#like in the past you would just drive your car and take care of it so you could qualify for the vintage thingy but now you wont be able to | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luveline · 6 months

Note

hellooo!! im not sure if your requests are open so feel free to ignore this but i was wondering if you could write for tasm!peter where the reader just got her wisdom teeth removed and she’s all loopy on anesthetics and forgets peter is her boyfriend? i saw this video where this girl got her wisdom teeth pulled and forgot she was dating her boyfriend and fell in love with him all over again😭😭

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZPR7sGQo5/

thank you for your request! ♡ fem, 1k

"Here she is," the nurse says gently, walking you out with his arm behind your back. "Alright, say hi to Peter."

"Hi, Peter," you mumble, eyes on the floor.

Peter grins at you, worry warm at the back of his throat. "Hey. Is that everything?" he asks, nodding at the nurses paper bag of aftercare.

"Everything you'll need." The nurse helps Peter take over, hoisting your arm over his shoulders before stepping away. "Alright, feel better, okay? And don't hesitate to call if something comes up. We're here to look after you."

You seem appreciative in your fog, but it's hard to tell. Peter curls his arm around your hip and gives it a soft rub as he leads you to the stairs. Whoever devised the floor plan here had murder on their mind —the second floor is completely inaccessible. Luckily, Peter has a lot of strength at his disposal.

You can feel it. "Woh, you're strong," you murmur.

"You know that already." His grip on you tightens, pretty much carrying you down the tight staircase.

"Do I?" you ask. You make a sound like you're hurting, a squeak.

"I'd hope so." At the end of the staircase, he sits you down, worried you're not feeling well. "You okay? I can princess carry you if you need me to."

You look at him with wide eyes. He turns to check there's no one standing behind him, but you're really looking at him. "What?" he asks, touching your knee, imploring. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"You're Peter?" you ask.

Ah, the amnesiac effect of anaesthetic. His touch turns comforting, stroking your thigh with as much care as he can drive into his palm alone. "That's me. Hey, if you're forgetting me, does that mean you're not mad at me for last Friday anymore? 'Cos I know you said you forgive me but I can tell it still pisses you off–"

Your eyes fall to his hand. "Why would I be mad at you?" you ask.

"I finished the milk and put the carton back in the fridge, even though I promised I'd stop doing it. You see the jug and think there's milk left. We were gonna have macaroni and cheese..." He nudges your fingers with his. "Are you okay? You don't look like yourself."

"What do I usually look like?"

"Not so, you know. Daunted."

"You're really handsome," you whisper, refusing to meet his eye.

"Oh, you think so?"

You nod like your head is too heavy. You're embarrassed, you sweetheart, oh my god Peter could cry into your lap.

"Let's get you to the car, baby."

"Where are we going?" The gauze gives you the world's most adorable lisp, and it turns your gasp into a hum as Peter stands you up.

"Home."

"Together?"

"Yeah, we live together. It's a nice place, and you're a great decorator, you know? It's cozy."

"Thank you," you say shyly.

You're not not shy with him, but it's been a long time since you got so quiet over a practically innocuous comment. He wants to see how you'll react to real compliments, over the top stuff that he one hundred percent means. It's a little mean, but when will you ever be like this again?

He helps you out past the desk and onto the street to your car where it's parked a half a block down. "Don't worry about all this, okay? I'm gonna take such good care of you, sweetheart. There's an ice pack and a brand new comforter with your name on it waiting at home." Peter smiles at your starry eyes as they flash to his, amazed at his simple plans. "How does that sound, beautiful? Is there anything you want before we head home? Anything that would make you feel better?"

"You're gonna take care of me?" you ask breathlessly.

"That's my job. That's my number one boyfriend duty."

"You're my boyfriend?"

"I am!" he says happily, laughing as he speaks. "For a while. I've been trying to take things further but you're always really shy about getting married–"

"You want to get married? To me?"

Peter presses a soft kiss to your cheek. "You're the only person I'd ever want to get married to. We already picked the flowers–"

"We did?"

He laughs again, all your questions. He loves regular you but loopy you is especially endearing. "Last time I got super drunk, yeah. You never let me forget it."

"So you love me?" you ask, stopping short.

"I love you so much," he says immediately, hugging you into his side. He dots another kiss against the top of your head. "You should remember that even if you don't remember me."

"I love you," you say quietly.

Peter doesn't know if that's your memory returning, or if you've fallen in love with him in the last fifteen minutes. He could easily fall in love with you that quickly, and yet he's still amazed at your confession.

"That's good. That's great. Thank you, sweetheart," he says, desperate to hold your face in his hands but weary of causing you future pain. "There's your car," —he points, lowering his head to yours to make sure you can see it, hand now protectively held between your shoulder blades— "let's go home now. Yeah?"

You start walking again at his requests. He can pretty much see the steam rising off of your face, giddy with happiness at these revelations. You're together, you're in love, and you think he's handsome. He wonders what you'll have to say about his biceps in this state of delirium; you go crazy for his arms sober.

Which reminds him.

"I totally have another secret to tell you," he says, unlocking the car as you approach and helping you into the passenger seat.

"What is it?" you ask.

Peter closes you in and skirts around the door, climbing into the driver's seat. He's glad that New York is as ridiculously loud as ever, because not even the closed doors or your sodden gauze can smother the way you shriek.

"My boyfriend is Spider-Man?!"

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onlyswan · 6 months

Text

summary: in which you drive jungkook mad but you make his heart beat.

idol!jungkook x f!reader, est. relationship / fluff, suggestive, a pinch of angst / word count: 5k

content/warnings: tried sumn different so this is mainly from jungkook’s pov :D !! drummer!oc ur so cool & i’m stealing u from ur bf 🏃— mention of a 10 yr age gap between jk & a guy who likes oc (he’s hella pissed off) ; mentions of (car) s^x ; allusion to a bl^wj^b ; jk just got home from tour & oc is tipsy, needy, & dramatic as hell T_T ; oc /briefly/ touches jk while he’s driving & he /nearly/ loses his shit & crashes the car (he doesn’t) (i’m kidding) + to the anon who wanted to jk’s cheek scar to get a kissy here u go 🥺

> in which masterlist!

note: oc is so shot glass of tears coded especially in this… i’m glad i’m posting this after golden came out just so i could say it 🥰 this takes place after this drabble sooo the end of oct 2018 <3 if u’ve read the prev drabble too, this was when jk said those exact words in the past 🥺 wrote this in the middle of hell week so i was half out of my mind :'] as always feedback & reblogs rrr always appreciated !! 🥺

—

jungkook loves the sound of rain— the gentle knocks on every surface of the earth has always been a lullaby even during daylight.

tonight is a different story, however. it is defeaning, terrifying even. he can barely see what is infront of him, spare the occasional headlights blazing across the slippery roads. his umbrella is being stolen away by the harsh gusts of wind and the mud stains on his sneakers are well-hidden by the plain black.

and yes, he is tired; and yes, this is hard, but that is the end of it.

you’re exactly where you told him you’d wait, far behind the edge of the roof where the rainwater falls from and splashes on the ground. you stand out in his blue oversized shirt, one that he purposely left behind in your closet so he could have something else to wear when he sleeps over.

you’re too busy typing on your phone to see him crossing the parking lot; he feels his very own vibrate in the pocket of his sweatpants. however, his giddy smile fades when a man exits through the entrance door and approaches you with a red umbrella. his strides become slightly hurried then, as he watches you politely decline it with that heart-fluttering smile of yours everybody adores.

“oh no, really, i’m fine. you might need it later! my boyfriend is already coming to pick me up anyway.”

jungkook acts cool. he tucks his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants, tries to make himself appear bigger because he realizes that he would be inches shorter than the man if not for the platforms of his shoes.

“____, baby!”

upon hearing your name coming from the lips of your lover, your face lights up even brighter.

“jungkook!”

you greet him with an embrace, jumping into his arms before he can properly set down his umbrella on the ground.

“yah, yah-yah! be careful!” he chuckles as he wraps his arms around your waist to catch you, peering down to check how high your boots are for you to be running and jumping around freely.

“hey, i’m going back inside- there’s more customers coming in. make it home safe, alright?”

the stranger tries to catch your attention, and jungkook’s protectiveness swiftly kicks in when he lays a hand on you and slides it down to your lower back. your boyfriend turns you away from the unprompted touch by pulling your body closer to his side, and he is unable to control how his eyebrows knit together in annoyance.

he wasn’t planning on giving much thought to the presence of a man around you. he knows better than that. but he has never heard about this one, which raises the question of who the fuck is he to freely touch you like that?

“oh- alright! thank you, jun!”

“you better take care of ____, man. it’s dangerous around here during this time.”

he receives a rather heavy and condescending pat on the shoulder, and so, with his annoyance bubbling worse, he wears a passive aggressive smile on his face.

“yeah, of course i am,”

jun’s nostrils flare as he witnesses you sneakily slide your hands underneath jungkook’s hoodie in search of warmth.

“i’m here now, so there’s no need to worry about my girlfriend anymore.”

he nods, then forces himself to smile. “that’s good, then.”

“yeah, thanks. we’re leaving.”

“oh, okay. have a nice night!”

“you too,”

he turns on his heel and returns inside the busy establishment— but not before jungkook made sure that he saw the bruises on his knuckles that he got from his boxing sessions.

his jaw clenches as he glares at the door.

is he being petty? sure, to hell with that. he doesn’t care. he’s always been one to trust his gut, and he has a bad feeling.

he is met by a love-drunk smile when his undivided attention is at last given to you, in the form of fond eyes and affectionate strokes of your hair.

“who was that?”

“eh, new bartender,” you shrug with disinterest. “hm, i think he’s 31…? he’s nice but he keeps talking about wrestling.”

he raises an eyebrow at the mention of his age, while your lips form a sad pout.

what the hell? he thought he would be 25 at most.

“the tv has been in the same channel for the past two weeks because of him. it’s all i’ve been seeing! i don’t like it-” you whine in distress, quite frankly, a little traumatized.

an endeared smile is coaxed out of him at your adorableness, how your speech is a little slurred and how you’re looking at him like you’re begging him to do something about it.

“makes me nervous,”

his dominant hand closes into a fist.

if he only he had known. should’ve fucking punched the guy, give him a taste of what he seems to be a huge fan of.

“let’s watch something calming when we get home, how about that?”

you nod your head, eyes that twinkle with eagerness fluttering shut when he leans in for a much awaited kiss. how sweet, he feels a little more alive than before. he can smell it, even taste it— the peach margarita you started sipping on before the band’s first set. concocted by jun, he presumes. he pulls away with a small smile, licking his lips for the traces of you that clung to him.

out of the blue, you burst into a fit of giggles, weak knees buckling as your weight crashes on him.

“i missed you!”

“babe, are you seriously drunk?” he chuckles, holding you with a secure grip around your torso.

“maaaybe tipsy…? i was pretending not to be.” you stand on your tip-toes to nuzzle your face against his neck, mumbling sheepishly. “only trust you.”

—

“i should’ve accepted the umbrella.” you grunt childishly, body going limp on jungkook’s back, except for the arm holding up the umbrella that shields the both of you from the pouring rain.

“yah!” he scolds you, clearly not pleased with the words that just came from your mouth. “what does that mean?”

“i’m embarrassed! they’re probably feeling bad for you.”

the last sentence comes out as a whisper, pertaining to the side glances you’ve been attracting from strangers as you make your way to your boyfriend’s car.

unfortunately, he had to park somewhere far because the restobar’s parking lot was already full.

you jokingly complained about staining your white boots with dirt and mud, but you instantly regretted it when he bent down, signalling you to ride on his back without an ounce of hesitation.

“our shoulders always get wet when we share an umbrella,” he said. “if i carry you, wouldn’t it be better?”

“embarrassing? some would even say romantic!”

something peculiar happens then— when your lips ghost over his left cheek, planting an affectionate kiss there that lasts for seconds. you pull away with a smacking sound, giggly and bubbly, might be his favorite version of you.

“i love you,” you hum, grasping the umbrella upright before it could tip over.

he doesn’t know if you did it on purpose or not, kissing him precisely where his scar is, but his heart jumps in his chest when he feels it begin to throb.

as if the wound from his childhood has come alive. as if, once again, he is bleeding as he glares at his older brother, and he still wants to play games on the computer oblivious to the fact that it would leave a permanent scar, a brand new landmark on his body.

you mistake his silence for something else.

you frown, warm breath tickling his neck as you quietly ask. “are you still mad at me?”

he sighs, vision landing on the ground as his walking pace slows down. “no? i was wrong. i shouldn’t have questioned your decision in the first place… why would i be mad?”

you started playing the drums for your friend’s band two months ago, just as soon as he left for tour. you volunteered after witnessing how distraught they were when their drummer vanished without a trace. he learned that it used to be a hobby of yours from childhood until early teenage years, playing the drums, but it was robbed from you when your father took his instruments with him when he abandoned your home for another.

he was pleasantly surprised when he learned about it, recounted all the times your hands and fingers were drumming on any sort of surface and his head naturally bopped to the beat, but then again, you never brought it up.

isn’t ____ so cool? he would proudly say when he flaunts you to his friends, even the protocol team, who have never seen him so happy.

three times a week, from nine in the evening until midnight, your phone was propped up on an empty table infront of the stage, and him, on the other side of the globe, excitedly watched you from backstage while he was getting ready for their own show. some other times, he was in his hotel room, or the private jet. his patience has been tested by crappy wifi, nosy and noisy people, and his earphones that stopped working while you looked insanely attractive grooving to ‘why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ as you effortlessly played the drums. he showered you with compliments as you did for him. you’re working hard so he must do the same.

he arrived home from tour the other day, spent the rest of its hours sleeping. yesterday, he waited for you at school and then at work like a lost puppy, slept on your bed (if he’s being honest, the two of you didn’t do much sleeping) then woke up at 9am for work.

and he tried his best, he really did, to get out of the company early enough to catch you playing a song or two. after all, it was your last day at the job.

much as you enjoyed reconnecting with an old flame— loved the overflowing tips that came from those who were amazed by your talent (well, there were also those who were just trying to get into your pants), the moment that the old drummer got down on his knees begging to be taken back by his best friends, just like how you became a part of the band, you voluntarily stepped down.

jungkook didn’t agree with this decision. he didn’t understand why you’d sacrifice something that makes you happy for a person who fucked up and wasted what they had. you went back and forth over it on the phone until you cried, told him that it wasn’t easy for you, and he couldn’t hold you in his arms or kiss your face. he could only apologize, and it even felt insincere doing it through a screen.

maybe he’s only relieved that you no longer need to be around a man an entire decade older than he is, who is obviously interested in you and serves you alcohol drinks. no, that doesn’t sit right with him. he needs jun, or whatever the fuck his true name is, to stay very far away from his baby.

“i’m just sad that i never got to watch you perform in person.”

you rest your cheek on his shoulder, heavy eyelids slowly blinking as the headlights of a black van blindsides you.

what the fuck. too bright.

“me too…”

—

“i’m bored,” you release a dramatic sigh, stealing a glimpse of jungkook at the driver’s seat, just to see if you caught his attention like you intended.

his eyes are trained on the dashboard, however, focused on the navigation guide displayed on his phone. he isn’t very familiar with this part of the city. it took him more than an hour to arrive at the address you sent him, including the time he spent in the middle of traffic.

“forty-eight minutes, then we can do whatever you want.”

“whatever i want?”

he slows down the car, briefly turning his head to find you expectantly looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

“of course,” he laughs, taking one hand off the wheel to squish your cheeks together. “just tell me what it is, baby.”

he doesn’t catch the sad look that flashes across your face after you lose his touch.

“then i’ll tell you when i figure out what i want,” you say quietly.

“i thought you already had something in mind?”

“nope,” you answer with yet another sigh.

you choose to stare out the window in silence, body completely slumping into your seat in defeat.

jungkook’s senses are sharp, or he likes to believe so. “are you okay?”

“i’m okay,”

“you sure?”

“hmm,” you hum curtly, and then you close your eyes, so he decides not to press further despite wanting to.

he meets a red traffic light not long after that. and so, he hurriedly grabs the black fleece blanket in the backseat. he envelopes you in it, crossing the distance between you to softly press his lips onto yours for a goodnight kiss. he feels you respond, albeit lazily, and he smirks cockily when you lift yourself up to chase him for one more, please— desperately, to get your fill of goodnight kisses from the many nights that you missed it.

the time seems to tick excruciatingly slow now that you’re quiet. a minute is multiplied by a hundred. the steady rhythm of your breathing keeps him sane throughout dark avenues and encounters with reckless drivers of the midnight scene.

he missed you. he missed you so much, and he knows that you’re tired from university, and tutoring high school students in english, and playing the drums for more than two hours… but he selfishly wishes that you’re awake right now so he can make up for the two months that you were apart.

be careful of what you wish for, they said.

jungkook should know better by now.

“i can’t sleep,” he hears you whisper in a dulcet tone that indirectly tells him you’re in need of some love… but he isn’t given the chance to act upon that request because you’re already all over what it is that you need.

he swallows thickly, glancing down at your hand that has somehow found its way to his inner thigh— zeroing in on your red nails, can feel them faintly grazing his skin.

you’re so pretty. everywhere.

even when naked and bare.

no, especially. it’s all he can think about.

he can draw you from memory.

“____,” he utters your name through gritted teeth, heart beginning to race a thousand miles per second in his chest.

the effect of your teasing touch is instantaneous, slowly inching closer and closer to where his growing erection is. his eyes remain focused on the road, but he fears that he’ll start thinking with his dick soon if you carry on with this act a few seconds longer.

“shit, not now, baby- please- not while i’m driving.”

your bottom lip is caught between your teeth, poorly concealing a self-satisfied smirk, and you pretend not to hear a single word from his plea.

a minx, that’s what you are, always causing trouble and blurring lines in his eyes.

“____, i’m not joking around. don’t make me mad-”

his warning is cut short by-

“fuck… fuck,” he curses, filter flying out the window once he feels you tracing the outline of his hard-on, the feather-light touch of your fingers smoothly gliding across the fabric of his sweatpants, and he completely loses it when your soft palm caresses his cock, so gentle that it feels almost innocent.

okay, so he couldn’t feel it because you weren’t skin-to-skin, but he knows that your hands are soft, can feel his imagination running wilder because he has memorized the way they feel on most parts of his body.

you’re so incredibly nasty and evil for this— squeezing him lightly, taking advantage of how sensitive he’s gotten, making him tremble as pleasure shoots up his spine. his breath stutters in his lungs and he unconsciously pushes harder on the gas.

and although it means fighting every fiber of his being that painfully yearns for more, he seizes your wrist in an iron grip, placing your hand over the gearstick while his sits heavy on top of yours.

“____! behave! you’re going to get us killed!”

he watches you jut out your bottom lip through the rearview mirror, eyes hazy with lust staring down at where your hand used to be, and then his handsome face. he is evidently flushed, honey skin dusted with a rosy pink. all the way to the tips of his ears, down to his neck.

while he’s driving? really?

doesn’t this only happen in wet dreams?

you are not real.

“then pull over,” you plead. “please?”

he releases a shaky breath. you’re always so needy with alcohol in your system, drove him into total insanity while he couldn’t be here to give you what you wanted.

“no, you need to learn how to be patient… told you we can do whatever you want when we get home, right?”

wrong move.

the silence returns, and just when he thought that you went back to your journey to slumber, the sound of your sniffles fill the car.

jungkook’s heart breaks into a million pieces.

also, he wants to slam his head against the steering wheel.

you make it so fucking hard to resist you; you always get what you want. it becomes much harder when he is the subject of your desire and he loves being loved.

“haven’t i been patient enough…? i missed you so much.”

“and i missed you too!” he brings your intertwined hands to his lips, pressing them on your skin. “fuck, you have no idea how much… please, don’t cry.”

“then pull over,” you stubbornly insist, and he is so close to driving this car into a lamp post. “fuck me at the backseat.”

“can’t,” he mumbles, sounding almost pained, and he is. he wants you so bad, it hurts. “we’re going to have to do it without protection.”

“what do you mean?” you exclaim.

you rip your hand away from his, not wasting time in unlocking the glove compartment, and a sound of sheer disappointment escapes from your mouth as you collapse back on your seat.

“jungkook, i hate you!”

“well right now i hate myself too!” he cries out in frustration. “i didn’t have the time to buy more, okay?”

“and there’s not one in your wallet?”

“babe, are you serious?!”

“what?!”

somehow, his hands still expertly swivels the steering wheel as the car meets a curve.

but he feels dizzy. the ghost of your touch is still there, a promise of carnal pleasure unfulfilled.

“stop the car,” you say out of the blue, rather calmly, and that terrifies the shit out of him.

he swallows the lump in his throat, eyes switching between you and the road in panic. “huh?”

“i said stop the car, i’m stepping out.”

“babe, come on,” he moans, ruined and tormented. he reaches for your hand but you scoot further away from him, and he ignores the way his heart drops to his stomach as he kneads your exposed thigh instead. “please, don’t be like this. i just got home.”

“jungkook! if you don’t let me get off this car right now, i swear!”

the urgency embedded in your threatening voice leaves your boyfriend with no choice but to pull over to the side of the street as soon as he gets the chance.

he carries on to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“baby, stop being stu-”

he tries to reach for you, but he is rudely ignored as you hop off the car and slam the door shut on his face.

“…bborn…”

he blinks.

he inhales. he exhales.

and then he buries his face in his hands to scream… as quietly as possible.

“what the fuck was in that margarita?!”

