#and it’s not like it’s ever been made evident to those in my life

[worstgenerationloser]

,, Original sin. ''

Summary... Once a human woman turned into a vampire by Dracule Mihawk, your anger towards him turned you into a raging tyrant. With your reign abruptly ended by a stab in the back, you barely manage to crawl to the catacombs and into your coffin. You wake up remembering all, and you seek out sustenance... which, is blood.

Impending bite... Nico Robin.

Word count... 5.6k

Fic Masterlist... click here!

A/N: comments and reblogs are appreciated the very most! tell me which part was the best, or what you're looking forward to in the story! YOU MIGHT BE DISSAPOINTED ROBIN IS FIRST UP but me personally? im from scissor city.

One step after another, your feet guided you slowly throughout the halls in a calculated waltz. Living in a recently established castle surrounded by nothing but lake and the sea of bones of past victims, you came to realize the fog outdoors was normal, as were the bumbling acolytes dancing throughout the halls in a rush to wherever it is they go, stopping to bow politely for you.

Everything under the blood-soaked moon was yours. Eternal life, devout followers, an endless supply of blood in the nearby empire, and most important of all is the fact you wiped out that pesky family of vampire hunters. Once a newly deceased woman, you sobbed and wallowed in misery at the realization that even though you lived on, it was as one of the undead; Then the sorrow was replaced by the thrill of power. You must’ve gained a god complex, though at the time that wasn’t exactly terrible, all constantly failed to surprise you, and it kept your mind at ease knowing you were in no danger whatsoever.

Mistress of the dark, that you were, a cruel one you may have been, but you were unmatched by all. Once again, you were entirely superior. It was out of the goodness in your heart that you shared a glimpse of a long and luxurious life with those who were known as your acolytes and for that, they sent you offerings, they hunted your prey themselves because the poor things absolutely couldn’t handle a sad, short, pathetic human life. Ah, you seem to have reminisced quite a bit about yourself. No need for embarrassment, the peak of what was once a human is you after all, that does give you the right to brag. But you suppose you aren’t a human at this point in time, you are beyond what one’s fragile mind can understand about the unknown and the supernatural. 

“My beloved mistress, am I worthy of a speck of your time today?”  A formal and feminine voice spoke, you registered Ophelia as the woman choosing to converse with you. Time was of the essence in your day, for the night is never eternal, and you were making sure to reiterate those words to her as well.

“It is of the essence, so foolishly standing around awaiting one’s answer will be for naught. Speak, girl.” You spoke with a tone as commanding and biting as ever, the same used towards even the most noble of people, you condescend her entire being with a few words and only the choice to simply endure it was presented to her. It wasn't your fault she was so insignificant, despite being blessed enough to join your council of advisors.

Safe to say, it’s evident you had a very backwards way of thinking. It was as if you were the only true one in the world at the time, and that thought alone allowed you to think it right to do whatever to whomever. Maybe it was something hiding within you that prompted you to think in such a way… It had been so long, however, that you had nearly forgotten the fangs which had sunken into your neck, the cold hands that gripped your body, the burning sensation which coursed through your veins and stopped your beating human heart, the humanity slipping away while something more sinister took place. There was new blood in your veins— and it was his.

Those yellow eyes that never seemed to miss a single thing, like a hawk. The man who made you turn.

Dracule Mihawk.

Though your dead body is already cold as ice, you can’t help but feel a chill run throughout your body as you remember that man. Here you lie, tucked away in your coffin deep underground your castle, residual anger taking place in your mind and forcing you to awaken. All that is visible is the underside of the cushioned lid placed atop you, and though you feel weaker now than you were as a human all those years ago, you push it off, flinching at the noise of it clanging against the floor after many years of complete silence.

Slowly rising, it was as if you were learning how to walk again, your thighs shook while your knees wished to give out on you, and your arms were shaky while you tried your best to sit upwards. A primal hunger was present in your entire being, and the bats flying about certainly wouldn’t do, as you know, blood tastes best the larger and more sentient ones victim is.

“Ah, these statues must be a thousand years old at the very least! What a wonderful find.”

A voice echoes through the dusty walls and hallways which confined you, the clacking of shoes against the stone floors coming closer. You are weak, you need to eat something, and it looks like whoever this young woman is will have to do. Silencing your soft grunts, you dragged your bare feet against the floor, dust and dirt being kicked up and flung about into the air. Would you be able to pull off spontaneous feeding in a weakened state like so? Again, it’s not like you have a choice. She’s closer, you can hear her exasperated breathing.

“Everything’s in such perfect condition… What a find.” You hear the woman chuckle. Maybe you should make the first move.

“Hello? W–Who’s there?” Barely managing a stutter, your voice sounds a bit worried and panicked, just enough to convince anyone clueless and naive enough that it's genuine. Considering the way she was appraising your decorations, you’ve concluded quite a bit of time has passed, and she must have a knack for identifying things of old and exploring– either both or one or the other. The sounds of walking stills, before continuing, a bit more hesitant. A hum reverberates throughout the room, light approaching at the same pace and there she is. A raven-haired beauty, one with eyes of ocean blue and a long slender nose, paired with a silver dagger. Fuck. If you were to try and pounce on her, she has the upper hand, you really can’t do anything in such a state, so you only have one more card to play, innocent and lost.

“May I ask who you are, miss? It’s odd to encounter someone in century-old ruins.” Her eyes are narrowed, and she’s clearly suspicious of you. Her grip on the dagger is evidently growing tighter.

“I apologize, I’m from a rural area… Eh, I seem to have gotten lost exploring and… Well, it’s really embarrassing for me to admit, and I’ve been underground here for a bit.” Without rambling on and omitting too much, you seem to have put the woman’s mind at ease if just a bit. You take in the little information you gained– century old ruins are what she called your hidden chambers, normally you would have taken offense but you are a changed woman now. Does this count as a second re-awakening?

“You will be reawakened wholly…” The memory of that man’s words echo through your head, making you swallow harshly. It’s frightening all over again. Nope, absolutely no second re-awakening.

“I see… Do you also have an interest in archaeology and history? I came to consider the legend of the last vampire, oddly enough all history of such a person seems to have decayed, besides this castle… Someone covered it up, for sure, but I can’t seem to figure out why… Perhaps another vampire? An accomplice, but a vampire specifically working with another seems most likely. There were a few scriptures scattered and—” The woman keeps talking for a while, and it makes you even less interested in yourself, at one point you seem to tune it out. But, you watch as she hides her dagger away in its sheath, her hand still holding onto the handle.

She clears her throat, snapping you out of your trance.

“I’m Nico Robin, an archaeologist. You are?” Robin finally formally introduces herself, seeming a bit more friendly and under the impression that you actually listened to her theories and minute long rant. Actually, you managed to listen to about half of it, so all's well that ends well– this has yet to end though. One last look at the scattered bones across the dusted cobblestone floor and you speak up again, finally introducing yourself.

“Ah, that's quite a unique name. So, would you like some shoes?” For a moment you choke and sputter, looking down at your bare feet. You haven’t been embarrassed in centuries, and the feeling is entirely unwelcome. She’s probably super suspicious of you now, and if not then she’s really pitying you.

“Yes, please. My feet are sore from walking aimlessly.” You joke softly, laughing humorlessly while her face stays blank. After setting down her oil lamp, Robin takes off the backpack slung around one of her shoulders, rummaging around and pulling out a pair of black leather boots, placing them into your hands. You drop them to the floor, trying your best to clear your cold feet from dirt and grime, before haphazardly slipping them on. There's strings attached to them, and they are loose around your ankles, it seems like a stupid design and it makes you wonder what other useless inventions were made.

“Do you not know how to tie your laces, miss?” Laces? What on earth was she talking about? The boots were made of leather, and there wasn't even a single clipping of lace adorning them. Is this some modern day slang the young women use?

“Uh… I guess not. I am barefoot more often than not.” Your voice is a murmur, it isn't entirely a lie, but you are much more used to shoes without these… stringy contraptions strewn across their surface. Maybe you made yourself look suspicious by not knowing how to “tie your laces” but if this is fashion these days, maybe it's not so bad if you’re eternally slain by her.

“Allow me, then. You seem sickly, I think maybe I should show you the way out.”

She drops to her knees before you, it reminds you of when you received voluntary blood offerings… Blood. You will only get weaker from here on out if you don't feed soon, and this Robin woman seems to be a good candidate, all you need to do is win her over and earn her trust, disarm her and feed off of her… but she has shown you a bit of kindness, so it wouldn't do too much harm to loosen up a bit. But you can't allow yourself to rely on someone so much again, remembering Ophelia's actions was disheartening— you can't allow yourself to be fooled once more by somebody else, much less a pathetic excuse of a human as she was. And you can't let what happened with that man repeat. 

Maybe you should forget about Mihawk for a second considering that just mentioning his name to yourself alone makes you feel as if he's already watching you. A cold hand comes to accidentally touch near the bottom of your calf, and time seems to still for a second. Are you…? No, this just cannot be. It’s pathetic, but you seem to feel a bit tingly against the touch of another. Exactly how far has oneself fallen? From making people crumble from the scrape of your fangs against their veins, to crumbling against a cold and accidental touch. Embarrassment takes over once again, and your lungs start to withhold air from you in an attempt to take your mind off of it. Robin is still tying your “laces” , which you can easily assume are the strings attached to the pair of leather boots she has given you. The foolish observation from earlier is still fresh in your mind. How utterly embarrassing for someone of your caliber.

“I’ve finished tying them. Now, would you like some help getting out? You mentioned that you have been down under for quite some time. I know the way out, but we will have to go through the castle to get aboveground. I assume you’ve entered from the underground tunnels in the forest, but the moon has risen… best to steer clear of there. I’m sure you know why.”

It’s definitely not thrilling hearing someone explain to you how to get out of the catacombs you asked to be implemented under your own castle, but you know you should try not to arouse suspicions too early into your first meeting with a scholar— specifically this one. She came armed to a vampire's castle with a dagger of silver, a known weakness of your kind.

“The wolves.” You nod, trying to hide the scowl peeking onto your face. Werewolves, the scum of the earth. Though, you would argue that you hate Emperor Romanov from your time the most. It's hypocrisy at its finest coming from you, but you hate people who try to stand above all else and crumble whomever beneath their soles. Maybe Ophelia knocked some sense into you when she drove that fine elven blade of silver into your heart, or maybe you have always known you were a bit of a tyrant.

“Let's go, then.” Robin spoke, prompting you to join her, you can't help but notice the appeal in her smile, the way she struts about with utmost confidence, the dip in her back, the curve of her hips, the smirk on her lips— though, you, of course, would never ogle a woman in such a manner. It's just that it's been a while since you've been awake, and she's easy on the eyes, why on earth would you think like a man? She bends down to pick up the oil lamp she brought with her, and your eyes are still drawn to her.

It's simply your appetite talking, of course. You two head down throughout the dusty and spider infested halls, the clacking of both of your shoes is a tad bothersome.

“Miss Y/N. How did you come to know of this place?” Robin begins to question, her tone non-accusatory. She looks back at you with a curious look, in fact.

“I’ve always been fascinated by the supernatural…  And I get a thrill out of exploring. I scout out places occasionally, and I sometimes find small artifacts.”

Ah yes, building onto your small storyline once more, would this classify as roleplay? Softening your voice, you reach into your pocket— if you can begin to have her let her guard down by showing a bit of “proof” you are in fact an explorer, then it would likely make it easier to feed off of her. It wasn't like you could avoid her anyways, if she knew you were a vampire, she could do a lot worse than be horrified. You pull out an old stopwatch of yours, a century or two old, that makes it around two to three centuries old in total. Surely if this woman truly has an eye for antiques, she would appreciate such an item.

“I found this on my way in. It's certainly splendid.” You put on a smile, walking a bit faster to catch up, holding out the stopwatch in the palm of your hand. Robin pauses and gasps as her eyes widen, her hand comes to brush against yours, her manicured fingers are cold as she takes the watch from your hands.

Suspended in the air by its chain, the dim source of light gleams off of the metallic surface, and it makes you just a little uneasy looking at the watch. It’s like there is something buried deep inside your psyche that just refuses to come back despite the fact that you have impeccable memory, almost as if your body knows you aren’t ready. The watch was yours, but you can’t seem to recall who gave it to you… 

 “Does the air here seem a tad thick to you, as well? We should hurry. There’s no full moon, but dangers persist no matter what. The walls could cave in on us, and we would end up being nothing more than splatters of red.” 

Robin comments, placing the stopwatch back into your hand. She’s more odd than you initially thought, but individuality is part of being human. A chill same as before wraps itself over your spine and almost causes you to gasp aloud. You feel anxious, and for a second you swear you feel the same eyes boring into the back of your head.

“Of course.”

Exhaling , you glance behind you, gripping the watch as if it were your lifeline. You're frightened, so you walk side by side with Robin again.

“These boots are rather comfy, Miss Robin.” You clear your throat, making small talk. It does calm you a bit, maybe it's the paranoia from being alone all those years in a coffin. Why did you ever sleep in one anyways? 

“Aren't they? A friend lent them to me, she's quite the fashionista.” She chuckles, reaching the now well-worn staircase that leads to the hidden door which you entered many years ago. It’s bittersweet, seeing the stains of old blood and splints of bone while simultaneously taking in the castle which gave you comfort. Things are sure to have changed quite a bit, and in order to get your steady food source replenished, you would have to be in a position of power yet again. Such a thing wouldn't be too easily achievable, considering you underwent some sort of spiritual awakening while slumbering.

The you which the world knew saw you as a bloodthirsty deity who would give humans a few extra years of health and life for a bath of blood. That does sum you up, actually, but now you feel your existence is more than to just feed and slaughter. New feelings, sensations, and coherent thoughts are filling your stained soul with curiosity, the question is not what is the cause but why is the cause.

You confuse yourself a bit. You spent the entire journey back up spacing out, unsure if you even made conversation; you can't really be bothered by anything more than your own internal conflicts and hunger. Immediately you begin to notice the crickets make a cacophony of noise, the crashing of waves and distant howling is all too familiar. One more glance at the familiar surroundings before you leave for an uncertain amount of time, maybe returning eventually, and maybe not. An eardrum piercing howl cuts through the air, and Robin unsheathes her dagger cautiously, stalling for a moment as she hooks her lantern on the loop of her belt before grabbing your hand, gently tugging you along with her.

“Do you have somewhere to stay tonight? I’m planning to check into a nearby inn, but I’m concerned about you most of all. It’s no good escorting you if I am to hear that you are deceased by the next day. It could just be the goodwill of the senior adventurers spreading through me… It’s out of character for me, but nobody quite takes an interest in history much anymore, so I suppose I just want you to live long enough for us to be acquainted.” Robin’s eyes watch the woods for a minute, before they momentarily glance over to you, awaiting an answer.

You don’t have any choice but to stay with her– how could you survive without her, either way? The thing you need most is her blood, but her comment about the “senior adventurers” piques your curiosity, and you certainly are tempted to ask a question or two.

“I don’t have somewhere to stay���  not anywhere nearby, at least. And, er… I’m certainly… Thrilled, that you would like to get to know me. Many don’t have such an appreciation of the past, normally. It’s a relief meeting a woman like yourself.” Clearing your throat, you walk up beside her, and she gives you a soft smile and a nod, signaling she’s ready to go. She’s doing her best to stay vigilant despite showing clear signs of exhaustion, and you can’t help but admire her, in ways more than one.

“Apologies if I may come off as presumptuous, but would it be okay with you if the both of us were to check in at the inn together? I can escort you wherever it is you live tomorrow, but we need to make it through this night safely first and foremost. Nami would certainly be upset if her boots were to be torn to shreds.”

A rustling is heard nearby, and you feel a bit upset at the fact you no longer have people willingly disregarding their lives to check for danger. You suppose this woman armed with a dagger of silver would do just fine, as well— Wait, no. You scowl when you find yourself thinking the exact same way you have in the past, it’s what got you killed and you surely aren’t looking forward to yet another “reawakening” anytime soon.

“I have no qualms about that, Miss Robin. You’re a sweet woman.”

You sigh, watching Robin’s tense posture loosen up when a rabbit comes running out of the bushes into the open— it stops in front of you for a second, looking up at you with round eyes you can see just fine in the dark, but Robin douses the scene in light, attempting to help you see better. You can smell the fear resonating in the small creature's body as soon as it sprouts up, some say animals can see far deeper than just the surface level of oneself, even into a soul. You think it's nonsense. It scrambles away, and the sound of the small pounding heart becomes nothing more than a whisper into the night.

“Let’s make haste, then. I’m beginning to get a bit jumpy.” Robin speaks as if the trees are actively listening, shuddering just as audibly as it is visible. The air is cooler with each step the two of you take, and you just can’t break out of the silence, because it feels wrong.

You feel those eyes boring into the back of your head every step of the way. Each time you turn around to only be greeted by an owl with eyes just the same as his, and you fear this time you may lose your mind. There’s a lot you are curious about— but you are more so confused on why he is stalking you all of a sudden after forgetting about you for centuries, leaving you high and dry with nothing else to do other than wait around and take your anger out on people by stealing their lives away, you can’t recall the entirety of your humanity but you’re sure that he took it from you for a selfish reason.

Why else would he do such a thing? Damning you for eternity by sharing his blood with you, transforming you into this… parasite who needs others to live. You find your thoughts heading into a circle, so you try to stop thinking too much about Mihawk.

After maybe twenty-five minutes of walking, a city makes its way into your line of sight, though it is deep into the night, occupied minds cannot find the time in their schedules for sleep, and they wander the streets. Some laugh merrily, others wallow in their own negativity, and you and Robin are just looking for somewhere to settle. It would be easier to go after a drunken man and drink him dry, but you aren’t the type of vampire to chase after men simply because they’re easily accessible, you have your eyes set on a beautiful archaeologist this time. Following in her footsteps, you reach a cozy looking Inn. There are orchids displayed in intricately patterned vases nearby the open door. The building itself is made of a sturdy looking wooden structure with a wide arch that has a homemade sign on display.

“Come in, come in! Are ya ladies looking for lodging? Beauties such as yourself should never be caught out at such a late hour. You too, young man with the dashing golden locks! I have plenty of room for all.”

An older woman comes into view, popping out of the doorway and dancing towards you two, including the blonde man. She’s short and stout with graying hair tied back with a piece of cloth, an apron tied around her waist with a welcoming smile.  There’s a keyring hanging from a chain clasped around her neck, which must be keys to the rooms.

“How much would you charge for a single room with two beds? I’m afraid I’ve nearly used all my travel funds. It's just for tonight, ma’am.” Robin unclasps a leather pouch from around her belt, her lantern is now extinguished. She loosens the drawstrings around it, digging around for a second as she awaits an answer, her cold blue eyes drawn to the contents of her coin pouch. The woman looks back between you and Robin with an accusatory glance, her lips pursed, and eyes narrowed all while she crosses her arms over her chest.

“Why, sure, I can do that for you two… Maybe they’re together…?” The older woman not so quietly mutters the last part under her breath.

“And you, young man?” She speaks to the hooded blonde man now, who jolts the very second she tries to draw his attention. You watch him remove his hood after stepping a bit more into the shadow casted nearby, then you notice his odd eyebrows. They’re swirled, but he seems to cover the right side of his face with his bangs quickly when he catches onto your curious look, a shy blush and beating heart greet your ears and eyes, which you consider a rather friendly introduction. There is still a part of you that enjoys this manner of attention, but you want to keep it buried for now.

“One room, one night. Please and thank you, Mademoiselle.” His voice is smooth, but it has an undeniable presence, reminiscent of a certain emperor which ruled about a century ago, one who coincidentally also had swirled eyebrows and blonde hair. What a great shame such a handsome young man even somewhat resembles that stupidity encrusted oaf.

“For the ladies, thirty in total, for the young man, it's just fifteen.”

She leads the three of you inside slowly, shutting the front door of the Inn after all has entered. The reception area gives off a comforting vibe, and there's the faint smell of dinner dug into the beige colored walls, the wood planked floors are a bit squeaky and worn, but still not the slightest bit dirtied. Robin hands over thirty berry, and your brows quirk up when you see the exact same face on the coins. That asshole made his way onto the modern-day currency. The blonde man hands over his payment as well, your eyes glance over the rings of silver adorning his fingers, paired with many jewels. Not exactly the best choice if you’ll be out in a slightly more rural area, but maybe he’s just a clueless rich kid who got lost. 

“I’ll be right back young man, wait here for a moment while I show these pretty ladies to their room.”

Nodding towards your direction, she guides you down a dimly lit hallway, passing what must have been a dozen doors before she finally reached one that seemed deliberately excluded from the others. Does she actually think you're a couple still? You have no interest in romance, merely feeding off of people, male or female. A pretty face does help, that you will admit. The innkeeper removes a heavy metal key off of the large keyring hanging around her neck, and places it into Robin’s open hands.

“You two ladies stay safe, I wouldn’t go out this hour at night, what with all the rowdy men. Your door locks, too.” She smiles at you two, before walking back to the reception area.

Robin sighs, unlocking and pushing the door to your room open. The room is a bit smaller than someone of your caliber is used to, but it is clean and pristine, but the windows only have a sheer curtain to cover them. There’s two beds in each corner, their footboards facing each other, one on the left side, the other on the right. Robin removes her boots, loosening the clasps on them and placing them neatly by the door, the lantern she had with her is rubbing against her hip with every step she takes… You don’t know why, but you can’t seem to stop watching it. You’re telling yourself it’s just because you’re hungry, but if you keep this up you’ll reveal the secret you’re trying to keep even from yourself.

When you snap back to yourself, Robin has already tucked herself into the bed in the left corner. Her clothes are scattered near the foot of her bed, and you avert your eyes like a sinner scared to face the divine.

“I’m going to bed, I don’t want to have any delays for when we set out in the morning.” Robin yawns, shuffling around under the thick blankets in bed. One can only imagine what lies underneath. Sighing, you place yourself on top of the right bed, subtly glancing over to watch Robin, simply because you need to make sure she’s asleep so you can try to feed off of her, no other reason. Eventually, the rise and fall of her chest becomes rhythmic, and she’s asleep. Is now a good time? You feel nervous, for some reason… It feels like you’re being watched again.

Your back is turned to the window, so there’s no mistaking it, his eyes are back onto you. As you whip back around, you see a glimpse of him, before he’s gone within a blink of the eye.

Mihawk.  You scowl, snatching the key off of Robin’s nightstand and begin scrambling to unlock the door. Angry footsteps are as silent as can be, but you are running as fast as you can to get outside before you can process your thoughts about why he’s following you around again. Swinging the door open with an unimaginable force, you disregard the curious and frightened crows staring at you, walking in the direction of the woods. Is this another one of his sick jokes? What’s he going to do, bite your neck again? Worst case scenario is that he kills you. Again.

“Is something the matter, Y/N?”  Same as before, he appears behind you, his cold breath tickling the back of your neck in the exact same manner. He smells very strongly of blood still, and you can feel the weight of all the lives he has taken after you, maybe you can even taste their blood smeared on his lips. Fear stops you from turning to face him.

“You pompous fool. There certainly is, and it’s the fact that you’ve been constantly following me ever since I awoke. You already turned me into a parasite, what more do you want? How greedy of a man are you?” You’re seething with unbridled rage, and a feeling of helplessness. His cold hand rests against yours, his fingers allowing themselves to intertwine with yours with his palm pressed against the back of your hand. All these years, and you still fail to understand him. He purposely made you turn, but why? It could be something that you did as a human woman, but your memory betrays you. He’s clearly mocking you by holding your hand, inadvertently stating that he sees you as no threat.

“Now, now… There isn’t any need for you to be so full of hate. Eternal life is a blessing, not the curse you may think.”  He has a smile on his face, surely. But why? Why is it you who has received it, then? Mihawk is an odd man who simple minds can’t even begin to understand, and even you barely grasp exactly what kind of man he is, because vampires prefer to live in solitary. He confuses you with his words, and you stay silent, too weak to fight.

“You already had your fun about a century ago, so I was worried when I heard the news… I wanted to be sure you had a steady food source. After all, you are a part of me, and I am not as cruel and evil as you may be driven to believe. I have no time for your tantrum, so it would be greatly appreciated if you ran along.”

Everything’s even more confusing now. Worried? A part of him? Is he being metaphorical, or is he speaking in the literal sense, that you do not know. His hand slips away from yours, and you feel his presence dissipate. You can’t trust him, but you find yourself growing curious about him and where he even originated from. That woman, Robin, is interested in the history of you, who is also a vampire, and it’s possible that maybe she is aware of Mihawk’s existence, or she has already studied him. Lucky you, you have an archaeologist to help you get two things you need.

You walk your way back inside of the Inn, defeated, but determined. Maybe joining the same guild as Robin would allow you a few resources to learn more about Mihawk, vampires, and what else to do with your life.

But, you are still hungry. It’s urgent, you need to feed by tomorrow night at the very least.

[skoulsons]

“Ellie?”

She had kept herself closed off most of the day, doing as much as skipping meals, not sketching, and declining their routine movie night.

Joel turned the knob, opening the door only slightly. “Ellie?”

“What?” She bit. She was around the corner, still in bed.

He bit his cheek. “Can I come in?”

She sniffled, a mumbled yeah from around the corner to let him know it was okay. He entered, keeping the door somewhat open behind him. He found her on her back, covers pulled up to her shoulders as she stared at the ceiling, counting imaginary stars.

The look on her face was a sure sign, as any, that things were not good.

He sat by her feet, the corner of the mattress sinking down as he sat, her feet following suit and lightly falling against his lower back.

“Do you need something?”

Joel inhaled and exhaled. He kept his hands awkwardly in his lap. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“Why? I’m fine,” she grumbled, eyes still glued to the ceiling.

“You sure?”

She wasn’t. She knew she wasn’t fine. Every possible thought about Joel, Tommy, Maria, Riley, Sam, or Henry that wasn’t positive made its way to the forefront of her brain, twisting everything she knew about them. Making her believe things that she was sure weren’t true. Convincing her of truths that were hard to shake.

Everything is still so new to them. Young and needing navigation and direction. Their relationship and being together now, no plan in sight of leaving or disregarding the other.

She has someone in her life now who cares about her. Who has cared about her for over a year. Someone who dedicates every single day to being present. Who always makes breakfast for the two of them. Someone who holds her when she cries and who lifts her up even higher when she’s happy. Who carries her to bed when she needs it and finds her new comics when he’s outside the walls. Who protects her at every moment and encourages her to eat and shower when she struggles.

Someone who loves her.

And that revelation is what makes these days even harder.

“Hey…” he nudged, turning his body slightly more towards her. “What’s goin’ on, baby?”

Ellie sighed, closing her eyes tightly, waves of colors forming in the black of her vision the harder she squeezed. She opened them, her eyesight wavering as tears pooled at her eyelids. The imaginary stars on the ceiling kept her gaze, still avoiding Joel’s concern.

“Today just… hasn’t been good.”

And while he knew it, hearing it from her still hurts to know. Whatever happened, it hurts to know she’s struggling.

“I think it’s been little worse than hasn’t been good.” It felt inappropriate to point out her near crying and the tight-lipped expression on her face in an attempt to keep her emotions at bay.

“I’m just… having fucked up thoughts,” she sighed, tracing all the constellations she knew into the white of the ceiling.

Joel didn’t say anything. In all honesty, he didn’t know what to say.

Neither of them were the best at talking. Sharing something that pissed them off, frustrated them, or upset them and navigating that conversation in a healthy manner always felt like forcefully pulling teeth before they ever broke the surface of the gums.

Joel hopes his silence is an invitation for her to continue. He wants to help, to walk through what bothering her with her.

“I…,” she started, choking slightly on the syllable. “I feel like people don’t care. They don’t care, they don’t…love.”

Joel tilted his head to the side, eyeing her avoidant gaze.

Ellie brought her hand up and wiped it across her right temple. Her voice wavered, her lip quivering as she spoke, “me.”

Joel had an inclination, but hearing it still hurt all the same.

“I feel like people…” she paused, sniffled heavily. She lazily raised her arm off the bed in his direction, “you… don’t.”

Frustrated, Ellie sat up, her back making content with the headboard harder than she intended. She locked eyes with him momentarily before avoiding his gaze again, fixing hers around the room. Her dresser, a heap of clothes on the floor, her blinds, and the open door.

She stopped keeping her head upright and let the crown of her head fall back, banging against the headboard. She sighed, a wet, embarrassing laugh escaping her. “I… I know. I know you do. I do. But sometimes, I just… get convinced you don’t.”

She fiddles with her hands in her lap as her tears threaten to spill over, Ellie massaging her fingers and cracking her knuckles, even with nothing left to crack. She picks at her cuticles and nails uncomfortably, clearing her throat to get rid of the tight burning that has coated it.

“What convinces you?” Joel asked, his eyes looking twenty years younger—like he’s talking to someone else entirely. Like he’s held a similar conversation before.

