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lalunalando · 11 days

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FMRN - LN4

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warnings: 18+! minors dni! smut, teasing, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), dom!lando, dj lando

songs referenced: FMRN - lilyisthatyou | Eat Your Man (feat. Nelly Furtardo) - Dom Dolla

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As the bass from the clubs speakers pulsed through your chest, and your seventh vodka orange tipped towards your lips, this is the first night you’d had out with your friends in a long time and you felt amazing.

Jimmyz was a popular club at the best of times, but tonight was extra full with no more admission due to celebrations for the Monaco Grand Prix that had been held earlier that day, and the drivers after party being held in the venue being DJed by none other than Martin Garrix.

Luckily for you, being a Monaco resident now as well as hometown bestfriend to the ever-so-smiley VCARB driver Daniel Ricciardo, your name was front page of the list for admission to the celebrations, as well as a +3 for your friends so you didn’t feel so alone when Danny would eventually get swept away.

What you failed to notice as you danced with your friends, head thrown back in laughter as one of them tried their best provocative moves on you because that’s just the way you all were to each other, was a certain curly haired brit by the bar watching your every move as he chatted to your best mate.

“Lando are you even listening mate? I just told you the funniest story about how I scared the shit out of max in the bathroom and you didn’t even flinch!” Daniel chuckled as he nudged the shoulder of his former teammate, trying to regain his attention.

“Sorry mate I was zoned out, what were you saying?” He responds, trying to focus on the conversation but failing as his eyes keep straying back to your spot on the dancefloor.

“Oh I was just saying I saw a purple cat with blue stripes talking to a crowd of toddlers out the back of the Ferrari garage” Danny said with a grin, waiting to see if he would take the bait.

And he did.

Lando fake laughed like he had been listening and responded with a quick “oh yeah? And then what did max do?”

Daniel couldn’t help himself, booming laugh heard even over the clubs sound system as he catches his friend out.

“Lando you freak, why don’t you stop staring at her and actually go talk to her? It’s better than standing here being a creep while you don’t listen to me anyway” Daniel nudged him

“Wh-who? I was listening to your story? I don’t know what you mean?” Lando stutters out as a blush creeps on him, silently thanking the darkness cloaking the club so no one could see hopefully.

“No you haven’t, you’ve been staring at Bunny since she walked in and I could almost feel your glare through me when I was with her” Daniel chuckled again, nodding his head towards his friend who was still totally unaware on the dance floor.

“Bunny? Is her name really bunny?” The younger driver asks in awe.

“Oh no, but I’ve called her that and only that since we were little, it feels wrong to call her anything else”

”Since you were kids?” Lando pushes for more information. How long has Daniel known the angel dancing in the middle of the club with not a care in the world, totally unaware how she was making him feel.

Were they dating? Has Daniel been lucky enough to touch her? To taste her? Lando wasn’t sure he could handle the answer but he needed to know more.

“Yeah her family moved into the farm next door when we were kids, and even though she’s a few years younger we became best friends. She wasn’t afraid to get on a dirt bike and get a little messy and I liked that about her.” Daniel reflects fondly, the girl being 7 years his junior becoming a sister to him almost instantly back then. Him being her protector ever since.

“So did you ever date? I see how close you are any time she’s around the paddock.” Lando pushes further

“OH GOD NO, I get she’s a pretty girl but that’s my annoying little sister, I could never think of her that way. Plus I’ve been sneaking around with her friend Julie, didn’t want the media to know or to make her uncomfortable about it.” Danny says smiling as he tips his usual cowboy hat towards her friend that had just looked over towards us at the same time, hand in hand with bunny as she twirls her around to the song playing.

“So is she..” Lando starts, feeling a little embarrassed to even ask.

“Single? Yes. Look I’ll even help you out, I’ve been looking for a way to sneak Julie away anyway” And with that, Danny was pushing Lando by the shoulders towards the group of girls.

Unfortunately time was not on Lando’s side, becauses moments before the two could even reach the girls, you were being lifted off the ground by none other than the youngest Leclerc of the pack, Arthur.

As Lando got closer, he couldn’t help but instantly feel jealous of him as he caught bits and pieces of the conversation you were currently engrossed in.

“Did you see me up in the DJ booth!?”

”Yes tutur you were amazing!”

”Did you see I played some Dom Dolla for you? To remind you of home?”

”I loved it, you looked so good up there and you know how much I love a good dance to some Dom!”

Giggling to each other like no one else was in the room, Lando was starting to see red.

Before he could do anything stupid, Daniel noticed and his reflexes kicked in to help his young friend out.

“You know bunny, Lando is going up with Martin in a few minutes, you should join him and check it out!”

“Oh I’m sure Lando doesn’t want me bothering him up there, he has an entire club to amaze with his skills” You respond, smiling at him sweetly.

You couldn’t deny, Lando was one of the most beautiful men you had ever laid eyes on. Being former teammates with Daniel meant you got to watch him back in the garage, preparing for sessions intently, mesmerizing you with how much he cared about his team as well as his sheer determination and passion for the sport.

And post-race sweaty glow Lando? That was a whole different type of god for you to worship.

But you knew he never spared a glance towards you, you were just “Daniel’s annoying little adopted sister” after all.

“No it’s totally fine, I’d love to show you what it's like up there!” Lando couldn’t get the words out fast enough

Holding your hand tightly as to not “lose you in the crowd” or so he said, Lando took you up towards the booth where an eager Martin was waving you both down.

“Bunny! I haven’t seen you since Danny’s birthday in Texas! How’ve you been?” He asks while engulfing you in a hug, ever so familiar with you.

“I’ve been great, Danny’s plants here in Monaco no so much though…” you said with a giggle, confirming the joke he’d made back in Texas about you moving into Daniel’s Monaco residence to “look after it and his plants for him” to have come true.

He lets out a laugh and gives you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before turning to Lando

“And you my man! P fucking 2 in Monaco! How are you feeling?” Martin asks Lando as he pulls him into a massive hug and pats his back

Lando grins so wide even the Cheshire Cat would be jealous of it.

“Better than any sex I’ve ever had!” Lando laughs and you can’t help but blush at the comment.

You don’t know why, but that made you feel a little jealous and a little intrigued wondering if he truly meant that.

“So what do we owe the pleasure of bunny’s presence up here? She never lets Dan bring her up!” Martin asks, eyeing you curiously with a smirk on his face, not blind to the way your eyes will always find Lando in a room.

“I wanted to show her what it was like, she seems to love it from the floor so why not show her the other side” Lando responds, slipping his arm around your shoulder to pull you into his side, setting butterflies free in your stomach.

After about 20 minutes of Martin and Lando doing their thing and having the entire club on a high, you’re interrupted from your thoughts of watching Lando’s skillful hands at work when he leans closer to you to talk.

“Alright next songs yours princess, what are you feeling?” Lando asks, his hot breath fanning across your neck as he leans down to speak into your ear, making you shiver.

“Oh no it’s okay, I’m enjoying just watching, I wouldn’t even know what to play..” you respond, hoping he can’t see the blush on your face from how close he is.

“I heard you and Arthur talking about that Australian artist before, Dom something? What about one of his songs?” He smiles back before pulling you in between him and Martin.

“Dom Dolla? Yeah that would be cool! Ummm…” you start trying to think of what song could keep the currently energy of the club going as Martin pulls the artist up for you to have a look through. In seconds it catches your eye.

“OH THAT ONE! EAT YOUR MAN! THATS MY FAVORITE!” You say excitedly say as you grab Lando’s arm and point to the screen, before he smiles and nods, beginning to match it’s BPM and tempo to the currently song playing to seamlessly transition it in.

Before you know it, the familiar tune starts flowing through the speakers and you can’t stop yourself.

You’re singing and dancing as best as you can in the small space, as your friends go wild and cheer for you.

“I’ll eat your man, devour him whole

Lickin’ my fingers, I’m in control

Fly like a bird, I’m takin’ it home

Movin’ my body like a nympho

I say it right, now do what I say

Apply the pressure into your veins

Blood on the floor, I’m pushin’ the pain

I let the creatures out of the cage”

Lando can’t help it, he’s looking at you like a man starved.

The way your head is thrown back as you sing along, showing off your neck that he wants nothing more than to leave marks on right now.

The way your hips are moving the the beat, while your hands follow the contours of your body perfectly in the already revealing outfit, calling him to just reach out and touch.

He can’t pull his eyes away, his hands reaching out to grab your hips so he can dance with you, and he’s almost coming undone when you don’t pull away but instead lean back into him closing the gap between you both as you throw your head back onto his shoulder with a laugh and keep your hips moving now in time with his own.

Just as quickly as the embrace started, it was ending with the song.

Having exuded so much energy having a blast up there, but also feeling a little embarrassed that you’d been grinding on Lando without even realizing once you regained yourself post-song, you decided now was the time to excuse yourself for another much needed drink.

“Hey uh, I’m going to head to the bar, thank you so much for bringing me up here, have fun!” And before Lando could stop you or offer to join, you were running away, grabbing your friends on the way through as they laughed and followed.

“So, bunny huh?” Martin asked his friend with a big smirk

“Yeah, bunny huh…” Lando smiled, still watching after you.

After a few round of shots and grabbing another vodka orange, you decided to head back to the dancefloor, now feeling a little less nervous about the earlier exchange.

Lando was saying farewell to the decks, and decided that after grabbing a few shots for confidence he would join you and your friends for a dance, dragging Daniel and Oscar with him. Papaya past and present, a united front to help Lando.

You couldn’t help but keep catching his eyes on you, having been looking around for him as well.

There was no denying it, his hands almost felt like they were burning holes in your skin with how warm they made you feel up there. Causing butterflies in your stomach as well as awakening something in your core.

Martin watched on from the booths, waiting for the perfect moment to put his plan into action to help his curly haired friend.

A few songs after joining your group, Daniel was pulling you slightly away to talk for a moment.

“Bunny, I love you but I’m going to head home now…” He says, trying to put together the best words to ask you the awkward thing he needs to ask.

“Oh that’s okay, I’ll say goodbye to the group and we can go” you say with a smile, not wanting to bother Danny with coming home later and making noise.

“NO - I mean - um - could you possibly stay out a big longer? I was kind of hoping to bring someone home with me right now…” He said shyly, looking over your shoulder at your friend that he thought you were still blissfully unaware he was sneaking around with.

You couldn’t help but let out a laugh that caught Lando’s attention, zoning into the conversation you and Daniel were having off to the side.

“Danny, I love you but I’ve known about you and Julie for a while! I’ll find my own way home later, just let me know when it’s safe to return and be safe!” You say light heartedly as you push Julie towards him.

“Don’t worry Dan, i’ll take care of her and make sure she’s safe” Lando cuts in, throwing his arm around your shoulder again and pulling you into him.

Daniel gives him a knowing smirk, before turning to you and giving his famous smile and kissing your cheek, instantly running away with your friend in tow.

“So its just us now, drinks?” Lando smiles, making you laugh as he grabs your hand and leads you to the bar for another round of shots.

Half an hour later, you’re back on the floor dancing with Lando, a lot closer than you could have ever imagined you’d be.

Your back is against his front, his fingers digging into your hips as his head lays on your shoulder breathing in your perfume again.

Dancing along to some remix currently playing, you feel content and safe with Lando. You want more, but you don’t want to embarrass yourself by telling him and getting rejected.

From the DJ booth, Martin has been watching and knows now is the time to put his plan into action.

As he slowly fades out the song currently finishing, he starts a song he knows you love, and knows it’s the perfect message to convey how you and Lando are so blindly feeling towards eachother.

“Oh. My god. I haven’t heard this in forever” you say as you catch onto the familiar beat, Lando has no idea what he’s in for as you start singing along.

“Can you come fuck me right now?

Parents are home, but my beds too loud

I can take it on the ground

If I get too loud, you can shut my mouth”

Lando has had enough, he can’t hold himself back anymore and he can always blame it on the alcohol if you push him away.

In an instant, he’s flipping you around to face him and crashing his lips to yours.

You are immediately reacting to him, your hands sliding up his shoulders and tangling in the curls on the back of his head, as you grant his tongue the access.

Roaming hands continue down to your ass as the heated kiss only breaks so he can nip at your neck like he’s been wanting to do all night.

As he pulls away, he can’t at smile at the sight in front of him.

Your eyes hazy and filled with lust, mouth still slightly open trying to process it all.

He needs to get you out of here now.

“I know I told Daniel I’d get you home safely, but do you think he’ll mind if it's my home?” He asks with a smirk, you just give him a wild smile back and shake your head.

That’s all he needed, and he’s dragging you out of the club and hailing a taxi.

Barely making it though the car trip with his wandering hands creeping up your skirt, the moment you make it through his apartment doors his lips are instantly attached to yours again as he walks you backwards towards what you assume to be his bedroom.

As your knees hit the edge of his mattress, you fall backwards onto it, dragging him down with you.

Desperate kisses, wandering hands, neither of you can believe this is finally happening.

He pulls back finally to look at you again and make sure you’re okay.

“Hey if you don’t want to do this it's okay, we can put a movie or somethi-“ before he can even finish you give him another kiss.

“Lan, I want this. I want you. I need you.” You don’t care how desperate you sound, it was true,

“God you don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you say that” He growls, attaching his lips back to your neck, biting and bruising, making sure that by tomorrow everyone knows not to touch what’s his.

Hands wandering back up your skirt, he can’t help the growl that comes when he feels the wet spot having formed along the crotch of your thong.

“Who got you this wet angel? You’re already soaked through the slutty piece of lace you pathetically call underwear”

“You Lan, it was all you” you moan out as his fingers brush over the part you need him most again.

He lowers himself down the bed, bunching your skirt up around your waist before ripping your panties in half, not wanting to waste anymore time.

“HEY I really liked that pair” you said with a pout

“I’ll buy you a pair in every fucking colour, now shut up before I shove them in your mouth to keep you quiet.”

Before you can protest, his mouth is on your pussy making you almost scream in pleasure.

Lando is like a man starved, and if you were to be his final meal he would die a happy man.

His tongue lapping your folds, savoring the taste he knows he’ll never get enough of now that he’s had it.

It doesn’t take long and you can feel your orgasm approaching, and almost like he can sense it too, he slips two fingers in and works them in time with his tongue on your clit, making you see white hot stars.

Within a minute you’re screaming his name, coming undone as he laps up every single drop, not wanting to waste a single bit of his new favorite drug.

As you try to regain your breath, Lando removes your top, leaving you in nothing but your bunched up skirt as he leaves a trail of kisses up your body.

“Such pretty sounds you make baby, can’t wait for everyone to know who’s getting them out of you though” he smirks against your neck

“Lan can i.. can i return the favour?” You ask nervously, knowing he’s probably a lot more experienced than you and not wanting to disappoint him, but being too greedy to stop yourself.