—

jungkook steps out of the car worried sick about you. now wearing a black bucket hat, his head whips in different directions in search for the familiar shape of your body, your hair, your shirt that is his, anything.

his arm rests on top of the car door, the other on the roof, fingers drumming on it anxiously as he chews on his bottom lip.

there are mostly restaurants here, it seems. some are already closed, some are still lights on. not far away, he hears a karaoke place bursting with music and laughter. he looks up and he finds that the night sky remains barren of stars; there’s no guidance from the heavens that will lead him to you.

except for the sound of your sweet voice calling out his name.

he turns around, and he knows it’s going to sound extremely silly, but damn, you make his life feel like a movie— because you’re jogging towards him, and the universe begins moving in slow motion. perhaps it is to prevent him from falling on his knees in relief, because he genuinely thought that you already went home on your own like the stubborn brat that you are.

“____, where did you go?! you can’t just run off like that! seriously, that was not nice!”

“i forgot my wallet!” you squeal as you halt infront of him, slapping your forehead as a way to scold yourself. “i found a hotteok cart!”

his anger quickly dissipitates. he scans your face, mouth agape in bewilderment.

you, screaming at him to stop the car because there was a sighting of your favorite snack? makes sense.

he dishes out the wallet from his pocket. “wha- i thought you… you didn’t have money?”

you shake your head to answer his question.

“then how are you already eating?”

you take another bite from the hot hotteok you’re holding in a paper cup, and then you shrug.

“i was already eating when i realized it,” you point at yourself, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “so he let me run back here. does it look like this face would steal?”

“you’re impossible!” he bursts out laughing, the unique sound of his joy harmonizing with the mundane noises of the city.

he is thoroughly amused and in awe of your undeniable charm never failing to work its magic. if you just gave it a shot, you might be even better at him at his job.

you’re pliant as he captures your wrist, tugging you away with him so he can lock the car.

“i bought three, by the way.” you note as the two of you start walking, with you clinging to his side. “the last three then mister can go home.”

you put the hotteok near his mouth, and he pauses to take a big bite. “have you even had dinner?”

“just the four margaritas- they were yummy! or was it five?”

he clicks his tongue in disappointment, but he doesn’t get to say anything more about it because you’ve reached the hotteok cart, and he’s already handing the vendor the money.

“thank you!” he bows his head politely as he accepts the remaining two you mentioned earlier, handing them over to you.

“no, this is yours.” you speak with tenderness, giving back one of the cups to him. “then we’ll split the third one. it’s really good!”

the vendor secretly watches the interaction with a fond smile as he packs up to finally, finally end his long day working at the busy streets of seoul.

—

you’re sat together on the hood of jungkook’s car as you share a midnight snack. with caring hands, you rip the hotteok apart in perfect halves, offering the other to your lover. he accepts it in between his teeth.

“do you want drums as your christmas gift?”

“love,” you search for the words to say as you chew the food in your mouth. “i can barely fit in my apartment. where am i going to put a drum set…? not to mention that i can’t even cry without my neighbor hearing it.”

his shoulders drop in dejection, and you rub your boyfriend’s back in an attempt to comfort him.

“you must really want to see me play, don’t you?”

“i’m dying to,” he says in pure jungkook fashion, tone dramatic and thick with an accent that is entirely his. “i can’t believe there were regulars who saw you every night, while i, your boyfriend, didn’t even see you once…! even that fucking bartender… this- this can’t be right! do you think this makes sense? no, right?”

“aw, my baby,” you coo at him, jutting out your bottom lip as you tenderly cup his face.

“i don’t trust him, by the way,” he scoffs. “as much as possible, stay away from him when you visit, alright…? if i see him touching you one more time, i don’t know what i’ll end up doing to him.”

“i don’t like him either,” you giggle. “so that’s easy.”

he stares at your bloodshot eyes. damn it, you haven’t sobered up.

“____, i’m serious. he’s weird. i’m worried about you but i can’t always be here to protect you.”

you blink at him innocently. “i am too! serious!”

“you promise me?”

“i promise!”

he nods, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as he gets lost in the sea of his own thoughts. “i should talk to your friends about this, too. is that okay?”

“if that will ease your mind,” you half-smile, heart fluttering in your chest because you feel so cherished.

comfortable silence follows suit.

the hotteok is still soft and warm and sweet. if your love had to be delivered to his doorstep, it would in the form of your favorite food.

he sighs to gain more of your sympathy, basking in the attention he’s receiving from you. he missed this. he missed you. he sounds like a broken record, but it’s true.

“come ooon, don’t be sad! i’ll make it up to you! but it’s a surprise!”

“surprise?” he eyes you with suspicion. “what surprise?”

“just trust me, alright?”

you poke his cheek where his dimples are, and you witness them pop out as he copies your contagious smile.

“can i make a guess?”

“nope!”

you fit the remaining piece of your hotteok in your mouth, jumping off the hood of the car. you stand before him as you wipe your hands clean with a small paper napkin.

“don’t you dare. if you guess it right then my plans will be ruined!”

—

you’re back on the passenger seat to travel the remaining twenty-seven minutes to your apartment.

jungkook melts into the tenderness of your touch as he drives. you’re tracing the toned muscles of his arms; stroking his hair, his face, and the smell of the sticky brown sugar from the hotteok still lingers on your skin.

“when are you going to start getting tattoos?” you wonder out loud as he intertwines your fingers together on top of his thigh. “i think you’d look so pretty.”

“i’m planning on it.”

his heart skips a beat at the thought of you remembering that he wants his skin artfully inked as you absentmindedly distracted yourself with it.

he licks his lips, smiling as he looks over at you. “you really think so? pretty?”

“hm, hot, too,” you stick your tongue out playfully, and he snorts out a laugh. “but as long as you’re happy, then nothing else matters.”

“of course- wait, yah! you still need to eat dinner.” he reminds you once he recognizes the path you’re taking.

a grocery store is not more than a kilometer away, if his memory serves him right.

“what do you want? i don’t mind cooking.”

“for you to fuck me, that’s what i want. you won’t mind that, too?”

oh my fucking god.

he wishes you were passed out drunk instead so he wouldn’t have to suffer this battle between self-control and his insatiable appetite for you.

“baby, aren’t you still sore from this morning?”

“a little,” he notices you squeezing your thighs together from his peripheral, and along with it, the bruises on your knees from when you worshipped his body last night. “but i want you.”

your giggles in reaction to him frustratedly running his fingers through his hair seems to only fuel the dirty thoughts in his head. he uncomfortably shifts in his seat to adjust himself.

“can you just bring it up when we get near your house? you’re killing me over here!”

“but why? i’m having fun.” you bring your tangled hands over to your side, peppering the back of his hand with innocent kisses. “i love you. you’re so cute.”

“are you… are you seriously calling me cute after what you just asked me to fuck you?”

his disbelief is challenged by your amusement.

“why not? being one dimensional? boring. being different things all at once? sexy.”

jungkook doesn’t need to see you play the drums to know that you are the only one capable of making his heart beat like this. to feel it pounding, it turns out there’s another way besides performing, he can just be alone with you. a different type of addictive exhilaration. he isn’t at the top of the world; he free falls as it revolves around you.

you always know the right words to say, because right now, he is preening. he’s wearing a big smile, the kind that looks like he’s laughing, but he’s not— almost. the kind that reaches his eyes, shapes them into little crescent moons.

how did he get so lucky?

rehearsals in the morning be damned, he will be fucking you good all night.

you make a noise of confusion when the car swerves into the trees at the side of the road.

“what are we doing here?”

jungkook only spares you a glance. “get in the backseat, baby.”

—

taglist in the reblogs! send an ask/dm if you want to be added (or removed) :D

—

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts fluff #bts reaction #bts imagine #bts fanfic

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rafeandonlyrafe · 3 months

Text

try on

words: 1.7k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, male receiving oral, public, blowjob, car head (but hes not driving)

“what the fuck is this flimsy shit?” rafes fingers feel the material of the changing room curtain after he hung the clothes up that you've been piling up in his arms while you flitted around the store.

“i know, i wish they had a door.” you say with a roll of your eye. you set your bag and phone down on the stool before turning to rafe. “thanks baby, you can sit down.” you gesture towards the couches in the fitting rooms, already a couple other boyfriends lounging around.

“alright…” rafe eyes the curtain wearily before cupping your jaw, pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

when he sits down, rafe makes sure to plop down on a cushion that allows him an easy line of sight to your changing room. you are blissfully unaware of rafes displeasure as you changing into the first dress, finding it a little too tight but still deciding to step out and show rafe.

“what do you think?” you walk between the couches, not noticing the eyes of the other men also looking at you. you assume since rafe would never even glance at another girl that the other boyfriends would give you anything more than a quick look.

you twirl around so rafe can see the back of the dress. “i think it's a little too tight around my ass, do you like it though?”

“shit, baby.” rafe groans, standing up and frowning at the men who quickly look away as he puts his hands on your hips, pushing you back towards your changing room.

“what is it rafe?” you whine, almost tripping over as he moves you back into the small room.

“they were all staring at you baby!” he grunts out.

“okay?” you cross your arms, pushing your chest up even more in the low cut dress, almost breaking rafes attention. “why do you care anyone else looks at me? you know im yours.”

“because, men are fucking creeps.” rafe says. “and you look really fucking hot in this dress, but yeah it's too tight.”

“okay.” you nod, rubbing your hands over rafes shoulders. “let me try on my next dress, yeah?” hoping your soft tone calms him down.

“fine.” rafe huffs, accepting your kiss as you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pressing your body against his as rafes hand moves down from your waist to grip your bum.

“be out in a minute.” you step away, smirking at rafe as you pull the curtain closed. rafe cautiously takes his seat again, eyeing the men who suddenly all have their eyes casted down.

rafe glares as one of the guys stands up to head back into the main section of the store, and rafe swears that he tries to peak past the edge of your curtain, his head turning just enough when passing your dressing room that rafe shoots to his feet.

“rafey, is that you baby?” you call when a shadow darkens your curtain, hands coming to hold either edge to the wall, keeping it taut.

“it’s okay, just change.” rafe grunts.

“i’m in my next dress, do you wanna see?” you call.

rafe tugs the curtain open just enough for him to step inside. “i love it. we’re getting it.” rafe says, taking the clothes that you haven’t tried on yet off the hook, hanging them over his arm. “we’re getting all of them.” “but i haven’t tried them on yet.” you pout.

“you can give me a personal try on fashion show at home baby, lets just go.” rafe leans to pick up the clothes you came in in off the seat, pressing them into your hands.

“okay, okay.” you sigh, taking the dress off under rafes watchful eye before redressing, adding the dress to the heap of clothing in his arms. “whats got you so worked up?”

“just wanna get home.” rafe says, tired of being on guard, needing to just be at peace with you in his arms, no other man around.

“okay, baby.” you coo, wrapping your arm around rafes bicep as he carries the clothes out of the changing area and towards the register.

rafe doesn’t make a big deal of paying, he never does, loving to spoil you, especially when most of the clothes you buy you wear for him.

he takes the bags of clothing before you can even reach for them, his hand coming to the small of your back as he leads you out of the shopping mall, towards the parking lot.

“rafey, slow down.” you complain as he hustles through the car park. “my legs aren’t as long as yours.” “sorry, sorry.” rafe slows his pace, glad his truck is within sight. he helps you into the passenger seat once you get there before throwing the bags into the back seat, rounding the hood with eyes on constant alert still, unable to relax yet.

“thanks for shopping with me.” you say as rafe climbs in, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek, seeing his jaw unclench and shoulders drop a little.

rafe turns his head to give you a proper kiss as his hands fumble with the keys before starting the car, giving you another peck before turning towards the road, backing out of the spot and navigating the large truck through the parking lot.

“pull over here.” you point to an empty lot, in front of a store that closed down a while ago.

“why?” rafe questions, a slight hint of annoyance in his voice, wanting to get you home alone as soon as possible.

“just do it.” you hum, a teasing smile on your face as you unbuckle and then lean over, pushing the folded down center console out of the way as you rub your hand over the front of rafes pants the second the car is shifted into park.

“baby-” rafe groans, his head falling back against the headrest.

“wanna thank you for buying those clothes for me.” you say, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you undo his pants button before tugging the zipper down, pulling the two sides of his pants open to reveal his boxers.

you press your lips against the fabric of his underwear, feeling his cock thicken as you kiss along his length, the zipper pressing against your chin, but you ignore it in favor of pressing your tongue to wet the fabric even further.

“fuck, baby.” rafe groans, hands coming to his hips as he tugs his pants and underwear down, not caring that anyone could drive into the parking lot and see what is going on. his truck is tall enough with tinted windows that he isn't worried.

“mmm, so hard and big for me.” you coo, placing your hand on the base of his cock, giving it a few strokes as you watch in fascination as a big of precum leaks out of his tip.

you lean forward, tongue sneaking out as you lap over the head of his cock, tongue slithering over the slit.

rafes hand comes to the back of your head, pushing you down. you barely cover your teeth in time as your mouth opens, letting him push you down until your lips reach where your hand is wrapped around his length.

“good girl, that's it.” rafe purrs out, his voice deep and sultry as you suck, tongue rubbing along his cock as you begin to move your head, pulling off his cock slightly before pressing back down.

you moan around rafes length, loving how stretched your cheeks have to get, how deep down he reaches your throat as you bob your head, his hand still resting against your curls, providing a slight amount of pressure to encourage you to continue.

“wish those dicks in the store could see you. instead of staring at your ass they could stare at you sucking me.” rafes frustration is clear in his voice, and despite his dick in your mouth, you roll your eyes as you continue to move, knowing it's ridiculous that he cares so much when you only have eyes for rafe.

you pull off his dick with a plop, immediately beginning to stroke your hand. “no need to be jealous baby.”

“im not jealous.” rafe grunts as your thumb swipes over the head of his cock. “just annoyed that they think they can look at what's mine.”

you go to respond when rafe pushes your head back down, other hand coming to hold you as well as he begins to thrust his hips up, your hand having to come to his thigh to stabilize yourself as he fucks your mouth, his hips moving up and down off the seat to plunge deep down your throat.

you are used to taking him, but not in his position as you gag slightly, but the noises just spur rafe on as he moves faster.

“such a nice warm mouth for me baby.” rafe says, panting as his arms continue to work you up and down. “such a tight throat.”

you swallow around his cock at the praise, tightening the walls of your throat even further around his dick as rafes hips thrust up.

“so close.” he warns, breath quickening as his cock pushes in and out of your mouth quickly before he lifts up, shoving your head as far down as he can, nose nuzzling into his skin as he cums, releasing deep down your throat as he moans.

you swallow obediently as rafe slumps back down. you pull off slowly, pressing gentle kisses along his length as he softens before sitting up, patting at your chin to fix your ruined makeup as rafe tucks himself back into his pants.

“thank you for taking me shopping rafey, can't wait to try all the new clothes on.” you coo, pressing a kiss to his cheek before sliding back over to your seat, doing your seat belt as if nothing happened.

“can't wait to fuck you in your new clothes when we get home.” rafe says, clearing his throat as he shakes his head, trying to get back in the right mindset to drive home.

“mhm, after i try everything on though.” you clarify.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @emma77645 @wearemadeofstardust0

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kika-writes · 1 month

Text

sex tape? - l.n

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Fingering, Sex Tape, S e x

Pairing: Lando Norris x photographer!fem!reader

Summary: Lando wants some interesting angles.

You were the McLaren photographer, your job was simple - take photos, edit them and publish them onto social media. Easy. Well, it was supposed to be, at least. And you hardly expected Lando Norrs to be the one to complicate the situation.

“Y/N,” a voice called your name, making you turn your head, “get a load of this angle,”. Your Y/H/C hair was tied out of your face with with a claw clip, a McLaren polo hanging on your body along with a greyish black skirt that finished at your mid thigh and white trainers. Just as you turned to walk towards one of your colleagues, your body collided with another. Lando’s arm immediately snaked around your waist as if he knew too were going to fall, almost as of he had purposefully pushed you. “Careful,” he said, a smirk on his face as he said your name. Your cheeks filled with red; things like these had been happening a lot, but surely it was all just an and accident, no? What would Lando Norris, multimillionaire and world-class Formula One driver, want anything to do with you?

Shaking the thoughts from your head, you mumbled a quick thank you as you walked away. Kneeling down at the front wing of the car, the Spanish hot sun on your neck, you positioned the lens of your camera so it appeared that the sun was resting on the halo of the car. “Nice angle,” Lando’s voice appeared again, making you look up. He wasn’t look in at the camera, though. His hazel-green eyes were fixed on you, the curve of your waist and the way your skirt clung to your bare thighs. You stood up quickly, he probably accidentally looked. “Render those images, Y/L/N,” Zak said hurriedly as he rushed past you to talk to Lando. You nodded with a murmur of ‘yes sir’ as you headed off. Not before you heard Lando’s voice, saying, “You really should be nicer to Y/N,”. Lando knew your name?

Maybe it was someone else? No. Of course not. There was no other Y/N. Truth was, Lando loved your name. He loved the way it rolled off of his tongue, and, as much as he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t help but think about the way he could whisper your name along with countless dirty things into your ear as he fucked you. You sat at your desk, the sun setting slowly as many employees went home. You didn’t mind working overnight, there was something about the atmosphere in the garage that was just so peaceful. Poeple continued to leave until it was only you and two others there. They both were PR and went to their respective rooms in the garage to work, leaving you alone at a desk. “Hello Y/N,” a voice said behind you, making you jump slightly, spilling a drop of coffee onto your lap.

“Lando, hi,” you said, wiping it from your torso with an embarrassed look. “I didn’t know you’d be here so late,” you said awkwardly, rubbing the back of your head. “I wanted to see the view,” he said simply, eyes locked on yours. The view of what? You or the damn car? “The car looks good,” you continued, putting your camera down. “It does. Ive seen better things though,” he shrugged airily, shaking his hair out of his face. “What are you doing?” he turned to the computer, finally breaking eye contact. Thank god. “Cleaning up some stuff,” you shrugged, opening the photoshop app and showing it to him. “Nice,” he hummed, leaning forwards. His hand gently rested on your shoulder as he looked, half sliding down as he squinted at the screen. “You have talent, Y/N,” he saidm standing back straight. “Thank you,” you said, truly grateful. It was a lot you hear, coming from someone like Lando.,

He nodded in approval before he untucked the chair next to you and sat down. Shit. He was staying? “Don’t let me stop you,” he said calmly. You tried to block him out of your vision and focus on work, but that man. Fuck, that man drive you crazy. The way his curls rested on his forehead,d legs spread wide, one elbow on the chair as his arm flexed. You made the mistake of looking. You tried to be discreet, maybe get just a look at him. Fuck. “Eyes are here, Y/N,” he smirked, placing his finger under your chin and lifting your face up. You flushed red, you didn’t mean to look, well, down. “You can look if you want,” he shrugged, smirking. “I saw some good shots earlier, I can show you,” he said, breaking the awkward silence. You shrugged, picking up your camera and following him. You didn’t notice how he locked the garage, shutting the rotor and following you. It was just you, him, and the car. “Where?” you said, holding you camera. “Let me show you,” he whispered, walking up behind you. He placed his hands softly on your waist, pushing you forwards as your heart skipped a beat. Fuck was he close.

“Wait, let me…” he said, spinning you around. You gulped as he continued to walk forwards. The back of your legs hit the side pod, making you fall gently onto it, acting as a sort of chair. “Thanks,” he said, taking the camera as you watched him, slightly confused. With one hand, he lifted your leg onto the car, lifting the device to his eye and snapping the picture. “Perfect,” he muttered adjusting you so you were perched on the end. He continued to put you into various positions, your cheeks fiery red as he continued. “Sexy as ever,” he would say placing you onto your hands and knees against the car. For each one, they got more intimate, his hand u buttoning various parts of your outfit til the shirt was removed entirely. “I have a better idea,” he said, putting the camera down. Unbuckling his belt, he revealed his cock, making you gasp as you looked up at him. “Lando…” you began but he wasn’t listening. “What about this?” he said, pushing it against your stomach. Snap. One picture. Lifting you onto the side pod, he spread your legs out, removing your underwear. “Good girl,” he muttered, placing kisses onto your neck and temple ad you watched him.

Slowly, he slid two of his fingers into you, making you gasp at the feeling. He lifting your skirt, not enough to see your pussy, but to leave the rest to the imagination go the viewer, his fingers very much inside of you. Snap. Another picture. Removing his digits, he lining his cock up against your thigh. Snap. Inside of you. Snap. Your cheeks red. Snap. His hand on your thigh. Snap. “Make it video,” he said, as you pushed a button eagerly. Beep. Recording. He gently started rocking forwards as you mooned, his lips against yours as he held the camera against his stomach. “Feel good?” she cooed. “Y-yeah,” you whimpered, speaking for the first time in ages. He started moving quicker, extracting more whines and mow sad from you, only which made him smirk more.

“Fuck,” you said, his cheek red as your stomach tightened. “Lando…” you muttered. Beep. He ended the video. “Hmm” He hummed, trying to remain composed. “Oh fuck,” you moaned as the knot unravelled, his following soon after as the cum seeped out of your pussy and onto the car. Snap. Photo. “Lando, you in there? We’re locking up,” a voice called from the door. And trust me, there were a LOT of questions when you accidentally opened the photo of Lando’s dick inside of you instead of the car shots.

#lando norris imagine #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #lando x reader #lando norris

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allywthsr · 5 months

Text

THE CRASH | (l.norris)

summary: Lando and you fight right before the Las Vegas gp, turns out your nerves couldn’t take it after he crashes

wordcount: 2.4k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: angst, the crash

notes: I loved this idea when I saw it in my inbox and could not not write it. Here it is, what do we think about this??? I hope you like it 🫶🏼 btw, please come talk to me in my inbox, I’m bored🥲

”I can’t believe you right now!“, Lando and you had been fighting all evening over some silly thing. What started as a small joke, turned into a big argument and you didn’t know how or what happened. All you remember was, that Lando had been tense all weekend and was sensitive to certain things, but you didn’t think he was going to explode, so he got all mean and pushy with you because he was truly agitated.