His question stumps her.

And she realizes it’s nothing. Nothing has ever convinced her. Nothing could convince her that Joel doesn’t care about her. Nothing could ever truly convince her that Joel doesn’t love her.

He may get frustrated over something. He may be extra tired some days. He may spend a little more strength some days fighting his own demons that it’s hard to be there 100% for her.

But those things don’t mean he doesn’t love her. They don’t mean he wouldn’t lay down his life for her at any given moment. They don’t mean he doesn’t look at her with anything less than adoration, devotion, and appreciation for who she is. Who she is and what she has come to mean to him.

“Have I ever done anything-“

She cut him off. “No. No, no. Fuck no, never.” She threw the crown of her against the headboard again, a few tears spilling down the side of her face and flowing along her jawline. She hastily wiped them away, clearing her throat.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I guess I… don’t think I deserve it or something. So I look at you or Tommy or I… I remember Riley or Sam or anyone else and I… I think they don’t—didn’t care.”

She knows they do. Riley—she knows. Sam she knows. Henry, too. Tommy and Maria—she knows. Joel—he she knows better than any of the others.

“I remember them or I…” she brought her head down from her gaze on the ceiling and looked at him, clearly, for the first time. “I look at you and I wonder why.”

She cries. Her lips pressed together, not enough breath in her lungs to combat the tears falling down her face and slipping down her neck, soaking the collar of her shirt. She wipes and wipes and wipes until her tear-soaked hands can’t catch anymore and they flow freely. She dries her hands on her sheets and it’s still not enough to catch every single one.

Joel moves quickly, his right hand lightly on her shin as he reaches his left out towards her, keeping it held right above her lap for her to feel.

She can barely see, and yet she reaches out, knowing he’s there. Trusting he’s there.

She grabs his left hand with her right, holding it until her knuckles turn white and it hurts. Until it stings and her fingers go numb. Until her hand shakes and the blood flow is cut off from her fingertips.

He moves his right hand from her shin to press a fist into the mattress on the other side of her, scooting himself closer to her. He settles closer to her, bringing his right hand up her shoulder and eventually finding its home on her cheek. He strokes his thumb across it, more tears falling as she leans into it. She turns her head into it, her lips in his palm as he continues wiping her tears.

He pulls his hand back from her face and brings it to her other cheek, sliding his knuckles across to clear the streaks of tears. He returns his hand back to her other cheek, lightly scratching at the roots of her hair on the back of her neck.

Ellie grabs the collar of her shirt with her left hand, wiping the snot from her nose and using any drier part of her shirt to dry her neck and chin.

Joel lifts his left hand to bring up to her face, but a mumbled, snotty no keeps it in her lap, Ellie still clutching it.

She continues to sniffle, finally opening her eyes to see Joel looking back at her, a streak down the left side of his face, right by his ear.

“I’m sorry,” she says, quickly averting her gaze from his.

He smiles slightly, rubbing those all-comforting circles with his thumb over hand. He brings his hand up from her cheek as she closes her eyes, using two fingers to drag hairs down her forehead and tuck them behind her ear.

They didn’t need to be tucked away—but the affection always comforts her.

She takes his right hand in her left, bringing it down into her lap next to their other hands. She watches their hands intently as she rubs circles on his with her right hand and he rubs circles on hers with his right.

“Hey,” he whispers, trying to get her attention. It does, and she looks up at him. The tug on the corner of his lips reaches his eyes. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“No it’s… it’s stupid. I shouldn’t be crying over something I know isn’t true…”

“You know it’s not true?”

She inhales a shaky breath and exhales one just as heavy. She focuses on it, keeping any other tears down as best she can through controlled breathing.

“Yeah. Yeah I… I know.” She pauses for another breath. “But sometimes it’s… fucking difficult. I don’t…” she hesitates, shaking slightly, “I don’t want to look at you and wonder why.”

She chokes, wiping her cheek on the shoulder of her shirt. She feels her back against the headboard and adjusts slightly, rolling her shoulder blades over it.

She looks up at him. His eyes still hold that twenty-year-old look. They glisten because of the tears gathered in them, and the loving smile that hasn’t quite reached his lips has already hit his eyes.

“I’ll remind you. Every day, if I have to—if you want me to. Even if you don’t, I might jus’ have to-“

She laughs—giggles—at that. He laughs too, the kind of laugh that resides deep in his chest. The one that sounds better through his rare toothy smile. The laugh she only hears so often. The laugh when he thinks he’s done something right. The almost triumphant laugh when he seems to have cheered her up.

Ellie smiles, watching his own unwavering smile. “You can, if you think about it. I mean, I won’t expect it every day. If you forget some days, it’s fine. I’m not-”

“Ellie.”

“Sorry.”

Joel takes note of her. The dried tears along her cheeks. Her red and puffy eyes. The way her nose is red. The soaked collar of her shirt.

He doesn’t want to see her like this again. Not over thoughts like this.

“Will reminding you help? You know… keep thoughts like this away?”

She opens her mouth to speak, but it hits her that she doesn’t know. She’s never been positively reminded, certainly not daily, that someone cares for and loves her. No one’s been constant enough to tell her the truths she missed out on as a child. No one’s stuck around long enough for them to mean anything. No one has ever loved her enough to say them and mean them. Nothing other than doubt, hesitation, or reluctance has followed such reminders.

“I don’t know. I think, I… I hope. I don’t know, I’ve… never had someone who did something like that.”

He doesn’t frown at the thought, but his smile fades. Sadness, disbelief at the thought, the truth that she’d never had this before. “Well… we can try it out. You can tell me if you hate it ‘n we can try something’ else.” He smiled again as he rubbed more circles along her hands. “Sound fair?”

She smiles, tears welling at her eyes again. One spills over, Ellie fervently nodding in response to Joel’s question before too many more tears follow.

He lets go of her left hand and opens his arm up, welcoming her in. She scoots into him, tucking her body against him. She lets her legs freely fall into his as she leans against his body, his right arm coming across her back and holding her shoulder tightly. She keeps her face hidden away as best she can in the crook of his neck and shoulder. Her right hand finds the bottom of his shirt, rubbing the fabric back and forth between her fingers.

Joel kisses her head, leaving his lips pressed into her hair briefly. “I just… I don’t want this to become something you know is true. Cause it ain’t.”

“It won’t. I… I know it’s not true.”

He kisses her head again, a muffled good reverberating through her. He rubs her upper arm a few times.

“Come here,” he says, letting go of her shoulder and standing up.

She smiles shyly, standing up and wasting no time to hold on to him, her arms wrapping around his middle and settling behind his back. She rests her ear right over his heart, the thump-thump drowning the world out. Drowning her thoughts. Her feet stand in between his, Ellie attempting to get as close to him as she can.

Joel, just like every time before and every time to come after, keeps a steady hand across her back and one behind her head, carefully threading his fingers through her hair. He tilts his head down, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

He sways them gently, covering her back in hand-drawn lines, circles, and a myriad of other shapes. “This is your first reminder.”

She giggles at that.

Something bubbles in her chest. A fire. Butterflies—as cheesy as she thinks that is—it fits. It tickles, in a way. It reaches her finger tips and warms her skin. It helps her breathe easier and keeps her heartbeat beat in rhythm with his. It slows her thoughts and relaxes her shoulder. It lets her relax completely against his embrace.

The reminder is there. The reminder of his care and protection, no matter what. The reminder of the steadfast, uncompromising, sacrificial love that he has for her.

[almadelsur]

💋 The Secrets One Keeps

summary: You're in love with jj but he's with kie, so in moments of pure desperation you often find yourself turning to the person he hates the most...rafe

warnings: some good old angsty pining, very very slight smut if you squint, fem!reader, one or two uses of y/n, plz let me know if I missed anything

a/n: SHE'S BACKKKK, so I've decided to completely reformat and re-post this fic with a few tweaks and editing considering i first wrote this like 3 years ago, and yes for those of you who have been asking, I fully intend to finallly continue this fic....more info on that later ;)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

JJ’s eyes change the moment Kiara steps into any room. Immediately his presence is ripped away from your immediate atmosphere, popping the little bubble you'd spent all afternoon crafting as he sprung up to greet the olive-skinned enigma that captured his affections.

“Kie!” The joy in his tone was incomparable to anything he’d directed at anybody else. Nothing could draw out such happiness from the blonde. You hated that about her.

In an attempt at self-defense, your brain shut itself off. Shielding you from processing the scene in front of you, your emotions ran cold like cement pouring down and across your neurons. It was the only way you could survive such a beating to your heart.

You figured that by distancing yourself mentally, you wouldn’t have to raise suspicion and distance yourself physically. In reality, you knew the real reasoning was your inability to stay away from JJ but the facade helped you cope.

“Hey J” she embraced him and his body relaxed around her as if she was the only source of his happiness. The only way he’d find alleviation from what he perceived as a shitty life being through her. “Sorry I’m late my parents had me running like crazy at the wreck today.”

Scattered greetings filled the air from the rest of the pogues, yet you could only focus on the way his eyes fixated on her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Here come sit baby” he offered her the seat he had just previously been place holding. What you thought had been quality time with your best friend, presented itself to you now as momentary attention to pass the time until his actual desire arrived.

Settling herself down and offering you a wide smile, her shoulder bumped against yours gently as a sign of acknowledgment.

“Hey dude” she directed at you, but you didn’t reply. You just couldn’t bring yourself to pretend. Not today anyway. Instead, you offered her a small smile, it was minimal but it was the best you could do under the circumstances.

“Yo" A crumpled tissue paper flew at your head, jj attempting to refocus your attention on him, "didn’t you say you were gonna get some water or something?” He spoke up, the scheme evident in his tone.

“um yeah I guess” You lifted yourself up and took a few steps before jj used the opportunity to slump himself down where you had been sat and sprawled his arms across his girlfriend’s shoulders.

“snooze ya loose sucker” he joked as he turned to Kiara to start up some mindless conversation. Leaving you behind in the dust.

Your teeth gritted as you focused on making your way to the kitchen hoping the distance from the scene unfolding would lift the iron grip on your heart.

You made the fatal mistake of glancing back and you were met with the image of jj nuzzling up to kiara in a picturesque display of love. The lump building at the base of your throat indicated that it was your time to get the hell out of there before you broke down in front of everyone. 

“Shit guys, y’know what I just realized I gotta go” You spoke quickly, your tone matching your pace as you rushed to the exit of the chateau. 

“You’re still coming to the party later though right?” John B asked, not tearing his eyes away from the screen in front of him. 

“Mhm yeah sure” you opened the door ready to depart. 

“Shit I forgot about that! Me and jj are gonna be late, we got dinner at the wreck tonight.” kiara added as you stepped out, unable to control the escape of a rogue tear.

“Date night babyyyy” You heard JJ cheer before you slammed the door behind you. 

“Is Y/N okay? She seemed a bit off.” Kie nudged JJ as she questioned. 

JJ furrowed his eyebrows momentarily. Glancing out the window, he saw you jog away from the house, and a brief flash of worry flashed through his mind. As quick as it came, it dissipated. He shook his head figuring that if there had been something wrong, he’d have been the first to know. 

“Nah she’s okay don't worry.” he offered to kie.

Boy was he mistaken. 

——————————————————————

“Fuuuck me” you moaned out, sinking into him one last time. You were hot, sweaty, and heaving as you pulled him out of you.

“I thought I just did” Rafe taunted leaning back to lie down, arms crossed behind his head causing his taut abdomen to flex.

You scrambled off the bed, picking up your garments and shoving them back on your body forcefully.

“What, no pillow talk?” He tried again.

“Rafe..” you trailed off. Whenever you’d finish fucking, you’d struggle to even look at him. The self-hatred flooded your body as soon as the orgasm poured out.

“Hey you called me” he eyed you intently but you knew he didn’t actually care. To rafe cameron everything was just a game. At this point it was pretty much common knowledge. “In fact” he moved closer to you so that he could speak directly into your ear “It’s always you that calls me.”

“Don’t be a dick” you stood up and eyed your heels contemplating whether you could face the walk back in them. “You know it makes me feel like shit.” It might have sounded brutal but that’s how things were with rafe.

“Yeah, it’s like you punctuate your orgasms with self-hate.”

“I'm a pogue, rafe.” You argued back as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“So? Kooks and pogues can fuck you know.” You couldn’t comprehend why you were even having this conversation. Why now, why tonight.

“Yeah maybe, not you though.” You didn’t want to tell him the reason explicitly.

“I fuck pogues.”

“You fuck anyone.” The words came out almost instantly and without thinking, yet rafe took no offense.

“Exactly so what’s the issue?”

“The issue is, rafe.” You paused trying to find the words without actually having to say the words. “The issue is that if my friends found out they’d hate me, probably more than I already hate myself.”

He just chuckled, the look in his eyes changing as he figured you out.

“What's funny?” You challenged.

“You don’t have to bullshit me princess.” He looked up at you with a devilish glint in his eye. “You just don’t want jj knowing about your little escapades huh?” Bingo.

“He’s with Kiara.” You shrugged him off.

“Uh huh, you like him but you can’t have him.” Every word he spoke striking a nerve deep within you. “So you’re fucking me to fuck him over.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You grabbed your heels and shoved them on, wincing as you buckled them up.

“Don’t I?” He threw his joggers on lazily as he stood, the level dynamics changing significantly. The older boy towered over you. “Where are they tonight?”

“Back at John B’s, we had a little get-together.” You crossed your arms. More often than not you usually called rafe after a few drinks left you feeling lonely. “Sorry, your invite must have gotten lost in the mail.” You attempted to jab at him with sarcasm yet he clearly held the upper hand with his line of questioning. 

“So all of them are there now?” He stepped towards you.

“Mhm,” You lied.

“Even jj?” Moving closer until your neck was craned upwards to meet his eyes.

Taking your silence as an answer, he reached up and ran his palms across your upper arms, prompting you to uncross them.

“He was uh- him and kie should be getting there soon” You mumbled.

“So would i be wrong in guessing, that might have prompted your call then?” You let yourself be guided by his movements leaning your neck further back as his hand trailed up to your jawbone.

“rafe…” you called out insignificantly.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against your neck, right over where he could feel your pulse, and pressed down.

You couldn’t help the gasp that left your mouth. Because as much as your heart belonged to jj, rafe was just so fucking good at raising your temperature.

“Round two?” He mumbled against your neck.

“Yeah..” you attempted yet it came out as a whisper. He grabbed you swiftly and lifted you, moving you across the room and throwing you down onto his bed, crawling on top of you in a predatory manner as he did so. As your back hit the bed, the ringing of your phone brought you back from the haze he had you under. 

“Wait rafe stop stop” you pushed him off and grabbed the screeching mobile, pressing it up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Dude, where are you?” The sound of jj’s voice came through over the pumping sound of music and party chatter. “Me and Kie just got back and John B says no one’s seen you for like over an hour.”

“Oh I’m uh, I had to go do something for my mom” The lie pouring out of your mouth caused rafe to chuckle which was of course met by a slap from you signaling for him to be quiet.

“Oh well, when are you getting back? I have to tell you about this date. You’re gonna be so proud of me I actually think I’m ready to tell Kie I love her” you screwed your eyes shut as he spoke.

“Yeah I- you know what I can’t make it back my mom needs me to stay and help out but uh I’ll see you tomorrow or something.” You hung up before he could even reply, throwing your phone down uncaring of its state.

“What’s wrong? They getting hitched?” Rafe spoke up from behind you.

You turned to Rafe, the fire in your veins pushing your arms to grab him, roughly pulling him back onto you.

“Just shut up and fuck me rafe.”

And fuck you he did.

——————————————————————

The next morning you woke up to the sight of rafe’s bare back. Not much of a cuddler, you figured.

Quietly you pushed the covers off and began to dress yourself back up. As you got to your shoes you sighed and shook your head, as if there was any way in hell you were going to walk home in heels. You scooped up your shoes and your now-cracked phone shaking your head, slightly ashamed at your outburst.

Without even a second glance at the sleeping body you were leaving behind, you made your way over to the door. As you turned the knob and stepped out to leave, a husky voice spoke up.

“I’ll keep my ringer on for you babe.”

You rolled your eyes looking back at him, “Fuck you rafe.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m counting on.” He didn’t even open his eyes as he answered, instead just rustling around in the bed and turning to the other side, once again facing his back to you.

You scoffed as you exited. Your internal rant clouded your vision, body on autopilot with an excellent self-navigation of the Cameron house from the countless times you’d made this exit.

“Y/N?” The gentle voice wiped your thoughts clean as the shock stilled you dead in your tracks, slowly turning to come face to face with none other than Sarah.

“Sarah” you drawled out. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my house?” Her head was cocked to the side, equally shocked to see you.

“No I just mean- I thought you were spending the night at John B’s.” You forced the small talk, avoiding the topic of why you were here, sneaking out at 8 in the morning.

“He had to work today, did you spend the night here?” She glanced up at the door of rafe’s bedroom.

“Umm-“ There had only been two other instances where you had been at a complete loss for words. The day jj told you he and Kiara were dating, the morning after your first sexual encounter with rafe, and now this.

“Are you sleeping with my brother?!” She whisper-shouted, eyes wide as the realization hit her. Busted.

“No?”

“Oh my god!” She grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you to her room, slamming the door as soon as you were both inside. “How long has this been going on?!” Her tone was loud and her hands wild as she interrogated you.

“Just a little under a year.” You sat on her bed and looked at your lap as you spoke. Reminiscent of a child being scolded.

“A year?! Oh my god!” She repeated. “Who knows about this?!”

With that, you looked up at her desperately. “No one. No one knows so please don’t tell them.” You didn’t have to name names for her to know who you were referring to.

“Are you two like” she paused “together?” She scrunched her nose up, disgusted at the thought of her bully of an older brother dating anyone.

“No god no. It’s just sex” you were just as uncomfortable as Sarah was, having to tell her about boning her older brother.

“Disgusting.” She turned away from you with her arms crossed, looking out the window.

“Look I’m not proud of it okay? Just-“ You sighed “Just please don’t tell anyone” pleading again.

Sarah let out a long sigh and uncrossed her arms. She walked over to you and joined you on the bed, her eyes showing concern mixed with something you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

“I thought you were into jj” she spoke softly, there it was. Pity.

“Yeah well, jj is with kie and instead of sitting around wallowing in self-pity, I decided to do something about it.” As the words left your mouth, you realized how weak the explanation was.

“So you just use rafe to bang the jj out of you.”

“It’s not like Rafe cares, if anything he’s also using me.” You tried to reason.

“I don’t doubt that. But I mean, that’s- It’s not healthy, you’ll never move on if you don’t actually process your emotio-“

“Look Sarah, I don’t need to do any of that shit okay? What I have here works, when I fu- when I’m with rafe, I don’t think about jj.” Tears began to swell in your eyes “Sleeping with rafe helps me forget about everything, even if it’s only for a little while he uh- he makes me feel good.” To an extent, there was truth behind your words, while you and rafe fucked the rest of the world went away. It was only after, that the crippling self-hatred hit you along with the return of your immense feelings for jj. 

Sarah shuffled over and threw her arm around you. “That’s not good for you, it’s just momentary. It’s easy and it's a cycle, you’re never going to get better going down this path. Especially not with rafe.”

“Rafe he’s- he’s not that bad.”

“Yes he is. But i bet it gives you satisfaction fucking him knowing jj hates him. Feels like revenge right?” She’d always been so perceptive your Sarah, you hated how she could see right through you.

Tears ran down your cheek silently. “You’re not gonna tell anyone right?” You sniffled.

She gave you one of those classic salt-of-the-earth Sarah Cameron smiles, the kinda smile that would light up any room she walked into. “Takin' it to the grave babe.”

A loud beeping caused both your heads to whip towards the window. “Shit, I completely forgot I was supposed to go on the HMS with pope and jj, we were gonna chill there until John B and Kie finished work.” She rose to her feet and extended an arm towards you. “Wanna come? Or we could drop you home if you’re not up for it.”

With a sigh you took her hand and pulled yourself up, walking beside her as you mentally prepped yourself to face the blonde you desperately pined for.

“Well rise and shine campers.” jj yelled out of the window of the drivers seat.

“Y/N! Where you been dude? you totally bailed last night.” Pope was next to speak as you and Sarah filed into the Twinkie. As JJ began to drive you avoided any form of eye contact in his general direction.

“I had to go help my mom out, blackout at mine again.” You didn’t even look at pope either, instead focusing your attention on the blur of trees and houses pacing by the window as JJ sped down the winding roads.

“Isn’t that what you were wearing last night?” pope, observant as always, pointed out.

“Uh yeah, I didn’t really get any time to change cause…”

“I called her last night when I got home, I was so drunk I don’t think I was ready to stop the party.” Sarah covered for you.

“Yeah I wrapped up helping my mom out and then this one calls me talkin bout a sleepover or something so I didn’t exactly have much time to change.” 

Thankfully pope had lost interest as soon as he had asked the question, otherwise, your overcompensating ass would have been caught out straight away. You always had to add to the lie until you felt like you had sold it completely.

Keeping your eyes trained on the outside meant that jj’s frown directed at you through the windscreen mirror went completely undetected. He always knew whenever there was something up with you and right there and then he knew something definitely was.

“Hey, you okay?” He didn’t need to address you explicitly for you to know he was talking to you.

“Yeah just tired.” You shrugged him off in an attempt to distance yourself from him yet again.

He knew you were lying but he didn’t understand why, you never lied to each other. Apart from John B, the pair of you were closer to each other than with anybody else in the group. You’d been best friends since kindergarten, and since then you’d sworn 3 things to each other.

1- You’d always share your snacks.

2-You’d always be best friends even if you argued.

 3- You would never ever lie or keep secrets from each other.

Of course, as the both of you grew older the rules became more and more lax. The snack sharing was limited only to when you felt nice enough and sometimes you’d go for days without making up if you had argued particularly badly. Having kept two friendship-breaking secrets from him, the childhood rules seemed pretty insignificant by now.

“Mhm,” he responded, flickering his eyes between you and the road. “Are we taking you home to change first?”

“Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll join you guys afterward though.” You chewed down on your nail anxiously as the tension from being in the same space as jj paired with the guilt from having fucked rafe prior, suffocated you.

JJ made a face as he focused on the road, something was wrong with you and he’d be dammed if he wasn’t going to put his everything into finding out what that was.

[joycrispy]

I wanna talk about The Angel Who Would Be Crowley.

Because I had a certain set of expectations, which got thoroughly trashed in the first five minutes of S2, and my genuine response is, "Oh, fuck, yup. You're right. That's WAY better."

Looking around at GO fandom, I'm not alone in this. So let's talk about it.

Basically, a lot of people (myself included) believed that he was a high-ranking angel, and therefore as chilly and remote as every other powerful angel we'd seen at that point. We pictured Crowley-To-Be as long-haired, regal and imposing --and the fanart at the time reflected this. I'd link some if Tumblr didn't hate links.

Something like this:

We were collectively drawing on a few things --mostly, Crawly's appearance and general bearing in the Biblical scenes of S1--

--But also scattered hints of his importance, backed up by conspicuous absences in Heaven and a few profound displays of power. That's all better covered elsewhere, so I won't reiterate the arguments here. All I'm saying is: I think our headcanons were justified.

But it turns out he was this:

!!!

With his curly little--!!

And his neat white--!!

IT TURNS OUT, he was an angel who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty. Furfur, who knew him before the Fall, says:

"You used to jump on me back, little monkey in a waistcoat..."

(The use of a diminutive there, 'little'...oh, that fascinates me.)

In a pretty huge subversion of expectations, we're given these glimpses of an angel who was sweet, and joyful, and heart-meltingly silly.

In sum...an innocent.

(Perhaps innocent to a troubling degree.

We see how he troubles Aziraphale, during their first conversation. He starts looking around and behind them, checking to make sure that no one can HEAR the blithe and reckless things coming out of this angel's mouth. This angel who talks like he's never been reprimanded in his life; like it's never occurred to him that anyone would want to hurt him.

Before the Beginning, Aziraphale understood Heaven better than he did. The danger is plainly occurring to Aziraphale.)

So now, we the viewers are in on a cruel joke that Aziraphale has known all along, which is that this --THIS-- is the angel who--

*checks notes*

--did a million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulphur. For asking questions.

...Imagine you are Aziraphale, and everything inside you wants to believe Heaven are the Good Guys, and God is Good and Everything She does is capital-R Right...and now try to reconcile that. Keep trying. I don't think he ever totally managed it in 6000 years.

All this gets further complicated when we learn that, despite all of the above, we were still right. That sweet excitable babby up there?

He WAS a powerful and high-ranking angel.

That much is explicitly confirmed, with significant evidence that he could have been among the mightiest of archangels...

...Who apparently accosted his fellow angels for piggyback rides. And was remembered millennia later by those (now fallen) angels as something 'little.'

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

Hell, Aziraphale has known to be wary of the archangels (and the judgements of Heaven in general) since before the Fall even happened. He chooses to believe they are Good; he can't fool himself into thinking they are Safe.

Yet he's absolutely certain that Crowley won't hurt Job's children. Enough to stand in a burning building and say to them, "I can't save you, but don't be afraid. I won't need to."

And what reason does he give?

("I know you."

"You do not know me."

"I know the angel you were.")

What does that tell us about who he was? Is?

("The angel you knew is not me."

But how is Aziraphale supposed to believe that, when he can see him all the time?)

tl;dr --yes, this is better. I love the tragedy of it.

'Innocence died screaming' and all that.

[chuluoyi]

✎ treasure

- gojo satoru x reader

the strongest sorcerer meets his match in his petulant son, who inherits his six eyes and is having trouble with them

genre: taking care of your son with dad!gojo, fluff/comfort

note: AAAA i love this waaay too much!😭 this brilliant idea gave me baby fever so bad came from an anon who so energetically dropped by my askbox, thank you! and seeing this artwork by Yoon in twitter definitely gave me more ideas too!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"No!"

"Why? This helps—"

"That's ugly! I don't want to look ugly—like you!"

Satoru blinked in utter disbelief, and you broke into the most satisfying fits of laughter. In front of him, standing tall and sullen and very much like him was his own son, now barely five years old.

Your boy mentioned that he had been experiencing discomfort in his eyes lately, which also caused him to become dizzy. And Satoru attempted to persuade him to use a blindfold like he did because it was effective.

However, as we can see, his son didn't take his suggestion well at all. His bright blue eyes, ones your husband passed down, bore an intense glare aimed squarely at him.

"I..." Satoru sputtered, his eyes twitching. The sight was comical as no one had ever managed to elicit such a reaction from him. And no one ever considered him an unattractive person too! "I'm not—"

"You are!"

Once again, you let out a triumphant cackle, and this time your husband shot you a glare. But you didn't care. All those years of tolerating his antics had paid off. His son had finally put him in his place!

When he was a baby, you thought your son was Gojo Satoru incarnate. He was the spitting image of him—with all gaits and expressions too. And you had worried if he would turn out to be just as much of a menace as he was.

But apparently, life has other sweet plans because like you, he was a relatively calm boy, diligent, and didn't like to make a fuss. Satoru argued that it was definitely in his genes—claiming he had also been a sweetheart when he was a child, but you couldn't quite imagine him being remotely as reserved as your son.

That aside, the cause of this hilarious exchange did actually make you worry a bit.

"Look, I know it probably looks odd," Satoru gestured at the blindfold in his hand, but your little boy still didn't seem convinced by the pout he displayed. "But it will help you, I promise. If only you would—"

Oh, but it was almost like karma because besides his appearance, the other trait your son inherited from your husband was his strong sense of winning.

His face reddened from sheer indignation, and he once again screamed, "I don't want to! I'll just cover my eyes with—" he took a nearby napkin and pulled them over his eyes, "—this!"

Satoru sighed in annoyance, and you decided to jump in. Crouching down next to him, you gently pried the napkin from his hand.

"Papa just wants to help you, okay?" you reasoned, cupping his plump cheeks. Gods, he used to be this round thing in your and Satoru's arms and now he was already this big. "He uses it everyday and he has no problems, see?"

"But it doesn't look good..." Your son drooped his head in disappointment, and you could feel Satoru rolling his eyes beside you, evidently miffed at the thought of him being less than good-looking.

Parenting is challenging, especially when your husband still holds onto some of his childlike tendencies. So you decided to end the discussion here.

It was later at noon, while you were in the kitchen preparing lunch when you heard your son's scream and something crashing. Your heart was in your throat as you rushed to the backyard, only to see something that made your heart lurch even more.

Your sweet boy was wailing on the ground, clutching his head, and Satoru—

His expression was as horrified as yours if not more, as he ran and caught your son in his arms, pressing him tightly against his chest as if shielding him from the sun altogether. "Shit. Hey, hey—buddy, you okay?”

Satoru lifted him up and carried him inside. You were right beside him as he settled on the sofa, gently hushing your son, who was still shaking and had his eyes covered against his chest.

