“There’s her smile.” They all beam at her.
She smiles back.
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𝑨 𝑮𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝑳𝒊𝒇𝒆 | 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝟏
Robert Fischer (Inception) x Reader
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summary: Robert and the reader have nothing in common. He's the son of a multi millionaire and future heir to a massive energy company, she doesn't really stand out in the big city Paris. But then Robert catches her trying to steal from him. No longer able to stand the pressure from his father and his company, Robert offers her a deal.
warnings: swearing, bad father-son relationship
word count: 2.5k+
note: you don’t have to watch inception to understand this story
Today was such a success, wasn't it, Clarke?"
The older man at the wheel sighed and tried to look away from the passenger. Clarke knew he was being sarcastic.
"I'm sorry for you, Sir," he replied. "But days like this happen. Even as the future CEO of Fischer Morrow."
The younger, dark-haired man in the back just rolled his eyes in frustration. "Don't call me that. I've spent my whole life in his shadow. He mocked me for every little thing, always saying I wasn't a worthy heir. And now that the old man is on his deathbed, he's suddenly changed his mind."
Clarke slammed on the brakes in shock. He was so distracted by the conversation that he almost missed the red light directly in front of him.
"But Mr Fischer... He is your father," he answered, his hands still shaking a little.
Fischer didn't seem to care that his driver had almost had an accident. Lost in thought, he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his head against the cold car window. The heavy rain pelted down loudly, leaving thick streaks. "He was never really a father to me," he finally said quietly.
Clarke remained silent, avoiding Fischer's gaze in the rear-view mirror. The light turned green again and he stepped on the accelerator so hard that Fischer's face almost hit the front seat.
"Hey, pay attention, okay? I've had enough shit happen to me today, I don't want to end up in hospital tonight."
"I’m sorry, Sir," the driver muttered, a bit intimidated.
Fischer snorted angrily and tugged at his shirt. It was a beautiful white piece from an exclusive luxury fashion brand of which he was particularly proud. Only now it was covered in a large brown coffee stain. Fischer was seething with rage at the thought of what had happened.
He had an important meeting in Paris today to present The Fischer Morrow, his father's leading energy company, to potential clients.
Fischer had prepared for everything, practiced the presentation several times, rehearsed every word to perfection and checked his appearance in the mirror at least five times. He had got up early in the morning to make sure he had enough time to get ready, so that every hair was in place, the tie neatly tied and the shirt without the slightest crease. An immaculate appearance was essential to him. He was vain in every way.
But everything changed when the secretary balanced a tray of coffee in the meeting room. Fischer had only noticed her out of the corner of his eye, turned around to the audience and ended up bumping into her.
Luckily the coffee was no longer boiling hot, otherwise he would have spent the rest of the day in hospital with serious burns. But it was enough to knock Fischer off his game.
Angry and embarrassed at the same time, he could hardly concentrate on the content of his presentation. So much so that by the end he could barely form a complete sentence.
In other words: The Fischer Morrow had no new clients.
Had Robert Fisher's father Maurice not been terminally ill, he would certainly have given him hell and accused him of being an unworthy heir.
As always. As he had done for many years, ever since Robert was a little boy. Maurice had never thought of him as a son. He only ever spoke of him as the heir to his business.
God, how Robert hated the job. But he couldn't give it up while his father was still alive. Maurice Fischer seemed to want to give his company to a man he couldn't stand, but to whom he was related by blood, rather than to a complete stranger.
Robert didn't know how long he'd been sitting in the back seat, lost in thought, when Clarke finally parked the car safely outside the hotel where he was staying for a few days.
The man hurried out of the car to open the door for his passenger, staring at Robert's dirty shirt. Fischer fumbled in his pocket for the key to the hotel room.
"Good night, see you tomorrow," he murmured, waving a quick goodbye to his driver. Finally, he turned around on the heel of his shiny black shoes to enter the luxury hotel.
A wave of tiredness suddenly hit him, and all he wanted to do was take a shower and fall into a warm, soft bed.
When he finally opened the door, the light in the suite was on. Roberts heart began to beat faster and he frowned in confusion. He was pretty sure he had turned it off earlier. Had the room service forgotten to turn it off after they had left the room?
But when he suddenly noticed movement from the rear room, followed by strange scratching and tapping noises, he froze.
What the hell was that?
Quietly, still clutching the key, he entered the room and was almost scared to death when he saw the person in his hotel suite. They were fiddling with his wall safe, apparently trying to break it open.
***
She turned around as she heard someone open the door to the hotel room. Damn it! Why would he be back from his meeting so early?
The woman held her breath. She knew her plan was completely insane and dangerous, and that she would certainly end up in prison. But at this moment, she really didn't know any other way to help herself. Her mountain of debt seemed to grow every month. Her low salary as a hotel employee and the fact that even the smallest apartments in Paris cost a fortune didn't help. After months of stress and sleepless nights, she couldn't take it any more.
She finally saw her chance when she found out that the son of a multi-millionaire was staying at the hotel.
"I asked you, what the hell are you doing here?" The deep, threatening voice instantly made her shiver. Then she began to examine the man carefully.
He was dark-haired, slim and wearing a classic black suit. The only thing that disturbed this elegant image was a large brown stain on his shirt.
Her eyes wandered up and she caught a glimpse of his face. The man's features were sharp, he had a prominent jaw, but the most striking thing was his bright blue eyes that were staring at her angrily.
Silence fell over the room like a big blanket. Only her fast breathing and the ticking of a clock could be heard.
"Room service..." she finally managed to say in a hoarse voice. "Mr Fischer I ..."
Robert noticed her strong French accent.
"I'm sorry." She tried to avoid the man's angry gaze but he kept on staring at her with his icy blue eyes as she pressed her back even harder against the wall.
"Are you kidding me? You broke into my room and tried to steal my money. Room service my ass. I'm calling the police."
"Wait!" she interrupted him in panic, "I didn't steal anything, I..."
She knew that it was over for her. But she alone was responsible for this mess by allowing her emotions succeed against her mind. And now she had to face the consequences.
The woman put her trembling hands on her face and tried to hold back the tears. Suddenly another shock went through her body as a phone started to ring loudly.
Fischer pulled his phone out of his pocket and answered in an energetic voice: "Uncle Peter, now is not the time to call!" Then suddenly there was silence. Much too quiet for her taste.
Glancing through her fingers, she saw the man in front of her hold his forehead and then rub his eyes with his thumb and index finger.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Peter...How does Dad know what happened today, he's in hospital in Sydney...Who told him that?"
His voice, which had just been deafeningly loud, had now dropped to a low whisper. He finally said goodbye to the caller. Again the room was completely silent. Fischer just stood there with his hands in his pockets, his head slightly bowed.
For a moment she considered taking the opportunity to make her escape but then she dismissed the idea. Her legs were paralysed by fear, he also was half a head taller and probably faster than her and would catch her immediately. Fischer slowly raised his eyes and stared at the young woman in front of him.
Desperation was written all over her face.
***
He couldn't call the police now. That would draw even more attention to him, and for weeks the press had been writing one false article after another about him.
If the press found out, they would twist everything around trying to destroy his image, as they often did.
So he would not only be the spoiled and lazy millionaire's son who took money from his dying father, but also the man who lured beautiful young women into his hotel room and locked them up in there.
Robert sighed and sat down in one of the red velvet armchairs.
"Alright, go ahead. Report me. Call the police. I was just trying to get money to buy food and pay my rent. You probably don't know anything about money problems."
He lifted his head as he heard her voice. Robert didn't know why, but somehow he felt compassion.
But he didn't answer, because he was too busy thinking about his own problems. "I can't take it anymore, I have to get away from here. Away from my father. Away from Fischer Morrow. Somewhere where I won't get any more attention..."
The young woman finally sat down beside him and smoothed her blouse for a moment. "It's really not nice to be almost invisible and not be noticed by anyone." She shrugged briefly.
"I'd trade my life for yours in a heartbeat, I'm not kidding," Robert said.
Why had he just said that?
The woman just laughed. "Believe me monsieur, you really don't want to do that."
In a very strange way, he felt sorry for her. He couldn't really explain it, after all she had almost robbed his hotel room. But somehow he felt attracted to her.
And at that moment, the last rational thought after this nerve-wracking day left his head. He suggested something to her that he would never have done in his right mind.
How about... you get me out of the hotel unnoticed and take me somewhere where I can stay for a few days. In return, no one will know about your robbery of my hotel room. Deal?"
One of her eyebrows moved up as he said those words. "You want me to take you to my flat?" She stared at him in disbelief.
Robert put on his charming smile that usually worked on every lady. "Come on, a lot of women would kill for what I just offered you. Some ladies scream when they see me walking down the street like I was a movie star or something. They've even told me I'm the most beautiful man they've ever seen.
She studied him quickly. He was undeniably handsome, but also incredibly arrogant.
"And how do I know you're not dangerous?" She gave Robert a disparaging look.
"Yes, maybe I‘m a serial killer, who knows", Robert joked.
"You must know that I am very suspicious. But I can't lose my job or go to jail." He could see her struggling to make the right decision.
"All right," she said finally, after half an eternity. "I'll help you. On the condition that no one ever finds out that I tried to steal from you."
Fischer smiled again. "You can take my word for it, Madmoiselle..." He held out his hand, noticing her cautious gaze. "Come on, you can tell me your name now."
"Call me YN."
"Okay, YN. Now let's get out of here."
Finally she took his hand. Her fingers felt cold.
#cillian murphy#cillian#cillian robert fischer#robert fischer fanfiction#robert fischer#cillian murphy x reader#cillian murphy ff#inception x reader#cillian murphy fanfiction#Oppenheimer#tommy shelby#peaky blinders#inception fanfiction#inception#christopher nolan#cillian murphy x y/n
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#yall im having a wild time lately#Saturday was really good- grandma is doing better so I ended up going to the beach for the day after all#had a really good day; I saw a bald eagle and dolphins + found a huge whelk and the bay sunset was beautiful#had the ride home from hell tho#took twice as long to get back because road work + detours + google maps fuckery while trying to find a gas station#we also almost hit a deer and like I live in PA who hasn’t almost hit a deer#but I have never been so close#he leaped out in front of us on the highway and froze#my husband was driving and omg reaction time#he slammed the brakes and I was like there’s no way#either we’re hitting the deer or the car behind us is hitting us or both#we stopped just a couple feet away from it#luckiest deer alive- he snapped out of it and looked at my husband then looked at me and then ran off#shoutout to the car behind us too- they swerved and did not hit us#but yeah he was a big buck and def would have not only totaled my car but gone through the windshield on the passenger side where I was#we got very lucky and so did he#but now I’m sick and I feel like crap#which perfect timing because we have a huge visit tomorrow and the stockroom is a mess#i was dying today cause I gotta lift all the furniture and shit#I literally came home and passed out for five hours and I still feel like I could just go right back to sleep#also I had a video interview last week and they said they wanted to bring me in for an in person interview#and like it’s at a really good company and it pays well and has good benefits#but now I havent heard back#so like watch me get ghosted again 🙃#I emailed them today so hopefully I hear back but I’m not holding my breath#I need everything to not be so much for a bit#Saturday was good but now things are crazy again
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#cops tw#bro I cannot handle one more thing happening istg#got pulled over on my way home after a 13 hour day#was already scared to drive at night and that just confirmed that I’m right to be scared#it was for running a red light n it was one of those situations of just not having time to stop on yellow#I was fully aware as it was happening that I was either going to slam on my brakes in the intersection or run a red and I could see the cop#so I knew I was getting pulled over either way I just hoped the yellow would be longer than .5 seconds. not so lucky#except I also Am so lucky bc he let me off with a warning#ig bc I don’t have any sort of serious history + with it being 420 once he saw I was sober he prob went easier#it’s the second time I’ve been pulled over in my life tho and it’s scary bc this is the first time since the accident#which maybe that was also ok bc it wasn’t my fault#I just know every warning or unlucky moment costs u more in the future if u happen to get unlucky again#like I know I got out of that bc I’m white. it was still a scary moment bc there were multiple cop cars#so it’s like is this guy abt to ruin my life am I gonna lose my license for being at the wrong place wrong time#when I’m already salty to be driving this late involuntarily#so it’s like I got unlucky And very very lucky#I just hate the confirmation that u can get pulled over at any given moment#I constantly rehearse every possible convo w cops in my head bc if u come off disabled u can die#or get arrested or whatever#and then they like don’t follow the script and u didn’t expect this to happen to u today anyway and I get flustered#anyway my point is. I’m fucking exhausted and too many things keep happening#it’s long day after long day w no end in sight rn and I’m like half asleep every day#I just want to sleep. without feeling like I’m already tired tomorrow#it’s too much. just all of it#and on top of it all. it’s 420 so the whole dorm building is basically a cloud of weed#happy u guys are having fun but u are physically harming me in my home#mine#txt#vent post#personal
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Geto doesn’t know how to respond to pet names.
It took him a long enough time to become used to the traditional “baby” and “love,” it was just recently when you started busting out these absurd nicknames for whatever thing you could be subjecting him too.
You were cooking once, and you called him “scnhookums” and asked him to pass the peppers. He dropped the tray.
Driving, you told your “stinky man” to take a left. He slammed on his brakes.
You’d been painting his nails and got some on his cuticle, and you asked your “little poop” to pass you some acetone. He just took his hands away.
It’s not that he doesn’t… like them, they’re just not quite what he expects. They’re so extreme, so left field that in a way, he feels as if you’re mocking him, making fun of him.
He doesn’t like that feeling.
But what he hates even more, is when you pause on giving him disgustingly sweet pet names. This, makes him feel like you no longer care, no longer wanting to take the time to come up with the gushy names that keep him in a shy state.
And you haven’t given him one in days.
He hasn’t been able to sleep. Nothing major, nightmares plaguing the dreams he thinks should be pleasant, 
“Shhh,” you soothe. “Stay asleep. I’ve got you.”
He merely nods and lets his head bury back into the pillows, your lips press against his temple before he lets his breathing even out once again.
As if your kiss soothed the monsters that dance, he’s able to sleep a few more hours, waking up disgustingly late and pouting to find your side of the bed cold.
He’s not proud of the pout okay, you’re just really good at scratching the affectionate itch that digs his brain. all he wants is his ‘pooky bear’ to cuddle their little ‘chickadee’ and let him fall back asleep in their arms.
He’s sure those names aren’t far in your arsenal of names.
When he finally does come to search you out, he’s not completely surprised to see you, stretched out on the couch and in a state of relaxation he finds envy in.