”Y/N, maybe you shouldn’t have begun to talk about this, I need to concentrate on my racing.“

The screaming you both were doing could probably be heard in the motorhome next to you, but you didn’t care. Lando was clearly wrong and he needed to get your point.

”You started this fight, so stop being a child! Just get where I‘m coming from, you‘ve been in a mood all weekend and you let it out on me, you‘ve only looked for a fight so you could let your anger out.“

”That’s not true! You put words in my mouth and twisted them, as always.“

You two rarely fought, but if you did, there was screaming involved.

”If you hadn’t put me on your jpg account from when you took pictures of me while laying in our bed, we wouldn’t be in this position. I clearly told you that I don’t want this, and you went and did it anyway.“

”It’s just a picture!“

”You read the comments, they hate the way I look, and especially in that picture. You promised me it was for your use only, and you betrayed that.“

”You’re making a bigger deal than it is, calm the fuck down.“

”I won’t! I want you to see my point here.“

”You’re not seeing mine either. It’s a stupid picture, you weren’t naked, you weren’t making a stupid face, you were just looking at the camera, without any makeup but you were beautiful, grow the fuck up and get over these comments.“

”Lando I think I’m going to leave, you enjoy your race, I’ll be watching from the garage but we need space from each other right now, or we say things we don’t mean.“

”You can’t just run away from this conversation, you always do that.“

”I can watch me“, and with that, you walked out the door of his driver's room and slammed it on your way out. Several McLaren employees looked at you with big eyes, but you couldn’t take it right now, you needed five minutes in peace, so you could calm down, and think about the fight again.

Just thirty minutes later, you sat in the garage and waited for Lando to get in his car, normally you two would come in together and he would be cuddly with you, kissing and hugging you until it was time to get in his beloved car, but today was different. You came in alone, way before Lando even had to be in the garage to finally get in the car, he was in a mood when Jose tried to talk to him about data, and when he finally walked into the garage to drive to the grid, he stormed right past you, not even looking at you. By then everyone knew something was up, he never hoped in the car without giving you a kiss. Jon gave you a questioning look, but you shrugged your shoulders and mouthed a ’later‘ to him.

You watched on the TV how he got the last definitely needed laps in and then got pushed by his crew to his starting position. This was also a thing that bothered him, P15 wasn’t something he was used to nowadays.

After the anthem, Adam joined you.

”What’s up with him? He‘s been off all weekend.“

”I know, we had a fight right before he had to go and you know how we fight. It happened over this silly thing and now he‘s pissed at me, I couldn’t even say good luck to him.“

You looked at Adam, he knew his son longer than you did, maybe he had an idea how you could solve things.

”Lando’s always been a stubborn kid, give him time and talk to him after the race, I‘m sure he‘s cooled down by then.“

”Maybe you’re right.“

With that you looked at the screen and saw Lando jumping in his car, going through the last things that he wrote down as his notes.

The engines roared and Adam and you put on the headsets, so you could hear what was said over the radio. Lando was driving around the track for the formation lap and stopped when he reached his position. You prayed that the start would be nice to your boy and he would get through without any crashes or touches. Even if you fought, you still wanted him to be careful and not crash.

The start went without any troubles for Lando, and this was the first time that you released a breath. After the start, Jon came over to you, to talk about Lando’s attitude.

”What’s wrong with you two? I’ve never seen you like this before.“

”We don’t fight often, maybe once every two months or something, and normally it happens when we’re home, but today it escalated when we arrived at the track. He posted this picture of me on his jpg account and I overreacted, he promised me that he wouldn’t post it and he still did. So I was a little angry with him when I asked him to delete it, he freaked out.“

”I‘m sure you can solve this after the race, don’t think about it too hard.“

He gave you a quick hug and you kept watching. Now it was lap three and Lando was fighting for every position. Every race was nerve-wracking for you, sure he was a good driver and the car was safe, but still, every time he sat in his car, your heart rate went up a bit, and you were scared that he would crash. With Adam and Jon next to you, you sat on the foldable chair and had your gaze on the many TVs in front of you, when he crossed the line and lap four began.

Adam mumbled something under his breath and you looked at him when you heard everyone around you inhaling their breath. Quickly you looked back at the TV and hoped someone other than Lando had crashed, but when you heard Jose with panic in his voice, asking if he was okay, you knew it was him. You grabbed Adams's arm, to hold onto something while trying to hold back your tears. Fear was written all over your face, and it only got worse when Jose asked a second time if he was fine and Lando pressed the talk button with his shaky hands. The heavy breaths made your heart sink in your stomach, and with the way he pressed the ’all good‘ out, he truly wasn’t all good. What haunted you most were his painful moans afterwards.

This was the worst scenario that could’ve happened, and the fact that it happened in his birthday week and after you two fought, made things only worse. He clearly wasn’t in the right mindset to race, and it was all your fault because you got irritated by the picture and the comments.

”I want to see him!“

”Y/N, calm down, he will probably be taken to the medical center and you know we can’t enter. He‘s fine, you know what he‘s like, he‘s tough.“

You looked back at the screen and saw how he was still sitting in his car, that wasn’t a good sign. Maybe he was too hurt to get out, you couldn’t just leave him alone in the medical center. With careful movements, he finally pushed himself out of his car, but he was slower than usual, he had to be in pain.

”I‘ll run to the medical center, I’m his performance coach, no one knows his body better than I do. At least in the medical areas, I can update you.“

You nodded continuously and pushed Jon slightly towards the exit of the garage. Now you were crying, it was all your fault, you turned away from any cameras and the big opening of the garage, so no one could picture you ugly sobbing. This was a way of crying that wasn’t pretty and not meant for anyone except you, and maybe Lando to see. Quickly Adam pulled you in tight for a hug, he was shaking himself, and you both needed comfort right now. His phone started ringing and you hoped it was Jon, but it was Cisca, she wanted to know if you knew anything about Lando’s health, but you didn’t and it freaked you out.

His arms could be broken and you wouldn’t know, if you wouldn’t see him soon, you would go crazy. After long fifteen minutes of walking up and down through the garage, finally, an incoming call from Jon lit up your phone.

”Jon, how is he?“

”He‘s okay, a bit shaken up and his whole body hurts a little from the impact, but he‘ll be fine. They want to take him to an actual hospital to scan him, to rule out any internal injuries.“

”I want to come!“

”Y/N, you can’t. It’s better if you wait for him in the hospitality, he needs rest.“

”No, Jon, I need to see him“, the tears were streaming down your face again, at the thought that you can’t be by his side right now.

”We’re already in an ambulance and on our way to the next hospital, we can’t fetch you.“

”I‘ll get a car.“

”You won’t see him, even if you come, he‘ll be in the scan and we can’t join him there. I‘m with him, he‘s not alone, I‘ll send you a picture.“

”Let me talk to him.“

”His arms are trapped under a blanket, and he got some medication to hide the pain a little, he‘s drugged up and talking nonsense. He wouldn’t get what you’re saying anyway.“

”Is that even safe?“

”Yes“, he chuckled, ”He‘s alright, don’t worry. The scan is just a precaution thing, we should be out in at least two hours.“

With a heavy breath, you accepted that you couldn’t see him in person right now.

”But please send me a picture of him, and tell him I love him.“

”Will do, and you’re going to calm down, he’s fine.“

”I‘ll try, thank you, Jon.“

You turned to Adam and quickly talked him through what Jon told you, before calling Cisca and telling her the same.

Two hours later…

You just received a text from Jon, telling you they are in a car right now, that‘ll take them to the track. Impatiently you sat in the hospitality and waited for Lando to walk through the door, and when you saw him opening the glass door, you were crying again. The way the jacket was way too big for him, and his overall was hanging on his hips, made your heart clench, your poor boy. You ran towards him and hugged him tightly, while still being careful that you weren’t hurting him. He grabbed your hand and pulled you to his driver's room, where you were hugging once again.

You pulled out of the hug and put your hands on his cheeks.

”I am so so sorry that I overreacted with the picture, just because of me, you weren’t focused and lost the car to that bump. I will never fight with you ever again.“

Lando used the pad of his thumb to wipe away the salty tears, that escaped your eye.

”It’s not your fault, fight or not, the bump would’ve been there and I would’ve lost control. I‘m okay, yeah? You don’t need to worry anymore, and you definitely need to stop crying, because there is nothing to cry about.“

”Do you forgive me?“

”Of course, it’s all forgotten, I shouldn’t have posted the picture, and I‘m truly sorry. I‘ll delete it once I have my phone.“

”No don’t do that“, you put your head against his chest and breathed in his scent, Lando was closing his arms around your shoulders and touched the back of your head. Featherlight kisses were placed on the side of your head, and you two enjoyed the silence.

A knock interrupted you two and Adam was standing in the door, he tightly hugged his son as well and kissed his cheek.

”You should call your mum, she‘s worried sick.“

Lando nodded and grabbed your phone that you held out before dialing the number of his mum. After the quick talk, Cisca was reassured her son was fine and Lando wanted to go to the debrief. With his hospital bracelet, still on his wrist, he sat there like he didn’t just crash.

He was professional after all.

Until you returned to the hotel, you waited with Adam and Jon in the hospitality for Lando to finish his meetings, and when he did, Jon drove you safely back to the hotel, where you took care of Lando, so he was back on track for the last race.

taglist: @millinorrizz @jamieeboulos @loxbbg

#lando norris #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris fluff #lando norris x y/n #lando norris angst #lando norris one shot #lando x reader #formula 1 #las vegas gp 2023 #crash #requested

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tojipie · 6 months

Note

adah imagine prisoner!toji getting eaten up by his own thoughts one night in his cell. because how can this be satisfying for you? having quick sex once every two months? a girl like you deserves so much better. so he brings it up one time during the visits, and you see how hard it is for him, but still, through gritted teeth he reassures you he wouldn’t blame you for indulging in someone else every once in a while. JUST THE ANGST!! and reader of course being like … what the fuck are you talking ab i jerk off to your pictures?

prison bf toji series linked here <3

content: hurt/comfort, angst

“and then turns out there actually was a fucking rat in his cell,” your boyfriend wheezes, his booming laughs marking the end of the story he’d been telling you for the past half hour.

the visiting hall is bustling today, packed to the brim with the wives, partners, and kids of the state’s incarcerated, all making the drive up right before new years.

you notice the sudden silence as your shared laughs die down, bemused at the inmate’s choice to not keep the conversation going.

“you okay?” you ask, reaching across the table to intertwine your fingers.

except toji doesn’t squeeze your hand like he always does, letting the appendage lay limp in yours.the older man opens his mouth to say something, looking around the busy room with a hint of anxiety behind his eyes.

“do you miss.. how we used to be?” he asks, voice sounding detached.

something sour stirs in the pit of your stomach at the way he’s acting. if the sudden change in ambiance didn’t give you whiplash, his vague question definitely did the job.

“i mean, of course i do,” you laugh nervously, rubbing a thumb softly over his knuckles. the inmate squeezes back this time, quelling the storm of anxiety bubbling in your chest.

“the sex i mean,” he explains, looking up from the floor to speak to you head on. “do you feel.. deprived? are your needs getting met?”

your thumb stills for just a moment as you think it over, though you doubt he even notices. the truth was yes, going from getting fucked every day to getting fucked every 6 or 7 weeks wasn’t exactly ideal. but what else were you two supposed to do? the man was serving a 7 year sentence for christ’s sake.

toji takes your momentary silence as an answer, sitting up straighter before speaking once more.

“i’m just saying if you ever found a man to fill in the gaps then i’d be open to it,” he explains. you notice a hint of unsureness behind his stone facade, catching onto the way his hand begins to fiddle with yours. what was he playing at?

“you’re saying you want me to cheat on you?” you ask, exasperated. where was this even coming from?

“god, fuck,” he sighs frustratedly, running both hands over his face slowly.

“i can’t give you what you need, can’t— not like how we used to,” his voice tapers off at the end like he’s scared to upset you. “shiu’s had a crush on you for years, i’d know he’d take good care of you.”

you step back from the table to gather yourself, pacing in front of the inmate like a woman gone mad. you’re grateful the constant circulation of inmates and visitors in the room is drawing attention away from you, otherwise an officer probably would have come over by now.

you couldn’t even believe what toji was offering to you. seeking out other men— his business partners—to “fill in the gaps”? when the love of your life was only a car drive away? fat fucking chance.

you stalk over to his side of the table, pointing an accusatory finger to his face.

“if you ever..” you pause, blinking away tears, “think that i’d give up on you just because we don’t have sex as often as we did then you’d be fucking crazy.”

you see him audibly flinch when your voice cracks, the weight of your emotions bringing him literal pain. toji’s eyes have gone wide, realizing the implications of his offer.

“i’m sorry baby, fuck, i’m sorry,” he whispers, pulling your face into the curve of his neck despite the harsh restrictions on touch set during visits. you silently thank the bustling crowd again for shielding the two of you, clutching at each other so deeply you think you might just meld into him.

“don’t want anybody but you,” you say with finality, pressing soft kisses to his pulse.

“i know sweetheart, i hear ya.”

you stay like that for the rest of your visit, breathing in each other’s warmth as calloused hands rubs circles into your back. neither of you say anything, not needing to when both do you knew you’d always find a way to make it work.

taglist 🏷️ <3

@honeybee54321 @m150-50up @kuryoomi @t4naiis @serendippindots @sillyalo @levixbby @powerrwa @tojishugetiddies @wheredidmycrowngo @unknownspecies @ushygushybaby @ebiharachan @hoshigray @crazychaoticizzy @denypipa @watyousayin @tempest1art @sakuraryomen01 @kariito-art @vkeyy @mxtokko @inumakiiz @rosieee491 @loveme-b4by @suguxo @namjoonsbuspass @tojis-luver @complexivelovely @dancingwithdeities @sunflwrsugar @catvader101 @ktsgrl @princessos-blog @4ut0p5y @swiftsongs-mp3 @mycocoapuffs @adrenepinephrine @na0koz @suguscape @jaswonder3 @bokutosprettylittlebimbo @getousrep @jeannieboys @darkstarlight82 @freebananabeard @vivian-555 @kentokaze @subarusuguru @aroxwq

#adah’s asks #prison bf! toji #prison bf!toji #toji x reader #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen #toji drabbles #toji fluff #toji hcs #toji x fem reader #toji x fem reader smut #toji x female reader #toji x female reader smut #toji smut #toji angst #toji x reader angst #fushiguro toji x reader #toji headcanons #toji fushiguro

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aft3rhrs · 4 months

Text

— hangman ღ

number: unknown. pt 2.

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: strangers to lovers

warnings: dead dove, yandere, smoking, manipulation, corruption, allusions to depression and anxiety, allusions to past familial abuse, kidnapping, drugging, hints of fear kink (mind games, mentions & threats of snuff and necrophilia), allusions to cnc, mentions of stalking, angst, obsession, dub con, humiliation, praise, choking, possessiveness, outdoor sex, rough sex, dirty talk, use of triggering words in an erotic and degrading manner* (listed under the cut), creampie, mindbreak (??? a tiny bit), aftercare, mentions of murder and corpses, revenge themes, softer towards the end

*use of the word “rapist”.

masterlist

It's been three weeks since Jungkook has started seeing you in clubs. Five weeks of silence since the last phone call. It didn't take too long for you to let your guard down, a tempting invitation for a predator like him. Were you passing time drinking, hoping he would finally come around and see where you've been hiding? Terrified of the moment fantasy bleeds into reality, but unable to resist its pull?

He didn't have to wait long to find out.

He caught when you were walking home, heart throbbing the moment he finally felt your warmth. The thick shadows of the alley concealed your bodies, and if anyone were to walk by, they'd see nothing but a pair of lovers embracing in the dark.

No one would notice the cloth damp from chloroform pressed into your mouth, or the way his voice made your frightened form soften in his arms.

"It's okay," he shushed. "It's just me, baby..."

A monster familiar was better than a beast unknown.

"I'm sorry, I just need you to take a nap. I'll take care of you. I promise."

He pressed his lips into your forehead, stroking your hair as you limped in his hold, less conscious by the minute. A kiss goodnight, marking your departure to the empty dreamland that swallowed you whole.

Jungkook scooped you up, carried you to his car, then laid you down at the back before starting the engine.

The drive was smooth, the roads long and dark, inky outlines of trees thickening as they stretched forward. The little dress you wore barely covered your legs, prompting Jungkook to turn the heating on; even if his jacket already kept you warm.

Two hours later, you began to stir.

Your eyes opened, hazy from sleep and the drug still running through your system. Your consciousness fluttered awake slowly, along with all of your senses. You registered the feeling of Jungkook's heat blanketing you, his arm tight around your waist, keeping you tucked into his chest. You registered the weight of his hand cradling your cheek, and the smell of his cologne, mingling with leather.

"Had a good nap?" He murmured, his breath tickling your lips.

You blinked a few times, taking in the dimness of his car, and then the hooded eyes staring right into yours.

As if the reality of the situation just dawned on you, you startled, an incomprehensible protest fleeing your mouth. Your body seemed too weak to fight, however, and your mind wasn't in a much better place.

Jungkook buried his face in your neck when you jumped, brushing his nose along the smooth skin.

"Sorry, baby. I know you're tired, and we haven't seen each other in so long—" he whispered. "I've been going crazy without you."

You shivered promptly, your brain still muddled and heart thumping in your chest. You had no idea what was going on, and you were afraid to find out. Pride out the window, there was no denying that fact.

"But that's why tonight's a special occasion," Jungkook continued, still whispering. He lifted his head, the tip of his nose bumping into yours. "You know I'd do anything for you. Tonight I need you to do something for me."

You swallowed thickly. You wished you had the energy to slap him, kick him, bite him; but you felt too heavy.

"Go to hell," was all you managed, raspy and weak.

Jungkook chuckled. The sound made your blood boil. Fighting back only ever seemed to encourage his depraved nature, and it was humiliating, somehow, if not utterly discouraging.

"Hell is wherever I have to live without you," he mumbled into your cheek, "and trust me when I tell you, baby, you're never getting away from me again."

Your stomach sank, reaching depths you had no idea were possible. You watched him slip away from you to get out of the car, and the cold air that poured in wasn't the only reason your legs started shaking.

Like a gentleman, he reached for your hand and helped you out, most likely aware of how weak your knees felt. He steadied you against the door, letting you take in the dense woods surrounding you, the grim sight of empty branches twisting into the autumn sky.

You tried not to let the worst scenarios flood your head, yet it was a difficult wave to hold off; and impossible to run from.

"Where are we?"

Jungkook reached into his pocket.

"Out of town, little doe."

A glimmer of silver among the dark scenery caught your attention. You found yourself going rigid, staring at the shovel laying on the damp ground.

A click had your head snapping down. The barrel of a gun brushed against your hip, tender, like a lover's touch.

"Wanna get to work?"

The world tilted off its axis, your blood running cold, ice as blue as your veins.

You were going to die.

There was a small part of you that seemed to crack at the thought, prompting tears to burn your eyes. It wanted you to cry, plead him to stop and just take you home, to bed, so you could sleep it all away.

Yet a bigger part of you felt somewhat betrayed. He touched something dark inside of you, fed it until it bloomed, and now that you were so damaged he wanted you six feet under?

Jungkook bit his lip, a meek attempt at holding back a smile.

"Don't look at me like that. Not every girl gets to dig her own grave, you know. I even bought you flowers."

Still and silent as a statue, you didn't answer. The lump in your throat was too thick, the static in your head growing louder.

Jungkook leaned in, his gun languidly caressing your hip and plush lips teasing your ear.

"Here's your noose, baby. Are you ready for it?"

Your noose...

Were you supposed to trust him with it?

You were walking forward before you realized it, fists clenched and steps unsteady. You could have spent hours running through the woods, and you still wouldn't be able to escape him. Whether this was a sick game or your last night breathing, there was no denying that fact, either.

"You know what?" you snapped, grabbing the shovel, "I would rather die than spend another minute here with you."

You still tried to blink your tears away, refusing to give him the satisfaction, the last shreds of your dignity. You shoved the sharp edge of the tool into the earth, your vision blurred.

"I would rather die than ever see you again."

You were too busy throwing away the dirt, then digging in to gather more, to notice the way Jungkook's jaw tensed.

"I would rather be in the ground, than be around a psycho freak like you!"

The louder your voice rose, the more your throat ached, tears spilling over despite all your efforts. You continued to dig, completely disregarding seeing Jungkook walking towards you.

"Wow. I would watch your mouth if I were you, honey," he warned lowly, stopping a few inches behind you.

The shovel struck the earth again, a chill crawling down your spine.

"Ever gotten off to snuff porn?"

You froze, wide eyes staring into the ruined ground before you.

Jungkook ran his finger down your back, making you shiver.

"Well, I haven't. But I might start soon, with my personal little movie star, if you're not gonna be a good fucking girl."

The implication had your mouth instantly shut. You couldn't bear to turn around and look at him, or even run. Rooted to the place you stood in, withering away, like the trees that trapped you.

Jungkook snaked his arms around your waist, the gun still in his hand, flat against your abdomen.

"I don't like it when you lie, baby," he muttered, placing a kiss on your neck.

Your head was spinning strangely, shallow breaths leaving your lungs.

"Bet your pussy's wet. Probably been wet since I grabbed you. Bet it's clenching right now and you can't stand it, so you choose to be a fucking bitch... As always."

