#absolutely love her makeup and nails here

[jiyoos]

winter @ 'better things' mv behind the scenes

[mrsfancyferrari]

Wild Imagination

Summary: You were just an interviewer for the Met Gala when you were able to meet the Sir Lewis Hamilton

Song: Brent Faiyaz - ALL MINE

Part 2

Author’s note: Longest story I've ever written! Comment if you want a part 2! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 20.8k

As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the bustling streets of New York City, you found yourself standing outside the iconic Metropolitan Museum of Art, the venue for the illustrious Met Gala.

The air was thick with anticipation, and the excitement was palpable as celebrities and fashion icons prepared to make their grand entrances. As an interviewer for the event, you was tasked with capturing the essence of the night, and your own attire was a reflection of the glamour surrounding you.

You glanced down at your dress, a stunning creation that seemed to shimmer under the city lights. The fabric was a deep midnight blue, reminiscent of a starry sky, adorned with intricate silver embroidery that traced delicate constellations across the bodice.

The gown flowed elegantly to the floor, with a subtle train that added an air of sophistication. As you adjusted the delicate straps, you felt a sense of confidence wash over yourself.

“Wow, you look incredible!” exclaimed your colleague, Sarah, as she approached you with a camera in hand. “That dress is absolutely perfect for tonight!”

“Thank you!” you replied, a smile spreading across your face. “I wanted something that would stand out but still feel elegant. The theme this year is ‘In America: A Lexicon of Fashion,’ so I thought a classic silhouette with a modern twist would be fitting.”

Sarah nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “You definitely nailed it. I can’t wait to see the reactions when you interview the stars. They’re going to love your look!”

As we made our way toward the entrance, the sound of flashing cameras and excited chatter filled the air. The atmosphere was electric, and you could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins.

We approached the red carpet, where a line of glamorous attendees awaited their moment in the spotlight.

“Remember to ask them about their outfits!” Sarah reminded me, adjusting her camera settings. “Fashion is the heart of this event.”

“Absolutely,” you replied, your mind racing with questions. “I want to know what inspired their looks and how they interpret the theme.”

You had just finished getting your makeup touched up, the final brush strokes adding a touch of glamour before you stepped into the whirlwind of the Met Gala again.

Surprisingly, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The thought of interviewing celebrities didn’t make your heart race; instead, you found comfort in picturing them as ordinary individuals with extraordinary talents.

“Just remember to smile and engage with the celebrities,” your manager, David, instructed, his tone a mix of seriousness and playful urgency. “I’m counting on you to shine tonight. A stellar performance could mean a nice little bonus for me.”

“Sure thing, David,” you replied, glancing at your phone, half-listening as you mentally prepared for the night ahead.

“Good! Now go out there and do whatever it takes to go viral—even if it means flirting a little,” he added with a wink before striding out of the room, leaving you to gather your thoughts.

As you stepped into the bustling atmosphere of the gala, the lights sparkled like stars, and the air buzzed with excitement. You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that these celebrities were just people, albeit with a flair for the dramatic.

You spotted a familiar face in the crowd—Naomi Elaine Campbell.

Summoning your courage, you approached her. “Hi Mrs. Campbell! I’m here with Buzz Feed. Can I grab a quick chat with you?”

The model turned, her smile brightening the room. “Of course! I love your work. What do you want to know?”

You felt a rush of adrenaline as you began the interview, asking about their latest project and what inspired them. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying the exchange.

“By the way,” you said, leaning in slightly, “I’ve heard you’re quite the dancer. Any chance we’ll see you on the dance floor tonight?”

She laughed, a warm, infectious sound. “Only if you join me! I could use a partner who knows how to keep up.”

You grinned, feeling the energy of the moment. “Challenge accepted! But only if you promise to show me some of your moves.”

As the night continued, you mingled with more stars, each interaction building your confidence. You remembered David’s advice and made sure to smile, engage, and even throw in a playful flirt here and there.

“Hey, you’re really good at this!” a young reporter remarked as you both took a break from the chaos. “You’ve had to be doing for years now, you're such a professional!"

You smiled shyly at the reporter, "Just because I sound professional doesn't mean I'm not nervous to meet someone big like Naomi Campbell,"

"You were?" the reporter looked surprised.

"Of course I was, she's one of my biggest idols yet I kept my cool and spoke calmly, my mom always used to say 'treat celebrities like normal people with extraordinary abilities,"

David's voice crackled in your earpiece, urgent yet calm. "Y/N, you need to come back. More people are arriving."

You smiled at the young reporter, wrapping up your conversation. "Thanks for the chat! I hope to see you around soon." She waved goodbye as you turned to head back to your post.

As you mingled with other celebrities, the conversations felt surface-level, lacking the depth you craved. Perhaps it was because you didn’t know much about them, or maybe the atmosphere was just too frenetic.

Then, out of the crowd, you spotted him—Sir Lewis Hamilton, looking dapper in a suit tailored just for him. Your heart raced; you knew you had to find a way to speak with him.

To your surprise, after a few brief exchanges with others, he locked eyes with you. It was as if the world around you faded, and he began walking in your direction.

Panic bubbled up inside you, but you took a deep breath, willing yourself to stay composed.

"Well, if it isn't Sir Lewis Hamilton," you said, trying to keep your voice steady and a hint flirty. "We were all looking forward to your arrival this evening, and I must say, you look incredibly handsome in that suit."

Lewis flashed a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Thank you, Mrs. Y/N L/N. I'm delighted to finally meet you tonight. You look absolutely ravishing, as always."

You were taken aback. He knew your name?

The thought sent a thrill through you. "I’m flattered, really. I didn’t expect to be recognized by someone as renowned as you."

He chuckled softly, leaning in slightly. "I’ve heard a lot about you. Your work is impressive, and I admire your passion."

Your cheeks flushed at the compliment. "That means a lot coming from you. I’ve followed your career for years. Your dedication to racing and your advocacy off the track is truly inspiring."

Lewis nodded, his expression sincere. "Thank you. It’s important to me to use my platform for good. Speaking of which, I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the initiatives you’re involved in."

You felt a rush of excitement. This was the deep conversation you had been longing for.

"Well, I’m currently working on a project for sustainability in sports. It’s a challenge, but I believe we can make a significant impact."

He listened intently, his interest evident. "It’s all about how we can reduce our carbon footprint and promote eco-friendly practices within the industry."

Lewis listened intently, his interest evident. "That’s fantastic! Sustainability is such a crucial topic, especially in motorsport. I’ve been trying to advocate for greener technologies in racing yourself. It’s a challenge, but it’s necessary."

You nodded, feeling a connection forming. "Exactly! It’s about finding innovative solutions and inspiring others to join the movement. I believe that if we can get more athletes on board, we can make a real difference."

He smiled, his enthusiasm infectious. "I’d love to collaborate on something. Maybe we could organize an event or a campaign together? It would be amazing to combine our efforts."

Your heart raced at the thought. "That would be incredible! I’d be honored to work with you. We could reach so many people and raise awareness."

As you spoke, the noise of the event faded into the background, and it felt like it was just the two of you in that moment. Lewis leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone.

"You know, I’ve always believed that passion is contagious. When you’re passionate about something, it inspires others to feel the same way."

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a warmth spread through you. "I completely agree. It’s what drives me every day. And I can see that same passion in you, not just for racing but for making a difference."

He nodded, his gaze unwavering. "It’s what keeps me motivated, especially in a sport that can sometimes feel so disconnected from the real world. We have a responsibility to use our influence wisely."

Just then, David’s voice crackled in your earpiece again, pulling you back to reality. "Y/N, are you there? We need you back at the main stage."

You sighed, knowing you had to leave this captivating conversation. "I’m sorry, but it looks like I have to go. Duty calls."

Lewis's face fell slightly, a flicker of disappointment evident in his eyes. "I get it. But let’s make sure this isn’t our last conversation. I’d love to pick up where we left off."

He reached for your hand, gently brushing his knuckles against yours. "I hope so," you replied, a mix of hope and regret in your voice.

As you turned to leave, the bustling sounds of the event faded into the background, but the warmth of Lewis's touch lingered. You could feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air, and it made your heart race.

"Y/N!" David's voice broke through your thoughts again, more insistent this time. "We really need you here!"

You took a deep breath, glancing back at Lewis, who was watching you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. "I’ll be back," you promised, your voice barely above a whisper.

It was as if the cosmos conspired against you that night, weaving a tapestry of misfortune that seemed almost deliberate.

The moment you finally stepped onto the red carpet, the atmosphere was charged with excitement, but the spotlight had already shifted, leaving you in its wake.

Lewis had already slipped away, retreating to the comfort of his home, far from the chaos of the event.

"I can't believe I was too late to talk to him again," you muttered to yourself, frustration bubbling beneath the surface like a pot about to boil over.

After all, who would wait around for an interviewer when the allure of a quiet evening beckoned?

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the disappointment that clung to you like a shadow, as you mingled with the remaining stars who lingered for the after-party, their laughter echoing in the air like a bittersweet melody.

The atmosphere was electric, a vibrant tapestry woven from laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of conversation.

You found yourself chatting with a dazzling array of celebrities, each one more captivating than the last, their stories and charisma drawing you in like moths to a flame.

As the night wore on, the excitement began to wane, and exhaustion settled in like a heavy fog.

The vibrant conversations around you started to blur, and you exchanged goodbyes with your team, their faces a mix of smiles and understanding.

Yet, your mind still wandered back to thoughts of Lewis, the insights you could have gleaned more from him.

"I really wanted to talk to him more," you sighed, glancing back at the vibrant scene one last time, the lights twinkling like stars in a night sky.

"Maybe next year," one of your colleagues reassured you, clapping you on the shoulder.

With a heavy heart, you stepped out into the cool night air, the thrill of the evening overshadowed by the lingering sense of what could have been. . . .

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Following the Met Gala, your encounter with Lewis Hamilton captured the public's attention, ultimately granting David the boost he had been hoping for—a raise, thanks to the newfound recognition his employee brought to the team.

The buzz surrounding your interaction was undeniable, and it seemed to elevate everyone's profile in the process.

Your thoughts, however, remained fixated on Lewis.

Intrigued by his world, you delved into the realm of Formula 1, immersing yourself in the races whenever your work schedule permitted.

The thrill of the sport captivated you, and you found yourself eagerly anticipating each event, drawn in by the excitement and the sheer talent on display.

The desire to attend a Grand Prix and witness Lewis in action grew stronger, yet your job constraints stood in the way.

The longing to experience the adrenaline of the race and cheer for him from the stands was palpable, but the demands of your career made it a distant dream, leaving you to navigate the balance between work and your newfound passion.

You just hoped that you would be able to see him soon or at next year's Met Gala and speak to him if he hasn't forgotten about you already. . . .

The year had dragged on, each day blending into the next, and here you were, still in the same position at work.

But this time, there was a twist: you had been chosen to attend the Met Gala again.

Your company had gone all out, pouring resources into crafting the perfect dress, all in hopes that you might cross paths with Lewis Hamilton again.

They were determined to make a lasting impression, especially after the unexpected chemistry that had sparked between you two the previous year. Yet, despite the excitement surrounding the event, you couldn’t shake the feeling of caution.

You reminded yourself not to get your hopes too high.

As the night of the gala approached, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the intricate details of your gown. The fabric shimmered under the light, and you couldn’t help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety.

“What if I see him?” you whispered to yourself, imagining the possibility of a second chance.

But then, a wave of doubt washed over you. “What if he doesn’t remember me?” you sighed, trying to quell the fluttering in your stomach.

You had replayed the moments from last year in your mind countless times, but the reality of the situation felt daunting.

Finally, the night arrived, and the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. As you navigated through the crowd, your heart raced at the thought of encountering Lewis again.

As you saunter through the bustling atmosphere of the Met Gala, your senses are alive with the vibrancy of creativity, fashion, and the hum of whispered conversations.

With a strategic focus on reconnecting with familiar faces and unearthing new celebrities, you interview designers, actors, and musicians, soaking in the anecdotes that dance on the tips of their tongues.

The glittering spectacle before you, adorned with high fashion and mesmerizing artworks, seamlessly blends creativity with prestige, encapsulating the very essence of the gala.

After immersing yourself in discussion after discussion, you finally take a moment to step back from the whirlwind of interviews. The moonlight spills through the glassy high-rise windows, casting a magical glow throughout the venue, offering you a fleeting glimpse of solace amidst the chaos.

Yet, just as the weight of the evening begins to settle on your shoulders, a voice, smooth and teasing, pierces the ambient noise.

"Well hello, Mrs. L/N. I hope you didn't forget about me," the voice calls out playfully from behind you, sending a shiver of electricity down your spine.

You pivot on your heels, your heart racing, to find Lewis Hamilton leaning against the elegant marble pillar just a few feet away, a devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

His tailored suit catches your eye immediately—a striking ensemble that marries classic style with modern flair. The deep emerald green fabric clings just perfectly to his athletic frame, the subtle sheen giving way to intricate patterns of silver-thread embroidery that weave through the fabric like a secret, shimmering constellation.

His shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, reveals just a hint of a crisp white undershirt, and the tailored trousers elongate his legs, finishing just above a pair of polished black brogues that gleam under the soft lighting.

"Of course not! How could I?" you respond, a sheepish smile tugging at your lips as you fully face him, memories of last year’s awkward encounter rushing back to the forefront of your mind.

It slips from your tongue before you can filter it: "I feel like I should apologize for what happened last year."

The lightness in the air shifts, as the shared past hangs momentarily between you like an unspoken agreement, a reminder of the unfulfilled promise of time spent together amidst the glamour.

Lewis, perceptive as ever, leans slightly closer, the teasing spark in his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"You should," he replies lightly, a playful lilt in his voice that somehow manages to mask the slight edge of disappointment beneath.

"I dutifully waited for you for hours until my manager dragged me out," he teases, the warmth of his laughter wrapping around you like a familiar embrace.

It's almost charming how he knows exactly the right buttons to push to evoke a blend of guilt and flattery within you, and as you meet his gaze, you feel partially exposed yet undeniably captivated by his charm.

The acknowledgment of that missed connection lingers in the air, juxtaposed against the festive backdrop of the gala, only intensifying the electric undercurrent of this reunion.

Desiring to ease the slight weight of remorse that his words brought upon you, you ponder for a moment, your mind racing to find a way to make it up to him.

"Is there a way to repay you?" you ask, a trace of shyness coloring your voice.

The question hangs between you, a delicate bridge inviting the possibility of rekindling what could have been, or perhaps igniting something entirely new.

Lewis glances at you, his smile broadening as if your inquiry brings a glimmer of hope, leaving you momentarily suspended in anticipation of his response.

"Maybe you can come support me in my home race?" he suggests, a hopeful grin lighting up his face, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm as they glint like the glimmer of city lights outside.

Imagining the energy of the crowd and the thrill of the race makes your heart race as well, a promise of shared excitement glowing in the air between you.

The notion dances between you like an apparition, stirring both delight and trepidation as you weigh the spontaneity of joining him at such an exhilarating event.

In that moment, everything outside your immediate exchange blurs away, fading into a mere backdrop to this connection that seems to widen with every heartbeat, every shared glance.

Encouraged by the mutual thread of interest, you take a breath, aiming to find the right words to capture the mix of excitement and nerves that flutter within you.

"I'd love to do that, Lewis," you reply earnestly, letting the natural enthusiasm in your voice spill forth.

"Good, because I really wasn't ready to get rejected in front of national television," Lewis says with a playful chuckle, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You almost forget that you are sitting surrounded by cameras and a live audience, as the warmth of his personality envelops you. The realization washes over you, pulling you back to the present—a stark reminder of the interview’s stakes.

Despite the gravity of the situation, the lightness that Lewis brings shifts the atmosphere entirely.

His ability to make you feel at ease is admirable, reminiscent of a good friend rather than a celebrity caught in the relentless spotlight of fame.

At that moment, you feel a twinge of guilt for your initial intentions, which were focused solely on extracting professional insights for your audience.

However, it’s hard to resist the magnetic pull of this engaging banter—dare you say, it’s not only entertaining but also enlightening in its own right.

"Oh my gosh, I forgot this was being recorded," you exclaim, shock radiating across your face as you instinctively cover your mouth, stifling a laugh.

You glanced nervously at the cameras, suddenly aware of the audience who is watching you in real time, likely captivated by the unexpected turn the interview has taken.

Lewis's laughter rings out, melodic and infectious, easing the tension that had begun to creep back into the room. You can’t help but join in, the rhythmic cadence of his joy sweeping you back into the moment.

In the midst of the laughter, you suddenly remember your earpiece, which had fallen silent during your break from obligations.

When you pop it back in, the first sound you hear is David's irate voice cutting through your bubble of enjoyment, chiding you for being unprofessional.

You yank it out again, a frown furrowing your brow as frustration surges within.

Who needs a producer barking orders when you're in the middle of something special?

Perhaps today needs to be more about being present in the moment rather than sticking rigidly to a script. The mention of professionalism seems a distant concern, a faint echo overshadowed by the authentic experiences happening right in front of you.

You’re ready to take ownership of your interview and allow it to unfold in a way that feels honest and true, something organic that resonates with both you and the audience watching from their living rooms.

The lights in the lavish venue dimmed slightly, casting a warm glow over the crowd as the murmurs faded into anticipation. The announcement echoed through the hall, calling all the celebrities to the main hall for a special presentation.

As the excitement buzzed around you, you felt a familiar pang of disappointment wash over you at the thought of leaving the company of Lewis.

His cocoa brown eyes met yours, and for a heartbeat, time seemed to stand still. "I guess they really know how to kill a moment, huh?" Lewis said with a cheeky grin, his fingers brushing against yours.

You could feel a warmth creeping up your cheeks, and you downplayed your shyness with a small laugh.

“I was really enjoying just… this," you admitted, gesturing between the two of you. "Don’t you think they could have waited a bit longer?”

Lewis chuckled softly, his demeanor effortlessly charming. "If only they listened to us, right?" He paused, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes.

Then, with great care, he took your hand and pressed his lips gently against your knuckles, reminiscent of last year’s memorable encounter.

The sweet gesture made your heart flutter, igniting a mix of shyness and excitement that left you breathless.

“Lewis…” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, feeling butterflies taking flight in your stomach.

With a teasing wink, he pulled away slightly and reached into his pocket. “Before they whisk me away, I have something for you.”

He produced a small piece of paper and leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. “It has my phone number on it. I’ll need to send you the tickets for the race.”

Your heart raced. “Tickets for the race? Wait, you were actually serious?”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to miss it. But… I might need a bit of company if you’re up for it,” he said, an inviting smile spreading across his face.

You felt an elated rush, realizing just how much this meant. “Lewis, I would love that. I’ve been wanting to see you at the races.”

“Good. Then it’s a date,” he said playfully, his tone shifting back to the more teasing side of him.

He leaned in again, his voice lowering conspiratorially. “Just don’t tell anybody else, alright? I have a reputation to maintain.”

You laughed, your heart swelling with affection. “Your secret’s safe with me! Just promise you won’t forget to text me.”

“I could never forget someone like you,” he replied, his eyes locking onto yours with sincere intensity.

You felt like you might burst from happiness.

Just then, the staff made their way toward you, nipping at the edges of your time together. Lewis took a step back, and the moment felt almost surreal.

He let go of your hand slowly, but not without lingering for a moment longer.

"Goodnight, Gorgeous." He said for only you to hear and grinned happily after your embarrassed reason.

You smiled saying your farewell before watching him turn back to the group gathering for the announcement.

You stood frozen, clutching the piece of paper, which felt like a small treasure in your hand. His number was your connection to a world you desperately wanted to be part of.

As you turned toward the camera, your face lit up with a mixture of surprise and glee, capturing the whole moment, you heard the voice of the host spilling out instructions for the event ahead.

You took a deep breath before speaking directly into the lens, the joy radiating from you unmistakable.

“So, looks like we’ll have some exciting plans coming up, folks! Stay tuned for my next race adventure with the Lewis Hamilton!”

With that, you ended the recording, your heart still racing from the whirlwind of emotions.

You glanced back, hoping to catch one last glimpse of him before he disappeared into the crowd, grateful for the serendipitous moment that brought you two together, albeit briefly, in the enchanting ambiance of the evening.

As you stepped out of the cool cascade of the shower, droplets glistening on your skin like tiny jewels, the atmosphere of the Met Gala still danced in your mind—a swirl of vibrant colors, laughter, and the intoxicating scent of sophistication.

You could still feel the weight of the glamorous gown clinging to your skin, a silken reminder of the enchanting evening spent amidst the brilliant and the bold.

Your heart fluttered as you sank onto the plush hotel bed, the soft sheets enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort.

This was the moment you had been waiting for, a delightful collision of excitement and anxiety, as your fingers nervously hovered over your phone.

After a deep breath, you checked for notifications and instantly spotted it—the notifications of the interview you had with Lewis Hamilton, his striking presence still echoing in your thoughts, his laughter resonating like a gentle melody.

Suddenly, in the ongoing reverie, a flutter of memory came rushing back, the way a gust of wind lifts scattered autumn leaves in a jubilant dance.

You could still picture the slick piece of paper he had handed you so casually, his fingers lingering a beat longer than necessary. It seemed so innocuous at the time—a simple slip of white with ink scrawled across it.

But the implications of that note buzzed loudly in your heart. He had mentioned his number, and despite the whispering doubts that David, your manager, planted in your mind, a seed of hope took root.

David's voice echoed menacingly: "Lewis Hamilton is doing all this to seem like a gentleman for the camera and to get more recognition, don’t think for a second that he actually likes you."

The warning replayed in an endless loop, threatening to cage your heart in cautious realism.

With shaking hands, you unfolded the paper, allowing the dim light of the room to illuminate the numbers scrawled across the page.

It was real. There it was, a string of digits that could unlock a connection or forever remain dormant within the realm of what-ifs.

Sitting there, caught in a whirlwind of emotions, adrenaline surged through you.

You took a moment to gather your thoughts, your eyes roaming the room—the opulent furnishings, the soft glow from the chandelier casting a romantic hue.

The allure of possibility mingled with your sense of self-preservation, and with a final resolve, you glanced at your reflection in the nearby mirror.

You looked stunning—and vulnerable.

It was time. In that instant, the logic of David's words fell away, leaving only the heart's whisper urging you forward.

You reached for your phone, fingers trembling as they danced across the screen, dialing the number that Lewis had provided.

Each ringing beep felt like a heartbeat, echoing loudly in the silence of the hotel room, rhythmically marking the passage of time laden with potential.

When the line connected, your heart raced, echoing in your ears as you swallowed hard against a wave of emotion.

"Mr. Hamilton?" you ventured tentatively, every syllable laden with weight, aware that the man on the other end could change everything in an instant.

An electric pause settled in the air before the sound of his laughter broke through, smooth and teasing, engulfing you like warm summer rain.

“Y/N, you don’t have to be so formal, there’s no cameras here,” he quipped, the intimacy of his tone sending shivers down your spine.

Those words settled comfortably in your thoughts, breaking down the walls you had so carefully erected. Suddenly, your fears seemed trivial in contrast to the warmth radiating through the phone, infusing your evening with a touch of magic.

The rhythm of your heart settled into a new cadence, emboldened by his playful demeanor. “So, are you still riding high from the Met Gala, or is it just a distant daydream now?” he asked, his voice dancing along with understated charisma.

A giggle slipped past your lips before you could catch it, the sound bubbling with shared memories and possibilities. “I think I might still be in shock,” you replied, the honesty of your words spilling out effortlessly.

“It was as surreal as I imagined, except I didn’t expect to meet someone like you.”

The connection felt raw and real—two souls uncovering potential amid elegant facades.

The conversation shifted effortlessly, weaving through laughter and shared dreams, as the moments stretched on, elongating time with each heartbeat that harmonized between you.

“So, about you coming to Silverstone to support me?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with a blend of curiosity and anticipation, sending a flutter through your heart.

You could almost picture that trademark smile of his, bright and infectious, the kind that made everything come alive around you.

His enthusiasm felt palpable, radiating through the phone, and you couldn’t help but huff a soft laugh, “Lewis, you really weren’t joking about you being there.”

It was almost absurd how serious he could be, yet here he was, weaving dreams of shared moments at the iconic racetrack, where the roar of engines mingled with cheers, and everything about racing seemed to spiral under the spotlight of your connection.

You admired his earnestness, how he effortlessly broke through the invisible barriers you had built around yourself, prodding at your heartstrings like an artist with a canvas.

“Of course not, I really want you to be there for me.” His words tumbled out so simply, yet they carried the weight of a thousand sentiments, causing warmth to blossom in your chest.