“What’re you watching?” He asks, shuffling into the living room. You smile up at him and say nothing, but instead pat your lap as an invitation for him to come and curl against you.
With a nod, he does just that, letting himself lay down on the couch with you, his head nestled in your thighs. Your fingers instantly start their magic on carding his loose hair, and his eyes slack slightly at the tingly feeling.
“Feel better?” You ask, and he hums contently. “I told you more sleep would help. You just never listen to me.”
He says nothing, merely letting his fingers gently trace the lines on your kneecap.
There’s a whirl of silence in the room, and he feels his eyes grow tired from your loving touch, the post warmth of his shower, and the cat that’s curled on his feet, keeping them warm under her rhythmic breathing.
“My handsome man,” you mumble, bending down to plant a kiss at his temple. his eyes widen as he cranes his head up to look at you, curved in surprise and a glimmer of love in his dark pools. “So pretty it hurts… my handsome, pretty man.”
That. That, he could get used to.
He smiles dopily and turns his head to nuzzle into your thigh, trying to hide the heating of his cheeks from you and your potential teasing by keeping his face buried.
But you don’t pick on him. Instead, you click your tongue adoringly and press another kiss to his temple. He feels your nose taking deep breaths of his scent, and your thumb strokes his cheek lovingly.
“Shut up”, Suguru says happily, as an acceptance, letting his sleepy eyes close and allowing your affections to swallow him whole.
Yes, he thinks to himself. It’s the fluttery feeling everyone talks about. The air filling his lungs and his head skipping beats just by the tone of which you call him handsome.
You call him your man.
Maybe pet names don’t always have to be sticky and sweet; but it just makes the most meaningful ones penetrate his heart that much more.
And this pet name, he hopes you decide to keep.
#don’t look at mE IM SOFT#geto suguru#geto suguru fluff#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader fluff#geto suguru x gn!reader#geto suguru imagine#geto suguru jjk#geto#geto fluff#geto x reader#geto x reader fluff#geto x gn!reader#geto imagine#geto jjk#jjk#jjk fluff#jjk imagine#jjk x reader#jjk x reader fluff#jjk x gn!reader#jjk x gender neutral reader#jjk x yn#jjk x y/n#jjk x you
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" you should rest "
pairing : choi seungcheol x gn!reader
"13 ways to say "i love you" with seventeen"
warnings : language
word count : 0.5 k
a/n : super super excited to be doing this little mini-series starting off with seungcheol !!
You're rudely awoken from your slumber by the slamming of brakes and Seungcheol throwing curses at the car in front of him. Your seat belt stops your momentum, though you can't say the same about your poor suitcases and bags in the back seat that tumble forward with a violent thud.
"Fucking idiot," he mutters, then looks over to you with a complete change of expression. "Are you okay?" He's still got his arm extended over your chest like a mother.
"I'm okay, are you?"
"Yeah," he sighs, letting his arm drop from its protective position in favor of resting his hand on your inner thigh. He squeezes ever so lightly in an attempt to ground himself. "Asshole cut me off and then slammed his brakes. I'm sorry to wake you."
You hum, reaching out to brush back his bangs from his eyes. A fond smile lights up his features at the gesture. "S'okay. How much longer do we have left?"
"About an hour or so."
An hour!?
"Cheol!" You scold, shuffling to sit up in your seat. "You were supposed to wake me up an hour ago to switch off!"
If there was only an hour left that meant he'd been driving for nearly three already. You only meant to nap during his half of the drive to your parents' house then you would finish the rest so he could get some sleep. You even made him promise about three times over to wake you up, but it seems that went unheard.
He just shrugs and steals a glance at you, that signature pout playing at his lips. "I don't mind. Besides, you've seemed stressed lately, I figured you could use the extra rest."
Admittedly, the extra shut-eye was pretty nice. But still, you wish he would've woken you. "I appreciate it, but I'll feel guilty if you take the whole drive. Pull over and we'll switch off for the last bit."
Stubborn as always, Seungcheol shakes his head. "I'll take care of everything, you should rest." There's honestly no arguing with him over stuff like this. So you just sigh and grumble about conquering the trip back on your own to make up for it. Seungcheol just chuckles at your dissent. "You're too cute."
You curl up in your seat once more, turning so you can admire glare at your boyfriend who's a little too happy with himself. He notices, and the way his lips crack into a smile is irritatingly adorable. Seungcheol reaches his arm to the back, fishing out his coat that had been buried under your multitude of travel bags. Placing it over your legs, he steals another lingering glance.
"You're not forgiven yet, I'm still mad at you." It's probably the least threading sentence you've ever uttered in your life. Your voice sounds whiney, even to you, and that really makes Seungcheol laugh.
"I know, baby. Sweet dreams."
#choi seungcheol#scoups#seungcheol#choi seungcheol x reader#seungcheol x reader#choi seungcheol x you#seungcheol x you#seungcheol fanfic#choi seungcheol fanfic#scoups x reader#seventeen#svt#seventeen x reader#svt x reader#seventeen fanfic#svt fanfic#seventeen imagine#seventeen imagines#seventeen fluff#seungcheol fluff#choi seungcheol fluff
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prompt: blue collar worker ghost knocking reader up in a gas station bathroom on a whim. (nsfw, 2k)
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Just to look over at him on the driver’s side drives you crazy.
His buzz cut uncovered by a hood or balaclava is the new normal. It makes your blood rush to think of dragging your fingers across it, never long enough to really grip; heats you up faster than sitting by a fire or plunging into warm water. It’s the same new normal as the bristly, naked skin of his jaw, which flexes under scrutiny. He hadn’t gotten around to shaving earlier—rarely does these days as long as he can keep to a five o’clock shadow—and it makes you shiver when you think of the raw tenderness on your inner thighs, a consequence of that decision.
These are the consequences of trust and loyalty. Not long ago, you wouldn’t have expected more than a glimpse of dark eyes behind a mask.
The window is cracked open just enough to let the smoke from his cigarette out. Black fingerless gloves, nails bare and trimmed, dirt and ink trapped always in the grooves of his fingers. Eyes heavy lidded as always from poor sleep, shot nerves the takeaway from an old life of brittle thin sleep. His cortisol levels, to this day, must ride high in the bloodstream. You’d give anything to ease it at a touch, but that’s not how things work.
“Keep lookin’ at me like that and we’re gonna have a problem,” Simon says when you glance over at him for the fifth time in as many minutes.
“A problem?” you repeat. You’re not trying to be coy—you’re really not—but it comes out that way regardless. A bit breathlessly too, you realize with a small degree of embarrassment. You’ve got no shame these days.
He grunts instead of answering. Your fists close over your thighs as you dry to concentrate on the road ahead of you instead of the persistent ache between your thighs. It’s not his fault that your pussy picked now of all times to get desperate.
You peer over at him again out of the corner of your eye.
“Bird,” he growls. Doesn’t even have to look over at you to know that you’re staring. Just another weird six sense from another life. It’s a warning though, one you hear loud and clear.
“I didn’t say anything,” you say in a huff, turning your head fully away from him now to stare out the window.
Only a handful of minutes tick by with you watching the brown patches of grass and the trees lining the motorway before you shift in your seat. Acutely aware of the wet spot between your legs, the way Simon’s fingers curl over the steering wheel loosely when he drives one handed, the smell of smoke on the upholstery, the grimy spots on the windshield where the wipers don’t reach, the moment he shifts and the weight of him makes the leather squeak.
You peek over at him again.
He doesn’t bother signalling before veering into the rightmost lane, ignoring the furious honking from the car right behind you. You yelp when he takes the exit at a breakneck speed, fingers gripping the underside of your seat before whipping your head around to glare at him.
“What’s the matter with you?” you scream, spine stiff from the sudden lane change.
Simon doesn’t answer you, but you notice that the exit leads to a rest stop just off the motorway. It’s one of the less frequented ones—just a cluster of fast food restaurants and a gas station. He pulls into a parking space and practically slams on the brakes, making you jerk forward in your seat. Simon’s never been the most cautious driver, but this is a whole new level for him.
“Simon—Simon, what are you doing—” you hiss through clenched teeth, but he’s already up and out of the car, circling around to your side.
Your heart goes hummingbird quick in your chest, stomach in knots. When you pant out a breath, it comes out shaky with nerves and excitement. You toy with the idea of pressing down on the child lock when he comes around but think the better of it. There’s already a twitch in his eye.
You look up at him through your lashes when he opens the door and leans in to release your seatbelt.
“Get out,” he orders, and yanks you out before you can reply.
The walk to the gas station is tense and you struggle to keep up with him. He walks too fast and expects you to keep up, growling down at you to move it, but you drag your feet a little. It’s shameful how even that gets you worked up.
“Are we gonna—?” you ask breathlessly, irritation seeping out of you. Simon doesn’t answer, just tightens his hand around your wrist.
A chime above the door jingles when the two of you walk in, heading straight for the back. You catch the attendant staring at the two of you with open contempt and give a tight, embarrassed smile back. Simon doesn’t so much as glance over. You think he’d let the man call the cops if it came down to it.
The gas station bathroom is one of the crummier bathrooms you’ve ever been in, but you hardly register that with how Simon hauls you up against the door he just slammed shut and kisses you within an inch of your life. His kisses are ever slick and wet, dangerous for you—drugging when he drags his tongue over yours and a hand cups your head to angle it just right. You want to give as good as you get, but it’s easy to let yourself get swept away and open your mouth to let him in because you feel his hunger.
“That cunt never gets tired of me, does she?” Simon mumbles into your mouth. He steals your words from you when he slots his lips over yours again. Only gives you enough space to drag in a sharp breath.
It’s in your best interest. The only words available to you are pathetic little pleas, desperate fingers digging into his jacket and trying to pull it off so you can feel the muscle underneath. Trying to get as close as possible to him, to wrap yourself around him. A needy, pitiful thing.
“Poor thing,” he sighs, pulling away from your mouth and laughing when your lips chase after him. Standing up on your tiptoes to kiss him again and kiss, hands tugging him down by the back of his neck. “So horny that you nearly made me crash the fuckin’ car.”
“Couldn’t wait,” you whine, peppering his neck with kisses when he draws up to his full height, nearly dizzy now. “Sorrysorrysorry, please—please fuck me, Simon—please—”
“Not here, bird—want you to see how desperate you look.”
He drags you over to the other side of the bathroom and makes you stand on his boots and face the mirror covered in lipstick and sharpie and god knows what else—“c’mon, up you get”—while he rucks up your dress. The stark contrast between the two of you in the mirror makes you baulk. Like you haven’t slept with him before and lived to tell the tale. He’s all dark clothing and mountains for shoulders, mouth always set in a flat line of impatience that would make anyone else turn the other way.
You, however, press yourself back into him.
Rough fingers tug your panties to the side, not bothering to check if you’re wet. Assuming that you are—that you always are with him, eager to cant your hips and offer yourself up to him.
You try not to think about how your pelvis is already tilted towards him.
Simon holds your head up with a single hand under your chin, squishing your cheeks a little. “Fuckin’ hell…look at that,” he rasps, eyes almost black with lust.
“You’re being mean,” you whine, pushing back against him and wiggling your hips.
“Doesn’t matter how many times I give it to you—always whining for it. Cock hungry bird.”
It would hurt if you didn’t already know how much he wants you too, the deep rasp in his voice betraying an aching, insatiable hunger. An arm locks like a bar across your chest to hold you in place, his hand fitting over a breast just to have something to hold. He can tell you again and again that it’s just you, but you know that he wants it just as badly as you do.
He reaches around to undo his pants and then you feel a familiar cock bully its way into you, a tight fit only eased by the wetness almost glistening on your inner thighs. He grunts when his cock pushes into you, the same hand reaching around to rest low on your stomach, pinkie brushing the top of your mound.
The first thrust jostles you, forces your palms to slam down on the mirror even though the arm across your chest keeps you tight to his chest. It’s sticky under your fingers. You wince when you think of how much Purell you’ll need after this, but the thought melts away when he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming back in.
“Yes, yes—fuck—” you gasp, staring at your reflection in the mirror. After a couple hours on the road, you’re not exactly in tiptop shape—sweaty and in need of a shower and coffee—but any timidity evaporates under Simon’s hot gaze. It eats you up.
His jaw flexes with each thrust, eyes flitting between your tits bouncing under your dress and your face until it stays there, devouring you in a single heated look. Every time your shoes almost slip off his boots, he pulls you tighter into his chest; you couldn’t get out of his hold even if you wanted to. The thought makes the blood rush through your ears.
“Almost need someone else jus’ to take care of you when I’m not around,” Simon growls. He gives your breast a rough squeeze, an admonishment.
“No—no one else—”
“Jus’ me then, pet? No one else can take care of this little cunt?”
You shake your head, maybe nod, maybe sob a bit. It’s hard to tell. The hand on your low belly grips into the flesh, holding you in place while he rails you over the sink. Impossible to look away from the man towering over you, a man you’ve let willingly bend you over and get between your thighs. You wouldn’t even if you could. He’s the summation of everything you’ve ever hoped for, packaged in the too big body of a gun for hire, riddled with nerve damage and a nasty temper. You wouldn’t trade him for anything in the world.
Your eyes slip shut.
“Tell you what,” he breathes into your ear, the burr of his stubble rubbing your neck raw. “I’ll give you somethin’ else to keep you busy.”
Your eyes spring wide open.
He shifts his stance and drives into you with renewed vigour, muffling your sounds with a hand over your mouth. The mirror fogs up through the gaps between his fingers, the room damper and stickier now than when you entered it. Tears build in the corners of your eyes.
When he goes quiet, you know what’s about to happen. Your toes curl in your shoes when he exhales a ragged breath, gritting his teeth when he meets your eyes again in the mirror. Something about his gaze alone makes you come, like a deep press into your soul. The fat cock stretching you out is just a bonus.
The come down is harsh, laboured breaths panting out of you until your chest finally settles, until it feels safe enough to move. You lower one foot from on top of his boot just for Simon’s arms to constrict even more, holding you fast to his chest. He can probably feel your heartbeat against his wrist.
“Quit squirming,” he scolds, giving you a little warning squeeze.
“‘M sweaty,” you complain.
“We’ll towel off at home,” Simon says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t bitch.”
“I’m not bitching, I’m hot—”
He lets you carp and moan about your inner thighs being covered in beard burn and come while straightening out your dress, pulling your panties back into place. He’s quicker with himself, doesn’t even bother grabbing a paper towel to wipe himself off before shoving his cock back into his pants and zipping up. When you ask him to hand you one, the look he gives you scorches you right to the bone.
