#add it to the list of never ending summer to-dos

[icewindandboringhorror]

Apparently I can meet my goal of roughly 400,000 words in 6 months if I just somehow write at least 2,200 words a day ghbjh... Almost 2,500 today... huzzah...

[thisismeracing]

Paddock Pass (Taylor's version) | CL16

⸺ there are many perks to being Charles Leclerc's girlfriend. You get free paddock passes, you're able to watch him chase his dreams while you work on yours from the garage, and of course, you get Charles. What you didn't know is that he would add a new thing to this list: your favorite singer in the garage (based on this request). ✓ mentions of food; friends to lovers; not proofread; fem!reader (she/her). 0.8k words

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Life has a funny way of making things happen. You knew it from an early age, and it was kind of funny looking back at it now, as Charles' girlfriend.

As a shy kid from Monaco, your childhood wasn't exactly the most social one - you were shy, wore glasses, and liked to keep things to yourself. That's how you ended up discovering Taylor's music and became friends with Charles at the early age of 7.

During the summer holidays, with not many friends to enjoy the time except for one girl from school who happened to be traveling, you ended up going with your mom to the hairdresser. The owner saw how uncomfortable you were with all the noise and people and showed you to the waiting area, a room with a big TV and a few toys. You were the only one there, and the echo of the TV caught your attention. It was playing a song you had never heard before, a blonde singer wearing glasses and pajamas sang with all her strength. You were entranced by the image, so much so that the door opening didn't catch your attention until someone poked at your shoulder. "Hi, I'm Charles," and just like Taylor was singing, he belonged with you.

Eighteen years later, you were in the Ferrari garage working on your computer while Charles got ready for quali. Since it was the Vegas GP, and you didn't like the rush and lights that much, you chose to stay in the deepest area of the home motor curled on a blanket waiting until it was time for the race to begin.

"Cherie, Kika is looking for you at the Alpine garage," Charles knocked on the door, and peeked his head inside, smiling fondly at you.

You adjusted your glasses, "Tell her to come here."

"She's having lunch there, told me she got your favorite snacks for dessert," he explained, and you bit your lips. "There are not as many people out there since it's qualy," Charles tried to reassure you and you nodded, grabbing your cardigan and lacing your fingers with his.

"I told her to wait for you. Hopefully, she did," he had this funny smile on his face, and if you weren't so tired from the flight the other day, you would nag him about it.

You walked hand in hand to the Alpine garage, Charles stopping here and there to take a few pictures, but nothing as crazy as Sundays usually are.

When you finally reached the pink and blue facility, things seemed different. You didn't know how to pinpoint what exactly it was, but you felt like the usual rush was slightly blessed, and from previous experience, you bet someone important was inside.

"I've been waiting forever to do this for you, I couldn't have done it sooner because of the whole world tour thing and you know how hectic it was for her, right?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, feeling your glass frames move in your face, "What are you talking about, Char?"

He shook his head, kissed your forehead, and entered the garage. The first thing you saw was a mass of a man, huge. Then you heard his laugh, and it sounded familiar. The second he turned around with a big smile on his face, you felt your knees weakened, not because of him but because of someone likely there along with him.

"THE Travis Kelce?" You whispered to Charles still holding his hand, and he beamed.

"Hey, Yn! Nice to meet you! Your boyfriend was just talking about you minutes ago," he took a few steps in your direction, offering you a handshake, and you took it.

"He said you were the biggest fan," you heard her voice before seeing her, and when she stepped around Travis, you almost fainted.

"Oh, sweet Jesus-," you screeched, and everyone laughed.

"Taylor! Oh my God! I've been listening to you since I was a kid," you whispered, trying to hold back the tears and the laughter of happiness bubbling inside.

"Careful now, or you'll make me feel old," she joked and opened her arms, motioning for you to get inside the hug. You glanced at Charles, silently thanking him, and crashed into your idol's arms. Her hug was warm and tight, and you felt like you could stay there for hours. Her hands caressed your back up and down feeling how emotional you got and trying to comfort you.

When you took a step back, you saw how her gaze softened, looking at the T pendant Charles got you when you were still little kids. She pointed to a nearby bench, "Everyone's trying to explain how this works, but I still don't get it. Can you enlighten me on the F1 world as someone who's been in it since childhood?" Your brows furrowed in a second, but you smiled brightly at her. She seemed to get your confusion, explaining, "Charles was updating us on how you were the biggest Swiftie since you were a kid."

"Yeah, I met him when I first listened to your song too," you observed, sitting down, and turning to her.

"What? Now you gotta tell me this! This paddock pass was so worth it. F1 rules can wait, I'm a sucker for a love story."

"That I know," you giggled looking from her to Travis who seemed to be in a deep conversation with Charles.

────── ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Hi! I tried to follow all the details in the request, hope it's good enough <3 I hope you guys liked this! Make sure to like and reblog if you did *mwah*

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[loveinhawkins]

Every so often, Eddie will get the bus to Starcourt Mall (because what else is there to do?) and watch the world go by.

It’s not like he’s above a cliché or two—maybe he wants to indulge in being a lone figure within the crowd. Maybe he just feels like wallowing in the aimlessness of it all, damn it.

This is where Wayne would point out that Eddie is exactly the opposite of aimless, what with how he’d stormed into the trailer last month, failed test results in hand and snarled, “Next year. I’ll fuckin’ show ‘em.”

But there’s a long time between now and the new school year starting, the summer stretching out before him like taffy. He’d tried to start his reading list early again, but that’s never done him much good; this time he’d gotten through one chapter of Moby-fucking-Dick before despairing.

So. People-watching at the mall it is.

It’s surprisingly not all that terrible an activity, apart from discovering which teachers are suddenly very passionate about jazzercise—a sight Eddie could’ve blissfully lived the rest of his life without seeing.

There’s also the confirmation that the Starcourt commercial he saw was not a vivid hallucination—that Scoops Ahoy is, in fact, real.

And so are the ridiculous sailor outfits.

Well, I’ll be damned, Eddie thinks.

Robin Buckley and Steve Harrington are an incredibly unlikely duo. It’s like the universe abandoned all sense, spun a wheel and paired them up just for the fun of it.

When he joins the line for ice-cream, Eddie initially thinks he’ll find the whole thing laughable: seeing people forced to work together when usually the laws of the universe (and Hawkins High) would keep them as far apart as possible.

But then he discovers that the ice-cream parlor is packed, one hell of a bottleneck forming right up at the counter, where folks are waiting for a seemingly never-ending amount of floats to be poured.

It takes a while for Eddie to near the front of the line; enough time passes that he honestly feels kind of bad for even taking up a spot, for adding to the workload that has Robin shouting herself hoarse with every, “Next please!”

He strongly considers just leaving, but he hesitates for a moment too long, and unintentionally meets eyes with…

“Hi,” Steve says, pleasantly enough, if a little distracted as he prods at the soda machine. He smiles apologetically. “Be with you in a sec.”

Eddie almost wants to tell him you know it’s me, right? He doesn’t.

It’s not that he expects Steve to be mean, exactly; it’s just that he’s getting more than familiar with the whole post graduation routine. It’s like there’s a secret page in folks’ yearbooks, instructing them to look at anyone still attached to high school with either indifference or embarrassment—or both.

Steve must not have got the memo.

“Next!”

Robin beckons Eddie forward with a sweeping arm gesture, looks somewhere behind him and sighs in relief, puffing out her cheeks.

“Oh, thank God. You stopped the tide.”

Eddie glances over his shoulder; sure enough, he’s the last person left to order.

“Don’t think I’ve got that power, Buckley.”

Robin raises an eyebrow. “Debatable.”

Eddie almost laughs. There was a rumour in his first attempt at senior year that he could curse people: it only came about because he ominously whispered some Pig Latin he’d once overheard Robin herself use during History, and Molly Pritchard crossed herself in horror.

“I’ll have a vanilla cup.”

“Ooh,” Robin says dryly, “adventurous.”

“Nothing wrong with a classic,” Eddie says.

Robin smirks as she rings him up. They don’t know each other that well, but there’s admittedly something nice in the distant familiarity they share; at the very least, she’s not gonna add to any potential awfulness when school starts again.

While Robin hands over his change, Steve is filling up a cup—Eddie would say he’s uncharacteristically quiet, except for the fact that he doesn’t actually know what truly is characteristic of Steve Harrington.

Plus he’s stuck on the fact that he only paid for one scoop, but the amount of ice-cream Steve manages to cram in is almost double that.

And he does this ridiculous little twirly thing with the scooper before he even reaches for the tray of vanilla.

Eddie tells himself he notices just because the move is so stupid; it’s definitely not because he’s noticing Steve’s hands in general. It’s just… eyes get drawn to movement. That’s all.

“Syrup?” Steve asks, nodding his head at the dispensers.

“Sure,” Eddie says. “Strawberry.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “Oh, don’t do that, man. Get it with butterscotch.”

Robin’s eyes rise to the heavens, as if some longstanding argument has begun once again.

“And why should I do that, Harrington?” Eddie says.

“Because,” Steve says, like he’s patiently explaining that two plus two equals four, “butterscotch is better. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Robin parrots mockingly. She closes the register drawer and says, “I’m taking my break, Popeye. Try not to judge the customers too hard.”

Eddie’s pretty sure he hears Steve mutter under his breath as she leaves, “Seriously? You’re worse than me.”

His cup of ice-cream is under hostage, apparently. Steve still hasn’t pressed down on the damn syrup pump.

“This your usual sales technique?” Eddie says. “Browbeating the customers?”

“Only the lucky ones,” Steve returns mildly.

Eddie scoffs. “Fine. Gimme the damn butterscotch then.”

“Knew you’d come to your senses,” Steve says.

He hands the cup over without any more quips; just as he’s done with the syrup, a large family swoops in with multiple sundae orders.

Eddie eats the ice-cream while waiting for the bus back home. He grudgingly has to admit that the butterscotch isn’t bad.

But that’s not really what’s bugging him.

He has to know if it’s a fluke—if maybe, just maybe, Steve Harrington only deigned to talk to him because he was, like… delirious or something. Maybe the flood of demanding customers scrambled his brain.

Of course, when Eddie goes back to the mall, it’s purely to test his theory. Strictly observational—educational, even. Like… summer school. (Take that, O’Donnell.)

The bus drops them off a little bit before the mall actually opens, but they’re allowed inside anyway. Eddie inwardly cringes at the sight of grown adults tapping persistently on the windows of still closed stores. Jesus Christ, they’re worse than zombies.

Scoops Ahoy isn’t open yet either; Eddie’s soon witness to a very stressed looking Steve striding over to unlock the place.

He flits in and out of view for a while, taking mops round to the back, filling up the jars of toppings.

Eddie actually considers heading over to Waldenbooks to check if it’s open (it’s not like he’s coming here for one store in particular, obviously), but then he hears metal clacking against the tiles.

When he looks back at Scoops Ahoy, he spots a set of keys on the ground right at the entrance, Steve nowhere in sight.

Goddamn it. He’s gonna have to be a Good Samaritan. Ugh.

Eddie briefly looks up to the ceiling as if he can condemn the ways of the universe from here. Then he sighs, picks up the keys and steps into the store.

“Harrington, you dropped these—”

“Shit,” comes Steve’s voice from the back, followed by an almighty clatter.

Eddie hesitates before his curiosity inevitably wins out.

He goes behind the register, through the door and finds the aftermath of complete disaster: Steve standing in front of an entire vat of ice-cream that’s been dropped onto the floor. It’s splattered all up his legs, cookies and cream clinging to the hairs.

Holy shit, stop thinking about his leg hair, Eddie thinks.

Up until this point in time, he’d believed it was physically impossible to look anything other than comical in that stupid sailor outfit.

(Well. Almost.)

But right now Steve looks absolutely tragic. Like he’s a crew member on the Titanic levels of tragic, and he’s about to deliver the news that there’s simply no more lifeboats.

Steve meets Eddie’s gaze.

“That was limited edition,” he says pitifully.

They both look down at the floor.

“Well,” Eddie says. “It definitely is now. Still, uh, what’s the phrase? No use crying over spilled… ice-cream.”

“Oh, I’m not gonna cry over it,” Steve says. “I’m gonna scream.” For a moment he looks murderous. “Robin’s not coming in.”

“Is she sick?”

Steve snorts. “Sick my ass. No, she���s keeping The Hawk in business—gonna see a movie about an ice-cream parlor, something like that.”

“An ice-cream parlor,” Eddie echoes. “Um. Are you sure she didn’t just make it up?”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s one of those foreign—never mind.”

He cuts himself off, lifts up one foot, as if he’s become aware of his predicament all over again.

“I was fine with her ditching, she can do whatever; it’s not like we have managers checking up on us. But I forgot a huge delivery was coming, and it’s Saturday so it’s gonna be crazy, so I’m not gonna have time to put all of it in the freezer or check the stock chart, so it’s all just gonna become fucking soup, Jesus, maybe I should just throw everything on the floor and—”

“I could help,” Eddie interrupts, because apparently a little alien has burrowed into his brain and now he just says things.

Steve stares at him. “Why would you do that?”

“Yeah, uh, sorry,” Eddie says. He wishes his brain-invading alien an immediate death. “Bad idea, just—”

“No, I mean why would you do that? Dude, it’s not like I can pay you or—”

“I don’t really have plans,” Eddie says—oh great, the alien hasn’t died! “Uh, you can pay me with, like, a name tag?” What? Stop talking. “Like a souvenir?” Stop! “Oh sorry,” Steve says, as if on automatic pilot. He pulls at his shirt. “We don’t have—our names are stitched on.”

I was kidding about the name tag. Actually, maybe you should just murder me instead.

By some miracle, Eddie’s expression must somehow still look fairly normal because Steve continues, deadly serious, “Munson. Are you sure?”

This is the time to back out—

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “Look, man, it’s no big deal. I can clean this up and—”

A bell starts ringing from the front, being struck over and over again in the most obnoxious way possible.

Something in Steve’s eyes flickers, a shift from panic into planning mode, and Eddie has the sudden bizarre feeling that this is what the basketball team saw whenever a crisis timeout was called.

“You sure you’re okay if I leave you back here?” Steve asks, and the gravity with which he says it threatens to send Eddie into hysterics—Christ, you’d think they were in the goddamn trenches.

“Think I’ll survive,” Eddie says. “I’m basically cleaning up, and putting everything into the freezer?”

Steve nods. “And, um, a stock check too, if that’s okay? There’s a chart pinned up, you just gotta count the flavours and put, like, tally marks next to—”

“Oh my God, not tally marks,” Eddie drawls. “The horror.”

Steve huffs. “I was just—”

The bell rings even more insistently.

“Uh, think you’re needed on the front line,” Eddie says.

He nearly chokes on his own spit when Steve turns to just march right on out there.

“Harrington, wait! Your—your legs,” he says weakly.

Steve has the audacity to look puzzled. “What about them?”

They’re very long.

Eddie gestures silently to the ice-cream on the floor, then attempts a vague hovering motion in the direction of Steve’s legs.

Steve’s eyes go wide in realisation. His cheeks turn slightly red. “Oh! Yeah, um, thanks. Um. I’ll just…”

He disappears into the world’s tiniest restroom, comes back free of cookies and cream before heading out to the front.

Well, Eddie thinks to the mop he finds, this is definitely a situation.

It’s not the worst way he’s spent a few hours, apart from having to listen to a Sailor’s Hornpipe on loop through the speakers (he briefly wonders how Robin and Steve stay sane). He cleans up, gets the rest of the delivery into the freezer, even jots down some tally marks, wonder of wonders.

Steve will occasionally slide back the shutters and pop his head in, passing over a soda.

“Employee perks,” he says, then has to hurriedly retreat to keep serving.

Eddie keeps waiting for the stiltedness to set in, but it seems Steve’s far too busy for there to be any awkwardness.

At midday the shutter slides back again and Steve says, “Hey, can you do me one last thing, and I’ll never ask you for anything ever again, I swear.”

“Harrington, you’ve technically never asked me for anything. Gimme the mission.”

Turns out the mission is just to use some employee only coupons at Burger King so Steve can take his lunch.

Eddie returns to Scoops Ahoy with two burgers to find that Steve’s strategically placed a pile of chairs and wet floor signs at the threshold to deter people from entering.

There’s also a hand-drawn sign on top of one of the chairs: Out for Lunch. Underneath, there’s a horrendously bad drawing of a ship on choppy waves.

Eddie tries very hard to not find it endearing.

He gives Steve a burger, hops onto the table in the back and starts eating his own.

A quarter of the way through, he realises that he could leave now—he’s done everything Steve’s asked, and Steve’s already said he can manage the remaining shift on his own now that the delivery’s been put away.

Huh. Well, he’s already gone to all the effort of sitting here…

Steve’s quiet for most of his lunch. Eddie doesn’t mind; he enjoys his free food, comes up with a half-baked campaign idea before discarding it, counts every tile in the room…

Looks over.

Steve’s sat with one leg hunched up to his chest, a book resting on his knee—the cover’s folded over the back as he reads, the spine broken. Eddie doesn’t know why on earth it’s attractive, but it is; he feels like some mooning middle schooler, entranced by the way their stupid crush eats spaghetti or some bullshit like that.

But then again, there’s always been an easy grace to Steve Harrington.

A beeping noise; Steve checks his wristwatch with a sigh.

“Ugh.”

He leaves the book on the table, at just the right angle for Eddie to read the title: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.

“Is it good?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah, I’m only a couple chapters in, so…” Steve shrugs. “Honestly, it’s the most I’ve read since starting high school.”

And Eddie gets that: the senior years he’s suffered through have left him each time with a brain like a wrung out sponge, not even having the energy for Tolkien.

God. At this rate he’s never gonna read for fun ever again.

His face must do something because Steve opens and closes his mouth a few times before saying, a little hesitant, “Hey, I’m sorry you never, uh… made it through, y’know? You—you were so close, man.” Eddie doesn’t bother wasting time on being pissed that Steve knows some of the details: ‘test results’ and ‘confidentiality’ don’t exactly go together in Hawkins High.

“Yeah, uh. Thanks. Here’s hoping third time’s the charm.”

Steve claps his shoulder. “You’ll do it, it was just tough this year. Like, I scraped through, trust me.”

Eddie snorts—he would literally kill to have a handful of Steve’s grades.

“Think my definition of ‘scraped through’ is different to yours.”

He helps Steve disassemble the mountain of chairs, and now it really is obvious that he could just leave; he only has to take a few steps, and then he’s out of there.

But he pauses.

The store is still empty.

Eddie shuffles back from the doorway. “Ice-cream for the road?”

Steve laughs. “Sure. Least I can do.”

He doesn’t ask Eddie what he wants, just serves a vanilla cup with butterscotch syrup.

Eddie suddenly feels himself fighting a smile. “Think you’ve got an agenda, man.”

“Nope. Just giving you the superior choice, Munson.”

Then Steve picks up an empty cup and pours more butterscotch into it, nothing else. He knocks it back like a shot. “Gross,” Eddie says.

Steve flashes him a syrup-streaked grin.

It’s so… juvenile.

If it wasn’t for the fact that they’re in a mall, Eddie would almost think that he’d gone back a few years, made an unexpected temporary friend that goofed off with him in the back of the class.

He finishes his ice-cream as more people flock to the counter; in what seems like no time at all, Steve’s ushering Eddie out, pulling down the security grille.

It feels a bit like a soap bubble has burst. Like the bell’s unexpectedly rung at the end of last period, in a class he was actually enjoying, against all odds.

Steve does say, quite sincerely, “Thanks, Munson. You didn’t have to… you really saved my ass.”

Eddie’s about to clumsily work his way through some reply about how it was nothing, but then they really do have to go, because some stern-faced security guard’s staring like he might vaporise them.

It’s just one day, Eddie thinks. A… what’s-it-called. An anomaly.

But he goes back to the mall the next afternoon. He doesn’t bother to make up an excuse even in his own head.

Scoops Ahoy is somehow even more packed this time—Steve’s serving up samples while Robin’s back at the register, and when she sees Eddie coming, she points at the vanilla, mouths, “The classic?”

He chuckles, nods. “How was your movie, Buckley?”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” she says serenely. “I was very sick.” She coughs delicately.

“Praying for your miraculous recovery.”

He gets vanilla with butterscotch syrup (just because Robin’s the closest to that particular dispenser, that’s all).

It’s so busy that once Robin’s finished at the register, she starts filling orders alongside Steve. When Eddie picks up his cup, they barely look at him, surrounded by other cups and plastic bowls laid out for ice-cream.

Figures. Eddie knows it’s not personal. Just. Soap bubble’s burst, and all that.

He’s almost out the store when he hears a whistle.

“Hey, Munson! Go long!”

“Fuck off, no,” Eddie says automatically, a response drilled into him from many a compulsory Phys Ed class.

But he turns, just in time to see Steve throw something at him. He catches it—it’s plastic, round—somehow manages to keep a hold of his ice-cream, too.

Steve gives a brief thumbs up, before he’s back to scooping. He still finds time to do that stupid twirl move again.

Once outside, Eddie opens up his hand. Snorts.

It’s a shitty white badge, chipped in several places. His name’s scrawled on it in red marker, a cartoony anchor in the upper right corner.

On the bus home, Eddie mulls over the thought of flicking through a couple chapters of The Hobbit, something like that. No pressure, no notes—no imagining the year ahead, a teacher looming over his shoulder. Just for fun.

There’s plenty of time.

He puts his souvenir in his pocket, takes another spoonful of ice-cream.

And he has to admit that butterscotch is pretty damn good.

