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chasingmidnights · 6 months

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13 Nights of Halloween: Campfire Stories; Story Five

Title: Three Nights of the Blood Moon

Storyteller: Bucky Barnes

Summary: A werewolf story.

Warnings: First of all, 18+, minor DNI! In this one, you should look out for mentions of blood; death; story features a werewolf; mild cursing; Bucky Barnes and Lance Tucker (both are warnings, okay?); mentions of beheading (werewolf); angst; and I believe that’s everything. I apologize if I missed anything but you are responsible for what you read. By clicking ‘keep reading’ you agree to these warnings and any potential ones that I may have missed. I do not claim to be a professional writer, any and all mistakes are my own; nothing is beta read. I hope you enjoy it and if you do please feel free to give it a like, comment, or share!

Wordcount: 1,426

“Oh, I bet this is gonna be good.” Nick said as he prodded at the logs in the fire with a metal poker stick.

“I didn’t think you were much of a storyteller.” Wanda commented as she snuggled closer to Johnny.

Bucky glanced up at the bright, full moon that was now shining above them, before he returned his attention to his friends. “Well, I feel like stepping out of my comfort zone tonight. Besides, I’ve done quite a bit of traveling and have a few stories to tell.”

“Go on babe, share with us your story.” Natasha encouraged him with a small smile.

Bucky nodded at her in appreciation before he got started with his story. Just as he was about to get started on his story, a howl sounded from somewhere in the distance, giving the perfect mood for his story.

“Alright, this was during my gap year, I had taken some time off before heading into college, so roughly two and a half years ago. I wasn’t ready for more classroom settings and I needed a break, so I ended up doing some traveling, backpacking mainly. I enjoyed every minute of my travels, even when I met a fellow backpacker and ended up in a small town in Romania. He had introduced himself as Lance Tucker and as we checked into a small inn, we heard chatter and we could tell that the people were clearly frightened about something. When we asked the manager, she said that the whole town was plagued with a werewolf and that the whole town was buzzing with anxiety about the upcoming full moon.

“This caught both of our attention and we wanted to know more about this supposed werewolf. After we checked into our room, we decided to see what the townspeople were so scared about. Lance and I thought maybe it was just a regular wolf, but we couldn’t have been more wrong. On the first night of the full moon, we waited for the sun to set to go after the wolf. The town’s people thought we were stupid for trying to do this. We waited in the church clock tower for this werewolf to arrive and as we waited, we talked about what we were going to do since we weren’t really experts on the matter. But this town needed help and I was determined to help them in any way that I could. I peeked out the clock tower window and noticed how full and round the moon was, not to mention the shade of red that it seemed to be giving off. That’s when we heard it, the howling of a large animal.

“The animal, well, more like creature was like nothing I had ever seen before, it was gruesome. When it was on all four legs, it was about the height of a large wolf on steroids with its back arched. It had dark, black skin and charcoal black fur along with giant, four paws with long claws. Its head and snout resembled that of a dog. The werewolf had dark soulless eyes and instead of a long tail, like most normal wolves have, this one had a bobbed tail. Just by looking at the creature, I could see why the town’s people were so terrified. My eyes grew wide when it stood on its hind legs, becoming the height of a grizzly bear. It let out another ear shattering howl and I was both amazing and scared out of my wits. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing as I glanced over at Lance. Just by the look on his face, I could tell he was feeling the same thing as me.

“We watched from the clock tower as the werewolf started to come further into town, sniffing the air as it did. As we watched, I noticed movement down on the ground below us and a group of men were trying to sneak attack the werewolf. However, their plan failed miserably and one by one, the men were picked off. I couldn’t just watch as the werewolf slaughtered the townspeople, so I sprinted down the steps of the clock tower and took them two at a time. But, by the time that I got down there, it was too late. The monster was gone. I heard one of the injured men groan as he laid on the ground, bleeding out. I walked over to him, not really sure why but I did and I crouched down beside him. His dying wish was for the wolf to be defeated so that his town would be safe again. The following day, Lance and I helped the townspeople with moving the injured and dead. As we helped, we heard them talking about how it would be back on tonight’s full moon. Lance and I agreed that we would help in any way that we could.

“That night, it was another bloody mess with another unsuccessful plan to kill the beast. In fact, the werewolf seemed to be twice as strong from the previous night. It also seemed to be unbothered by any time that I managed to wound it with my sword that I had been given. The battle against the werewolf had only just started and everyone was already losing their strength, including myself. I carried on though, adrenaline pumped through my body as I wielded my sword and fought against the creature. The beast got the better of me though and flung me halfway across the town center. The impact of the landing knocked the breath out of me. By the time that I got up though, a gut wrenching scream came from Lance and I watched in horror as the werewolf dragged Lance away, disappearing into the woods once more. I looked around me and the smell of blood filled my nostrils, causing me to nearly gag. I was determined now more than ever to kill this creature.

“When the blood moon was full and high in the night sky on the third night, I stood alone in the town square as I waited for the werewolf. The townspeople were kind enough to give me armor in order to help protect me and I held the same sword in my hand from the previous night. Goosebumps formed all over my body as I felt heavy breathing down my neck, I didn’t have to turn around to know that the werewolf was now standing behind me. Before I could even make my first move, it had swung me around and I scrambled to my feet, picking up my sword as I did and lunged at the wolf. It easily dodged my attack with ease as it jumped onto the roof of one of the buildings. I held tightly onto the helm of the sword, waiting for it to strike. ‘Come on!’ I yelled, spit flying from my mouth as I did. That seemed to have done the trick and as the werewolf lunged for me, I quickly climbed on top of a nearby porch, ascending the stairs at a high speed and as the creature was back on the ground, I took my opportunity of having the high ground. I jumped from the high porch and as I did, I raised my sword, ready to strike the creature down. ‘Off with your head,’ I remember saying as the sword sliced through the werewolf’s neck, beheading the creature. A sense of pride came over me as I had defeated the creature. The people slowly started to come out of their homes and started to celebrate when they realized I had killed the creature.”

Bucky stared into the fire as he finished his story, jumping slightly when the sound of a far away howl broke the tense silence.

“You’re full of shit, Barnes.” Ransom said bluntly, narrowing his eyes at Bucky.

Bucky scoffed before he started to take off his flannel. “Want proof?” Bucky lifted up the sleeve of his under armor shirt, revealing four scars on his left bicep. “Received a little souvenir from it.”

You couldn’t help it as your jaw dropped at the sight of the scars, they looked exactly like claw marks.

“Holy shit.” Jake whispers. “Werewolves are real, I knew it.”

“Well, I’m not sure if I can top Bucky’s story tonight, but I have dibs on tomorrow night’s story.” Natasha spoke up after a moment of silence.

Everyone just sat there for a while before they slowly trickled away from the fire and to their tents.

#13 nights of halloween #campfire stories #story five #october 2023 #courtney writes #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fandom #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #lance tucker #lance tucker imagine #lance tucker fanfiction #lance tucker fandom #sebastian stan characters #sebastian stan fandom #sebastian stan #bucky barnes storyteller #a werewolf story

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xzbat-loverzx · 8 months

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I just came up with the most stupidest ideas for an AU:

What if after season 2, instead of becoming a weatherman, Jestro became a teacher/assistant/secretary person at the knights academy? I barely have any ideas for it and it 100 wouldn’t make since even within the show however I still don’t understand why they made Jestro a weatherman of all things anyways.

Idk I guess I just really like the whole headcanon of Jestro being disabled and then bonding with and basically adopting students at the knights academy because he sees himself in them.

#Found family tropes produce Happy chemicals for my brain I’m sorry #but also I’m not sorry #nexo knights #lego nexo knights #jestro #nexo knights jestro #au idea #Nexo knights AU #imagine Jestro talking to Izzy about an assignment and she’s just like #‘My bro kicked your ass before and he’ll do it again’#‘girl you ain’t getting Lance to do shit do your homework’#or it’s one of those moments where the teacher constantly singles you out over something your older sibling did five years ago #but then he would turn around and beet the crap outta Goldie and Cuthbert at PTCs #He would be put in charge of wrangling Aaron’s younger chaotic siblings #he would be nervous at first before realizing it’s just like handiling globlin s and Scurriers #and then he just gets used to them climbing all over him like koala cubs on caffeine #idk man I just want him to be happy #:’)

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coolauntlilith · 9 months

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Every now and then I replay the first episode of VLD and I wonder why I thought it be a good show lol

#mostly just the part where Allura is assigning pilots to lions #why lol. the first five people who show up are just perfect fits?? hate it lol #i have no au plot ideas but itd have made more sense to draw out the forming of voltron. like for a longer time. like its the s1 finale #and to be traveling looking for appropriate pilots #or the s2 finale? like what if the original gang somehow stayed in contact despite not being Voltron paladins and they proved being the best #team despite not piloting immediately. i feel like a stronger plot of their forming teamwork outside of being Voltron would have also made #their friendships seem more real too lmao #like what if Lance IS Blue's pilot bit hes the only one for a long time. the other lions couldn't actually *just be* located #*but. not bit. and what if Pidge runs off in a stolen vessel to find her dad and brother. what if Shiro isnt.. so flat as a character and is #desperate to find his old team and runs off with them to help out and free others #Keith could somehow get involved with The Blades a lot sooner #and Hunk finds his footing as a leader in rebellion organization. i hate that he was just the funny guy allll the way thru #also (still not a plot bc my brain is unorganized lol) Allura doesnt die. Shiro actually gets to be gay with a husband. and we either need #to not make Lotor a villain or just go all out on making him the worst. i personally dont want him to be a villain bc it was stupid lol #also PULEEEAASE Lance is bi. Lance “I'm just getting a feel for the stick” *obsessed with his rival who doesnt even know he exists* McClain #i want to see him get over his crush on Allura within like 6 episodes and then see him making out with the mermaids then Keith when everyone #starts reuniting lol. my bicon Lance deserves to kiss mermaids like we all do and then get on when the otp lol #now im nostalgic for s1 VLD vibes. ya know. before hell lol #it really just gets worse after ... s3? everyone feels different. i usually tolerate up to about the end of s3 before i feel like its donezo #aunt posting #vld #voltron: legendary defender

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obsidianstrawberrymilk · 2 years

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Combining the ‘simultaneous Robins’ AU with the ‘the Justice League are all under 21′ AU means we have 20 year old Bruce Wayne with minimum five children and 17 year old Barry Allen has probably accidentally given them weed that he got from his neighbors who’s meth lab he used to get hit by lightning.

This also means they all think Shazam is the oldest member of the team after Diana.

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vicontheinternet · 1 year

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My moodboards, arrowverse au

Laurel and Oliver go on the gambit together only to learn that she’s pregnant and laurel eventually ends up with the league and gives birth to baby sara

#crazy idea ive had for a moodboard and its not even mine *technically*#laurel lance #oliver queen #lauriver #batman and damian lite #sara still exist in this canon just as lauriver’s daughter #idc if this is nonsensical #i low key got this idea from a fanfic but instead of sara it was mia of all ppl #sara’s giving damian wayne tease #🫢🫢i’m cackling cuz they ain’t ever beating those batman copycat allegations #its so funny cuz you're family thinks you're shipwrecked and you come back five years later with a baby ninja that's wild #my moodboards #lauriver au #lauriver moodboard #arrow au #arrowverse au #arrow moodboard #arrowverse moodboard #my aesthetic

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ki-yomii · 1 year

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hit it/forget it | part 01 | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 6.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; rough, dom!jk, dirty talk, squirting, creampie, fingering, oral (f receiving), enemies to lovers, orgasm control/denial, drinking, slight college au ig??➥ summary | finally able to unwind for the first time in forever, you go to a friend’s party. only somewhere along the way you find yourself in bed with someone you swore you’d never sleep with. it’s too bad he’s not in any hurry to let you hit it, and forget it. ➥ notes | i’m v new to this fandom, and it has started to consume me lol ✌️🥲 ❤️ series masterlist | masterlist | inbox | AO3 ❤️

... Shit, what time is it?

Beams of sunlight pour in through the crooked blinds, stretching across the cluttered floor to flood the rumpled bed with golden light.

It’s so bright it hurts, your eyes watering with the effort it takes to open them as you roll onto your back with a quiet hiss.

Sore and still buzzed, it takes you several minutes to process your unfamiliar surroundings. Your mouth is stale and arid, the unpleasant taste of dehydration heavy on your tongue.

Needle sharp pain lances through your skull, and it’s hard to think let alone focus when it feels like someone’s shoving an icepick through your brain every time you so much as breathe wrong.

So much for a relaxing night hanging out with the guys, you think bitterly, pinching the bridge of your nose. There goes my last day off.

Spent curled up in bed fighting back nausea instead of out enjoying the last little bit of freedom your PTO offered.

If only the rest of the night had gone as well as the beginning...

Most of the group were camped around a game of beer pong when you arrived, already blitzed off their faces from pre-gaming while a few randos loitered around.

You didn’t pay them too much mind, more focused on catching up with your boys. It had been forever and a day since you’d talked to them, let alone seen them in person.

For a blissful moment it was just like old times; the floor sticky with spilled beer, wrestling matches followed by good-natured ribbing, and rowdy trash talk.

It reminded you so much of the shitty college parties they’d throw, you almost cried from the nostalgia alone.

The happiest you’d been in weeks.

Now you had adult bills and an adult life. Your schedules didn’t align like this very often. Getting to catch up and hang out with everyone again was a precious gift, one you didn’t realize how much you needed until you sunk back into the oversized couch, and took what felt like your first breath in months.

Your head was swimming, your heart bursting for fondness - only to choke on your tongue not even five minutes later when the front door slammed open to a round of hyped up chants, “JK, JK, JK!”

All the tranquility evaporated as Jeon Jungkook - the bane of your existence - waltzed over the threshold without a care in the world.

Meanwhile your heart was in your throat as he stood there in all his stupidly attractive glory while the rest of the gang surged forth. They swarmed him with friendly slaps on the back, a 12 pack of beer in one hand, and a bottle of tequila in the other.