“Wait ‘till we get home,” he says, hand on your back when he unlocks the bathroom door.
“Like you aren’t gonna do it all over again the second we get there,” you mutter.
His smirk isn’t smug, but it’s a near thing.
#ceil writing#cod mw2#cod x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#cod simon riley#ghost/reader#ghost cod
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A Girl with No Name
A/N: This one shot POURED out of me. All because of this incredible art by @chu-cho Thank you for creating this masterpiece. Hope I can do your art justice.
Ok, let me set the scene. Euphoria, SKINS, and Degrassi procreated in the basement of Kappa Alpha. Keg to the right. A designer tray of substances to the left. The boys in the middle. And you…you crack the whi— what? Who said that?
CW: Frat AU, implied substance use, mature 18+, MDNI
‘Ain’t a pill that I didn’t take’
Lyrics that feel too familiar tread water between Suguru’s ears. They glide along his skin. Which feels like silk, by the way.
Silk.
Who ever made that is a Nobel laureate.
‘Cause Imma sleep when I R.I.P.’
Euphoria.
Who chose the lights?
They’re vivid. Swarming. Like the walls are a tile dance floor. Yeah. Light picker deserves a Nobel too.
“You are so fucked right now.” His best friend’s sharp ass voice dices his lucid thoughts to smithereens.
“Shut up, Satoru.” He’s not wrong.
“We took the same shit.” Suguru perches on the solo cup ridden kitchen island. Sitting is good.
“Plus, I’m bigger than you.”
“If you wanna compare dicks just say so.” Satoru sneers, he’s cockier when inebriated.
In any other instance when Suguru is of sound mind, Satoru would’ve caught a jab to the chest. But two reasons why that can’t happen.
One, he’s currently tripping balls.
Two, you just walked in.
Like you own the house.
Maneuvering your body around the active pong table. Slipping past the chatty women gawking in their direction. Gearing for attack. Shifty and nervous, but the vodka cranberry is courage elixir.
The boys have about 45 seconds to engage with said women or divert.
But you are currently leaning over the counter reaching for a shot glass well out of your zip code. A little red dress on. All curves, no brakes. With an ass that could make anyone believe in God.
Sorry, girls. Tonight, they are going to divert.
Suguru catches Satoru’s heady gaze. No words needed. They share instincts. The boys have been in stride since the day they met.
They saunter over to the counter you’re mounting. An easy reach for them both.
“Didn’t realize your name was on the lease, princess.”
Satoru plucks the double shot glass down from Mount Everest. Handing it over between two fingers.
Still propped up on the counter with one knee, you peer down at them both. Letting the white noise of utter disinhibition drape the space between you.
Suguru planned on softening Satoru’s blow, but then you smile.
Cavalier and gorgeous.
Like it’s a golden ticket into spaces you don’t belong in.
The answer to questions people don’t realize need asking.
The cure for everything.
And right now? It is. The cure.
Suguru stands stupefied as you brace yourself on his shoulders. Thank God his hands still know what to do. They snake around your tapered waist and pull you to solid ground.
Speak, dumbass.
“You didn’t? It’s in the fine print.” Your voice beats him to it. And is fucking dessert.
Bad for you. Horrible for you. But good in the way self-indulgence is.
You take your shot glass (really, anything in the house is yours if you want it). And steer away to the refrigerator.
Your absence jumpstarts Suguru’s out-of-commission brain.
“Excuse him, he was raised by monkeys. Can I help you find something?”
Suguru and Satoru reposition themselves behind you while you rummage. Bent over at the waist. Head nearly submerged in the pull out freezer.
Are you doing this on purpose?
Are you trying to be a cocktease?
Satoru isn’t even attempting to stop eye-fucking you.
Suguru pulls his tongue ring in and out of his teeth. Anything to stop ruminating on the melody of sounds that’ll fill the room when his hips slam into your ass repeatedly.
“There it is,” you stand back to your full height. Triumphant. Jack Daniels in hand.
Your eyes are pools of quicksand. Why else would Suguru’s mouth feel more stuck than his feet?
“You’re a whiskey, kind of girl?” Satoru smirks, amused at your vice choice.
Again, the boys follow your movements like two expertly trained German Shepards. Flanking you when you settle at the corner of the island. Meticulously over-pouring your first double shot.
“I’m a good time kind of girl.” The way your slender neck tilts back is immoral. Throating the dark liquid like water.
…what else can that throat handle?
“Okay, good time girl wh—“
“Listen.” You snip Satoru’s snide remark at its base. Leaving both of them silent. Watching. Waiting.
“Brad,” you pointedly look at Suguru.
“And Chad,” eyes dagger into Satoru.
“Thank you for the warm welcome but I’m not interested in talking.”
The back of your hand swipes against your full lips. And Suguru can’t seem to pull his eyes off of them.
Satoru, after a moment of stunned silence, lets out his laugh. The one that means you’ve won his undivided attention for the night.
“Close, but no cigar baby. Try again.” Satoru leans onto his forearms. Tilting his intoxicated gaze up at you.
“Right idea, though.” Suguru chimes in. Tongue finally deciding to work.
“Ahh, I hear you loud and clear.” You retort, golden-ticket smile back on your face.
Your nose wrinkles in feigned concentration and Suguru nearly passes out.
Are you really this hot? Or is he just that blasted?
“Preppy,” your hand cups Satoru’s face. And his Adam’s Apple bobs deeply.
Good, Satoru is feeling this as hard as he is.
“And Edgy.” Suguru gawks at the way your lips hang open after your snarky guess at his name leaves your mouth.
Satoru’s wolfish chuckle is what re-tethers Suguru to this dimension. How the fuck is he keeping up with you right now?
“No, no. I got it.” You pipe up.
Placing one hand over each of theirs. Suguru greedily intertwines his long fingers between your petite ones.
“Thunder.” You squeeze Suguru’s hand and his soul nearly leaks out of his dick.
“And Lightening.”
Cotton candy dusts Satoru’s nose to his ears when you look up at him. Suguru can see the vulgar scenarios on cinematic repeat in his best friend’s mind.
And it’s tame compared to the ways Suguru wants to disrespect you.
“We can work with that.” Suguru flashes a smile of his own. Purposefully keeping his tongue ring out of your view.
“And what can we call you?” Satoru probes. Zeroed in because no one else in the room exists.
Your hands return back to your side, and Suguru misses your warmth immediately.
“No name.”
Flippant. Lighthearted like what you said was normal.
“What was that?” Satoru spurts out. Saliva bubbling in his half open mouth.
You glide away from the kitchen. Into the den with bodies colliding. Walls thrumming. Lights strobing.
Delicate hands cup around your mouth. Turning back to face your new guard dogs.
“Not here to talk, boys!”
The three of you are interwined at the center of the crowded room in seconds.
But time is warped.
Because Suguru is traversing Death Zone altitude on the mountain. And Satoru is swimming at Abyssal Zone depth in the ocean.
You are the 8th cardinal sin.
You writhe and undulate your curves in and out of their grasp. Gripping onto Satoru’s neck, strumming his undercut when he’s facing you. Winding your hips against Suguru’s crotch when he’s behind you.
Suguru’s cock has never been this hard, he’s half worried it could snap in half. Hissing against your neck. Groaning behind your ear. So goddamn grateful for the music drowning out his desperation.
But his skin is on fire. He can feel every vessel pulsate.
You are not a want.
You are a need.
“Need you.” Suguru gruffs in your ear. Flickering up to Satoru, who is mirroring his hooded gaze.
Suguru watches your pretty hand trail down Satoru’s chest. Satoru rolls his bottom lip under his teeth. Apt nickname you chose for him, because there are lightening bolts in his eyes.
“Take me upstairs,” you whisper back, tilting up to capture Suguru in your web.
And he is so captured. So entangled.
The boys lead you to Suguru’s bedroom in the frat house. Even though the walk felt like miles, exactly no time passes when you three close the door behind you.
Suguru’s lips magnet to yours. Insatiable in the way he sucks and pulls on your lips. Tongue tasting every corner of your sweet mouth.
Satoru drops his head to the crook of your neck. Sucking bruises. Tracing his large grasp up and underneath your dress. No time or room for manners with how his cock is tenting against its weak restraints.
“So eager, boys.” You giggle in between their hungry kisses.
And you’re right.
It’s embarrassing, their display right now.
But neither one of them have the capacity to stop.
And hold it together.
And lead. Like they both are used to.
“Sorry,” Satoru grunts into the feminine slope of your neck. You let out an airy laugh when he starts to dry hump you. Tickling both of their incapable brains.
You know Satoru is so far gone.
And Suguru is trying to hold on to some semblance of dignity but his cock simply won’t let him. Not the way it’s drenching his sweats with need.
“Take these off.” Melodic instructions fill Satoru and Suguru’s ears the minute you pull away from Suguru’s kiss. Your index finger hooked on both hems.
As if your voice is a Pavlovian trigger, the boys step out of their pants and boxers.
Rock hard. Desperate. Leaking.
Your personal drones.
Suguru can’t swallow the whimper that collides with Satoru’s whine when your hands drop to stroke both of them at the same time. Flickering your eyes between your two toys. Proud of the way their cocks are twitching and pumping beads of precum into your hands.
“God, pretty girl.”
“Fuck, princess.”
Satoru and Suguru are dizzy with heat.
Just in time for you to drop to your knees. Dragging your closed, lipsticked lips along Suguru’s up curve.
“Please,” Suguru whispers.
You’re evil.
And you ignore him. Dragging your soft, warm hand up the length of his shaft. Interjecting butterfly kisses in between. Working Satoru’s length in your other hand.
Drawing punched out moans from the boys. Chests heaving. Clipped breaths. Pitiful.
“On your knees, Lightning.” You beckon Satoru, while teasing his counterpart.
Satoru doesn’t hesitate for a second. He couldn’t if he wanted to. Propped on his knees, he stares into the side of your face. Awaiting further instruction.
“Kiss me,” you demand, circling your lips around Suguru’s sensitive tip for the first time. Evoking a loud hiss.
Satoru’s eyes widen. Your words startle the breath out of him.
The lights are dim but Suguru doesn’t miss the blossoming cherry red flush. Spreading along his toned shoulders.
Your wet lips dragging along his swollen cockhead pulls Suguru’s eyes away from his celestial best friend.
“Mmmgh f..fuck baby,” Suguru chokes out at your slow, mean ministrations.
“Don’t be shy, Lightening.” Your tongue tickles his lead pipe with every spoken word around his girth.
Suguru’s eyes fall to your hand. Now working its way up Satoru’s length. His core involuntarily curls into your sudden touch. Gossamer thin whine tumbling out of his lips. Suguru catches the way Satoru digs his fingernails into his milky skin.
And his cock twitches against your lips at the sight.
“Kiss me,” You beckon Satoru again, dragging your tongue up Suguru’s length.
“I—I…“ Satoru stammers. Hips stuttering against your fist. Static fills Suguru’s head.
He’s never seen him this docile. This pliant. It’s a mind fuck.
No, no.
The way Satoru pulls his eyes up to meet his gaze in that moment is a mind fuck.
Is he hallucinating?
It’s like Suguru is seeing Satoru for the first time.
Instead of being side by side, he’s across the street. Catching a glimpse of a God. Walking amongst men.
Satoru’s expression has earned permanence in his brain. Snowy halo of hair. Long, palatial lashes fanning the Aegean Sea in his eyes. A mosaic of lust, desire, a little shame.
Seeking permission.
Seeking approval.
He is otherworldly.
Vulnerable and soft. On his knees. Needy. It makes Suguru want to ram his cock past those pouty, swollen lips.
But..but that’s wrong. Right?
They’re best friends. Fucking soulmates. They don’t..they don’t do that.
But the way he’s pouting.
God.
Glassy eyed and helplessly turned on. Rutting his hips into your hand.
Fuck.
“Fuck,” Suguru mutters. A surge of his arousal landing on your tongue. Eliciting a breathy giggle in response.
Followed by an out of body experience for the next few minutes.
Suguru’s hand wires into Satoru’s cloud soft locks. Gentle grasp between the slender webspaces.
“So pretty.” He rasps through the nails in his throat.
Satoru’s pupils blow out at the praise. All but purring into his touch. Suguru barely applies any force and Satoru crashes his lips onto yours with Suguru’s thick head in between.
Filthy.
Nasty dirty vulgar sounds fill the room. Suguru’s constant stream of precum dripping onto your tongue, Satoru’s tongue. Raining down on your puffy, full tits.
You two exploring each other’s lips.
Satoru’s angry length, squelching against your hand.
It’s too much. It’s too fucking much.
“Such a good boy.”
Your dulcet voice is a tornado decimating Suguru’s brain. He has to blink a few times to realize that the praise wasn’t meant for him.
It was directed at Satoru.
Who is desperately — eagerly — throating Suguru’s dick. Nose flaring. Diamond tears rolling down his blushing cheeks. Unintelligible garbles dribbling out the corners of his mouth.
“Sa—Satoru, mmgh, god shit, shit.” Suguru’s hips take a cruel pace down his Person’s throat.
“Mmm, Satoru.” You murmur into his ear. Tasting your new discovery.
“Look how much Thunder likes fucking that mouth of yours.”
Satoru’s tears splash against Suguru’s sex. But he opens his throat anyway. Swallowing his rod. Filthy bulge in the column of his throat.
“Ahh, god..baby..” Suguru huffs when your devilish little hands tug at a palm full of his hair.
When did you get next to him?
Doesn’t matter.
Yet another natural disaster destroys Suguru’s brain when you push your tongue back into his mouth. While he violates Satoru’s mouth.
The wire in Suguru’s stomach coils. Lava surges through every vessel in his body. Groin welling with a deep, carnal pressure. Everything feels too fucking good.
“Fuck, oh god fuck. I’m I—g—“
“Cum for me, baby.”
You kiss your hushed command into Suguru’s mouth. His hips come to a screeching halt. Both hands down in Satoru’s hair, grazing along his undercut.
Suguru tilts his chin to the ceiling. Thick loose mane tickling his mid back. Vision completely dark. He has no idea if he’s still in Satoru’s mouth. Or where his cum is landing. All he knows is death by pleasure right now.
You press your moist lips into Suguru’s neck.
“You’re so beautiful like this.” Sweet words reverberate against Suguru’s skin.
His head slowly comes back to earth. And just as his eyes pull back open — a shudder and blinding light assaults his vision. Up close.
“Woah, what the hell?”
Suguru is met with a Polaroid camera. Printing evidence of his nirvana. His brows crawl together defensively.
