#all the white people are big mad in the comments!!!

[natandacat]

boomer bird ID facebook group is already delivering

[loverafey]

DEATH IN THE WOODS ! bf!dark!rafe x f!reader.

          ⤿ synopsis : it's been a while since rafe forcefully dragged you alongside him into the far end of the island where isolated woods resided, for the sake of hiding there until the buzz around him killing the sheriff died. though he comes back today with blood splattered on him despite promising you that he won't be doing any of that again. THIS IS A DARK PIECE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!

          ꕀ warnings - dubcon, smut, murder, brief mention of parental abuse, ward is dead, not follows obx events except rafe shooting sheriff peterkin, rafe has bangs, typical rafe psychology, lots of dog metaphors, rafe is not a good guy, breasts play he loves your tits, cunnilingus, knife play, unprotected p in v, mating press, creampie, just lots of conflicted feelings in general. wc - 5.3k

The days were starting to get shorter.

This would be Rafe’s first winter in this corner of the island, the woods no one ever came to. No, it would be their first winter in this area — both Rafe and you. It was just a big benefit for him that no one ever bothered you both here, plus it was just temporary. Just a matter of a month or two more, or perhaps a little more, little less. Just until the search going around for you both comes to a halt and slows down. Then he’d sneak back into Tannyhill to grab some possessions and book a flight, and you both would be gone from here for good.

Rafe didn’t necessarily believe what he was doing was evil. Killing Sheriff Peterkin was an act of, well, self defense and defense for his father. Now that Ward was dead too, leaving no one to cover for Rafe, he had to resort to these unconventional methods. Worst of all? You were so damn resistant to it at the start, screaming and kicking your feet as he shoved you into his car, trying to reason that it was for your own protection.

Seriously, he never wanted to become the villain. It was as if every action he was carrying out with the intentions of soothing things over resulted in just worsening them. What a joke. This felt humiliating, and now he was wanted across the island with a girlfriend who seemingly hated him. Or maybe not. He’d pretend to not notice you staring at him during the nights and caressing his hair.

Wait. Did you pity him? The thought alone made his stomach churn uncomfortably with anger and something else as he navigated through the woods after having secured some groceries. A local mart was thankfully right outside the safer part of the woods. Mostly empty and stale, the cashier there probably didn’t even realise that Rafe was a wanted criminal. If that cashier did, they didn’t dare comment on it.

After all, being a criminal did not erase the fact that he was a Cameron. Though that name didn’t matter much to him anymore. Some people believed that he killed his own father. That was such an absurdly ridiculous speculation anyone could ever make. Who did he think he was?

A monster?

Sure, he hated Ward a little bit now. Okay, maybe a lot. But he would never do that, especially when that old man was trying to protect him until the end. So what if his pleas about his mind growing more and more rotten were ignored? So what if he was slapped around, yelled at and reduced to a black sheep? He probably didn’t deserve the luxury of being a favourite child anyways.

None of that really was important anymore. The only thing important to him right now was you, doing whatever in the little wooden cabin he’d found for you both. You’d spent the first day of your arrival just cleaning the place up maddeningly and trying your best to distract yourself as much as possible. Anything was better than conversing with him.

Rafe soon rounded up around the cabin, his hand clutching the plastic bag tight. His fists were curled up, knuckles white. Just why was he clenching so hard for no reason whatsoever? Rafe’s eyes drifted down, crimson blood splattered across his shirt. You’d be mad, scared. Probably yell at him or just freak out, think that he’s finally lost it. His axe stayed lone and bloody, stuffed in his bag. He should probably get rid of the weapon soon, thankfully the body was already taken care of. Now somewhere deep within, a part of the earth itself. How natural.

It all had transpired when buying the grocery, someone finally walked in, the door of the store chiming. They just had to walk in when he was there as well. A coincidence? He doesn’t believe so. There’s no such thing as coincidence. It was some guy from Figure 8 that recognised him, had shrieked out and reached for his phone a little too fast. Rafe didn’t let that guy do that, of course. It was almost on instinct when he pulled his axe out and smashed it right on that guy’s face.

Poor cashier had to see it, probably traumatised for life. Rafe paid the cashier extra tips just to be safe, and made the cashier swear that the word wouldn’t go out.

Now that he thinks about it, he should’ve killed the cashier too. He shook his head in exasperation, leaning his forehead against the wooden door of the cabin. Was he really turning into some sort of freak, a bloodthirsty and insatiable creature? No longer a human but a failed something. Just not a human.

Because whether anyone likes it or not, he did not feel regret after killing that guy. Maybe old Rafe would’ve, when he was more human and capable, when his father hadn’t shoved all those ideologies into his head.

But he wasn’t the old Rafe anymore, no. He was here to protect you, as simple as that.

Not bothering to knock, he swung the door of the cabin open and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Putting the plastic bags of groceries on the counter, he sighed in relief that you didn’t instantly see him, probably in the bedroom. The cabin smelled sweet, like something had just recently been baked, alongside a pleasant scent of whatever air freshener you’d sprayed around. It was surprising to him how you had managed to make this once abandoned cabin look like home again. If this place wasn’t so unsafe, he would’ve simply preferred living here with you forever.

He was just about to hastily take off his shirt when you opened the bedroom’s door and peeked your head out to see if he’d arrived back.

Fuck.

Your eyes were so quick to widen, so quick to realise what those red stains were. It was as if you didn’t even bother thinking about the alternatives anymore. There was just no way that he would spill some red sauce over himself, so ketchup or any other shit. He wanted to coo at you for being so smart, but he stayed just as frozen as you, his fingers growing cold. Just as horrified as you.

Especially when he’d promised you that he wouldn’t be involving himself in any more messes.

“Baby…” He croaked out, internally cringing at how he sounded, bummed out. He was like a dog who’d come back, kept coming back to you with treats everyday. Or anything that’d interest you. It wasn’t his fault that he just happened to have sharper canines and couldn’t help but bite onto anything he’d lay his eyes on. A very unlikeable, unwanted stray dog he always was, even when living amidst the posh Tannyhill. Those polo shirts and expensive shorts were enough to hide the fleas on him, hiding who he really was.

Filthy, filthy mutt.

“Rafe, is that blood…?” You tried to speak as calmly as possible, hands trembling as you didn’t know whether to reach out to him or stay frozen near the bedroom’s door, panting, your breathing growing more and more shakier with each second. You were scared.

Rafe didn’t muster up any word for a good minute, just staring at you, eyes full of unsaid emotions. Anger because you’d walked in on him at the wrong moment, fear because he didn’t want you putting up a fight again, sad because you had to be with such a mess. A lost cause.

“Yes.” He nodded after a while, blue eyes avoiding your shocked and disappointed stare. He was never good at handling disappointed gaze, not from you, not from his sisters and definitely not from his father. He hated feeling like a fuck-up.

“You’ve to understand. That- That guy was going to call the fucking police. I could see his hands- Piece of shit.” He stammered around, agitated closer and closer to you, his hands soon having left his bloodied shirt and keeping it on, his heart aching at the way you were backing up, trying to protect yourself.

You couldn’t protect yourself and he knew it, no matter how many times he’d try to explain that to you anyways. That’s why you had him. Your boyfriend, your guard dog, he could be anything.

“What do you mean…? What guy?” You were anxiously stepping back until your back collided against the wall, closing your eyes shut, not wanting to see him mearing you. His warmth was evident when he grew closer. Even with all the bloody scent reeking off him, you could still smell him. Your boyfriend. You hated the familiar fondness that would still bloom within you, especially for this guy who’d killed god knows how many people, who’d dragged you here against your will.

You’d always loved the idea of living far away with your boyfriend, but not like this.

His hands, shaky, came to rest on each side of your side against the wall, caging you there. Your eyes slowly opened, looking up at him. There he was with his bangs sticking against his forehead, his eyes wild, most possibly still on the high of the adrenaline rush from killing someone. His lips were parted as he breathed heavily, brows furrowed. Deep in thought, planning his next move. Though Rafe was never good at plans, he was a ‘proactive’ type of person which caused him to act on impulse.

Or at least that’s what he has told you many times before.

“You don’t need to worry about anything. I- Just trust me, dammit.” Rafe was trying, he really was. You had taken notice of how he was always trying to remain calm with you now, not snapping. He didn’t have cocaine here because even Barry was unaware of his client’s whereabouts. Somehow that made things seem even worse. Rafe wasn’t high on coke or anything, so what would even encourage him to act erratically? Has killing on instinct out of protection become natural for him?

You were soon snapped out of the sudden whirl of questions in your head when you felt his hand cupping the side of your face, clammy but thankfully not covered in blood. You didn’t know why that was one of your major concerns. Focusing on smaller worries was better than looking at the bigger, more appalling image.

“C’mon, baby… Stop looking at me like that?” He spoke through gritted teeth, fingers lightly hooking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Like what?” You cautiously asked back.

“Like I'm crazy… Like- Like you are disgusted by me.”

You stayed silent, your breath hitching as his hand left your face, arms dropping by to wrap around your waist, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck, seeking your warmth, ignoring the stiffness of your body.

“Are you, huh? Disgusted by me?”

“No, Rafe…” You sighed, soon relaxing as you wrapped your arms around him too, reciprocating his hug. It wasn’t as if you were lying after all, you weren’t disgusted by him at all. He wasn’t some hideous bloodied beast, no. He was still your boyfriend. You were just, well, you didn’t know anymore. In love? Terrified? Concerned? All of them together?

You could feel his lips beginning to press soft, hesitant kisses on your neck, his hands bunched up into the front of your sweater. Pulling you in as much as he could, impossibly in, wanting to be one with you — that’s what was going on in his head. Molding himself with you so he could be yours forever.

Your hands moved on instinct, moving up, your fingers beginning to run through his hair. A gesture meant to relax him, too. No one should be so keen on comforting a roaming killer, much less the Rafe Cameron who was always somewhat of a bully — the Rafe Cameron who’d make you sneak out of your house late at nights and take you by the lone beach, kiss you under the stars and hold you. They being the same person was just baffling.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He groaned against your neck, pulling his head back, his eyes red-rimmed and full of tears. Something back within your head wondered if this was genuine or a manipulation tactic, though most of you knew for sure that he was being genuine right now. Overwhelmed given the way he was shaking, his hand grabbed your wrist a little bit too tight, dragging you into the bedroom, ignoring the surprised yelp that had left your lips.

“Do you hear me? I’m sorry.” Rafe said more harder this time, releasing you, his chest rising and falling.

“Rafe, calm down…” His state was worrisome, and you sure as hell didn’t want him hyperventilating like this. Fuck, even you wanted to cry. He literally had some guy’s blood on his clothes. That is not normal. But you were way past the state of crying or arguing with him anymore back when he had first shot the sheriff. That was just too much. This too, but you were tired. And he was tired too, you could see it in every twitch of his body.

This was a big mess.

“I know you’re sorry… Can you just- please wash the blood off?” It’s nauseating and horrendous, fuck you, you wanted to add, chewing on your bottom lip as your eyes drifted away, reluctantly swallowing the lump in your throat.

You could hear the sounds of clothes shuffling as he took his shirt off, tossing it aside. He’s gotten bigger, and as your eyes travelled from his biceps down to his toned stomach, you wanted to swoon, really. His fingers were curling and uncurling, restless as they finally grasped onto your elbows and pulled you onto the bed, following after you.

“You love me, don’t you?”

You paused, silent. You didn’t know why your mouth had just tried up, why the sight of his gaze hardening up made you weak in the news — whether in a good way or a bad way — your lips pursed shut. You loved him, of course you did. He was still your Rafe. He clicked his tongue loud and clear, hands roughly grabbing your shoulders.

“I know you do.” He chuckled humourlessly.

“Yes… I do.” You breathed out, feeling his hands going relaxed as he guided you to lay down. Exhausted, you let him, your head pressing against the pillows. He moved down and gripped your thighs, head burying into your stomach, the wool of your sweater tickling his skin.

You always wondered where he’d gotten that little scar from that rested amongst the moles adorning his shoulders and back, though you never really questioned him on it.

“Rafe… Can you get up?” You asked, instantly regretting your words.

His hold onto you only got tighter, eyes moving up to look at you, bitter and stubborn.

If you truly loved him, then why did you want him to get up?

“You still reek of blood.” You tried to press on a bit more firmly. Though it was as if your words were falling onto deaf ears as he scoffed out.

“You still reek of blood.” He mocked the way you spoke, his fingers harshly digging into your thighs. If it weren’t for your trousers, he probably would’ve bruised you. Or maybe he already did, you didn’t know. Your legs trembled, trying to kick him away. Fuck, why did he have to get stronger? Being in the woods meant labour work, one he wasn’t familiar with at first but had managed quite nicely. That also meant that you felt a bit too weak, too pathetic in front of him now.

“You always do this. Always being sweet to me before- before trying to fucking push me away! I won’t let it happen, not today. I’m not some fucking- fucking toy of yours.” He rambled on and on, too pent up and anxious as his hands greedily beginning to slide under your sweater, aching to feel the warmth of your skin, his calloused fingertips brushing against your sides as you squirm underneath him, shocked and uncomfortable, your muscles tense as you whimpered out in protest.

“What the fuck, Rafe?!” You shrieked out, your hands pulling and tugging at his hair hard, though he remained unfazed albeit the harsh sting coursing through his scalp.

“You fucking-!” He sneered and grabbed your hands by the wrists, one hand holding them tight and pulling them above your hands, now his face facing yours while his other hand continued to roam under your sweater.

“Don’t you see how much I need you, baby? Fucking need you s’much that it’s making me go crazy.” His words, instead of being an angry remark, were more so of a plea — a prayer. His eyes shone with frustrated tears and you just couldn’t help it, a broken whimper leaving you. This was unfair, but your body was so used to the warmth and caresses of his hand that it leaned in, afraid of change. Even if your brain begged that this was not the correct way, that he should calm down for a day or two, that he should change — something annoying within you loved him just the way he was.

And Rafe knew of that. Otherwise he wouldn’t be rambling on and on like this, his hands tugging your sweater off of you, basking in the sight of your soft chest, leaning down to press needy little pecks along the corner of your nipple while his hand grabbed your other breast with tenderness that contradicted his earlier fervent behaviour, squeezing the flesh, his lips wrapping around your nipple, sucking on it. It calmed him in the best way possible, distracted him from the dead body buried under the ground not so far away from your cabin. You really were the best medicine. His sweet, sweet girl.

“Rafe…” Your back arched involuntarily at the soft suctions of his mouth on your nipple. He was just latched onto it, causing your skin to tingle. Your fingers begin to caress his scalp once again, his hair a bit messy. You liked that he was growing it out. Fuck, why were you suddenly giving into his needs?

“You’re so pretty. And soft.” Rafe whispered against your skin, moving over to suck onto your other nipple, hands travelling down to caress your sides, slow and patient. You were unused to the violence he’d seen, it made him want to worship you and kiss you all over. He didn’t believe in the existence of a higher being but you were definitely a gift from heaven. Just for him, all for him.

“Y’know, it’s just temporary. Before you know it, we’ll be on a plane and off to a better place. I promise you.” He pressed a kiss on your midsection, his face travelling down as he looked up at you. His expression right now made you think of a puppy, his eyes uncharacteristically innocent. No one would ever suspect him of commiting all that.

“I know…” You whispered back, your brows furrowed albeit your stomach feeling funny both pleasantly and uneasily. Though you had to admit, the idea of finally escaping this madness and going somewhere where no one would be chasing you both was enticing. An escape that you both had been craving.

His lips travelled down, kissing all the way from your navel down to the waistband of the loose trousers you wore, slowly rolling down them, his breath hitching at the sight of your panties. “Open your legs wide, baby.” He mumbled as he pecked the inner side of your thigh, hands shaky as he grabbed onto the soft flesh of your thighs, keeping them award, a mean snicker leaving his lips once he noted the dampness of the cloth.

“Does the idea of me killing for you turn you on?” You didn’t know if his question was meant to cruelly mock you or genuinely curious, and honestly, you didn’t even know how to answer it. Maybe he was correct. You’d been so scared and reluctant earlier, why the fuck were you even wet? Deep down, you found some sort of shocking gratitude towards the fact that he was willing to go as far as to kill someone for the sake of your safety. That was not healthy at all, but he’d do anything to show that he loved you. He really was a stray, trying to show his loyalty.

He didn’t wait for your answer, teeth nipping at the waistband of your panties and pulling them down, breathing heavily against your slick folds. His fingers pushed your folds apart, humming appreciatively at the sight of your pussy, your clit throbbing, wanting to be touched.

“So pretty, always…” Rafe wanted to say that it was somewhat like classical conditioning, though that applied more to him than you. He was literally raging hard in his pants right now, and he’d been like that ever since he took your shirt off. It was pathetic really, how he was panting against your pussy, licking a fat stripe up and down your slit, savouring the breathy gasp that left you. So soft, all for him. Rafe took great pride in knowing that he was the one drawing all those pretty noises out of you.

Your hands went over to grasp onto his head, pushing his face in between your legs properly. He might as well just do it properly now, your fingers tangling into his hair messily as he hungrily licked on your pussy, mouth moving to gently suck onto your clit, making sure to not be too harsh with the sensitive bundle of nerves. The last time he’d tried to bite it, albeit lightly, you’d gotten overstimulated and ended up ‘accidentally’ kicking him on his face.

Ah, good days. Back when none of this mess you both were tangled in mattered. Now that he thinks about it, he really misses the banter between you both, how you both would be running around his lonesome house.

Shaking those thoughts away, he busied himself with attending to your sweet clit, sucking and nipple on it gently, sharp jolts of pleasure shooting within you as your legs trembled by his sides. “O-Oh, Rafey…” That nickname slipped through your lips with such ease, your eyes growing glossy and rolling back. You didn’t know how he did it, but it always just felt so fucking ecstatic. As if every problem just melted away and you were atop fluffy clouds with him.

He didn’t pull away to respond with something, no, he was too intent on eating your pussy out, as if starved. His fingers dug into your thighs with the need to imprint the marks of his hands onto your skin — what a lovely sight that would be — your wetness running down his chin from his ministrations.

It wasn’t soon until you fell apart on his tongue, reaching your peak fast as you cummed all over his mouth, your hole clenching around nothing, your moans ringing through the walls. You fell limp onto the bed panting, your bones feeling so fuzzy and melted.

He didn’t bother wiping his mouth, moving up to instead kiss your lips, his thumb and index holding your jaw as his mouth parted against yours. You could always feel the subtle twitch of his lips as he shoved his tongue into you. You whimpered against his mouth, your lips wrapping around his tongue almost obediently, sucking on his tongue. Fuck, he could just cum right there and then, his eyes opening a bit to look at you sucking his tongue, not caring about the drool.

“Love tasting yourself, huh? Dirty thing.” Rafe snarked once he pulled away from the kiss, giving your trembling thigh a rough pat. Seeing your glossy eyes made something within him stir, something dark threatening to rip out. Before you could slur something out, still in your orgasmic state, he reached over to the drawer and pulled out a knife. It wasn’t much, a normal pocket knife really, but enough to make your body tense up, eyes widening.

“R-Rafe…?” You stuttered out, fearful and confused.

He shushed you by pressing his thumb against your lips, his other hand that held the pocket knife gently travelling the blade from your shoulder down in between your breasts. The cold steel against your skin made you shutter, so oddly arousing as he caressed you with the flat of the knife, travelling down to rest against your stomach, feeling the rise and fall of it.

“Are you scared?” He whispered against your ear, his voice hoarse. You nodded, not wanting to lie to him, blood rushing to your face as his knife travelled down to nudge against your inner thigh. He didn’t press hard enough to break the skin, though the idea of carving his name into your skin made his heart skip a beat.

“What would happen if I just… poke the knife a bit too hard?” He nibbled onto your earlobe, biting it.

You panted softly, eyes transfixed onto the glimmering steel of the pocket knife contrasting against your thigh, your body unable to pull away, just freezing, your throat tight and unable to muster any words out.

Rafe soon let go of the knife, and proceeded to hastily take off his shirt and pants, clearly out of whatever patience he was trying to hold onto. You couldn’t help but be concerned when your eyes landed onto his cock after he got rid of his clothes, all swollen and angry, flushed from the tip, precum adorning the sensitive cockhead. It seemed so neglected.

“Look what you do to me…” He breathed out shakily, brows furrowed in frustration as his hand grasped the base of his girth, squeezing it for some relief. Getting in between your parted legs, he slaps the tip of his cock against your still pulsating clit, causing you to squeal at the sudden feeling, your hips bucking upwards. He laughed, shaking his head, not hiding the way he was making fun of you as he slapped your clit again, enjoying the way both of you were sensitive enough to feel pleasure from just some mere slaps.

“Stop doing that…!” You managed to whine out, fists lightly swatting onto his bare chest. He didn’t really care about your protests at this point, not really, minding his own business as his cock pleasantly slid up and down your slit, all puffy from your previous orgasm, soon beginning to probe your hole.

“So eager f’me to put it in, hm? I can feel you clenching around nothing.” He breathed out, bangs sticking to his forehead and his lips parted as he gently begin to push into your pussy, groaning at the familiar tightness enveloping him. Shit, you were always so tight, as if intending to swallowing him right up, his cock making its way through your spongy walls as he started to gently thrust in and out, dragging against your boiling warmth.

Your back arched at the sudden intrusion, a throaty moan leaving your lips as you clenched around his cock impossibly hard. His length dragged in and out of you at a firm, steady pace that you always enjoyed, the old bed of the cabin creaking under the weight of you both at his movements, one hand resting against the side of your head while his other went over to grab the knife once again, this time teasing the cold blade against your parted lips.

“Aw, don’t accidentally suck on it.” He cooed, the earlier apologetic look long gone. His mood right now was a big mess. Yet you still mewled because it all felt too good, your hole drooling around his cock, obscenely wet noises filling the air as he continued to fuck you.