He wasn’t supposed to be here - they said... He was supposed to be out of town for the weekend. If you’d have known -- fuck.

You wouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t have come. And now you were stuck with him for however long it took you to sober up.

God, you hated him.

Not that you knew why, really.

There was just something about him that got under your skin. Maybe it was the cocky way he held himself, his confidence sometimes bordering on arrogance.

Or maybe it was the constant teasing. (You refused to admit it might be because of how attractive you found him, and how angry that made you.)

Whatever the case, ever since he met you all those years ago, Jungkook’s made it his life’s mission to be as insufferable as possible. Always waiting in the wings with a flirty comment and that self-satisfied smirk of his.

Dealing with him was like dealing with an overgrown - competitive - toddler. It got exhausting after a while.

Far easier to avoid him altogether, even though that mentality came at the expense of your friendships.

You stopped going to events if you knew he’d be there, ducking out of get togethers last minute if you so much as caught a glimpse of his car. Eventually, your absence became accepted - expected even - which further fueled your inherent dislike of him.

As if all the reasons you don’t like him weren’t enough, you were tipsy, and that was always a recipe for disaster. Without your inhibitions halting your tongue, you had no qualms about calling him out on all his petty bullshit.

The particulars are too fuzzy to remember, but you’d been avoiding him by hiding out in the kitchen when he decided to come bother you.

One thing led to another, and he must have said something insulting enough because the next thing you knew, you’d crowded him against the counter.

He smirked while you snarled with distaste, a shot in one hand with the other balled in the open collar of his fancy button up. You thought about how nice it would be to smack that look off his face, and thoughtlessly agreed to a one v one drink off - winner takes all - just to one up him.

Damnit.

You should have left as soon as his ass showed up. And you should never have agreed to his stupid little competition in the first place. You know better than to fall prey to his schemes... yet here you are, so joke’s on you.

This has to be some kind of divine punishment.

All you wanted was to knock him down a peg (or ten). Then his stupidly handsome face, and low, mocking voice egged you on past your limits. Now, you’re in someone else’s bed, naked and sticky, nursing a hangover from hell.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

God, you hope it’s not Jin.

Any of the others aren’t much better, but he’s your bro at heart, and there are some things you can’t ever come back from. If only last night wasn’t a hazy, distant fever dream pockmarked with fitful moments of clarity...

Memories curl through your mind like tendrils of smoke, opaque and sinister. The harder you grasp at them, the more confusing they become; coalescing into a tangled blur of swollen lips, and naked, sweat-slick skin.

Salty-sweet bursting across your tongue as the burning stretch of a fat cock sinks deep, a whiskey rough voice groaning low and heavy in your ear, “Fuck, you’ve always been such a little cock tease, haven’t you, baby? Mm, yeah, just like that. Knew you always wanted me, wanted this. Hhng, shit, I’ve wanted to do this for-fuckin-ever, princess…”

Goddamn Jeon Jungkook, and whatever horse he rode in on.

Of course, you’d get laid after a dry spell, and the only thing you have to show for it is the tender ache of your thighs, the tacky sensation of dried cum clinging to the swollen lips of your pussy, and the vaguest daydream of toe-curling pleasure.

At least the sheets are soft, the mattress plush, the bedspread muted, dark colours; altogether masculine but chic.

The fluffy pillows are to die for, something like expensive cologne threaded through the fabric; citrusy and bright with notes of mellow sweetness that fill your lungs, and cloud your senses with every deep inhale.

A familiar thread in an otherwise unfamiliar bed.

Whoever it is certainly has impeccable taste... which doesn’t help narrow down your list of suspects, at all. They’re all stupidly fashionable in everything they do, meanwhile you feel like a half-decent hobgoblin half the time.

You can’t decide what’s worse: the fact you slept with someone who’s a friend of yours - not many people outside of the core group came last night - or that you can’t remember who it is.

No lie, the temptation to slip out before they wake is hard to resist. But it’ll only delay the inevitable, and you honestly don’t want to do that to someone you care about.

It’s better to face the situation head-on, no matter how much you’re dreading it.

Over and done, quick and easy like a Band-Aid.

The conversation’s going to be awkward as hell but it was a drunken mistake. You’re adults and in a few years’ time, who knows, maybe you’ll be able to look back and laugh. No reason to let it ruin years of hard-earned friendship.

“Aah,” you groan mid-stretch, “...what a fucking mess.”

“Look who’s finally awake.”

You’ve gotta be kidding me.

The world screeches to an almighty halt, crashing and burning as all the breath in your lungs catches in your chest. Your heavy eyes pop open so fast you see stars, a field of grey sheets filling your line of sight.

A wave of disbelief threatens to drown you, hysteria following in the aftermath as your mind stutters to a stop.

Stomach turning, your heart slams into your ribs so hard you’re convinced you’ll break a bone. The thought of sleeping with a friend is bad enough, but the truth? So much worse. You wish the bed would swallow you whole.

Why, you lament, why him?

That low, sleep rough tone dripping with arrogance.

It raises your hackles, sets your teeth on edge until you shake with the urge to punt his ass across the room. Never in a million years would you expect to hear that voice beside you in bed.

You wish with everything there is that it’s just a hallucination - but there’s no mistaking who that voice belongs to.

The knowledge sits bitterly in the back of your throat.

“This is a nightmare.”

No fucking way you’re turning around.

You inch to the edge of the mattress, grateful for the distance. The very idea of touching him repulses, repels.

You’re already too aware of how the bed dips beneath his weight, the shared space warmed by the sleep soft heat radiating from his skin.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Jungkook scoffs. “Keep telling yourself that, baby.”

A hot palm, rough with callouses, grabs your shoulder. The steel grip tugs you close, unyielding as it guides you onto your back.

As soon as you glimpse the sunlight caught in the tangled briar of his hair, your eyes slam shut.

If you can’t see him, you can pretend he’s not there and if he’s not there, well then you won’t have to face your colossal mistake.

It might be petty and childish but all things considered, you think you’re allowed to be. Waking up next to Jeon Jungkook is earth-shattering. And altogether mortifying when you consider all the thoughts you had before you knew you fucked him.

Of all the people…

He’s made passes for years, and you always blew them off. Now? You groan. They’re never going to let you live this down. You take back every kind thought. This asshole doesn’t deserve your praise.

Before you tell him where to shove it, fingertips skim the jut of your cheekbone. The action effectively shuts you up, your brain stuttering to a resounding halt. Soft and light like butterfly kisses, they trace over the sweep of your flickering eyelashes.

It’s a ticklish reminder that you’re not alone.

You jerk away.

The click he makes with his teeth does N-O-T make you throb. Neither does his persistence, the effort to force you into acknowledging his presence redoubled. He’s stubborn, and altogether not unlike a boy pulling pigtails.

The comparison unbidden and unwelcome, you bat him away with a sharp, “Quit it.”

His voice is far too smug for your liking when he says, “Why don’t you try to make me.”

“Oh, my god.”

This asshole…

Your fingers claw into the sheets instead of his chest, nails cutting into your palms as rage lurks just beneath the surface of your skin. Your breath shoves from your lungs fast and hard. It’s a struggle to reign in the urge to pummel him bloody.

Meanwhile, Jungkook redirects his attention, his hand dipping down to dance over the front of your throat. A rough thumb maps the curve of your jaw, a shiver rolling through your body at the touch.

His low chuckle is the only warning you get before he’s leaning over, the shift in position causing the hard, compact muscles of his torso to brush your side. The fission of awareness that follows in its wake crackles down your spine, steals your breath.

Senses fixated on the sensual glide of skin on skin while pulses of arousal kindle to life behind your navel. Slick gushes from between your folds, wetting the insides of your thighs. Heart in your throat, you steady your voice long enough to say, “Seriously, just leave me alone so I can wallow in peace.”

Warm breath tickles the side of your face, the cool metal of Jungkook’s lip piercing brushing the shell of your ear as he murmurs the syllables of your name. “Come on,” he says, “I dare you.”

The hell, is he being serious right now? What does he think this is?

“What are you,” you ask. “Five?”

“Would you stop being so dramatic?”

The first hint of genuine annoyance threads through the words growled against your cheek. His tone low, a warning buried in its depths. Fire and smoke, grit and gravel. You hate how you clench at the sound. Hate how confused he’s making you.

Why is he acting like this is a normal occurrence? You expect him to lord it over you, not act so...playful?

The uncertainty rankles, and your shoulders hike up around your ears. If he thinks he can jerk you around like this, he better step up and out because you’re out of fucks to give.

This is humiliating enough, and you’re not about to relinquish what’s left of your pride.

“Do you ever stop talking,” you continue, ignoring the pulse between your thighs, the crack in your voice, “Or do you like the sound of your own voice that much?”

Your heart pounds in the ensuing silence, Jungkook all but ignoring you as he sinks his nose into your hair. The pleased rumble that vibrates from his chest into yours follows a deep inhale.

“Mm, you smell,” his lips tickle the side of your neck, “really good.”

A whimper works its way up your throat, your teeth barely catching it in time. Fissions of sensation shoot down to your stomach, hot and shivery.

“Shut up. Just stop - stop talking.”

It’s not what you mean to say - you have full intentions of cussing him out, reaching out to touch smack him - but by then, it’s too late. He’s already on the move, a mocking chuckle falling from his lips.

The sound shoots through you, stokes your rage and desire in equal measure until you’re shaking.

He tugs at the plush, tender flesh of your bottom lip caught between your teeth. “Y’know,” he muses, “I wouldn’t keep doing that if I were you. You might not like what happens.”

Surrounded as you are, it’s getting harder to think.

To breathe.

To be.

Sweat and sex cling to Jungkook, the scent filling your lungs with ash and burning through your bloodstream until he’s all that remains. Surrounding, smothering, swallowing you whole. “Look at me.”

Shit, he’s close - too close.

There’s a scant amount of space between your bodies, pressed stem to stern. Your tits crush against the hard plane of his chest, nipples stiffening with every drag of his skin, every shift of his body against yours.

His half-hard cock digs into the softness of your abdomen, wet and sticky as it drools into the dip of your belly button which shouldn’t get you as hot as it does. This is so not good.

“No,” you say, shaking your head. “No, I won’t.”

I can’t.

This is unacceptable.

Fucking him once is bad enough, the only saving grace is that you barely remember the taste of his lips, the weight of his body pressing into yours, the stretch of him filling you to the brim.

If you give in now, even if it’s only an inch…

Well, he’ll take a mile and you don’t have an excuse for why you’ll let him. You’re already struggling with the urge to succumb, to inch closer. There’s no telling what’ll happen if you actually look into those burning eyes of his.

Of course, he doesn’t accept your refusal.

You never expected him to.

“I said look at me.” The thumb that was gently stroking along your face hooks around your jaw, digging into the soft spot on the underside. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You grit your teeth, channel the rising lust into rage. Anything to put some much-needed distance between you before you do something you’ll regret. Like, sleep with him a second time while stone-cold sober.

“Just fuck off, Jeon. This is embarrassing enough, you don’t need to rub it in. You won, okay? Congratulations.”

You refuse to let him have his cake and eat it too. Damned if he gets to hold this over your head. That drinking competition was all his idea, anyway. The victory blooming in your chest is short-lived, thoroughly blown to pieces.

He doesn’t respond verbally.

Fast as lightning, the hand on your jaw disappears only to reappear between your thighs to shove your legs open. He doesn’t waste time, runs his knuckles along the length of your slit without hesitation.

Teasing, testing, humming in approval at what he finds.

The sudden rough touch has you jumping, gasping, eyes snapping open, fixating on his blown pupils. The grin tugging at the corners of his mouth is more a snarl, downright predatory. The metal of his lip ring glints in the light, his teeth bared while he spears you with a hooded, hungry stare.

“That’s it, show me those pretty eyes of yours.”

Breathless, your hips twitch and you clench at the praise, liquid fire pooling low in your belly.

Traitor.

“Jeon - Jungkook, knock it off.”

But you know he’s not going to stop. The ravenous look in his eyes says everything his mouth doesn’t.

“See,” he says conversationally, pausing long enough to thrust two fingers deep into you without warning. Pain sparks, flickers down your spine only to melt into a warm flush of pleasure as he twists his wrist. “That mouth of yours says one thing, but this pussy’s soaked. What am I supposed to think about that, huh?”

“I-”

Any response you have breaks off into a wounded moan, your brows furrowing as he flicks the tip of his finger against your g-spot.

“S-Shit!”

“Hm, what was that?”

A sharp smack stings across your wrist when you reach down to pull his hand away.

“Jeon - I - please…”

“Come on, use your words like a good little slut.”

“I - I can’t - shit!”

It’s impossible to think, let alone form sentences when the heel of his palm grinds against your swollen clit like that. Thick fingers curl deep, stroke, stretch until you mewl.

Every skilled thrust drives you higher, wrings pleasure from you so expertly you’ve half a mind to be pissed. Now you can see why all those girls were tripping over themselves to get with him back in college. As much as it pains you to admit it, he’s got game.

But even then, it shouldn’t be this easy to get you going.

To get your thighs clamping around his flexing forearm while uncontrollable shudders wrack your frame, finger fucked stupid by the sworn enemy.

“Hah.”

If you weren’t half out of your mind, you’d be more offended by the condescending smirk. All you do is half-heartedly smack his side, his free hand darting up to cover yours and keep it pressed against his skin.

You clench down with a whine at the feel of rippling muscle, the sight of his tatted fingers resting over your hand so delicately.

“Looks like I’m doing something right. Fuck, can you hear that, baby?” His movements slow to a crawl, the thrust of his fingers languid and deep. “Listen to how wet your tight little pussy is for me.”

Warmth creeps up your neck and sinks into the apples of your cheeks. It’s as mortifying as it is a turn on, the sloppy sounds of your needy cunt echoing back at you. Sticky arousal coats your puffy folds, every slick, squelching slide heard over stilted moans.