“What do you—“
“Relax, thunder.” You coo with that smile that’s decadent, beautiful poison.
You step over a dazed Satoru. Still on his knees. Lazily stroking up his neglected hard cock.
Suguru’s eyes track you to his bed. You place the developing film on the nightstand.
“These are for your eyes only.”
“I don’t mind.” Satoru huffs. Rising to his feet. Deep within your trance. You could’ve asked him to cut off an arm and he’d offer you both.
Satoru would follow you into Hell if you demanded it.
Suguru would too.
“Boys, come.” You curl your finger at them. And pairs of feet move.
“Thunder, why don’t you put that tongue ring to good use. While I take care of pretty little Satoru.”
His name on your lips snaps something buried in his soul. Satoru steps to the head of the bed. Leaning against the wall. Cock heavy with his seed. A string of arousal hanging low from his tip.
You make a dramatic show to catch Satoru’s leaking string of cum before it wastes on Suguru’s sheets.
“You’re fucking filthy, princess.” Satoru hisses. He can’t remember the last time he’s blinked the whole night.
You smile around his bulbous tip, then pull him into your warm heat in one go.
And fuck, Satoru can feel you sucking through to his throat.
His whimpers sound so pathetic in his ears. But he is so lust-drunk he couldn’t care less.
One look down and he sees his best friend whining underneath your precious cunt. As you circle your hips around Suguru’s metal-clad tongue. Taking your pleasure directly from his mouth.
Suguru’s half hard sex pulsates against his perfectly toned abs. Satoru has to look away. His orgasm threatening to come too soon.
“Mmmnggh, so good with your tongue, Thunder.” You gurgle around Satoru’s length.
Arousal flavored saliva driveling down your chin. The sensation drives Satoru to piston his hips until his tip abuses the limit of your dainty throat.
You shouldn’t have any space to breathe, much less talk.
“Pl-please. Suguru. Name’s Suguru.”
“Say his name baby.” Satoru’s order is low. Raptorial. Hips bucking wildly into your mouth. Heat crashing into his groin.
He’s so close. He’s—
“S-Suguru.”
And Satoru dives off your cliff edge. Hearing his Person’s name tumble out of your mouth and around his cock snapped his self-control in half.
Ropes off thick, warm heat spill out the side of your mouth. Staining your bunched up dress, the sheets and everything in between.
“S-so close,” you huff, humping Suguru’s tongue more aggressively.
A familiar camera shudder and solar bright light fans your outstretched neck. Capturing your cum-stained ascension.
You flash Satoru a knowing smirk. Another beam of light aimed in his face before he tosses your camera off to the side.
Satoru crashes his lips into yours. Eager to taste himself off your mouth.
Your bodies move in perfect tandem. Satoru kisses your peak from your lips while Suguru coaxes your wet orgasm onto his tongue. Your high drenches Suguru and the sheets around him.
The three of you piece yourselves together. Completely plaited within each other’s warm, moist limbs. Basking in the serotonin showers misting you three in post-coital bliss.
No one remembers, but you wish each other sweet dreams before the fog settles. And the night re-claims you to sleep.
——
Sunlight is downright offensive.
Suguru forces his heavy lids open.
7: 43 AM
Fucking, hell.
A freight train is currently doing laps in Suguru’s mind. He flickers around the room. Haphazard clothes. Strewn socks. Satoru in Suguru’s 06 hockey jersey. Long limbs nearly dangling off the other side of his bed.
Suguru glances down, somehow dressed only in Satoru’s black sweats
There’s a tiny sliver of space between their sodden bodies. Where you must’ve slept.
Right.
You.
Heaven’s fallen angel.
You used to be God’s favorite. No way you still are.
Not with how fucking sinful you looked in that red dress.
Snapping polaroids.
Taking their souls for play.
Then having the audacity to leave them on the nightstand when you were through.
Suguru met The Devil last night.
And she was…exquisite.
“Fuck, my head.” Satoru groans, rolling over to face his dark-haired soulmate.
Suguru watches his eyes flutter open. And something within him catches.
How has he not noticed how beautiful this boy is before?
“Here,” A glass of ice water, still sweating from condensation is waiting on Suguru’s nightstand. He takes a long sip before passing the lifeblood to Satoru.
Satoru briefly meets Suguru’s gaze. Before averting, pretty mulberry blush flooding his face.
“Was last night…real?” Satoru asks after an extended sip.
Suguru meets his question with silence. Preoccupied with picture proof.
Three polaroids neatly arranged on the nightstand.
The first one is of Suguru. Hair moused, framing his intoxicated gaze. Remnants of his orgasm oozing from the still shot. Lips puffy and abused. Cheeks flushed. Suguru can barely recognize the man in the photo.
His eyes dance to the cursive label at the bottom:
Thunder
Alias: “Suguru”
A wry chuckle escapes his lips. He passes his photo to Satoru.
The next polaroid is of his Person. Post orgasm haze heavy in his eyes. He managed to get his 10,000-kilowatt smile perfectly in the selfie. Also flushed. Also completely debauched. The blue in his eyes reflected nearly translucent.
He’s a fucking masterpiece, that boy.
Suguru knows what to expect at the bottom of Satoru’s polaroid:
Lightening
Alias: “Satoru”
“Shit man, these are amazing.” Satoru murmurs, intently studying Suguru’s polaroid. Absentmindedly accepting his.
“They are.” Suguru agrees, unknowingly holding his breath while pulling your polaroid into view.
And of course.
It’s blurry.
The only thing in focus is your graceful, arched neck, specks of Satoru’s finish glistening on your skin. Merlot red dress, pulled far below your breasts. Only thing pictured is the apex of your cleavage. Leaving Suguru’s mind to spiral into lucid memory of the rest of your silhouette.
“Who…was that?” Satoru muses. Eyes now on the ceiling. Undoubtedly having the exact same swarm of flashbacks flood his mind.
Suguru rolls your Polaroid between his index and long finger. The bottom of the photo reading:
No Name
A lazy smile tugs on the corner of his lips.
You are something else.
Supernatural, almost.
“She’s a girl with no name.”
#jjk smut#stsg#stsg fic#jjk stsg#stsg x reader#stsg smut#satosugu x reader#satosugu#gojo x geto x reader#gojo x reader x geto#suguru geto smut#gojo smut#satoru gojo smut#jjk satoru#gojo satoru x reader#suguru smut#jjk suguru#satoru smut#satoru x suguru#gojo x reader#geto smut#poly satosugu#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jjk headcanons#jjk x y/n#jjk imagines#anime smut
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eddie fucking you in the back of his van whilst it’s raining😫
hope you like it lovie!! — after a series of ruined date nights, eddie makes up for another failure the only way he knows how (established relationship, smut 18+, 1.4k)
fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)
Eddie was gonna take you out, come hell or high water — literally.
It was like the universe was conjuring up ways to keep you apart. He tries to plan a date night with you, and suddenly you have to pick up your coworker’s extra shift and the brakes in his van don’t work anymore.
He takes you to a drive-in to see some black-and-white horror movie, and for the first time in weeks, things are actually looking pretty good. With some candy he brought from home, the two of you settle under the covers in the back of his van, lazing against one another as the projector flickers on.
And then it just starts fucking pouring.
It’s like he blinks and the whole thing gets canceled and the entire parking lot is empty.
“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” he grumbles under his breath, not unlike the black storm clouds rolling overhead.
You giggle at his dramatics. The heavenly sound melts with the wild cadence of rain, tapping rhythmically against the rusted tin roof of the van.
You’re still being a good sport about the whole thing despite the circumstances. You don’t care what you’re doing, really. You’re happy just doing nothing with Eddie.
“They refunded us for next week. We can just come back Saturday.”
“I wanted to do it this Saturday,” he whines, all boyishly angry. With his arms crossed over his chest, he leans his head back and bares his milky white neck. “This was supposed to be our night together— why does everything have to get so fucked all the time?”
“It’s not like everything’s totally ruined,” you assure him, practically cooing as you smooth out the frown between his brows with your thumb. “At least we’re together. Who cares about the rest of it?”
“I know, but… You were really excited about it. And I was really excited to watch you watch the movie.”
Eddie tries to be serious, but he’s grinning the second he makes you laugh.
“Shut up…”
“I mean it,” he tells you, serious and quiet with it. His cheek squishes against his shoulder when he pouts at you. “I think I might be heartbroken, babe.”
You know what he’s playing at. You lean into it, anyway.
“Yeah?” you hum with narrowed eyes.
He nods.
“Want me to make it better?”
“Please?”
You close the short distance between you to press a kiss to his mouth. It’s the chastest little peck — you’re practically gone the second you’re there. Eddie chases you when you pull away, tasting of nicotine and pink starbursts when he kisses you deeper.
You get lost in him like it’s nothing, sighing when his soft tongue juts gently against your own. He’s sucking softly at your bottom lip one second, and the next, you’re lying on a pile of fuzzy blankets.
His rings and cold knuckles brush your sides when he tugs at the hem of your shirt, a silent plea for its removal. You come to then, pulling back from him with a low click sounding between your kissed mouths.
“Wait…”
“What?” he wonders, lips rosy and swollen. His deep, chocolate eyes dart between both of yours, looking for any sign that something might be wrong.
“Won’t we get in trouble?”
“No— Everyone already left.”
He’s breathless from having been kissed so ardently. He leans down for more anyway. His stomach twists with rejection when you press against his shoulders to stop him.
With a sigh, he concedes and rises off of you again. His shirt is wrinkled and skewed around his neck from your passionate touches. Still on his knees, he reaches for the metal handle of the back door and shouts into the roaring rain — “Hello? Anyone out here?”
“Eddie!” you shout, giggling and jerking backward when rogue droplets sprinkle inside.
The van shakes when he slams the door shut again.
“See?” he lilts with a lopsided grin. “No one.”
You shake your head at him. “You’re incorrigible, you know that?”
“You love me, though,” he mutters as he settles back over you. The weight of his body is warm against your own. With your hands on his sides, you pull him somehow closer.
“Unfortunately…” you gripe, kissing the breath from his lungs a second later.
When he reaches for the hem of your shirt again, you let him take it off.
—————
The thundering rain against the roof almost drowns out your gentle moans. Eddie’s glad you’re breathing them right into his ear, so he can hear everything he’s doing to you.
His thrusts are slow and measured. Almost painfully unrushed. He shushes your begging to go faster — “Just let me make you feel good,” he mutters, slurred and low, “Let me hit that spot.” He pierces you with his cock, tilting his hips to hit deep inside you until you make a pretty noise for him, then he creeps back out again.
He never pulls all the way out, though, ‘cause he might die if he left the warm velvet you are around him. He keeps his pelvis pressed intently against your own, the coarse hair at the base of his cock steady on your pussy. The pressure against your clit is merciless.
“Put your legs around me, baby,” he mumbles against your mouth because he knows the different angle will make it better for you.
He almost smirks when you obey him without thinking, but his mouth parts with an unexpected moan before he can. You pull your knees back and tuck your ankles around his waist, heels pressing gently above his ass.
Your cunt widens and suckles him further in.
Eddie grumbles a hearty, poorly muffled moan into your neck.
“There you go— just like that,” he praises. “Doing so good for me, pretty. Always so good for me.”
You whine again, high and light, like the praise is equally as pleasurable as his cock.
His metal chain glides between your breasts when he pulls back from you. He tucks his ringed fingers into your waist and sits back on his haunches, balls resting warm and wet against your ass. He keeps rocking into you, unhurried.
“What happened to that mouth you had before, huh?” Eddie wonders, still breathless.
He smirks when you moan in response. He knows you don’t have the words to answer him. He knows he’s fucked you far too stupid.
“Thought I was incorrigible, remember? What happened to that?”
Your mouth parts in a silent whimper, back arching and brows pinching when his cock hits deeper than you think he’s ever been. The pleasure feels borderline electric — makes your spine tingle and your legs go numb.
“Yeah… For someone who loves mouthing off—” Eddie continues to tease despite his breathlessness. You clench around him, and he has to remember to exhale. “—You open up so easily for me. Don’t ya, honey?”
You wanna say something. You think you almost do. But his thrusts are as merciless as they are slow. He presses impossibly deep within you and keeps hitting that spot until you tremble. The words get caught in your throat, along with a silent moan.
“That’s okay, honey. Just let me fuck you. Let me make you feel good,” Eddie slurs, mumbling like he’s talking to himself. “Go dumb for me like you always do. So perfect at that— god.”
He tilts his head back to howl a groan. Through fluttering lashes and a blurry vision, you see his clenched jaw and taut neck and heaving chest.
Eddie always talks a big game when he gets you all sweet and pliable underneath him. He loves to be dominant while he tears you apart, but as his own orgasm crawls up his spine, his true colors start to show.
He leans back over you again, caging you beneath his warm weight. He stops hiding his pathetic whines and whimpers and instead buries them into your sweat-slick shoulder. He babbles in your ear, a bunch of garbled nothingness because words are starting to lose meaning.
“Fuck, honey. Oh, fuck— you’re so fucking— shit. You’re so goddamn pretty, baby, you know that? So good for me. So soft, too. Shit. This pussy’s gonna kill me.”
He tucks his face into your neck and tries to kiss you through his whines. His ringed fingers crawl behind your back, holding you like his life depends on it while his measured thrusts grow rapid and sloppy.
Eddie begs you to cum, or rather demands it because he can feel himself about to explode. “Cum— Cum for me— right fucking now.”
You do. You’ve been hanging by a thread the whole time, really. And like you expected, Eddie’s not too far behind you. Your unabashed moans entwine, mixing with the wild cadence of the rain against the tin roof of the rocking van.
#published by bug#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#stranger things x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#stranger things imagine#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#stranger things fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson fanfiction#st drabbles#eddie spaghetti drabble#event: fictober!
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it's all me, just don't go (meet me in the afterglow)
summary: satoru is jealous but refuses to admit it.
wc: 1.2k
cw/tags: gojo x reader, arguing, miscommunication, angst/comfort, established relationship, lowercase because this was originally going to be a short answer to a request but ended up being 1k+ words (oops)
note: welcome back gojo nation, today i offer angst that started as a fluffy co-parenting megumi prompt and turned into...this. based on the jealousy prompts from @creativepromptsforwriting !! hope you enjoy :D
likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3
"you think i'm jealous? jealousy is not in my vocabulary, babe."
"mhmm, sure. you're not jealous and the sky isn't blue," you fire back without hesitation. what started as a petty argument was beginning to boil your blood a little too hot for comfort, and you couldn't pinpoint why. thoughts poked around in your mind of your boyfriend's arrogance, the need to be the best, and simultaneous fear that you were going to leave him. but, in true satoru fashion, he chose to be an enigma instead of communicating.