"M-My head..." your son whimpered, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks. "...h-hurts..."

"It's okay, it's okay..." he murmured, caressing the child's hair in a soothing manner, and it reminded you so much of what he would do to you in the early mornings. "I've got you now, nothing’s going to happen to you. Hang on a little longer, yeah?"

You felt warm tears threatening to well up in your eyes at the sight. It was heart-wrenching to see your son in such torment, and the way your husband was consoling him deeply touched you. It served as a poignant reminder of just how many years had passed from when Gojo Satoru was still that brat who used to mess with you during high school.

Soon, your little boy's breathing became even, and he went to sleep in Satoru's comforting embrace.

You looked at him while biting your lip, undiluted worry in your voice. "What should we do? He's been experiencing pain often lately..."

Satoru really wanted to wipe that expression from your face, but with his precious child clinging onto him for dear life, even he didn't have the heart to.

"Don't worry, I'll be with him," he assured, a plan already forming in his mind. "If he hates blindfolds that much, then I'll get him some pairs of glasses just like the ones I have—for kids. We'll start with that."

Bearing the weight of his clan's revered eyes was a heavy burden, and honestly, he would prefer it if none of his children had to inherit them. After all, he went through it all too as a child—the manifestation of the six eyes' powers marks the beginning of life as a sorcerer. The perilous world he was still trying to keep away from his son.

Nonetheless, he would be there for him every step of the way. It was what he vowed to himself on the day he was born. He wouldn’t let anything befall him—or you.

You had calmed down after hearing his plan, and as you gazed at your precious boy’s innocent face in his protective grip and the gentle pats he gave him, you suddenly found yourself in a mischievous mood once again.

"Heh, quite the doting papa, aren't you, Satoru?" you winked, a teasing smile on your face. You could have sworn his cheeks slightly flushed as he retorted:

"Hmph. He is my personal little body warmer, after all."

[criminalamnesia]

HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!

thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.

he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.

he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.

but he couldn’t take everything lying down.

did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?

he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.

he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.

he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.

but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.

but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.

simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.

and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?

you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.

the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.

and all the signs pointed to you.

and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.

price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.

johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.

then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.

simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.

maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.

but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.

all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.

and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.

so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.

and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.

even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.

he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.

but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.

the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.

it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.

the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.

“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.

“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”

simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.

“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”

“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”

price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.

“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”

“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.

price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”

the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.

he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.

“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.

price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”

simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.

“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”

they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.

pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.

although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.

but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.

an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.

you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.

damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.

you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.

he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.

‘you should have killed me.’

maybe he should have.

thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—

im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!

as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)

[no-144444]

HI!!!! I am such a huge fan of your work, could i request something with charles where the reader is max verstappens sister but she's a pop star (think sabrina carpenter) and charles and her are dating on the dl but he goes to her concert and gets spotted and then everyone goes crazy with fan theories and they hard launch with the music video, and max is pissed because a, she's off limits to drivers. and b, why didn't they tell him.

anyways, that was just my thoughts, thank you girl!

don't dim your light- c.l

summary: you have a secret boyfriend and an album coming and you realise that hiding yourself and your life only makes you feel like shit.

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! verstappen! popstar! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Being the sister of Max Verstappen meant two things: 

1: You were famous. 

2: You were off-limits to every single other driver.

Too bad that you’d fallen for your brother’s rival (/husband???). Charles was perfect, everything you’d ever wanted in a man. He was kind, caring, thoughtful, and most of all… fucking gorgeous. It had been months of sneaking around because, while Charles didn’t feel scared at all to drive a car around at top speed, actually risking his life, he was scared of your brother. Like, scared to death. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Bebé,” he whined, holding you against him. “My love! Do not leave me here!”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling, as you pushed his hands off of you. “I have to catch my flight!”

“But if we don’t spend Christmas together I won’t see you until the summer!” he groaned. 

“The joys of dating a popstar, I guess,” you shrugged, grabbing your suitcase. You pressed a kiss to his cheek and smiled. “I’ll see you in Monaco, alright?” 

He frowned then pressed his lips to yours as hard as he possibly could. “I love you.”

“I love you too, you big sap,” you smirked. He rolled his eyes.

“You are so mean to me, you know that?” he huffed. 

“Bye Charles!” you called after yourself, leaving his Monaco apartment. 

It had been 7 whole months of bliss with Charles. Obviously, you’d met him prior to the first date, knowing him quite well from all the stories Max had told you, but shockingly, it took a Puma brand ambassadors dinner for him to make the first move. He was evidently very nervous, but you’d started to love his weird dorky qualities. He was sweet, and kind, and that’s all you really cared about. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“London, can we make some noise?!” you cheered. The stadium roared back to you. You had done it. You’d sold out the O2 for 4 whole nights. You were one of the biggest pop stars on the planet. “Are you guys ready for one last song tonight?” they screamed back at you. “Alright, this one is new, I hope you like it!”

The intro to Bed Chem started, and you knew everyone already knew it (it had been leaked a few months ago), but you danced and sang it exactly how it was meant to sound. One thing you loved about being on stage is how free you felt. All of those people were there to see you, which melted your heart. You loved every single fan you’d ever come across and appreciated every single one of them. They made you, they made your success. 

As the song finished, ‘new album out next week! xxx’ flashed behind you on the screen, and the crowd went wild. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You walked into your dressing room, exhausted from the night, and slightly hurt that despite offering to fly them out, none of your family came. You understood, Max’s career was important, and it was his last chance before the regulations changed to get the most out of the car. He wanted his fifth so badly, mostly because he wasn’t sure he was going to stay around from 2026 onwards. He had a family now. He had a baby and P to take care of. He didn’t like the media circus that F1 had turned into, or the fact that it was a popularity contest. Your entire family had been built around Max, and you knew why, but it didn’t make it hurt any less when you were reminded of the fact that you were just the second kid. 

“My love!” Charles cheered, wrapping you up in his arms, startling you. “You were incredible! You were amazing!” he pressed kiss after kiss to your neck and cheek as you hugged him back, ecstatic that he was here. 

He had taken the time out of his insanely busy schedule, on a race week, to come see you on the literal other side of the world. He truly was the best boyfriend in the world. 

“What are you doing here?” you chuckled, shocked by his presence. “You should be getting ready for Japan!”

He shrugged. “I’ll be fine in Japan, I wasn’t going to miss you performing!” 

You pulled him closer once again, pressing your lips against his. “I fucking love you,” you whispered, trying to make your voice sound steady. 

“I love you too,” you smiled, pulling back. The way he looked at you. All the love in the world. Like you hung the fucking stars just for him. He adored you, and you felt it. You felt  bathed in his light the second he walked near you, that’s how much he loved you. “Don’t cry,” he frowned, wiping the tears you hadn’t even noticed were falling, away. “I hope they’re happy tears,” he teased. 

You nodded, burying your head in his chest. “They are. They really are.”

He wrapped his arms around you and held you tight. “I’m glad.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

y/nverstappen

liked by charlesleclerc, maxverstappen, and 8,983,837 others

y/nverstappen SHORT N SWEET OUT ON THE 6TH OF APRIL BITCHES!!!!!!! ROYAL COURT (with lady broski) OUT ON THE 8TH OF APRIL BITCHES!!!!

comments

user8: prepare to be SICK of me

brittanybroski: ROYAL COURT MENTIONED 💯💯💯💯💯💯 -> liked by y/nverstappen

user999: SHE'S GLOWING

user7: not the grinch picture 💀

maxverstappen: Congratulations Y/n! -> liked by y/nverstappen

user66: DID ANYONE ELSE SEE WHO WAS AT HER SHOW????? -> user92: LITERALLY! -> user933: charles what is you doing here loca?

calebhearon: SHE'S STUNNING -> liked by y/nverstappen

oliviarodrigo: and she's serving. as per usual. liked by y/nverstappen -> user88: LOCA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE -> user22: THE GIRLS ARE HEALING.

user09: now i need to know who bed chem is about... -> user44: thick accent... (charles leclerc) -> user94: officer it's this one! -> user88: on MY cellular device? -> user21: me when i'm delusional.

user802: BED CHEM ATE SO FUCKING HARD OMFG

user213: where is her family? she sold out the O2 for 4 consecutive nights AND is releasing her second album, and they're nowhere to be seen? jos 'i support my daughter' verstappen my ASS. -> user2342: right? It's so unfair, her entire life has been built around max and he couldn't even go see her on the biggest night of her life while pierre gasly and charles leclerc can? It's bullshit.

user90: she's so hot i cannot do this anymore.

user87: charles lurking in the likes...? -> user36: tbf a lot of the drivers follow her, it could be a coincidence.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

f1gossip

liked by pierregasly, landonorris, and 890,848 others

f1gossip Drivers Charles LeClerc and Pierre Gasly were seen at a Y/n Verstappen concert in London this week! They seemed to be enjoying themselves, though there was no sign of Max anywhere!

comments

user88: pierre and lando are messy

user99: WHERE WAS MAX? THIS WAS Y/N'S BIG MOMENT???

user929023: OMFG BED CHEM IS ABOUT CHARLES WTF -> user97437: no it's not she can't steal my husband -> user4: she can, and she did

user772: he looks so drunk in the last photo lmao

user942: WHAT A SUPPORTIVE BOYFRIEND!

user847: Pierre's sunglasses are taking me out rn 💀 -> pierregasly: what's wrong with them? -> user88: ARE CHARLES AND Y/N TOGETHER??? -> pierregasly: 🤷🤷🤷

user92: they'd be so cute together!!!!

user902: omfg max would KILL him if they're together

user935841: do we all remember the interview where max said he'd fucking shove any of the drivers off the track if they went for his sister? like does charles have a death with? is he not despressed enough?

user91234: charles when i catch you

user7: if he stole my wife, i'm going to be pissed (i've never met her and she doesn't know i exist)

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

"People saw you today," you yawned, laying in bed with Charles. The concert was over, and Charles had surprised you with his presence, though it was more than welcome. You were both lying in the luxurious hotel bed as you settled down for sleep, his arms wrapping around you.

He nodded. "I know. I just thought people would assume we're friends though."

You rolled your eyes. Bullshit. “You’re such a bad liar,” you chuckled as his jaw dropped at the accusation. 

“I am not lying!” he stressed, but his smirk gave him away. 

“Charles LeClerc, you wanted people to find out, didn’t you?” you gasped, hitting him with a pillow. 

“I did not!” he hit you back.

What ensued after was a pillow fight that ended with you holding him down against the bed, and his lips on yours. The amount of alcohol you'd both consumed meant that the kiss was messy, but amazing all the same. It was all teeth and tongue, all passion, all Charles.

“You were so pretty up there,” he whispered against your mouth, completely at your mercy. “Felt like you were singing just to me.”

You chuckled, pulling back. “Oh yeah?”

He nodded, biting his lip. “So perfect,” he sighed. 

“I still think you wanted people to find out,” you argued, getting off of him. 

“Well of course,  but that’s-”

“Charles!” you squealed.

"My love!" he chuckled, holding you closer. "How in the world, do you expect me to try and hide the fact that I love you-?"

He was interrupted by your phone ringing. You groaned, he groaned, yet you got up and sat up, grabbing it, answering without looking at the caller id.

"Are you dating Charles?" Max's voice sobered you up pretty quickly. You stuttered for a moment, then laughed.

"W-what?" you questioned. "No."

He huffed from the other side of the phone. "Are you sure? What was he doing at your show?"

You rolled your eyes. "I don't know, maybe he actually enjoys my music and wanted to come see me? Is that so outlandish?"

"You know that's not what I'm saying."

"Yeah, you're not even interested in my life enough to ask. The shows were great, thanks for asking dickhead," you scoffed before ending the call and blocking his number. He was so... self-involved. He'd stopped caring about you and your interests when you were only kids, too focused on the plan to notice that fact that you were there, and that you adored your big brother. Nevertheless, he didn't care, so you had to stop caring too.

"Are you alright?" Charles whispered, wrapping an arm around you.

You nodded, too fragile to answer. You knew you'd break down crying if you answered verbally, so that would have to do.

"I'm sorry," he pressed gentle but grounding kisses to your neck and back as you gave yourself a moment to soak it all in. "I know how hard this is on you. I'm sorry."

"I don't want you to apologise for loving me," you whispered, your voice breaking.

He chuckled. "I'll never apologise for that," he smiled against your skin. "I'm just sorry that your family are... difficult."

You nodded, leaning into him. "They are."

"You were radiant up on that stage tonight," he beamed. "Don't let them dim your light, please baby."

You nodded. "You're right. No more dimming lights."

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

The song was simple and from your next album, it could be your second single of the album, and you knew it was catchy and good. It was a good plan, a great plan, even. You and Charles would hard launch your relationship to the world with a music video appearance. Not only would it show the world your relationship, it would also be a great way to generate buzz for your upcoming album. Win-win. The idea was sexy and cool, and shooting it was as much fun as you'd imagined (aka, a lot of kisses, a lot of him touching you, and a lot of retakes), and by the end of the shoot you were convinced it was your best video yet.

You weren't going to tell Max before the video came out. You weren't interested in getting two different lectures, so you decided you'd prefer one long one. Charles supported your decision, and didn't tell anyone shit until the night the video came out.

By then, it was fair game.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

charlesleclerc & y/nverstappen

liked by pierregasly, arthurleclerc, oscarpiastri and 6,893,234 others

charlesleclerc isn't she lovely? please, please, please mv out now.

comments

user92: YOU'RE JOKING

user23: WHAT A PERFECT COUPLE

user9535: stood up and applauded.

user76: this is my niche and i'm so here for it.

brittanybroski: MY WOMAN, NOOOOOOOOO

user024: she's perfect. she is so perfect.

user924084208: can i be her when I grow up? (i'm 34)

user3: she's kind of a slut... -> user9: please please please for the love of god shut the fuck up

user45: idk who I want to be more -> user83: charles. -> user82: charles. -> user08424: charles. -> user36824: charles. -> user24: charles. -> user1: charles. -> user56: charles. -> user75: charles.

pierregasly: KNEW IT FROM THE START ->charlesleclerc: is that because we told you or...? -> pierregasly: trying to steal my thunder rn is CRAZY -> charlesleclerc: trying to make this about yourself rn is CRAZY -> y/nverstappen: BOTH of you are acting like idiots, please refrain

y/nverstappen: ilysm -> charlesleclerc: i adore you -> user923: sleeping on the highway tonight!

lewishamilton: :) -> charlesleclerc: thanks bud :)

user834: what does he see in her?

user2: what does she see in him?

user5: is she aware of his cheating scandals in the past? -> user34: it's almost like people can grow and change! hope this helps xxx

user645: she is about to get her heart broken

user2321: she couldn't have picked someone more... suited to her? -> user8: mate she's a popstar and the sister of Max Verstappen, what about Charles LeClerc isn't 'suited' to her?

francocolapinto: 😍😍😍 -> user830: what is blud doing?

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

y/nverstappen

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, pierregasly, and 4,873,933 others

y/nverstappen just 2 days until the album, here's so photos of yours truly to hold you over 💋

comments

user935: anyone notice how max has been MIA and angry since her London shows?? -> user5684: i'm employed what does this mean? -> user33: stop trying to stir shit up bro

charlesleclerc: beautiful girl liked by y/nverstappen

user88: max looked like he was ready to kill charles today lmao

user93940924: she's glowing

user6: not mentioning charles i see... -> user9: girl fuck off -> user4: they've been publicly dating for 2 days, calm down.

user09: sigh... i could treat you better y/n... -> charlesleclerc: no you could not. -> pierregasly: let's reel it in buddy ffs -> charlesleclerc: what??? is defending my honour cringe now? -> pierregasly: not just now, it always was.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

When the album launched, you were nestled in your apartment, alone. You were so excited for a night nice in, but of course, your plans were foiled by a knock on the door, and an outpour of dutch from your brother's lips.

"Fuck off Max," you shouted from your side of the door. "I don't want to talk to you."

"I'm missing a race for this," he sighed, his voice softer than you'd heard it.

You opened the door, and he did something unexpected. He hugged you. A full-blown tight hug, the kind he hadn't given you since you were a kid.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You shrugged, pulling out of the hug. "I wasn't interested in the lecture."

"But I know Charles, I could've... I don't know, helped?" he paced around your kitchen. "I just... I don't understand why you felt like you couldn't tell me."

"Max, you said you'd shove anyone off track if they went for me, so I don't understand your disconnect. I'm happy with Charles, like really fucking happy. He makes me feel great, and he cares about me. He loves me. And I'm so sick of trying to make myself smaller so that i can fit into your life. I adore you Max, genuinely, I do. You're my big brother and I love you, and you should be celebrated for your incredible accomplishments, but so should I. I'm not going to sit here and make myself any more unhappy just because it'll make your life easier. I-I won't do it. I want to be able to post my boyfriend, go support him at races, and everything else all the other girlfriends can do. I'm not going to hide him or myself to make you more comfortable," you pushed through the tears building behind your eyes, and stared him right in the eyes. He needed to hear that your life wasn't just about him.

He was quiet for a moment. "I'm happy for you, and I'm sorry that I'm not very good at... being there for you."

He looked uncomfortable. He'd never been very good with his emotions, so that was probably the best you were going to get.

"Thank you," you smiled. "And you really didn't have to miss a race for me, but thank you anyways."

He nodded. "I care about you. I want you to be happy," he explained, looking down.

You were both silent for a few seconds.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" you offered.

He looked up and smiled. Same old Max. Same old you.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

y/nverstappen

liked by landonorris, charlesleclerc, maxverstappen, and 6,243, 563 others

y/nverstappen: and she's out! thank you all so much for the love, mwah!

comments on this post have been limited

maxverstappen: Very proud!

charlesleclerc: i love you so much you're so pretty (please please please let me come over tonight)

landonorris: SHARPEST TOOL IS SUCH A BANGER liked by y/nverstappen

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :)

ferrari masterlist

[nottsangel]

after dark — r.c.

pairing: ghostface!rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: smut 18+, unprotected sex, dubcon, violence, blood, murder, knife play, mask kink, hair pulling, spanking, cursing, toxic, controlling, manipulative and possessive behaviour, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, creampie, degradation, face slapping, dacryphilia, breeding kink

word count: 4.5k

summary: the bloodlust killer that has been terrorising the town could be closer to you than you might think.

moodboard // nav. // m.list // taglist

“Rafe?” you called out to your boyfriend who was attentively watching the TV from beside you on the couch, a deep sense of unease and concern in your voice. “Yeah, baby?” he replied, his eyes still glued to the screen as his warm hand moved to your thigh, giving it a squeeze to let you know that he was listening. “I’m… I’m scared” you murmured with your brows knitted, referring to the news report about a killer being on the loose, terrorising the entire town for weeks now. They played footage taken from a Ring doorbell camera that showed him wearing a black and white mask, identical to the one from the Scream movies to hide his identity, along with a full black outfit.

So far, there has been an estimated five victims, all of them male. Men between the ages of nineteen and twenty-six who are university students were the killer's primary target, it seemed. You were familiar with all of them— you had worked on group projects with a number of these people and even tutored two of them, helping them with subjects that you excelled at to earn some extra cash. To sum up, you saw all of the murdered male students regularly. Fear prickled over your skin as the reporter revealed more shocking details about the murders.

Rafe turned to face you, an empathetic smile swept across his handsome face as he moved closer to you, the palm of his warm hand resting on your cheek as he looked at you with his sparkling blue eyes. “Don’t be scared baby. You know I’ll take care of you, alright? I won’t ever let anything happen to my sweet girl” You fidgeted with your hands and looked down, letting his words sink in. Rafe always took care of you, ensuring that you were happy and healthy— he’d do anything for you. For the first time ever, though, you were unsure if Rafe could truly protect you from a bloodlust killer who has murdered men even bigger, stronger and more athletic than Rafe.

He looked off into the distance, thinking deeply as he released a hesitating breath, “Look, why don’t you stay with me here? Hmm? It’s too dangerous out there for a pretty girl like you. You’ll be safe here, I promise” you met his eyes again and nodded, feeling relieved that you can be with him every minute of the day.

Every minute of the day, that is, unless you were in class, because school life didn’t pause. Why it didn’t was a mystery to you, but the police stated that they had everything under control, which you found hard to believe. It made you feel anxious to be distanced from Rafe during those times. You not only feared for yourself, but for him as well. It became impossible to concentrate in class. Knowing that anyone could become the next victim sent your mind into overdrive. No one was safe.

You took your phone out of your pocket and opened iMessage, scrolling through your conversations before tapping your and Rafe’s. You occasionally glanced up quickly to make sure the teacher wasn't watching you before typing a message.

You: I miss you so much :( Are you okay?

Rafe 💞: Miss you more, my pretty girl. I’m alright, just hanging out with Top.  

His words still made you blush, your cheeks heating up as a tiny smile formed on your face before you quickly looked up, checking if anyone saw you texting. The teacher is lost in her own world, going over theories while you see several other students on their phones as well, evidently bored by the contents of the class. You returned your focus to your phone and started typing a new message.

You: Be careful, okay? I’m scared…

Rafe 💞: Baby, I won’t let anything happen to you, got it? You know I have your location on my phone. I will keep an eye on you. Buy yourself some pretty lingerie and I will help you relax when you get home ;)

Rafe Cameron transferred $500 to your bank account.

Your eyes grew wide before you let out a chuckle at how easily he gives you money when you don’t even need it. You hastily typed a ‘thank you’ message and slipped your phone back into your pocket with a giddy smile on your face before the teacher could notice you.

When class finally ended for the day, you felt a wave of relief, especially since John B, one of your friends, offered to walk you home—well, to Rafe's house. You and John B used to be closer, hanging out multiple times a week, but Rafe’s possessive and jealous nature doesn’t allow you to anymore. Even though you don’t hang out with him now, he still checks in on you from time to time, showing you that he still cares about you, which you appreciate a lot. When you first started dating, John B openly expressed his dislike for Rafe. Despite your numerous attempts to convince him that Rafe genuinely does take great care of you, John B couldn’t be convinced. Their animosity towards one another runs too deep.

The two of you were walking side to side as you approached Rafe's street, wandering by large villas with breathtaking front gardens. John B didn't appear in the least bit afraid or worried and you couldn’t understand why. Everyone, including yourself, was terrified, not daring to go outside unless needed. You eyed him with confusion as you were thinking it over, which he seemed to catch on right away. “What? Do I have something on my face?” he asked, a smile appearing on his face as he continued walking. “Are you not scared, John B?” You asked with curiosity. A small chuckle left his mouth before he shook his head, “Scared? Have you seen him? He wears a silly costume from some dumb movie.” It went silent for a while as you were at a loss for words, wondering how someone could not be afraid of a murderer.

John B soon ended the silence before you could go further into the topic, “Hey, remember when we rehearsed for that play? And we had to dance together and you-“ he laughs while holding his stomach, pausing for a moment to collect himself before continuing, “and you fell and ripped your clothes?” You felt your face heat up and an embarrassed smile crossed your lips before you hit him in the arm. Those were the memories you did not want to relive, embarrassing yourself in front of numerous students and staff members. “Oh stop it! First of all, it wasn’t even that funny and secondly, completely your fault, by the way” You responded, defending yourself but unable to hide your laughter.

“It went like this” John B said before he lifted you up and spun you around, causing you to scream and laugh hysterically. “Stop! I-“ you tried to yell at him but you were laughing too hard, your abdominal muscles hurting. You two giggled as he gently set you back down on the ground before you turned your gaze towards Rafe’s house and your face dropped instantly. Rafe was waiting for you, leaning against the doorframe and standing with his arms crossed, a stern expression on his face as he looked at you both.

You swallowed and gathered yourself quickly before putting on a forced smile and turning to face John B. But John B was staring back at Rafe with an equally as intimidating look on his face, so much so that he stopped noticing you. “Thank you for taking me home. I appreciate it” you said, attempting to defuse the tension before moving slowly in Rafe's direction— but both their eyes didn’t leave each other for a second. Every muscle in your body tightened and the tension in the air was apparent.

You walked up to Rafe, ascending the stairs to his enormous home's front door. “H-hi baby, missed you” you spoke as you drew nearer to him, a whiff of his signature cologne filling your nose. You looked back at John B and saw him heading to his own home, thankfully. Rafe rolled his eyes before he turned around and made his way inside the house. As you nervously followed him and silently shut the door behind you, your brows pinched in concern.

“Baby?” you whispered, trailing after Rafe into the house as you watched his back, his muscles prominent through the tight shirt he was wearing. “Are you angry at me?” You asked in a low voice, worried about the answer. He turned around and came up to you, his large hands cupping your face as he stared directly into your eyes. “I could never be angry at you, sweet girl. You’re my everything. Don’t ever forget that, alright?” he said before you nodded, a wave of relief instantly washing over you. He kissed you on the forehead and you closed your eyes to take in the moment, feeling lucky to have such a caring and sweet boyfriend, you thought. But then the night fell.

“Fuck! No, no, no!” A terrible nightmare about the killer had you breathing heavily when you woke up in the middle of the night. You immediately sat up straight, your chest heaving up and down as you rubbed the sleep from your eyes. “Rafe?” You called out, desperate for his comfort and affection.

After a short while, there was still no response. Still feeling a little disoriented, your brows knitted as you attempted to sort through your thoughts. But something felt off. You extended your arm around the bed but there was nothing but pillows next to you. This is when you started to feel a little panicked and horrible thoughts pierced your mind like needles jabbing at your skin. “Rafe?!” you called out again in fear, a little louder this time with still no response. You hastily turned on the light, a perplexed frown appearing on your face. The bed was empty. Rafe was usually a very deep sleeper so waking up in the middle of the night wasn’t anything like him. You pushed the blanket off of yourself and stood up, turning off the light again before carefully leaving the room to investigate the situation.

The only sound you could hear as you wandered around his house was the clock ticking as you made your way to the stairs, slowly walking down. His enormous house was terrifying at night, your trembling, sweaty hand gripping the railing tightly. You gasped at hearing heavy footsteps coming from the kitchen downstairs. Tears started forming in your eyes, afraid that anything had happened to Rafe. Scenarios played in your head of the killer entering the house and taking Rafe, torturing him or even worse, murdering him.

When you got to the bottom of the stairs, you took your time making your way to the kitchen while holding your breath. The footsteps became louder now as you approached the person. You were so scared and worried about what you might find behind the wall that tears were streaming down your face. You approached the kitchen cautiously and peeked inside. It took you a few blinks to get used to the darkness, but you exhaled deeply in relief when you saw Rafe in the kitchen, unharmed. Thank god. You reasoned that he must have gotten hungry or wanted to grab a glass of water. You hurried into the kitchen to hug him tight and take him back into bed immediately.

“Rafe? Baby? I saw you weren’t in bed so I-“ you began, feeling relieved to see your boyfriend standing in front of you before your jaw fell as you stood there, unblinking, trying to process what you were seeing. “Rafe…” You gulped and stared in horror, taking in the black and white mask he was holding in addition to the fresh blood on his body. You blinked a few times, thinking you must be still in a dream, but that wasn’t the case— Rafe was still standing in front of you, equally as shocked before he slowly approached you.

“I can explain” He whispered softly, wary of what to say. His expression showed panic as he hurriedly placed the mask down on the table. “Okay, okay, it’s all good. We got this” he mumbled to himself as he rubbed his temples, letting out a frustrating moan. Fear coursed through your body as you stood there motionless and terrified. “Baby, listen, alright? Sometimes-“ he began, pacing around the kitchen at this point, “Sometimes things just gotta happen. We don’t always have a choice, got that? And- and, I just gotta protect you- gotta protect you from all those bad men who wanna take you away.” Your legs felt weak and all kinds of emotions shot through your body. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t do anything. Your breathing quickened as Rafe continued his ramblings. “I just- I just can’t let that happen, alright? You’re my sweet and innocent girl. I can’t let anyone take you from me, never.”

Your trembling hand moved to your mouth and your eyes grew wide when it finally clicked whose blood it was on Rafe. “Rafe? Is that…” you gulped, secretly hoping you were wrong. “Is that John B’s blood?” he turned around quickly and locked eyes with you. “Baby, you know I didn’t have a choice, okay? I had to do it. I need to protect you, protect you from all the evil in this world” He said, trying his best to convince you. You blinked a few times, tears streaming down your face as you tried to comprehend what had just happened. Everything was difficult for you, your head hurting. But you loved Rafe. He was everything to you. He took care of you. He looked after you. In the end, he was the one who was always there for you no matter what. You needed him. You wiped the tears from your face using your shirt's sleeve and glanced back at him, nodding. He closed his eyes for a brief moment, and you could see the relief immediately wash over him.

“But…“ Your heart was pounding out of your chest and your mind was racing with a gazillion thoughts. “But what if anyone saw you?” Taking the mask off the table, Rafe covered his head with it. “That’s what this is for” he said, his voice muffled by the mask. You looked him up and down, examining every inch of him, from the ghostface mask to his blood-covered body, the muscles emphasised by his tight outfit. Fuck. You felt something happening inside of you. It wasn't worry or fear— it was something else. Rafe’s masked head tilted as he stared at you, trying to read your expression.