The flustered smile creeping onto your face could easily rival the glow of the sun itself, and you found solace in the fact that this was merely a voice call — nobody could see the way your cheeks burned at his declaration.

It was frustrating how quickly he could spin you into a whirlwind of feelings, leaving you breathless.

“I don’t know, Lewis, my work is very demanding and the income isn’t good enough to take a trip…” you replied hesitantly, a shadow of self-doubt creeping in.

You cursed yourself internally, lamenting over the constraints of your mundane job, longing for the freedom to jet off at a moment’s notice and bask in the thrill of England’s racing scene.

“Is that it? If that’s your only problem, then I can definitely sort something out,” Lewis said with unyielding assurance, his charm scrubbing away the veil of uncertainty clouding your thoughts.

His confidence made you pause, the wheels of your imagination racing.

It was surreal to think that Lewis Hamilton, the very face of resilience and determination in the racing world, was willing to go out of his way for you.

“Lewis…” you began, almost overwhelmed by the thought of him putting in so much effort on your behalf, unsure whether to be flattered or simply dazed by the enormity of the offer.

“Y/N, you just have to agree to come with me, and I’ll do the rest,” he reassured, the confidence in his tone wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

You couldn’t help but think that this might be a one-in-a-lifetime opportunity, the kind that stories are made of. Of course, you wanted to be there.

The thought of cheering him on, of sharing the adrenaline rush as he raced across the track, filled you with excitement. Yet, skepticism still lingered in your mind like a faint cloud.

You paused to ponder, “Is there a catch?” you asked, a glint of suspicion dancing in your voice despite the eagerness bubbling beneath it.

After all, magical opportunities often came with strings attached, or at least that was what your cautious heart believed.

Lewis laughed, the sound a soothing balm that seemed to wash away your hesitation. “I don’t think there is, unless making a beautiful woman fly over to England for you is a crime,” he replied teasingly, and you put your hand over your mouth, stifling a laugh while also trying to hide the giddy embarrassment swelling within you.

How could one man be both charming and utterly disarming?

His words dripped with sweetness as if he were seasoned in the art of affection, and you found yourself fighting a battle against your own defensiveness, the walls beginning to crumble at the sheer conviction in his voice.

“Okay, I accept your offer, Lewis,” you finally said, feeling a sense of liberation wash over you as the words flowed freely, like a torrent finally breaking through a dam.

You knew that this decision could change everything; it felt like a leap of faith that could lead to a world woven together by racing and shared dreams.

“Great! I’ll start getting your paddock pass ready for you,” he exclaimed, happiness echoing in his voice like a song, and you could almost visualize the way his eyes lit up, brimming with enthusiasm that could spark any dormant ambitions. . . .

The excitement in the air was palpable as you packed your suitcase, the warm glow of anticipation wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

Lewis had called you just three days prior with the news that he would be flying you out to England on Thursday.

"You deserve a little adventure," he had said, his voice cheerful and encouraging. "Plus, I can’t wait to show you around."

"We'll have plenty of time to explore," you had replied, trying to sound nonchalant about the whole thing, but your heart raced at the thought of spending time with him.

The days rolled by in a blur, but Lewis kept you connected through our daily conversations.

"I just boarded my flight!" he texted one morning. you could almost hear his laughter through the screen as you pictured him boarding with his signature style.

Each update from him painted a vivid image—how he texted you from the paddock to show off his team outfit, a tailored suit that clung perfectly to his frame.

"Looking sharp as ever!" you texted back, your heart fluttering at the thought of our video calls, where we’d share laughs and glimpses of our lives, albeit from a distance.

Lewis had a twinkle in his eye as he held up his phone, the screen lighting up with your curious face. "I have someone who wants to meet you, Y/N," he announced suddenly one day, his voice brimming with excitement.

You were lounging on your bed, propped up on your elbows, intrigued by what he had in store.

"Who is it?" you inquired, your curiosity piqued as you leaned closer to the screen, eager to see what was coming next.

As Lewis adjusted the camera, it shifted downward, revealing the floor of his apartment. Suddenly, you heard the soft patter of tiny paws, and before you knew it, a bulldog strutted into view.

He seemed oblivious to the camera at first, but you couldn’t help but call out to him.

"Roscoe!" you exclaimed, your voice filled with warmth.

The moment he heard his name, the big pup spun around, his tail wagging furiously as he searched for you.

In the background, you could hear Lewis encouraging him, "Look at the phone, buddy!"

When Roscoe finally caught on, he erupted into a joyful bark, his tongue lolling out as he playfully licked the screen.

"Someone's excited to see me! It's you, Roscoe, such a good boy!" you laughed, your heart swelling with affection for the adorable dog.

The connection felt instant, as if you were already friends, and you couldn’t help but smile at the delightful scene unfolding before you.

Lewis watched with amusement, clearly enjoying the bond forming between you and his beloved pet.

"Are you sure you haven't seen Roscoe before, he seems to be acting very familiar with you," Lewis laughed as Roscoe was trying his best to get to you by rubbing his face into the phone.

"Nope, this is the first time I've seen him in person," You said, wishing that you were on the other side of the phone to give Roscoe a cuddle. "People say I'm very lovable, I didn't know it stretched to animals,"

"They weren't lying," Lewis muttered for only himself as he watched his son fall in love with you. . . .

Finally, Thursday arrived, and the world felt bright with possibility as you made your way to the airport.

Your phone buzzed with a message from Lewis. "Text me when you land and I'll pick you up."

You pouted slightly, knowing that you had insisted on making your own way to the hotel.

"You don’t have to, Lewis. I can take a cab. You’ve just had a long flight, and I don’t want to inconvenience you." you typed hurriedly, trying to dissuade him.

"Nonsense! You’re my guest, and I want to make sure you get settled in without any hassle. Just trust me, okay?" he replied, his tone playful yet firm, a reminder of his stubbornness that you had grown to admire.

With that, there was no arguing.

When you finally arrived, the familiar feeling of jittery excitement washed over you as you wove through the arrivals hall, scanning the crowd for his familiar face.

And then you spotted him—he looked effortlessly stylish, a radiant smile illuminating his features as he waved enthusiastically.

"Here she is!" he exclaimed, pulling you into a warm hug. you inhaled the familiar scent of his cologne, momentarily lost in the moment.

"Hi, Lewis! You didn’t have to come all this way," you said, trying to play it cool as you two pulled apart.

He shrugged, a playful grin spreading across his face. "I wouldn’t dream of missing this. Besides, it’s not every day I get to hang out with the most stunning woman I've seen."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you teased back, but the warmth in your cheeks betrayed your amusement.

As you two walked to his car, our conversation flowed effortlessly, punctuated by light-hearted banter and lingering glances that held unspoken promises.

A part of you wondered if he felt the same tension underneath the surface, the way your heart raced each time our arms brushed against one another or how our laughter seemed to echo longer than the sounds around us.

"So, what do you want to do first in England?" Lewis asked as you two settled into the car. "There’s so much to see, and I’m more than ready to show you."

You considered this, excitement bubbling up within you. "Well, I definitely want to see the London Eye, but honestly, just being here with you is enough for me."

His eyes sparkled in the rearview mirror, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something deeper—something that mirrored your own feelings. yet, it vanished just as quickly, replaced with his usual playful demeanor.

"Alright then! Just you wait, this will be a trip to remember."

Lewis drove you to the hotel where you would be staying for the week, the excitement of the upcoming events buzzing in the air. As you neared the hotel, you couldn't help but gaze out at the picturesque setting, your anticipation building.

The towering structure was surrounded by lush greenery, and the sun cast a warm glow over everything.

As he parked, Lewis turned to you with a gentle smile. “Welcome to your home away from home! Let me help with that,” he said, stepping out and grabbing your luggage before you had a chance to protest.

His demeanor was that of a true gentleman, and you appreciated how he always seemed to think of your comfort first.

You followed him into the lobby, the grandeur of the hotel taking your breath away. The high ceilings were adorned with intricate chandeliers, and the air was filled with an inviting warmth.

After a brief check-in, you made your way to your apartment suite, which felt more luxurious than you had expected. You unlocked the door and stepped inside, inviting Lewis to place your luggage down.

“Oh wow, Lewis! This is incredible,” you exclaimed, marveling at the spacious living area, which boasted a stunning view of the surrounding hills.

“You didn’t have to go this far for the hotel,” you muttered, still taking it all in.

Lewis chuckled, his eyes twinkling. “I wanted to, and it’s really close to Silverstone, so I can pick you up in the morning. I didn’t want you worrying about anything while you’re here.”

He set your suitcase down and turned to you, revealing a little envelope in his hand. “Also, here is your paddock pass,” he said, handing it over with a flourish.

You took the pass and looked at it in awe. “Wow, I can’t believe I’ll be in the paddock! This is going to be an unforgettable experience!” You looked up at him, your excitement practically radiating off you. “Thank you so much, Lewis. This means a lot.”

His smile broadened as he leaned against the doorframe. “Just doing my part. You’re going to have a great week; I promise. I’ll pick you up at ten? That gives you enough time to settle in?”

“Ten sounds perfect!” you replied, feeling a mix of gratitude and exhilaration. “But Lewis, I really can’t thank you enough for this. You’ve gone above and beyond.”

“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice earnest. “Besides, it’s my job to make sure you’re comfortable and ready for the weekend. Now, do you need help with anything else before I let you get settled?”

“Honestly, I think I’m good. I’ll just unpack and get a little rest before tomorrow. It’s been quite a journey,” you admitted, glancing around your new temporary home.

“Alright then, I won’t keep you,” Lewis said, stepping back towards the door. “Just remember, I’m just a text away if you need anything.”

He paused at the threshold, a playful grin on his face. “And I expect you to be ready on time. No wanderings through the hotel lobby!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “No worries, I won’t keep you waiting, I promise!”

With a final wave, he stepped out, leaving you in your luxurious suite, the thrill of the upcoming week washing over you like a tide.

As you looked out the window at the sunset painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you couldn’t help but smile at how perfect everything seemed—and how grateful you were for Lewis being a part of it.

You stood in your newly unpacked bedroom, admiring the sight of your neatly arranged clothes in the wardrobe. Each piece had its place, a small reminder of home. You plopped down onto the bed, feeling a mix of fatigue and exhilaration.

You turned on the TV, wanting a familiar face to calm your nerves. The moment the screen flickered to life, you spotted him—Lewis, with that radiant smile of his, sitting confidently in the conference room.

My heart fluttered as you watched him engage with the journalist, animated and passionate.

“Why do I still get so nervous watching you?” you whispered to the screen, mirroring his expressions as he cracked a joke that made the whole room burst into laughter.

He seemed so at ease, so happy, and it made you grin. But as the conference continued, you noticed him glance at his watch, a familiar look of urgency flashing across his face.

To my surprise, he offered a quick farewell to the people in the room and hurriedly exited the room. You chuckled softly. “Always in a rush, aren’t you, Lewis?”

What you didn’t realize was that his departure meant he had something important to attend to—you.

The thought sent butterflies fluttering in you stomach as you recalled our last conversation.

“Text me when you land and I'll pick you up,” he had promised. He must have gotten your message and immediately left to pick you up.

The thought of that made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

He was just doing this for his reputation. You repeat to yourself, trying to get the thought of Lewis Hamilton liking you out of your head. . .

As the morning sun poured through the sheer curtains, casting a gentle glow upon your bedroom, you stirred from slumber at the soft chimes of your clock announcing that it was just 8 AM.

Yet, restlessness fluttered within you, an unyielding excitement mingling with the tremors of anticipation.

Today was not just any day; it was a moment poised on the cusp of something magical, something enveloped in the promise of romance.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, the cool touch of the wooden floor grounding you, and felt your heart race in sync with the rhythm of your eager thoughts.

Images of Lewis filled your mind—his charming smile, the way his laughter lit up the room, the aura of confidence he exuded in that unmistakable Mercedes uniform.

Selecting the perfect outfit was crucial; it had to embody elegance while echoing your growing infatuation with him.

You settled on a classic jet black dress, its fabric soft and flowing, perfectly mirroring the sleek tone of his Mercedes. The color seemed to beckon, much like the promise of adventure before you, stirring a wave of confidence within you.

You slipped the dress over your head, watching as it cascaded down to hug your curves in all the right places.

Standing before the mirror, you meticulously arranged your hair, letting soft waves frame your face, and applied makeup to accentuate your features—a subtle hint of romance in every brush stroke.

Time seemed to blur as your excitement melded with an anxious yearning for the text that would signal his arrival.

You checked your phone repeatedly, promising yourself it would be just moments away, but instead, an electrifying tap on your door startled you, pulling you out of your reverie.

Your heart raced even faster as you approached the door, curiosity dancing in your veins like fireflies in the twilight.

You hesitated briefly before swinging it open, your breath hitching at the sight of Lewis standing there in his pristine Mercedes uniform.

The black fabric contrasted sharply with his deep complexion, and you could see the hint of disbelief in his eyes as they traveled from your dress to your face, lingering longer than necessary, his lips slightly parted in awe.

For a fleeting moment, the world around you faded into oblivion, and you stood entranced by the magnetic pull between you.

A feeling of nervousness washed over you, choking back the words you longed to say, leading to a self-critical whisper, “Is it too much? Should I change?”

Your voice barely rose above a whisper as embarrassment washed over you, the vulnerability of a romantic moment sending your mind into a flurry of doubt.

To your surprise, Lewis snapped back into focus with a wide grin breaking across his face, illuminating the air between you with an unexpected warmth.

“No! I mean no, you look amazing,” he breathed, his voice flirtatiously laced with sincerity. “I was just stunned by your beauty.” Those simple words cascaded over you like a soothing balm, erasing your uncertainty as a rush of flustered energy surged through you.

With your heart fluttering like a captive bird ready for flight, you felt a smile spread across your face—a beautiful mirror to his.

You finally closed the door behind you, the sound muffled by the magic pulsating in the air, as you wrapped your fingers around the strong curve of Lewis’s arm that he offered to you.

The world beyond felt tantalizingly distant as your connection grew, a potent blend of eagerness and hope swirling between the two of you.

With your heart racing in rhythm to the hurried beats of the moment, Lewis guided you out of the hotel and towards his waiting car, a sleek Mercedes that gleamed under the gentle morning light.

The drive to the paddock was quick, just as Lewis had promised, yet each passing moment in his company felt like a fleeting treasure, leaving you yearning for just a little bit more.

As he maneuvered the car through the bustling streets, your laughter filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of the engine, and you found yourself hanging onto every word he said, equally as enthralled by the subtle charisma of his voice as by the depth of his stories.

The conversation was weaving a beautiful tapestry of shared interests and playful banter, with each anecdote revealing another layer of who he was.

But suddenly, with the gentle thump of the car coming to a stop, it felt painfully abrupt.

The heaviness of the moment rested on your chest; you wished you could linger in that bubble of warmth, just a moment longer, before reality ushered you both into the thrumming chaos of the paddock.

As he helped you out of the car, his touch was delicate yet firm, igniting a spark that coursed through your skin as you stepped onto the asphalt.

You both headed towards the paddock, your heart racing in anticipation—not just of the buzzing environment but also for the chance to stand beside him in this exhilarating world.

You flashed your pass at the entrance, the small piece of plastic suddenly feeling like a ticket to an uncharted adventure, and followed closely behind Lewis.

The way he waved to the adoring fans sent a rush of pride through your veins; you could see their surprised expressions when they realized who was accompanying him, an unexpected twist in the narrative that made your heart flutter with delightful mischief.

Once inside the garage, the atmosphere was electric, a spectacular blend of excitement and adrenaline as the staff bustled around, their dedicated energy palpable.

They were welcoming, treating you with kindness and warmth, probably because you were with Lewis.

Yet, as you absorbed the scene—the myriad of tools, the gleaming car, the stacked tires—there was a stillness inside you; you were no longer just a bystander but a part of this captivating world. You found a spot in front of the many TVs, each screen poised to bring the race to life, the anticipation tangling your nerves as you prepared for the spectacle.

You turned to Lewis, who began explaining the intricacies of the garage operations, and although you were a newcomer to the sport, his passion was infectious, igniting an eagerness deep within you.

"I got something for you, Y/N," he said, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief, breaking up the flood of information he had been sharing.

You blinked in surprise, leaning slightly forward, curiosity piqued. “What is it?” you asked eagerly, your heart flutterin.

Lewis shifted playfully, a smile dancing on his lips as he rummaged behind him and emerged with a black cap, resplendent with his signature emblazoned across the front.

In that instant, your face lit up with joy; his gesture felt intimate, something so personal yet shared openly with the world.

You thanked him, slipping the cap onto your head, feeling the weight of it ground you in reality, but also lift you into a new realm of possibility.

“How does it look?” you asked innocently, tilting your head playfully, seeking his validation, as if the cap itself carried the promise of his approval.

“Perfect,” he replied without hesitation, his gaze holding yours—warm, unwavering. You couldn’t help but blush at his compliment.

“Supporting me does suit you,” he added with a teasing smile, the playful banter making your heart race even faster than before.

In that moment, you realized how right he was; wearing this piece of him made you feel connected, almost like an extension of who he was in this dynamic world.

With a light-hearted push, you nudged him, the laughter escaping your lips in a gentle rhythm, creating a moment that people would kill to capture.

But before the magic could linger longer, a staff member called for him, signaling that it was time to prepare for the practice race. As you watched him walk away, every step taking him further into his world, a bittersweet feeling settled in your chest.

Just then, a cameraman approached, the lens of his camera zooming in as he directed his focus towards you.

As you caught sight of the camera, you instinctively smiled and waved, a mixture of shyness and excitement bubbling within you.

You were about to turn your attention back to the screens when, from the corner of your eye, you glimpsed the caption that flashed: your name followed by "Lewis Hamilton's partner."

The weight of that label struck you in that instant, a delightful shock that pierced through the air, echoing in your mind as both a chance happening and a beautiful reality.

You hadn’t anticipated the intimacy of that moment being broadcast to the world, yet it felt incredibly right, as if everything had aligned perfectly in that exhilarating chaos of the race world.

Suddenly, the noise around you faded, and in that moment, you felt an undeniable sense of belonging, as if you were no longer just a spectator but a pivotal part of a greater story unfolding in the dazzling world of Formula 1. . . .

You could feel the weight of disappointment lingering in the air as Lewis emerged from the chaotic hum of the paddock, his face betraying the inner turmoil that he tried so valiantly to mask.

While he adorned an exterior of calm confidence, tucking away the feelings of a seventh-place finish, his eyes spoke volumes—a glimmer of frustration intertwined with determination.

It was a moment that made your heart ache for him, a reminder that even the greatest champions wrestle with the trials of their passion.

As he stepped into the garage, you instinctively opened your arms, drawing him into a suffocating hug that melted away the façade for just a moment.

“You did good,” you whispered gently in his ear, as you could feel the tension gradually release from his shoulders, even though you knew he felt he could have done more. You held him tightly, relishing the warmth radiating from his body, allowing him a fleeting escape from the relentless world of competition.

Lewis lingered in your embrace longer than necessary, allowing his head to find refuge in the crook of your neck, seeking comfort amidst the storm of competitive disappointment.

In that fleeting bubble of intimacy, you felt your heart race, realizing that these simple moments—while overshadowed by the pressure of the race—were what truly mattered.

But as he reluctantly pulled away, a shadow of embarrassment flickered across his features, and he muttered an apology that hung in the air like a dewdrop clinging precariously to a petal.

“Sorry,” he said softly, and you could see that familiar streak of humility running through him, the man who, despite his victories, remained grounded amid the roar of accolades.

“Don’t apologize; you needed that,” you replied, your voice steady but affectionate, reassuring him that moments of vulnerability were not a sign of weakness, but rather a testament to the depth of his passion.

His faint nod reassured you that he was starting to let go, if only for an instant, of the relentless expectations he harbored for himself.

“Now, you change as fast as you can, we need to see the whole of London before Roscoe starts missing you too much,” you declared with a playful nudge, pushing him gently toward his driver’s room.

There was an infusion of excitement in your voice, a spark of adventure that contrasted with the somber ambiance of the paddock. The thought of showing him around the city ignited a new energy within you, one that suggested a fresh start, a break from the taxing intensity of competition.

Lewis responded with a half-smile, momentarily distracted from his earlier humdrum. “I’ll be back in a second, stay here,” he replied with a determined glint in his eyes, and you watched him retreat, feeling a pang of anticipation for the adventures that lay ahead, even if they were just fleeting moments of joy amidst the backdrop of grandiose skyscrapers and historic streets.

As you settled into a nearby chair, you watched the flurry of staff and mechanics bustle around his car, fine-tuning every minute detail as if it were a delicate piece of art being prepared for an unveiling.

The love for machinery and the intricacies of the racing world enveloped the space, yet your mind wandered aimlessly, drawn towards your phone in an attempt to find some levity amid the seriousness of the day.

A flicker of curiosity prompted you to dive into Twitter, where you scrolled through the effusive commentary of fans speculating about your relationship with Lewis.

What struck you was the mix of admiration and bewilderment, as many fervently debated whether you were merely a cousin, a relative, or something even more storied—his wife, perhaps?

A bubble of laughter escaped your lips at the absurdity of it all; “I wish,” you muttered under your breath, momentarily lost in a world of fantasy where the lines between reality and desire blurred enticingly.

But before you had too much time to dwell on your musings, a familiar voice broke through your reverie. “I’m back! Are you good to go?” Lewis announced, and your heart leapt at the sight of him clad in casual attire—a crisp black T-shirt fitted snugly against his chiseled frame, paired with dark denim jeans that accentuated his athletic stature effortlessly.

He looked remarkably different, stripped of the racing gear that had just a moment prior defined him, and instead exuding a relaxed charm that made your pulse quicken.

There was a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, an energy that seemed to dance with untold stories and adventures yet to unfold.

“Yep, let’s go!” you exclaimed, enthusiasm bubbling within you as you slid your phone into your bag, keen to prioritize the moments of spontaneity that awaited beyond the confines of the paddock.

Together, you made your way to the back exit, slipping away from the clamor of racing fans who thronged towards the main entrance.

A shiver of excitement coursed through your veins as you both stepped into his car, the sleek interior a stark contrast to the chaotic noise that defined the day thus far.

The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you as the door clicked shut behind you, creating an intimacy that felt both safe and exhilarating.

Lewis turned to you, and you could see the remnants of his earlier disappointment beginning to fade, replaced by an electric anticipation that mirrored your own.

“Where do we start?” he asked with a sly grin, tilting his head, eager to soak up every ounce of the city he loved.

“The London Eye, obviously! We can stroll along the river and see the sights,” you suggested, your voice brimming with enthusiasm.

This was your chance to share a piece of yourself with him, to weave together the threads of your lives in a way that felt effortlessly beautiful.

As he pulled out onto the road, you caught the unmistakable glint of excitement in his eyes. Each moment held the promise of connection while the city unveiled its secrets before you.

As you both embarked on your little tour of London, sharing laughter and playful banter, it became clear that this day would be more than just a distraction; it was an invitation for intimacy and understanding, to forge a bond that danced in freedom, not tethered by the constraints of the race or its disappointments.

You could feel yourself beginning to drop the pretense of being just a friend—every exchange and subtle glance became charged with unspoken words and possibilities.

The world outside blurred, and for that brief moment, all that existed was you and Lewis, wandering together down streets lined with splendor while time unceremoniously slipped away.

And as you shared stories amidst the laughter, with each word and each shared memory, you couldn’t shake the feeling that perhaps, just perhaps, what started as a pitiful race day could lead to something woven with romance and dreams, a blossoming connection fueled by shared experiences that danced just beyond the horizon of a typical friendship.

As he told stories of past races and the whimsical incidents that peppered his illustrious career, your heart ached with admiration—not just for the racer he was but the man behind the helmet, someone with dreams as grand as the city itself, melding seamlessly into the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

In that moment, surrounded by the vibrant pulse of London, everything felt right.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the London sky in hues of orange and pink, Lewis and you made our way to the London Eye. It had been an exhilarating day exploring the city, but deep down, you had been eagerly anticipating this final adventure.

You had never been on a Ferris wheel before—not in the US, where I'd grown up, nor anywhere else for that matter.

The towering structure beckoned to you, its silhouette against the evening sky a symbol of the iconic moments that London had to offer. Yet, beneath the thrill of excitement bubbling within, you felt a familiar flutter of anxiety in the pit of your stomach—my fear of heights.

As you two stepped onto the glass capsule, your heart raced. The floor felt solid yet somehow surreal, and you instinctively reached out for Lewis's hand, clutching it tightly as the ride began its ascent.