[lizzyiii]

hi i was just wondering when the next chapter of his lady love will come out? it's an amazing story and i have not found anything else like it im obsessed!!👉🏻👈🏻☺️

heyyy....

His Lady Love (12)

pairing I aemond x vampire!mikaelson!reader taglist I to be added to the tag list just add your username to this DOC word count | 3.8k words summary I aemond has kept his distance from you since your secret. you discover something about helaena and distance between you and aemond grows further as he confesses a secret just to hurt you

tags | ANGST, ANGST, oh and more ANGST. temporary break up??? pregnancy mention. note I uhhh hi. so explanation - I graduated high school and there's no time to actually enjoy summer because this girl is broke. so I got a job for the very first time in my life, yeah, that and i fell into a rami malek dark hole and accidentally wrote an 80k word josh washington fanfic

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

Aemond retreated into himself after your confession, his cold silence heavier than any words he could have spoken.

The weight of your secrets hung between you, and his refusal to meet your eyes only amplified the crushing sense of rejection that echoed in your chest.

"I need time," he had said, but all you heard was rejection, rejection, rejection—a refrain that cut deeper than any blade could.

The days that followed passed in a blur of quiet torment, each tick of the clock marking the growing distance between you and Aemond. You found yourself in Helaena’s company more than ever.

She was a balm for your wounded soul, her gentle presence a rare comfort in the storm of your mind. It was with her that you could breathe, the children a welcome distraction from the chaos within you.

As you sat beside Helaena, the needle threading through the fabric of your embroidery, you allowed your thoughts to drift elsewhere.

Your fingers moved almost mechanically, following the familiar rhythm of the stitches as your mind wandered to the shadows you had left behind.

But no matter how hard you tried to lose yourself in the mundane task, your heart never stopped aching. Aemond's words, his retreat, followed you like a shadow.

You wondered, briefly, if it was selfish to want him to stay, to want him to understand you when you had already caused so much pain in your lifetime.

Helaena’s soft voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to the present. "What’s troubling you?" she said gently, her eyes filled with a sadness that mirrored your own.

You paused, the needle hovering above the fabric as you hesitated. "Everything," you whispered, not knowing where to start, or if you even could. "But mostly... Aemond." Your words were fragile, as if speaking his name would shatter whatever thread of hope remained between you.

Helaena gave you a soft, understanding smile, though there was a trace of sorrow in her eyes. "He’ll return to you when he’s ready. Aemond is not like the others. He carries more than he shows."

You nodded, though skepticism clouded your expression. Helaena’s words were always laced with a strange wisdom, one that seemed to come from somewhere beyond this world.

You already knew that the Targaryens were no ordinary humans—there was fire and magic in their blood—but Helaena... Helaena was different. Her aura was otherworldly, almost prophetic, and it made you both trust her and fear her answers.

"Helaena," you said softly, your voice barely audible over the quiet hum of the room. Her light, lilac-hued eyes turned to you, dreamy and distant, yet wholly focused on you. "How do you see this ending?"

She blinked slowly, tilting her head in question. "You and Aemond?" she asked, her tone curious but kind.

You shook your head, "No," you whispered. "The war."

Helaena’s gaze drifted away, her attention drawn to the small cages on the table beside her, where her insects scuttled and fluttered.

She furrowed her brows, her lips pressing into a thin line as she contemplated your question.

Finally, she spoke, her voice slow and deliberate, each word dripping with an ominous certainty. "No one will win. It is inevitable. All it will succeed in doing is leading the Targaryens to become... extinct."

The words sent a chill through you, colder than any winter wind. You stared at her, searching for any sign of hope in her expression, but there was none.

Her gaze remained fixed on her insects, her hands idly tending to them as if the weight of her revelation meant nothing.

Your throat tightened, "Extinct?" you echoed, your voice cracking with disbelief.

Helaena nodded solemnly. "Dragons cannot thrive in a house divided. Fire turns on itself, consuming everything in its path until only ash remains." She looked at you then, her eyes piercing despite their faraway quality. "It is our nature to destroy. And so, we will be destroyed."

The silence that followed was oppressive, a heavy pall that settled over the room.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing against the inevitability of her words. "Is there not a way to fix all of this?" you asked softly, setting your embroidery aside.

"I don't know," Helaena murmured, her tone tinged with regret. Suddenly, she winced, clutching her stomach as a flicker of pain crossed her face.

You immediately leaned forward, concern etched across your features. "What’s wrong?" you asked, your voice steady but laced with urgency.

Helaena exhaled shakily, her hand still pressed to her abdomen. "I... I’ve been feeling unwell these past moons," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your brow furrowed as you stood, moving closer to her. "Have you not spoken to the Maesters?" you asked, your tone edged with frustration.

She shook her head faintly. "They are all busy attending to Aegon," she replied.

Reaching out, you placed the back of your hand gently against her forehead. Her skin was cool to the touch—no fever, no signs of sickness.

Still, something was wrong. You focused, your senses sharpening as you attuned yourself to her body, listening for any irregularities.

Your eyes widened as you caught it: a faint but distinct sound, a rhythm that wasn’t her own. Your breath caught, and you stepped back slightly, staring at her with newfound realization.

"What is it?" Helaena murmured, her tone both curious and cautious as she noticed the change in your expression.

You hesitated for a moment, then spoke softly, your voice laden with wonder and a touch of disbelief. "I listened to your body," you said, your words careful and deliberate. Your gaze drifted downward, settling on her stomach. "And I hear two heartbeats."

Helaena blinked, her lips parting in a quiet gasp. "Oh," she muttered, her hands instinctively moving to cradle her abdomen. Realization dawned in her lilac eyes, and she whispered again, this time with more weight, "Oh."

Without thinking, you kneeled before her, your hands gently resting on her lap. “Helaena,” you began cautiously, your voice barely above a whisper, “when last did you... lay with Aegon?”

Her expression tightened in distaste as she wracked her memory. “Aegon made use of me,” she said bitterly, “that night of the last supper.”

“The last supper?” you repeated, your brow furrowing as you tried to place the moment. And then it struck you—the supper when all the Targaryens had gathered, Viserys’ final attempt to unite his fractured family. The night before everything began to crumble. “Oh,” you breathed, the word heavy with understanding.

Helaena’s eyes turned glassy, her gaze distant. “Having a babe during a war is a bad omen,” she murmured, her voice filled with a quiet, resigned sorrow.

“Or,” you said softly, reaching for her hands and covering them with your own, “it could be a good one. A babe symbolizes life. Hope.” You offered her the warmest smile you could muster, though the shadow of unease lingered in your own heart.

“They shall be fine,” you promised, your voice firm despite the chaos you knew was to come. “You shall protect them.”

Helaena stared at you for a long moment, her wide, lilac eyes flickering with unspoken fears and fragile faith.

Her hands tightened around yours, and finally, she shook her head, her voice trembling. “I could not protect Jaehaerys.”

Her words were a blade to the heart, but you refused to falter. “And that is why I am here,” you said firmly, your voice laced with quiet determination. “To protect you. To protect them. All three of you.” You paused, catching your mistake, then softly added, “Four.”

A faint, hesitant smile flickered across her lips, fragile but genuine. You tried to match it, but your sharp hearing interrupted the moment.

Your brows furrowed as a distant sound reached your ears—wings, massive and powerful, cutting through the air. You rose swiftly, striding toward the balcony with purpose.

The sight that greeted you stole your breath. A dragon, light and unfamiliar, soared above King’s Landing, its wings slicing the air like a predator circling its prey. Its immense shadow fell over the Red Keep as it flew past, the sight both majestic and foreboding.

Helaena joined you on the balcony, her expression dreamy yet tinged with concern. Her gaze followed the dragon as it disappeared into the horizon.

“Whose dragon is that?” you asked, your voice low but urgent. “I don’t recognize it.”

Helaena tilted her head slightly, her tone distant but sure. “It’s not ours,” she murmured, her hands lightly gripping the railing. “And it is not one of Rhaenyra’s, either. It must be one of the unclaimed dragons of Dragonstone.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, a faint frown pulling at the corners of your mouth. “Well, it’s not unclaimed anymore,” you said dryly, though your words carried an undercurrent of unease.

Before Helaena could respond, a mighty roar echoed through the skies, deep and reverberating. The sound cut through the air like a blade, making your head snap toward the source.

Your sharp senses picked up what came next before your mortal eyes could: **Vhagar** rising into the heavens, her ancient wings spreading wide, her silhouette monstrous against the fading sunlight.

And atop her sat Aemond.

“No,” you breathed, your chest tightening with dread as you leaned forward, gripping the balcony railing. Vhagar’s great wings flapped, her movement deliberate, as she veered toward the distant horizon. Toward Dragonstone. Toward the mysterious dragon.

Helaena’s voice broke through your haze, soft and detached. “Vhagar will not falter. But Aemond…” She trailed off, her brows knitting faintly as though seeing something only she could. “He seeks dominance, but it may bring ruin.”

You gripped the railing tighter, your nails digging into the stone. Her cryptic words did little to soothe the storm in your chest.

The hours stretched endlessly, a gnawing worry festering in your undead heart. You had long left Helaena's chambers, not wanting to subject her to the tumult of your thoughts.

Instead, you roamed the castle halls, your pacing restless and your mind racing, oblivious to the leering gazes that followed your every move.

A pointed clearing of a throat brought you out of your thoughts. Turning, your eyes landed on Lord Larys Strong, limping toward you with that infuriatingly smug expression that seemed permanently etched on his face.

His head dipped in a mockery of respect. "Lady Mikaelson," he greeted, his voice as smooth as it was insidious.

"Lord Strong," you replied curtly, your tone clipped, your patience already wearing thin.

Despite your disdain, you knew better than to dismiss him outright. Larys Strong was the keeper of whispers, his ears always first to catch the murmurs that mattered.

You approached him warily, your voice low. “Do you know of Prince Aemond’s whereabouts?”

Larys tilted his head, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Worried, are you?"

The polite mask you had been forcing dropped immediately, your eyes narrowing into sharp slits. “Why wouldn’t I be concerned about the Prince Regent?”

His smirk widened, his gaze uncomfortably probing. “Yes, yes, of course. Especially given... your intimate relationship with him.”

Your lips pressed into a hard line, your jaw tightening at his insinuation. You loathed how he delivered the words with such deliberate emphasis, knowing well how the court gossiped about you.

You were no stranger to their whispers—Lady Mikaelson, now whispered about as the prince’s concubine.

Stepping closer, you allowed the faintest edge of your vampire nature to seep into your demeanor. Your eyes glinted dangerously, your voice dropping to a silk-lined threat. "Careful, Lord Strong. Tongues like yours have a way of getting bitten."

Larys raised his hands in mock surrender, though the satisfaction in his eyes only grew. “A thousand pardons, my lady. I meant no offense.”

You leaned back, your glare unwavering. “If you have nothing of use to share, then spare me your presence.”

As you turned, ready to leave the conversation behind, his voice slid after you like a poison-laced whisper. “Sharp Point.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your brow furrowing in confusion. You turned back to him, your voice dripping with skepticism. “Excuse me?”

Lord Larys, sensing the shift in your mood, adopted a more somber expression, almost as if he were doing you a favor by sharing such information. “The pretender Queen, Rhaenyra, has found three new riders for her dragons.”

A flicker of realization sparked within you, understanding the true identity of the dragon you’d seen earlier. You straightened, the tension in your body tightening as Larys continued.

“Prince Aemond flew out to challenge her. And when his eyes fell on Dragonstone, he fled in terror, or so the rumors say.” He paused, watching you for any reaction. “And after that? He let loose his fury upon Sharp Point, razing the whole town to the ground.”

A sickened breath escaped you, your heart racing in your chest as you absorbed the weight of his words. “No…”

Larys nodded, his voice laced with mock sympathy. “Yes. It’s true. Quite the display of anger, I hear. I would think it would be most frightening to find yourself in the presence of such a man. Dangerous, even, for a lady such as yourself.”

A slow, predatory fury began to unfurl inside you, and your eyes darkened with a mix of disbelief and contempt. How dare he insinuate that Aemond would ever turn his wrath upon you, let alone lay a hand on you.

But before you could retaliate, your heightened senses caught the distant sound of wings—a powerful, unmistakable beat that stirred the air around you.

Aemond had returned.

You turned sharply toward the sound, your pulse quickening. The fear that had gnawed at you now shifted into something else entirely: an unrelenting need for the truth.

You stormed into Aemond’s chambers, the heavy door slamming shut behind you, your steps echoing like thunder. He was there, standing at the edge of the balcony, the dim light of dusk framing him in shadow.

His silver hair caught the faint glow of the moon, but his back remained rigid, unyielding. You desperately hoped the whispers weren’t true, yet the ash smudging his tunic filled you with dread.

His actions reminded you far too much of the cruelty you had fled from—Niklaus, in one of his darkest moments.

“I waited hours for you, Aemond. Hours,” you began, your voice sharp with the tension that had built inside you all day.

He didn’t turn, didn’t so much as flinch, his voice cold and distant. “You need not concern yourself with where I go, or with my choices.”

That cold indifference stung more than it should have, yet it only fueled your anger. Your eyes narrowed, the fire within you rising. “I do concern myself, Aemond. Especially when you leave without a word, and come back covered in ash, with a storm of rumors following in your wake.”

He moved then, slowly, deliberately, turning to face you. His single eye, colder than you’d ever seen it, locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt as though he was a stranger. “I didn’t ask for your concern,” he said, his tone biting, cutting straight to the bone.

You inhaled sharply, your frustration boiling over. “And yet here I am, concerned,” you snapped, stepping closer, your voice trembling with restrained anger. “I know you, Aemond. I know fear when I see it. You are not above it, no matter how you might pretend otherwise.”

His voice was dark, dangerously calm as he spoke, “Do not pretend to know me. You know nothing of who I am—not truly. You’re too busy hiding your own monstrous truth to see anything clearly.”

The words struck, sharp as Valyrian steel. You ignored the pang of hurt that lanced through you, straightening as you took a step toward him, your voice sharp and unrelenting.

“Hiding my truth? You think I’m the monster here? What of you, Aemond? You destroyed an entire town. You burned it to the ground, tore it apart like it was nothing. That wasn’t strategy. That wasn’t wisdom. That was rage. Unbridled, destructive rage you refuse to face.”

“Do not preach to me,” he growled, his voice low and venomous, his eye narrowing with contempt. “You stand there, self-righteous, speaking of things you do not understand. You may have lived centuries, yet you are no better than the rest of us. You have blood on your hands, the same as anyone else.”

You inhaled sharply, steadying yourself, though your voice betrayed none of the hurt simmering beneath. “I never wanted this life, Aemond. But I’ve accepted it. I know what I am. But you—you wear your anger like a crown, as if it grants you dominion. You think fire and blood will bring you peace? It won’t. It never does.”

His expression twisted in offense, his voice rising. “You dare speak to me of peace, when you know none yourself?”

You stepped forward, closing the distance between you, your tone sharp and unwavering. “I have peace in knowing who I am. I have peace in knowing that no matter what the world throws at me, no matter how much it tries to break me, I stand. But you… You’re just a boy, Aemond. A boy pretending to be a king.”

His eye flickered, his jaw tightening as he looked away, gesturing toward the door with finality. “Enough. I will not stand here and listen to this.”

You sighed, your lips trembling, but your voice was as sharp and unyielding. “But you shall.”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, his hands flexing at his sides. Then, with a coldness that cut deeper than any blade, he said, “Do you know when I last felt peace? When I went to the Blue Pearl.”

The words struck like a thunderclap. Your breath caught, sharp and sudden, as you stared at him, searching for some sign that this was a cruel jest. “What?” you whispered, the word barely audible.

He took a deliberate step toward you, his tone chillingly indifferent, almost mocking. “You heard me. When I thought you were gone—when I thought I’d never see you again, when you left me with nothing but questions and a shattered heart—I sought comfort elsewhere.”

There was a flicker of something in his eye—regret, anger, defiance?—before his lips curled into a faint, cruel smirk. “There. Now I’ve hurt you as you've hurt me.”

You froze, his words slicing through you like dragonfire. Your mind spiraled with unbidden thoughts, primal urges—rip out his heart, tear his throat with your teeth, leave him broken and bleeding as his words had left you.

But instead, you stood there, unyielding, forcing the tears brimming in your eyes to stay put.

Blinking them away, a hollow, bitter laugh escaped your lips, raw and filled with disbelief. “Hurt me,” you echoed, the words dripping with venom.

You studied him, the man you had once believed you understood, the one you had allowed yourself to care for despite your nature. How quickly the tides could turn. Only yesterday, you were in bliss, Aemond’s arms a sanctuary.

And now, here he stood, confessing how he had lain with a whore in your absence, mocking the bond you thought you shared.

Your voice was low, trembling with suppressed fury. “How utterly predictable of you, Aemond. To nurse your wounds with spite and call it vengeance. You speak of broken hearts, but you—” you stepped closer, your voice rising, “—are the one who destroys everything you touch with your pride and your anger.”

He flinched, but his resolve didn’t waver, his gaze meeting yours with an icy defiance.

You inhaled slowly, steadying yourself. If he sought a reaction, he would not have it—not the one he wanted, at least. “I never wanted to be the one to hurt you,” you murmured, your voice soft but unyielding as you looked away.

His presence, the very sight of him, sickened you. “I told you who I am because I thought it would bring us closer. I thought you, of all people, would understand.”

You paused, letting the silence stretch and coil between you like a serpent. “And now I see it was all for naught. You cannot be saved, Aemond. And I shall not endeavor to try.”

Your words hung in the air, sharp and final. You turned to leave, your steps slow and deliberate, each one heavy with the weight of your disappointment. But just as your hand reached for the door, his voice stopped you.

It was different now—no longer cold and cutting, but softer, laced with something almost resembling regret. “I did not say you could leave.”

His words halted you momentarily, your back still turned to him. You closed your eyes, drawing in a deep, steadying breath before replying, your tone soft yet cutting.

“But your actions have,” you whispered. “Why be together when all we’ve done is hurt each other, yes?”

The silence that followed was deafening. And with that, you walked away, your steps resolute, leaving Aemond standing in the shadow of his own choices.

You didn’t look back, though every part of you ached to do so. Instead, you left the room, the door shutting softly behind you—a sound that felt louder than any scream.

A/N — I'm going to be writing out of my ASS from now on, maybe including a teeny tiny bit of the f&b material, even though to me book Aemond and show Aemond are completely different, but ciao

those who couldn't be tagged are in bold :(

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[coff33andb00ks]

Mountain Mama - LH

Lewis Hamilton x unnamed ofc summary: You can take the girl out of the country, but can you ever really take the country out of the girl? songs: Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver and Is This Love by Bob Marley & The Wailers a.n.: am currently soft for Lewis and had to write to get him out of my system spoiler alert it didn't work warnings: discussions of prejudice and racism, pure disgusting fluff, author unabashedly shows her love for country music, author also is fully in love with one sir lewis Hamilton now

She wasn't worried about her family liking Lewis. Her sister had already met him and was doing her part to talk him up as the greatest man that ever lived to the rest of the family. She knew there was a wary level of respect between her parents and Lewis after their unofficial meeting over FaceTime. He'd been a little shy but very sweet, telling them a little about himself, and later her mother had said well he seems like a nice young man.

High praise from mama, who'd called her last boyfriend dried up dog shit.

Her father hadn't said anything about him. He didn't follow formula one, only knew about it because of her photography, so he didn't know who Lewis was. But when he'd texted her to tell her he'd watched a bit of the race after she'd confirmed Lewis was coming home with her during summer break she knew he was at least trying.

So here she was, behind the wheel of the rental car, driving to her parents' home with Lewis in the passenger seat and Roscoe in the back. Music was on, the windows were down, and with each mile she traveled closer to home she felt both more relaxed and more anxious.

She needed them to like him. They didn't have to love him, call him the son they'd always wanted, or even add his name to the Christmas card list. They didn't need to learn everything about him. She just needed them to like him enough to want him around when she came home for a visit. She needed them to like him and understand how very much she loved him.

They would bristle a little bit. Especially Grandma. Because he was older. Almost 40 and never married? Hm… And all those tattoos… She could hear Grandma clicking her tongue in disapproval over the tapestry of artwork that covered most of his body. And her father's eyebrows would hit his receding hairline when Lewis inevitably dressed as though he'd just stepped out of Vogue to go down to the diner in town for lunch on Friday.

"Babe." Lewis spoke just loud enough to be heard over the music. She glanced over at him, saw his playful little smile as he lifted his phone.

"No," she laughed when the song playing ended and another began. Immediately recognizable because it was one of her lifelong favorites. The one her grandpa had sang on summer nights around the bonfire when he was a few slugs of moonshine deep.

Lewis held up his hands and swayed in time to the music. "Almost heaven, West Virginia… Blue Ridge mountains, Shenandoah river…"

And she had to sing along, because she always did. Because it was her favorite, yes, but also because he always sang it. The man who shook his head in disappointment over all the other so-called embarrassing songs on her Spotify never failed to belt out John Denver with his entire soul.

She slowed, turning onto the path that wound through the trees, anticipation growing as the trees grew further apart, spreading into the dusty lawn she'd learned to ride a bike on. A turn and she saw it. Home. The front porch where she'd sat on her grandma's lap sipping lemonade. The ever present barn cat sitting on the top step, black tail twitching. Her dad's truck was parked crookedly near the back of the house and she could just see the sheets rippling in the breeze on the clothesline in the back yard.