“Wait a minute…” he began, moving closer, “I know that look” Rafe chuckled and he approached you slowly as you took a step back with each step he took forward before your lower back hit the kitchen counter. His face came closer to yours as your breath hitched. He reached over to the kitchen counter beside you, grabbing the knife from next to you and putting it under your chin to lift your head up. “You dirty fucking slut. I see what’s happening here” His face drew nearer, whispering into your ear, “you’re turned on by this.”

“W-What?” you said, trying to sound confused but you couldn’t deny it, you knew he was right. The pointy end of the knife slightly dug into your skin. Instead of feeling scared, you could feel your core aching for him. “Don’t act stupid. God, you’re even more fucked up in that little head of yours than I thought” Rafe chuckled before he took the knife from under your chin and slipped both hands under your ass, hauling you up quickly and tossing you over his shoulder with ease while holding the knife in his hand. You let out a small squeal before he walked you both towards the bedroom.

“Tonight, I’m gonna have to show you who the fuck you belong to.” Rafe stated in a low voice through his mask, causing you to feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. You felt ashamed, as well as a horrible person. Your skin was stained with blood at this point— John B’s blood. But as much as he was your friend, Rafe was your boyfriend, your caregiver, your everything. And you started to think that maybe… maybe he was right. Maybe you need someone to protect you, to keep the bad men away. Maybe Rafe saw something in John B that you didn’t— in the end, you knew Rafe only ever wanted the best for you. You both loved each other forever and always, and apparently, that went as far as killing for you.

Rafe threw you onto the bed after pushing open the door to his bedroom and shutting it behind him. You slightly bounced on the bed before you turned around, resting on your elbows as you looked at him with big, innocent eyes. He stood in front of you, his arms folded and the moonlight seeping through the cracks of the blinds, illuminating your boyfriend’s menacing demeanour— the blood-stained black and white mask, a knife gripped in his right hand, and the slightly torn black outfit, indicating that John B tried to fight for his life. The only features of your boyfriend’s face visible were his blue eyes, gazing directly at you.

“You’re gonna be a good girl and listen to me, alright?” he said, with a harsh and intimidating tone. You nodded as you swallowed, anticipation raging through your body. He slightly tilted his masked head, thinking about what he was going do with you till an idea struck. He approached you slowly, footsteps heavy due to his boots. His right hand played with the knife, showing that he had plans with it. He leaned over you when he was close enough, then slid the knife under your shirt. Gazing at him with wide eyes, you gasped as he quickly tore apart your clothes, leaving you only in your bra and underwear.

“Prettiest fucking girl I have ever seen. Fuck, I am so lucky.” He now placed the knife under the straps of your bra and sliced it open, then he did the same to your underwear and tossed it aside. You let out a small whine, and he turned to face you immediately. “That… that was my favourite set” You sulked as you gazed at the shredded lingerie set lying on the floor. Rafe simply chuckled before he gripped your face forcefully, turning you to look at him. “Don’t be fucking dumb, you know I can buy you every single lingerie set that you want in the whole fucking world.”

Before you could say anything else, he grabbed your body and turned you around, placing you on your hands and knees with your ass facing him. You were soaking at this point, your wetness dripping onto the mattress. You suddenly felt the cold knife against your core, gathering the wetness as you shivered and tried to remain motionless. “Jesus fucking Christ, you’re dripping. You could’ve just told me you had some fucked up kink for killers, you know. Would’ve made it a lot easier for me” Rafe taunted, and you just knew he was smirking under that mask.

“Grip the sheets baby, maybe even bite them if you need to. Dunno how high your pain tolerance is.” he said, causing you to worry for a moment as your hands clutched the sheets under you. “But I guess we’re about to find out.” He slapped your ass swiftly before you felt the sharp knife against the skin of your ass, digging into the flesh. Your eyes closed and your teeth clenched together as you hissed at the sensation.

“R… A…” he began, as he carved his name into your skin. “It- it hurts” you cried out as you gripped the sheets. “Nuh-uh, not done yet. F…” he continued, unaffected by your whines and pleads. “E…” When he was done, he stood back to admire his work of art. “All done. Looks pretty good if I say so myself.” he said with a satisfied tone. Your eyes began to well up with tears as a result of the stinging in your skin. “All fucking mine.” He said before throwing the knife on the ground.

 “On your knees in front of me. Now” he ordered, and you didn’t waste a second before you were sitting on your knees on the ground, gazing up at him through your eyelashes. His gloved hand brushed over your face before gripping your chin, “You are nothing but my dirty whore. Got that? My property. And I will kill anyone that gets in the way.” You nodded, feeling desperate for him. He undressed himself, leaving him completely naked except for the mask on his face. You observed him— the muscles on his toned body, the blood splatters, his hard cock leaking precum. You needed him.

“Make yourself useful for once” he growled, before slapping your cheek and causing you to hiss. “Suck.” was all he said as he grabbed a handful of your hair and pulled you towards him. You started by swirling your tongue over the tip and around the length of his shaft, causing him to throw his head back and grunt. He became impatient quickly, as he pushed your head further down, his cock hitting the back of your throat. “Juuust like that, princess, doing so good for me.”You were momentarily taken aback by his sweet words, but you weren’t unfamiliar with his mood swings. You knew what to do to get him to praise you— being a good girl and doing what he says, at all times. You never wanted to disagree with Rafe or reject him. You'd go to any lengths for him.

“Holy fuck” he growled as you continued bobbing your head, saliva running down your face. He had a strong grip on your hair as he fucked your face while you held on to his thighs. He let out a grunt before shoving you off him right before he could cum, sending you stumbling backwards a little. He gestured with his head for you to get back on the bed as he grabbed the knife from the ground. You hurriedly returned to the bed and waited for him on your hands and knees before he positioned himself behind you. He then slapped your ass, making you cry out as the cuts from earlier made it sting even more.

“Aww, does that hurt, princess?” he asked, running a hand over the spot he had just slapped as you nodded, trying to hold back the tears that were starting to well up in your eyes. “But my girl can handle that, right?” he said as he teased your core with his fingers. “My girl can handle anything, as long as she got me.” he unexpectedly slipped a finger into you, causing you to moan out at the feeling. He moved in and out before adding another one, pushing his fingers knuckles deep into you. You arched your back as he curled his fingers and moved them against your g-sport skilfully. Rafe was amazing at fingering, making you squirt and cum countless times. But he quickly pulled out before you could even feel your release nearing, causing you to whine. “I know baby, I know. But I need you to cum around my cock, alright?”

He grabbed your hips and positioned himself at your entrance before he pushed into you in one quick thrust without any warning. You gasped as he buried himself into you balls deep. “Always so fucking tight. Fuuuck” Rafe groaned as he watched his cock disappear into your body. He wasted no time by thrusting in and out of you right away as he stretched you out completely. You felt a hint of pain but it was soon overpowered by pleasure. He set a steady and rough rhythm, massaging your walls perfectly.

“You’re gonna be mine forever, got that? No one will ever get to touch you.” he said as he gripped a handful of your hair and yanked your head towards him. He took the knife from beside him, but you were too cock-drunk to even notice it while your eyes rolled to the back of your head. You unexpectedly felt the icy blade against your throat, causing you to gasp. “Don’t. Fucking. Move.” he whispered into your ear, his voice muffled because of the mask as he continued his brutal thrusts along with the sharp knife against your throat. You felt your release building as your wetness trickled down the sides of your thigh. His cock felt so deep inside of you, hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

“Gonna cum so fucking deep inside of you, sweet girl, you’re gonna be leaking my cum for days.” he growled with one hand firmly gripping your hip and the other holding the knife. “Even better if a baby starts growing in that pretty body of yours, so I can fully claim you as mine.” His words made you even more aroused and you could feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release. “I’m c-close” was all you could manage to say as you heard him groan from under the mask.

“Cum for me. Cum all over my cock like the dirty slut you are” his words were enough to push you over the edge as your orgasm washed over you, causing you to see stars and your body to shake. You cried out with your mouth agape as you clenched around his cock. “Good fucking girl”

You could feel his hips stagger and lose rhythm, knowing he was close as well. One last powerful thrust and you could feel his warm cum painting your walls, milking every last drop of his seed inside of you. The grip on your hips tightened, nails digging into your skin as he rode out his high. “Fuck, fuck, fuck” he cursed while panting. You collapsed onto the bed, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. You attempted to get up but rafe quickly stopped you, gazing at you through the mask.

“Oh, we’re not done yet.” he chuckled, before flipping you onto your back and caging you between his arms, “Round two, princess.”

reblogs and comments are very much appreciated !!

nav. // m.list // please support by buying me a coffee!

tags (join here): @vxntxque @goingbackt0505 @heroftbiggestfan @locker42 @venuslore @voidcameron @lucyvg02 @yesv01 @oncasette @drxwstxrkxy @softsatnin @findapenny @skyesthebomb @harlowsgirl @maybanksstar @poppet05 @katiemay2 @jjsunrolledblunt @demiioxox @maybankslover @iruzias @iluvweasleys @ae1szn @pedrosprincess @sweetestdesire @loki-lovebot @kliness @liltimmytimtim @cavillslvt @miapanticc @rafecameronsprincess @rafesdirtyslut @peterficrecs @annaaaa14237 @harryspunchingbag @iameatingmyhair @rensolosprincess @apcllpsie @surprisinglysarah @sw34terw34ther @fredweasleyslut @yell0wclouds @crybabytecrs @btoliana @f4ll-for-you @pqndxra @httpsannoyinglolx @lcvelylies @marzipaanz @imjustcaitlin @outerbankspov @vqztsw @hagwshsjw @valel07 @gigito092507 @ry1ssa @dandyfordaffodils @drewfgs @thegirlnextdoorssister @aestheticgrungecrybaby @wh0r3-for-klaus @angzls @sarnghoe @ihearttits @immaslt4uuuu @ihrtrafeandethan @loverofdrewstarkey @darleneslane @Smutslut @iluvjj @julesmendoza890 @lorealainnehaille @thelomlisrafecameron @camelliaflow3r @thatmarvelgirly @rafesthroatbaby @aris-void @urmanlubbudoo @slut4drudy @u1t1m4t3-b1ur @drewstarkeysbae @rafescokenostril @r1vrsefx @jjmaybankisbae @shergoretzxx @mysticallystilinski @witchhkitty222 @golden-hoax @yangofyang @thejuleshypotisis @moonyage

[aeralux]

"Close To You" - Jacaerys Velaryon & Cregan Stark

Jacaerys Velaryon x Twin!Reader & Cregan Stark x Wife!Reader

Summary: It has been too long since you last saw your dear twin brother, Jacaerys, after becoming Lady Stark of Winterfell. Surprisingly, your husband has no qualms about sharing his beautiful lady wife with her twin brother. As long as Jacaerys knows that it is still he, who brings his beloved wife the best pleasure she has ever experienced.

Warnings: SMUT 18+; Targaryen twincest; oral (m and f receiving); male masturbation; voyeurism; technically infidelity (but Cregan is fine with it cause it's Jacaerys); doggy style (again, yes. I'm sorry, but it fit the plot); foul language; threesome

Words: 11k

Notes: No use of (y/n) and no description of the reader. If you do not agree with the warnings, DO NOT read. I'm not responsible for the content you consume.

It was late, the dim glow of candlelight flickering against the ancient stone walls of Winterfell, and your muscles ached. Your husband had once again taken you to heights of passion that left you breathless. The Stark men were known for their virility, a reputation that Cregan carried with pride. Though you had entered this union with apprehension, you found comfort in knowing Cregan Stark was a man of great honour and nobility. What was there not to admire?

Yet, despite the warmth that enveloped you in your new life, a deep ache resided in your heart. You yearned for your beloved twin, Jacaerys, with whom you had shared every joy and sorrow since birth. Until the fateful discussions of your betrothal began, you had envisioned a future where you would never be parted from him. But those dreams had been cruelly shattered beneath the weight of duty and expectation. Still, Jace’s assurances echoed in your mind; he had promised Cregan was worthy of your love, and you knew his praises were not spoken lightly.

Now, six moons had passed since you had left the warmth of Dragonstone to embrace your role as Lady of Winterfell, where the chill of the North wrapped around you like a second skin. The transition had been harsh yet strangely welcome. Your husband, with his quiet strength and reliable presence, had ensured your comfort in every conceivable way. He listened to your hopes and dreams and wrapped you in a love that had begun to soothe your loss. Each shared smile and soft caress deepened your bond. Cregan made sure that you were thoroughly satisfied in your marriage.

Your husband carefully freed himself from your warm embrace, placing a tender kiss upon your forehead—a fleeting touch, but one that spoke volumes of his affection. As he strode through the ancient halls of Winterfell, the flickering torchlight casting shadows upon the stone walls, he held a glass of whiskey in his hand. His keen eyes soon landed upon Jacaerys, who had only arrived two days prior, and his eagerness to be near his beloved sister was evident in the way he fidgeted.

With a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, Cregan approached the young prince, claiming a seat on the plush, well-worn sofa before the hearth, where the flames danced, spreading warmth throughout the cold hall. “How are you faring in the North, my prince?” his deep voice resonated, breaking through the heavy silence that enveloped them.

Jacaerys looked up, momentarily pulled from his thoughts. “You have shown much hospitality, and I am grateful for that. My sister seems to flourish in the northern air,” he replied, his tone a mindful balance of politeness and reserve.

Cregan chuckled softly, his gaze drifting to the fire as it crackled. “She does indeed find joy here,” he said, a glimmer of mischief in his gaze. “You know my affection for her runs deep. I do everything within my power to ensure her happiness.” The taunting light in his eyes betrayed the amusement he found in Jacaerys’ discomfort, fully aware of the peculiar customs that governed the Targaryens—a family known for their fierce loyalty and their tangled web of desires.

Before allowing Jacaerys to respond, Cregan took another measured sip from his glass, swirling the amber liquid within. His voice held an ominous weight as he spoke, "I overheard you yesterday. Pleasuring my lady wife..." He let the words hang in the air, his eyes glinting dangerously in the dim light of the chamber.

Jacaerys’ heart dropped as he met Cregan’s steady gaze, shock and dread mingling on his face. The Lord of Winterfell was a mountain of a man, both in stature and presence, no stranger to battles. The very spirit of the North. “Cregan…I’m—”

Cregan cut him off with a low chuckle, his voice gravelly. “No need to apologize. I suspected as much.” He leaned back in his chair, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “I knew she was no maiden when I first claimed her. She spilt no blood and seemed all too familiar with passions—her cries echoed through the halls, begging for more.” A glint of mischief flickered in his eyes as memories of their wedding night stirred within him, the warmth of it all washing over him.

Jacaerys stared at Cregan, bewilderment etched across his features. How could the man sit there, so unbothered by the knowledge that he had bedded the very woman he now claimed as his own?

“But!” The laughter drained from Cregan’s voice, replaced by a steely seriousness. “Remember, she is my lady, my wife, and she is to bear my heirs. A Stark must always remain in Winterfell.” The warning was clear, the kind of warning that came from a man who had carved his place in the world with blood and honour.

As silence enveloped them, Jacaerys began to gather his fractured thoughts, the weight of his intentions pressing heavily upon him. “Of course. She drank Moon Tea right away. I brought some with me,” he stammered, unwittingly revealing the purpose that had guided his way to Winterfell.

“Ah, so you did spill your seed in her womb,” Cregan mused, narrowing his eyes as if calculating the implications of the prince’s words. "Can’t say I’m surprised. After all, she was yours first, wasn’t she?” His voice had a teasing tone, reminding them that amidst the tension, their fates were still closely linked.

Jacaerys sat with his head bowed, shame flooding through him like cold water. Cregan, once a trusted ally and now a close friend, had become a victim of his actions. The weight of betrayal pressed heavily on his heart. "I did not mean to betray you in this manner, my good Lord," he admitted, his voice steady yet laced with regret. His brown eyes, usually bright, were now shadowed with sincerity. "It is difficult to resist a beauty like her." He cast his gaze downward again, seeking some semblance of justification for his actions.

Cregan leaned back in his chair, a bemused smirk creeping across his lips. "Tell me then... what did you do to her?" The words rolled off his tongue teasingly, lightening the heavy air between them. He leaned back comfortably, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

"Come on, indulge me," he urged, curiosity piqued. To anyone else, his fascination might seem perverse. Still, to Cregan, such matters were mere threads in the intricacy of life. After all, Jacaerys’s actions were but a common act in your ancient bloodline. And deep down, they both knew you were Cregan's now. And no man or God could take you away from him.

Jacaerys squirmed uncomfortably under Cregan's penetrating gaze, a flush of guilt and shame creeping up his neck as he recalled last night's activities. "I... I pleased her, of course," he began hesitantly, unsure how much detail Cregan wished to hear. "My mouth and hands worshipped every inch of her soft skin, my fingers delving into secret places to draw out her sweet cries." He paused, swallowing hard at the recollection.

Jacaerys let out a low groan as your fingers tangled in his hair, his hands gripping your waist possessively. He captured your lips in a searing, passionate kiss, pouring all his pent-up longing and desire into the embrace.

"Mine," he mumbled against your mouth, his tongue delving deep to claim you thoroughly. His hands slid down to grasp your rear, squeezing the firm globes as he pressed your body flush against his own.

He broke the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. His beard rasped deliciously against your flesh, leaving faint red marks.

"I've wanted this... wanted you... for so long," Jacaerys panted, his voice rough with lust. "To touch you, taste you, feel your naked skin against mine again..."

He pushed the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders, exposing more of your flesh to his hungry gaze. Cupping your breasts, he kneaded the soft bosom, thumbs circling your hardening peaks through the thin fabric.

"I'm going to worship every inch of you," Jacaerys promised darkly, his eyes glinting with wicked intent in the moonlight.

"Then... then I slowly undressed her, baring her skin to my hungry gaze. I caressed every curve, marvelling at the softness of her flesh." Jacaerys' breathing grew heavy and uneven, both from embarrassment and ardour. 

"I took my time, wanting to savour every moment of our union."

Jacaerys growled low in his throat as your hands explored his body with such desperate hunger. He quickly shed the remainder of his clothes, tossing them carelessly to the floor until he was bare before you, his manhood standing proud and erect.

"Greedy girl," he teased, a wicked grin on his face as he pushed you back onto the bed, settling his weight between your spread thighs.

He hooked his fingers in your nightgown and practically ripped it off, baring your naked body to his heated gaze. His calloused hand cupped your sex, one long finger delving between your slick folds to stroke your sensitive, aching flesh.

"You are so wet," Jacaerys moaned, his finger sliding deep inside you, curling to stroke that special spot within. "So ready for your brother'..."

He added another finger, pumping them in and out of your clenching heat as his thumb rubbed firm circles around your pearl. Leaning down, he captured one stiff nipple in his mouth, sucking hard as his teeth grazed the sensitive peak.

The prince took a shuddering breath, steeling himself to continue. "I laid her down on the bed. I needed to taste her sweetness." He could feel the heat rising in his body as he spoke, arousal stirring once more at the mere memory of your joining.

Slowly, teasingly, he kissed his way down your body, his tongue and lips exploring every dip and curve with agonizing slowness.

"Patience, little sister," he murmured, his hot breath ghosting over your skin. "I'm going to take my time with you, make you beg so sweetly."

He paused to lave his tongue around your navel before continuing his descent, settling between your splayed thighs. He could smell your arousal, and see your swollen, glistening folds just inches from his face. Jacaerys licked his lips in anticipation.

"Such a pretty little cunt," he praised, running a finger through your dripping slit. "Missed your sweet cunny so much."

Without warning, he buried his face between your thighs, sealing his mouth over your sex in a deep, intimate kiss. His tongue delved between your folds, stroking and probing your most sensitive flesh as he licked up your essence.

Cregan listened intently, a flicker of amusement dancing in his grey eyes as Jacaerys recounted the intimate details of his tryst with you. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, the very picture of a man engaged and intrigued. A wicked grin spread across his rugged features as yesterday's events replayed themselves in his mind's eye.

Cregan had just finished his nightly duties and was about to retire to his chambers when he heard the unmistakable sounds of passion spill out from the private chambers of his new bride. Brow furrowed, he crept closer, pressing an ear to the heavy wooden door.

What he heard made his blood run cold. The wet, obscene sucking sounds, the breathy moans and wanton cries that could only belong to one woman - his pretty wife. And the low, rough groans and filthy words of encouragement - unmistakably the voice of Jacaerys Velaryon.

Cregan listened intently from the doorway, a smirk spreading across his face as he took in every lewd sound and wanton moan spilling from your lips. He could hear the wet, vulgar squelches of Jacaerys' fingers plunging into your dripping cunt.

Cregan's manhood swelled and strained against his breeches as he listened to his brother-in-law worship his wife with such eagerness. He knew all too well the taste of your honeyed essence on his tongue, the feel of your velvety walls gripping him tightly as he fucked you hard and deep.

Nothing Jacaerys did could compare to how Cregan took you, could it? He knew you screamed the loudest, the longest when Cregan split you open on his massive length and pounded you into the bed until you saw stars.

Still, Cregan couldn't deny the eroticism of the scene happening behind the door - his little wife, flushed and writhing in pleasure, begging for your own brother's cock like the desperate slut you were.

"Aye, I've seen the way her body responds to my touch," Cregan murmured, a note of pride in his deep voice. "The way her nipples harden beneath my fingers, like ripe berries begging to be plucked." He chuckled softly, lost momentarily in the memory of your soft gasps and breathy moans.

"The way she arches into me, seeking more, always more." Cregan's lips curled into a smirk. "She's a passionate creature, your sister. It's no surprise she craves the touch of a man."

He sipped his whiskey, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat. "Tell me, did she ride you with the same fervour shedoes me?" Cregan asked, a challenging glint in his eye. "Did she sink onto your cock with the same eager cries and lustful abandon?"

"I've had her in every room of Winterfell," he boasted a hint of pride in his tone. "On the great table in the banquet hall, bent over the balcony overlooking the godswood, even in the openness of the training yard, not caring who saw her lost in the throes of passion."

Cregan's eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper, "Did she scream your name as she came undone on your cock, or did she remain silent, saving her cries for when she's with me?" The lord smiled wolfishly, clearly enjoying the taboo conversation.

"She's a wild little thing in the bedchamber," Cregan smirked, "full of untamed passion and desire." He set his glass down with a thud, the alcohol no doubt fueling his bold directness.

Jacaerys met Cregan's challenging gaze with a smirk of his own, not to be outdone by the Lord of Winterfell's brazen boasting. "Ah, but did you hear her scream your name like a prayer to the gods when she found her release?" the prince retorted, a mischievous glint in his brown eyes. "I assure you, my technique is... unparalleled."

He leaned forward, mirroring Cregan's posture, the air charged with camaraderie rather than hostility. "Perhaps it was how I worshipped her body with reverence, like a man honouring a goddess," Jacaerys continued, his voice low and teasing.

Despite the smirk on his lips, there was no genuine malice in Jacaerys' words, only a playful ribbing between two men who had come to know each other intimately through their shared bond with you. Cregan's chest rumbled with laughter, a sound of genuine amusement rather than anger.

"Is that so?" Cregan chuckled, taking another swig of his whiskey. "Well, we'll have to agree to disagree on that account. After all, I've seen how she melts against me, her body moulding to mine like she was made for me alone."

With a final, winning grin and a clap on Jacaerys' shoulder, Cregan stood up from his chair, finishing the last of his whiskey in one long, appreciative gulp. He set the empty glass down on the side table with a soft clink, straightened his tunic and stepped away from the hearth.

"My lady wife awaits," Cregan rumbled, a note of anticipation in his deep voice. "It seems your sister's passion is not so easily sated, even after a night of lover's embraces." He smirked in a self-assured, almost smug manner, well aware of his role in stoking the flames of your desire.

Cregan flicked his gaze back to the fire before turning to leave. The warmth of the flames faded as he stepped out into the chill of the castle halls, his long strides ate up the distance to the bed chambers he shared with his new bride, each step filled with purpose and growing hunger.

As he entered the room, the soft glow of candlelight and the welcoming heat of the hearth illuminated the space, casting a warm glow over the furs and silken sheets.

He took off his clothes methodically, folding his tunic and breeches and setting them aside with a carelessness that spoke of utter ease in his surroundings. Then, clad in nothing but his small clothes, Cregan approached the bed, his grey eyes glinting with a predatory light.

As much as his body ached for yours, Cregan knew that rushing headlong into their coupling would not serve either of them. No, he would take his time, would worship your body with the reverence and attention it deserved... even if the young prince had attempted to lay claim to your heart many times before your wedding day and the night before.

"Did you miss me, my lady?" Cregan asked, his voice a low rumble as he slid beneath the covers beside her. "Or were you still lost in the memory of your beloved twin's touch?" He allowed a smirk to tug at the corner of his mouth, knowing that no matter what pleasure Jacaerys had given you, it could not compare to the devotion and love Cregan held for you.

You stirred from your slumber, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep as you noticed the empty space beside you on the bed. A soft, sleepy groan escaped your lips as your gaze drifted to your husband's larger form looming above you in the dark room.

"Mmh..." you mumbled incoherently, your voice thick with drowsy confusion. "Why aren't you next to me, Cregan?" you whined poutily, reaching out a hand to caress the empty sheets beside you.

Cregan felt a flicker of amusement stir within him at the playful, pouty tone lacing your voice. He lowered himself slightly, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your furrowed brow, determined to smooth the wrinkle upon your delicate features.

"Did you truly miss me that much, sweetling?" he teased, his deep voice wrapped in an affection that warmed the air between you. His gaze, intense yet tender, bore into yours as he reached out, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. His calloused fingers brushed against your skin, trailing along the delicate curve of your jaw—a gentle touch that felt reassuring and intimate.

"I'm here now," he continued, the gravity of his tone momentarily giving way to a playful smirk. I had to see to some matters with your brother." The corners of his mouth twitched as memories of his conversation with Jacaerys flickered, a brief lustful glimmer lighting his eyes. The air around you seemed to hold a charged silence, filled with the unspoken bond you had developed.

You blinked at Cregan, your sleepy eyes widening as his words sank in. Your brother's name slipped off your tongue in a drowsy murmur. "Jacaerys?" you asked, leaning into his warm touch instinctively as you tried to shake the last remnants of sleep from your mind. "What matters did you have to discuss with him?" As you spoke, you sat up slowly in the bed, the sheets slipping down to pool around your waist.

Cregan's gaze drifted over your newly exposed skin as you sat up, taking in the way the candlelight danced across your shoulders and the gentle swell of your breasts. He felt a familiar stirring within him, a building heat. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you, his large frame dwarfing yours.

"He spoke of the night you shared," Cregan admitted, his voice low and rough with barely contained lust. "Of the way he touched you, worshipped you..." He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "As if I didn't already know how sweetly you yield to a lover's caress."

Your heart raced as Cregan's words sank in, a blush spreading across your cheeks at the mention of your secret tryst with Jacaerys. You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, and hear the echoes of your stolen whispers and soft moans lingering in the candlelit bedroom.

Cregan's hands slid down to rest on your waist, his fingers splaying across the dip of your hips. He pulled you closer until your bare breasts pressed against his chest, the soft mounds moulding to the hard planes of his body like they were madefor him alone.

Cregan's hands slid higher, skimming over the curve of your ribcage until they cupped the soft weight of your breasts. He kneaded the tender flesh, his thumbs brushing over your nipples until they pebbled beneath his touch.

"Tell me, my dear," Cregan murmured against your ear, his lips brushing the sensitive skin, "who do you think can bring you more pleasure? Your dear brother... or your husband?"

Your breath hitched as Cregan's strong hands caressed your sensitive skin, his touch igniting sparks of pleasure that raced through your veins. You found yourself arching into him instinctively, craving more of his electrifying touch.

"Cregan..." you breathed out, your voice trembling slightly as you gazed up at him through your long lashes. "My brother's touches are gentle, almost reverent... like the soft petals of a rose," you explained, your fingers splaying across the firm expanse of his chest.

"But you..." you continued, your pulse quickening as you leaned into him, your lips a mere breath away from his. "You bring me to heights of ecstasy I never knew existed. Each time we join, it's as if the Gods have smiled upon me, blessing our union."

A fierce blush crept up your neck and painted your cheeks a rosy hue as you admitted, "I find myself to rather enjoy your... more forceful ways of loving me. The way you claim my body, it drives me to the very brink of madness..." you trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper.

Cregan felt a surge of primal male satisfaction at your breathless confession, his heartbeat quickening with the knowledge of the effect he had on you. His hands slid lower, gripping your hips possessively as he pulled you flush against him, the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your thigh.

"Is that so?" Cregan growled, a wicked gleam in his grey eyes as he drank in your flushed, wanton expression. "Then allow me to remind you just how thoroughly you belong to me..." 