He kissed your neck once more, hot and breathy against your skin. Your knees almost buckled.

"You're so fucking dirty. Do you want me to snuff you out? Hmm?"

It was disgusting, the filth he spouted, the way he pressed himself closer to you, hard beneath his jeans. The way your tummy churned was worse, heat radiating on your skin despite the insistent brushes of the frigid wind.

"Want me to fuck you into that grave?"

You couldn't stop the tears, silent and hot, flowing in tandem with the slick sticking to your underwear. You still felt drugged out, your outburst doing nothing but leaving you hollow. Tiredness was beginning to take over, numbness spreading through your bones.

Maybe Jungkook was right. You were no better than him; aggression remaining your only self defense when you were left vulnerable. But now that it has faded, a quiet, devastating acceptance was starting to settle in.

You hated him — because you hated yourself. You wanted to be normal, to heal from the things that broke you. And every attempt ended in failure. Instead of encouraging you to try again, or critizing, Jungkook was the only person who wanted you as you were. In pieces.

He didn't mind getting cut on the shards. In fact, it seemed he'd be ecstatic to bleed for you, offer you everything he had. Toxic and twisted, no end to his devotion.

"Keep digging," he said hoarsely, then took a step back.

Like he was trying to stay in control.

You obeyed, sniffling quietly as you bent down to pick up the shovel.

He told you once that not everyone was made for this world; and you clearly weren't, but that was okay... because you were made for him. That you could keep trying to fit in and keep failing if you wanted — or let him in.

You didn't, and he crept inside anyway; a tender violence.

At this point, you didn't care much if you died or not. At least everything would be over. In the end, you didn't have much to wake up for.

Jungkook lit up a cigarette. He drank in the sight of sweat shining on your skin in the dim light of the moon, the shift in your demeanor as you continued digging.

"Easy," he called, blowing out smoke. "Don't hurt yourself, darling. That's my job. It doesn't need to be that deep."

You ignored him, no longer in the mood to talk. Or to provoke him any further, for that matter. Your arms almost trembled as the hole in the ground grew deeper, whether from strain or nerves, it was hard to tell. The thought of your body laying in the dirt, cold and forgotten, felt both unsettling and peaceful. As though nothing mattered anymore.

Jungkook watched you struggle, fingers stiff around the shovel, and yet you kept going, the scattered pile of dirt behind you increasing. He was pissed off, but finishing his cigarette soothed the fire, while noting how pale you've begun to turn put it out altogether.

He threw the bud away and jumped off the hood of his car to make his way towards you. His hand settled on your waist, pulling you up, while the other took a hold of the shovel.

"That's enough," he murmured, dropping it aside with a small thump. "Good girl."

You let yourself melt into death's arms.

Your head lolled to the side, exposing the expanse of your neck, unconsciously giving Jungkook the access he wanted. He kissed the tender flesh, squeezing your hips, still hard and hot beneath his jeans.

"The end is always a new beginning, baby."

You sighed, mascara wet and heavy on your lashes. Gently, Jungkook turned you around to face him, wiping the dark streaks from your face.

"I love you so much," he breathed into your lips.

His body was solid against yours. Your only source of warmth. Dizzy, you barely had the chance to glance up at him before he kissed you, swallowing your shaky exhale.

You let out a mellow squeal when his hands traveled down your legs, gripping your thighs to lift you with ease. For the first time you found yourself clinging to him, kissing him back with equal hunger instead of denial. You wanted to forget the world around you, the grave you've dug for yourself, much earlier than tonight.

Jungkook took a step, then another, before giving up entirely and lowering you down beside it, disconnecting your lips from his only the moment he hovered above you.

Pupils blown out, inky hair messy, he cupped your cheek, his heart thumping right against yours.

"Are you scared?" He asked softly, his thumb still wiping at your tears.

You stared up at him, trying to hold on to reality, but as always, your grip was slipping, and he was the only lifeline you had left. He stirred up the muddy waters in your heart, agitated the unbridled, starving things within their depths.

"Is this a punishment?" you found yourself uttering, barely a whisper.

Jungkook cocked his head to the side, his gaze flicking between your eyes and your lips.

"Mm, not really. Just a little game, to end all the others. And start something new."

You didn't know what to think or feel anymore, your hair splayed out on the ground, so cold beneath you, Jungkook's heat bleeding into your skin from above, and the world spinning.

You smacked his arm when he dipped down to mouth at your neck again; drained, the distorted hands under the water still reaching to pull him under with the remnants of your anger. He laughed, as though he found it adorable, immediately grabbing your face to kiss you again.

He didn't hesitate for a second, unzipping his jeans with one hand, and you could feel your core quiver against your better judgement. It was surprising to find that there was still some clarity left in you; or maybe it was easier to make peace with death than with the fact that you were your own traitor.

"Want me to fuck you in it?" Jungkook breathed, forcing your thighs apart.

You couldn't help the way your gaze fell down to his inked hand, wrapped around his cock. He tapped it against your inner thigh impatiently, precum wetting your skin. You clenched around thin air, spine tingling.

"The grave," he clarified, smirking.

The words finally hit you, and you shook your head, your hands frantically pushing at his chest.

"No!" you cried out, nails almost slashing the skin of his neck.

Jungkook grunted, pushing back, leaning his entire weight on you to put an end on your antics. Your breath hitched when you felt his fingers dip inside your underwear, pulling it aside abruptly. He didn't comment on how drenched the flimsy material was. The moment you were exposed, he was pushing inside you, incapable of focusing on anything but the warmth of your cunt.

The small hole stretched so nicely to accommodate him, fluttering around his cock. He groaned into your mouth, and your thighs shuddered around him, a restless heat boiling deep in your gut.

"You're so wet," he moaned, pulling back to feel the ring of muscles clench against his flushed tip, trying to suck him back in.

He shivered at the feeling, then proceeded to fuck himself in and out of you like he needed; like you both did. Hard.

"You're a filthy fucking minx, I shouldn't ask you anything unless I'm inside you. Your pussy won't lie to me, hm?"

Despite the whines he coaxed out of your throat, you shook your head, every wet slap of his cock thrusting in and out echoing through the woods. Imprinting on your brain.

"Oh yeah? How about we rewind a little, baby?"

He fucked you faster, angling his hips to find that little spot that made your mouth fall open. He wasn't going to go easy on it, or on you, chasing the high.

"What's gotten you so soaked?" He managed, panting. "Did you like the thought of me snuffing you out?"

Cheeks aflame, a choked out protest; and yet your pussy was getting tighter, soaking the thick grith pounding into it.

Jungkook let out a sound akin to a whimper, eyebrows scrunching.

"Fuck, I know you did," he leaned his forehead on yours, feeling his cock throb. "I know how much you want my cum, screaming or dead or asleep. And if I could live without you, baby, I'd do it for you, keep you so full of me."

A revolting insinuation; but you couldn't tell the difference between nausea and an approaching orgasm making your stomach twist.

Jungkook's lips inched towards yours, a deep groan rumbling out.

"That's it. Let it go. Let it all go, angel."

This was the way he wanted you to fall apart; on his big cock, tasting the kind of euphoria nothing and no one but him could offer. He felt his balls tighten, heavy as they slammed against you, almost ready to spill everything he had.

"Mm—" a sigh, a pause, hips grinding as his hand clutched your neck, feeling your pulse jump. "Yeah."

A drop of sweat slipped down his temple. Beautiful, with a mouth that dripped depravity, he might as well have had two horns growing out of his head, a forked tongue hidden under the illusion of humanity.

He resumed his ruthless pace, unwilling to let you look away, dissociate from him. In fact, the way you squirmed under him, succumbing to the rush, pliant and loud as you cried, had him choking you harder, crushing the rest of your pride.

"Close?" He bit down on your lower lip, pulling on it. "What do you think your friends would say if they saw you like this?" He husked, his hand crawling up your chest. "Getting fucked out in the woods... by your stalker. Do you think they would be surprised?"

He fondled you over the soft material of the dress, focused on nothing but pumping you full of him. You felt like heaven, and your tight little cunt responded to his words, even if you didn't want to, fluttering and releasing more slick.

"They shouldn't be," he swallowed harshly, watching your eyes fall closed. "They don't know you at all. Don't know how much you like this cock forcing you open."

For the first time that night, it was clear that your thighs weren't trembling from fear. That greedy pussy wasn't letting him go, and Jungkook was tipping towards the edge, no filter on his thoughts anymore.

"But I know," his head fell into your neck, a hot mumble striking your skin. "You're such a good girl, such a good fucking girl, and such a dirty fucking whore, just for me— aaahhh, fuck."

There it was; his favorite way of getting to you. Kissing, biting and licking at your monsters until they'd submit, recognizing him as one of their own. His cock liked it too, the way you fell to pieces under him, back arched and hands digging into his shoulders.

"I feel you, baby," he groaned, "knew you'd cream my cock. That's all you can think about, isn't it?"

You whimpered, delirious, though it still sounded like a 'no', a cute, little lie to ward off your guilt. For some reason, it turned Jungkook on more. He lifted his head and sucked at your lower lip, rutted into you harder.

"Go on, baby," he breathed, "cream it. No need to be shy, you're already mine."

A trail of sloppy, possessive kisses marked your neck, electricity trickling through your spine.

"My prettiest baby, my only girl," Jungkook babbled drunkenly. "Go on, do it for me. Yeah..."

Eyes dark, locking on yours, his voice lowering to a shaky whisper.

"Come on your rapist's cock."

You unraveled like his word was holy, clamping down on him and ripping a hoarse moan out of his throat. He fucked you through it anyway, too close to the edge to stop his own fall; his cock throbbed, long spurts of hot cum filling your ruined hole, so deep and so good his eyes rolled back.

He swore filthily, knees like cotton and his hand digging into your throat, staking his claim, the rush too sweet not to let it linger. It flowed through his entire body, pulsing and warm, like the sun. It flowed through yours too, imploding, and wiping out the rest of existence. As far as you were aware, Jungkook was all that was left.

You didn't feel anything else; not the passage of time, nor the cold air grazing your arms. Only his lips, leaving kiss after kiss on your face, muttering praises you could barely make out with your mind numbed out.

You weren't sure how long you've spent laying there, his cum leaking out of you, bones like jelly and skin sticky. At last floating in the dark, like fog, and still being kissed all over, your flesh existing only where his lips touched.

By the time he pulled you up, you didn't have the capacity to wonder what was going to happen next.

So why were you crying again?

You even didn't notice until Jungkook sat you on the hood of his car, cupping your cheeks.

"No more, baby," he pleaded. "Relax. I've got you."

You were so tired.

You wished you could lie down and sleep, but Jungkook reached for the hem of your dress, inching it up.

"I'm gonna need this."

Your heart flipped. Still, you were too out of it to protest or ask why.

Goosebumps flooded your skin as he took the clothing off you, gently, leaving you in nothing but your underwear.

As if shutting down, you stayed there; once again, unmoving. You listened to the trunk pop open, stuck on the odd rustling sound that followed. A loud thud came, making you flinch.

Then, more rustling.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jungkook dragging something towards you, a faint, unpleasant smell of blood reaching your nose.

Your stomach turned.

You stared at the bag, and he stared at you, unceremoniously dropping your dress on the wrapped up corpse.

Perhaps it was the way you gasped that had him reaching out, the same hands that took a life massaging your bare sides to comfort you.

"Close your eyes for the next part, baby," he whispered.

His nose brushed against yours. You felt your lower lip tremble, but still did as he asked.

"Good girl," he praised.

Frowning, you attempted to make some sense of what was happening, attempted to keep your heart from jumping to your throat.

It did anyway.

Sensing your distress, Jungkook kissed your lips.

"Remember a girl called Jia?"

No more pounding, or skipping beats. Everything seemed to come to a halt, including your heart.

Jungkook squeezed your waist. His voice remained quiet, a ghost in the wind.

"Not a pretty sight."

Inhale.

Exhale.

He took a hold of your trembling hand, leaving a loving kiss on each knuckle.

"Tonight, you die, baby," he murmured, the next kiss landing on your temple. "And nothing bad will ever happen to you again. Just you and me, yeah?"

The tears that fell were different now. Something broke. But it felt like release.

The soothing warmth of his hands vanished, and you kept your eyes closed. Even as the bag rustled and the stench got worse, even as another thud echoed through the empty woods.

How did he know?

Somehow, it still surprised you. Somehow, you couldn't bear to disobey him as he filled the grave you dug up, burying the biggest nightmare of your past. The so called family that had torn your life and soul apart.

There was no doubt in your mind that if he found her, he found him, too.

You listened to the metal dig into the earth again, dirt gathering on top of her corpse. Clad in your dress, butchered, rendering her unrecognizable. Teeth, face, hands — ruined. Jungkook had thought of everything, it seemed. A perfect crime.

The only traces of DNA left? Yours. Whatever still lingered on that little black dress.

As of tonight...

You were were dead.

Jungkook threw the shovel away, huffing, then made his way back towards the car. He heaved a sigh and pulled you in, held you close, sheltering you from the rest of the world.

Your fingers wrapped around the fabric of his sleeve, squeezing.

He acknowledged the gesture by kissing the top of your head, eyes closed. There was no rush, really, besides the longing to finally take you home and get into bed to sleep.

No more games. No more pain.

The end was always a new beginning.

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#dead dove #yandere bts #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reactions #bts smut #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook smut

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roosterforme · 3 months

Text

The Younger Kind Part 48 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is just trying to make it to the weekend. When he realizes he needs to visit Meredith, he's starting to feel like his sanity is hanging on by a thread. At least he has you, and he knows he can trust you implicitly. And maybe this will give him the kind of closure he didn't know he needed.

Warnings: Swearing, angst, fluff, mention of abortion, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4800 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Afternoon rain clouds had rolled in, making the city look darker than normal. You noticed right away that the usual sunlight wasn't coming in the windows at work, and it was putting everyone in a strange mood. Even the tiny patients you were taking care of seemed to be crying a little bit more than usual.

You needed to leave soon to pick up Noah which required you to cancel your nail appointment. Bradley didn't even tell you why he'd be late, he just said he would be. It wasn't that you didn't trust him, you just wanted to know that he was okay, but you hadn't heard from him again.

As soon as you walked outside and headed for your car, it started pouring rain. It was so unexpected, you started laughing. You couldn't even remember the last time you'd had a rainy day. Maybe if the lightning and thunder held off, you could take Noah outside to play in it. But as you opened your car door and ducked inside, a streak of jagged light went shooting across the sky.

"Damn," you muttered, carefully driving through the parking lot. You thought about Skittles home alone in her crate. She must be terrified all alone right now, and at this rate, it was going to take you longer than usual to get to Noah. Traffic was backed up like crazy, because nobody knew how to drive in this. You sat at the same red light for three cycles before you were finally able to move at all, and by the time you reached Noah's daycare, it was almost time for them to close.

You dashed out through the rain and inside the building where you were confronted with Casey while you looked like a drowned rat. "Common sense would tell you to use an umbrella when it's raining," she said sweetly as you started to shiver in the air conditioning.

"It's San Diego," you replied coolly. "It never rains here."

She made a production of leaning past you to look out the door. "I think you're wrong, but I can't be certain." She set the clipboard down on the counter and turned away from you as she said, "Poor Noah is going to get completely soaked."

You rolled your eyes as you signed your name a little bit aggressively. It's not like the child would melt. If Bradley came to pick him up instead of you, there was no doubt in your mind that Casey would have bent over backwards to make sure there was an umbrella for him to use. But since it was you, she just stood there with her arms crossed as you scooped Noah up.

"You ready to get a little wet, sweet Noah?" you asked him, kissing his cheek. "It's really raining hard."

He squealed in delight as you ran to your car with him, but you ended up getting a lot more soaked than he did. Your scrubs were clinging to your body when you finally closed the drivers' door behind you. "How about we go home, get dried off and snuggle under a blanket while we watch Mickey Mouse?"

"Yes!" cheered Noah. Maybe you'd just order a pizza later when Bradley got home. You were wet and tired and just wanted to relax.

"Okay. Here we go."

---------------------------

Bradley was a nervous mess on his way to see Tracy. "Come on," he groaned, trying to fight his way through the traffic downtown to get to her office in the rain. He should have left base as soon as he was grounded for the rest of the afternoon, but everyone started talking shop, including the admirals, and he didn't want to leave too early.

The array of invasive thoughts plaguing him at the moment was making his stomach churn. Every image in his mind was worse than the last. He was itching to call the First Bank of San Diego, but he thought he'd better talk to Tracy about it first. Reeking of jet fuel that was only made worse by getting his flight suit soaked in the rain, he rode the elevator up to her office. It was kind of late, and the building was mostly empty, but sure enough, the lights were shining brightly in her suite.

When he walked through the first set of glass doors, Tracy leaned out of her office door with a completely neutral expression on her face. "Hi. Come on back."

Bradley closed the distance in a few long strides. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I really didn't want to have to see you today. And I don't have my checkbook with me."

Tracy shook her head and gestured toward the small conference table before she grabbed a Red Bull from her refrigerator. "I'm not billing you for this."

Bradley's heart took a nosedive as he sank down into one of the chairs. If she wasn't even collecting payment, this must be worse than he thought. "Just get it over with, please. What's going on? Did Meredith open an account in my name or something?" he asked. Then he gripped the edge of the table. "In Noah's name? Fuck! Did she figure out a way to fucking bankrupt me?"

He was about to be sick. Once again, he was kicking himself for never taking all of these precautions earlier, right after Meredith left him with a three month old. There would have been ways to safeguard both of them from this sort of thing, but he would have never believed Meredith was capable of doing what she did before. She probably took out a mortgage or opened a credit card. She would have had easy access to Bradley's banking information and social security number. It had been ages since he checked his credit score.

Tracy was offering him a Red Bull, but she slowly pulled it away from him like it was the last thing in the world he needed as he gripped her table so hard, the whole thing was vibrating a little bit.

"Take a deep breath, Bradley. It's nothing so extreme," she assured him in a calm voice as she pried his fingers away from her furniture. "Meredith opened an account right after Noah was born and put a few thousand dollars into it."

Bradley clasped his hands in his lap and thought back a few years. Meredith had been happy for a little while. She seemed to warm up to the idea of Noah, and after he was born and they had a tiny newborn at home, she was very involved. But as the weeks wore on, Bradley noticed her involvement slipping while he was the one picking up all the loose ends and working full time.

"I don't remember anything about a bank account," he told Tracy. "What does this have to do with me exactly?"

She took a drink before she said, "You're listed as a custodian on the account. Technically the money was put in Noah's name, but since he's a minor, he can't handle it himself."

His brow was furrowed as he shook his head. "I'm still confused. Isn't it Meredith's account?"

"Yes and no," she replied. "Once she put your name and social security number on the line below hers, she made you liable for the money, too. And the bank must have uncovered that Meredith is incarcerated. This happens from time to time. When they couldn't reach her, they found her lawyer's information on the court docket. And then her lawyer called me. Apparently your address wasn't listed."

Bradley felt like his head was swimming with information. "So you're telling me I can go to the Coronado branch of the First Bank of San Diego tomorrow and get this money out?"

"Potentially," she replied mildly.

He thought for a beat before he asked, "Is Meredith still entitled to the money? Even though I have sole custody of Noah?"

"Sure. Her name is also on the account." She shrugged and checked the time. "It's not quite six yet. Should we call the bank and find out exactly what's going on?"

"Yeah," he agreed, reaching for his phone. It would be better to do this with her here so he could make sure he got all the information he needed. "Should I just put it on speaker?"

She nodded as she finished her drink and tossed the can into her already overflowing recycle bin. He tapped on the number of the missed calls from earlier and waited while it rang. "First Bank of San Diego corporate offices, this is Belinda. How can I help you?"

Bradley cleared his throat. "Uh, hi, Belinda. My name is Bradley Bradshaw, and I missed some phone calls earlier? I... was hoping you could answer some questions about an account?"

"Please hold."

He looked at Tracy who seemed completely unfazed by all of this as she examined her manicure. It was great that she was always able to stay so calm, but his heart was thundering up into his throat. He wasn't about to believe there weren't a thousand credit cards maxed out in his name until he investigated it all for himself.

"This is Barry."

Bradley didn't know quite what to say as he cleared his throat again. "Hi, this is Bradley Bradshaw. I'm actually here with my lawyer, and I missed some calls earlier?"

"Right, yes," came the man's voice along with the sound of him typing on a keyboard. "We were trying to reach you regarding an account that was opened with your minor child listed as a beneficiary. Information would have been mailed to you, but we did not have an associated address on file."

"Can you tell us more about the account?" Tracy asked, and Bradley was relieved that she knew what to do.

"Well, I can tell you that once an account reaches over $15,000 without any activity in the prior three years, we make a courtesy phone call to see if the owner wants to move any of the funds."

"Fifteen thousand?" Bradley asked, running his fingers through his hair anxiously. "That account has fifteen thousand dollars in it? And she never touched it?"

Barry was silent for a beat. "I really can't provide much more information unless you visit one of our branches in person, sir."

"Shit," Bradley muttered, leaning back in his seat and staring at the ceiling.

"Sounds great, Barry. Thanks for your time," Tracy said before she ended the call for him. "You need to go to the bank. Can you go tomorrow?"

"Yeah," Bradley grunted. "So... there's money just sitting there that potentially belongs to Noah through me?"

"Sounds like it."

Bradley met her eyes. "And I can just take it out? And move it into a different account?"

Now she looked a little apprehensive. "I wouldn't advise you to do it quite that way."