“Princess i would love to get head from you, but only for a little bit because i don’t think i can wait to feel you around me much longer” he says with a quick kiss on your lips, before laying down and letting you take the same position he just had.

Unzipping his pants to pull them down, your mouth is already watering at the sight of his pretty dick as it finally springs free from the painfully tight confines of his pants.

“Do you think you can take it baby? Be a good girl and suck it.” He says devilishly as he pulls your hair into a ponytail to keep it out of your face.

Clenching your thighs at the request, you lick the tip to catch the precum already dribbling out, making him hiss.

“Don’t be a tease now princess, you’ve done enough of that tonight.”

You smile up at him through your eyelashes, before taking as much of him into your mouth as you can.

Almost whimpering at the feeling, his hand tighten in your hair as you start using your hand to work the parts you can’t quite reach.

“FUCK that’s it baby, just like that, you’re so fucking good at this holy shit”

Hearing the praise only makes you want to please him even more, as you push yourself to take more of him in, hitting the back of your throat over and over.

“Bunny I’m not going to last much longer with you doing that, need you on my cock already” He growls as he tugs your hair, pulling you off his cock and making you whimper.

“On my lap, now.” He demands as he pulls you up to hover over him, sitting up himself to get a better angle.

“I watched how much of a cocktease you could be all night, making every guy in the room drool over what’s mine. So why don’t you be a good little slut now and ride my cock like i already know your going to be so good at huh?” He says with a smirk as he lowers you onto his cock, making you whine at how full he’s already making you feel

“So full Lan, you’re so fucking big.” You whimper as your head drops to his shoulder.

“Come on baby, you’re taking me so well, just start moving when you settle” He says a little bit softer as he kisses your shoulder

After a few moments, the pain subsides and you can already feel the pleasure building, so you start moving your hips in the same fashion you were moving against him in the club.

“That’s my girl, fuck you feel so good little bun.” He says as he nips at your chest, your back arching in pleasure as you feel him hitting your core with each movement.

You start to feel brave, and decide the grinding isn’t enough for either of you anymore.

Before he can even ask if you’re okay as he feels the position change slightly, he’s faced with the most pornographic scene he could ever imagine.

Your tits are bouncing in his face as you bounce up and down on his cock, feeling his tip hit your g-spot brutally every time you lower, but nothing has ever felt this good before.

Your head thrown back in pleasure, as you grip onto his shoulders for support, nails digging in as a slew of swears and moans come out fo your mouth.

“Fuck bunny just like that, keep bouncing just like that, gonna cum soon” He moans, slapping your ass a few times for good measure and taking note at the sounds you make as he does so for next time.

“Fuck lan I’m gonna cum”

“Me too angel, fuck, where do you want me to cum?” He lets out a strangled moan as he fucks up into you, feeling you start to lose focus as you can no longer think from the pleasure you’re feeling.

“Cum inside me, please lan, need to feel you dripping out of me” you wimper, no longer able to think for yourself

“going to fill you up and make sure everyone knows who you belong to” he grunts, and that’s enough to make the band in you snap.

He feels you tighten around his cock as you’re screaming his name, over and over, causing him to let go finally too as you chase your highs together.

After a few moments of trying to catch your breaths, he drops back down onto the mattress as you remove yourself from him and wimper at the loss of fullness you just felt.

Pulling you down to lay on his chest, he plays with your hair as you lay in silence for a while.

Thoughts are swirling around his head before he finally decides to speak up, not wanting to lose the courage from the post-sex bliss.

“I know its kind of backwards, but would you maybe want to go on a date tomorrow? I’ve been wanting to ask you for a while but didn’t think I had a chance” He asks nervously, still running his fingers through your hair.

“I’d love to Lan, and if we’re being honest I thought you just saw me the same way Danny did, I though I was the one who didn’t have a chance” you say while laughing slightly, before leaning up to give him a peck on the lips for reassurance.

“Well now that that’s out of the way, why does Daniel only call you bunny? Do you even have a real name at this point?” He asks as he pokes your side, making you squeal

“He started calling me bunny when we were little because when we would go dirt bike riding really early in the morning my nose would go pink like a bunny, and he also use to make fun of me for my nervous nose twitch thing” you tell him, the story making you smile

“Oh I mean i get it now, at least you got stuck with a cute name. But do you ever wish he’d just call you by your name?”

”Nope, i like bunny. Besides, after i bit him one time and solidified the nickname, it only made sense to keep it.” You said with a big grin, making Lando burst out laughing hearing that you actually bit Daniel.

“So….” He starts after you’ve both been laying in bliss for some time now, “Are you up for round 2 my little rabbit?”

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i-turned-into-the-stone · 2 months

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[Commissioned] Rave-Up: Hyunjin LOOSSEMBLE

Tags: Non-con, Drugs, Overstimulation, Rough Sex, A Lot Of Squirting, A Little Fingering, Thigh Fucking, Face Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Creampie (kind of mentioned breeding)

Character(s): M!Reader × Kim Hyunjin

Word Count: 4,836

The music blasted through your ears, pumping up the thrill within you. This was no ordinary party. It was a crazy-ass rave with zero rules and zero inhibitions. Neon lights lit up the joint, shining on a sea of people lost in the moment. You took a swig of your drink, savoring the sweet kick of alcohol mixed with the party's wild energy.

A bunch of tipsy women couldn't take their eyes off you. Even though they didn't really tickle your fancy, you played along, soaking up their attention. You danced, flirted, and ran your hands all over their hot bodies, riding that adrenaline rush.

But as the night rolled on, boredom started creeping in. The once mind-blowing activities had turned into a snoozefest, and the chicks who were once smoking hot seemed like dime a dozen. Just when you thought the night couldn't get any more dull, you saw her.

She was drop-dead gorgeous, hotter than most babes in this rave. Her long, messy black hair and that smooth midriff peeking out between her top and fitting jeans had you hooked. She was straight-up dancing like she didn't give a buck about the world. Her flushed face let you know she was in some higher state than normal.

Well, everyone here practically snorted or swallowed something before the lights went wild and the music deafened their ears. It all came down to what kinda crazy mix of drugs they popped with Molly to either stay aware or get lost in a cloud of bliss.

You maneuvered through the crowd, dodging the blinding lights and thunderous beats. You stood right in front of her as she grooved and jumped to the music. Her messy hair didn't seem to bother her, but her icy stare and the way she swiped her hair back told you everything.

"Come on, just back off. I'm not interested in whatever you're after," she poked your chest once and giggled like a half-drunk person. "Got it? So, move it." With that, she stepped down from the dance platform and headed towards the chill-out zone.

You were the one who scoped out this warehouse for the organizer, who happened to be your best friend's senior. The layout of this place was etched in your freaking brain. There was no way she could escape you. Whoever the hell she was, you were hell-bent on finding out.

Jumping down, you followed her into the hallway, checking her out as she held the wall and turned the corner. Nobody was around. They were all busy getting their minds blown by the sick DJ and performers on stage. Not that anybody would care.

Feeling the heat and looking for someone to play with, you figured it wasn't so bad for being sober. Tagging along behind her, you saw her messing around with the vending machine outside the resting area. The booming beats from the main area turned into a distant background buzz.

She didn't waste time noticing your presence and rolling her eyes. "Oh my god... Can't you get it through your thick skull that I'm not into you? Don't you understand Korean?"

"Yeah, I get Korean just fine. What I don't get is why you gotta be so rude. I just wanna be friends and have a blast together. Isn't that what this event is all about?" You tried to keep it cool as you watched her bend down, her round ass was firm. "No need to be a total bitch about it."

She scoffed, grabbing the canned drink from the pickup box. "Friends? Hilarious." Then she giggled, sneaking a peek at your crotch and spotting your boner. "You're not exactly subtle, are you?" She tiptoed closer and whispered in your ear. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but you won't find that kind of action from this Kim Hyunjin bitch, okay?”

Hyunjin stepped back, almost tripping, feeling extra pleased in teasing you, clueless that she was starting to get on your nerves. The fact that she got all wild at this rave but acted all prude and shit was a total contradiction. It pissed you off.

Besides, it wasn't up to Hyunjin to decide what you could or couldn't get. It was the other way around. "A pretty name," you said, snatching the canned drink from her hand and cracking it open. "Too bad you won't be so pretty after I'm done with your sorry cunt." You poured the liquid over her head.

Hyunjin flinched when the cold drink hit her hair, drops dripping down onto her bare shoulders. "Hey! What the fuck!? You're crazy!" She shot you a glare.

"That's what you get for being a rude bitch, Kim Hyunjin." You laughed and splashed the rest of the juice on her dumbstruck face, making her gasp and cough before she wiped the liquid away from her closed eyes.

As you yanked on Hyunjin's hair, the can slipped from your grasp and clattered onto the hard concrete floor. She squirmed and struggled, trying to pry your hand away, but her efforts were in vain. With a firm push, you propelled her into the storage room, causing her to land on her ass, and swiftly shut the door behind you. Her voice filled the air, laced with anger and confusion.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Hyunjin shouted, regaining her footing. But before she could take any further action, you swiftly delivered a stinging slap to her face, causing her to stumble backward.

"Don't play the innocent act, you pretentious bitch. You sniffed those candies, didn't you? What else would you do it for if not to have some fun?" The room was dimmer compared to the outside, yet you could still make out the glimmer of tears in her eyes and the sharpness of her glare.

Through clenched teeth, Hyunjin yelled, "That's none of your fucking business!" She rushed towards you, shoving your solid chest, attempting to slip past you towards the door.

You allowed Hyunjin to dart past you, her hand nearly grazing the door handle. Seizing the opportunity, you wrapped your arms around her from behind, dragging her towards the left side of the wall where shelves and cabinets were filled with spare beverages and snacks.

In the corner of the room, a table adorned with empty flat boxes caught your attention. You took your time, relishing the sensation of her soft ass inadvertently brushing against your clothed erection.

"Let me go! Uhh!" Hyunjin thrashed harder, desperate to break free, only to be thrown against the table, her front colliding with the boxes. "Fuck!"

She had no chance to turn around as you bent her over the table, applying pressure to her back to prevent her from getting up. "You're quite vulgar for such a cute girl," you chuckled, leaning forward and planting a kiss on her neck. Her eyelids shut tight in response.

Given your height advantage, accessing every part of her body was effortless. Taking advantage of this, you slipped your hand between her legs, feeling the fabric that covered her pussy, and began rubbing it roughly.

"Quit fucking touching me! Let go!" Hyunjin's hands instinctively went for yours, trying to yank them away from her sensitive lady bits, even though you hadn't even made direct contact yet. She knew right away that it was because of the damn MDMA she had tried out. Struggling for a hot sec had her already breathless.

"I know you're getting all wet from just having your pussy rubbed like this. No need to be shy," you said, pressing your palm harder against her groin.

"Fuck off, you asshole! You—You can't do shit to me!" Hyunjin's voice wavered a bit as she fought back, attempting to push herself off the table, hoping to break free from your grip.

"Really? You think I'm just messing around, Kim Hyunjin?" You eased up on pressing her back and pulled her straight up, wrapping your arm around her neck. "Curse at me one more time, I dare you."

"What the—"

You clamped your hand over Hyunjin's mouth, and she struggled to pry it off. Meanwhile, your other hand cheekily unbuttoned her jeans, giving her a clear idea of what was in store.

"Mmph!!!" Hyunjin thrashed harder, kicking the floor and twisting her body, but it didn't do jack shit for her.

You pressed your hand against her mouth even harder, tasting her sweat as you licked up her neck, all the way to her earlobe. Once the button was undone, you moved on to the zipper, slowly pulling it down. You could feel her heavy breaths against your hand while you gripped the waistband of her jeans.

With your arm straightened, her panties were on full display, along with those juicy inner thighs that you eagerly grabbed hold of, loving how plump and soft they felt.

"Damn, you're kinda thick, huh. Why were you hiding these goodies?"

Because she didn't deserve to be treated like this. Inside her head, she screamed about how wrong it was. But unfortunately, there was nothing she could do. Her body responded to your touches, weakening her resistance. You gave her thigh a hard squeeze, leaving a red mark on her skin, then delivered a slap to the other side, causing it to jiggle as she instinctively closed her legs.

Hyunjin's voice muffled against your hand. You assumed she was hurling vulgar curses at you as she grabbed your hand on her pussy. Her pulse raced with a mix of panic and fear. What you were about to do would leave a lasting impact on her, both physically and mentally.

Your fingers glided over her clothed pussy. You pressed your palm against it, feeling the wetness already seeping through her panties. Hyunjin's breath hitched as she felt your touch, her body arching.

"Let's see what kind of slut you really are now." You ran a finger along her slit, chuckling at the dampness despite her desperate resistance. "See? Just a phony slut, nothing more."

You ripped off her panties, the sound reverberating in the room. Hyunjin gasped as the cool air greeted her exposed core. Without wasting a moment, you plunged two fingers into her, feeling her tight walls clench around them.

Hyunjin's body trembled under your touch, her moans muffled against your hand. Her wetness coated your fingers as her body eagerly responded to your actions.

With each thrust of your fingers, she squirmed against you, her sensitivity escalating. Her inner walls tightened around your fingers, her satisfied moans growing louder as you picked up the pace. And that's when you felt it— her squirting, her juices drenching your hand as she screamed.

You continued prodding her insides, her body shaking as she rode out her orgasm. Her legs quivered as she struggled to stand, but you held her steady, refusing to let her escape your grasp.

"You're nothing but a filthy little slut," you growled in her ear. "Look at you, squirting all over my hand like a dirty whore."

Hyunjin could only whimper in response, the pleasure and humiliation merging in her mind. She felt a tingling surge coursing through her body, biting her lip in the hope that you would stop. But you didn't. Her body tensed once more, her inner walls tightening around your fingers as she neared her second orgasm.

You persisted, probing her depths without mercy as she cried out. And when she finally came undone again, the satisfaction of her scream and the intensity of her climax made you chuckle.

Her pussy was dripping, her arousal evident as it coated your fingers while you pumped them in and out of her with increased speed. Her body teetered on the brink of ecstasy. Then you curled your fingers inside her, hitting that sweet spot that made Hyunjin's vision go blank.

Another muffled scream escaped her as her body trembled, releasing her essence all over your hand and the floor. Withdrawing your fingers, you licked them clean, savoring her taste, as you observed Hyunjin collapsing against the table, her legs shaking from the overwhelming sensations.

"You've had your fun, so now it's time to return the favor like a bitch with manners, alright?" you quipped, casually undoing your pants. With a nonchalant gesture, you slid them down along with your boxers and even kicked off your shoes, stepping out of the jumbled mess of clothes.

Before the brunette had any chance of turning around or making a run for it, you wrapped your arms around her tummy and slipped your veiny cock between her supple thighs, giving her pussy a teasing rub. The pure bliss you felt made it all worth it, finally finding something worthwhile in the midst of this wild rave party.