With that, he captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep. One hand slid down to grip the back of your thigh, hiking your leg up to wrap around his waist as he rolled his hips into yours, grinding his hard length against your core.

Cregan's other hand tangled in your hair, tugging your head back to expose the slender column of your throat. He trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing your racing pulse before he bit down gently, marking you as his.

"Mine," Cregan rumbled against your skin, his voice heavy with desire and possession. "You are mine, now and forever. I will have you screaming my name until there is no doubt who you belong to."

To emphasize his point, Cregan slid a hand between your thighs, his fingers finding your slick heat. He groaned at the evidence of your arousal, his digits sliding through your folds with ease. "So wet for me already, love..." he purred, circling your sensitive pearl with maddening precision. "Tell me, who makes you burn like this? Who sets your body ablaze with need?"

"Oh gods, Cregan..." you whimpered breathlessly, your back arching as jolts of electric pleasure coursing through your body. Gasps and needy whines spilt from your lips, your fingers curling into his firm muscles. 

"Fuck," you panted, instinctively rolling your hips against his fingers, seeking more of that friction. "It's you, Cregan. Now fuck me like you mean it," you demanded, your dragon showing its scales.

A low, approving growl rumbled in Cregan's chest as he felt your body come alive beneath his touch, your demands stoking the flames of his desire. Without hesitation, he flipped you onto your stomach, pushing you down into the plush bedding. He straddled your hips, pinning you in place with his large frame.

He touched you in a way that awakened a carnal desire you had never known before him. You craved his dominance, the way he could bend you to his will with a mere touch or a whispered command.

"As my lady commands," Cregan purred darkly, his lips curling into a wicked smirk. His calloused hands slid around to grip your hips, kneading the soft flesh roughly. He slipped a hand beneath your hip, pushing it up and out until your rear was raised and presented to him.

"You have a magnificent ass," Cregan praised, his voice a low rumble as he delivered a sharp slap to one cheek, making you let out a quiet whine in response.

Cregan flipped up your nightgown, exposing your bare cunt to the cool air of the bedroom. He could see the glistening folds of your pussy, the way your arousal clung to your outer lips. Unable to resist, Cregan reached out, delivering another sudden, sharp smack to your rear. The sound of skin connecting with skin filled the candlelit room, followed by a reddening handprint blooming across your tender flesh. You gasped at the unexpected contact, back arching as a sensation raced through you.

Your body trembled with need, as you arched your back, presenting yourself to your husband. Teasing him with the tantalizing curve of your rear, you breathed out your plea.

"Again," you whimpered, biting your lip coyly as you gazed back at him over your shoulder. "Please Cregan, spank me again."

"Such a greedy little thing, aren't you?" Cregan purred, landing a sharp spank on your ass. The sound echoed through the room, followed by your startled gasp. "Demanding your husband fuck you like a she-wolf in a rut." He spanked you again, watching the supple flesh jiggle enticingly.

You arched your back, a throaty moan escaping your lips as Cregan's strong hand connected with the supple curve of your ass. "Mmh!" Your body shuddered in response to the sudden jolt of sensation, a tingling warmth spreading across your skin. "Yes!" You cried out, your hair swaying with the force of his slap. "Please Cregan, more."

Trembling with a mix of pain and pleasure, you pushed your rear up higher, unconsciously offering yourself to him. Presenting the round, perky cheeks of your butt for his punishment. "I need... I need you." you breathed out, your voice ragged with arousal.

Cregan let out a deep, approving growl at your wanton display, his eyes darkening with lust as he drank in the erotic sight of your arched back and raised rear. His calloused hand continued to rain down sharp slaps across the supple globes, watching in satisfaction as they jiggled and reddened beneath his touch.

"Such a needy little minx, begging so sweetly for your husband's cock," Cregan rumbled, delivering another stinging blow. His other hand slid between your thighs, feeling the slick heat of your arousal. "So wet and ready, just from rough handling." He circled your clit with a teasing finger, feeling it swell and throb against his touch.

Cregan leaned down, dragging his tongue along the curve of your spine, tasting the salt of your skin. Slowly he pushed a long finger inside your tight heat, pumping it, relishing the way your walls clenched around the intrusion. "Tell me, sweetling, who makes this sweet cunt weep with need?" He added a second finger, thrusting deeper, harder.

"Oh gods, you Cregan!" you gasped. Pleasure sparked through you at his touch, your slick walls clenching greedily around the digits plunging in and out.

But you couldn't resist stirring his jealous nature, even in your heightened state. "And Jace... oh fuck, the way he touched me, it was... it was incredible." you moaned, dragging out your brother's name.

You knew Cregan would punish you for that, for even mentioning your brother's name while he had you like this. The thought sent a thrill of anticipation through you, your heart racing in your chest.

Cregan's jaw clenched at your brother's name falling from your lips, a surge of jealousy and possession flaring within him. He withdrew his fingers abruptly, leaving your aching cunny empty and wanting.

"Jace, is it?" Cregan growled, his voice a low rumble filled with dark promise. "Let me show you the difference between a prince's tender loving and a man's hungry lust."

He pushed your thighs further apart, baring your glistening folds to his heated gaze. Then he leaned in, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh.

You threw your head back as a throaty scream tore from your throat. The lewd, obscene slurping sounds of Cregan's hungry mouth devouring your dripping sex filled the room, mingling with your wanton cries of ecstasy.

"Oh gods, yes!" you keened, fingers scrabbling at the sheets beneath you as jolts of pleasure coursed through your veins. "Don't stop!"

Your heart raced, pounding against your ribs as you pushed your hips back shamelessly. The depraved act only fueled the fire burning in your core, clear juices of your arousal dripping down your trembling thighs.

"Fuck, Cregan!" you panted, your voice ragged and breathless.

Cregan latched his mouth onto your cunny, his tongue delving between your slick folds to lap at your essence. He groaned at the taste of your arousal, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he feasted on your dripping cunt like a starving man. His tongue circled your clit, flicked over it, and suckled on it greedily as his lips and mouth worked tirelessly to bring you to the pinnacle of pleasure.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling your ass back against his face as he licked and sucked and devoured you like a starving man. The obscene sounds of his greed filled the room, mingling with your shameless screams of ecstasy.

Tears of pure ecstasy streamed down your flushed cheeks, your hair in a wild mess. Drool dribbled from the corner of your slack mouth, your jaw hanging open in a silent scream. Cregan's skilful tongue and lips devoured your most intimate places with a hunger, reducing you to a writhing, mewling mess.

At that moment, you knew with absolute certainty that not even the most skilled harlots could compare to you at this moment.

Cregan continued his relentless assault, spurred on by your screams and the knowledge that he was reducing you to this pleading mess. He could feel your body tensing, your thighs quaking against his head as your climax approached.

"Not... not yet, love," Cregan commanded, pulling back just long enough to growl the words against your slick flesh. The loss of his mouth on your cunny makes you whine pathetically.

As Cregan's skilled mouth continued to work its magic, consumed by a primal hunger as he devoured his bride's dripping sex, the sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the torchlit corridor outside their bedchamber. Unbeknownst to the lost-in-passion couple, Jacaerys had been making his way back to his chambers after his discussion with Cregan.

However, the prince's steps faltered as he heard the unmistakable sounds of his sister's ecstasy spilling out from behind the heavy oak door. Your screams of "Fuck, Cregan!" and the wet, obscene noises of a man feasting on a woman's most intimate place brought him up short. For a moment, he stood there, heart pounding, as he listened to the lewd symphony playing out mere feet away.

"Oh gods, yes!" he heard you cry out, your voice ragged with pleasure. "Don't stop!"

A surge of jealous fury flooded Jacaerys at the sound of Cregan's name falling from his sister's lips in such a context. He clenched his fists at his sides, fighting the urge to barge into the room and tear his rival away from you. But even through the haze of his anger, he couldn't help but picture the scene - his beautiful sister, writhing in ecstasy on the bed as her new husband indulged greedily on her dripping cunt.

Despite the jealousy, Jacaerys palmed his hardening length through his breeches, imagining he was the one bringing his darling twin to such heights of pleasure.

He drew near to the door, his heart thundering in his chest. Jacaerys swallowed hard, his hand hovering uncertainly over the doorknob. A part of him knew he should leave to give you and your new husband the privacy you deserved. But another part that still ached with longing for your touch, urged him to enter. To see with his own eyes the passion that set his sister's blood aflame.

Jacaerys hesitated a moment longer before quietly pushing open the heavy oak door, his heart hammering wildly in his chest. As he stepped into the bedchamber, his eyes widened in shock at the utterly depraved scene unfolding before him.

There, in the centre of the room, was the bed. And there, upon the bed, was a sight that stole his breath away. His precious twin, his sweet sister, was on her hands and knees, her back arched in a way that thrust her hips up and presented the glistening, dripping folds of her sex to Cregan's hungry mouth.

The sight of Cregan's dark head nestled between his sister's thighs, of his mouth greedily devouring your most intimate place, made Jacaerys' heart clench with a pang of bitter envy. The nasty slurping sounds filling the room, punctuated by your shameless cries of pleasure and guttural moans.

"Fuck, Cregan! Yes, yes!"

Jacaerys stood frozen, hardly able to believe his eyes at how his sister was allowing herself to be taken, so wantonly and without shame. Drool spilt from the corner of your slack mouth as you lost yourself in pleasure, totally unaware of your brother's presence.

He watched, enraptured and appalled in equal measure, as Cregan pushed you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy with each pass of his tongue, each greedy suckle of your swollen clit. The sight of his sister's pleasure was breathtaking and breathtakingly lewd, your body glistening with sweat and your arousal dripping down your quivering thighs. He had never seen his sweet, innocent sister so utterly consumed by carnal pleasure... it was almost too much for the young prince to bear.

Under his robes, Jacaerys' manhood strained against the confines of his breeches, the thick length throbbing and aching for release. He palmed himself through the fabric, his breath growing ragged as he watched Cregan devour your sex like a starving man.

You gasped in shock as you turned to see Jacaerys standing in the doorway, his eyes wide. Embarrassment flushed through you, colouring your cheeks a deep shade of red.

"J-Jacaerys!" you cried out, your voice catching on a desperate moan you couldn't quite suppress. You were mortified for him to see you like this - on your hands and knees, drool spilling from your slack mouth as Cregan feasted greedily on your dripping cunt. It was a sight so foul and vulgar, so far removed from the sweet, innocent girl he knew.

He had never witnessed you in such a state of shameless abandon before. Always, his lovemaking had been gentle and tender, laying you down like a true gentleman before worshipping your body with soft, respectful touches. Seeing you mewling and writhing in ecstasy, your round ass raised and presented to your husband's hungry mouth... it had to be a shock for him surely.

He swallowed hard, his eyes roaming over your arched back, the reddened globes of your ass.

"Sweet sister..." Jacaerys breathed out, his voice thick with shock and a confusing mix of jealousy, anger, and reluctant arousal. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the erotic spectacle.

"Brother, please," you gasped out between desperate moans and whimpers, your back arching as Cregan continued his relentless assault on your sex. "Don't look..." You couldn't bring yourself to beg him to stay, yet you couldn't bring yourself to beg him to flee.

Cregan glanced up at Jacaerys, his eyes glinting with a wicked, almost taunting light. He licked his lips, savouring the taste of your arousal. "Why don't you join us, Your Grace?" Cregan invited, his tone dripping with mocking deference. "Your sister is a feast that begs to be shared."

Before you could utter a word of protest or pleading, Cregan's skilful tongue pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed, back arching as you came with a loud, shameless cry that echoed through the room. "Ahhh!" you screamed, your vision going white as your eyes rolled back in sheer ecstasy.

Wave after wave of raw, primal bliss crashed over you, your inner walls clenching and fluttering wildly around Cregan's plundering tongue. You gripped the silken sheets beneath you like a lifeline as you rode out your intense climax, your body shaking like a leaf.

Cregan groaned against your flesh, the vibrations only heightening your pleasure as he worked you through your intense climax with skilled licks and sucks.

Jacaerys stood rooted to the spot, his mouth agape as he watched your body undulate in the throes of ecstasy. He had never seen such a display of sensual bliss from his sister before, and it both shocked and aroused him deeply.

Cregan pulled back slightly, watching with smug satisfaction as your body shuddered and jerked, your honey dripping down your quivering thighs. He licked his lips, savouring the taste of your release. "That's it, love," he praised, his voice a low, arrogant rumble that carried to Jacaerys' ears. "Let it all out. Let your brother hear what a wanton little thing you are for your husband."

"Sister!" Jacaerys gasped, his voice strangled with emotion. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the erotic spectacle unfolding before him, even as a part of him recoiled at the display. This was not the sweet, gentle girl he knew and loved... this was a creature of pure, unbridled lust.

Cregan rose to his feet, looming over your still-trembling form like a conquering warrior. He licked his lips, savouring the lingering taste of your climax on his tongue. The smug smirk playing across his lips glistened with your essence in the candlelight.

Jacaerys glared at Cregan, his jaw clenched tight with a mix of jealousy, anger, and reluctant arousal. As much as he despised the man's arrogance, he couldn't deny the way his groin throbbed at the erotic sight of his sister's limp, thoroughly pleasured body.

Slowly, hesitantly at first, Jacaerys took a step forward. Then another. With each step, he felt a growing sense of transgression, of crossing an invisible line. But the pull of lust was too strong to resist.

"I'll have you know my sister is not some... some harlot," Jacaerys growled, even as he came to stand beside the bed, looking down at your trembling form. His eyes raked over your body, taking in every intimate detail - the way your breasts heaved with each ragged breath, the glistening folds of your pussy...

"I... I'm not jealous," he lied, his voice strained. But as he spoke, his hand drifted down to adjust his straining erection through his breeches, betraying his true desires. "I'm just... I'm just concerned for her well-being."

Jacaerys swallowed hard, his heart hammering in his chest as he looked down at your nude, trembling form splayed out before him and Cregan. He couldn't believe what he was about to do, but the sight of you so wantonly pleasured had ignited a fire in his loins that he couldn't ignore.

"The offer stands, Your Grace," Cregan said smugly, his hand still possessively groping and kneading the soft flesh of your ass. "Why don't you come to claim your share?" 

With that, Cregan grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your back, making you shriek and leaving you staring up at them both - your husband with his arrogant smirk and your brother with his conflicted, lust-filled gaze. Your legs fell open, giving them an unobstructed view of your dripping cunt.

You were flushed and panting beneath their appraising gazes, your breasts heaving with each ragged, uneven breath.

The fabric of your nightgown still clung to your chest, but you knew it wouldn't be long before Cregan tore it away completely. Soon, you would be bare and exposed before them both, a delight for their eyes and hands and mouths to devour.

Cregan licked his lips as he drank in the delicious sight of your naked body splayed out wantonly before them. He could see the way your brother's eyes roamed hungrily over your nude form, lingering on the swell of your breasts and the glistening folds of your sex. The air was thick with a tension that made Cregan's cock throb urgently against your thigh.

"That's right, princess," Cregan purred, trailing a finger along the curve of your breast, feeling your nipple stiffen at his touch. "You're going to be a feast for both of our appetites tonight."

"You're playing a dangerous game, Stark," Jacaerys warned, his voice low and rough. "She is my sister. Honour demands that I protect her from... from men like you."

Yet even as he spoke, Jacaerys found his hand drifting closer to your thigh, his fingers grazing your soft skin. He could feel the heat radiating off your body, could see the way your chest rose and fell with each desperate breath.

"Sweet sister," Jacaerys breathed, his voice strangled with a mix of shock and desire. "I must confess... I've never seen you like this before. Never imagined..." He trailed off, unable to find the right words, his mouth suddenly dry.

Cregan smirked at the prince's obvious arousal, his hand still possessively gripping your hip. "Aye, it's a sight to behold, isn't it? Your sister's sweet cunny, so ripe and ready for the taking."

Jacaerys swallowed hard, his eyes flicking up to meet Cregan's arrogant gaze before dropping back to your naked body. "Yes," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "And I find myself... craving a taste."

With a rough tug, Cregan ripped the flimsy fabric away, baring your naked body entirely to both their hungry gazes. Your breasts bounced free, the flush peaks puckered and begging for attention. Your cunny soaked with arousal, the delicate folds dewy and swollen with desire.

You gasped softly as Cregan tore away the fabric of your nightgown. With a teasing smile, you slipped the ruined garment off your shoulders. It joined the growing pile of tattered nightgowns you had accumulated since marrying Cregan - this was the third one this month...

"My, my, so eager are you to have me bare and wanting," you murmured, arching an eyebrow at your husband. "A simple 'take it off' would have sufficed, my dear husband. But I must admit, there's something thrilling about being ravished."

"My brother, you look as though you've never seen me before," you tease softly, reaching up to walk your fingers along the swell of your breasts. "It was only yesterday you had me? Have you already forgotten your sister's charms?" You shrug, the movement making your breasts bounce slightly, drawing their eyes to the ripe mounds.

Jacaerys swallowed hard as he watched your breasts, jiggling maddeningly with each subtle movement. The way you spoke, so calmly and playfully, only served to heighten his agitation. He couldn't recognise the lustful creature before him.

"I... I have not forgotten," he managed to say, his voice weakened with desire. "But this... this is different. Seeing you so brazenly needy..." He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears and could feel his cock throbbing urgently against the confines of his breeches.

Cregan glanced at Jacaerys, his smirk widening at the prince's hungry gaze. "Isn't she a sight, Jacaerys? I've never seen a woman more in need of a man's touch."

Jacaerys swallowed hard, his eyes flicking from your breasts to your dripping sex. He could see the glistening arousal coating your thighs, the way your cunt clenched and fluttered as if begging to be filled.

"I've touched you a thousand times before," Jacaerys murmured, his eyes locked with yours. "But never like this. Never with such... hunger."

And with that admission, his hand cupped the heat of your sex, his fingers delving into your dripping folds. He groaned at the way your walls clenched around him, your slick arousal coating his digits.

"Sweet sister," Jacaerys breathed. "You're so wet. So ready."

You gasped sharply as Jacaerys plunged his fingers deep into your aching core, your inner walls clenching greedily around the intrusion. "Mmh, oh," you whimpered, gazing into his eyes with a hooded, lust-filled gaze. "Please, I need... I need you to take me. Hard." You arched your back, pressing your dripping sex more firmly against his hand. "Not soft caresses, but a man's forceful touch. Claim me as Cregan has, make me scream your name."

Cregan licked his lips as he watched Jacaerys plunge his fingers deeper into your dripping sex, your inner walls clenching greedily around the invading digits. Your needy whimpers and moans filled the air, spurring the prince's desires.

Your heart raced, your pulse pounding in your ears as you writhed beneath his touch. You yearned to feel his hard length driving into you, stretching you, filling you utterly.

"Don't hold back," you pleaded breathlessly, reaching down to guide his other hand to your breast. "I want to feel owned, possessed. Ruined." you gasped again as he squeezed the soft mound. "Take me, Jacaerys. Fuck me hard."

Jacaerys shuddered at your beggings, his eyes darkening with lust at your shameless words. He could feel Cregan watching him, smirking at the prince's obvious arousal, but all thoughts of your husband faded away as he lost himself in the allure of your naked, trembling body.

With a low, possessive growl, Jacaerys captured your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth with a force that stole your breath away. He pressed his body against yours, letting you feel the hard, thick length of his cock straining against his breeches.

"My princess," he breathed against your lips, "I will give you what you need."

Jacaerys ripped off his doublet and tunic, baring his muscular chest to your heated gaze. He kicked off his boots and tore away his breeches until he stood naked and magnificent before you, his cock jutting out proudly from a thatch of dark curls.

Cregan quickly shed his clothing, his massive cock springing free, already leaking and throbbing with need. He grasped himself, stroking the thick shaft lazily as he watched.

"Tell me, Your Grace," he asked with a wicked grin, "have you ever taken your dear sister like the vixen she is?" He stroked himself lazily as he awaited Jacaerys' response. "Have you ever gripped her hips and pounded into her from behind, spanking that perky ass as you used her for your pleasure?"

"No, I must confess I have not. I have always been gentle and considerate with you, sister. But now..." He trailed off, his eyes flicking down to your dripping sex before meeting Cregan's gaze. "I find myself wanting to take you in a way I never dared before. Hard and fast, until you scream."

Cregan chuckled darkly, giving his rigid shaft a slow pump. "Then take my advice, Your Grace. Put our princess on her hands and knees, and fuck her like the wild beast she is. Claim her cunt from behind."

"Not inside her, Jacaerys," Cregan warned, his voice rough with lust. "You're not to spill your seed in her womb. That privilege is mine, as her husband." He gripped his cock tighter, pumping it slowly as he spoke. "But by all means, have your fun with her needy body. Show me how you pleasure my bride. But do not forget, regardless of how loudly she screams, she is mine."

Your brother ignored Cregan's arrogant words, instead focusing solely on the woman beneath him. Jacaerys leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "I'm going to make you scream, dear sister," he promised darkly. "Scream until the whole castle hears who brings you such ecstasy."

Before you could respond, he had you flipped over onto your hands and knees in one swift, forceful motion. You gasped as you felt the cool air kiss your exposed, tingling skin.

Glancing back over your shoulder, you could see the raw hunger in both their eyes as they drank in the sight of your upturned rear.

Jacaerys gripped your hips hard, his fingers sinking into the soft flesh of your ass as he positioned himself behind you. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin, could see the way your body trembled with anticipation.

"Look at that ass, Cregan," Jacaerys growled, giving your cheek a sharp smack. The sound echoed obscenely in the room, and he watched with dark satisfaction as the red handprint bloomed on your skin.

"Such a perfect, ripe peach." He gripped your hips tighter and lined himself up with your dripping entrance. The head of his cock nudged against your folds, coating itself with your arousal.

With that, he thrust forward, burying himself to the hilt in one stroke. A low groan tore from his throat at the feel of your tight, wet heat enveloping him so perfectly. He paused for a moment, savouring the sensation and letting you adjust before he began to move.

"Yes," you gasped out, your back arching as Jacaerys hilted himself fully inside you. "Jacaerys!"

Emboldened by your wanton encouragement, Jacaerys set a fast, rough pace. He gripped your hips bruisingly as he drove into you again and again, the obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. His heavy balls slapped against your clit with each powerful thrust, the intense stimulation making you see stars.

"Does that feel good, little sister?" Jacaerys growled, his breath coming hard and fast as he took you. "Do you like the way your brother is fucking this needy cunt?"

Cregan watched, stroking his cock slowly as he enjoyed the show. "That's it, Jacaerys," he praised, his voice a low, arrogant rumble. "Fuck her like the she-wolf in heat she is."

"Ohhh, god!" you screamed, your voice ragged and desperate as Jacaerys slammed into you, his thick cock stretching you deliciously. Tears of overwhelming pleasure streamed down your flushed cheeks as he took you with force and hunger.

With trembling hands, you reached out blindly, craving the feel of Cregan's hard flesh in your grasp. But Jacaerys quickly pushed your upper body down against the bed, pinning you beneath him as he claimed you. The new angle allowed him to plunge even deeper, hitting that secret spot inside you that made you see stars.

"Jacaerys!" you wailed, your back arching as you surrendered yourself completely to the intense sensations consuming you. "You feel so good!" you moaned shamelessly, too lost in ecstasy to care about anything but the feeling of your twin's cock driving into you relentlessly.

Through the haze of pleasure, you could see Cregan watching you, stroking his impressive length as he enjoyed the depraved spectacle of his wife being taken by her brother. The knowledge that you were putting on such a show onlyheightened your excitement, and you could feel your second climax fast approaching.

"Such a pretty girl," Jacaerys praised, his voice ragged and uneven. "Love your pretty body, love you," he whispered the last part, getting lost in the pleasure.

Jacaerys pistoned into you wildly, grunting and whining. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your waist, gripping you and occasionally caressing your sweat-slick skin as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

"Fuck!" Jacaerys snarled, his hips slapping against yours with brutal force. "You feel so fucking good around my cock. I can't... I can't hold back..."

He leaned over you, covering your smaller body with his own as he fucked you with deep strokes.

"Scream for me, dear sister," Jacaerys demanded, his voice a low rasp. "Let the whole castle hear who is claiming this pretty cunt. Let them know that the princess is being fucked raw by her brother."

Cregan watched, stroking himself in time with Jacaerys' frenzied thrusts. He could see your face, contorted in ecstasy, tears streaming down your flushed cheeks as you surrendered yourself completely to the pleasure of your brother's cock.

"Look at her, Jacaerys," Cregan taunted, his hand a blur on his shaft. "Look at the way our princess is crying on your dick. She's loving every second of being split open on her brother's cock."

Jacaerys let out a feral growl at Cregan's taunt, somehow fucking you even harder. The room filled with the lewd sounds of your coupling - the slap of flesh on flesh, the creaking of the bed frame as it strained under the force of Jacaerys' thrusts, your high, keening cries of rapture.

"I'm going to cum, Jacaerys!" you cried out, your voice raw and desperate. "Don't stop, please!"

He gripped your hips, pulling you back to meet each powerful thrust. The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, punctuated by your desperate cries of rapture and your brother's grunts of pleasure.

Your climax crashed over you like a tidal wave, your inner walls clamping down around Jacaerys' pistoning cock like a vice. "Ahh!" you screamed, body trembling as pleasure exploded through every nerve ending. Your juices gushed out around his plundering length, making vulgar squelching noises as he fucked you through your intense orgasm.

The sensation of your cunt gripping him so tightly, dripping with your essence, proved too much for Jacaerys. With a hoarse cry of your name, he yanked his hips back, his rigid shaft slipping from your quivering sex with a gush of fluid.

"Fuck!" Jacaerys roared, his voice strained with pleasure as his cock erupted. Thick, hot ropes of seed sprayed from the head, painting your upturned ass and the small of your back in a lewd display of your brother's spend.

Jacaerys slumped over you, panting harshly as the last spurts of his release dripped onto your skin. "Sweet sister," he gasped out, his hands still gripping you possessively. "I've never felt anything like that before..." He trailed off as he rolled to lay next to you, recovering from his intense climax.

Your body trembled and shook as the final waves of your explosive orgasm rippled through you. Knees weak and quivering, they collapsed beneath you, leaving you sprawled wantonly on the bed, chest heaving and skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat.

But your respite was short-lived. Through the fog of pleasure, you felt the tap-tap-tap of a hard, throbbing cock against your flushed cheek. Your gaze fluttered open lazily, following the rigid shaft up to see Cregan looming over you, his eyes dark with lust and a smug, arrogant smirk playing across his lips.

"Mmm, that was quite the show you two put on," Cregan purred, rubbing the leaking tip of his cock over your cheek, smearing his arousal across your skin. "You screamed so sweetly for your brother, my dear wife. I do hope he satisfied you." He gripped himself and tapped his erection insistently against your mouth, the thick head pressing demandingly at your lips. "But now, it's time for your husband to have his turn. You're my wife, and I intend to remind you of that fact. Open up, princess."

Jacaerys watched, still panting softly as he recovered. He saw Cregan looming over your sprawled form, his cock tapping insistently at your lips. A flicker of jealousy sparked in his chest at the sight, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the depraved thrill of watching his sister service her husband.

Your brother's eyes met yours, dark and heavy with lingering lust. "Don't keep your lord waiting, dear sister," Jacaerys murmured, his voice still rough from their coupling. "Show him the depths of your devotion. Take his cock like the dutiful wife you are."

"Mmmm, yes husband," you nodded your head obediently and got into a comfortable enough position to service him.

Beside you, Jacaerys watched the exchange with a mix of awe and lingering arousal. He could see the way Cregan manhandled his twin, the way you submitted so sweetly to his demands.

You gazed up at Cregan with hooded, sultry eyes as you wrapped your hand around his thick, pulsing shaft. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin and could see the way his cock throbbed eagerly in your grasp. Slowly, you licked your lips before leaning in and dragging your tongue along his length.

"Mmmm, you taste so good, my lord," you purred, your voice low and seductive. You swirled your tongue around the swollen head, lapping up the bead of precum that leaked from the tip. Then, with a moan, you parted your lips and took him into your mouth, inch by thick inch, until your nose was buried in the musky curls at the base of his shaft.

Cregan groaned, his head falling back as your hot mouth engulfed his aching cock. His fingers tangled in your blonde hair, gripping the silky strands as he guided your head to take him deeper. "Ohh, that's it," he growled, his hips rocking slightly as he fucked your face with shallow thrusts. "Take it all, my needy little wife. Show me how much you love your husband's cock."

You could feel him, so hard and heavy on your tongue, stretching your lips wide. But you were no stranger to your husband's cock, having pleasured him countless times before. You relaxed your throat and took him deep, holding him there as you gazed up at him with lust-filled eyes.