Stopped, song still playing, she stared at the place she'd grown up, trying to view it as a newcomer. The grass needed mowing, the barn needed a new coat of paint. The roof on the old smokehouse was sagging a little. The porch railing looked crooked. But for every imperfection she saw a beautiful memory. How many millions of dandelions had she picked when the grass got a little tall? Up in the hay loft of the barn her name was carved into the top plank. The smokehouse, which had always held the lingering aroma of curing meat, had been the best spot during hide and seek. And she'd been leaning against that porch railing when she'd had her first kiss.

Her throat tightened with emotion.

Home.

"C'mon, mountain mama," Lewis said softly, unbuckling his seatbelt.

She wanted to apologize for not growing up rich, for not having a stately home to show him. She knew she didn't have to. Lewis didn't care about that, and he hadn't grown up much better than she had. He only cared about seeing where she'd been raised and meeting the people who'd raised her. What had he said when she'd asked him to come home with her?

I already love that little town because it made you.

She climbed out while he got Roscoe out of the backseat, and was opening her mouth to tell him they could get their bags later when the screen door banged.

"Is that my baby finally come to see me?"

It wouldn't matter if it had been two weeks or two months or two years, she would get that greeting. Not even bothering to close the car door she broke into a run, jumping the top step and laughing through tears as she was wrapped in her grandma's arms.

"Oh I miss these hugs." Grandma kissed her cheek, gripping her shoulders and holding her at arm's length. "Look at you. That boy of yours is treating you right, huh?"

"He is, Grandma," she promised, looking back to see Lewis closing the car door.

"Oh." Grandma squinted her eyes a bit. "He is handsome."

She giggled. "Heart of gold, Grandma."

"What's his name again? Louis?"

"Lewis."

As if he knew they were talking about him he glanced to the porch, smiling. Roscoe was already making his way to the steps, looking warily at the cat.

"Go on, get," Grandma said, shooing the cat away.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Grandma's shoulders were a little more stooped, her hands a little more shaky. Why oh why did time have to go by so quickly? Pushing away the invasive thoughts of her beloved grandmother not being around forever, she slid her hand into Lewis's once he was on the porch. "Grandma, this is Lewis. Lewis, this is Grandma."

"It's so nice to finally meet you, ma'am." He extended his hand and as soon as he smiled she knew her grandma was smitten.

"Oh honey aren't you sweet." She shook his hand. "Well, c'mon in – is that dog house trained?"

"Better than some humans," he promised with a grin.

They'd barely gotten into the house when her father came to greet them. He wasn't nearly as smitten as grandma, and she recognized the old macho act he'd played on all her old boyfriends. Then her mother came hurrying out of the kitchen, bringing with her the aroma of lemon meringue and peach cobbler.

There was overlapping chatter. Greetings and questions and the beginnings of an interrogation. Roscoe was cooed over by Grandma, given a begrudging welcome by her dad.

"I straightened up your old room," mama said when Lewis excused himself to go get their bags. "And got new sheets for your sister's old room."

"Is she staying too?" she asked in confusion, squatting to give Roscoe ear scratches.

"Of course not – you know her and Dale are almost finished the new addition on the back of their place? The twins will have a nice big playroom."

"Are the twins staying?" Why would mama need to do anything to her sister's room?

"No… It's for your boyfriend."

She froze. Oh god. Of course her mother would think… "Mama…"

"It's not fancy or anything but I don't think he'll mind do you? It's got plenty of room for him and Roscoe."

At that, Roscoe nudged her hand, silently begging for more scratches. "Mama, I thought he'd sleep in my room."

"Oh. Well you two can switch." Her mother shrugged.

"Jesus, Kathy, she wants to sleep with the boy," her father said loudly.

Surprise, Mama, I'm not a virgin!

"I don't think your dad likes me."

She looked up from unpacking her suitcase. Usually she didn't, usually she just rummaged to get what she needed, but she'd wanted a break before the rest of the family arrived for the cookout. The time change was affecting her a little and she wanted to get a nap in.

"What makes you say that?" she asked, setting her toiletry bag on the dresser.

"He calls me boy." Lewis was standing at the window, hands in his pockets, looking out at the back yard. Where her father and brother in-law were firing up the grill.

"He doesn't mean… He calls anyone younger than him boy," she promised.

"I get it. Really, babe," he said, looking over at her. "It just rubs me wrong."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" she asked, crossing the room.

"Will it change anything?"

"He's not like that, Lewis. He's southern, yes, he's a good ol' country boy, pickup truck, cold beer, guns and 'Murica, Toby Keith and Hank Jr, but he's not racist. If he's told that the way he says something is offensive, he stops saying it." She slipped her arms around him from behind, pressing her face to his back.

"It'll just make him like me even less," he sighed.

"No, babe… If he didn't like you, you wouldn't be in my bedroom."

He chuckled, covering her hands with his and interlocking their fingers. "Not only am I boy, I'm the asshole that deflowered his little girl."

She snorted at that. "Please, like I was an untouched virgin."

"How you were able to have sex way out here is a mystery to me."

"There are so many spots where you can go to be unseen," she told him.

Lewis hummed, unwrapping her arms and turning to face her. "Were you shagging farmer boys in the woods, babe?"

Leaning up, she pressed a kiss to his lips. "Once, yes. Most of the time it was in the cutoff down the old service road. Or out at the powerline."

"You weren't seduced in a bed?" He shook his head in disappointment. "I'm so sorry."

"And where was your first time, hm?"

He rolled his eyes. "Coat closet."

"That's even worse than a pickup truck."

"Didn't count, I wasn't in love."

"Oh see you didn't tell me that." Pulling on his hands, she walked backwards towards the bed. "That changes everything."

"Hotel room? Back seat of a car?" he guessed, letting her pull him along.

"A penthouse, actually," she murmured as she fell onto the bed.

He hesitated briefly then joined her, holding himself above her. "Penthouse? In Bumfuck Virginia?"

"You said it only counted if I was in love, right?"

"Mhmm."

"Penthouse. Monte-Carlo. Afterwards he took a bubble bath with me and we danced to Bob Marley." She watched his eyes soften and leaned up to meet his lips in a kiss. "He was the first one that made me feel loved."

"Does he still make you feel it?" he whispered between kisses.

"Every day."

"If he ever doesn't make you feel that way, will you tell him?"

"Yes." She kissed him again.

"Promise?" he whispered.

"Promise."

The food was delicious, and she was so happy her parents had made vegan alternatives for Lewis she could have cried. He seemed happy too, and during the meal she watched him talk with her dad and Dale, heart swelling each time he turned to praise her mama's cooking. Roscoe was parked between them, his gentle snoring just barely noticeable above the music playing.

It was a balmy evening, lightning bugs flashing as the sun sank low, and she watched Lewis's head drop back with a groan after he finished a third helping of Grandma's peach cobbler. "I think I hurt myself eating, ma'am."

Grandma glowed, patting his hand. "It's how I won her Papa," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Lewis chuckled, rubbing his abdomen with his free hand. "If I was twenty years older…"

She beamed as Grandma giggled, so obviously charmed she looked twenty years younger in the golden glow of the sinking sun. "Oh bless your heart, honey, I don't think you could handle me."

"I can barely handle her," Lewis told her in a stage whisper.

And she knew her family liked him. Their laughter was natural, the conversation flowed. Her twin nephews kept coming over to him, asking him questions about his tattoos, his jewelry, and she fell in love all over again at how patient and gentle he was with them.

When he insisted on helping with cleanup she saw the warmth of approval in her dad's eyes. The twins said they would help, too, and she could only look on as they followed him back into the house, Roscoe taking up the rear.

"He's a good one," Grandma said.

"He's alright." This from her dad, and it was the best she knew she could get for now.

"I like him a lot, honey. You ain't looked this happy in a long time." Mama squeezed her shoulder on her way past, and right behind her was her sister, flashing a grin as she helped gather the platters.

"You wanna take a walk?" her father asked.

It was a callback to her childhood. Dad always said it was to work off what he'd just had to eat, but she had figured out in her early teenage years it was his way of checking in on her. Their walks after dinner had been when they'd bonded, and as she fell into step next to him and they strolled beyond the barn she realized how much she missed these walks.

"I didn't want to like him."

She pressed her lips together to keep from asking why. Always best to just stay silent and let him get all his thoughts out in his own way.

"He's a little older than you. But I think that's what you need. Someone to keep your head from floating with the clouds." He sighed, snapping a leaf off the old oak tree as they walked under the branches. "And… You know how people are around here, honey."

She nodded. "But not you, dad," she whispered.

"I don't give a shit, you know that. But even Dale said something, and… I know you always worry about what people think."

"I used to," she said.

"You always hid away from the world. And I let you. Thought I was protecting you from how bad it can be sometimes." He twirled the leaf between his fingers, sending it swirling. "You're out in it, now. Can't protect you anymore."

"I don't need protecting, daddy," she promised.

"You telling me your knight back there doesn't protect you?" he asked, stopping at the fence to the back pasture. "That bo – sorry. That man loves you, honey."

"I know. And I love him."

"People around here will talk." He propped his arm on the fencepost and looked out. "Ain't got nothing better to do."

"I don't care what they say." And she didn't. She used to, yes, used to care too much, pretending to be someone else so she'd be accepted. The only people whose opinions mattered were inside the house and standing beside her.

"Good. Because I want him to come around more often."

"You like him?" she asked. She knew he did, but she needed to hear him say it.

"Yeah, he's alright," he chuckled. Throwing his arm around her shoulders when she groaned, he pulled her in close.

"Dad…"

"Rest easy, honey. I like him. Long as he treats you right I'll never say a word against him."

They stayed at the fence and she let herself be her dad's little girl for a few more minutes, watching the sunlight fade. Walking back to the house she could hear music still playing, but now instead of her dad and Dale's country it was the smooth beats of reggae and she was smiling as she entered the kitchen to see Lewis dancing with the twins to Is This Love.

He spun to face her, face lighting, and ducked to speak to her nephews then held a hand out to her, drawing her to him. His lips met her forehead. "I wanna love ya, I wanna love and treat, love and treat you right…" he crooned softly as they danced in her mama's kitchen.

"You better," she whispered. "Because I think they like you more than me."

His laugh was warmer than any sunlight, and she didn't mind at all when he kissed her then broke away to ask her grandma to dance.

She missed all of this, the love and the comfort and all the memories.

But she couldn't wait for the love and memories to come.

[moonlightisdancing]

Like A Virgin/ j.t.k

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI practically smut w no plot, mentions arguing/drinking/parental issues, sneaking out, consumption of weed, pure awkwardness, some fluff, oral sex (m+f receiving), loss of virginity (m+f), penetrative unprotected sex

as always please lmk if anything’s missed

inspired by my dear nick & this song

a/n: sorry if this is kinda cheesy/short/whatever… just needed to write a virgin jake fic

——————🌸——————

“Yeah, maybe we can hang out this summer!”

Those were the last words you’d hear from Jake Kiszka after graduation as he scribbled his phone number and a smiley face next to his picture in your yearbook. He must have known you had a small crush on him that may or may not have developed during senior year calculus after some group work.

His number was saved to your contacts that day but it wasn’t until August came around before you ever texted him, but he wasn’t your first thought. You knew he lived relatively close to you, one block to the left and over the train tracks, all the way at the end of the street. Meanwhile, you only lived a block away from your best and really only friend, Kiera, so she’s who you’d spend most your time with.

Today has been the longest day of your life. A screaming match with your mom over the gap year you decided on last minute, your dad drinking again, an entire summer of pent up anger bouncing around the walls of your home had finally bursted at the seams. You spent all night crying, your mind traveling to the darkest of places. It just felt like you needed a hug, for someone to hold you and tell you it would all be okay.

“Hello?”

It took five rings before Kiera answered her phone. In her defense it was roughly two in the morning and you should have been asleep, too.

“Kiera? I-I could really use your company if you can.” The sobbing hadn’t stopped, the words barely coming out.

“Y/n… My parents won’t let me out this late, you know that.”

“Even if I walk there? I-Kiera, I just need a hug or a blunt, something. And I don’t know anyone else.”

“Well, you know Jake, and his mom’s much nicer than mine.” She sounded irritated but you knew she was trying her best to be patient.

“I haven't talked to him since grad, I can’t just hit him up.”

“Just text him? He posted on Snapchat like fifteen minutes ago and he lives right there.”

“Okay, okay, fine. But what if he thinks-”

“Just do it and let me know, okay? I love you, good night.” She hung up before you could even respond.

Breathe, Y/n, it’s fine, everything is fine.

You: Heyyy Jake it’s Y/n

Jake K: Hey stranger, what’s up?

You: So super awkward, but I’m in desperate need of a blunt and a hug

Jake K: Done and done. Remember where I live?

You: Yeah

Jake K: Come on by, porch lights on

How could you forget where he lived? Sure, you went once for Jake and Josh’s graduation party, but after learning how close your highschool crush lived to you, you’d never forget. You fixed your hair in the bathroom and splashed your face with cool water in attempts to bring down your swollen red eyes. A little bit of deodorant and some perfume would be the finishing touches before returning to your room. You couldn’t leave through the front door, the dogs would bark and it would add one more thing to the list of arguments yet to be had. It doesn’t matter you’re eighteen, as long as you lived under your parent’s roof, it was their rules. You opened your window and climbed out, using the junction box outside your window for leverage.

It takes eleven minutes to walk from your house to Jake’s, where he’s already standing on his front porch waiting for you. He’s in basketball shorts, slip on Vans and a pullover hoodie, and somehow he still looks good as ever. You weren’t half way up his driveway before he began walking towards you with his arms wide open. At graduation he only offered an awkward side hug, so this sure was new to say the least. Jake wraps both his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into his chest. You inhale his scent, he just smells like home. Not yours, most likely his, but home with a hint of worn off cologne. Your heart begins racing a lot faster than you want to admit as he holds you until you let go.

“Shall we?” He asks in a deep silly voice as he leads you through the gate to his backyard. There was a firepit in the middle of some chairs and a cute little picnic table off to the side. You follow him towards the mahogany stained wood and sit across from him. The only light was that of the full moon washing over everything in a blue tint.

“Do you know how to roll?” Jake asks as he empties the contents of his pockets on the table.

“Uh-uh.” You shook your head.

“S’okay, I can show you.” Jake turns the flashlight from his phone on, handing it to you to hold. He walks you through the process, admittedly you paid more attention to the way his fingers moved than the actual task itself.

You watch as his tongue parts his lips and licks across the blunt, sealing the weed inside. Jake reaches for his phone, his fingers brushing gently against your knuckles. The two of you stand awkwardly from the table, the moonlight illuminating Jake’s soft features.

“C’mere, I know a spot.” He holds his empty hand out towards you and waits until you place your palm in his. Jake guides you to the side of his house and down a tiny path that leads to a creek. There resides an old metal bench that Jake directs you towards. He places the blunt between his plush pink lips and brings the lighter to the end, the red hot cherry casting a golden hue against his cheek bones. A couple silent puff, puff, passes happen before you speak.

“I’m sorry I didn’t text you sooner. Life’s just been kinda…” You trailed off.

“Hey, don’t apologize,” He shifts to face you, bringing his one leg up. “We’re here now, that’s what matters.”

More silence occured as the blunt was worked down to nothing, but the silence was comfortable. You didn’t want to talk about your problems and ruin the safe bubble that naturally surrounded Jake’s existence, opting to ask him about his plans instead.

“So, is the band doing good or are you gonna go to college?” You ask, matching his stance by turning to face him.

“Band’s going places, I think. I dunno, gotta wait for Sammy and Danny to finish school, then we’ll really know. You?”

“Taking a gap year, but who knows? Maybe I could be some rockstar’s girlfriend.” Sheesh, the weed had you feeling ballsy.

“Yeah, maybe.”

The comfortable silence had now grown awkward as you struggled to even look in Jake’s direction.

“You should hear me play some time. I-I mean if you wanted to I can right now.” Jake stumbles over his words, presumably a mix of anxiousness and marijuana.

“Sure, yeah, that sounds good.” You nod and stand at the same time Jake does, taking his hand once again as he held it out for you. His palms feel warm and clammy, usually you’d be off put but his nervousness is endearing.

He opens the little side door to the garage and flicks on the light. It smells very garage-y, the whirring of the fluorescent lights really tying it together. He walks to the opposite side and grabs his acoustic guitar before suggesting you sit on the couch next to him.

“We’ve been working on this one for a little bit, it’s called Flower Power.”

He plays chords to a song you hadn’t heard, singing chunks of lyrics alike. It was a beautiful song nonetheless, maybe even one you’d listen to on your own accord.

“Wow, she must be a lucky girl.”

“Think so? Why’s that?” Jake giggled as he discarded his guitar. He flicked on a lava lamp before shutting the flourecent light off and returning awfully close beside you.

“Are you kidding me? If someone wrote that about me, said that to me?! I think every girl wants to be loved that way.”

“Yeah?” He laughed again, shaking his head.

“Yes!”

“And what if I told you someone did?”

“What?” Your cheeks flamed red, matching the color of the lamp beside you.

“That’s your song, Y/n.” Jake reaches his hand out to yours again for the third time tonight, this time interlocking his fingers with yours.

“Mine?”

Jake nodded before some force pulled the two of you together, your lips crashing into his. After months of wondering what he tasted like, the flavor of weed and spearmint on his lips was one you’d never forget. The kissing grew quickly heated as Jake’s hands found purchase on your hips, his knee planted between yours as he hovered over you. You found yourself rutting your hips up against his as he did the same, the feeling of his hardening length against your clothed center driving you places you’d never been. The kissing led to shirts being removed, ultimately leaving you in your bra and underwear, Jake in his shorts.

“What d’ya wanna do?” He whispered between kisses, his hands migrating to your breasts.

“Um, not sure… I’ve never-”

“No, me either, it’s okay.”

“I can- do you want head?”

“You okay with that?”

“Yeah,”

Jake sat beside you again as you stood between his legs, lowering yourself to your knees. You’d never given head before, or done anything along these lines. Your body filled with an unfamiliar sensation as you progressed, dipping your fingers past the waistband of his shorts and boxers. His length sprung straight up and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. Never would you have thought he’d pack so much heat. You gently wrap one hand around the base of his cock, slowly stroking his length as you work your lips over his blushed tip. You watched a few videos here and there to sort of have a general idea, trying to remember anything from those as you bobbed your head up and down. Jake’s hands cupped either side of your face as he moaned and whined before grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail.

“Is this okay?”

“Mhm.” You hummed with him in your mouth, his dick twitching in response.

“Can I give you head?” He asks, lifting you from his length. You nod eagerly as Jake laid you down on the sofa, kicking off his shorts and boxers. He kisses up the inside of your thighs before hovering over your center. You’re embarrassed by the polka dot cotton panties you wore, but he doesn’t seem to care as he tucks his fingers into the elastic waist. He looks up at you and waits for approval before pulling them down your thighs, tossing them amongst his.

It’s a matter of seconds before his tongue begins exploring you alongside his fingers. Jake’s mouth marries perfectly against your aching bud as he switches between flicking his tongue and sucking. His fingers tease your entrance as he finally pushes a finger in, his mouth continuing its task. You watch him grind his hips against the cushions, his groans growing louder the faster his mouth and fingers move.

“Jake?” You whine, writhing under his touch.

“Hm?” He pulls away, staring at you with his soaked chin and lips.

“Do you wanna have sex?” Bold. The weed was giving you all the courage you could ask for.

“I don’t know where there’s a condom.” He kneels on the cushions in front of you, stroking his length.

“You don’t have one like in your wallet?”

“Why would- I’m a virgin.”

“Right, sorry.” It was kind of implied earlier, but hearing the words leave his mouth felt foreign. It truly astounded you that he was a virgin. People said he got around a lot, it was one of the reasons you felt you had no chance.

“Maybe just the tip? Just to feel?” He shrugged, placing his hands on your knees.

“Yeah… But what if it feels too good? And we wanna keep going?”

“Pull out?”

You knew that was almost always a bad idea, but you let yourself think with the wrong head as you agreed to the idea. Jake pushes your knees apart and slowly brings his hips forward, the pillowy head of his cock rubbing against you. You reach a hand down and situate him at your entrance, bringing your legs up to ease him in. Jake places his hands against the armrest of the couch above your head, his chest hovering over your face as he slowly introduces his length.

“More.” You begged through a breathy moan, wincing as he did exactly as you asked. Jake feeds his entire length inside, his thighs flush against yours as you both revel in the feeling.

“Fuck, this is so… You feel so good.” Jake places a kiss on the top of your head before trailing his mouth down to yours.

The pain of his thick cock stretching your tight pussy quickly subsides as he begins slowly moving his hips back and forth, his lacking rhythm quickly being found. His lips remain on yours, only pulling away from time to time to check if you were okay. Your nails find a home digging into his back each time his hips crashes into yours. With each thrust came the familiar warmth washing over your body causing you to tighten around Jake.

“Are you close?”

“Yeah,” You respond, hardly able to breathe.

“Suck for me, baby.” Jake brings his middle and index finger to your lips, pushing them into your mouth. After you coat his digits with your saliva, Jake brings them to your clit, rubbing circles over your bud. That only brings you closer to your orgasm, one that feels more powerful than any other. The pleasure that rips through you simply could never be replicated by your own fingers again.

“Jake, fuck, mm,” Your moans begin to sound like cries as your body shakes beneath his.

“S’okay, I got you, pretty girl.” He brings his hand back up, wrapping his arms behind your back as he hugs you to his chest. “I’m gonna cum, too.” Jake removes himself from your aching pussy, resting his cock on your belly as he lowers himself and begins thrusting again. It takes seconds for his hot release to paint your skin, being spread by his weight against yours.

