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scuderiahoney · 2 months

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Pick You Up

Max Verstappen x reader

Masterlist

Summary: when Max has one too many gin & tonics, you’re the one who picks (him) up, every time he calls. Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: alcohol, intoxication, maybe an unhealthy relationship with alcohol??, mentions of Max’s shitty childhood, incorrect taylor swift lyrics

It’s 1am, and your phone is buzzing on the nightstand. You groan and shove your face into the pillow. You were having such a nice dream. Something about an island and a very attractive man. You let the phone ring until it stops, and then you hold your breath. Maybe it was a butt dial. Maybe it’s not what you think.

The buzzing starts again, and you blindly slam your hand onto the nightstand, grabbing for it. You swipe to answer without even looking at the contact. You already know who it is. Or at the very least, who they’re calling you about. It’s never anyone else.

“Max needs a ride,” a friend of his says.

You’re already rolling out of bed. “Yeah. Where?”

You could complain, you suppose, as you pull on a pair of sweatpants and a jacket. You could ask them to find literally anyone else, or beg them to have a designated driver for once, but instead you just slip your shoes on. You rub the sleep from your eyes and grab a Red Bull on the way out the door. Someone sends you an address from a number you don’t even have saved in your phone. Worry claws at your chest.

The truth is, you’ll never complain about Max calling you in the middle of the night, because if he stopped calling you’d worry about who he was relying on. Max is… popular. He’s got a lot of people trying to ride his coattails. He gets invited to events and people buy him drinks and offer him things and then it’s 1am and he’s too drunk to get home on his own. And then he calls you. Or, more often, someone calls you for him.

You pull up in front of the club, and Max is already outside, stumbling on clumsy feet. He lurches towards your car when he sees it, which is a relief, because you hadn’t exactly wanted to get out of the car. You find yourself resenting whoever he was out with for leaving him all alone, but he opens the door and climbs in and you plaster a smile onto your face.

“Hi, schatje,” he slurs, and you muffle a laugh into your shoulder.

“Hi, Maxie,” you say.

This is the only time he calls you things like that. It’s also the only time you can call him Maxie without earning yourself a warning glare, or worse, an elbow to the rib cage. You’ve known him for years, and yet it’s only when he’s wasted that he doesn’t mind the nickname.

“Seatbelt,” you remind him.

He nods and tugs at the belt. You end up having to help him buckle- that happens about 70% of the time. His fingers fumble with the latch as you do so, and he lets out a little huff when you brush his hand away. Once he’s all set, you pat his shoulder lightly and lean back into your seat.

“I’m drunk,” he warns you.

“I know,” you answer.

“So no crazy driving. I don’t want to be sick in your very nice car.”

You laugh and cock your head at him. “This morning you called this car a shitbox.”

He nods. “It is. But it is your shitbox.”

You laugh again, putting the car into drive. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

He rambles the whole drive to his apartment, about all the people he was out with tonight and what they did and who they did. Drunk Max is a bit of a gossip, and his gossiping to you won’t get him in trouble, so he takes full advantage of it. You listen eagerly the entire time, though you keep your eyes focused on the road. He’s not the most drunk you’ve ever seen him, still too drunk to be in a cab or an Uber by himself but coherent enough that the journey up to his apartment shouldn’t be too difficult. You park your car in his parking lot and climb out.

Max is halfway out of his seat when you come around to meet him. You take his hand and help him the rest of the way up. He stumbles a bit, laughing as you catch him. Then he throws his arm around your shoulder and follows you to the elevator.

His head bumps into yours in the process. You lean into the weight of him, the two of you standing like a badly built lean to. If one of you topples, the other will too. You try not to think about that too much.

You stay the night, the way you always do when this happens. Because the only thing a hungover Max hates more than the sunlight is waking up to an empty apartment. You’ll be there in the morning to take care of him. He’ll promise he won’t do it again.

By this time next week, he’ll be out at a club, and you’ll have the volume on your phone turned up.

…..

The next time someone calls you on Max’s behalf, it’s someone you actually know. It’s 2am this time, and your eyes are closed. You’re drifting in that space between consciousness and dreams. Your ringtone almost becomes a part of a half dream before you realize what it is. You turn the phone over. NoRizzz, it reads. You think Max added the contact for you.

You answer. “Hi, Lando. S’it Max?” You ask.

“I swear to god I lost track of him for one second-“ Lando rushes out.

You pause halfway out of bed, feeling a jolt of worry at the frantic tone in his voice. “Lando?”

“He’s gone, he-“ He sounds panicked. “I turned around and he’s-“

“Did you call him?”

“Of course I called him-“ Lando scoffs. “Look, I wouldn’t be so worried if I hadn’t already been thinking about having you pick him up-“

“Hey, hey, slow down,” you say, though your heart is racing as you head for the door. “Where are you? How long has it been since you lost him?”

“We’re at Jimmyz, it’s been a half hour,” Lando admits. “I didn’t want to bother you, but-“

A half hour is a long time for Max. He could be anywhere in the city right now. He could’ve walked, or taken a cab, or… anything. Sober Max is great at self preservation. Drunk Max is easily persuaded. You’ve used it to your advantage more than you’d like to admit. Not in any bad way, just- Max, sing karaoke with me! Max, come dance with me! Max, we should order pizza!

You head for the front door. “Okay. It’s okay. I’ll come meet you, and then-“

You swing the door open and nearly scream when something heavy tumbles into your apartment. Someone, actually, upon further inspection. It’s Max, lit only by the dim hallway light and a beam from the kitchen light that you always leave on. He’s blinking up at you from the floor, a soft smile on his face. He has his arms wrapped around himself, like he’s cold. His skin is damp with sweat.

“Never mind, I found him,” you say into the phone.

“What? How?” Lando asks, bewildered.

“He was sitting in front of my door,” you answer as you crouch down. You card your fingers through his sweaty hair, and Max smiles. “Must’ve taken a cab or something.”

“I walked,” Max admits.

That explains the sweat. That also tells you that Lando has lied to you- Max has been gone much longer than a half hour if he’s made his way here on foot. You choose not to call the other driver out on it, though. You want them to call you about things like this. If you chew him out, Lando will be less likely to do so.

“So he’s okay?” Lando asks.

“He’s fine,” you assure him. “I’ll talk to you later.”

You hang up and then start working on getting Max all the way into the apartment. He’s not much help. You manage to get his legs inside and then you close the door behind him. You’ll work on getting him out of the hallway next. For now, you sit down on the floor next to him.

“You walked here?” You ask.

He nods. “Missed you.”

You snort out a laugh. “You could’ve called me, I would’ve picked you up.”

He shrugs and shuts his eyes. “Didn’t want to bug you.”

“So you camped out in front of my door,” you say.

“Yes. But then you didn’t have to come pick me up.”

“I’ll always pick you up,” you say, brushing your thumb against his temple. “That’s what friends do.”

When he opens his eyes, they’re glassy. Your breath hitches. Max doesn’t get teary often, doesn’t get emotional often. Something aches in your chest. You rub your thumb over his cheekbone. He blinks once, twice, lashes tangled together.

“You okay?” You ask.

“Yeah.” He sounds so small when he says it. “Just. Thanks.”

There are these small moments, when Max shows a vulnerable side. These are the moments you think of when people spread vitriol towards him on the internet and ask how you could possibly be friends with him. They make you love him even more, and they make you resent the adults who were around him when he was growing up.

You’ve seen pictures of little Max, shown to you with funny anecdotes and teasing smiles. But when you look at them, and when you see him like this, you can’t find any of it funny. All you can think of is the other stories you’ve heard about his childhood. All you can wonder is how someone could’ve done those things to him. And then you wonder how despite it all, he ended up with such a kind soul.

Max is the one who brings you soup when you’re sick. He brings you trinkets from every country he goes to- the magnets fill the door of your fridge. Max sends you pictures of dogs he meets on the street even though he’s a cat person. He flies you out to races when you’ve had a bad week and buys you good pasta and better tequila. Max has a heart the size of a whole continent. People keep trying to chip away at it. You hate them for it.

So you take a moment to brush the tears from his cheeks. You don’t ask him why he’s crying, or tell him it’ll be okay. You just sit there on the floor with him in your hallway and wait for him to be ready.

Eventually, you get him up off the floor and drag him into your bedroom. It’ll be better for everyone involved if he gets a good night’s sleep in a real bed. You try to leave the room, but he grabs onto your wrist.

“Stay?” He asks, eyelids barely open.

You hum and brush the hair from his forehead. “Are you sure?”

“M’sure,” he says. “Don’t wanna be alone.”

You nod in understanding. You don’t even bother pointing out that he’s on your side of the bed. He’s too far gone to get him to roll over. You just climb over him and pull the blankets back and then tuck yourself in. You keep a respectable distance from him.

You know in the morning you’ll wake up to his arm around your middle and his face buried in your neck. You know because it happens every time you share a bed. Max will act like there’s nothing weird about it, will thank you for taking care of him, and be on his way before lunchtime.

You’ll crawl back into bed and curl up on your side, unsure of if you love or hate the fact that the sheets still smell like him.

…..

Charles calls you from Qatar.

You answer. “Charles, I cannot pick him up. I’m in another country.”

“Yes, I’ve told him that about a billion times,” Charles says. “He is very stubborn, you know.”

Something dawns on you as you sit up against your headboard. For some reason, you’ve always assumed that other people are the ones choosing to call you. That even when it’s someone who doesn’t know you, they’re getting your information from the emergency contact info in his phone. But this… Charles seems to be suggesting that Max has asked him to call you.

“Is he okay?” You ask.

Charles laughs. “He’s fine. He is a world champion, again. You know.”

You do know. You called and congratulated him right after the race. You can still hear the shake in his voice, the yelling of his team behind him. It’d made your heart ache, made you sad you weren’t there with him.

“Yeah,” you say. “You both still have to drive tomorrow, you know.”

“I do know, which is why I’m hoping you can help me,” Charles says. “We’re in his hotel room. His phone is dead, I guess? He came to use mine, so I brought him back here. He’s lost his charger.”

“There’s a spare one in his backpack,” you tell Charles. “In the small pocket.”

You hear the zipper and Charles’ amused laugh. “Did you pack his bag for him?”

“I helped,” you admit. “Let me talk to him and I’ll see if I can talk him down?”

Charles makes a noise of agreement. There’s rustling, then a thud. More rustling. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

Then, Max. “Hi.”

“Hi, Max,” you answer. “I thought you were going to take it easy tonight.”

“I am a world champion,” he says, so matter of fact.

In the background, you hear Charles groan.

“Yes, a world champion who still has to do a race tomorrow,” you remind him.

“I know. Can’t believe I got it in the sprint. A sprint I didn’t even win,” he says, laughing lightly. “Let the rookie win the race tomorrow. I’m the champion.”

“I’m going to throttle him,” Charles says, loud enough or close enough for you to hear. “I think in turn one I will run him into the wall.”

“Tell Charles if he hurts one hair on your head I’ll fly to Qatar and throttle him myself,” you tell Max.

Max relays the message. Charles is quiet after that.

“Doesn’t matter how you won it, yeah?” You remind Max. “You still worked just as hard to get there.”

“Yeah,” Max agrees. “I’m tired.”

“Yeah, that makes sense.” You say with a laugh. “Charles has plugged your phone in. Make sure you turn it on and then go to sleep.”

You call his hotel and have electrolyte drinks and breakfast sent up the next morning, along with a bottle of painkillers. He texts you a photo of all of it along with a thank you message. When he wins the race, even hungover, you’re not the least bit surprised.

…..

When Max calls you at 11:00 pm, your first thought is huh. That’s early. You answer on the third ring, already looking for your keys. You wonder who it’ll be this time. A friend you know, or an unknown voice of someone he’s only met tonight.

“Schatje?” Max asks through the speaker.

You nearly drop the phone. “Max?”

“What, you don’t have my number saved?” He asks.

“No, of course I do, s’just- not usually you who ends up calling me, even from your phone.”

You think you hear him sniffle. Something twists in your chest. Before you can scramble to apologize, he’s speaking.