“Y-You’re so mean…” She gasped out at the feeling of his cock beginning to pound against your sweet spot, but before you could properly cherish the tightness in your stomach building up, he grumbled something incoherent under his breath and dropped the knife, instead hooking both of his hands under your knees and pulling them up to press against your chest, his weight pressing against you, your whole body now folded so easily by him.

“Mean? I’ll show you mean.” He gritted his teeth, this new position letting him ram his cock deep into you. Fuck, he was going in so fast now, your body fully trapped underneath his as he roughly continued to fuck you. You could barely snake your hand in between to rub your clit, but as if taking note of the way your pussy was convulsing around him, he began to ground his hips harder against yours, your clit making contact with his skin, a relieved moan leaving you.

“Yeah? Just like that. Gonna keep you mine forever baby, fuck- we’re gonna have so much fun when we leave this fucking place, I promise you…” His stamina didn’t falter, eyes locked onto your unfocused ones, continuing to hit your sweet spot in a hard manner, causing your eyes to barely remain open from the intensity of his movements, and the overwhelming knot building within you, threatening to break.

It just took a couple more thrusts for your body to writhe in pleasure as you orgasmed violently, gushing all over his cock, surprised and confused that you just squirted as loud gasps left your lips, a sheen of sweat clinging to your skin.

Rafe grunted in equal surprise at the sight below him, your pretty pussy gushing around him. That was alone to make him reach his peak as well. “F-Fuck, I am close… Can I cum inside?” His voice was weaker now, barely holding onto the edge, a pleased groan leaving his lips at your nod as he exploded thick layers of cum into your pussy, filling you up to the brim. You felt stuffed, in a good way.

After letting go off your knees, he just held you for a while as you both panted and tried to catch your breath. The cabin’s air felt all the more humid and unbearably hot, both of you heated. Rafe slowly eased his cock out of your pussy and grinned lazily down at the sight, his cum leaking out of you. “So fucking pretty.” He exhaled, pressing a tender kiss on your knee. You could only respond with a tired hum, trembling. It was too hard to keep your eyes open at this point, sleep soon embracing you.

Couple of hours went by and you soon woke up from your nap. Feeling sticky, you sought to take a quick shower, the cabin peacefully quiet. It was just about sunset now, your eyes looking out of the window while you dried your hair with a towel. Rafe was sleeping, probably more exhausted than you had realised. You never mentioned it to him, but he looked real adorable while deep asleep, his lips always formed in somewhat of a pout and the side of his face squished against his pillow.

The only time he was free from the current frenzied state of his mind.

You caught a glimpse of something at the corner of your eye, your heart dropping when you noticed that it was Rafe’s axe peeking out of his bag, messily placed on the ground. You didn’t want to bother him by making him wake up and throw it away, so after a few moments of contemplation, you walked over to it. Securing some plastic gloves you still had amidst your luggage thankfully, you grabbed the axe and went out of the cabin, dropping it into the nearby lake where it’d be fully rid of the evidence.

After all, giving Rafe the rest he deserved seemed like something you always let him have. He was your lover after all. And you knew he wasn’t going to let go of you anytime soon.

[mbsneur]

Last Room

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: you hate Alexia but your best friend salma wants you to get along well with Alexia

Warnings: Smut 18+

WC: 2078

please read this text before going to the story please don't be so strict with me but rather write to me what I can do better or what you wished were different. also tell me if you find the story too long or too short.. Also write to me if you liked it. My requests are always open (and English is not my first language so don't be mad at me) and if you have any ideas for the future about who I should write please tell me… the topics I will choose by myself unless you have a request for one or two people I will Read everything.. in the next survey I will take a few ideas from the old survey and new ones…. now read and I hope you like it <33

You hate Alexia, her stupid sayings, her arrogant demeanor, the fact that she always wants to take control. You just hate everything when you're around her, she just makes you angry

You had training at Barca, it was a hard training session, you were sweaty and it was hot outside. You walked off the pitch and your best friend Salma came running and put her arm around your shoulder "How can you still have so much energy?" you says laughing and you go towards to the changing room. You all had to get your flight to Paris today. You all have an event with Nike. Salma, Alexia and you the thought of Alexia coming with makes you angry

You sit down at your place and take off your shoes. Alexia and Patri come in and your smile turns into a dull look. Alexia had her big eyes on you again and you were already expecting a stupid comment: "You were good today y/n Finally you do what you're told, you're getting better ," she says to you with a laugh and Patri pushes her to the side. You roll your eyes and want to get up and go to the shower. "A simple thank you would have been enough," she calls after you You wanted to go back and tell her that she should just leave you alone and that she was annoying you but Salma came to your side and pushed you towards the shower

You just want to forget what Alexia said and you take a shower. After a while Alexia came into the shower and you open your eyes briefly and see Alexia scanning your body with her eyes

“Que pasa Alexia, what do you want, keep your fucking eyes to yourself” you say annoyed She raised her arms innocently and smiled "Should I wash your back" she said ironically and she and a few others burst with laughter. You take your towel to go out

You get dressed for the Nike event in a simple white shirt and blue jeans with white shoes. "Hey, hurry up Alexia, we have a flight to catch" Salma calls loudly towards the shower. You are about to put your things in your locker to leave You all wait until Alexia is finally finished. When she's done you run out. You all say goodbye to the others and head towards to your shuttle. The ride was quiet. You listened to music and noticed Alexia's eyes on you every now and then You always wanted to say something but you held yourself back

When you arrived at the airport you all looked for your check-in You still have some time so you decide to get something from Starbucks

You also try to keep as much distance as possible from Alexia. You were at Starbucks and then your check-in started. You handed in your luggage and went to your gate. You had time and you passed the time with music until boarding started and you left on the plane and Salma really wanted to sit at the window so you only had a seat left next to Alexia. You didn't know if this was one of Salma's tricks to bring you closer together but you didn't think it was a good idea. So Alexia sat down the middle and you in the aisle

alexia is a matcho she sat there with her legs spread as if it were natural she unpacked her laptop "alexia can you just make more space and not make your legs so wide it's annoying" you say and look at her snidely ", you really complain about everything where are your manners" she says with a laugh and looks deep into your eyes. All these comments make you angry. You decide to let her just so you can have some peace and

quiet

So you put on your headphones and fall into the seat, dozing until you finally fall asleep When the plane landed you felt someone bumping into your shoulder. You startled slightly and your head moved up from Alexia's shoulder. "Alexia, sorry, I didn't mean to on your shoulder." You said sleepily and rubbed your eyes, obviously embarrassed "It's okay," she says with a slight smile. She's suddenly so sensible. Maybe it's just because she's tired, you think to yourself

You're happy when you finally get to the hotel and can sleep in your own bed

You pick up your suitcases and look for your shuttle in front of the airport. A nice man greets you all in a black car. He takes your all suitcases from you all and asks you all to sit down. It was already evening

When you arrive at the hotel, Salma goes to the reception to pick up your room cards. "How many are you? I still have three names on my display that haven't checked in yet," the lady at the reception says nicely. "Yes, that's us," Salma tells her against "good but unfortunately I have to tell you that we only have two rooms available because you are a little late so two of you would have to share a room"

"Okay, it won't be bad," Salma says, smiling "Well, I need a signature from you here that you have accepted the room cards" Salma signs and accepts the cards

"I'll take the single room, you can share one" says Salma and walks forward "Salma no, I'm so upset I'm happy with my own bed. You can't leave me alone in a room with Alexia."

Alexia looks at you shocked "wow okay, what's your problem, I didn't choose it either, what have I done to you y/n" Alexia snaps at you, you ignore her and devote yourself to Salma "Salma, we can't share the room, you know Alexia and I don't get along," you tell Salma seriously and a little angrily.

"You'll manage to be normal for one night. There's definitely a couch or something. Tomorrow we'll be out of here again," Salma says, holding her card up to the sensor

You look annoyed at Salma as she closes the door to her room. Alexia looks at you with a laugh. "I'm warning you, don't say anything, you can sleep on the couch," you tell her and go to your room You don't know how you're going to get through this with the woman you hate. You're visibly annoyed about the whole thing. "Can't we at least treat each other normally the night , it's so difficult," Alexia says quietly to you. You've found your room and are holding your card on sensor "no alexia it's not possible your presence just annoys me you can just shut up and go to sleep right now"

You look into the room and don't see a couch

"Okey Alexia, I sleep on the side of the window and you keep your distance from me, you understand"

Alexia looks at you "why do you hate me mh" she takes a step closer to you you stand in front of the bed and look at her disparagingly she comes dangerously close „ I hate you because you always try to tell me what to do and with your stupid things Sayings are annoying" Alexia comes closer and closer and you can literally feel her breath on your face

You get a little nervous and Alexia grabs your arm. You look down and try to pull away but her grip becomes tighter

"I think you just need someone to fuck the sass out of you"

She starts kissing your neck lightly and you take your bottom lip between your teeth "Alexia, you're not as good as you think," you tell her flippantly, "let's see what a big mouth you'll still have after I've fucked you mindlessly." She says and now lets her hands slide up and down your sides, lightly squeezing the side of your chest

"Alexia you are shit, you make me so angry and you think you can give me instructions and you can't even play football"

She grabs your neck and raises an eyebrow. She pushes you onto the bed with all her strength and your breath goes out of you slightly. She pulls your shirt over your head and nibbles on your exposed skin and making you ache "give me more, come tell me more" says she against your skin and her grip on your neck becomes loose "I hate you Alexia for everything you say you think you're funny but you're not you're a desperate slut " you spit

"who is desperate and getting fucked" she spits back turning you onto your stomach

She pulls your pants over your ass and helps her by kicking them off your feet. She pulls hard on your braid which makes you scream. She pulls you up from the bed so that your ass is in the air and she pushes your head into the mattress slaps your ass hard which makes you whimper and cry after 8 more strokes she comes closer to your ear and whispers "I'm going to fuck you until you forget your hate and beg for me not to let you go" you breathe hard and sigh in the mattress

She pushes harder and says "and I fuck you so much for the bad girl you are"

you close your eyes and feel a hand in your fold alexia pumps into your hole without warning you breathe hard "fuck alexia i-fuck" you say moaning slightly and try to support yourself but she pushes you down again "mierda you are so tight baby How long have you been waiting for me?" Alexia says in a rough voice and pumps harder into you. You don't answer but instead claw at the paint. Alexia pulls hard on your braid. "Puta answer me" she says harshly. "I don't notice anything about you Even bad in bed" you say and moan loudly Alexia pushes two more fingers into you which makes you scream loudly "Alexia no I can't take it it's too much please"

you feel your tears welling up in your eyes "you'll take it until you cum and tell me who's in charge" you start to squirm and take her fingers as she tells you your legs start to weaken and shake your moans get louder and you hear loud curses from Alexia she fucks you with four fingers and you start to like it you feel how she pushes you closer to the edge "Alexia I'm close don't stop it feels so good" you say Between moans and gasps, "You won't cum until you tell me who you have to listen to" Alexia says and pinching your back lightly

you moan and don't want to say anymore but you also want to cum you want to feel her "Alexia please let me cum I'm begging you I need you to cum"

Alexia scratches your back and gets faster with her fingers. You moan and fill the whole room. "Of course you need me, Bebita I know but you have to tell me who you have listen to“

you press yourself against her "Alexia i have to listen to you let me finally cum please" Alexia laughs and starts to give you kisses "say it again" she says with a playful laugh "Alexia i have to listen to you please let me cum I can't hold it anymore"

You scream and she whispers to you that you can cum. Your eyes roll back and you moan through your hard orgasm. Alexia slows down and gently removes her fingers

do you want a part two? <33

[two-white-butterflies]

gave you all my best me's (i)

Description: Aemond needs a fake-girlfriend. It's a good thing that he has leverage over his nephew's ex-girlfriend.

Pairing: (past! jacaerys velaryon/reader), aemond targaryen/reader

Notes: I wanted to rewrite this fanfic before writing a bonus chapter. I'm not a big fan of the old version of this: you're losing me. TWO PARTS SO COMMENT TO GET TAGGED.

It is a beautiful thing to be admired for your talents, but when the media begins digging into your personal life - it is difficult to decipher where one draws a line. "When are you getting married?" The late-night host asks.

You answer him with an awkward chuckle.

Despite your social media branding - you longed for marriage, a white picket fence, and children. "There's so much more to life than getting married," you pursed your lips into a thin line. You could already see yourself in tomorrow morning's tabloids - trending on Twitter AND Tiktok with a witty hashtag.

"I agree, but for other people, it's a milestone moment for them. Is it not in your plans to get married in the future? Or is it an if it happens, it happens kind of thing?" The man continues to inquire.

You forced a smile on your face.

You did want to get married, but it's not in Jace's plans. He's the type of man who goes from hotel to hotel - the type of man who doesn't have his own apartment because he likes to act like a cowboy. Jace is the type of man who'd wear speedos with Birkenstocks. He does not ever see himself getting married, but he sees himself staying with you forever.

"I, unfortunately, don't see myself getting married. I mean respect for the people who are married, but for me, it's not really a necessity because I already see myself staying with this one person my entire life, and for me, I don't feel the need to get married." You explained, echoing the words that Jace whispered to you last night.

"- but yeah, if it happens, it happens." You rolled your eyes.

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You placed your Le Smoking YSL Jacket loudly on the table, hoping that Jacaerys would take a hint and know that you've finally arrived. It has already been three-weeks after the viral interview, and he didn't seem bothered by the attention.

"I missed you," you smiled at him, burying your face in the crook of his neck. He always smells like vanilla. "- did you watch the interview?" You asked, pulling away from the embrace. He returns back to typing on his 3-year-old Macbook. "I watched it," he confirms.

You took a deep breath, which probably means that his family has already watched it. "I'm sorry my PR manager forgot to warn me. I seriously felt like a deer caught in headlights," you complained, pausing to see if he was mad.

Jacaerys is the oldest son of Laenor Velaryon and Rhaenyra Targaryen. He is the scion of the two oldest families in America. His great-great-great something on both sides came to this country on the Mayflower - and thus, they took extreme precautions when it came to safeguarding their privacy. Rhaenyra was already adamant about allowing her son to write his little books, and now that you were in the picture...

"It's fine, I hope they stop asking about that marriage thing." A sigh escapes his mouth, and you can hear him clacking on his keyboard - typing without an end. "Maybe it's a sign for us to talk seriously about the topic." You begin.

"Marriage is for people-pleasers. We spend a lot of money on this one celebration where everyone gets to eat and dance, but marriage doesn't mean being with someone forever." He articulates, unable to say, that he doesn't want to repeat his parents' mistakes and that he doesn't want to live in a bickering home.

"I want to get married," you blurted out.

He responds with silence. It is obvious that he is thinking of an appropriate response - but you know that the answer is no. "I have everything that I could ever want in the world, a perfect career, a perfect boyfriend, a perfect house. The only things that I want now are marriage and babies, Jace." You continued to explain, and his face dropped to the floor.

You reach for his hands, entwining them with yours. He gazes up from his laptop, and he stares right into your eyes. "We're not going to be like your parents." You promised.

"We aren't a hundred percent sure of that. I can't even promise you everlasting love, I can't even promise you that I can love you with the same strength every day." He tilts his head. Which leads you to believe that the only reason he hasn't married you yet - is because he doesn't love you at all.

"I know, but you choose me every day. You choose us every day, and that is the same thing as love." You persuaded.

You could sense the reluctance in his movements. "We're fighting all the time. I haven't seen you in almost a month. Getting married is not going to fix our problems." His voice softens. He loves you with all of his heart, but he doesn't know how to show that love without first ruining it.

"Let's break up," he proposed.

He was expecting you to say no, like all the other times before, but this time - you retreat silently. You grab your things and you leave his hotel room.

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archiebald22: OMG WHY?? DIDN'T SHE JUST HAVE AN INTERVIEW WITH JIMMY FALLON 😭

pussydaposi: This is my roman empire

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(ONE YEAR LATER)

nameofficial: I Love You, I'm Sorry OUT NOW!

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>comments

sacramentoLove: When are you gonna pay ur taxes 🇪🇸

Destination12: Shakira x Y/N Collab cuz they both don't pay taxes to the Spanish government

oompaloompa: Y/N singing bella ciao link in bio 😭

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"Who's the guy?" You whispered in Lucie's ears, and she turned around to look at the man who had been staring at you for the past five minutes. "Holy fuck, that's Aemond Targaryen. His family literally owns half of Texas." She whisper-shouted.

It didn't help with the fact that the man was smoking hot. Lucie stares at her phone for half a minute. "Wait, can I leave alone for just a second? Cecil forgot to bring his polo, and the receptionist is not letting him in." She groaned. "I'll be fine," you gave her a slight smile.

Lucie leaves your side, and Aemond begins walking towards you. "(Your Name)," you introduced yourself with a smile. "Aemond Targaryen," he shakes your hand.

This could be the beginning of something new...something different. "You don't look like the type of person who'd spend her weekends in old country clubs," he smiles charmingly. "I came here with my friend, Lucie. She's supposed to have a date with this guy, but he seems to have forgotten the rule of the country club." You chuckled.

Aemond tilts his head softly, and he whispers. "Always wear a shirt with a collar." He laughs.

"It's such a preposterous rule, I bet you that I'll have to hear about her boyfriend's expensive suit and how it is preposterous that he wasn't allowed inside." You giggled.

"I bet you that the staff doesn't get paid enough to deal with people like them," he led you to another part of the gardens. This part was exclusive only to esteemed members of the club, which probably means that this Aemond fellow is important. "I heard that a beautiful singer was going to be here. I had to my brother's golfcart to make it in the Clubhouse in time," his eyes narrowed.

Of course, the people that he heard those sentiments from weren't exactly appreciative of your presence. It was one of his mother's cousins who said something about these idiotic celebrities eating in the place where they were eating. "Oh please, you don't need to sugarcoat their words. I bet you that Lucie is scandalized for bringing me," you snorted.

You hate spending time around these old money folks. In your eyes, they've spent the majority of their wealth, and the only thing that they have left is their snootyness. "They're all idiots anyways," Aemond rolls his eyes, pleased that you weren't one of those cunts who'd kiss ass to the wealthy.

His phone rings, and he reaches for the call card inside of his wallet. "I'd love to take you out on dinner sometimes, not here, but you choose where to eat. Please call me as soon as possible," he placed a hand on your shoulder.

He bids farewell, realizing that his business partners were calling him already.

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It was a surprise to see that Aemond had a follow-through; the next day, he had already arranged a dinner with you. "I honestly had no idea where you'd want to eat. I mean, I'm sorry for bringing you to this small diner." You chuckled.

Rich people can be so banal sometimes, they eat at the same five restaurants, they wear the same clothes from the same five ateliers, and they all go to the same yoga studio, for goodness sake. You knew that if you wanted Aemond to consider you worthy of his attention - you needed to stick out. Which leads you to this diner, the real heart of NYC.

"It's beautiful. I've never been here before." He looks around with an appreciative smile. "I used to eat here a lot when I was a college student, I couldn't afford anything else - and the food here seriously tastes better than some Michelin restaurants. It's nice here, it feels so ... raw." You struggled to find the words.

The food was amazing, but the community that this diner constantly fed - it's a thing for the books. The cab drivers, the hotdog stand sellers, and the college students. It is home. "It must be hard being famous," he shoves a piece of pizza inside of his mouth.

You licked your lips.

"I've been famous for as long as I can remember. I don't know how to live without all of the cameras." You pierced the pancake with your fork, bringing it to your mouth. "I need your help." He places both of his hands on the table.

"Where?" Your eyebrows merged together.

"My father is dying. He says that he'll leave his entire inheritance to the first person who gets married in our family. My siblings and my nephews are fighting for that spot, seeing that my older sister doesn't want any ties with us. Now, I know that there are cases against you by the Spanish government, and I can make all of that go away," Aemond offers.

"I'd love to help you but I'm really good at making mistakes," your eyes narrowed, weighting in your choices.

His eyes softened.

"The only mistake that you've made is allowing your father to control your finances. He's in jail now, and if you're not going to fix yourself, you're going to end up there too." He says.

You play with the rings on your finger, inhaling the scent of maple syrup. "So, I marry you, and you clear up all my charges?" You inquired.

"I fake our marriage, clear up your name, and give you $10 million to start again." He corrects.

"Alright then," you hummed. "Do we have a deal?" You smile.

He shakes your hand.

"We have a deal," he confirms.

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Being in a pretend relationship with Aemond was honestly one of the easiest things that you've ever done. He makes it really hard not to fall in love with him. The way that he places his hands inside of his pockets, the way that he gives you the sweetest smile - it almost makes you think that his feelings are genuine. It is not, you remind yourself.

You flick through the rack of dresses in front of you. "What are your parents like? Are they traditional, or are they as laid back as you?" You questioned. He pauses for a while, trying to find the words that would properly describe his parents.

"My dad is a traditional man. He likes guns, and he believes in the Second Amendment. He's a senile old man. My mother, however, is trendy, and she's warm up to you." He informs.

"Tell me more about your family," you pressed.

You needed to be prepared for this battle.

"My older brother is an armchair socialist. He's always complaining to our mother about some animals dying. He's a vegetarian, although he always orders Chipotle on Fridays. His morality is a grey compass," Aemond snorts.

You giggle too.

"Helaena, my older sister. She's my second older sister. I think she's the person that Aegon thinks he is. She's too busy running this non-profit for refugees, but you don't need to worry about her, she's kind." He comforts.

"Then, I have a little brother, Daeron. He doesn't like us. He'd much rather spend time with our uncle." He turns to look away. Your eyes land on the vintage white dress you've seen in Lucie's wardrobe, it's a dress that Chanel never showed the general populace. An iconic piece, but not famous enough that it would seem tacky.