"i'm literally the strongest being in existence," he argues and you catch your eye twitch in the rearview mirror. "what would i have to be jealous about?" a part of you wanted to just slam on the brakes to see if he'd go flying forward but decided against it because of the other occupants in the car. as much as they tried to act like they weren't listening, the two kids in the back weren't very good at hiding their snickers of amusement. "like, really. i'm super hot, i'm super strong, i've got the voice of an angel-"
"i'm just saying, satoru. your behavior back there was...weird. i didn't like it," you mutter.
"and i didn't like how that guy was looking at you like you were some kind of dessert in a pastry shop," he counters. "i just...it's fine. you don't get it." your stomach churns unexpectedly at his tone and there's a sharp pain in your heart that you don't anticipate. you know he didn't mean it, but the sternness of his voice was sounding more hostile the longer you talked with him. it made your face hot, not in that butterflies and daydreams kind of way that he normally made you feel. this feeling was foreign and intense, a sensation that made you want to curl up and hide. it was the same feeling as when you were about to exorcise a curse.
when you were about to fight.
"what's that supposed to mean?" the atmosphere of the car changes in an instant and you can feel the effect your five words have on every occupant of the vehicle. megumi and tsumiki's gazes dart upward, eyeing you nervously while a robotic stiffness shoots through satoru's body. "what do i not get?"
"it's nothing," he grits through his teeth, but you're too angry to back down.
"it's not nothing, so spill it," you say and his jaw clenches. "why are you so jealous of some dude at the grocery store?"
"i said i wasn't jealous."
"your actions are saying otherwise." you start relying more on your instinct to drive you back towards jujutsu tech because your brain was starting to shut down.
"what, you don't believe me? why don't you just trust me?" he's on the verge of shouting at you. he never shouts at you. it terrifies you and it makes the two kids in the second row shift uneasily in their car seats. you don't know what else to say; your mind was preoccupied with not crashing the car and trying not to cry from the stifling pressure in the car.
"i-i don't like you right now," you force out. it's the wrong thing to say and you can sense satoru snap before he does.
"please, be my guest. go with your little cashier if you like him so much better," he spits and your body moves before you can register what it's doing. one minute, you're driving down the street toward the school; the next, you're turning into the nearest mini-mall parking lot, putting the car in park, and slamming the driver's side door behind you. you don't know where else to go, but all you know is that you can't stay in that car with satoru when he's like that. he'd never do anything to hurt megs or tsumiki, but being on the road in such a compromised mental state wasn't safe for any of you. so, you start walking.
the sun was nearly down and you knew it would be faster if you just sucked it up and drove the rest of the way, but something about this petty little fight was bringing up memories you didn't want to rehash. after you make it past the first stoplight, the telltale hum of your car's engine pulls up next to you, coming to a stop while you continue in the direction of the school. punching the hazards button, he jumps from the driver's seat onto the sidewalk to call after you, but you shake your head.
"babe. babe, please get back in the car," he pleads and you keep walking. "i'm sorry. please, come back in the car. i'll drive us the rest of the way and we can talk."
"it's fine," you state firmly without looking at him, "i'll walk back."
"i made a mistake. please, please come back in the car." he gently grabs your wrist to stop you and you shoot him a brutal glare from the corner of your eye, seeing him deflate in real-time. "please." smaller footsteps approach from behind him, and your senses snap back into place when you see that megumi and tsumiki followed satoru out of the car.
"he was stupid," tsumiki says and her brother nods in agreement, "really stupid."
"and if you're walking back to school, we're walking with you," megumi declares and the sentiment is enough to finally get you back in the passenger seat, staring out the window for the few agonizing minutes remaining of the drive. once you've turned on the tv and stuck a frozen dinner in the oven for the two children, you make your way to the bathroom to wash your face of its still-burning sensation. you've just finished drying your face in front of the mirror when he trudges in like a kicked puppy. you feel him before you see him, his arms wrapping around your torso and his face disappearing into your neck.
"i'm so sorry," he whispers and you swallow a thick lump in your throat. "i'm so sorry for what i said and what i did and how i made you feel. you were right; i was jealous. just...seeing you live out such a mundane scene as buying groceries reminded me that you could have anyone you wanted." you turn to face him with a puzzled look.
"what do you mean, anyone i wanted?"
"you could be with anyone you wanted," he says quietly. "anyone but me."
"oh," is all you can choke out before you pull him as close as humanly possible, holding him so tightly that he'd be a fool to think you would ever want anyone else.
"you could have any life you wanted," his voice breaks against your skin. "not one where our best friends die before they reach 20 or disappear off the face of the planet. you don't need to have this one. you don't need to stay with me."
"has it ever occurred to you, satoru," you murmur, "that maybe i want to stay with you? forever and after that?"
"why would you do that to yourself?"
"loving you is not a burden, gojo satoru. i would find you in any lifetime and i would love you in every single one," you vow and your chest aches when he sniffles softly.
"i don't deserve you. i really don't."
"maybe you do, maybe you don't, but that's not up to me to decide. so, it doesn't matter because i'm staying."
"you'll stay?"
"forever and after that."
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#gojo x you#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x you#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x y/n#satoru x you#satoru x reader#satoru x y/n#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x y/n
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Crash
Leon Kennedy x female reader, established relationship
The sidewalk feels cold beneath your thighs as you stare blankly into your lap, your breaths heavy, struggling through a tight chest. You’re sat cross-legged, like a child - the nice, elderly lady had encouraged you to sit down, said you were looking pale. She’d definitely meant for you to take a seat on the bench a few steps away, but you’d just dropped, seemingly forgetting how to get from standing to sitting in any sort of graceful manner.
She’d smiled sympathetically then, offered you some candy from the bottom of her purse – kept a stash in there for her grandchildren - said you needed sugar for the shock. But you’d shook your head, feeling sick at the notion of eating anything. She asked if there was anyone she could call whilst waiting for the first responders.
You’d put your hand in your jacket pocket for your phone at her question – relieved it’s in one piece, not smashed up like the hunk of metal just out of eyeshot. You don’t remember calling Leon’s number, but you must have because now your phone’s up against your ear.
“Hey, sweetheart.” He answers after only four rings, though his voice is hushed - maybe ducked out of the room to answer. “Can I call you back in 20? Just wrapping up something here.”
“I-crashed-the-car.” You blurt out, the words running into one another. It’s not technically true, you were crashed into but this seems easier for now.
“What?” His volume amps way up and your stomach twists with the change, unsure of the implications – is he mad? Upset?
You were borrowing his car. Yours was in the garage, the brake discs needed replaced and would take a couple of days to get the parts in. You’d planned to take city transport but Leon insisted you take his car - arguing it was winter, that it gets dark so early and the idea of you walking to and from the bus stop on your own isn’t one he wants to entertain. You don’t live in a terrible neighbourhood, but you don’t have to be for monsters to be roaming the streets, after all.
Plus, it made sense for him to ride his bike to HQ whilst you borrowed his SUV and he wouldn’t have to worry, have one less thing on his plate…
..or so had been the idea.
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
“I’m so sorry,” you don’t even take in his questions, really. “They came out of nowhere and…“ Your breath hitches in your throat, a sob building up and threatening to overflow.
“Baby,” his tone is firm, “are you hurt?”
You can hear his shoes slapping against the floor as he begins to run, though it sounds too hard a sole for his boots... No, that’s right, he went out in a suit this morning – leather jacket on top, motorcycle helmet tucked under his arm, still made the whole ensemble look good albeit it being mismatched.
“No…” That’s not true - there’s blood, and it has to be yours, but you feel numb of any sort of pain. “I don’t know.“ Your voice cracks again.
“That’s okay,” he soothes, barging through a door with his shoulder. “We’ll work it out.” Nearly takes a woman out the other side with how hard the door slams against the wall, mutters half an apology as he darts around her. “Are you still in the car?”
You turn to look at Leon’s black SUV laying on its side, the under carriage on full display – not the way a car should be. The driver’s side is against the concrete. You’d climbed out the passenger side, somehow, having to fight gravity itself to get the door to open, clambered up and over the leather seats. Should you have done that, or should you have stayed put? You’d just wanted out from the metal box – the windscreen was a spiderweb of cracks, creaking like it would explode in shards at any moment.
“N-no, I’m on the sidewalk.”
“Okay, good. Ambulance on its way?” He’s reached the elevator, mashes the down button like it will make it accelerate to his floor any faster than usual. He feels awful that he’s interrogating you, but his training has kicked in - gather as much intel as possible – and he needs the facts.
“Yeah. Police too.” A few cars had stopped after. Someone said they were calling 911, another saying they got some of the license plate, the old lady and her purse full of candy. The other car drove off, tyres burnt with how fast they fled the scene.
“Good. That’s good, sweetheart. You’re going to be okay. Can you tell me where you are? What street you’re on?”
“Erm…” You look round, but in the shock nothing looks familiar, though it must be a route you’d driven down hundreds of times before. “I was on the way home from work, so, I’m, erm…”
“That’s all right.” He can hear the tightness in your voice, knows you’re not thinking clearly and so he changes tact. “Is anyone nearby that you could ask?” He hits the elevator button again, swears it’s been on floor 12 for far longer than necessary. Come on.
The elderly lady comes back to mind – she must’ve stepped back to give you privacy when you’d pulled your phone out. “There’s someone.”
“Great. Can you ask them where you are?”
“Yeah…” You pull the phone down from your ear, looking around to find she’s not gone far at all, hovering a few metres away. “Excuse me, where are we? Sorry.” The apology slips out, feeling more of a nuisance to her than you’d already been.
“16th Street, dearie.” She smiles, keeps her tone gentle. “Just near Jack’s Groceries.”
The elevator finally arrives – empty - and Leon positions himself between the doors, aware that his reception might drop when he starts to head down to the garage and he can’t leave you on a dial tone.
“Thank you.” You force a smile in return, hold the phone back up to your ear. “16th Street, near the grocery store, Jack’s - it’s the one with those chips you like?”
He smiles at that – it’s not your usual place to shop, but you go there sometimes to pick them up for him ‘just cos’.
“I’m on my way, sweetheart. Can you call or text me if you go anywhere else?”
“Y-yeah.” You take another shuddering breath, dig your nails into the palm of your hand. “Thank you. I’m so sorry.”
He steps into the elevator fully, double taps the button for the garage before assaulting another to close the doors. He hopes no-one tries to grab it on the way down, cos he won’t be able to hide his irritation.
“Nothing to apologize for. Everything’s going to be okay. I love you, baby.”
“Love you too.”
“See you soon.”
He hears the beep, signaling the call is cut off and takes a grounding breath, though his foot taps impatiently as the elevator continues to descend. He scrolls down his contacts, thumb poised to dial as soon as the doors open again.
“Leon,” Hunnigan sounds surprised to receive his call, probably cos he’s in the same building as her and usually swung by the office if he was after something. “To wha-“
“I need a car.” He cuts across her, heading over to where the company vehicles are kept. “Any car - I’m in the garage already.”
“Right. Why?” He feels a smidge of relief when he hears her begin to type.
“Please - just give me anything. I don’t care what, I just need to go.”
There’s the clunk of a lock down the line of vehicles, a black estate vehicle’s lights flashing. “Bay C3. Keys in the sun visor as usual. Tell me later.”
“I will. Thank you.”
--
Leon drives a little faster than he should, but it still feels like hours until he reaches his destination. There’s a couple of cop cars blocking one of the lanes, red and blues flashing, an officer stood diverting traffic around the closure and another manning the perimeter. He pulls up behind the cars and hops out, scanning for you.
There’s an ambulance parked up in the lane and his heart skips a beat when he sees you sat on the steps, a cop on one side, a paramedic waiting behind in the wings. There’s one of those silver foil emergency blankets draped around your shoulders and you look so goddamn small.
He starts to jog over, intent on getting to your side as soon as possible, when the cop manning the perimeter sidesteps in front of him, holding his hands up to get him to stop.
“Sir, I need you to stay ba-“
Leon flashes his ID in his face – it’s not something he likes to do and so he rarely does it, but he doesn’t have time to put on the charm. “Agent Leon Kennedy. That’s my girlfriend over there – I need to get through.”
The cop steps back and Leon feels weirdly grateful for once for the DSO.
As he gets closer, his eyes narrow at the fact that they’re making you blow into a breathalyzer. He clenches his fist then - you’re bleeding and they’re accusing you of drink-driving?! He wants to give them what for, but then he sees the way you’re shaking and knows him storming into the scene ready to blow is not going to help, especially with how apologetic you’d been on the phone.
He forces himself to stop a moment and breathes deeply again. You’re shook up, but you’re in one piece, conscious and that’s the most important thing.
“Thank you, ma’am.” The officer nods, noting down the reading as Leon walks over, catching the tail-end of the conversation. “Nothing to worry about there. I’ll just go update the control room – it won’t be long.”
“Leon,” you stand abruptly at the sight of him as the cop steps off to the side and the foil blanket slips off your shoulders, gauze taped on multiple parts of your arms. You’re trembling. “I’m so sorry.”
“Come here,” Leon wraps his arms around you, coaxing you into his chest. He wants to squeeze tight, to confirm what he’s seen with his eyes, that you’re real and whole, but he doesn’t want to aggravate any injuries so he’s careful, pressing a kiss to your crown. “Don’t apologise, sweetheart. I’m just so glad you’re okay.”
“Y-yeah, I’m fine.” You’re not, but maybe if you say it to Leon it’ll make it real. There’s a horrible burning sensation in your chest. You want to cry, but not here, not in front of everyone.
“Sorry, ma’am, can I get you to take a seat again?” The paramedic interrupts, emergency blanket back in hand. “I won’t be long, sir. I just need to check a couple more things.”
“No, of course.” He presses another kiss to your forehead and guides you back to the steps, encouraging you to sit and takes the blanket from the paramedic’s hand to drape back over you. “I’ll be right over there, okay? I’m just gonna go have a word with the officer.”
“Okay, yeah.”
He steps aside so the paramedic can move in and waits for the officer to come off the radio, approaching and offering his hand. “Leon Kennedy. I’m her boyfriend.”
“I gathered.” He shakes it. “Officer Jacobs. It was your car she was driving?”
“Mm-hm.” He keeps half an eye on you as he sees the paramedic shine a flashlight in your eyes, getting you to follow his finger. “What happened?”