Without a doubt, you’re making a mess of his sheets. Judging by the husky growl of his voice, anything less wouldn’t satisfy him. “Gotta make up your mind, baby.”

He couldn’t sound any more indifferent, but the rough thrust of his fingers, the burning heat smouldering in the depths of his eyes says he’s anything but unaffected.

You whine, writhe, arch your hips to grind down on the hand working between your thighs.

It’s no use.

You get him right where you want him, only for him to flash a devilish grin and pull away. The desperation to get off builds and builds and builds until you’re half mad with it.

This asshole’s gotten you to the edge of cumming several times, only to watch with sick delight as he yanks you back, dangling you over the edge without letting you fall. You don’t even want to think about what this is doing for his already over-inflated sense of ego.

“You’ve been sending me all kinds of mixed signals for years.” He nips the tip of your nose, spreading his fingers wide open where they’re buried inside of you just to hear you squeal. “So what’s it gonna be?”

He’s playing dirty, and he knows it. It’s infuriating that smug looks so good on him. Are you really going to do this?

Ghosting his lips over yours in the barest of kisses, he whispers, slow and purposeful, “All you gotta do is say it. Be a good girl for me, and say: ‘Jungkook, please fuck me.’”

... Yes, yes, you are. But you’re never, ever going to admit that you want him.

Not when there’s nothing you can blame the impatient rise of your hips on, the grind against his palm, the unwavering eye contact that pins you in place. As unbelievable as this is, it all comes down to how horny you are and how good he looks above you.

You admit that he’s an asshole, but jesus, he’s attractive.

Jungkook chuckles, rolls his eyes. “So you’re gonna keep being a brat.”

He doesn’t look put out in the least. In fact, he’s downright feral with the anticipation of breaking you down and fucking you back together.

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you begging for my cock one way or another.”

The you wish dissolves into thin air, all your focus narrowing on the flex and shift of muscle as he crawls down the length of your body. Shouldering his way between your thighs, he settles on his belly and rubs his hands along your hips.

Flinching at the first touch of his broad palms, you watch with rapt attention as his strong fingers inch closer and closer to your heat.

Every touch, every slide of skin calculated. Precise. Intent on getting your blood pumping and your pussy throbbing until you’re squirming against the sheets.

That ferocious stare, glittering like onyx in the light, tracks every movement, every twitch; catalogues what strokes get you mewling, what drag of fingers has you shuddering, shivering until you’re a downright mess.

Longtime lovers never paid half as much attention to what got you going, and a one-off mistake is doing a better job than all of them combined. Shit, he hasn’t even really done anything yet.

Jungkook’s as focused between your thighs as he is during training, a singular intent that’s intense and overwhelming. Frankly, it’s unnerving being so seen by someone you’ve considered an enemy for the longest time.

When did he start paying so much attention to you - and how did you miss it?

“Just…” you say, voice a quiet thing that sits in the space between your bodies, “Just get on with it already.”

He doesn’t need any more prompting. Jungkook uses his fingers to spread open your sticky folds. Cool air dances across your core, teasing at your swollen clit as every bit of your pussy is exposed to him.

There’s no hiding the embarrassing amount of slick wetting your thighs or how you pulse and twitch in desire.

He hums in approval at what he sees, your thighs trembling around his shoulders. “Thanks for the meal,” he says, brushing his thumb across the hood of your clit before he ducks down with his tongue out.

The firm, full contact lick has supernovas bursting behind your eyelids. He groans at the taste of you, grinds his face deeper into the apex of your thighs. The sound rumbles through your sensitive flesh, your thighs clenching around his ears.

A sigh escapes your throat, and you rest a hand on the top of his head.

Oh yes, a much better use for that mouth of his.

Your fingers delve into the thickness of his hair, inky black wrapped around your knuckles. For a moment you lose yourself in the sensation, senses so high. Every swipe of his tongue, every roll of cool metal along your heated slit as his lips pull at your folds sets you aflame.

The peace doesn’t last, overtaken by the smouldering antagonism that simmers beneath every one of your interactions. A ticking time bomb set to go off at the slightest provocation.

His face between your thighs inspires a dizzying mix of disgust and desire, that he’s even in this position pisses you off beyond belief.

In retaliation for every wrong he’s ever done (the specifics hazy when he sucks on your clit hard enough to curl your toes, the barest hint of teeth), you yank on his hair with as much strength as you’re able to muster.

His neck wrenches back, and he winces. You luxuriate in the petty revenge of it all as spite blooms warm in your chest. Serves him right. Though you gotta hand it to him, he sure knows how to use his tongue.

“You bitch,” Jungkook groans, smothering the vibrations in your slick folds. You keen, bow your back so far you’re afraid you’ll slip a disc. “That hurt.”

For all his complaining, he doesn’t stop.

Quite the opposite.

He dips his head, so you tug at the roots harder while his hands wrap around your thighs, pinning your hips to the bed while his tongue flicks and teases, licks and fucks you open slowly.

The messy sounds of your cunt as Jungkook eats you out to within an inch of your life broken by soft sighs, moans of pleasure, and the occasional masculine grunt. Previous partners have gone down on you before but never seemed to care for it.

Jungkook on the other hand? He’s loving it, eating you out with single-minded ferocity, seeking his own relief by rutting against the bed.

It’s one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen; the wild briar of his hair in utter disarray, sweat slick strands falling over his forehead while he buries his face in you, the muscles of his back bunching and releasing with every slow rock of his hips, his quiet, muffled moans of satisfaction, the ripple of tattoos as he pets at your flank.

He’s not shy - not that you expected him to be in this regard. You’ve heard all the stories about his prowess in bed from classmates and strangers alike.

All his movements are rough and desperate, wet and messy. The careful, slow teasing from before disappearing within the blink of an eye as he becomes consumed with a frantic desire to feel you cum on his face.

It’s not surprising that you don’t last long, orgasming embarrassingly fast, stuffed full of his tongue and fingers.

“Jungkook,” you choke out his name, a broken sound that fades into open-mouthed silence.

The ball of heat in your belly bursts, rushes over you like a tidal wave. You shake apart, pussy clenching so hard your womb aches as a gush of fluid dribbles out of you, soaking the lower half of your body and the bed.

Stars dance in the darkness behind your lids. You’re strung out and weak, incapable of movement, of thought, of anything besides the actual possibility that your bones dissolved when you came.

“Shit, that’s hot.”

Jungkook shifts.

Your lashes flutter. Breathing is difficult. You can’t feel your hands, the tips of your fingers tingling.

He kneels at the foot of the bed, cum soaking the lower half of his face. His lips red and swollen, his eyes hooded, dark and lusting. Pupils blown so wide the iris is nothing more than a thin ring of brown.

His cock juts from his body in a proud line, curved towards his belly. Smears of pre-cum glitter along the valley of his abs, and you have the strangest urge to lick him clean.

Seeing him look so debauched shouldn’t be as hot as it is, and you want to kick your own ass for thinking about Jungkook like this.

Fucking him is one thing, actively appreciating him something else.

But no matter how hard you try to ignore it, the sight of him kneeling and lusting is a sucker punch to the gut. Breathless and yearning, you’re at war with yourself, contemplating round three when he opens mouth.

Again.

“Not so high and mighty now, are you?”

The jut of his chest, the arrogance in his gaze ruins everything. Anyone halfway decent with their tongue who knows what a clit is can get a woman off. Jungkook’s nothing special - contrary to all those co-ed’s.

Just another run-of-the-mill asshole who thinks he’s a god. You’re reminded of this now that you’re not cum-dumb, brain dribbling out your ears. And just when you forgot why you dislike him.

“You know what, Jeon?”

If you could move, you’d shove him off the bed and get out of dodge. As it is, you’re in no such position; knees weak, thighs shaky as phantom waves of pleasure shoot from the crown of your head down to the tips of your toes.

You settle for a nasty scowl. Half as satisfying, but getting your point across all the same. “I’m still not fucking impressed.”

His expression drops into a bitchy sneer.

You want to smack him, wipe that look off his face with your palm. It would be like all your birthdays rolled into one.

“The fuck you mean?” Jungkook asks, brimming with gruff impatience. Good. Arrogant prick. “I made you squirt.”

Ignoring the pounding of your heart, you scoff and dismiss his words, no matter how true they ring. He doesn’t need to know you’ve NEVER done that before. “So? Even I can do that, you’re no better than my vibrator.”

The muscles in his jaw clench, bunching and releasing as his stormy gaze sears you to the bone. For the first time since he started this little - whatever it is - he seems genuinely pissed, shoulders tense and mouth a thin line.

You swoon, the empty ache inside of you pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

“I’ll fucking show you who’s better.”

“Sure you will,” you simper with a nasty grin, tone dripping with sarcasm.

As soon as you prop yourself up on an elbow with full intentions of hopping out of bed, a set of large hands stops you in your tracks. Panic shoots through you, and any residual anger you harbored fizzles away.

He can’t expect you to — oh, but of course, he does.

“No, not like this,” you say while you squirm, attempting to roll onto your belly. “I can’t.”

Fucking face to face is too intimate.

“Mm, no, I don’t think so, baby,” he croons, tone a mocking lilt as he cages you beneath him. “I wanna see your pretty little face when you cream all over my cock.”

Any response gets lost in a weak moan when he rubs himself against your slick folds, the fat head catching on the hood of your abused clit. You whimper, a sharp spike of arousal slicing through you, almost painful when it follows so swiftly on the tail end of your last orgasm.

You try one last time, voice reedy and thin when you say, “Jeon, please, I can’t - fuck.”

The tip slides into you without preamble, just far enough to feel it but not deep enough to get you off. The smug bastard thrusts gently, your tender, swollen walls suckling his cockhead, trying to pull him deeper.

Pure torture.

Mind wiped clean, embarrassment and protests all but forgotten, all your focus narrows down on how to get him inside you as soon as possible.

“Something wrong, baby?” he asks. “Got something to say? You’re squeezing down so hard. Want me deeper, don’t you? What a needy little slut you are for me.”

“Shit, Jeon, come on.” You pant, biting down on a whine. “Just put it in already.”

“Whatever you say.”

He keeps it slow, languidly works his cock deeper into you, inch by agonizing inch. Your muscles flutter, milk his thick shaft. It takes forever and a day before he bottoms out.

And then your eyes roll into the back of your head, hands flying up to anchor your nails into the meat of his shoulders.

He’s right there, cockhead snug against your crevice. Every ridge, every throb; it stokes the embers of your desire higher and higher, stretched so wide around him you ache; he’s the biggest you’ve had. You’ve never felt so stuffed full of cock before, it’s almost scary how good it is.

The taut skin of his belly grinds against your clit when he gets as deep as possible, pelvis flush with yours. “F-Fuck, Jeon.”

Above you, he shoots a cocky albeit weak grin.

You can’t decide if you want to slap him or have him fuck you into the mattress. Probably a bit of both. He boils your blood, but you’ve never been more aroused in your life.

Fucking hell.

“See, what’d I say? I’ll have you screaming my name in no time.”

You groan, breathing deep and slow. “Are you always such a prick?”

He hasn’t moved, but you’re on the edge, and far from ready for this to be over. The asshole hasn’t delivered. You haven’t been fucked raw, and you’re not leaving this bed until he gives it up. Now if only he could shut his mouth long enough to get the show on the road.

“Bitch.” He rolls his eyes, his broad palms firm on your hips while he shifts until your thighs rest over his. “Ready?”

You snort, shoot a comment about his dick not being that special and more than ready to tack on another scathing retort when he decides he’s had enough of your lip, pulling back and snapping his hips forward in one smooth movement.

It punches the air from your lungs.

Your mouth drops open in a near-silent gasp when the head nudges the spongy tissue of your g-spot. The sudden flood of warmth spreads out to all your limbs, pussy throbbing around him.

Your voice is shaky, spread thin, “A-Ah!”

Jungkook isn’t faring any better.

Hot palms tremble against your skin, the furrow to his brow pulling at his piercing, his mouth slack and glossy. His abdominal muscles tense with every stutter of his hips, flexing and resisting the urge to plow into you at max speed.

“Shit, baby, I forgot how tight and soft you are.”

Incapable of speech, reduced to mindless rutting. His broken moan shatters something between the two of you, and then it’s nothing but bruising kisses, sharp keens, rough hands, and frantic fucking.

He slams into you so hard the bed rattles against the wall, punctuating his filthy murmur of, “Perfect fucking fit, just like I knew you’d be.”

You appreciate his rippling muscles with your hands, caressing the firm lines of his body as you do your best to keep pace. Every other thrust has his cock slamming into your g-spot, your toes curling in the sheets.

It’s too much and not enough.

“Jungkook, I’m - I’m,” you sound wrecked, unable to even finish your sentence. “Please.”

“Yeah, that’s it, baby,” he growls, voice full of gravel and hips never missing a beat, “I got you. Now do it, cum, wanna feel you squirt on my cock.”

A fingertip finds your clit.

Rubs once, twice, three times, and then you see galaxies.

Crying out, you clutch him close as the bubbling pool of heat overflows, crashes into you like a tsunami. Helpless against the rushing tide. Your body spasms, your cunt gushing around Jungkook’s pistoning cock.

The slick slap of your skin almost as obscene as his groan, low and lewd, when you clench and clamp down on his shaft. “That’s it, that’s my good girl.”

Boneless and panting, you sink back into the pillows and stare up at Jungkook with glassy eyes. The early afternoon light highlights the lines of his body, the curves of his muscles, the splashes of color etched into his skin. Tremors wrack your body as you lay there while he chases after his own pleasure.

“Shit, I’m gonna — fffu-ck!”

One last thrust buries him to the hilt, his cum flooding, filling you to the brim. Face slack with pleasure, his head drops into the cradle of your shoulder. He pets your sides with gentle hands, his breath puffing across the sensitive skin of your neck while his body twitches with aftershocks.