His hands snake around your waist. "What?" Your eyebrows merged together, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead, subtly pointing at the paparazzi that were standing outside of the boutique door. "Kiss me," he says, pulling your body closer - until you could smell his cologne.

"You are so demanding," you teased, reaching to cup his cheeks. Standing on your tiptoes as you pressed your lips together. The paparazzi outside of the door were caught in a frenzy, flashing lights of all colors greeted you.

He tastes like cherries and diet coke. It's intoxicating. A taste that is so different on your tongue. You pull away from the kiss - and he pretends to gasp at the sight of the paps outside of the door. "Let's go," he mouthed - pulling you into a deeper part of the store, where the media couldn't see.

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ynkittens: (fan sent the picture) Y/N L/N with mystery man in NYC. Who is this man???

liked by 92,239 others

>comments

DoodleCop: OH MY GOD I miss her and Jace 🥺

YNNationSupport9: Stop, you're losing me

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Aemond stares at his phone, an indescribable frown on his face as it continues to vibrate due to the number of notifications sent to his personal account. "I didn't expect your fans to be this crazy," he mumbled, seeing his face shared all around Instagram.

"You did tell me that our relationship needed to be public to be believable," your eyes narrowed. "Yeah but now they're calling my personal number," he shows you his phone.

An amused chuckle exits your mouth.

"If you can't handle the smoke, don't start the fire." You shoved a piece of pastry inside of your mouth. Aemond slumps on the blue cloud couch and turns his phone off. He has been staying in your apartment for the past month now, after the whole scenario with the paparazzi the studio apartment that he was renting was no longer safe.

"Helaena has been blasting my other phone since yesterday. She's a really big fan of you," he smiles, pulling you closer to him until you are laying on his lap. "She sounds amazing, when are we going to meet?" You inquired, reaching for a book on the coffee table.

His fingers comb through your hair, untangling the knots that your hairbrush couldn't fix. "Maybe tomorrow during the family reunion? She kind of just shows up," he says.

He couldn't deny your beauty. As time grows, he slowly finds himself loving everything about you...from your gentleness to your fickle mindedness. You weren't satisfied with making a decision without first looking at every possible perspective. When someone does a bad deed, you say well, maybe it isn't their fault, maybe it's the way that society has treated them.

Even when the situation proves to be difficult, you still choose to be kind. It's just a summer thing, he tells himself because nothing beautiful ever chooses him. All the good things wilt in his hands.

He flicks a strand of your hair away from your face. "I'm a little nervous about tomorrow," you admit. "- I've never felt like I belonged, you know what I mean?" You scrunched up your nose, and he continued to massage your scalp.

"I'm so hesitant when it comes to attending these parties because when I was a kid, my dad took us to one of his black tie parties, and my mom let me wear this beautiful unicorn dress, but apparently, the black-tie rule was for everyone, regardless of age. The host didn't want me to go inside the halls with my pink glittery dress because it didn't reach past my ankles...one of my cousins pitied me so much. She let me borrow her dress, but it was too big on me." You flinched at the faint memory.

"I had to sit beside my mom the entire time, and all of the kids were staring at me like I had a third leg." Your teeth burrowed into your lower lips. "That sounds horrible," he frowns. "Which is why I promised to never look unfashionable ever again..." You say.

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nameofficial: our secret moments, in a crowded room. @aemondtargaryensapphires

liked by 1,293,012 others

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MaybeThisTime3: Rue, when was this?

aemondtargaryensapphires: ❤️‍🔥👸🏻 - nameofficial: ❤️

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Lucerys stuffs a large amount of vanilla ice cream inside of his mouth. "Did you check Instagram?" He teases his brother, continuing to play on his Nintendo Switch - almost smearing an entire spoonful of vanilla on the screen.

"Can you stop being annoying for five seconds?" Jacaerys rolled his eyes.

"He is so bothered," Joffrey giggled while scrolling on his phone. "I am not bothered," Jacaerys gritted his teeth.

"He's not bothered, but he's turning red!" Lucerys piped in once again. "I wonder if he'll take her to the reunion." Joffrey ponders, and a sigh escapes the oldest brother's mouth. Give you my wild. Give you a child. Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other. Now, the only thing he's answered with is a different type of silence.

It's neither of your fault that the relationship ended. It was just too much of a chasm, your personalities were too different. You were the type of person to fight for the relationship, the type of person who disobeyed fate, and he is the opposite of that.

Because if something is meant to be, then the whole universe conspires for you to have it by your side. If it is meant to be - you wouldn't need to fight for it.

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You were wearing a white-satin dress that reached past your knees, it was embroidered with Swarovski crystals, truly a miracle that the dress ever held up. "Remember the story, I proposed on the beach, we didn't bring any cameras." He whispered, and you could sense his nervousness.

The car continues to drive inside a long entryway that curves to the side, you are greeted with tall bushes that cover the facade of the mansion. As you reach the third turn, the beautiful mansion is made known to you.

It was truly a sight to behold.

A mixture of French and Italian architecture was made even richer by the aged bricks that were used in constructing the estate. The mansion was about the same size as Central Park. It was clear that Aemond Targaryen was richer than God.

"You said family reunion," your lips pursed into a thin line. He gives you a stare, telling you that he didn't expect this many guests either. "My father must've invited his golfing buddies," he explains, regaining his composure.

He reaches for a box inside of his pockets. He opens it, showing you a beautiful emerald oval ring, a ring that is simple and elegant - a ring like you. "Are you ready to meet the vipers?" He smirks, placing the ring on your ring finger.

A doorman begins to open the doors to the car.

"If we wait until I'm ready, we'll be waiting forever." You plastered a smile on your face, straightening your posture, and exiting the car - making sure that everyone's eyes were on you.

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Jace freezes as he sees the faint silhouette of your body. His relationship with you ended on good terms; he was happy with the outcome, but seeing you a year later - brings him back to pleasant and unpleasant memories. He partly wishes that he was stupid enough to his ex-girlfriend, but he is smarter than that.

He knows that the only time that he was ever truly happy was when he was with you, and now you've left him. Now, the only thing that brings him back to those pleasant memories are the songs that you've written about him.

What a horrible day to be alive.

His jaw clenches, watching as his uncle's hands snake around your waist, the very same waist that his hand used to fit like a perfect puzzle in. He watches as Aemond leans to whisper something in your ear, and you giggle. He bets that the joke isn't funny at all.

"Isn't that (Your Name)?" Rhaenyra inquires, and suddenly, Jacaerys' hand feels clammy around the champagne flute. He desperately wants to puke. Rhaenyra's eyes softened instantly, heart heaving for her oldest son. "Oh Jace," she cooed and he forced a smile on his face - he took a lazy sip of his champagne, and the drink bubbles in his stomach.

"I'm alright, mom." He insists.

Jace still cannot understand why his heart longs for you. He has everything he wants - he has everything that you prevented him from achieving because you dreamed of marriage. Why is he missing the shackles that he allowed destiny to remove?

Aemond begins to march in his direction, a satisfied grin on the other man's face. Could he have known? Jace asks himself. "Jacey," the man teased, one hand wrapped around you, and the other hand on a glass of merlot. Aemond was absolutely glowing.

"Uncle Aemond," Jace answered.

"Have you met this lovely lady?" Aemond tilted his head, half-expecting you to smile warmly at his nephew, as you have done to all of his relatives, but he was greeted with silence. Your eyes trailed back and forth between Aemond and his nephew. "Uncle?" your eyebrows merged together.

"I'm too young to be an uncle. My sister had him early." He informs. "I didn't expect you to be here," Jace says plainly as if Aemond was not standing right beside you. "I could say the same thing," you replied, your grip on Aemond tightens.

Something shimmery on your fingers catches Jacaerys' eyes. An engagement ring. An oval emerald engagement ring - like the color that the other side of his family proudly wore. "Congratulations on the engagement," he greets, forcing himself to be happy. Marriage is the only thing that you didn't agree on with him - he found it useless, you found it monumental.

"Thank you," you and Aemond say in unison.

"When she's the one wrapped around your fingers, you have to make a fist." Aemond stares at your face. Jace could only hum in return, his throat felt dry again. "I know the feeling," he takes a sip of his champagne.

He curses himself for still having these feelings for you. He should have fought against the world to have you beside him. He should have taken you dancing, bowling, skating, singing - but he didn't, because he was too engrossed in his own little world, unaware that everything was unfolding outside of his bedroom window.

He takes another deep breath, the world is bigger than the stories inside of his laptop. He can't believe that it has taken him this long to figure that out.

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"Can you please sing something?" Helaena requests, flashing you her puppy eyes. You turned to look around you, and everyone was looking in your direction. Viserys raises an eyebrow as if asking for you to sing.

Daeron hands you one of his acoustic guitars.

"Do you have any song in mind?" You inquired, prepared to sing one of your love songs. "How did it end!" Helaena cheers, pulling Morghul (her dog) on her lap.

"That's a nice song that you've chosen," you forced a smile on your face. Of course, she chooses the one song about your breakup with Jace.

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aemondtargaryensapphires: beautiful ❤️

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helaenatargaryen: YOU ARE SO FAST WITH THESE HAHA

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Jace watches as the waiters begin to serve their food. It was a gourmet meal provided by his step-father's fine dining restaurant, the food was beautiful, and it had the right color. You couldn't help but feel out of place - like the girl who wore a unicorn dress to a black-tie event.

"I'm allergic, I can't eat this." You whispered, flashing Aemond a concerned look. "Sorry, Aemond was the one who confirmed the samples." Rhaenyra's voice sounded apologetic, and sad because she was the one who planned the entire event. "Oh, it's okay." You smiled.

"How long have you known each other?" Jace blurts out, swirling the champagne in his glass. The first thing that couples do while knowing each other - is going on a date, and if you've been on a date with him thousands of times, wouldn't Aemond know about your likes and dislikes?

"Nine months, and it's alright, you can have Aegon's salad. He only pretends to be vegan." Aemond switches your place with Aegon's who is currently occupied in the bathroom. "Thank you," you mumbled.

"Your brother is going to throw a fit once he sees that," Alicent interrupts. "Mom he won't even notice," Helaena looks at you with hearts on her eyes.

Jace could only raise his eyebrows. Nine months and, his uncle wasn't aware that you're allergic to lamb sauce. He bets that Aemond doesn't even know that your eyebrows merge together when you're angry. He bets that the other man doesn't even know that your favorite game is Overcooked, and you refuse to move to the next stage when you fail to reach all three stars.

He's losing you to a man that hardly knows you.

"Where did you meet?" Lucerys pipes in, taking a sip of his strawberry milkshake. "In the country club," Aemond smiles. He looks at you like you are the earth, and he is nothing but a moon that rotates around you. "Her friend Lucie Churchill, she introduced us to each other," Aemond lies.

Alicent smiles, a look of adoration on her face. Aemond has chosen the best possible woman to fall in love with, a woman who's mantle is heavy with her own achievements. "When are you getting married?" She chimes in, happy with the idea of having grandbabies.

"Soon, I've always wanted a summer wedding." You answered coyly. You glanced at him, and suddenly, this summer thing was beginning to look real. "The good ones never wait," Aemond smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

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.

Jace enters the balcony, seeing that you are sipping wine on your own and staring at the French skyline. The dress that you were wearing was now slightly wrinkled, and the ring on your finger was slightly loose.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

"Sure about what?" You asked with a rough voice.

"My uncle," his lips are pursed into a thin line. He looks for a glimmer of hope behind your eyes, but it is too far.

He is too late to bring this love back to life.

"He's the only thing that I'm sure of," you answered.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, and your eyebrows merge together. "Sorry for what?" You scoffed.

"I'm sorry that I didn't fight for us." He continues. "- it was always doomed from the beginning. I could never have asked you to make that sacrifice for me. I didn't accept it at first, but that just wasn't the life for you." You finished.

"But if I asked you back then, you would have made that sacrifice for me, so I'm sorry for not being what you needed." He says, slowly walking out of the balcony, completely oblivious of the man leaning on the door and eavesdropping on your conversation.

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nameofficial: I can't help falling in love with you... ❤️ This is the beginning of forever baby 💍

liked by 2,129,391 others

>comments

ynkittens: wait did u get married? - nameofficial: Engaged. I'm sorry for not making it clear in the caption haha 😭

JacintaRobin: "I wanna teach you how forever feels like" aint for JACK IN A BOX bcs it's for mr aemond - Bananashake44: Aemond the literal alpha male??? THE SIGMA GIGA CHAD ??? THE ULTIMATE RIZZLER

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PART TWO

@glame @xcinnamonmalfoyx @winxchesters @yentroucnagol @hotchnerswife @mxxny-lupin @mxtantrights @urmomsgirlfriend1 @kravitzwhore@sweethoneyblossom1 @introverbatim @flrboyd @kemillyfreitas

[f14fun]

big mouth, big brain (!youtuber x op81) ~ part 2

synopsis: in which case y/n, a video essayist pops up on oscar's youtube feed, and he falls in love with the way she speaks and tells stories

smau + prose (5.3K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ profile | masterlist | prev | next ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

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a little over a week later, on march 24...

yourusername:

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and 211,009 others

yourusername: thx babe 🧡

view comments

oscarpiastri: np honey 🧡

user1: aight what is this sudden new development 😀

user1: i mean i'm NOT complaining but YOU SIR better take care of our pookie dookie wookie y/n 🧐🫵🏽

oscarpiastri: got it, got it 😁😁🫣

user2: girl you got him blushing and shiii-

user3: omg i saw her today at the melborne gp and she was so nice to me! like i'm not familiar with who she is really (i'm new to the wonderful world of mawmaw y/n!), but i just know she will be the perfect wag <3

user3: like she saw me struggling with my lanyard, wine, and duffle bag, and offered to literally hold all three, i love her so much

user3: and her outfits are literally so cute, oscar, you chose the right one!

liked by oscarpiastri

user4: omg SHE'S REPPING THE ORANGE HEART #teampapaya

user5: y/nscar, my mawmaw and pawpaw 😘😽💋

user6: like i know they are not official official, but these soft launches gotta stoppp, just hard launch already

user7: girl is he good in bed

user7: please please please give deets, ily!

user8: fam you mad weird for that one

user9: please for the love of god respect their privacy

liked by oscarpiastri and yourusername

oscarpiastri: ready for date night 2 night?

yourusername: always ready for u 💗

user10: the BLATANT FLIRTING NAHHH

user11: imagine if this is all one big fat skit i'm actually going to scream cry throwup kms

landonorris: so nice to meet you today, love a girl who finally makes oscar stfu

yourusername: LMAOO 😭😭 it was a please lando

oscarpiastri: 🙄🙄

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I was in fact, not alright.

It had been little over a year since I had been on an actual date (not counting the instances where I went over to a guy's house for some ramen, and all of a sudden that was the date) Used to all these low effort, casual efforts at being romantic, I was suddenly hit with the prospect of an actual man who wanted to treat me with respect.

Oscar Piastri.

The man who I idolized as I grew up, always admiring his grit and courage from afar.

And this hardworking man wanted to take me out on a date. For real.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to calm the flurry of nerves that churned within me. I smoothed my champagne white colored dress and straightened my Cult Gaia necklace. Oscar had only asked of one thing of me tonight, which was to either wear white or beige.

My heart pounded relentlessly, a drumbeat of anticipation and anxiety. It wasn't just any date; it was a date with Oscar Piastri. The very thought sent my mind spiraling. How did I, of all people, end up here? (answer: being chronically online did)

Every interaction with Oscar had been a mixture of awe and admiration. I remembered the first time I saw him race, the way he navigated the track with unparalleled skill and determination. He wasn't just a driver; he was a force of nature, a symbol of relentless ambition and hard work. And now, here I was, about to go on a date with him.

Even though he got fourth at his home race today, I was extremely proud of him. Both as a fan, and quite possibly, his girlfriend by the end of the night (the delusional girl in me said the last part, clearly).

When he had dm'd me privately after tweeting publicly he would like to take me out, I remember completely blanking. I nearly blacked out when he insisted on calling to go over the nitty gritty details of everything with me.

From flying me out, to booking my hotel and making sure my stay in Melbourne was as comfortable as possible, I was feeling a swirl of new emotions. Sure, life was going fast, but I liked this pace. Especially if Oscar could be beside me whilst life passed us by.

Balancing my studies at the prestigious university I attended and my growing presence as a vlogger had never been easy. My days were a blur of lectures, assignments, and shooting content for YouTube and various brand sponsorships. I had started with simple vlogs, but over time, my content had evolved into elaborate video essays on various topics, from Formula 1 analysis to a break down on the world's current events, both in pop culture and politics.

My followers had grown steadily, and so had the demands on my time.

Yet, despite the chaos, I had always found solace in my passion for vlogging. It was my creative outlet, a way to connect with people who shared my interests. My video essays, in particular, had garnered a lot of attention. They were meticulously researched, edited with care, and infused with my personal touch. The positive feedback I received made all the sleepless nights worth it.

But tonight, I wasn't thinking about the next video essay or the pile of coursework waiting for me. Tonight, I was focused on one thing: Oscar.

I had documented my journey to Melbourne in a vlog, capturing every moment from the airport, to the breathtaking view from my hotel room, to the race in Melbourne as well.

My followers were eagerly anticipating the next installment, but for now, they would have to wait. This was my time, a rare moment to step out from behind the camera and live in the present.

As I made my way to the lobby to meet Oscar, my phone buzzed with notifications. Messages of encouragement from friends and comments from my followers flooded in, but I silenced them. Tonight was about more than just content; it was about experiencing something real.

Exhaling as the elevator door slowly opened, the incessant ringing of jazz music seemed to warp and slow as I made eye contact with Oscar from across the lobby. He seemed nervous, fidgeting with his cufflinks.

Earlier in the day, we couldn't see each other, as media duties for the both of us consumed our time. So here we were, for the first time, meeting each other in person.

He was much taller in person than I had actually expected.

It was one thing to see him plastered across a big screen and splattered across billboards in New York City, but it was another to see this man in all his glory, in the flesh.

His shoulders seemed to broaden as I approach him, and a million thoughts were swirling in my mind. I just hoped the same million thoughts were swirling in his mind as well.

His fluffy brown hair looked newly tousled with, but not to the point where it looked terribly unruly. He looked human, with that crooked smile, and his eyes folded into little half moons—like parenthesis—he was happy to see me. As I was too.

All eloquence, sense of being, and peace of mind disappeared in an instant. Mouth slightly gapping widely, I was at a loss of words for once in my life.

Oscar Piastri is beautiful.

We simultaneously reached out for a hug, our laughter breaking the awkward silence that had settled upon us as we sized each other up for the first time. The hug was amazing, enveloping me in a warmth that felt almost surreal.

His arms wrapped around me with a gentle firmness, and I felt a sense of comfort and safety that I hadn't experienced in a long time. It was as if I had come home, even though we were standing in the middle of a bustling hotel lobby.

The hug lasted a little longer than usual, neither of us wanting to let go. I could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against my own, and the scent of his cologne, fresh and slightly woody, filled my senses.

When I finally, reluctantly let go, his hand lingered on my waist for a moment longer, sending a shiver down my spine. The touch was intimate and unhurried, a silent acknowledgment of the connection we both felt.

As his hand finally released its gentle hold, I felt butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach. My cheeks warmed, a blush creeping up as I tried to steady my breathing. I glanced up at him and saw that he was blushing a little bit too, his cheeks tinged with a soft pink.

His bashful smile mirrored my own feelings, and in that shared moment of vulnerability, we both knew this was the start of something special.

Oscar cleared his throat, breaking the spell. "I, uh, got something for you," he said, his voice tinged with nerves.

He flipped the bag he was holding around, and I could see the words Valentino sprawled across it. I gasped, my eyes widening in surprise.

"Oscar, you didn't," I whispered, my heart racing even faster.

He chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "I wasn't sure which one you wanted, so I got both," he admitted, looking sheepish yet proud. "One in red and one in blue."

I was completely floored. "Oscar, this is… wow," I stammered, at a loss for words. I had never expected such a grand gesture, especially not on our first date. It was one thing to admire him from afar, but to have him go to such lengths for me was overwhelming.

He shifted slightly, his nervousness palpable. "I just wanted to do something special for you," he said softly, his eyes meeting mine. "You deserve it."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, overwhelmed by his thoughtfulness. "Thank you, Oscar," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "This means so much to me."

He smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made my heart swell. "I'm glad you like it," he said, stepping closer. "I wanted tonight to be perfect."

I looked down at the beautifully crafted bags, my fingers tracing the elegant lettering of Valentino. Each bag represented more than just a luxury item; it was a symbol of his consideration and effort. It was clear that he had put thought into this, wanting to make a good impression and show that he cared.

"I can't believe you did all this," I murmured, still in awe. "It's… beyond anything I could have imagined."

He took a deep breath, his confidence growing slightly as he saw my reaction. "You deserve to be treated well," he said, his voice firm. "And I wanted to make sure you knew that."

The sincerity in his eyes was undeniable, and I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me. "Thank you," I repeated, my heart swelling with affection. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he replied, his hand gently brushing against mine. "Just enjoy the evening."

As we stood there, the world around us seemed to fade away. In that moment, it was just the two of us, sharing something special and unforgettable. And for the first time in a long while, I felt truly cherished.

"I feel like I'm dreaming," I confessed, a soft laugh escaping my lips. "This is all so surreal."

Oscar's eyes softened as he took my hand in his. "It's real, Y/N. And it's just the beginning."

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt my cheeks flush. The thought that this was just the start of something more was both thrilling and terrifying. But as I looked into his eyes, I felt a sense of reassurance.

"Let's make tonight memorable," he said, his thumb gently caressing the back of my hand.

I nodded, my heart pounding with anticipation. "Absolutely."