-----------------------------

You let Noah play out in the rain with Skittles for approximately five minutes while you stood inside the backdoor and watched. He had bugged so long and so hard, you caved. But as soon as you heard a rumble of thunder, you ran out and picked him up where he was splashing in a puddle in his dinosaur rain boots while the tiny pup barked. You got soaked all over again in the process, but you carried him inside as lightning flashed across the sky.

"It's getting too stormy!" you told him over all the noise. "Time to go in!"

You grabbed a towel from the stack you left on the kitchen table, and Noah let you fuss over him. You wrapped Skittles in a towel when she started to shake from the cold air conditioned temperature inside, and eventually all three of you ended up on the couch under a blanket with cartoons playing. There was no sign of Bradley, but when you texted and asked him to bring pizza home, he agreed right away.

Anything my Princess wants.

You smiled at your phone as you sat with Noah on your lap and Skittles on his lap. Every few minutes, you buried your nose in his fresh smelling hair and inhaled as you gave him a squeeze. "When's Daddy coming home?" he asked as the sky outside just got darker as the evening wore on. "I'm hungry."

"Soon," you promised him, but it had gotten so late, you were about to make Noah a snack when you finally heard a key in the front door lock.

Skittles was the first one who jumped down from the couch. "Daddy!" Noah launched off of your lap and ran to the door as Bradley kicked it open. His hair and flight suit were basically soaked, but he was holding a pizza and a container of salad with a coffee cup balanced on the top. His handwriting on the cup was wet, and the marker was starting to run, but you could still read Princess. And he looked absolutely exhausted.

"Hey, Bub," he mumbled, kneeling to kiss Noah while he balanced everything in one hand. "You having fun with Mommy?"

Even Bradley's voice was laced with fatigue that you could practically feel as you stood and went to him. You kissed his wet cheek and whispered, "Thank you," as you took the food and your coffee cup from his hand. He just looked at you and nodded, and you gave him a minute with Noah and Skittles as you took the food to the kitchen and got more clean towels. He was just taking off his boots when you returned and asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He grunted as he took the towels from you and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can we wait until Noah's in bed?"

You really did not want to wait another hour, but you agreed anyway, and Bradley kissed your lips before he ran a towel over his face and hair. "Thanks, Baby," he whispered as you gave him a minute to get changed. You took Noah into the kitchen and started to cut up a slice of pizza for him. You were just adding a liberal amount of dressing onto the salad when Bradley walked in wearing gym shorts and a black undershirt that hugged his perfect torso, fresh from a quick shower.

"I love that about you," he crooned next to your ear, his hands soft on your waist as he nodded at the salad.

You laughed and said, "I know you do, Daddy." You were tempted to crawl onto his lap and try to make him feel better while he ate, because he'd clearly had a stressful day. With a quick glance at Noah where he was getting sauce all over his face, you decided to settle into your own seat with a piece of pizza and half of the salad. Bradley stacked two slices together and ate them at the same time in about ten bites.

"You really had a bad day, huh?" you asked, breaking off a piece of your crust and eating it.

He shook his head, brow scrunched in something like concern as he watched his son eat. "Not exactly. Just very long."

Once all the food was gone, you sipped your coffee while you cleaned up. Bradley would have normally done that, but when Noah asked to play blocks with him, you sent them into the living room. You could hear the block towers go clattering to the floor over and over again as Noah giggled. The rain hadn't tapered off, and you were already starting to yawn by eight o'clock. That's when Bradley poked his head into the kitchen with Skittles held in one big hand.

"Hey, Baby. I'm going to get Noah ready for bed, and then we can talk in the living room?"

You nodded and finished loading the dishwasher before curling up with the blanket on the couch. Bradley brought Noah in for a goodnight kiss and then vanished again. By the time he returned empty handed, you were half asleep, but you climbed onto his lap after he sat down. "What's going on?" you asked, your cheek cradled on his shoulder and your lips brushing his neck. You could feel his soft length against your thigh through his gym shorts, and you let your hand settle low on his abs.

He cleared his throat softly and whispered, "I need to go to Las Colinas Detention Facility either tomorrow or Wednesday." A chill rippled through your body even though you were tucked in his warm embrace. You jerked yourself back so you were looking him in the eye as he added, "I need to talk to Meredith."

All you could picture was the stress you saw on his face months ago when she dragged him through the court battle over Noah. You grabbed at your arm where you'd gotten all cut up when you fell in the parking lot at Meyer Park. You could practically still feel and hear all of the pieces of broken glass crunching beneath your feet when you found that your apartment had been broken into.

"Why?" you gasped as tears stung at your eyes. A sick feeling settled into your belly, and all you could do was repeat the question, "Why?"

"Shh. It's okay, Princess," he promised, kissing your cheeks and the tears you weren't even aware you'd shed. "I'm going to make sure it's okay."

You were nodding and shaking a little bit as you listened to him explain that Meredith had opened an account when Noah was a baby. Apparently there was a substantial amount of money now, and Bradley's name was also on the account. "It makes me feel like, even just for a little while, Meredith actually cared about Noah," he whispered, and now you saw tears in his eyes too before he tipped his head back against the couch. "I have a lot of mixed feelings about this, but I guess it's not all bad."

You swallowed down the discomfort you felt and whispered, "You loved her then. And she loved you. And Noah. I mean... she was his mom."

Bradley lifted his head up and tightened his grip around your waist. "You are Noah's mom," he insisted, and you immediately burst into tears. "That's how I want it. That's how Noah wants it. That's how you told me you want it. And that's not going to change. But I just feel like Noah should have this money from Meredith."

You nodded as he wiped at your tears. "He should," you sobbed. "But why do you have to go to Las Colinas? Why can't you just withdraw it?"

Now Bradley let his forehead come to rest on your shoulder, like he needed the comfort associated with being close to you. "I could do that, but I stopped to talk to Tracy, and she thinks that would do more harm than good. There's a simple form I can get from the bank tomorrow after I talk to someone about the exact amount in the account. The plan is for me to take the form to Las Colinas myself, talk to Meredith, and ask her to sign it and effectively forfeit the funds over to me. That way there could be no questions asked."

"And what if she won't sign it?"

He kissed your cheek. "Then you and I can decide if I should withdraw the cash and move it to a different account or just leave it there and pretend it doesn't exist."

You were struck once again by the way Bradley made all of his decisions for you and with you. He treated you with respect when he made plans, and he valued your opinion. "Do you want me to come with you? To the bank or to see Meredith? So you don't have to do it alone?"

His lips and mustache were tickling your jaw as he said, "No. Tracy and I agreed I should go alone. And I really want you to take care of Noah after work so that's one less thing I have to worry about." He kissed you softly. "But thank you for offering."

And that's how you fell asleep, on his lap with his lips pressed to your skin.

------------------------------

Bradley couldn't be sure if it was his khaki uniform, but it definitely seemed to help his cause. When he got to the bank after work on Tuesday, he was called right back to a small office where an agent started helping him. "Okay, Lieutenant Bradshaw, let's check this account balance for you," she said as she typed in his social security number. "You are looking at $17,271.28. Would you like to transfer it to a different account?"

He just gaped at her. That could pay for a year of college for Noah. "Actually... I'm going to need to think about it," he replied, and a little while later he left her office with a single piece of paper.

He started the thirty minute drive out of the city to the women's correctional facility. You were probably leaving work right now. Maybe you were pulling into the daycare parking lot. Either way, he didn't have to worry about his son when he was with you. Instead, he could focus on what he needed to do right now, because he was having some mixed feelings about taking this money at all. But if it was actually intended to be used for Noah, then he wanted to give Meredith the opportunity to do the right thing.

After he parked, he waited in line to be searched before entering the building. Here, his uniform did absolutely nothing. In fact, he had to remove his belt and all of his pins and leave them in a little tray in the front office before going though another metal detector. When an officer asked who he was there to see, she looked surprised when he said Meredith's name.

"Right," she replied, leading him toward a small waiting area. "Sit in here, and I'll call you in if she wants to see you."

He eased himself down onto a metal chair that was bolted to the floor and started to sweat. If Meredith wouldn't even talk to him, then he was going to have to leave the money where it was. He wouldn't be able to bring himself to touch it. He was starting to resent even coming here, because this week was supposed to have been a fun one with the air show coming up on Saturday and the hospital tour on Friday night. He could have just told Tracy and everyone at the bank that he didn't care about the money.

"Bradshaw?" called a different officer, and Bradley stood. Well. Apparently she was willing to talk to him after all. A door was held open for him and then another one. He was scanned into a narrow hallway, and once that door closed behind him, he was scanned into a room with a large number '3' on it.

And there sat his ex in a gray jumpsuit with her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her sleeves were rolled up her forearms, her hair was longer now, and frankly she looked a lot better than he was expecting. Her eyes tracked his every move as she crossed her arms over her chest and said, "Bradley."

He sat in one of the two chairs that were once again bolted to the floor, and his knees almost hit hers as he did so. "Meredith. How are things?" he asked for a lack of anything better coming to his mind.

"What are you doing here?" she asked immediately, leaning a little closer to him. "What do you want?" When he hesitated with his answer, she laughed and shook her head. "You wouldn't be here if you didn't need something from me, so just spit it out."

He shifted in his seat and withdrew the sheet of folded paper from his pocket. "You opened a savings account for Noah right after he was born? I had no idea it existed. The bank just started trying to reach out to me, because you put my name on the account as well," he stated as he tried to hand her the paper.

She stared at him, eyes wide as her cheeks flushed pink, but she said nothing, and she didn't move at all.

"I'm assuming you forgot about it," he added.

Meredith finally took the paper from him as she said, "Why didn't you just take the money then?" She seemed to begrudgingly move her icy stare from his face to the page as she unfolded it and started to read. Bradley knew if she signed it, she would be willingly forfeiting the funds. She would know the exact amount of money and offer it up on her own. He knew he shouldn't feel guilty about asking her to do this, but he kind of did anyway. And now that he was looking at her, he knew he couldn't just do it behind her back if she didn't sign.

"I wanted you to know about it before I did it," he told her softly. "I wanted to ask you why you put the money in the account in the first place."

She refolded the paper and once again met his gaze. "I originally opened the account so someday Noah could go to business school like me instead of joining the Navy like you."

Bradley nodded and almost wanted to smile. "Makes a lot of sense." He took a deep breath and whispered, "You were excited when you were pregnant. You were excited when he was a newborn."

Meredith closed her eyes and shook her head as she held her hand up in front of her. She didn't look at him as she said, "I tried, but I couldn't do it. You were better at all of it than I was, and I fucking hated it more and more every day. I hate being at home. I hated having to feed Noah and change diapers while you went back to work. I hated it so much. The four months that I took off completely ruined my career, and I was never able to recover. And that's where I was happiest."

Bradley nodded and clasped his hands in his lap. Her next sentence hurt him to hear, but she had every right to say it. "I think it would have been better for me if I'd had abortion. I think I could have been happy right now if I did." She kind of shrugged, barely looked at him and then turned toward the corner of the ceiling. Bradley followed her gaze as she loudly said into a camera, "Can somebody bring me a pen? I swear I won't stab him with it."

Bradley was afraid to say anything yet, and nobody appeared with a pen right away. Meredith read over the sheet of paper again, and eventually she said, "This was the only account I added your name to. Don't go sniffing around my bank for more, because you won't get it."

"Right," he replied, finding her words almost comical since she was the one trying to fleece him earlier this year.

"And every cent goes into a savings account for college tuition for him. A university or a trade school or something. Anything except the Navy. And none of it goes to that disgusting little slut you're living with now."

Bradley had to bite back his response as the door opened, and an officer walked in with one black ink pen. She handed it to Meredith and stood next to her while she signed the form, and then the officer collected the pen once more before leaving the room. He was honestly a little shocked, but he accepted the paper when she handed it to him.

"Thank you," he told her, deciding not to mention that you were going to be his wife and Noah's legal parent sooner rather than later if he had anything to say about it. She really didn't need to know about that, because she didn't have any say in the matter. "I'll save it for Noah for school. And if he wants to join the Navy like a real idiot, then I'll donate it all to your alma mater. But just... thanks for signing for it."

She nodded. "You were going to be able to take it anyway. At least now you'll cooperate with its original intended purpose."

Once again, he wasn't going to waste his time arguing with her by trying to say that he would have left the money untouched. He didn't need her to believe anything he said except that he'd save her money for Noah. "I will absolutely do that."

"I know you will."

-------------------------------

Well, well, well. What do we have here? Proof that Meredith cared at one time? Please ignore any financial inaccuracies, I tried my best. Aaaaand, onward to the air show. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 49

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verstappen-cult · 1 month

Note

Max is upset when you can't be at his side when the race weekend starts. Then when you're back to his side, I guarantee you can't not leave his side at all. This boy is going to stick with you like a koala till he's satisfied

You couldn't join Max the past weekend in Australia due to your work and now you regret it so much. You could’ve just asked your boss for a few days off and she would have said yes, and you could have been by his side during the fiasco that was the Australian Grand Prix.

Max was a little upset when you told him that you would not be in Australia, but after a long conversation — that ended up with you promising to be in Suzuka — he understood.

Max has to make a quick stop in Monaco to pick a few things before flying to Japan, so you planned to wait for him with a delicious dinner and his favorite dessert. But you didn’t even have time to go to the grocery store because Max decided to arrive earlier, much earlier.

“What do you mean you’re outside?” You squeal, putting on your sneakers. “Outside of where?” You hold your phone between your cheek and shoulder as you grab your bag, waving goodbye to your friends.

“The pilates studio.” He simply says.

“No, you’re in Australia.”

He laughs, “No, I’m in Monaco.”

“No becau—” You stop dead in your tracks when you step outside because he is, in fact, there, leaning against his car. “Max!”

He opens his arms and you don’t waste any time, colliding against his body. You drop everything just to wrap your arms around his shoulders.

“I missed you so much.” You whisper against his neck, and you feel his smile when he kisses your cheek.

“I couldn’t stay there any longer,” He shrugs, grabbing your things from the floor. “I missed my lucky charm this weekend.”

Your smile fades at the memory of Sunday’s race. “I’m sorry for what happened.” Max shrugs again, dismissing the topic with a wave of his hand. “How are you feeling?”

“These things happen. I won’t lie and say that I don’t care but we can’t cry about it, the team’s working on fixing everything and we’ll be back stronger than ever.”

You kiss him because there’s nothing else you could do. Hearing him talk that way when you know the old Max would have been beating himself up means everything to you.

“What was that for?” He chuckles when you pull away, a faint blush on his cheeks.

“What? I can’t kiss my boyfriend now?” He rolls his eyes but leans to leave a chaste kiss on your lips. “Can you drop me off at the grocery store? I need to buy a few things for dinner.”

You fall into an easy conversation as he drives through the streets of Monaco. He tells you about everything that's wrong with the car and what they’re doing to fix those issues and, in return, you tell him what you’ve been doing in his absence, and how much the cats miss him.

Soon enough, you reached your destination.

“Okay, I won’t be long. You can go home and—what are you doing?”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No, you’re going home to rest.” But he doesn’t listen. Max just gets out of the car, opens the door and helps you out. “Max.”

He groans, “I just,” He drops his head slightly forward. “I missed you so much, I don’t want to leave you.”

Your heart melts and you can’t say no to him, not when he’s looking like a lost puppy in front of you, so you simply take his hand, dragging him inside.

Of course you don’t miss the way his whole face lights up.

You end up arguing in the milk aisle because Max doesn’t leave your side, not when you try to move away to grab something you need and definitely not when you bump into one of your friends who you haven’t seen in a while, so you’re unable to hug her.

The argument ends with you pinned against the store shelves with Max whispering filthy things in your ear. You only pull away when the store manager clears his throat saying that “if you don’t stop right now, you’re gonna be banned for life.”

You think that once at home Max will want to take a rest, forgetting about you, but, to your surprise, he just takes a quick shower before joining you in the kitchen.

You cook dinner together, with a few kisses and ear scratches to the cats. And then you eat together, talking about everything and nothing at all, enjoying each other’s company.

Of course Max doesn’t let you shower alone, he joins you there too.

#꒰꒰ 📁 ─ verstappen cult files ꒱꒱#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #f1 imagine

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angelicsoka · 1 month

Note

❛ he so likes her! ❜ wiru quinn and jack noticing luke is crushing

PROM NIGHT, l. hughes

part two <3

word count | 832 words

pairings | luke hughes x best friend!reader, platonic!jack & quinn hughes x reader

summary | luke’s brothers notice his crush on his best friend

prompt | ❛ he so likes her! ❜

warnings | not proofread. no use of “y/n”. mutual pining. reader and luke are oblivious. lowercase intended. this is a work of fiction, i am by no means saying this is how they act in real life.

a/n | i’ve been trying to write but i have very little motivation, but here's this! might make a part two if the people want it :)

being in love with your best friend was horrible. knowing he didn’t feel the same was down right torturous. at least, you assumed he didn’t feel the same.

luke hughes had been your best friend since sixth grade, when one of his buddies cruelly pushed into a locker as you had walked past. luke, angered by his friend’s actions, proceeded to shove him into a locker before going to check on you. the rest was history.

you were the golden retriever to his black cat, the sun to his moon, his ride or die. you two had been through thick and thin together, somehow managing to stay friends when no one else thought you would.

unbeknownst to you both, jack and quinn had a bet going on how long it would take for one of you to admit your feelings for the other. a bet that had been placed after your senior prom, a night you could never forget.

it was chilly as you sat outside the gymnasium, no longer caring about dirtying up your dress, the night already ruined. you had found your date with his lips locked with another girl, but that wasn’t what hurt the most: it was seeing your best friend slow dancing with girl; a girl that wasn’t you.

you wiped at the angry and jealous tears as they streamed down your rosy cheeks, angry at yourself for being jealous, angry at yourself for falling for the one boy you could never have.

“hey, there you are! we’ve been look– are you okay?” luke poked his head out the door, concern growing when he noticed the tears that stained your rosy cheeks. you were quick to wipe the remaining tears as luke walked out, letting the door shut behind him. he joined you on the curb as you tried to get rid of the evidence that you had been crying, but it was too late.

“i’m fine, lu. go back in there, have a good time. i’m gonna head home, i’m not feeling the greatest.” you felt guilty about lying to your best friend, not only about not feeling well, but about your feelings.

“you are a terrible liar, you know that?” you couldn’t even look him in the eyes. “fine, don’t tell me, but at least let me drive you home.” you attempted to argue, but luke was stubborn. you both were.

“i don’t want you to miss out on the fun.” you said as luke guided you to his car.

“eh, i wont be missing any fun when the life of the party is in my passenger seat.” luke attempted to entice a smile out of you but it just sent a pang to your heart. “plus, i’d rather hang out with you.” he shrugged.

“what about your date?”

“oh, she snuck off to make out with ex.” you shot him a look of pity, luke shrugging it off as he backed out. “i knew she was using me to make him jealous, but honestly i don't care.” you knew though that luke was hurt by it, at least more than he was letting on. the rest of the ride was silent, your eyes trained out the window until luke drove right past your house.

“luke, you just passed my house.” you looked to your best friend, eyebrows furrowed.

“i know. i figured we could watch a movie.” you internally groaned. he was not helping you get over this crush, that was for sure. still, you went along, following him into the house when you arrived.

it was late, his parents still out wherever they had gone, and quinn and jack were somewhere around the house. you accepted the sweats and shirt luke offered you, going to change out of your dress. when you entered the living room, luke had already picked out your favorite movie and was microwaving popcorn. you sat on the couch, cuddling into a blanket he had laid out.

luke joined you moments later, handing you the bowl of popcorn and taking a seat next to you. he started the movie, but you couldn’t focus, not with him as close as he was to you.

soon, the tiredness began to take over, your eyes drooping. it wasn’t long before luke heard soft snores coming from you, your head resting on his shoulder. it brought a smile to his face as he too began to fall asleep. that was how quinn and jack found the both of you; luke’s head rested against yours which was on his shoulder. quinn placed a blanket over you both, before taking a picture of you, a smile on both your faces.

“he so likes her.” jack snickered, quinn nodding along.

“i bet you fifty bucks he tells her first.” quinn whispered as he sent the picture to his parents who were rooting for you two to get together.

“make it a hundred but it’ll be her.” they shook on it before you leaving you to rest.

#angelicsoka #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #luke hughes x reader #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #luke hughes x best friend!reader #hughes brothers x reader

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nohoney · 10 months

Text

there’s knocking at bakugou’s front door that he assumes is from you, probably too drunk from your girls night out to get your house keys out from your purse. imagine to his surprise when he opens the front door and he sees three of your girlfriends carrying you together while the fourth one was the one who knocked on his door and you’re knocked out.

“hey bakugou, (name) is home safe and sound!”

he’s gotta hand it to your friends, they’re good ones for carrying you all the way up to the front door.

“thanks, you can give her here. i got her.” bakugou offers up his arms for your friends to relieve them of carrying you.

“no we can take her in, we just wanna kiss her goodnight.”

god the amount of affection you and your friends have for one another once you’re all wasted is something else. but bakugou has long gotten used to it too so he steps aside to let your friend group in. even as your head lolls, one of them carefully readjusts so that your head doesn’t hang at an awkward angle. it sort of reminds bakugou of the one time sero had to carry kaminari over his shoulder after getting too wasted at a house party.

you’re laid down on the big couch you and him purchased together recently, all of them gathered around you and making sure that you’re comfortable. it must be some sort of intuition you have to know that your girls are about to leave that you suddenly open your eyes, still pretty drunk, and you open your arms for your girls. bakugou watches as you and your friend group drunkenly voice your love for one another, smirking a little when one kisses you on your mouth and the other one playfully grabs at your tit with a compliment of how hot you looked tonight.

“bakugou, this is our girl okay? you better take care of her!”