Hyunjin then gasped as you roughly pulled her cropped vest off her arms and tore her flimsy white top in half, exposing her perky tits to the cool air. Wasting no time, you fondled and mauled her mounds. Her nipples instantly hardened under your palms.

She whimpered, trying to move her ass away while the upperside of your rock-hard cock sliding back and forth through her soaked pussy lips. Hyunjin trembled, her back arched and her ass involuntarily grinding back to meet your thrusts.

You pulled her against your chest, burying your nose in the crook of her neck. Her sweet floral scent filled your nostrils as you squeezed her thighs, pushing them together to fuck her harder. Wet smacking sounds filled the air with each slam of your hips.

"You like that?" you growled in her ear. "You like my thick cock splitting those pretty, needy pussy lips?"

Hyunjin whimpered and shook her head frantically, her hands clawing at the boxes on the table. You reached around to rub tight circles over her clit, and she cried out. Her pussy clenched and quivered on top of your cock as another orgasm ripped through her petite frame.

"Fuck! Oh God— Please stop!" she wailed, and hot juices gushed over your shaft and balls.

This girl's smooth thighs were next-level amazing. They had you on the edge of blowing your load right then and there. But there was so much more she had to offer, and you weren't about to let that go to waste. Your primal instincts were in full control, driven purely by raw lust.

You grabbed Hyunjin's hair and yanked her head back roughly, trapping her against the table before you flipped Hyunjin over onto her back, her ass at the edge and spread her trembling thighs wide. She stared up at you with horror as you lined your cock up with her swollen, squirting pussy.

"Please, no..." she begged, but you ignored her protests.

Pinning her down with your weight, you gripped her thick thighs and spread them apart. Your hard cock slid between her pussy lips, already slick with her juices. You didn't give a fuck if she was ready or not. With one harsh thrust, you hilted yourself inside her tight cunt. Hyunjin screamed into her own hand as you stretched her open, not giving her time to adjust.

"Shut up, you little slut," you growled, burying your nose in her hair. "This pussy belongs to me now."

You set a speedy pace, your hips slamming against her ass cheeks with every stroke. Hyunjin sobbed and squirmed beneath you, but you squeezed her thighs tighter, using them as handles to fuck her harder.

"You're fucking dripping for it, you dirty whore," you sneered, feeling her arousal wetting your shaft. "I knew you wanted this cock."

Reaching down, you rubbed her sensitive clit using your thumb. Hyunjin cried out as her pussy clenched and gushed more of her juices. But you didn't let up, pounding into her spasming cunt with animalistic force until she fell limp.

"No, please...I can't take any more! Ahh! Shit—" she begged, gripping the edges of the table.

Ignoring her pleas, you slammed your hips forward, burying youself to the hilt inside her abused cunt. "Shut your fucking mouth, slut," you bellowed, starting to pound into her harder, her tightness took your breath away. "This pussy is mine to use however I want, ugh!!!”

"No! Let me go, you fucker– Hng! I can't take it! you're too big!" she cried.

You backhanded her hard across the face, making her yelp. "I didn't ask for your opinion, whore. This pussy belongs to me!"

You gripped Hyunjin's hair in a tight fist, holding her head still as you ravaged her mouth with bruising kisses. She whimpered against your lips as if you care, biting and sucking until you tasted copper.

"Fucking look at me when I'm using you," you snarled, giving her hair a harsh yank.

Hyunjin's eyes flew open, dark pools of fear and arousal staring up at you as you rutted against her. She was completely spent, her frame trembling with overstimulation, but her abused pussy was still convulsing and squirting weakly with each grind of your hips.

"Please...I can't..." she gasped out, but her words were cut off by a guttural moan as you roughed up her tits.

You squeezed and kneaded the soft mounds, pinching her hard nipples between calloused fingers until they were red and swollen. Hyunjin arched her back, pushing her chest further into your cruel grip as you toyed with her sensitive flesh.

"Slut doesn't get to decide when it's over and when it's not," you said, giving her nipples a vicious twist.

Hyunjin yelped, and a fresh gush of liquid flooded over your cock, still buried to the base inside her. You pulled out slowly until just the bulbous head remained inside her swollen lips, then slammed your hips forward again. The sudden intrusion made Hyunjin's whole body jolt, her eyes rolling back as she took your punishing length.

Gripping her slim waist tightly, you set a ruthless pace, hilting yourself over and over again into her ruined, squirting hole. Wet, filthy noises filled the air as you ruined her pussy, using her as nothing more than a set of useless holes.

"F-fuck! Too much!" Hyunjin sobbed, her nails raking down your arms as she clung to you.

You didn't slow, couldn't slow, not with how perfectly her squirming insides hugged your cock. Each thrust made her silky walls ripple and flutter around you, milking your shaft for every drop. You could feel her juices pouring out, drenching your balls and legs.

"Do you feel how fucking soaked you are for this dick?" you panted against her neck, teeth grazing her pulse point. "This sloppy cunt was made to take my cock."

Tilted her pelvis up to take you even deeper, Hyunjin howled as you bottomed out, the bulge of your cock clearly visible moving beneath her taut stomach with each motion. Her legs shook with the strain of being spread so wide, her toes curling and back arching almost painfully.

"That's it, let me hear you scream," you growled, giving a sharp thrust that made her whole body twist and turn. "Let the whole fucking world know what a desperate little cumdump you are."

Hyunjin’s mouth opened in a silent wail as another intense orgasm crashed over her, squirting hard around your pistoning meat as she came apart. Reaching down, you rubbed her engorged clit using your thumb, her back bowing even further off the table as you assaulted her sensitive bud.

Your own orgasm rapidly approaching as Hyunjin's spasming pussy milked your needy cock, so you pulled out of her pussy, strings of stickiness connecting your shaft to her reddened entrance. Grabbing a fistful of Hyunjin's hair, you dragged the sobbing girl off the table and down to her knees in front of you. She shook her head weakly, but you paid her no mind, guiding the thick head of your cock to her plump lips.

"Open up for me, slut," you ordered, giving her hair a yank. "This load's going right down your throat. Must be thirty, right? Cumming so much like a broken whore.”

Hyunjin had no choice but to part her lips as you shoved forward into the wet heat of her mouth. She immediately started choking and gagging, her throat wrenching around your girth as you buried it as deep as it could get.

"Oh, fuck… Take it all you pretentious bitch of a whore," you groaned, feeling her nose pressed against your pelvis.

You didn't give Hyunjin a chance to breathe, immediately fucking in and out of her throat with rough strokes. Her mascara ran in thick rivers down her face as she choked and drooled around your nailing rod, but you didn't care, couldn't care about anything except the intense pleasure.

Gripping the back of her head tightly, used her mouth as a fuckhole, slamming in deep until she gagged and sputtered. You could feel her throat spasming, desperate for air, but you refused to let up, because her discomfort gave extra stimulation to you so kept fucking her pretty face.

"You were made for this, Kim Hyunjin. That's what you really are," you belittle her lower, heavy balls slapping against her chin, splattering her spit everywhere.

Hyunjin's eyes rolled back as she started to go limp, her jaw hanging open limply as you used her. Tears and drool streamed down her flushed cheeks, mixing with the mess of makeup and sweat already overlaying her face.

A harsh grunt, grinding your hips against her face, you started to unload. You could feel Hyunjin's throat struggling and pulsing as you pumped thick ropes of cum straight down into her belly, filling her up until it leaked out around your girth.

"Swallow it all like a good little cumslut," you panted, giving a few more shallow thrusts to wring out the last few spurts.

Hyunjin choked and struggled to breathe around the flood of seed pouring down her gullet. A few moments later when you were completely drained, you pulled out, letting the last few drops splatter across her wrecked face.

Hyunjin slumped forward, coughing and gasping for air, a mess of makeup, drool, and your fresh cum all the while her ravaged pussy was still visibly leaking, her thighs soaked with the evidence of how thoroughly you had used her.

You took a step back and admired the utter wreck you had made of Hyunjin. She was sprawled on the floor, panting with ragged breaths. Thick ropes of your seed coated her face and dripped from her pale lips. Her makeup was smeared in streaks, mixing with tears and drool to leave her looking like a cheap whore. Her cunt was a puffy, inflamed mess, the lips swollen. You could see her gaping entrance fluttering weakly, as if her body was already craving more abuse.

Chuckling, you swiped a can of beer from a nearby cabinet and cracked it open, taking a long pull. May as well give this little slut a break and let her think she had a moment of respite. As you drank, you watched Hyunjin's chest heaving, her pert tits rising and falling rapidly with each shuddering breath. Her nipples were red, the dark peaks begging to be abused further.

You felt your cock stiffening once more at the sight of her pitiful, ruined state. Seems the whore's body was just made to be used, no matter how thoroughly you wrecked her.

Downing the last of your beer, you stalked over and hauled Hyunjin up by her hair. She immediately started sniveling and thrashing weakly, trying in vain to escape your grasp. But she could barely support her own weight, her legs like jelly after her overpowering orgasms.

You bent over and lifted her hips. Hyunjin screamed hoarsely as you lined your thick cock up with her battered slit and slammed forward, impaling her once again. Her raw, overstimulated walls embraced your invading cock like a vice.

"Please...no more… I'm sorry…" she sobbed brokenly, drool escaping the corners of her mouth as you started pounding away.

However, her body betrayed her as her ass unconsciously grinding back to meet your constant thrusts. You could feel more of her cum wrapping your busy cock once more as you pleasured yourself with her pussy, her silken walls massaging your cock.

"That's it, whore, milk this cock with your tight stupid pussy. It feels fucking nice, isn't it? You almost missed out on all this fun… Huu, ugh!" you grunted, giving her ass a couple of slaps.

Hyunjin moaned and clenched down hard, a fresh flow of her juices splattering out around your disappearing cock. Her muscles coiled with each stretching of her canal, her back arched sharply as she took your ruthless assertion. The battered girl’s body was completely overwhelmed, a slave to the intense sensations wracking her limp vessel.

You grabbed Hyunjin's arms and wrenched them back behind her, using them as makeshift handles to yank her onto your rougher thrust. She screeched incoherently as the bulbous head of your cock punched up into her cervix with each forceful thrust.

"That's it, take it all the way up into your fucking womb.” You offered her slender arms a vicious tug.

Hyunjin's stiff legs bent back, her toes not even touching the floor as you railed upward into the depth of her core. Her raw, overstimulated walls wrung erratically around your pulsing cock, her moisture pouring out in waves to pool on floor

It was all too much for her weakened body to endure. Hyunjin’s cries descended into guttural, animalistic screams as you used her like a personal onahole. Tears and drool streamed down her blotchy face, mixing into a smeared, filthy mess.

"Please...stop! You can't— Oughhh!" she howled, her voice cracking from the sheer intensity of the sensations overwhelming her.

Regardless, her traitorous cunt just kept leaking and squeezing around your cock, begging to be filled again and again, desperately milking your cock as if starved for your seed. You could feel your heavy balls tightening, signaling the impending explosion.

Spun Hyunjin around and slammed her down onto her back, never breaking the seal of her velvety vice. You immediately sank back into her hole, burying your entire cock in one brutal shove. Pinning her down with your weight, you wrapped one arm around her slender neck, squeezing just enough to make her eyes bulge. Hyunjin gurgled and thrashed beneath you.

Sinking your teeth into the soft flesh of her shoulder, you started snapping your hips in short quick motion. Hyunjin groaned and clawed at your restraining arm as you ruthlessly plundered her spasming depths until you finally unloaded, cords of thick cum flooding into her womb, draining every drop as you pumped her full of your seed.

By the time you finished pulling up your pants, Hyunjin was a slack mess on the floor, her eyes glued tight and mouth hanging open. You took a step back and admired the utter wreck you had turned Hyunjin into. Her broken body was splayed, covered in a thick coating of your cum and her own juices, her once silky hair a tangled mess.

Reaching down, you grabbed a fistful of her hair and wrenched her head up, exposing the deep bite mark you had left on her shoulder. Hyunjin's eyes fluttered open weakly, glassy and unfocused from the sheer depravity you had subjected her to.

"Why so sad? That's a good look for you, Kim Hyunjin," you smirked, giving her head a harsh shake. "All fucked out and bred like the useless cumdump you are."

Letting her head drop back to the floor, you fished out your phone and snapped a few degrading photos of her filthy tainted leaking form. Hyunjin didn't even react, just laid there motionless save for the occasional twitch of her thighs.

You brought your hand back and delivered a slap across her already messy face. A thin trickle of blood started from the corner of her swollen lips, but still she gave no response, no cry of pain. Just the slow blink of her vacant eyes as she stared up at you unseeingly.

"You're my slut now, you hear me?" you stated, gripping her jaw and shaking her head again. "You better come running with your cunt ready whenever I call." You shot her one last disdainful look up and down her soiled, abused body.

With that, you turned and left the storage room, leaving Hyunjin a broken, defiled mess on the floor. She didn't move, couldn't move, could barely even think through the haze of overstimulation and degradation. All she could feel was the dull, throbbing ache between her trembling legs. Her entire body felt numb, used up and discarded like a piece of trash after you had taken your fill.

More than the physical pain, Hyunjin felt utterly disgusted with herself. Disgusted at how her body had betrayed her, cumming again and again despite the filthy violation she received. Curling in on herself, Hyunjin let out a low, keening whimper as the first sobs started to wrack her shattered frame.

#kpop smut #male reader #kpop gg #kpop girls #non con smut #girl group smut #loona smut #loossemble smut #kim hyunjin #Hyunjin smut #loossemble hyunjin #girl group imagines #commissioned work

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il-predestinato · 6 months

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hello beautiful elle

since it is going to be a long 3 months without our boys could you please recommend some fics that you liked? cause i really like your writings and how realistic they are and i wanted to get some of you suggestions for the break!

love you loads

Thank you, lovely anon, for your very kind message! 🥺 I must admit I have fallen behind in reading fics. I am sure I am forgetting some excellent Lestappen fics/writers, but these are some of my all-time favourites!

Lestappen Fic Recs:

And in the end I will seek you out amongst the stars by mandzilkos (@geeeooorrrge) - rating: G, 22k words

Soulmate AU where you see in black and white until you meet your soulmate, and the world goes back to black and white after your soulmate dies. This is ALWAYS the first Lestappen fic that comes to mind whenever anyone asks for a recommendation, and it is probably my all-time favourite. The fic that inspired me to write Lestappen, if I'm honest.

getting half of you just ain't enough by shybear_styles - rating: E, 20k words

The friends with benefits story that spans the 2019 season. The only thing better than amazing smut is amazing smut with feels. For sure a top 5 fic in the Lestappen fandom for me. Also, this author is simply amazing in general and you should read all of her fics! I haven't given up hope that she will return one day and write more Lestappen. 🤧

you feel the mornin' feel by shybear_styles - rating: M, 3.3k words

Remember that time Sebastian Vettel asked Charles, "Is he [Max] pretty?" And we never got an answer because Charles descended into gay panic? Well, worry not! We get an answer in this fic.