“Yeah. Um.” He sighs. “Huh.”

You can hear it in his voice, in the way the words seem to stick in his throat. Something’s wrong. You climb off the couch, headed for the door. “Tell me where you are, Max.”

He sniffs. “No, it’s uh- I don’t know why I called-“

“Max,” you repeat as you shut the front door behind you. “Where are you?”

He gives in and tells you he’s at some hotel bar. You recognize it and head down the stairs. You keep him on the line even as you start the car, as you pull out onto the road. He’s mumbling something about how he’ll be fine, about how you don’t have to come get him. Both of you know you’re already on the way.

You have to go in this time. For a moment you think about asking who else he’s with, and hanging up and calling them. But you don’t want to lose contact, so you park the car and head inside. You’re in a hoodie and sweatpants, a pair of slippers on your feet. Nobody bats an eye.

You find him in a back hallway, squeezed into a corner. Your heart crumples at the sight of him. You’re sure your face does too. He’s teary and curled in on himself. He looks so small. You love him, you worry for him, you hate this version of him. Not that you could ever really hate him. It’s just that he looks so vulnerable, so unlike himself.

As much as you want to get him out of there, as much as it would probably be the right move, you sit down next to him instead. You wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him into your side until his head is against yours. You don’t ask him what’s wrong. He’ll tell you eventually. It might take a while- sometimes a few days. You always give him time. For now, you just sit in the hallway with him. You meet him where he’s at.

He tells you later that he suddenly found himself alone in the bar. After days straight of only being alone when he went to sleep, person after person wanting to celebrate his championship, he’d been alone. He hadn’t realized how much he’d felt like he was suffocating until that moment.

“I was one of the people celebrating,” you remind him as he clings to you.

“But you aren’t suffocating me,” he says. “You’re like… clean air.”

He sleeps in your bed that night. You sleep next to him, not even bothering to argue about it. You fall asleep to the sound of his steady breaths and the weight of his hand on your back.

When you wake up in the morning, he pretends he’s fine. You let him.

…..

Drunk Max is an overly honest Max. He’ll tell you anything and everything. So when you’re walking him home one night, his arm over your shoulder, gin on his breath, you’re expecting to learn some things. What you weren’t expecting, however, is for him to lean close, his lips against your ear, and tell you he loves you.

The odd thing is the way he says it. He leans close and tells you he loves you like he’s talking to someone else. He says “hey, you know-“ then he says your name- and then he says, “you know I love her?”

You shove at his side. “Yeah, I love you too, you dummy.”

He shakes his head, bumping his forehead against your temple. “No, I love her.”

Your heart stops at the way he says it. At the meaning he’s insinuating. Your feet fumble under you, but you manage to keep both of you upright.

“Max,” you say in a warning tone. “You’re drunk.”

“Mm,” he hums. “Drunk in love. Love drunk? Like that song she likes- got love drunk-“

He doesn’t realize he’s talking to you. He likely won’t remember this. You cut him off before he breaks into slightly incorrect Taylor Swift lyrics on the sidewalk. “That’s nice, Max. Why don’t you tell her?”

He shrugs. “Can’t.”

He doesn’t elaborate further, and you miss your chance to prod him about it when he trips over a bump in the sidewalk and nearly sends you both flying. After that, you keep your focus on getting him up to his apartment safely. You shove him into the bathroom in his apartment and tell him to brush his teeth. Then you stand in the hallway and press your hands over your face.

Can’t. Why not? Does he mean it? Did he say the wrong name? He won’t remember it tomorrow, you know that. Do you bring it up? Maybe you should just forget about it. He obviously doesn’t want you to know. And even if it is true, and he does have feelings for you, it would never work.

He stumbles out of the bathroom and presses a messy, toothpaste-y kiss to your forehead. That leaves your brain spinning even worse than it was before. You follow him to the bedroom and tuck him in. The cats glare at you as you disturb the blankets.

“You’ll stay, right?” He asks, tugging on your arm. He seems to know who you are now. “Please?”

You sigh and agree, climbing into bed next to him. He sighs happily and rolls towards you. He slings an arm around your waist, and you hold your breath when he presses his cheek to your shoulder.

“Goodnight,” he says, already half asleep.

“Goodnight,” you echo.

You lay awake and stare at the ceiling for at least an hour, trying not to listen to the sound of his soft breaths. Trying not to think about him admitting that he loves you. Trying not to think about him calling himself love drunk. Trying not to think about him at all, which is difficult with him right there.

You wonder if he really meant it. You want him to mean it, you realize. You tilt your head to look at him- you can only see the top of his head and the slow rise and fall of his chest. God, you want him to mean it. There’s no way he does, but you want it so badly your whole body aches with it.

Sassy walks up to the head of the bed and curls up right next to you. You run your fingers over her fur. Finally, then, you’re able to fall asleep.

…..

It’s not often that Max is the one to pick you up from a bar. It’s every once in a blue moon. You’re much more responsible, you plan ahead. You have a ride home, or you don’t get so drunk that you can’t walk, or you plan to stay with a friend who lives closer to wherever you’re going.

It’s not often, but it does happen. Which is how you find yourself in the bar bathroom, phone pressed to your ear, praying he picks up. There’s a good chance he won’t. He’s definitely not sitting around, waiting for you to call like you always are when he goes out. If he doesn’t pick up you’ll have to call someone else, but you won’t even know where to begin.

It’s only when you hear his voice that you realize you’re not sure he’s even in Monaco.

“Hello?” He says. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, just- what country are you in?”

“What?” He asks. You can hear rustling in the background. “Is this some sort of code? Is someone-“

“No, Maxie, I’m fine,” you say. “Where are you?”

“Monaco,” he answers, still sounding unsure. “At home. Where are you?”

“Monaco. A bar bathroom,” you answer. “Any chance you’d come pick me up? My designated driver met a guy.”

“Not a very good designated driver,” he says with a scoff.

“Says the guy who never has one,” you retort.

Max laughs and doesn’t argue. “Send me your location. I’ll come get you.”

Max gets there far too quickly to have been driving at a reasonable speed. He insists that you wait inside rather than meeting him out on the sidewalk, and says he’ll call you when he gets there. The phone rings, so you step outside. You’re thankful once again for his collection of cars and his tinted windows- nobody seems to have realized it’s him. He leans over and opens the door for you, and you climb inside. He already has the heated seat on for you, and he hands you a bottle of water after you sit down.

“Drink,” he says as he pulls away from the curb.

You roll your eyes but do as he says anyways. The city is a blur of lights outside your window, though you know Max isn’t speeding. He always drives carefully with you in the car, no matter how many times you beg him to go fast. You sink lower in the leather seat.

His eyes flicker over to you. “Did you have a good time?”

You shrug. “Yeah, till all my friends ditched me,” you say. “They found guys to hook up with.”

You see Max frown out of the corner of your eye. “And you didn’t? The men in this club must be blind.”

You pick at the hem of your dress. “Maybe I didn’t want to hook up with anyone. Maybe that’s not what I’m looking for.”

“And what are you looking for?” He asks.

He keeps his eyes trained on the road. You turn your head to look at him. You’re at a stoplight, and it paints his face red. You study the slope of his nose, the jut of his jaw. You, you want to say. I’m looking for you. You think of him the last time you picked him up, how he said he loved you. Called himself love drunk. And then you think of when you asked him why he hadn’t told you. Can’t.

So instead, you shrug. Max turns and looks at you, then shrugs in response. You pout, knowing he’s mocking you. His eyes trace over your face, then over the rest of you. You wonder if he’s relying on how drunk you are to make you forget this- hoping you won’t realize or remember him checking you out. He reaches into the backseat and comes back with a large dark hoodie.

“Here,” he says. “You must be cold.”

The light turns green when the sweatshirt is half over your head- you only know because you feel the vehicle lurch into motion. You squeak, and Max laughs and lays a hand on your leg to steady you. His palm is warm against your bare skin.

When you pop your head back out and shove your arms through the sleeves, you expect him to let go. He doesn’t. His hand stays there, a steady presence, the whole ride to his place.

He hasn’t even asked if you want to stay at his apartment- he doesn’t need to, he already knows what your answer would be. Plus, you’re a bit too drunk to really be left on your own. He leads you up to his door, keeping his hand on your lower back to steady your wobbling steps. You’d tried to kick your heels off in the lobby, but Max had insisted you keep them on. You take them off as soon as you walk in his front door, though, sighing in relief. You stumble over to the couch as he sheds his shoes and jacket. By the time he walks into the living room, you’re curled up in the corner, already under a blanket, face pressed against one of his throw pillows. Max clicks his tongue.

“Come on. Up,” he says, tugging at your shoulder. “You should change your clothes and eat something.”

You groan and reach out to wrap your arm around his neck. “I’m comfy. Come cuddle. Comfy.”

He sighs. “We can cuddle. If you change your clothes and eat something.”

The offer leaves you a bit dumbfounded, because Max isn’t much of a cuddler. It’s pretty likely that he’s lying just to appease you, to get you to follow his instructions. So you continue to lay there, trying to pull him in. When you don’t budge, Max huffs, plants his hands on the couch behind you, and straightens up. He does it before you can loosen your grip, so you go with him almost accidentally. He pulls you off the couch and grabs your hips, helping you to stand up.

“There,” he says, as you sigh and lean heavily on him. “Step one. Clothes.”

He leads you to his room, where you eagerly take the opportunity to sit down on his bed. He turns and begins digging through his drawers. You flop back onto the bed. One of the cats paws at your ankles- you don’t bother looking to see which one. Max throws clothing onto your stomach.

“I’ll go make you food,” he says.

It takes you far too long to find the motivation to shed the hoodie and dress and trade them out for whatever clothes Max has left for you. Eventually, though, you do it. He’s given you one of his shirts and a pair of shorts that are definitely yours, likely left behind whenever you stayed over last. You pull the hoodie back over your head and leave the dress on the floor. It’s only when you remember that Max is awful at cooking that you scramble towards the kitchen.

He’s putting perfectly cooked ramen into bowls. Frankly, it’s hard to mess up ramen, but you’re relieved either way. He smiles at the sight of you, and you think about telling him all over again. The last time you were drunk, you said you loved me. I love you too. We should talk about that. Can’t. Your heart stutters in your chest.

“Thanks,” you say, sitting down at the counter.

You never do get the cuddle he promised. You fall asleep there, forehead pressed to the granite, and Max carries you to the guest room and tucks you in. You swear you feel his lips against your forehead as you fall asleep. But that’s probably just a dream.

…..

By the time you’re in Vegas for the Grand Prix, you haven’t been drunk with Max in months. It’s been one or the other, not both. But since you’re there, Max drags you along to every event he gets invited to. You’re two drinks deep by the time Max makes it to the afterparty. He catches up quickly.

You sneak a sip of his gin and tonic and recoil at the taste. He gives you a blank stare in return.

“You’ve never liked it,” he says. “I don’t know why you keep trying.”

You shrug. “Exposure therapy. And my drink’s empty.”

He gives you a look that’s a mixture of what you think is exasperation and fondness. It’s his signature look when he’s dealing with you on nights out.

“We can fix that,” he says, as he reaches for your hand.

He leads you up to the bar, fingers knit with yours. He doesn’t let go like he normally would. It’s not uncommon for him to hold onto you in a crowd, especially when you’re drunk, but this is different. He leans over the bar and gives your order to the bartender, who nods and moves to make the drink. Max keeps his hand in yours. He finally lets go when you get your drinks, and you take a sip while you look up at him.

His eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, blue eyes wide, and you’re trying desperately to read his mind. You want him to let you in so badly.

You end up at a table with him and his driver friends, squished in the booth between Max and Charles. You sip your drink and listen to them talk about race strategy and tires and Vegas in general. Max downs his drink, and someone brings him another. You do the same, and he gets them to bring you one too. And the cycle continues.

This means that by the time he turns to you and says, “we should leave now,” you’re pleasantly drunk, and you’d probably do anything he asked, really.

He slips out of the booth and pulls you along with him, ignoring the people who call his name. He has both of your jackets in his arm as he weaves through the crowds, holding onto your hand. It’s nice, to be here with him, to be a part of it instead of sitting and waiting for a phone call to come pick him up.