With a gentle squeeze of my hand, he led me out of the hotel lobby. The evening air was cool and refreshing, and as we walked towards his black McLaren that was waiting for us, I couldn't help but feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Oscar had gone above and beyond to make this night special, and I was determined to cherish every moment.

As we approached the car, Oscar immediately took the initiative to ensure everything was perfect for me. He opened the passenger door and motioned for me to sit down, but not before adjusting the seat settings. He carefully moved the seat forward and tilted it slightly to match my height, ensuring I would be comfortable during the ride.

"Is the seat okay?" he asked, looking at me with genuine concern.

I nodded, already feeling the comfort of the perfectly adjusted seat. But he wasn't done yet. He leaned in and adjusted the air conditioning, making sure it wasn't too chilly. "I know it can get a bit cold sometimes," he said with a small smile, "so I set it to a warmer temperature."

I smiled back, appreciating his thoughtfulness. Once he was satisfied that I was comfortable, he turned his attention to my belongings. Gently taking the old bag I had brought with me, he began transferring my items into the new red Valentino bag he had gifted me. He was meticulous, making sure that nothing was left behind and that everything was placed neatly in the new bag.

"Here, let me help you with this," he said softly, his hands moving deftly as he organized my things.

Watching him, I felt a warmth spread through me. He wasn't just being thoughtful; he was showing me that he cared about every little detail, making sure that I felt special and valued.

Once he had finished, he handed me the new bag, his eyes shining with pride. "There you go," he said, his voice gentle. "Everything's all set."

I took the bag from him, my fingers brushing against his for a moment. "Thank you, Oscar," I said, my voice filled with gratitude. "You didn't have to do all this."

He shrugged modestly, a bashful smile playing on his lips. "I wanted to," he replied simply. "I wanted tonight to be perfect for you."

And as he closed the passenger door and walked around to the driver's side, I couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by his kindness and attention to detail. Oscar Piastri was proving to be more than just a racing legend; he was a gentleman, someone who cared deeply and went out of his way to make me feel cherished.

Oscar didn't act like an immature, twenty-three year old boy, like some people made him out to be. Unlike the bummy guys I had known and casually dated before, this was a step up.

He maneuvered the car with ease, backing up with one hand on the steering wheel while his other arm rested casually on the back of my seat. I couldn't help but admire the way his muscles shifted and tensed underneath his white collared shirt, the fabric stretching slightly over his broad shoulders. It was impossible not to find it incredibly attractive. My cheeks heated up, a blush spreading across my face. Oscar noticed and turned to look at me, his eyebrows raising slightly. "Are you blushing?" he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

Caught off guard, I stammered, "Um, no...I mean, maybe a little." I laughed nervously, trying to brush it off, but the warmth in my cheeks only intensified.

He chuckled, a soft, bashful sound, and I noticed a faint blush creeping up his own neck. "I guess we're both a bit flustered tonight," he admitted, glancing back at the road. The air between us felt charged with a mix of excitement and nervous energy.

As we settled into the drive, the initial awkwardness began to dissipate, replaced by a comfortable silence. I watched the city lights blur past us, the rhythm of the car soothing my nerves. Sensing a shift in the atmosphere, Oscar took a deep breath and broke the silence. "You know, there's a lot of pressure in Formula 1," he said, his voice thoughtful. "It's not just about the races. There's so much that goes on behind the scenes—training, media obligations, sponsorships. It can be overwhelming sometimes. But having someone like you here tonight, it makes it all feel worth it."

I smiled, touched by his openness. "I can only imagine how tough it must be," I replied. "Balancing my studies and vlogging is already a handful. There are days when it feels like I'm barely keeping up with everything. But tonight...I'm really grateful to be here with you."

He glanced over at me, his eyes soft and understanding. "Sounds like we both have a lot on our plates," he said. "But maybe tonight, we can just focus on ourselves and leave all those distractions behind."

"Agreed," I said, feeling a sense of relief wash over me. "Tonight is just about us."

We exchanged smiles, a silent agreement to make the most of this evening and cherish the time we had together. The city lights blurred past us as we drove on, the world outside fading into the background as we found solace in each other's company. The pressures of our respective worlds felt miles away, replaced by a shared sense of tranquility and excitement for what the night had in store.

The McLaren navigated smoothly through the city streets, and with each passing moment, I found myself more captivated by Oscar's presence. His occasional sideways glances and the genuine interest he showed in our conversation made me feel seen and appreciated in a way I hadn't experienced before. It was refreshing to connect with someone on such a deep level, especially amidst our busy lives.

"I've always admired your dedication to racing," I said, breaking the silence that had settled comfortably between us. "It must take an incredible amount of discipline."

Oscar smiled warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thank you," he replied sincerely. "It's my passion, but it's also a demanding profession. Every race, every decision matters. It's a constant balancing act, trying to perform at your best while managing everything else."

"I can relate," I admitted with a small laugh. "Trying to balance university assignments, vlogging, and now, this unexpected but wonderful evening—it's a lot to juggle."

He nodded thoughtfully. "You're doing an amazing job," he reassured me. "Not many people can handle all of that with such grace."

The compliment warmed my heart, and I felt a surge of gratitude towards him. "Thank you, Oscar. And for what it's worth, I think you handle the pressures of Formula 1 admirably."

His gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. The city lights cast a soft glow on his features, accentuating the earnestness in his expression. "I appreciate that," he said softly. "Having you here tonight, it's a reminder of why I do what I do."

A comfortable silence settled between us once more, filled with unspoken understanding and a growing connection. The air inside the car was charged with an undeniable chemistry, a magnetic pull that drew us closer with each passing minute. It was a rare and precious moment, where time seemed to slow down, allowing us to savor each other's company without the weight of responsibilities and expectations.

Oscar glanced at me, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "You know," he said, a playful grin spreading across his face, "if you keep blushing like that, I'm going to think you're a better driver than me."

I laughed, my cheeks still warm. "Oh please, you know I'm terrible with directions. I'd probably get us lost before we even reach the restaurant."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, don't worry, I'll be your GPS for the night. Just don't expect me to be as reliable as my car on the track."

At a stoplight, he turned to look at me, and to my surprise, he brushed a loose strand of my hair away from my face to the back of my head. Holding my chin, he smiled, and a small smirk blossomed across his face.

Imagine my shock horror when I started blushing again. It felt like that one Grey's Anatomy episode where a girl wouldn't stop blushing, and got surgery to treat her incessant blushing.

Yes, I really felt like Kelly Roesch every time I was around Oscar.

"Y/N, do I really make you blush that much?" Oscar smirked and looked forward, as the light had changed back to green. Pressing the gas pedal, he sped off, and I let out a gasp from how fast the car was going.

Caught off guard, I stammered, "Um, maybe I am blushing, what about it?" I dared to challenge playfully, immediately regretting my boldness and the sudden surge of moxie.

Oscar turned to look at me, his smile widening. "You're adorable when you blush," he remarked, his tone warm and affectionate.

Embarrassment tinged with delight colored my cheeks even more. "Well, you have that effect on me," I confessed, feeling a rush of courage.

He chuckled softly. "Good to know," he teased gently, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer than necessary before returning to the road.

The playful banter eased the tension between us, infusing the car with a light, flirtatious energy. As we continued driving through the city streets, our conversation flowed effortlessly, alternating between laughter and more serious topics.

Oscar shared anecdotes from his racing career, injecting humor into tales of close calls and victories, while I recounted memorable vlogging experiences and the challenges of managing a demanding schedule.

Each exchange deepened our connection, fostering a sense of mutual understanding and admiration. There was an unspoken chemistry between us, a magnetic pull that grew stronger with every shared laugh and meaningful glance. I

t was as if we had known each other for much longer than just this evening, our bond forged in the shared pursuit of passion and ambition.

By the time we arrived at the restaurant, the initial nervousness had transformed into a comfortable familiarity. Oscar held the car door open for me with a gallant smile, his gestures both chivalrous and endearing.

As we walked into the restaurant together, hand in hand, I couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected turn of events that brought us here.

When we arrived at the front entrance of the restaurant, I was once again struck by the thoughtfulness of his choices. The place was elegant yet intimate, with a cozy ambiance that made me feel instantly at ease.

Oscar had clearly put a lot of thought into every detail, and it was impossible not to be touched by his efforts.

As we sat down, I couldn't help but smile at him. "You really went all out, didn't you?" I teased gently.

He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. "Only the best for you."

I blushed, feeling the warmth of his words wash over me. "Thank you, Oscar. For everything."

"You're worth it," he said simply, his gaze unwavering.

In that moment, I knew that this was more than just a date. It was the beginning of something beautiful, something that had the potential to grow into a deep and meaningful connection.

And as the night unfolded, filled with laughter, conversation, and a shared sense of excitement, I realized that I was ready to embrace it wholeheartedly.

As we settled into our seats at the cozy restaurant, the atmosphere around us seemed to hum with a quiet energy. Oscar and I exchanged glances, a knowing smile playing on both our lips, as if silently acknowledging the unspoken tension between us.

"So, Y/N," Oscar began, his voice low and playful, "tell me more about your vlogging. Any juicy behind-the-scenes stories?"

I chuckled, stirring my drink slightly. "Oh, you know, the usual. Endless editing sessions, occasional tech disasters. But it's all worth it when I get to share something meaningful with my followers."

"Sounds like a lot of work," he mused, his gaze lingering on mine. "But I bet you enjoy every minute of it."

"Most of the time," I admitted, feeling a rush of warmth at his attentiveness.

As I settled into recounting the tea ceremony mishap, I couldn't help but chuckle at the memory, though at the time, it had been far from funny. "So, there I was, kneeling beside this beautifully arranged tea set," I began, gesturing animatedly with my hands. "The camera was perfectly positioned to capture this serene moment. I was about to take a sip of the freshly brewed tea when suddenly, the tripod leg gave way."

Oscar leaned forward, his eyes fixed on me with rapt attention. "No way," he interjected, clearly intrigued.

"Yes way," I confirmed with a laugh. "And in that split second, everything descended into chaos. The camera toppled over, knocking into the low table where the tea set was displayed. Cups shattered, tea leaves scattered everywhere, and I, in a desperate attempt to catch the camera, managed to knock over a delicate vase of flowers."

Oscar's laughter filled the air, a genuine and infectious sound that made me smile even wider. "You must have been in shock," he remarked, shaking his head in amusement.

"I was," I admitted, recalling the moment vividly. "But somehow, amidst the chaos, I kept rolling. I think I was in such disbelief that I just kept filming, capturing the aftermath of the disaster. Tea leaves floating in the air, water dripping from the overturned vase—it was a scene straight out of a comedy."

"And your viewers got to witness it all?" Oscar asked, still chuckling.

"Oh, they did," I confirmed, a grin spreading across my face. "And surprisingly, they loved it. I received so many comments about how refreshing it was to see the behind-the-scenes reality, even if it meant watching me fumble through a tea ceremony."

Oscar nodded thoughtfully, his gaze softening as he leaned back in his chair. "It just goes to show," he mused, "sometimes the unplanned moments make the best stories."

"Absolutely," I agreed, feeling a rush of gratitude for his genuine interest. "And speaking of stories, I'm sure you have your fair share of dramatic moments on the track. Care to share?"

His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned forward, ready to share tales from the fast-paced world of Formula 1. "Well, there was this one time in Australia," he began, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "During one of my rookie years, I had a near-miss with a kangaroo. It came out of nowhere, right in the middle of the track. I had to swerve so hard I thought I'd end up in the barriers."

I gasped, eyes wide. "A kangaroo? Seriously? Only you would have an experience like that!"

He chuckled, clearly enjoying my reaction. "Yep, only in Australia, right? But that wasn't the end of it. The kangaroo didn't just stay on the track. It jumped over the barriers and ended up in the audience. People were screaming and trying to get out of its way. It was pure chaos."

"Oh my God," I laughed, shaking my head in disbelief. "Did anyone get hurt?"

"No, thankfully," Oscar replied, his eyes twinkling. "Security managed to corral the kangaroo and get it to safety. But it was definitely one of the most chaotic moments I've ever experienced on the track. The race had to be stopped for a few minutes until everything was under control.

The whole time, I was just sitting in my car, watching this kangaroo cause mayhem and thinking, 'Is this really happening?'"

I couldn't stop laughing at the mental image. "I can't believe it. That's insane. Did they ever find out how the kangaroo got there in the first place?"

Oscar shook his head, a smile still playing on his lips. "No idea. It was one of those freak occurrences. But it definitely made for an unforgettable race. Every time I go back to that track, I half expect to see another kangaroo waiting to jump out."

I giggled, feeling a warm connection building between us. "Well, I hope not. One near-miss with a kangaroo is more than enough for a lifetime."

He nodded in agreement, his smile broadening. "Yeah, definitely. But hey, it makes for a great story to tell on a first date, right?"

I blushed at his words, realizing just how special this evening was becoming. "Absolutely," I agreed, feeling a rush of gratitude for his genuine interest. "And speaking of stories, I'm sure you have your fair share of other dramatic moments on the track. Care to share?"

His eyes sparkled with excitement as he leaned forward, ready to share more tales from the fast-paced world of Formula 1. "Oh, I have plenty," he said, his voice filled with enthusiasm. "There was this one time when..."

As he launched into another story, I couldn't help but marvel at how effortlessly we were connecting, each story weaving us closer together in this unexpected evening of laughter and shared experiences. The initial awkwardness had completely dissipated, replaced by a sense of comfort and camaraderie that felt both exciting and natural.

"You have some pretty wild stories," I said, still marveling at the idea of a kangaroo on the track. "I can't imagine how you keep your cool in situations like that."

He shrugged, a modest smile playing on his lips. "You get used to it, I guess. Racing teaches you to expect the unexpected. But it's not always as dramatic as dodging wildlife. Sometimes it's the little things that make a big difference, like dealing with sudden changes in weather or handling a tricky pit stop."

I leaned in, fascinated. "Tell me more about the pit stops. They always seem so intense on TV."

Oscar's eyes lit up as he delved into the intricacies of pit stops, explaining how every second counts and how the coordination between the driver and the crew is crucial. "It's a lot of pressure," he admitted, "but when it goes smoothly, it's one of the most satisfying parts of the race."

I nodded, absorbing every word. "It sounds like such a team effort. I never realized how much went into it."

"Exactly," he said, clearly pleased by my interest. "It's one of the things I love most about racing—the teamwork and the camaraderie. Everyone has to be at their best for the team to succeed."

We continued to share stories, the conversation flowing easily. I told him about my vlogging adventures, from the hilarious mishaps to the rewarding moments when a video resonated with my audience. Oscar listened intently, asking thoughtful questions and laughing at my anecdotes.

As the night grew later, the atmosphere around us became more intimate. We moved closer, our shoulders almost touching. The moonlight glimmered off the water, casting a soft glow on Oscar’s face.

"That sounds amazing," he said, his voice low and warm, his Australian accent adding a melodic lilt that sent shivers down my spine. Every word he spoke seemed to resonate deep within me, his low vibrato giving me butterflies.

I smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. "Thanks. It's not always easy, but it's definitely worth it."

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was light, almost tentative. "I can tell," he said softly, his accent making each syllable feel like a caress. "Your eyes light up when you talk about it."

My heart skipped a beat as his hand lingered on my cheek. He leaned in, and before I could fully process what was happening, his lips brushed against my cheek in a soft, lingering kiss.

"You’re really something, you know that?" he murmured, his lips close to my ear. His breath sent shivers down my spine, his accent making the words even more intoxicating.

I felt my cheeks flush, a smile spreading across my face. "You’re not so bad yourself," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. The way his accent rolled off his tongue was doing things to me I hadn't anticipated.

Oscar’s eyes sparkled with mischief. "You know," he said, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper, "I've been wanting to kiss you all evening." His accent made the confession sound even more alluring.

"Is that so?" I asked, my voice playful yet breathless. The butterflies in my stomach were fluttering wildly.

He nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. "Absolutely. You’ve been driving me crazy with that smile of yours," he said, his accent making the words feel even more intimate and personal.

I laughed softly, feeling a mixture of flattery and nervous excitement. "Well, I guess I'm guilty as charged."

He leaned in closer, his lips now brushing against my ear. "Maybe we should make a habit of this. I like seeing you happy," he whispered, his accent sending delicious shivers down my spine.

My heart raced as he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching mine. "You’re pretty good at making that happen," I admitted, feeling a surge of boldness. The way his voice, with its rich accent, played over my senses made me feel something stirring inside.

Oscar’s grin widened, and he reached for my hand. "Follow me," he said, his voice filled with playful promise. His touch was electric, sending a thrill through me as I placed my hand in his.

"Where are we headed to next?" I asked, my curiosity piqued. I was clearly blushing and super happy, unable to hide my excitement.

Oscar’s smile widened. "A yacht," he said simply, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

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yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, francisca.cgomes and 220,018 others

yourusername: finally, date night!

view comments

user1: i'm going to totally pretend that your now "chill" caption truly encapsulates how you are feeling (you were freaking out on priv earlier)

oscarpiastri: priv??! let me follow the account @/yourusername

yourusername: priv... what are you talking about i don't have a priv

oscarpiastri: 🧐🫵🏻

francisca.cgomes: what a beautiful girl 💋💋

yourusername: you're talking! babe you ae so beautiful as well 💋

oscarpiastri: are you flirting with my girl @/francisca.gcomes???

user2: MY GIRL SJIJSJORJDSS

user3: that's so alpha male of you oscar

yourusername: so what if she is 🙄

oscarpiastri: i've had her for less than a day let gooo 😥

francisca.cgomes: idc 🙄🙄

charles_leclerc: children please stop fighting

pierregasly: @/francisca.cgomes ... babe what about me

user4: LMAO KIKA NOT ANSWERING BAHAHA

user5: mawmaw yi pawpaw

liked by yourusername and oscarpiastri

user6: guys i just happened to be at the same resturaunt as them tonight bc of a family dinner and let me tell YOUUU, they were so flirty with each other omg. like i sat at the table adjacent to their left so i got a birds eye view of all of the blushing. like he kept intentionaly touching her hand and stuff it was so cute 😵‍💫🫠🥰

user7: landonorizz you got some competition @/landonorris

user8: yeah lando, i fear oscar may have more rizz than you

landonorris: 🙄👊🏼

user9: call him, oscarizz...?

user10: 💀💀 nahh that didn't hit LMAO

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 628,100 others

oscarpiastri: i took her to my penthouse and i freaked it

view comments:

yourusername: NO OSCAR THE CAPTION 😥😥😥

yourusername: HE DOESN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT

yourusername: OSCAR AND I DIDN'T FUCK

oscarpiastri: exactly, a gentleman never does such thing on a first date

yourusername: WHY IS THAT YOUR CAPTION NOOOO

oscarpiastri: people are not misunderstanding 🫷🏻🫸🏻

yourusername: OSCAR THEY ARE MISUNDERSTANDING IN THE COMMENTS

yourusername: I DID NOT DO SUCH DEED

user1: i love how y/n is literally freaking tf out and oscar is chill

user2: LMAO i can just see the cartoon silly steam leaking from her ears everytime oscar does anything

user3: god i don't even know if i want to be her or oscar

user4: i choose both.

user5: THEY FUCKED??? 😡😡🤬🤯🤯🤯😰😰😰😰🫨🫨🫨🤐

user6: oscar MY MAN the caption feels a little... sus

user7: had to clean my glasses to reread the caption

user7: because y/n's beauty was genuinely blinding me

user8: aight oscar who wrote that caption 😵😵

user9: ignoring the weird??! caption, they look SOOO CUTE UGH

yourusername: TYSMMMM <3 (pls ignore the weirdass caption yes, yes pls do that)

user10: LMAO

charles_leclerc: ...

oscarpiastri: father, please look away

yourusername: oh!- so NOW your embarassed

charles_leclerc: sending a screenshot of the caption to your mother brb

oscarpiastri: i hope you are reffering to alex

charles_leclerc: no, i definitely mean nicole

oscarpiastri: DELETE DELETE DELETE

logansargeant: bro your cooked

charles_leclerc: "OSCAR JACK PIASTRI" - what your mom said, she said it, not me

charles_leclerc: "HAVE SOME MORE DECORUM YOUNG MAN" - nicole

charles_leclerc: "TREAT A LADY WITH RESPECT"

oscarpiastri: ma'am yes ma'am 🫡🫡🫡

yourusername: god i love your mom @/oscarpiastri

yourusername: ty for doing me a service 🙏🏼🙌🏼 @/charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc: no problem, a future leclerc-piastri deserves the best 🫡

charles_leclerc: (you better wife her up)

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oscarpiastri posted on his story

caption: i finally got my dream girl her dream bags 🫶🏻❤️🧡💙

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

author's note: ty guys for reading this fic! 😍🫶🏾 (part THREE yay or nay?!)

[usermischief]

♚ Pairing: Sterek ♚ Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale ♚ Tags: canon divergence, getting together ♚ Words: 2883

ao3

---

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Satisfied? Or do you need my social security number too?”

Still, Derek stays silent as he looks at him. It’s not particularly comforting – that is, until his gaze drops to Stiles’ mouth then flicking back up again, a slow smile curling around his lips.

Stiles’ heart jolts in his chest, and he clears his throat. “Delighted my trauma amuses you,” he mutters, disregarding the fact that he continues to make jokes about it as well.

“Delighted I don’t have to kill you.”

---

Click.

Cursing softly under his breath, Stiles flicks the light switch up again. Down. Up. Down. Up. “Fucking hell.” Stiles massages the bridge of his nose. His stupid light. Everything else – even exorcising this damned place – worked out beautifully. Which is a miracle. Thanks to the residual demon, who infested this place after the previous owners fucked around – and found out – with a Ouija board in the late 50s, this house has been in a nightmarish state. Every inch of this place was a deathtrap. Rotten wood. Broken stairs. A ceiling, roof and second floor so unstable, a gust of wind could cause everything to collapse in a heartbeat.