Monaco Malaise by ProngsfootxJily (@cupidskissx) - rating: E, 8k words

Rivals with benefits, takes place after the 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Yes, this one is delicious smut but also a character study. Both of them are written so well, and it leaves you begging for more. Don't forget to check out the equally amazing sequel! (Don't worry, I have been relentlessly harassing her to write the sequel's sequel.)

algorithm by Anney (@badboy-george) - rating: M, 17k words

In a world where F1 uses simulation-based compatibility tests, five times Max doesn't find the right partner and the one time he does. Black Mirror ("San Junipero" and "Hang the DJ") vibes in the best way. Another one of my absolute favourite fics. If you've read any Lestappen fics, you've probably read "Every Other Sunday." This one is simply a masterpiece by the immensely talented Anney; definitely check out her other fics!

panem et circenses by Anney - rating: E, 13.2k words

Wow - simply devastating, haunting, an ode to these two as drivers, set in a dystopian future AU. The world building is absolutely incredible, but at its heart is such a beautiful story of love and hope. This one doesn't get enough recognition. (TW: implied non-con, not between Lestappen.)

Unlearn by wantinghopingwriting (Tazza1993) (@lightsoutfullhearts) - NR, 45k words

This is another all-time favourite, a must-read. Fake/pretend relationship to lovers multi-chapter story that is ever so satisfying; both of them are so well characterized. Set in a parallel-ish 2022 season. I really cannot recommend this one enough.

the edge of what can be loved by Ledger_m (@the-last-jedis) - rating: T, 13k words

The third wheel fic from the perspective of Max and Charles' various "Steves." It's funny, heartwarming, and everyone on the grid is nosy as fuck.

Charles Leclerc vs Red Bull caps by Ledger_m - rating: T, 6.4k words

Charles is the hero we all need, as he goes on a mission to get rid of all of Max's stupid Red Bull caps. This is REQUIRED reading! Kami is a genius. Go read all of her fics.

If You Don't Play, You'll Never Win by antimonyandthyme (@antimonyandthyme) - rating: T, 4.1k

Post 2021 Monaco Grand Prix. Max wants to take their relationship further; Charles... doesn't. Oh my God, where do I begin to describe how much I love this fic. The language is beautiful, both of them are so well-written, and I feel punched in the gut over and over again in the best way. The ending (well, the whole thing) is so damn satisfying.

all's well that ends well (to end up with you) by stylestappen (@stylestappen) - rating: G, 3k words

Max has a meltdown in the cereal aisle (yes, the cereal aisle) at 3 am when he realizes he is in love with Charles despite the latter's questionable taste in cereal. Dani has an absolutely wicked sense of humour! (Although I don't understand what she has against cocoa puffs 😭.) She also wrote a banger of a Lestappen soon-to-be teammates fic, so make sure to check out her profile.

Max Verstappen: Spotify Extraordinaire by frnndtorres - rating: G, 26k words

Max makes Spotify playlists for the grid. Fluffy, funny, care-free, liberal use of nicknames, with a healthy dose of feels between Max and Charles. A really fun read.

i love the way your green eyes mix with that malibu indigo by altissimozucca (@altisssimozucca) - rating: G, 11k words

Max and Charles spend summer of 2020 together in Malibu and try not to fall in love. Spoiler alert: they fall in love. I feel the urge to explain something: When I first started reading Lestappen, there were less than 250 fics in their entire tag (yeah I know, we are currently close to 3000 fics, which is insane). From 2019-2021, we truly lived off crumbs. So trust me when I say that we owe so much to altissimozucca, who wrote something like 40% of the fics in the Lestappen tag and nearly single-handedly kept us fed in those days. It's so hard to pick one of her fics to recommend, so make sure you check out her profile for more!

#803442 by altissimozucca - rating: M, 1k words

Max and Charles celebrate the end of the 2019 season in a hotel room. So soft, so fluffy, so satisfying.

Bruises by eefiplier - rating: E, 5.1k words

I think of this one as THE Lestappen smut fic. Oh my God, it's 5k words of amazing established relationship smut with all the feels. A classic. I can read this one over and over again.

outside the box by playclock (@endowataru) - rating: M, 6.1k words

Max falls in love with Charles' driving... oh and Charles himself too. They are ultra competitive idiots who are madly in love. There aren't enough established relationship fics out there, but this one is simply amazing. And don't forget to check out this author's profile for additional Lestappen fics. I promise every single one is a banger!

i made it link by link by purpleglasseswrites (@f-ferrari-forever) - rating: M, 4.2k words

Charles and Max try to be kinky, but who are they kidding - they are far too vanilla for that stuff. 🤣 This one is so sweet, and don't forget to read the sequel!

One man's trash, another man's treasure by AzziNow (@track-terror-apologist) - rating: T, 4.2k words

Charles turns into a raccoon and terrorizes everyone except Max. (Well, he terrorizes Max too... slightly.)

Call it madness, call it love… by AzziNow - rating: M, 3.5k words

Ferrari auctions off Charles for charity. No angst, just fluff. Alpha!Max/Alpha!Charles. So I confess that I never read A/B/O fics. There's nothing wrong with it - just not my cup of tea. But I really enjoyed this one. Al has such a chaotic sense of humour.

it all reminds me of you by grandprix (@grandprix-ao3) - rating: E, 3k words

Secret relationship Lestappen with flashbacks. Oh the yearning, the desire, the smut - incredibly satisfying. I must put a plug-in for this author's other Lestappen fics as well. Never misses - make sure to check them out!

burning you into my mind by thightattoos - rating: E, 4.1k words

Porn with feels and possessiveness. You cannot ask for anything more. I must have read this one a dozen times.

an evil plan or two by witchee_writer - rating: T, 5.2k words

Max and Charles are roped into a plan to get Brocedes back together; they come to a few realizations along the way. The only thing better than a Lestappen fic? A Lestappen AND Brocedes fic!

Fine Line by empireoffclouds - rating: NR, 7k words

One of the more light-hearted enemies to friends to lovers fics. I absolutely adore their dynamic here - it's snarky, warm, but also so them. The incomplete sequel is also a super fun read.

Into Darkness Of Thought by flamingosarepink - rating: T, 1k words

After the 2019 Japanese Grand Prix, Charles thinks Max isn't coming back to their shared space.

steal softly under castle walls by untouchableocean - rating: G, 521 words

Max gets home late from Milton Keynes and Charles has already fallen asleep. Short, tooth-rooting fluff of the best kind.

Zoomies by greeny1710 (@maxlambiase) - rating: E, 2.2k words

This one is just hilarious. A (mostly) naked Max walks into Charles' team Zoom call during the COVID lockdown.

...and many, many more that I'm sure I have forgotten! 🙈 You can also check out my AO3 bookmarks (the first few pages are pretty much all Lestappen fics).

Please remember to leave kudos and comments for these amazing writers. The talent in this fandom is absolutely incredible. They all deserve so much recognition. Happy reading!

#max verstappen #charles leclerc #lestappen #lestappen fic #fic recs #elle.ask #anon #a list of incredibly talented people #for reference #fave

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haoboutyou · 8 days

Text

want it, got it | yoon jeonghan

suggestive, strangers to lovers | 1102 words | alcohol consumption

The air is filled with the throbbing beat of the music, a hypnotic rhythm that reverberates through the room, drawing people to the dance floor like moths to a flame. Among the throng of dancers, you move with deliberate grace, your eyes locked on your target—a guy standing by the bar, casually sipping his drink.

You lean closer to your friend, one hand cupping your mouth while the other gestures towards the bar. Your drink sloshes dangerously in your hand, uncaring that drops of the liquor splash onto your hand instead. “Lia!” Your voice sounds hushed over the music. “You see that guy over there?”

“Who?” She yells. The DJ is being annoyingly loud today. She points her head towards the guy by the bar. “That guy?”

Said guy was running his hand through his long dark hair with one hand, the other occupied by a drink. The strobing lights above seem to highlight his delicate features even more as he turns away, showcasing more of his alluring side profile.

You nod, eyes never leaving him. “That’s my boyfriend.”

Lia stares at you incredulously. “Really? When did that start?”

“He doesn’t know that yet, though.”

She spits out the vodka she was drinking. Damn, what a waste of a good drink. “Oh my god!” She doesn’t hesitate to playfully slap your arm when you throw your head back laughing. “I thought you were serious!”

“I am! I’ll make him!”

You quickly down the rest of your drink, wincing at the burn forming in your throat. Just as you reopen your eyes, the man’s eyes locked contact with you. Your heart skips a beat when he winks at you– you’re almost sure the sudden flush on your cheeks was not because of the alcohol in your system.

“You’re insane!” Lia rolls her eyes, nudging your shoulder and giggling. “Use protection!”

You throw a drunken grin at your friend. Just like that, you blow your best friend a kiss with a cheeky wave goodbye. She watches as you skip across the dancefloor, moving to lean against the bar counter next to the alluring stranger. With a final, purposeful adjustment to your dress– a sleek, white number that shimmered in the club's lights– you made your way towards him.

"Is this seat taken?" you ask, your voice smooth and sultry, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

He turns to look at you, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of you. He smiles, a hint of intrigue in his gaze. "Not at all," he replies, his voice alluring. “L/n Y/n.”

“Yoon Jeonghan. Nice to meet you, Y/n”

"Wanna dance?"

He hesitates for only a moment before setting his drink down and taking your hand. Together, you move to the dance floor, the crowd closing in around you. The music seems to pulse through your bodies as you dance, your movements synchronized, the space between you both narrowing with each beat.

You let your hands trail all over his shoulders, your fingers tracing the contours of his collarbones as you move closer. You could feel the heat of his skin, the quickening of his breath. You look up at him, your eyes locking onto his for the second time that night.

"You're a good dancer," you murmur, your lips tantalizingly close to his.

"So are you," he replies, his voice deep with desire. He peeks around you, towards the direction you came from.

“So, what’s this? A bet?” He steps closer to you, his body pressing against yours. A sharp, citrus scent overwhelms you; a welcome change from the sweaty muskiness throughout the rest of the club.

“Saw you whispering with your friend just now. What do you need angel? My name? My number?” He leans into you, hovering by your neck. You can feel his warm breath against your skin heating you up.

“… Something else, perhaps?”

He sees your ears turn red and laughs, a melodic sound that contrasts against the blaring music. Pulling away a little, he lifts one of your hands towards his lips, pressing a soft kiss before he nuzzles against it.

Your hand feels tiny in his. It feels surprisingly delicate, you think. You let your hands linger for a while more before you pull him closer. Your head says ‘fuck it’, already consumed by drunken bravery, and your mouth opens before your brain even finishes processing your actions. Gesturing behind you, your eyes seem to glint with mischief. “I told my friend you’re my boyfriend, but she didn’t believe me.”

Watching you pout adorably despite your scandalous attire is doing things to him. Jeonghan sucks in a breath; he doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s been entranced by you ever since he noticed you across the club at the start of the night.

He tilts his head to the side, dark locks falling across his eyes. “Hmm? That sounds like a problem.” His arm snakes around your waist, nibbling on your ear. “We should fix that, right?”

Your arms wrap around his neck as you start peppering small kisses in between his clavicle and neck, letting out a giggle when you feel Jeonghan’s breath hitch. He sighs, hand relaxing on your waist when you start to nip on his lobe.

“Wai-” He sets his drink down. “Woah, hold on angel.” His thumb caresses your cheekbones, and you lean into his touch. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret– Are you sure?”

See, if you were sober, you wouldn’t dare to fathom going off with some stranger you met in a club. But, as you spot Lia shooting thumbs up from the corner of your eye– as cherry vodka runs through your veins, as Jeonghan stares at you with such seriousness– you’re none the wiser.

“Give me your phone.”

He watches you with mirth as you take his phone from him, sending a quick message to Lia’s number before returning the phone.

“There. Now my friend knows who to find if I go missing.”

He raises a brow at you, still amused by you. “If you go missing?”

“You could be a serial killer, for all I know.” you slide your hand down his chest, feeling him shake in laughter at your words. You hit him playfully at that. “Hey! Being a girl is dangerous, okay!”

“I get it, I get it!” he laughs again. “I promise I’m not a serial killer. I’m supposed to be your boyfriend, right?”

You look up at him through hooded eyes. “Then yes.”

“Yes– yeah. Okay.” A lazy grin graces his face. He gestures towards the exit. “Shall we, then?”

#yoon jeonghan #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan #seventeen #svt #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen scenarios #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan smut #seventeen smut #svt smut #˙✧˖° aiyu writes ༘ ⋆｡˚

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monty-glasses-roxy · 2 years

Note

interesting SB headcanon, el chip and helpy were transfers from FNAF 6's pizzeria after it burned down, those 2 suffered a bit of bad fire damage but were still functional when they escaped the burning building (the rest of the non-possessed animatronics escaped the flames too and in storage somewhere), helpy and el chip got fixed up after they got transferred to the pizzaplex

Oooo interesting!

Consider: Since the FNaF 6's place is right underneath the Raceway, they could have been found by the others while exploring and fixed up by them. I can imagine Chica being the most curious, so let's say she finds the lift down and discovers El Chip and Helpy. She was about to leave 'em be but with some curious prodding, she noticed that they weren't that damaged, and in fact, despite them being inactive, some of the old safety mechanisms on their endos still function.

So, worrying they both might still be conscious or might have gotten trapped down here - and also wondering if they would remember anything about what the hell happened down here - Chica drags the pair of them up to the surface. She has El Chip on her back, slouched over her and Helpy in her arms as she awkwardly runs to Roxy's garage and very excitedly rambles about her adventure as she casually puts the pair down on the floor.

Roxy confused as hell to who these guys are and what the hell they're doing in her Raceway and once it's all explained she's pretty horrified there's stuff like this just under her home like that. Anyway, Chica convinces her to fix them up on the condition that Chica steals some stuff for her, tells everyone else about these guys, and takes full responsibility for whatever the fuck will happen once they wake up. Chica thinks nothing of it! It'll be fine!

It kind of is fine but she definitely didn't expect for everyone to gain a small bear for a son or a beaver for a new family member.

Helpy and El Chip never expected to wake up again and oh god all their parts are completely different to what they used to be holy shit they never used to be able to do that oh god oh fuck-

But hey, they have each other and a brand new family so they guess this is a win.