The moment you two started elevating above the bustling streets, you felt a rush of panic wash over you. “Oh my gosh, it's so high!” you gasped, glancing down briefly. “Why did I agree to this?”

“Might be a little late for that realization.” Lewis chuckled softly, his warm smile radiating calmness.

He squeezed your hand reassuringly, and his gaze met yours, steady and encouraging. “Just look at the view. It will be worth it, trust me.”

You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to look out at the panorama unfolding before us. The Thames glimmered below, and the city lights began to twinkle, creating a beautiful tapestry.

“Okay, it is pretty amazing,” you admitted, feeling a sense of awe creeping in as you took in the landscape.

“See? Nothing to be scared of.” He flashed a grin before leaning in a little closer, his voice soft against the gentle hum of the ride. “Hey, let’s talk about your project—the one that reduces carbon footprint.”

You brightened at the mention of your project, the excitement momentarily overshadowing your trepidation. “Oh yeah! So, I’ve been researching this method of carbon capture using algae, which is fascinating!” you replied, your nerves diverting as you got lost in the details. “They absorb CO2 much more efficiently than trees...”

“Really? That sounds incredible! Algae might not be the first thing that comes to mind when you think about fighting climate change, but it makes so much sense.” Lewis’s interest was palpable, and you found comfort in sharing your passion, your earlier fears nearly forgotten.

“It does, right? And the best part is it can be grown in almost any environment. I mean, it could revolutionize how we approach carbon emissions!” you felt your enthusiasm grow as you spoke, and for a fleeting moment, you forgot about the height.

“I love that you’re so passionate about this,” Lewis said, nodding appreciatively. “It always makes me think about how we can all play our part, no matter how small. Like taking the tube instead of driving. It seems little but actually makes a huge difference.”

“Exactly! Every action counts. I just hope my project can inspire others to think about their impact on the environment, maybe even help spark a movement.”

Suddenly, the capsule paused at the top, and you felt your breath catch again as you glanced out. “Wow,” you whispered, the whole city laid out like a glimmering mosaic beneath you. “It’s... breathtaking.”

“See? You did it!” Lewis said, breaking into a proud smile. “You made it to the top. And look at how beautiful everything is! This is what you came for.”

You nodded slowly, finally able to appreciate the view without that tightening grip of fear. “You were right, Lewis. I’m so glad we did this.” I turned to him, realizing in that moment how grateful I was for his support. “Thanks for holding my hand through this.”

He laughed lightly, “Always. I think I’ll be holding your hand during the descent too, just in case.”

As you two finally began our gentle descent, you injected a playful note into the air. “If I scream, just remind me that I won’t fall.”

“I got you,” he replied, still holding your hand firmly. “We’ll conquer this fear together.”

As you both descended from the ferris wheel, your fingers remained interlaced, a testament to the bond that had formed between you.

Neither of you seemed willing to sever that connection, as if the thrill of the ride had woven an invisible thread that held you together. The vibrant lights of the fairground flickered around you, but your focus was solely on each other.

"I can't believe I actually did that," you remarked, glancing up at him with a mix of exhilaration and disbelief.

"Right? I thought you were going to scream the whole time," he replied, chuckling softly. His laughter was infectious, and you found yourself smiling wider.

The moment felt suspended in time, a perfect encapsulation of joy and companionship. As you approached Lewis' car, he gently squeezed your hand, and for a brief moment, you hesitated, reluctant to part ways.

"You know, I could get used to this," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked at you, his expression serious yet playful. "What, holding hands or riding ferris wheels?"

"Both," you admitted, your cheeks flushing slightly. Just then, Lewis opened the car door for you, and reluctantly, you released his hand, feeling a pang of loss as the warmth of his touch faded.

You stepped into the car, your heart racing with the promise of more adventures to come. . . .

The night seemed to conspire against your fatigue, offering no respite as your mind swirled with thoughts of Lewis, each cascading wave filled with warm anticipation.

As dawn broke, casting a soft golden glow through the hotel room window, you reluctantly opened your eyes, momentarily squinting at the light.

You felt more drained than you had the previous day, but excitement surged through you like electricity—today was the day Lewis would welcome you into his world and unite you with Roscoe, the bulldog whose playful spirit had captured your heart.

The thought of seeing him again put a spark in your step, propelling you from the comfort of your bed and urging you to prepare for a day filled with unknown joy and warmth.

You dashed into the bathroom, the cool water of the shower invigorating your senses, washing away the remnants of exhaustion.

After the steamy shower, you rummaged through your suitcase, determined to put together an outfit that would both thrill and impress. you finally settled on a flowing sundress in a soft, pastel blue that danced gently around your knees, perfect for the bright day ahead.

You paired it with a lightweight denim jacket, knowing you might need an extra layer later, and slid on your favorite ankle boots; they felt both casual and chic.

But the pièce de résistance was the signed hat—a structured wide-brimmed beauty that Lewis had gifted you just yesterday.

It sat atop your head, a charming reminder of the budding connection you two shared and added an air of confidence to your look.

As you admired yourself in the mirror, you twirled slightly, causing the dress to billow around you and your heart to flutter with the thought of Lewis.

The knock on the door snapped you back to reality. You opened it with a beaming smile, your excitement palpable.

Standing before you, Lewis appeared effortlessly handsome in his casual attire, a little rumpled from what you imagined must have been a busy morning.

His eyes lit up at the sight of you, and before you could think, you jokingly raised your arms and asked, “How do I look?” The way he regarded you, his gaze lingering and softening, filled you with a warmth that spread through your entire being.

“Breathtaking,” he replied, the sincerity in his voice catching you off guard.

You couldn’t help but shy away from his gaze momentarily. “Thank you, Lewis,” you managed to say, still caught in a delightful web of surprise as you stepped outside, leaving the hotel behind.

We walked towards his car, and as he opened the door for you, the small gesture felt steeped in kindness, a hint at the chivalrous man he was.

“I’m just describing what I’m seeing,” he said with a teasing smile as he helped you into his car.

You felt your heart leap at each word that rolled off his tongue—a simple admission that held a depth of meaning you longed to explore.

The drive to the paddock was punctuated by leisurely conversation, laughter spilling easily between you two, and soon you two were waving at enthusiastic fans along the route, their cheers only enhancing the thrill of the moment.

The sights and sounds of the racetrack felt familiar, yet each visit held a novel excitement, especially with him by your side.

Once you two arrived at the Mercedes garage, everything became a beehive of activity, each team member focused on the monumental task ahead: qualifying.

Lewis had mentioned that his dad was coming to watch him this weekend, and the thought made your heart flutter. You found yourself secretly hoping that you might get a chance to meet him, to see where the source of Lewis's passion and determination came from.

Watching Lewis slip into his racing gear was mesmerizing; he moved with a graceful urgency, each movement deliberate yet fluid, threading the air with palpable confidence.

You couldn’t help but admire how he transformed into this fierce competitor in mere moments, the ease with which he stepped into his role stirring an admiration deep within you.

“So, the qualifying—what do you think is going to happen?” You ventured, curious to discover the intricacies of his racing mentality.

Lewis paused, considering your question as he donned his helmet, the glint in his eyes suggesting a thrill of anticipation. “I just focus on each lap and trust your instincts. That’s all I can do. But having you here makes it feel even more special,” he said, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

His admission settled into your chest, stirring something profoundly sweet, as you realized just how much our connection meant to him as well.

My fingers curled around the hem of your dress as you mulled over his words, excitement racing in tandem with your heartbeat.

Soon enough, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation as the time for qualifying drew near, and you could feel the electrifying energy in the air. Lewis, with his trademark confidence and undeniable charm, was whisked away into his car, the roar of the engine sending shivers down your spine.

You positioned yourself in your assigned seat, glued to the television screens that illuminated the bustling paddock.

Each moment that ticked by only heightened your excitement as you watched Lewis's car take to the track, maneuvering through each turn with grace and precision.

The tension built during Q1, your heart racing in sync with the telemetry data flashing across the screen.

Just as you thought you had reached the peak of your adrenaline, you felt a light tap on your shoulder, pulling you from your reverie.

Turning around, you were pleasantly surprised to see Lewis's dad, Anthony, standing there, a warm smile dancing on his lips.

You quickly removed your headphones, eager to engage with him, as he had always struck you as a genuinely kind person. “Hello, it’s wonderful to see you!” you greeted him, feeling a flutter of excitement.

Without hesitation, Anthony gestured for you to follow him into Lewis's driver room, filled with a hint of nervous energy.

As you two entered, Anthony’s playful demeanor sparked a hint of curiosity within you.

“I’ve been wondering who the beautiful woman your son has been with these days,” he remarked, and your heart skipped a beat at his words, suddenly feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Caught off guard, you stuttered a bit, completely flustered by the unexpected compliment. It was in that moment that you understood exactly where Lewis had inherited his flirtation and charm.

“Sorry it took so long to meet; Lewis has told me a lot of you,” you managed to say, your voice slightly trembling as you spoke.

Anthony chuckled, a twinkle in his eye that mirrored his son's playful spirit. “All good things, I hope?” he asked teasingly, his eyes narrowing with playful mischief, making you laugh softly in response.

The sincerity of his interest made the room feel instantly warmer, and you couldn't help but feel a newfound connection between you two.

“Of course! Your son is a true gentleman,” you assured him wholeheartedly, enthusiasm spilling from your lips as you recalled moments shared with Lewis.

Anthony’s eyes sparkled with the joy of a proud father listening to the praise he had longed to hear.

“I’ve heard. I also heard that he likes you,” he said, his expression shifting into one of intrigue, and suddenly, you felt the world around you fade into a haze of disbelief at his bold assertion.

My heart raced even faster at his comment, a whirlwind of emotions twisting within me. “No, I think that’s just a rumor—” you started to defend, yet your voice trailed off as you struggled to find the right words to counter his claim.

The fluttering possibility of Lewis harboring feelings for you sent a wave of warmth rushing to your cheeks, and the vulnerability in your tone revealed your genuine shock.

“Y/N, I think I know when my son likes a woman,” Anthony said with a straightforwardness that left you momentarily stunned.

You met his gaze, searching for signs of jest, but there was only sincerity written across his features.

“It’s complicated,” you finally admitted, your voice softening as you grasped the weight of his words. The prospect of a romance with Lewis was tantalizing yet terrifying at the same time, a dance on a precipice you had not anticipated.

As Anthony leaned against the wall, his expression shifted to one of fatherly approval, you could sense the protective warmth radiating from him.

“You don’t have to worry,” he continued, “Lewis is a good guy, and he deserves someone who appreciates him as much as he does.”

His assurance wrapped around you like a warm embrace, filling you with hope and possibility at a time when you was craving clarity about your burgeoning feelings for his son.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me,” you replied, your voice imbued with sincerity.

There was something reassuring about Anthony’s presence; it made the entire experience feel more sacred, as if love was being woven into the very fabric of the moment.

As you stood there, sharing glances with this kind-hearted man, you felt the weight of unspoken words — a bridge of understanding forming between parents and their children, and how love always finds a way to connect you in the most unexpected of circumstances.

“I just want to make sure he’s happy,” you added earnestly, your emotions surfacing as you reflected on the connection you felt with Lewis, leaving you hopeful for what lay ahead.

Lewis climbed out of his car, the roar of the engine fading as he removed his helmet. As he stepped away from the adrenaline-fueled world of motorsport, a wave of relief washed over him, the weight of the race lifting from his shoulders.

The cheers of the crowd echoed in the air, but at that moment, all he could see was you, standing there with a radiant smile that mirrored the joy in your heart.

Your arms opened wide in celebration, and when you enveloped him in a warm hug, it felt as if the two of you shared a world all your own, where victories were sweeter just because you were there to witness them.

“Congratulations,” you whispered, your voice a gentle caress amid the chaos surrounding you.

“Thanks,” Lewis replied, his eyes gleaming with both relief and happiness. But there was something else dancing in those hazel depths—an urgency, as if something unsaid lingered between you.

His gaze flickered past you, landing on a figure standing in the backdrop, and he asked, “Have you spoken to my father yet?”

The concern in his tone made your heart flutter. You turned slightly to follow his gaze, spotting Anthony engaged in conversation with some frantic staff members, his presence calm among the bustling chaos of the post-race scene.

“Yeah,” you said, your heart racing, not just from the excitement of the race but from the idea of what Anthony had shared with you.

“Y/N,” his father had said with a knowing smile, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned closer, “I think I know when my son likes a woman.”

“Really?” Lewis asked, his voice laced with curiosity, his brow raised in intrigue. You couldn’t help but catch a hint of a smile tugging at his lips; the connection between father and son was palpable, and you could feel the warmth radiating from them.

“What was it about?” he probed, and there was a soft eagerness in his tone that made your heart skip.

You locked eyes with him, taking a breath to steady yourself before responding, knowing that the truth could weave its own spell between you.

“It’s a secret,” you said shyly, your voice barely escaping your lips as you playfully averted your gaze. The moment felt charged, filled with hidden meanings and unspoken promises, and you could feel the tension building in the air, drawing you closer to him.

“Well, it’s a secret I’d like to know,” he laughed lightly, teasing but genuine. “Can you at least give me a hint?”

The way he looked at you, with those warm, inviting eyes, made it hard to focus on anything other than the connection thrumming in your shared space.

You were enchanted by the way he seemed to lean in closer, as if straining to catch the secret that danced just on the tip of your tongue.

You could see the delight that shimmered in his features, a beautiful reminder that this incredible moment was shared between just the two of you.

“Alright,” you said, leaning closer, your voice dipping to a conspiratorial whisper, “I’ll give you a clue: it involves you.”

“Really Y/N?” Lewis said, sounding disappointed as he brushed a hand across his brow.

You nodded slowly, feeling the back of your cheeks heat up from the intimacy shared, the air thick with unspoken words and lingering possibilities.

"Can you be more specific for me?" Lewis asked, his curiosity getting the better of him and you were enjoying teasing the man.

"Nope, that's the point of a secret and don't be begging your father too. His lips are also sealed," You teased, wiping the beads of sweat from his chin with the cloth.

"I think I know how to get secrets out of my father," Lewis replied, taking the cloth out of your hands and wiping his neck. "Be right back,"

You watched him as he walked over to his father, who was looking proud of his son's achievements. Suddenly Anthony looked over to you and winked, knowing the secret was safe with him, you sighed in relief.

"You ready to go?" Lewis asked, a broad grin lighting up his face as he emerged from his room, now dressed in his casual attire. He sported a soft, navy blue hoodie that hung comfortably on his shoulders, paired with relaxed-fit dark jeans that accentuated his long legs.

The sneakers on his feet were a cool shade of gray, slightly scuffed but well-loved. It was a look that effortlessly combined comfort and style, making him seem approachable yet undeniably attractive.

"Yeah," you replied, glancing back at Anthony, who was gathering his things. "Goodbye, Anthony! It was great hanging out." Your words dripped with sincerity as you waved enthusiastically, a smile lingering on your lips.

As you turned back to Lewis, he chuckled softly, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "Looks like you've become best friends with my dad in just a few hours," he teased, throwing an arm casually around your shoulders as you strolled toward his car.

You nudged him playfully. "Don't be jealous, Lewis. He’s just funnier than you are!" you fired back, laughing at your own jab, the warmth of camaraderie wrapping around you like a cozy blanket.

"Don’t forget who brought you here," he reminded you with a smirk, opening the car door for you. His charming demeanor was hard to resist, and you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach as you slipped into the passenger seat.

As he slid into the driver’s side, your memory kicked in. "Wait a minute," you said, turning to him with a sparkle in your eye. "We’re going to your house first, right? To meet Roscoe?"

A delighted grin spread across his face. "Are you ready to meet him?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with anticipation, as if he could read your mind.

"Yeah, I’ve prepared myself enough," you joked, pretending to brace yourself dramatically, eliciting a laugh from him.

You could practically feel the excitement bubbling within you at the thought of finally meeting Roscoe, the bulldog whose playful antics and silly personality had already captured your heart over countless phone calls.

The short drive to his apartment was filled with lighthearted chatter, laughter, and stolen glances. Soon, they arrived at his apartment complex, and Lewis parked. You both hopped out of the car, and he led the way, guiding you with a playful swagger toward the entrance.

Once inside, Lewis paused for a moment at his door, opening it with a flourish. "Ladies first," he said, bowing slightly in exaggerated manners. You giggled, stepping inside as he followed closely behind, closing the door with a soft click.

The first thing you noticed was the delightful chaos of the space—dog toys strewn about, a comfy couch in the corner, and the rich aroma of something baking wafting through the air.

But your attention was entirely diverted when you caught sight of Roscoe waddling toward you, big, expressive eyes capturing your gaze completely.

"There he is! Roscoe!" Lewis announced, his tone filled with pride. You crouched down, and the bulldog ambled up to you, his tail wagging like a propeller.

"Hey there, buddy!" you said, your heart swelling as you reached out to pet him. Roscoe responded with an enthusiastic nuzzle, planting his big, slobbery face against your palm.

"He definitely likes you," Lewis remarked, a knowing smile on his face.

You chuckled, scratching behind Roscoe's ears. "How could he not? Look at this guy! He’s adorable!"

Lewis watched as the two of you bonded, the moment feeling blissfully perfect. "I think we have a new best friend," he teased, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, enjoying the sight of you and Roscoe sharing a precious moment.

And in that instant, surrounded by laughter, joy, and an unexpected connection, you realized this was the beginning of something special—an afternoon filled with warmth and a bulldog that would soon have a permanent place in your heart.

As the last of the sunlight faded and shadows stretched across the cozy living room, Lewis glanced out the window and turned to you with a smile. “Since it’s already getting dark, I think it’d be best for you to stay for dinner before I drive you home.”

You looked at the glowing kitchen where the rich aroma of roasted vegetables drifted through the air. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Not at all. Besides,” he said, nodding toward Roscoe, who was wagging his tail with boundless enthusiasm. “Roscoe clearly doesn’t want you to leave yet. He’s taken quite a liking to you.”

With a soft laugh, you gave Roscoe a pat on the head as he rolled over, exposing his belly for all the affection you could give. “I suppose I could stay for a little longer. Right, buddy?” You scratched behind his ears, causing him to let out a joyful bark, as if to affirm your decision.

As you played with Roscoe, the rope toy caught his attention. You tossed it lightly across the room, and he bounded after it with a joyous bark, his energy infectious. But it didn’t take long before he returned, rope clenched tightly in his mouth, looking at you with those big, pleading eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” you asked, giggling as you wrestled the tug-of-war rope with Roscoe, who was determined to win. “He’s quite the little beast!”

“ Nope, you just relax and play with Roscoe,” Lewis called from the kitchen, chuckling as he chopped vegetables. “The food will be ready soon.”

You couldn’t help but admire the sight—the way Lewis moved in the kitchen with confidence, the casual ease in his posture. There was something about this moment that struck you as particularly domestic, almost as if you were a couple enjoying a quiet evening together with your dog. You felt a warmth spread through you, mixed with an unexpected shyness at the thought.

“Hey, Lewis?” You turned slightly to get his attention, cheeks faintly pink.

“Yeah?” He looked over his shoulder, a curious tilt to his head as he wiped his hands on a towel.

“Do you… do you do this often? You know, having someone over for dinner?” The question felt a bit bold, but the warm atmosphere encouraged you.

His smile widened, revealing a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “Only with special guests. Roscoe has very discerning taste when it comes to company. He’s quite the judge of character, you know.”

“Oh really?” You feigned surprise, which made him laugh.

“Absolutely. You passed the test. And I dare say, you’re his favorite human now,” he replied, leaning back against the counter, looking comfortable and at ease.

Roscoe, hearing his name, bounded over and dropped the rope at your feet, tail wagging furiously. “See? He’s demanding your attention!” Lewis teased.

You chuckled, grabbing the rope and giving it a playful tug. “Alright, Roscoe, what’s your strategy here? I need to understand your tactics if I’m going to beat you.” You tossed the rope again, and he darted after it, momentarily distracting you from your thoughts.

“You’re getting pretty good at that,” Lewis commented, watching you with an approving grin. “I think Roscoe might have finally met his match!”

After a few more rounds of tug-of-war, you flopped down onto the floor, breathless and laughing. “I never thought I’d be wrestling with a dog tonight.”

Lewis leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his expression warm and inviting. “And yet, here we are. I’d say it’s a good night.”

You couldn’t help but nod in agreement. “Yeah, it really is.”

Just then, Roscoe curled up beside you, and you instinctively reached out to give him a gentle scratch behind the ears while glancing up at Lewis.

In that little domestic scene, something beautiful and simple brewed between you two, leaving you shy yet hopeful for more moments like this in the future.

"Foods ready," Lewis announced after setting Roscoe's bowl on the ground, a satisfied smile spreading across his face as he watched the eager dog bound over to his meal.

Roscoe sniffed at his food for a moment, tail wagging vigorously, before diving in with joyful determination. The playful afternoon had taken its toll on the dog, and it was evident he hadn’t just worked up an appetite; he had worked up a hunger.

As Roscoe happily chomped away, you stood up from your spot on the floor and made your way to where Lewis had set the table. The beautiful aromas of the dinner he had prepared wafted through the air, filling your senses with comfort and warmth.

“Wow, this smells amazing! What did you make?” you asked, looking at the colorful spread.

Lewis chuckled, a hint of pride in his voice. “I decided to whip up some pasta primavera with garlic bread. Figured we could use something hearty after our adventures outside.” His eyes twinkled as he gestured to the food, an inviting sight that made your mouth water.

You shook your head in disbelief, “You’re the best, Lewis. I can’t believe you cooked all this while I was chasing after Roscoe!” You glanced down at the dog, who was now taking a moment to indulge in a dramatic stretch before returning to his bowl.

He looked up, his mouth full, and let out an affectionate, if muffled, bark. “Are you jealous, Roscoe?” you teased. He tilted his head, responding with an innocent blink, as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

“Hey, I think he’s trying to tell you he deserves to be spoiled after all that running around,” Lewis chimed in, grinning. “But don’t worry, you’ll get your share of spoiling too right now.”

Placing a generous helping of pasta onto your plate, Lewis added, “And for dessert, I made chocolate mousse. It’s chilling in the fridge, waiting for you.” The mention of dessert made your stomach rumble in excitement, and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Seriously? Chocolate mousse? Okay, now you’re just trying to win my heart,” you said playfully, taking a seat at the table.

You noticed how Roscoe glanced up at you, licking his lips in anticipation. “And what about you, buddy? Don’t think you’re getting any chocolate. It’s all for us humans!”

“Just wait until I tell him ‘off’ when he tries to steal bites from your plate. He’s persistent,” Lewis laughed, shaking his head as he filled his own plate. “But I’ll keep him busy with his favorite toy until we’re done.”

As you both began to eat, the conversation flowed easily between bites. You shared stories about childhood memories, musings on the challenges of adulting, and hopes for the future, all while Roscoe settled under the table, letting out the occasional contented sigh as he savored his meal.

“Everything tastes even better when you share the kitchen with someone you enjoy,” you remarked, your fork raised in appreciation.

Lewis looked up, his expression softening. “I feel the same way. It’s nice to have someone to share these moments with.”

As dinner wound down, Lewis leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Alright, Roscoe, time for a little break. You did a great job eating, but now it’s our turn to indulge in dessert. Are you ready for the chocolate mousse?”

Roscoe’s ears perked up at the word 'chocolate,' but you shook your head with a smile. “Sorry, buddy, no chocolate for you. But I’ll make sure you get an extra treat tomorrow for being such a good boy tonight.”

"You'll come back tomorrow?" Lewis asked surprised.

"Of course I'll need to see my favourite dog before I go back to the States," you said easily, petting Roscoe in the ear.

Lewis' face fell in disappointment at your words, a reaction you might have missed if you weren't paying close attention. His eyes, which had been bright with anticipation just moments before, dimmed as the weight of your statement settled in.

The soft glow of the lamp cast a warm light over the room, illuminating the cozy mess of blankets and toys strewn across the carpet.

Roscoe with a perpetually wagging tail, lay sprawled in the middle, paws twitching as he dreamed. Lewis and you sat cross-legged on the floor, you attention divided between a tattered tennis ball and the dog’s joyful antics.

“Hey, Roscoe, catch!” you shouted, tossing the ball into the air. He sprang up as if launched by a spring, bounding after it with glee, his fur glistening in the light.

You laughed as he returned, the ball clutched triumphantly in his mouth. “Good boy!” you leaned down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the warmth of Lewis’ body close to yours.