Stiles spent more than one night in a tent in front of the house.

A bark cuts through the silence of the house, startling him out of his thoughts. Drawing his brows together, he looks past the stubborn ceiling light to the second-floor landing. The puppy he’s found under the house, white fur crusted with dirt and blood – aptly named Bobak, Bo for short – and who has refused to leave Stiles’ side ever since he fed him for the first time, is staring at him almost expectantly. Although some dog owners most likely won’t be happy about his lifestyle – flipping and clearing out haunted houses and constantly moving around – Stiles refuses to give Bobak away. Bo might not be the cuddliest or most social of dogs, he still makes Stiles’ life less, much less, lonely.

Bo barks again.

Stiles quirks a brow. “What? It’s not dinner time yet.”

Wagging his tail, Bo bounds down the stairs, nearly tumbling down the last two steps. He catches himself, jumps up the front door once before all but flying around Stiles’ legs then, finally, making a mad dash out of the backdoor and into the yard. There, he keeps zooming around, causing colored leaves to fly into the air, and barking his adorable little head off, too big ears fluttering in the wind. He’s going to miss Bo’s floppy ears once he’s grown into them.

Before Stiles can follow him, there’s a knock on the door. He glances up at the clock, narrowing his eyes once more as it passes the current bane of existence – maybe he should just get an electrician this once – and turns to the front door. It’s not late, per se, but darkness is setting in, and people are still keeping their distance to this place. So, he isn’t usually expecting anyone to swing by, even less since his closest neighbor lives around a mile away, but the person he never imagined to come over is Derek Hale.

Drawing his brows together, Stiles swings the door open.

“Hey.” Derek’s smile seems strained. To be honest, he looks like he’d rather be anywhere else – not unlike the first time they met at the only diner in town. Well, met might be stretching it. That day, Derek couldn’t finish his lunch fast enough, even Sally was surprised by his precipitate behavior. So much so, she commented on it while serving Stiles his food.

He had chalked it up to Derek sensing something about him the same way Stiles clocked him as a werewolf the second he laid eyes on him – aside from noticing that the guy is a walking and talking Calvin Klein advertisement. Instead of avoiding him, however, Derek kept showing up all over the place. It seemed accidental, but Stiles has dealt with enough supernatural creatures and grew up with a sheriff that he can recognize stalking behavior when he sees it.

Derek’s never been lurking around here, though.

Well, not until today, that is.

And Stiles’ heart is having a field day with it, which is rather unfortunate with Derek’s supernatural hearing and all.

Stiles manages to clear his throat about thirty seconds into the terribly awkward silence. “Hey.” He sounds like an idiot. He feels like one too. “Can I- do you-” Bo interrupts him with a slew of excited barks, zooming through the hallway and back out again, sending more leaves flying around; it gives Stiles a few seconds to gather himself. “You wanna come in?”

“I bought dinner,” Derek says at the same time.

They both stare at each other, and the silence makes Stiles’ neck grow uncomfortably warm.

Luckily, Derek cuts it short. “I’d love to.”

Stiles steps aside and gestures for Derek to come in. This is happening. He’s not entirely sure how or why, but it is, and Stiles is not about to complain. The last time a hot guy walked into his home was – when? Stiles doesn’t really remember. Which is sad, honestly. Sure, he’s been aware that both his social and love life have sailed off a cliff once he started dictating his life to ghost and demon hunting, but now, watching Derek stroll into his kitchen, he realized for the first time how bad it’s really gotten in the past four years.

“Looks good,” Derek remarks, almost curious in the way he’s taking everything in. “You did an excellent job keeping the old charm alive.”

Crossing his arms, Stiles leans against the large doorway leading to the kitchen. “You’ve been here before?”

Derek shrugs as he puts the bag with the takeout on the dinner table. “Teenagers and haunted houses.”

“Werewolves too?”

If Derek is surprised that Stiles knows, he doesn’t show it. Instead, an almost cheeky grin curls around his lips. “Werewolves especially.”

Stiles snorts and crosses the room. “I expected you to be smarter.” He glances at Derek, smirking briefly, and steps in front of the only cupboard he uses. The good thing about moving around so much is that he never collects any clutter. As a teen and college student, things looked very different. Two boxes, a couple of suitcases and his backpack fit into Roscoe anyway. Now that Bo is traveling with him, he’s got to figure out the new logistics.

“How’d you do it?” Derek asks as he takes the two plates from him.

Their fingers brush, either on purpose or entirely accidental. Stiles doesn’t know, but the touch sends a tingle through his whole body. A good tingle, great even, and Stiles hates to realize how touch starved he really is.

Stiles opens the fridge, scowling a little as he’s greeted with emptiness. He really needs to go grocery shopping. “Very carefully,” he replies and grabs two bottles of beer. “And lots of research." Once he's figured out where to look, finding pictures of old houses isn’t that much of a struggle. Often, he meets the previous owners, who either think he’s suicidal or are very happy to help.

Derek watches him, arms crossed, eyebrows raised. “The demon or the house flipping?”

“Ah.” Stiles sets the bottles on the table and leans against the edge. “That’s why you’re here.”

Derek merely watches him, eyebrows climbing higher as his expression turns more and more expectant. An alpha after all. He’s probably used to people jumping at his command.

It might be fun to let him stew for a little longer. “You know, you could’ve just asked.”

“I just did.”

Stiles snorts out a laugh, “I meant ask me about why those werewolf senses are tingling whenever you’re around me.” He cocks his head to the side and decides to put himself out there, for once, “unless, of course, there are other reasons for that.” He’s got Derek in his house already and considering that he leaves as soon as it is sold, there’s no harm done, no awkward darting around each other needed in case he’s rejected. Two months tops, and he’s out of this town, where everyone knows everybody, and nothing ever stays secret.

Derek’s lips twitch.

Good. So, Stiles didn’t exactly imagine the lingering looks whenever they, clearly not entirely accidentally, ran into each other absolutely everywhere. In a town with less than 100 people, it’s impossible to hide anyway.

“Tingling?” Derek echoes, more amused than in disbelief.

Stiles lets his head fall back, watching out of the corner of his eye as Derek’s gaze drops to his neck then back up again. “You’re a poor conversationalist.”

“And you’re dodging the question.”

Stiles clicks his tongue, rolling his head to the left to look at the werewolf again. “Geez, D, you can’t just ask people why they’re making you feel weird.”

A flicker of annoyance dances over his features, either at the nickname or his refusal to give him the desired reply. Still, Derek props his hands on the table and leans closer, one eyebrow raised. “I can if I consider them a danger to my pack and territory.”

Fair point.

However, “I literally exorcised this fucking demon.” Although nobody has died in this house in almost a decade, Stiles considers it future deaths prevented.

Derek taps a finger against the table, allows red to bleed into his eyes.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles pushes away from the table and faces the werewolf, arms crossed firmly in front of his chest. Although Derek didn’t outright threaten him, Stiles is fully aware that this evening could easily turn into his last if the big bad alpha considers him too dangerous, which would very much be the exact opposite of how he’d prefer this evening to go. He sighs. “I was possessed by a nogitsune when I was sixteen.” Stiles doesn't miss as Derek’s expression return to stoic, listening, waiting. He sees the way his shoulders tense, the way something in his eyes shift, ever so slightly. The moment of truth, always and forever. "It did some weird shit with my body, cracked my mind like an egg, hence the whole-” he waves his hand around. “Thought I could do something good if I can pierce the veil, you know?” It makes him feel less guilty about the shit the nogitsune did while using his body like a meatsuit.

But that’s something nobody else needs to know about.

Derek straightens.

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Satisfied? Or do you need my social security number too?”

Still, Derek stays silent as he looks at him. It’s not particularly comforting – that is, until his gaze drops to Stiles’ mouth then flicking back up again, a slow smile curling around his lips.

Stiles’ heart jolts in his chest, and he clears his throat. “Delighted my trauma amuses you,” he mutters, disregarding the fact that he continues to make jokes about it as well.

“Delighted I don’t have to kill you.”

“You think you can kill me?” Stiles chuckles, playing pretend. Dealing with demons is one thing. They’re very capable of murder, more so than ghosts, but depending on their strength and rank, they need time – time to get into your head, time to fuck with you. They have to chip away their target’s defenses. Knowing and being prepared for a demon makes dealing with them a lot easier. Plus, if he’s learned anything from his own possession, it’s how to keep things out of his mind. Werewolves are a different beast entirely. If they want someone dead, all they have to do is pin them down and rip their throat out.

Derek pushes away from the table and all but stalks closer to him, narrowing the small distance the table offers. “Of course, I could.” He runs his fingers along the edge of the table. It’s one of the few things Stiles could repair from the old furniture, so, luckily, Derek keeps his claws in check.

Stiles swallows drily and rips his gaze away from Derek’s hand, locking eyes with him again. “Awfully confident there, buddy.”

His words are met with a near predatory glint in the hazel eyes. Beautiful hazel eyes, at that. Easy to get lost in.

Focus.

“You don’t scare me.”

Derek stops directly in front of him. They’re nearly chest to chest, and although Derek isn’t necessarily taller than him, Stiles feels weirdly small. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but the way he is holding himself, the way he is looking at him – as if Stiles is a rabbit cornered by the big bad wolf. Red bleeding into his eyes accentuates the whole predator predicament.

Fucking werewolves, seriously.

“Cute,” Stiles comments anyway, uncrossing his arms and straightening his shoulders and spine. “Still not scared, though.” They’re probably both aware that’s not entirely true, but he’s never been someone to back down from a challenge. “You gotta do more than creeping around in the bushes and stare at me with your alpha eyes.” Especially since the latter is actually pretty damn hot, which isn’t exactly helping the situation.

“I’m not trying to scare you,” Derek informs him in a casual yet amused tone.

“Really? Could’ve fooled me, big guy.”

Derek chuckles, letting his head fall forward as he does so – and Stiles can’t help but watch his mouth move. It’s fascinating. Every time he’s seen Derek, the guy has been scowling. Stiles didn’t think he could chuckle, much less laugh.

Fuck, he’s pretty.

Beautiful even.

His heartbeat picks up when Derek locks eyes with him again. “You’re not very attentive.”

“Oh, really?” Now, that is just plain rude and so uncalled for. “How do you think I’m finding these demons? By paying very close attention to details. So, I am attentive. I’m actually the most at-”

Derek kisses him. No ifs. No buts. No hesitation. He just does, and his lips are so soft and warm, their touch makes Stiles’ stomach twist with anticipation. Derek moves his hands and cradles his cheeks, thumb tracing a slow, ever so gentle line along his skin. All of Derek’s hard edges are replaced by something tender and raw.

Stiles’ heart stutters in his too tight chest, and his mind blanks, every single thought swept away by the warm lips pressed to his own. He melts against Derek, pressing closer as he curls his fingers around Derek’s bicep and his eyes flutter shut. A soft, almost helpless sound escapes his throat as a warmth floods through him, followed by a kind of ache Stiles doesn’t quite have a name for. They both settle deep inside of him, spreading into every part of his body. His entire body lights up with a want he hasn’t felt in what feels like forever, a need for closeness more than just desire.

When Derek pulls back, Stiles moves with him, desperate to hold onto the kiss just a little bit longer.

Derek regards it with a soft chuckle, his warm breath ghosting over Stiles’ lips.  

The sound alone makes Stiles wants to kiss him again, but he doesn’t, clears his throat instead. No words come, which in itself is quite the curiosity, and Stiles is almost relieved at the sound of paws hitting the wood. Here to interrupt any possibility of an awkward silence. Stiles glances over his shoulder, watches as Bo enters the room and sniffs the air. It’s probably best to be upfront.

Once more, he clears his throat. “I’m not staying.” He crouches down and can’t help but smile when Bo bumps his head against his leg, demanding attention. “At least not forever. Until the house is sold, and I found the next… target, I guess.” He runs his fingers through Bo’s soft fur as he tries to ignore the way his heart aches at the thought of leaving.

For the first time in years.

Which is ridiculous. He doesn’t know Derek; not how he is as a person, that is. He only knows superficial stuff. What happened to his family, that he’s a werewolf and that he owns the only garage in town, and that he doesn’t need to crawl under cars or get car grime and oil all over himself because he’s loaded. So, he’s either doing it for fun or for the people living in this town… or both. Derek seems to be a good person, but so is Stiles, and Stiles won’t lie — he’s not only a handful, he’s also not particularly nice. Many people called him an asshole. They’re not entirely wrong.

“I’m not asking you to stay,” Derek says as he slides onto the chair at the head of the table, very clearly indicating that he’s not planning on leaving soon. “But maybe I can convince you to come back.” 

Stiles blinks up at him, scratching Bo behind his ears. “You don’t know me.”

“Yet,” Derek adds and looks down at him with a smile.

This fucking guy is going to give him a heart attack before Stiles has figured out his favorite color. Aside from that, it dawns on Stiles that he may have misjudged the guy. “So, you stalked me because you like me.”

The tips of Derek’s ears turn the slightest shade of pink. Adorable. “I never stalked you.”

Bo barks.

“He says you’re a liar.” Stiles raises to stand and pulls a chair out. “I think you followed me around, but didn’t know how to approach me.” Smirking, he sits down as Bo uses his chance to curl up under his chair.

Instead of replying, Derek opens the bag of takeout and pulls out only the best of Sally’s diner. His ears turn just a shade darker.

Stiles props his chin on his hand, not even bothering to hide the smile forming on his lips. He totally could get used to this.

[ratskinsuit]

Hiii!

Would it be okay to request a Lucifer x Imp!fem!reader? I was thinking something about the reader being insecure about dating Lucifer (either due to the vast difference in social ranking and/or the fact that the reader is short while Lilith was a tall woman) and he comforts her? If not, that’s okay!

Thank you!

My Other Half

Lucifer x Imp fem!Reader

———————————————————————

A/N: I’m so so sorry this took so long to get out. Yk the usual depression and writers block and adhd blah blah blah blah blah. I wrote the end to this at like 3am and was tryna not cry because random depression go brrrrr. Hope you enjoyed though and arnt go mad this took so long!

———————————————————————

Every year, since Lucifer’s falling from heaven, He has hosted a gathering of the finest and most powerful beings in hell, of eating and socializing, a sorrei. Filled with gorgeous women and handsome men, the delicious aroma of hundreds of plates of food wading through the area. Demons laughing and chatting with one another. dressed in the fanciest of suits and gowns. All of them having some high status of power compared to the other, more common folk of the streets.

Even in his depression, Lucifer had still continued to host these parties, yet he had enjoyed none of it. However this was the first time in 7 years that he had someone to bring to it, you, his girlfriend.

You two originally met when you started working for him as an advisor. His work preformence dwindling with his mental health. So Charlie hired you to go help him with his work and choices. And eventually you tow became closer, the relationship no longer being boss and employee.

When hell found out that the Lucifer, the king, started dating an imp, people had some… mixed opinions. The lower class saw it as Lucifer possibly trying to be inclusive, or making fun of them, while th uppers saw it as an embarrassment. Lucifer payed no mind to these comments, and you tried your best not to, but sometimes they got to you.

Your infront of the mirror in your shared bedroom, adjusting your dress. Your weaning a short sleeved red dress with a slit in the side and a V neckline. It goes down to your ankles. Your wearing fishnet stokings with a pair of dark black heels and a matching obsidian necklace.

You brush through your hair with your fingers, and see in the mirror Lucifer entering the room. He looks you up and down and smiles, walking over to you. He’s wearing a white suit with red accents, his red tie, darker than the accent, not yet done. His hair slicked back in a professional manner.

“You look absolutely gorgeous darling,” He coos, wrapping his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind and looking in your eyes in the mirror.

You smile, turning around to look him in the eyes, stroking his cheek. “Not so bad yourself Mr.Devil.” You smirk, fixing some fo his smudged eyeliner on the corner of his eyes . “Only for you my love.” He replies.

He blushes a bit, and you lean forward to give him a quick kiss. It lasts a couple seconds before you pull away pulling a disappointed whine from Lucifer. You snicker, reaching at his chest to do his tie. You smoothly tie it up, adjusting it once done and taking a step back “Perfect.” You smile.

Lucifer positions himself next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist, intertwining his right hand with yours. “Ready to go darling?” He asks, kissing your hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

The walk down to the banquet hall was pleasant. Not to far from your rooms. Making sense as it’s in the same building. As you two approach, the sound of laughing and conversing grows louder.

At last you two arrive, Lucifer opening the big doors. Everyone turns to him, feeling slightly awkward you scoot a bit behind him. Everyone claps as Lucifer welcomes and thanks everyone for coming.

You study everyone around, feeling out of place surrounded by all these high-class demons. As he finishes his welcoming, you two begin to walk around, Lucifer greeting people as you stand there, next to him. Trying to ignore the judgemental stares of others around you.

As Lucifer chats with other people, they completely ignore your presence, making you feel invisible. You honestly don’t know whether or not to be happy about it though.

After a little bit you and Lucifer are approached by a fancy looking lady. She has bird like features and is wearing a beautiful long dress. Her top is short, white fading to pink, with short puffy sleeves. Her skirt is long and flowing, 3 layered with a feather like texture. The top an off white with a black trim, the second bright white, and the third black layer. All tied together with a bright yellow tiara on her head.

“Lucifer, darling! How have you been?” She comes up, and Lucifer turns to her with a smile as they hug. “Ah Stella, great to see you as always!” He says, pulling back, fixing his shirt.

“Marvelous party, as always my lord.” She smiles, her posture and appearance full of grace, subconsciously making you straighten your own back. “Thank you Stella, I try.” Lucifer laughs, turning to you.

“My dear this is Stella, one of the Goetia Royalty,” he says, waving towards at Stella. You give her a polite smile, ignoring the way her face scrunches up at you. “Very nice to meet you, I love your dress.” You say, complimenting her, but she looks you up and down, judgmentally.

“I didn’t know that the staff was allowed to attend these types of events,” She says slyly, turning to Lucifer. You frown at her comment, wondering if you did something wrong. Lucifer. however just let’s out a chuckle, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Ah well no, but she isn’t actually a worker, this is my girlfriend.” He says, an unmoving smile present on his face.

Stella looks you up and down for a moment before bursting out laughing. She cackles for a moment before calming down and taking deep breath, wiping the tears from under her eyes. “Is..something funny?” Lucifer asks, raising an eyebrow at he behavior.

“You know, if I knew you were that desperate for a partner, I could have set you up with someone. I have loads of hot first-rate friends who you would just adore,” she says, shooting a quick glare in your direction, Lucifer didn’t quite catch; his smile faltering at her words.

“I appreciate it Stella but I’m very happy with who I am with right now.” He says, squeezing your waist. “Well if you ever change your mind just let me know.” She says, glancing at you one last time before wandering off to a group of other people.

As soon as she turns Lucifer looks at you, and you look at him, trying to conceal the sad look in your eyes. “I’m so so sorry about that, she can be a real drama starter sometimes, are you okay love?” He asks, searching you face. “Yeah, I’m used to it don’t worry.” You say, a smile on your face, trying to get past what happened. Lucifer squeezes your shoulder.

“Why don’t we go get some food for now?” He asks, and you nod, the two of you heading to get something to eat.

As you spent more time conversing at the party, you grew more comfortable, and tried to ignore the stares and whispering. Mainly from Stella and her friends, making comments about your class of imps and how you “unruly creatures” and how Lucifer should just ditch you beside it’s embarrassing.

Later into the night, you and Lucifer were chatting with a group of demons that run a large business, you can’t remember what it was about though. Lucifer turns to you. “Hey love, do you think you could get us some more drinks?” He asks sweetly, and when you agree gives you a kiss on the forhead before turning back to the conversation as you walk away.

You head to the table with the drinks, noticing Stella and some of her friends by it. She notices you and turn to her friends as they whisper and giggle, she sends a grin your way.

You choose to ignore it, probably just then talking bad about you again, beliving they won’t do anything.

You head to the table, grabbing two wine glasses about to fill them up, when suddenly you feel something spill all over the front of your dress.

You gasp and turn look down at yourself to see the wine spilled all over your new dress. “Aw, oopsie! So sorry darling, just bumped into the table. But don’t worry, I’m sure you have some clothes that… fit you better right? Like those simple imo clothes?” Stella gives you a fake pouty look, cackling.

Lucifer rushes over to you as tears begin to pool in your eyes. “Oh my god, my dear are you al-“ he tries to reach for you, scanning to see if your okay but you swat his hand away. “I’m fine” you snap, wiping at the tears beginning to fall.

You don’t look behind you, but hear Stella and her friends laughing and the people crowding to see what happened, as you rush to a nearby bathroom.

You scramble into the restroom, slamming the door behind you, locking it. You go over to one of the walls, sinking down to the floor. You rest your face in your hands, as you sobs and cry, ruining your carefully done makeup.

You hug your knees tightly, sniffling and rocking yourself back and forth, your chests heaving with the heavy breaths your taking.

You internally curse yourself for ever thinking your worth the king of hell. You. A simple imp. Your choked sobs die down to sift whispers, yet the tears never stopping streaming down you face.

You bury your face into your knees hander when you hear the door unlock and open, muttering a small “go away.” But they don’t, and you hear the footsteps come closer, stopping infront of you.

“Dear, what’s this about….?” You hear a voice say, peeking up to see Lucifer looking at you, kneeled down. He has a sad look on his face.

“…why me…?” You ask, and Lucifer opens his mouth to speak, furrowing his brows. “Stella’s right, why pick me and not some other better prettier more powerful demon…” you interrupt him, and Lucifer’s face falls.

“Oh darling…” he whispers, holding you and cradling you in his arms. “Why would you think I want someone else..?” He murmurs.

“Because th-there are so many other people that would be better for you..” you cry, leaning against his chest as he holds you tight, the tears beginning to fall faster down your cheeks, chest heaving.