As the two of you stumble out onto the sidewalk, you tug on the back of his shirt. “Hey. Who are we going to call to come take care of us? We’re both drunk.”

Max turns and laughs, and then he’s quick to steady you when you stumble on the pavement. “We will take care of each other.”

You nod clumsily, leaning into the feeling of his hands on your hips. “Okay. Yeah. Nice.”

Max tugs you close, tucking you under his arm as he starts to walk down the street. “Lovely.”

“Simply lovely,” you say teasingly. “Where are we going?”

“The hotel,” he says. “I am sick of people.”

You deflate a bit at that. You’re not ready to say goodnight, to say goodbye, to be alone. You want to spend more time with him- it’s why you’re here in Vegas. Max seems to sense your change in mood and squeezes your shoulder, craning his head to look down at you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. “Do you want to stay out? We can find another club, I just thought maybe we could order room service, or pizza, and play a game or…”

He trails off as your eyes go wide, the hurt in your chest melting away. He cocks his head.

“I thought you were sick of me, too,” you say, and you bite your lower lip.

Max frowns deeply. The lights behind his head are blurry in your vision. You wonder if you’re just drunk, or if you’re tearing up. The way he swipes his thumb under your eye tells you it’s the latter.

“No,” he says, gently. “Never.”

Your lip wobbles. You shrug. Max seems to understand, and he just squeezes your shoulder again and keeps walking. You try to get your emotions in check. You have to, really, need to be normal about this. He’s just your friend. That’s all he wants to be.

“We could go do karaoke,” he suggests, pointing at a sign down the road.

He’s trying to distract you. It’s working.

You laugh and elbow him. “You’re an awful singer,” you tease.

“Am not!” He says, his tone full of mock offense. “Here, I’ll-“

You’re expecting him to break out into Viva Las Vegas, like he had at the end of the race over the radio. You’re bracing yourself for it, ready to grimace and cover your ears even though he isn’t really that bad of a singer. What he starts singing surprises you, makes you stumble a bit over your own feet.

“Welcome to New York!” He sings, and you stare at him, wide eyed. “They’ve been waiting for me- welcome-“

“Stop, stop,” you laugh, elbowing him as he attracts stares from people passing by. “We’re in Vegas, not New York! And you always get the lyrics wrong-“

“I am very good with lyrics,” he says, shaking his head.

“No, you’re not, you sang the other one wrong, too,” you tease. “You said got love drunk, it’s supposed to be got love struck. Remember, in Monaco?”

He stops in his tracks, his arm still around you, and stares. You stare right back. You frown and tilt your head at him, mirroring his earlier reaction.

“You remember that?” He asks, quietly.

“I was sober, Max,” you answer. “You remember that?”

He nods, lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes are wide, cheeks pink. “I wasn’t sure if it was real, or if I dreamed it. And you never said anything about what I told you, so…”

That’s when you remember the other part of that conversation, all those nights ago. I love her. Why don’t you tell her? Can’t. You swallow tightly, hands hanging at your sides.

“You didn’t seem to know you were talking to me,” you explain. “So I figured it wasn’t something you really wanted me to know.”

Max blinks, then nods. “I didn’t. Because you don’t feel the same.”

Your stomach twists violently, and your chest follows suit. “I never said that.”

His stare is so intense you feel like you’re seconds away from bursting into flame. “But if you did, you would’ve said something after that night.”

You shake your head. “I asked why you didn’t just tell me and you just said, can’t. You wouldn’t explain any further. I don’t know, Max, I just. I figured you had a reason. Like, maybe…”

“Maybe what?” He asks, still staring at you.

“I’m just me, Max,” you say, pressing your hands over your face. “I’m just your friend. People get crushes all the time but it doesn’t mean you want to be with me, you’re a fucking world champion and I-“

He reaches up with both hands and grabs your wrists gently. He pulls your hands from your face. There’s a smile on his lips that leaves you teetering between relief and apprehension.

“But I didn’t say I had a crush on you,” he says, brows raised. “I said I love you.”

You sigh heavily and try to pull your hands back to your face. He doesn’t let you. You’re looking anywhere other than his eyes. Anywhere other than him, really. He lets go of your wrists and then cups your face in his hands before you can move.

“Hey,” he says. “I said can’t because I thought there was no way you’d feel the same.”

You stare at him, wide eyed, as his thumbs sweep soft circles over your cheeks. Suddenly, everything comes into focus, bright and blinding and stark. The Las Vegas strip is glowing all around you, but none of the lights are as bright as him.

“I do,” you murmur, and he lights up even brighter, somehow, when he smiles. “Fuck, Max-“

He kisses you right there, where anyone could see, in the middle of one of the busiest sidewalks you’ve ever been on. Nobody seems to notice or care, nobody seems to understand that your whole world is shifting. His lips are warm against yours, he tastes like gin, and he holds onto you like he’s trying to be so, so careful. You reach up to wrap your arms around his neck and thread fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck.

He only pulls away when someone whistles at the two of you. He’s grinning wide, hands still cradling your face, and you have to fight not to pull his lips back to yours.

“Come on,” he says, slightly out of breath.

You don’t ask where you’re going. You just let him lead you away. You’re so in love with him, you think you’d probably follow him anywhere. It’s terrifying and relieving all at the same time.

…..

A week later, in Abu Dhabi, you ask him if he wants to go out after the race. There’s a billion parties he could choose from.

“No,” he says, wrinkling his nose up at the idea. “I’m good.”

You elbow him lightly, raising your brows. “All those parties you called me to pick you up from, and now I’m here and you don’t even want to go out? You don’t want to celebrate your season?”

He smirks as he tugs on the hem of your shirt, pulling you along with him through the paddock. “I want to celebrate, but we don’t need to go out to do that. I have better ideas.”

His hand slips lower from your hip and squeezes at your ass. You yelp and look around frantically, hoping nobody noticed. He’s grinning with pride.

“Party animal Max Verstappen wants to stay in,” you tease. “I never thought I’d see the day.”

He shrugs, leans his head close to yours, and then admits, finally, “it was never about the parties. It was more about who was picking me up from them.”

You smile against his shoulder and try not to let it go to your head. He smiles against your forehead and tells you that he loves you for what must be the millionth time in the past week. You say it right back, drunk on the feeling of it.

a/n: thank you for readinnnnngggg!!

taglist: @4-mula1 @celestialams @struggling-with-delia @lovekt @i-wish-this-was-me @forzalando @iloveyou3000morgan @callsign-scully

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ghostfacd · 5 months

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YES I KNOW THAT HE’S MY EX! | TOM BLYTH

pairing. tom blyth x fem!actress!reader

summary. you knew tom was your ex, and that you should probably stay away, but that’s never stopped you before

part 1 | installment of this au (please read for more context!)

ynuser :)

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user1 im loving the aesthetic

user2 THE BIKINI TOP IS SO CUTE

user3 put them toes awayyyy

rachelzegler i pay attention to things that most people ignore (this isn’t your car.)

➥ user4 PLEASE?? not rachel using yn’s own lyrics on her

➥ user5 IS THIS TOM’S CAR??

user6 i may be delulu but those r tom blyth’s mfing hands.

user7 he has her hair tie on; i repeat, tom blyth literally has yn’s hair tie on

When Tom had messaged you saying he wanted to talk, no matter how much you knew it was a bad idea, you decided to agree to it anyway.

The breakup had ended pretty badly. Although it was an agreement between you and Tom, that didn’t mean that’s what the both of you truly wanted.

The reason the two of you broke up in the first place was that Tom was talking too much about your future, which wasn’t a bad thing — but it overwhelmed you. You weren’t ready to settle down, not yet, at least. You and Tom had only been dating for a few months, and although it was all sweet and loving, you knew that getting engaged this early was like asking for a disaster to strike.

He was upset. Clearly. He loved you, you loved him, so why was it such an inconvenience for you to agree to take the leap in your relationship? That caused a blown out argument between you two, and by the end of it, you had agreed breaking up was the right thing.

You had a acting and music career to focus on, and Tom had an acting career that was just at the beginning of its success. You felt that it wasn’t right to put a distraction into his life.

“Is this a bad idea?” You ask breathlessly as you pull away from the kiss. You can’t help but stare into Tom’s eyes, which held a language of their own.

“Maybe,” he says, wiping the corner of your mouth. “But who cares?”

Who cares. Right. Well surely, it was a bad idea to meet up with your ex, much less kiss him, and although alarms were baring in your head that you probably shouldn’t—you go in for a second kiss, this time, Tom doesn’t let you go, cradling you close to his body.

“I don’t care if you don’t want to take the next step in our relationship, I’m fine if you’re not ready yet. I just want you, okay?”

And how could any girl possibly reject Tom Blyth when he’s begging so prettily? Certainly not you.

tomblyth and ynuser both posted an instagram story !

ynsbiggestfan THE GIRLS AND I AFTER SEEING THE STORIES ON INSTA

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user8 IM ACTUALLY DYING BC NO WAY WAS THAT A COINCIDENCE

user9 they’re connected they cant be far away from each other

user10 she’s my Heather 💔💔

➥ user12 fr i wish tom was that inlove w me

user13 so this is why rachel said that wasn’t yn’s car

➥ user14 ITS ALL MAKING SENSE NOW

sean.kauf photo dumpy

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ynuser pic creds ?? 🤬

➥ sean.kauf 🤓🤓

user15 wait im confused, is she together with tom again or is she with sean..

user16 Ykw i cant even be mad, if i was as hot as yn, i’d have two bfs too!

➥ user17 REAL SHIIT

tomblyth fun fact: the 2nd pic is sean third wheeling after forcing me and yn to speak to each other

➥ user17 TOM CONFIRMED IT IM DEAD

user18 all the yn haters must feel stupid asf rn after accusing yn of being with sean

➥ user19 literally cause all 3 of them are literally close 😭😭 like why would sean date yn, he’s literally friends with tom

user20 if yn isn’t dating sean let me have him omg

ynuser yes i know that he’s my ex but can’t two people reconnect !!!!!

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user21 this took the cake.

user22 time to cry again bc tom blyth is off the market

user23 she got him wrapped around her finger FR

user24 THE THIRD PIC OF THEM 🥹🥹

user25 THE CAPTION OUUU GIRLY IS BRAVE

tomblyth i only see you as a friend (the biggest lie i’ve ever said)

➥ user26 I CHOKED

➥ user27 THEIR SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGERS ARE CRYING RN

#coriolanus snow angst #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games x reader

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targaryenluvs · 4 months

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OUR LITTLE DOVE

pairings: dark!lucy gray x fem!reader, dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader, coriolanus snow x lucy gray

summary: you reunite with your dear songbird after the games, but it seems the capitol has followed her home, and taken an interest in the two of you. but it seems lucy gray is willing to share you with a certain peacekeeper, even if you aren’t.

warnings: crazy lucy n corio conspiring like evil doers, manipulation, chasing, primal play?? is that what is called idk corio enjoys hunting your ass down, kidnapping, drugging, forced into accepting a third partner?? nc touching, abuse of power (peacekeeper), power dynamics, kinda cheating (lucy n corio), guilt-trip, jealousy, threatening, self doubt and relationship problems, murder, betrayal

word count: 3.0k

a/n: lol i complain about wanting to write fluff but all my good ideas r so dark 😭 someone needs to give me tips on how to write girls cuz i have no experience would be easier if i was gay boooo!!

he was like a shadow, stuck to your back, always.

you’d complained to lucy numerous times that you didn’t feel comfortable around him when she played at the hob, knowing he’d be there, in the crowd. “sweetie, he was my mentor. he helped me so much in the games, i wouldn’t be here without him. you love me don’t you? so you need to learn to love him too, he’s a good friend a mine. i love you and i gotta get to the stage baby.” she explained as she ran around getting herself and the covey ready.

you were always front row. wanting to be as close to lucy as possible. she looked especially majestic tonight with flowers in her hair. as you listened to her sing you’d managed to forget about the certain blonde peacekeeper near the back. but he hadn’t forgotten about you, nor lucy.

you’d left to get a drink and you’d came back to an unfamiliar tune. you usually knew every song being played off by heart but this was new.