“So do you wanna be a rockstar’s girlfriend?” He asks kissing up and down your neck, occasionally sucking on your sensitive skin.

“I would love to.”

[gurugirl]

Gurugirl's Wattpad & Tumblr Fic Recs

Anything you read in these masterlists won’t disappoint but I’ve picked my absolute favorites from each blog and listed below.

NOTE: I did my best to include all my faves here but I've probably forgotten a few. I intend to add to this list (may need to make a part 2 once I hit my mentions and link limits) because I'm always reading new fics so come back often!

Angst recs (all taken from list below but specific to the more angsty ones)

Daddy kink

Enemies to lovers

Summer vibes & party fics

Personal faves from my own writings

Other blogs I love

Tumblr

@1d1195

One Shot: Right Here: one bed, nightmares, enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, childhood "friendship," coworker Harry, grumpy/sunshine (I'll let you guess who's who), etc. etc. etc.

@a-strange-familiar

Series: His Memories (3 parts): you and Harry broke up few months back but still love each other. And after all these months you see him again in a party. All memories you tried to push back in your head came back with a powerful speed.

@adorebeaa

One shot: Undo Me: YN reveals a kink in front of best friend!Harry, who is curious…

@awideworldoffanfics

Series: Milking the Grip (5 parts): Harry Styles is a single dad who golfs every Tuesday. Y/N is his babysitter who also happens to work at the golf course he goes to. They’ve never run into each other there. Until they do.

@be-with-me-so-happily

Series: My Way Back Home: YN is left to figure out what to do when the love of her life, Harry, does not remember loving her. (AU)

Series: Don't Worry Darling: Y/N has her first big break as an actress as she lands the leading role in 'Don't Worry Darling'. The only problem is that her co-star is Harry Styles, who she feels has a very big ego. Tensions rise the more they film. All kinds of tension...

One Shot: Friendly Favor: When YN's best friend Harry asks for a favor, she knows it'll be difficult, but she loves him too much to say no. However, it's a dumb plan, and those usually don't end how you think they will.

Series: Laceleaf: Gemma is definitely Cassidy James' favourite Styles family member, considering they are best friends and all. And especially considering that Harry Styles is Gemma's smug and self-centered younger brother. Her life isn't perfect, and neither is she, but she knows for a fact that anything involving Harry gets messy.

@bopbopstyles

Masterlist (anything you pick here will be a pleasure - seriously)

@fkinavocado

Series: Daddy Issues: in which you’ve got textbook daddy issues and when your tool of a younger brother brings a sweet doe eyed girlfriend home for Thanksgiving and you end up offering her a ride home, you meet just the man to fix them. (daddy!harry, dilf!harry)

Series: Hard Candy: in which Harry owns a candy store and he just loves giving good girls special treats… especially after closing time (candyman!Harry)

One Shots & Blurbs: Long Hair Harry One Shots & Blurbs

@freedomfireflies

Series: Playboy: Welcome to 1965, where the women are loose, and the morals are looser. Here you'll meet Michelle and Harry. You don't need to know too much about them. Just that they're both incredibly bold...and incredibly jealous. The summer of June 1965 was a rather wild one for the Playboy Bunnies but even more wild for our two dear friends. Stick around and I'm sure they'll be happy to tell you all about it. You just have to promise one little thing... Don't tell Hefner.

Series: Teach Me: 5 parts - Harry needs a little practice in the art of Eating Pussy, and who better to ask for help than his best friend?

Series: Mafia!harry: 2 parts so far - more to come - Your mafia boss boyfriend, Harry, has been a little neglectful of his most prized possession. But he's found the perfect way to make it right. Exhibition kink!!

@goldenbuckyyy

Series: Illicit Affairs: A series of events between your affair with Harry. (Cheating together)

@harryistheonlyoneforme

One Shot: Little Freak: pairing: dbf harry x reader (so hot - so many kinks all in one little shot - must read)

@harrywritingsbyme

Sneaking Around (a series of shorts): Best friends dad - FUCKING HOT

@helladirections

Series: Brother's Best Friend: Harry is YN’s brother’s best friend, and YN isn’t a little kid anymore. Ft. dom/sub, rough sex, and soft words. 

One Shot: Under Summer Skies: Harry and YN are longtime best friends back for another summer as the Dream Team on staff. Featuring getting called out by 12 year olds, two dumb best friends who can’t see what’s right in front of them, and lots of stargazing.

One Shot: Moka Pot: Do you think you can maybe do y/n and Harry having a slow morning routine? Like drinking tea together, doing skin together, basically just doing everything together? 

@itslottiehere

One Shot: I Don't Want to Hear About Him (angsty): bff!harry writes a song about bff!reader.. and her boyfriend.

@jawllines

Harry is Y/n's Criminology Instructor (2 parts)

Harry is a single dad and y/n is surprisingly good at babysitting (2 parts)

Harry & y/n are witches, they hate eachother, and something's coming (3 parts)

Y/n knows something she shouldn't and Harry does what on Fridays? (4 parts) - Boxer!harry

Harry is a grumpy mechanic and y/n just can't stop talking (4 parts)

@jarofstyles

King of the Jungle (multi part series): Y/N’s family works for a wildlife preservation society and Harry is king of the jungle or tarzan!harry

Lone Wolf (multi part series): Harry is a grumpy alpha who has given up on finding his mate or werewolf!harry

Beauty & the Beast (multi part series): Harry is a moody, withdrawn but successful creature who needs a companion who can tend to his… needs.

@lemoncrushh

Series: The Entertainer: Set in the 70s, Sky Jones meets Harry Styles, an up and coming musician and soon-to-be rockstar. The Entertainer Part II

One Shot: Dressing For Revenge: Still heartbroken from finding your ex cheating on you, you go to a nightclub with your friend Kelsie, where not only do you run into your ex, but also a handsome gentleman who’s willing to help you get over him. Part II

@lukesaprince

Series: Intruder: You were an outside hire for a promotion Harry wanted, and he despises you for it. The hatred is mutual since Harry is a bit of an asshole, until the day of an important presentation where the tension is finally dealt with - A very steamy enemies to lovers romance (domrry)

Series: The Roommate Series: After Y/N’s best friend and roommate Alex decides to move out, she’s desperate for someone to take her place. Alex seems to have found the solution in a British fresh-to-New-York musician who ticks all the boxes. He just happens to be insanely attractive and charismatic… what could go wrong? (friends to lovers)

Series: Fratboy!harry You Can Pretend All You Want: You hate fratboys and everything they stand for, so you decide to prove one wrong by sleeping with him… safe to say it backfires (fratboy!harry, enemies to lovers).

Series: Rich: Neighbour/Older!Harry. A Summer dogsitting job for Mr. Styles is a dream come true for any broke uni student. He's rich, gorgeous and finally fucks you after your weekly dinner together. A series that follows two neighbours who end up in a sexual relationship.

@moonchildstyles

Series: Aster: Harry is a tattoo artist and y/n just wants to know if he's like this all the time or if he just doesn't like her. tattoo artist!harry / lhh!harry

Series: Citrine: Harry's a witch and it's been along time since since he's been around anyone new, but there's no way he was getting y/n out of his head. witch!harry

Series: Chiaroscuro: y/n needed a job but this place is strange and the owner is even stranger. vampire!harry

Series: Prosecco: Harry is just on the edge of 30 and y/n is someone he's sure he shouldn't get involved with. until she seeks him out anyway, and he realizes no one has ever really shown her how she should be treated. older!harry

@0oolookitsme

One Shot: Dazzled: In which Harry has an uneasy feeling about Y/n’s new mission but the devil ignores his guts’ screams. But the vampire as well as his fiancé, Y/n, isn’t dumb and is quick to listen and take some weight off of his shoulders. They both soon find out, why, he was feeling uneasy. 

One Shot: Anything For You... And I: SMUTTY!!!! Dwd!Harry x Dwd-Character!Y/n

@0nlythrowharrybeaux

Friends Share (2 parts):Harry & Y/N have been practically perfect roommates for several years but the appearance of a hot new neighbor creates an unexpected shift in their relationship.

Unavailable (2 parts): Y/N has a very specific preference for unavailable/inappropriate people and Harry is her therapist who is supposed to help her work through this.

@pleasingforharry

Moans & Elevator Music (2 parts): Y/N is in a rush for an interview at her new job, but her luck gives out when the elevators shut down due to a sudden power outage. At least she isn’t alone.

@purplekiwis

Breaking the Ice (2 parts): Hockey!Harry x Skater!Y/N It’s no secret that as a figure skater, you’re fed up with the local hockey team being treated like royalty… and your ex’s status as a player isn’t helping much either.

In the Witching Hours (will be 3 parts): Wizard!Harry x Witch!Y/N; Soulmates AU An emergency admission to the hospital gives rise to a series of strange events but luckily, there’s a cute, shy wizard around…

One shot: Tentmate: Friends With Benefits Y/N has always hated camping… until her and Harry got stuck together in the same tent. (This one is smutty AF)

@s-brant

Series: The Getaway Car: In a drug deal gone wrong, Y/N, daughter to a famous racecar driver, finds herself behind the wheel of a car with a gun to her head. A masked man named Harry demands she helps him evade the authorities, so she does the only thing she knows how to. She drives.

One Shot: Midas Touch: The night before they leave to spend Christmas with his family, a conversation with their friends makes Harry and Y/N confront the future of their marriage.

@stylesloveclub

Series: Pleasing: In which y/n is a broke waitress, and Harry is a Michelin star chef who thinks she’s cuter than a puppy. 

@swiftmendeshoran

Series: Curvy Secret/No More Secrets Daddy: Dad's best friend (dbf!) Harry x plus size reader

@watchmegetobsessed

Series: The Sun Will Rise: You’re glad to be back at college and away from your family. Everything is back to its normal, but you have a little issue: you told your family you’d bring a date to your sister’s wedding, but you have no actual partner. An unexpected deal is made with the person you couldn’t even consider to be your friend: Harry can take the spare room in your apartment for the semester if he’ll be your date for the wedding. But can you actually live together with a guy who obviously dislikes you and you have no idea why? Can you fool your parents into thinking you’re dating Harry? And what will they think about him? Nothing is ever good enough to them, nothing that’s not as perfect as your sister, Alice.

Series: Wildest Fantasies: You’ve been struggling to finish your assignment for Professor Styles’ Creative Writing class. Inspiration is seem to be avoiding you, so to relieve some stress, you mess around with your roommates and write a rather dirty fiction of the hot professor everyone is into on campus. Due to a fatal mistake however, you end up uploading the wrong file as your attachment to your assignment and your wildest fantasies end up in the hands of the person they are about.

Good Girl (Part 2): sugardaddy!Harry / CEO!Harry x Reader

@writerpetals (writes optional male lead smut but you can easily imagine any male *coughharrycough* as the males are described as tall, well-built, with a nice head of hair - read anything this author writes - it's good, you will find almost any trope - ENJOY)

One Shot: Lakeside: werewolf!au, werewolf x reader

@zayndrivesmeinvain

Series (wip): The One That Got Away: In which Harry and Alena were college sweethearts, however, all of that has changed and the only thing keeping in contact is the fact that they have a child together. Is it possible for them to even get to a normal standing friendship or is that long gone? dadrry x oc | single dad!harry

i hit my link limits so was unable to insert link to part one of their series. check out their masterlist and you'll find it!

Wattpad

_miiki

Series: Artwork & Aquarelle: "Sierra, you go with Harry Styles." I raised up my head at the words, giving my teacher an incredulous glance. "Do I really have to?" Was the only thing I managed to say. The teacher gave me an annoyed look. "Did you not understand? You go with Harry Styles." I turned my head to look at him. At the mention of his name he glanced up, and if his green eyes hadn't frozen me in place already, the unimpressed look he gave me would've done it right away.

Aggressivelyfriendly = @aggresivelyfriendly

Series: Who Names the Colors: In the last year, Joanne Smith Giles, has once again become Jo Smith. In another heartbreaking turn of events, she's also the single mother of an infant, again. She knows she can do this on her own, and better at 40 than 19, but it seems weird to be launching a son into manhood, a new career as an art professor, and changing nappies all in one day. She is so thankful when Ethan, her boy, comes home from Uni. Jo could use the help. His best friend, Harry, comes round too. And his launch into manhood may be another heartbreaking turn, for all of them

ErinAlterEgo = @yourwattpadmom

Series: Late night Talking: Alex is craving something at night, and it's not ice cream. Encouraged by her husband to explore a polyamory relationship to meet some of her more....eclectic tastes, she finds herself on a dating app for the first time in her life. She expected maybe some interesting experiences, possibly her first one-night stand ever. She didn't expect to meet a man who made her question everything about herself. Harry is on a new path in his life that is exciting and different than he ever could have imagined. He's looking for excitement, experiences, but definitely not love and attachment. When he meets Alex, he sees a whole new path that he's unsure he wants to go down, but finds it hard to resist.

Hitterj (love all of her stuff!)

Series: All This Time: The coming-of-age story of Harry and Riley who have known each other for years, but never actually knew each other. They've spent countless nights at the same parties, shared a few drinks and glances, they're even on track to graduate top of their class. What happens when out of nowhere they start to connect? Like an invisible string pulls them together, so they can experience life and love and heartbreak. Riley and Harry learn a lot about themselves, and ultimately have to choose what's best for their future no matter how difficult that can be. But does love find a way? After all this time?

Series: Kiwi: If you don't know about this one by now... go read it - super duper smutty and sweet and angsty

Series: Sweet Little Lies: All her life, Ivy Malone has known what her family was. She grew up in the deep, unforgiving world of the mob. Ivy hates her position in life, knowing that her life was never fully hers. Harry Styles was cold. He trusted almost no one, especially his family. He had learned quickly that everyone was waiting for him to fail... to fall. An empire built by his father from the blood and bones of those who stepped in his way was all he had, no matter how much he hated it. He had no choice but to carry on the legacy. And marrying Malone's daughter was the next step in fortifying their defense. With new rivals making a move for power and a mysterious figure haunting the crime families of Queenstown, Ivy and Harry have to learn to live together. A bad start leads them down a tumultuous, passionate, and downright dangerous path, but maybe they were exactly what the other needed to live the life they always craved.

MysteryMixtapes (Just go read all their stuff)

Series: Stall & Stall 2: Violence/gangs/dark

Series: Perspective: Have you ever met someone that made falling feel like flying?

Series: Unforgettable: "If it feels so right, how can it be wrong?"

Peanutboyfriend (read all of Birdie's stuff - you won't regret it)

Series: Aerial: In Malibu, California in 1965, a surfer and world-famous aerialist undergoes a chain of comedic and not-so-comedic mishaps that force him to re-evaluate who he is.

Petit_cerise

Series: Devil's Due & Devil's Desire: Harry Styles, the brooding and intolerable tattoo parlour owner, meets River, a stubborn and somewhat oblivious girl, who just doesn't understand the reasoning behind his nefarious ways but is determined to find out. River comes to realize that Harry's hiding something much deeper than expected... only once those secrets come to the surface, it's too late to turn back.

Sunflowersnstuff

Series: One Word & Wonderland: We're all mad here, it's Wonderland.

ThousandYearsOfHope

Series: Lonely Nights: Willow Mackey is a quiet girl, but she is fiercely loyal and will never lie to you. Harry Styles is her brother's best friend, and someone she'll always have a soft spot for. Grown up and no longer shielded by their ages, lines start to blur, and mistakes keep being made. For the first time in her life, Willow realises that sometimes, the truth is too painful to hear. But how could she ever say no to the one person that's always understood her better than she understands herself?

Series: Pretty Boy: One night of impulse shouldn't lead to much for Joni Lewis, but when she meets the alluring Harry Styles, an opportunity arises that she can't ignore. A Harry Styles short story inspired by Pretty Woman.

Writhali (I really like everything I've read by Thali)

Series: Ambit: Gangs/violence/action/SMUT - "Hell's boring, Birdie." He claims, that cold, dead stare back to his eyes. "And this, this is what I call a Monday night."

[justporo]

Hey you :D

Here’s a request just to add your huge list for after vacation muahaha 💖

How do you think a slow, bickering romance with Astarion (kinda like Howl and Sophie) would go down.

Hey darling ❤️ You might’ve forgotten about this ask but I have not! I'm combining this with another one asking about where Astarion rejected Tav at first but then slowly fell for them.

Also haven't done one of this headcanon posts for a whole haven't we? Here we go:

Headcanons about Astarion slowly but surely falling in love with you (and how he pursues you)

Oh, it's all just a game for him, isn't it? At least at first. But this silly little jester didn't realise he was playing himself.

He might have rejected you at first (because he's a prick who has looked at the sun a little too long, let's be honest) but he quickly realises he can't take his mind off of you

You keep stirring the vampire's undead little heart and it scares him at first - and of course you had given up on it after that first hurtful rejection

But his crimson eyes start to never stray far from you, no matter if in battle or at camp: he can't tear his gaze from you - gods dammit, you're lovely!

It's in the way you always put others first, always have a kind word to spare, always a warm smile. How you laugh and how brave you are, how you bite your lip when you're lost deep in thought.

Quite frankly: a stake to his heart couldn't have been more effective.

But he realises another thing: he wants to be real with you, he wants to fall slowly with you - not a vicious thunderstorm but a soft, warm summer rain

And so Astarion begins to yearn in silence as you too can't keep your thoughts from turning around him often

It's painfully obvious to everyone around you how much the two of you are in love with each other; so much so that bets are being made in camp if you're gonna make it before you all reach the Gate

You notice that Astarion keeps sneaking around you like an adoring cat would: always a playful quip on the tip of his sharp tongue that you never take serious because... this Astarion we're talking about. "Oh my heart, aren't you even more blinding than the sun today" "Look who's blessing us with their grace and insight." "A copper for the thoughts in your pretty little head, darling."

Astarion doesn't know how to live the teasing out of his tone, maybe out of fear you might actually start taking him seriously; but if you would peel back the generous layer of faked sarcasm you'd find he's actually being serious

This man is downright smitten by you and you don't realise it as he achingly yearns for you - so much the others can barely take it

Sometimes you find little gifts on your pillow when you wake up: a sweet treat, snuck away from the others, a single blossom, a mysterious line of poetry - you are at a loss at where this comes from or if someone is playing with you

Meanwhile Astarion swallows his pride to regularly go to Wyll and ask his advice who... does help him but not without a haughty grin whenever he sees the lovesick vampire stroll over in his seemingly hopeless endeavour

Meanwhile you keep doing your utmost best to be at Astarion's side because you truly only want to help him and be happy and safe

Again: have mercy with the poor tortured soul, sometimes Astarion almost feels like he could combust on the spot if you give him one of your adorable lopsided smiles

When Moonrise and unpleasant people happen something in Astarion breaks, it all bursts out of him at once, overpowering even his terrible fear of rejection

The hug and tender first kiss you share that night tears both if your walls down.

You have not defeated the big bad enemy but something in your heart lightens knowing you have someone who will travel the road to whatever end with you

From there on out the two of you become even more unbearable in your pining for each other - meanwhile not trivial amounts of gold are passed between the other companions with quite some grumbling - but be assured: all of your friends are rooting for the two of you.

There we go, I love idiots in love with each other, hope you enjoyed!

[papasbaseball]

The Wizard x Reader (Wonderful Wonderful Girl) | Chapter 3

Pairing: Wizard x F!Reader

Rating: Teen (Rating to Increase)

Warnings: Power Imbalance, Boss/Employee Relationship

Summary: Being a maid in the Royal Palace of Oz is not half so bad. Despite the meager wages, everything else is provided for you for an honest day's work. It can be unnerving working for the most powerful man in Oz, but you are able to avoid him most of the time. This changes during Lurlinemas, your paths soon becoming inextricably intertwined.

Word Count: 2,306 of 7,390

Start | Prev | Next

AO3 Link

Being dealt with consists of yanking me from my bed, having my nightstand ransacked, and being plucked like a chicken down at the most expensive salon in Oz. After thorough torment and torture via wax strips, I get tossed into a room that I have never seen before but was on the same level as the Wizard's apartments. The better to keep an eye on me, I think.

The room is small but fit for perhaps a noblewoman staying a night or two at the palace: plenty fanciful with sage-papered walls but bare enough to discourage overstaying one's welcome. It consists of a small fireplace, a grand wardrobe that almost reaches the ceiling, a brass bed that is twice the width of my old one, and a vanity with a little note on top. I ignore the note, heading for the wardrobe. It's well past noon, and I'm sure there are still chores to be done. As much fun as this little excursion has been, I would like to eat dinner tonight.

The wardrobe pours out a scent of fresh citrus and I have to turn my head as my eyes and lips pucker. As the burst of cleanliness subsides, I go through the wardrobe. There is an embroidered green floor-length dress, some clothes that are suited for summers that are too hot, and some risque lingerie that makes me slam the doors closed with a wooden clatter. This room was meant for a noble lady, but I didn't think that they would have stuck me into one that was already occupied. Obviously, there has been a mistake.

When they had stuffed me in here, they hadn't given me any instructions and refused to answer any of my questions. The only answer I was able to get out of them was “I am not able to share that with you”. I open the door to see if I can find some help and am met with two palace guards who bark some threats that cause me to stumble back into the room. I shut the door again. There's a thick metallic slotting, and when I go to try the handle, it doesn't budge, instead rattling in futility.

My lip curls and I bear my teeth. I have to fight the urge to slam my balled-up fists on the door and scream obscenities, but I know they'd probably just come in and hit me over the head with the end of one of their swords or do something worse to get me to shut up. The Royal Palace guards were not exactly known for their kindness and compassion. I add “intelligence” to their not-list for refusing to even listen to the fact that I am occupying someone else's room.