“yeah katsuki!” you join in on hanging up on him, “if you do some stupid shit, they’re gonna get you!”

oh he has no doubt about it; one of the girls in your group is somewhat notorious for petty revenge and even he would not be up for that.

bakugou bids your girlfriends good night, watching from the front door as they all gather into their car. he waves them off as they drive away, the friend that knocked on his door being the designated driver to take the others home. he shuts off the porch light and locks his front door, already knowing the drill of what you want when you’re this drunk at this hour.

“tsuki, i’m hungry and i want-“

“macaroni and cheese with fries. i know baby.” bakugou finishes your sentence, kneeling down to take off your high heels first and then holds the palm of his hand up, watching as you carefully peel off your fake eyelashes and you place them in his hand. “you gonna clean these or toss them?”

“toss.”

into the trash your lashes go and bakugou brings out the boxed macaroni and heats up the air fryer. you go into the bathroom where your makeup remover and all your skincare is already laid out for you, taking in a breath as you gather all two brain cells you have left to clean your face and at least do a body rinse in the shower.

food is ready by the time you exit the bathroom but you haven’t sobered up quite yet. while you eat your usual drunk-past-midnight meal bakugou comments, “i like your friends.”

“yeah, they’re great aren’t they?” you agree with a nod before munching on a crinkle fry. “they like you too. they say i should marry you.”

“really?” bakugou chuckles, “and here i am thinkin’ that my girl is gonna leave me to elope with her girlfriends instead.”

“they’re gonna be my bridesmaids when we get married.”

your words bring a fuzzy, sentimental feeling bloom in his chest. he knows that you’re drunk still and you possibly won’t remember this conversation, but he wants to hear more of what you have to say. “is that so? you talked about our wedding already?”

in drunken detail and while eating your food at the same time, you go over how each of your girlfriends will help support you in planning your supposed future union with bakugou. he listens, not bothering to hide the smile on his face as you go on and on. you talk more about how your friends will be involved rather than you and him but bakugou likes it. he likes how your friends like him and that they’re the most supportive group of girls he’s ever seen.

“you’re gonna wear a orange tie, mmkay? and we’re gonna have a mango cake!” you start to go off about what kind of food will be served at the wedding as bakugou cleans up the plates before you abruptly declare, “katsuki, you’re the only guy my friends like. the only one so don’t fuck this up, okay?”

“i won’t sweetheart, not with your gals ready to hide my body if i break your heart.”

you don’t remember the conversation the next morning when you wake up with a pounding hangover. but bakugou does. he remembers it as he gazes at you with a drink hand, wearing the orange tie you told him to wear and little bites of mango cake having already been fed to him by you. he watches how you hug your bridesmaids, your best friends, the girls who carried you home when you got too drunk and supported your relationship with him.

bakugou remembers how he waved off the girls that night as they drove back to their houses, and now they’re the ones waving you off as you and bakugou get into your car together to head to the airport for the honeymoon.

“you know my girls told me that i should marry you?”

bakugou plays dumb to the question, just only to hear the story from you again how he earned the seal of approval from your closest friends. he owes a mountain of gratitude to them because you and him probably wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them.

they were the ones who told you to go up to him after all.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou fluff

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luxaofhesperides · 5 months

Note

Ghostlights where Phantom saves Duke or the Signal, and a week later (at a Wayne gala or some other place) Duke recognizes the light/aura coming from Danny

Putting off gala prep was perhaps not the best plan. Duke spent the past month insisting that everything is fine and he has it under control. Duke is also a lying liar who lies, and now he’s frantically trying to pick up his suit in time to get it dry cleaned and altered as necessary.

Alfred would be disappointed in him, but in Duke’s defense, he had to go out of town on a mission to bust a growing drug cartel, and then spent half a week visiting a shelter for metas on the run (unofficial and hidden away) to help everyone find new homes and learn to control their powers. These things take time!

Unfortunately, gala prep also takes time, and since it’s a charity gala for funding the education of every Gothamite student, it’s not one he can slip out of. The entire family is being strong-armed into attending and not making a scene until the donation period in the first half is over.

Duke knows he’s not the only one who’s scrambling to get ready for a gala that’s taking place in three days, but they’re not helping him, so it feels like he’s the only one messing up.

“Sorry!” he calls behind him as he sprints through a group of people.

He could have asked someone to drive him, but he knows they’re all busy and doesn’t want his own poor time management to cause problems for anyone else. Even though he’s sure Bruce is looking for an excuse to get out of a mandatory Wayne Enterprises board meeting that both Lucius and Tim dragged him to.

RIP Bruce. He will be missed.

The Diamond District is full of people walking the streets, sprinting between parked cars and waiting for their rides. They’re all dressed nicely, making him feel out of place. It’s a feeling that’s never left him since he joined the Waynes but it’s particularly bad when he’s left to navigate these spaces alone. Rich people and socialites are a different kind of human, one that Duke doesn’t care to understand; there’s greed in all of them, turning them heartless, and they can give as much as they want to charity but it won’t change the fact that all they do is a performance to make people like them, rather than a desire to do anything good.

The sooner this is over, the better. He keeps going, hoping that he can still make it to his appointment with the tailor. Alfred recommended the store, then set up the appointment, so all Duke has to do is trust their judgment as they get him fitted. He’s still got twenty minutes until the scheduled time, but some unspoken rule makes it so he has to show up fifteen minutes early for better service or risk being turned away and told to reschedule.

Duke slows to a walk when he catches sight of the store, the trying to catch his breath and look more composed before he reaches the door. He takes a moment to straighten his clothes a bit, then opens the door and steps in.

The bell jingles pleasantly above his head. The store is empty of any other customers, and the employee at the front counter looks up with a plastered on smile.

“I’ll be with you in a moment!” she says, then looks down at her phone and types something out before placing it under the counter. A tablet comes out instead and she swipes through a few screens, then sets it down and look at Duke again. “How can I help you, sir?”

“I have an appointment? For a suit fitting. Under the name Thomas.”

She taps on the screen for a minute, then nods and gives him another customer service smile. “Alright, I’ll go ahead and grab the tailor. They’ll be out with your suit soon. Please, feel free to take a seat or browse some of our suits. We just recently got a new collection in from Italy.”

“Sure, thanks. I’ll just… be here, I guess.”

The employee takes her tablet and disappears through a door, leaving him alone in the store. He doesn’t want to sit down, not while his heart is still trying to settle from his sprint through half of Diamond District, so Duke wanders around the neat stacks of dress shirts and vests, pants and belts and shoes lined up neatly against the walls.

He takes a moment to shoot Alfred a text that he’s at the tailor for his fitting appointment. Steph’s sent him a long string of videos online, and he’s just about to go through them when the bell rings again.

Duke glances up and watches a guy walk into the store. He looks around, makes eye contact with Duke, then quickly looks down, taking a seat by the door.

Probably another upper class citizen uncomfortable with the fact that someone in jeans and a hoodie is shopping for suits. Shaking his head lightly, Duke wanders deeper into the store to get some distance between them so they could ignore each other more easily. It’s only until the tailor comes out, and then he can go to a fitting room and be done with this whole thing, so Duke resigns himself to suffering through the tense silence.

How long is he even supposed to wait? He can only look at clothes in one of three colors before he gets bored.

He goes to another rack, trying to see if he can notice anything different about these shirts.

And then he hears a shoe scuff against the floor behind him. He tenses up, but before he can turn around, a belt is wound around his throat, pulling him back and choking him.

Duke drops his weight, tucking his chin and gets a hand against the inside of the belt to try to push it away. His back hits someone’s chest and he’s trapped, focused on trying not to be choked to death while also keeping his vigilante abilities and meta powers secret.

More footsteps come from behind, and a soaked cloth is pressed against his nose and mouth.

Chloroform, he realizes, familiar with the smell from Bruce’s training. But training isn’t enough to keep him from being knocked out, and he quickly slips away from the waking world, falling to the ground.

Just before he passes out completely, he hears the employee who greeted him say, “I’m not sure how much Wayne would be willing to pay for him, but let’s start high and negotiate lower. New kid can’t possibly be worth that much…”

Duke wakes up groggily, memories of what happened quickly snapping into place. He’s too out of it still to get up, but he’s awake enough to be offended. Sure he’s the new kid, and barely even a Wayne, but he’s still worth a lot!

Kidnappers these days. So rude.

He doesn’t hear anyone around him, and it feels like he’s lying on a cold concrete floor. Basement, maybe? Warehouse? Storage unit tucked away somewhere? There’s nothing much to see when Duke is able to open his eyes, squinting bareilly at his surroundings. His arms are tied behind him, wrists bound, but they left his legs alone.

If he could just hit the panic button on his bracelet…

Duke wiggles around, fighting through the lingering effects of Chloroform, and manages to sit up. If he strains his hearing, he thinks he can hear voices outside of the empty room he’s been left in. There’s a window high up, too high for a normal person to reach without help, but if he can use the shadows to travel through it, then he may be able to escape on his own.

First things first: he needs to free his hands before anyone comes in to check on him.

They used zip ties on him, which is inconvenient. He’s learned how to get out of them, but it’s difficult enough without being drugged and having to do it behind his back.

He’s feeling the zip ties bite into his wrists just as there’s a crash from outside the room. His kidnappers yell, alarmed, and are quickly silenced. That’s rarely ever a good sign. Duke renews his efforts to escape, ignore the pain in pushing against his binds like this.

The door opens. Duke hears the small click of a lock disengaging and freezes. Then he gets to his feet, still unsteady, and prepares to ram his head into anyone who comes near him like some sort of deranged battering ram, or a drunk raging bull.

Duke is ready for the worst: a gang hoping to steal away a Wayne hostage, a Rogue, Gnomon popping in to cause trouble for the sole purpose of getting on Duke’s nerve.

He’s not expecting another teenage boy, who is literally glowing, to poke his head in and zero in on Duke. He blinks, then smiles; it’s friendly and sincere, nothing like the employee who helped kidnap him.

“Hey!” he says, coming into the room properly. He’s floating a good foot off the ground, eyes a bright neon green, with white hair that sways as if he’s underwater. “Are you okay? I saw them drag you out of the back of the store and followed them, but I got a bit lost. Sorry for taking so long to get here.”

“...It’s fine?” Duke offers, trying to wrap his head around what’s happening. “I wasn’t expecting a rescue so soon, anyways. Think you can help me out here?”

“Yeah, of course!” he flies closer, then drops down to the ground behind Duke. He hums lightly under his breath, and then Duke feels a cold touch on his wrist and the zip ties are suddenly gone.

Duke blinks, then brings his arms in front of him. He moves around a bit to make sure he’s not hallucination, and sure enough, he’s free and unbound because a random meta teenager vanished the zip ties into the ether, or something.

“Thanks, man. Any idea where we are?”

“Not a clue. I got lost coming here, and I was following them. I don’t think you should trust any directions I give.”

“Fair enough,” Duke laughs. “I’m Duke, by the way.”

“Phantom.”

“Well, thanks for the save, Phantom. Can I treat you to something?”

“Like, coffee?”

“Sure. Or brunch, or ice cream. Whatever you want, really.”

Phantom considers it for a moment, then shakes his head. “Sorry, I would love to but going out in public looking like this,” he gestures to himself, “Is not a great idea. Thanks for the offer though. You got a ride?”

Duke pats his pockets, then sighs. “My phone’s gone. I still have my wallet, though.”

“I fly you to someplace you can call someone, if you’d like.”

“You sure? I could probably just walk out of here and call a taxi.”

“I don’t think walking around by yourself after being kidnapped is a great idea,” Phantom says, doubtfully. “Seriously, let me fly you.”

He should just hit the panic button and wait for someone to show up to get him. He shouldn’t go to some unknown location with a meta he literally just met.

But, you know what? No one else can say they got kidnapped twice in one day, so Duke nods and says, “Sure, sweep me off my feet, Phantom. You gotta commit to this rescue.”

Phantom laughs. And then he does sweep Duke off his feet into a princess carry with a cheeky grin and flies them out the building, which turns out to be an abandoned apartment building slated for demolition.

“Keep this up and you’ll be replacing Superman in no time,” Duke jokes.

“I think I could manage it,” Phantom replies thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m already prettier than him, don’t you think?”

“Oh, definitely. The glow really brings out your eyes.”

Phantom gets him a few blocks away when Duke recognizes where they are, and quickly directs him into Crime Alley. They land on top of one of Jason’s safe houses, and while he’s sure there’s enough security to take out a SWAT Team, that’s absolutely not going to stop him from breaking in to use one of Jason’s burner phones and eat his leftovers.

He’s set down on his feet gently, and as soon as Phantom sees that he’s fine, able to walk and everything, he floats back up, just out of reach.

“Be careful, okay?” he says, getting ready to leave.

“I’ll do my best. Hey, are you gonna be in Gotham for a while, or…?”

Phantom gives him a tired smile. “Nah. I’m just passing through. As long as my luck doesn’t get even worse, then I should be out of here in a few days.”

“Shame,” Duke says, giving Phantom a very visible once over. He’s pretty tall, and Duke can see some muscle on him, and the tight black outfit really adds to his look. The glow that comes out of his chest makes him look ethereal and Duke is beyond glad that he got such a charming rescuer.

Phantom doesn’t blush like a normal person. He glows brighter instead, curling into himself a bit as he looks away, unable to stop the smile from growing on his face.

“I guess,” he shrugs. “Are you really going to be alright from here?”

“Yeah, man, I have a friend who lives here. I’ll just bother him until he agrees to give me a ride.”

“Alright.” Phantom drifts away, glancing behind him before turning back to Duke. “I’ll get going then. Take care, Duke!”

Duke waves and watches as Phantom begins to fly away. Then Phantom… disappears? Or rather, his body does but Duke can see an orb of light making its way across Gotham, almost like a star fallen from the sky.

He stays on the roof until the light is long gone. When he’s finally ready to go in and steal from Jason, the sun has completely set.

And he still doesn’t have his suit.

Duke sighs, and mentally prepares himself to other day of stressing out about the gala.

Three days of stress and last minute scrambling leave Duke in the Gotham Museum of Modern Art with Steph, Tim, Cass, and Damian. They’re hiding in the photography gallery to avoid other guests, taking a break from being polite and letting thinly veiled, passive aggressive insults slide over them.

“How much longer must we suffer this before we can go?” Damian grumbles, looking like he’s do anything to get his hands on a blade. Which, considering how many people tried to either pinch his cheeks are say some racist remark about him and his mother, is totally fair. Duke would just punch them, but sometimes a little drama helped get the message across.

“At least two more hours,” Tim says, not bothering to look up from his phone. From what few glimpses of the screen Duke caught, he’s leading a Titans missions through text and clever hacking. Though it may be more accurate to call is a Young Justice mission since there’s no way any of this was authorized by a Justice League member.

Also Anita, suited up as Empress, is there. If they aren’t on the news for property destruction and absolutely batshit wild shenanigans, Duke will have to check on Tim to make sure he’s not a pod person sent to infiltrate the family.

“Think we can sneak out without anyone noticing?” Steph asks, looking at the emergency exit longingly.

Cass shakes her head and points to the door leading to the ballroom. When they look over, Dick makes very deliberate eye contact with them and give them a smile that looks stretched across his face.

Tim winces and pushes Duke. “Oh, something went down. Go take over for him and let Dick rest in here for a bit.”

“Man, why does it have to be me?” he grumbles even as he stands. Dick lets out a heavy breath and gives Duke a grateful smile, patting on the shoulder before shoving him out the door.

As soon as he’s back into the main hallway, the music and chatter swell, no longer muffled by the thick walls of the photography wing. A few people come and go from the ballroom, no doubt looking for the restroom.

Or more private places for… other things. Things they definitely shouldn’t be doing in an art museum.

He really can’t wait for this night to be over.

Duke joins the rest of the guests, fake smile on his face, and quickly makes his way to the snack table. He might as well make the most of his time stuck out here. Maybe he could even cause another relationship scandal by implying that Bruce is sleeping with one of partners when in hearing distance of a couple. Maybe even both of them.

Bruce would go with it. It’s hilarious and he also needs something to make these events bearable.

Sadly, he doesn’t see any good targets as he scans the ballroom. A few people are dancing, while others are talking in small circles, closed off from outsiders. There’s an entire table of old ladies with glasses of wine in front of them; Duke considers hanging around them, since they confess to a lot of crimes after a few glasses. It’s fascinating.

Also, he does kind of miss hanging out with the one old lady who’s declared herself his high society grandmother and told him stories of how she used to go to bars to find racist people or Klan members during the Jim Crow era, seduce them, then poison them and get their addresses so a few gangs she was friends with would fuck them up.

Granny Kaliasto is the coolest person ever.

Just as he’s about to finish his last mini rolled crepe, Duke catches sight of one of the few teenagers still in the ballroom. The others, mostly stuck up rich kids no one actually likes, have already left to take over some other part of the museum to gossip until their parents decide it’s time to go home. These two are clearly not part of that crew, what with the girl being very goth and in a poofy, ripped dress, and the boy having already taken his jacket off to keep over his forearm, the top button of his shirt popped open.

They might be cool. He’s hoping they’re cool because he desperately needs some company to keep from dying of boredom while the gala continues on.

Duke walks over to them, going around the side of the ballroom, until he’s close enough to hear them talking.

The boy has his back to Duke, but the girl sees him. She immediately scowls and slaps the boys shoulder, eyes locked on Duke.

“Got another comment about my dress?” she says, voice sharp and acidic.

“Another?” Duke repeats. “I was just bored and wanted to talk to people who were my age. Sorry?”

The boy smacks the girl’s arm, then turns to face Duke. “Sorry about her! Sam is just naturally rude and aggressive. Tonight’s been a bit rough, with this crowd.”

Duke goes to say something, but the words stick in his throat when he sees the boy’s eyes shift from deep blue to an electric green. When he focuses, he can see a faint glow in his chest, the same glow he saw in Phantom.

“Dude? You alright?”

Sam looks him over judgmentally. “I guess it’s nice that I’m not being ogled for once, but don’t do that shit to Danny either.”

“Wait, that’s not what I was doing!” Duke hurries to say, snapped out of his shock. “I just… you look a lot like someone I met recently.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. What was your name? I’m Duke, by the way.”

He holds out a hand, and the boy shakes it with a small smile. “Danny. I don’t think we’ve met. I mean, I’m only here because Sam wouldn’t come to this gala without me, so her parents flew me in.”

“You from out of town?”

“Sam and I are from Illinois. Her parents are traveling around the east coast right now, and they decided to spend a week in Gotham to talk business.”

“I’d ask how it is, but outsiders tend to really hate Gotham, so…”

Sam barks out a sharp laugh. “Oh please, we can handle Gotham. Our town might not be as big and well known as Gotham, but we got our own shit to deal with there.”

“I do get shot at a lot back home,” Danny adds thoughtfully. “And that’s without the ghosts.”

“Woah, what?”

“Up for a bit of a story?” Danny asks, impish grin on his face. By his side, Sam brings a hand up to cover a manic smile, shoulders already shaking with laughter.

This is already better than the grandma gang. Duke leans against the wall, getting settled in, and says, “Always, man. Hit me with it.”

The next hour an a half passes quickly with Sam and Danny dramatically narrating some of the things that have happened in their town. Duke listens, absolutely enraptured, and doesn’t even notice the Waynes file into the ballroom again.

Unfortunately, they bring with them the attention of most of the ballroom, including Bruce and Sam’s parents.

She cuts the current story about Box Ghost short with a heavy sigh. “Hold up, I need to greet the Waynes properly while my parents are watching.” She steps in front of Duke and Danny, holding out a hand with a pained smile.

Tim takes it first, giving a solid shake, and introductions start.

Free from the rules of high society, if only for the moment, Duke leans closer to Danny and whispers to him, “Phantom. Wanna get out of here?”

Danny flinches and turns to him looking panicked. “How did you know?”

“I kinda got magic eyes. I see a lot of things normal humans can’t. Don’t worry about it. I still owe you, so you wanna get out of here?”

He watches as Danny glances around the ballroom, then back to him, clearly weighing out his options. Then he nods and says, “Know where to get a good milkshake around here?”

“Sure do.”

“I guess you’re the one rescuing me this time.”

“Not a rescue,” Duke corrects, and casually picks Danny up over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry, “A kidnapping.”

Danny laughs and waves Sam and all the others goodbye as Duke marches out of the ballroom.

“Don’t bother me for the next two hours!” he calls to the Waynes, “I’m going on a date!”

There are shocked gasps and murmurs all through the crowd. But as he spins around to wave at his shocked and easily amused family, he also catches sight of Granny Kaliasto raising her half full wine glass towards him.

She really is the coolest.

He’s definitely telling her all about this at the next event they attend together. It’ll be nice to have a few stories of his own to share.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #theyre just so casual in this fic #duke gets kidnaps. nbd tbh. saved by a glowing flying guy. nbd. duke clocks dannys identity instantly. nbd.#theyre just chilling. no time to freak out they on a mission to get milkshakes!!#sam is cackling once they leave and people start trying to figure out who they were and how audacious they were in leaving like that #lots of people ask bruce abt duke and his actions. the other siblings are trying so hard to get info abt danny from sam but shes not cracki #dick asks jason to follow them and get info bc this milkshake date is now an urgent mission. jason blocks him.#damian and sam do bond over animal rights and environmentalism later tho. they just share protesting tips and best ways to cause a scene #once again peppering in ocs bc i love making ocs #(<-says the girl literally writing an original superhero novel bc she cant stop making ocs. as if this is news to anyone)#thanks for the prompt!!!

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fangirl-dot-com · 3 months

Text

Chapter 21 - Collision of Worlds

feels like forever since I've updated and I am so sorry for that. I had so many projects but thankfully I passed them all! So little celebration chapter!