Everyone's born as clean as a whistle

As fresh as a daisy

And not a bit crazy

Staying that way's a hard row for hoeing

she sounded as angelic as usual and the crowd around you seemed entranced.

As rough as a briar

Like walking through fire

This world, it's dark

This world, it's scary

lucy smiled at you once, just once. which threw you off since you usually got a bunch. especially during new songs and songs about you. was this not also about you?

I've taken some hits, so

No wonder I'm wary It's why

I need you

so it is about me! you thought as you closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sway to the music and singing. you’d hoped you wouldn’t miss a smile headed your way.

You're as pure as the driven snow

your eyes flew open as you stared at lucy, she was looking past you and to the peacekeeper. to coriolanus snow. you’d always been a rational person, you prided yourself on restraint but that restraint was hanging on by a thread. you wanted to jam a beer bottle into his neck. lucy was your girlfriend not his. and yet he smiled stupidly towards her as she sang and you could feel your heart clawing its way up. best to leave now rather than stay and hear more of the ever so driven man.

your head was spinning as you slumped to the floor, in one of your finest dresses yet worst mental states. of course, something had formed between the two. she was in the goddamn hunger games and he was her mentor. trauma bonding? he quite literally saved her life, coached her and you did what? sat at home and hoped.

hope could only get you so far.

your hope and faith in lucy gray baird was dwindling as her lyrics swirled in your head. of course she loved him. who wouldn’t? the man was undeniably eye catching. a capitol man. but you’d always imagined lucy staying away from the capitol, despising them. but maybe it wasn’t the captiol part but the man part. maybe she wanted a true life, a home, marriage and children and everything she could wish for.

what on earth could you provide her with?

“y/n?” it sure as hell wasn’t lucy calling out for you and you knew that. coriolanus’s reflection was prominent in the puddle before you as he neared. great, you sneered, would love to get to know you mr peacekeeper. please tell me how you stole my lovely girlfriend from me!

your chest felt oh so heavy as you heard his footsteps in the gravel, determined and unwavering as he made his way to your slumped body. “what do you want? you wanna gloat?” coriolanus stopped in his tracks, gloat? “why would i gloat?” you looked up at him annoyed, “rub it in my face. you practically stole my girlfriend from me.” coriolanus laughed. actually laughed and it made you want to strangle him with his stupid dog tags.

“sweetheart.” vomit. you wanted to vomit. maybe choking and dying on your vomit would be less embarrassing then this. why on earth was this fuck head calling you his sweetheart. “fuck off.”

you didn’t see him coming. and you certainly didn’t expect his demeanour to snap. but the large hand tangled in your open hair was a big slap in the face to your unreadiness. “you of all people don’t get to talk to me like that. do you know who you’re talking to?” you could hear his perfect porcelain teeth grinding at your words. god this man couldn’t handle an insult. wuss.

“what the hell is your- ow! problem!” you yelped as he dragged you into an alleyway. “you need to learn how to respect your superiors. if you’re nice to me, i can make your life easier. doesn’t it hurt? not being able to fully provide for your family? seeing them struggle? do you really think disrespecting a peacekeeper is going to help? i suggest you straighten your act and thank me for even looking your way. there are plenty of other girls here.”

but he didn’t want those other girls. he wanted you. you with the teary eyes and messy hair. you who he’d been seeing in his dreams and during the day. you with the kind smile and curious eyes. you who were so sweet and pretty but mean when need be. the y/n who was stupid enough to spit such hateful words at a peacekeeper. but he’d teach you. whether it be with words and lessons or actions and bruises. you’d learn your place, by his side and lucy’s, and underneath. but with such fearful, brown doe eyes watering up infront of him, the girl he’d heard oh so much about from lucy. how could he refrain from indulging?

his hand reached out to wipe away the few stray tears that fell as his left extended towards your right, which was clutching your head, where he’d grabbed you. “shh, let me help you.” your hand slowly retracted as your heart ran a marathon. the man was obviously unstable, going from a deceptively caring man to violent. coriolanus smiled at your actions, and it freaked you out. he caressed your scalp in an attempt to soothe, “good girl.” he cooed as your apparent saviour approached.

“sweetie?” lucy called out to you as coriolanus withdrew from your personal space. he walked over to her and she let him. he held her hand and spoke with, love? his voice was soft and comforting, his thumb again caressing the back of her hand as they talked, whispered, plotted? god knows, all you wanted was to leave.

was this your chance?

you tested the waters, slow and calculated movements as lucy nodded in agreement with him. but by the time they were done speaking you’d bolted.

but you sure as hell weren’t getting far with these two on your tail, poor y/n l/n. a little dove trying to spread her wings but they were bound to be clipped.

your feet were throbbing and begging for you to slow down. but your brain was in charge for once, your heart which yearned for your dear songbird pushed to the side as your head screamed and urged you to go. she was in league with him apparently. her seeing him corner you and not even batting an eyelash. did she truly care for you so little? did she want to rid herself of you? she could’ve broken up with you and let that be it. maybe the games had twisted her head.

even as you believed yourself to be gaining distance from the two you could hear the not-so distant steps of determined pursuit, headed your way. how would they kill you? slow and intimate? hasty and brutal?

“if you stop running now we won’t be mad little dove!” lucy shouted in warning as you felt yourself momentarily slow at her words. traitor. you thought to yourself as your body involuntary listened, she still had an affect on you. “she’s right, we love you, we won’t hurt you. unless we have to, don’t give us our reasons.”

“shut up!” you screamed. god, i know we haven’t talked in a while. last minute efforts right? maybe he’d listen to you, save you from your tormentors. you should’ve kept your head clear, focused on running. focused on your surroundings and if you had, you would’ve noticed the nearing tree roots, thick and protruding from the ground, ready to knock you down.

you crawled behind the tree, trying to catch your breath as your hands worked tirelessly to provide some form of relief to your aching ankle.

crack.

you’d been found. you fucked up.

“our little dove, ever the sprinter.”

his words had you lurching forwards in an attempt of fleeing but lucy’s cold hand on your ankle dragged protests and cries from your throat as well as you, back to them. “you should’ve listened before, we would’ve been nice. given you some time to adjust, but you can’t sit and think for a second can you?” coriolanus mocked as his hand trailed up your un-injured leg, “that’s okay, you won’t be doing much thinking from now on. we’ll be taking care of you, since you obviously can’t take care a’ yourself baby.” lucy’s voice was saccharine, like honey, and her smile was even sweeter. the familiarity and comfort of her presence was intoxicating, you felt at peace on one side and the other wanted to jump off a cliff. she lowered your guard and coriolanus slithered right in.

the prick in the side of your neck wasn’t painful, but their words were. “you’re with us now, we’ll take care of you, we promise.” and you were stuck, stuck with them for god knows how long.

you blinked away the sleep in your eyes, adjusting to the room. maybe they had killed you? in their own twisted way they’d keep you forever, in their memories and soul. coriolanus and lucy’s voices swam around your head and blended together. you were wrong. yay.

“it’s a bit early for katniss, even if it’s one of her favourites.”

“she should eat something better.”

“better? don’t go all capitol on me now corio.”

he was smiling, you could tell.

“never lucy gray. but she’ll be weak for a few days, proper meals will help her regain some strength.”

you picked your head up and looked through the window, the lake was evident.

“alright, you go grab it and i’ll stay here.”

“why? so you can get more time with her? if anyone should get extra time it’s me.”

“now who was her partner first? oh that’s right, me. you’re acting as if i’m gonna pick her up and run away. if you’re that scared than we’ll both go. take her with us.”

coriolanus’s head whipped towards the cabin and you quickly flopped back down on the bed. you shut your eyes as you heard the door creak open. “gosh, doesn’t she look pretty?” lucy asked, knowing the answer already. “so calm, i liked her better when she was crying.” lucy hit him, “coriolanus snow!” he stroked the side of your face and you had to resist from turning your head and biting his fingers off.

“little dove.” your eyes opened again, turning your head his way tiredly. “we need to get some supplies okay?” you nodded as lucy went outside to gather the baskets she’d left out earlier on to dry. coriolanus’s hand dug into your cheeks as he forced you to look at him, “i told you i’d make you respect me. now listen, if you try anything when we’re in town i will never let you forget it. you’ll know who you belong to every single day. maybe i’ll pay your family a visit? an appointment with the hanging tree for being rebels? stealing?”

you shook your head violently as you began to cry, “you don’t want that? didn’t think so. you listen to me and everything will be fine. your family will get daily help and weekly groceries. they’ll never go hungry again. all thanks to their sweet little girl. lucy’s too nice, but don’t think for a second she’ll save you from me. you’re mine and if you try anything.” he leaned in to whisper, “i’ll strangle her with my bare hands infront of you.” his words were meant to scare you, and they did. but don’t you know? coriolanus snow doesn’t need a reason to do bad things.

coriolanus was wicked and ruthless when it came to what he wanted, if you had any hope of trying to get through this then you’d need lucy’s attention and help. so you nodded. “words sweetheart.” you swallowed your pride, your dignity, and you shook hands with the devil.

“yes, i’ll do what you say.” he straightened up, his white shirt a contrast to his dark thoughts.

“y’all ready to go?” lucy questioned as coriolanus grinned, “yes, yes we are.” he lifted you up and helped you dress, you hadn’t realised the fact that you were only dressed in his own white shirt, dress to you. he handled you like you were the most delicate object. as if he wasn’t hell bent on breaking you, over and over again. till you were fit to his standards. the captiol standards. the snow standards.

his, his, his.

with how obedient you were, he figured you’d do well in the capitol. which was exactly where he was meaning to bring you.

lucy walked in front of the two of you as you made your way through the woods. coriolanus’s hand was glued to your waist as he held you close, afraid to let go. you were at flight risk of course. his grip was tight and bruising. lucy’s humming distracted you at times, if you were delusional enough you could imagine it to be the two of you. your brothers far infront and the covey following. after an amazing afternoon at the lake, heading home for dinner, maybe a performance or the night shift.

your daydreaming was interrupted when you clocked coriolanus’s missing hand from your waist, and his arm now around lucy grays throat.

don’t you remember? you’d do well in the capitol! you were his! but not entirely, no.

not with her in the way.

you were frozen in place as lucy clawed at him before reaching out for you. a plea, a cry for help and aid yet you stood stuck in fear. a minute, two. she’d put up a strong fight, especially when you ran towards the two, pushing and shoving at coriolanus to let her go. but again, you fucked up.

here lies lucy gray baird, singer, victor, psycho.

obsessed? madly in love? you couldn’t think of another word, and as much as you wished to forget her, forget how she’d practically allowed another man into your relationship and let him kidnap you. her lifeless face and hollow eyes made your heart clench. but soon enough she was rolled over, thrown in a pre-made hole and buried. she’d survived the games but no one survived coriolanus snow.

“don’t forget what i said. don’t forget what you agreed to. you said you’d do as i say, i’m telling you to get up and follow me. we’re leaving district 12.” your face was painted with confusion as coriolanus clutched your face, “i’m going back, and you’re coming with me. don’t ask questions, just do as i say.”

and you did.

when he had you say goodbye to your family, a courtesy, a privilege he’d granted you. you kept it short and sweet, no questions just hugs and false promises of return.

when he ushered you onto the train and he wanted you to sit and be silent, you did.

through his time at the university, he wanted you close to him, living with him. and you did.

through his presidency campaign he wanted for you to charm sponsors and entice newcomers. you did.

when he wanted to marry you in a grand spectacle infront of the captiol and dress you up, you did as he asked.

when he held you down on your wedding night after tearing your dress off, biting and marking you down all over, pushing you down to your knees and took you all over the house, asking you to give yourself to him as if he didn’t take you anyways, you did.

you had no idea why at this point.

for your family? who hadn’t reached out in so long, even when they promised to talk to you every day? coriolanus had them all arrested, punished and hung for inciting riots and uprisings.

for your friends whom listened to your concerns of the capitol peacekeeper who hovered and didn’t make you feel crazy? each of them ended up dead in many different ways, hung, shot, a mugging gone wrong.

you didn’t know at this point and when you looked in the mirror you didn’t recognise the girl who stared back. a captiol sheep, dressed up in the finest silk dresses and slick heels yet the filth underneath the finery, jewels, and makeup weighed you down. each time he touched you, kissed you, fucked you, it felt like a peace of yourself was thrown away.

and as you clutched your swelling stomach, you couldn’t help but feel pity for baby number four.

maybe you’d grow up and find love.

maybe i’ll be able to take you all away from him.

maybe we’ll heal.

you thought, but in the back of your head, a little voice wouldn’t shut up.

you’ll always be his little dove.