The cop consults his notepad, flipping through his notes. “A witness stated another SUV-type vehicle went through the red light at some speed. Said it had been driving erratically for a while, so I’m figuring drunk-driver. T-boned, sent your SUV spinning and flipped onto its side after it collided with the lamp-post. The other vehicle stopped for five seconds or so, then gunned it. I’ve got dispatch sending a description out for the highway patrols. Partial registration but it’s gonna have damage, I’m sure, so should be easy to spot if it’s still in transit.”
Leon swallows, taking all the information in.
“How lucky do you think she was?”
“Truthfully,” the cop scratches his day-old stubble, looking between the SUV and you, “I think if she’d been in a different car than that, we’d be having a very different and difficult conversation right now.”
Leon’s fists clench. He’s encountered unspeakable horrors too often in his time, but the idea that some drunken jerk could just get behind the wheel and end your life is more terrifying than anything he’s ever faced.
His thoughts swirl down a dangerous drain - wonders if Hunnigan can grab the partial registration from the cops, run it through her software and find the culprit, or trawl the CCTV cameras for a screengrab. He’d show up at their door, or maybe wait for them in the parking lot, revving his own engine, scare them the way they’ve traumatized you and-
“Sir?”
The thought extinguishes as he realizes the cop is offering him a slip of paper.
“Case number. We’ve got her details and we’ll be in touch if we hear anything, but just in case either of you want to follow anything up.”
“Got it.” He nods, taking it and popping it into his wallet. “Thanks.”
--
Leon wants to take you straight home – he’s got a substantial first aid kit there that’ll do the trick on the cuts that need stitching – but, honestly, you need a proper check-up and only the emergency room will do.
You’d required a few stitches from where you’d been caught by the glass from the driver’s window and bruises had started to develop, specially from where the seatbelt had jerked at the impact, but the overall prognosis was positive – you’d be sore for a few weeks, that was for sure, but armed with some painkillers and some rest, you’d be fine.
Leon doesn’t think he’s ever driven quite so carefully the way he drove to and from the emergency room. Not that will help against other assholes on the road, but he’ll be damned if he does anything that means he has to slam on the brakes and give you a fright. You’ve been silent most of the time – silent on the drive, silent in the waiting room, answering the doctor’s questions in a quiet, unsure voice, and then silent again on the drive home. He’d placed a cautious hand on your knee, squeezing it in reassurance, meaning to draw it away but you’d placed your hand on top of it, looping your fingers through his.
He pulls into the parking lot, gives your hand one last squeeze and hops out, dashing around so he can help you out the vehicle. Leon can read you like a book, he knows you’re holding it together until you get inside – you know you are too.
The elevator is mercifully sat on the ground floor when the two of you enter the lobby and Leon keeps you close as you ride up to the 12th floor and the safety of the apartment.
“Can we sit?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want.” He sits down on the sofa first and you drop yourself down onto his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. It’s only a second before you burrow your head under his chin and, with a heaving breath, finally let out a proper sob - releasing everything you’ve held in for the last few hours. You feel stupid, annoyed, frightened, sore, relieved – too many emotions to keep track of.
He wraps his arms around you in turn, pressing a long kiss to your temple, tears burning at his own eyes.
In that moment, it hits Leon in the gut that he doesn’t know what he’d do without you, what he would have done if you hadn’t come home that night. If he’d have to come back to the apartment and not find your shoes kicked off at the door at the end of the long day, the glass with the lipstick smear on the rim near the sink from the water you’d gulp down greedily whilst making dinner.
It’s not like he takes you for granted by any means. He feels lucky every morning when he gets to wake up next to you in bed, and every night when he climbs back in, wrapping his arms around you. He’ll never let the two of you go to sleep or part ways if you’ve had harsh words or a full blown argument as all couples do, not with the risk his line of work brings, the threat that he could be called away in the middle of the night and have to bid goodbye to a turned back.
He rubs his hand gently up and down your back then, tears silently rolling down his face as he takes you all in, relishes your warmth as he cradles you in his lap.
“I’m so sorry.” You hiccup, your sobs eventually ceasing into sniffles, but still you kept your face pressed into his chest, seeking the comfort of his smell – the faint cologne and natural musk that was so uniquely Leon.
“You did nothing wrong, you hear me?” He mumbles into your crown. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Is the car a complete write-off?”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” He gently lifts your left hand, presses a kiss across your knuckles. “I love you, baby. So much.”
“Love you too.”
The day after the next – he negotiated a personal day to spend doting on you, breakfast in bed, cuddles on the sofa, takeaway for dinner – Leon goes out and buys a ring.
--
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i can see the trio dangerously driving to or from a party. they’re speeding down the empty road, the new future album blasting from the speakers of topper’s jeep. kelce is up front, and reader and rafe are in the back. reader is a bit drunk and rafe is high out of his mind and can’t control his feelings for reader so he starts getting touchy with her, maybe trying to kiss her. since you’re just starting this au out, i’m curious to know how do you think reader would react and if she did kiss him back, how would topper and kelce react?
the last line of coke was a mistake—it made him lose the last bits of his self control. it was clear that he was way too high to drive, even though it seemed like rafe always drove clear-headed or not, so you were assigned babysitting duty in the back.
top was on a rager today, even worse than his usual ones. whenever him and sarah started fighting, he got like this, currently blasting some future song at the highest volume possible, speeding through the streets of kildare. you would be a little scared, except kelce is driving while topper nurses yet another beer in the passenger seat. you're deliciously drunk, still gone from the drinks you had at the party, not a care in the world except making sure rafe doesn't keel over in the back.
you mumble along the words to the song, pretty much engraved in your memory from how often it was played. you don't know how it happens, your fingers just find rafe's hair, brushing it out of his face while he talks to top and kelce in the front, amped up and loud, acting as crazy as you've ever seen him. you giggle, continuing your motions.
topper begins some rant about his girlfriend, or rather, his ex, while rafe locks eyes with you. it's hard to keep eye contact, looking away the second rafe shuts up and focuses on you completely. you're never shy around them but this might be the closest you've gotten.
you feel rafe's hands on your exposed thighs, your tiny skirt ridden up in the seat. his touch feels good, in your drunken state you don't think there's anything wrong with it. he's just being friendly, being touchy, being rafe. he strokes the soft skin of your legs, running his hands down to your ankles, while you shift around in the back. all it would take is one look from the boys in the front to see that something's going on back here.
"rafe, listen to top he's talkin-"
"shh," rafe says, noise completely overlooked by the others, nothing audible except the thump of the bass. he takes your face into his hand, leaning in close. "shut up for a second." he kisses you, briefly, barely, lips touching together and your eyes fluttering shut, when kelce slams on the brakes. the two of you fly apart, your heart thudding for an entirely different reason now.
"what the fuck, kelce, my brakes-" top starts.
"it was a deer, you idiot. you guys okay?" he turns to look at you and rafe in the back, your face flushed and rafe's hands still on your legs.
"fine," rafe mumbles. the four of you head back to tannyhill, you crashing on rafe's bed like always while top and kelce take the guest room down the ball. the two of you are out before you can bring it up, but rafe doesn't forget about it.
in the morning, you stretch, the oversized shirt of his you'd put on for the night riding up. rafe doesn't wait another minute.
"so, about last night. in the car." he looks at you, waiting for your response.
"oh, rafe, don't apologize. it's okay. we were both pretty gone."
"m'not apologizin', i-"
"and i mean, who hasn't been there once or twice-"
"once or twice?"
"and i kissed kelce that one time, so i guess-"
"you kissed kelce?" rafe looks at you like you've committed a crime.
"what? it was new years."
"where the hell was i?"
"i don't know, probably sucking some girl's face off. i was busy making out with kelce, remember?" you laugh, getting up and looking for your clothes. rafe lays back down on the bed, deciding he's never leaving you alone with kelce ever again.
#this was... incredibly incredibly fun to write.#you are an ANGEL For sending this prompt i could picture it so vividluy#i hope you love <333333 thank you so so much for engaging and liking it!#📮 asks#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#kook trio reader
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in the middle of nowhere.
ln x fem!reader
in which you get the wrong idea in the middle of nowhere, so lando finally pops the question.
hello again! two fics in three days, unhinged jas is back 🤭 right so anyways, here you go! i love this concept so much and i hope you do too, lemme know what you think!
this can absolutely count as part two to everything if you want it to!
songs to set the mood: green eyes::siena by nothing but thieves, fearless by taylor swift, white ferrari by frank ocean, to love by suki waterhouse
warnings: 18+ minors dni! smut, angst for a sec, fluff, bit of choking, reader being stupid, lando also being stupid, then being so sickeningly in love, car sex hehe
2.1k words
the proposal
lando could see it now, the picture clear in his mind. the lines of your dress, clean and white. a veil that flowed, lacy and intricate. your eyes meeting his as you ascended towards him, ready to be bound together in life and love by two silver bands.
all you had to do was say yes. all he had to do was ask.
it was simple enough, getting down on one knee, bowing down before the woman he cherished with everything he had. the planning, however, that went into asking the question was eating him alive.
lando thought that he’d nailed it, finally landing on that one big idea that you’d remember for the rest of your lives. the perfect moment where he’d pledge to be yours forever.
little did he know that while the preparation was killing him slowly, it was also killing you.
-
the car ride was quiet.
lando tried to remain neutral, hiding his nerves and excitement. today was the day, you were en route to a small vineyard in the south of france. the drive from your monaco apartment wasn’t too far, but it was long enough for the pair of you to slip into silence. lando perceived it to be comfortable, glancing at you every now and then, noticing how you were taking in the countryside.
he tried not to concern himself over the way you were fiddling with your hair, chewing at your fingernails. you didn’t seem to notice the way he was watching you, eyes flirting between where you sat and the road ahead. he was more concerned by the dark cloud gathering ahead, but found some hope in the way the sunlight broke through, casting beams of light every which way.
the road was dead, not another car for miles. lando felt like you were the only two people in the world, manoeuvring the vintage lamborghini through the winding lanes, the overhanging trees casting curious shadows. it felt like a fairytale, until, of course, it didn’t.
“do you still love me, lando?” you choked out, finally turning to look at him.
lando slammed the brakes, hard. the way they screeched in protest told him that he’d be dropping a large sum into his mechanics bank account, but he couldn’t find an ounce of care, not when the woman he adored was asking such gut wrenching questions.
“what?” lando spat, delirious with confusion. his eyes were wide, wild with fear. “i- what?” he repeated himself, heart beating dangerously fast, and not in the usual way it did when you spoke.
“you just… are you breaking up with me?” your eyes were brimming with tears, lip quivering ever so slightly, but you stayed strong.
“are you serious?” lando was bewildered. “why would you think that?” he was wracking his brain for anything he’d done wrong.
“you’ve been so distant, at first i thought- well i don’t know what i thought, i just feel like you’re slipping away from me.” you sounded like the shell of your usual self, distraught in the face of it all ending. lando was too.
“baby, i’m so sorry. you’ve got it all wrong, i promise.” lando turned in his seat towards you, quickly checking his mirror as he did, safety first. he grabbed your hands, eyes meeting yours as he tried to convey reassurance.
“why have you been like this, then? have i done something wrong?” and so the troubleshooting began.
lando clenched his teeth, wondering how on earth he could explain his way out of this one without completely letting the cat out of the bag. it seemed that while he was planning perfection, he’d been neglecting you and he felt painfully stupid.
“i can’t… well, i can’t say.” lando replied, voice laced with hesitation. you frowned at his lack of explanation, head tilted in confusion.
“you can’t say? well that’s reassuring.” you bit back sarcastically. “if you don’t want me anymore, i’d rather you just tell me now.”
lando couldn’t believe what he was hearing. three years. three years you’d been together, and he was sure he’d loved you even longer. he was shocked that you thought that low of him, that he’d treat you so poorly, stringing you along. he could admit to himself that he’d made a bit of a mess of this, but he couldn’t accept that you thought he didn’t love you.
lando lived and breathed you.
“are you serious? you think i don’t want you?” his mind was moving a million miles an hour, and it spurred him on to make his next move. “get out the car.”
lando swung his door open, bounding round the door to open your door. there was a little velvet box burning a hole in his pocket, and he could feel it getting hotter with every stride he took. you stared at him dumbfounded when he took your hand, pulling you out of the car and into the road. you glanced around nervously, making sure you weren’t about to cause a car crash, but the coast was clear.
he pulled you into his chest, holding you close, eyes fixed on yours, his own a little teary now.
“you think i don’t want you? god.” lando sighed, shaking his head. one of his hands snaked down to his pocket. “you are the only person i will ever want. i didn’t want to do this here, had a whole plan and everything, but that means nothing to me if the woman i love thinks i don’t want her.”
his little speech had knocked the air out of you, and as he sunk down onto one knee, the colours of the sun hitting him so beautifully, you realised just how wrong you had been.
“baby, from the moment i met you, i knew. i knew you were gonna be my person, i just didn’t even imagine that you’d feel the same way. these years with you have been the best fucking years of my life, and i knew from the beginning that i wanted you by my side through it all.”
he was grinning up at you, a ball of nerves and curls, a few tears falling. you were a river, weeping over him, one hand clutching over your heart, the other fallen to your side.
“maybe i got it wrong, and i’m sorry. i’m so, so sorry. but i’m asking what i’ve wanted to ask for a ridiculously long time.” lando breathed. “will you marry me?”
you blinked, once, twice, choking out breaths between sobs. you dragged him up from the ground, kissing him with everything you had left. it was passionate, heavy with pent up emotion, and you never wanted to let him go. you cupped his face, keeping you together when you broke apart.
“yes, lando.” you whispered. “of course.” he slipped the ring onto your finger, a perfect, effortless fit, and then you were kissing him again, as close as could be, his hands all over you.
that’s when you felt the first drops of rain, the clouds finally breaking, just as they’d been threatening to all day.
“oh, fuck.” lando muttered, ready to pull you back to the car, but you wanted this moment to last.
“it doesn’t matter.” you said, letting the droplets coat your flushed skin. lando just smiled, relief washing over him like the rain.
you were engaged. fuck the rain.
and so, there you were, getting your very own movie moment, kissing in the rain with the love of your life, your fiancé, the man you would spend the rest of your life with. the sun still broke through the clouds, bathing you in light as the rain splattered against the damp ground. the leaves of the trees seemed to glisten, water droplets casting twinkles like fairy lights all around you. somehow, after everything, it was perfect. more perfect that anything you could have asked for, and, as bittersweet as it was to admit it, better than anything lando could have planned.
you threw your head back, staring up at the sky. lando leant forward, kissing over your exposed neck, and you hummed in delight. his lips worked their way up until they were ghosting over the shell of your ear.