Making a closer assessment of the space, I look for any potential doors that might have been missed. There is a bathroom door with a peacock carved into it, but nothing else of note. The only other exit is a window. I approach the paned glass, flipping the latch, and am met with a dizzying drop. From up here, the stretched-out cotton balls that make up the clouds wrap around the jeweled spirals of the royal palace like heavenly moss.

"It's a long way down."

I yelp, my palms slipping from the window sill. The fear cuts up through me with the air as I fall, standing all of my hairs straight up. I'm jerked back and I tumble to the floor, scrambling back to the wardrobe as I try to catch my breath. The Wizard is there, standing in front of the window with a barely concealed smile on his face and a glint of amusement in his eyes. I want to scream as anger rips through me. It's not right to feel that way towards our Wonderful ruler, but I can't see what he finds funny about the fact that I almost just died. All I'm able to get out is a strangled cry that sounds nowhere near close to "thank you".

"Were you trying to get some fresh air?" he says, offering me a hand.

I try to still my face as I put my trembling hand in his. "I'm... I'm in the wrong room," I say.

"You were almost on the ground," he says, pulling me to my feet. I find myself way too close to him, too aware of the way the cotton of his shirt is rising and falling with each breath. My brush with death is causing me to lose my head because – even though I know he is all-powerful and a blessing to us all – I feel like the person standing before me is a normal man with a beating heart just like the rest of us lowly citizens of Oz.

I clear my throat, trying to get my voice back to normal. "I was trying to find a way out."

The Wizard laughs at this, deeply and heartily. Despite my trembling, I can't help but let out my own breathy laugh too. It was rather silly to think about escaping out of a window that was closer to the sun than the ground. My hands and arms are slowly getting some of their warmth back in them, only moments ago having felt so numb. I can't help but feel thankful that I can share this laugh with him, and that I am still alive.

Whether from the adrenaline or all of the laughing, my stomach grumbles, reminding me of the pressing issue that is earning my dinner. I'm breathless, but I tell him that I'm in the wrong room, again.

"What?" he says. "Is there something wrong with your room? I had it redecorated." He goes to the wardrobe, smoothing a hand over the glossy oak finish of the doors. "Used to be all cobwebs and dust in here." He swipes at the air as if to bring down one of these supposed cobwebs.

"Your Wonderfulness," I start, "There are some lady's clothes in here. I am sorry to say that I went through them, but I-"

"Did you think that you would find something good to steal?" he says.

My cheeks heat red at the reminder of yesterday. I throw open the wardrobe doors to show him the clothes that someone had obviously left here during their last summer. "See for yourself," I huff.

Those amber eyes lock onto mine, a warning about my tone, but they quickly land on the dresses as he swipes the hangers along the rod. "I don't see anything out of place."

"These are not my clothes," I protest. "How am I supposed to go about cleaning?"

His "Ah" is almost inaudible as he fishes all the way back into the wardrobe and pulls out the sea-green gossamer dress. It looks ridiculous, with great puffs of tulle across the breast and shoulders, the skirt clearly meant for summertime the way I can see through it. I snatch it from him and shove it back into the closet.

"That is someone else's!" I say, feeling guilty that we are still going through the poor woman's clothes.

"No," he says, "that is the price for stealing."

I scrunch my brow together, utterly confused. I did not steal any of the garments. I even showed them to him! They were all here, 100 percent accounted for, and they could be shipped back home to whatever unfortunate countess had left them here and was probably not missing them. And what did I care what they cost?

The recognition on my face as the wheels turn in my head turns his benevolent features into a hellish delight, a grin that seems too sharp, the way he stands a little too comfortably. He takes the dress back out and puts the hanger into my hand. "I almost thought I was going to have to beat some sense into you," he says.

There is a knock at the door. I shove the see-through dress back into the closet just in time for the guards to open the door. It’s Emily on the other side of the threshold.

"Ah, yes!" he says. "Come, come in!" He pushes past me to usher in the unsure girl. I can see that there are charcoal stains on her apron from today's work, her palms ruddy and cracked with a dried trickle of blood creeping up her wrist. My stomach twists in a knot, wondering if I might be able to take the window exit after all. Here I was complaining about everything, but hadn't I been excused from the hard work of washing the floor and changing sheets? Hadn't I been getting primped and preened like a fanciful cockatoo in the finest salon in Oz? Emily seems to have the same idea, her mouth set in a hard line that tells me she is not happy about having to pick up my slack.

"I got you your little friend to help out," he beams, pushing her forward. "Not with your work, of course, but for dressing." He goes back to the closet and pulls out the offensive dress for what seems like the billionth time today. When he's not looking, I think, I'm going to burn it. He hands the wisp of a garment to Emily.

"Our friend here is confused," he tells Emily, "she had a little run-in with the window. Just make sure that she gets dressed. When you're done, set some wood on the hearth for a fire for later."

Emily's face scrunched up at the last part, "Your Wonderfulness, I'm afraid I can’t do that. Receiving has put a limit on firewood for the whole palace. They said something about a shortage? I'm not sure."

His eyes narrow and he knits his brow. He says, "Just get her dressed and bring her to my room when you're done." He leaves the room, checking his pocket watch as he steps out the door.

When the door shuts, any politeness Emily might have had leaves her features. She tosses the dress onto the bed, looking for a zipper. "So how'd you do it?" she bites.

"What?" I ask.

"Did you sleep with him?"

The suggestion knocks the wind out of me and I can't help but scoff for breath.

"Is he any good in bed?" she asks.

"That is our Wizard you are talking about!" I protest in a whisper, afraid that he will hear us if I speak any louder. "I did not sleep with him. I was at the market with you and then-" I stop myself, not wanting to admit that I got arrested for stealing. That would surely go over well with her that somehow I got all of this for trying to shoplift. "and then I ended up here, okay? I don't know."

Emily finds the zipper and slides it down, taking the dress off the hanger. She comes over to me and sneers. "Come on, off with it. Or are you too lazy to undress yourself too?"

I hesitate, but the need to prove that I'm not some layabout wins over any shame I might have at her seeing me naked; we had shared a bed after all and she had seen me dress in the common room before. I pull off the simple but warm shift they had given me at the salon, and she slips the dress over my head. I have to stop myself from running my hands over the airy ruffles and puffs that cover my chest and shoulders. The fabric was softer than any of the sheets I'd ever put on the Wizard's bed, and so light that I wondered if it was woven from the room’s old cobwebs.

"I saw you getting hauled off yesterday. When I came back you were in bed. What happened?" Emily asks again.

"I can't say," I lie. "They told me it was a secret." No, that's not true either. But I can hear his wails so far removed from this little and polite room. The wails of the boy that Emily had pranked and bullied and set up and framed because he was good at his job. I don't know why she did it. We all got paid the same, but if I had to guess, I'd say that she was afraid that he was going to make her look bad. "I don't want to be here," I add as an afterthought.

"Yeah, right," she says, zipping the dress up. I yelp as the zipper pinches a bit of skin on my side. If my arms weren't turning into gooseflesh from the cold, they were now.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" I almost genuinely want to know. Maybe she had some ideas that could get me out of this dress and room, and back into the comfort of my own clothes and our shared bed.

"Try throwing yourself out the window again," she says, hanging the hanger back up. "At least you won't have to worry about anything after you go splat. Try to aim for the officer's balcony. I don't want to be called to scrape up your puffy remains." She flicks a puff on my shoulder to emphasize her point.

I slam the door to the wardrobe and she locks eyes with me. She walks to the door in silence, never breaking eye contact, and quickly knocks on it. "You're not the first dummy to try and sleep her way to head maid," she says. The door opens. "Come on, let's go. I need to take you to his room." I follow after her, the gown doing nothing to protect me from the cold hallways of the palace. "Plus, that dress is offensive to the eyes. I don’t want to look at it any longer than I have to."

[mosaickiwi]

14DWY As a Drama AU

Hey remember when I said I’d post this in February oopsies!! (don’t ask me about demon!ren i will cry)

Open at your own risk this thing is LONG. Tried to give everyone at least a little something! upon putting this in my drafts i realized olivia exists i'll add her at some point uhhh. Also you can tell how much I love Elanor... hehe

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

The cult classic romantic thriller, 14 Days With You, is now a drama! Coming to all your favorite streaming platforms this summer. A whirlwind romance gone right and wrong that you DON’T want to miss.

Cast List

[REDACTED]

🖤 Quiet kid that used the after school theater program to delay returning home. Never wanted to perform, but loved doing costumes, make up, and correcting others (in his mind) on how to portray their roles. 

🖤 Spent a little extra time perfecting the costumes of a certain someone who didn't even know they existed. He always traded house chores with his sister so she'd sit in the audience to solely film Tree #2's performance.

🖤 Was an apprentice special effects makeup artist after graduation at first, particularly for horror films, but it didn't exactly pay the bills when they left home.

🖤 Easily rose to the top in their acting career due to his dedication for crafting characters to perfection. 

🖤 Dolly Parton/Lady Gaga-esque in their separation of work and life—completely unrecognizable in their regular civilian attire. Paparazzi have never gotten a picture of them in all their years trying.

🖤 Has zero issues getting into character, but does "method acting" on occasion to make sure people leave them alone on set. And also to fuck with directors and producers they don't like. Notoriously difficult to work with because of it + their overall attitude towards others, still gets hired somehow.

🖤 Got offered the role as the main love interest in 14DWY without an audition, thanks to a previous manipulative pink haired character he played in a film that ended up never being released. (2017 Ren because it's funny)

 Angel (you!)

💜 Participated in the same after school theater program as [REDACTED] and Leon for a few semesters before you got bored of it. Curiosity for acting resurfaced later in life.

💜 Newbie actor at the recently formed talent agency of your friend. Only starred as non-speaking roles or background characters in small productions until the drama. You moved back to Corland Bay after uni for the better industry prospects.

💜 You initially auditioned for a very small role in the drama as an employee in a seaside shop at first, but somehow you wound up as the lead? (un)lucky you.

💜 Feel free to fill in the blank for any whys and hows you think of to fit your OC/self/sona as you so please <3

Elanor

💖 Normally an actress and casting director, first time as an executive producer for the drama. Dreams of bringing her own romantic screenplays to life. Hasn't quite proven herself the way she wants in the industry to feel confident enough in them. 

💖 Catalyst for the drama being made. A "friend" mistakenly recommended the 14DWY book to her. She absolutely loathes all the psychological horror of it but sees the potential it has.

💖 Also the reason [REDACTED] was immediately cast, and you as well once she saw your chemistry with him while reading for a minor role. He hadn't shown a fraction of as much interest when reading lines with other potential candidates, so she decided to take the risk of an untested talent as the headliner.

💖 Refuses to use her family's name to get her stuff made. She wants her works to speak for themselves. Very picky about who she works with due to her family having hands in most of Corland's entertainment industry so she hardly gets a genuine interaction beyond ass-kissing.

💖 Always partial to working with Conan's small studio since he was the only director to give her any sort of criticism in spite of her family, as gentle and polite as it was. She still cried a little in the dressing room though.

💖 Genuine confusion when Conan wants her to act as both a producer and assist with direction. She only intended to bring it to his interest. But how could she say no to someone whose judgment and opinion she respects so much?

Conan

💖 Runs and owns a small scale studio in the Bay that seems to pick and choose its productions at random. It is in fact Alice sneaking into her dad's home office and putting scented stickers on the ones she likes. (She only reads the titles)

💖 Extremely proud of Elanor for getting so far on her own, and would take on one of her dozens of scripts no questions asked if she'd only work up the courage to show him one. So imagine his surprise when she comes to him with a romantic horror instead of one of the fairy tale romances he sees her scribbling notes on during breaks.

💖 While he’s the one with the final say, he does try to let Elanor have as much free reign as possible on the project in the hopes to boost her confidence.

Kiara

💖 A super-star actress and model that got her start in Corland’s local industry, but quickly hit it big. 

💖 When she isn’t drowning in work, she’ll swing through town to check in on her sister.

💖 Desperately wants to star in one of Elanor’s productions, but respects her sister’s desire for independence. Though she does like to tease about certain casting decisions on the drama when made aware of them.

the rest of the cast are unfortunately very silly i couldn't resist

Moth

💖 Started a talent agency out of spite for the terrible castings in their favorite media. Got further invested upon realizing they could read the scripts before the movies or show adaptations were even announced.

💖 The one who pushed you to audition for a minor role in the production once the rumor about who was cast as the main love interest reaches them. They've heard all the horror stories about [REDACTED] so wanted the inside scoop. Horrified and fascinated to find out you get the lead role. It’s like watching a train wreck.

Leon

💖 Joined the theater program initially because of you, but got really into it. Moved away to attend a performing arts school until his mother got sick.

💖 Took every wacky infomercial or street performance gig he could find to pay the hospital bills until Teo found out and swooped in.

💖 Eternally grateful for the burden of financial ruin being relieved, so he always accepts the jobs Teo gets for him. He definitely won’t complain since he’s not dressed in an animal costume and shouting nonsensical slogans for cleaning products.

Teo

💖 Met Leon through a shared production and quickly bonded. Attended a different performing arts school and met Jae as a child.

💖 Almost the exact opposite of his game character purely for the funnies. Shy, introverted, can’t flirt to save his life. Still a nepo baby but he can hold his own in acting. Doesn’t like his character much, but is extremely jealous of the confidence he oozes.

💖 Leon and Jae are his only friends in the industry so he uses his sway to get them parts if they haven't already gotten a call back. Gets REALLY nervous on set for certain roles so he needs their support.

Jae

💖 Attended the same school as Teo when they were kids, and is constantly pitching intentionally bad ideas and joking on set to reassure his friend.

💖 A little bit of a thrill seeker, so does all his own small stunts if he thinks he’s capable. Stands there and gawks watching the more extreme stunts, loudest to clap when they go well.

💖 Kept bringing Maple to the shoots cause how could he even think about leaving her at home? She would occasionally break her leash and wander into a scene for head scratches and kisses. The film crew always booed when a PA came to take her off set.

Violet

💖 Completely terrible at caring for plants. Inspired by her role, she starts vlogging about her plant mom journey before shooting even begins. All her advice is completely wrong and terrible. Her personal assistant keeps her in the dark by tending to the plants themselves to fix her mistakes.

💖 Finds out she has a talent for flower arrangement, though. Does thank you vases for the cast and crew on all her future productions that last a lifetime because her PA made sure all the flowers were fake.

Exposition

(silly on set shenanigans)

🎬 Scenes get retaken quite a bit, since you’re still extremely new to it all. Most of the cast and crew expect anger out of [REDACTED] after the 4th call for a re-shoot on the first day’s library scene, but he’s surprisingly cracking jokes about his dye job and reassuring you that you’re doing great. The infamously ill-tempered actor is smiling somehow… even being patient? Not glaring down his co-star for minor slip ups? They cannot recognize this person.

🎬 Violet and [REDACTED] naturally butt heads on set. She respects their acting, not the actor. Zero hesitation to snap back if he’s getting snarky with a PA. You’re the one people have to beg to separate them, and you’re completely baffled that [REDACTED] doesn’t treat others as nicely as he treats you.

🎬 Even though Elanor is a nervous wreck about the first real thing to ultimately make or break her career, she’s scarily efficient on set—as long as no one distracts her. She does get sidetracked once in a while, only because she loves chatting and answering any questions the cast or crew might have. She even brings one of her own cats to set during a slower day to see if they can get along with Maple. Leaves Conan in charge when the horror scenes are being shot. They’re both put off by how vivid they feel, but Conan at least can grin and bear it. 

🎬 You and Leon manage to catch up on set while [REDACTED] is otherwise occupied shooting said horror scenes. You tease him about a few infomercials you saw when looking up his actor reel, and Leon teases you back about your unlucky streak of being a tree or a rock in every play the theater program put on when y’all were younger. Laughs even harder once he finds out your most prominent roles until then were “unnamed zombie #5 at the bottom of the pile” and “sleeping train passenger.”

🎬 Try as he might, [REDACTED] doesn’t convince Elanor to change up a few crucial parts of the script for his benefit. His offhand threats of leaving the production fall on deaf ears, as she is all too happy to do re-shoots to make Teo the lead. His innocent hints to you about the shoddy script fly over your head for some reason! You love how it's turning out, what does he mean?

🎬 Super shy Teo prefaces and warns his co-stars before acting in every scene of his character being excessively flirty. Most of the actors have worked with him at some point or another beforehand, so they let him go through his routine without issue. Some crew members love the whiplash of him switching between overly courteous and smarmy, others vastly prefer the flirty character and mourn the loss as production comes to a close.

The Build Up

📺 The higher ups pressure Violet to start a short-lived streaming career to boost interest, since she’s hopeless with plants. She amasses a cult following for her MMO reviews, blind raids on new patches, and her wild ride of a Minecraft playthrough. In the end she winds up preferring to play games off stream, but once in a blue moon she’ll do a first time raid stream so her more dedicated fans can join and watch her alliance get wiped. Creative trolling is highly encouraged.

📺 Teo, Jae, and Leon appear on a late night TV show for promotion. It was meant to be for Teo and [REDACTED] at first. (Where’s the leading lover? [REDACTED] refused all promo appearances or sit downs without you being involved in them.) The host plays a clip that Teo’s particularly embarrassed about, and he hides his face in shame when the crowd hoots and hollers praise about his portrayal.

📺 [REDACTED] comes across as doting and overprotective of you once you’re pushed into the spotlight of celebrity, and shows increasingly concerning behaviors as the premiere looms closer. Depending on your response, they’ll back off to a point or dial it up. Interviewers and consumers mistake it as the eccentric actor’s “method acting” so the red flags just slide right past.

📺 Elanor and Conan guest star in a podcast for off-the-cuff romance enthusiasts. Their strangely cagey and joking comments like “there were so many retakes we couldn’t keep track of what was meant to be the actors messing around or part of the final cuts,” and “we’ve actually sent all the reviewers 1 of 14 versions with completely different endings,” leave listeners all the more curious to see the film.

The Climax

🎉 Reception is huge, in good ways for most. The majority of the cast see a surge in popularity if they didn’t already from the hype. 

🎉 Teo bemoans his endless offerings for sarcastic pretty boy jobs, Leon makes enough to get picky about his roles (and pay Teo back), Jae somehow cons a studio into an action film starring Maple—and subsequently adopts every single one of her stunt doubles. 

🎉 Moth throws the agency away to start adapting anime and manga themselves. Elanor finally feels validated enough to bring one of her romantic screenplays to the big screen, starring her sister Kiara and a very enthusiastic Violet as the leading couple. 

🎉 Conan’s studio is overloaded with scripts, and Alice runs out of scented stickers that much quicker. They are severely backlogged send help.

🎉 One determined conspiracy theorist sets out to prove those missing 13 versions of the ending are real, based on minor cuts and inconsistencies purposefully left in the public release.

The End, Roll Credits

choose your own ending

Bad End 💔 - A Falling Star

💔 If you respond negatively to [REDACTED]’s demeanor during shoots and promo: he plays the waiting game, uses his connections and blackmail to make sure all your roles without his name attached don’t garner nearly as much attention as the ones where you’re co-stars.

💔 Your negotiating power quickly plummets as you fall out of demand and end up begging just for the non-speaking roles you once loathed.

💔 The careers of anyone you got close to on set fall apart much faster than yours, before they’re outright blacklisted in the industry.

💔 You begrudgingly call up your last option. He can’t do much for your friends, but their offer to help you make a comeback is always open.

Neutral End 💌 - Just One More Try

💌 If you respond indifferently to [REDACTED]’s demeanor: the drama leads to you getting more offers, though a handful are for playing opposite of [REDACTED], as the on-screen chemistry was too much for studios to ignore for cash grabs.

💌 Elanor has rid herself of the drama’s subsequent rights, despite positive reception, so a sequel sprouts up in the works at a different studio. One that doesn’t mind catering to the whims of their actors when it comes to script integrity.

💌 You arrive on the set to find that not just one, but all of your cast mates except for them were written to have much smaller parts in the sequel. In fact, you rarely find a scene in the revised script where [REDACTED] isn’t alongside you.

💌 Sadly the contract is air tight, just put up with it until it’s over… What’s this clause about further sequels?

Good End 💍 - Off Into the Sunset

💍 If you respond positively to [REDACTED]’s demeanor: you’ll sadly announce at the post premiere press conference that acting was a one-and-done adventure for you. Retired effective immediately, no farewell interviews.

💍 You’re spotted around town for a few weeks in a mask with a tall, darkly dressed companion at your side before you disappear from the public eye and Corland Bay all together.

💍 A few of your friends at least have an idea of where you are, and they meet up with you whenever you're in a nearby city. None of them can recognize the man glued to your side, though. Not that he'd say anything to clue them in.

💍 After months of near inactivity, [REDACTED] mysteriously deletes their socials without a word, sparking confusion and outrage among hardcore fans still desperately hoping for a sequel.

[holllandtrash]

6 to 1 | lando norris (part 9)

pairing: lando norris x leclerc reader part 9 in the 6 to 1 series (read part 1 here)

attention was a funny thing. for so long, you were under the impression that you had lando's. with the way he treated you, the way he worked up your driver ranking, the way he made his intentions clear. but now you had to fight for it and lets just say you've never been afraid of getting your hands a little dirty

word count: 4k tags: this is soft and then its not is all i have to say, also alcohol consumption i guess

The universe was never on your side.