Your hand pumped what little of his shaft remained outside your lips, stroking him in time with the bobbing of your head. You could feel him twitch and throb against your tongue, could taste the saltiness of his skin and the first drops of his pleasure. You moaned around his thick length, the vibrations making his cock jump and pulse in your mouth.

He began to rock his hips, fucking your face with slow, deliberate strokes. His heavy balls lightly smacked against your chin with each thrust, a lewd reminder of his virility and your subservient role.

Jacaerys watched, transfixed, as your lips stretched obscenely around Cregan's thick shaft. He could see the way your throat bulged with each thrust and could hear the wet, sloppy sounds of you suckling your husband's dick. The sight sent a fresh surge of blood rushing to his own spent cock, making it twitch and stir against his thigh.

"That's our princess," Jacaerys murmured, his voice low and rough with renewed arousal. "Such a good little wife, so eager to please her lord." He reached out to gently pet your head.

You could feel Cregan's cock pulsing. His fingers tightened in your hair, holding you in place as he rutted into you, chasing his pleasure. Drool leaked from the corners of your mouth as he fucked your face, grunting and groaning above you.

Glancing over at Jacaerys, Cregan smirked arrogantly. "I must say, Jacaerys, your sister has a talented mouth. No wonder you couldn't resist her. I'm glad to have such a skilled little bride."

Cregan smirked down at you, his eyes glinting with dark satisfaction as he used your mouth. "Such a good girl, taking me so deep," he praised roughly. "You love having your husband's cock in your throat, don't you? Love being put in your place."

He punctuated his words with a particularly deep thrust, holding himself there as he let you gag and choke around his thick length. The feel of drool dripping down your chin only spurred him on.

The sight sent a fresh surge of blood rushing to Jacaerys' own spent cock, making it twitch and stir against his thigh. Your brother gripped himself as he watched, stroking in time with Cregan's thrusts. "Yes, dear sister," Jacaerys rasped, his voice rough. "Always been so good with your mouth, haven't you?" he murmured, reaching down to palm the globes of your ass. He could feel the sticky evidence of his release coating your skin.

You gazed up at Cregan with lust-filled, tearful eyes as he used your throat, spit dripping down your chin. The praise and the thick, hard length pulsing deep in your throat made your head spin with arousal. You didn't want to admit it, but being desired, being wanted, being taken and used by your husband and brother thrilled you in ways you could hardly express.

The knowledge that it was your dear twin watching, stroking himself to the sight of you being so thoroughly used, sent a shameful surge of heat straight to your core.

A muffled moan escaped you, vibrating around Cregan's pistoning cock as you submitted to his lustful demands. Being the object of such intense desire, of such primal, animalistic desire, stirred something deep within you.

Cregan felt your moan reverberate around his throbbing cock, the sensation pushing him closer to the edge. "Fuck, darling," he grunted, his grip on your hair tightening. "The way you moan around my dick, so desperate and needy..." He punctuated his words with a sharp thrust, burying himself deep in your convulsing throat.

Jacaerys watched, stroking himself in time with Cregan's pace. The sight of your tear-streaked face, the lewd sounds of your gagging and choking, the slack, drooling lips stretched taut around Cregan's pistoning shaft...

"You're a dirty girl, princess," Jacaerys raspy. "So hungry for cock, for the taste of your husband's seed. I've never seen such a wanton creature before."

Cregan smirked down at you, his eyes glinting with pride and smug satisfaction. "She's my wife," he declared, punctuating the statement with a rut of his hips. "A princess, but my princess, to use as I please. And I please to fill this greedy throat with my cum."

Cregan slammed into you one last time, his cock pulsing and jerking as he found his release. Thick, hot ropes of seed flooded your mouth and throat, the salty, slightly bitter taste of his spend coating your tongue. He groaned long and low, grinding his hips against your face as he emptied himself down your convulsing gullet.

"Fuck!" Cregan roared, his eyes squeezing shut in bliss as he pumped load after load of his seed directly down your throat. His fingers tangled carefully in your hair, holding you in place.

Jacaerys couldn't hold back any longer at the erotic sight, his cock pulsing and spurting his second load of the night, painting your ass and back with his hot, sticky seed as he imagined it was your hungry cunt gripping him tight...

You swallowed every last drop of Cregan's hot, thick seed, feeling it slide down your throat. As he pulled out with a groan, you let his softening cock slip from your mouth with a lewd pop. 

Gazing up at him through a sheen of tears and lust, you lovingly licked his slick shaft clean, swirling your tongue around the sensitive head before dragging it along the throbbing underside.

"Mmmm, you taste divine, my lord husband," you purred, your voice raspy from the thorough fucking your throat had received. You continued to lap at his cock, laving every inch with kittenish licks until his hips began to twitch and jerk, his fingers pulling almost painfully at your hair as he whimpered.

"Sweet gods, woman," Cregan gasped out, easing your head back to put an end to your ministrations lest he find himself growing hard once more. "You seek to undo me, don't you? Such a wicked, insatiable little minx..."

You merely smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief and a deep satisfaction at having pleased your husband so thoroughly. Your tongue darted out to catch a stray drop of his release on your lip before you sat back on your heels, the cool air kissing your slick skin and making you shiver. 

Behind you, you could feel the heat of Jacaerys' gaze as he no doubt admired your glistening rear and the sticky evidence of his second climax.

Cregan gently wiped the tears and saliva from your face with a soft cloth, his touch tender after the roughness of moments before. He cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. "Look at you," he murmured, a rare softness in his voice. "Such a beautiful woman, taking your husband so well."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, no doubt tasting himself on your tongue. The kiss was full of satisfaction and a hint of awe at your enthusiasm.

Breaking the kiss, Cregan trailed his fingers down your neck, over your collarbone, to gently squeeze the soft mounds of your breasts. "You please me greatly, wife," Cregan praised, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

Cregan continued his tender ministrations, lavishing your skin with soft kisses and gentle caresses.

You melt into Cregan's gentle touches, a soft hum of contentment escaping your lips. Gazing up at him, you give your lord husband a loving smile, your eyes shining with adoration and lingering desire. You lean into his caress, savouring the tender brush of his fingers against your cheek.

Behind you, you feel the bed dip as Jacaerys comes to kneel. He nuzzles into the sensitive spot just below your ear, his breath sending pleasant shivers down your spine.

"Mmmm, I could get used to this," you murmur, tilting your head to give your twin better access to your neck. "Being worshipped and praised by my two favourite men."

Jacaerys nuzzled into the nape of your neck, pressing soft kisses to your damp skin as he wrapped his arms around your waist possessively. "You deserve to be worshipped, dear sister," he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear. "A beautiful, insatiable creature like you..."

He swept your hair aside, exposing the elegant line of your throat. Jacaerys pressed his lips to your racing pulse, feeling it flutter beneath his touch. His hands slid down to your hips and pulled you back against him.

In front of you, Cregan watched with indulgent amusement as his wife melted under her brother's attentions. He leaned in, his breath hot against the other side of your neck. "Isn't she magnificent?" Cregan asked rhetorically, his fingers dancing over your collarbone.

Cregan placed a trail of kisses along your jaw, down to your chin, before tilting your face towards him. He claimed your mouth in a deep, sensual kiss, his tongue delving past your parted lips to stroke along yours.

You melt into their touches, one hand coming up to tangle in Cregan's dark hair as he kisses you deeply, his tongue stroking along yours. Your other hand reaches back to grip Jacaerys' hair, anchoring yourself to him.

Jacaerys presses against your back, his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you flush against him. You moan into Cregan's mouth and arch into your brother's embrace as his lips worship the column of your throat.

"You're my wife, and I trust you both," Cregan said with a nod to Jacaerys. "As long as I'm present, I have no objections to you sharing intimate moments with my lady. In fact," he added with a smirk, "I find it rather arousing to watch you pleasure each other." He leaned in closer, his voice lowering. "Just remember, dear wife, that sweet cunt belongs to me. No matter how many times your brother fucks you, no matter how much you scream and cum on his cock, you're still my wife. Your womb is mine to fill."

You gazed up at Cregan, your heart fluttering in your chest as you took in his rugged, handsome features. Unable to resist, you peppered his chiselled face with soft, loving kisses, your lips brushing against his skin like the wings of a butterfly.

"My darling husband," you murmured between kisses, your voice breathy with lingering desire, "you honour me with your blessing. I am yours, body and soul, now and forever." You nuzzled into his cheek, breathing in his masculine scent. "I long for the day I can carry your child, to swell with the evidence of our love."

Cregan's eyes softened as he listened to your heartfelt declaration, tenderness flickering in their stormy depths. He brought a hand up to cup your cheek, his calloused thumb brushing gently over your kiss-swollen bottom lip.

Jacaerys met Cregan's gaze, a matching smirk on his lips as he felt your slick arousal coating his fingers. "Your wife is exquisite, my lord," he murmured, pumping two long digits into your tight channel. "I look forward to sharing her many pleasures with you."

Cregan nodded, a satisfied smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Good. I'm glad we understand each other." His hand slid down your side, over the curve of your hip, to where Jacaerys' fingers already teased your dripping slit.

[pha55ed]

I'll Only Make You Cry || F1

type :: hurt no comfort tw/cw :: cheating, panic attacks, contains :: carlos, charles, lando, oscar, summary :: you catch the drivers cheating on you, crushing everything you've ever known about him - "my heart just can't be faithful for long, i swear i'll only make you cry" - cry by cas

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

Carlos Sainz | 55

There's no way he could ever recover from this. You could tell that his PR team was working overtime in order to sweep this all under the rug. They came up with the lie that you and Carlos broke up a while ago, but you knew the truth all too well.

You never broke up with Carlos, God you even thought you guys were going perfect! Everything seemed to be great until all of those photos got leaked online of Carlos with a random model. She was beautiful, everything that you were insecure about, she lacked. Not a single pimple, spot of cellulite, smidge of fat, nothing. She was like a doll, it only made you more upset.

Did Carlos ever actually feel attracted to you? When you vented to him about your fears of not being enough for him and he comforted you so gently, saying you were a Goddess that could make Aphrodite jealous. And yet, as you kept scrolling through the photos of Carlos and the model, you felt as if you were the Hunchback of Notre dame.

Did Carlos ever actually love you? He was taking this model out to trip in Paris, Spain, and Japan and yet the biggest trip you've done with Carlos is visit your home town. He took her out to fancy dinners, on cruises, and private jet rides and yet you were never even aware he had his own private jet.

He's been spamming you with calls and texts, but you didn't reply to a single one. You were too busy packing up all of your stuff as you got ready to leave your shared apartment. Taking everything with you would be too big of task for now, since you owned most of the kitchen appliances, bedding, hell you even owned the couch. So you focussed on just the basics that you needed to live, shoving them into as many bags as you could. Your best friend said she'd come over and help you pack once she was done with work. She should be with you in about an hour or so, but you have the worst luck ever.

Because instead of Carlos coming home at around midnight, like usual, he came home earlier. It only made you wonder if he only stayed out till midnight to see his other lover, making you feel even sicker to your stomach. You didn't bother to look up at him as he entered the room.

"Cariño, please, no no no, stop" He said as he rushed up to you, trying to stop you from packing but you shoved his hands away. You gave him a disgusted look, as if you no longer knew him. Which was true, you didn't even recognize Carlos anymore.

"(Y/N), please it's just lies. The media is lying!" He tries desperately to convince you but his excuse sounded so stupid, beyond stupid. There's photographic evidence, everywhere that you looked online it was shoved into your face. Not a chance of editing or AI, it was just the raw photo.

"No," you said, trying to sound strict but your voice was still weak despite the loud volume of it, "We're done."

"No no no no, please, please no." He looked so weak, pathetic. You could see the tears form in his eyes. Although you felt hurt to watch him cry, you couldn't bring yourself to feel any empathy since you've been crying for hours on end.

With perfect timing, your best friend knocked on the door. You hastily shoved the final pieces of clothing that you needed as you slammed your suitcase shut. Your best friend ran in and quickly helped grab anything else you could need, like toiletries and electronics. Carlos knew he couldn't do anything, so he stood awkwardly to the side as he watched you leave his life instantly.

Charles Leclerc | 16

Your breathing became shaky as you read the lengthy text message your friend sent you. It was filled to the brim with apologies for what they were saying, but you couldn't even process most of what they wrote since you were so busy staring at the photos of Charles kissing his ex girlfriend.

It was if everything around you just shattered in front of you, that the past year you spent with him was for nothing. All of those dates, kisses, meeting his family, introducing him to your grandma, all for nothing. What hurt even more was the fact that Charles was your first boyfriend after about 2 years since your last ex did the same exact thing.

You were so lost in thought that you didn't even hear the door click as Charles entered your shared hotel room. He just finished having dinner with his team, enjoying a great night out, something he didn't deserve.

As he called your name in such a gentle and loving tone, it made you resent him. How could he possibly act so innocent when you have a literal stack of evidence of him cheating right in your hands. How could he keep acting as if everything was fine?

You turned, tears falling out of your eyes rapidly as your lips shivered, unable to stop yourself from showing how you truly felt. Instantly, he ran to you and held your hand, so gentle and soft, yet those hands were all over his ex last week. You shoved his hand away, simply tossing your phone at him. His eyes scanned the screen, his look of concern being replaced with a face that was mortified.

"Amor," He says gently, once again his hand reaches out to grab your face but you refuse to let him near you. "(Y/N), please, I... I know... I'm so sorry."

His lack of a defense made you even sicker, how could he not even explain himself??? Not even an excuse of being drunk, being stupid, of the photos being old. Not a single excuse, meaning he knew how wrong he was and yet he still did it to please himself, completely forgetting about you.

"We're done." You try to say in a firm tone, but your throat was so tight that it became a whisper. You stood up from the bed, as you hastily began to pack your bags as Charles paced the room with his hands hiding his face.

"Amor, please stop." He says as he tries to stop you. "I-I'll break it off with her."

But you could tell, from the slight stutter and the way his eyes were darting across your face to read you: he was lying yet again. So you shook your head, wiping your tears with your hands as you ran out of the room to order an Uber to somewhere else, anywhere else.

And he didn't stop you. He knew he fucked up, and he knew he didn't deserve you.

Lando Norris | 04

Doing Lando's laundry was boring, but you knew it needed to be done. It was one of the many tasks you did for him to help make his life just a bit easier, especially since he has little to no clue how to even use a washing machine. The last time he did his own laundry, the entire apartment was filled with soap suds because he overloaded it with detergent.

As you made sure to tie his hoodie strings together and empty his pockets, you grabbed something odd out of his trousers. A hotel key card. This wouldn't have been super odd, he's forced to sleep in hotels 24/7 due to his job except the fact that it wasn't a fancy hotel like usual. You knew McLaren would only put Lando in the best hotels possible, so it was suspicious to see a random hotel brand that's known for being cheap and easy to buy.

You could feel something wrong in your guts, something telling you that this wasn't just some random bad booking from McLaren but instead something deeper. It felt extremely stalker-ish but you needed to satisfy the voice in your head: so you looked through Lando's bank statements.

And that's when you saw that he booked this room three nights ago, when he told you he was staying at Oscar's place after a huge party. You could feel your heart sink, assuming the worse possible scenario. But you tried to push those thoughts aside and see the best in him.

But that attempt was cut short, as you scrolled up and saw multiple bookings at random hotels. So many random hotels that you eventually lost track. The only things that was also being charged on his card were drinks, which were always bought in extreme amounts before booking a room.

You weren't dumb, your brain connected the dots easily: he was cheating on you. But you still didn't have solid evidence beside bank statements. Besides, maybe he wasn't cheating on you? Maybe he just gets super wasted and then crashes at a hotel instead of his fancy one to sleep? Sounds stupid, but then again Lando is pretty stupid.

So you decided to dig deeper, going through his bank history to see if he has any other odd statements. That's when you saw money constantly being sent to random Zelles, Paypals, and Venmos. You thought it would just be him paying his friends back or giving them some money - but all of the names were female. Tiffany, Rebecca, Malibu, and many more. Oddly enough it was always on the nights he got a hotel. Almost as if he was paying a girl for a service. But there's no way he could be cheating? He's just your plain old stupid Lando, right?

Continuing your stalker behavior, you searched the girls names online. And you were right - all your worst fears coming true. They were all models, drop dead gorgeous models. Skinny, tall, blonde, and rich, his exact type. And as if couldn't get worse, all of those models followed him and he followed them back. And even more worse, the more you scrolled through the girls feed: you could connect the entire story. You knew you needed to leave.

As you cried whilst packing your bags, you heard the door click. He came home, much earlier than you expected him to. Normally you'd run to him, greeting him with kisses and hugs. He went searching for you, finding you on the floor as you folded your clothes into your second large suitcase.

"Love? What's going on???" He says, panicking and trying to keep his cool. He knew that you knew, there's no other reason for you to pack besides that. Instantly, he got onto his knees, being at your eye-level as his hand went on top of yours, trying to stop you from packing.

But you flinch your hand away, giving him a nasty glare as you stared at him coldly. You wanted to speak to him, curse him out, shove all of your evidence into his face, but you couldn't. Your throat was shut tight and your lungs were barely able to give you enough oxygen to breathe whilst crying.

"Just tell me, please, please just tell me what I did." He said, as he started unpacking your bag. He took out your folded clothes, unravelling them, ruining your hard work to pack neatly. "You don't need to leave, we can fix this!"

His words made it clear that he knew, he knew that he's ben caught. And he knew that there was no way to defend his actions. Sure he was drunk, but making that "mistake" 40 times is a habit. As if to make you even mad, you saw Lando begin to cry.

As if his tears switched a gear in you, you smacked his hand away from your luggage as you hastily shoved all the now-unfolded clothes into your suitcase. "I'll never forgive you." You said with venom in your words despite your grief.

Oscar Piastri | 81

You couldn't find your favorite lip liner, it always went missing for some reason. Although you had other lip liners, you NEEDED this one, you were loyal to it. It was the best shade and buttery smooth, you wanted to use only the best products for this award show you were attending with Oscar.

But as you continued to search helplessly, you started to search Oscar's desk. Sometimes you would place stuff on his desk on accident. As you searched through his desk, you found a small little velvet box. Your heart instantly dropped, was that a ring? Possibly for you?! You have been dating for almost 2 years now, about to reach 3 years within a month. A smile crept onto your face, unable to hide the joy of possibly being Oscar's forever.

You sneakily opened the box, only to be met with a beautiful rose-gold necklace... Odd, you're not a rose-gold girl. You've always been a silver person since you were born. But the material didn't even matter, as you looked at the rose-gold plated name, "Lily", his ex's name...

Oh haha,,, you awkwardly close the box. Must have been an old gift he was supposed to give her? Except, as you examined the box, there wasn't an ounce of dust on it. And even worse, you checked the bottom of the velvet box, with a message saying, "Happy 6 Years, my Lily." The exact amount of time they would have been dating, if you never came in the picture...

"(Y/N)! We have to go now! We're about to be late-" Oscar came into the room, looking at your holding onto the small box. Instantly, his eyes widened as he quickly grabbed the box out of your hands. "Why are you snooping around my desk??"

As if you snooping was the biggest issue, and not the fact the he has a gift for his ex - or actually, not his ex, but his other girlfriend. His defensiveness and blame was shocking to you, he's never been like this before. Usually he's calm and collected, able to talk any issue out, but now it's as if he's defending his life.

"Why do you have that...?" You question him, voice weak from worry that your reassurances to yourself were all false. "Why does it say Lily?"

"It's nothing, we need to go now." He says, dismissing you completely as he shoved the necklace into his pocket. His back turned as he walked out of his office, his shoulders were tense, hands pushing his hair back as he chewed the inside of his mouth - high from nerves.

But you couldn't care less for this stupid award show, you chased him and asked again as his hand was on the door knob. "Oscar, what's the necklace for? Why does it say Happy 6 years?" You voice shivered slightly.

He was unable to answer, not sure how to get out of this. Although he's been hiding Lily for ages, now it seemed as if he was unable to do it for any longer. "We'll talk about it when we get back home." He says, trying to stall for more time to come up with an excuse and plan.

But you stood your ground, standing in the house still while he was waiting outside of the door. As you both looked in each others eyes, your eyes welling up with tears while Oscar's were colder than usual: it was as if you could both tell it was the end.

"Can you at least act fine for 3 more hours." He says apathetically, making the tears finally fall from your eyes which answer his question. No, you could not act fine for 3 hours, how would that even be possible. You guess it is possible since Oscar has been acting "fine" for 3 fucking years with you.

Your tears didn't even make him flinch, instead it made him sigh. His hand pushed on the knob as he left you in the room, alone. You understood what his silence meant: it was over. You began to pack the essential before calling your best friend to get you. Within a span of 10 minutes, the man that you saw being your future husband was gone.

f1 masterlist || f2 masterlist || more here!

[formula-ghost]

Read Your Diary (FC43 x fem!reader)

Chapter 5: Valentine (FINALE)

CHAPTER SUMMARY: The end of the 2024 F1 season brings regret and a newfound desire for reconciliation—but is your relationship with Franco beyond saving?

WORD COUNT: 13k

WARNINGS: Sadness. Angry Hispanic mother. Creepy men in bars (not Franco ofc). Drinking, drunk Franco is a media menace. Use of the word whore jokingly. Smut 18+ MINORS DNI. Hickeys, hair pulling. Dom Franco and sub reader, use of good girl, light choking, Oral (m receiving), p in v, protected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

SERIES TAGLIST:  @scopeiguess @storyteller-le @xivilivix @htpssgavi @wierdflowerpower @justsisse  @uncreativetm  @ncrsbrg  @tillyt04 @amz824 @ellelabelle

A/N: My baby is now complete!! I did not plan for this to be the ending originally, but as I was writing it just kind of came about, and who am I to anger the writing Gods? Honestly, though, the beginning of this chapter destroyed me trying to find a way to redeem Franco. Fun fact, I very loosely based my depiction of Franco off of my real life ex, which explains why he is so horrible lmao (but unlike my real life ex, Franco has been redeemed!). I cannot express how grateful I am for everyone’s support throughout the writing of this story. More to come, but for now, enjoy!

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

All this love, I'm so choked up, I can feel you in my blood

All this lust for just one touch, I'm so scared to give you up

Valentine, my decline is so much better with you

Valentine, my decline, I'm always running' to you

Valentine, Valentine

The block button did nothing to assuage Franco’s obsession with you. In fact, it only made it worse.

If he hadn’t blocked you, he would at least know that you weren’t contacting him. But since he pressed the button, there was now the ever present question of if you had reached out, and if the digital barrier he erected had led it to be lost forever. 

But why would you reach out after what he had done? 

Truthfully, it took everything in you to not call him. You had both said things you didn’t mean—at least, you prayed that Franco didn’t mean them—and you wanted nothing more than to just make up and act like it never happened. 

But the words kept echoing in your mind at night when you couldn’t sleep. You were a distraction.

All the years of supporting him, all the sacrifices you made—all for nothing. 

You couldn’t help that you loved him. And the Franco you knew and loved didn’t mean those things. He couldn’t. 

So you checked your phone’s international clock. It was still night where you were at home, but morning in Abu Dhabi, where he’d be completing his last F1 race tomorrow. 

There was still time. If you called and made up now, you could be there for the final race. You could be there at the end, just like you had been there at all of his beginnings.

So you swallowed your pride, tapped on his name in your contacts, and pressed call. But it didn’t even ring before it hung up. You knew what that meant. He had blocked you.

At first you wanted to puke. You wanted to burst down the stairs of your apartment and run into the street screaming. You wanted to throw a bottle of wine on the walls and cry in the wreckage.

But after a few hours of getting all the crying out, a strange peace fell over you.

It was just… over. That was that.

In the morning, however, the grief came back from a familiar notification. His mother.

You had been putting off her messages ever since your argument with Franco. You couldn’t bear to tell her what had happened. But she was worried about you, evident by her increasingly concerned messages.

You finally gathered the courage to type up a response.

Hi Mami, you began—she had forbidden you to call her by her name, instead telling you to call her Mom—I tried to talk to Franco like you asked. It didn’t go well, and we both said a lot of hurtful things. It ended on bad terms and he ended up canceling all my passes and flights, and I think he blocked me. I’m sorry, I tried to get through to him. Thank you for all the kindness you’ve shown me over the years <3

You read over what you’d typed. It was honest. You could have spared her more of the details, but why? Franco would have to live with the consequences of his actions. That wasn’t your problem.

It was only a few moments later that she responded. Oh dear, I am so sorry. I am ashamed of Franco—that is not the son I raised. I hope you know we all love you, and I wish you all the best.

You liked her message and left it at that. But she called you later that night.

She began, “YN, words can’t describe how sorry I am. What happened?”

“I… I don’t know,” you began, carefully choosing your words. You weren’t quite sure how much you wanted to tell her. “He was already upset when I got there. He kept accusing me of lecturing him, but I was just trying to tell him I was worried. He said… that I was a distraction.”

“I can’t believe him! You have never been a distraction. You’ve been there for him when we couldn’t, we’ve always been so grateful for you.” Her admission nearly brought tears to your eyes. “I just… Dios Mio.” 

The conversation was short, but vulnerable. 

“YN, can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.”

“You had feelings for him, didn’t you?” She asked it as if it were a statement, rather than a question.

You were silent for a beat before answering. “I did. I… I do.”

“Oh, dear, I wish I was there to give you a hug.” You could feel the care in her voice, a soothing comfort. “I want you to know you’re always welcome here, no matter what my idiot son says.”

You chuckled, thanking her for her kindness before ending the call. You were truly grateful for her invitation, but you couldn’t imagine being in Argentina without Franco. The call had felt more like a farewell. 

In Abu Dhabi, Franco was having his own farewells. It was bittersweet; he had worked so hard for so long to get here, but he couldn’t wait for it to be over. He was exhausted, mentally and physically. He just wanted to go home.

Home—the only place he felt like he had left. His Madrid apartment would feel empty without your laughter echoing in the halls. But back in Argentina, the people still loved him, and he could come back to a warm, home-cooked meal.

It was the only thing on his mind as he was forced to retire the car early, ending his last F1 race of 2024 with a DNF. But he didn’t care about that at all when he stepped off his flight from Abu Dhabi to Buenos Aires. 

Unfortunately for him, what was waiting for him at home was not peace and a warm meal. It was a very angry Hispanic mother. 

He came through the door, jet lagged, struggling with his luggage. She didn’t help him. 

When his father and sister ran up to give him a hug and help him in, she didn’t move an inch. She just stayed in the kitchen, silently chopping vegetables with her recently sharpened knife.

After putting away his bags into his room, Franco made his way to the kitchen to greet his mother, who didn’t even look up from her cutting board.

“Hi Mami, I’m home,” he said tentatively.

“Welcome home,” she replied, no warmth in her voice.

“Aren’t you excited to see me?” he joked. He knew he was dodging landmines. He knew she had every right to be angry—he had gotten caught up in everything after Singapore, and after his controversy, he had been dodging her calls and texts, other than to arrange plans to come home for the holidays. Others may have gotten over their frustration, or chose to ignore it for the sake of the holidays. She was not that kind of woman. 

“Oh, I’m thrilled,” she said, her voice flat. “Dinner is almost ready. Can you set the table for five, please?”

“Five? There’s only 4 of us.”

“Well, isn’t YN going to join us?” She already knew the answer. She just wanted to see him squirm as he answered it. He had nowhere to run anymore. 

“Uh… no. Not this year.”

“And why would that be?”

“She’s, uh, busy.” His mother didn’t respond. He had to fill the awkward silence. “And she’s probably mad at me…”

She paused, holding the knife in an iron grip. She lifted it from the cutting board to point towards him. “And why would that be, Franco?”

“Mami…”

“Do not lie to me.” Her voice was cold as ice.

“Mami, it’s complicated. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to enjoy the holidays and forget about this whole season.”

“I’m sure you do,” she concluded, not an ounce of sympathy in her voice. Franco sighed, getting down the plates to set the table for his family. But he stopped in his tracks when he turned and felt a slipper to the back of his head. 

“Ah! What was that for?” The blow didn’t hurt anything but his ego.

“You know what you did,” his mother seethed. “You can’t run from this forever. Now get out of my kitchen.”

Franco obeyed, muttering under his breath. 

“What was that?” his mother asked.

“Nothing!” he chirped, setting the plates on the table.

During dinner, it wasn’t any better. His father and sister, oblivious to his mother’s rage, chatted as if nothing had happened. They had been angry at his…questionable dating decisions, yes, but they clearly had let it go in the meantime and decided to just enjoy the time together as a family. His mother, however, had not. 

And whenever anyone asked about it, she said she was fine. But she was clearly not fine. 

As Franco took the dishes into the kitchen to help clean up after dinner, he sighed, knowing that his mother was right. He couldn’t go the entire holiday ignoring it—she would make sure of that.

He couldn’t sleep that night. The bed of his childhood home was warm and comforting, but he couldn’t relax under the weight of it all.