Actually, with that set up, you would easily have Roxy acting as the mentor/older sibling figure to El Chip whether she intends to or not and she and Chica just end up with Helpy as their kid somehow. Roxy forever wondering how she ended up with another one when she's already basically the Mini Music Men's second/third parent just oh god someone save her why does she keep ending up with tiny robot kids someone save her please-

#helpy #el chip #fnaf security breach #glamrock chica #roxanne wolf #it's always the ones that didn't want to be teachers that are the best teachers so they say #freddy probably says that to Roxy and she turgles him on sight like 'HES A BEAR WHY DIDNT YOU STEP UP YOU ASSHOLE'#'MAYBE if anyone ELSE would step up I wouldnt have FIVE FUCKING KIDS to care for but NOOOOO thats too hard!'#Monty laughing his ass off for this entire rant #he makes some smart ass comment and loses his fucking teeth because guess what dipshit you didn't step up either you're not immune #from Roxy's Wrath #(TM)#shsfdsff #nah this is just funny #everyone gets to parent Helpy and the Minis but this is also the funny option #Chica probs thinks its funny too but at some point she realises that if she wants to be with Roxy #that means she has to also accept this responsibility #and oh god no she didn't think about that oh shit-#ssfsdfdshi nah though DJ and Moon are the other guardians #Sunny would probably be a good one for Helpy #Sunny. DJ. Roxy and Chica taking care of Helpy while Moon. DJ and Roxy take care of the Minis #Gregory joins the club and Roxy just.#'No.' and makes damn fucking sure that Freddy and Monty step up and do their jobs #they're not deadbeats none of them are but they do need a kick up the ass on occasion #hsidhfisdhfdsf #Helpy: Hey Freddy can we-#Freddy: I'm sorry but I need to do this other thing real quick #Helpy: Oh... okay :(#Helpy to Roxy: HE BROKE HIS PROMISE #Roxy smashing through Freddy's wall like the fucking Kool-Aid Man: HEY FUCK FACE YOU GOT A PROMISE TO KEEP

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embrosegraves · 7 months

Text

ℕ𝕖𝕩𝕥 𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕃𝕖𝕔𝕝𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕤

Charles Leclerc x Reader (implied she/her) Charles and Reader name their daughters the same order as the Leclerc brothers.

Mr Charles “Girl Dad” Leclerc

Warnings: Extreme use of the red heart emoji, IT'S SO LONG I'M SO SORRY, also watch out for Google translate lmao don't trust them to be exact

Still not the best at smaus but I'm working on it (between every 'post' will be a timeskip of an unspecified amount of time. my brain can't handle doing maths more than it needs to.)

instagram.com

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youruser Baby Leclerc Loading...

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yourBff I'm so ready to be an Aunty → youruser One of the best ❤️

user omgomgomgomgomgomg user Is it a girl or a boy? → youruser We're waiting until the birth to find out user GUYS CHARLES MIGHT BE A GIRL DAD

carlossainz55 Charles is gonna be out of a seat soon → charles_leclerc they're going to take your seat actually → youruser please don't encourage this, they aren't even born yet

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youruser As of Nov 8 2026, please welcome Lorelei Manon Haydée Pascale Leclerc ❤️❤️ Charles and I are so incredibly excited to share this chapter of our lives with everyone however we plan on keeping Little Lori's face completely hidden until she can tell us otherwise. We ask that you respect our decision and that you do not go out of your way to find out what she looks like ❤️

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landonorris Hey there Little Lori Leclerc → youruser ❤️

carlossainz55 Bienvenida Pequeña Belleza translated Welcome Little Beauty → charles_leclerc Uncle Chilli reporting for duty? → carlossainz55 Of Course!

leclerc_pascale When can I see my precious grandbaby❤️ → charles_leclerc I will facetime you Maman ❤️

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youruser Round Two LETS GO

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pierregasly Another gossip buddy!!! → youruser Our gossip sessions are about to be so much cooler!

user ANOTHER ONE!! → user ok dj khalid user are you waiting to find out the gender again? → youruser ✨oui✨ user please be another girl, i need charles to be purely a girl dad

maxverstappen1 this one will be in a redbull i can feel it → youruser oh god not you too

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charles_leclerc Papa and Manon Spa Night (so Mama can try to relax before baby is born)

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youruser you have mastered the towel turban my love → youruser Lori looks so cute 😭❤️

user Charles "Girl Dad" Leclerc coming in clutch → user he's in his element user be honest /youruser did you teach him the towel turban? → youruser i mean, not on purpose? he's watched me do it so often i guess he just, learnt??? user I love how squishy she looks MY HEART--

lilymhe this qualifies as Charles' official invite to Girls Night™ → youruser i'll add him to the groupchat lmao → charles_leclerc yeah babyyyyyy

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youruser And on October 17 2027, the world said let there be Charlène Madeleine Héloïse Pascale Leclerc ❤️❤️ Once again, we are so so so excited to share our growing family with the world. As we did for little Lori, we will not be sharing baby ChiChi's face until she can tell us otherwise. We are so grateful that everyone respected our wishes with Lori and we ask that you respect them once more. Love Always ❤️

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LeclercLorenzo Might be early but I'm sensing a trend... → youruser 👀/charles_leclerc → charles_leclerc a trend you say?? 👀

carlossainz55 Un'altra splendida bambina ❤️ proud of you guys translated Another gorgeous baby girl → charles_leclerc Grazie Fratello ❤️ translated Thankyou Brother → youruser Grazie Chilli ❤️

leclerc_pascale Another granddaughter to spoil ❤️❤️ → youruser I fear you'll put Char out of a job Maman 😂 → charles_leclerc you cannot spoil her as much as me! 😠❤️

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charles_leclerc My Precious Girls, how your Papa loves you

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youruser My Loves 😭❤️

user Another classic Charles "Girl Dad" Leclerc moment → user omg I saw them the other day and the way Charles looks at Lori and ChiChi 😍🥰 user Charles is so in love with his girls it make me feel warm and fuzzy inside → youruser makes me wanna have another lmao → user SO REAL FOR THIS → charles_leclerc oh? 😏😏

lilymhe Why can't we have this? /alex_albon → alex_albon our sons are literally your personal bodyguards... I can't even kiss you without their permission → charles_leclerc he misses you 😂😂

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youruser 3 is a magic number

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pierregasly Do you guys ever stop? → youruser who? → pierregasly you and charles → youruser no i mean who asked?

user has anybody noticed that the age gap between each leclerc baby is basically the EXACT same as the leclerc brothers? → user OMG I WAS GONNA SAY youruser before you ask lovey /user once again we're waiting for the birth ❤️ → user honestly at this point i think everyone knows it's gonna be a girl liked by youruser user Okay, they definitely have a theme going on here with Lorenzo and Lorelei, and then literally Charles and Charlène. this one is gonna be named after Arthur i know it

charles_leclerc One more after this? → youruser no <3

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youruser Say hello to our newest arrival, Artemis Marinette Helena Pascale Leclerc ❤️❤️ born on October 15 2030 For the third time, Charles and I invite you to meet our (now complete) family! Just as we did with little Lori and Baby ChiChi, Mini Artie's face will be hidden until she can tell us otherwise. Forever grateful that everyone is so understanding of all our daughters' privacy, thank you all so much! get ready to see a whole bunch of the Leclerc Sisters on your feed from now on❤️

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carlossainz55 I can't keep commenting in another language now, you used all three that I know → charles_leclerc sounds like a you problem mate → youruser be grateful we're only having three kids Carlos

sebastianvettel One more for the collection → youruser my daughters are not like your cars and their bond girl names → charles_leclerc i'll be honest, i did laugh a little

LeclercLorenzo Some might say I... called it. → youruser don't even, you knew when we told you about naming Little Lori → LeclercLorenzo let me live in my delusion

kimimatiasraikkonen 👍 → youruser never change Kimi ❤️

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charles_leclerc At least Mini Artie likes to kart 🫠❤️

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georgerussell63 I think it's hilarious that not even your mini me likes karting → youruser it is the funniest thing to watch as Char sulks because of it → pierregasly I can only imagine 😂😂 → charles_leclerc what is this, bully Charles day?

user Mini Artie is gonna carry on the family legacy → user can you imagine omg youruser come back home the kids miss you → user i had to double check that this was ACTUALLY the mother of his children liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly, youruser and others user I see no one else has realised that all three of the girls birthdays are THE DAY AFTER the person they're named after. → youruser believe me, that wasn't planned ((it was harder to plan than it should've been))

youruser I love you so much Char. Best father, best husband ❤️ → charles_leclerc Je t'aime encore plus, Ma Chère. Best mother, Best wife ❤️ translated I love you more, My Dear

holy shit that was long jesus christ.

uhhhhhh hope you enjoyed? reblogs and likes would be much appreciated because this took me SO MUCH LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WAS GOING TO

#formula 1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc #reblog with tags i missed please and thank you

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afewproblems · 1 year

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Give me Steve, Eddie, and Robin at a bar on a Friday night.

They've had a few drinks, and a shot or two when a song comes on, and Steve immediately jumps to his feet with an, "Oh shit!!"

It's Madonna's Get Into the Groove and for a moment Robin and Eddie think Steve is in pain, that he hates the song as is going to ask the DJ to change it.

Except Steve waltzes onto the dance floor, right into the center.

There aren't too many others dancing, it's early still, barely nine in the evening but the spot lights are on and the DJ flicks on the multicolor strobe as Steve parks himself on the dance floor.

Robin laughs and wishes she had brought the disposable camera instead of leaving it in her junk drawer at home.

Eddie meanwhile rolls his eyes, and pretends not to notice the tightness of Steve's jeans or how the light catches the flecks of gold in his hair and eyes.

He's been attempting to hide his pathetic little crush for awhile now, complaining to Robin every chance he gets when Steve does something particularly charming or handsome.

She tells him, as sagely as she can muster, to grow a pair and do something about it already.

But how can he, Steve was, well, Steve...lovely caring, hot as hell, Steve.

What chance did Eddie have?

So he sits there, miserable, nursing his beer, letting his eyes trail after Steve while Robin giggles beside him.

They've never seen him dance, it's bar, they're drunk, the worst that could happen is he makes an ass out of himself and they all go home with a great new story to tell the party later.

God Robin really wishes she brought her camera with her.

But then Steve is moving and he's fluid, never missing a beat. It's some kind of choreography, intentional and practiced movements that wouldn't be out of place in a music video. Eddie and Robin look at each other because, what the fuck, where did this come from??

And people are cheering and whooping, strangers scattered here and there sitting off of the dance floor. There's a sense of comradery, like they're all witness to something and being allowed to share and indulge in this little impromptu performance, but all too soon the song is over and Steve heads back to his seat with a small round of applause and a blinding smile pulling at his flushed cheeks.

"Steve, what the fuck was that??" Robin blurts out before Steve can even sit. Eddie nods, a little dazed, beside her and tears at the paper label on his beer bottle, maybe if he can keep his hands occupied he can keep them to himself.

"What was what?" Steve breathes out as he hops onto the stool beside them, Robin in the middle.

Robin's mouth falls open as her face scrunches into something exasperated but fond, "What was--that! The dancing!"

"Oh, that," Steve huffs with a lazy smile, he leans his elbow on the sticky wood bar and waves at the bartender to signal for another gin and tonic, "I used to help Carol with her choreography for cheer".

Eddie pinches his thigh below the bartop and chews the inside of his cheek as the image of Steve in the Hawkins High cheer uniform begins to solidify in his minds eye, fuck.

Robin elbows Eddie without looking, somehow reading his mind, and throws her hands out, beckoning Steve to continue because that isn't nearly enough information.

"Yeah, she'd come up with routines and you know, they are meant to be done with more than one person, and I mean she and I were friends before Tommy so," he shrugs and smiles at the bartender as they pass him the drink, "I dunno, it was fun, and I remember that one the most".

"Plus," he says with a smirk, "Carol always said the best thing about dance is that you can tell who appreciates the performance and who appreciates the person doing it," he winks as Robin scoffs and calls him gross, but Steve isn't looking at Robin.

Eddie swallows as molten heat creeps up his neck and over his ears, the urge to hide his face, run for the door, melt into the floor, is immense.

But Steve doesn't move his gaze, he smiles softly at Eddie and winks again over Robin's head which she promptly drops into her hands.

"I'm surrounded by horny idiots," she grumbles but the words are muffled in the din of the bar and her own hands as Steve tips his head back to the dance floor and holds out his hand for Eddie to take.

#im pretending this song came out in 1981 or 82 when they were still friends #dont come for me #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steve x eddie #robin is fed up with all this pining #i 100% want steve and carol to be the childhood besties #tommy came after and he and steve were good friends but maybe tommy is the reason why they stopped being so close #i just like the idea of steve and carol doing fun silly things like this #steve and eddie absolutely go home together after this #they have a short talk and then a long night #and then a longer talk in the morning

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wynnyfryd · 4 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 45

part 1 | part 44 | ao3

Nancy, Jonathan, and some guy with the longest hair Steve's ever seen are standing in a loose circle with Eddie and his bandmates, talking and sort of dance-nodding along to The Power of Love by Huey Lewis (a fact that Steve absolutely intends to mock his boyfriend for the second he gets the chance), and Steve, like, mentally girds his loins.

He and Jon are cool with each other, and he and Eddie are obviously, uh, plenty warmed up to one another by now, but the rest of them...

One's a stranger, one's an ex who seems drunk as shit and is currently so invested in spinning around to the music that she hasn't opened her eyes to notice him, and the other three are thawing to him at a truly glacial pace. Steve hasn't so much as been invited to watch a rehearsal yet because Eddie's 'still working on them' and needs 'a bit more time, but don't worry, they'll come around.'

They don't openly scowl when he and Robin approach, though, so Steve takes that as a win.

"Harrington!" Eddie calls, bowing deeply to add, "Lady Buckley."

Steve would feel stung by the surname if not for how downright giddy Eddie sounds. God, he loves tipsy Eddie; fucking Disney cartoon boy.

"Munson," he plays along, giving him a sly grin and a shoulder bump as he sidles up next to him. "Didn't know you were allowed to leave the basement at these things."

Jeff interrupts his air-guitaring to glare at Steve, bur Eddie holds out a hand and assures him that Steve's just fucking around. Before Steve can apologize or defend himself, Long Hair Guy leans in across the circle, his eyes wide and intense and bloodshot to hell.

"Dude," he greets. "You have. Such beautiful hair."

Steve barks a laugh. Robin rolls her eyes. Jonathan also rolls his eyes, but it seems more fond and less annoyed. "Can't take you anywhere," he mutters to the guy, then asks them, "You guys met Argyle yet?"

Steve holds out a hand. Confusion washes over him as he processes what Jonathan just said. "Uh." Argyle. "Like the sweater?"

"Yeah, man," Argyle smiles, dopey and slow. Sure. The guy in head-to-toe tie-dye and a neon green fanny pack is named Argyle. Why not? "My parents wanted a sheep, but they got me, instead."

Jonathan laughs like it's the funniest joke he's ever heard. Steve's pretty sure he's too sober for this conversation.

They exchange handshakes, and Robin asks if she can touch the guy's hair, and they all slip into easy, friendly conversation, naturally splintering into smaller groups of twos and threes. Steve's just getting the rundown on all the 'sick new gear' the band got for Christmas when the song changes, and god, this night just could not get better.