Lando stayed with you at your place for only a little while before he had to return to his flat. Just because he had a bit of time off between races, didn’t mean he could stop working. He had Quadrant obligations, training, meetings, he even had to make a quick trip back to the UK on Thursday as he was needed at the McLaren Technology Centre.

It was no fault of his own, but he had no time for you. You genuinely didn’t think you would see him until the weekend, and even then you had your own commitments and still hadn’t decided if you wanted Lando to accompany you to dinner. 

Of course you wanted him there, but you still hadn’t spoken to Charles. You knew if you showed up to your mother’s place with Lando at your side, a heated conversation would undoubtedly commence.

You wanted Lando’s opinion. You weren’t even sure if he would want to come to dinner. The plan was to sit down and talk to him about it, but you hadn’t had a chance to all week.

Now it was Friday and as far as you were aware, Lando was supposed to be coming home sometime today. You expected he would at least give you a call when he was in the car from Nice. 

You didn’t expect to return from your jog in the afternoon and see Lando in your kitchen helping himself to the groceries you purchased yesterday. He turned over his shoulder when he heard the door open, cheeks full with whatever sandwich he had just made for himself.

He looked good. The sleeves of his t-shirt tightened around his biceps. His curls weren’t as prominent, he must have gotten a bit of a trim in the UK, but you still wanted to run your fingers through his hair. The summer sun was doing wonders for his skin, he probably had a darker tan than you did and god he was literally glowing. 

He approached you slowly, gaze raking over every inch of your body. Monaco was hot, you had to dress appropriately for your run. And you doubted Lando was complaining about the sports bra and matching athletic tights you had on. 

“I regret telling you my key code,” you told him. Lando only stifled his laughter in response as he finished chewing. He held out the end of his sandwich to you, offering you a bite. And you were starving after that run, so you happily obliged. 

“You don’t have mustard in your fridge,” he pointed out.

You held your mouth in front of your hand as you swallowed, “I don’t like mustard.”

“But I do,” he took another bite.

“Well next time I go grocery shopping I’ll be sure to ask for your list, yeah? Any dietary restrictions I should know about? Is the almond milk in my fridge not up to your standards?” You raised your eyebrows, but it was clear your questions were full of sarcasm and Lando didn’t have anything else to add as he slowly finished chewing.

You patted his chest and started to pivot, planning on taking a shower and changing but Lando grabbed hold of your hand and pulled you back towards him. He kissed you, not letting your teasing stop him from greeting you the way he wanted to.

“Hi,” he said quietly as he pulled away just enough so his lips were still hovering over yours.

“Hi,” you repeated, hating how quick he was able to make you smile. There was no point in trying to hide it either, it would only make your cheeks hurt more. “Is it bad that I’ve missed you?”

“I don’t think so because I’ve missed you too,” he kissed you again. 

He had just been busy. He hadn’t been able to make the time to see you or take you out, and you couldn’t blame him for that. Sure it was a little frustrating knowing he was in Monte Carlo for most of this week and you couldn’t do anything about it, but at least he was with you now. 

You may have never been in a relationship before, but you knew exactly what this was. It was the honeymoon phase. You wanted to spend as much time with him as humanly possible and him having a job that kept him occupied and travelling was a little bit of an inconvenience for you. 

Lando offered to make you some lunch while you got ready for the rest of the day and you had to admit, it was kind of nice having someone around who wanted to take care of you. 

When you finished your shower and stepped into the hall, Lando was in the kitchen and singing quietly to himself whatever song was playing from his phone. You watched for a second as he opened up a few cupboards until he found the plates he was searching for.

After you had changed and and rang a towel through your hair, you joined Lando in the living room. There was a plate on the coffee table with a sandwich and a variety of fruit on it and you wanted to thank him, but he was on a phone call.

So even though he was here with you, he wasn’t actually present.

Regardless, you weren’t going to let it bother you. You tuned him out for the most part, responding to a couple friends you had been neglecting to text back. It wasn’t until he somewhat mentioned you in his conversation that your interest piqued.

“...at my girl's place,” but you looked at each other at the exact same time, wearing very similar expressions of uncertainty. Lando even sounded unsure as he said it, like he wasn’t confident that was the right thing to call you.

Your confusion turned to amusement as whoever Lando was talking to presumably asked about you and he struggled to explain what you were to him exactly. 

“Yeah she’s-” Lando paused, feeling the weight of your stare. “It’s uh, it’s pretty new.”

That wasn’t technically wrong. 

“No, she’s cool, you’ll like her,” Lando assured them. Now you were really wondering who he was talking to. Lando dropped his hand to your leg. “But I gotta go, I’ll talk to you in a bit, yeah?”

You waited until he put the phone down to question him, the smirk on your face was making your jaw hurt and he preemptively rolled his eyes in anticipation for whatever you were going to say.

“Your girl?” You exclaimed, reaching forward to playfully press your hand against his cheek. “Am I your girl, Lando Norris?”

Lando opened his mouth and then shut it again, settling on a heavy exhale as he took your hand in his. He pressed a kiss to the back of your hand and gave you the sweetest look he could muster.

“That’s a trick question so I’m not going to answer it.”

You snorted, “Please elaborate.”

He sighed again, “If I say, yes, you’re my girl, you’ll be upset because I haven’t actually asked you to my girlfriend yet, which-” he held up a finger, “-is a bit of a childish term, might I add. We’re not twelve, Y/N.”

You held up a hand in defence, feeling a little attacked, “I didn’t say anything.”

He continued, “But if I say no, then you’ll still be upset because you know that you are in fact my girl.”

You hummed in response. You could understand how he saw it as a trick question, even if you hadn’t intended it as such. Maybe he was smarter than you gave him credit for.

“It’s a lose-lose,” he added. “For me, at least.”

“There’s a simple solution.”

“Which is?”

Your eyebrows raised, surprised you even had to spell it out. “Ask me to be your girlfriend.”

“Will you-”

“No!” You interjected. Lando flinched, having not expected you to raise your voice all of a sudden. But this is what he was talking about, this was the lose-lose scenario he now found himself in. 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted, a shy smile teased his lips. It was cute. He was cute. But he should have known better.

“Lando, I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” you reminded him quietly. There was nothing embarrassing about that statement, but what you were asking for was, in a sense, childish. “I don’t care that we’re adults, I want to be asked out properly. A whole grand gesture.” You waved your hand in front of your face for emphasis, “Sweep me off my feet or something, I don’t know. Don’t just ask me out, put a little effort into it.”

Lando’s grip slid up your arm to be able to pull you onto his lap. Your legs straddled either side of him as his fingers found your waist. He leaned his head against the back of the couch as he looked up at you, the same timid smile on his lips.

He nodded, “Okay, effort. I can do that.”

“Nothing embarrassing.”

“Aren’t grand gestures usually embarrassing?” He retorted.

“I have faith you’ll figure something out that saves us both from humiliation.”

You leaned down to kiss him and it had finally sunk in that you could do this without any cause for concern now. Granted, you still had to be cautious out in public and there was still the looming issue of your brother, but right now, in the comfort of your own flat, you could kiss him and not have to worry about any repercussions. 

The only thing you had to worry about was his phone going off again. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You groaned, dropping your head to his shoulder as he reached for his phone that you thought he had finally put away for the day. Lando rubbed your back as he checked out who had texted him. 

It was his manager, someone he couldn’t just ignore.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, kissing your cheek. You both looked at the message and you grew even more annoyed when you saw he was asking for Lando to meet him at his place. 

“Selfishly, can you just stay here?” You asked, hoping that batting your eyelashes would do the trick.

“I want to, you know I do,” Lando muttered, sending a quick response to his manager telling him he’ll head over. He then put his phone down and pulled your face towards his. He really did seem disappointed that he had to leave again. His thumb grazed over your cheek, “Let’s go out tonight, yeah?”

You hummed, “What did you have in mind?”

You could see the gears grinding in his head. “There’s a handful of drivers in Monaco right now. A few of them had mentioned going to Sinistre. Could be fun?”

You had been to Sinistre a handful of times. It was definitely one of the places to be in Monaco on a Friday night. It was exclusive too, it wasn’t easy for just anyone to wander in. Plus it would be a good opportunity to be out in public with Lando without it too obviously being a date. 

If you could keep his attention, that was. 

Lando was still responding to texts as he got up to leave. He slid his phone into his pocket as he kissed you goodbye, squeezing your hand too, a gesture you were starting to get very used to from him. 

“I’ll see you in a bit,” he told you. “And then I promise, this weekend I’m all yours.”

You still hadn’t brought up the idea of inviting him to dinner. And now was clearly not the time to as he was on his way out the door. So you just nodded and kissed him once more. You didn’t want to worry about tomorrow night’s dinner just yet, you just wanted to focus on tonight.

ynleclerc

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 30,127 others

ynleclerc amour sans fin

view all 2,241 comments

danielricciardo we get it, you're french

ynleclerc im monégasque you kiwi shit danielricciardo im austrailain ynleclerc ohhh hurts when someone gets your nationality wrong huh?

carlossainz55 bella

ynleclerc ❤️

landonorris can you even walk in those

ynleclerc no but im taller than you in them so

paddockswags so all the boys on the grid love her huh

Lando grabbed your hand when you exited your flat, keeping you from walking towards the car. Your brows cinched in confusion when you noticed him eyeing the top of your head and then down at your heels.

“You’re not taller than me,” he scoffed. “We’re the same height.”

You tilted your chin up, “No I think I’m taller.”

Lando rolled his eyes, reaching for the handle of the car door. You weren’t wearing the blazer anymore, you had stolen that from one of his suitcases he had left at your place for the sole purpose of the photo. When you posted it, he was still out, but he made sure to text you, telling you that you could wear his clothes any day.

When he climbed into the backseat as well, you noticed he still had Instagram open and was looking at your photo, more specifically, the comments.

“I think he has your notifications on.”

You pushed your hair over your shoulder and leaned towards him, trying to see what had caught his attention, “Who?”

“Carlos.”

You snickered, “Why do you think that?”

“He’s always one of the first people to comment on your pictures,” Lando’s eyes met yours and you wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to worry about Carlos. That Carlos and you were only ever friends and that Instagram notifications on your phone screen didn’t mean anything.

You would have, had his phone not started ringing. 

You inhaled a sharp breath and Lando laughed at your reaction to his phone pulling his attention away once again. 

“I’m about to throw that thing out the window.”

Lando let it go to voicemail. He gently placed his hand on the side of your face and pulled your lips to his. 

“It’s officially my weekend now, I promise.”

“If I hear your phone ring one more time-”

Lando chuckled again, “You won’t, don’t worry. I’m all yours.”

And you believed him because his hand stayed on your leg for the duration of the car ride from your flat to the club. You believed him because he tried to shelter you from nearby paparazzi and fans that were waiting outside of Sinistre, hoping to catch a shot or two of any drivers. You believed him because he didn’t let go of your hand once you stepped inside.

But because he was holding onto your hand, he was able to pull you in the direction of his teammate who was standing near the bartop, chatting away with some friends. As far as you were aware, Oscar didn’t even live in Monaco so you had no idea what he was doing here.

Oscar eyed the way your hands connected between your bodies, a smile growing on his face.

“Why hello lovebirds,” Oscar teased. “Fancy seeing you two here.”

And then Lando became lost in a conversation with Oscar. As if he hadn’t just promised you that he was all yours. 

To be fair, Lando was a social guy. He could find any opportunity to chat with literally anyone and it was a trait of his you admired. 

But you were selfish tonight. You didn’t want to share him. You had to share him all week, you had barely seen him all week. 

You scanned the club, wondering if there was anyone else here that Lando might want to talk to after Oscar and you wanted to scream when your eyes landed on Carlos sitting at a nearby bench, talking to his own friends.

There was no way Lando was going to pass up an opportunity to chat with one of his best mates.

You glanced at him and then back at Carlos, and then an idea came to mind. 

“I’ll be right back,” you muttered, unsure if Lando even heard you as your hand slipped from his. 

You made your way across the club, not oblivious to the way a few heads turned as you balanced yourself in those heels. But you didn’t want the attention of strangers, you only wanted Lando’s attention.

You approached the Spanish driver, “Carlos, I need you to do me a favour.”

He turned his head and glanced up at you from where he sat on the cushioned bench, “Anything, hermosa. What did you need?”

You turned over your shoulder to make sure Lando was still chatting away to Oscar by the bar.

Lando didn’t explicitly say it, but you knew your driver ranking was still heavy on his mind. And with the lack of attention you had been getting, you felt as though it was time to challenge Lando at his own game. 

“I need you to not leave my side.”

Carlos raised his eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

He was already a few drinks in. Which might honestly make it easier. Everyone was flirty when they were drunk.

“I don’t know, just-” you looked over your shoulder again, Lando glanced your way and smiled before falling back into his conversation  “-pretend you’re into me. Pretend I’m someone you want to take home. Pretend Charles wouldn’t kill you if you tried to hit on me.” You placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently, “Just have fun with it and make sure Lando sees.”

“Why?” Carlos asked. “Aren’t you here with him?”

“Yeah but he’s had it too easy recently,” you said through a faint breath of laughter. “Come on, Carlos, help me out here.”

And then it clicked for him. It was like you could see all the gears shifting into place and he hummed in response. “I get it. This is about your driver ranking, isn’t it?”

“That’s exactly it,” a devious grin spread across your face from cheek to cheek. You made sure you had Carlos’ full attention as you pressed both of your palms on either side of his face. “So unless you want him to beat you, don’t leave my side.”

Carlos didn’t need any more of a reason to grab your hand and pull you sideways onto his lap, a squeal passing through your lips as you didn’t think he would act so suddenly. You snaked your arm around his shoulders as his fingers instantly found a home on your leg, spread out across your thigh. 

Your faces were inches apart, you could smell the tequila shots he had undoubtedly taken as soon as he got here. The corner of his lip was tugged upwards as his eyes landed on the curve of your smile before darting back up to meet your gaze. The strobing pink and blue lights all around you only highlighted the glossed over expression he wore. Carlos wasn’t drunk yet, but he was certainly on his way there. 

You noticed how his eyes dropped once more and you called him out on it, “I’m not kissing you again.”

“So that was a one time thing?” He asked. “And in front of your brother? You really did me dirty there.”

“I needed to prove a point.”

“Which was what exactly? That you leave half the drivers on the grid speechless?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed together as Carlos said almost the exact same thing Lando said earlier in the week. You never did get a chance to ask Lando about what he meant by that. 

Carlos saw you about to turn your head in the direction of the Brit but he cupped your jaw with his hand and kept you from looking anywhere else. His thumb traced over your lower lip, it was brief and so light you couldn’t tell if it was on purpose or not.

“He’s looking,” Carlos told you. 

You had to admire the move, making sure your attention was on him and solely him. You could only imagine Lando’s reaction to seeing Carlos’ hand against your cheek. 

He said something else but his voice was nearly drowned out by the music playing through the speakers that you had no choice but to lean in so his lips were right next to your ear. Again, you couldn’t tell if Carlos’ did that with intent or not, lowering his voice so you’d have to close the gap even further. 

“Are you mad at him?” Carlos repeated himself.

“I don’t think mad’s the right word,” you said, pulling back slightly. Carlos kept the placement of his hand on your face, the tips of his fingers lost in the strands of your hair. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t think messing with Lando’s driver ranking plan is a valid enough reason to be asking for my help like this,” He pointed out. You were surprised that he was more well-read now a few shots in than he was on any given day. “Annoyed?”

You nodded. “He hasn’t been paying me any attention,” you rolled your eyes when you realised how needy you sounded. Carlos even chuckled at your reasoning. “So I just want to flip the cards. I want him to work for my attention.”

“Well I think it’s working,” Carlos got a devious glint in his eye. In your peripheral vision you could make out the McLaren driver slowly making his way towards you. Carlos cleared his throat when Lando was close enough and looked up at him with a blameless grin. You kept your eyes on Carlos for a few extra seconds, a little paranoid to see Lando’s reaction.

“What the hell is going on?” Lando asked, slight humour in his tone. 

But when you finally looked at him, you could see the light heartedness didn’t extend past the question. His jaw was clenched, his stare was narrowed directly on you. You wanted to reach forward and smooth out the creases in his forehead, but you stayed seated on Carlos’ lap.

“Just about to get a drink, ‘scuse us mate.” Carlos answered. You slid off his lap but his hand connected with yours as he led you away from Lando and towards the bar. 

Lando followed, obviously, walking at your other side, “Okay, honestly, what is going on?”

You stuck out your lower lip, “Oh, I’m sorry Lando, did you forget that he’s still above you on my driver ranking?”

It was slowly starting to sink in for him now what you were doing. You leaned against the bar, Carlos’ hand still on your lower back and you purposely leaned into his side as you looked at Lando on your other side. Your pout turning into a machiavellian smirk only had Lando shuffling closer to you, trying to figure out what the driving factor was behind you suddenly clinging to Carlos.

Carlos handed you a drink and you glanced down at it, seeing the margarita he had just ordered for you. You slid your index finger over the salt that rimmed the glass to collect some on the pad of your finger. Then you locked eyes with Lando as your tongue poked through your lips to lick the salt off, tasting that hint of lime in there as well. Lando watched as you purposely tugged your lower lip down slowly before bringing your face daringly close to his. Your gaze dropped to his throat as he swallowed in anticipation, waiting for what you were going to do and hating that Carlos’ hand was still on you.

Your eyes met his again. When you took a breath it hit Lando’s face and he would have given anything to taste that lime and salt combination that was still present on your tongue. 

But you were on a mission. He had to put the effort in tonight.

“Do you want to know why Carlos is higher than you, Lando?” You asked, sounding sweet with intention.

It was an act. You wanted to lure Lando closer with your voice, and it worked. He nodded, probably not even comprehending the question at its fullest. 

“I don’t have to work for his attention,” you answered, retreating closer to Carlos once again. You watched as Lando’s features hardened when Carlos’ hand slipped further around your waist. Your smirk shifted into a smile, “But now you have to work for mine.”

part 10 here | masterlist here

taglist: @moneymasnn@thotd-f1 @masonspulisic @mcmuppet@f1-futurewag-16-3-4-63 @alilstressyandlotdepressy @themisric @happydazzz123 @moonxblossom @norrisleclercf1 @scarlettisconfused @sbgal @e-lisa-bettan @harrysdimple05 @ophcelia @alesainz @fandomxs1 @majx00 @sbgal @mehrmonga @themockingjayreader @f1mockingjay @topguncultleader @lclrnelliluvs @moonxblossom @dr3lover @andrewgarfields-girlfriend @noescapricho-essentimiento @xqueenslytherinx if i missed someone im so sorry

[toxicanonymity]

You really are trouble. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 3 of 6)

Can read STANDALONE, or Story Master List

4.4k words | dbf!Joel Miller x F!Reader | 18+ nsfw

Summary: You go back to campus and Joel shows up. You stay with him for a night.

He chuckles then checks you out and a hunger comes over his face.  He looks down at himself before he lowers his voice and meets your eyes again. “What, you wanna souvenir? I’ll send you a picture.”  The way he's looking at you. . . you can practically see the reflection of your naked tits in his pupils, even though you're fully clothed.  He adjusts his jeans and looks out the passenger window behind you.

thx for moodboard @dark-scape. | joel master list

Next: Part 4

content notes/warnings: age gap, protective!joel, reader can wear Joel's jacket & Chad mistakes Joel as her dad (in hindsight I would try to do this a different way but it is what it is and I've left it because it reveals something about her dad), ample sexual tension, non-graphic violence, ref to gaslighting, light hurt/comfort, light stalking, blackmail/manipulation themes, begging, mild dubcon, cunnilingus, cumshot, slasherfucker easter egg🥚, Joel says he can wear something of hers to sleep.

As you drive back to campus, you try to think logically about Joel.  On one hand, fucking him might give you even more leverage, if you could stay detached, but you're smart enough to recognize the poor odds of that.  You also wonder if you should question his motives.  He's never so much as hit on you until now that you have something over him.  To be fair, it isn't out of nowhere -  you held eye contact with him while he fucked your stepmother.  You could’ve walked away as soon as your suspicion was confirmed, but you didn't walk away until he came, eyes locked with yours. Then, the next day, you went to his pool, took your top off, and made him jerk off.  

-

When you get to your apartment, you bring Joel's jacket inside and drape it over your upper body, all the way up to your nose while you lie on your bed and scroll your phone.  Chad, your kind-of ex, asks if you can talk.  You start typing something, but when he texts you again to add a question mark, you decide to ignore him.  You put on the jacket.  There’s a scrap of thermal paper with gps coordinates in the pocket.  Out of curiosity, you search the coordinates and they're near Uvalde, but you don’t find an address.  The closest thing is an abandoned mall.  

You put down your phone and turn up the jacket collar, then inhale it with your eyes closed.  You get another text and it’s Joel.  For a moment, you feel warm and fuzzy, until you open it.  

“Thinking of you.”  It’s a surveillance picture of you topless in his pool.  A pit opens in your stomach.

You can just picture his smug smile as his big stupid thumb pressed send.   The picture disappears as your ears get hot.  What does he think he’s doing? You text him accordingly. You seethe. But there’s another part of you – a hot, wet part of you, that only wants Joel more with every depraved thing he says and does. You almost wish the picture didn't disappear so you could admire his back and imagine what else could have been. . .