#dark!coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow #dark!coriolanus snow x fem!reader #lucy gray x coriolanus #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #coriolanus snow x reader #lucy gray x fem!reader #lucy gray x reader #lucy gray baird x reader #dark!lucy gray x reader #dark!lucy gray baird x reader #hunger games x reader

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fruit-colored-ninja · 2 years

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Where’s that post that’s like “I have to compare every song I like to my favorite character” that’s me with Lloyd

#i don’t even know if they’re accurate anymore i find one lyric that semi-fits and i’m like TO THE PLAYLIST YOU GO #except there isn’t a playlist yet. i should make one.

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h4m1lt0ns · 6 months

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HEARTBREAK SYNDROME.

episode ten :: MADNESS, BADNESS.

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ pairing ︴lewis hamilton x y/n

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ genre ︴social media au / irl snippets

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ summary ﹔lewis + y/n = combination

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ face claim ﹔ wonyoung jang (28)

꒰꒰◌‧₊ ⬪˙⋆ warnings ﹕ excessive cussing, none.

☆ IMESSAGE with : LEW <3

y/n: lew are u awake

lew <3: yeah i’m up

y/n: wait did i wake u up

lew <3: no no dw i couldn’t sleep

lew <3: why are you up tho doll?

lew <3: it’s almost two in the morning

y/n: i couldn’t sleep either <3

y/n: remember the demo lyrics i showed you like three days ago??

lew <3: the one you began writing on the boat?

y/n: yeahhhh that one

lew <3: yeah ofc

y/n: can u help me finish it?

y/n: if you’re not busy ofc

lew <3: never too busy for you doll

lew <3: plus i’m not really doing anything rn

y/n:

lew <3: you and those memes lmfao

lew <3: how can i help you doll

y/n: oh

y/n: i was actually hoping you’d come over

y/n: i’m just chilling in my home studio

lew <3: studio you said???

lew <3: you don’t even have to ask twice

lew <3: putting on my shoes

y/n: omg oh my god okay omg

y/n: y/n x xnda????

lew <3: whewwwwwww 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

lew <3: let me cook alright

y/n: get in there lewis

lew <3: omw !!!

y/n: pls bring roscoe

lew <3: dw i will

lew <3: i said your name once and he immediately woke up

y/n: 😭😭

y/n: i miss him sm

lew <3: on our way doll :)))

y/n

♡ liked by lewishamilton, yukitsunoda0511 and 7,204,108 others.

y/n it’s just me and you

tagged: roscoelovescoco, lewishamitlon

592,495 comments.

username Y/N’S IN THE STUDIO ALERT 🚨

username BITCH IS THAT ROSCOE???!?!?????!?!?

→ username IT IS SHE TAGGED THE ACCOUNT

→ username ROSCOE MUSICAL DEBUT???

→ username producer tag is woof woof

username y/n???? and lewis??? in the studio???? i’m excited????

username YESSSS NEW MUSIC SOON PLS 🔥🔥🔥

username LET HER COOK LET HER COOK 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

username YES GOD PLS

username Y/N AND XNDA????

→ roscoelovescoco y/ns ands roscoe

→ username HOE YOU AINT SLICK

→ username LEWIS DROP THE SONG IMMEDIATELY

→ username OKAY SO THIS JUST CONFIRMED IT

→ username WORLDS COLLIDING????

→ username IM SOOOOOO NORMAL ABT THIS

username LEWIS AND Y/N IN THE STUDIO????

→ username i personally, am frothing at the mouth.

→ username real

carlossainz55 babysitting duty?

→ y/n third wheeling duty actually

→ lewishamilton i was the third wheel 🙋🏾

→ username OHMYGODOHMYGOD

→ username Y/N X XNDA WHEN

[liked by lewishamilton]

username OMFGGGGGGG

roscoelovescoco i’s missed yous y/ns 🐾

→ username i once again say, hoe you ain’t slick 🤨

username there’s so much going on i don’t know where to look.

username LEWIS WAS THEREEEEEEE

username BRO IM BOUT TO EXPLODE

y/l/nestate glad you’re in the studio but please get some sleep 🎀

jensonbutton another banger album coming?

→ y/n maybe 🤭

→ username HUHHHHHH

username FATHER JENSON

→ username ANOTHER ALBUM????

→ username MA’AM YOU CANT JUST SAY THAT AND DIP

→ username Y/N COME BACK 🔪

→ username AYEEEEYOOOOOO

→ username SCREAMINGGGG

→ username BWOAHHHHHH

→ username Y/N I SWEARRRRRR

☆ IMESSAGE with : BOARD OF DIRECTORS.

princess george: so y/n

y/n: jesus christ

princess george: wrong

honey badger: lmfao

y/n: oh this feels like a threat

yukino: it is 🔪🔪🔪

PIERRE GASLYYYY: ^^^

y/n: OH???????

princess george: you and lewis huh 😏

y/n: don’t ever use that emoji ever again omfg

my baby lando: look at her trying to dodge the topic

babygirl alex: no bc literally

chili!: what were you doing in the studio w a boy in the middle of the night young lady 🤨

y/n: papa????

chal eclair: answer the question bae ❤️🔪

wifey lily: yet another man trying to steal my wife i see

angel carmen: no bc has he no self respect? frolicking with a married woman?

girlfriend kika: my wife specifically??

y/n: oh my god 🤭 babe i’m blushing

alabono: bro answer the question

y/n: 🙄🙄🙄🙄

y/n: he helped me with a demo i’m working on

y/n: we wrote a song together is all

yukino: a part of me wants to believe you but the other says you’re hiding shit 🧐

y/n: omfg yuki how dare you

chal eclair: oh so you just hung out?

y/n: yeah man

PIERRE GASLYYYY: “yeah man” right.

PIERRE GASLYYYY: you liar

PIERRE GASLYYYY: roscoe was still at your house this morning when kika facetimed you so lewis is also probably still there

yukino: SO YOU ARE HIDING SHIT???

y/n: wAIT

babygirl alex: LIARRRRRRRR

angel carmen: HOW COULD YOU

y/n: HOLD AWNNNNNN

honey badger: CAN WE EVEN TRUST YOU MATE

chili!: ^^^^^^^

y/n: OKAY

y/n: LISTEN

my baby lando: 👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼👂🏼

y/n: roscoe is at my house bc i’m babysitting him today, lew is busy and i’m keeping an eye on him while in the studio

chal eclair: LEW?????

chal eclair: HE HAS A NICKNAME NOW??

chal eclair: I WAITED TWO YEARS TO GET A NICKNAME AND HE GETS ONE EASILY?

chal eclair: THE BEST I GET OUT OF YOU IS SHAL LEGLEG AND HE GETS A CUTE “LEW”?

chal eclair: no.

chal eclair: tell him to pull up

babygirl alex: relax u can’t hurt a fly even if you wanted

yukino: it’s okay charles i’ll hurt him for you

y/n: neither of you is hurting anyone

my baby lando: i smell a potential father figure

y/n: omg shut up

honey badger: she says as she giggles and kicks her feet

y/n: STOPPP

wifey lily: OH SO YOU ARE GIGGLING KICKING YOUR FEET

yukino: down MISERABLE

y/n: NO IM NOT

princess george: what did he do that has you kicking your feet 🤨

chili!: ^^^^^^

babygirl alex: ^^^^^

yukino: ^^^^^^^

honey badger: ^^^^^

y/n: we didn’t do anything oh my god

alabono: we didn’t ask if YALL did something

alabono: we asked what did HE do

alabono: exposed ur self dummy

wifey lily: i’m so proud of you for clocking that babe

alabono: 😌

my baby lando: WAIT

honey badger: YOU TWOOOO DID SOMETHING

yukino: y/n, spill or i crash into lewis next race

y/n: listen. good fucking god.

y/n: i’m literally powering off my phone after this.

y/n: we kissed in the recording both

my baby lando: HUHHHLDOWIFIW

wifey lily: WHATTTTTDOYOUMEANKISSED

chili!: KISSED??? LIKE MWAH MWAH

alabono: MWAH MWAH IS KILLING MEEEE

PIERRE GASLYYYY: Y/N ANSWER THE PHONE

babygirl alex: THEY KISSEDDDDKDOSK

girlfriend kika: LOOOOOOSING IN MY MIND

honey badger: BITCH COME BACK HERE

angel carmen: MY KNEES ARE WEAK WDYM KISS

princess george: YOU DID WHAT WHERE

chal eclair: HE STILL GOT A NICE ENOUGH NICKNAME BEFORE ME MATE.

y/n added to their story!

☆ IMESSAGE with : LEW <3

lew <3: today was as long as a mf

lew <3: i got home and wondered why i couldn’t hear any barking

lew <3: forgot my boy was with u lol

y/n: oh fuck u seem rly rly tired

y/n: it’s okay i’ll drop him off dw

y/n: lol at least one of us got work done

lew <3: was ur day not good?

lew <3: what happened doll

y/n: roscoe is soooo fucking adorable :(

y/n: i literally couldn’t pay attention to anything that wasn’t him

y/n: he’s so so so cute it’s was so distracting 🥹 and the problem was that i had him on my lap the entire morning and when i stopped cuddling him he started whining and crying n i felt like a monster

lew <3: awww

lew <3: ur so cute

lew <3: i feel terrible knowing i can’t take him everywhere with me

y/n: he’s so babie i love him soooo much

lew <3: more than me?

y/n: yes obv 🙄 know ur place

lew <3: lmfaoooo

lew <3: come over already doll

y/n: aw man ur taking roscoe away from me :’(

lew <3: i miss my son

lew <3: and i miss my doll too

y/n: making me blush lew

lew <3: if not me then who will

lew <3: btw ur staying for dinner

lew <3: u don’t have a say in this :)

y/n: yes sir!!

lew <3: oh?

lew <3: sir huh?

y/n: 🫢🤭

lew <3: come over.

y/n: omwwww

lewishamilton added to their story!

#☆ — ¡h4m1lt0ns!˚⁎⁺˳ .#f1 x y/n #f1 fanfiction #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 x you #lewis hamilton x reader #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #lando norris x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #pierre gasly x trader #yuki tsunoda x reader #alex albon x reader #george russell x reader

2K notes · View notes

enigma-the-anomaly · 2 years

Text

about last year or so my mom told me not to keep track of the month and how long it’s been since that night. As if she knows what’s best for me. As if knowing that shit doesn’t help me understand why I’m so out of wack around this time of year. As if she has any idea what I went through, what I still go through. It goes beyond that night. It goes so much farther beyond that night.

#i just want a hug #hopefully tomorrow my friend will be at school and I can give him a big hug #I just don’t understand…even after these years I still don’t understand how someone I love and trust…someone who loves me…would do that #“you should fear what you already know and hope that you never find out about the things you don’t know yet” - tfb #there’s another lyric from them that fits that but I can’t remember it’s exact wording #vent

0 notes

luv4kozume · 12 days

Text

💋 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑 — MATT STURNIOLO

— # ❝ 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥…

𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 ! ❞ 🎧 ₊˚⊹

Homewrecker!Matt x Married!Fem!Reader

Contains: Swearing, hella plot/slow burn, mentions of financial abuse and an unhappy marriage, pet names, flirting, teasing, age gap (reader is 26, matt is 21), drinking alcohol, cheating, praise, spit, handjob, oral (both ways), missionary, leg lock, drunk sex, unprotected sex, creampie. Semi-proof read!