The both of you are weak, fucked out.

You lay under him for a long time, silent except for your shuddering breaths. Your bodies coming down from unimaginable heights. When your arms aren’t so useless anymore, you push at his chest and grunt.

“Get off.”

A flood of cum follows his swift exit, thick seed dribbling down your folds and pooling on the sheets beneath your ass. Your eyes flutter at the sensation, a primal sort of appreciation curling through your belly.

Well, that’s new. And something you refuse to unpack now.

Flopping down beside you, Jungkook stretches, his expression far too self-satisfied for your liking. “For being such a bitch, you’re a good lay.”

Leave it to him and his goddamn mouth to ruin the afterglow.

You shoot him a sour look, dragging yourself to your feet.

There’s a moment where you almost fall, wobbly and off-kilter, before you regain your balance. You clean yourself gingerly with a towel hanging half out of the hamper.

Sore, tender, and vindictively pleased to see the white streak of his cum stain the dark terrycloth.

The asshole laughs at your disgruntled look, lounging on the bed like a lazy jungle cat. His thick arms cross behind his head and he watches you with dark eyes as you bend to get your panties.

Try as you might, you can��t help sneaking peeks at his barred chest. The smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth tells you he’s noticed the covert looks. You scowl. The smug bastard.

“Don’t be like that, baby. We had a great time.”

Scoffing, you refuse to dignify that with a response, and tug your shirt over your head.

“Wanna know what I think?”

“Not really, but I’m sure that won’t stop you.”

He ignores your sarcasm and continues, nonplussed, “I think you’ve never cum so hard in your life. I think you’re gagging for another ride.”

You pick something up off the floor, chuck it at his head and pivot on your heel. Anger pulses, white-hot and only partially satisfied by the pained groan from behind you as the object makes contact.

“What the hell was that for?”

“You know what that was for. God, are you always such a fucking dickhead?”

“I think you like it,” he says. “I think you like me - I think you’ve always liked me.”

You ignore the burn of your cheeks, and scoff.

The man’s ego is big enough without you adding fuel to the fire. He doesn’t need to know that was the best sex you’ve ever had. That you came so hard your toes curled, and your hands went numb.

“In your dreams, Jeon.”

Keeping your back to him, you’re about to put on your pants when an iron grip shackles itself around your wrist. You tug, testing the hold. He’s unyielding, spearing you with an intense, depthless look.

“...Jeon?”

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You blink, swallow and flounder for a response. “Um, I - home?”

He frowns, and tugs you back towards the bed with a huffy sneer, “Get back in bed.”

Wait, what.

You blink, and blink again at the blush stealing its way across his face, the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks a soft pink, his eyes resolutely avoiding yours. Can’t help asking, “...What?”

“S-Shut up!”

“I didn’t even-”

“Just come back to bed.”

Still in disbelief of what’s happening, you let Jungkook rearrange you to his liking. You find yourself tucked into the curve of his chest, your nose pressed against his collarbone with his buried in your hair. His lips rest against your forehead, dropping the faintest of kisses to your brow.

“...We’ll talk when you wake up.”

You can’t tell if you’re curious or horrified, but for now, getting a few more hours of sleep sounds like an excellent idea. And, you suppose, it could be worse.

Shacking up with Jungkook isn’t all that bad, so long as he keeps his mouth shut.

#jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook #bts jungkook #bts jk #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook imagine #bts fanfction #jungkook drabble #jeon jungkook fic #jeongguk fanfic #bts jungkook fanfic

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holllandtrash · 1 year

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6 to 1 | lando norris (part 1)

paring: lando norris x leclerc!reader part 1 in the 6 to 1 series

being charles' little sister has its perks, such as traveling to the races, meeting a variety of people and becoming friends with the drivers. but when one driver is offended by your personal ranking, he makes it his mission to change your mind

word count: 5.7k tags: established friendships, minor social media au aspects, its just a soft start to a whirlwind series also poorly translated Italian and French, this whole series is a friends to lovers trope

Of course you had favourites.

Charles was number one, he was your brother.

Carlos next, obviously. You were a Ferrari fan through and through.

Daniel Ricciardo was still a favourite, reserve driver or not, you made your support for Daniel very clear and would post photos of yourself in his merch any chance you got.

And then Pierre. He was Charles' best friend, someone you had also known for years. He spent Christmases with you, countless birthdays, everything. You wanted to see him succeed.

“I’m fifth?” Lando couldn’t believe your ranking and how low he was. He hit his hand on the table, causing your glass of water to shake. “Fifth? You’re joking.”

You pondered it for a second before nodding your head. Lando took a sigh of relief, thinking he made it past number five in your standings.

“You’re right,” you said. “I am joking. You’re sixth. I’ve kind of been rooting for Lance recently. The Canadian’s wormed his way into my heart.”

Lando leaned back in his chair looking absolutely defeated. “Unbelievable,” he huffed out, crossing his arms across his chest. The pout that played on his lips made him look about four years younger and it only made you laugh as you reached across the table and ruffled his hair playfully.

“Relax, Norris, at least you’re in the top ten.”

“But six!” He exclaimed. “Danny’s not even driving.”

You shrugged and took another sip of your water, “Still love him.”

“Is that why you’re wearing DR3 merch instead of mine?”

You looked down. You were in fact wearing a t-shirt from Daniel’s newest collection that recently dropped. He even had the heart to sign the back for you before personally delivering it.

“I never wear your merch.”

“Because you hate me.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re dramatic.”

You jumped when you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. You barely had time to glance up before your sunglasses were pulled from your head and the perpetrator, your brother's teammate, slid into the chair next to Lando.

“Give them back,” you reached for the glasses but Carlos only dodged your hand and put the dark shades on his own face.

He turned to Lando, a cheesy grin plastered on his face, “How do I look?”

Lando, still grumpy, said, “Like someone who doesn’t consider me one of her favourite drivers.”

Carlos had a good laugh at that, “Really, Y/N? He’s not in the top three?”

“Not even in the top five!” Lando shouted, gesturing towards you as you innocently spun your straw around your glass. “Lance bloody Stroll booted me to sixth.”

“He is higher than you in the driver standings.”

“That’s it,” Lando grumbled, standing up from the chair so harsh that it would have fallen backwards if Carlos hadn't caught it. Lando furiously pointed a finger at you and you had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. “I will work my way up to being your favourite driver, mark my words.”

You shrugged again, “You can certainly try.”

Lando proceeded to muter a few choice words under his breath as he stalked off, leaving you and Carlos to burst out laughing.

“Why do you give him such a hard time?” Carlos asked.

“It’s entertaining for me.” You turned your head, just able to see a sliver of Lando before he disappeared into the Paddock crowd. The corner of your lips curled upwards, “And now I want to know what sort of plan he’s going to come up with.”

Your conversation with Lando had slipped from your mind by the end of the race weekend. In fact, you had been so caught up with Charles’ performance on Saturday and Sunday that you weren't thinking about the McLaren driver until he was right in front of you.

You walked behind Charles down the tarmac towards the private jet that would take you two and Arthur back to Monaco. Usually you claimed the seat on the right at the very back of the plane but when you walked in and saw it was taken by the British boy with curls atop his head, you were thrown for a loop.

“Morning,” Lando greeted. He wore a matching jumper and sweats set from his own Quadrant line. On the small table in front of him he pushed forward a small white box as you slowly approached. “For you.”

You shot a glance at Charles, one that basically asked what the hell was Lando doing here. Charles laughed as he searched for his headphones, “We’re all going to the same place.”

“He’s in my seat.”

“This is your seat?” Lando sounded apologetic. You looked back at him and watched as he rushed to collect his things, except for the white box, and he moved to the seat on the other side of the aisle.

You were confused, that’s for damn sure. Lando never just casually caught a ride with your family. But you were also tired and didn’t care too much about his presence as long as he left you alone for the duration of the flight.

You made yourself comfortable in the leather recliner, closing your eyes almost immediately. They would have stayed closed had you not heard Lando obnoxiously clear his throat.

“Lando, if you're trying to move up my driver ranking, this is not the way to do it.”

“Can you just look in the box, please,” Lando sighed. He was leaning over the armrest of his seat, practically falling into the aisle.

A defeated sigh escaped you and you reached for the box, flipping the lid open. If you were being honest with yourself, you had absolutely no idea what was going to be inside. Lando was an enigma. You would have been equally as shocked to see a live frog as you would to see a blade of grass.

But it was neither, thank god. It was a doughnut. And not just any doughnut. It was a filled pastry with a layer of chocolate and cookie crumbles on top, coated with a drizzle of white chocolate. Something that would undoubtedly give you a toothache, but it was mouthwatering nonetheless.

“Chocolate explosion cheesecake doughnut,” Lando explained.

You glanced up at him, eyebrows raised, wondering why he would have bought this for you before the flight this morning.

Lando sighed, as if he was offended you were confused, “You love cheesecake. And chocolate. And doughnuts.” He gestured to the treat, “This is the perfect combination of all three.”

He wasn’t wrong, you did love all three of those things. But how did he know that?

“Thanks,” you offered Lando a smile. “But you didn’t have to-”

“I know, I know, But I passed a bakery this morning after my jog,” Lando explained, waving his hand as if to brush off the gesture like it was nothing. “Just thought you’d like a treat during the flight is all.”

“You know, this isn’t going to make me like you more than Lance.”

Lando’s features fell. Just for a moment, but you caught it. He was hoping this one simple doughnut would push him up your standings and he was very wrong.

“Lance didn’t buy you a doughnut.”

“Lance also didn’t take my seat.”

“I gave it back!” He exclaimed loudly, causing Arthur and Charles to both turn their heads to see what was going on. Lando leaned further across the aisle, lowering his voice. “I gave it back.”

“He finished sixth this weekend.”

“I was struggling with tyre degradation.”

“Not my problem,” you shrugged. To be fair, Lando had a pretty decent weekend, but he still finished below Lance and you were going to hold onto that just because you knew it would get under Lando’s nerves.

“You talk to me more than you talk to Lance.”

“No, you talk to me.”

“I. Bought. You. A. Doughnut.” Lando went back to his strongest argument.

“It’ll take a little more than a pastry to move up the rankings.” You leaned into the aisle as well, catching Charle’s eyes. “Posso spingerlo giù dall'aereo?” Can I push him off the plane?

“No,” Charles chuckled, glancing at Lando who was trying to recall the very minimal Italian that he knew. “Sii gentile con lui” Be nice to him.

“Gentile?” Lando repeated, looking back and forth between you and your brother. It was the only word he could pick up on. “Nice? Did Charles just call me nice? Thank you Charles, I’m trying to do a polite thing for your sister and she’s not being respectful.”

You dropped your face to your hand, “Lo spingerò giù dall'aereo.” I’m going to push him off the plane.

“Y/N don’t do that. Lando, Mate I don’t think bribing Y/N with a doughnut is going to do you any favours,” Charles retorted, still laughing. At this point, the only person not laughing was Lando. “Now put your seatbelts on.”

You and Lando exchanged a similar look, a challenging one. Eyes slightly narrowed, a smirk playing on your lips. He was going to make it his mission to become your favourite driver and you were intent on not letting that happen.

Once you were in the air, Charles got up out of his seat to come and talk to you about plans for dinner this week with your mum. You brought one leg up to your chest as you spoke to your older brother, switching between French and Italian throughout the duration of the conversation. That was common for you two, but you noticed that Lando was watching intensely, probably trying to figure out if you two were talking about him.

Charles noticed too and dipped his head in an attempt to stifle his laughter, “Tu seras sa mort.” You’ll be the death of him.

“Possibly, but that’s what makes this fun,” You swiftly turned your head to face the British driver. “Right?”

Lando held his hands up defensively, “I’m not agreeing with anything you just said. I don’t even know what you said.”

“Then stop trying to eavesdrop,” You stretched your hand out to land a playful hit on his arm. One would have thought you just bruised his bone with the way he reacted, retracting his arm into his chest and inhaling a very dramatic breath. You rolled your eyes, “We weren’t talking about you, by the way. We were talking about plans for dinner.”

“For tonight?” Lando asked, face lighting up immediately. “Perfect. I’m in.”

Charles’ head fell back with laughter as he turned around, leaving you to deal with this conversation on your own.

“No, you idiot,” you stared at him in disbelief. “With our mother, later this week.”

“Oh,” he nodded, poking his tongue out to lick his lips before his eyebrows pinched together, “So what’s happening tonight?”

“Nothing’s happening tonight.”

“So you’re free for me to take you out on a date?”

Charles’ and Arthur’s laughter echoed through the plane and it took everything in you not to laugh as well, but you genuinely couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. You were also very taken aback by his abruptness of the question, like this was casual, like you guys had hung out outside the paddock before, you hadn’t.

“Lando if this is about my driver ranking-”

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” Lando shrugged, but his cheeky grin told you it was. He reached across the aisle and nudged your arm, “Come on, Y/N, let’s do something fun in Monaco.”

When it clicked for all of you that this wasn’t a joke, Charles stood up from his seat, eyes darting back and forth between you and Lando a few times before landing on him, “No, absolutely not. You’re not going on a date with my sister.”

“Don’t think that’s up for you to decide.” Lando looked at you expectantly. His hazel eyes bore into yours and with the way the early morning sunlight flooded through the small windows, he seemed to quite literally be glowing.

You almost said yes because of the way he was looking at you. A hopeful, boyish smile on his lips. Chin rested in his hand so innocently. Head tilted the slightest bit. How could you say no to that?

You had to.

“Lando, I’m not going on a date with you.”

To end the conversation, you found your airpods and pulled out your phone, making yourself look as busy as possible, even if you were just scrolling through different social media platforms. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Lando shift in his seat, trying to decide if he should interrupt you or not.

Eventually he decided not to. Probably figuring that asking you out on a date for a second time wouldn’t go over well with you, or with Charles for that matter.