Imagine Joel getting in the pool with you, pinning you to the edge, his thickening cock pressing into you, rock-hard.  Joel wrapping his arm around you, shoving his hand between your legs, pulling your swimsuit to the side, taking you from behind.  His cock filling you up, one hand on your tits, the other between your legs.  Bouncing you on his cock, zero gravity, your knees spread and bent.  You get yourself off with very little effort by imagining this.  It only briefly crosses your mind that, worst case scenario, the oxytocin of each orgasm may work to his advantage.

-

You have to work at the cafe the next day.  It’s gotten slower since summer session ended, but the bookstore still gets traffic from families visiting campus and whoever's still around.  And as long as the bookstore gets traffic, so does the cafe.  

Chad, your kind-of ex, comes in.  You try to remain composed and professional, but it’s humiliating having to serve him after he cheated on you then tried to gaslight you that you were never "together" after almost a year.  He’s wearing a t-shirt from the venue where you met when you saw his band play. 

Your heart races as you write his name on a cup and he tries to get you to take your break.  You refuse.   He invites you to a party, then sits alone in the cafe for a few minutes, manspreading like he owns the place, watching you.  Eventually, he leaves and your eyes well up in tears.   You wipe down tables as a way to get a moment alone to compose yourself.  

-

When you finish wiping down the last table, you stand up and get startled by someone standing way too close behind you. 

Joel’s low, gruff voice asks, “I reckon that's Chad?” 

Your heart jumps to your throat.  “What are you doing here?” Naturally, you’re still mad about the topless picture – or at least, you feel like you should be mad. 

“Comin' back from a job.  You okay?”

You turn around and meet his eyes.  And forearms.   His denim shirt is fitted and his sleeves are rolled up.  Jesus.  

“I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“I know.  You can delete it yourself.  Come out to my truck for a minute.” 

“Seriously?”  

“What, you trust me to do it myself?” 

You roll your eyes and take your break, following him outside.  

-

Joel opens the passenger door for you.  When he gets in the truck, he pulls out an iPad and opens his home surveillance app.  

“We’re on my hotspot.  Here, delete the whole day if you want. Then go to the trash and empty it.”  He hands you the iPad.  “Can’t be too careful these days, Trouble.”  he adds.

Your cheeks burn with exception. Resentment.  “Can’t be too careful ‘cause a creep like you might record me?”   

“See that black bar?" He points. "Means no data for that time.  ‘Cause I turned’em off, just not fast enough.” 

“Conveniently, right before you took your cock out.”  

He chuckles, then checks you out.  A hunger comes over his face.  Maybe it was hearing you refer to his cock.  He looks down at himself before he lowers his voice and meets your eyes again.

“What, you wanna souvenir? I’ll send you a picture.”  You can practically see the reflection of your naked tits in his eyes.  He adjusts his jeans and looks out the window behind you.

Your face gets hot.  You compose yourself and look him up and down.  “If I wanna see your cock, I’ll tell you to take it out.” 

His eyebrows shoot up. "Attagirl."  He whistles as he shifts in his seat.  “God damn, Trouble.  You really are.” He puffs his cheeks as he exhales and shakes his head.  "Who knew," he adds under his breath, looking absently through the windshield.  

You hand the iPad back to him and an alert pops up, catching your eye.  It’s your stepmother’s car at his gate.  It quickens your heart rate.  You study his face for an answer. 

He sighs.  “She keeps callin’, comin’ by.   I changed the gate codes. . . I’ll text you your new one." His brow furrows as he stares into space, then he scratches the back of his neck.  "I reckon I should prolly stay away for a couple days, let her get it out of her system.” 

He deletes the app and reaches behind the seat to pull out an Apple Store bag.  He puts the iPad in the bag and hands it to you.  “Keep it.” It’s blue like the phone from yesterday. You should’ve known. 

“Real creative.  This is your whole plan? Buy me an Apple store?” you hand it back to him.  "I'm not walking back in there with that." 

"Fair enough."  He smiles to himself and leaves it in the truck as you both get out.  He puts on his Ray Bans. 

Joel pulls up his pants and puts his hands on his hips, shifting his weight to one leg and popping out a knee.  Your gaze drifts to the bulge below his belt.  His brow furrows as he looks off.  

“Now. . .'bout Chad. . .  I reckon I got nothin’ but time now if he needs a lesson in manners.”  Once again, you hate him for bringing up Chad.  

Your face tightens despite your best efforts. "Don't bother."

“Aw, shoot.”  He always knows.  “Com'ere, sugar.”  Joel opens his big arms. You can’t resist his bear hug.  You feel safe.

You sniffle and he whispers, “Hey, Trouble. What did the white grape say to the purple grape?" 

"Hm?"

"Breathe." 

You can't help but laugh. He hadn't told one of those in a while. Fitting, too.

“There she is.”  He smiles as you pull away. 

“I have to get back to work.”

“Reckon I'll be 'round if you need anything.” 

“Okay, creeper.”

-

When you get home from work, your roommate is watching the news.  The newscasters are talking about a body found in an underground bunker outside Uvalde near the border.  You look up and do a double take.  

“Holy shit.” Your heart races.

“What”

“Oh, I thought I recognized that mall.” 

You consider texting Joel about it, but something tells you not to.  You don't text him at all.  You google it. There are rumors it was a cartel boss.

Your roommate is planning on going to the party Chad invited you to to meet up with a guy you and Chad introduced her to.  You resist her invitation, but she begs you to come just for a few minutes so she doesn’t have to show up alone, and eventually, you relent.  You do a little pregaming at home before heading to the party.  You wear something hot to make Chad sorry – leather pants and a low-cut, lace top – with Joel's jacket over it. 

-

Chad is already drunk when you get  there.  He herds you and your roommate to the drinks. The guy she’s talking to went on a beer run. Aside from the two of you, it’s almost all guys, so you’d feel guilty leaving her there.  You decide to stay just until her guy gets back from his beer run. 

This takes longer than you expect.  Chad keeps trying to talk to you, telling you how good you look, until someone distracts him with beer pong. You have to wonder if your roommate's guy is really on a beer run, or with another girl.  These guys are all the same.  You feel guilty for Chad introducing them.  When the guy finally shows up, he does have beer in hand, but not nearly an hour’s worth when the store is just a few blocks away. 

As you’re getting ready to leave, Chad steps in front of the door.  He begs you to talk to him just for a few minutes.  You refuse and open the door to leave, but he doesn’t back down.  He yanks the door shut, then towers over you and pins you to the foyer wall.  

Within seconds, the front door swings back open.  

“Get your hands off her,” Joel booms as he charges in, then grabs Chad by the shirt and slams him up against the wall. Chad is an inch or two taller than Joel, and yet Joel seems to tower over him. 

“You told your dad?” Chad asks you, incredulous. 

“Get in the truck,” Joel tells you sternly, pointing out the door.  You leave the door open behind you to watch and listen as you very slowly inch toward Joel's truck.

Joel tells him, “If she told her dad, you wouldn’t be breathin'. I'm fixin' to save your life right now."

He releases Chad just long enough for him to turn around and face him so it's a fair fight.   Then, Joel decks Chad in the face.  Chad goes stumbling across the foyer holding his jaw.  

“Get in the truck, now!” Joel yells out the door at you, neck vein bulging, then pulls the door shut and stays inside with Chad.  

-

You get in the truck and the shock catches up to you.  You can’t stop the tears. Your mascara runs and you don’t have any tissues.  You open the center console and don’t find any.  He’s a man, of course he doesn’t have any.  You open the glove box anyway.  A few scattered condoms, no surprise there.  Registration.  Not much else. It's super shallow.  

You lift the tray out.  In the hidden chamber, there’s nothing but a gun and a cylinder. . .a silencer.  In Texas, it'd be weirder if he didn't have a gun. But a silencer? Who is he, John Wick?  What kind of contractor carries a silencer? . . . No. The blood drains from your face. You quickly replace the tray and close the glove box, your heart racing. Was it a bullet wound scar you caught a glimpse of at the pool? 

The mental image of him pulling off his jeans makes you forget about the silencer.  If your leggings weren't leather, you'd probably soak right through them.  

 -

Joel comes out and slams the door behind him. His muscles and veins bulge as he charges toward you.  

"Are you okay?" He asks as he gets in the truck. He leans over to buckle you in. You can smell his sweat and musk. 

"Yeah, I'm fine." 

"That's the guy you were seein' for damn near a year? That damn fool?" 

"Don't," you warn. 

You ride in silence and he calms down. 

"Sorry," he says at a stoplight.  He rests his massive hand loosely on your thigh.  "I shouldn't'a said that " His veins are still bulging.

"You're right though," you sigh. Your eyes won't leave the vein on his hand.

You shift in your seat, the lightest contact of his big, masculine hand literally opening your legs.  You fold your left heel under you, which has the effect of shifting his hand to your inner thigh.  He inhales deeply but leaves his hand resting loosely on your inner thigh. 

"Well, I reckon it's over now," he says. 

He doesn't take his hand back until he needs it on the steering wheel. 

"This isn't the way," you tell him. 

"You're stayin' with me tonight," he responds, then stretches his jaw.  “Got a suite on the river.” 

You absently fiddle with the scrap of paper in your (his) left jacket pocket.  You ask him what job he was coming back from.  He does a double take and holds out his hand. 

"Gimme that," he says sternly. 

“I just like to hear about what you’re building.” 

"Now."

"What, your trash?" you hand it over and he lifts his butt out of the seat to shove it in his pocket. In effect, the motion is a pelvic thrust.  It makes you forget about everything else. 

-

He's staying at one of the nicer hotels on the Riverwalk. He pulls up to the entrance and asks the valet for a minute.  

Joel comes over and opens your door.  "Come on, let's go."  He notices the mascara on your face.  "Shit." He pulls a first aid kit from under the seat and gives you an alcohol pad and uses one to clean the blood off his knuckles. He glances at the glove box contemplatively, but doesn't open it. 

The lobby has an overly modern chandelier.  He gives you a key card. On the elevator, you rest your head on his shoulder.  It's a suite with two bedrooms.  His stuff is already in one of them.  

He gestures to the empty room, scratching the back of his neck, making his bicep look even more enormous. "If you want to, uh. . . Do you need anything? I can go to the store"

"Like what," you implore. 

He leans against the door frame and crosses his imposing arms. 

"I dunno what you need in general, so.  I dunno," he shrugs.  “You’ve got a toothbrush and stuff in there.”  He nods to the bathroom.  

"Is there a blanket?" You ask. 

"You got it." He disappears, opens a few doors, and comes back with a blanket and the iPad.  "Put a couple movies on there for ya.  If you wanna cast one to the TV." 

He swipes it open and gives it to you, and you almost want to cry.  He can tell.  He turns the TV to the right mode for you.  

“You can wear something of mine if you want,” he offers, then leaves to take a shower.

“I always sleep in leather pants,” you say deadpan.  

You may take him up on that later, but not now.  You freshen up and take off his jacket then lie down on the bed, on top of the comforter, but under the blanket he fetched. You start watching Scream.   

-

After his shower, he comes back in boxers and a t-shirt and asks if you're okay.  

You were fine until he asked.  You swallow down your emotions. "Stop asking me that." You sit up and pull your knees to your chest.  

He approaches the bed and sits down on the edge. He lays a hand on your knee, and you ogle its masculine knuckles and prominent vein as he says "I know it's been a rough week." He doesn't seem to know what else to say, but his eyes look sincere.   

You scoot over to make room for him on the bed and lift up the blanket.  He lies down and lets you into the crook of his arm.  He smells good. You watch most of the movie like that, not moving.  Just inhaling his scent and lusting after him, your wits battling your carnal need. He falls asleep for awhile but wakes back up.

-

On the screen, Billy Loomis sucks blood off his own fingers. Joel says, “There he is.”  He's seen your canvas tote bag with that image on it.  “See?  You’ve always had bad taste in men.”  

You punch him in the chest playfully and he acts like it hurts.  His smile kills you.  

You’re on a bed with him, snuggled  up with him, your head on his enormous bicep, and he feels far away.  Why doesn’t he try to fuck you?  It hits you like a punch in the gut that if you want something, you're going to have to take it.  And God, you want something.  You know better, but you want it.

You wet your lips and watch his face.  The pattern of his facial hair is so perfect.  Every little blank patch is perfectly placed.  Every touch of gray and silver.  It’s all of him, really.  Every broken capillary on his skin, every line.  It’s the most perfect design.  It’s almost unbearable. 

You hook your far leg over his.  He glances at you.  You pause the movie.  He does a double take when he sees the way you’re looking at him.  You’re trying to work up the courage to make a move.  Your lips part, and your hand glides up his chest to his neck, resting by his vein. His heart rate quickens.

“Terrible taste,” he mutters, reading your eyes like a book. 

You slowly lean in. He intercepts your mouth, controlling the nature of the kiss.  He kisses half your bottom lip, then trails his lips down your chin.  You tilt your chin up and he kisses its underside, open-mouth.  He pivots over your leg to be on top of you with one leg between yours.  His expansive hand runs down the side of your lacy top to your free leg, and he grabs your hamstring as your knee bends around him.  Your hips lift and you grind into his thigh, desperate for whatever he’ll give you.  He hardens against your inner thigh and you hear yourself gasp softly.  

Joel gets between your legs entirely.  He moves slowly.  He lays his hardened boxers against your leather pants right where you throb and ache for him.   His lips land lightly in the hollow of your neck, and he sucks gently.  His hard-on only rolls into you once, sending a jolt of electricity through you before he cruelly takes it away as he works his way down your body.

He tenderly kisses your collarbone, then the lace border of your slutty top.  He lifts your shirt up and you pull it over your head, along with your bra.  His lips press between your breasts, his beard lightly tickling their soft skin.  He palms one breast while his nose nudges your other nipple and they both harden painfully.  He sucks just below your nipple and his hand trails down to your pants, grazing over your zipper, then engulfs your entire crotch. His flattened fingers rolling firmly but gently into your clit, over your pants.  He breathes heavily.  

You arch your back and he breathes, “God almighty,” before taking your other tit into his mouth.  

Then, he continues his slow journey down your body. He plants two open-mouth kisses on your stomach.  You’ve never been so wet or ready.  His kisses trail down below your belly-button, to your leather pants.  

All this instead of just kissing you on the mouth like you wanted. It feels like heaven, but it also doesn’t sit right.  

"It's not happening," you say. 

"What?"

"I'm not gonna fuck you." You're saying it to yourself more than to him. 

"Oh, I'm not gonna let you, sugar," he rumbles in a near-whisper.  Then, his nose digs into the leather between your legs. 

"Just wanna taste you. Make you forget everything else." 

He has both his thumbs on your mound and presses his mouth into just the right spot, a wave of pleasure washing over you, lifting your hips.  His mouth presses and consumes you slowly, but so hungrily that his beard would be hurting you if your pants weren’t on. You're already twitching.

He looks up and his tired eyes swallow you whole. 

You feel exposed.  You’re extremely aroused, and he feels far away.  You would much rather be making out, with his whole body wrapped around you, his hardness grinding into you. Still, you can't deny this feels very, very good. 

His fingers curl into the front of your waistband, and he looks up.   

“I'm not into that," you tell him. “Can you kiss me?”

“I’m about to.  Ever had it from a grown man?” he asks.  “Or hell, a woman?" he adds.  

You don't answer.

“You don’t know if you’re into it.”

He craves you badly - it’s all over his face.  You do want to see how hot he looks doing it.    

"You have thirty seconds to convince me," you tell him. 

"Only need ten."  You're throbbing so bad that might be all it takes, period.  

His thumbs unbutton you. He starts to unzip you and inhales sharply when he sees you're commando. You let him peel off your pants.  He does it slowly, looking at your pussy like a juicy burger the whole time.  He pauses to thumb you, like he can’t resist.  

“Fuck me,” he says when he feels how wet you are. He thumbs your clit with one hand while pulling your pants down with the other.    Then he finishes taking them off, prowls back toward you, arms bulging, and puts your thighs over his muscular  shoulders.  

It's surreal seeing Joel between your legs.  He feels your naked breast and hooks his other hand under your thigh, holding your hip loosely.  Tension is coiling deep in your core, throbbing, looming, tighter, more desperate than you knew it could be.  

The hand on your breast slips down your torso as he kisses your inner thighs, his beard scratching you lightly. He plants a kiss on your mound, opens his mouth, and licks his way down to your clit.  He’s careful not to drag his facial hair against your most sensitive skin.  He nudges the side of your clit with the bridge of his nose.  You throb and squirm, and his large hands on your hips hold you still.  He seals his mouth around your clit and the top half of your dripping seam.  He applies suction while his strong tongue languidly laps you.  

With a groan, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding.  You want his cock.  You can hardly stand it.   

Between heavy breaths, you tell him, “Time’s up.  Come here.” 

But he keeps devouring your pussy.  You tangle your fingers in his hair and whine, “Joel, please” and he laps you more firmly, makes eye contact with you.  He flicks his tongue, sucks, drags his tongue down, plunges his tongue inside you and you moan. 

“Take your cock out,” you tell him.  You're aching to be filled.

He pulls his face away, shiny and red from the nose down, replacing it with his hand.  He pulls his boxers down.  The sight of it makes your temples weak.  He thumbs your clit and slips one, then two fingers inside you, making your head fall back as you clench around him. It’s not what you want, but it’s so much better than nothing.

"So tight," he marvels.   He gathers your wetness and lubes himself with you.  Not what you had in mind.  You at least want to feel his hardness against you.  You beg him upward toward you, but he won’t go.  

He strokes his stiff manhood as his head returns between your legs, his tongue tracing your folds up to your clit. You begin to squirm and he holds you down with one hand, a sight that makes you weak. He hums "Mmm" and moans into the apex of your folds. You're throbbing desperately, your hips move on their own, and he must feel it.  

"Come for me, sugar," he mumbles into your warmth.  Then he opens his jaw, firmly plants his lips, and digs in again. 

Your thighs tremble, threatening to close in on his cheeks.  You dig your head into the pillow.  With each pass of his tongue, each push of his lips, the tension in your core coils tighter until it can’t hold anymore and springs open all at once.   As your hips lift against his mouth, his lips press back and he swallows you hungrily. 

Pleasure blooms from your core in rhythmic pulses.  Your arms and thighs jerk randomly in unison, your abs lift you off the pillow.  You’re a prisoner to the pleasure, moving at its will, until your climax wanes.  The release floods your chest and you pry his head off you.  You finger his clean, messy hair.   

Joel flattens his fingers to take more wetness from you and you shudder with an aftershock.  He sits up on his knees and his brow furrows painfully.  You're too busy memorizing the look on his face to fully appreciate the way his ass clenches as he starts to come. Relief covers his face and he grunts as his hot load shoots onto your stomach.  

-

He pulls his boxers back up, sits back on his knees, and breathes.  His tan, masculine hands affectionately rub your thighs, and you watch his chest rise and fall.  Somehow he never looks vulnerable, even right after he comes. 

Joel steps away and comes back with tissues. He cleans you up and runs you a bath. 

"Good night, Trouble." His thumb affectionately brushes your temple and he kisses you on the head. Then, he goes to his own room.  

-

tysm for any reblogs/comments, I love to know what y'all are thinking 🫶

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[agroteraa]

Watermelon Sugar

Oliver Quick x f!Reader

My fic masterlist

Summary: Just a slice of hot summer in Saltburn.

Actaeon series spin-off, taking place between Artemis and The Wrath of the Stag.

Warnings: smut, fingering, handjob, finger sucking.

Word Count: 3,2K

Almost two weeks had passed after the karaoke night events. It was a sultry August noon, and you were reading "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" by the pool. You were lying on your stomach on a lounger, dangling your feet in the air and eating triangularly sliced pieces of watermelon. Time seemed to freeze and melt in this heat, and at that moment it felt like that summer would never end. That would be perfect.

Oliver sauntered over to the pool, topless, his T-shirt on his shoulders. There you were.

You were so engrossed in reading that you didn't hear him approach. Besides, he came unnoticed. As always.

Your legs swung back and forth in the air alternately exposing your buttocks, slightly peeking out of your colorful swimsuit.

Oliver swallowed involuntarily. He leaned against the nearest wall, clutching the ends of his blue T-shirt tightly in his hands. He loved every inch of your body, but he was already beginning to realize that your ass was especially driving him crazy. He was a booty man and never missed a chance to put his hand on top, squeeze or kiss it. Or better to do everything at once. And sometimes even give it a little slap. He was thinking more and more often that maybe he should try to go a little bit further with that and see your reaction. At that thought, he shifted against the warm rough bricks of the wall, tugging the ends of his cloth tighter.

God, if only he could have his way with you just right there, by the pool. Sit down next to you, give you a little massage, and then... take you as he wished it and as you wished it too. On a lounger, by the pool, in the water, or better yet, all in turn. And so that all the inhabitants of Saltburn, its guests and servants could hear how much pleasure Oliver was bringing you. But alas, this was not his home. At least for now, he had not yet fully decided on this issue for himself.

His body began aching numbly, and, unable to just stand and think all these thoughts anymore, Oliver finally decided to declare his presence.

"Hey, Y/N, do you mind if I lie down next to you?"

"Oliver... Didn't hear you coming!" you abruptly turned over on the sunbed, with a piece of watermelon in one hand and a book in the other. Watermelon juice began to flow slightly down your hand, you put a piece of watermelon on a plate, quickly licking the remaining juice from your hand and wiping against your leg. Oliver carefully followed all these movements with the silent gaze. You lifted your sunglasses, greeting him with warmth in your eyes. Oliver couldn't help but smile back.

"I think I left my book here yesterday," Quick went to the far little table to get his belonging, and then laid down on the next lounger from you.

"Oh, you’ve started a new one?"