Synopsis: A story in which you and your next door neighbor, Matt, have some underlying attraction towards each other. But there is just one teensy little obstacle standing in the way… your “loving” husband.

Word Count: 7,975

a/n: part of the TRIPLE THREAT EVENT with sienna and maggie!! BE SURE TO READ THEIR FICS TODAY TOO!! 💗💗

a/n(2): this plot popped into my head at the most random time and it was so good that i had to take ‘cheating’ off my guidelines in my request rules??? 🤯

a/n(3): @rootbeerworshiper this was the little plot twist i told you about since the song is about a guy convincing an older woman to get with him (i really had to dissect those lyrics). hopefully i lived up to the expectation of the song lmaoo

*:･ﾟ✧ 💌 *:･ﾟ✧

It was hardly 10:06 A.M. on a weekday and your husband, John, was already starting the day off in a sour mood.

John had worked for a large advertising company and had held the title of the household’s ‘breadwinner’ rather proudly.

Perhaps a bit too proudly.

For the longest you’ve wanted to branch out and have something going on for yourself. However, having the luxury of financial freedom had never been in the cards for you, since he would always dismiss any notion of yours.

He would always say that ‘a woman should stay in the home’ or ‘it would make him seem less of a man if his wife was making money’.

He often hid behind the ‘traditional man’ role, as if that made up for his misogynistic and narcissistic behavior. Not that there’s anything wrong with being traditional, in fact you’d prefer some of those aspects of him.

But in reality he wasn’t ‘traditional’ in the slightest. Just a financially abusive asshole that you had been married to for the past six years.

You don’t even know how you’ve made it this long in the relationship, yet here you were, sitting at your white vanity in your shared bedroom. Face to face with your tired reflection in the dainty mirror.

A white bath towel wrapped tightly across your chest and draped over your thighs. An array of water droplets laid across your chest and shoulders from your previous morning shower.

As John was getting dressed in the next room for a meeting, you were doing your makeup for absolutely nothing.

Your days at home were rather boring. Usually consisting of binging your favorite shows, cooking, or reading.

Recently you had added tanning to the brief list now that it was finally warming up for summer. You enjoyed going out into the backyard and sitting by the pool, taking in the fresh air and a good book in hand. Your husband didn’t particularly like this new activity of yours.

Your eyes dropped down to the various makeup products scattered across the countertop. You grabbed ahold of your eyebrow brush, bringing up to your face and flicking the hairs up with the soft bristles.

“Y/N!” Your husband shouted from the bathroom, the sudden harshness of his voice had made you jump in your seat.

“Yes?” You huff, bringing your hand down away from your face and resting your elbow against the surface.

You straighten up your posture as you heard his footsteps press down into the carpet, making their way towards you in a rush. The bathroom light illuminated in the distance, giving his dark suited silhouette a slight golden hue as he stood in the doorframe frantically adjusted his collar.

“Have you seen my favorite tie?” He groaned in annoyance as if you had purposely hidden the piece of clothing in a form of pettiness.

“No, I haven’t.” You reply shortly before reverting your attention back towards the mirror.

You heard him grumble something under his breath before he started yanking at the dresser drawers in attempt to find another tie. But you chose to ignore his desperate plea for attention.

It was best to not even engage whenever he would get like this, so you completely tuned out his presence and continued your makeup routine. Once your were satisfied with your brows you went in for the primer.

Usually doing your makeup made you feel better about staying home and rotting away, but having his presence so close to you at the moment was spoiling everything. You couldn’t even enjoy yourself with your own husband around.

You couldn’t decipher if you felt more agitated or guilty in this moment. All you knew was that you just couldn’t wait for the very second he’d leave for his meeting and you’d finally have some time alone.

“Found it.” He mumbled, slowly dragging his feet along the carpet towards you. He stood over you as you moved on to the next step in your routine, concealer. He watched as you pressed the product into your cheeks. “You know I prefer you without all that, right?”

This was his lame attempt in striking up a conversation between the two of you. Most of the time they reign unsuccessful and resulted into a petty argument instead.

“I don’t do it for you.” You muttered under your breath, but your were certain he had heard you anyway. You didn’t care either way at this point, why wouldn’t he just leave you alone? Couldn’t he tell that you were upset?

John let out a sigh before recollecting his thoughts, you could hear the gears turning in his twisted head as he articulated what he should say next.

“Are you going to the pool again?” He asked, his tone hinted with just the slightest bit of irritation as he waited for your answer.

“Yeah?” You say, glancing up at him for a spilt second before dropping your eyes down to grab your bronzer. “Why does it matter? You’re out all day for hours at a time and I have nothing to do.”

“Because I don’t like that kid next door.” He snapped back.

“Matt?” You say innocently. The sound of the neighbor’s voice rolling off your tongue so smoothly had him sick to his stomach.

“Yes, Matt.” He retorted in a mocking tone. “I don’t fucking like him.”

“Well first of all, he’s a grown man, not a kid.” You huff out in annoyance. “And he’s just a friendly neighbor, he’s harmless.”

His eyes dropped down to your left hand before bringing them back up to your tired expression before muttering, “Right. Well, make sure to have your ring on while you’re out there.”

Your brows furrowed together and you straightened up in your seat. Your lips parted slightly to speak but he was already stomping down the steps and rushing to the front door.

“I was in the shower..” You mumbled in defeat as if he could still hear you. All while staring down at your bare ring finger.

*ೃ༄

It had been a couple hours since your husband had finally left and you were already starting to feel a lot better. The blazing June sun shone down brightly, giving the pool a shimmery look as a few waves began rippling.

You laid yourself across one of the white lounge chairs your had with a bikini on and one of your favorite books in hand. You had read it at least three times at this point but you just couldn’t get enough of it. Besides, what else were you left to do? At least you were getting some fresh air.

The pages had you lost in trance until the brash noise of a door slamming shut caught your attention. You straightened up your posture, looking over towards the right where the noise had derived from. Just over the brown, wooden fence that separated your yard from your neighbor’s.

The same neighbor that your husband absolutely despised. He had often complained that the fence wasn’t high enough and that he even caught Matt peering over at you while you tan.

The mere thought of that was flattering but you truly believed that everything he did was harmless. Matt never made you feel uncomfortable so you didn’t particularly mind his wandering eyes or suggestive words. Especially when you weren’t getting much attention from your husband anyway.

“Matt!” You shouted with a smile, wrapping your thin covering up over your chest slightly. You extended your arm out to wave at him, grinning ear to ear like a little school girl with a crush when he smiled back at you.

You tossed your book into the seat and slipped into your flip flops. Making your way through the grass to lean over the fence to get a better look at him.

Matt lived alone and it was quite obvious that his entire place lacked a woman’s touch. You often teased him about his backyard, as it was littered with various wild flowers and weeds. Not to mention the overgrown grass that he was in the process of cutting at the very moment.

“Hey, peach.” Matt smirked, rising up from the ground to get a better look at you.

You glanced down at his lawnmower, the old beaten up machine surely had seen better days.

“Finally mowing your grass?” You tease.

“Yeah.” He sighed with a playful shrug. “It looks like it’s about that time, what do you think?”

“Yeah, definitely long over due.” You laugh.

Your hands nervously fell to your side as Matt rested his forearms against the fence. Dirt covered gloves wrapped around his hands, along with a red tee and chain dangling over his chest. You nearly had to squint at the miniature silver horse as it shimmered in the bright sun. His shaggy brown hair spewed out from the sides where his red cap didn’t reach, the bill of it resting on the back of his neck.

His striking blue eyes flickered down to your figure, taking in the way your bikini left little to the imagination. Wrapping around so snuggly in all the right places.

You were fairly older than him— and married. Something that you would often say. But it felt as though you were trying to convince yourself of the fact rather than giving him a gentle reminder.

Personally, Matt wouldn’t give a fuck if you were married, engaged, or single. And he certainly didn’t mind the fact that you were a tad bit older. To him, age was just a number.

He knew exactly what he wanted and he was going to continue pursuing until he got it. You didn’t seem too opposed to this either. He wasn’t an idiot, he caught onto the way you’d blush whenever he was around or how you would find the silliest excuse to talk to him over the fence.

The attraction could be sniffed out from a mile away and he was certain that his feelings were mutual. He just had to pull them out of you. However, he didn’t want to overstep any boundaries. All he had to do was patiently wait for that green light.

But that didn’t completely stop him from dropping ‘subtle’ hints.

“What about you?” Matt nodded his head up with a smirk. “What are you gonna do today?”

“Oh, nothing probably.” You sigh, you could feel your face heating up with embarrassment.

“One of those days again?” He replied.

You nodded, “Mhm, John went out for another meeting this morning. So it’s just me at home.”

“I’m sorry, peach. I don’t like that he leaves you alone in that house for so long.” Matt replied, pursing his lips to think about what he should say next. Whether it was appropriate enough for him to say aloud, “You know I’d never do that to you, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” Is all you could mumble out. A shy smile creeping up on your face, earning a chuckle from him.

“How long is he gonna be out for?” He asked.

“He should be back sometime this evening. I’m not sure the exact time since his work schedule is so sporadic.” You explain, trying your best to play off the disappointment in your voice with a laugh.

Matt clicked his tongue in thought, knowing exactly what he desired most at the moment. Just the mere thought of you all alone in that house prancing around in that tight little swimsuit of yours—or better yet, nothing at all—had his dick pressing through the rough fabric of his jeans.

You had his mind racing with lascivious thoughts. However, it would be best if he didn’t voice these ideas, but you were just dying to know.

“What?” You inquired, slightly tilting your head to the side.

“Nothing, peach.” He laughed, dropping his head to hide his flushed cheeks. Matt has mentioned a bundle of scandalous things to you before— to which you always brushed off as if they never happened. However, his sudden meekness this time around had caught you off guard.

What was on his mind this time may have been the most outlandish thing of them all. He didn’t know how you would react, how you would handle such words. It was best to keep them to himself. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel upset or any discomfort from his own doing. He would never forgive himself.

But this didn’t stop you from still wanting to know what was on the brunette’s mind. He could only hope that a watered down version of what he originally wanted to say will suffice.

“I was just gonna suggest…” He began as he sheepishly rose his head back up. His primal gaze locking in with your shy eyes. “…that maybe you could come in with me.” He says pointing his thumb back towards his brick house behind him.

“Just so you won’t be so lonely.” He added in hopes to reel you in, watching you nervously shift on the heels of your feet.

Unfortunately, your mind and your heart were not on the same page, therefore the only correct answer would be, “I… don’t think I should.”

Matt couldn’t help but drop his eyes lower, seeing that your ring finger was still bare. He had noticed that you stopped wearing your wedding ring a couple weeks ago.

You always came up with the most outlandish excuses as to why you never wore the damn thing. Eventually he stopped pestering you about it, assuming that there was a deeper meaning why it was never around your finger. He didn’t want to force that information out of you, he could only hope that you’d tell him in your own time.

The way your smile slowly dropped from your face tugged at his heart, he didn’t like seeing you so upset about it. Maybe he should have articulated his words a bit more carefully.

“It’s okay, don’t beat yourself up about it.” Matt reassured you with a soft chuckle, “I gotta get this thing started, but you know where to find me if you change your mind.”

“Thanks, Matt.” You reply.

*ೃ༄

Hours passed since you last spoke to Matt— or anybody for that matter. The sun was beginning to set for the evening, the sky turning various colors of soft yellows and pastel pinks. The golden rays from the source shone through your livingroom window, giving your home’s interior a gentle glow.

You had changed into some more comfortable clothes earlier and were now snuggled down into the plush cushions of the couch with a large blanket draped over you.

The television was on but you weren’t paying it any attention. You tuned out the white noise of the characters speaking as your scrolled through the apps on your phone.

You hadn’t been able to get Matt’s words out of your head, “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

A frustrated sigh seeped out from you. You knew that it was immoral of you to be thinking of another man under your circumstances but there was this longing for him that you just couldn’t shake.

Something about him was just so comforting… so alluring. You wanted to have deep and meaningful conversations with him rather than just brief, friendly talks over the fence.