Maybe some fresh air would do him good. That’s what he reasoned when he slid open the back door and inhaled the cool night air. He sat cross legged on the back terrace, just taking in the sounds of the serene night. 

That was, until he heard another person closing the door behind him. His mother. 

“Not now, Mami,” he said, not even turning to look at her.

“I’m not going to chastise you.” She handed him a mug of something warm. For a moment they just sat next to each other, sipping their drinks in silence. 

Franco began to speak unprompted. “YN has every right to be angry at me. I…ruined everything. I was so cruel to her.”

His mother just gave him a reassuring hum.

He continued, “She had feelings for me. I know I should have known it sooner, but I was in denial. But I had feelings for her too. And I got distracted. But it wasn’t her fault. I was so worried about my future that I ignored how she had always been there in my past.” 

The mug in his hands trembled and his voice wavered. “She was always there for me. Every race, every win, every failure. She was always there.”

His mother reached for him, lovingly stroking his back as he confessed.

“She probably hates me now. I don’t blame her.” A tear fell into his mug. He turned to look at his mother, her expression far more sympathetic than it was at dinner. “Can I fix it?”

“I don’t know. But first of all, you owe her an apology.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t. Because if you did, you would have already done it.” He was silent. “It’s possible that she will forgive you. Or, she may not. You have to accept that.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

“Franco,” she began, “you did this. You have to suffer through the consequences of your actions. And if you are lucky enough that she forgives you and wants you back in your life, it’ll be a hell of a lot of work to regain her trust.” 

He nodded. “I’ll do it. I’d do anything.”

“Then why haven’t you?”

He paused. “I’m scared. Scared that it really is beyond saving.”

“The longer you wait, the more likely that is to be true.” 

This time, he actually knew what he needed to do.

Neither of you knew the parallels between you two; each of you pining for the other’s love, wanting nothing more than just to speak to the other. And when he unblocked you and called, it was like the stars aligned.

You didn’t answer. 

He didn’t panic at first. It was close to the holidays, in the middle of the day in your timezone. Maybe you were with your family. 

But as one missed call turned to two, and days of no contact turned to weeks, Franco began to know the bitter taste of his own medicine.

You had seen him call. And yes, you were with your family at the time. You told yourself that was the main reason why you hadn’t answered. As if seeing his contact on your phone didn’t shatter your heart into a million pieces. 

But later that night, when you were finally alone, you couldn’t bring yourself to call him back. He hadn’t left any voicemail or text, just his name and a missed call icon. 

What would you even say to him? He knew you were angry. And you knew you couldn’t just act as if nothing happened.

So despite your desperation to speak to him again, you just let his calls keep coming and coming over the weeks. 

A dark part of you enjoyed having his attention. You waited to see his icon pop up, just to let the call go to voicemail. It made you feel wanted again. 

And you were wanted. When he tried to sleep at night, he wanted you. When he talked with his manager about future plans for the next season—back down to F2—he wanted you. 

Both of you knew it was a delicate balance. He couldn’t keep calling forever. At some point you’d have to answer, or he’d have to stop. But you loved the dark thrill of pushing it. 

And this continued for weeks.

The calls lessened as the F2 season began. Franco was back at work. You had finally let go of the need to watch his races.

But there was another contact you hadn’t ignored: Lily. 

She called you out of the blue one day. “YN! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

The last time you saw her—it must have been Austin—felt like years ago.  

“Yeah, it’s been a while,” you replied. 

“Do you… wanna talk about how you’ve been?” It was late January now. You had spent the weeks just passing time, lost, but somehow also at peace with all of it.

“Um… not if you don’t want to ruin your day,” you joked. Humor was a good coping mechanism, you had learned. You’d grown tired of explaining to people why Franco was no longer in your life. You had once been so intertwined, and now, nothing. You were thankful that she didn’t press further. 

“Well, we should go out,” she suggested. “I know a great new club in Madrid, and Rebecca and I will be there the weekend before Valentine’s Day.”

Valentine’s Day. The bane of your fucking existence. Worst holiday ever.

But you had spent Christmas in a daze, and New Years alone. You didn’t know if you could do another holiday like that, so acutely aware of Franco’s absence. So you agreed. 

But Lily’s phone call wasn’t as out of the blue as you had thought.

One thing about Franco was that he was determined. If he wanted something, he was going to get it. So yes, he called and called and called and let all his calls be missed.

He couldn’t just text you or leave a voicemail. What he needed to say was too important. He needed to see you.  

So he called up the only other woman he knew besides you and his own mother: Lily. 

He pitched the idea simply. He just needed her to arrange something where you and him would meet. Lily was skeptical. 

“Franco, you know when a woman isn’t answering your calls, it’s usually because she doesn’t want to talk to you, right?” 

“I know,” he signed. “I know she’s pissed at me. She has every right to be. I just want to apologize to her.”

“Then why not, like, send her a letter or something? Trying to organize an event where she’s forced to see you is kind of…creepy.”

Deep down, he knew Lily was right. “It’s not like that, though. I just need to see her, say it to her face. If she gets angry and never wants to see me again, I’ll respect her wishes. But I love her too much to not try.”

Lily was a hopeless romantic if nothing else. And Franco was charismatic and too smooth to deny with his one-liners. 

So she agreed. Besides, she knew you needed a girls night.

And you realized it too when Rebecca and Lily came over to your apartment to get ready a few weeks later. 

You vented to them as they helped you apply your eyeliner and zip up your dress—yes, THAT dress—about how hard the past few weeks had been.

“And then,” you explained, as Rebecca dusted a brush along your cheekbones, “he told me that I didn’t need to be there! As if he wasn’t the one who begged me to go!”

Rebecca made a sour expression. “Girl,” she said, “Good riddance to him.”

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you nearly gasped. You looked fucking amazing. 

Yes, you were wearing that dress that always reminded you of him—his favorite color, bought while on vacation to see his family. But if he couldn’t see your beauty, someone else would. And right now, that someone was Lily, as she snapped photos of you all before you left for the club and posted them on her story.

As you entered the club, you felt the bass in your bones. Yes, this was exactly what you needed. 

You drank. You danced. You felt the eyes of tipsy men on you.. And for a while, all your troubles faded away.

You approached the bar for your second drink of the night. A man walked next to you, presumably to order his own drink. You recognized him as someone you’d danced with earlier.

“You look great tonight,” he said, eyeing you up and down. His tone was too sleazy for your liking.

“Thanks,” you said, hoping a short response would end the exchange so you could get your drink and make your way back to Lily and Rebecca, who were waiting for you in a booth. 

“D’you always dance like that?”

“Like what?” 

He smirked. “You’re cute when you play dumb like that.”

You genuinely had no idea what the man was going on about. “Sorry, I need to get back to my friends.”

You turned to leave, but the man grabbed your arm. “Don’t you need to get your drink? Stay a minute.”

You grimaced, but a surge of anxiety kept you frozen to your spot. You turned your glaze to the floor, silently beginning for an out.

“So, what’s your name?”

“Uh…” You were unable to answer. You feigned ignorance. “Sorry, it’s loud in here, I can’t hear you.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. I don’t need to know your name to take you home tonight.”

“What?” You wanted to puke.

The man started to reach his arm out toward your waist. You stepped back and bumped into someone. You cursed your own awkwardness. When you turned to apologize, you saw a familiar face.

Franco. Fuck. You felt your stomach drop. 

“You know this guy?” The man behind you asked.

“She does,” Franco answered for you. You were grateful—you were unable to speak, choked with anxiety. 

“You let your girl act like that?” 

“Fuck off, mate.”

The man took the hint and shrugged, taking his drink and disappearing into the crowd. 

Your eyes were still glued to the floor. “Thank you,” you said. 

“Don’t thank me,” he said, “it’s the least I could do.”

The bartender handed you your drink. Part of you just wanted to go back to Lily and Rebecca and act like all of this never happened. But by the look of Franco’s face, one of grave seriousness, you knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

But the other part of you was thankful. Thankful that Franco had saved you from that creep, yes, but also thankful that the stars had aligned to bring you and your best friend back together. What were the odds?

Wait. Maybe the stars hadn’t aligned.

“Franco, what are you doing here?” 

Now it was him who looked to the floor in embarrassment. “Lily told me you were here. I asked her to help me talk to you.”

“So you… arranged to find me in a club, because I wasn’t answering your calls?” 

Franco may be Latino, but he sure had the audacity of a white man. 

“When you put it like that, it sounds bad…”

You rolled your eyes and walked away. He followed you through the crowd. 

“YN, wait! Why won't you answer my calls?”

“Because I have nothing to say to you.” That wasn’t true. You actually had a lot to say, you were just too afraid to say it.

“Okay, I get it. I fucked up. But will you just listen to me? Please?” 

You just kept walking. 

“YN! Please!” You had nearly reached the booths, and he was still following you. You just kept ignoring him. 

“YN—” You slammed down your drink on the table, startling Lily and Rebecca. When Franco came into view behind you, they exchanged knowing glances. 

You turned around to face him. “Are you really begging?” you whispered in a hushed tone. 

“Yes,” he said, his voice equally low. 

Lily got out of the booth, standing next to you. “What’s the harm in just hearing him out?” she said, low enough that he wouldn’t be able to hear her over the thumping bass. 

You swallowed. The harm? You would fall for him again. And he would hurt you again and again. You’d lose him again. A never ending cycle of pain. 

But his pleading expression in front of you was too much to bear. You couldn’t say no to the man you still loved.

“Let’s get some air, hm?” he said, and you nodded, silently following him back to the crowd. He led you to a staircase where a bouncer nodded and silently let the both of you pass. 

The staircase led to the roof of the club, with a beautiful view of the city. The space was clearly set up for patrons to enjoy, but there wasn’t a soul there besides you and Franco. 

The view took your breath away. You had seen so much beauty when you had traveled the world with Franco for his races, but this was home, and he was warm next to you as he snaked his arm around your waist, silently taking in the sight next to you.

You relaxed into the touch. For a moment, you just let everything fade away into the peaceful scene. 

But as you smelled Franco’s familiar cologne and relished the feeling of his touch, you couldn’t help the anxiety that rose in your throat. It felt like it was choking you. You moved forward, forcing his arm away, and leaned against the railing on the edge of the rooftop.

“Say what you have to say,” you said plainly. 

“I want to apologize.” His opening sentence was simple, yet powerful. “YN, I was horrible to you. I lied and I betrayed your trust. I blamed all my problems on you, when you were the only one who was ever there for me.”

You watched the cars on the road below, like ants in a colony.

He continued, “And you were right, about everything.” 

The silence in the air was thick.

Your voice was shaking when you began. “Franco, you made me feel like I was insane. You… you accused me of using you. You called me a distraction. You said I was disgusting. You uninvited me from the last races and you blocked me.”

“You tried to call?”

“Of course I did.” The tears in your eyes threatened to mess up your mascara that Rebecca had so carefully applied. “I tried to call you before Abu Dhabi. I wanted to forgive you and be there for your last race.”

“Shit, YN… I’m so fucking sorry.”

“I don’t know if I can forgive you now.”

It was him, now, who had eyes full of tears. “YN, I…I love you. I can’t lose you. I know I hurt you, and it kills me. But I miss my best friend. My friend who skipped prom to come to a race. My friend who helped me dry my clothes after she found me trying to use an oven to do it. My friend who is the only one that really gets my sense of humor.”

You finally broke down at his confession. He reached out to hold you.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered. “I’m here. It’s gonna be okay.”

He let you cry it out, before pulling back and looking at you. He gently used the pad of his thumb to wipe away your tears and fix your smeared makeup.

“I can’t ask for everything to go back to normal,” he said, looking you in the eyes. His eyes were teary, too. “I know I can’t. I did things that are beyond awful. But I promise you that if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’ll do whatever I can to regain your trust. You’re too important to me.”

All you could do was bury yourself in his chest. He wasn’t expecting the sudden gesture, but he slotted his arms around you like they always belonged there. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. You don’t know how long you stood there, warm in his embrace. You could have stayed there for years. 

You were brought out of the perfect scene by the sound of a notification on your phone. You broke the hug after a moment to check it. A text from Lily: everything okay?

You chuckled. “I think Lily is worried about us.”

“Well,” he asked, “is everything okay?”

He wanted an answer. You didn’t know if you could say it. 

But is this not what your entire journey had been leading up to? You had begun writing in your journal to communicate what you feel. And now, you had no choice. 

You were strong. You had changed.

“I want to forgive you,” you said. “But it won’t be easy. It’ll take time.”

“I have all the time in the world.”

“And I can’t promise that I won’t be scared or insecure.”

“Whatever you need, I’ll do. I’ll listen, I’ll show you—”

“Franco.” You cut him off. “I know. I love you.”

You couldn’t name the expression on his face. Like relief. Or love.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked. 

You were scared of what door that would open, of how much you truly wanted him to. So you didn’t speak. You just reached up to caress his cheek and tell him with your actions.

Your lips met his, and all the sorrow melted away. You could feel the vibrations of the club under your feet, the gentle pumping of blood through his veins, faster now that he could touch you. He pulled you in by the waist, and you brought your other hand to the back of his neck, making the space between you infinitesimally small. 

But you pulled away before he could deepen the kiss. You couldn’t rush it, no matter how badly you wanted it. 

When you opened your eyes, he had that expression you had grown to yearn for; it gave away how badly he needed more of you. You could feel a blush rise to your cheeks at the thought of his wanting.

“We should go back down before Lily gets too worried,” you said. He smiled and nodded, but as his expression of desire faded away, you saw the familiar signs of anxiety. He didn’t know how far to push, how comfortable to act. 

You grabbed his hand. “And then, you should dance with me.”

His tentative smile grew more relaxed. “Of course.”

Turns out, there’s nothing an honest conversation and a little alcohol couldn’t fix. And in the aftermath of the former, you definitely indulged in the latter—maybe a little too much. 

You went downstairs to retrieve your drink that Lily and Rebecca had so kindly watched for you. It was a little watered down from the ice melting, but it would do the trick. 

Rebecca helped you fix your makeup as Lily glared at Franco for making you cry. He knew he’d have work to do to earn back their trust, too, but he was more than willing. 

So when you were ready, he wasted no time taking you out to the dancefloor to give you the night of your life. 

The only problem was that Franco was not a frequent club goer, and therefore unable to handle his liquor. And you all had a lot to drink that night. 

You finally cut him off when he threatened to get on the table and start stripping. 

“Oh, Lord, Franco, I’m cutting you off, you’ve had too much to drink,” you slurred. You were tipsy yourself, in no state to talk, but at least you were committed to staying clothed for the night. 

“What are you gonna do? Fuck me about it?” he joked, sticking his tongue out playfully. 

You don’t know if the blush on your face was from the drinks or his taunting. But God, even when he was wasted, he looked so good. As the night had progressed, he had become more disheveled, his shirt buttons coming undone to expose his toned chest and a sheen of sweat from all the dancing. He leaned over, running a hand along your cheek. “Bet you would want that, wouldn’t you?” 

“Okay, time to get you home!” you told him. Lily and Rebecca had left a bit earlier, satisfied that their mission was accomplished. 

You got up and tried to corral your drunk friend out of the club. He didn't want to cooperate, though. 

“No, YN, I don’t want to go home! I missed you, dance with me!” He reached out to grab your waist, his hands wandering up and down your body. 

“Franco, you’re drunk,” you said, moving out of his grip. “I’m calling an Uber and getting you home.”

It’s not like his touch was unwelcome. But you were in public and he was inebriated, unable to consent to what he was actually doing. You knew it was time to go. 

You finally dragged him outside as you waited for the Uber on the corner. You hoped the cool night air would sober him up a bit.

“Have I told you that you look fucking gorgeous tonight?” he slurred. You ignored him as you watched the little car icon drive closer and closer. 

“I always loved that dress on you,” he continued, “but it’d look better off of you.”

“Our Uber is here!” you said through your blush. 

But even in the Uber, he was relentless. 

“I missed youuuuu” he cooed in your ear.

“I missed you too, but could you not be a whore for 5 minutes?” you laughed. You hoped the humor would distract him. He lowered his voice to a husky whisper.

“But YNNNNN, I want you so fucking badly. Every part of you, even the parts that you’re ashamed of—fuck, especially those parts. I want to know the version of you that you’re scared to be. I want you to use me like a toy to get what you want. And when I read what you wrote I was… fuck, I couldn’t stop myself. Every day I’d read it and touch myself and wish it was you. God, I just need to fuck you so badly—“ he practically moaned in your ear as his hand again reached to your waist.

You grabbed him by the wrist, stopping him in his tracks. His doe eyes looked up at you, deceptively innocent, hiding behind them the true depths of his lust.

You moved his hand away and let go. He was silent and still.

“Franco, you are drunk. I am going to get you home and you are going to get some rest.”

“I know you’re mad at me. You should be, I’m a fucking idiot,” he slurred. “But you can take it out on me, on my body—“

“Franco! We are in public,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

“Is being horny a crime? You can arrest me, put me in restraints—” 

The Uber pulled up in front of your apartment and you wasted no time getting Franco out of the car and up the stairs. You made sure to tip the driver well. 

Franco didn’t even let up as he collapsed on your bed, dizzy from stumbling up the stairs and into your apartment. He grabbed you, pulling you back to the bed, burying his face in your hair.

“You smell so good,” he muttered. You wrestled free from his grip, throwing a pillow back at him playfully. 

“I am not going to fuck you when you’re this drunk. Get changed and go to sleep.” 

He pouted, but complied, undressing agonizingly slowly behind you. You had turned away to give him privacy, but your mind wandered as you heard the shuffling of his clothes. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he apologized, still behind you.

“You didn’t,” you said, and it was true; you loved that he wanted you, just…not in that setting. “Just sleep it off. I’ll take the couch.”

“No, come here,” he said, patting the side of the bed. You turned and jumped, seeing that instead of changing into the pair of old pajamas that he had left at your place many months ago that you had laid out for him, he had just stripped down to his underwear.

“Absolutely not,” you said, your face turning a bright red. “Put some clothes on.”

“But it’s hot in here!”

“Then I’ll take the couch.”

“YN just snuggle with me—”

You cut him off by closing the bedroom door. 

A few hours later, you were convinced that you had the world’s most uncomfortable couch. You couldn’t sleep a bit. 

You filled the hours by scrolling on your phone. The F1 gossip pages were calling your name. 

The reappearance of YN! The former friend (and suspected ex girlfriend) of Williams reserve driver Franco Colapinto was featured in a post from a nightclub in Madrid with current Williams wags Lily Muni He and Rebecca Donaldson. Several attendees also caught videos of her dancing with a mysterious man that is definitely not Franco. YN hasn’t been publicly seen since the 2024 Brazilian Grand Prix, which fans assume has something to do with Franco’s fling with a controversial Argentine actress.

Above the caption was a slideshow: the pictures of you, Lily, and Rebecca on the first slide, and the next being a video of you dancing with the creep. You cringed at the memory.

The top comment made you chuckle: I can’t believe Franco fumbled his 2025 seat AND a baddie. 

You scrolled to the next post. 

Former F1 driver for Williams, Franco Colapinto, spotted in a nightclub in Madrid getting very handsy with best friend YN! 

The two have not been seen together since the Brazilian Grand Prix in 2024. At the time, fans speculated that the two were dating, but sources close to the driver reported that a falling out regarding Franco’s dating controversies during the season led him to cancel her VIP pass for the last triple header.

But luckily for Franco x YN shippers, the pair seem to be quite comfortable with each other again. Do you think they’ll make it official soon? Comment your opinion below!

Fuck. Someone had gotten a video of you trying to get Franco out of the club, and without context, it looked bad.

You were pushing him off of you, yes, but not because you didn’t want his touch. You were just afraid of this exact scenario happening. You prayed a silent apology for his manager. 

Your scrolling was interrupted by the sound of Franco waking up and stumbling into your kitchen for a glass of water. Even with only a few hours of rest, he had slept off the drunkenness, but was left with a horrific hangover. 

You probably should have just pretended to be asleep until he went back to bed. But, against your better judgement, you got up to meet him at your kitchen counter.

He still hadn’t put any clothes on. Typical.

“You alive there?” you joked.

He downed his entire glass of water. “Barely,” he grimaced. “Worth it, though.”

You gave him a half smile. “You’re probably gonna have a million notifications from your manager. I tried my best.” You handed him your phone to watch the video.

“Jesus, that’s how I looked? I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t mind. But it’s a good thing that you probably don’t remember what you said.”

“Oh no, I remember.” You blushed. “And I don’t regret a word. I meant everything I said.”

“Franco, when we were in the Uber, you said I could use your body as a toy.” You cringed as you repeated his words back to him.

“I know. Offer still stands.”

“Franco…”

“YN, be honest with me. If I was sober, and we were alone, what would you have done?”

You swallowed. He was sober. You were alone.

He saw the thoughts cross your eyes. He broke the space between you walking to the other side of the counter. He pulled you in by the waist until all that separated you was the thin fabric of your pajamas and his underwear.

The breath had been taken from you. “Talk to me,” he said. You couldn’t. The anxiety choked you. “YN, I’m tired of pretending like I don’t want you.”

“Don’t do this to me, Franco,” you pleaded. “I want this but … we shouldn’t.” You looked away. You couldn’t handle the intensity of his gaze

“Why not?”

“Because… we just made up. I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t. I’m here to stay. Trust me. If I promise that everything will be okay, will you trust me?”

You paused. “… I can’t. I don’t trust you. Not yet, at least.”

You had to be honest with him, but it broke your heart to say those words. You didn't know yet if he was genuine, or if his fling with the actress hadn't worked out and he was using you as a placeholder. The thought made you want to puke. 

He loosened his grip on you. Your words felt like a thousand knives going through his chest, but he knew he was going to have to face the very real consequences of his actions. 

“I understand,” he said. “Just let me hold you. I know my words don’t mean much anymore. But I promise I’ll do everything in my power to earn back your trust, and I mean it.”

He buried his face in your hair. “Come back to bed with me.” You knew the request was innocent, so you allowed it, snuggling up into his warm chest and falling asleep as the sun began to peak in the sky outside. “I’m letting go of you. Never again,” he murmured. Both of you knew that it wasn't about the sex, or about how right you felt curled up next to him. It was something deeper, more intimate, than the bare skin that he now innocently wrapped his arm around. 

When you woke up, for a moment, you thought you had dreamed the whole thing. But the soothing sound of Franco’s soft snoring proved you wrong. 

Over breakfast, you laid out boundaries. You both needed to take things slowly, build up the trust that had been lost.

But when you woke up a week later on Valentine’s Day to a bouquet of pink roses on your nightstand, you couldn’t help but blush darker than the petals, remembering the reference from your diary. 

Franco had planned to take you out, and of course, you wore his favorite dress. 

The night was perfect—a little too perfect. In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help remembering the salacious ending to that diary entry, replaying the fantasy over and over in your mind. But as he took you home for the night, Franco was ever the gentleman, perfectly keeping his hands to himself.

The longer you looked at him, the more you wanted him to touch you. 

You had only made it to your apartment for a few seconds when the sight of Franco taking off his suit jacket was too much to bear. You grabbed him by the collar, pulling him into a frantic kiss. 

He wasn’t complaining, of course.

He took your actions as a sign, gently pushing you into the wall behind you until you were pinned. His lips never left yours, instead deepening the connection, tongues exploring each other’s mouths.

When you did come up for air, there was a faint hint of your lipstick on him. He chuckled. “Mi amor, what was that?” he teased, stroking your cheek and he looked down on you. He rested his arm above your head, leaning his body into yours. You could feel both of your chests breathing heavily with a growing desire.

“I wanted you.”

“I thought you wanted to wait?” He was right. You didn’t want to rush into physical things so early. Franco had been nothing but respectful and apologetic all week, but still, only those few days had passed. 

“...Yeah,” you said. You were frustrated at him. For being so fucking attractive. For making you want him so badly.

“It’s alright, hermosa,” he teased, “I’m sorry that I’m so irresistible.” Only a week since you all had made up, and he was already back to reading your thoughts.

“Oh, hush.” 

In the following weeks, Franco’s return to racing made resisting him a lot easier. He had asked you to come to a few races, but you had declined. The memories of his time in F1 were too fresh, the wounds not quite sealed. Besides, you didn’t want to be seen in public with him just yet. You hadn’t exactly made your relationship official—though neither of you were talking to other people—and you were anxious for the public eye to be on you again. 

That was, until Franco got a very exciting phone call. 

Carlos Sainz had gotten in a minor biking accident—nothing major, just a sprained wrist, but enough that he needed to take a week off to heal—so Franco would be back in his car.

When he asked you to return to the F1 paddock with him, this time, you couldn’t refuse. 

So that’s how you found yourself in a hotel room with your best friend (and now sort-of boyfriend). 

Before bed on Wednesday night, after a long day of meetings, he wanted nothing more than to come back to the hotel and lay in your arms. And that’s exactly what he did.

You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair. “You nervous for tomorrow?” you asked.

“No,” he answered truthfully, “not one bit.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I mean, I have nothing to lose. Nothing could be worse than the end of last season.”

“Franco, don’t say that.”

“It’s true, though.” He chuckled. “I can’t fuck up any worse than I already did. For a while there, I lost everything.”

You stopped playing with his hair to crane your neck down and kiss the top of his head. “Well, I’m not going anywhere,” you said. 

He sat up, looking you dead in the eyes, his expression as serious as it could get.

“I love you.”

You were taken aback for a moment. You had both said it back in February when you confessed, but it was different now; more real, vulnerable. 

“I love you too.”

“I want you to be mine.” His gaze traced the line from your lips to your eyes, finally meeting you where you couldn’t look away.

“I already am.”

“Then I’m yours, too. And I want the world to know it.”

You finally broke the stare, looking down at the comforter. “I’m nervous about what people will say.”

“YN, who gives a fuck what they say? They’re not here. They don’t know us.” You knew, deep down, that he was right, but that did nothing to temper your anxiety.

Franco playfully grabbed you and pulled you to sit on his lap. You let out a yelp that dissolved into laughter as you saw the smile on his face. 

“I don’t care what anyone says. You’re my girl, yeah?” 

You smiled too. “Yeah.”

“And I'm yours. You wanna prove it?” he teased, pulling down the collar of his shirt, exposing his neck. “Show them all what’s yours, hm?”

“Franco,” you said, blushing, “everyone will see.”

“That’s the point, mi amor.”

“Your manager will kill me if you show up to media day covered in hickeys.”

“I’ll cover them up.” You knew better. He absolutely would not cover them up. He’d wear them like a badge of honor.

But Franco’s refusal to be media trained was one of the many qualities you loved about him.

“Come on, you know you want to,” he teased. He was right. Right now you wanted nothing more than to cover him in love bites, claiming him as yours. 

But you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he could read you so well.

“Oh, hush,” you said, grabbing his chin to bring him into another drawn out kiss. 

You trailed the kiss down to his neck, finally giving in to his request. Yes, he was yours. And now the world would see it.

You relentlessly nipped at the rough skin, enjoying the soft but labored breaths that came from Franco. You kissed his earlobes, his jaw, his collarbones, until you found that perfect spot on his neck. He gasped when your teeth met his skin, softly moaning when you gently sunk your teeth in and sucked to leave a bright red mark.

You pulled away, and his expression was one of deep wanting. Sitting on his lap, you could feel him hardening under you, desperate for whatever he could get of you. 

You rested your hands on the hem of his shirt. “This is getting in my way,” you complained.

He wasted no time in taking it off. 

He slid his hands under your shirt too, drawing you closer to him, burying his face in your neck and smothering it with kisses. You gently grinded down on him, giving both of you the friction you so desperately needed.

But you didn’t want to be the focus of the night. You took back control, running your hands through his hair and roughly pulling it, forcing his head back.

His doe eyes on you were full of lust. He paused for a moment.

“Sorry, was that too much?” you whispered, embarrassment beginning to flush your face bright pink.

“Oh no, I..” he panted, “I liked that a lot.”

You smiled, and went right back to your attack on his skin. He ran his hands up and down your back underneath your shirt, teasing with the clasp of your bra.

You felt his phone buzz in his pocket. You both ignored it. 

“YN…” he exhaled, a breathy moan. You pulled back, seeing the red flush on his face. You could feel his excitement beneath you.

“Can I take this off?” he asked, his hands tugging at your top.

You weren’t quite sure what to answer. You figured that you’d sit down and talk before your first time. You all hadn’t gone beyond heavy kissing—Franco had been respectful of your desire to wait. But it had been months now, and he’d gone above and beyond to prove that you could trust him.

His phone buzzed again. And again, you both ignored it.

“You don’t have to if you’re nervous,” he said. “We only go as far as you want.”

You nodded, silently giving him permission. He leaned in to softly press one last kiss to your lips before moving to pull off your top.

Only for his phone to ring, ruining the moment.

Your shirt remained on as he fumbled to get his phone out of his pocket and turn it off. But the caller was James Vowels.

You both saw the contact info and knew that the mood had been ruined.