He just shushes you, wiping them away. “My love I chose you, not anybody else..” he says, turning you to look at him with a smile. “I don’t care how powerful you are, your shape, size, color, darling I picked you.” He says, and you start to cry harder, burying your face in his chest. “B-… but why…?”

He just smiles, rubbing hand through your hair, rubbing circles in your back comfortingly. “Because when I met you, you made me happier than I have felt for years..” he says. “And I don’t care about anything else because I love you, no other woman will ever have my heart as the way you have.”

You sniffle, and he rocks you back and forth, his hand going to hold yours. He brings your hand up to his mouth giving it a kiss, before continuing.

“I’m so sorry how Stella treated you, I should have warned you before hand she is very judgey, it’s my fault sweetheart, and I apologize.”

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand. You lean against him as he soothes you. He hugs you tightly, ignoring your wet dress against him, staining his white tux from the red rubbing off. But he doesn’t care and just holds you closer.

“M…I. I’m.. sorry…” you mutter, and he shushes you. “Honey there is nothing to be sorry about. The only people that should be sorry are Stella and the other people who judged you based on what you look like and where you came from.”

“For… ruining the party..” you say, embarrassed, but he just chuckles. “My love that was just a bit of spilt wine. Nothing to fret over. You ruined nothing.”

You two sit there in silence for a moment, embraced in a hug together. “…thank you…” you murmer.

“For what, sweetheart?” He asks. “For… st-staying with me, and dealing with my bullshit… and not judging me…” you say, and he lets out a laugh at your second reason.

“Of course my love, he says turning you head to him and he places a kiss on your forehead.

You two sit there, finding comfort in each others warmth.

After a couple minutes Lucifer speaks. “So, we have two options. One; I can take you up to the room and you hang out there and then when the party is over, I come get you.” He inhaled; letting it sink in. “Or two, you can go to the room and get changed and come back out to see my chewing out Stella, and have a good time at the party.” You laugh at his option 2.

“Two. Definitely two.”

———————————————————————

A/N: this took so long I’m so sorry I have ADHD and procrastinate. But figure out a not-really-kinda schedule. I do a request, then do Headcanons or a story I chose, then request and so on. If you sent a request and it’s in the rules and has not been done yet, it will be done eventually. This wasent as long as I would have hoped but I think it still came out good! Hope you enjoyed, make sure to know you are loved and take care of yourself!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[feyreswaterybowels]

⭒The Silent One⭒

#3 Azriel x Fem!OC

⭒Part 1⭒Part 2⭒Part 3⭒Part 4⭒

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Azriel finds the guy that sold Cassandra. Lots of bonding happens with Cassandra, Azriel and other members of the IC. Slight cliffhanger.

Warnings/Tags: mentions/implied rape. Mention past sexual abuse. Mentions pregnancy from rape. Slow burn. Violence. Brief victim blaming. Found family. Protective!azriel. Protective!IC. GRAMMER ERRORS—I plan on going back to edit this please don’t judge me too hard I’m gonna have a busy week and just really wanted to get this posted for y’all🩵

Authors Note: all reblogs, likes and comments are welcome, appreciated and encouraged! Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list for the next chapter. Regular italics are inner thoughts and bold italics are mental communication.

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Azriel stands in the darkness of night watching. Waiting. Body thrumming with anger. Calm cold anger. The kind that got people killed if they didn’t give him what he was looking for.

Only moments after Cassandra’s departure had his shadow returned to him. Telling him where to find this Vale. This horrid male who was taking females away from their family and selling them off—profiting off of them like livestock.

He sees the male, recognizes him from the briefs flash of memory Cassandra let slip at dinner, the one where this mad had choked her, slammed her against the wall just for needing to use the restroom.

The male is loading something up in the back of a wagon, the building behind him dark and dingy. Azriel let his shadows take him closer. Closer. Until he was standing in the alley between this man's house and another. The smell was horrid, small creatures scurrying about looking for their meal for the evening.

The male retreats into the building and Azriel lets a shadow loose to follow him—to be his eyes inside of this building. Inside is just as dark and dingy and piled high to the roof with…stuff. The blue skinned male navigates the maze of boxes and bins and trash with ease. He seems to be the only one here but Azriel knew better so he waits following the man through the seemingly endless maze.

That’s when he hears it, his shoulders going tight, his jaw clenching. Crying—no sobbing. A girl begging to be left alone as the male grabs her and pins her down to the floor.

“Fuck,” he growls. He pounds his fist against the outside of the building, taking chucks of the stone out. It’s loud enough to distract the man, to get him away from that girl as he rushed from the room under the floor, locking the locks and coming out. Looking around wildly for the source of the sound.

Azriel winnows, leaning against the wagon the man had been loading before, whistling to get the man attention. He whirls around, black eyes narrowed in anger, freezing in place when they land on him.

“Shadowsinger?” He grunts, narrowing his eyes at Azriel. “What brings you to these parts?”

Azriel looks him over, the smell of shit, piss and rot was overwhelming even from this distance.

“Vale,” Azriel says, to let the male know he knows who he is, rightfully see the fear in his eyes. “I’m looking for something and I hear you’re the one to help me.”

“I ain’t got nothing you need, pretty boy,” Vale sneers, crossing his arms, looking Azriel over. Trying to come off as tough but it’s actually laugh-able.

“Are you sure?” Azriel asks, pushing off the wagon. Letting his wings spread wide, walking closer, towering over the male. “See, I’ve got this female telling me you bought her from her dad and sold her to a pleasure house. I mean, tell me I’m wrong, man. I’ve just gotta check on these things. It’s a pretty serious accusation and all.”

“That chick’s got the wrong guy. I would never do something like that. These bitches are always trying to get us males in trouble,” Vale said, seeming to relax. Big mistake.

“You think so? Just tell me if you know her man. About this tall, really pretty, tan skin, white hair. Wings.” Azriel growls the last word, the man’s eyes widening again, taking a step back.

“Look, man, it’s not like that. Her dad owed me money, so he gave me her instead cause he couldn’t afford to pay me back, okay? So I didn’t technically buy her,” He stammered out, trying to explain himself.

“Oh,” Azriel said, nodding his head. “Well, I mean, if you didn’t technically buy her then no law was broken.”

“That’s right!” The male nods, sighing in relief. “No law was broken, man. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t do that—”

“Yeah. I get it,” Azriel nods, shifting. Looking towards the building, then back to the low life in front of him. “And that female inside? Did you buy her? Is she here of her own free will allowing you to rape her daily?”

“Fuck,” Vale whispers, turning and running down the cobble stone road. Azriel stands there watching, a grin stretching his lips as he lets the male think he’s getting away.

“Send Morrigan,” He calls out to Rhys as he watches the male.

“She’s coming.”

Then he's gone again, just as Vale looks over his shoulder to try and spot him, only to smack hard into a body that came out of nowhere. He looks at the shadowsinger towering over him, swallowing thickly.

“What do you want from me?” The male nearly cried out as Azriel grabbed him and pulled him up, slamming his face first into a stone wall. The resounding crunch of his nose breaking is ever satisfying.

“Her name is Cassandra,” Azriel snarls into the man's ear. “She told us what you did to her. What you did to that female you have locked in that disgusting building. We know there’s more girls. We will find them all and when we do, I’ll let each one take a turn with you. Their weapon of choice. And you’ll feel exactly what they felt.”

“Ple-please. Please, just kill me,” The man begged, fighting in Azriel’s grasp but he was no match for Azriel’s strength.

“And what kind of justice would that be? Did you stop when those girls begged you to? Did you give them death with they would have preferred that over you using their bodies?” Azriel asked, scenting the smell of urine as the man pissed himself. “You deserve everything you’ve got coming to you.”

Before the pathetic excuse of a male could beg or plead any more Azriel grabbed the back of his head, smashing it into the wall, letting him fall unconscious to the ground. He left him there binded and hidden by shadows, stalking back to the building where he spotted Morrigan easily.

“Don’t tell me this is where he’s been keeping those poor girl?” She asked when she spotted him approaching.

“Unfortunately, I think it is. She said under his house but he could live here. I’ll question him more. I know there’s at least one female inside,” Azriel explained, guiding Morrigan into the building. Be could get the female on his own but he knew it was safer to have a female companion—after all they’d been through the least he could do was make sure a female was the one to comfort them.

They get to that basement floor, unlocking the various locks and pulling the hatch open. It’s as dark and dingy down here as it was in the rest of the building. Morrigan enters first, taking Azriel’s hand to steady herself on the old wobbly stairs.

“Your wings won’t fit down here,” She said, hushed. He nods at her. “Send a shadow if I call for help.” It’s said jokingly but he knows she’s serious. He’d rip the floor from this building to help her if she needed it.

Mor squinted her eyes in the dimness of the sellar, resisting the urge to plug her nose from the horrid smell.

“Hello? Is anyone down here?” She calls out, looking up from at Azriel when there’s no reply. “Hello, my name is Morrigan. I work for the High Lord. The male keeping you here is—”

Morrigan’s cut off when I body slams into hers, knocking her to the ground. She cries out in surprise when a sharp sting slices across her cheek.

“Stop, hey, stop! I’m here to help!” Mor calls out, trying to catch the hands of the female fae on top of her.

“Mor!” Azriel’s deep voice calls.

“I’ve got it!” Mor calls back, grabbing the girls wrists. “Please, stop! Vale is gone! He can’t hurt you, please, stop!”

The girl stops fighting then still tense where she’s straddling Morrigan’s middle section.

“He’s gone?” She whispers and Mor nods.

“Yes, he’s gone. He can’t hurt you any more. I swear,” She promises. Eyes finally able to take in the sight before her.

A fragile, naked, malnourished body sits atop her. Eyes not only shut but scarred as if they’d been cut—maybe by the same person that took Cassandra’s tongue. But what really got Morrigan, what had her ready to lose the contents of her stomach was the rounded belly attached to that nearly skeleton body. Her eyes welled and she helped the female to shift off of her body.

“Are you pregnant?” Mor whispers, trying to keep her voice from breaking as the female nods.

“Please, don’t let him take this one too,” She cries, reaching out to find Morrigan’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “Promise me I get to keep my baby.”

“I promise, no one is going to take your baby away from you,” Morgan swears, a single tear falling down her cheek. “What’s your name, sweet girl?”

“Neema, my name is Neema,” She answers and Mors eyes widen. The girl Cassandra told them about.

“You and your baby are safe, Neema. We’re gonna take you away from here, okay?” Morrigan says, standing and helping the pregnant female stand as well.

“I have my friend Azriel here too, he will not touch you, he’s only here to make sure no further harm comes to you. He’s handing me a cloak for you to wear,” Morrigan explains so the female doesn’t feel uncomfortable. She nods, allowing Mor to wrap the cloak around her.

“Are there any other females here?” Azriel asks gently, wishing he hadn’t with the way she clenched at the deep mess of it.

“Not—not that I know of. The females come and go. There’s been no others for months…” Neema answers, grasping the fabric tighter around her body.

Azriel and Mor share a look the last females had to have been Cassandra and the other two she mentioned.

“I’ll stay and check the building before I head back,” Azriel informed, consciously softening his voice so as not to scare the female again.

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Morrigan winnows away with Neema and Azriel searches every inch of the building with his shadows. No signs of any other females. He leaves the building, needing to relieve himself of the horrible stench.

He retrieves the still bound and unconscious male, winnowing him to his dungeon. He strips him, places a gag in his mouth, dumps him into a chair and binds him to it. He would be dealt with later.

The sun would be rising soon and he wanted to be there when they informed Cassandra they found the male and the female—her friend?

He enters Rhys' study, Cassian and Mor there too.

“How is she?” He asks, glancing at Morrigan then his brother.

“Resting,” Rhys answers. “Madja looked her over. Thankfully the baby seems healthy, Madja’s main concern is getting Neema to gain some weight and begin healing herself.”

“We offered her to live amongst the priestesses in the library, she agreed,” Morrigan said, her brown eyes bloodshot and cheeks flushed.

“Good, that’s all good, they’ll help her heal,” Azriel nods his head crossing his arms. “I have the male in my dungeon.”

“Have you gotten any information out of him?” Rhys asks, standing from his desk.

“Not much. He admitted to knowing who Cassandra was, receiving her from her father and holding her. He never admitted to selling her but that information won’t be hard to get out of him,” Azriel explains and Rhys nods in agreement.

“You get whatever information you can out of him and then he’s dead,” Rhys orders, Azriel doesn’t need to confirm he already knew what Rhys decision would be.

“Are we telling Cassandra?” Cassian asks, the first words he’s said the whole time.

“We are. She needs to know he’s here, it may bring her some comfort knowing he’s locked away and Neema is safe. I think you should be the one to talk to her, Azriel,” Rhy says, turning his attention to the shadow singer.

“Me? Not Mor?” Azriel asked, a bit confused.

“Yes, you. She’s comfortable with you. You’re the one that apprehended him. I believe she would prefer to hear it from you,” Rhys nods.

“Okay, I can do that,” Azriel agreed.

“You handle that, I’ve got some business to attend to with the priestesses. We’ll all meet up in a few hours to discuss further action.” Rhys stepped around his desk, patting Azriel’s shoulder when he passed by him.

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An hour goes by before Azriel tracks Cassandra down. Finding her in the library, flipping through a book where she’s sat in the large window seat that overlooked the city below. A steaming cup of tea next to her.

“I thought you couldn’t read?” Azriel asks, leaning against the door frame, grinning when those green eyes meet his.

“I can’t. I’m looking at the pictures,” She said, holding up the book, some romance book from the looks of the two people in a colorful garden.

“Ah,” Azriel says, walking further into the room. Trying not to focus on the way her eyes track up and down his body the closer he gets. He holds his hand out for the book, flipping it over the read the title, snorting at it. “Secret Garden Romance, huh?”

She shrugs, taking the book back.

“I asked the house for a book with a lot of pictures, this is what I got,” She said, a small sweet breathy laugh escaped her lips and he couldn’t help his own smile.

“Did you end up getting some sleep?” He asks, watching her set the book down and grab the warm mug.

“I slept but not great,” She shrugs. “I can’t stop thinking about my sisters.”

“We’re gonna do everything we can to find them, I promise you that,” Azriel said, not even waiting for a beat. He would find her sisters and he’d beat the shit out of her father too.

“You know I took my older sister's place. It was supposed to be her he sold off but the way she had cried when he told her. I couldn’t let him do that to her so I told him to take me…I didn’t really know what he meant when he was selling me. I thought I’d be a servant like the ones we had when I was a kid or something. I never thought…” She trailed off, taking a deep breath.

“You’re not to blame for what happened to you. You were protecting your sister. You did a very selfless thing. You're safe now and your sisters will be, too,” Azriel said, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned towards her.

“Well, what about you?” Cassandra asked, gently changing the subject. “Did you ever get any sleep?”

Azriel sighed with a head shake. “No, actually. That’s kind of why I came to talk to you.”

Cassandra fixed him with a curious look, leaning forward as if to give him her full attention for whatever he needed to say. He looked into those glowing green eyes, filled with curious concern.

“We found that male. Vale. We found him,” Azriel said, watching the vast range of emotions flash through those emerald eyes.

“He’s here?” Is what she asks, fear tinging her voice. Azriel straightens his back.

“He will not touch you,” he declared, holding her gaze. “He won’t even come near you.”

I’ll fucking kill him if he does. He thinks but doesn’t add it out loud.

“He can’t get out of…wherever he is?” She asks, and he wants to reach out so badly to comfort her. The ache in his chest drawing him to her.

“No. He’s being held in a very secure place. I promise you’re safe here. You’re safe with us.” Azriel promises. You’re safe with me.

“Were there any females with him?” She asks and Azriel nods.

“The girl you told us about, Neema. She was the only one there—it had been only her for months.”

He watches as her eyes fill with tears, offering his hand for her to hold. She takes it, thumb tracing his scars unconsciously.

“Just her…alone with him for months. Gods, is she…I feel like okay isn’t the right word for what I want to ask,” She says, sadness written all over her face.

“She will be okay,” Azriel said. “She’s in bad shape. Pregnant, malnourished but we have an amazing healer and a library below the mountain. Many priestesses live there. Many of them have experienced similar traumas. They’ll help her heal.”

She looked thoughtful for a moment. He wasn’t sure what was going through her head as she sat there silently, grasping his hand and tracing his scars.

“I want him to die.” It’s fierce. Heated. Emotional. And it does something to Azriel’s heart, to his brain. He squeezes her hand. “I want him to feel everything we felt. To know the fear he put us through. I want him to suffer and then I want him to die.”

“He will die. I swear to the Mother. I’ll get every drop of information from him and when it’s time his death will be painful and slow,” Azriel swore, gently swiping a tear from her cheek.

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The next day is a day Cassandra would remember forever. She hadn't slept much the night before but Morrigan had practically begged her to have lunch.

Cassandra wasn’t entirely sure she was ready for a day out in the city but she felt safe with Morrigan. She nearly asked if Azriel could come too until she learned he would be spending the day collecting information from Kamari and Vale.

Morrigan picked out her outfit for the day and it was one of her favorites she’s worn since being here. A flowy silk top that tucked into a dark pair of slacks that raised high on my hips. They emphasized her longer legs in a way she had never noticed before. She had also pinned Cassandra’s hair up and out of her face.

She liked the way Azriel smiled at her when he saw her dressed this way. She blushed but was quickly rushed away by Morrigan, shouting something about wanting you to herself for the day for girl time.

Their first stop was a place she called the River House. A beautiful home that her mother would have loved. Morrigan had only had them stop here briefly to grab a few tote bags, wanting to shop while they were out but promised to bring her back and give her a proper tour of the house.

The city was even more beautiful when you were in it. The sun was shining bright in an endless blue sky. Better than any dreams she had ever had about it.

They went to bakeries, where Cassandra single handedly filled half a tote with various pastries.

Then a clothing shop where Morrigan helped her pick out some new clothes. A few everyday pieces. A gorgeous gown she wasn’t sure where she would wear it but Morrigan swore she would need it sooner or later. And then the softest, satin, dark blue nightgown—it had reminded her of the stones that glowed atop Azriel’s hands. Morrigan herself had picked out quite a few outfits and gowns of her own and a lace set that looked like something the girls in the pleasure houses would wear but she paid no mind to it—she was sure it would look gorgeous on Morrigan wherever she planned to wear it to.

Then they went to a place near the river for lunch, the glistening river was the perfect view while they ate.

“Do you feel like you’re settling in okay?” Morrigan asked, sipping on some kind of iced fruit tea while they waited for their food.

“I’m still…adjusting. I enjoy the company of everyone. I feel like I can trust you all. It’s just odd.” Cassandra says, taking a drink of her tea that was just slightly too sweet but she wasn’t complaining.

“What’s odd?” Morrigan asks gently.

“Trusting strangers more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else,” She says it like a confession, like she should be ashamed for feeling that way.

“I don’t think that’s odd,” Morrigan shrugged. “You’re around people like you, people you can relate to and get to know. It’s easy to feel safe with us in turn, causing your trust. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Cassandra smiles at Morrigan.

Their food comes soon after and they talk the whole time. Morrigan gives her the rundown of how Rhys, Azriel and Cassian all knew one another. She explained more about their titles and what each one of them did as a member of the inner circle. She told her about so much that Cassandra could believe she’d spent her whole live knowing practically none of it.

When they go to a bookstore Cassandra looks at a few before putting them back. Morrigan grabs them and tells her they’ll teach her to read—that she’ll love these books and so many more.

And when they finally get back to the House of a Wind it’s late. She's exhausted from carrying around nearly overflowing tote bags and eating more muffins then she can count.

A top the house where they have to land they’re greeted by the three males. Their solemn faces wiping the smile off your face. She caught Azriel’s eyes, sees the look of pure death there—a look that she just knows means he wants to kill someone.

And just like that, her perfect day with Morrigan took a turn straight down hill.

Tag List: @aelinwya @starlightandsouls @fullmoon-94 @aetherl0l @caticorn61 @lilah-asteria @blackgirlmagicforever @div94 @purple-writer8 @little-missbookyworm @saltedcoffeescotch @namelesssav @slytherintaco @whatsupb @little-missbookyworm

[thewulf]

If You Insist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - What if one of reader's love language Is act of service,She used to prepare a lunch box for her and her (now ex) boyfriend but he never appreciated the gesture,because he isn a kid and could buy food like his other team mates... Read Rest Here

A/N: This is just PURE fluff. Insecure reader a little bit and a very confident fluffy Jake!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 3.0k +

While you finished putting the leftovers away into glass containers Jake finished off the dishes beside you humming a song you didn’t recognize. You danced alongside him regardless, his bounciness rather infectious. You found everything about the blonde man beside you mesmerizing. Even after as long as you’ve known him and as long as you’ve been dating him you never ceased to get butterflies by his flirty comments. He never grew tired of making you blush. The day you stopped was the day he knew he fucked up.

No matter how tired he was after a long day in the air he made sure to never let you have the brunt of the chores when it came to housework. He knew you worked just as hard, if not harder, as a patent lawyer for a local firm that kept you very busy. Jake didn’t know the half of your job but when it came to listening to you dominate a conversation on the phone he knew he was absolutely head over heels for you. He found you so damn attractive when you put people down with legal jargon he could hardly understand. He was rather helplessly in love with you. Not that he minded, not a bit. He loved being in love with you. It was easy with you. Blissful with you.

Good thing too, because you were just as in love with him as he was with you. While he hadn’t proposed just yet he had big plans too. He knew he wanted to do something with the jets he flew on a daily basis but just hadn’t figured out the perfect plan. So, it’d just gave to wait a little while he talked it through with his coworkers formulating a fool proof plan that’d surly have you saying yes to him.