But that didn’t mean he was done trying.

ynleclerc

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 17, 932 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55

ynleclerc spanish grand prix but im the only one that looks good

view all 2,301 comments

charles_leclerc i don't like this

carlossainz55 why did you include that one of me

ynleclerc because it made me giggle ynleclerc ti amo❤️

dailyyferrari y/n is really out here giving us the ferrari boys content

hamileclerc okay but can we talk about her style

sunshinemick paddock queen

16paddocks idc what anyone else says i think her and carlos would make the cutest couple

helpmelando charles would never let her date a driver LMAO

------

When you stepped off the plane, Lando was quick to take your bags from you so you didn’t have to carry them to the car that was waiting for you. Charles lightly smacked him upside the head, muttering something under his breath about how Lando wasn’t allowed to hit on his sister.

Lando ignored it, like he ignored most signs and instructions. He waited until getting to the car, making sure to grab the door and hold it open for you.

“Being chivalrous isn’t going to do anything for my driver ranking.”

“I’m just being nice.”

“You have ulterior motives.”

“No,” Lando argued. Your eyebrows pinched together and he changed his answer. “Okay fine, yes I want you to like me more. Let me take you out, Y/N. It’ll be fun.”

It wasn’t like Charles controlled your life, but you did worry about what he would think if you and Lando did go out, even just for an innocent dinner. Lando could sense your hesitation as you glanced at your older brother a few feet away and he just nodded and drummed his fingers against the car window.

“I’ll see you around, then,” taking your silence as an answer. He gave you a gentle smile, one that matched the rest of his soft features before shutting the door.

You didn’t expect to hear from Lando until the next race and honestly, that would have been for the better. That plane ride with him was enough. And him asking you on a date? Where the hell did that come from? You understood that Lando just wanted to move up your personal driver rankings, but you were conflicted about that potentially leading to spending more time with him.

Lando was someone you’ve known for a few years now. You were always friendly in the paddock or any social events, you shared some entertaining banter, but never once did you spend time together in between races.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to, you did like Lando and his company, but similar to Carlos or Daniel, he was a friend. A friend you saw when you watched a grand prix and nothing more. It didn’t make sense to see him on a more regular basis.

Also Charles would kill you if you went on a date with a driver.

Luckily for you, the second you stepped into your flat, all thoughts of the McLaren driver left your mind. You had to unpack, you needed to do laundry, you needed to meal prep for the upcoming week. You’d been gone for four days so god did you need to clean. Basic chores kept you busy for the majority of the day until you found yourself needing to make dinner.

You had just placed a homemade pizza in the oven and licked some excess tomato sauce off your thumb when there was a knock on your door.

This didn’t alarm you. You ordered a lot of packages, you figured this was another one. Or maybe it was one of your friends because they knew you were back home. It wasn’t strange that someone was stopping by.

It was strange that the person on the other side of your door was Lando.

You had half a mind to shut the door in his face.

“I said no date.”

“This isn’t a date!” Lando defended himself, but the single daisy between his fingers told you otherwise. Lando noticed you eyeing it and he held it out towards you, “I passed a shrub of daisies, what was I supposed to do? Not grab you one?”

Reluctantly, you took the flower from him, spinning it between your forefinger and your thumb. Dozens of questions flooded through your mind, but instead of making him stand in your foyer as you pondered which one to ask, you nodded your head to invite him inside.

Lando smiled and shut the door behind him. He had changed out of his jumper from earlier, now in a pair of black joggers and, of course, a Quadrant t-shirt.

You had changed as well, now in a matching cotton pj set that was beige with little red hearts on it. You noticed that Lando’s eyes lingered on your bare legs for longer than he probably should have.

“How’d you know?” You asked.

Lando cleared his throat, “How’d I know what?”

“That I like daisies.”

He shifted onto the balls of his feet, “You have a daisy tattoo.”

Your eyebrows raised due to suspicion, “Not anywhere visible.”

The small flower was inked into your side on your ribcage, just below the curve of your breast. It wasn’t everyday you walked around topless, so you were certainly confused as to how Lando of all people had become aware of it.

Lando knew he had been caught out. He inhaled a sharp breath, quickly trying to figure out how to get out of this grave he had dug for himself.

“Word spreads,” he shrugged.

“Word spreads?” You repeated back to him. You knew exactly what that meant. You pushed on his chest and reached for the handle of the door, practically shoving him out. “Get out of my flat, Lando. And take your fucking daisy.”

You crumpled it between your fingers until the pedals turned to remnants of what it used to be before throwing it in his face. Lando didn’t let you shut the door though, he kept his palm against the surface and pushed it open. You were strong, but nowhere near as strong as a Formula 1 driver.

“Hey, come on,” Lando tried to reason with you. “I’m not the one who talks, Y/N. I didn’t tell anyone, I swear. It’s not my place.”

He leaned against the side of the door, refusing to break your stare until you believed he was telling the truth. You pressed your lips together tightly, telling yourself that Lando was only the middle man in this unfortunate turn of events. You were annoyed, definitely, but you didn’t need to take it out on him.

“I want to know what he said,” you decided, swinging the door open for the second time.

And that’s how you found yourself on the couch with Lando as he relayed to you everything that Pierre had told him.

It was a mistake, honestly. One that you didn’t think you regretted that much, but now you were thinking otherwise.

Last Christmas when Pierre came to visit the Leclerc family, the two of you ended up splitting a bottle of wine, or maybe two, and when the end of the night came, instead of going to his hotel, Pierre came with you back to your flat.

You had known Pierre for years through Charles, but that night there was a magnetic pull that had you craving him. It was probably the wine.

He kissed you, something that you shouldn't have let happen but you were giddy and drunk and it was the holidays so all logic slipped from mind. Pierre kissed you and for the rest of the night, nothing else seemed to matter.

But when you woke up in your bed the next morning, limbs tangled with his and the sheets, you both agreed that it could never happen again. You also agreed that you would never talk about it. The last thing you needed was Charles’ finding out about a one night stand between his best friend and his sister and neither of you wanted to start any gossip in the paddock.

That’s what you thought, at least. Because apparently Pierre had told Lando every stupid detail about that night, including the tattoo that he had noticed on your side.

“È uno stronzo," He’s an asshole. With your arm resting along the back of the couch, you dropped your face to rest in your hand. Lando knew just enough Italian that he didn't have to ask for a translation. “We agreed not to tell anyone. Who else knows?”

Lando shrugged and usually that was a cop out answer, but you believed that he truly didn’t know. “I don’t think he told Carlos. Danny might know. Yuki? I don’t know, Y/N, I’m sorry. Pierre loves to talk.”

“I just don’t want this to get back to Charles.”

He nodded, understanding where you were coming from, “If it helps, I haven’t told anyone.”

You couldn’t help but glare at him, “What do you want? An award for doing the bare fucking minimum? You could have told Pierre to not talk about me.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry,” Lando cowered back into his corner of the couch. He felt bad about this situation, but you also sort of intimidated him. He didn’t know how to help. It just seemed like everything he said or did made it a little bit worse.

He was so tense that when the timer on your oven went off, he flinched in response.

You slid off the couch and headed towards the kitchen. When you put the pizza on a cooling rack, you glanced over your shoulder to catch a peak at Lando, only to find him watching you. You nodded your head towards the plate in your hand, “Did you want some?”

“Of what?”

He didn’t think sometimes. “Lando, what the hell does it smell like in here?”

“Piz- oh, yeah sure I’d love a slice,” his boyish grin returned and you grabbed a second plate out for him. You also grabbed a bottle of wine from the cart in the corner, but Lando’s voice stopped you from popping out the cork. “Oh I’m okay, I don’t actually drink wine.”

You had nothing against drinking alone, but for reasons you couldn’t really explain, it felt wrong to pour yourself a glass of wine and enjoy it in Lando’s presence.

So you opted for a few bottles of Perrier instead. You balanced the plates on one arm and carried the sparkling water in your hand. When you came back to the couch, Lando was quick to take the dishes from you so you could get comfortable in your spot.

He took a bite of the pizza and immediately sucked in a breath as if that would help cool it down. You wanted to roll your eyes at how daft he could be sometimes. It was a wonder how this man could memorise over twenty different track layouts and withstand up to 5G, but couldn’t remember to let his food cool down before eating.

Lando must have noticed you smiling to yourself and he took a sip of water before asking about it, “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” you were still smiling, “You’re just funny, is all.”

“I’m funny?” He repeated, mirroring your expression as he saw it as a compliment. The slightest bit of an ego boost did wonders for his mood. “Why thank you.”

You were starting to learn which battles to pick with Lando. Correcting him about your concerns regarding his mentality was not one of them.

“So you came over here for what reason?” You asked, eyeing the crumbled up flower near your front door.

“For a date,” Lando answered like it was the easiest question in the world. “I just assumed you had to say no earlier, for Charles’ sake.”

You scoffed, “I said no because I didn’t want to go on a date with you.”

“So what are we doing right now?”

He had you there.

You may not have gone out and done something ‘fun’ but you did invite him inside and now you were sharing a few slices of homemade pizza. You almost opened a bottle of wine.

“This isn’t a date,” it was a piss poor argument, but it was all you could come up with.

“Agree to disagree,” Lando looked pleased with himself. “And I don’t see Lance showing up at your door, with a flower, wanting to hang out with you.”

“Maybe because Lance lives in Montreal,” you retorted. “And he also has a girlfriend.”

“So why do you like him more than me?” Lando raised his voice but there was still a lingering playful understone.

“He’s a better driver,” you took another bite of pizza, ignoring the way Lando was staring at you like you offended the last five generations of his family. When you finally looked up, you rolled your eyes at his dumbstruck expression, covering your mouth with your hand as you finished chewing. “Lando, he’s literally sitting at ninth in the driver standings. Your tenth. Maybe get some points and I’ll like you more.”

“You’re harsh,” Lando shook his head at your words as he stood up from the couch. For a second you wondered where he was going but he just pointed at the kitchen, “Mind if I grab another slice?”

“Oh, you like my cooking?”

“I do, actually,” Lando chuckled. He put a few more slices on his plate. “You’ve got some good culinary skills. This crust?” He lifted his fingers to his lips, kissing the tip of them to express his appreciation for your homemade pizza. “You should open up a restaurant.”

Your head dipped backwards as you laughed, “You’ve tried one meal. I could be absolute shit at making everything else.”

“I don’t believe that,” Lando shook his head as he returned to the couch. This time when he sat down, you noticed he positioned himself more towards you than forwards.

“Why not?”

Lando hesitated, taking a breath before answering, “I don’t think it's possible for you to be shit at anything. If you have the same determination as Charles, which I think you do, it’s probably safe to say that when you put your mind to something, you excel.”

It was a nice compliment, but you didn’t let his words affect you the way he would have hoped.

“You’re still sixth in my ranking.”

“For now.”

“Forever.”

Lando opened his mouth only for his jaw to immediately close. You straightened up and nudged his foot with yours.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Whatever you were about to say”

“I forgot,” Lando shrugged it off, but you knew he was lying. He had a horrible poker face. It also didn’t help that he quickly scarfed down the rest of his pizza and stood up, avoiding this conversation.

You watched as he walked to the kitchen and turned the tap on to start washing the single dish he used. You braced your arm over the back of the couch, “Just leave it, I can clean it later.”

His jaw dropped in fake astonishment, “Leave it? I was raised better than that. You fed me, I can clean. Equal trade.”

“Lando-

“Shut up Y/N, let me do the dishes.” He then moved to grab a few cutting boards and other utensils you used and left out.

You weren’t sure what was going through his mind as he cleaned up your mess. You just watched, trying to piece together the puzzle that was Lando.

This was his first time at your place, so it took a while for him to figure out where you kept your dish rags and soap, but it was entertaining watching as he navigated through your cupboards and drawers.

After a few minutes, he wiped his hands on his pants and made his way towards the back of the couch. You stared up at him, but instantly regretted that as he flicked his hand in front of your face. A few stray drops of water landed on your cheeks and you pushed on his abdomen.

“Oh you asshole,” you wiped your face as Lando only laughed and grabbed your now empty plate. You followed him to the kitchen this time though, nudging your hip against his so he would move out of the way for you to grab a towel.

“You could always hire me as a dishwasher if being a driver doesn’t work out for me,” Lando suggested.

"One, I'm not opening up a restaurant," you started, hearing a scoff from Lando. "Two, hiring you would mean I have to see you all the time."

"That's not so bad."

You didn't answer, relying on your judgmental eyeroll and pursed lips to get the message across. Lando snatched another towel from the drawer and rolled it up, snapping it against your bare forearm.

"Ouch," you hissed at him, grabbing the spot that had just been hit. Now it was Lando's turn to roll his eyes.

He pushed your hand out of the way and brushed his thumb against the faint red mark on your arm that would certainly disappear within the next ten minutes. You may have reacted dramatically.

Okay, you definitely did. You grew up with three older brothers. A little roughhousing was not going to be the end of you. Lando knew this.

"Oh you're fine," he assured you, his fingers lingering on your skin longer than they needed to before he turned back around.

You wiped down the counter and Lando grabbed a few dishes that had been sitting in the drying rack. As he turned around, he placed his hand on your waist to gently move you out of the way so he could put the plates in the cupboard. A much nicer gesture compared to you just pushing against his side earlier.

Even though this was the first time Lando was visiting your flat, you two managed to fall into a pretty good flow as you finished cleaning up your kitchen. What started as just picking up after dinner turned into tidying everything else up.

Conversation flowed as well. He didn’t bring up your driver ranking, he asked what your plans were this week. He asked about any upcoming modelling projects you had lined up. He wanted to know if you’d be at the next race and he seemed excited when your answer was yes.

Before you knew it, almost two hours had passed of the two of you just standing in your kitchen, talking. It was easy to talk to someone who made you laugh every five minutes and Lando just didn’t seem to have an excuse to leave, so he didn’t.

This was the most amount of time you had ever spent with the British driver.

And you didn’t hate it.