You wanted to dissect his brain, to learn him inside and out. What he liked and disliked. What he does in his spare time. If he thinks about you as often as you think of him. You craved for his presence and you ached for his attention.

Your phone buzzed in your hands, pulling you out of your thoughts. You felt your stomach churn with dread as you realized it was your husband who had texted you instead of the person you needed the most.

John

‘I won’t be back until late tonight. Going out to dinner with coworkers.’ at 7:12 p.m.

You couldn’t even remember the last time you and John had been out to dinner together.

You weren’t sure if you should be feeling more angry or ecstatic over his message. This was the official green light that your heart had been waiting for since the day you met Matt.

But your brain was screaming the complete opposite. John was your husband and pursuing anything romantic or even sexual with Matt would be cheating. How would he handle that? How could you live with yourself after the fact?

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard to reply to his message, until another notification buzzed at the top of the screen. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach when you noticed it was Matt who texted you.

Matt :)

‘Shameless, huh?’ at 7:14 p.m.

You look up from your screen, eyes now glued to your tv in front of you. His text referring to the show you were watching. You looked out the window over to your right, seeing that Matt was standing on the sidewalk just inches away from the grass in your front yard.

What perfect timing.

He was still wearing the same clothes as before, this time he wasn’t alone though. He had his dog, Trevor, with him. You smile as you point towards your front door, beckoning for him to come meet you at the porch. To which he happily complies.

The heavy door creaked open as you pulled it in towards yourself. A bashful smile crept on your face once you locked eyes with your neighbor, “Hi.”

“Hey,” He spoke, mirroring your happiness. “You changed your mind yet, peach?”

“Maybe.” You reply with a playful shrug. “But… I’d be more comfortable having you come in with me instead of the other way around.”

“What about John?” He asked, his brows furrowing together in confusion.

“He went out to dinner with some of his coworkers.” You explained. “He won’t be back until later tonight.”

“Okay, cool.” He smirked. His eyes flickered down to the ground where Trevor was, giving the leash attached to his collar a gentle tug. “Just let me put Trev back in the house and I’ll be right over.”

You nodded and watched them both step down from the steps of your porch before you shut the door.

*ೃ༄

“Do you drink by any chance?” You ask Matt, your sweet voice coursing through him as it echoed from the kitchen.

He sat perked up on the couch, his back straight up against the cushions and his thighs slightly parted from each other. His eyes shot over to you, your back faced him as you rummaged through your silver fridge.

“Anything you wanna do, I’m down.” He replied, you didn’t have to look at him to know that there was a cocky grin plastered across his face. You could hear it in his tone.

“Red wine then?” You reply, turning around as you waved the nearly full bottle of alcohol in your hand.

His smile only grew larger as he nodded in agreement, his cheeks flushing up to match the same rosy color as the beverage. Your feet shuffled across the floor as you reached up in your cabinet to grab hold of two empty wine glasses.

His eyes never left from you as you made your way back towards him on the couch. The cushions sank in deeper as you plopped down next to him, setting the glasses gently onto the low coffee table in front of you.

Matt grabbed the bottle of wine from your hand, twisting off the tight cap with ease. It was a simple gesture really and you mentally cursed yourself for getting so worked up by it, but you found it endearing.

“Excited, huh?” He joked, feeling your aura practically bouncing off of you as you watched the red liquid pour into the shape of the cup.

“Just happy.” You say, catching a glimpse into his sensual gaze before shyly looking away.

There was no way in hell that you expected Matt to keep his lecherous thoughts and curious hands to himself tonight, especially with alcohol now being thrown into the mix.

It was going to be torturous for him to stay on his best behavior.

*ೃ༄

About half an hour had passed and the two of you nearly drank the entire bottle, both of you now having nearly two full glasses of wine in your systems.

Matt quickly learned that you became a little giggle box the moment you started feeling a bit tipsy. He thought it was the cutest thing and made it a point to continue speaking so that he could hear your voice over and over again.

You sat up on the couch with your knees up to your chest, your fingers still slipped underneath the roundness of the glass. Matt had called it quits just a few minutes ago, his empty cup now sitting on the coffee table.

He could give a fuck less about the alcohol anymore, all he wanted now was a taste of you. He slumped down into the couch, much more relaxed now that the wine soaked its way through his system.

His hair was a fluffy mess now that his hat was finally off. He stared at you intensely with lazy, hooded eyes, grinning ear to ear seeing that you were so happy with just his presence.

“Okay, my turn.” You hiccup, finally setting your cup down for the first time tonight.

“Shoot.” He replies nonchalantly.

You adjusted your seating to where you were little bit closer to him this time. Your legs folding together as you place your jittery hands in your lap, “Why do you call me peach?”

“Uhh.” He huffed out with a bashful smile, his palms coming up to his face as if to rub away the embarrassment he felt. “It’s a long story.”

“I got plenty of time.” You reply, playfully tapping his shoulder. “C’mon, tell me.”

“Remember when we first met last year?” Matt asks, finally drawing his hands away from his face to look you in the eyes again. You nod. “Well, I remember you were in your backyard and you were taking care of your garden. ��

…I was like, ‘damn, that lady has a ton of plants’, but I was just so intrigued by you. I couldn’t take my eyes off you. …

…Anyway, you didn’t notice me looking your way until you started watering your little peach tree. You looked up at me and smiled, then you started talking my ear off about peaches. Now every time I see one, I think of you. So I just started calling you that.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his words, you never realized that there was a deeper meaning behind the little pet name all this time. You had actually assumed it was for another reason entirely.

“Ohh.” You say in realization, bringing your fingers up to to your flustered face. “I’m so embarrassed…”

“Because of what I said?” He asked, his brows knitting together.

“No.” You laugh. “I thought you called me that because of something else.”

“Why did you think I called you that?” He questioned, a curious smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Because of my butt.” You reply rather bluntly. “That’s why John got so upset when he found out that you were calling me that. He thought you were checking me out.”

“Firstly, John’s an idiot.” Matt slurred out, earning yet another giggle from you. “And second, yeah, I do.”

“Do what?” You ask, your brows furrowing together in slight confusion.

“Check you out.” Matt admitted with a shrug, “You have a nice ass. Nice and round, just like a peach.”

Although the alcohol was running its course through him, he was still in somewhat control of what slipped out of his mouth. The only difference was that his sober mind would have preferred to keep that last bit of information private, in fear of making you feel uncomfortable.

But, you had felt the exact opposite. You had found his slurred, drunken speech flattering. You nervously shifted your weight between the cushions, trying your best to contain this giddy feeling that bubbled up inside you.

Your eyes shot up to look at him as he cleared his throat, hoping that he didn’t accidentally step over any boundaries.

“My turn.” He finally spoke in a raspy voice, ready to change the subject.

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you ever wear your ring?” He asks.

“Well,” You began, drawing in a breath. “That’s another long story.”

“I’ve got time.” He grinned, mocking your previous tone, to which you sarcastically laugh.

“It’s about you, actually.” You reply, hoping that would drive him away from the conversation but it only intrigued him more.

“Now I gotta know, c’mon spit it out.” He chuckled.

“Alright, alright.” You giggled nervously, “We had gotten into a really heated argument a few weeks back…”

All of a sudden a heavy lump started to form in your throat and you could feel warm tears starting to prick their way through the corners of your eyes. No way, you were about to cry in front of Matt.

You raised your hand up to your face, quickly wiping away any forming tears before they had the chance to roll down your flushed cheeks. He took your shaky hand in his and gently started to stroke the top of your skin with his thumb. You took a deep inhale before telling him more.

“I won’t go too much into detail about it, but basically he told me… that I should stop talking to you… because it was obvious that you were just trying to use me.” You choked out, as memories of that night began rushing in.

You saw Matt’s brows furrow together, his face scrunching up in protest. His lips parted slightly to give you a response but he could tell that there was more and let you speak.

“He also said that even if you did… you know… you would regret it soon after because I’m older than you. And that you probably weren’t into that sort of thing.” You mumbled.

“That is the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard.” He blurted out.

“Which part?” You sniffled.

“All of it.” He replied. The cushions underneath the two of you shifted as Matt adjusted his weight between them. He sat up straight now, both of your hands resting in the gentle grasp of his much larger ones.

“Peach, you’re the most kind and generous woman I know, you make my day better whenever I see you. You’re beautiful inside and out, and I hate that you let him stomp all over you like that.” He continued, most of his words were a blur as they sloshed together.

You suppressed a laugh as you caught a whiff of the fruity alcoholic scent that still lingered on his breath, he was drunk as hell.

But you didn’t care, the way he held you close and how his eyes locked so intensely with yours made up for it. He was babbling on and on about how shitty of a husband John was, yet your focus was set right on his lips— the most taunting of pink. You couldn’t help but wonder how they would feel pressing tender kisses into your skin. You want to feel his lips on yours, you needed to know what that felt like.

However, you were soon pulled out of your sinful thoughts once you felt the warmth of his hands vanish. You watched him throw them up in disbelief as he continued on, “I wouldn’t even be surprised if… nevermind.”

“What?” You question, “Go on, say it.”

“Nothing, peach. Don’t worry about it.” He shrugged off, growing embarrassed as he realized just how carried away he had gotten.

“C’mon, Matt.” You whine, your palm falling on top of his thigh. The sudden contact had caught him off guard and you could feel the muscles in his leg tense up below you. His eyes shot up to your glassy ones, hoping that he wasn’t the only one who felt a burning desire brewing inside of him. “Please.”

You could feel him relax a bit once he drew in a sharp inhale, thinking of what exactly he should say next without coming across as too vulgar.

“Does he even..” Matt began, being sure to choose his words carefully. “Does he even please you? Like, really satisfy your needs?”

“Like… sexually?” You muttered, being sure to get the clarification out of the way to make sure that you weren’t misinterpreting his words.

“Yeah,” He replied, his speech started to slur again as he mumbled, “Since he wants to keep my name in his mouth. I’d show you that an old man can’t do your body like I can.”

Matt was rambling again. If he hadn’t stepped over any boundaries before then he most definitely has now. You pulled your palm away from him, resting both of your hands back down in your lap. Shit, he was sure he had fucked this up now.

“Sorry.. I’m just really drunk right now.” He groaned. “You don’t have to answer tha-”

“No.” You interrupt, catching him by surprise. “He doesn’t.”

“Are you serious?” He replied, his brows raising up in shock. You nodded, to which he laughs in disbelief, not even knowing what he should say next.

“You want me to show you?” Matt spoke, his suggestive words came tumbling out as if he had them stored in his mind the moment he walked through your front door.

“Show me what?” You ask, slightly confused by his offer.

“What real pleasure feels like.” He coaxed, “How good sex can feel when it’s with the right person.”

Butterflies fluttered all through your stomach and your mouth went dry, bringing your shy gaze up to his primal look. His eyes spoke for himself, you could feel the desire radiating off of him and the feeling was overwhelmingly mutual.

Your fingers wrapped around his arm as you shifted over, as if there was some magnetic pull that tempted you to get even closer to Matt. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, the tips of your noses grazing against each other’s ever so slightly.

You brought your stare back up to his, feeling tingles trickle down your spine before whispering, “My age doesn’t bother you? You really don’t mind that you’re younger?”

“Of course not.” He coaxed. “I’m a young man, but my dick’s grown up.”

“Yeah?” You reply, inching your lips dangerously close to his. He nodded, “Then prove it.”

The elastic band of the arising sexual tension had finally snapped the moment he smashed his lips into yours. Wasting no time at all as he kissed away at you as if you were to slip away from his hands.

But you wouldn’t dare, you hadn’t felt this eagerness—such passion—from a man in what felt like ages. You were like a dry savanna awaiting for the smallest droplet of water.

You could feel the lust radiating from him as he made sure to show it in every action. That’s when you had finally realized just how long he has desired to have you in his grasp.

It was exhilarating.

You melted into his soothing touch, feeling safe and content in his arms. The soft pads of his fingertips slid up past the hem of your top, his warm palms resting right at the dips in your waist. He was testing the waters, seeing how far you would allow him to go. He’d be lying if he still wasn’t the slightest bit afraid of taking this “too far”.