You and Jake had met by complete chance at the national air show during fleet week in San Diego. You’d been dragged out by your roommate who claimed you never did anything fun, so you had to prove her wrong. To your absolute horror you quite literally ran into Jake, spilling your nacho cheese all over the front of his Navy whites. You’d become a stuttering mess of a human and nearly cried you were so embarrassed when you saw the fake yellow cheese coat his perfectly pristine uniform. But Jake took it in stride. He calmed you down reassuring you that he wasn’t mad or upset. He was actually thrilled you ran into him because you were ‘quite stunning’ which brought out a brilliant blush to your cheeks. That same blush Jake strived to get from you on a daily basis. He had yet to fail.

From that moment on the two of you were glued at the hip. You’d taken it slow going from acquaintances to friends to best friends before he finally worked up the courage to ask you on a date a year after the nacho cheese fiasco. Fast forward another year and you’d never been happier in your life. You’d been dating and falling helplessly in love with your best friend. A man you only knew as Jake but heard of the stories of him as his callsign Hangman.

“Thank you.” You smiled sweetly at your boyfriend as he took the last plate from your hands.

“No need to thank me sweetheart.” He put the plate in the dishwasher, cleaned his hands and walked right up to you before planting a soft kiss right on your forehead, “Teamwork, remember?” He raised his eyebrows at  you referencing an earlier conversation the two of you had regarding housework. You felt guilty early on in the relationship when he would do random chores or cook you dinner. You felt like a failure of a girlfriend. That’s how your ex would’ve framed it anyway. He wasn’t the best guy you’d come to learn as you figured out what a loving relationship was actually supposed to be like. Jake had reassured you that as partners he would take on some of the housework and help you out. He’d made it clear it was a partnership that was always going to be worked on.

You hummed acknowledging him, “I know, I still appreciate it though.” You leaned up on your tippy toes kissing his cheek with a slowness about you that wanted to cherish the still moment you were having with the man you adored, “I appreciate you.”

He scooped you up in his arms with ease, “Of course darlin’.” Kissing your nose this time he walked over to the couch carrying you in his arms where he set you down softly before pulling you into him once more. Not that you were complaining. You learned quickly how much of a physical touch kind of guy he was. You initially weren’t. But you’d come to love it. You loved giving him what he needed and craved, it made you feel good.

“Thank you for dinner.” He squeezed your hip, “It was delicious.” Jake lived for moments like these. Moments where it was just you and him. The house was quiet. Life was relaxed. You were as beautiful as ever. It revived him after long days of relentless thinking and berating from his superiors. You recharged him without doing a single thing. That’s how he knew you were his one and only. He just wanted to be around you, no question. He’d choose you over and over again without so much as a second thought. He thought he knew love before you, but he was sorely mistaken. Each and every day with you was a gift he made sure to cherish and relish. He just hoped you knew how much you meant to him. How he literally couldn’t do life without you anymore. You were his shining beacon, his north star, the guiding light he never knew he needed. And he couldn’t bear the thought of losing that thing that kept him chugging along. He needed you. Now and forever.

You grinned up to him, brushing his overgrown hair out of his face, “You know it babe. I know you’ve had a rough week. Want to talk about it? You don’t have to if you don’t want to but it looks like somethings on your mind?” You asked softly noticing the small changes. He never snapped at you, but he seemed more irritated, more on edge. Had he gotten a new assignment? Gotten into an argument with a superior? It wasn’t like him to not talk to you about it, no matter how small.

He laughed it off softly, “It’s dumb, really.”

You shook your head before resting it on his chest. Breathing in his scent you were sure you’d never tire of it. He always just smelled so damn good. No matter what. After a workout? He smelled heavenly. A long day of work? No sweat, he smelled perfect. Waking up? The most amazing morning scent. You were attracted to him no matter what. That’s how you knew you were a goner. He never made you angry or annoyed either. As much as you loved your friends and family they still always annoyed you to pieces when you spent an extended amount of time with them. Not Jake, no. You could spend every second tied at the hip for the rest of eternity and still have a good time.

“I promise it’s not dumb if it’s bothering you.” You spoke as you nuzzled your head into the crook of his neck.

He wrapped an arm around you to secure into his chest, “The admiral decided the cafeteria needed a renovation, so we’ve been without one for the week. Thought it’d be okay but I’m struggling. We’re all struggling” He laughed hating to admit how defeated he was by the simple problem, “Not enough time to run out for food and well… I haven’t packed a lunch since I was twelve. Seems like the whole squadron is in the same boat.”

You smiled giving him a squeeze, “That’s not dumb Jake. You’re just hungry my love.”

He gave you a sheepish smile back, “I haven’t taken it out on you, have I?”

Shaking your head you ran along his arm, “Hardly. You just seemed a little more agitated this week is all.”

“Nothing gets by you, does it?” He closed his eyes leaning back into the couch relishing every second he got with you like this. Utter peace. He’d wish for nothing else other than this. Life was bliss with you.

You laughed softly letting yourself mold into him preparing yourself for the movie night Jake had proposed earlier on during dinner. Your favorite kind of night. A night spent in cuddling up to your favorite human to ever exist. This was what life was made for. What else could you really ask for?

“Hardly.” You yawned mumbling into his side feeling your week catch up to you, “I’d be a shitty lawyer if it did.”

“You could never be shitty at anything, not even if you tried darlin’.” Jake spoke while rubbing your head with the softest strokes knowing it was your ultimate weakness. You wouldn’t be awake for too much longer if he continued doing it and he knew it.

You hummed, “Flatter me Seresin.” You felt drunk for the tiredness the didn’t allow your eyes to open.

You felt the vibration of his chest before hearing the sound of his laughter, “Flattery or truth?”

Mumbling something incoherent you didn’t even know you were saying you let the darkness take over as you fell asleep on your rock. He made you feel more safe and secure than anyone or anything had before. He was worth the wait and the shitty relationships you struggled through before.

You didn’t think much of it as you packed a second lunch for Jake while making your own the next morning. You had to be in early this week for court, so you were up before him for a change. You’d decided to just go ahead and pack the innocent man his own lunch that would actually fill him up instead of the random shit you knew he just threw together in the morning while he was half awake.

You wrote him a simple note, ‘Hope you enjoy, love you!’ Leaving it on top of the food and putting it in the fridge hoping he’d appreciate the small gesture.

You’d forgotten all about it until Jake had made it back to your apartment that night. You weren’t expecting him but it was always a pleasant surprise when he did come over. Instead of his usual gentle kiss he all but bull rushed you into a corner before scooping you up and slathering you in a slew of kisses all over your face.

You started giggling feeling all too giddy with his lips all over and his hands roaming your waist, “Jake!” You couldn’t contain the laughter from the high of the interaction between you and him. God, you loved this man beyond measure.

“I love you soooo much.” He grinned once he pulled back. He made sure to go in for one, much longer, kiss on your lips before wrapping his

You kept on giggling not sure where this was all coming from. Not that you were complaining. Not in the slightest. It was refreshing to have a partner who was so forthcoming with how he felt. It was so different than any relationship you had been in prior.

“I love you too! Where’s this coming from?” You had to ask hoping it wouldn’t dampen his sweet mood.

“You packed me a lunch. Do you know how jealous the squadron was? Rooster couldn’t believe it. Phoenix was jealous as hell. Fanboy was all but begging for the sandwich you packed.” He snickered recalling the envious faces of his dagger coworkers.

You shook your head, “That was nothing babe.” You said as if it were nothing. Truth be told you were insecure about the whole thing. Not knowing if you overstepped a boundary or anything. The last time you tried to do something sweet like that for your ex you got scolded for wasting food because he didn’t ask you to pack him a lunch. You were careless and wasteful. You should’ve known it would’ve been different with Jake though. Everything was different when it came to Jake. The polar fucking opposite of the narcissistic guys you normally dated.

He shook his head setting you back down on the ground, “Nothing? Sweetheart! That was everything. Thank you. I love you.” He made sure to plant another soft, gentle kiss to your lips just to let you know how sincere he was being.

You grinned up to him, “Really, it was nothing.” You insisted before plating up dinner for the now two of you. You’d always made extra for lunch, so it wasn’t a hassle that he came. It was a pleasure to have his company when you were expecting to sit in silence or watch some silly rerun you’d seen a hundred times.

He eyed you knowing how hard it was for you to take compliments, “No sweetheart, that’s wifey material.” He watched your reaction seeing how’d you respond to that.

“Oh, is it?” You laughed it off setting a plate down in front of him at the table.

“Beyond.” He nodded before looking down at dinner, “And now my favorite for dinner? Like you were expecting me or something?” He gave you a grin knowing you loved the dish just as much as he did, “You’re spoiling me honey.”

You grabbed your own plate before joining him, “You deserve it. You do the same for me. Let me.”

He simply nodded his head happily grabbing at his fork, “If you insist.”

“Oh, I do babe, I do.” You gave his hand a gentle squeeze as the two of you fell into a comfortable rhythm taking about your day.

The next day at work you’d gotten a few texts from numbers you weren’t familiar with. When you finally got a second at your own lunch break to check you broke out into a grin seeing the video Bradley had sent you.

Jake was showing off the lunch you packed him to the overly jealous group of pilots. Who were all sing songing your praises.

‘You’re so lucky. My girlfriend told me to pack my own damn lunch.’ A male voice you didn’t recognize came through making you laugh.

Natasha’s unmistakable voice came next, ‘She’s too good to you Hangman.’

‘Trust me, I know.’ You heard your loves own voice sending your heart into a literal tizzy. How could he think that? If anything, it was the other way around. He was too damn good to you. You just merely tried to return the favor.

Bradley sent the video with the text, ‘You spoil him you know that? He’s become extra insufferable these last few days with your lunch specials.’ Bradley made sure to end the text with a wink letting you know he was just playing with you.

You dialed Jake’s number not sure if he was back in the skies or not. But the quick answer let you know he was still available.

“Sweetheart! Is everything okay?” he asked almost nervous for your call to him.

“All good babe.” You were grinning ear to ear, “Bradley sent me a video, enjoy your lunch?”

He chuckled. A sound you’d come to cherish over the course of your relationship with him, “Darlin’, I loved your lunch. Love your lunches. I’ve never felt so happy eating a lunch before. I’m the luckiest guy in the world. I’m being serious.” He admitted quieting down with the second part of that statement probably trying to hide it from his dagger squad members.

“I’m glad you like it hon. Just wanted to check in.” You spoke with a full on happy little smile dancing across your face. You weren’t sure what good you did to deserve a love so pure as his but damn were you thrilled you snatched it up when you could. A love so secure and sure, so positive and pure.

He clicked his tongue, “I’m going to make it up to you, tonight.”

You retuned his laugh from earlier, “Jake, that’s hardly necessary.”

You were sure he was shaking his head, “See that’s where your wrong sweetheart. It’s very necessary. I want to. What’d you say last night? Let me spoil you? Well, let me spoil you pretty.”

You wished you were at home with him right now and not separated by miles and a base, “Alright, if you insist.” You joked along with him.

“I insist. And I think you’ll like it, the surprise that is.” His voice deepened hinting at one thing and one thing only.

You twirled your hair in your hand letting your mind wander just a tad. With a love so sure it was only natural things came easily between the two of you in the bedroom, “Any hints?” You teased along with him.

“I think you have an idea sweetheart.” He didn’t miss a beat letting you know exactly what he had in mind. You, him and a lack of clothing or something like that.

You sighed internally looking at the time, only half past one. The day was going to drag on, “Can’t wait.” You let out after a quick pity party for yourself.

He gave you one last deep chuckle, “You can’t? I can’t wait to see that beautiful face.” You knew he could get a lot more… graphic with it. But he was likely standing right next to Bradley or Bob, and it wasn’t the time nor place.

Pursing your lips you stifled the laugh, “I’ll see you at my place tonight?”

“I’ll see you. Be ready. Love you.”

“And I love you.” You hummed before ending the call. Shaking your head, you placed the phone on the desk next to you. Focus. Just focus on this case for the next four hours then you had a night to Jake. You could do this. You could. Jake would surely be the death of you though. But you just couldn’t care. You were going to let yourself be distracted and happy. You were in love with the best man for you. Oh how happy life could be.

Jake Seresin/Top Gun: Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @mayhemmanaged @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891

Request Taglist: @mamachasesmayhem @t4medicroe @caitsymichelle13 @86laura11 @leawxlker @littleenglishfangirl @hookslove1592 @thekebs @elite4cekalyma @the-romanian-is-bae @solo2leo

[xclowniex]

I tried to ask spot-the-antisemitism but he went off on me for some reason and I don’t know why. So I’m just gonna ask you because I know you’re friends with her. Do you think Jujusjunk is going back to her old ways? I get that she’s been through a lot and I mean, hell she lived through a war I can’t imagine myself surviving but I mean, she’s changed a lot these past few months. I keep her and her family in my prayers always but she’s been on my mind alot recently. Do you think she’ll go back to being a hamasnik or go back to the juju we love? Also she hasn’t been rude to anyone, like at all. She still has frequent conversations but her points have changed and she’s posted some triggering posts. That’s all. I don’t mean this in a bad way I was just looking for how people she’s directly spoken to think. Nothing too big. I don’t get why he got mad.

I am going to explain to you why they went off on you as they were right to do so. I am going to be as respectful as I can when doing so as you are asking why you got a negative reaction.

She is a literal child, who was born in Jordan and either lived or currently lives in Lebanon, idk if she returned yet or not.

She is from two countries, which are not favourable towards Israel or jews. And this isn't even touching on the fact that she is Palestinian. Whilst palestinians aren't inherently antisemitic and assuming so is bigoted, she has mentioned before that her parents very much are of the group who are.

The rhetoric you are surronded by does very much influence you. She has literally done more than white liberals in the US to unpack all the antisemitism she is surronded by.

De-influencing yourself from harmful ideologies is not a linear journey, especially when you are palestinian and living/lived in Lebanon.

The wording of your ask gives off the vibe that you view juju as some blorbo palestinin muslim who you only play with when she does the thing you want her to do. She is not a toy, she is a human being, with complex thoughts and feelings. Whether or not that was your intention, that is the vibe your ask to me and your ask to @spot-the-antisemitism gives off.

The real red flag in your ask is the "Do you think she’ll go back to being a hamasnik or go back to the juju we love?"

That bit right there gives off the vibe there that your support for her unlearning antisemitic rhetoric, is contingent on her being at a certain point.

It is also extremely offensive that you are calling a palestinian who is putting in the hard work to unlearn antisemitism, a hamasnik. It is concerning how quickly it seems that you are able to get to that point. I want to be clear, that I am not saying that palestinians can never support hamas, as some do, the issue is with the fact that you jump to it so quickly, and ignore all the evidence which proves otherwise.

That bit also gives off the vibe that you do not view her as a real breathing and living human being.

In regards to the triggering posts, again she is a child working through a lot of complex thoughts and feelings. Even if she was an adult, my point still stands. When you ar working through the type of stuff she is, you are going to make triggering posts, comments, etc.

You are allowed to be offended or triggered by it, but the solution isn't to go "well she must be a terrible person now". The solution is to unfollow either temporarily for permently. You are responsible for curating your experience online.

Essentially, the vibe of your ask is that you expect juju to be this perfect person who is unpacking their antisemitism in a way which is digestible to you, and that is a messed up thing to think.

[transformation4life]

New Year New Ford

New year's Eve, 2023. 11:55pm. You were watching your local channel that had the New York Ball Drop. Like past new year's you were alone in your apartment. All your friends had got invited to parties besides you so here you were. However one of your friends handed you something interesting last you saw them. "I heard that if you blow the candle and make a wish right as midnight hits it'll come true!" Your friend said as he handed you a star candle.

It sounded like superstition but this year was rough for you as you found yourself unsatisfied with your life and your job so hey it can be worth a shot! You remembered that right before you went to watch the countdown you enviously scrolled Instagram to where you followed a concerning amount of bodybuilders. They seemed to have the perfect lives. Big beautiful body, a loving partner, sponsorships, and getting to show off. Just thinking about it makes you a lil' hard. One bodybuilder that you saw while scrolling caught your eye in particular. He looked so perfect... so large...

"If only I looked like him..." You mutter. Then you hear the people cheering on from 10 to 9 then 8 and so on. You look at the counter with the candle and a lighter and then the tv screen. It was a mad dash to light the candle and put it close to your face closing your eyes and speaking your wish. "I wish I was a bodybuilder with big huge muscles!" You blow out the candle right as it hit midnight.

You open your eyes again and find yourself looking the exact same. What a disappointment. Time for bed though you are very tired. You grab your green blanket and settle down on the couch as you snooze. Unbeknownst to you, your life was going to get a whole lot better.

As you slept, your body started to glow as your white pale skin became that of a bodybuilder tan for competitions. Your clothes evaporated from your body leaving you completely in the nude. Your body now started to expand in all directions. Your flat chest filled with meat and become thick pecs. Your arms became thick like trees. Abs popped in, shoulders becoming bigger, back widening. Your legs became thick and juicy like a drumstick. Your hands became calloused and worn and just a bit bigger. Your small pencil dick increase to a girthy 8 inches of a beer can while your adam's apple became more prominent and neck more thick. Your flat ass became large and bounced like a bubble. Your hair was cut into it was a buzzcut as your body physically aged. The transformation was now complete as you continued to rest. snoring in a much deeper tone.

As the morning came you were still fast asleep unaware that you had a completely new body.

You yawn as you awake not yet realizing your muscular body as you scratch your ass. You seem to forget that you were wearing clothes last night as you walk to your bathroom, letting your new dick dangle. You reach the mirror in the bathroom and rub your eyes and that's when you realize. "OH MY FUCKING GOD?!??!?!" You scream. You finally realized your body changed.

It wasn't long until you started to explore your new body, commenting on your new ass and big dick. While you tested out your new body the scenery around your bathroom became bigger and much more luxurious. In fact, Your entire apartment was remade into a much more massive house not that you knew this was happening. You just let your muscles captivate you. You closed your eyes and you put your massive arms to your head as you thought about your new life. As that was happening your bodybuilder tan slowly disappeared and a cross necklace wrapped itself around your neck and some workout shorts covered your member. No underwear though.

You eventually put your arms down as you realize you should probably check your phone to see if it changed in any way so you leave your bathroom completely blissful of the changes to both your house and bathroom. You head to your new bedroom and check your phone. Much to your surprise, there are notifications from many including dating apps. Seems like the new you gets around. You rub your head as you realize the reality of your new life is going to be a doosey.

As you ponder what to do next you feel something happening in your brain. You can feel your brain processing slowing down. Most academic knowledge you ever had being flushed down the metaphorical drain as it was replace with solely the need to bulk your already large body. You space out as this was happening and a little drool came out of your mouth before you snapped back to reality. The only thing on your mind now is to go to the gym and get RIPPED. So you grab the workout gear you suddenly now have and ride in your car to your favorite place in the world.

You arrive at the gym and scent of musk overwhelmed your nose and it felt like home. With it being the new year you see many new people but that doesn't stop your grind. You walk to the gym lockers and your instincts lead you to a locker with the name "Lunsford". You put your bag into the locker and get back to the gym floor. With ease and effort you work out for hours. You always loved that pump. After working out you adjust your sweaty tank and hand to the gym area with full body mirrors.

Once you arrived you immediately stripped into just underwear and socks and flexed. God you looked so good. You loved your body. You loved your life.

A few months later...

Your life has been such a breeze and you were invited to the beach with some bodybuilder friends you made over the months. In a cocky fashion you flex on the beach before stripping into your beach attire.

was only a matter of time until someone wanted a picture or a video of you. With the first person who asks you put on some shades you had in one of your pockets and put them on, only to take them off immediately after and wink at the camera.

"it's going to be a good year!" You say to yourself as you jog to the water with glee.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Hey everyone! Late new year story for ya! Hope this year brings you good fortune and fun! See you in the next story!

[classiccowboy]

instagram j.b.

summary: follow along with joe and his WIFE evie as they go through his football career.

*face claim is yasmin quintana*

series masterlist.

liked by bengals, joeyb_9, and 983,729 others…

evie: honeymoon avenue.

view all 4,738 comments…

user: i love you guys together!

> evie: 💗💗

user: am i the only one that doesn’t like her?

> millyg: it’s the jealousy in you.

> user: i don’t see how anyone can’t like her, she’s so nice!

user: yikes

joeyb_9: no complaints, probably the best avenue out there.

> evie: thanks for your input, i totally agree.

> millyg: gtfo you guys 🤣

joeyb_9

liked by evie, lahjay10_, and 902,519 others

joeyb_9: we will send a post card.

view all 5,739 comments…

user: nooooo that’s two times in a row he’s posted ev

> user: they are literally married now, she’s not going anywhere.

user: in his *husband* era

user: i can’t stomach this

millyg: still mad i got left at home.

> user: i don’t like them together, im not jealous or anything something just feels off.

> user: i think that means your jealous.

evie: the views were 10/10

> joeyb_9: i was only looking at you.

> lahjay10_: 🧀🧀🧀

evie

liked by joeyb_9, millyg, and 810,826 others

evie: some small things…🤍

view all 3,738 comments…

user: i’m SO single

user: she doesn’t have to rub it in

user: NOT THE PRETTY GIRL. ladies he is everything..

user: if he wanted to he would

millyg: not joes failed cursive attempt

> evie: it wasn’t TERRIBLE 🤣

user: being with joe burrow is this girls whole personality

joeyb_9: the prettiest pretty girl.

> evie: 😭💗

user: so when are we expecting the divorce?

user: take notes fellas

user: joe and ev being so taylor coded makes me sick

> evie: swifties are superior, even if jb likes to pretend he isn’t one.

joeyb_9

liked by obj, evie, and 1,785,002 others

joeyb_9: had the basketball versus football convo too many times

view all 2,372 comments…

user: low key forgot you weren’t just some guy from cincinnati

> evie: THE guy from cincinnati

obj: Da boyyyyyyyy

user: tough. basketball tho

> evie: wrong answer. 😭

user: Joey B is A list now

evie: it was so nice of you to take photos with a few fans today.