"Yeah," he confirmed absent-mindedly, opening it and searching for the place where he had left off the previous time. It seemed that Oliver was not just reading books, but devouring them for lunch.

"Huh, I'm still reading Harry Potter..." your voice became a little sad and thoughtful. Of course, you also read a lot of things during your studies, but still not all of them from the list, and during the summer break you preferred to distract yourself with something lighter, almost childish even. While Oliver read one big serious book after another, also he had recently read Harry Potter in less than a week to be aware of what you were all constantly talking about, discussing the plot, "How you’re doing that?"

"Well, you take the book, open it... and then you start to look at the lines of letters that add up to meaningful words and sentences," Oliver explained in a serious tone, barely hiding his smile.

You snickered back, "Should’ve known that sooner!"

He chuckled, and you both went deep into reading your stuff. After a couple of minutes, your smile faded again.

"What is it, Y/N?" it seemed that nothing could be hidden from Oliver. You decided to tell him as it was, choosing the words and overcoming some embarrassment, "I just... I don't know. You read so much, and in general, you’ve achieved everything yourself at Oxford, including entering it. Well, of course, me too... Kinda... But still, it seems that you do more and work harder than I do. Even the way you read in your free time. I've been reading Harry Potter for the second month now. Of course, I'm just enjoying it, stretching the pleasure, it's also important, you know... But anyway, I'm not like you, I wish I could be you in certain way..."

Oliver listened to your mumbling until his eyebrows began to rise and warm smile appeared on his face.

"Y/N. You're not like me, and that's why I like you," Oliver said tenderly.

"And you don't even know how much," he added mentally. You could think that he would judge by your close communication over the past couple of weeks, or at least since the beginning of the summer, but he has already studied you very well since your meeting at Oxford. You were kind, you were kind to him, especially when you comforted him the day he told Felix and you about his family and the whole "father situation". Yes, not at all as interested as you were now, but it was only a matter of time, Oliver had been hoping for this from the very beginning. Yes, you were much kinder than him. Basically, this reason alone possibly could have been enough, but he did not deny himself the pleasure of mentally going over the rest of your qualities, which were different from his own.

You were open and generous, you were similar to Felix here, but unlike him, you were more modest and even a bit shy. And, of course, you were smart, although sometimes very naive. But for Oliver, it wasn't a flaw, he adored your naivety and innocence.

That trick with Felix's towels and your little lie about the malfunction of the second bathroom, he totally forgave and recorded it as a childish prank. He decided that it even amused and touched him, the way you childishly decided to take the initiative and allegedly outwit Quick.

He felt like a tiger that a little kitten had tried to hunt. The tiger that laid calmly next to the kitten and smiled lazily, waving his tail, which the little hunter was trying to catch. Oliver smiled lazily at the thought himself and decided that someday he even wouldn't mind if you tried to repeat such an innocent prank. And he would think about what he would do to you after that.

You were never capable of even a small part of what he was willing to do and had done in life to achieve his goals, to the extent that you would never have thought of such a thing. That was also why he had chosen you. You didn't have to be power hungry like him. On the contrary, it would be more than enough for him if you were hungry only for your rather harmless aspirations and, of course, for Oliver himself.

You were quite a complete and content person on your own, and this was very attractive to the many-faced Oliver, who was still struggling to find a place for himself in this life. But he had found his place beside you and planned to stay there for a long time, ideally, forever.

And of course, he adored the power he had over you, the way you looked at him trustingly and fascinated whenever he told you something. The way you looked away shyly when he gazed at you too intensely at breakfasts or dinners. The way you looked at him with your doe eyes, lying under him in bed, as if bewitched. The way he made you feel. Moan. Dig your fingers and nails deeper into his skin. Throw your head back with pleasure. Say his name. And generally, the fact that his name was coming out from your lips. Wheresoever. All the time.

And if only you knew what kind of power you have over him yourself. It seemed that even Oliver himself sometimes did not fully comprehend this, but he definitely felt it on a subconscious, instinctive level. He felt boundless joy, excitement and pride that the object of his adoration finally adored him. If there was a happiness, which Oliver sometimes looked for confirmation of in the philosophical books that he read, then it definitely laid in this for him.

He wanted a lot from you, it was true, but in return he was ready to throw the whole world at your feet and even more.

You were smiling sheepishly, still processing his words. The sunglasses on your face had slipped down slightly, revealing your equally embarrassed, but gentle and expressive gaze to him. He reached out to you, leaning on your lounger with one hand, and gently kissed you on the lips. The book in your hands trembled a little.

"It seems it’s getting too hot in here. I'm going to take a dip," Quick winked at you, got up from his sunbed and walked to the edge of the pool. Spreading his shoulder blades on his broad, muscular back, he stood on tiptoe a little and made a rather graceful leap into the water. To be honest, for a while you forgot about the adventures of young wizards, all your thoughts were now occupied by Oliver and how he swam in the water, making wide strokes with his fit arms. You even thought about joining in, but he came out of the water pretty quickly and flopped down on his lounger with his stomach down, exhaling contentedly.

You looked at him through your glasses. Drops of water trickled down his body that was heating up, repeating the contour of his every lean muscle, his dark slightly curly hair turned into wet, completely black strands. Then he turned over, exposing his face, glistening from the water, to the hot sun. He had just cooled off in the pool, but he looked damn hot. He was like an animated marble statue basking in the August sun on a lounger next to you. You inhaled the warm sticky air sharply but quietly, deciding to focus on reading. Oliver chuckled faintly, without opening his eyes. Surely, he couldn't know how you stared at him through your black sunglasses. Or could he? You weren't sure anymore.

Finally, really deep into reading, you took another piece of watermelon and began to eat it with appetite. The watermelon was juicy, so it started running down your chin and then down the hand that was holding it. You put down the book and reached for a napkin, when suddenly you heard a slightly hoarse "Let me." Looking in surprise to the side, you found that Oliver was shamelessly examining you, lying on his side, and, apparently, for some time. His unblinking gaze and slightly parted lips turned something in your stomach. His chest rose and fell noticeably from his rather heavy breathing.

He gently took your hand by the wrist and then slowly ran his tongue over it, climbing up the palm and licking the watermelon juice from it. A familiar knot started to form in your stomach. Oliver took turns taking your fingers into his mouth. Thumb. His lips were very tender. He pulled your completely clean finger out of his mouth with a smacking sound. Index finger. His lips were soft but at the same time firm. He started looking you straight in the eye.

Middle finger. You felt his soft, hot tongue against your skin. Ring finger. God, he started to lick and suck your fingers lightly at the same time. Pinkie. You were already burning down there, as you shifted your gaze from to the place where your fingers met Oliver's caressing mouth, to his piercing blue eyes, which looked at you from under their black eyelashes, almost without blinking.

He had never done this before, but now you didn't understand how you had lived without that feeling all this time. You wanted to eat a watermelon sloppily every day so that he would do this. Seeing how much you liked it, how you started fidgeting your legs on the sunbed, he once again ran his lips over your middle and index fingers, sucking them both at the same time. You let out a soft moan. Oliver smiled contentedly, closing his eyes and enjoying the process. You opened your lips in a silent exhale, looking at the guy, unable to tear yourself away from this sight. There was already a fire raging in the pit of your stomach and below.

Taking your fingers out of his mouth, he briefly kissed your palm, and then threw one of his hands over your body, leaning on your lounger. It made an surprised squeak at the presence of a guest. His heated by the sun metal chain hung, almost touching your lips. You even had the thought of taking it in your mouth. You gulped.

"Do you know, Y/N, how sweet you are? And right now, literally," Oliver put his face close to your chin and licked off the remnants of watermelon juice. Moving his tongue higher, he licked the contour of your lips. You could barely lie still, but at the same time you seemed frozen by everything that was happening now. He slipped his tongue inside your mouth, letting out a soft groan. The sweetness of the watermelon and your tongues mixed in your mouth, making your head spin. His wet and sticky lips caressed your lips, making some breaths and moans. He almost completely rolled over with his body on your lounger. The hotness of the sun and Oliver's hotness almost drove you to sunstroke. You could feel the firmness of his body and the way his swim trunks were getting tighter by the second. It was almost unbearable.

You broke off the kiss while recovering your breath. Oliver was looking at you, unsure of what to do next. More precisely, he knew exactly what he wanted, but he couldn't afford it right now, so his brain was quickly calculating all possible options.

"Shall we go for a dip together?" you nodded affirmatively at his suggestion. Getting up from the sunbed, he took you by both hands and led you to the edge of the pool.

"Together" means "to the very end," he smirked, and without letting go of your hands, he took a step back, plunging into the pool. You squeaked as you flew after him. In the water, Oliver's strong arms caught you and spun you around a little right under the water. You let out a laugh, releasing a few bubbles instead of "ha-ha."

Then you surfaced, and Quick pinned you between his muscular arms at the edge of the pool. There you both reached the bottom with your feet there, and you were pressed closer to the cool wall of the pool. It was a pleasant contrast between this and Oliver's body, which was even somehow hotter in the water.

"And what I am to do with you? With you, lying in your swimsuit in the sun, enjoying yourself so much and eating watermelon so seductively all the damn day. It's impossible to look at it and just put up with it," Oliver said, kissing you again passionately. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and your legs began to wrap around his pelvis. You felt his boner with your crotch even in the water. He hissed faintly. You involuntarily began to rub and cling to him even more, feeling the literal fire under the water down there.

"Don't tempt me any more," he whispered against your lips, "Or else..."

One of his hands went deeper under the water, his fingers parted the fabric of your bikini to the side. Soon you felt his fingers inside you. The feeling in the water was slightly unusual, but you liked it. Oliver was slowly caressing you, and you tilted your head back a bit, unable to figure out where the wetness of the pool ended and your own begun. Oliver was moaning softly near your ear, and you could barely contain your loud moans. His fingers worked so well inside you that it felt like the entire pool was filled exclusively with your moisture.

You snuggled closer to the guy, and he started kissing your neck, which made your body cover in goosebumps. Then he slipped his other hand into your swimsuit and squeezed one breast. You let out a groan. Oliver added another finger, your legs curled around him, you wanted to moan at the top of your voice, but you were afraid that someone might come up at any moment and see what you two were doing here. The mixture of fear of being caught and wild excitement made brought you to the peak much faster than you expected.

"Is my girl done much faster today?" Oliver asked innocently, stroking your waist, "Admit it, it’s rather turning on. The probability of being caught. You feel it too, don't you? Oh, yes, you do understand me..."

Oliver slightly narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. He really liked the fact that you were different, but he was even more pleased with the moments where your morality and your desires sometimes converged at the same one ambiguous point.

He grinned contentedly when you, nodding slightly and biting your lip, a little timidly reached for his swim trunks with your hands. He exhaled sharply when you felt his bump and ran your soft hand up and down his hard cock several times. The movements of your hand in the water felt like in a slow motion. Oliver half-closed his eyes, holding onto the sides of the pool, and hissed, "Yes, my sweet Y/N, that's it, don't stop… Wait."

He recoiled a little from you, you involuntarily turned around, following his frowning gaze. Felix. He was walking to the pool in sunglasses, wearing a yellow shirt and swimming trunks, carrying a towel and some drink in a can. You laughed awkwardly and embarrassedly while Oliver was rather tense and very displeased. But he forced himself to distract himself, for your sake and for Felix too.

"Hi guys! How long have you been... Hey-y, did I interrupt something?" Catton Jr. asked rather jokingly, seeing you laughing in the pool, but he still tensed a little from the proximity of your distance.

"No, we just came in, join us!" Oliver shouted cheerfully, dispelling the guy's suspicions. At least, most of them.

While Felix was undressing and putting his things on his lounger, you looked pointedly at Oliver and sighed quietly, pursing your lips. Quick blinked slowly in response and nodded slightly, assuring you that way that your fun would definitely continue soon, and no one would dare to interrupt you next time.

But still, Oliver thought to himself, he would have to ponder again all the options for how to make sure that you wouldn't be disturbed inside and outside this house, not only for the next time, but preferably never again.

[kittyscupcakeandbunny]

My BFF is a Vampire

18+

BLOOD SUCKERS

Characters: ot7 x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, described sex scenes, death, consumption of alcohol and blood, threesome, male and male intercourse, explicit sexual interactions, sharp objects, knife play, wax play, blood play, and more.

Genre: supernatural, fantasy, vampire, angst, reversed harem, best friends to lovers.

🩸My Master List🩸

Intro;

I knew something was wrong in the small city I’ve been living ever since I was born here and after I graduated from high school I was sure it had nothing to do with the fact that the whole year this small hell of a city called Spring Villa always rained every day.

Every god damn day.

Not that i was complaining, one summer during a high school trip to California was enough for me to realize hot weather was not for me. One day to be more specific, it was my first time and everything seemed so more alive and colorful. But all come to an end since i had to spend the rest of the trip at the hospital with an IV inside my arm due to being exposed to the sun for too long, just one afternoon which was the same as everyone else did but i was the only one who almost died that day for burning on the sun and end up looking like a hot Cheeto. After that i even started to enjoy the cold humid air hitting my face every day when i left to work, the only thing it didn’t change was my hatred for the rain every morning. Getting wet before work was not very enjoyable, everyone could agree on that note.

But the beautiful weather of the city was not the most uncanny thing about it, it has been almost ten years since a serial killer was circling around the Spring Villa. I was only a teen when everything became known to everyone in the city that something wasn’t right, so many bodies were found around Spring Villa along the years people began to stay at home locked away from everything. Some left the city for once and never came back, those who stayed were people who had nowhere else to go, like me.

My father was terrified of the accidents involving the serial killer in town and he too left before anyone else, leaving me and my mother behind. I couldn’t blame him especially after my brother ended up becoming one of the victims, when the police officer called for my parents to identify the body it didn’t felt real to me. I was not allowed to go since at the time i was underage but, I didn’t even got a chance to say goodbye either. My parents didn’t do a funeral for him, it was all too much to bear so instead he was cremated and thrown on a river on the west side of Spring Villa his favorite place to hide with his friends. Ever since that happened my parents have not been the same, I knew that sooner or later this was bound to happen. When father left it was the last straw of sanity of my mother, she became an alcoholic and well… not good.

I’ve been working at the Spring Grill ever since I graduated high school, apart from so many people leaving the city many others came from cities around the town to get a bit of incloser about the serial killer of Spring Villa, he was never caught and that mystery seemed to amaze many tourists around town.

People from all over came to my stupid silly little city to make videos about the killer of my brother, at first I was so angry at them I wished they just didn’t came at all but, over the years it became dull and empty inside my heart. I had more to worry about then that and since I needed money to pay the rent I was more then happy so many tourist came to Spring Villa.

After all I meet my best friend like that.

Notes: Hello readers! Here’s a new story for all of you I truly hope you guys enjoy this work as much as you all been enjoying my old works. This story has been going around my mind a lot and I thought what better time to write then now? So here it is! Taglist is open so leave your request in the comments and I’ll add you! Love all of you, Author. 🩵

[ur-older-brother]

On Self Harm And How To Deal With It.

Tw: SH (obviously).

If this triggers you then please don't read on. Protect your peace my guy.

I am aware that this is a very touchy subject but due to many asks I've received from my siblings in the last month I feel that it is time to address it.

For those of you that don't me, my name is Zachariah/Wren (don't know how the second name came about but I'm good with it) and I've been self harming since I was 12. My reason to do so (like most other self harmers) was to cope with emotions. Unfortunately it spiraled into a sort of addiction as I got older.

Before I go further I want to state that I am neither pro nor anti self harm. Self harm to is like drinking, smoking, drinking energy drinks, etc. It is bad for the body but I am a firm believer in "Your body, your choice". So I will never encourage it but it would be hypocritical of me to say it's bad. Of course I hope people who self harm find better ways to cope with stress (as I do for alcoholics) but I'm not going to chastise them for it.

For those who wish to quit:

I've had a few asks about this one.

Self harm is a very touchy subject and triggers many people in recovery. As someone who has recovered from previous addictions I applaud anyone who is for doing so. I know it is hard and I truly hope you find your peace.

Somethings that I/others have done that has helped:

● Snap a rubber band on your wrist when the urge arises.

● Identify the emotion behind wanting to and then write about it.

● Go for a walk somewhere FAR from what you would use.

● Pet your dog/cat/lizard and rant to them about what you're feeling.

● Scroll through memes.

● Watch a YouTube video. (My personal choice)

● (Sent in by an anon): something that's helped me is those muscle relaxer creams like bengay or icy hot that have a warning sensation. it's obviously not the same sensation as self harm but it is a sensation and sometimes that helps ride out the urge.

I wish you all the best in your recovery.

If you have any other things you personally do feel free to send them to me and I'll add them to the list.

Now, for those who aren't planning on recovery:

I get a lot of asks on how to clean or hide cuts.

I'm going to talk about cleaning and care.

● If you plan on doing it PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE make sure the object is CLEAN. You DO NOT want an infection. Some are very deadly and many are extremely uncomfortable.

● So you did it. Now what? Now you clean up with some petrolium or whatever you have that cleans wounds. Then, place a bandaid or bandage on but give it room to breathe.

● If you worry about going to deep, then apply pressure to it with a towel. If it is still bleeding steadily after time is up then you do need to get help. I've ignored it before and it didn't end well for me.

● After you're done, do some self care, like reading or watching a silly video.

Some people are okay not hiding scars and some want to. If it's summer time then I suggest getting some good concealer (that's personally what I do).

I have also recieved asks like "i-i cut myself...." or "what would you do if I, yk, cut myself?"

Don't send me asks like this. I will not respond to them and delete them.

I hope this helps and I sincerely hope you find peace.

Older brother, out!

[en-ternity]

welcome to en-ternity’s LIBRARY! for now i am posting it just as a matter of organization. all the stories listed here are yet to be (re)posted ♡

REBLOGS, LIKES, COMMENTS, or any type of interaction are (going to be) more than welcome! ♡ just please be aware that i write SFW and NSFW stories. it’s correctly labeled and the respective warnings are going to be on the main post, therefore i am not responsible for your media consumption

HEARTS IN THE WIND

Heeseung never had believed in love — or at least, not in the real thing — not the capable of awakening his soul and bringing peace to his mind kind of love. It was something to other people, in other places, but not to a street racer like him in the small county of Hongcheon. Yet, in the summer of his twenty-four, you came into his life, and from the moment he saw you, he knew he was a goner

╰ strangers to lovers, street racing & summer romance｜coming soon

NIGHTS LIKE THIS

When you messaged Heeseung telling him you had a bad day, you hadn’t expected him to do anything about it. The sad emoji he sent you as a reply being his only resort. It was the end of the semester, after all, both of your desks were cluttered with papers for the upcoming exams. And to add to the situation, he had taken his car to the garage this afternoon, something about the brake pad being worn out and making the idea of him driving to your place in the middle of the night impossible. But then, he was there

╰ established relationship｜coming soon

THIS IS HOW YOU FIND FOREVER

Heeseung wasn’t the type of boyfriend to buy you expensive bouquets or take you to fancy restaurants. No. He was the type of boyfriend to pick flowers on the sidewalk for you and order food past midnight. He laid blankets on the hardwood floor of your living room and made picnics on it. And then, when the bowls were empty and the wine sank in, he was the type of boyfriend to ask you to dance with him. Barefoot and clumsy, Heeseung loved to dance with you

╰ established relationship｜coming soon

HEAVEN KNOWS

Aside from Jongseong’s whispered jokes of desiring to eat you alive, your boyfriend never had been anything but gentle with you in bed. Kind hands and soft touches, always patient, and always putting you first. Not that it was bad — no, he was the best you ever had. But it had been inevitable for you to not grow curious about what he meant by his eccentric statement. So you asked

╰ established relationship｜coming soon

THE LONG WAY HOME

When you told your parents you were going to move to New York, they made you promise a single thing: you would make your way back home every Christmas. No matter how busy you were, you should be in Seattle for Christmas. And through years, it had been an easy thing to do. But then — the worst snowstorm in the country’s history caused your flight to get canceled, and you found yourself on a sudden road trip with your ex-classmate — who always had a secret crush on you

╰ ex-classmates to lovers & christmas special｜coming soon

MEET ME AT OUR SPOT

The luxurious hotel of Shinhwa had only one rule for their employees: do not get involved with the guests — and in special with their daughters. Jake always had been pretty good at following it throughout all those summers of being the hotel’s lifeguard — well, until you came

╰ forbidden love & summer romance｜coming soon

STRINGS OF FATE — mini-series

The blood feud between the southern kingdom and the northern kingdom was a tale so old. It had worn thin by the amount of times it had been rolled and twisted by foreign tongues. The original words now nothing but a memory of a tale too often told, but you knew you were supposed to hate Jaeyun just as he was supposed to hate you

╰ royalty & soulmate｜coming soon

THE POTTERY SHOP AT THE END OF THE WORLD

Falling in love with your older brother’s best friend certainly wasn’t one of your summer resolutions. Actually, meeting him wasn’t even part of your plans. But one day, you happened to have no other option than to appear unannounced at his little pottery shop in Seogwipo, a stray kitten in a pet carrier and asking for a place to stay, and well — you couldn’t help but do

╰ older brother’s best friend & summer romance｜coming soon

UNTIL THE SUN NO LONGER SHINES (BABY, I’M YOURS)

It’s not that Jake disliked the nights of sex — he just tended to like the mornings after a little bit more

╰ established relationship｜coming soon

WRITTEN IN THE STARS

During the course of your relationship with Sunghoon, you had found a dozen ways to wake him up, yet tracing his moles definitely was your favorite one

╰ established relationship｜coming soon

THANK YOU FOR PASSING BY!