“You've really got a way with dogs,” Lewis said, a hint of admiration in his voice as he watched you interact with Roscoe. You glanced up to meet his gaze, and the air between you shifted, thickening with unsaid words and fleeting glances.

There was a moment, a heartbeat, where it felt like the world had narrowed down to just you two — you, him, and the soft panting of Roscoe in between.

“Thanks,” you replied, your cheeks warming slightly. “But it’s really him that has all the charm.” As you spoke, you noticed how close Lewis had moved, his shoulder brushing against you.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel your breath hitching slightly, the tension in the air almost electric. Your eyes locked, and for a moment, it seemed you would bridge the distance that separated the both of you.

But then, like a cold splash of water, David's voice echoed in your mind, warning you about Lewis.

“He doesn’t like you like that; it’s all for his reputation.” The thought made your stomach twist.

You abruptly pulled back, a rush of embarrassment flooding over you. “Um, I think I should…” you started, trying to formulate an excuse that wouldn’t make you sound foolish.

“Wait,” Lewis said, reaching out and gently grabbing your wrist. The warmth of his touch sent another jolt through you, but you couldn’t let it sway your thoughts.

“Where are you going?” There was genuine concern in his eyes, and it momentarily melted your resolve.

“I just… I need to go. It’s getting really late,” you stammered, fumbling to gather your scattered thoughts and the few belongings you had on the floor.

You stood up awkwardly, trying to shake off the weight of the moment you two had nearly shared.

“It’s dark out, though. At least let me take you home. It’s too dangerous to walk alone at night,” he pleaded, his expression earnest. You hesitated, the conflict within you swirling like a storm.

“Okay,” you finally nodded, still feeling the remnants of embarrassment prickling at your skin.

You grabbed your coat, offering Roscoe a quick goodbye. “See you later, buddy.” He tilted his head, as if sensing the shift in the mood.

The drive to your apartment was wrapped in an uncomfortable silence, the kind where every unspoken word hung heavily in the air. Lewis stole glances at you from the corner of his eye, and you pretended to focus on the passing streetlights, your heart still racing from what could have been.

Once you two reached the hotel, you turned to face him, trying to conjure a smile. “Thanks for the ride, Lewis,” you said, but your voice sounded hollow even to your own ears. You could see him searching your face, but you didn’t want to let him in.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked, his brow furrowing in concern. “You seem… distant.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, the words barely leaving your lips before you hurriedly added, “Really.” you opened the car door, desperate to escape the tension that had built up like a pressure cooker.

“Okay… well, goodnight,” he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice.

“Goodnight,” you echoed, stepping out into the cool night air, trying to dispel the emotional turmoil churning within you.

As you made your way to the entrance, you could feel Lewis’ gaze following you until you slipped inside and shut the door.

The moment you were alone, the weight of everything hit you like a tidal wave. You stumbled to your bed and collapsed, the tears flowing freely as you processed the confusing whirlwind of emotions.

The hum of Roscoe’s playful energy, the lingering warmth of Lewis beside you, and the cruel reality of David's words conspired together, leaving you feeling fragile and broken.

When had things become so complicated? You buried your face in your hands, overwhelmed, as you tried to navigate this tangled web of friendship, affection, and fear. . .

“Did I ruin everything, Roscoe?” Lewis asked, his voice trembling slightly as he let out a sigh, collapsing onto the soft carpet of his living room.

The stark contrast of the vibrant colors around him seemed to amplify the weight of his emotions. He glanced at the door, half-expecting to see your radiant smile again, the same smile that had captivated him since the very first moment.

But that smile had been displaced by the heavy cloud of doubt that now loomed over him.

“What if she never looks at me the same way again?” he muttered, his thoughts swirling like autumn leaves caught in a brisk wind.

Roscoe trotted over, sensing the heaviness that enveloped Lewis. With soulful eyes, the bulldog placed his head on Lewis's lap, offering unspoken comfort as he met his gaze with an understanding that needed no words.

“I should have been more patient,” Lewis continued, running his fingers through Roscoe’s fur, his heart aching at the thought of losing you. “But she's just so beautiful, so full of life. It overwhelms me.”

The words flowed from his lips, each syllable a tender confession as he wrestled with his own fault lines.

The memory of you—your laughter ringing like sweet music, the way your eyes sparkled under the sun—danced in his mind, and he found himself yearning for the light you brought into his life.

“You love her too, right?” he asked Roscoe, his voice softening with vulnerability.

Roscoe responded with a joyful bark, an affirmation that seemed to echo the depth of Lewis’s feelings, as if to say, "Yes, she is the one."

Just thinking of your expression when you left, the flicker of fear in your eyes, made his chest tighten with regret.

Soft, fluttering memories spiraled in his imagination, each one highlighting the incredible moments shared—the warmth of your hand in his, the laughter echoing through his garage, the way the winter breeze intertwined with your soft, unguarded whispers.

Roscoe tilted his head, as though he understood the tempest within his owner’s heart, and Lewis chuckled bitterly.

“What do you know of love, Roscoe? You have your toys, your treats, and that’s that,” he said, but deep down, he recognized that beneath that simplicity lay a profound truth.

"If only it could be so simple for us,” he whispered, gazing into Roscoe's eyes, hoping for an answer, a spark of clarity that seemed to elude him.

Perhaps he didn't ruin everything. Perhaps this was his moment to reclaim what was rightfully his—the connection that had blossomed so beautifully between the two of you.

With newfound determination igniting within him, Lewis knelt beside Roscoe, taking in the loyal creature for a source of hope. “Let’s not give up,” he said, brushing his fingers through Roscoe’s fur one last time.

“Tomorrow, after the race I'll tell her. I’ll tell her how much she means to me.” The resolve in his voice steadfast, he looked into his companion’s eyes, feeling the unspoken promise echo between them.

Roscoe barked again, tail wagging, as if he could sense the shift around him. “Yeah, we’ll make this right.”

You knew today was going to be so awkward when you woke up and saw the dog treats scattered on the floor. Just yesterday, you'd been wrapped up in a whirlwind of emotions.

You and Lewis had almost kissed, but fear had held you back, leaving an unspoken tension that lingered in the air even now. Instead of leaning in, you had let him drive you home in silence, your heart thumping in your chest as you wrestled with what could have been.

As you stared at the mess on the floor, a part of you longed for a way out. You knew Lewis would be picking you up today for the grand prix, and your mind raced with thoughts of fabricating an elaborate story about being sick.

But deep down, you couldn't deny it—missing him already felt unbearable.

You didn’t want to miss the race, especially with the thrill of seeing him light up the track ahead of you. With a resigned sigh, you got out of bed and began your preparations, washing away the fears that clung to you like the morning fog.

Deciding on an outfit was an emotional balancing act itself. You wanted to feel cute yet comfortable, something that reflected your excitement and also the nervous energy bubbling beneath the surface.

Finally, you settled on a sleek Mercedes shirt that Lewis' father had gifted you just the day before, paired with a flirty mini skirt. As you looked in the mirror, you felt a mix of confidence and anxiety coursing through you.

Once you were ready, you hovered by the door, waiting for that inevitable knock. Your heart raced with anticipation as the seconds dragged on. Finally, there it was—a firm, familiar rap that resonated through your chest. Holding your bag tightly, you opened the door to greet him.

Lewis stood there, looking effortlessly amazing in a fitted black shirt and sleek joggers that accentuated his athletic frame. His braids were tousled just right, framing his face in a way that made you want to reach out and touch it.

The morning sun caught the gleam of his earring, enhancing the sparkle in his eyes. For a moment, you were speechless, lost in him.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Is it too much?” you asked, suddenly self-conscious, glancing down at your outfit.

“Not at all,” he replied, stepping closer and meeting your gaze. “You look beautiful wearing my team's shirt.” It felt like a melody, the way he spoke, and you could hear the sincerity in his tone.

Your heart swelled at his words, gratitude washing over you like a warm blanket.

Neither of you mentioned last night, and that made you feel a strange sense of relief. Perhaps you both needed a little more time to navigate those uncharted waters.

Instead, you shifted the focus and talked about the race, discussing your hopes for the day and your excitement about the atmosphere at the track.

As you both climbed into his car, the tension felt lighter, almost playful. “So, do you think I can beat Max today?” he asked with that familiar cocky charm that always made you smile.

“Of course! With you behind the wheel, I wouldn’t bet against you for a second,” you replied, excitement bubbling in your voice.

“That’s what I like to hear,” he shot back, his eyes sparkling as he began to drive.

As the track came into view, the thrill of the day rushed in, pulling you both from the space of uncertainty. Today was about racing, adrenaline, and celebrating something that felt bigger than both of you.

And deep down, you knew that sooner or later, you would face what happened last night, but for now, in this moment, you were grateful just to be by his side. . . .

The roar of the crowd still echoed in your ears as the adrenaline from the race settled into a sweet, soothing buzz of triumph.

Lewis had just clinched his first win of the year at the British Grand Prix, and the atmosphere in the garage was electric with celebration.

Everyone was ecstatic—team members high-fived, some shed happy tears, and you felt an overwhelming rush of joy as you basked in the shared euphoria.

“Unbelievable, wasn’t it? He nailed that last lap!” one of the mechanics shouted over the celebratory din, clapping you on the back.

As the cheers continued, you turned to see Lewis’s dad beaming with pride as he approached you. “Come here!” he said, pulling you into a warm hug. “You’ve been a huge support for him. Thank you!”

With a genuine smile, you pulled away. “It’s all Lewis! He did it all today.” You followed the throng of people heading toward the paddock, eager to see where Lewis would park his car for a well-deserved celebration, but the crowd was thick, and progress was slow.

“Excuse me, coming through!” Bono, Lewis’s race engineer, called out, effortlessly parting the crowd with his presence. He glanced back at you and extended his hand. “Here, I’ve got you. Let’s get you to your driver.”

You gripped his hand tightly as he guided you through the throng of ecstatic fans and staff. The lush green of the paddock soon came into view, and excitement bubbled within you.

By the time you arrived at Lewis’s car, the atmosphere was jubilant. Lewis was already engulfed in hugs from his team, laughter and shouts blending into a chorus of celebration.

Amidst that lively chaos, Lewis’s eyes scanned the crowd, and when they finally landed on you, it was as if the world fell away.

A wide grin spread across his face, and he bounded over, leaving a trail of joy behind him.

He gave Bono a playful dap on the way past before enveloping you in a tight embrace that felt like a lifeline. Your heart raced, feeling his warmth and excitement radiate through you.

“I can’t believe it! You did it!” you exclaimed, your voice muffled against his shoulder.

“I know! I really can’t!” He chuckled, burying his face in your neck, his arms firmly around your waist as if scared to let go.

The excitement, the sweat, and the fear of losing this moment melded together in a glorious array of emotions you never wanted to end.

“I’m so proud of you, Lewis,” you whispered softly into his ear, your heart swelling with affection.

Finally, he pulled back, a radiant grin lighting up his face that could rival the sun itself. “Thank you! That means the world to me,” he said, locking his gaze with yours.

“Hey, can you meet me in my driver’s room later? I want to talk to you about something.”

Your heart raced anew, understanding the implication in his request. You nodded, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “Of course.”

Reluctantly, he let you go, his fingers lingering on your arm for a moment longer than necessary. “I need to go hug my dad and talk to everyone, but I can’t wait to see you later!”

Lewis called over his shoulder as he turned to rejoin his father, who was waving him over, still beaming with pride.

You watched him go, your heart fluttering. The thought of what was to come made your anticipation bubble over.

The air in Lewis' driver’s room felt charged with an electric tension, the kind that often accompanies moments that can alter the course of a friendship.

You glanced around the room, taking in the trophies and photos that celebrated his career achievements, but your mind was far from the accolades.

Your heart raced as you rehearsed the words in your head, wondering if they would even come out right. You had decided that today would be the day you finally told him about your feelings, no matter how nervous it made you.

“Hey Y/N,” a voice broke through your thoughts, sending a jolt of surprise through you.

You spun around to see Lewis leaning against the doorframe, a playful smile adorning his face. Despite the lighthearted demeanor, your pulse quickened even further.

“Lewis,” you managed to mutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as curiosity replaced the playful glint in his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered your courage. “Well, I’m sorry I falling in love with you, okay? But it happened, and I can’t do anything about it.”

The words rushed out of your mouth in a torrent, fueled by a mix of urgency and rebellion.

You were leaving for the US today, after all; there would be no more consequences after this, at least none that you could face today.

Lewis blinked, his expression shifting from amusement to surprise. “You… What?” he stammered, processing your confession.

“Yeah, I know it sounds ridiculous but it's true,” you continued, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety wash over you. “I tried to ignore it, thinking it was just a crush or something, but it’s not. And I didn’t want to leave without being honest with you. So there it is.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, your heart pounding in your chest. You dared to meet his gaze, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

“I’ve always felt some sort of connection between us,” he finally said, his voice low and thoughtful. “But I didn’t know you felt this way.”

“I didn’t either for the longest time, Lewis.” You paced a little in the small room, your nerves still high. “But every moment we spent together, every laugh and the way you looked at me—it just made me realize how I felt.”

Lewis walked toward you with an intent look, his gaze steady as he noticed your anxious pacing. With a gentle grip, he stopped you in your tracks, firmly yet tenderly holding you in place.

The world around you faded momentarily, leaving just the two of you in a bubble filled with unspoken words.

"You're too nervous when you haven't heard my side yet," he said, his tone a mix of concern and amusement.

Your heart raced, and you finally mustered the courage to respond, your voice slightly trembling as you retorted, "Because I already know what your answer is." A flicker of mischief danced in his eyes, and you felt both exasperation and relief wash over you.

"Which is what? Does it include ‘I love you too’ in it?" Lewis teased, his grin widening as he caught the surprise etched on your face. His playful approach seemed like a lighthearted facade, but you could sense the underlying seriousness in his words.

“Lewis, you can’t just joke about that,” you said, attempting to push him away, as if wishing to distance yourself from the emotional weight of the moment. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, each more potent than the last.

"I'm being serious," Lewis insisted, his expression shifting as he stepped closer, momentarily silencing the protests echoing in your mind.

“You may be serious, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve made it impossible for me to figure out what I feel,” you admitted, your voice cracking ever so slightly and exposing the vulnerable truth you had hidden deep within.

The air felt thick, and your emotions swirled chaotically, battling against the desire for clarity and connection while grappling with fear and uncertainty.

He reached out, his finger softly lifting your chin, forcing your eyes to lock onto his. "Do you know why I called you here?" he asked, his voice low and sincere, almost as if he were sharing a cherished secret.

You shook your head slightly, unsure of what to say, the anticipation hanging fragilely between you. As he began to speak again, each word came out wrapped in a warmth that made your heart flutter.

“I wanted to tell you that I love you, to not leave today and stay more days with me. I was even going to try to bribe you by saying that Roscoe was going to miss you too much.”

With every few words, he inched closer, cupping your face, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek, igniting a fire within you that competed with the cold fear that had gripped you moments ago.

His declaration knocked the breath from your lungs, and the gravity of his confession anchored itself in your heart, rendering you momentarily speechless.

You had imagined this moment countless times, but hearing the words come from him felt alarmingly surreal.

“Don’t try and lie, Lewis,” you muttered, skepticism lacing your tone, disbelief lingering just beneath the surface. “You don’t love me.”

It was a desperate attempt to shield yourself from the potential heartbreak that could arise if what he was saying wasn’t genuine, and yet, deep down, you clung to a fragile hope that he meant every syllable.

"How can I prove it to you?" he asked, his earnestness brushing against the walls you had built around your heart.

A moment of silence enveloped you both, and as your mind raced, a spark of defiance ignited within you. You knew that if he was sincere, he would be willing to do anything to show you just how real his feelings were.

And before you could even think it through, the words tumbled out of your mouth: "Kiss me like you mean it."

You could hardly believe you had uttered those words, yet the challenge stirred a wild anticipation within you.

“As you wish,” Lewis murmured, a soft smile gracing his lips as he leaned in closer.

His lips brush against yours, hesitant at first, like the gentle caress of a spring breeze coaxing flowers to bloom. Your heart races as you lean into him, the warmth of his body igniting a spark within you, while his hands rest on your hips, firm yet gentle, pulling you closer as if he is attempting to steal your very breath.

The kiss deepens, each exploration of his mouth becoming a silent promise, a secret dance under the stars that are beginning to twinkle above.

You can feel the world around you fade away, leaving just the two of you, lost in the cocoon of your shared intimacy, a sanctuary born from the connection that feels electric and alive.

As the kiss evolves from slow and sweet to something fervent and consuming, there’s a delicious tension in the air, palpable and intoxicating.

The way Lewis responds to you, his hands gripping your hips with a barely contained urgency, sends shivers of delight cascading down your spine.

You wrap your arms around his neck, feeling the strength of him against you, grounding you as everything else blurs into insignificance.

Your heart thrums loudly in your chest, your thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind, and all that matters are his lips and the way they meld with yours, igniting a fire that burns brighter with every shared breath.

He pulls you closer, as if the distance between your souls is far too great, and you can’t help but giggle in the moment, playfully teasing him as you pull back slightly, searching his eyes for unspoken words and the desires that linger just below the surface.

Gazing into his deep eyes, you catch your breath, the avarice of the kiss leaving you dizzy with exhilaration. You notice the way Lewis' hands twitch at your sides, the unmistakable want radiating from him, begging for permission to explore further.

It’s endearing how respectful he is, yet you can sense the beast of longing within him, restrained but unable to disguise itself completely.

"Are you holding back?" you tease, tilting your head playfully as you meet his gaze, heart racing not from fear, but from the thrilling affection that dances between you.

His lips curve into a smile, warm and inviting, a secret shared between just the two of you, and he responds, his voice low and irresistibly charming,

“Maybe I am, but only because I don’t want to overwhelm you… yet.” The air between you hums with the unspoken promise of more, leaving both of you teetering on the edge of something exhilarating yet tender.

You can't help but press further, letting the playful context of the moment draw out his desires even more. "But you still need to prove it to me that you love me," you throw out, a challenge hanging between you like tantalizing mist, thick with expectation.

You watch as his brow furrows in mock seriousness, barely able to contain your laughter. “That kiss wasn't enough?” he asks, feigning confusion, yet you see the intensity in his eyes, a glimmer of amusement mixed with something deeper that pulls you in.

His hand started to move, fingers cascading over your mini skirt, tracing the delicate fabric as if mapping uncharted territory. The sensation sent shivers running down your spine, igniting a spark of desire that left your breath hitching.

"You have no idea how beautiful you look right now," he breathed, his voice a soft whisper that felt like velvet against your ear.

The intimacy of the moment enveloped you as you met his eyes, your heart racing in rhythm with his own. You could see the desire reflected in his gaze, and suddenly, the space between you closed like the cresting tide, pulling you both into the depths of a kiss that was tender, full of promise, and laden with the heat of anticipation.

Yet just as you began to lose yourself completely in the intoxicating haze of passion, a sudden knock on the door shattered the intimate cocoon you had woven together.

You jumped slightly, a startled gasp escaping your lips, but Lewis tightened his hold around you, grounding you in the present even amidst the intrusion.

“Lewis, everyone is looking for you to celebrate,” came George's voice from the other side, carrying an air of urgency that seemed to tug at the edges of your romantic bubble.

The weight of reality crashed in—a reminder of the outside world that waited just beyond the door—but you could feel Lewis’s breath against your cheek, warm and soothing, as he whispered softly, “Let them wait a moment longer. I’m not done with you yet.”

[ddejavvu]

hi mei! i absolutely love your stories! you’re a really great writer 🥰

i was wondering if u’d be interested in doing a hotch drabble about him with a s/o who seems really intimidating but is actually really soft and sweet?

like maybe it’s her appearance that makes the team intimidated by her—edgy clothing and dark makeup and stuff—when she shows up to hang out with hotch on his lunch breaks. and she’s like ‘i feel like your team doesn’t like me :(‘ and he’s like ‘honey, they’re borderline scared of you’ but it’s fluffy.

if you don’t wanna that’s totally okay! i did a bad job explaining but i’m sure you’d do an amazing job :)

love ya!! hope ur having a good day

Aaron loves when you visit him at the office for lunch, but you don't look like you're in high spirits yourself. When you sit down its with a huff and a hiss of the chair accommodating your weight, only adding to your dramatics.

"This might be my career in profiling speaking," Aaron begins, his voice soft in case something is terribly wrong, "But something tells me you're not having a good day, sweetheart."

"You're good," You tease him, and he wishes you could laugh about it together, "Aaron, I think Doctor Reid is afraid of me."

Aaron has to bite his tongue not to laugh. Doctor Reid is afraid of buffets, he thinks, but it's not an abundance of germs that unnerves Spencer about you, it's- well, it's everything he knows about you.

"Honey," Aaron calls upon that sweet tone again, "He doesn't know you very well."

"You didn't deny it!" You groan, falling back into your chair and abandoning your soup on his desk, "I knew it. What did I do?"

Aaron looks into your eyes, black-lined and sharp. He watches you chew on your cheek, your black-stained lips moved by the nervous quirk. Below your tense jaw is a chain that rests against your neck, not a full choker but not loose, either. It nearly disappears into the hem of your jacket, black leather that falls over a rather graphic old band tee.

"It's not what you've done," Aaron explains tentatively, "It's probably- well, how you look."

Your nose scrunches, and Aaron marvels the fact that you seem to have forgotten your appearance, "How do I look?"

"Like a doberman pinscher in human form," Aaron bites off a corner of his sandwich, chewing it in lieu of pressing the matter further.

"I like dobermans." You supply weakly, "Why is he afraid of me?"

"You're just not what he's used to," Aaron sighs, swallowing his mouthful and leaning across the desk, hand outstretched, "He probably thinks you could dismember him with those nails."

You place your palm in Aaron's own, and he flips your hand around to showcase the rather impressively sharp acrylics you're sporting.

"And your boots are heavier than he is, I guarantee it," Aaron nods down at your thick-soled black boots, ones that give away your entrance from a mile away by the sound of their rubber hitting the ground.

"He's just..." Aaron searches for the right word, trying not to disparage you or Reid, "Skittish. You should talk to him, though, honey. He likes science, and literature, and Star Trek. Pick something from one of those categories, and I promise he'll never stop talking to you for the rest of your life."

You're mostly satisfied, but you let your hand rest in Aaron's for a moment longer, and he'd be a fool to drop it.

"Am I scary, Aaron?" You ask earnestly, and his smile is warm as he brings your hand to his mouth to kiss at your knuckles.

"Not to me. And not to anyone who knows you," He promises, "But... it is nice to not have to worry about carrying a gun when we go out together."

"Aaron!" You laugh, "I'm not a weapon!"

"You could be!" Aaron insists, tugging your hand over to his lunch and dragging your fingernail across his sandwich, "Here, honey, cut it for me, would you? They forgot to give us knives."

"Stop!" You insist, but your laughter gives you away as you turn back to your soup with burning cheeks, "Just you wait, Aaron. As soon as Penelope stops running whenever I enter a room, we're gonna talk shit about you for this."

[yan-randomfandom]

Hiii baby! Can I request Jinx, Cait and if you do Maddie (all separately) w/ a gf who is dose very crafty/homemade makeovers?

Hear me out- why spend money on a cut & color, new piercing, nails ect when your hg can do it for you herself?? (I just grew up poor and had to learn😭😭)

Jinx, Caitlyn, & Maddie with a crafty girlfriend headcanons!!

a/n: omg its so nice that you rose up & learned em😭 such a fun request! this one is written before act 3

I didn't proofread or edit so please feel free to point out anything that's bothering you 😭

also this might be ooc.... im so sorry if it is😔

Let's go and start with ...

🌀

Jinx

Jinx has an established style with her neon painted nails, twin braids, inventions, and everything in her possession. An endearing fashion sense, even if some think it looks ridiculous lmaooo

With Jinx being an artisan and artist herself, you both find being creative a common ground in your relationship!

Makeovers anytime, anywhere. No need to find professionals when you have your girlfriend right here! It's a give and take relationship for sure. I imagine it'd be so fun and full of laughs 😩

Also I think you guys will inspire each other back and forth lolol

Having an art block and you don't like it? Ask the other for help!

And if you're both having art blocks? Well, Jinx will take you out on vastly different spots until you find what you're looking for. It's a great way to bond, and sightseeing is nice (⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠)

When you're exploring new styles, and you aren't doing it on Jinx, she would love to simply watch you work. It has some sort of calming effect on her, especially if you're rambling while doing it.