"Oh, fuck off!" Eddie groans in the DJ's direction.

Steve has to practically swallow his lips to keep himself from cackling, and then he gives up and does it, anyway, because Eddie looks like he just sucked a lemon while watching a dog die as his bandmates all start sing-shouting along. "We're talking away..."

"No." Eddie wheels around and points a finger at Steve, because Steve's singing, too.

Steve just sings louder. "I don't know what, I'm to say!"

"Oh, my god." He scrubs a hand down his face, dragging the skin down until Steve can see the pale pink of his inner eyelid. "Nobody I know has any goddamn taste!"

"Maybe you don't have any taste!" Robin teases, bouncing around and swinging her arms haphazardly to the music.

Nancy backs her up with a mumbled "Yeah!" but she's still spinning around in such tight circles that Steve doubts she has a single clue what's happening in the argument right now. Which is kind of endearing, actually. He likes how willing she is to stick up for people.

The chorus kicks in; Gareth air-drums the switch to half time just before Frank does an honestly super impressive falsetto of 'in a day or twoooooo', and Eddie despairs while Steve laughs his fucking head off.

—

part 46

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle stranger things #corroded coffin #my writing #my fic

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 21 days

Text

1968 [Chapter 7: Apollo, God Of Music]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 8.7k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

“My uncle, he is a doctor in Zabrze,” Ludwika says, red Yardley lips, Camel cigarette. No one cares if she smokes; she’s not campaigning to be the next first lady. Fosco is puffing on a cigar. Mimi sips drowsily at her Gimlet; you could use a few shots, but you’re making do with a Pink Squirrel, something sweet and feminine and without any bite. “So I go to him and he gives me a bottle of chlordiazepoxide.”

“Oh, Librium,” Mimi says, perking up.

Ludwika waves her hand dismissively; cigarette smoke wafts through the air. “Whatever. The next day I have my audition. A tiny man who thinks he’s God. And I give it a real shot, I try my best, I’m nice, I’m charming, but he doesn’t like me. He says my teeth are too big, like a mouse’s. This is very rude. I did not comment on his fidgety little rat hands. But okay, no problem, I have a plan. No one will stop me from getting out of Poland.”

“You drugged him?” you ask, incredulous, grinning.

“You are a criminal,” Fosco tells Ludwika. “I will call J. Edgar Hoover, you should not be so close to positions of power.”

“Listen, listen,” Ludwika insists. “Here is what I do. I thank him very much for his consideration, and then as I leave I drop my purse and things go everywhere. I filled it before I left my apartment, of course. Anything I could find, empty lipstick tubes and perfume bottles, old makeup compacts with broken mirrors, coins, hair pins, tissues, pens, gum, Krówki candies, it is an avalanche. And when he bends down to help me pick up the mess—I have to encourage him, ‘oh sir won’t you grab that, I am just a stupid girl in a very short dress,’ you understand—I put the pills in his tea.”

“How many pills?” you ask.

“I don’t know. You think I had time to count? Maybe seven.”

“Seven?!” Mimi exclaims, and you take this to mean it was a generous dose.

“What? He did not die,” Ludwika says. “I wait two days and then I go back to his office. And it is so strange, can you believe it, he does not remember my audition! So I remind him that he thought I would be perfect for the ad he is shooting in Paris. He keeps squinting at me and saying ‘are you sure, are you sure?!’ Of course I’m sure! A week later, I am standing under the Eiffel Tower with a bottle of Coca-Cola. And then I book a job in London, and then another in New York City, and one of my new model friends sets me up on a blind date with Otto. Lunch in Astoria at a horrible Greek restaurant. Who wants to eat pie made out of spinach?! Now I am here with you people, and the journalists love when I smile for them with my big mouse teeth.”

All four of you laugh at your table, an elite club, the ones who married in. It’s Alicent’s 60th birthday, and the ballroom of the Texas State Hotel in downtown Houston is raucous with clinking glasses and chatter and music and the shutter clicks of photographers. The DJ is playing Fun, Fun, Fun by the Beach Boys. Alicent is dancing with Helaena and the children, and it’s the happiest you can ever remember seeing her. Otto, Aemond, and Sargent Shriver are deep in conversation by the bar, furrowed brows and Old Fashioneds, today’s newspapers and tomorrow’s itinerary. Criston is standing with the men but watching Alicent, face wistful, silver streaks in his jet black hair, and it occurs to you that they must have grown up together: Alicent a 19-year-old bride and Criston her husband’s fledgling bodyguard, the person closest to her age in the household, near and trusted and forbidden, orbiting adolescent twins like Artemis and Apollo. You keep looking around for Aegon. No one else seems aware that he’s gone.

“Otto thought he died and went to heaven when he found you,” you tell Ludwika. “His Eastern Bloc defector princess.”

“He is going to bring my mother to the States. I would be anything he wanted me to be. I would be a model, or a housewife, or a nurse. I would be Bigfoot! But this…” Ludwika gestures broadly: to the ballroom, the city, the latest stop on the campaign trail. “It is not so bad. I never expected to serve the Polish people so far from home. You know how you stop communism? You show the world that capitalism can do more for them. There must be a path to a better life, wars must be ended, injustices must be dealt with. Aemond will do that.” She grins at you, exhaling smoke through her nostrils. “You will help him.”

You reply a bit wryly: “It’s an honor.”

“We are like four legs of a table,” Fosco observes. He points at Ludwika with his smoldering cigar. “You are a Slav fleeing the Russians. My family has ancient titles in Italy and yet no castles, no land, we are essentially homeless. Mimi’s father is a third-generation oil tycoon from Pennsylvania. And she was supposed to fix Aegon.”

“I don’t think I succeeded,” Mimi confesses.

“And then when it was time for Aemond to get married…” Fosco turns to Mimi. “Do you remember? What an ordeal. The discussions went on and on and on. She must be smart, she must be sinless, she should be from a self-made family, a real rags-to-riches story of the American Dream.”

“Right.” Mimi nods groggily, reminiscing. “And from the South.”

“Yes! But not the Deep South. No, no. Someplace Aemond could actually win. Texas, Tennessee, North Carolina. Or Florida, of course.” Now Fosco notices how you’re looking at him, because you’ve never heard this before. He quickly pivots. “But the weekend Aemond met you, it was settled. Nobody could compare.”

His tone is odd; it suggests backstories, history, mythology. Ludwika appears to be just as intrigued as you are, taking a drag off her Camel, her eyes narrowing until they are thin and catlike. You ask: “Who else was being considered?”

“No one,” Fosco answers—too quickly—and he and Mimi exchange an uneasy glance.

What did Aemond and I talk about the night we met? you think dizzily. In those first hours, minutes, thirty seconds? Where I’m from. What I was studying.

Fosco, a true Italian, then attempts to deflect by flirting. He makes emphatic, passionate motions with his hands. “You were just so captivating, so clever…”

“And young enough that Aemond could easily beat Aegon’s record of five children,” Mimi adds. Fosco clears his throat and glares at her. Mimi realizes what she’s said and gazes forlornly down into her Gimlet, mortified, groaning softly. You’ve had one c-section already, and no living son to show for it. At most, you might be able to give Aemond two or three more children; and you don’t even want them. You want Ari back. You want to touch him, to hold him, even if only for a moment, even if only once.

“It’s fine,” you try to reassure Mimi, but everyone can tell it’s not.

Ludwika breaks the tension. “You do not want twenty kids anyway. Your uterus will fall out onto the floor.” And you’re so caught off-guard that all you can do is smile at her from across the table, knowing, appreciative. It’s a strange thing to be grateful for.

“She’s right,” Mimi says mournfully. “They had to sew mine back in.”

Fosco pleads: “Stop, stop, I will need a lobotomy.”

Mimi slurps on her Gimlet. “It’s sad. I used to love sex.”

“Mimi, please,” Fosco says, wincing, holding up his palms. “You are like my sister. I prefer to think you are the Virgin Mary.”

Ludwika sighs dramatically and looks to where Otto stands on the other side of the ballroom. “I used to love sex too.”

Now you’re all howling again, rocking back in your chairs. The DJ is playing Go Where You Wanna Go by the Mamas and the Papas. Cass Elliot is the real talent in that group and everybody knows it, but of course any mention of her must be dutifully accompanied by: If only she was more beautiful. If only she could lose weight and find a husband.

“I think you like it, yes?” Ludwika says to you like a dare, puffing on a fresh Camel, red lipstick staining the white paper, blood on sheets. She combs her manicured fingernails though her voluminous blonde hair. “I could tell when I met you. You dress like Jackie Kennedy, but you are not such a statue. She belongs in a museum. I can imagine you at the Summer of Love.”

Fosco and Mimi shift uncomfortably. It’s not the sort of thing they would ever ask you. It’s too personal, too easily a segue into criticizing Aemond. It’s a usurpation of the natural order. Mimi guzzles her Gimlet and flags down a waiter to get another. Fosco takes off his glasses and cleans them with his skinny black necktie.

Sex. You think back to before you began to dread it. This is difficult, like trying to remember Greek words or British manners, which fork to use with each course. Memories from another lifetime come back in flashes: tangled up with your first boyfriend in his tiny dorm room bed, Aemond peeling off your still-dripping swimsuit on the floor of your hotel room during your honeymoon in Hawaii. You shrug and give Ludwika a nod, a brisk, ungenerous answer in the affirmative. “I always feel like I could keep going.”

Paradoxically, this does not end the conversation. Ludwika, Fosco, and Mimi study you with the same bewildered, gear-spinning curiosity. After a moment Ludwika says: “Not after you’ve finished, surely. I am half dead by the end if it’s good.”

“Finished?” you ask, puzzled. All three of them gawk at you, then at each other.

Aegon breezes into the ballroom wearing the Gibson guitar he bought in Manhattan, blue like the Caribbean or the Mediterranean or the crystalline waves off the coast of Hawaii, dotted with fish and sea turtles. Your eyes go to him immediately and stay there; you can feel the swirling warmth of blood in your cheeks. As Aegon passes the table, he squeezes your shoulder—brief, familiar, welcome—and Fosco raises his thick eyebrows. Mimi is too busy gulping down her Gimlet to notice. Ludwika chuckles, low and wicked, then slides a makeup compact out of her Prada purse to check her lipstick. Aegon goes to the DJ and yells something over the music. He’s fucked up already, you can tell, pills or booze or both.

Fosco stops a passing waiter. “Signore, did you hear who won the United Nations Handicap?”

The waiter stares blankly back at him. “What?”

“The turf race at Monmouth Park. I have $200 on Dr. Fager.”

The DJ abruptly cuts off the music. Aegon gives his guitar a few practice strums to make sure it’s in tune. He stumbles when he walks, he lurches and sways. His blonde hair sticks to the sweat on his forehead. He is woefully underdressed. His white shirt is half-unbuttoned, his denim shorts tattered; on his feet he wears black moccasins. There is a small gold hoop in each of his ears. Otto keeps telling Aegon to take them out, and every time Aegon ignores him.

“Happy birthday, Mom,” you hear him say to Alicent, and she presses a palm to her heart, her dark eyes wide and shining. “When I first heard this, it made me think of you.”

Otto and Sargent Shriver—the aspiring vice president—are glowering at Aegon. Aemond smirks as he nips at an Old Fashioned, amused; but he makes sharp, intentional eye contact with each of the three journalists. You will tell the right version of this story, he means. You will not print anything we wouldn’t want written, or my family will be your enemies for life.

As soon as Aegon plucks the first few chords, you recognize the song. “Oh, that’s really funny.”

“What?” Fosco asks.

“It’s Mama Tried.” You stand and begin clapping, then motion for the rest of the table to do the same. They obey without protest, though Mimi can’t seem to keep track of the beat. Aegon is beaming as he sings.

“The first thing I remember knowin’

Was a lonesome whistle blowin’

And a youngin’s dream of growin’ up to ride

On a freight train leavin’ town

Not knowin’ where I'm bound

And no one could change my mind but Mama tried.”

Cosmo sprints over from where he had been dancing with Alicent. He grabs your hand and tugs you towards the center of the floor. “Let’s go, let’s go!” he shouts impatiently.

“Call the FBI, I’m being kidnapped,” you say to Fosco and Ludwika as you let Cosmo drag you away.

“One and only rebel child

From a family meek and mild

My Mama seemed to know what lay in store

Despite all my Sunday learnin’

Towards the bad I kept on turnin’

‘Til Mama couldn’t hold me anymore.”

At the heart of the ballroom, Criston has swooped in to dance with Alicent, slow chaste circling. Helaena has floated off to the bar to chat with Otto, who keeps all his smiles for her. The children—Targaryens and Shrivers alike—are stomping and cheering and alternating between various moves: the Mashed Potato, the Twist, the Swim, the Loco-Motion, the Watusi, the Pony in pairs. Aemond whistles to a photographer and then nods to where you are holding onto one of Cosmo’s tiny hands as he spins around at lawless, breakneck speed. Of course this would make for a good image: you being maternal, you promising the American people that they will one day have not only a first lady but a first family.

“And I turned 21 in prison doin’ life without parole

No one could steer me right but Mama tried, Mama tried

Mama tried to raise me better, but her pleading I denied

That leaves only me to blame ‘cause Mama tried.”

Cameras flash and the crowd keeps clapping. Cosmo giggles wildly each time he almost falls and you pull him back to his feet. There is a hand skimming around your waist, a listless powder blue dress your husband chose for you. Aemond replaces Cosmo as your dance partner. Aegon’s 10-year-old daughter Violeta spirits Cosmo away; Aemond reels you in close, one palm pressed into the small of your back, his left hand gripping your right. When you steal a glimpse of Aegon—still strumming, still singing—he doesn’t look so triumphant anymore. His grin is frozen and artificial. His drunk muddy eyes go steely.

“I need you to do something for me,” Aemond begins.

Of course, you once would have said. Anything. “What is it?”

“I want you to cut your hair like Jackie.”

You’re so stunned your feet stop moving. Aemond coaxes you back into the steps. “No.”

“Think about how much more versatile it would be. Jackie is an icon, she’s sophisticated, she’s mature.”

“If you wanted a wife in her thirties, you could have easily found one.”

“Honey—”

“I do everything you ask,” you say, barely more than a whisper. “Everything. I wear what you want me to. I go where you want me to. I spend ten hours a week getting my hair fixed. I keep it up, I keep it presentable. But I’m not chopping it off.”

“You’re never going to be able to wear it down anyway,” Aemond counters, so calm, so rational, like your skull is nothing but incendiary feminine mania. “If I win, you’ll be surrounded by staff and journalists for years. You can’t be photographed with it down, you look about eighteen. And like you live on a park bench in Haight-Ashbury.”

“It’s my hair. I’m keeping it.”