But it was much too late for that now.

You craved Matt in all the ways imaginable.

One your hands dropped down lower, your delicate fingers grazing along the rough material of his jeans. You eased your palm down, pressing gently against his thigh. You could feel the muscles in his leg beginning to tense up once again.

You pulled a low groan from the brunette as your curious hand inched up closer and closer towards his groin—agonizingly slow.

By his body language and constant noises you could only assume that Matt wasn’t the type to enjoy being teased. But the way he squirmed underneath your touch had only encouraged you to want to do more.

You made sure to swallow each little plea that slipped out from him. Your palm now glued to the growing, aching erection in his pants.

There was nothing left to focus on, no distractions or obstacles standing in your way to keep the two of you apart. You had finally managed to have him all to yourself.

Matt was unbearably hard now. His fingers dug into your skin as he shamelessly started grinding himself against your hand. He knew without a doubt that if you kept this up, he’d have an embarrassing spill that he would never be able to live down.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the living room grew stuffy and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Your bodies were ablaze and your clothes felt restricting against your flesh.

The warmth of his hands disappeared as they slipped out from underneath your shirt. His fingers came to the surface of your top, pinching at the soft fabric of the hem before finally pulling away from your luscious lips.

“Is this okay?” He whispers in a husky breath.

“Yes,” You reply with a huff, “Take it off, please.”

Your top was gone in an instant as Matt eagerly slipped it over your head and tossed it onto the plush rug lying on the floor. His lips curled up into a flustered grin, taken by surprise at the lacy, black bra that squeezed tightly around your breasts.

He would have never guessed that you were wearing such scandalous lingerie underneath your oversized tee. Now having the knowledge that you were wearing it during the entirety of the conversation had his dick twitching in his pants.

He couldn’t wait to get his hands on your baggy sweats to reveal the answer to his burning question: if you had matching panties on underneath.

“You wore this just for me, peach?” Matt whispered, leaving you shuddering as the warmth of his palms traveled up past your ribcage. The delicate material of the lace intertwined between his fingers as he cupped both your tits in his hands.

“I want to take my time with you,” He begins with a muttering tone. His dark strands of hair brushed against your chest as he brought himself down lower, “But you’re making it really hard for me… makes me want to tear your clothes right off.”

You whine at his lewd choice of words, combing your fingers through his scalp. You pulled your bottom lip behind your teeth as Matt pressed sloppy, tender kisses against the swelling tops of your breasts.

You squirmed with each kiss that he gave you, his lips sinking down into your warm, plush skin. He continued fondling them in his hands, being sure to stay a man of his word and take things slow.

Although there was a voice in the back of his mind that screeched at him to claw away at the rest of your clothes he chose to ignore it. You were special to him, he wanted to cherish and savor this moment. And he wanted to be sure that you were aware of that.

His glossy eyes flickered up at you, adoring your rosy cheeks and hooded gaze. He pulled yet another whine from you as he flattened his tongue against your chest, licking a stripe up from your exposed cleavage and stopping right at the most sensitive bit on the side of your neck.

He left a few hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat before pulling away and giving your lips the same attention.

His large hands slithered back down to squeeze at your waist. This kiss was far more hungry, more desperate than before. A heated mess between slippery tongues and clashing teeth.

Even though you admired and appreciated him for taking things slow, you couldn’t take it anymore. There was a burning, itching desire brewing up inside of you that only Matt could satisfy.

Deep down you knew it was awful. You should be ashamed by the way you latched yourself onto your neighbor the moment after finding out that your husband wouldn’t be home. But being with Matt now just felt so right—and so terribly good.

Your hand dropped back down to his lap. Only this time, your hand went straight for his belt instead of the very obvious tent that protruded out from his pants.

Your brows furrowed together, letting out a strangled moan. Growing frustrated as your fingers unsuccessfully fumbled around with the silver buckle of his belt.

You could feel him smile against your lips, amused at how desperate you were to get him out of his pants. He finally pulled away from you, letting go of your hips and brought his hands down to meet yours.

The buckle clinked as he easily unlatched it, you watched as he yanked the leather belt through each tiny loop that was placed around the waist of his jeans.

You glanced down as it hit the floor, joining your shirt. It felt like Matt’s movements were excruciatingly slow, you began to wonder if he was doing it on purpose.

Your heart raced against your chest as he finally plucked the silver button out of the slit and slowly began sliding down the zipper—the satisfying noise ringing in your ears as he did so.

He tugged both layers of his clothes just low enough for his cock to spring out. Your eyes quickly fixated on him, widening at the sight.

He was much thicker than you had imagined, longer too. His tip matched the faint rosy hue that spread across his cheeks, twitching just the slightest as the cool air conditioning spewed throughout the room.

You shift nervously against the couch, your breath hitching in your throat as you notice the thick vein that ran along the side of him.

Matt’s eyes flickered up to your meek expression, chuckling lightly as he spoke, “Getting shy on me now?”

Before your lips could part to give him a proper response, his fingers wrapped around your wrist, slowly guiding your hand down to his dick. A low groan seeped out from him as he felt your delicate touch wrap around him so sweetly.

“It’s not that..” You finally reply, running your hand up his length with a weak, timid fist.

“What is it then?” Matt asked, meeting your eyes.

“You’re just…” You began to say, only to quickly avert your eyes away from him, “…much bigger than what I thought you were.”

“What you thought or what you’re used to?” Matt teased. A flustered expression took over your face as you squeezed around his base at his snarky remark towards your husband. “Sorry, sorry.” He joked.

You loosened your grip around him, bringing your eyes over to his. The same smile still spread from ear to ear, “Mhm. I suppose you were right about what you said earlier, then.”

Your sweet, buttery tone ran all throughout his nerves. You could feel his muscles loosening, finally allowing himself to melt into your touch as you slowly started pumping him. Only for you bring your movements to a halt just mere seconds later.

He watched you with lazy eyes as your knees spread apart, getting into a more comfortable position before lowering your head down towards his lap. Your lips now dangerously close to his aching tip.

You could feel your ears growing hot as Matt never took his stare away from you. Although the view wasn’t all that he imagined it would be, since the majority of your hair swept right in front of what he wished to see the most—your face.

He let out a low huff, bringing his shaky hand down towards your head. His thick fingers looped underneath your dangling strands of hair and gently brushed them out of the way by tucking it behind your ear. You glanced up at him with doe-like eyes and flushed cheeks as you spat out a generous amount of saliva onto his tip.

His nose scrunched up and his nostrils flared out, watching your eyes drop back down to what was in front of you. Clear, tiny bubbles trickled down his member, pooling up around his base. Your hand still slowly pumping him like before, making sure to get him nice and saturated before finally taking him into your mouth.

“Fuck.” Matt cursed under his breath, sinking down into the soft cushions.

His brows knitted together as his teeth drew back on his bottom lip, watching as you took him in as deep as you could. You could feel him tense up below you as he felt your tongue slither against him, slowly bobbing your head up and down. Your lips wrapped around him so perfectly and the warmth of your mouth had his fingers clawing into the armrest of the couch.

“So pretty, baby, so fucking pretty.” He mumbles in a drunken slur, his sugary words encouraging you to slightly quicken your movements.

Your back arched at the slightest, the imprint of your spine dipping down as your ass hiked up in the air. Your eyes fluttered closed, palming the rest of him that you couldn’t fit down your throat.

Matt could feel his pulse pounding into his ears, taken away by all the pleasure. Goosebumps raised up from your skin, feeling his fingertips stroke their way up and down you back in an almost loving manner.

It took everything in him to not thrust himself up into your mouth, desperate to know what it would sound and look like for you to gag around his cock.

But if he were being honest with himself, there was no way he was going to be able to last a second longer with the way you were moving.

His heavy breathing becoming more rapid and his noises came tumbling out. You could feel his veins throbbing against your tongue as you continued—he was awfully close.

“Shit… h-hold on..” Matt whined, the hand that was once on your back now tugging you up by the hair, gently pulling your mouth away.

You peered up at him with glossy eyes, a thin trail of saliva connecting your swollen lips down towards his dick.

“What’s wrong?” You mumbled timidly, wiping away the drool from your mouth with the back of your hand, “Should we stop?”

“God no,” Matt huffed out with a smirk, “I was just wondering if you would be more comfortable on the bed instead?”

“Oh,” You reply, sitting up straight now. You pondered his offer for a moment before agreeing with a nod.

“Yeah?” Matt whispers, a grin starting to grow on his face to which you nod again with a smile of your own. His fingers dug into the couch, looping under you as he lifted you up with ease and carried you towards the bedroom.

*ೃ༄

“Fuck, Matt..” You whine, “..don’t stop.”

Both of your clothes were scattered along the floor in a matter of seconds, not even bothering to shut the bedroom door in the process.

The soft amber light from the lamp gave your nude bodies a golden, angelic-like hue as you were both entangled between your silky bedsheets.

Matt’s large hands were wrapped around both of your thighs, spreading them apart so that his face nestled right where you had craved him the most. His tongue moved in a sensual rhythm, sucking and swirling against your swollen clit.

The alcohol still lingering in his system gave him the courage to peer up at you, his primal stare admiring your flustered face that was twisted up in pleasure. A sense of pride washed over him, feeling proud of himself—and rather cocky—knowing that he was able to make you feel this good while you husband was out doing god knows what.

Your trembling hands made their way towards him, nestling your fingers into his dark, wavy strands. He finally dropped his intimidating gaze, groaning against your core as you tugged away at his hair.

Various moans and cries fell from your lips. Your grip against his scalp subtly grew tighter, but he didn’t mind, in fact it only turned him on more. Your entire body squirmed in his hands, back arching up from the mattress as the elastic band in your stomach threatened to snap at any moment.

Your legs began trembling and your toes curled in against your soles. Your voice now much higher than it was before as you warned him of your arising orgasm.

It wasn’t long before you had released into his mouth, his rough stubble brushing against your inner thighs as they squeezed around his face. Leaving Matt’s cheeks a faint flushed pink, his ears grew hotter by the second as he peered up at you again.

Once you had caught your breath, your legs weakly fell open, allowing him enough space to stay between them as he crawled up towards you. His hands rested on either side of your face as he pressed a few lazy kisses against your lips. You whimpered against him when you felt his tip accidentally brush against your slick folds.

He caught onto your whiny hint, chuckling slightly as his dominate hand slid down between your bodies. His thick fingers wrapped around the base, aligning himself with your entrance before slowly pushing himself inside of you.

Your brows furrowed together as he wrapped his arms around you. A spew of broken moans slipped out from you as he began slowly thrusting into you. Your palms flattened against his back as he nestled his face into the crook of your neck, pressing even more kisses down your throat.

His low groans and soft whines filled your ears as kept the same sensual pace. Your thighs shook with each movement he made before you finally decided to wrap your legs around his waist.

The combination between that subtle action and the sweet sound of your voice ringing in his ears was slowly becoming too much for him to bare. His orgasm already creeping up on him.

He picked up the pace of his thrusts, now lazily ramming his hips down into yours at a sloppy speed. His forehead pressed against yours as his eyes locked into your glossy ones.

He smirked knowing that he was the cause of you feeling this way, that he could fuck you better than your own pathetic husband.

“You’re squeezing around so me so tight, baby. Gonna cum for me already?” Matt breathed out cockily through his quick movements, your nails clawing down his back.

He watched as you struggled to form a coherent sentence before dropping his hand down lower. The pad of his thumb pressing against your puffy clit as he cooed, “I know, c’mon and let it out sweet girl.. you’ve earned it.”

“Oh, Matt.. fuck!” You cried out shortly after, your back arching from the bed. You trembled beneath him as you came for the second time tonight.

Your legs remained low around his waist, assisting him with his messy, drunken movements. His lips pressed down into yours, wasting no time to slip his tongue past your swollen lips.

Your nails dug into his back and your eyes fluttered closed as you felt his warm cum gushing out and spilling into you. Your legs tightened around his waist, gently pushing him further into your core, filling you up to the brim with his seed.

📃 — taglist!

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