If she sees something of your art that she likes, she might just copy you in her style! Kind of like how Jinx did that makeup when she was in Vi's apartment or something

Although don't be surprised if you wake up and see your face horrendously painted in the morning 😔

You can't even revenge because she sleeps with one eye open, I fear

☄️

Caitlyn

MAN. I feel like you'd have to beg Caitlyn for even the simplest makeovers. She looks so plain rn (in the style way) or am I just blind 😭

You suppose it makes sense. She looks so perfect and you keep giving compliments. Like, why is she so pretty?? There's just so many possibilities you can do with her appearance!!

But, sadly, she doesn't let you give her makeovers much. Not that she doesn't like your work, she respects it and adores it, but arts isn't exactly her thing.

I think make-up of any kind would probably feel uncomfortable for her. Plus it would be a hassle to remove it, she would say.

What you can do is give her hair a trim. A perfect line, as much as possible. She comes to you when her hair feels longer, or more damaged, than usual. Granted, it can be boring, but you're just glad you're doing something for her.

Another thing is that you can choose outfits for her. You can doll her up anytime as long as you don't take too long picking combinations!

If she has time, she'll probably let you paint her nails. Make sure she doesn't regret it, or else she might never let you again.

She'd buy anything you want, by the way. Money isn't a problem for her. So you technically have unlimited supplies, thank goodness, 'cause sometimes they can be so expensive.

You jokingly tell her that even if you break up, if she ever changes her mind about getting something, she'll come to you. Absolute dibs on Caitlyn!!

🍯

Maddie

I feel like Maddie has never really delved into bodily artworks, since she spent most of her time studying about laws and stuff.

Like,, do we agree on the motion that she cut her hair so she doesn't have to deal with it 😭 Less weight during missions too

So when her amazing girlfriend happens to be passionate about creatives? Oh, boy, she's going to be filled with curiosity.

She'll allow you to do anything you want to her, as long as it isn't permanent. In fact, she's super enthusiastic about it, always trusting the process and seeing the result.

You're so creative that it's impressive!! Even if it isn't your best work, she always finds a way to praise you 😭

She'd love to watch you work as well, but she's not exactly the quiet type 🥲

Expect a whole bunch of questions. "What's that for?" "Why are you putting that?" "Ooh, that technique looks complicated. How—"

One of your quality time is definitely you trying to teach her new things. Let her paint your nails, do your hair, and anything that can make you both happy.

If you make clips or whatnot, you definitely try to overload her fluffy hair with decoration. You try different hairstyles possible with that length of hers.

Sometimes, you catch her playing around with your make-up alone. It almost always ends with you fixing it up for her 😭

you, showing your new haircut (it looks horrible): yoooo isn't this so rizzing

jinx: hell yeah

caitlyn: you are not going out like that. go get your unnecessary amount of hair extensions and choose from there

maddie: hell yeah

[heliads]

Can I pretty please request Carlos Sainz x reader where she’s rly shy and gets worried that maybe he wants someone more outgoing but he tells her he loves her any way she is? Your writing is amazing 🫶🏻

anon i love you wholeheartedly please let me speak on carlos

masterlist

You are not who you are supposed to be. There are qualifications for being the girlfriend of a Formula One driver, you’re sure of it, probably even a style guide somewhere if you only bothered to look it up. Perfect hair. Clean makeup. Pretty, but doesn’t try too hard. Willing to give up their whole life to follow one man on mad jaunts across the planet. Wherever your guidebook is, though, you must have lost it long ago, because you have absolutely no idea what you’re doing, and worst of all, it’s starting to show.

You never should have gotten into this position in the first place. That isn’t to say that you hate it, far from it; dating Carlos Sainz is the best thing that ever happened to you, making you the happiest wrong person at the right time to ever exist. In every other universe, he’s probably seeing models or actresses, but here, he has you, and you’re willing to fight off every multiversal version of you just to keep everything as it is right now.

Your butterfly effect was quite stunning, actually. You ended up getting tickets to a Grand Prix through last minute cancellations. They were great, came with paddock passes and all that, and while you were lingering through Ferrari hospitality, Carlos happened to drop by to visit a friend and he noticed you while you were in line to get some water. He’s got the confidence of, well, a world class athlete, an adrenaline junkie, a professional race car driver, and so he introduced himself.

Sometimes, it’s just as easy as that. A father’s cousin’s roommate buys two tickets to a Grand Prix, then a stranger’s roommate’s brother gets sick, and suddenly you’re touching down off a plane overseas and walking through the door of paddock hospitality. You wear red, and you are seen. Just like that.

It took one more weekend before either of you knew that you wanted what you had to last for good. He texted you, followed you on Instagram and blew his cover of seeming cool by accidentally liking a post of yours from six years ago. And, when he saw you again, he knew that he wanted the spark between you to be something more, something like a bonfire.

Coincidence may have supported you thus far, but you don’t trust it not to abandon you. At the end of the day, you are you, you are Y/N L/N, and you are so far removed from Carlos’ world that it stuns you to think that you were even in his orbit so long as to meet him. If there are powers that be somewhere in the universe, they’re either playing a cruel joke or messing around to give you a helping hand. 

Hopefully, it’ll be the latter, but truly who knows at this point. As if it wasn’t surreal enough to introduce Carlos to your friends and family as Carlos Sainz, Formula One driver. As if it doesn’t blow your minds that people have started making Instagram accounts just dedicated to posting photos of you and your boyfriend whenever you’re seen out together.

The problem lies in the insanity of it all. You are not from this sort of life, you weren’t born into a silver spoon dynasty and you barely know how to interact with any of them now. You get along with the other WAGs as best you can; Heidi’s lovely, sure, and you were friendly with Charlotte until she disappeared, but sometimes it feels like it’s just you and your boyfriend against the world. Of any ally to pick, Carlos would be your top choice each and every time, but still. The fact remains that he will go out and race and leave you to your own devices, and you lack the extroverted impulses to social climb with everyone else.

This, then, is the main concern. You can pick out whatever designer clothes you want, goodness knows Carlos has offered to buy you anything already, and you can get your nails and hair done before each and every race, but that doesn’t change the fact that you, at your core, are never going to enjoy the paparazzi circus whenever you have to brave it.

It’s just not your scene, that’s all. You’re on the quieter side, happy to spend time with a few key friends but increasingly nervous in large crowds. Formula One is all large crowds, as you’ve discovered; thousands of fans, hundreds of engineers and team members, plus drivers and girlfriends and best friends. So many eyes, all on you. So many voices all shouting over each other.

You love Carlos, though, and you love him wholeheartedly, so you gather up your courage and go to race weekends when you can. Every time Carlos sees you in the crowd, he smiles so widely his friends tease him for weeks, and he runs to you first after every podium and strong finish. You want to be there for your boyfriend, truly you do, you just wonder if all of this should come easier to you than it does.

Also, you wonder if Carlos wishes the same thing. He has been nothing but perfect to you, so the spirals of guilt currently tangling their way through your insides are purely of your own creation, but what if he truly does think like that? Carlos must see the other WAGs, how they shine and sparkle with attention instead of feeling the urge to run. Wouldn’t he want that? Wouldn’t he get frustrated that you can’t be like the rest?

Thousands of girls in the world, and he picks you. You don’t know if it’s sweet or genuinely frightening. He wanted you out of everyone, yes, but he could replace you in a snap, swapping you out like some useless part on his car. There is nothing about you that cannot be replicated in any other girl. Even Charles did it, in a way, got himself a new girlfriend that’s a dead ringer for Charlotte. Carlos has no reason to keep you except for something he knows and you don’t.

The guessing will drive you mad, maybe, but you’ll lose your sanity long before that just trying to keep up with everything in his fast-paced life. You’ve been to prior F1 races, obviously, it’s how you met Carlos in the first place and it’s also how you kept him, but this upcoming weekend is different, this is Barcelona. Carlos is the center of attention at his home race, and every step he takes, a new storm of people is flooding in to ask him for autographs, selfies, anything to remind them that he’s real and right before their eyes.

Carlos doesn’t ask for a whole lot, and he certainly didn’t force you to come to this race, but you saw the hope in his dark eyes when he brought it up oh-so-casually at a dinner last week. You had assured him that you would go there to cheer him on along with the rest of his home crowd, and Carlos had been delighted for the rest of the evening.

You are happy to go, truly, but it’s taking everything in you to keep your smile up in front of the reporters and crowds and fans, and it’s just the first day. All you’re handling right now is qualifying, not even the actual race. In the back of your mind, a voice whispers that it’s only going to get worse from here on out, but when Carlos looks back at you as you wind through the paddock, you just smile and tell him you’re glad to be there with him. You’re here for him, after all, and Carlos is busy enough with race stuff that he won’t want to hear your complaints.

That’s what you keep repeating to yourself throughout the entirety of that day. Carlos qualifies well and is properly pleased about it, as he should be. The possibility of a podium or perhaps even a win for his home race has been one of his top goals for the season, and he’s as close as he can get to it right now. He earnestly talks about it the whole drive back to your hotel, but once you’re back in the safety and peace of the room, the conversation abruptly switches back to you.

Carlos sheds his jacket at the door, watches you flop down onto the bed with a smile on his face, then asks you pointedly, “And how are you doing, amor?”

You smile back at him, the expression trained to perfection after being tested so many times today. “Great! Glad that everything’s going so well for you. I’ll be cheering for P1 tomorrow.”

In truth, you’re tired more than anything. People kept coming up to you all day, assuming that taking a selfie with Carlos’ girlfriend was at least half as good as getting to see him. They gave you all manner of gifts and things to give to him, extracting promises that you’d tell him dozens of different people wished him well. You knew you’d get a lot more attention when you started dating Carlos, but the lack of personal space and privacy at the races is truly unlike anything you’d experienced before.

Carlos has been dating you long enough to pick up on this, apparently, because he furrows his brow and sits down on the edge of the bed next to you. “I’ll be glad to see you tomorrow, but do you want to tell me what is really on your mind? Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I know you, no?”

You sigh, covering your face with one of your arms. Carlos deflects from this attempt to hide by gently pulling your arm away, pressing a kiss to your forehead to make up for it. “Talk to me, cariño.”

You look sorrowfully at him, but when it becomes clear that Carlos won’t let you go until you confess, you give in. “It’s just a lot, I guess. The people and the cameras and everything.”

Carlos frowns. “I can get them to go away, you know that. Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

You look away. “I just thought you wouldn’t want to hear it. All of the other girlfriends have no problem with it, just me. I thought you’d want me to be more outgoing, so I tried, I really did, it’s just hard for me, I don’t know why.”

When you dare to risk a glance up at Carlos, you’re surprised to notice that he looks genuinely hurt. “Sweetheart, you didn’t think that I would actually be unhappy about that? I just want you to be happy. Don’t think about me.”

You let out a low breath. “I know, it’s just– I want to be like the rest, really. I don’t want this to be a reason–”

You cut yourself off, distracted by Carlos’ hands still wrapped around yours. Carlos picks up on the obviously dropped subject, though, and looks at you with fresh concern. “You don’t want it to be a reason for what?”

“That you would break up with me,” you whisper.

That’s it, then. That’s the truth. If you can’t live with Carlos’ lifestyle, why wouldn’t he leave you for someone who could? It makes perfect sense to you, but judging by Carlos’ expression, that logic couldn’t be further from his mind.

“No, Y/N,” he says, “That’s not right at all. I don’t want to break up with you, like, ever. Not because of this. I don’t want someone else, I want you. I love you, querida. I love the girl who showed up out of nowhere and made me forget about every other woman in the world. I love the girl who shows up to my home race even though it stresses her out because she wants to be there for me. I love you, Y/N. No one else. Just you.”

And, well, in the face of such passionate declarations, who could stand firm in their own self-pity? Certainly not you. You smile and let him kiss you again and again until you can’t see straight, and after that it is better, it is all better. Hearing it straight from Carlos is better than trying to guess at it. It lets your worries finally sink off into nothingness. It’s just you and him, just what he wants. Just what you want.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy

[corruptedcaps]

Brat App

Ugh why did Mom have to marry the Dad of that bitch Alison?! As if being bullied at school isn’t enough now I have to get it at home too? I guess it’s not all bad though because I was able to hack into Alison’s phone and invite myself onto the exclusive ‘Brat App’ that Alison and her friends are all on. No idea what it is but with any luck I’ll find out some dirt on Alison to get her finally expelled so I can have some peace.

Hmmm this just looks to be some sort of social status game with challenges built on top. Every challenge has a ‘Brat’ value associated with it. So the more challenges a person does the higher up the leaderboard they climb and the higher up the rank. No big shock that Alison is sitting at the top as a level 10! Which gives her the rank of ‘Brat Queen’ which appropriate. By my calculations that would be…. nearly 10,000 points! Wow she must be addicted to this game. Looks like I got 1,000 bonus just for signing up and I can spend it on my little avatar of myself. Let’s see what I can buy. Sure why not, let’s improve her eyesight.…

Holy crap what just happened? My body feels all tingly and different. My glasses are making my eyes blurry. Did… did this app just cure my eyesight? This is unbelievable! What else can it do… more athletic, long nails, thick hair, big boobs, perfect posture. It makes sense now! All these challenges are real life challenges! This is how Alison is the hottest most feared girl in school! Ok new plan, if I raise the ranks of this app, and surpass Alison’s score then she’ll have to listen to me and become nicer. How hard could it be? I’m already at level one after all and these challenges don’t seem that difficult….

Bold makeup. Check. Revealing dress. Check. And that’s net me… let’s see here. 50 points? At this rate I’ll finish college before I have enough points! I need more bigger ticket items. Let me redeem these pathetic points at least. Mmmm nothing changed but it did give me a nice little tingle. Ok for 1000 points I need to… send some nudes?! Absolutely not! Alison hasn’t even done that! For another 1000 I need to suck a married cock? How vile! Ok this is more doable. Spread a vicious rumor about a classmate for 300. I could do that I guess. Hmmm I have to post it directly to the app so it can’t be about Alison or any of her friends. I know, I’ll say something about Lisa the unfortunate overweight girl in our class. She’ll never see it. I’ll say she was banned from Dairy Queen for breaking in and eating their whole stock. And send! Ohhhh somethings happening!

Oh god my tits! They’ve gone up like two sizes! But why? Hmmm looks like I hit some hidden ‘Bitch Bonus’ by doing that challenge. This is amazing and all I had to do was make fun of that whale Lisa. I know it was mean but it feels so fucking good! She’ll be fine it’s not like anyone will believe it anyway. <ding> ohhh that felt nice, what was it? Oh one of Alison’s friends liked my post. <ding> mmmm another one of her friends liked my post! Every like is 10 points and feels so gooood! <ding> oh fuck yesss girls keep liking! It feels so hawt! Maybe I should spread a few more lies…

Mmmm my body feels so much better in these clothes I redeemed! After only a few more rumors I got easily up to level 5, ‘Beta Bitch’, which unlocked my beautiful nails, my gorgeous silky hair, my perfect makeup, and all the knowledge to maintain them. Even my body is better shape, I’m so flexible now! Not to say anything about my lovely big tits! Alison’s friends seemed to really enjoy my wicked little rumours. I can’t deny it wasn’t fun writing them and it was even better getting the likes for them!

But I do feel kind of bad for all those losers I wrote stuff about though, I think the Brat App is effecting not just my body but my mind too. I feel so nasty and mean everytime I use it and even more now in this tight blouse and short skirt. I can’t help if I’m hotter than those dorks now! No that’s the app’s influence talking! I have to stop using the app, but I need to topple Alison! Ugh what do I do? <ding> what’s this? I’ve unlocked a new bonus. ‘Morality Suppression’? Hmmm that would solve my problems I guess and there is an option to turn it off later. Ok I’m going to do it! It’s for the good of the school after all. Here goes…

Ohhhhh fuck yesss that sooo much better. Like hell this is for the good of the school this is for the good of me! I feel so fucking free now. To think I was feeling regret for those pathetic fattys and geeky nerds I was writing about! I only regret not writing more! The only people worth anything are my bratty followers who like my posts and even they need to know their place and they will when I surpass Alison and become the new Queen bee. Oh fuck I feel so horny being this bad! I need some release and quick! Mmmm maybe I can finally tick off some of these challenges old me was too much of a loser to attempt. Mmmm yesss those will raise my rank in no time! Oh I have the perfectly wicked idea that will make me a bratty goddess by the end of the day! Oh step daddy!

Changed? Nonsense step daddy I’ve always looked like this. I’m a spoilt wicked little bitch just like your precious daughter, only you can fuck me. What’s the matter step daddy? Cat got your tongue? I bet you always wanted to fuck your mean little princess didn’t you? But you’re a good man and would never do that would you? But guess what? I’m not your daughter but I’m everything she is and more. Would you like a look under my shirt? Sure you would.

Hehe I see you like it step daddy. The outline of your cock is practically bursting out of your pants. Mmm and it looks so impressive. Let me have a peek <zip> oh step daddy, I can see why mommy married you. You’re so big! It’s making my mouth water. I need to have it step daddy, please say yes! I know you’re still hesitant so maybe it might convince you if I stopped calling you step daddy and instead called you… daddy. Mmm you like that don’t you… daddy? You want to put that big cock in my mouth and have my perfect pink lips suck it don’t you… daddy?

Mmmm thanks daddy for the great fucking, you’ve helped me complete so many nasty challenges. Suck a married cock. Check. Fuck an older man. Check. Call him daddy. Mmmm double check. After everything we got up to I completed over a dozen challenges, more than enough to take you bitch of a daughter’s crown. I just have to redeem the points now and assume the throne…. Mmmm it feels so good but something different is happening… oh fuck something amazing is happening!

Mmmm oh fuck yessss! Look at me, I’m a blonde busty bitch now! Im older and sexier and I feel so fucking nasty and hawt but how is this possible? Oh I see I unlocked a new challenge tree and a new rank. Mmmm ‘Homewrecker’ I love the sound of that! Who needs to be a bratty queen when I could be the wicked bitch that stole her daddy instead. Thats right darling, I’ve levelled up to being your mistress now and if you’re lucky and do as I say soon I’ll unlock ‘Trophy Wife’ and you can spoil me rotten as you should. Don’t worry I’ll still call you daddy, it makes everything feel so much more naughty. My mother? You mean that old crone Emma? She’s not my mother anymore, she not even my rival, she’s just an obstacle to our love, isn’t that right? Mmmm I knew you’d agree…. Daddy.

EPILOGUE

Alison was wondering what her father was doing that was taking so god damn long that he couldn’t have sent a car or something to pick her up from the mall like he promised. She had spent so much on his credit card that she was surrounded by high end boutique bags. Just when she was reaching her finally straw she got a message from him telling her he had sent a friend, some woman by the name of Gabrielle, to pick her up. Alison hadn’t heard of any Gabrielle before, except maybe her new dorky step sister but she went by Gabby anyway.

Following her father’s instructions to Gabrielle, Alison’s mouth was agape when she turned the corner to find a stunning blonde waiting for her. The blonde looked at Alison with distain and made Alison feel insignificant for the first time in her life. She didn’t like it. Gabrielle didn’t let up with her stare down, enjoying the way Alison averted her gaze. Alison meanwhile was grateful that their encounter was going to brief.

“So you’re Ted’s daughter? Hmmm I expected somebody a little more… impressive.” Gabrielle said not willing to hide her distaste. If this was anyone else Alison would have ground them to dust with only a few choice words but she felt so intimidated as she got into the car with the blonde bitch.

So much so that her phone dinged to tell her she lost some Brat points for her weakness. She had never lost points before! Gabrielle smirked to herself as she looked at her own phone and saw her points climb. She couldn’t wait become a wicked step mother.

[virgo-barbie]

bimbo starter kit ✨💖

it can take a while for a bimbo to feel comfortable with cosmetic procedures, or even just to secure the necessary finances to take the next step in her journey! here are a list of things you can start on right away while you figure out the rest.

1. exercise! a bimbo's body is her best weapon. try to aim for a couple times a week at least. if you don't like running, try pilates, yoga, dance, anything. it's just important that you feel connected to your body in some way.

2. spray tans! for me, this really amps up my sex appeal. my skin has a golden hue that a spray tan really brings out. if i don't have time to go get professionally tanned biweekly, i'll use a tanning mousse instead. it gives a similar effect, but the spray tan is a bit more realistic.

3. manicure and pedicure! what is a bimbo without her claws? i personally love having acrylic nails. i don't have them right now because i can't have acrylics when i go in for my breast augmentation, but i almost always do otherwise. i like barbie pink or long white claws. both are very feminine and look great wrapped around the base of a cock or squeezing a beautiful boobie! having your toes done is also important - nobody wants to suck on and lick mangled feet, and you need to be prepared to be worshipped at any point in time.

4.new clothes! i literally threw everything out and started fresh with a wardrobe of basics. 5 pairs of tiny short shorts, about 20 basic tops in pink, white, and black. I am working my way up towards more exciting statement pieces and building up my shoe and purse collection, but this all takes time. In the meantime, you need clothes that look good on your body and show off your best assets. after my breast augmentation, i will be getting a bunch of new clothes from brands like skims, alo, for love & lemons, etc. for my more bimboish pieces, i kind of just shop around, but i think it's important to have a ton of basic pieces so you can create endless outfits. the mini skirts, fur coats and heels can come later - once you have things to wear them with that make you look super stylish and more importantly... show off your body.

5. get your hair done professionally! most bimbos like to be blonde (myself included) and unless you're already blonde to start with, i see absolutely no reason you should do this at home. save up some money and find a hair stylist in your town who specializes in blonde hair. you won't regret it, and there's nothing bimbo about having crusty, fried hair. if you're not certain if blonde is the best route for you (it probably is), ask a stylist! pink also looks adorable on bimbos with a more cutesy y2k style. a good haircut with some face framing layers can also completely change your whole look.

6. whiten your teeth! invest in a whitening foam and tray, or just use strips. i've had a similar effect with both.

7. get good with fake eyelashes! they elevate any makeup look from fresh to sexy. once you've had lip filler, lip gloss and lipstick will also become your new best friend.

8. silly little accessories! may i suggest a pink lollipop or bubblegum? this will help keep the attention on your perfect little mouth all day and will also give you something cute to distract yourself with while you fantasize about being used out in public.

[gffa]

The Acolyte's first two episodes were a mixed bag imo. The scenery and costumes and fight sequences are absolutely gorgeous, the show is visually stunning and feels a lot like Andor did, but there's something missing in the heart of this show. The entire first episode, with every reference and familiar point, I just felt like this was a show where someone had read a Wookiepedia article, rather than that they were actually that familiar with Star Wars. I'm not sure I could put my finger on everything why, it wasn't just one thing, but the worst thing for me was the way Vernestra was written. Nothing of her scenes felt like herself from the books, despite that, yes, she's reserved and a little uptight in the books, there was a warmth to her that barely came through here, she was very focused on how the Jedi would look politically or how they needed to discuss things instead of acting on the information they had--neither of those are bad things! She's not wrong! She just doesn't feel like Vernestra. The second episode was a lot better, when Sol and Mae had their conversation about her grief and he urged her to let it go, because what she wanted was revenge, and look what revenge had done to Mae, that felt like, yes, this scene nailed it! This scene understood the assignment. Sol is a great character so far, Osha is a great character so far, I'm vaguely intrigued by the mystery they're setting up about what happened 16 years ago, and while I wouldn't say it's a must-see series, you're fine to skip it so far, but I liked it well enough. It was fun to see Jedi in live action looking like they came straight out of the Clone Wars, just with fancier clothes, and I love that the Jedi are allowed different personalities and I like all of them. Sol is fantastic. Osha loves the Jedi, even after she left them. Indara was hot as all get out and went down like a Jedi badass, by saving someone. Jecki is pure delight. Yord is an uptight disaster whom I love, he's wound pretty tight but when push came to shove, he stood up for defending what was right, when he could plainly see Osha was innocent. The makeup is a mixed bag--Vernestra looks like she spent an hour in the makeup chair, meanwhile Jecki's Theelin makeup looked gorgeous. Some of the Jedi robes look a little stiff, a hint of high end cosplay to them, but Indara's looked great. So, watch it if that's you're interested in! I thought it was fun, visually stunning but lacking some heart in the opening episode, it leans a little fanon more than canon, but not intolerably so (some off-kilter but not horrible use of The Attachment Discourse), and I don't think it'll set Star Wars on fire or anything, but it's a fine addition to the collection.

[hotpinkstars]

i know you said you were boothill-ed out so how about some sparkle & topaz (sep, idk if i have to clarify.. i don't req a lot) going on a date with their s/o? you can make it a fem!reader if you wanted to make it like gay for pride month but maybe it can just be a cute date/outing together (ft numby with topaz if you wanted<33)

(also your dni/byf & rules links don't work just in case you didn't know..)