Aemond leans in and says, cold and severe: “You’re my wife, and everything that’s yours belongs to me.” Then he kisses your cheek as cameras click and strobe. “Think about it. Now smile.”

You force yourself to. The crowd applauds as Aegon finishes singing and flees the dancefloor. The DJ puts on Light My Fire by The Doors. You and Aemond leave in opposite directions: he goes to talk to Eunice Kennedy, who is hugging her 3-year-old son Anthony to her chest; you return to your table to drain the last of your Pink Squirrel. You need something stronger. You need to be alone so you can collect yourself.

Now Aegon has shed his guitar and is standing with his back to the wall, smoking a Lucky Strike and talking to some campaign staffer—she looks like a girl, but she’s probably your age—who is gazing up at him worshipfully. She says something that makes him laugh, his head thrown back, his eyes sparkling, and you feel like you’re waking up from your c-section all over again, your belly split open and rearranged, aching, stabbing, nauseous.

“Are you okay?” Ludwika asks, scrutinizing you.

“I’m perfect. I’ll be right back.”

You hurry out of the ballroom, the music fading behind you. You slip into one of the elevators in the lobby and hit the button for the top floor, where Aemond’s entourage has booked every suite. As the door is closing—as only a foot of space remains—Aegon shoves his way into the elevator, startling you. The door shuts behind him and you begin the ascent. Aegon slams the red emergency stop button, and the elevator jolts to a halt.

“What the hell are you doing—?!”

“What pissed you off, huh?” Aegon taunts, stepping closer. You back away from him until you run out of room; not because you want the distance, but because you’re afraid of what you’ll do if it’s gone.

“Nothing. I’m so great, I’ve never been better, can’t you tell?”

He’s so close you can feel the heat rising off his flushed skin, you can see the miles-deep murky blue of his irises, open water, shipwrecks and drowning. “You want all this to be over? You want the women with their big, adoring eyes and their short skirts to disappear? Grow up. Stop acting like a kid. Ask for it.”

“Ask for what?”

“You know.”

If you touch him now, you won’t be able to stop. There’s nowhere for us to go. There’s no way out of this family, this year, this world. “I don’t. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Aegon barks out a sardonic, cutting laugh. “Yeah, you’re definitely 23.”

“I thought you loved girls young enough to be your daughters. Isn’t that what gets you hard?”

“You’re a fucking coward.”

“You’re sweating on me, you pig.”

“You want it so bad,” Aegon whispers as he presses himself against you, his ribs and thighs and hips, and you clutch for the walls of the elevator so you don’t reach for him instead. His left hand is tearing your hair out of its clips and pins so it falls free like you used to wear it; the right is all over your face, your jaw, your chin, your cheeks, touching you ceaselessly, ravenously, a blind man reading chronicles of braille. You’re trying to turn away from him, but he keeps pulling you back in. You’re breathing his rum and nicotine, you’re gasping in low, starved moans. It might be more intimate than kissing, than sex. He’s already felt your body. What he asks for now is your soul. His words are warm and aching as he murmurs through loosed strands of your hair: “Tell me you want it, please, just tell me, just tell me, tell me and it’s yours.”

Your palms land on his bare, damp chest, and Aegon starts unfastening the last buttons of his shirt. Instead, you push him away. Aegon lets you. He surrenders. “I can’t,” you choke out. You hit the red button, and the elevator resumes its rise to the top floor of the hotel.

“I’m really fucked up right now,” he says with sudden realization, swaying, staring down at his feet like he fears he’ll lose track of them.

“I’m aware.”

“I’m sorry. I think…I think I wanted that to happen differently.”

“I can’t trust you when you’re like this,” you say. I feel like I can’t trust anyone. Aegon looks up at you, his glassy eyes large and wounded. When the elevator door opens, you step out and he stays in, riding it back to the lobby.

In the suite you share with Aemond, you turn on the radio and spin the dial until you find a Loretta Lynn song. You go to the minibar cabinet and down two tiny glass bottles of vodka, something that won’t make you smell like too much of a drunk. You’ll have to fix your hair before you go back to the ballroom; you’ll have to change your dress. You’re painted with Aegon’s sweat and smoke. You can’t risk your husband noticing. You slide open the top drawer of the nightstand on your side of the bed and take out the card you keep there, the one that travels with you to each stop on the campaign trail. Loretta Lynn croons from the radio, wronged and wrathful.

“If you don’t wanna go to Fist City

You’d better detour around my town

‘Cause I’ll grab you by the hair of your head

And I’ll lift you off of the ground

I'm not a-sayin’ my baby is a saint, ‘cause he ain’t

And that he won’t cat around with a kitty

I’m here to tell you, gal, to lay off of my man

If you don’t wanna go to Fist City.”

You lie on the floor and peer up at the card in your hands: jubilant cartoon cow, festive party hat. You know exactly what’s written on the inside; it’s etched into your memory like myths passed down through millennia. Nevertheless, you read it again. The original message is still crossed out, and there’s an addendum below it in hasty black ink: I thought this was blank…congrats on the new calf!

You graze your thumbprint across Aegon’s scrawled signature. It’s smudged now. You do this a lot. One day his name might disappear altogether from the stark white parchment, from memory.

You close the card and hug it to your chest like a mother holds a living child.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s going on between you and Aegon?”

Alarmed, you meet Aemond’s gaze, two reflections in the vanity mirror. It’s the next morning, and you’re finishing up your makeup. Your dress and jacket are striped with black and white, your jewelry is silver, chains on your wrists and small tasteful hoops in your ears. “Nothing.” There is a lull you have to fill before it becomes suspicious. “He’s been helpful, he’s been…you know. Ever since Mount Sinai.”

Aemond adjusts his cerulean blue tie, studying himself in the mirror. He’s still wearing his leather eyepatch. Putting in his glass eye is the last thing he does before leaving the suite each day. “He was a comfort to you.”

“Well, he was there.”

“Because I told him to be,” Aemond says, resting his hands on the back of your chair. “Someone had to stay at Asteria to keep tabs on things, to let me know what you were up to. Aegon was the most expendable. Mimi and the kids make for good photos, but Aegon…he’s not especially endearing to the public. Those few years as the mayor of Trenton just about ruined him. I’d love to make him the attorney general if I win, but I don’t think the people would stomach it. Maybe if he behaves himself he can have the job for my second term.”

Eight years, you think, unable to fathom it. Eight years in a fishbowl. Eight years lying under Aemond as he tries to get me pregnant with children neither of us can love.

Aemond leans down to touch his lips to the side of your throat. “I’m glad you’re finally friends,” he says. “Aegon’s not all bad. But don’t let him get you in trouble.”

“I wouldn’t.” What did you and Aemond talk about before Ari died? What was this marriage built on? The senate, the presidency, civil rights, poverty, the Space Race, Vietnam, Greek mythology. Everything but each other. Dreams and ideals that would dwarf any mortal, would render them invisible.

“And watch out for any reporters from the Wall Street Journal. They’d kill for Nixon. If they can twist your words, they will.” He gets something from inside his own nightstand: the bloodstained komboskini from when he was shot in Palm Beach. He places it in your right hand, all 100 knots. “Give this to someone today. You know how to do it, you’ve always understood this part. Pick the right person, the right moment. Make sure there are plenty of cameras around.”

“Where am I going? Lunch with the mayor’s wife, that’s this afternoon, isn’t it?”

Aemond nods. “And a few other stops. Then we’re going to the Alamo in San Antonio tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He recoils, reaches for the left half of his face, kneads the scar tissue there as nerve pain radiates through his flesh all the way down to the bone. Once you felt such agonizing pity for him; now all you can think about is the matching scar you wear on your belly, hidden and shameful and a badge of your inadequacies: your body too weak to protect Ari, your mind too pliable to resist being ensnared by the crushing gravity of this man, this family, this life.

“How can I help?” you ask Aemond, because it’s the right thing to do. And randomly, you find yourself remembering the statue of Apollo in Helaena’s garden back at Asteria, the god of music, healing, truth, prophesy.

“You can’t.” Aemond goes to the bathroom to force his glass eye into its socket. You depart for the hotel lobby where Ludwika and Mimi, your companions for the day, are already waiting. Ludwika is wearing a rose pink Chanel skirt suit. Mimi—relatively functional, as she hasn’t been awake long enough to ruin herself yet—is dressed in delicate dove grey.

Alicent, Helaena, and the children are scheduled to tour a local high school and library; Criston, unsurprisingly, is going with them. Aemond, accompanied by Otto, has a series of meetings with local business leaders and politicians. Aegon and Fosco are headed to the Michael E. DeBakey Veterans Affairs Medical Center to promise maimed soldiers that Aemond will end the war that carved out bits of them and filled the voids with screaming nightmares. The limousine you share with Ludwika and Mimi ferries you first to the NASA’s Manned Spacecraft Center. Mimi is entranced by the reflective surface of the helmets, coated with gold to divert blinding sunbeams; in turn, the astronauts are entranced by Ludwika, who leaves lipstick smudges on their cheeks when she kisses them. Next is a tea party hosted by Iola Faye Cure Welch, the mayoress of Houston since 1964 and the mother of five children. And as you nibble daintily at triangle-shaped sandwiches and trudge through small talk about flowers and furniture, you can’t stop smiling. You can’t stop thinking about how ridiculous Aegon would think this is if he was here.

The driver mentions one last stop, then coasts through midafternoon traffic towards the city center. You spend the ride touching up your hair and makeup. Ludwika offers to let you borrow her seduction-red lipstick; you politely decline. You step out of the limo and shield your eyes from the glare of the Texas sun. It takes your vision a moment to adjust, and then you realize where you are. The sign above the main entranceway reads: Houston Methodist Hospital. The air snags in your throat, your lungs are empty. Your hands tremble violently. The earth rocks beneath your white high heels. Mount Sinai is the last hospital you walked into, and you left with your son in a casket so small it could have been mistaken for a shoebox.

“Alright, let’s go,” Ludwika says, linking an arm through yours. Mimi, badly in need of a drink, is looking deflated and edgy. “We are almost done. And I have been promised a medium-rare steak for dinner! Mushrooms and onions too! The Statue of Liberty did not lie. This country is a golden door.”

“I can’t.”

Ludwika stares at you. “What?”

“I can’t, I can’t go in there.”

“What is she talking about?” Ludwika asks Mimi, who shakes her head, mystified.

“I can’t,” you whimper.

They’ve never seen you like this. They don’t know what to do. They listen to you, that is the hierarchy; but it’s too late to change course now. Journalists are approaching in a swarm. Nurses and doctors are gathering by the front door to welcome you.

He knew, you think, suddenly furious. Aemond knew, and he didn’t tell me.

“It will be okay,” Ludwika says, patting your back awkwardly. “We are here with you. Nothing bad will happen.”

“Oh,” Mimi breathes, understanding. She looks at you with sympathy that shimmers on the surface of the opaque, polluted lake of her mind. Then she catches Ludwika’s eye and skims a hand down her own slim midsection. Ari, she mouths, and Ludwika’s face falls.

The doctors and nurses are whistling and applauding; the journalists are snapping photos and scrounging for quotes. You feel your conditioning over the past two years taking over: straight posture, gentle smile, hands clasped demurely together. But you are locked away somewhere underneath.

“Do not worry,” Ludwika tells you softly. “We will talk, we will make it easier for you.” Then she and Mimi begin boisterously shaking hands and thanking people for coming as you make your way through the crowd of journalists and towards the main entrance of the hospital.

People are saying things to you, but you don’t really hear them. You reply with words you won’t remember afterwards. You nod frequently and go wherever you are led. Doctors are explaining new research into placenta previa and c-sections. Nurses are showing you a state-of-the-art NICU for premature infants. Someone is placing a baby in your arms, and you can’t do anything but accept it numbly. You can’t look down at it, you can’t allow yourself to feel the weight of some other woman’s child. You wear your smile like armor and let the photographers capture their snapshots, painting a frame around you, deciding where you live.

Then you are introduced to the parents, women in hospital beds and men perched in chairs beside them, just like the one where Aegon slept at Mount Sinai. They take your hands when you offer them and tell you about their small children, sick children, dying children. One patient just delivered twins. The first did not survive beyond a few hours, but the second is in an incubator and gaining strength. You recall the komboskini stained with Aemond’s blood and take it out of your purse, give it to the suffering mother, watch faith rise in her face like dawn over the Atlantic. But you won’t remember her. You cannot allow yourself to.

Outside as you, Ludwika, and Mimi are headed back to the limousine, the journalists make one last attempt to poach a headline-worthy quote. “Mrs. Targaryen! Mrs. Targaryen!” a young man shouts, clambering to the front of the horde and jabbing a microphone in your face. “I’m from the Houston Chronicle. Can you tell me how the senator feels about the failure of the most recent phase of the Tet Offensive?”

You are in a fog; you don’t feel real, this moment and this city don’t feel real, and so you cannot remember what Aemond would want you to say. “The Vietnam War has claimed too many lives already. We should have never sent our men there to die. But since that is done, the best thing we can do now is end the draft immediately and then withdrawal from the region as soon as the South Vietnamese are able to defend their own territory, which is their responsibility.” The journalist already considers this effort fruitful and begins to retreat, but you have one last point to make. Ludwika and Mimi watch you anxiously. “I lost someone in Vietnam. I met him when I was in college. He had a good heart, and he joined because he thought it was wrong for poor men to have to fight while rich kids got exemptions, and he was killed in action in October of 1965.”

“This was a friend?” the journalist asks, eyes glowing hungrily. Then he adds as an afterthought: “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

“A boyfriend. Corporal Cameron Marino from Schenectady, New York. People called him Cam.”

A solemn murmur ripples through the crowd. Hats are removed, hands held to chests. “Rest in peace, Cam,” someone says. Maybe they have somebody they care about in Vietnam, a friend or a lover or a brother. You wave goodbye and climb into the limousine. The outpouring swells as you vanish: We love you, Mrs. Targaryen! God bless you, Mrs. Targaryen!

In the lobby of the Texas State Hotel, you tell Ludwika and Mimi not to follow you. They have to listen. After some hesitation, Mimi heads for the bar in the ballroom; Ludwika asks the staff at the front desk if she’ll be able to make a call to Poland with the phone in her room. You take the elevator to the top floor. Fosco is in the hallway, on his way back from one of the vending machines with a Fresca. When he sees your face, his jaw drops.

“Dio mio, what happened?”

“Nothing,” you say, tears biting in your eyes. You pass him, digging your key out of your purse.

“Are you sure—?”

“Fosco, please. I don’t want to talk.”

“Okay,” he says doubtfully. Then he seems to get an idea and strides away with great purpose. You take shelter in your suite, silent and dim; Aemond isn’t back yet. You brace yourself against the locked door and sob into empty, trembling hands, at last hidden away where no one can see you, where no one can be disturbed or disappointed. You know now that none of it was healed—not the loss, not the revelations—but only buried, and now it’s all been unearthed again and the pain shrieks like exposed nerves.