I added a bunch of past ideas from you readers as you wanted to see a few more things before the work wraps up (like media day and one of the incorrect quotes from that chapter).

Happy news is that Chapter 22 is already done and written as well so that will be out soon as well!

Like always comments, questions, concerns, messages to my inbox, reblogs and likes are always appreciated!

Please enjoy!

Wednesday Afternoon:

You were hunched over laughing as you saw Max walk into the Paddock on Wednesday afternoon. The blond wig was definitely not on correctly, but no one seemed to care as cameras flashed on his figure. A shy grin was displayed on his face as he walked closer.

“Happy media day?” he questioned as he met up with you.

You took one more look and started to wheeze, which in return made him laugh as well – almost making the wig fall off.

“Trying to look like the better Red Bull driver?” you asked, pulling at the blond strands. Max quickly took it off.

He let out a dry laugh, before speaking in a sarcastic tone. “Sure. That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“What are we even doing today?” you managed to ask through your giggles.

Max looked around with a questioning look. “Christian told me that we’re have a driving competition.”

Speaking of, Christian suddenly appeared with a team of videographers and other employees. Two of them behind him were pulling contraptions that made you start to laugh even harder.

Somehow, they had gotten their hands on two children’s cars and had painted them in the RB colors. You walked over, slapped the plastic, and started to laugh harder once again. Max could only giggle watching you lose it over something so simple. But, then he guesses that you might not have had a smaller toy car as a kid.

Max stood next to his. He was lucky that his car was opened roofed or he would have never fit inside.

The media worker spoke up once the two of you stood next to the respective cars.

“The game is simple. Just a lap around to that tree.”

He pointed at a tree in the distance. Thankfully the entire way there was paved. Well, you were racing in the paddock.

“The bottom of the cars are cut out so you’ll have to use your feet to get going.”

You gave Max a smirk before sticking one foot in and then the other. It was a tight squeeze, but you weren’t one of the shortest drivers for nothing. You were thankful the floor was cut out or your head would be in between your knees. You looked over at Max and lost it once again.

You couldn’t even see his body, just his head sticking out the open top. You leaned your head against the mini wheel.

Max lifted his hand and called out, “Can I have a head start since she can’t stop laughing?”

You looked over at him. “Be quiet. Not my fault you look like a giraffe.”

Christian was the one to tell you two to go, and it was on. Since you were smaller, your feet had more room to move back and forth. But, you sadly wore sandals for media day, and they didn’t have much traction.

Whereas Max had little room to move his feet, but his tennis shoes were much more grabby on the concrete.

You were able to take the inside of the tree while Max had to go far around the outside. Coming out of the turn, you went a bit wide to cut him off and bumped his car. Max bumped you back and you retaliated with a bigger bump as the finish line was approaching. Well, you never looked back and missed that his car tilted over, with him still in it.

Once you crossed the finish line, you got out and finally turned to see him still knocked over. You crouched as you began to wheeze once again. Christian had to go over to him and set the Dutchman upright.

The video people swarmed around Max once he got out.

One of the men smirked as he pointed a microphone at Max.

“Max, what happened with the race?”

Max looked over at you still hunched over and smirked.

“Ah it’s so unfair. I’m leading, she pushed me, I push her back, and after she pushed me off the track. It’s unfair?”

Everyone around him was giggling into their hands at his statement. Even before you had bumped him, Charles had somehow gotten close to watch it. He was also hunched over with hands on his knees, laughing his ass off.

You had stood upright and were wiping off tears from your eyes. The man who “interviewed” Max had come over to you as you stepped closer.

“Y/n what happened with Max?”

You quickly pulled your hair over your eyes a bit before speaking.

“Nothing. It was just an inchident…on the race.”

That did it and everyone started to laugh out loud.

Now it was time for Charles to walk over to the duo. He had somehow gotten a hold of the blond wig as well, and it was sitting on his head.

You looked over and tried to compose yourself. “Why is everyone trying to be me today?”

Charles had a sassy look on his face. “Well, if you can be me – I can be you.”

Your eyebrows raised before you yanked the wig off.

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing just an inchident...

tagged: maxverstappen1, y/n.89, and charles_leclerc

liked by redbullusa, landonorris, box_box_express, and 205,204 others

y/n.nation the entire video had me rolling

lestappenlove not y/n pulling out "the inchident" - had me in stitches

y/n.89 I wanna know why everyone was trying to be me today, obviously I'm the best blond here

maxverstappen1 do you not see the pictures? I'm pretty sure I look best charles_leclerc back away peasants, we all know who looks best here landonorris I hope you're not meaning you and your ramen noodle hair

formula1fan where did Red Bull even get the cars (are they available for purchase?)

redbullcan no fr I want one

best_rookie89 Silverstone always brings out the best in everyone

Thankfully after that you were done with any games. Yet, to yours and Max’s chagrin, you had lots of interviews to go to.

Max gave you a thankful look when you took the podcast while he took the live interview. You knew that he really did have a distain for podcasts. You made him promise though that he’d bring you a can of Red Bull after you were done. It was easy enough.

You were led to a small room with the host already sat down. He stood when you entered and shook your hand.

“I’m so glad that we’re able to do this today. My name is Sam and I’ll be asking you a few questions today,” his British accent rang out. It was a nice comfort as it was the Silverstone Grand Prix this weekend.

You sat down and put the headphones on.

Sam pulled out a few note cards and then did the intro.

“Hey everyone, it’s Sam back with the ‘Stay In The Box-Box Podcast’ and I am graciously joined by who everyone is dubbing the greatest rookie to every enter Formula 1, Y/n L/n.”

He gave you a cue to speak into the mic.

“Hello everyone! I’m glad to be here today!”

The questions were simple enough. How has Red Bull been treating you? What are your aspirations for the team? What is it like having Max Verstappen as a teammate? And so on.

A question though, caught you by surprise.

“I know that you, along with anyone who watches F1, have been waiting for your first win. What track would you love to win at and why?’

You thought for a moment before you gave an answer.

“Well, to be honest, I’d be happy with anything. But, if I had to pick anything, I’d go with Monza or Las Vegas.”

Sam leaned into his mic. “Wow, the home of the Tifosi. You really have your ambitions.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Doesn’t everyone? Winning at Monza, especially winning in my godfather’s country, would be a privilege. I know that Ferrari fans would love to see Charles or Carlos win there, but that track seems to be an open door for a lot of racers. Take Pierre for example. Monza was his first race win. Daniel won there in his first year at McLaren and gave Zac Brown his first win as a Team Principle.”

You took a sip of the water that they had given you.

“And then you go back to Charles who won his second ever race there, earning him the nickname of Il Predestinato. It seems to be a track that likes the underdogs. It’s fast and relatively shorter. They don’t call it the Temple of Speed for nothing. It’s a track that you have to earn respect for.”

Sam looked genuinely happy with your answer, and moved on to the second track you mentioned.

“Ah Vegas. I don’t know. There I drove the RB19 for the first time and was introduced as part of the Red Bull family there. It would be like a homecoming for me if I was able to win there. And it’s Vegas, who wouldn’t want to win. I know that Danny would be sad to lose.”

Sam nodded, taking your answers in. There were a few more questions before he announced a game – guess that tune.

The first tune came and you immediately pressed the button.

You leaned into the mic. “August by Taylor Swift.”

A ding sounded, letting you know you got it right.

The next was also almost immediate.

“Monaco by Bad Bunny.”

A few of the songs you didn’t know, but most of them were immediate.

You shrugged when Sam asked how you knew so many. The answer was simple.

“I listen to a lot of genres and I’m chronically on TikTok. Other than like hard rock or heavy metal, I’ll listen to it.”

A few more sounded.

“As it Was by Harry Styles.”

“In the Kitchen by Rene Rap.”

“Feather by Sabrina Carpenter.”

“Beautiful Things by Benson Boone.”

The last song, you knew it but didn’t know the artist.

Your eyebrow raised. “I know it’s the credit song from Cars 2. Uhhhhh, Collision of Worlds?”

Sam smirked at your hesitation. “Do you know who it is by?”

You shook your head.

“It’s by Brad Paisley and Robbie Williams.”

You threw your hands up before pointing at Sam. “I’ve been trying to tell Logan that it is legit the song that perfectly sums up his and Oscar’s friendship.”

Sam leaned back for one more question.

“Who do you think will win this weekend?”

Your head tilted.

“Lando Norris. The McLaren’s have been super-fast the past couple of races. I have a feeling about this one. Place your bets now, Lando is going to get pole.”

“Thank you so much for your time today.” Sam stood up to shake your hand. He also gave you some sheet of papers. You thought they were just pre-scripted questions for captions.

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing ah, nothing like finishing media day with a can from our stocked fridge

liked by stayinthe_boxboxpod, redbullcan, y/n.nation, and 248,029 others

y/n_updates the middle is a live picture from inside y/n's house. girl was drinking it like water before she even signed

verSTOPpen max looked so uncomfortable, glad he didn't get signed to the podcast lol

maxmaxmax_super he always looks miserable on media day

y/n.89 how did a picture of my apartment get in here?

arthur_leclerc and where is your water? y/n.89 no comment.

stayinthe_boxboxpod it was lovely having you on the show! hope that our notes are sufficient :)

y/nxarthur did the host know that she's a TAKEN woman yn/&co I know right? she honestly looked uncomfy when the dude wouldn't take a hint

silverstonecircuit see you all on sunday!

You shook his hand and left to meet up with Max, who was waiting for you in the garage with two cans of Red Bull. You graciously took one and snapped the can open. Max took the papers from you and looked through them.

“What are these?” he questioned.

You shrugged, not fully involved in the conversation as you had your phone out, texting Arthur who couldn’t make it this race.

Max suddenly started laughing, making you look at him.

“What is it?”

He turned the papers around. There, on the top of the second page was a phone number with a note and badly drawn winky face. The note said, “Call me if you need a break from your ‘boyfriend’.”

Your mouth was wide open as Max kept laughing. You grumbled to yourself as you plucked that note from the stack and walked into Christian’s office, not knowing that Toto was in there for a meeting.

You didn’t even look at the two bewildered men as you looked around the floor.

“Where’s your paper shredder?” you questioned, walking around to the back of his desk.

Christian gulped before answering, “To the left.”

A soft ‘ah’ left your lips as you finally found it. It left out a weird noise as you booted it up, still completely oblivious to the other team principal in the room.

You had a fire in your eyes as you watched the number be ripped to shreds by the machine. You would have let out an evil laugh, but you didn’t want to bother Christian more than you already were (even though you completely missed that he was in a meeting).

Once you were done, you stood up and left. As you walked out the door you simply said, “Thanks dad,” and shut the door.

Only when the door shut completely, you realized what you had said. Your cheeks heated as you quickly walked back to Max.

Behind the door, Toto was staring straight at the Briton. Christian had a shocked face as Toto smirked at him.

Christian breathed out. “Wouldn’t be the first time a driver to do that.”

“Tell me about it. George just started.”

“I need to tell Geri.”

Your face was buried in Max’s chest as you poured out your sorrows to him. He smirked as he rubbed your back, knowing that he’s done the same multiple times before.

“And I called him dad.”

Toto had left and Christian was talking to Geri.

“And she called me dad!”

y/n.jpg has posted

y/n.jpg his

liked by kellypiquet, francisca.gomez, arthur_leclerc, and 403,295 others

ynsfav UHHHHHHHHH HELLO??? NOT A GOOD MORNING??

y/n&co baby girl has to show that she's taken

rookies_secretbf I bet he makes her feel so good

olliebearman mom, there are children on this app btw

y/n.jpg sorry son, but boys need to know that mom has a man

maxverstappen1 I would say take it down

y/n.jpg but? maxverstappen1 GAGGED HIM (did I do it right?) y/n.jpg perfect

francisca.gomez hot

y/n.jpg learned it all from you

y/n.nation that middle picture tho

Sunday Afternoon:

You basically tried to ignore Christian for the rest of the weekend, but he eventually pulled you to the side to talk to you.

“Kid, I couldn’t count the amount of times that Max has called me dad on my two hands and feet. I’m more than fine with it.”

“Promise?” you looked up at him with tears in your eyes. He gave you a kiss on your forehead (in place of Arthur because he knew you missed him).

“I promise. Not get in your car. It’s race time.”

Starting Grid:

Lando Norris

Max Verstappen

Y/n L/n

Oscar Piastri

Carlos Sainz

Charles Leclerc

Lewis Hamilton

Pierre Gasly

George Russell

Daniel Ricciardo

Fernando Alonso

Yuki Tsunoda

Alex Albon

Esteban Ocon

Logan Sargeant

Valtteri Bottas

Kevin Magnussen

Nico Hulkenberg

Zhou Guanyu

Lance Stroll

Turns out Lando did get pole and you and Max were basically a McLaren sandwich. You knew that every move had to be strategically done. The McLarens were on another level. And with Oscar’s defensive moves and Lando’s overtaking skills, you and Max were in a pickle.

Throughout the race, it was like a dance. You’d be overtaken, or Max would overtake – and then you’d switch. Along the way, someone spun out, scrunching everyone up during a safety car.

You were on fresh tyres while Max went in to pit.

Mitch came over your radio. “So they’re cleaning up the mess that is Daniel Ricciardo and Logan Sargeant. You’re on new tyres and ahead of Max. Keep position.”

“There’s only like 10 laps left right? Do you think I could get around Lando?”

“Negative. We’re just going for a 2-3. This is plan 2-1.”

Your heart raced at the thought of having a pit of priority over Max.

David Croft voiced his opinions.

“Looks like Red Bull has given their drivers the 2-1 plan with rookie Y/n L/n having priority for a P2 position. In just under 10 laps left, Max Verstappen needs to gain 2 positions to be on the podium. And there goes the safety car with just 10 laps to go.”

You kept your head straight as you defended against Oscar. Max had Charles to go around and then the Australian.

Lando was slowly pulling away from you, so you needed to keep pressing. It wasn’t the photo finish like in Austria, but it was close.

“AFTER 5 SEASONS, 2 POLE POSITIONS, 6 FASTEST LAPS, 13 PODIUMS, 633 CARRIER POINTS, LANDO NORRIS IS THE WINNER OF THE 2024 BRITISH GRAND PRIX. WITH FASTEST LAP AND POLE POSITION, HE MAKES IT A GRAND SLAM AT HIS HOME RACE. HE’S SHOWING MCLAREN THAT THEY DID THE RIGHT THING BY KEEPING HIM AND PUTTING TIME INTO HIS CARRIER.

Y/n L/n comes in with her 8th podium finish of the season. Max Verstappen follows her in to make it a Red Bull 2-3 and completes the podium for Silverstone 2024.”

Race Results

Lando Norris – 26 points (+fastest lap)

Y/n L/n – 18 points

Max Verstappen - 15 points

Oscar Piastri – 12 points

Charles Leclerc – 10 points

Lewis Hamilton – 8 points

Carlos Sainz – 6 points

Alex Albon – 4 points

George Russell – 2 points

Valtteri Bottas – 1 point

Yuki Tsunoda

Zhou Guanyu

Kevin Magnussen

Pierre Gasly

Nico Hulkenberg

Fernando Alonso

Lance Stoll

Esteban Ocon

Daniel Ricciardo – DNF

Logan Sargeant – DNF

Champions Standings

Max Verstappen – 259 points

Charles Leclerc – 212

Lando Norris – 181 points

Y/n L/n – 142 points

Carlos Sainz – 97 points

Oscar Piastri – 80 points

Lewis Hamilton – 79 points

Alex Albon – 43 points

George Russell – 38 points

Fernando Alonso – 35 points

Logan Sargeant – 29 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points

Lance Stroll – 15 points

Pierre Gasly – 12 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points

Valtteri Bottas – 1 point

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Zhou Guanyu

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Standings

Red Bull – 401 points

Ferrari – 309 points

McLaren – 261 points

Mercedes – 117 points

Williams – 66 points

Aston Martin – 50 points

Alpha Tauri – 31 points

Alpine – 12 points

Alpha Romeo – 1 point

HAAS – 0 points

You watched as Lando climbed out of his car and just stood on the nose, hands outstretched and pointing at the crowds. Your eye caught the Union Jack and you raced over to grab it. You lifted it high as you tapped Lando’s leg before handing it to him. You could see his blue-green eyes lighten up at the prospect of waving his country’s flag.

You took a couple of steps back and went to congratulate your own teammate.

Your hands met in a clasp.

“Glad to see you made it to the party.” You grinned as you slid your helmet off. Max followed in suit.

The Dutch driver’s hands started to wave around. “Yeah. Didn’t think I had it but then Oscar left just the right amount of space,” his fingers nearly pinched together. Your head leaded back as you laughed.

Max watched as Lando jumped into the arms of the McLaren team but then watched you watched them as well. He nudged your shoulder.

“It’ll be you soon enough.” He heard a huff, but he knew you were listening.

You took one last look at Lando before heading to the cool down room. Your water bottle was immediately in your hand and brought to your mouth. Lando and Max walked in a few moments later. You gave Lando a side hug as he stood next to you.

Whispering, you told him, “You drove so well today. Knew you could do it.”

“Thanks bug.”

When the three of you were called to go to the podium, Max told the Briton, “I’ll try not to break your trophy.”

Lando’s head leaded back as he let out a groan.

“It was one time! One time Max!”

landonorris has posted

landonorris words cannot express the feelings that I have right now. I've been waiting for this moment to arrive and I never thought that it would be at my home race of all places. thank you to the team and to Oscar who held off two of the strongest drivers I have ever raced against. and thank you max for not breaking my trophy

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55, and 703,204 others

lnfour THAT'S OUR BOY

mclarenfan silverstone 2024 winners merch when??

lanno_norris I knew this day would come!!

lando.norizz lando win before gta 6 and before the next ferrari champion ferrari&mclaren_fan that was harsh bro

carlossainz55 congrats cabron, sorry I couldn't be up there with you

carlando MY CARLANDO HEART CANT TAKE THIS STOP

y/n.89 great job lanno! so so proud of you :D

landonorris thanks bug

lewishamilton congrats mate!

lanoscar I needed this today

redbullracing has posted *guys pretend that the third picture is reader ok???*

redbullracing from past to present, lando has been there. congrats landonorris - we'll get you next time

liked by y/n.89, mclaren, papaya_fan, bothshades_oforange, and 503,204 others

redbullcan stop stop stop not a post making me sob

y/n.nation no way that is y/n - look how much younger she is

y/n_on_top what the heck? she knew lando??

redbull+mclaren what in the? my favs on the podium and they all were connected some how??

y/nand_taylor some might say...invisible string? y/nxarthur yeah he is not the boyfriend, but keep dreaming tho :D

y/n.89 ohhhh so you're the one that spooked my horse

landonorris so you're the one that hit me coming off the elevator y/n.89 I plead the fifth maxverstappen1 he just needs to admit that he's our biggest fan

bestrookie89 this weekend was a whirlwind - what even

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

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hippiepowrs · 1 month

Text

one night lookin' pretty

eddie munson x fem!metalhead!reader

you and eddie hate school dances, but you decide to go to the prom this year--with someone who isn't eddie. eddie does not like that, but can't say anything.

a/n: this is my first longer fic so i hope you like it. prom season is coming up so this is kinda self indulgent (as if all my fics aren't). this one is for all my weird girls out there! title from one night in the city by dio btw. :)

warnings: hurt/comfort. angsty for a while but gets fluffy. swearing. a guy being a total asshole to reader. reader wears a dress. reader and eddie both self-described as 'freak.' eddie being a jealous and insecure idiot. both are oblivious as fuck. eddie is REALLY dorky. eddie's backstory and parents--i did not read that book so i don't care if it's canon. idiots in love in the end. pretty cliche but i don't care!

wc: 3.8k

It’s prom night, and Eddie is sitting alone on his couch. Without you.

Usually, you guys skip every school event together in favor of watching a shitty movie and smoking half of his stock, but tonight was different. Someone asked you to the prom, and it wasn’t him.

He’s been acting off for the past two weeks, you noticed. He’s been quiet and snappy, and has been opting to jack up the stereo instead of talk on your drives home. When you asked him what was wrong, he pushed you away. So, you left him alone about it. He made it clear he wanted his space.

He didn’t even want to show up to see you in your dress. You called him last night to see if he would come over–he told you he was sick. He wasn’t fully lying, though. The thought of you going to that stupid school dance with that stupid school boy made him nauseous. It didn’t make sense to him. How did you switch your views on the prom so fast? Months ago, the two of you laughed at the idea of going. Now, you were dressed up all pretty, just like all those popular girls you claimed to hate. He had to watch that sleazy ass car pull into to the trailer park, right up next to his. He’d never admit that he watched you step out of your trailer with that guy, and wished it was him.

Being completely honest with yourself, your date isn’t even exactly your type. Todd isn’t some freak like you or your friends, but he isn’t a complete asshole either. He asked you in the hallway two weeks ago, and your instinct was to laugh at him. You laughed in his face, but he didn’t budge. He really wanted to take you to the prom, so you told him you’d go. It felt nice to be wanted. It was okay that he wasn’t some rock n’ roll dude like you’re into–it’s not like you’re marrying him. It’s just the prom.

You and Todd arrive at the Hawkins High gym, hand in sweaty hand. Pushing the anxiety clawing at your throat back down, you give him a smile as you walk to get your photo taken together. The frilly, glittery background reminds you that this place isn’t for you. Again, you push that down.