OKAY BYE LOVE YOU NOVA!!! /p

DATE NIGHT - sparkle, topaz x reader

- a date night with your spouse.

- YUGEN YOU HIT THE NAIL ON THE HEAD MY TWO FAV CHARACTERS (besides jingliu, jinglius always on top) I WAS SO EXCITED WHEN I GOT THIS OMG. anyways i love love love love love love love love love this thank u enjoy

- both readers are girls (sorry), pure fluff, no angst here!!! wc 1257

One thing Sparkle loves more than anything in the world (dare I say you…) is date night.

You two had this nice dinner date planned out for a little while, and it was finally the night you got to go on it!

You both got ready together, doing each other's makeup and picking out each other's outfits. You chose a pretty white dress with red accents for her, and she chose a slim teal dress with white lace on the top part for you. You did each other’s makeup to fit the theme of your dresses, and you both did pretty well for one another.

“Sparkle, we’re gonna be late to our reservation!” You tried to explain, gasping for air from how hard you were laughing. You two were joking around, making each other laugh, and absolutely not taking one another super seriously. “If we’re late, we won’t get the table!”

She scoffed. “Well, we won’t be late, and it’s stupid that they’d give our table up if we’re just a little bit late!” She continued laughing, her head falling onto your shoulder while wrapping her arms around your neck.

You both straightened yourselves up and applied the last bits of makeup before picking out a pair of shoes and hurrying out the door to the restaurant.

You were both in awe of how gorgeous the decorations were when you walked through the expensive glass entrance. You sat down at your table, taking a look at the menu while conversing with one another about which one you think you’d like the most. Somehow she knows your tastes a lot better than you do, and vice versa.

“Sparkle, which would you think I’d like most?” You asked, showing her the menu. She leaned over the lavish marble top table, putting her chin in her hand.

“Hmm, I think you’ll like this one,” She pointed to a dish on the menu she swears she’s seen you eat once or twice before, before snatching the menu and looking it up and down.

“I kind of wanna get this one, but I don’t know,” she mumbled to herself. “What do you think? This or that?”

You picked one, making her nod before waving over a waiter. They introduced themselves and took your drink and appetizer orders, accepting your request of ordering your main dish at the same time.

You chatted about random things for the time being, about who she ‘dealt with’ today, what she was doing the whole time she was gone, etc. She always put a drop of humor into her stories in an attempt to make you laugh, which almost always worked.

You moved on from the conversation to talk about your lonely day, basically all filled with grocery shopping and lounging around on the couch, watching a tv show.

You continued these conversations until your food came, in which you were both a little bit more silent and more focused on eating. The dishes looked beautiful, you could both tell your pockets were going to hurt after the bill, but that didn’t really matter. You needed this, to spend time with Sparkle, considering she’s not home too often and when she is, she’s dealing with other things.

You talked, laughed, and bonded. Handing each other forkfuls of one anothers food, ‘stealing’ each others drinks, etc. It was a truly memorable night for the both of you, and gave you some good time with your girlfriend.

Date night with Topaz!!!!

Earlier that day, Topaz found out she had all of today off. Meaning no IPC business, no having to travel planets, and getting to spend time with you! So, considering you were already stationed in Penacony for her work, you spent the night hanging out amongst the lights and the gorgeous scenery. 

You put on nice clothes, Topaz in a nice white blouse with a fancy pair of skinny jeans, while you wore a pretty summer dress. You didn’t necessarily bother with makeup or fancy hair, because you were just taking a nice walk around Penacony. You might end up stopping by bars or venues just to see what's going on, but it all depended on if there was anything good happening on a Wednesday night.  

“Topaz! C’mon, are you almost ready yet?” You yelled, standing by the door and strapping on your heels before doing a little twirl in the mirror on the wall next to you. It was around 9:00 pm, and you were planning on being back at around midnight. 

Topaz steps out, her heeled boots clanking on the wooden floorboards as she approaches you. She looked gorgeous- light foundation with pearl pink lipgloss, and a gorgeous ruby necklace that you gifted her for your anniversary. 

“So, how do I look?” She chuckled, doing a little spin of her own before brushing the hair out of her face. Gods, how can a woman be so beautiful, yet sexy at the same time? 

“Absolutely perfect!” You smiled, engulfing her in a big hug, rocking back and forth. You both were laughing at the sudden gesture, the moment ending when she stopped laughing. “But, you always look perfect, so who am I to say?” There was a tiny blush on her cheeks, but she immediately dismissed it as too much blush when she was applying makeup. You nodded along, not buying anything she was saying, until she eventually dragged you out the door and off to have fun. 

You took a nice walk, laughing at some of the street acts and conversing between the two of you about her job, and what you’ve been up to this past week. She told you all about almost everything- what her job entitled this past week, how a, as she described it, ‘odd cyborg cowboy with long black-and-white hair’ broke into the IPC ship and blew it up (which gave you a small heart attack), and how Numby almost died in the same explosion. Gosh, who knew her job had so much action? “Speaking of Numby, I’m surprised he didn’t tag along for our date tonight. Did you leave him at headquarters for now?” You asked, looking over at the white and red haired woman walking in sync next to you. She nodded before laughing a little bit. 

“I decided not to take him. He’d be all over the place, sniffing out things that he finds useful. But sometimes, they’re even things like food,” she shrugs. “I figured it would’ve been more like babysitting a child over taking a trotter on a date, which is already weird enough if you think about it.”

You laughed at her statement, making her smile. “A Penacony night out might not be the best idea for something you consider a kid.”

You both kept laughing, before Topaz pointed out a small bar that has a performer playing the guitar inside. It looked like a club, but with more traditional music. You decided to try it out, see how it goes.

You stepped into a crowd of people singing along, swinging their drinks in the air while dancing to the current tune. You both spun around, watching and trying to dodge the people that were all in a mosh pit. You eventually made it to the back of the bar, which is where the alcohol is, sitting down at two vacant barstools and ordering your drink of choice. 

You conversed, later on in the night jumping in with all the others and dancing together. Safe to say, it was a very successful night out.

[alsfunkyalbum]

I redrew some of my old Undertale sancest Ship Children from sometime between 2018-2021

(Click Image for better quality)

!! IGNORE THE FACT THAT IT SAYS SUGAR I MEANT TO PUT CANDY !!

If you don't ship these, that's cool neither do I. If you do ship these, that's also cool, here's some kids to add to your day. When I made these a while back I basically just put a bunch of Sanses' names into a cup and pulled out two names, just to make ship kids for. However I really love them so much I wanted to give them another try at being my OC's. So here they are with much better designs and decent personalities. Hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

--

Old designs and Extra fun facts/info about them located below!

Old Designs (in order from right to left in the above picture):

--

They don't have much backstory or reason as to why they are alive, so if you'd like just make up how they were born. Sexualities can also be up to your interpretation, cuz I feel too lazy to give them any.

Anyways onto some fun facts (not at all sorted by the way).

Tricks has two separate ways to write his name because his name was never ever officially written down by his parents, so he fluctuates between both

Despite Fresh's dislike for curse words Ivy has the vocabulary of a sailor. He takes pride in his salty mouth

Vero is sometimes nicknamed Vamp/Vampire, not only because of his snaggle tooth but also because he dresses in dark, fancy clothing

Fable looks up to Dream and wishes to be like him someday

Contrary to Fable, Trix absolutely despises Dream for never being around when she was younger. However Trix loves his little sister and would never put her admiration against her.

Despite not at all being blood related the entire group considers each other cousins (minus the ones who are ACTUALLY "blood" related)

Ivy has a horrid fashion sense. While he doesn't understand how to make things match he does know he loves layering his clothing

Vero refers to the markings on his face as " Face Bananas"

Vero is selective mute

Tricks, despite being a skeleton, enjoys makeup and would practice either on Vero, or Fable (Ivy's always too shy to ask)

Fable likes to play pretend and play with dolls (like any kid should)

Vero enjoys crocheting

Error has a slight hatred for Ivy (Ivy and Vero don't care so much)

The majority of Ivy's closet is all clothes that he stole from his parents. It's often way too big for him to wear but that never stops him.

Trix's favorite colors are Pink and Yellow (if that wasn't obvious enough)

Ivy is a huge trouble maker and loves dragging Vero along with the trouble

Trix wears acrylic fake nails

If they were asked to choose a favorite parent the list would be: Vero-Error since he is kindest to him, and spoils him a little | Ivy-Killer since he lets him get away with most trouble making | Tricks- Lust because at least he acknowledged his existence | Fable-Dream since he was the coolest hero ever

Trix dislikes curse words, so she tries to keep Ivy's mouth clean as much as possible (especially around Fable)

Vero and Ivy adore Fable, so much so that they'd bend at her will if need be. They'd do so much for her.

And I guess that's it for now. If you have any questions about them, shoot me an ask or DM, I may or may not have an answer.

[0nlyhere4phil]

Rating All of The Howlters New Outfits (except the randomized ones)

Some of you actually asked for this, so here's my review of the Howlters new outfits!

Starting with Dils Formal:

I honestly don't know how to feel about this. It's just not Dil. It doesn't go with his nerdy dad vibe at all. It makes him look older, it doesn't fit him right, and the color is really weird. If they had gone with the blue and some different shoes I think I would have liked it more, but since they didn't put much effort into it it's just bad. Objectively it's an okay suit, but for Dil it just doesn't work. So yeah overall just a no 4/10.

Next His Sleepwear:

Why did they like this so much? What is actually wrong with them? If it was just the pants and the slippers it would have been fine, but the pants, the slippers, AND socks...it's just too much. No no no bad. 2/10.

Next His Party Wear:

What are they doing to him?? Who is this? I'm kind of just staring at this not knowing what to say, because I think if, minus that UGLY HAT, this was on a different and younger sim it would look okay. This looks like Dil is going through a midlife crisis. I like that the shoes match the shirt, thats nice, and I like the overall color pallet, BUT NOT ON DIL! So I'm weirdly torn, but since this look is on Dil I don't like it. Again it's not that bad but on Dil it's just horrible 4.5/10. I hate that fucking hat.

Next His Swimwear:

You don't get how relieved I am that they didn't put him in a fucking speedo. I like this a lot. This looks like a father, which is perfect for Dil. It's cute, it's simple, and I like the colors they chose. 9/10

Next His Hot Weather:

Meh. They didn't change much, they just made it worse. I prefered the original because I feel like the green looked better. Also wearing slippers on a hot day sounds absolutely HORRIBLE! 3/10

Next His Cold Weather:

I absolutely LOVE THIS! It's so fun! Dil in the horrible 80s dad aesthetic works perfectly! It's still nerdy as well! I feel like this is perfect. If they had made his whole wardrobe this over the top ugly neon nerdy look I would have loved it! 10/10

That's it for Dil. To say I'm disappointed is an understatement. I feel like they should have gone for nerdy Dad than whatever the hell they actually did. Next up is Tabitha.

Tabitha's Everyday:

This is just an upgraded version of her original outfit. I like the new hair color, though I wish they looked through different hairstyles cause the one they chose is not giving what it needed to give. I LOVE her new tattoo, I think it's fun that they gave her it. I also do like the shoes matching the hair. This is cute! 8.5/10

Next Her Formal:

I like the dress, but the outfit looks unfinished. They should have changed her makeup into something more dramatic to match the dress, and they also should have put some bracelets and necklaces on her. They did good on picking the main part of the outfit now they need to go back and finish it. 6/10 (I couldn't get a good screenshot with the tattoo sorry)

Next Her Sleepwear:

Slay queen. I love this honestly. I like how lavender has become her color. The sunglasses are iconic. The only thing I hate is SOCKS WITH SLIPPERS! THAT LOOKS LIKE IT FEELS HORRIBLE! Other than the sock and slipper combo this eats. 9.5/10

Next Her Party:

I beg your pardon? What is THIS and WHY was Dan so obsessed with it? This is horrible. I'm glad they remembered that necklaces and nails exist but I'm upset they exist on this monstrosity. Nothing about this goes together. THIS. IS. THEIR. WORST. LOOK. 1/10.

Next Her Swimwear:

It's kind of a mess but I kind of love it. I feel like it suits this new Tabitha. I don't have much to say other than it strangely works. 7/10.

Next Her Hot Weather:

Fuck right off. Daniel you know NOTHING about goths. This is horrible. This poor woman is going to feel so sticky and sweaty, and it wont even be worth it because this outfit is trash. Just no. 1.5/10.

Next Her Cold Weather:

I really like this. I love how throughout the outfit pink pops up, and I like that it makes sense for the category it's in. Good job Dan and Phil 9/10

That's it for Tabitha! For the most part her new outfits aren't bad. I like that they (unintentionally) gave her a pastel goth sort of vibe, I like that she does look like a streamer now, and I think the new tattoo is really cool. I will never forgive them for her party wear though. Moving on to Dalien.

Daliens Everyday:

This is fine. I wish the pants were the skinny jeans because those were more emo, and I wish he had black eyeliner. Overall it's not bad, but I prefer the original. Also they should have stuck with the purple highlights instead of changing them to red. 7.5/10

Next His Sportswear:

Ew ew ew. This is rancid. The hoodie makes him look bald, and I despise the ripped socks they gave him. I actually like the shorts though they remind me of something Phil would have had back in 2010, but even then working out in those shorts sounds like a nightmare. Other than the shorts this whole look is a wreck. 1.5/10

Next His Party Wear:

The outfit itself is okay but this is NOT Dalien. This looks like Dalien stole from a skater boy. They had the opportunity to go absolutely insane with this outfit. They could have given him crazy black makeup, a sheer shirt, some fishnets, and platforms, but instead they did this. It's lazy. It's not emo or goth or whatever they want him to be. 4/10

Next His Swimwear:

Jesus Christ. NO. Just NO. 1.5/10

Next His Hot Weather:

Why didn't they give him FISHNETS? Why did they choose those grandpa socks??? Why is EVERYTHING GREY BUT THE DRESS?? I think the idea of Dalien wearing a dress is cunty, but not like this. I feel like he would be a long skirt kind of guy. Also the cuff like glove things in the summer sounds horrible. 4.5/10.

Next His Cold Weather:

Again this is just a no. Nothing about this is emo or goth or whatever they want him to be. I like the jacket and the boots a lot; if they had put Dalien in some skinny jeans and removed that fucking hat this would have been okay. I mean this in a derogatory way, this is something Dan would wear. 5.5/10

That's it for Dalien. Overall it's just not good. Most of it makes no sense, and they also should have given him black eyeliner.

In conclusion, they really did the Howlters dirty. This is probably the ugliest dressed family I've ever seen. None of these outfits gave what they needed to give. Also this family is a sensory NIGHTMARE!

I hope whoever is reading this enjoyed this or atleast agrees with some of my points. Have a wonderful rest of your day, evening, or morning.

[demonbanger]

kento nanami with goth! gf

MDI | 18+ themes sprinkled in here 🦇 | afab mention

kento, who finds your aesthetic immensely appealing. the black is so soothing to look at after a day of being in front of a damn computer screen. You’re a breath of fresh air.

speaking of that, kento, who loves your obscure, witchy perfumes that encapsulate feelings. like your liminal space perfume, your old library perfume, the one that smells like burning leaves.

kento, who kisses your ankles and up your legs through your fishnets, or the more open parts of your skull tights. if they don’t have a pretty design he loves to rip your tights….not in the fashionable ripped tights way, more…in a special area….

kento, who will absolutely cook you breakfast looking up certain recipes to add squid ink, or shape your morning muffins as little skulls. he thinks your interest in the macabre is cute.

kento, who studiously listens while you talk about your recent vulture culture finds, examines your preservations, and honors the beauty of the specimens (you’re his favorite specimen that he wants to preserve…forever 🖤).

kento, an elder emo (I mean, have you SEEN his first year photos????) who loves when you play your nu wave, really any music you enjoy. If you have the aux, he does not judge and in fact enjoys the gloomy type of song. (emo , goth , alt are of course not a monolith but elder emo is the most common phrase, plus that’s def what his hair was giving)

kento, whose cheekbones are PERFECT for when you want to do a “gf does her bf’s makeup challenge” goth edition. oh how his bone structure is STUNNING in trad goth makeup.

kento absolutely has some gorgeous corporate goth outfits. complete with … harnesses. sometimes you swear he wears his work uniform in an all noir edition when you’re ovulating (he absolutely does track your cycle)

kento, whose dirty whispers in your ears in the batty nightclub can absolutely match a type o song in how sultry they are

kento, who has a reverence for the dead, and will stroll through the cemetery with you to visit his late friend and drop roses.

kento, who shops for little fans, umbrellas, gloves, spooky bags, creepy shades, and more….you’re constantly seeing something on the kitchen table and have to coax him into toning it down a little before you lose closet space.

kento, the perfect man to watch a scary movie with, as he’s stoic and protects you and is so, so brave. he finds their plot enjoyable as you anticipate a jump-scare. you both hate jumpscares. They’re cheap tactics after all.

kento, who goes on Victorian/ romantic / vampire goth tea parties with you. He absolutely has patterned ties, one of your favorites being a spider web tie. One day he pulled out a 3 piece suit of rich dark red and black that suited his features, his brown eyes so beautifully. let’s just say you were under a spell….

kento, who visits you at the nail salon, pays for your beautiful manicures, asks you of the theme this time, and kisses each nail when you leave.

kento, who calls you his adorable black cat. You are in fact the orange cat of the relationship, and he gives off more black cat energy.

kento, who is down to role play during spicy time. he makes for an amazing vampire….biting and nibbling spots on you he’s memorized

kento, who always laces up your corset, your shoelaces, buckles your body harnesses, clips your chains, pulls your tights up, helps you tease your hair, holds up a napkin whilst you apply your white powder (cornstarch) so you don’t get that white on your black outfit. the man just really wants to help you. he will be so patient no matter how long it takes you to get ready. he adores how much care you put into everything.

kento, who finds your gremlin mode Adam Sandler oversized beetlejuice t shirt pj outfit intoxicating.

kento, who usually leaves for work before your night owl self awakens, leaving little notes. Poems about you. It’s giving Poe.

kento, who is the best sport on Halloween. He will help you gather supplies for your costume, ask observant questions about your production of it, and will happily match you and attend costume parties.

kento, who massages your feet in the tub after a long night walking in your platform boots.

kento, who knows the best staying products for his styles….strong or medium hold…and will bring it with you in case you need a retouch for any crazy styles you do.

kento, who calls you his little countess.

kento, who is QUITE LITERALLY that one meme with the guy fixing his girl’s lipstick while absolutely covered in lipstick marks. He doesn’t mind if the dark stain gets on his dress shirt, he has too many anyways.

kento, who swears his glasses fog up when you wear that black bodycon dress….

kento, who carries you when you’re overstimulated from your outfit.

kento, who doesn’t mind being poked by your spiky jewelry. He’s still going in to kiss you.

kento , who will kill for you, will perish for you, and thankfully has done neither.

kento, who holds your hand when/if you get a piercing or tat. you’re a big girl who he swears would handle it better than he does (wait…tatted kento??? Hmmmmmm)

kento, ever the romantic, who surprises you after an evening out…candles lit and dark rose petals strewn about. he is definitely helping you out of that dress

kento, who goes back to the bar to get you another drink as you’re at a concert. he’ll go through the discomfort of finding you again, he can easily spot his beloved anyways.

___________________________________

A/N: I had to stop myself or this would be a mile long 🖤

[ultralightpoe]

Carried Me With You - Jake Seresin

Authors Note: I am back, but as we all know I will probably disappear in another 3 days. Enjoy.

Word Count: 3,000 (UH HUH, EVEN BABY EVENNNNNN)

Warnings: Sad, a little family angst for y'all.

Description: Hello! The wonderful @fangirlvibez tagged me in this challenge back on September 9th and I saw it when I logged in today so you know I had to do it lovies. Thank you so much @fangirlvibez for tagging me, I am so sorry for the late reply but I hope you like it. And feel free to tag me for any more little challenges or prompts you had because I absolutely loved this one. <3

(Psst..... The song of this imagine is - Carried Me With You)

Enjoy! (pssst, song choice is -Carried Me With You- Listen and read for a top tier experience lovies.)

The Build A Bear employee looks extremely suspicious when Jake brings the empty coat of a bear up to her, a fake smile plastered from ear to ear as he holds it out as if he just ran into the woods to hunt it himself. 

Honestly he was sure he looked like a massive freak, from the 20 minutes he spent looking at all the display bears to choose and up to now where he probably looked like he had been one of Jokers goons in Batman. But he couldn’t help it, he was doing his very best not to breakdown and cry in front of this poor teen. 

She blinks up at him, back to the bear, and then back to him. 

“This is the bear you’ve chosen?” That one question has him debating everything, eyes widening as he pulls it back to himself quickly. 

“No. Yes. I have no clue.” 

“Okay, cool.” The worker, a young girl decked out in the most goth punk outfit he had ever seen, smiles and moves to grab it from him. Her long black acrylic nails snag the poor pelt from his hands and she pulls it to the stuffing machine. “We have multiple hearts that you can choose from for your little buddy here. We have classic, plaid and then a beating heart. Go ahead and take a look.” 

Jake nods, moving to grab one slowly before turning back to her. “You guys have sounds, right?” 

“We do indeed.” She smiles, nodding her head to show him the sound station. “Go ahead and pick or make a sound.”

She turns back to fix one of the spikes on her boots as he does so, rushing over to start recording the sound. The little script he wrote that morning on a sticky note was hard to read but he managed it, making sure to use that southern drawl he knew his baby girl loved before coming back to the stuffing station and handing it to her. 

“Alright, do we want our little buddy to be firm or plush?”

“I think…. How about firm?”

“Sounds great, and let’s go ahead and bless the heart while I’m doing this. First I’m going to have you rub your head so our buddy is smart. Perfect, now lets rub our belly so our buddy always has a good appetite. Awesome. Don’t forget to rub your knees so your furry friend always kneeds you. Jump up and down to get the heart beating and rub it against your heart so they always know how much you love them. And lastly close your eyes, make a wish and give it a kiss.”

Jake follows her word for word, going with the ceremony even though he knows it’s for kids. And when he closes his eyes he wishes ‘Keep my babies safe and happy’ before kissing the heart and handing it to her. She ties the bear up and hands him off, the teddy looking straight into Jake’s eyes as he walks off to find it a cute little outfit. 

By the time he makes it to the register Jake has the bear in a little naval outfit, hat and all, and the worker is grabbing the birth certificate from the printer with narrowed eyes. 

As she rings out the clothes he watches her closely, heart beating against his rib cage each step of the way. She was very goth, from the badass makeup to the spiky hair and spiky collar, not to mention the huge boots. It was like wednesday adams went punk and then got a job as Build A Bear as a joke. 

Then she turned to expose the backpack holding the pink stuffed animal decked out in rainbow and he couldn’t help but laugh. “What’s her name?”

“Cannibal, but when the kids ask Cami.” 

“Cami the Cannibal, I love it.” 

She finishes ringing everything up, raising an eyebrow. “Bugs?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s for my darlin’. You see I call her mom ‘Bubs’ and I call her ‘Bugs’.” Jake explains, whipping out his card as she begins dressing the bear. 

“This is for your daughter? How old is she turning?”

“Oh, it’s not for her birthday. I’m being deployed so this is my….. Something she has of me while I am gone.”

Her face goes slack and she blinks at him before shaking her head. “How old is your daughter?”

“Four.” 

“Then I’m saying this is a birthday bear. You only have to pay how old you’re turning for the bear.”

He thanks her, and before he knows it he is buckling Bugs into the backseat and driving home to see his two girls. 

- 

Bugs sits at the top of your closet for the next 5 weeks, you both break the news to your daughter four weeks out. She begs him not to leave and you let her sleep in your bed to try and soothe her tears. 

She sleeps in your bed every night after that. 

2 weeks out Jake’s mother throws a going away party for him, your daughter cries the entire time. 

Then the time came. 

Jake woke earlier than you, desperate to let you both get a little more sleep as he shuffled into the shared closet and reached up to find the box that held bugs. Dusting the bear off and making sure he looked good before moving to set it in the living room by his deployment bags. 

He kisses both your foreheads before jumping in the shower and getting dressed into his uniform. His throat is tight and his eyes burn but he does his best to keep it together, by the time he is dressed and ready to go he finds both of you sitting in the living room crying softly. 

You are doing your best to stop the tears, and Jake feels something shatter in his chest at the sight before the blur of the four year old is dashing to him. 

“Please don’t go.” She sobs, hands gathering the fabric of his uniform as he swipes the tears from her cheeks. 

“Easy now, Bugs. I’ll be back. It’ll be okay.”