It wasn’t until a yawn slipped out as Lando was talking did you both realise what time it was. Lando pulled out his phone at the same time you did. Either you put it on silent and didn’t notice or you had just been too engrossed with Lando and your conversation to notice that Charles had texted you a number of times.

“Everything okay?” Lando asked, noticing your expression.

You briefly skimmed the messages, but then decided you didn’t want to deal with your brother right now, “Yeah just Charles. I’ll call him back in the morning.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to ignore-”

You raised a hand to stop him mid-apology, “Don’t apologise, really.” You glanced around your pristine kitchen before your eyes landed on his, momentarily asking yourself why you turned him down in the first place. “Tonight was…weirdly fun. Even though you showed up unannounced and I found out Pierre told half the grid that we hooked up.”

Lando clenched his jaw and inhaled a sharp breath, “Yeah, sorry about that. Not about showing up unannounced, I don’t regret that, but about the whole Pierre thing.”

Leave it to Lando to not feel any bit of remorse for crashing your do-nothing plans after you rejected a date with him.

You walked him to the front door and leaned against the wall with your arms crossed, watching to make sure he wasn’t forgetting anything. He then looked down at the flower right next to his feet.

“Sorry,” you muttered. You could admit you overreacted.

“Don’t be,” Lando shook his head. “I’ll just get you a bouquet next time, it’s probably harder to destroy.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, “Next time?”

Lando tilted his head, that same cheeky grin making a reappearance, “Oh. Yeah. You can’t get rid of me that easily. I’m still on a mission.” He gestured towards your kitchen. “I can’t believe I cleaned for you and you still like Lance better than me.”

“I mean,” you inhaled a heavy breath. Were you really about to say this? You could already see Lando’s expression turn hopeful and you had to avert your gaze, looking up at the ceiling instead. “It’s probably safe to say that Pierre isn’t on that top five list anymore.”

“He’s bumped down?” Lando asked. You nodded and you could tell how ecstatic he was over this news. “So by default, I’m number 5?”

“Sure, by default you’ve made it into the top five.”

Lando actually fist pumped the air. You rolled your eyes, dragging your hand over your face before reaching for the door. You pulled it open and for the second time tonight, you were pushing him out of your flat.

“Goodnight, Lando.” you went to shut the door, but just like earlier, he stopped it.

He stepped closer, his line of sight trailing upwards, taking his time to really look at all of the details on your face. Like how no matter how hard you were trying to look annoyed, a sliver of a smile still poked through. There was an indent above your right eyebrow, he hadn’t noticed it before and he made a mental note to ask you about it the next time he saw you. He then landed on your eyes and he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling his mouth becoming very dry.

“In all honesty, thanks for inviting me in,” Lando told you. His words sounded genuine. It almost made you forget about his ridiculous move-up-your-ranking operation.

“Yeah, just don’t make a habit of showing up uninvited,” you said.

“No promises.”

He shot you a wink before taking a few steps backwards and away from your flat. You watched for a few seconds, making sure he got into his car safely. Once he turned it on, you shut the door and released a breath you weren’t even aware you had been keeping in.

As you heard him drive away, you ignored an unfamiliar twisting feeling in the pit of your stomach. You also paid no attention to the fact that your flat just seemed so empty without him and almost eerily quiet after his laughter filled up the space for the last few hours. And of course, you refused to let yourself think about what would have happened if you did agree to the date.

But you did ask yourself one question.

What the hell were you getting yourself into?

a fun new little lando series (will be about 5-6 parts) can't wait to hear your thoughts

masterlist here part 2 here

#lando norris #lando norris one shot #lando norris au #lando norris instagram edit #lando norris social media au #lando norris fic #f1 requests #f1 #f1 fic #formula 1 #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #holllandtrash

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ashkazora · 1 year

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Five!Lance is a grumpy old mlm man who complains about youth of today and how they have it so easy cause back in my day we were beaten half to death and have to be grateful to have survived as we were hauled into the next mission without a break ('you are in back in your days! You time travelled back in time' 'i said what i said'). Meanwhile Allura is a preppunk wlw with fandom twitter who complains that all old people are White™ CisHet Republicans™ and the Youth must Rebel™ against them

Five!Lance regularly has to put up with Allura telling him that queer is a slur that he can't reclaim and that shipping Catradora is incest and homophobic because they were raised together. Five!Lance also regularly rants to Allura that back in his day, the biggest queer representation he got was hand-holding and she should be glad that she gets anything else.

But yes, anon, you're totally right. I'm here for mlm, grandpa queer Five!Lance and babygay fandom twitter Allura.

#say the last sentance to a medival phesant and they'd explode #TY FOR THIS HILARIOUS ASK ANON UR SPOT ON #ask #anon #five!lance #vld #voltron #five!lance au

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autisticlancemcclain · 3 months

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fic rec friday 58

hello and welcome to fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

The Value of a Moment by @a-fools-errand

When Lance’s previously obsolete skills in language suddenly become very useful, he finds himself wondering why aliens can’t account for the fact that humans, particularly him, need sleep and would prefer linear timelines. (Or: an Arrival AU because I love that movie)

yall OBSESSED does not begin to cover it. i have never read a fic where lance was so goddamn cool. and in like. the insanest of ways?? like of course lance is a polyglot but THIS....this is a whole new level. i havent even finished it fully yet but like god this thing is so fucking cool. if ur looking for a longfic stop looking

2. Rest Stop by @flaming-potato-arsonarson

Lance wasn't like the rest of the world. And he had never had a loving mother tell him it made him stronger for it. So he told himself, gathering up his courage and grit to face a world of winged humanity, when he, in fact, has no wings and turns into a mermaid instead. A world that wants him to die. So he'd keep this secret like a knife in his boot, a sharp weapon until he died on his own terms. Not because of who he was. Except, Team Voltron isn't so sure why Lance is all rough edges and sharp points about showing off his wings. Or acting like a member of the Flock in general. It's clear he cares for them, but he's never shown an intimate part of him. Until he has to.

oh god this has gotta be one of my CLASSIC fics. read it a few dozen times. i read it right when it came out, six ish years ago (goddamn), i can remember curling up in my old bunk bad and eating this up as the hours ticked by. i was HOOKED. my jaw was dropped my eyes were glued. could not get enough. if youre looking for mermaid lance with a twist....brother this is it

3. Looking for Rain by @thewriter2

Like most things, it starts with the little things: his smile, his confidence, his talent. Eventually, all these little things add up to one big thing that threatens to crash over them like a heavy rain. But, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing. Maybe something beautiful would come from it. A 5+1 (really a 10+1) of Lance and Keith falling in love.

oh god guys..... @thewriter2 knows how to fucking haunt you. if a 10+1 (!!) isnt enough for you, i want you to know this line has been echoing in my head since i first read: "He looks at you like you’re a storm and he’s a desert desperate to drown." UM??? EXCUSE ME???? SIMILE OF ALL TIME ACTUALLY???? keith being so so visibly obviously in love with lance is my actual roman empire shit never leaves my mind

4. Astronauts by @thewriter2

When they entered the Blue Lion, Keith was Lance’s rival--the person Lance was working so hard to surpass. But slowly, Lance found himself thinking of Keith less as a rival and more as something close to a friend. So of course, Lance’s traitor of a heart decided that it would be Lance’s kind of friend that it would fall in love with.

tags to sell you: "keith is a dork but lance loves him anyway" (dorky keith my beloved), "hunk is an a+ friend" (yes he is), "lance is a lovesick fool" (yeah), and "allura is older sister goals" yes yes YES you get it. and like....while keith pov is my favourite to write by far, lances pov as he realises he is in love....that will always hold such a special special place in my heart

5. his own worth by frogsterz

In the middle of the conversation, Lance stops talking and no one notices. It’s not like he had been leading the conversation, for he hadn’t been, but somehow the fact that his lack of input or opinion isn’t noticed tightens the grip loneliness has on his heart. He looks down at his food, his face burning, his throat tightening up.

now usually anything but team as family isnt my deal. im not big on classic langst. but keith as a knight in shining armour.....what can i say i am weak willed. deeply. also " It’s what made it worse. I miss home and I miss being held and the rain, and I loved you. I thought you hated me." got me so bad got me WEAK like i have never recovered from that line and i doubt i ever will

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

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epicbuddieficrecs · 3 months

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Throwback Rec!

Helloooooooo!

I've mentioned this when I first started the blog, but unlike with my previous rec blogs, there was quite a long period of time between the time when I started reading buddie fics and when I started this blog (live, five-ish months). Consequently, there's a lot of fics I've read during that period that I've never recced! So I thought I'd try to do a "Throwback" rec once in a while to rec these fics. Enjoy!

this must be the place by euadnes/ @kananjarus (Canon Divergent, Post-Shooting | 75K | Teen): Every life altering event is often led up to with a series of other important events. In this case, there were at least three: An unstoppable fire. An afternoon spent underneath a blanket of California blue sky. But firstly, and maybe the most important of all: There was the impeccable aiming of an ex-sharpshooter. *** Or, the Buck is also shot by the sniper AU that no one asked for.

🔥 Benign Fatality by EtoileGarden/ @etoilegarden (Time Loop AU, Season 2-4 | 23K | Teen): Buck repeats days until he doesn't die in them, has an underdeveloped sense of self worth, and Eddie is the one who wants to step in with him.

must be some kind of twist, I could get used to this by soyxunxperdedor/ @messyhairdiaz (Post-S4, Accidental Marriage | 38K | Explicit): He doesn’t remember much from last night, even less after the fourth or fifth tequila shot. So he certainly doesn’t remember bringing someone back to his room. He steels himself for the lancing pain and cracks his eyes open. Oh. Oh no. This is either really bad or… Well, not really good, but just. Not really bad, and that’s probably all Buck can ask for it to be. Because Eddie is in his bed, Eddie’s arm is wrapped around his waist, Eddie’s legs are tangled with his. And he has no idea why.

🔥 in the night we trust by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Canon Divergent, Pre-S4 | 29K | Explicit): Eddie and Buck start sleeping together when they're all stuck at Buck's place during lockdown. It still takes them almost three years to notice that they're in love.

🔥 Didn't think you meant it by EtoileGarden/ @etoilegarden (Friends to Fiancés to Lovers, Post-S5 | 33K | Explicit): “I want - I want to get to - to have some sort of - of promise that I’m… loved. And. And worthy. And that I get to always go to bed knowing I’m - I’m fully, like, mentally, physically, legally committed to this person who - who’ll always have my back, who’ll always - always be there when I need them. But I guess,” Buck shook his head. “I guess I’m starting to really - really believe that maybe I’m not actually built for that. For - for someone actually wanting to commit to me, to marry me. So I - I think seeing the wedding today just kinda cemented in my brain that no one would want to marry me.” “I’d marry you,” Eddie said, patted his knee.

🔥 standing on the brink of emptiness by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Post-Shooting | 71K | Mature): In which Eddie is struggling in the aftermath of being shot, learning how to take care of himself and realising he's in love with Buck; and Buck is dating Taylor, taking care of Eddie and Christopher and trying to figure out why he's so goddamn confused about everything.

🔥 Muscle Memory by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Amnesia AU | 40K | Teen): After a disappointment in his personal life, Buck wakes up one morning to find everyone he loves has forgotten him completely. No memories. No recognition. Almost like he was never really there.

oh, my dream (never quite as it seems) by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (S6, Friends with Benefits | 44K | Explicit): In which Buck and Eddie are trying out a friends-with-benefits thing (that's rapidly turning into more) when the world comes crashing down on them. As Buck hovers somewhere between life and death, Eddie has to deal with their friends, family and the Buckley parents.

It’s Not the Roaring Dream, It’s the Silent Lightning by giselleslash (Coma AU | 15K | Mature): Buck gets struck by lightning and wakes up in another life where he has everything he’s ever wanted, but soon that life starts to crumble around him and the painful pull back into reality nearly breaks his heart. (or the one where Buck is married to Eddie in a coma dream and he doesn’t want to let the dream go.)

found a park bench for a throne by withoutthetiger / @rewritetheending (Post-S6 | 23K | Teen): Set in S7, when Buck goes back to therapy and Eddie is there to comfort him after each session, much like Buck did for him in 5x14. They're friends, of course, but Eddie can only soothe Buck for so long before it becomes impossible to deny that they're also so much more.

I love the way you spoil me, baby by rosebuddiekin/ @giddyupbuck (Sugar Daddy Buck AU | 33K | Explicit): Buck is a sugar daddy who wants to spoil Eddie rotten and take care of everything for him. Eddie has never had that sort of relationship but is willing to give it a try. There is plenty of adventure along the way.

🔥 In the Gray You are Golden by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Zombie Apocalypse AU | 26K | Explicit): When the world fell apart, Eddie did his best to keep his son safe. But now winter's coming on, their supplies are dwindling, and Christopher needs medical attention, so Eddie takes the chance to move them across the country to the west coast, where the rumored 118 Safezone takes in all survivors. Buck's proud to be a member of the 118's search and rescue teams, but he can't shake the conviction that his lost sister is still alive in the wasteland. When he sneaks out to find her, he runs into Eddie and Chris instead, and vows to get them to the 118 safely. But the wasteland has many ways of tearing people apart, and the undead are just one trick up its sleeve...

🔥 you and me by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (S6 Fix-It | 55K | Mature): An alternate ending to Season 6, where Buck realises that what he's been searching for has been right in front of him the whole time.

🔥 The Education of Eddie Diaz by mansikka (Pre-S4, Friends With Benefits | 32K | Explicit): Eddie doesn't really know how it happened. One moment the 118 are drunk in a bar after a hard shift, confessions slipping from his mouth as he playfully kisses Buck on the cheek. The next he is on Buck's couch, taking up Buck's offer of an education that could be asking for trouble. But it's just sex, and they're just friends; it doesn't mean anything to either of them. So why is his time alone with Buck the highlight of his week?

🔥 i see you in my sheets (i see you in my sleep) by elless (Post-S6A, Friends with Benefits | 25K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie are FWB, act like boyfriends, and are suuuuper dumb and oblivious about everything.