> joeyb_9: 😎

> user: ev is coming for those opps

user: not him hanging with obj

user: such a weeb

evie

liked by millyg, joeyb_9, and 1,037,927 others

evie: went to something called a white party?

view all 2,801 comments…

user: you win

user: he actually took you with him?

> evie: i actually got invited to come with him.

> user: standing on business.

user: YOU MISSED TAYLOR FOR THIS?????

> evie: marriage is about sacrifice.

joeyb_9: 🥵🥵🥵

user: this is everything

user: that joe pic is my new background thanks

> evie: charity work is my passion.

user: i keep coming back to look at this post

user: second pic sent me into cardiac arrest.

> evie: you should’ve seen it in person.

joeyb_9

liked by bengals, lahjay10_, and 710,991 others

joeyb_9: “It’s time to go mobile.”

view all 3,729 comments…

user: YESSIR

lahjay10_: My step brother

> evie: hell yeah

user: do you want my mobile phone number

> evie: he doesn’t have a mobile phone.

> user: you are so funny mrs. burrow. 🤣💀

> user: why are you always so rude?

> user: she isn’t rude, but she’s always going to let us know that’s her man. don’t play like you wouldn’t do the same thing if random girls were coming at your bf with this kind of shit.

> user: i agree, she isn’t being rude but she’s never really let people show blatant disrespect for their relationship. even when they were in college.

tylerboyd: levels

> evie: BIG LEVELS

evie: you’re so hot. there is said it.

joeyb_9: 🪞

user: return of shiesty

user: YEAH BABYYYY

evie

liked by bengals, lahjay10_, and 810,003 others

evie: volume 4. 🤍🧡🖤

view all 2,761 comments…

user: you’re special

user: do you ever get sick of having to pretend to be interested in football?

> evie: never pretending.

user: he needs a tall blonde that has a brain.

> evie: my masters in marketing is offended.

user: i’m so excited to see the team smash it this year!

joeyb_9: very big fan of this.

> evie: your sunnies really tie it together.

> user: not you sharing sunnies. 😭

user: i love ev truly, but im also jealous of her.

> evie: i’m not sure what to say here. 🤣💗

joeyb_9

liked by evie, bengals, and 789,524 others

joeyb_9: Mask off.

view all 2,751 comments…

user: clothes off

> evie: the clothes will stay on. (for now) 🤪

user: Burrow is back!

user: solid W

evie: put the mask back on, i can’t think straight.

> joeyb_9: keep it on all night?

> user: i wish i could unsee this

> user: joe. please. this has to stop.

user: i’ll never quit you.

evie’s instagram stories:

a/n: hiiii. i’m going to finish this series up in the next post so i can work on some of the other requests i have. if you guys are interested in me continuing it once the new season starts let me know and i’ll see what i can do. thanks for all the love on this, you guys rock. and as always im taking request so if you have an idea i’d love to hear it.

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Invisible Angsty Ending

this post contains dark and triggering content. please read with caution.

here is the link to invisible 1

https://www.tumblr.com/sidesplashofsainz/747013673029189632/hiya-could-you-write-something-with-charles-x?source=share

you guys are free to request as much fluff as y’all’s want after this post 🫶🏻

6.1K characters 1.4K words🎀

You had the worst sleep of your life that night, head-pounding, mind-racing thoughts running wild. It all fell down. 

Often you struggled with your mental health, always having Charles with you to guide you out of the shady corners of your mind, but alas, this time Charles wasn’t there to help you; he didn’t even notice how badly you were crumbling right before his very own eyes. 

The worst part about fighting with Charles would be the morning after, when you wake up all foggy, forgetting about the issues of the night before believing that everything is normal. Anticipating your husband’s soft yet scratchy kisses, his sleepy voice, messy hair, and hour-long cuddles.

Unfortunately, by the time you awoke, your husband had already left, not even bothering to leave you a note or a text explaining his whereabouts.

This resulted in you spiraling out of control; your thoughts were getting too much for your head to contain, and your mind was replaying everything that you could have possibly done wrong to cause Charles to act this way.

You replayed how mad he looked in the car, how he didn’t even kiss you goodnight, how he didn’t compliment your dress that you specifically wore for him, and how he left you alone in the crowded room. You thought about how maybe you just weren’t pretty enough for him anymore, how your legs were too big, how you had scars on your body due to years of self-harm, and how you didn’t look like the other drivers girlfriends. Maybe that’s why your husband was mad at you??. 

You knew what you were doing was destructive and that you would simply regret it as soon as you opened your social media accounts, looking at all the nasty comments that people left about how you “were a waste of space” and how “if I were Charles, I would simply cheat on you because you look like a bitch." There were hundreds of thousands of messages saying you were the reason that Charles was failing at Ferrari. It really hurt reading everything, but what hurt even more was that your husband’s actions made you believe that 

Everything was your fault. 

Everything that happened over the last two days made you pick up your hidden stash of sharp blades, something you’d hidden from Charles, never mentioning it to him, as you never thought that you’d need to use it. 

You started slashing hard and quickly feeling the emotion drip out of you alongside the blood that was slowly pooling and staining the white tiles that you so happily had picked out. 

Cold, oh, so very cold. If there was one word that could be used to describe you in that very moment, it was cold. You didn’t know if it was the bathroom tiles that made you feel cold or if it was the deep gash that took all the heat away from your body. All you knew was that you were very cold. 

Charles was upset; he felt betrayed by your words. It felt like a knife to his chest, making him feel useless. He knew that Ferrari was not where it used to be, but he really wanted to bring the team back to life. In his rage, he failed to realize that he had left you alone to find your own way back to the car. He didn’t know why he was being such a prick; he just wanted you to feel what he was feeling—deep pain and hurt.

The car ride was uncomfortable, to say the least. Charles’s eyes were everywhere except on his wife. He failed to see how scared she looked or how small she felt next to him. Charles had always promised to make her feel safe and comfortable with him; if Charles could see this one, he’d probably wack him in the dick. 

When they finally reached home, Charles didn’t bother to walk up with her; he went straight down to get a glass of scotch. He didn’t want to get into an argument with her; he simply wasn’t interested. 

It was half past midnight when he wandered into his bedroom. He walked past his wife’s slightly shaking figure. He registered her red eyes, and he had to restrain himself from holding her close to him and letting her fall apart in his arms. 

He simply looked at her and turned around to stare at the ceiling, feeling foreign to him. 

He woke up a lot earlier than he normally did, feeling bitter and tired. He wanted to turn around and wrap his arms around you. He wanted to plaster your face with kisses and make sure that there were no dark clouds looming over your precious little head. 

He didn’t do anything; he just woke up and left for a meeting with Ferrari. Little did he know that the aftermath of his actions would be catastrophic. 

When Charles got back, he felt weird, as if he had a ton of bricks on his chest. The house was quite quiet, there wasn’t any noise stating that you were up, and the radio was off, which was unusual for him since you loved listening to music, especially when he was out. 

He felt his heart beating faster than it ever had, something in him holding him back from opening the bathroom door, almost as if his mind knew that after what he saw in the bathroom, he would never be the same. 

The door didn’t open immediately; there was something heavy blocking the entrance. It took Charles some strength to open up the door. What he saw inside would haunt him until his last breath. 

His y/n, his wife, the love of his life, was lying there cold to the touch, her lips blue, with a deep gash on her wrist. 

She was dead. She had killed herself. She had left Charles forever. She would never be coming back. 

No more morning kisses. No more cuddles. No more comforting words after shit races. No more soft smiles. No more blushing cheeks after compliments from him. No more y/n 

Charles was never the same after that day. The day he buried his wife was the day he buried himself. He never got to apologize to her. He never got to tell her that he accepted Horner's offer. He never got to say that he loved her. He never got to kiss her rosy lips. 

Her last words to him still haunted him 30 years after she passed away. “Prick,” he remembered her tearful face as she said those final words to him. 

Y/N felt invisible after they had argued; now she truly was invisible. Charles had broken his promise to make her feel safe and comfortable around him, so she broke her own promise just so that they would be even. 

[theabigailthorn]

Surely with how popular you are you would have had a few cancelling attempts, but you're drama free. How? I thought you'd be target number 1 with TERFs.

So the thing is, people on the internet have and do try to wreck my life! But it's true that I get less of it than a lot of other women, and I often ask myself (and them) this same question. I think it comes down to a few factors. In no particular order:

I'm white and thin

I don't post selfies very often

The Philosophy Tube Jutsu: I never use my platform to say anything bad about individuals, so I don't make enemies

I'm British

I don't put my pronouns or the word 'trans' in my bio. I mention it if it it's relevant but to a casual troll looking for someone to go after there are more obvious targets

My brand: in terms of online content, my brand is 'Educational and Compassionate.' I try to be even-handed and listen to all sides and never be angry, and people are maybe a bit reluctant to get mad at someone who does that? In terms of acting, my brand right now is 'I'm Trying Hard and I'm On My Way Up!' which I guess people like?

I have a posh accent

I don't make online content about video games

I'm pretty enough that men like looking at me but not so hot it makes them angry

I transitioned in private before I came out publicly. I knew that when I did I'd get a lot of backlash, so I pre-emptively muted LOADS of words in my comments section and wove a kind of digital safety net

I'm so busy that I often miss whatever the discourse du jour is and don't get involved. As a wise woman once said, 'Do Not Tweet.'

I deliberately dress and present myself as 'classy' in public-facing stuff

Most of my content is scripted, so by default it attracts people who like to sit down and listen

Philosophy Tube is literally all about critical thinking and not taking things at face value. So if a typical Philosophy Tube Subscriber sees a post that says 'I saw Abigail Thorn kicking a puppy down the street!' they're more likely to stop and think, 'What's the evidence for this?' This means that when there are hate campaigns and lies spread about me (and there are, from time to time) my core audience sees through it and sticks around

I have very good mods! Big shout out to all the lovely people on r/philosophytube and all the people who moderate my livestream chats!

I have a social media manager who can look out for hate and pre-emptively guard against it

I don't hitch my brand to other people. I sometimes do little collabs or appear at events with other creators but for the most part I fly solo. That means if another creator blows up or posts something awful I minimise my chances of cancellation-by-association. I'm friends with lots of creators but for the most part I keep it behind the scenes (Learned this one the hard way!)

I'm not a sex worker. Those people get hate like you wouldn't believe - the sex workers I know are the toughest folks I've ever met!

I'm not very fun to bully! I do get death threats and hate campaigns and people make fake porn of me and libel me and all that stuff - literally every day - I just never talk about it publicly so trolls don't get the satisfaction of seeing me get upset. I just mute and block and move on silently. When I have to talk to a lawyer or the police about someone causing a problem, I handle it behind the scenes

Platform size. When TERFs in British media go after someone they tend to pick on people smaller than them, cause they're bullies.

I built my platform slowly, so I've had time to adjust and get used to how it impacts my life

People have tried to cancel me in the past and it's blown up in their faces, e.g. the Trump Transition Tweet Incident and the B*ck A*gel Affair.

To be absolutely clear, a LOT of this is luck and privilege. I'm not trying to blame the victims of online harassment: yes, some of these factors are things I choose to do but not everyone is able to make those choices. It's also the unwinnable game of respectability politics: yes I might get less hate because of the way I dress or whatever, but fundamentally that won't protect me if I get arrested and sent to a men's prison. These things aren't a substitute for a more just distribution of power. There's also this final possible factor:

It just hasn't happened yet.

[antiyourwokehomophobia2]

I got to be so real I kind of have mixed feelings about this post, and I'm not as mad rereading it as I was the first time I read it.

On one hand, I kind of agree that doing fucked up things to a fictional character doesn't necessarily mean that you're bad.

If I write a story in which a child is put to death, I'm not suddenly in favor of children dying. The person who wrote "the lottery" isn't in favor of people being stoned to death just because they wrote about it. I write stories all the time where characters are subject to homophobia or racism or general bigotry and I'm obviously not in favor of those things. However, there's a reason some stories that deal with the same subject matter are better received than others. There's a reason that even though "Avatar: the last Airbender" was written by two white men it's not called racist like some other works by white creators that handle POC.

I feel like the idea that how you approach fiction and fictional characters says absolutely nothing about you is insane.

If you watch a piece of media and then you go to write fanfiction about the media and you give all the white characters a good, happy ending but give all of the black characters sad ones where they're beaten to death, I absolutely think that says something about you! If you read/watch media with a fictional child and immediately want to write a story in which that child is raped by one of their parents, I absolutely think that says something about you and your character! The characters might be fictional, but you are not. Your choices do not exist in a vacuum. Why do you want to produce and see media where people of color end up unhappy and/or dead? Why do you want to write a lot of non-con? why do you want to see two siblings fuck?

Even though you didn't do anything to anybody in real life, I have to side eye why you're obsessed with seeing and writing that type of content. If you're writing a rape scene just because you like it (you don't comment on it or anything. In fact, it hardly ever comes up again) then yea, I do think you're probably a bit fucked up.

A white woman who writes all of her black male characters as "big" and "manly" and "dangerous" and "dominant" is absolutely revealing something about herself through her fiction! Maybe the fake black guy isn't being objectified since he's not real, but you can't seriously tell me that the white woman who wrote him has not revealed anything about how she views black men lmao. You can't tell me you'd seriously believe her when she says she's not racist.

I mean this site in particular talks all the time about the way certain groups are portrayed by certain authors. This site will be the first to cancel authors who write marginalized people in an unsavory light. If you think the fiction you consume doesn't matter, then you can never say anything about representation mattering ever again. A black child who only ever sees white characters cannot be influenced by that because fiction doesn't matter, right? You can't cancel an author for being racist. So what if all of their characters of color are portrayed as violent and evil? If what you write doesn't say anything about you, then that author is not racist at all!

I mean, seriously. How many authors have been canceled because they wrote black characters in a way that left the viewers with a bad taste in their mouths? How you choose to treat fictional characters absolutely says something about you!

I understand that fiction is how a lot of people deal with stuff. If something bad happened to you when you were a kid, you might want to see your favorite character go through that and overcome it, but the thing is: I feel like there's a line. I feel like too many of you use past trauma to justify what has honestly just become a paraphilia. Some of you don't read media about SA because you were SA'd and are trying to deal with it; you read it because you have a 'kink' for it. Too many of you hide under "healing" when you genuinely just get off on seeing fucked up things happen to characters. It's no secret that people who have experienced trauma sometimes go on to become abusive and perverse themselves.

The things that you enjoy and dedicate time to absolutely say something about you! Whether you think it says something good or bad doesn't matter, but the idea that it just exists in a vacuum and says absolutely nothing about your character and who you are as a person is quite frankly insane!

Even if you're writing it because you're trying to deal with trauma that happened to you or you're trying to create a safe space for people who have been through fucked up stuff, that says something about your character and who you are as a person. The stories you dedicate your time to reading and writing absolutely reveal who you are. We talk endlessly about the misogyny of male writers in the past and present. If posts like the one linked were true, then it wouldn't matter if a man spent all day writing stories where every single female character of his is treated like shit and assaulted. Media would be entirely unable to be criticized because the fictional characters aren't real and thus how you treat them says nothing. If a man with three daughters wrote a story where a fictional father SA'd all three of his children, that wouldn't be cause for concern at all? It'd say absolutely nothing about him? You wouldn't side eye him? You wouldn't be concerned if a primary school teacher spent all day writing stories where children are molested? You would send your child to a school with a teacher like that and be completely and utterly okay because "the fiction you write and consume says nothing"?

Of course there is nuance, but I don't like the way this post seems to absolve anyone into fucked up fictional stuff of guilt. No, reading and writing fucked up stuff does not *automatically* make you bad, but if you're doing it uncritically and because you get off on it, I'm not gonna pretend that's irrelevant to who you are as a person.

[thisismeracing]

King of my heart | extras | Yn tells Lewis she's dating Mick

― Summary: Yn and Mick finally broke the friendship barrier and started something else. It's time Yn tells her brother what's going on between her and his teammate. ― Word count: 1k ― A/n: This can be read as a stand-alone, but it’s better when you’ve read the series. ― Warnings: curse words; mention of anxiety; typos - not proofread.

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There was a knock at Lewis' hotel door and he rushed to open it, confusion written on his face since nobody told him someone would show up. The second he opened the big wooden door he smiled, though it only lasted for the blink of an eye because he quickly gathered how Yn seemed apprehensive.

His sister was wearing one of his Merc white shirts paired with sweatpants and slippers. Her curls were up in her head messily gathered together by a colorful hair tie.

"Hey, bitsy, what's up?" he asked while opening the door wider for her to get inside. Yn did exactly that, running to one of the big armchairs in the room and folding herself there like a cat would.

"How would you feel if I told you I'm dating someone?" She asked before Lewis could say anything else. That was his sister, she would rush through things when nervous, too many expectations would make her feel sick and Yn hated feeling sick, so it was normal for her to just blurt her questions or confessions whenever something important was on the line, just like she was doing at the moment.

Lewis arched his brows, "Ok, I guess, as long as you're happy. But do you think you're ready for a new relationship?" he asked genuinely interested in her answer.

"I don't know, but I really like him, Lew. And I always wanna be around him, it's just...I- mhm I've never felt like this before." She confessed, eyes cast down. It wasn't that Yn was afraid of Lewis judging her because he would never, but he was her older brother and she held his opinion on the highest space. She was just afraid to let him down.

"I'm happy for you guys, then. Is Mick going to tell me too or-"

"Wait! How'd you know it's Mick?" Yn eyed Lewis up and down and he gave her one of his signature laughs.

"You think you're folling people? Be for real, Yn. Everyone knows or suspects. And even if you weren't obvious, I'm your older brother, I know you. I knew you were interested in him from day one didn't I?"

Yn huffed, rolled her eyes, got up, and then crashed on the oldest Hamilton hugging him.

"Thank you. I was a bit taken aback, afraid you were gonna be mad because I kind of promised to stay away."

"I knew if you truly liked him you wouldn't be able to stay away, bitsy."

She breathed in his scent and took a step back. Lewis caught a single tear on her cheek and held her face with both of his hands.

"You're safe with me. Spill it," his gentle tone made yet another tear roll down, and Yn chuckled holding back a sob.

"I'm afraid." Her voice was a weak whisper, but the British heard her perfectly. "I think things may be happening too fast, and I want them to go like this, but I'm also scared of all the attention we're getting. I mean, everyone is talking about us, and we haven't even started dating officially. I'm scared of how this can go and I don't want you to be caught in the crossfire, Lew. The media is always looking for things to point out when you're the subject and I-"

"Hey, breathe." Lewis held her face tighter as if by doing so he was holding her together too. Yn closed her eyes, breathed in and out following his lead, and then they sat on the edge of the bed. "Don't worry about me. I'm the oldest. I can take care of myself." There was a hint of humor in his comment and Yn chuckled.

"I know, but-"

"No, Bitsy. No buts. Stop worrying about me. I'm happy you're with Mick. If I had to choose a guy from the Grid it would most likely be him. I've seen the way he treats you and how careful he is with you. He's a good guy. Please, don't let your anxiety get in the way. People will talk about us it doesn't matter if we do things right or wrong, at the end of the day, you do what you gotta do to be happy, you hear me?"

Yn nodded, tears flowing down her face again. "Thank you, Lew."

"You don't have to thank me, Yn. I always going to have your back. Now, where's your phone, I wanna talk to your boyfriend."

She rolled her eyes chuckling, "he's not my boyfriend...we haven't discussed titles yet."

"You two are so oblivious," Lewis rolled his eyes exaggeratedly and unlocked Yn's phone, "if you change your password to his birthday instead of mine, I will be hurt," he tried to lighten the mood again, already searching through her contacts for the Schumacher's name.

"Hey, Mick...Can you come to my room real quick? I gotta talk to you...Yeah, my sister is crying here, and...yeah...yeah...I'm waiting."

"What the heck, Lewis?!" Yn screeched and Lewis just laughed.

It was barely a minute after and there were frantic knocks at the door. Lewis got up to answer and Yn buried her face in her hands, embarrassed by whatever prank her brother wanted to throw.

When Mick got inside he had his cheeks flushed from using the stairs and eyes wide, "what happened?" he asked and Lewis crossed his arms trying to hold back his laughter.

"Nothing, Mick. I told him about us and he wanted to prank you or embarrass us together, I dunno," Yn got up from the bed and she smiled at his reluctant face. His eyes were traveling between the siblings, but his body was turned in Yn's direction.

"Well, there goes my older brother's fun," the Hamilton sighed, and Yn rolled her eyes yet again that night, walking to Mick and hugging him. "Welcome to the family, Schumacher," Lewis smiled at the blonde.

"I'm sorry to inform you that it can get crazier than this." Yn adverted.

"I won't mind it if it means I got you," he whispered and she smiled.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: It's been forever since I last updated it, but I'm gonna start working on it, I promiseeee <3 we're having this series finished in no time! I hope you guys liked this extra, let me know your thoughts by leaving a comment/ask and reblogging *mwah*.

Taglist: @sachaa-ff @ferrariloverr @mellowpizzapuppy @mickslover @dalsuwaha @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @non-stop-imagines @iloveyou3000morgan @crimeshowjunkie @saintlewis @fdl305 @carojasmin2204 @chaoticevilbakugo @wondergirl101ks @smiithys @shhhchriss @f1kota @lunnnix @leclercsluv @baby-is-crying @balekane_mohafe @uuuseeerrr12 @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @81astri @pinksstrawberry @callsign-scully @moonyschocolate3 @v1naco @dearxcherry @p8dris (let me know if your tag was supposed to be only for my other works and you don’t wanna be tagged on the series! <3)