“Please don’t go daddy! Tell them you can’t go!” From the corner of his eyes he sees you shuffling closer with the box, and he nods, reaching a hand out for the bear. 

“Daddy needs you to do something for me, okay bugs?” The tears are falling freely now as she shoves her forehead into his chest. He has to pull her back a bit so she sees the bear. “This? This is my friend Bugs, and Bugs is very very important to me. You wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Because Bugs promised to take care of you for me. And he is gonna do a great job of it. But I need you to keep Bugs with you so he can do that. Yeah?” 

She shakes her head at first, sobbing loudly as he kisses at her forehead, before her hands reach out to pull the bear to her. 

12 minutes later you are holding her in your arms, crying as Jake gives you both one more kiss and heads out to the truck, waving as he pulls the car out even if he feels his heart shattering in his own chest. 

- 

You keep y/d home for the day, making her mac and cheese for lunch ans trying to play all her favorite movies in an attempt to cheer her up a bit. Nothing seems to work and she sobs all day, not that you were much better. 

By the time you are ready to tuck her in your eyes hurt from the amount of crying you had done and you felt drained and dehydrated. But nonetheless you hold your daughters hand as she shuffles into her room where Bugs now sat on the bed. 

You dress her in one of Jakes soft shirts for pajamas, tucking her into the blanket softly and rubbing her cheek. 

“Daddy always is here to say goodnight too.” She cries and you nod slowly, reaching for the bear. 

“You really think he would forget?” You smile softly, pinching the bear's paw. 

Jake’s southern voice rings out, a little frazzled out but there nonetheless. 

“The sun is setting in the sky.

 Let's light the moon and bring it high.

The shimmering stars sparkle and twinkle.

 I work out my wiggles as stardust I sprinkle.

The tree stands tall as the owl hoots.

 I send all my worries right down through my roots.

A moonlit lake, as I sit on the shore.

 Reflects three things that I am grateful for. 

With my hands on my heart, love is swirling around me.

 So I send it out to my friends and family. 

As I lie down I breathe one, two, three.

And feel the love come back to me.

Goodnight Bugs.”

She curls around the bear, sobbing loudly as you kiss her head. Truly not knowing how to fix this. 

- 

Three months later, you are holding her hand as she leads you through the mall, Bugs wrapped tightly in her other arm. 

She had played the sound so much that it sort of stopped working and instead of the entire poem all the bear truly said now was ‘Goodnight Bugs’. But that would have to do for now. 

You had done so many emergency surgeries on the bear since she refused to leave him behind. The poor thing had barely survived the kindergarten recess debacle before her teacher had to cut in and take the bear from her and the kid who had been wrestling to steal it. 

She had come home that day a blubbering mess until you sewed the arm back on and she kissed it better.

She had taken Bugs to the daddy donut day her school ran, and though she still her her grandpa there that day you were eternally grateful she had that bear. 

But Jake’s birthday was coming up, and you knew it would be rough on her no matter how many facetime calls he managed to sneak in. So you had asked what she wanted to do for his birthday. 

Which leads you here, staring at all the bear options in front of you as she tries to figure out which one she wants.. 

There was a goth girl waiting at the stuffing station, and you couldn’t figure out if she was glaring or trying to recognize you. 

“How about this one, bugs?” You ask, showing her the stitch before she shakes her head and snatches a brown bear. 

“It’s got to look cool mom.” Another milestone that you were positive Jake was devastated about. While he was away it had gone from daddy and mommy to dad and mom. It wasn’t much of a difference but it still made your chest ache every time she called you it. 

Before you know it she has snatched a bear and dashed to the sound station, not bothering to see if you would follow. 

By the time you make it to the stuffing station you are doing your best not to cry, handing the girl the sound and the bear as she smiles. 

“I see we have a bear, is this going to be his buddy?”

“YES!” Your daughter smiles, bouncing on her feet as you move to grab Bugs. 

“How about I hold this so you can create him. Yeah?”

She reluctantly lets go, moving to pick a heart as the girl asks about the pressure. 

“I want him so soft that you can squeeze all the love!” Y/d giggles and you can’t help but smile at that. The worker smiles to, her black lipstick making it all more of a victory. “I like your bear, what’s her name?”

“Cami.” The worker smiles and y/d shakes her head. “No?”

“No, how about….destroyer?”

“Oh, I like the way you think. Okay now touch the heart to your toes so your furry friend is ‘toe’tally awesome. Great job. Touch the heart to your knees so he always ‘knee’ds you. Good good. Now rub the heart between your hands so he always stays warm, don’t forget to rub your ears so he always hears you. And Now your eyes so he always sees you. Now rub your heart so he always has love and jump up and down three times to get that heart beating.” 

Y/d does everything with a huge smile lathered on her face, and the worker has the same excited smile on her own. 

“Now I need you to close you eyes and make a wish before you kiss the heart.”

She does as told, squeezing her eyes shut before saying ‘Make sure my dad is happy.”

And then the workers face falls into one of recognition, her eyes casting to the bear now held in your hand and back to the one she had been stuffing. 

By the time you have an outfit picked out she already has the certificate in her hands, nodding. 

“Bubs. I like it.” 

“Thank you. It’s what my dad and mom call each other.” Your daughter smiles, standing on her tiptoes to look up to the worker. 

“Let me guess, your bugs.”

“I AM!”  And just like that a wide smile is splitting across her cheeks as she slides the bear across the counter to your side. 

“It’s your lucky day. This bear is a part of the lonely hearts foundation. Which means so long as he is adopted into a happy and loving home he comes with no charge. Are you happy, bugs?”

“Yes.”

“Are you healthy, bugs?”

“I eat my broccoli, yeah.” You try not to snort, remembering that you had to bribe her with 6 oreos after a 2 hour dinner table stand off. 

“Then Bubs has found the perfect home.”  You mouth a thank you to the girl as you leave, giving your daughter bugs back so you can carry the box.

- 

Jake Seresin was absolutely miserable the day he got his birthday package. 

He was sweaty from the jets, irritated by his team. But most importantly he was completely lost without his girls. 

It had been four months since he last got to hold them and he was beginning to lose it. Sure, he got to facetime them which was a lot more then some of the other guys but he missed them terribly and he wanted nothing more than to be with them. 

He had gotten an extra thirty minutes of call time on his birthday a week ago, to which you had promised him you sent something out before y/d interrupted with a sassy tone “don’t ruin the surprise for dad, mom.”

He tried not to get upset at the dad part, but he couldn’t help it. He left while his bug called him daddy and stil had the chubbiest baby cheeks in town and now his little darlin’ was growing up and he couldn’t actually see it. 

But you had told him to expect the package and he did, finally a week later it was mail day and he sat on his bunk surrounded by his squad as they tore through letters. He sliced the tape of the box open, lifting the lid to reveal the cutest bear dressed in a texan jersey with glasses that reminded him of BOB. 

A laugh slips from his lips as he reaches to pull the bear to his chest, noting the cotton candy scent before his eyes snag on the letter. 

“Dear Bubs, 

This bear was sent out with a promise to keep. He promised both me and your daughter that he would keep you happy and healthy and bring you home to us. We made him knowing that only the bravest of bears could do this task and we made sure he was stocked up for the flight over. In the box he took your favorite candies. A stack of photos and a really cool beaded bracelet your daughter made at school. He was given a cotton candy scent to help block off the stuffy scent from the box but most importantly, he carries a top secret message that not even I was allowed to listen to. 

We hope Bubs takes care of you until you are allowed back into our arms, until then stay safe and don’t forget we love you.

Love, Your bubs.”:

There is a little monster drawn on the paper in crayon that makes his heart swell as he traces his fingers over the words and drawing before reaching to the bear. 

He lays with it as a pillow, pressing his cheek to the chest as he presses the hand to reveal the sound. 

His daughter's voice fills his ears, in the cheesiest southern accent he had ever heard. “I breathe one two three and feel the love come back to me. Good night daddy.” 

-

The next set of photos you receive in the mail are all photos of Jake and Bubs on journeys, and Y/D’s favorite was the one of the entire squad posing with bubs. Bob and the bear having switched glasses. 

You, of course, begin sending adventures back. One of Bugs and your daughter baking, another of the two on a swing set. 

Jake sends back a photo of Bubs ‘flying’ a plane. 

Over and over you both send the photos back and forth, everything is a little bit better when you carry a piece of each other with them. 

Your daughter asks you at dinner one night, between shoving her chicken in her face and avoiding the broccoli, if you had wanted a bug and bubs bear. 

All you can do is smile, booping her nose as you mumble. “You were my bear last time he was deployed.” 

“What did you send him?”

“A pee stick.” She doesn’t find it as funny as you did, but she makes sure to have bugs kiss your cheek goodnight before dashing to bed.

[ipostwhatiwant1202]

As a Dad: Leo Edition

note: hey everyone! happy Ramadan, happy Easter, happy Passover, happy Vaisakhi, happy Hanuman Jayanti, happy Mahavir Jayanti, and happy days to secular folks! i hope you all are having a safe holiday.

Authoritative

• there isn't much that we all collectively agree on more about leo than the fact that he's somewhat of a bossy dude

• that being said, he does mellow out in his older years and becomes more laid back...then he had children (biologically by some miracle or by adoption)

• he read every single baby book he could get his hands on but then they went out the window when he realized that parenting is nothing like what they say in books

• the 0-8 month phase wasn't so bad, his sleep schedule is wonky so mostly he's up with the baby. he's very calm, very soft spoken, and gentle with the baby when they're fussy cause they can't communicate

• bath schedule, eating schedule, sleep schedule, the man has schedules people.

• absolutely loves bath time cause he's the dad who will put the bubbles on his head to make the kid laugh (i dont make the rules)

• loves the pre-walking stage the most cause you just put them on the floor and let'em roll and crawl in a confined space

• lord help this man at the walking and talking stages

• he tries to get your kid to talk but all the kid wants to do is scream so..there's that idea gone

• when the kid wants to run around naked while leo's trying to get the diaper back on, now that is where he gets tested cause that little shit-

• incredible amount of patience though, especially with tantrums. splinter never raised his voice at him as a kid until he became a teen, so he wanted to carry that on with his own children

• now when your kid hits the 3-8 stage, oh boy. if leo could go grey, he would be grey.

• he tries to teach your child discipline and respect, and while your kid is respectful, unfortunately they have leo's sharp tongue and makes it everyone's problem

• leo believes in time outs or taking things away as punishment. he doesn't believe in spanking and thinks yelling accomplishes nothing. he does get a certain tone that makes it known he means business

• he knows full well your child is going to make mistakes and creates a safe environment to where your kid can come to him when this does happen without much punishment

• but we all know that's a perfect world and if it's leo's kid, their mouth is going to be their downfall

• he thought the 3-8 stage was bad until ages 13-17, oh boy.

• puberity is not on leo's side here

• grounding becomes more of a ritual and leo runs a tight ship. he will hold his grounding opinion until he thinks it should be lifted, no matter how long it takes

• of course your kid is also a ninja so sneaking out is a thing (leo can't get too mad cause he did the same but "do as i say and not as i do" is leo's famous line)

• reasonable parent and thinks carefully about how severe a punishment should be or if the circumstance really even calls for one

• chores, bedtime until they hit around 13, the kid must have at least an A/B average, a C is acceptable if the subject is particularly hard and the kid is trying their best

• dorky dad. just a dorky dad.

• dad sneezes

• doesn't strike me as a girl dad or boy dad cause he's so attentive no matter the gender

• he's the dad that doesn't call it babysitting cause it's his kids

• he will get down on the floor and play with his kids

• has a little girl? no problem dressing up and letting her do his makeup and nails

• has a little boy? wrestling and rough housing it is

• kid(s)will be respectful and smart, and just very genuinely nice kids

• kid(s)'ll also deck someone with no hesitation

• vegetables are non-negotiable

• very proud man when it comes to his children and never hesitates to praise them

• the children will each have special nicknames

• he's not the fun parent but is also not not the fun parent

• never misses an event, even though he has to attend in the shadows. he is always there

• affectionate dad, more verbally than physically, but he gives your kids head kisses all the time

• as long as the kids aren't trying to kill each other and are just playing, the noise doesn't bother him much...it's the silence that does

• definitely the type of dad to send 👍

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Love and Lying Pt. 2

This will fill the Rumors space on my @jacklesversebingo card.

(P.S. I switched out one of my squares to "I want you to leave marks." That square's gonna be filled by an extremely smutty MOC!Dean fic - so be on the lookout for that soon. ❤️)

Summary: Will Y/N and Jensen love each other or live in lies?

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Jensen Angst and Reader Angst. Implied smut. Brief mention of semi-public sex. Jealousy. Discussions of emotionally abusive relationship.

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Y/N

Word Count: 6,657

A/N: This is the second (and final) part of my little Love and Lying series. (Psst! It was supposed to be a one shot. *le sigh*) I wanna thank @envyaurora95 and @candy-coated-misery0731 for inspiring this fic with their request and that hot af picture at the top. It was so appreciated. I really enjoyed writing this. It's a different version of Jensen from what I usually write. So, it was a fun challenge. Hope everyone enjoys this second part.

A/N 2: As always, of course this is a Jensen from another part of the Multiverse, who is single. This is an absolute work of fiction.

The beautiful dividers used here were created by @saradika

Part 1 can be found here.

May (6 weeks later)

Jensen took another sip of his watered down whiskey and then stretched his mouth into a smile as he surveyed the room. It was a studio party, meaning there were basically the same ten or twenty people he knew, surrounded by a couple hundred more he’d never met in his life. The ten or twenty he knew, he didn’t really like. But it was all part of the business, this gladhanding. He used to enjoy it more, or at least be up for it. 

But these days everything just seemed stuck in perpetual slow motion. The days dragged, the nights were…empty; empty of everything except memories. 

“What’s got you frowning like that?” 

Jensen turned as Tara walked up beside him. She looked absolutely beautiful in a shimmery white dress, cut low enough to be sexy, but high enough to be modest. He knew she’d spent hours in a salon that afternoon to make sure her hair and nails, and makeup were all perfect for tonight. She really was stunning.

But it still took a lot for him to smile down at her as she slid up against his side. He kissed her cheek and felt a kick in his stomach as she beamed up at him.

Fuck I’m an asshole, he thought to himself.

With that admonishment in mind he gave her an extra squeeze and tried to make his smile real. But he still ignored her question. “So, how’re you enjoying the party, darlin’?”

Tara’s eyes lit up like a little kid at Christmas. “It’s amazing!” She said with a little clap. “I actually ran into Lauren Graham in there.” She said, thumbing towards the restrooms in the back. “She asked me to pass her a towel to dry her hands.” 

She paused and her brow crinkled. “Hmm…now that I think about it, she may have thought I was the bathroom attendant.”

Jensen barked out a true laugh, and then felt guilty again as Tara smiled wide, so happy with his happiness. He pulled her into his side again and kissed the top of her head. “You look far too beautiful to be mistaken as a bathroom attendant, darlin', I promise.”

She beamed up at him again, and he did his best to smile at her warmly. But something caught his eye across the room that froze him, making the smile dissolve quickly. Tara noticed and looked in the direction he was staring.

“Oh, hey. Isn’t that your friend…uh…Y/N?” Jensen nodded, and Tara asked the question he was most desperate to know the answer to. “Who’s that ridiculously hot guy she’s with?”

He shook his head. “I dunno.”

Something primal seemed to take over his body, making his blood pump and his fists clench. His logical brain was screaming at him to settle down, reminding him that he had a date too, standing right beside him.

You were the asshole who walked away, dipshit. The coward who took off before she even woke up. Did you think she was gonna stay single for the rest of her life?

He was only vaguely aware when Tara spotted someone else famous across the room, and took off to meet them. He nodded and smiled, but didn’t hear a word she said.

He was fixated on the couple across the room. 

He felt his body harden, and fire surge through him as he stared at her. She was in a short red dress that hugged every curve perfectly, and she wore a pair of black heels that made her legs look delectable, reminding him of every time she’d wrapped them tightly around his waist. She was laughing at something her date said, her smile bright. He could almost hear her laugh over the loud din of the crowd - that full, throaty laugh that never failed to make others around her smile too.

She had both her arms wrapped around her date's bicep, and she was pressed tight to his side. As he watched, the man leaned down to whisper something in her ear and she blushed and hit his arm.

Rage surged through him again. He was obviously whispering something dirty in her ear. Jensen was sure of it. He'd seen that look of guilty pleasure on her face before. Less than a year ago…at a party much like this one, in fact.

The scent of her perfume had made his head spin as he leaned close to her ear. He'd felt her shiver as he spoke, his voice quiet, but ragged. “You’re so fucking gorgeous in this dress Y/N. Stunning. But all I actually wanna do is rip it off with my teeth.” He’d let his tongue trace over the shell of her ear and then had to bite his lip to stop from groaning as she whimpered quietly.

His voice was rough and needy as he whispered to her, “We need to get the fuck out of here. Say goodbye and meet me at the coat check.”

The memory swirled in his mind now, reminding him that they’d never actually made it out of the coat check. Hidden by hundreds of hanging coats, he’d simply lifted her leg to his hip and fucked her standing - one hand braced against the wall and the other over her mouth to keep her moans and cries of pleasure from giving them away.

His black dress pants were getting uncomfortably tight as the memory played on a loop in his mind. His jaw ticked and his fists clenched, even as he told himself he was being a fucking idiot. But he couldn’t help it. He desperately wanted to break every one of the fingers running softly up and down Y/N’s arm.

Suddenly Tara bounced back to his side. “This party is amazing!”

Without even pretending to smile, he grabbed her hand and practically dragged her across the crowded floor.

“What are we doing?” Tara asked in bewilderment, trying to keep up with his much longer stride. Realizing this, Jensen slowed slightly, but continued determinedly across the room.

“I gotta get out of here.” Realizing how desperate that sounded, Jensen amended his words. “I mean, I’ve got an early call tomorrow.”

Jensen felt guilt pierce him again; he could feel Tara’s disappointment rise up and cover them both. But it was either leave her feeling a bit disappointed, or end up being arrested for gross bodily harm when he snapped every single finger on the hand that was touching what was his.

Not yours, asshole! 

His voice was loud in his head, shouting the truth at him. But rationality had no place alongside the anger inside him - anger that was masking something much darker and sadder, something Jensen denied immediately, heaping more anger on top to keep it buried.

Two weeks later

“David! Jesus, you’re slow!” Y/N shouted toward her bathroom where her best friend was getting ready. 

David popped his head out of the hallway. “What can I say, for some of us, beauty takes work.” His bright blue eyes twinkled at her before he disappeared to return to her bathroom.

Y/N snorted. “Yes, well beautiful boy, your husband is going to be here in less than five minutes and he’s not exactly patient.”

David’s voice was muffled slightly behind the bathroom door. “Well, he’s just gonna have to learn that you can’t rush perfection.”

Two minutes later he emerged, looking just as perfectly gorgeous as he always did. “What do you think?” He asked Y/N with a small spin. His suit was dark and sleek and very sexy. 

Y/N gave a wolf whistle and David grinned and took a little bow. “Thank you, thank y - oh!” He dashed back down the hallway. “I forgot the cufflinks Adam gave me.”

Y/N stood up and wandered into her bedroom where David and Adam’s suitcases were. She’d insisted they take her room while they were with her for a couple weeks, assuring them that her couch was very comfortable, and that she’d spent many a night sleeping there.

She didn’t add that she slept on the couch whenever the memories that were inextricably tangled with her bedroom became too much to handle. When she could practically smell him on her pillows she’d drag herself out to the couch and try to ignore the ache.

Now she watched David trying to wrestle with his cufflinks one handed and chuckled as she pushed his hand away to take over the task.

She smiled up at him. “You know, I’m really happy for you, Davie. Adam is really someone special. I hate that I couldn’t make it out to Connecticut for your wedding last year, but I’m so grateful I could help you celebrate your first anniversary in style! I'm gonna miss you both so much when you leave on Sunday.”

David leaned down and kissed her cheek. “We'll miss you too, sweetie. Thank you.” He beamed at her as she finished. “And Adam IS so amazing. I’m just so happy!”

Y/N couldn’t help catching his enthusiasm and grinned up at him before patting his arm. “K, well let’s get this show on the road then. Your other half will be here momentarily!”

David nodded and then disappeared into her bathroom. “Yep, just one more minute.”

She rolled her eyes and chuckled before heading back to the living room. She settled, crisscross, on the couch and picked up her phone. She scrolled for a few minutes and was about to call out to David to try, once again, to make him get a move on, but then her finger stopped scrolling on an instagram story that made her gasp and stare and then begin to feel dizzy. 

She shook her head. It was just a stupid gossip site that popped up in her feed sometimes. They’re not reliable, she thought, it’s not true. 

She was desperate for it not to be true. She searched out one or two other entertainment news Instagram accounts and found the same story on Entertainment Weekly’s page. She read the article, numb and breathing shallowly.

Is one of Hollywood’s most notorious and sought-after bachelors finally off the market? Rumors say (sorry ladies!) YES! Sources tell EW that the Supernatural and The Boys star, Jensen Ackles, was spotted in a famous LA boutique, shopping for rings. Though there has been no official statement from Ackles’ camp, the source claims that the ring was 24K gold, with a 2 carat diamond, and cost in excess of twenty thousand dollars. Phew! With a price tag that hefty, must be true love. 

Who's the lucky lady? We can't be 100% sure, but we're speculating that it's the lovely, mystery blonde he's had on his arm at quite a few parties recently. Whoever it is, as always, we wish the talented Mr. Ackles nothing but happiness.

Y/N sat staring at the old photo of Jensen the article used. He was smiling brightly, sunglasses covering his eyes as he moved along a red carpet somewhere. She couldn’t make the words make sense.

David came out of the room, looking down to sweep away some invisible speck of dust on his immaculate suit. “Okay, this time, I’m for real ready.” His smile broke off as he looked up to see how pale Y/N was.

“Y/N? Sweetie? What’s wrong?” David strode forward to grab her phone out of her hand. He read the screen and then sucked in a breath. He looked at Y/N and she could feel his pity stretch out towards her, even without looking at him.

“Oh, honey.” He said softly as he sat down beside her. “I’m so sorry.” 

She sat silently for a moment more before she shook her head, attempting and failing miserably at producing a smile. “No, it’s…it’s okay, just took me by surprise.”

There was a knock at the door, and Y/N pushed at David’s arm and stood up, taking her phone back from him. “Hubby’s here.” Her smile wavered but stayed on this time.

David stood too, and grabbed her hand. “No, don’t worry about it. We’ll stay here with you.”

Y/N scoffed. “Yes, what an amazing anniversary celebration that would be.” She shook her head when David tried to protest again. “No really, hun, I just…” she blinked back tears. “I think, I need some time alone anyway, you know?”

David sighed deeply and then nodded. “Okay, sweetie. But we’re just a phone call away if you need us, okay.”

But Y/N shook her head. “I’ll be fine, go. And happy anniversary.”  David kissed her forehead and then reluctantly walked out the door.

Y/N waited a full two minutes to make sure they weren’t coming back before she fell onto the couch and let her shaking sobs take over. 

One week later 

Come on, it will be so much fun!

Y/N read the text from Briana and shook her head before texting back. 

Really, I’m sorry. Just still feeling under the weather. Next time, though.

She could practically hear Briana sigh as she read her next text.

Okay, but we’re getting coffee on Friday and I’m not taking no for an answer. You’re gonna have to be on your deathbed to get out of going to a Starbucks with me. 

Y/N smiled in spite of herself.

Deal. See you then. Have fun tonight.

Briana answered with a heart, and Y/N tossed her phone down on the coffee table. She picked up the quart of Haagen-daz Butter Pecan Ice Cream, and shoveled another spoonful into her mouth before picking up her remote. 

Netflix bong-bonged onto her screen, and very soon Gene Kelly was singing a silky, romantic love song to Debbie Reynolds as she stood on a ladder and pretended it was a balcony.

Singing in the Rain was one of her go to comfort movies, but even the catchy music and fancy footwork of the three stars couldn’t take away the hollow feeling in her gut. So she eventually shut it off. She didn’t want to ruin the movie for herself by associating it with this terrible feeling of emptiness.

She sat in the semi-darkness of her apartment for far too long, just staring at the wall. She knew she had to get over this, over him. It was ridiculous. He didn’t deserve her time and heartache. She told herself that every day, and every day it felt like her heart crumbled a little bit more.

Y/N spent hours trying to occupy her mind with books, television, even doom scrolling social media, but it was all useless. Her mind was firmly planted elsewhere.