It’s not fair. Ari deserved better, I deserved better.

There’s nothing you can do. Your hands ache to hold someone that no longer exists. You can’t unlearn the truth of what your marriage is.

There are two knocks, quick and rough. “Hey, it’s me.” And there’s such pure intimacy in those words. You know my voice. You know why I’m here. “Open the door.”

“I’m okay, just, just, just leave me alone—”

“Open the door,” Aegon says again. “Or I’ll get security up here to do it for you.”

Swiping the tears from your face, you let him in. He’s dressed in baggy black shorts, nothing on his feet, an unbuttoned stolen green army jacket. You once thought he wore those to play the part of a revolutionary from the comfort of his East Coast seaside mansion. Now you understand it’s because he misses Daeron, because he believes he should have gone to Vietnam instead. There are several dog tags strung around his neck; some of the veterans at the medical center he visited must have gifted them to him.

“What’s wrong?” Aegon’s eyes sweep over you, seeking, horrified. “What did he do?”

You can’t answer, you can’t breathe. You back away from him as more tears spill down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey, let me help you. Please don’t be upset. Did he say something, did he hurt you?” Aegon reaches out, and as soon as he touches you your knees buckle and you’re on the floor, trying not to wail, trying not to scream, and Aegon is pulling you against his chest—bare skin, borrowed metal—and his hands are on your face and in your hair, and his lips are against your forehead as he murmurs: “Shh, shh, don’t cry. It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.”

“Whatever it is, I can help.”

“I had to go to a hospital and hold babies and I, I, I never even got to touch him, not once, not ever, and I can’t now because he’s gone. He’s locked in some fucking vault, he’s just bones, but he was supposed to be a person, and those other babies are going to get to grow up but he isn’t, and it’s not fair.”

“You’re right,” Aegon agrees softly, still holding you.

“No one else knew him.”

“I did. I was there the whole time.”

“Only because Aemond made you stay.”

“No,” Aegon swears. “I was supposed to spy on you. He never told me to do any of the rest of it. I stayed because I wanted to.”

“You did,” you say, very quietly, weakly, conceding.

“And I’m still here now.”

Your lungs aren’t burning quite so much. Your tears are slowing. You unravel yourself from Aegon, averting your eyes. Now you’re ashamed; you aren’t in the habit of revealing to people how much you’re splintering like cracked glass, fresh fractures every time you think to check the damage. “I’m, um, I’m really sorry.”

“Look, I don’t mean to bring up unpleasant memories, but this is definitely not the most embarrassing thing I’ve seen you do.”

You laugh, only for a few seconds, and Aegon smiles as he mops the tears from your face with the sleeve of his army jacket. Then he turns serious again.

“Can I ask you something? It’s very personal. It’s offensive, honestly. But I have to know.”

“You can ask.”

“Do you want more children?”

More children. Because Ari was real. “Not now. Not with Aemond.”

Aegon nods, suspicions confirmed. “Can you do that sponge thing you told me about?”

“No. I think he’d be able to feel it, he’s…” You gesture vaguely. It’s difficult to say. “He’s big.”

Aegon didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to have to think about it. He flinches, just enough that you notice. But as much as he’d like to, he doesn’t change the subject. “What about the pill?”

“No doctor is going to write me a prescription without my husband’s permission. Especially considering who my husband is.”

“I hate this fucking country,” Aegon hisses. “Puritanical goddamn hellscape. Old Testament bullshit.” He drags his fingers through his hair a few times, then pats your cheek like he did before: twice, gently, playfully. “Come on. Let’s go smoke.”

“I can’t do it on the balcony. Someone might get a picture.”

“Okay. No big deal. We’ll go to the roof.”

You stare at him. “The roof?”

“You really think I haven’t already been up there?” He stands and offers you his hand. “You’ll love it. The view is fantastic.”

The view is good, but the grass is better. You know that it makes some people useless, others paranoid, but for you it’s always painted the world a color that is softer, kinder, lighter, more bearable. You and Aegon lie next to each other, smoking and watching twilight fall over Houston like a spell. You’ll have to shower and gulp some Listerine before Aemond gets anywhere near you. It’s interesting; each day you seem to acquire new secrets to keep from him.

Aegon asks: “Where would you be right now if you weren’t Mrs. Targaryen?”

“Probably married to someone worse.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Okay, but let’s say you weren’t. Let’s say you can do whatever you want.” He points up at the lavender sky and acts like he’s moving the emerging glimmers of stars around with his fingertip. “There, I’ve changed your fate. Who would you be?”

You ponder this. “I want to teach math to kids and then spend every summer break getting baked on some beach.”

Aegon cackles. “Hell, sign me up.” He lights a third joint for himself with his tiny chrome Zippo. “Those are the people doing the real work. Teachers, nurses, farmers electricians, plumbers, welders, firemen, therapists, janitors, public defenders. The normal, unglamorous types.”

“You don’t think presidents and senators make a difference?”

“Sure they do. But only like 5% of the job is actually helping people. The rest of it is schmoozing and tea parties and making speeches, because looking and sounding good is better than doing good. They’re addicted to vapid pretenses that make them feel important. You live like that and you forget how to be a human. I mean, look at Nixon. The man was raised as a Quaker, one of the most peaceful religions on earth, and now he’s planning to throw ten or twenty thousand more boys into the great Vietnamese meatgrinder and probably napalm the hell out of Cambodia and Laos while he’s at it to get the communists’ supply lines. The man’s got no idea who he is anymore. I’d feel sorry for him if I wasn’t so terrified he’s gonna start World War III.”

I wonder who Aemond was a few decades ago. “What makes you feel important?”

“Nothing,” Aegon says. “I’m not under any delusions that I matter.”

“I think you matter, old man.”

“Really?”

“A little bit. About this much.” You hold your hand up to show him the infinitesimal space between your thumb and index finger, and Aegon chuckles, his eyes glazed and bloodshot.

“Let’s do it,” he says with sudden, forceful conviction. “If Nixon wins in November, we’ll get out of here. I’ll go back to Yuma to teach on the reservation and you can come with me. You get a math class, I take English, or Music, or both, whatever. We’ll buy a bungalow out in the desert and make s’mores every night and look up at the stars. I’ll show you how to play guitar if you give me algebra lessons.”

You peek over at him, intrigued. “Is that all we’re going to do?”

“Well we’ll fuck, obviously.”

“Oh, obviously.” You giggle; it’s ridiculous, it’s paradisical, it’s insane how good it sounds. But surely that’s only because you’re high. “I don’t know how Mimi would feel about that.”

“She won’t care. She doesn’t want me anymore, hasn’t in years. Sometimes she just forgets that when she’s wasted. Mimi can go to Arizona too. We’ll load up the kids in a van and strap her to the roof.”

Now your voice is somber. “She was supposed to fix you.”

“Yeah,” Aegon says: slow, meditative, guilty. “I think Mimi and I have a few too many of the same demons.”

You roll over, push yourself up on your palms, and crawl to the edge of the rooftop. You prop your elbows on the ledge and gaze out into the city lights, the sky turning from violet to indigo to primordial darkness. Aegon joins you, staring down at the distant aquamarine rectangle of the hotel pool.

He asks: “You think I could make that?”

“No.”

“Should I try?”

“You definitely shouldn’t.”

“A few months ago, you would have pushed me off this roof.”

You shrug. “You’ve proved yourself useful.”

“That’s why you like me now? Because I’m useful?”

“Who said I like you?” you tease, smiling.

“You like me,” Aegon says, grinning and smug, radiant in the silver moonlight and urban incandescence. “You like me so much it scares you. But there’s no need to panic. It’s okay. I know the feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You want to touch him, you want him to touch you, you want to study every arc and angle of him like he’s a marble statue in a garden: too beautiful to be mortal, too fragile to be divine.

~~~~~~~~~~

Three nights later in Nebraska, there is a knock on the door of your hotel suite. The nannies have herded the children off to bed; the adults are unwinding downstairs in the courtyard of the Sheraton Omaha, designed to resemble an Italian garden. There’s a brand new Jacuzzi that you’re looking forward to taking a dip in. You finish pulling on your swimsuit, white and patterned with sunflowers, a one-piece with a flared skirt.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Richard Nixon,” Aegon says through the door. “Naked. Horny. Please love me.”

You laugh and let him in. He’s leaning against the doorframe in Hawaiian swim trunks and nothing else, pink sunburn glowing on his soft chest. He holds up a brown paper bag and shakes it.

“For you.”

“What is it, heroin?” Instead, you open the bag to find small, circular packs of pills. “No way. You did not.”

“That’s enough for six months,” Aegon says, smirking, proud of himself. “I’ll be back again in February. Guess that makes me your dealer, babe. I don’t accept cash, checks, or cards, only sexual favors. You want to get down on your knees, or should I?”

“How did you get these?”

“I told a doctor they’re for one of my whores.”

“Maybe they are.”

You’ve surprised him, you’ve got him thinking about it now. His face flushes a splotchy, charming pink. “So, uh, you coming down to the courtyard?”

“Yeah. Right now. Just let me hide these first. Are there instructions in here…?”

“Mm hmm,” Aegon says, still distracted, studying the entirely unremarkable carpet. You stow the paper bag of birth control pills in the bottom of your bras and panties drawer, then walk with Aegon to take the elevator down to the ground floor. You both notice the bright red emergency stop button and share a glance, smirking, taunting.

In the courtyard, Alicent is struggling to pay attention as Helaena identifies each and every species of plant and explains where in the world it is native to. Fosco is simultaneously teaching Criston how to yo-yo and berating him for not believing the Cubs will end up in the World Series. Fosco has apparently bet $500 on them. Ludwika is stretched out on a lounge chair like a cat and reading a copy of Cosmopolitan. Aemond, wearing his eyepatch and a blue pair of swim trunks, appears to be arguing with Otto over the contents of a newspaper article. Mimi is alone in the Jacuzzi, bubbles rumbling all around her as she slumps against the rim, a frosty Gimlet clutched in one hand.

“Mimi, get out of the Jacuzzi,” you order.

“I’m fine!” she slurs, and you groan, knowing you’re going to have to drag her out.

Aemond is approaching; no, not approaching, raging. “What the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck is this?” He hurls the newspaper at you, the Houston Chronicle. The headline reads: To Mrs. Targaryen, ending the Vietnam War is personal. “Why would you tell somebody that? Other papers are going to start reporting this. You gave them his full name. They’ve found his school, his friends, his gravesite in motherfucking Arlington National Cemetery—”

“You set me up,” you say. “You didn’t tell me about the hospital.”

Aegon takes the newspaper from you and frantically skims the article. “Hey, man,” he tells Aemond as he pieces it together, attempting to deescalate. It’s not a skill you knew he possessed. “She was rattled, she wasn’t thinking clearly. And there’s nothing bad in this article. It makes her sound invested and sympathetic, not…um…whatever you’re thinking.”

“You don’t get it,” Aemond seethes. “Journalists are going to start hounding his friends, his classmates, people who lived in his dorm building. Nixon’s newspapers will publish any gossip they can dig up about what she did when she was in school. Things people saw, things people overheard—”

“What, the fact that she had one boyfriend before she met you? That’s worthy of a nuclear meltdown?! Better prepare for Armageddon, a woman got laid, launch the goddamn warheads!”

“She doesn’t get to have a past! She should understand that, she signed up for this, she knew exactly what was expected of her!”

“And what about your past?” Aegon says, low and searing, and Aemond goes quiet. Their eyes are locked on each other: Aegon defiant, Aemond unnerved. You try to remember if you’ve ever seen that expression on his face before. You don’t think you have. Not even when he was shot and half-blinded. Not even when Ari died.

“What does that mean?” you ask your husband. Still staring at Aegon—tangled in a thorny, silent battle of wills—he doesn’t reply.

There are swift, thudding footsteps. Otto grabs Aegon by his hair, hooks a finger through the small gold hoop in his right ear, and tears it straight through the earlobe. Aegon screams as blood streams down his face, feeling the ravaged fringes of his flesh.

“I told you to take those out,” Otto says. “Now remove the other one before I rip it free, and go get yourself stitched up.”

You do something you’ve never done before, never even thought of. You strike out with both hands and shove Otto so hard he goes staggering backwards, his arms wheeling. The others are yelling and rushing over. Aemond is trying to yank you to him, but he can’t get a grip on your swimsuit. “I will kill you!” you roar at Otto. “I will push you down a staircase, I will slit your fucking throat, don’t you ever touch him!”

Alicent is weeping, appalled, trying to get a look at Aegon’s damaged ear. Criston is helping her, moving Aegon’s bloodied hair out of the way. Fosco links his arms around your waist and drags you out of Aemond’s reach just as he’s getting his fingers beneath a strap of your swimsuit. Helaena is covering her face with her hands and wailing. Ludwika is shrieking at Otto: “What did you do? Don’t give me that, what did you do?!”

You are engulfed with rage, red and irresistible. You’re trying to bolt out of Fosco’s grasp. You want to claw Otto’s eyes out; you want to put a bullet in him. As you struggle, you catch a glimpse of the Jacuzzi. You don’t see Mimi anymore.

“Wait,” you plead, but nobody hears you over the noise. You look desperately at Fosco. “Where’s Mimi?!”

Once he figures out what you’re trying to say, he whirls towards the Jacuzzi. “No!” he bellows, releasing you, and careens across the courtyard. You dash after him. Now the others understand, and they come running too. You see it just before Fosco dives in: there is a shadow at the bottom of the Jacuzzi. When he bursts up though the roiling water, he is carrying Mimi, limp and unconscious and blue.

Everyone is shouting at once. Fosco lays Mimi down on the cobblestones of the courtyard. Criston sends Ludwika to call an ambulance, kneels beside Mimi, checks for a pulse. Then he begins CPR. When he breathes air into her flooded lungs, there is no response, no resurrection.

“No, no, no, she has to be alright!” Aemond says, and everyone knows why. If she’s not, this will consume the headlines for days: no victorious campaigning, no speeches or photos, just a drowned alcoholic with a damning autopsy report.

“Oh my god,” Otto moans, pacing. “This can’t be happening, not this year, not now…”

Alicent seizes your hand and squeezes it until you think it will break. She is reciting prayers in Greek. Helaena is curled up under a butterfly bush, sobbing hysterically. When he realizes this, Otto hurries to comfort her.

“Don’t watch, Helaena. Let’s go inside, I’ll walk with you, there’s nothing more we can do here.”

“Mimi?!” Aegon commands, slapping her hard across the face. “Mimi, come on, wake up! Mimi? Mimi!” She’s still motionless, she’s still blue. Aegon turns to you, blood smeared all over the right side of his face. He’s petrified, he’s in shock. “I think she’s…she’s…”

“She’s gone,” Criston says; and he lifts his palms from her hollow body. The silent sky above is a labyrinth of bad stars.

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