🔥 a bleeding sun on a silver screen by rarakiplin (gmontys)/ @hoediaz (Actors AU, Friends With Benefits | 130K | Mature): One day, Buck will tell an interviewer that he would be happy to make movies with Eddie Diaz until the day he dies. But first, years before that, he sees Eddie for the first time on the set of Chimney’s fifth movie.

handle me with care by woodchoc_magnum/ @woodchoc-magnum (Canon to S6E9, Getting Together | 42K | Mature): In which Eddie tries dating again, and slowly comes to terms with his feelings for Buck.

Your Kiss Might Kill Me (So Won't You Kill Me) by morganofthefairies (PWP, BDSM | 9K | Explicit): Buck hadn’t been a virgin by the time he’d hit Peru – not even close. He still considered Peru a critical point in his sexual history, though, because Peru had brought him Fiona, and he was pretty sure he could credit her with like 80% of his sexual knowledge. None of that was the point, though. The point was that, six years later, when Eddie called for the jaws to get to a woman pinned in her car while responding to an 8-car pileup, and absentmindedly called him a good boy as Buck handed them over, he had a totally normal reaction to it.

#epic buddie fic rec #buddie #buddie fic #buddie fanfiction #buddie fanfic #buddie fic rec

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raapija · 4 months

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Strollonso au, but I actually wrote something...

Lance and Fernando's night out in Sendai OR a very drunk tall Canadian being carried back home by a not-so-drunk short Spaniard.

This is very short, so give it a quick read ! ✨

Fluffy to the point of almost throwing up ❤️

"I'm tired..." Lance groaned from across the table and slid down a little further in his seat. Fernando chuckled at him and called for the total to pay the bill for their drinks.

"No wonder," the Spaniard started as their bartender brought the bill. "You drank enough beer for the whole of Canada tonight."

"Hah..." Lance huffed and waited for the man to pay. Fernando always paid, every single night out or dinner for the past five years, the man was insistent on it and Lance had long ago decided not to bother.

"Come on, vamos." Fernando got up and offered Lance a steady hand to grab onto and heave his lanky body up from the leather covered seat. The younger man weighed heavy on his side as they said their good byes to the nice staff at the little Kokubuncho bar.

***

"Oofff... My feet don't work?" Lance muttered as he struggled to keep up with Fernando's strides in the chill night air. It was pretty quiet,only a few people passing them in the usually bustling bar district.

Fernando glanced behind to see Lance had stopped a little back and was looking back at him helpless.

"Ay, let me." the Spaniard walked over to him and motioned him to hop onto his back to carry him.

"You're not gonna CARRY me back, stupid." Lance exclaimed but Fernando kept his cool. The drunk Canadian was easy enough to convince. "Fine. But carrying a man half your size is YOUR problem."

"Yeah, you are my problem..." Fernando muttered under his breath in Spanish. "Giddy up."

"Giddy up? Hah, you're insane." Lance laughed at the sudden expression. He tried jumping up a few times and almost toppling them both over before Fernando could finally catch a proper hold of his legs and Lance wrapped his arms around the older man's shoulders.

"Onward!" the Canadian yelled and pointed towards the general direction of their hotel. Fernando carried him with surprising ease and garnered a couple of entertaining looks from the people passing by. Not very often do they see two foreigners in such a ridiculous situation.

"My strong man..." Lance hummed into Fernando's ear and nuzzled his neck. He sounded so content with the whole thing and Fernando could feel the weight increasing as the man relaxed. Or was he falling asleep?

"Anything for my princesa." the Spaniard said and earned one last chuckle from the younger man before he was completely out. Steady stream of warm, beer scented breath against his neck.

Hey... This might be absolutely dogshit bc I just woke up, but I HAD to get this out of my system 😭

#strollonso #the pookies au #lance stroll #fernando alonso #f1 #short fic

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scrollonso · 1 month

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First Kiss (Break 1)

A strollonso AU where 18 year old rookie Lance Stroll falls helplessly in love with the notoriously mean world champion. (1.2k words, no warnings) [@v3lnys] {filler chapter? I just felt like Lance and Nando getting closer would make more sense if they spent break together + Mark}

last part - masterlist - next part

They had two weeks off and Lance had absolutely no plans, Nico was on vacation with his family to god knows where, Fernando had probably already arrived in Australia, and Lance didn't have any other friends on the paddock to worry about.

He had thought about going back to Canada but he just ended up back at his house in Switzerland. Spring had started by the time he got home so it wasn't like he could distract himself with snowboarding so he just ended up at home on his couch for the past five days.

Being alone was nice, but a part of him missed Fernando, oddly enough. They'd only ever hung out on the paddock but Lance had grown to look forward to the time they spent together, whether it was actually sitting and talking or just exchanging glances while in the middle of interviews.

As if it was fate, his phone began to rang. It was an unknown number but he figured it might be important, his dad had a history of calling him from random places just to check up on him, as if the 18 year old hadn't been left alone before.

"Hello?" He said, holding his (very small) phone to his ear

"Lancito, I am so glad you answered!" a voice on the other end spoke, a very familiar voice

"Nando?" Lance questioned "How did you get my number?"

"Is not important!" The Spaniard said, brushing off the question "Lancito, are you busy? If you are, cancel, come to Australia."

"No, I'm not busy." Lance responded, wondering if Fernando was really inviting him to Australia, wasn't he with Mark? Wouldn't that be awkward? "Is something important happening in Australia?"

"Si, You are coming, is important."

"Nando, I-" The younger boy laughed, not being able to wipe the smile off his face just from hearing the other mans voice "Sure, I'll come."

"Perfect, I'll send you the information, okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay Nando"

"Bye, Lancito! Have a safe flight"

And with that the call ended and Lance wasted no time in buying the tickets to Australia (idk how people bought plane tickets in 2006...)

Lance got off the plane, trying to pat down the hair he could feel sticking up, he always slept on long flights and this one was no acception. It was weird being in Australia a week before he had to but he wasn't going to turn down Fernando is he wanted Lance there so bad, for whatever reason.

It was a Sunday morning and the airport was surprisingly busy, he eventually found his way out and got a taxi headed towards the address Fernando had texted him

"Just landed, headed your way now!!"

Lance stared at the screen before sending the message, just now wondering why exactly he was there, he wasn't blind to the media, especially when he was constantly being interviewed and asked questions fans were dying to know, he had heard the rumours, people saying Fernando was only talking to him to scare him, he was going to embarrass him, he had some ulterior motive, Lance hoped it wasn't true but now that he was blindly following Fernandos orders in another country while he was visiting his friend (who's seat he took) a part of him started to wonder if Fernando was planning something. He hit send.

They'd hadn't texted much, just Fernando sending him the information he needed and Lance thanking him before he got on the plane and turned off his phone, he wasn't too fond of it anyways.

"I am glad you made it"

"Is exciting"

"Tell the driver to go faster"

Lance smiled at his phone, excited to see the Spaniard again, even though he saw him not even a week ago.

"I shouldn't break the law yet"

"I just got here and my dad isn't here to bail me out!"

"I will do it, no worries Lancito"

He shook his head at the text, turning off his phone and waiting to arrive, not too far away from the location

He stepped out of the car, paying the taxi fare then walking up to the house, hesitating to knock. Maybe texting would be better? Or calling? Or anything besides knocking? Before he even had the chance to decide the door opened, revealing a slightly-taller-than-him Mark Webber and Fernando standing by his side, the two closer than he thought they would be

"Lance, welcome, so sorry about making you come so randomly." Mark spoke first, stepping back to invite Lance in

"It's no problem, I wasn't doing anything anyway" Lance smiled as he walked into the house, scanning what he could see

"I told you Lancito didn't mind" Fernando said to Mark, hitting his arm slightly "Is good to make sure you two get along before people start to speculate, ay?" Fernando smiled at Mark then at Lance, reaching up to flatten the hair still sticking up on his head

Lance wasn't sure why he was surprised Fernando was still calling him his nickname, he didn't know why he expected anything to change with Mark around, Fernando seemed the same, if anything he seemed happier around Mark. It made him feel bad, he was the reason Mark lost his seat, the reason Fernando's friend was no longer on the paddock, the reason Fernando had to settle for him instead.

"Well, Lance, I don't mind that you took my seat" Mark laughed, closing the door before putting an arm around Lance's shoulder "I was done with travelling all the time anyway, so don't beat yourself up over what people say"

Lance nodded, Mark was right, and he was pretty old so it made sense for him to be smarter.

"Now, how about we have fun now that we've dragged you to the land down under?" That made Lance smile, he was looking forward to spending the rest of his break actually doing stuff besides binging TV shows.

The next week went by so quick Lance was surprised when he actually had to go to the paddock, almost as surprised as fans when he showed up with both Fernando and Mark.

He hesitated when Fernando suggested all of them going together, worried about what people would say, but the older men made it obvious they couldn't care less so thats how they ended up going together, Mark having plans of doing interviews around the paddock and spending his free time in sither the pink or blue and yellow garage.

Being in Australia a week early was great, they were busy the whole time but Lance enioyed it, loving the time away from his phone and especially away from the media. It made him notice how close Mark and Fernando really were, he felt jealous at times but it was probably just because he was used to having Fernandos attention on him after quali and races, he felt selfish for feeling that way so of course he never addressed it.

"Where are you going first?" Lance asked, looking at Mark, both of them on either side of Fernando

"I was thinking of interviewing people first, it's gonna be weird being the one asking the questions"

"As long as you stay far away from me, we're good"

Fernando shook his head, pulling the taller man closer "We really need to get you used to the media, eh? All you do is complain" He sucked his teeth after he finished teasing Lance, earning nothing but an eyeroll from the teen

"Yeah, yeah." Lance smiled, not able to stop himself when it came to Fernando "We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

And with that the race week started.

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saintescuderia · 1 month

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welcome to the mini series of the random, mindless thoughts had by a poet disguised in an orange jumpsuit watching cars speed by all weekend. enjoy!

--- note: 5am starts, 7pm finishes. all four days. gotta love formula 1!

thursday: media day!

i want the ferrari jacket

there are school kids here?

i don’t want the ferrari jacket

$7 for a small can of red bull is THEFT

especially since they broke the cost cap

me walking through the “accredited personnel” gate and tapping my special lanyard is a CORE memory

i think my uber driver dropped me off on the opposite side of the track

*stressing about being unable to admire the sights of albert park bc i’m stress-running from the opposite end of the track to my station*

pls don’t be a dick and say i’m late - i know

how is a 5am wake up not early enough HOW?

“last year i was stationed at the corner where charles spun out.”

sole thought = 💀💀💀💀

i. fucking. love. cars.

the whole SENSORY experience of a race ffffffffffffuuuuuck

“be careful taking pictures because that security camera is on us and is straight to race control and the FIA.” is such a cool sentence to hear

a porsche gtr should not be covered with branding idc

i’m definitely going to abuse caffeine this weekend

friday: FP1 / FP2

the sun is rising over the lake as i walk on the albert park track and i’m happy to be alive

especially as i found a toilet that isn’t a port-a-loo

ah, a cafe that does good decent coffee thank GOD

am i going to pay $10 for a croissant?

i'm going to pay $10 for a croissant.

i lived in paris but this one fresh lune choc croissant has topped it all

no like there will never be another croissant experience to beat me eating a fresh pain au chocolat on a f1 circuit as the sun rises over the water with the melbourne skyline in the background

aramco engineers are walking behind me as i shit talk about f1, nice

“it is an increasingly unique experience peeing in a port-a-loo beside a formula one track as cars race by.”

120’000 is a LOT of people

how has the float not broken yet?

metro boomin has released an album as i stand before live formula one. life has PEAKED

fernando alonso is the first F1 driver i ever saw live

there is a shift in formula one as the heritage fans of motor racing are on the out as the next generation of fans absorbed in driver hype and social media takes over and we see this in how F1 has created the new US tracks and made them all into spectacles and fans are here because of it being “cool” instead of caring about cars

… maybe i should buy the redbull jacket instead?

bonus: sole thought during the pitlane walk for the marshals

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

saturday: FP3 / qualifying

the relief of thinking you’re late and then seeing someone you know HA

commentators are now contractually obligated to bring up saudi arabia every time they talk about ollie bearman

jesus they’re as bad as the f1 girlies

i have to watch the grand prix replay after all of this i have no idea what’s actually going on

CHARLES GOES FASTER THAN MAX HA

kimi spinning out has me actively wanting to cry

a safety car FROM THE PIT EXIT

welcome to F2 everyone 👏👏👏

not me lying to the cute irish guy hitting on me about @saintescuderia

a big fat ha at the eshays holding their puffer jackets - even they can’t stand the heat

don’t flex on me that you’re here at F1 when you don’t even know what’s going on yourself bruhhhh

to the red bull fan telling me i’m “dramatic” for rolling under the fence (it’s how marshals have to do it) pls get help

$7 for a calispo is a JOKE

recording F1 quali isn’t even worth it bc they're TOO FAST

JOKES I GOT A PHOTO WITH ALBONO

i’m very lucky for my team of marshals :))))))))))

i’m only going to eat half my muffin

*finishes the whole thing*

sunday: race!

KIMI ANTONELLI!

do i ask for a photo?