It was nearly three in the morning when a knock came to her door. Y/N sat up and stared at it as her stomach clenched tightly. She shook her head. It couldn’t be. Probably just some drunken idiot knocking on the wrong apartment door. The knock came again, a harder banging this time. 

And when she heard his voice, she froze completely. “Y/N come on. I know you’re in there, just open the door.” Silence, and then another hard knock. “Please, just open the door.”

She stared without moving until another flurry of loud banging was followed by the sound of her neighbor calling into the hallway.

“What the hell, man? It’s three in the morning.”

Y/N ran forward and yanked the door open. She saw the older guy across the hall scowling at Jensen. She looked at him and held up a hand. “I’m so sorry.”

He frowned and shrugged. “You okay? Need help?” He asked, giving Jensen a once over. 

Y/N smiled at him gratefully. “No, I’m fine, thanks. He’s just an inconsiderate asshole. Sorry.” She said again. She smiled at her neighbor and he nodded and went back inside. She spun back to face Jensen and felt her heart hammer like it was trying to burst from her chest. 

God dammit! Why does he always have to look like this?

He was just wearing jeans and a white and red Nirvana t-shirt but it never mattered what he was wearing, because it was all just decoration for the stunning, sexy son of a bitch underneath. 

His thighs were thick and powerful in the dark blue denim, and his biceps bulged under his short sleeves. The soft cotton stretched tightly across his chest and shoulders and made her desperate to lift it up and run her hands over his warm skin. She itched to feel the way his lower abdomen muscles tensed and hardened when she trailed her nails through the light, reddish blonde hair that sank below his waistband.

Looking at the Adonis in front of her she was suddenly, acutely, aware that she’d spilled ice cream on her t-shirt earlier, and the pajama bottoms she was wearing were incredibly comfy but very worn out. Her hair was a mess from being pulled back in a ponytail all day, and she was wearing mismatched socks. Her one saving grace was that she’d forced herself into a shower earlier that evening. 

All her thoughts raced and jumbled and tripped over themselves as she stood just inside the threshold of her apartment, staring at him.

He remained silent now, and she started getting angry. She looked into his beautiful face, and saw the same calm mask he wore all the time. That calm made her anger turn to fury. She gritted her teeth and shook her head.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” She raged.

“Y/N…I need to…”

Y/N’s glare darkened. “You need? I don’t give a damn what you need!”

She realized she was the one loudly disturbing her neighbors now, and lowered her voice to a growling whisper. “Get away from me.” She felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes but refused to let them fall with him standing there. 

For a split second she saw what looked like pain enter Jensen’s expression before he shielded it away again, but she wouldn’t let it sway her.

Jensen took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. “Please, Y/N I just need to talk to you.” He nodded and pointed around her into her apartment. “Do you mind…could I…”

He trailed off as Y/N’s eyes widened at the gaul of him. His eyes closed in a grimace when he realized he was just repeating himself from the last time he'd shown up at her door.

Y/N’s voice was ice. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Jensen nodded, acknowledging that it had been a dumb request. “Look, I know you have every right to be pissed, but please hear me out.”

Y/N was already shaking her head. “I don’t wanna hear you.” She gritted her teeth, furious with herself when two fat tears escaped to roll down her cheeks. She dashed them away immediately. “Why don’t you just go home and talk to your fiance? Maybe she’ll listen to your bullshit.”

Jensen frowned slightly and shook his head; he seemed slightly confused. “No, I’m not…I’m not engaged.”

Y/N felt her stomach swoop, but she shook off the feeling. “Yeah right.” She said, loudly once again. She could hear movements from her neighbors’ apartments, so with an incredibly frustrated growl, she grabbed onto Jensen’s wrist and yanked him into her apartment. She locked the door and then leaned against it.

She shot him a disbelieving look. “So, you’re telling me that all the stories about you buying a ring, those were just what, rumors? Just a half dozen websites all deciding to lie about it, make it up?”

Jensen shook his head. “No, not exactly.” He looked down at his shoes for a beat before looking back at her. “I was shopping for a ring.”

Y/N felt her insides shredding, her stomach ached and her chest burned. Silence reigned for a moment before Y/N cleared her throat. “Lucky Tara.”

Jensen shook his head. “No, I broke things off with her.”

Y/N refused to let that sound like good news to her. It wasn’t. “Poor Tara.” She amended, her voice bitter. “I know how she feels.” 

Y/N inhaled deeply and pushed away from the door, moving into the kitchen to start making herself a cup of tea. I may need to add a few drops of brandy, she thought.

As she poured water into the kettle, she gave a humorless laugh. “Okay, so at least now I know what you’re doing here.” She put the kettle on the stove and turned on the gas before turning back to face him, arms crossed over her chest. “You couldn’t commit to her either, so now you’re back here to charm your loser ex who’ll let you back into her bed in a heartbeat.”

Jensen frowned deeply, his forehead creasing. “Of course not.”

Y/N just scoffed. “Well, why then? Why did you come back and bang on my door?”

Silence greeted her question and she assumed he was trying to come up with a plausible reason that wasn’t just, “Cause I wanna fuck you.” Eventually Jensen raised his gaze to hers, spearing her with it; his stare was intense and unblinking. 

“Because I love you. And I’m sick of lying about it.”

Y/N swore her heart stopped beating for a moment before restarting, hammering hard against her ribs. A lump formed in her throat and there was no way she could stop the tears this time. 

She shook her head and her voice was whisper soft and filled with pain. “How could you…? Why would you say that? Just to get into my pants? How could you lie to me about this?” She put her hands over her face and spun away from him. Damn him for making her weak in front of him again. 

She sobbed brokenly for a minute more, and then tried desperately to push the tears away. Suddenly she felt his hands cupping her shoulders and she jumped, turning around to face him. She shrugged off his hands, but he just moved them to cup her cheeks and thumb away her tears. 

She looked him in the eye at last and saw that his eyes were slightly moist as well. She felt her heart sway towards him but then beat the feeling down. 

He’s a fabulous actor, remember? She reminded herself.

His voice was gentle, soft, and achingly sad. “I can never make it up to you for hurting you so badly. For breaking your heart to the point that you’d truly believe I’d tell you that I loved you, just to get you into bed.”

Y/N stared up into his kelly green eyes and felt herself being reeled in as he lightly swept his thumb across her cheekbone. His gaze flickered to her mouth and he swallowed. Her mind was screaming at her not to be a fool - screaming that was quickly punctuated by the kettle’s shrill whistle, announcing that it was ready.

Y/N quickly stepped away from Jensen, removing the kettle and shutting off the stove. She didn’t make her tea. Instead, she moved back into her living room, trying to put some distance between them. 

Jensen respected her need for space and stayed in the kitchen, leaning against the island. She sat down on the arm of her big chair, facing him. She was going to prove to herself that he was lying. “Okay, you claim you love me.” She let disdain color her words so longing wouldn’t. “If you love me so much, why has it taken you this long to tell me.”

Jensen looked up at the ceiling for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. “I told you, because I’m a liar. And I haven’t lied to anyone more than I’ve lied to myself.”

Y/N folded her arms and gave him a look, eyebrows raised, that said to keep going. Jensen nodded and then moved to sit on her couch and Y/N shifted on the arm of the chair so she was facing him again.

“So, you know I was married before, right?” It was a rhetorical question and he continued without waiting for an answer. “And you know it ended badly. But…” He shrugged. “The truth is it just…existed badly.”

He sighed and rubbed his palms over his thighs; it was a tell that he was nervous, that he was having a hard time talking about this. 

“I was really young when I met Caitlyn. Just a kid, really, barely able to drink. But she was a few years older, and just…” Y/N could see him searching for the words. “...magnetic.” 

He shook his head, and his voice got distant, lost in memories. “She was like no one I’d ever known before. Beautiful yes, but so…charismatic and beguiling. She just pulled you into her. I knew at least a dozen guys in my circle who were madly in love with her. But…” He smiled a sad kind of smile. “She picked me.”

He shook his head again, ruefully. “And I fell - just hook, line, and sinker. I loved her.” He said, and then amended his words. “No, I worshiped her. I followed her around like a puppy, and I’d do anything she asked, without question.”

He was quiet a moment, rubbing his fingers absentmindedly over his lips, before he continued, his voice a little bit sharper. “But as it turned out, on top of everything else she was, she was also just…mean. Manipulative.” 

He looked into Y/N’s eyes and she could see the remembered pain reflected there. “She cheated on me.” He scoffed. “A lot, actually. But every time I’d confront her about it, she’d tell me it was my fault. That I forced her into his arms because I didn’t show her that she was loved. She’d cry and tell me that all she wanted was my love, that she craved it.”

Y/N felt her heart break for the younger Jensen, and she began to understand his response when she’d told him she loved him and was leaving because he wouldn’t love her back.

Jensen gripped his hands together, the knuckles turning white. “So, I worked harder to show her how much I loved her. I would literally do whatever she asked of me, I would be anyone she wanted me to be, just so she’d know I was devoted to her, that she was everything to me.”

He ran a hand over his face. “I’d like to say that I was smart, that I eventually caught on to her games and her deceit and left her. But,” he shrugged, “no. After three years of marriage, she left me. I paid her alimony until six years ago when she finally remarried. Some doctor from Beverly Hills.” He exhaled a laugh. “Good luck, buddy.”

He stood up and began walking around Y/N’s living room and kitchen in a loop. She got dizzy trying to watch him, so she sank down onto the seat of the chair and just listened. 

“For years after our divorce, I was heartbroken, devastated. I had no idea what I’d done, I obsessed over what I could have done differently to make her stay. Took me a long time, it was years after she left, before I started to understand just who she really was, and that I’d never been anything but a game to her. So, I made a vow to myself.” 

He took a deep breath. “I swore that I would never fall like that again. That I would never let myself love someone like that again, never let someone control me that way.”

He finally stopped pacing and walked into the kitchen. Y/N turned her head to watch him and realized quickly that he was making her a cup of tea. The gesture made her heart squeeze. He continued speaking as he poured the boiling water over the tea bag. 

“And for over a decade, I succeeded at keeping every woman at arms length. We could have fun, I’d take them to openings, or parties, and we’d have a good time. But that was it, I never wanted anything more, and if they began hinting that they might, I said goodbye and moved on.”

He poured cream into her tea and stirred it, bringing it to her before sitting down across from her on the couch once again. He smiled, warm and wistful, as he caught her gaze. “Then you walked onto set.” He shook his head. “You were so unbelievably beautiful, and funny, and unfailingly kind to everyone. And I started to panic. And that’s when I started to lie to myself. I thought, ‘Hey, we can be friends - I’m allowed to have female friends.” 

He gave a rueful laugh. “Then I kissed you at midnight on new year’s eve, and proved that was a lie. I kissed you, and I instantly wanted…” His gaze turned warm. “...wanted more.” He looked down at the ground and continued. 

“But after I left you that night, I went home and swore that that was it. Nothing else was going to happen. It was just a kiss. You were beautiful, it wasn’t crazy that I wanted something physical with you. But that was it, that’s where it ended.” He closed his eyes briefly before continuing. “More lies. I knew then that it was so much more than a physical connection, but I was a very determined liar. Then the next day you asked me what the kiss meant, and did it mean we were gonna try and be together. And I said yes, without thinking, without hesitation.”

He crossed his arms. “And that’s when the fear really set it. You’d managed to get me to change my mind about us immediately. When you asked, I immediately caved. Just because I wanted to be with you, and because I wanted to make you happy. That feeling, of wanting to do anything to make someone smile? That feeling scared the holy hell out of me.” 

“So,” he rolled his eyes, “I began a whole year of lying to myself, and to you. A year of telling myself I could hold back from you, I wouldn’t let you get under my skin the way Caitlyn had, I’d keep you at arms length.” He shrugged. “All lies. Because you were already burrowed so deep under my skin there was no way I was getting you out. But also…”

He stared at Y/N for a moment, before getting up and moving to sit on the coffee table right in front of her, picking up her hands and holding them in his. 

The whole time he’d been talking Y/N had remained silent, looking for the signs that would tell her he was lying, that he was exaggerating, or embellishing. But she couldn’t see any signs of dishonesty. Her scarred heart was still echoing a warning, but it was becoming more and more distant. As he held her hands in his she felt her pulse pick up again. 

God, he smells good.

“Mostly I was lying to myself that you were anything like Caitlyn. I was lying to myself, warning myself to avoid a danger that didn’t exist. It took me until about a week ago to figure that out.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Cause I’m a dumbass.”

Y/N couldn’t help the small, watery laugh that escaped her lips. He smiled gently at her, and then cupped her cheek again, running his thumb across her bottom lip and making her shiver. “You’ve spent the entire time I’ve known you, two years now, showing me over and over that you were nothing like her, you even told me, the day you left, that you weren’t her.” 

He squinted. “I hadn’t told you much of anything about my marriage, so I was so surprised to hear you say that. How did you know?”

Y/N shrugged a shoulder. “It wasn’t hard to glean that someone had hurt you. People don’t usually fight that hard to keep from being hurt unless they’ve already felt the pain of it.”

Jensen gazed at her in awe, his eyes roaming all across her face. “God I love you.”

This time when he said it, Y/N’s tears were all happy. She believed him. She believed he was a dumbass. She believed it took him two years to figure out she loved him without strings. She believed that now that he’d figured it out his heart was free. And she believed him when he said he loved her. But her heart still rejoiced when he continued.

“I mean it, Y/N. I love you. I love you completely. You are everything to me, and that doesn’t scare me at all anymore. Because I know I’m safe with you.”

Jensen’s expression turned worried and remorseful. “But I also know how badly I hurt you by running away like a coward last time. I just panicked again at how easily you could grab hold of me and make me forget everything. I was laying there with you, and you were so peaceful and so supremely beautiful in my arms, and I just started to imagine my life with you, and the joy I felt thinking about it,” he sighed, “made me bolt.”

He brought the back of her hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle in turn. “But I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

He looked up at her through his lashes and his pleading gaze was irresistible. “Forgive me, please?” He turned her hand over and pressed his lips to the pulse point on her wrist. “Love me again?”

Y/N’s breath was shallow as she shook her head. “It’s not possible to love you again.” She paused for a heartbeat and then smiled and ran her free hand through his soft, silky hair. “Because I’ve never stopped.”

The relief flowing through Jensen’s body was so palpable she could feel it. He grasped the collar of her t-shirt and pulled her forward. He paused, hovering his mouth over hers.

“Can I kiss you now?”

Y/N didn’t hesitate to nod emphatically and Jensen chuckled as he settled his lips on hers. 

He kissed her deeply, as he’d kissed her a thousand times before. His mouth was sinful and wicked as he slid it down her neck, before he pulled off her t-shirt and groaned at the fact that she was naked underneath.

Before long, he scooped her up and carried her to her room. The scene was reminiscent of his last visit to her apartment, but that didn’t worry her now. Because she realized something as he laid her down on her bed and his hands moved over her, palms rough, fingers strong and talented, sending waves of goosebumps rippling over her skin.

She realized that every moment he’d spent with her like this, every single time they’d been together, his every move was calculated to give her pleasure. He was never selfish. He never took her to bed without showering ecstasy upon her. Every moment he was with her, he was touching her in soft, gentle ways, and sometimes not so gentle ways, but always bringing on climax after climax, and making her feel absolute bliss. 

As he brought her to new heights and pushed her over the pinnacle yet again, she understood that he’d never been lying in these moments. These moments were the times that he’d shown her over and over just how much he actually loved her.

***

Hours later Y/N was laying in Jensen’s arms, satiated and glowing; Jensen was rubbing his big hand up and down her back, as she snuggled into his side. Suddenly a thought occurred to her, and she just had to know.

“Hey, what was it that finally made you realize…well, everything you realized? I mean what shifted for you?”

Jensen growled a bit and Y/N shifted so she was looking at him as he answered. “I saw you with your date.”

“My date?” She asked quizzically. 

“At the studio party three weeks ago. I was there, I saw you with that…guy.” He said, and Y/N heard the jealousy.

“At the Warner Brothers party?” She clarified.

“Yeah, I saw you with him, and went a little crazy. I started thinking about how he was going to end up with you, how he was gonna have everything I wanted. That was when I realized just how badly I’d been lying to myself, and how delusional I’d been about the person you were. Made me realize I was gonna miss out on the best thing in my life cause I was such a dumbass.”

He looked at her, concern creeping into his eyes. “I’m gonna assume since you’re here in bed with me, that you’re not with him anymore?”

Y/N felt like laughing, but instead she shook her head solemnly. “No, sadly it didn’t work out between us.” She raised an eyebrow. “His HUSBAND wouldn’t have approved of him dating me.”

It took Jensen a minute to catch up. When he did his eyes widened. “Oh!” He said, and then broke into a huge smile. “I really am a dumbass aren’t I? I’m gonna assume that was David? Your best friend from high school, the one that got married last year?”

Y/N pursed her lips and nodded. “Yes. It was.” She rolled her eyes, and then narrowed them. “Anyway, which one of us has the right to be jealous here? You, over my gay best friend? Or me, over you and your almost fiancee?”

“Hmm…” Jensen shook his head and then leaned over the side of the bed, rifling through his clothes on the floor. Y/N shifted off of him, sitting up and tucking the sheet around her nakedness to shield her from the chill of moving away from Jensen’s warm skin..

When Jensen sat back up he held something in his closed fist and wore a sheepish grin. “Actually, Tara and I were never really exclusive, and I broke things off with her completely the night of the WB party.” He shrugged. “I didn’t go ring shopping until a couple weeks after that, little over a week ago.”

Y/N was frowning, slightly confused, but her heart was leaping and her stomach was doing somersaults.

Jensen chuckled. “Took me all of this last week to work up the courage to come here and try to get you to give me another chance. I brought this along with me, just in case I was really lucky.”

He opened his fist and laying on his wide palm, was a small gold ring with a large diamond on top.

Y/N’s eyes bulged and her throat bobbed up and down as she swallowed a million times, still unable to stop the flow of tears streaming from her eyes. Jensen caught her gaze, and she’d never seen him so open, every defense had fallen, and all his vulnerability was on display as he picked up the delicate ring in his big, thick fingers and held it out to her. 

“I love you more than I can ever properly express. And I don’t deserve it, but I’m gonna ask you anyway. Please, Y/N, marry me?”

Y/N was nodding wildly, a simple “yes” quite beyond her capabilities as she held out her left hand for him to take. He pushed the ring onto her fourth finger and it fit perfectly, as though it had been just waiting to slide home. 

Y/N screeched and jumped at Jensen. He caught her, laughing, as her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. She ended up losing her sheet in the process - leading to another chance for Jensen to show her just how much he loved her.

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays. @lyarr24 @deans-spinster-witch @impalaslytherin @maggiegirl17 @akshi8278 @candy-coated-misery0731 @deanswaywardgirl @slytherinlyn314 @globetrotter28 @jensensgirl @perpetualabsurdity @tristanrosspada-ackles @djs8891 @muhahaha303 @kayyay1219 @emily-winchester @recoveringpastaaddict @maximumkillshot @mimaria420 @sacriceria @envyaurora95 @lacilou @jc-winchester @spnwoman @mimi-luvzyu @jackles010378

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.) @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @alexxavicry @nancymcl @spalady26

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well) @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @maliburenee @supernatural4life2022 @spn730015 @kickingitwithkirk @waywardbaby @foxyjwls007 @deanwanddamons @deandreamernp @deanwithscissors @myloversgone @snowlovespie @leigh70 @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @charred-angelwings @hopefuldreamers-world @jensensgotyoudean @thoughts-and-funnies @magssteenkamp @princessmisery666 @eevvvaa @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @bernasaurus @jensenslady79 @courtn92 @avanatural @ellie-andthemachine @this-is-me19 @roseblue373 @katbratsupernaturalwhore @fanfic-n-tabulous @k-slla

[abiiors]

𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚒 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚔 𝚊𝚝 𝚊 𝚑𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚝𝚠𝚘 — 𝚎𝚙𝚒𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚞𝚎

✧ — 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

✮ a/n: the actual last thing about jules and matty i'm so emotional 😭 but also we have more blurbs coming soon!! <33 sorry this is late, i ended up scrapping and rewriting

✮ cw: extreme cheesiness and equal amounts of sappiness

✮ wc: 1k (she's tiny <33)

“red or pink?” jules holds up two tubes of lipstick in front of him. matty frowns. 

“neither,” he takes them out of her hands one after the other and hides it behind his back. “i’d rather you stay.”

stay… that’s a word he says openly now. and she does stay. some days he can’t quite believe it if he’s being honest.

jules clicks her tongue and looks at him, exasperated once again. he’s been on her bed for the past twenty minutes now, watching her ritualistically put on makeup, once step after the other like she’s done for all the weeks they’ve been together. 

“matty, don’t be like this,” she gets off the chair and stands in front of him, between his legs. “we should have left ages ago.”

and even though her words are admonishing, he can see that tiny smile on her face that she tries so hard to hide. matty lifts his finger and traces her lips, widening the barely there smile until it’s a full and gorgeous grin. 

“will you return my lipsticks, please?”

“and what if i say no?” he puts his arms around her and puts his chin on her stomach, effectively trapping her in place. 

she looks absolutely beautiful—even with half her makeup done and no lipstick on—he could stay like this and look up at her for hours. matty almost snorts to himself. why is he having thoughts like he’s twelve years old and hanging out with his first crush?!

“i’d have to wrestle you,” jules smirks, indulging him.

“you’d never win against me,” matty declares, his voice all confident until jules scratches his scalp with her nails. whatever words he was about to say dissolve on his tongue as he sighs, practically melting in place. 

shit… she’s fucking good. 

“you sure about that?” jules teases and drags her nails through his hair once again. 

once his eyes flutter shut, he shifts, squishing his face in her boobs, tightening his arms around her some more. 

the soft fabric of her t-shirt rubs against his face. he’s surrounded by her smell too—vanilla and sugar with vaguely clean fabric softener. matty breathes her in, humming in the back of his throat. 

fuck! he loves this… 

he loves her… 

the realisation doesn’t hit him like a truck, no. it just… makes sense. like he was always meant to reach this point. 

“i’ve got you now,” his voice is muffled. he’s sure she can feel the vibrations in her chest, “where will you go?”

the clock on the wall ticks, inching closer and closer to when they have to leave. 

they’re supposed to be back at the arcade—to even the scores he’d told her. truth is, ever since their first date—their first real date—at the arcade, he can’t stop thinking about how excited she gets when she wins against him; arms thrown up in the air, her body contorted and already at the start of her absolutely insane ‘winner dance’. 

if he has to lose for the rest of his life just to see her like this, he’d do it happily. 

except now jules is here, ready for their date, and he’s too comfy to go anywhere. to even move an inch. 

the more the seconds tick by, the more his body feels frozen in place. jules is going to make him move any minute now, he thinks. he’d have to let her… instead, she sighs and climbs onto his lap. 

“oh?” matty looks at her with renewed interest, mouth curving into a smug smile. 

jules, however, takes her chance and reaches behind him, closing her fist around one of the lipsticks. quickly she yanks her hand back and holds it up in front of him. it’s the red one, the one he wasn’t going to choose. “gotcha!”

matty looks at the bullet then back at her, moving his hands from her hips to her waist. a confused frown makes its way onto her face. “what are you—”

jules yelp before she can finish her question. in an instance she’s off his lap and under him on the bed as matty flips them both, faster than she can blink.

“gotcha…” he whispers, close enough that their breaths mix together. “do you still want to leave?”

he can practically see the no written on her face. 

the other lipstick tube rolls against his thigh, and he knows it’s within her reach now. he wonder if jules will go for it, will wiggle out from under him somehow and make them leave. 

matty supposes it’s fine. it’s not like she’s leaving, he gets to spend time with her anyway. but…

and then jules places her hand on his cheek, cranes her neck until she can press her lips against his. barely a second passes before matty’s deepening the kiss, moving his hand from her waist to her ribs. 

her body is so familiar against his, so comfortable and safe that he almost lets out a shuddering breath. 

“we’re not leaving tonight, are we?” jules giggles, kissing his jaw. 

matty clicks his tongue, “not a chance.”

she giggles again, a tinkling sound. matty slides the sleeve of her t-shirt away, kissing her bare shoulder. 

“for the record,” he murmurs, “i would have picked pink.”

“yeah?”

he nods, pulling slightly off her so he can look at her properly. “looks the best on you. looks the best on me when you kiss me…”

“and red doesn’t?” she teases. 

this time it’s his turn to thread his fingers through her scalp. jules sighs and almost closes her eyes. “well now that we’ve decided to stay…” matty swoops down and captures her lips in another lingering kiss, “we could test out all the shades.”

“i think that’s a good use of our time,” jules laughs, and kisses him once again.