The music isn’t really your style, either, but everyone is having so much fun you feel the need to pretend. None of your friends are here, so you’re stuck. Maybe you should have pregamed, you think. Too late now. Todd pulls you onto the dance floor with a fervor you’ve never seen in him. You don’t understand how a person can have so much fun dancing to this shitty music. It’s a lot easier to get through when you pretend that Todd is Eddie, and you’re dancing to mixtapes in his room. You decide not to think about the implications of that right now. When the song ends, you offer to grab punch for the both of you. Maybe it’ll be spiked.

As you make your way back to Todd, you see him chatting with a few of his friends, and from this distance you can just begin to hear them.

“So, when do I get my twenty bucks from each of you? She’s totally ruining my reputation right now.” He laughs, and your stomach churns.

“Okay, yeah, you proved us wrong. You got her here, you danced, you win.” His friend confirms the fear that’s been looming over you like a dark cloud since Todd first asked you out.

“You at least better hold onto her long enough to get her home with you tonight, man!” Another friend cackles, and you think you’re going to vomit.

How were you stupid enough to think that he actually liked you?

God, you’re so gullible.

At least there’s nothing to lose now, you think. Walking over to him, drinks in hand, you dump both of them on his head. They splash on his stupid hair and drench his stupid suit. The music keeps playing. A few people turn to look. The room doesn’t stop for you like some trashy romcom. Everyone just keeps going.

Storming out to the parking lot, nothing can stop the burning tears from pouring down your face. You slump down against the brick wall, fabric of your dress sticking to the rough sidewalk. The warm spring air feels sticky on your cheeks. You wish you had stayed in with Eddie.

Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. You need to call Eddie. Todd drove you here, so it’s either Eddie or walk, and these heels already hurt enough. Your body feels like dead weight as you drag yourself to the payphone on the wall, punching in the number that’s engraved into your heart.

“Hey.” You greet, choked up. You’re trying to keep your composure. You know it won’t last long.

“…Hey. Havin’ fun with Mr. Popular?” There’s a bitterness to his tone. Usually he would’ve picked up on the fact that you were crying in a split second, but tonight he was too angry.

“Uhm, not really. Could you, uh,” you sniffle, blowing your thin cover, “pick me up? Like, now?”

You can almost hear his demeanor shift over the phone. A beat of silence passes.

“I’ll be right there.” He’s clearly still upset, because he hangs up the phone without saying goodbye. But his one-sided irritation can’t override the facts: he cares about you so much that he immediately hops in his van and starts speeding to the school, even faster than normal.

You sit back at the edge of the sidewalk, staring into the empty night over the parking lot. God, this is so cliché. Freak gets taken to prom as a joke; left crying outside. You know how pointless it is to cry over this guy. You don’t even care about him, to be honest. But it’s not really him you’re crying over. It’s the extensive disappointment you repeatedly put yourself through after expecting different results—it’s the fact that you haven’t stopped thinking about Eddie all night.

As you begin to probe deeper into the ethical implications of falling in love with your best friend, said best friend whips into the parking lot, tires skidding as he pulls right up to you and parks. He drives just how he lives his life—with a sense of urgency and passion you don’t see in many. His van stops diagonally in the middle of the pickup lane, and he hops out of the driver’s side door, so worried he can’t be bothered to close it before sprinting to your side.

For the past six minutes—which is Eddie’s new personal record on getting to the school from Forest Hills—his mind has been racing with every possibility of what could have happened to you tonight. Maybe Todd had another girl, or is just boring, or maybe you got totally Carrie’d and some assholes poured pig’s blood all over you. Not likely, but hey, you never know the determination of Hawkins’ resident assholes. At least if you got Carrie’d you’d look metal as fuck. That would be a good album cover. But that’s not the point. What he’s more worried about is the possibility that that dickwad touched you in any way. Just the thought is enough for him to completely light up—he got pretty close to breaking his steering wheel from how hard he was gripping it.

“What happened?” He tries to act nonchalant, but that’s something he’s never been good at.

Your head is held between your knees, looking down into nothingness. He’s staring daggers into the top of your head, and you can almost feel the fact that he wants to say ‘I told you so.’ Reluctantly, your wet eyes tilt upwards, the rest of your head following.

“Let’s just talk in the van.” He sighs.

You don’t budge. Your legs feel far too wobbly to imagine getting up right now. He has zero patience at the moment, it seems, as evidenced by the fact that he almost immediately picks you up bridal style and carries you directly to the passenger’s side of his van. He fumbles with the door handle for a second before setting you down gently in the seat. You watch him drag a frustrated hand over his face through the windshield as he walks back to his side, and although you know you didn’t do anything wrong, you’re worried that you did.

The engine roars into life, turning your seat into a makeshift massage chair. Eddie pulls out of the parking lot as quickly as he pulled in, but with a little more focus. He doesn’t turn his music on, which is a bad sign.

“It was a bet,” is all you can say, voice soft and defeated, “because, of fucking course it was.” You stare out the window, head tapping against the glass as he hits a pothole straight on.

“I told you that asshole was bad news.” His voice is laced with venom. He’s never been good at controlling his anger—especially when it has to do with you.

You stay silent. Anything you say right now will probably just piss him off more.

“Why do you—why do you always do this to yourself? You’re always finding these guys that just want to take you out to say they were able to take you out. They treat you like a fucking trophy.” He scoffs.

You look at him again, tears still silently falling. Even if you wanted to say something to that, you can’t seem to find your voice.

“I just don’t get it. You’re, like, totally perfect,” he coughs, gripping the wheel harder, “and these guys you find are total douches. You can do so much better.”

“It’s not like there’s anyone better around here,” you mumble while staring out the window, like some kid talking back to their parent for the first time.

“That’s not my point!” His yell rings out against the hum of the engine, the dull drumming being the only sound left as he hangs a sharp right turn. “I just don’t understand why you’re so eager to find some guy that you throw your morals out the door.” Eddie’s eyes dart to you for a moment before looking back at the road.

“I haven’t thrown my morals out the door.” You argue softly.

“Yes, you have! We always said we’d never suck up to the bullshit they want us to do, that we’d never let them turn us normal, and here you are at the fucking prom.”

“Eddie, it’s prom! It’s not like I fucking stabbed my mother!”

“We’re supposed to be the freaks! We’re Hellfire! We piss people off! That’s our whole thing! You can’t just—fuck—just throw that out!” He groans angrily, pulling into Forest Hills, slowing down as you near the Munson trailer.

“I’m not throwing it out.” You say, much more firmly.

“You’re throwing me out!” There it goes, the root of the entire issue. He’s always been worried that you’ll find someone cooler, someone less abrasive, someone who will make you laugh and smile more than he can. Logically, he knows that would never happen, but he can’t help his fear. He throws the van into park and slams the door as he gets out.

Eddie was eight when he met you. He’d been living with Wayne for a little over a year by the time you moved next door, but he was still struggling. His mother left him first, then his father. He missed his mom a lot, but his dad probably caused him more pain, knowing that he had the choice whether or not to stay, but Eddie wasn’t enough. Uncle Wayne was nicer to him than his father had ever been, but that can’t fix a broken kid.

Then one day, you showed up in your ratty hand-me-downs, a year and a half younger than him. He thought that girls had cooties, but you were different. You didn’t giggle or try to hide your gaze like the other girls did when they made fun of him to each other. Instead, you walked right up to him and said hi.

You were new, and you didn’t have the best clothes—he could tell you were probably going through something similar to him—so the kids at school kicked you to the curb. You were just as pretty as the other girls, he thought, if not prettier, as much as a seven-year-old can be. But that didn’t really seem to matter to them. Your lunchbox was plain, theirs had characters.

When the two of you got to be in junior high at the same time, him in the eighth grade and you in sixth, he thought for sure that you would find new, more popular friends. It was incredibly shocking to him that you’d rather hang out with some dorky boy with an ugly buzz cut who’s two grades ahead of you than the other pretty girls, but he wasn’t going to complain.

He’s lived with that fear constantly since then, always preparing himself to see you walking into school one day in some pastel sweater instead of your band shirts and battle vest. He knows you won’t, he knows you’re better than that, and he feels so guilty for always expecting the worst, but he can’t help it.

You hop out of the passenger’s side of the van, holding up the skirt of your dress like some elegant princess. But instead of some grand, ornate staircase, you’re simply walking up the concrete steps of the Munson trailer and following Eddie, who’s storming inside.

“Eddie.” You sound like a scolding mother, tears having dried up a few minutes ago, and you shut the door behind you. “Why do you think so lowly of me?” Your voice cracks with the weight of the question.

Eyes widening, Eddie never realized quite how much his thoughts could affect you until right now. “I don’t,” he says softly. “You’re the best person I know.”

“You say that, but you always think I’m gonna leave you for someone else. You’re my best fucking friend. I’m not just gonna cut you off at the drop of a hat.”

“I- I know that,” he stammers out, a little shaken.

“Do you?”

“Look, I,” he sighs, finally turning around, “I’m just scared. I’m scared that one day you’ll wake up and realize how fucking lame I am, and you won’t want to deal with me and all my bullshit anymore.”

“The world isn’t against you, Eddie.”

He opens his mouth to quip back something snarky, but he closes it as he thinks about your words again.

“You hate yourself so much that it’s beginning to rub off on me, because I’m friends with you, and if I like you, you think that surely there’s something wrong with me, too.”

He’s stunned into silence, your words stabbing him straight through the heart.

“Can you at least tell me why you were being a dick for the past few weeks?” You switch the subject slightly with a sigh.

Eddie takes a deep breath. “Because of Troy asking you to prom.”

“Todd.”

“Yeah, whatever. He was my problem.”

“Why were you mad at me for that, though?”

“I knew he was gonna hurt you.”

“You didn’t say anything about that, though. You just said he was an ass once and then pushed me away for two straight weeks.”

Standing in the middle of the dark trailer, Eddie is presented with two options: confess his lifelong, undying love for you, or don’t. He knows that the only good and honest explanation he can give you involves a love confession, and he hates lying to you. But one thing trumps the fact that he hates lying to you, and it’s that Eddie is a complete and utter pussy.

Eddie is, and always has been, a pussy. In middle school, you acted as his bodyguard—self-appointed, and very passionate—which only made him get bullied worse. You didn’t care. You’d defend him until the end of time. You’d take a hundred tugs to your ponytail or face-plants in the lunchroom so that he wouldn’t have to. You weren’t very loud or talkative in school, until it came to defending Eddie.

To Eddie, you’re this glowing beacon of light and hope in his life. Everything good comes from you. And if he confesses his feelings to you, and you don’t feel the same, that pillar comes crashing down.

But…what if? What if you did feel the same? That’s stupid, he thinks. Clearly you don’t, because otherwise you wouldn’t have gone to prom with another guy. And he’s sure you already know about his big, fat crush, and you’re choosing to act like you don’t notice.

“I’m sorry.” You can tell he’s nervous by the way he’s fingering riffs on the side of his thigh.

“You always get so upset when I talk to guys. It’s not like there can be only one guy in my life.”

“I know that, it’s just–” This is going to be the worst decision he’s ever made, and he knows it, but he can’t stop himself. “--I’m jealous, okay?”

“Obviously you’re fucking jealous, dickweed.” As you call him your favorite nickname, the intent behind his words reaches you, and your cheeks begin to heat up. “…Wait.”

“Have you seriously not picked up on this yet?” Eddie is genuinely surprised at your reaction. “You—you’re perfect, you know that? You’re the coolest person I’ve ever met, and I don’t know how you do it.” His voice is softer than normal.

“Yeah, but—like, are you serious?” You ask.

“I wouldn’t joke about this. I’ve been, like, totally into you forever. I’m surprised Gareth or Jeff didn’t say anything to you.”

“They did a while ago, but I thought they were messing with me.”

“Okay, I honestly can’t blame you for that.”

A moment passes in silence, and you think about how to respond.

“You know, I didn’t really want to go with Todd.”

“What? Why did you then?”

“I hoped that you would ask me,” you admit, eyes drifting to your feet, “but it was kind of a stupid thing to expect.”

His jaw goes slack as he hears you speak.

“I guess that I’ve just kinda had this pipe dream where we’d go to prom together, and I’d be able to dress up all pretty, and we could dance together.” You avoid his gaze, until you hear him scurrying down the hallway.

He emerges back out with his stereo in one hand and a cassette in the other, scrambling to place it down on the kitchen table and shoving the tape inside. He immediately skips to the song he has in mind. The familiar sound of Tommy Lee’s piano starts from beside you, and before you can figure out what’s happening, he’s offering his hand to you.

“May I have this dance?”

A smile grows on your face. “God, you’re such a fucking dork.” Your insult doesn’t come without placing your hand in his. He’s bright red, and he’s never slow danced in his life.

Mötley Crüe’s Home Sweet Home is interrupted occasionally by the sound of feet stepping on feet and the subsequent ow!’s that follow, as well as the flustered giggling of two idiots in love.

Eddie pulls you a little closer, his hands firmly planted on your waist. “You look really beautiful tonight,” he murmurs, “sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

He feels extremely underdressed compared to you, him in his favorite torn up pair of black jeans and an Exodus muscle tee, and you in your stunningly gorgeous dress, looking prettier than any princess he could ever imagine.

“Thank you,” you mumble back, flustered, “you don’t look too—fuck!—too bad yourself, you know.” A playful giggle comes with your words, and a huge grin grows on Eddie’s face.

“Yeah?” He teases, looking right in your eyes.

“Yeah.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you giggle, staring right back.

Leaning in, he lets out a nervous laugh before pressing his lips to yours. It’s not some magical explosion of energy that cures all your problems and fixes world hunger; but his lips are soft and warm, and he tastes like weed, gummy worms and a hint of shitty beer, and it feels right.

You kiss him a few more times before the song ends, all quick and chaste but completely full of love. Pulling you along with him, not wanting to let go, he pauses the tape and the trailer goes quiet again.

“Was I better at that than Troy?”

“Todd.”

“Point still stands, fuckface.”

Eddie drags you down the hall to his bedroom, the familiar ambiance warming you like a comforting blanket. Jumping onto the bed with a plop, the boy pats beside him invitingly.

“Can I change first?” You ask, ecstasy of the moment wearing off, allowing you to remember how itchy this damn dress is.

“‘Course. Your shirt is clean if you want it.” He calls it your shirt, but it was his at one point. The old Metallica tee used to be his favorite one, too, which meant it got a lot of wear and tear. But then you started wearing it at sleepovers, and it quickly became your shirt. Eddie didn’t like to wash it afterward because it smelled like you. He always felt like a creep for that.

Your hand tries its best to wrap around and pull the impossibly tiny zipper down, but it doesn’t want to budge. Eddie, watching you as intently as ever, quickly notices and jumps up to help you. His fingers move to your waist, soft and nimble, and gently undo the zipper for you. You let your dress fall to the ground, and he looks away, flustered. It’s not like he hasn’t seen you in your underwear before, but now it feels a lot more serious.

Quickly throwing on the hole-filled Metallica shirt and a clean pair of his boxers, both of you hop back into his bed. You’ve shared plenty of nights here before, but once again, now it feels different. You sense that it will become a common theme for your life in the near future. His hands snake back around your waist and pull you next to him, and you allow your head to rest against his chest.

“So… does this mean you’re, like, my girlfriend now, or what?” A goofy smirk is plastered across his face as he asks.

You try to playfully shove him off of you, to no avail. “Are you seriously fucking asking me that?” You’re trying so hard to act angry, but your giggles give you away.

“Yes, yes it does.” You seal it with a kiss. Then one on his cheek, and the other, and his forehead, and the tip of his nose.

reblogs and notes always appreciated! | requests are open!

#hes such a dork you cant convince me otherwise #like he would be sooooo corny #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #hurt/comfort #eddie munson hurt/comfort

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ma1dita · 3 months

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Duddee, now you gotta write luke proposing to trouble, you simply cannot now IBHBHKK

the perfect weekend

a ‘partners in crime’ alternate universe installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

alternate universe masterpost

words: 1.2k (this was too cute the word count escaped me)

summary: alternate universe - the perfect weekend with your perfect boy, even if he thinks otherwise

a/n: happy luke happy luke happy luke FIANCE LUKE

(posted 2/4/23 unbetad and written on caffeine)

—

This weekend felt like a dream.

Luke took you to your favorite spots that you’ve both carved memories out of in Westport, buying you and his mom gorgeous fresh flowers from the farmers’ market, and he let you drag him around his hometown, spending hours in tiny antique shops and the record store on Main Street. He couldn’t get over how you always found fun in the simple things— even going to the pharmacy to pick up his mom’s medication felt like going to Disney World with you. He couldn’t be more sure of his decision, it was almost inconceivable to spend another day without you being his fiancee.

But luck wasn’t known to be on his side, after all (yeah, thanks dad). Luke’s always had to work harder to get what he wants, and he’s spent the past few years trying to prove himself to your dad—though deep down, he thinks Mr. D doesn’t mind him as much as he makes it seem. (Asking him for his blessing last week over a bottle of wine and a bone-shaking hug scared the wits out of him. He pretended to not notice the god cry.)

Luke just wants to give you what you deserve. And if he needs to spend the rest of his life working on it to prove it, he ought to do it with you by his side.

But he couldn’t think of how.

He tried proposing over dinner last night, with the smell of burnt cookies in the air, but that wasn’t romantic at all, and his hands were shaking so hard he knocked a glass over, prompting you and his mom to fuss over the mess and giggle over his silliness. You both chatted deep into the night, Luke sitting quietly and nodding at two of his favorite women babbling about who knows what (Sometimes he’s still convinced you like his mom more than him, but the way you both take care of him makes him tear up if he thinks too hard about it).

When you went horseriding this afternoon, he set up a picnic for lunch, which was romantic. Chocolate-covered strawberries and sandwiches made by mom, sparkling cider twinkling in the sun. Luke was sure it was going to be great timing— until he realized the ring box fell out of his pocket again, and he slipped in manure trying to rush you back to the house (The sound of your laughter at clumsiness made his heart warm though, and it almost made up for the three hours he looked for the stupid box in the grass that night when you fell asleep with his tiny Star Wars-themed flashlight).

He woke you up early before the sun rose, carrying you out to the car still bundled up in his old Toy Story throw blanket that you wouldn’t let him toss out when he brought it to college (The faded pictures of Buzz and Woody kept a smile on your face, and the memories it brought make you feel connected to 9-year-old Luke). The drive to the beach was short, a sleepy smile on your face as you felt Luke grab onto your hand, sand getting between your toes before he laid out a blanket and the both of you sat down.

Cracking open a redbull for the both of you to sip on, you leaned against his muscled frame, legs hanging over his lap as he wiped the sand off your feet, holding you close as he smiled.

“Good morning, handsome,” you grinned, leaning up for a kiss. Luke obliged, savoring the taste of you mixed with sleep and artificial peach. Your noses nudge against each other before he mumbles a reply, “Good morning, pretty girl.”

“Y’know? I could die happy just like this. I can’t think of anything else that would make this weekend more perfect.”

Luke hummed in contemplation, “I could think of a few things,” he said, as a laugh bubbled from his lips. A noise of confusion rose from you as you reached up to dust lint off his shirt before your knee nudged something hard in his pocket, and your eyebrow raised in mischief.

“Dirty boy, you get me out of your mom’s house and you’re already excited?”

And he laughed the stress off until it freed itself from his bones, pure elation radiating off of him before Eos even had a chance to spread her first rays of light into the sky.

He’s never needed perfect.

He just needs you.

His hands dug into his pocket, pulling out the ring box that’s caused him so much trouble this weekend. But a life with you should’ve already prepared him for that—and the shock on your face became funnier when you launched yourself on top of him, kicking up sand and taking the air out of his lungs.

You both hit the ground with a loud thud, your nose buried in his chest as he chuckles at your scream. Why was he even worried to begin with?

“Wait, wait, I still have something to say trouble, don’t jump ahead of the script!”

His hand rubbed your back in gentle strokes as he popped the box open to reveal a delicate golden band with two diamonds juxtaposed against each other sitting pretty on top.

“It’s always been you and me. And I’ve spent hours thinking of what to say, days trying to figure out when the time would be right, months working for a pretty ring that’s perfect for you, years loving you… and well… I want more. I want this, you and me spending the rest of our lives together because I can’t comprehend a future without you. I’d do anything for you trouble, and I don’t believe in much, but I believe in you. Us.”

You’ve cried so hard by this point that you’re convinced it’s so goddamn ugly but Luke smiles at you like he’s been promised immortality. And perhaps he has, with the future you two will have scrolling through his mind like an old film, a house on a hill, kids, a dog, shit—whatever you want as long as he’s with you it’ll be the closest thing to forever he’d have.

“Are you sure?” you said sniffling, and your boyfriend wiped your tears away like he has countless times before, though happy tears are something he’ll have to get used to.

“I literally ruined your proposal, I just thought you were horny, oh my gods…” Whining loudly and laughing, you held your shaking hand out as he sat up to put the ring on your finger.

“Well, we can fix that later. I still have a question to ask, after all.”

Luke grinned when your head nodded rapidly, finally shutting up so you wouldn’t interrupt him again.

“Will you,” he says so surely now, saying your name before continuing, “let me have the honor of spending the rest of our lives together as your husband?”

“Gods, yes. Fucking hell angelface, did you really think I’d say no?”

The both of you laughed through tears and snot as he placed the ring on your left hand, and still, it couldn’t be more perfect.

“A life with trouble is the life for me,” he mused, laughing as you covered his face in kisses before the both of you fell back into the sand a tangle of lips and lust and love.

You jolted up from your fiance’s embrace just as he thought he was going to get lucky, almost emptying your entire wallet of drachmas into the sand-covered blanket to Iris message your friends.

---

(pics are not representative of reader's appearance or gender just a lil visual for funsies)

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#made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #luke castellan imagine #🪽#જ⁀➴ jo answers !

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