“i love you. i will always love you.” lando whispered, and you melted into his hands that had a firm grip on your waist.
you shared a look, every worry dissipated, and you saw your life together, right there in his eyes. a flower littered aisle, him in a sleek black suit, his eyes meeting yours from the other side of the room. and then he was kissing you again and you felt the cool, damp metal of his car against your skin. your mind was full of houses in the country, white bedsheets, children playing in a garden. dinners by a fireplace and maybe a dog. but everything you saw slipped away until the only thing that remained was lando, right here, right now.
he was all over you, wet curls trickling cold water over you, sending a shiver down your spine. you grabbed at his shoulders, pulling at his soaked shirt, the white material translucent from the weather. it clung to him deliciously as you ran your hands over the linen.
“get in the car.” he groaned, sliding the material of your skirt up your legs. you complied instantly, turning to climb into your seat, when he stopped you. “no, honey. on my lap.” he smiled mischievously as he slid into the passenger seat and you quickly followed clambering onto his lap.
lando pulled your left hand up, so that it was resting over his heart. you finally had a chance to properly take in the ring, breathtaking as it was. it was an emerald cut diamond, simple yet elegant, exactly what you’d always envisioned.
“you see that? every time you look at this ring i want you to remember that i will always be yours. okay?” his voice had dropped, making the moment you were in even more intimate.
“okay.” you whispered, and his hand trailed lower, slipping under the hem of your ridden up dress. the other went to your neck, fingers gripping softly at the base of your throat.
“you thought i didn’t want you?” his grip tightened, your eyes wide in awe, fixed on his, murky blue green waters turned dark. “silly girl.” and then his other hand found your underwear, tugging it to the side.
lando moaned when he felt how wet you were, dripping all over his fingers, nice and ready for him. he worked through your folds, applying a firm, slow pressure to your clit. your mouth hung open, eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure, but the way his hand closed around your neck had you staring back at him again.
“i need you.” you whimpered, your own smaller hands gripping at his wrist, pushing him further into your delicate neck, rolling your hips against where his hand worked against your soft flesh.
“don’t doubt me anymore, do you? not when i’m the only one who can make you feel like this?” lando teased, and your stomach tightened, clamping down on the two fingers he’d slipped inside you.
“no,” you whined. “only you, lando.” and that was enough convincing for him.
he held you up, just enough to free himself from his jeans and boxers, and you gripped his shoulders, clawing at him as you sunk down on his length. the rain fell harder, condensation gathering on the windows as you ground down on him, meeting his thrusts. tears pricked your eyes; he felt so good, fit you like a missing puzzle piece, and you’d doubted him. you knew, in that moment, that you’d never do such a thing again.
moans were shared between you in unison, your foreheads pressed together as you both got closer and closer, the tight space intensifying the desperation to meet your end. his hands were firm on your hips, his body tight underneath your hands. you couldn’t keep the pace, thighs aching where you were straddling him, and he quickly took charge. your head fell to his shoulder, panting into his ear as he gave you everything, putting everything he had into the final few thrusts.
you laid against his chest in silence after, the sunset casting pinks and purples over the car. you grinned lazily, exhausted, your heart fuller than ever before.
“i’m sorry i doubted you.” you mumbled into his neck, nosing at his stubbled jaw.
“i’m sorry i made you doubt me.” he responded, stroking your hair, squeezing you tighter for a second.
“i can’t wait to marry you, lando.” you kissed his jaw, sitting up to smile at him. your hands looped around his neck, twisting his curls around your fingers.
“my wife.” lando chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “let’s get you home, hm?”
“please.” you crooned. “i’m sure you need to tell max that you finally asked me, huh?”
“you know me too well.”
-
taglist
removed tags that weren’t working! lemme know if you wanna be added or removed
@boysthatgovroomvroom @thegirlinthefandoms @welld0nebaku @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @multilovebot @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit
#lando norris#lando norris fic#lando norris smut#lando norris angst#lando norris fluff#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 driver x reader#f1 driver x you#f1 smut#f1 fics#f1 imagine#f1 fluff#f1 oneshot#f1 angst
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Trucker!König x Stranded!Reader (fem)
MDNI🔞
Part 2 🚚, Part 3
🚫MASSIVE TRIGGERS FOR DARK THEMES!!!🚫 If this is disturbing for you please turn back now. Your mental health is important and I hope you have an amazing day even if you keep scrolling! ily all! I hope you are all well and please take care of yourselves! You matter 💗
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Master List
>cw: fem/afab, oral, cum play, non-con somnophilia, non-con, sleeping pills, kidnapping, non-con recording
2.3k word count
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“Fuck!” You shout slamming the hood of your car down. On your way through the countryside on a road trip, your car decided to break down. You’re in a foreign country, the sun is setting, and having no one to help leaves you feeling overwhelmed and defeated. You sit back in your car and begin to cry. In your mind driving solo across Europe was going to be a piece of cake, yet here you are because you tried to save money and got a piece of shit car.
The sound of a semi-truck braking gets your attention as you look into your rear-view mirror to see a blue truck had pulled off and stopped behind you. In a hurry you pull down your visor to check yourself as you wipe tears away and try to relax your face. You close it just in time to see a massive man jump out of the cab of the semi and walk in your direction. A wave of fear rushed over you as you realized you have no items for self-defense on you.
A knock on the driver’s side window, and the tall trucker steps back and stares at you with piercing blue eyes. Taking a deep breath, you open the car door and step out. His eyes look you up and down.
“Are you stranded?” His voice is smooth with a thick Austrian accent.
“Yes, I am.” Your voice cracks from the nervousness you’re feeling. He is built like a tank and like, really fucking tall.
He gives you a small nod before extending his hand to you, “I’m König.”
“Y/n,” you grab his hand and shake it. His hand is massive and swallows yours.
“You’re not from here, are you?” He gives you a warm smile trying to be nice.
“I’m not…”
“Do you have anyone here you can call?” The question seems innocent enough.
“No, I don’t. My phone has no signal either.”
“Hm,” König looks at your car and then to you once more. “Well, I can’t possibly leave you here alone, especially with it getting dark... where were you heading?”
“I was heading to the German border.”
“Hm, that’s a six-hour drive Maus.”
“It’s okay if you can’t-”
“I can, I’m heading that way. I’ll drive you as close as I can get and help you get set up with a ride in.” He gives you such a genuinely warm smile that you feel your guard beginning to drop.
“I- I really appreciate that, König.” You turn to go to your car and open the back seat to grab two small suitcases out.
“I’ll grab those for you Fräulein.” König walks behind you and gently reaches past you to grab your bags. The sweet vanilla body lotion you’re wearing catches his attention and he tries to take a deep breath as discreetly as he possibly can.
You back away, slightly bumping him. “Oh, sorry. Thank you so much König. You’re like a God send.”
He smiles back at you while holding your bags and closing the car door, “Is this all there is?”
“Yes, that’s it.” You two begin to walk towards the semi-truck as you look around the farm land.
Once to the truck König opens the door for you and helps you climb into the cab, his hand grazing your butt seemed innocent enough so you brush it off. It was most definitely not innocent. He is simply testing your boundaries and seeing how you’d react.
You set you bag down on the floor as König walked around to the driver’s side. He walks to the back of the cab and puts your bags on his small bed back there. He finally sits in the driver seat and looks over at you.
“Are you ready to go?” He asks in a gentle voice.
“Yeah,” you look out at the car that broke down on you feeling slightly sad.
“Don’t worry about that car,” König says, noticing your sad gaze. “I will help you out, I promise. I can’t leave a young woman stranded.” His smile is so warm and genuine, but the look in his eyes shows he has different motives with you.
As he pulled back onto the road König found himself checking you out. His eyes are drawn to the curve of your breast in your tight shirt and the way your thighs look as you sit down in the seat. He was going to have fun with you.
“So, where are you originally from?” He asks, keeping his eyes straight ahead.
You answer and explain how you have always wanted to visit Europe so on impulse you decided to come.
“A bit far from home aren’t you Maus?” He asks with a sly smile on his lips. “Do you even have any friends or contacts in any of these countries?”
“No, I don’t.” You shake your head not realizing these are questions you shouldn’t be answering truthfully.
“That’s a shame, you could get hurt out here. Good thing I came across you and not some… pervert.” He turns his gaze from the road to you and looks at how your breasts bounce with every bump he hits. He couldn’t wait to see what they actually look like, but in his head, he is running through every possibility.
“Yeah…thank you so much for all of your help. Really. I was about to give up and go back home.” You giggle softly.
Your giggle was so genuine and soft. Your lips look tender and kissable. He wanted to see how your lips look wrapped around his cock or sucking on his full nut sack.
“That would have been a shame, it’s good to explore. See the world and expand your horizon.” He says it so casually as if he isn’t thinking of shoving your head down on his dick and making you give him road head. I wonder if she does anal…
You both drive while having small talk. Innocent topics like your hobbies, home life, any little question he can drop to get more information out of you. The sun was now completely set and König noticed your eyes becoming tired as the drive went on.
“If you need to rest, there’s a small bed in the back. It’s not much, but if I can sleep on it, you’ll do just fine.” There’s a friendly chuckle in his tone as his eyes look over at you. Watching as you turn in the seat and look into the dark tiny cab with the bed. His eyes trailing up and down your legs before going back up to your eyes.
“Oh,” you couldn’t explain this feeling in your gut. It was as if it were screaming at you, telling you no and that you should stay awake. You really shouldn’t even be in this truck. Shoving those feelings to the side and excusing them as anxiety, you look back at König.
“Don’t worry, y/n, I don’t bite.” König says with a big smile revealing his sharp K9s. “You’ll be safe with me.”
You nod your head as you begin to stand and walk to the back, it was dark so you used your hands to guide you back there. It was simple since it’s a small space. Taking your bags off the bed and setting them on the floor, you lay down and rest your head on the pillow. Grabbing the thin blue blanket on the bed to cover yourself, you feel so happy to be in a bed, even if its this tiny.
König turns his head slightly to look back at you. It has been ten minutes so he wanted to know if you were asleep or not.
“You settled in alright back there?” He waits to see if he hears your voice.
“No…” Your voice meek as if you feel bad you can’t fall asleep.
“Would you like a sleeping pill Maus?” Please say yes, please say yes, please say yes… “My doctor gave them to me to help with the uncomfortable sleeping situation.” He chuckles softly. That was a bold face lie, he got them from his handy dandy street dealer for a moment like this.
You know it isn’t smart to take medication from others, especially prescribed and from a stranger. You hesitate for a moment trying to think of your answer.
“Here,” he opens up a small pill organizer with one hand and holds them out for you to grab. His eyes are straight ahead still on the road.
You slowly get up and grab one, “Thank you.”
“You can take a sip of my water. I promise I have no gross germs.” He laughs, his laughs so warm and welcoming.
You take the sleeping pill and thank him again. Returning to the tiny bed in the back of the cab you try to get as comfortable as you can. You keep your eyes open for a while, looking at the little bits of König and the road you can see from the angle. By the time I wake up we should be close to the German border, and I’ll be able to continue on my way. This is just for a few hours…just…a few…more…
Twenty minutes pass as König continues to drive. There is a truck stop coming up where he can refill and where he’d usually rest. He looks over his shoulder at you again, “You still awake?” He asks rather loudly.
No response.
“Are you asleep?” He asks again at the same loudness, no response. “Perfect.”
König pulls into the truck stop as usual. He pulls up to the gas station and gets out of the semi to refill the tank and make sure all his wheels are in good condition. He buys you a drink and something to eat when you wake up from the concession area inside before you pay. He grabbed himself another water and a snack as well. Casually he got back to the truck and drove it around back to the parking lot where truckers can park and sleep for the night. He took his time setting up the window covers and making sure the doors were locked and safe. Standing in the now total darkness of the cab, he looks in your direction.
“Hey,” he said, lightly shaking your leg to see if you would wake up. You didn’t. Good.
He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and pulls the blanket off of you. His hand caresses the curve of your waist, hip, and ass slowly taking his time to enjoy the way the curves feel. His hand wrapping around your ass and squeezing.
He turns on the light from his phone and illuminates the small cabin. He crouches down beside you and gently pushes your body back so you’re lying on your back now. His hand gently runs under your shirt and caresses the soft skin of your abdomen. His hand reaching up and cupping your breast over your bra. He lets out a soft sigh as he withdraws his hand.
“You’re so beautiful Maus, so beautiful…” He says as he slowly begins to pull your pants down. He opens the photo app on his phone and begins to take photos of your exposed body, only your panties and bra to cover you.
As he continues to shine a light on you, he pulls your bra down and records himself gently shaking your breast and caressing your nipples until they harden. He leans in and begins to suck on each nipple, making sure it’s all on camera. With his free hand he rubs the erection that is growing in his pants.
Pausing the recording he stands and undoes his belt buckle and then his pants, pulling them down to around his ankles. He releases his aching cock, a bead of precum dripping from the pinkish red tip. He picks back up the phone and points the camera back at you as he jerks off over your body.
His loud pants being picked up on the camera as he stops occasionally to rub your pussy through the fabric of your underwear, feeling a wet spot begin to form, or play with your breast before continuing to pump his fist on his cock.
You remain asleep, completely unaware of what was going on as König kneeled into the bed a little and scooped your drool up with the head of his cock, gently rubbing his tip over your soft lips. He spread your drool around the tip of his cock and used it as a lube for himself. He slapped your lips with his cock twice before gently trying to push it inside of your mouth. He moved his hand from around his cock to your jaw to hold it open as he slid himself in. His breathing shakes as he feels the wet heat of your mouth.
He slowly bucks his hips forward into you as he inches his cock in your mouth little by little. “Ja, that’s my good little Hure.” He moans out, his free hand traveling to your breast and squeezing your breast.
“Oh fuck,” König quickly moves his hand back to his cock as he begins to cum. He pulls out slightly so he can cum on your lips and in your mouth. His breathing heavy and he moans your name. Releasing his full balls completely on to you he smiles at his artwork. He slaps his cock on your lips a few more times before scooping it up with his cock and shoveling it into your mouth, making you eat all of his cum.
König stops recording once he is done and puts the phone down on the bed and he picks his pants back up. He would usually have his fun and drop the girl off somewhere safe, but you… you’re so beautiful. Your tits are perfection and he didn’t even get to try that pussy yet. You’re the type of woman that would never even give him the time of day outside of these circumstances. He’s keeping you. You’re his now.