*every photo of charles leclerc being abused flashes through my mind*

nah leave him be

five minutes later: i regret not asking him

the group of aussies dressed as lance stroll drunk at 9am have my heart and my respect

i need a coffee

seeing kimi walk right by me has now made so much invested for f2

i really need a coffee

yep they screwed kimi with all those safety cars

i really, really need a coffee

we get to go ON TRACK? for the DRIVERS PARADE

*starts practicing “get well soon” in spanish*

my heart is BEATING

lol jokes carlos didn’t even look at us

*checks footage to see that i accidentally just recorded guanyu zhou next to carlos the whole time :))))*

lol are they putting lewis and charles together all the time?

every marshal: “that was the shittest parade ever.”

i need a drink

pls don’t talk to me for the next two hours

don't meet your heroes kids

but also why the fuck did they do the float in one big car? and do INTERVIEWS? this is legit the one time the drivers can be there JUST for the FANS

F1 can PISS OFF

race start = okay it's happening

waitwaitwaitwaitWAITDIDIJUSTSEECARLOSOVERTAKEMAX?!

nevermind i love him

"race control has asked that you calm down, marshals are supposed to be neutral."

lol at the entirety of albert cheering that max is slowly coming to a DNF

mclaren swapping oscar for lando is DISGUSTING fuck zak brown

somehow, i've forgotten that charles is just there

SEND IT CARLOS VAmos

(this is all because i told you que te mejores pronto!)

daniel ricciardo....man..... aus gp can't market you like this.......

damn yuki got HANDS

ferrari and mclaren having the top 4 places is just *chefs kiss*

lewis just had to stall just pass my sector like i hope ur okay but couldn't u not be ok in front of me?

red bull deserves this after all the FLACK i've copped from red bulls fans ("dramatic" MY ASS)

wait george russell ARE YOU SERIOUS?!

singapore all over again. i can already see the memes.

somehow marshalling a gp has you closer and more removed from the whole thing i have no idea what's going on

(literally the only time i used my F1TV live timing)

finishing after the safety car means i can't stick my head out and clap for carlos FUCK OFF

wait, he came up right UP TO MY SIDE OF THE TRACK TO WAVE

... do you think he noticed me?

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honey-minded-hivemind · 2 months

Text

❄Fallen Snow🩸 AU... Part One:

(WARNING: Depictions and mentions of abuse, neglect, physical harm, self-harm, depictions and mentions of wounds and blood, self-harm ideation/actions, and Reader at one point is thought to be dead/almost dies. Viewers discretion is advised...) (Side note: Wolverine and Sabretooth are brothers, and their relationship is platonic, and Kurt, Kitty, Fred, Lance, and Todd join the X-Men/Brotherhood after the X-Men/Brotherhood lose Reader and have changed)

�� They weren't always the way they are now. There had been a time when they were hopeful, happy, cheerful... Or maybe it was obvliousness, their subconscious the only part of them to understand that something was wrong.

• You can't remember much of anything past the age of five, but you remember some parts of your childhood. It was spent with a mutant group, ones who had taken in or had others like yourself, who were honed to be soldiers. To be unstoppable weapons. You thought they were good for the longest time. Too long, to be honest. You weren't smart back then the way you were now. You didn't understand jokes or sarcasm or much beyond facts in a book. You didn't really understand that the others, the kids and the adults, didn't like you. That they thought you were annoying. Useless. Simple. Someone not worth the effort. Someone unworthy of being with them. Someone unlovable.

• When training, you tried your best, but you weren't naturally aggressive in the way they said you should be. That for a feral mutant, you weren't much of one. You tried to be quick, tried to be kind, tried to go along with what they told you to do, who they wanted you to be. But you just... weren't that. You weren't ruthless, weren't violent, you cried when you killed a moth by accident, what was to be expected? But you still, somehow, did well enough to be allowed to stay. To not disappear. Or maybe they just couldn't be bothered to do anything about you, one way or the other.

• The kids thought you were weird. You looked weird, acted weird, talked weird. They thought you weren't bright. They certainly made jokes at your expense, you knew that, you simply couldn't understand the jokes and sarcasm they used. It hurt. It hurt, bad enough that you grew quieter, more sullen and downtrodden. You weren't as happy or talkative as you once were...

• It came to a head when you caught the ire, the hatred, of your two "mentors"... Two of the three adults ferals, the ones you heard whispers of late at night, talking about how you might be related to them, perhaps a clone... You weren't sure what you did, just that when they found you that day, you were dragged off into a lone room, given no explanation or warning. Their faces were filled with a blind rage, a freezing wrath, and the next thing you know you're being yelled at. Loud, furious roars, a tight, bruising grip on your arm, and no way out... And suddenly-

• SLASH!

• A searing pain filled your senses, and you're crying, trying to hold a hand to the wounds on your face, hoping to stop the pain, the hurt, the redredredred- They order you to stop crying, to stop wailing, or they'll give you a reason to. And so you cover your mouth as best you can, sucking in sharp breath after sharp breath, blinded by the blood dripping down your face. It stains the floor, once clean, a filthy, ugly crimson, garnet-colored ichor growing into a small puddle. They huff, but go to leave, only telling you to clean yourself up. And then they're gone, and you're on your own, and nothing is right anymore.

• Over the next two weeks, you keep your head down and stay out of everyone's way. No more talking than needed, no direct eye contact, and no being around anyone for longer than you're required. You weren't blind to it anymore, were you? That you weren't safe. That you weren't cared about. That you were alone. And with that realization, you grew to dread being near them, near the other kids and the adults and anyone else who was around. But... you had the beginnings of an idea. One that could end your suffering... It would be risky, but... At this point, you'd rather risk the threat of death than stay another day.

• It's at night when you make your move. It's quiet, dark, chilly. You aren't dressed for the weather, and you aren't prepared for whatever is out there. All you have are the clothes on your back and the boots on your feet. You make it mostly all the way, out of the compound, facility, whatever they called the place yo- they, lived in. There's snow out, thick sheets coating the ground and flakes of it dancing down from the sky. It's beautiful... You wished you could have enjoyed it, but there wasn't time to do so. You made your way from the field towards the woods, the icy dirt crunching beneath your feet...

• "Wh-? Reader, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

• And then you're running, as swift and fleet as you can, as far away as you can run. Your feet carry you through the frosty woods, stirring up small bits of snow as you race by, the wind howling around you as you flee for your life. Sometimes your feet nearly slide out from under you, having stepped onto an ice patch, but you quickly right yourself and go faster, forcing yourself to keep going no matter what you hear or how much it scares you...

• Until you eventually reach a seething, ice-studded rocky outcropping. The beginnings of a river spill over a ledge, crashing into a foaming, roaring current, twisting away into the wintery night. You're stuck. And then the worst possible thing happens- they find you.

• "Reader. Get back here. NOW."

• You take a step back, pulling your hands closer to your chest. The noise is almost unbearable, being so close to the raging water so close to you. They only take a step closer, an angry, annoyed look on their faces... "Get over here. NOW. Or you're going to be in even worse trouble." A whine hums in your throat, a pathetic sound. You take another step back, and feel a subtle shift in the rock beneath you. "That's it, I SAID-!"

• CRACK!

• The ground beneath you breaks, sending you tumbling down into the rocks and water below with only a scream as your last words. And soon, all you know is the icy touch of water filling your lungs and the sting of rocks on your skin...

• You weren't sure how you initially woke up... You weren't sure you were even alive... But with a weak, gurgling gasp, you cough up the water sitting in your lungs, gagging into the dirt as you try to hold yourself up. When you eventually finish with one last rasping breath, you crack open your eyes, looking around you. You're by the river, lying in the dirt and rocks and silt of its shore, which is surrounded by endless snow-capped trees and endless sky. And somehow... You feel a small pang of hope. You made it, after all. You weren't dead. You were... free. Of course... now you had to actually get to where people were. Find food. Maybe drink some of the water from the river...

• You weren't quite sure how long you had stayed in the wilderness, scrounging up small, half-starved animals and barely surviving the few times you tried to take on larger prey. Having your cheek ripped open by an antler and having a bear bite through your arm weren't fun experiences, but you had learned that while you could hunt some prey, the larger, more filling prey wasn't what you could go after. You'd learned plenty of things from your time alone in the wild, but your loneliness still grew. It was always festering under the surface. You were glad once you stumbled into a small town, dragging yourself through an alley to spy on the normal going-ons of humans. You hadn't really seen or met a human since before you were five, and you only had the hatred of the X-Men/Brotherhood to explain them. Which led to your decision to scout the woods around the sleepy town, to find a way to read them before you met anyone. And what a thing you found: A small, dusty yet cozy abandoned cabin, just right for you to move into.

• And so that was how your first year was spent, foraging bones and rocks from the forest and hunting animals, selling their pelts or even the whole bit of prey to make a living. You came up with a small story for any townsfolk who asked about you, saying you had an ill family parent to take care of and a relative who visited from time to time to make sure your schooling got done (it was all a lie. You had to say something, and saying you were a mutant child who escaped a dangerous group of bigger, meaner mutants was a no-go). They more or less bought it. They didn't press for any information after that besides occasionally asking if the fake family members were okay. All in all, you had been doing... alright...

• You didn't reveal anything beneath the surface of your skin. You didn't talk about your nightmares, of being back with them, of being hurt, of being laughed at, of being killed- You didn't mention how you got hurt when you hunted, how you sometimes used your own claws to do the hurting for you, slicing them through your skin until blood ran like water- You couldn't bring yourself to deal with your panic attacks, your paranoia and inner turmoil, the fact it hurt to think-

• Yet it didn't last more than three years...

• You weren't sure how they found you. You weren't sure if it was an accident, or if they knew you were alive the entire time, or if someone tipped them off. Whatever the reason, it didn't matter, because they'd stumbled on the little town and had found you within a few days. Seeing them for the first time in so long... You only felt a rising, bubbling feeling of blind fear. It didn't matter if their faces went all weird and soft, or that they tried to get near you, you didn't care- You ran, you bolted, running deep into the woods and not looking back for a second. It didn't matter what you left behind! You had to move, you had to run, you had to fleefleeflee-!

• It shouldn't have surprised you when something thunked into the earth next to you, thin and sharp and leaving an odd smell behind. It shouldn't have surprised you when your old mentors managed to find you, their eyes dark with something that wasn't hate or malice... But you didn't think it would be any better. You know a few of the others, older now than when you last saw them, are close by. You keep your claws out, your face set into a fearful snarl, ready to flee or bite or scram at a moment's notice.

• "Oh, cub... What did we do ta ya?" You do your best to keep an eye on both of them, which proves difficult. They're on either side of the small clearing, each watching you with sharp, unwavering eyes. It doesn't help that when you try to move further away, as far as you can from them, they only move towards that side, keeping themselves in your way of escaping. Their scents are off, something dark and deep and somber, not their old usual fury and annoyance. Their claws aren't out, either... It's strange, for people who want you dead... (Right? They want you dead, to kill you, right?) "Shhh... Cub... I know a lot has happened... I know yer scared, an' yer hurtin', an' I know it's our fault. I know nothin' we do er say can make up fer it... But... please... please give us a chance ta help ya. Please... all we want is ta help ya. All we want is ta give ya what we should've from the beginnin'..." Your eyes dart between them fearfully, a soft whine building in your throat. This is worse than your nightmares. This is your nightmares come to take you back. And you can't have that.

• You try to dart out of the clearing, trying to dodge past the hands that go to grab you-

• But large, warm hands grab the back of your shirt, tugging you back into an iron grip. "Cub, calm down, please! We promise ya we aren't gonna hurt ya! Yer safe, yer okay, yer not gonna be hurt-" You don't pay it any heed, kicking and scratching and biting at what you can, doing everything in your power to break free from the arms keeping you captive. It does nothing. All that happens is the arms tightening and a flurry of panicked words filling the air. "Kid, cub-! Just, calm down fer one minute! We can talk this out-! Please, ya gotta stop fightin' us, ya gotta stop fightin' me! I know yer scared, I know, just, please-!" It doesn't matter what either man says, as all it earns from you is a fearful scream as you struggle harder. The scents around you are rife with sorrow, salty and cold and damp like earth after rain. You hear a wounded noise come from them, but you don't stop your attempt to escape the hold on you. A long, hurt sigh whooshes out, followed by the hold on you pinning you further.

• "I'm so sorry, cub... But we can't let ya keep goin' on like this. Yer hurtin' yerself. And we just can't let that happen."

• And just like that... something presses into your flesh, a sharp sting, which is gone just as quick. A hiss escapes you, your hands suddenly clawing so you can feel at where you were stung. "Shhh... don't worry, cub... It's justa small sedative... It won't hurt ya, all it's gonna do is make ya all sleepy an' tired..." Your eyes widen, then with a small shriek you try to tug yourself away. You can already feel the drug seeping in, a buzz at your skin and thoughts. The more you struggle, the more your thoughts cloud up, earning more movement from you as you do your best to snap out of it. Something akin to a sob breaks loose from you as your tugs and scratching grows weaker, the drug nestling into your system and numbing your limbs. Your mind keeps growing more muddled, thick and soft and syrupy... A hiccup pushes past your lips, being met by a hand patting lightly at your hair. It's weight feels good, the warmth sending you deeper into your tired state. When you try to speak, the words leave you, turning into a sleepy mumble, your body slumping into the hold around you. Everything feels quiet... barely there... So soft... So calm... Hardly any thought stays inside you as your breaths soften, the fear and fight leaving you as you stumble into unconsciousness...

• "Good cub... Just go ta sleep... We'll help ya feel better, that's it..."

• They're careful, one of them holdin' their kid while the other alerts the others, letting them know they have Reader with them and that they had to use a sedative to calm 'em down. It feels so surreal, seein' their once bright kid so... tired. So scared. So hurt. Bein' near 'em, even tha other teens, scared them enough that they were runnin' inta freezin' weather, all ta stay away from 'em. But... They can't let 'em go. Not again. The last time they let 'em go, they thought they died (maybe they actually did, and only came back due to their small healing factor...). They hurt them, they terrified them, they were tha reason they were afraid, the reason they were hurtin'. And now the kid was hurting themself. Was causing themself pain, with no one ta stop them er help them er let 'em know they'd be alright. They'd be d*mned if they let it continue. They'd be worse than dead if they left 'em ta wilt away on their own, ta slip off inta the blinding snow once more... They might have ta keep them calm, make it so they're relaxed enough so they can help them... But they'll do anything, just ta keep them alive. Ta make them feel loved. Ta be their family. And this time, they're gonna do it right...

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