Part2, Part3
#please read the warnings#tw: noncon#dead dove do not eat#konig x y/n#konig cod#konig x reader#könig#könig x reader#konig smut#könig smut#könig mw2#könig cod#konig#cod konig#könig call of duty#könig x y/n#könig x you#konig x you#konig x reader smut#könig x reader smut#smut
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the view between villages
platonic ! f1 grid x reader
summary: f1 is a dangerous sport - it's common knowledge. but accidents - bad accidents - aren't as common. seeing the youngest (and only female) driver crash and not immediately respond is something the boys never thought they'd have to experience, and the rest of the world is just as devestated.
cw: major accident, graphic descriptions of injury and vehicular damage, graphic descriptions of car accident, mentions of death, blood and gore, negative emotions such as sadness and regret, angst, mentions of religion,
song pairing is "the view betwen villages" by noah kahan
(not based on any particular race)
today's race felt off to begin with. When y/n had attempted to leave her aging yorkie, comet, in her hotel room - like she had done for the past couple months - he began to whine.
"poor baby," she mocked, but turned the small TV on and switched it to the channel that would be broadcasting the race live. "look, com. watch me on the tv."
the dog had complied and jumped onto the un-made bed, but when she left and closed the door, he had whined once or twice before calming down.
she made a mental note to get him checked out at the vet, but got distracted when she showed up to the paddock and got a look at the track.
"the weather wasn't as shit yesterday during quali," she said off-handedly to max verstappen, who was chatting to the engineers.
"are you worried?" y/n was a good racer, it was clear - but whenever max saw how small she looked in comparison to everyone else on the team he had a small sense of dread. it wasn't new, just annoying.
"nah." she grinned at him, her hair already pulled back into a french braid for ease during the race.
---
"lights out.... and away we go!"
the lights blink out and y/n is already gunning it, attempting to bypass the boys from mclaren.
she discovered early on that locking up would be her main issue today, and she made it clear on her radio.
"i keep locking up."
her voice was calm but shook a little as she struggled to steer, and she spoke only in short sentences to prevent stuttering.
"copy."
finally, she worked out a system to braking that prevented the struggle, but in speeding up, found that she'd made her way into a mass of cars.
"watch out, y/n. keep out of trouble - wait until everybody else has moved out of each others way."
"ok. pulling back-" the radio crackled and then went silent as a car careened into the side of her.
---
the audiences at home got to watch a replay of the impact.
somewhere in australia, a family consisting of two parents, a teenaged boy and a little girl are watching the race.
the boy reacts first, jolting. "was that logan sargeant and y/n y/ln?"
"yeah... turn up the volume?"
the mother grabs the remote and obliges, terse.
"was that the girl driver?" the barely 5 year old asks, brows furrowed.
"baby, go play in the other room." her father dismisses her, and when she slowly shuffles out, eyes trained on the screen as the commentators relay the details, her dad huffs.
"now. and don't look at the screen anymore."
she squeals and runs out, and the boy starts to jiggle his knee up and down as they wait for more information.
across the world, houses go silent.
---
"and it looks like logan sargeant attempts to pull away from the crowd but misjudges the distance between himself and y/ln. we can see him here slam right into the right side of the body of her car, and she goes spinning out, right into barricades. oh! and if we slow it down, you can see that the force of her chassis hitting the barricades not only forces the car to lift fully off of the ground, but it also tips - the top of the vehicle flips up into the barricade until it falls back into place. that is a nasty hit for rookie red bull driver y/n y/ln."
the commentators keep talking, thinking nothing of the accident, until the cameras switch to the red bull team, who are trying to get into contact with the girl.
"y/n, are you okay?"
silence.
"can you respond? y/n we need a vocal response. anything, okay kid? even if you can just hold down on the radio button so we know you're there."
no response.
the commentators continue.
"and it looks like we're getting no response from red bull driver y/n, who has just crashed."
---
his whole body jerks on the impact, and he spins out off the track, coming to a shaky stop.
"shit, shit, shit!" his voice cracks.
"are you okay, mate?" the radio crackles at him as he's fighting back tears.
"yeah - was that y/n i hit?"
"yes, we can confirm the crash involved both you and y/ln. we are receiving word that it is a red flag crash."
"is she okay?" he doesn't get a response at first, so he tries again. "is y/n okay?"
"no word yet. sorry, logan."
"fuck! i'm so sorry - i really thought it was clear, i just... fuck."
"calm down, sargeant. wait for pick-up and keep yourself collected. we'll tell you as soon as we find anything out, okay mate?"
"sure."
he lifts himself from the smoking chassis and the world watches as he kicks it out of frustration before letting his head lower.
there's a sickening feeling in his stomach as he sees the girls unmoving vehicle.
he pictures her inside, and the fact that she's so much smaller than the older men cause his mind to unravel with pictures of her limp and unconscious.
---
inside the car, y/n blinks her eyes open, groaning.
her ears are ringing and her head hurts, and the body of her car is so warped that it's vacuum sealed her into the vehicle.
in the back of her mind, y/n feels the pain in her right thigh and left ankle, and her right shoulder feels dislocated.
"kid, we need an answer." the radio's muted and crackling, and when y/n tries to respond, she realizes that something on her end is fucked because they're still begging for an answer.
she goes to climb out of the car, but a sob tears out of her chest at the immense pain that suddenly blooms throughout her whole body.
she falls heavily back onto the seat and pants, closing her eyes.
she feels slight relief from the pain when she fully relaxes and closes her eyes, and nestles into her seat a little to get comfortable.
the need to sleep takes over her and she obeys, nodding off.
---
inside her hotel room, comet's ears pull back in concern as he hears his owners name being called out repeatedly from the television.
---
"red flag, max. we need to restart the race."
verstappen stills, his ears suddenly ringing. he has a bad feeling about the red flag but just can't place it.
"what's happened?"
"there was a crash between a williams and y/n. to the pit lanes, please." the voice on the other end seems calm, but there's a waver to it.
"fuck, are you joking? are they both okay?"
"the williams driver... logan sargeant, we're hearing, is up and out of his chassis. we've heard nothing from y/n yet."
he'd fight them, ask for more information, but knows that red bull would be the first to hear anything.
"tell me if you find anything out."
"copy."
as he drives to the pit lane, max replays her grin at him as she reassures the dutchman.
"nah." her nose is scrunched and hair pulled out of her face.
he thinks about how bulky the helmet looked on her, the barely 20 year old driver somehow never managing to put on any muscle, no matter how hard she tried.
he prays to jesus, zeus, allah, and even the virgin mary - surely she'd have sympathy to max's prayers, as she's lost someone dear to her before. any deity he can think of is immediately begged to ensure the safety of his partner.
---
a whining noise pulls y/n back into consciousness, and she furrows her brows.
"i'm trying to sleep, com. shut up." when she opens her eyes and sees the battered cockpit in front of her, she realizes that she's not hearing her dog cry, it's just the ringing in her ears that are back.
and then suddenly all she can see is comet waiting for her. comet, waiting in a hotel room that she'll never re-enter. what's gonna happen to the mutt if she dies? her parents are over-seas, she has no boyfriend to look after him. comet would be all alone.
and then all the guys on the grid are flashing through her head. she knows, vacantly, that logan crashed into her. he'd never forgive himself if she died. verstappens win streak would be fucked if he was grieving over his teammate. even lewis hamilton, who was the first driver to openly back her as the only woman on the grid.
she screws her eyes shut and lets out a heavy sob, steeling herself.
---
the commentators are no longer focused on the race.
"and i think i can speak for all of us when i ask, where is the goddamn safety car and ambulance? young driver y/n y/ln has been stuck in the wreck for about a minute and a half now, and there has still been no aid for her. which is a cause for concern about the overall safety of f1, as- oh my god!"
---
charles is already on his way back to the pit lanes, muttering manifestations under his breath for y/n to be okay.
he's shaking, filled with lead and a lump in his throat. he and y/n aren't super close, due to their team differences, but every time he spoke to her she had a certain gleam in her eye that one only had when they weren't afraid of death.
this worried him. racing was her life - would she succumb easily? it was a known fact that many drivers drove as if they had nothing to lose.
the idea of her choking on mortality in her chassis scared him more. maybe her body was broken, and the pain was all she could feel as the life drained from her? he worried for those that would have to witness the blood and bruises when she was pulled from her car.
"we've got an update on y/n."
he was pulled out of his mind. "tell me. please."
"she's getting herself out. the paramedics were taking too long, so she took it upon herself, apparently." a startled laugh falls out of charles' lips as he cheers back.
---
muscles screaming, y/n forces herself to lift out of the cockpit, allowing her body the only relief of rest once her upper half is slung over the halo. for about five seconds she stops, before she forces herself to continue.
the safety car and paramedics are here now, and camera crew for the live footage plus the netflix crew are close behind.
people are shouting at her to stop, but she continues to claw her way out of the wreckage.
she's crying and praying to a god she never knew she believed in as she forces her broken legs out of the car, sliding over the side to the ground.
she stands and looks around at the medical crew who are advancing towards her and tries to take her helmet off. she can't, and they're reassuring her that they'll do it for her.
y/n looks out at the audience and raises one arm to greet them. she's met with immediate raucous applause and, swaying for a few seconds, she falls.
---
"you would never believe it. this lady is pulling herself out of her car. as the camera zooms, you can really see the absolute strength this is taking her - hold on, we're getting audio now."
the world watches with bated breath as the coverage of her climbing out of the car begins to play. you can hear the agonised screams she lets out as she forces herself to exit, and just how broken some of her limbs look. her left ankle hangs limply, and she has to use both arms to force her right leg out of the cockpit.
"what a magnificent scene. y/n y/ln has kissed death, and still lives to tell the tale. we see her now, standing on the track as the medical staff come to her aid, and she falls. a very fair response to what she has just gone through. a round of applause to y/n y/ln, the girl who kissed death!"
---
"so lando, congratulations on p4. obviously, the whole crash between logan and y/n caused a damper on the overall race. how do you feel about it?" the interviewer pushed a mic at his face.
"the crash? yeah, it was terrifying not knowing if she was okay or not. i'm not surprised she ended up climbing out of the chassis herself," he laughs softly. "i've never known her for being patient."
"how do you feel about her new nickname?"
"nickname?"
"people are calling her 'the girl who kissed death'."
lando can't stop a high-pitched laugh from escaping. "girl who kissed death? that's stupid. oh god, i can't wait for her to find out about that. she'll be proper pissed off."
"right, well, thanks lando. have fun celebrating!" the interviewer bids him farewell.
---
a few months later:
over the healing process, y/n was forced to give multiple statements, post social media posts, and even a quick video from the hospital bed, but when she sees comet, her resolve finally fails.
she begins to tear up as the scruffy dog barks at her, jumping up and down.
"someone's excited to see you," lewis hamilton, the temporary guardian of the dog, grins.
roscoe stomps his feet and licks y/n, panting at her.
"awe, little babies. i was so scared of dying and leaving comet all alone, but i think he would've been fine."
lewis glances down at the kneeling girl in front of him and tsks, nudging her with his foot. "don't say that, y/n. nobody would've been fine."
"yeah?"
"yeah. have you seen all the tiktok edits of your crash? people were terrified. i was terrified."
y/n doesn't say anything, but stands to hug the british man.
he holds her back, before clearing his throat. "save that love for death. heard you've kissed it before."
"fuck off."
--- le fin ---
#formula one#f1#formula 1#formula one imagine#f1 imagine#f1 grid x reader#f1 angst#formula one angst#lewis hamilton x reader#lando norris x reader#charles leclerc x reader#logan sargeant x reader#max versappen x reader#f1 oneshot#formula one oneshot#starlightdelrey
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Text
Yandere Hare and Bunny Hybrids (2)
Part 1
“Okay bye guys. Jared, I’m trusted you with the home!”
“You got it, babe. Bring home some bark if you have the time.”
“Sure!”
*Muffled* “Noooo! Waaaiiiittt (Yyyy/nnnn) please! I promise I won’t put thumbtacks in your shoes.. anymore! I’m sorrryyy!!! Please!--”
The sound of the door slamming shut starts Chryst on a whole new set of tears
Jared looks at the watch he has and knows he’s got a good three hours before he can even think about taking the padlock off Chryst’s door
So he indulges in his favorite activity in the meantime
Running on the treadmill next to his favorite picture of you running
If he’s feeling especially proud he’ll go for a run and stop by his favorite smoothie place
That has a perfect view of your work place+
“Now that’s a view.”
He hates how often he gets approached
he has to remind you next time to get him a ring
only for appearances of course
When he returns home first thing he does is stick his tall ears against the bedroom door before unlocking it
Immediately darting into his chest, Chryst hugs him tightly just happy to not be alone
Then he darts into your room to ruin your bed to aggressively inhale your scent
And your closet
And your laundry
When he’s done with that he’ll go find Jared again this time to plan on his next scheme to keep you from leaving for work the next day
Jared doesn’t say anything, he just finishes what’s left of his smoothie warning him when he gets too intense
“Maybe before they take their lunch I could put something special in there!”
“Okay.”
“Maybe something that makes them all sleepy and cuddly again!”
“Sure.”
“And for extra–good measure, I’ll cut the brake lines in their car!”
“Okay. That’s too far.”
But if he’s already thought up a good plan he’ll move on to other things
“Have you ever noticed our neighbor is around (Y/n)’s age?”
“Yeah so?”
“I…don’t want them to exist anymore.”
“Me neither. But we’ll be first suspects so no go.”
“Would that still be the case if we cut his brakes?”
“....No.”
“Good.”
They hold down the fort waiting for the minute you come home
“Hey guys I’m home–Ooof!”
“Oh (Y/n)!!!! I missed you so much!”
He buries his head into your chest so hard the first time it feels like he’s trying to suffocate you
Jason on the other hand will stand a ways away pouting and tapping his feet until you give him his scheduled pat and boop on the nose
“Hey to you too, casanova!”
“Hmph remembering me are you? Good for you.”
“Not just that I got you that bark you wanted.”
“...Thanks.” “(Y/n) hurry up take off your work clothes they smell like a gaggle of predators!”
“Okay okay! Don’t unbutton that! I’ll do it myself geez!”
They’re happy to have you back
Now they can both be fully at peace
At least until the next time you leave
#yandere x reader#yandere x you#lovelyyandereaddictionpoint#yanderexrea#yandere harem#yandere#yanderes#yandere hare#yandere bunny#yandere hybrid#yandere hybrid hare and yandere hybrid bunny#yandere hybrid bunny#yandere hybrid hare#yandere oc x you#yandere oc#male yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere male#yandere male x reader#yandere ocs#yandere oc x reader#moi month#yandere ocs x reader
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