“I’m sorry, amor, I have to take this—” he apologized as you climbed off of his lap and he answered the call.

As he spoke, you took a deep breath, trying to process what had just happened, and what was about to happen before you had been cockblocked by the William’s team principal. 

After only a minute he hung up the call, continuing to apologize. “I’m so sorry, they need me right now.” His voice was full of urgency. 

“It’s okay, go,” you assured him, your tone genuine. He placed a chaste kiss on your cheek before grabbing a Williams quarter zip from the floor to cover up the darkening marks on his neck. 

He raced down to the hotel conference room, hoping that his…little problem would not be visible in what had sounded like a very important meeting. The tone in James’ voice had been one of immediacy, and Franco had no idea what to expect. 

And when he finally made it to the room, he was met with faces both new and familiar: James, his manager, and…Aston Martin employees?

He made a confused face and he gave the group a cursory nod and sat down in the last remaining seat, next to his manager. 

“Oh, Franco, you’re here,” James said, exhaling. “We have some exciting news.”

His manager had a smile that beamed across the room. “We’ve been talking to these lovely folks from Aston Martin,” she said, gesturing to the other side of the table. “It hasn’t been officially announced yet, but soon they’ll be putting out a statement. Fernando Alonso is retiring.”

Franco gave them a polite smile, unsure of what that information had to do with him.

“So, Aston Martin would like to offer you the seat for 2026.”

Franco felt the air leave his lungs. “I…uh…yes,” he said, too stunned to really speak. “Yes, I want it. Where do I sign?”

“Well, not so fast,” his manager responded. “We have a lot to discuss regarding the new contract, brand deals, buying you out of your Williams contract…”

But Franco was on cloud nine. His manager’s words faded into the background. He felt like heaven had opened up, and the absolute novel of a contract that now sat on the table in front of him was dropped directly there by God Himself. He could even hear the chorus of angels singing. 

His presence there was merely a formality, it seemed, as the Aston Martin officials and his manager talked back and forth on minute details for what felt like hours. Nothing would be set in stone today, of course, but she wasn’t lying when she had said that a mountain of work laid ahead of them. 

As the time droned on, the officials filtered out one by one, leaving only Franco and his manager alone in the conference room.

“I’m so proud of you, kid,” she said, patting him on the shoulder. “You really earned this.”

“Thank you,” he replied, genuine. 

“Look, go back to your room and get some rest. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. But this is strictly confidential, you hear me? You can’t tell a single soul. Not even your own mother. Not even YN.”

“I hear you.”

“And, tomorrow, maybe cover that up better, yeah?” she said, gesturing to her neck. But Franco felt no shame.

“Well, can’t help that you all called at a very inconvenient time.”

His manager grimaced. “I didn’t need to know that. Get some rest,” she laughed, shaking her head. Even she was too happy to truly scold him. 

When he finally returned to the room hours later, you had already fallen asleep waiting for him. He quietly undressed and got in bed, gently brushing your hair out of your face to gaze on your sleeping form.

You were perfect. He had gotten the seat and the girl; what else could a man ask for?

The morning was chaotic. You had both overslept. 

“I’m sorry about last night, amor,” Franco said as you applied concealer to his neck. “It was urgent, and they kept me there for hours.”

“What was it about?” You gently dabbed a makeup sponge across the reddened skin.

“I can’t say. Strictly confidential. But it’s amazing, you’ll see.” He beamed, but you made a face at him. Smiling flexed his neck muscles and made it harder to cover up the evidence of your intimacy.

At the paddock, it was chaos as usual. It was the return of the Franco Colapinto—now triumphant, having had a solid season in F2 so far—and this time, he walked in with you on his arm. 

The only problem was that Franco kept tugging at the neckline of his quarter zip, and the friction was causing the hastily applied makeup from the morning to smudge, revealing the marks beneath.

Thankfully, no reporters said anything. But the fans online certainly were.

Steamy! Franco Colapinto arrives today at the paddock with suspected girlfriend YN in tow, and the driver appears to have several red marks on his neck. YN and Franco have not confirmed any relationship other than being friends, and this is the first race she has attended since Brazil 2024.

COMMENT: Franco showing up to the paddock absolutely covered in hickeys was not on my 2025 bingo card

COMMENT: Okay but that is so on brand for him. This man simply does not give a fuck and I love it.

You chuckled to yourself as you read the comment. But you tensed up as you felt Franco’s manager walk up next to you. You were already anticipating the earful she’d give you.

“He’s a natural at this, ain’t he?” she asked, more a statement than a question. In the distance, Franco was making a reporter laugh.

“Yeah,” you said. Franco’s manager always made you nervous, for some reason. 

“I’m so proud of him.”

“Me too.” You paused, unsure of whether to broach the subject. “You’re…unusually chipper today.”

His manager laughed. “Yeah, I guess so. But even I have to relax sometimes. I mean, he’s doing a great job.”

“I heard there was some exciting news. Franco wouldn’t tell me what, though.”

His manager’s casual smile now stretched from ear to ear. “Oh yeah, big stuff. But top secret.”

“I can’t wait to hear.”

Media day went smooth as butter. Practice 1 and 2 went perfect. With the arrival of Carlos Sainz, the Williams car had vastly improved, and Franco drove like an expert.

Such was evident by his P8 finish in qualifying the next day; his highest ever qualifying in F1. 

Since your night had been interrupted the day before, your wanting of him hadn’t lessened; in fact, it had grown stronger ever since you realized how you truly were ready. But quali day had taken it out of him, and you knew he needed to rest before the Grand Prix tomorrow.

And on that next day, as you watched him climb in the car from the Williams garage, you hoped that he’d put that rest to good use. You said a prayer for his safety even more than his success.

You held your breath through each lap, silently cheering him on through the knots of nervousness in your stomach. But it seems like your prayer was working; he was gaining places, P8 to P5 only a fourth of the way into the race. 

He boxed halfway, and your eyes traced the lines of his car and helmet as he pulled into eyeshot of you and sped away in only a few seconds. He wasn’t looking at you, of course, but it didn’t matter. Your heart felt like it would burst with love.

At first, you didn’t even notice the cameras capturing your sentimental expression. That was, until you glanced away from his car in the distance and looked toward the screen. You were shocked to see your own reflection, captioned with your job title and ‘Franco Colapinto’s partner.’

He really was yours, now. You smiled at the camera and waved before it cut away to the action. Franco just kept gaining. He had dropped a few places after boxing, but made up for it in no time. P4.

You could hear the commentators through your headphones.

“And really, Franco Colapinto is stunning us all here. As we all remember, he had a rather disappointing end to the 2024 F1 season, but he seems to have come back with a vengeance. A podium is a real possibility for him today.”

Your smile couldn’t be contained. He was going to do this. You knew it. 

With only five laps left, he overtook for P3. The garage cheered. You cheered with them. But it wasn’t over yet. It was a tense, wheel to wheel battle. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

He was able to inch just slightly enough ahead to cinch the spot as he crossed the checkered flag.

The William’s garage erupted in applause.

You ran to meet him as he pulled up the car, catching him when he jumped into the arms of the crowd of William’s employees. He nearly ripped off his helmet and balaclava, grabbed your jaw and brought you into a rough kiss.

You broke with a smile. “I love you, I’m so proud of you!” you said, unsure if he could even hear you in the chaos.

“Te amo, YN,” he said, tears of happiness clouding the edges of his vision. He continued speaking in Spanish, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying over the crowd. He had to break the embrace to go to the podium.

As he stood up there, you beamed with pride below. He really had made it.  

After the podium, you hid away in his driver’s room, waiting for all his media obligations to be over so you could go back to the hotel together. To pass the time, you scrolled. The internet was losing their mind over your hard launch.

And even better, people had already uploaded videos of you and Franco exchanging words of love at the barriers. His words were difficult to make out, but a few dedicated lip readers had attempted to decipher the message. But there was no internet consensus just yet.

You made a mental note to ask Franco what he had said later, but for now, you were sure he was exhausted.  

Your assumption was proven correct as he walked into his driver’s room, rolling his shoulders and sighing. But upon seeing you, his face lit up. You greeted him with more hugs and words of praise.

As you both stood there, holding each other, it was like the world around you melted away. 

“YN, can I tell you something?” he muttered into your hair, hand snaked around your upper back.

“Anything,” you answered, your face pressed into his chest.

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone. You can’t let my manager know that I told you.”

You hummed in response, but he broke the hug to look at you, indicating the seriousness of his statement to come.

“I got a contract for 2026.”

Your eyes went as wide as dinner plates. You were speechless.

“Franco… that’s, oh my God, that’s amazing!” You thought you were going to burst with love for him.

“Nothing is set in stone yet,” he explained, “but she’s been negotiating the contract, and they’ll probably announce it in a few weeks.”

You reached your fingers up to run them through his curls. “You’re incredible.” He blushed.

“I think we should go back to the hotel and celebrate, hm?” he teased.

“You don’t want to go out?”

“We can if you want,” he mused, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, “but I think the world has seen enough of us today, yeah?”

So you celebrated in your hotel room alone. The bottle of champagne that decorated the desk of the room was left untouched—but you sure as hell weren’t. 

The podium had emboldened him. He explored the curves of your body over your clothes with reckless abandon. You wordlessly helped him remove his shirt, trailing your eyes of the muscles that were sure to be sore in a few hours. You traced the marks you had left the other day, now beginning to fade.

“My turn,” he joked, bringing his lips to your neck to give you your fair share of love bites. He brought one hand to gently hold your neck, while the other inched further and further up your shirt, teasing the edge of your bra. You felt like you could drown in his touch. You closed your eyes and fell deep into bliss. 

“YN,” he whispered, “are you sure you want to do this? Are we ready?”

You swallowed, nervous. “Yes.”

But he could sense your anxiety, and was hesitant to continue. He pulled back, raking his eyes up and down your form. You couldn’t help your nervousness. But having read your darkest fantasies, he knew what you really wanted. 

“You know, the reason I read your diary is because I knew there was something about you that you try so desperately to hide,” he said, his voice soft and smooth as honey. “I wanted to know whatever part of you that you try to hide away from the rest of the world,” he let his hands trace down the length of your arm, and leaned in closer to whisper in your ear, “and that part of you is that you’re a needy girl who’s desperate to get fucked.” 

A shiver ran down your spine at the vulgarity of his words, a side to him you’d never seen.

He brought his hand from your arm to your neck, gently tracing the curve towards your chin. “And there’s nothing wrong with that, of course.” 

His voice was soft and tender, but when his hand grabbed your chin and forced you to face him, his expression was anything but. “You just needed a man who can fuck you like the desperate girl you are.” Your eyes widened at his words, and you could feel the warmth rush to your cheeks in a rosy blush. 

His eyes met yours. “Just say the word, mi amor. Do you trust me? Will you let me fuck you like you want… no, like you need to be fucked so badly? I can do it. I’m not afraid. I want to give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of…” His voice trailed off as he turned his head and closed the gap between you, placing his lips right below your ear. The kiss was soft and made you release your breath. “Say it, YN. Tell me you want this as bad as I do.” 

“You really want this?” you said, your voice almost trembling with anticipation.

His lips near your ear were going to be the death of you. “Of course. Can’t you feel how badly I do?” he whispered. You could feel him beneath you, hardening with every second that went past. You imagined the feeling of grinding your hips down on his length, recalling the memories of only a few days before. 

Oh God, how badly you wanted to. You wanted to give him everything. You could feel his soft breath on your neck, his hands now resting on your waist, tentatively waiting for your permission to resume roaming the curves of your body. But your breath was caught in your throat.

“Franco…” The soft exhalation of his name was all you can muster. “What, amor?” he replied. You swallowed and closed your eyes, knowing your next word would let the floodgates of your desire open.

“Please.”

His lips met your neck in a kiss that was tentative at first, like you were something fragile that could be broken by his touch. But the feeling of his soft lips finally meeting your skin caused you to draw in a breath. 

“You want to take the lead, or should I?” he asked. 

“You,” you answered simply, too distracted by the absolutely heavenly feeling of his velvet lips on your neck.

He hummed in response. “If you ever want to stop, just tell me, okay?”

“I will.”

He placed one final kiss on your neck and helped you take off your top. You felt his eyes undressing you more than his hands.

He wordlessly turned you around to sit on his lap, your back against his chest. His hands traced lower and lower down your stomach until they met the lacy waistband of your shorts.

“Are you going to be a good girl and take these off for me?” he purred. 

“Why would I do that, when I have you to do it for me?” You could tease him right back. He let out a dark laugh, kissing your neck from behind. 

“Little brat…” he cooed, but you took no offense. He slid your shorts off, and you were left with only your bra and panties. He ran his hands up and down your now exposed stomach. His touch was warm and inviting as it traced down to the now wet fabric of your panties. 

He began slowly, just tracing the skin through the fabric, inching lower and lower. He could already feel how wet you were. “Doesn’t take that much to get you going, hm? So wet just from my words.”

You blushed in embarrassment at his teasing. “Shut up…”

“Oh, amor,” he kissed your cheek, your face now turning away from him. “It’s okay. I know how badly you needed this.”

You let out a breathy moan as he began to outline your pussy with the feather-light touch of his fingers. He tentatively dipped his fingers under the fabric, spreading them around your growing wetness as he circled your clit.

Slowly and carefully, he put a finger inside you curling it up to hit that sweet spot. With his other hand, he roughly groped at your chest. He unclasped your bra with one hand, tossing it across the room, and let his free hand paw at your chest and circle your nipple.

“See, bébé, what a reward you get when you use your words and tell me what you want?”

“Yes,” you moaned, breathy and full of desire.

“And what do you want?” he asked.

“I want… you.” The words stuck in your throat, your mind too preoccupied with the pleasure of his thumb swirling softly around your clit and the two fingers now pumping in and out of you. You were vulnerable, at his mercy, but you trusted him. 

“You want me to…?”

“I want you to… to fuck me.”

“Good girls get what they want. You’ve been so good for me, haven’t you? Can you do one more thing for me?” He smirked, removing his hand from your sensitive bundle of nerves. You already missed the friction. 

“Yes, anything,” you promised. 

“Get on your knees for me.”

You obeyed. The sight of you on your knees below him, gazing at home longingly with your big doe eyes, made his cock twitch. But he saw something beyond obedience in your face.

He knelt down next to you. “Are you still nervous?” he asked.

You laughed. “I’m always nervous.” 

He brushed your hair out of your face, removing all the barriers between the two of you. “Do you want to stop?”

“No. I’m just… not as experienced as you. What if I'm not good?”

“You’ve already been so good for me,” he said, cradling your face in his hands. “I’ll guide you.”

You watched him with your innocent eyes as he stood up, unbuckled his belt, and took off his pants. You dug your knees into the pillow beneath you as he shed his last remaining layer of clothing.

He had no right to tease you for being so wet, when his own arousal coated him. His cock was dripping precum, so hard that it nearly hurt.

“Open your mouth,” he instructed, and again, you obeyed. He gently led you to him as you pressed your tongue to the bottom of his length and licked up to the sensitive head.

He moaned. “I don’t think you need any help, do you?” You just hummed as your tongue traced the lines of his veins up and down his shaft, before you took as much of him as you could, closing your mouth to trap him in the warmth.

He grabbed your hair to gently guide you to a good rhythm. You looked at him in admiration, but his head was thrown back, eyes closed in bliss. 

He moved your head faster, and you gagged a bit at his cock filling your mouth. You dug your hands into his thighs. Franco cursed in Spanish under his breath.

Soon, he pulled you away. You were embarrassed. Did you do something wrong?

“God, you feel too good. I can’t finish yet. I want to take my time with you.” He led you back to the bed, finally taking time to gaze at your form laid bare before him.

For a moment, he was silent, just taking in the sight of you. “You’re beautiful, YN.”

You blushed. “You don’t need to flatter me, you already got in my pants,” you joked.

“It’s not flattery,” he replied as he crossed the room to grab a condom from his bag and put it on, “it’s true.”

He returned to the bed, climbing on top of you. “You’re perfect. Every part of you.”

The vulnerable praise made you uncomfortable. “Franco…” 

“Touch me, amor.” You obeyed, bringing your hands to his broad shoulder, bracing for what you knew would come next.

“You may not think you’re beautiful, but I do. And I’ll make love to you as many times as I need to until you believe it.”

You blushed and brought your hands to your face. You were not immune to his Argentine charm. He gently pulled your hands away, kissing your wrists, so he could see your face. 

As he guided himself to your entrance, he slowly and carefully slid inside you with a deep groan. His eyes rolled back into his head at the heavenly feeling of your pussy, and your breath hitched.

He stopped to give you a moment to adjust to his length. You felt filled and warm; all his. 

For a moment he just stayed there, still, looking down at the sight of you stuffed with his cock, ready to be ravished.

“You alright?” he asked, softly tracing circles along your hips with his hands. You nodded through the sweet burn of being stretched on him.

But he could feel the tension in you. “Just relax, YN,” he cooed at you. “I’m going to take good care of you, hm?” 

He leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead and you whined. He whispered something in Spanish, too fast and incoherent for you to understand, but with a soft enough tone to recognize the love behind the gesture.

His thrusts at first were slow and shallow, giving you time to adjust. As he gently fucked you, he leaned down to softly whisper sweet nothings into your ears. You felt safe in his arms. 

But soon the softness faded away into lust. You both wanted it, and you showing him by how you sang a chorus of noises the faster he fucked you. His rough thrusts brought forth sinful noises from the both of you, lost in your pleasure. “It’s okay, YN. I know how badly you needed this,” he cooed, his own breath strained. “And I needed it too. I needed to feel you wrapped around me. You feel so fucking good, so tight and wet.”

His words weren’t lost on you. “Fuck, Franco…” you begged between his thrusts. You dug your nails into his back as he continued his unrelenting pace.

“Talk to me, pretty girl,” he said, slowing down for a moment. “You okay? Is it good?”

“So good,” you responded. “Don’t stop.”

He wordlessly continued, pumping his full length into you with reckless abandon. You were sure that your nails in his back would draw blood with how roughly you clung to him.

All you could do was take it, all of him, and let the moans and gasps fall from your lips with every touch.

As he sped up, his tone changed, becoming something rougher. He was clearly emboldened by the noises that left your mouth with every movement.

“I love hearing your pretty little noises. I want you to scream for me. Fucking scream my name,” he commanded. You didn’t have the strength in you, too distracted by how good he felt, burying his cock in you. 

“F- Franco,” you gasped. He pulled back so you could see him and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look him directly in the eyes.

“What’s that, love? Did you say something, or am I fucking you too good that you can’t even speak properly?”

“Franco, I—” you were cut off by your own whine, “I’m gonna cum.”

“Oh, pretty girl,” he cooed at you, “let go. Cum for me.”

You wanted nothing more than to obey him, and you came closer to the edge hearing his command. 

“I want you to look at me when I make you cum,” he instructed. You nodded at him.

But he slowed his pace down to a torturously slow speed, savoring how every inch of him went in and out of your drenched pussy. 

Even with his switch, you could feel that knot in your stomach tightening, threatening to explode as you held his intense gaze. Any self consciousness you would have had was cast aside by your desperate need to obey him.

And when he moved his hand from your hips down to your sensitive clit and began to rub, you couldn’t help but follow his command, climaxing in his arms.

He held you as you let the waves of pleasure come over you, not letting up his soft assault on your bundle of nerves. Even as you began to buck your hips involuntarily from the sensitive touch, he just whispered, “It’s okay, mi amor. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He softly shushed your whimpers of pleasure, gently running his free hand up and down your curves. “Are you okay to keep going? Because you know I’m not done with you yet.”

You didn’t know if you could handle any more, but you sure as hell weren’t going to tell him to stop. You’d waited too long for this, wanted it too badly, to go back now.

You nodded, so he kept going, hitting every spot inside you just right, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure. He was careful not to overwhelm you, taking an even and steady pace, but neither of you could help so heavenly it felt to have him inside of you.

Franco chased his own release, sitting up so he could see your whole body as he fucked you. He held onto your hips hard enough to leave marks, but you’d gladly wear them with pride. 

It didn’t take long for him to pull out and rip off the condom, pumping his hand up and down his length. 

“YN, I’m so fucking close,” he moaned. “Where—”

You didn’t answer him, just leaning down to take him in your mouth. He grabbed the back of your head, roughly pushing you closer to him.

“Don’t stop, you’re gonna make me cum, don’t—” 

He couldn’t finish his sentence before he climaxed, filling your mouth and letting out a low and low groan.

You pulled away from him and swallowed the stickiness that coated your mouth. 

He collapsed on the bed next to you. “Fuck, YN.” You laid down next to him. “That was so good.” His chest was still heaving with the intensity of his orgasm. 

But as he turned to you, the lust left him, growing into something softer as he brushed your hair out of your face. You were both covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

“You okay?” he asked.

You hummed and nodded, closing your eyes and leaning into him, taking in the smell of sex and his cologne. You couldn’t get close enough to him.

He kissed the top of your head. “I’ve got you,” he assured. You were too overwhelmed to say anything. He just held you. 

Eventually, you both got up to take a shower before you both got ready for bed. Snuggled close to him, you felt the quiet warmth of his presence protecting you, and it lulled you to sleep quicker than anything else ever could.

When you woke up in the middle of the night, you checked your phone. The internet sleuths had finally deciphered what Franco had said to you—a heartachingly sweet confession of love. He had said you were his life, his everything. He couldn’t have done it without you. 

Within the thin crack of light from blinds and the streetlights outside, you could see Franco’s backpack, with your diary still in it. If you wanted to, you could have stolen it back. But instead, you left it be, snuggling deeper into the bed to get close to the man you loved who slept peacefully beside you. 

It was true that more work needed to be done until you all could fully communicate with no difficulties—no language barriers, no journals, just heartfelt words. But you knew you both could do it. You loved each other too much to not. 

So you smiled as you felt his arm sleepily wrap around you and pull you close. You were safe. You were home. 

[sayruq]

Dr. Tanya Haj-Hassan, a pediatric intensive care physician who works with Médecins Sans Frontières and co-founded @GazaMedicVoices, has emerged as one of the most prominent voices raising the alarm about the hell Israel has created for Gaza’s healthcare workers. Mary Turfah: Yesterday, I came across a report of a third mass grave unearthed at Al-Shifa Hospital. One month ago, as the first mass graves there were being uncovered, you were interviewed by Sky News. The anchor cited Israeli military sources saying that they had detained “hundreds of Hamas militants” within the complex, then asked you what you thought of that. Could you speak to your response to him, and to this persistent obsession with “militants at Al-Shifa,” when not a single hospital in Gaza has been spared, and when there have been mass graves [seven in total to date] uncovered at multiple hospitals in Gaza? Tanya Haj-Hassan: Yeah. I think my response was something to the effect of, I can’t believe we’re still having this conversation. Everybody from a medical or humanitarian background is so sick of having to respond to these atrocious, preposterous justifications that are being provided for things that are never justifiable. I thought the Hamas and Al-Shifa question was buried a long time ago. There were several weeks where that’s all we were asked about in interviews. There were multiple investigations done that concluded no credible evidence existed to justify the attacks on Al-Shifa. And then, Al-Shifa was targeted again, besieged again. Then, eventually, Al-Shifa started functioning again. The staff were so proud of the fact that they got it functioning again. That second time, the hospital was again besieged and targeted. A lot of the staff were taken out into the courtyard of the hospital, where the male staff were stripped. Israeli soldiers beat several of the healthcare providers. A very, very senior person at Al Shifa, an older doctor, was eventually released and came on foot to Al-Aqsa Hospital. And immediately, he went back to work. I was at Al-Aqsa Hospital when he turned up disheveled, beard down to here, exhausted, having lost I don’t know how many kilos, hadn’t seen his family for five months, didn’t have a phone, didn’t have proper shoes, didn’t have proper clothes. They fled with basically nothing. And many of the other healthcare providers who were taken outside with him were abducted. I think his testimonies of what happened and the amount of work they had put into getting Al-Shifa functioning again made the question of the Sky News anchor even more infuriating. Because that’s the reality I had just come out of, and to hear him then ask a health professional who had spent the last few weeks resuscitating dead and dying children that have been maimed to an extent that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget—even though I think for my own well-being, it would probably be good if I would forget some of those images—I found it so insulting. Insulting to me, to the healthcare providers who had risked their lives to stay at Al-Shifa, who had lost 25 percent of their body weight, who were exhausted. Insulting to the health care providers who had been killed at Al-Shifa, fleeing from Al-Shifa, to the civilians who were executed there. It’s insulting to our intellect. It’s insulting to humanity

MT: Last week, it was revealed that Dr. Adnan Al-Bursh, a renowned orthopedic surgeon in Gaza, was tortured to death inside of Israeli prisons, according to eyewitness testimony, after he had been abducted from the hospital where he was providing life-saving care, back in December. Hundreds of medical workers have been killed to date, and many more injured. You said in one interview that doctors and healthcare workers are changing out of their scrubs before leaving the hospital so that they’re not targeted. On top of this, the doctors in Gaza have been working basically nonstop for 215 days. As someone who has worked in Gaza, I was wondering if you could say a bit about what your colleagues are facing day-to-day. THH: I want to start with the abduction of healthcare workers, because it’s so underreported, to the point where myself and my colleagues, medical providers working our own jobs, are doing the investigative work. They’re systematic. There have been at least 240 abductions documented by our group— MT: 240?! THH: At least 240, and I’m not talking about what’s reported by the Ministry of Health, which I believe is an even higher number. We documented that at least 240 healthcare workers have been abducted and detained by Israeli forces, the majority of whom have not been released. And the ones who have been released are providing testimonies of torture, of themselves but also the torture that they’ve witnessed. I’ve taken testimonies. One, a three-hour-long testimony about the torture inflicted on [my friend,] a nurse, for 53 days in custody, accusing him of being part of Hamas, of his family being part of Hamas, even though the fact that he was released tells you he wasn’t part of Hamas. Given the extent to which he was tortured, I’m surprised that he survived. And he has not survived with his physical and mental health intact. He has scars, he has nightmares. He had hematuria, so bleeding when he urinated, for weeks after he was released.

Please read this interview as it sheds light on the horrors doctors, nurses, and other medical workers in Gaza have endured

[reidmarieprentiss]

hii wondering if you could write a little something about to how spencer would react to an undercover mission going wrong with his gf??<3 whether she’s on the mission alone or together with him is up to you

Where We Were Meant to Be

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: kidnapping, guns, typical case talk, break ups (not spencer), feelings talks, being injured

Word count: 7.8k

a/n: i took a little bit of creative liberty with this one i hope that's okay! it's spencer's best friend that he just so happens to be in love with heheh --- also this is meant to be a treat because i only posted once yesterday <333

main masterlist

Spencer Reid was a man of many secrets, but the one that weighed the heaviest on him was the love he harbored for you. It was a love that grew quietly over time, nurtured by the countless hours spent together, the late-night conversations that often veered into deep, uncharted emotional territory, and the shared experiences that bonded you in ways that words could never fully capture.

Everyone at the BAU knew how close the two of you were. It was impossible not to notice. From the way your eyes would light up whenever Spencer entered a room to the ease with which you could communicate without saying a word, it was evident that you shared a connection that transcended the ordinary.

"You two are like two halves of the same brain," Derek would often joke, a knowing grin on his face as he watched you and Spencer exchange another one of your silent conversations.

"Or the same heart," Penelope would add with a playful wink, causing you to blush and Spencer to give her a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

But despite the teasing, no one knew the depth of Spencer's feelings. No one knew that every time you smiled at him, his heart ached with a longing that he buried deep within himself. No one knew that every time your hand brushed against his, he had to remind himself that it meant nothing more than friendship—because that was all you could offer him.

You had a partner. A good one, at that. Spencer had met them a few times, and he couldn't find a single flaw. They were kind, intelligent, and treated you with the love and respect you deserved. It made things easier and harder all at once. Easier, because he knew you were happy, and that's all he'd ever wanted for you. Harder, because he couldn't help but wish that he were the one to make you feel that way.

But Spencer was nothing if not practical. He had always been good at compartmentalizing his emotions, and he used that skill now to keep his feelings in check. He accepted your relationship with grace, never once letting on that every "we" you mentioned with your partner's name attached chipped away at his heart. He forced himself to focus on the friendship you shared, cherishing every moment, every laugh, every secret confided.

In his quieter moments, Spencer allowed himself to dream. He imagined what it would be like to be the one who held your hand as you navigated life’s challenges, to be the one who made you laugh on your hardest days, to be the one you turned to when the world felt like too much. But those dreams were fleeting, and he always pushed them away, reminding himself that you were happy, and that was what mattered.

One evening, after a particularly tough case, the team decided to unwind at Rossi's place. The atmosphere was relaxed, the tension of the day slowly dissipating as everyone gathered around with drinks in hand. You sat next to Spencer, your shoulder lightly brushing against his as you leaned in to whisper something that made him chuckle softly.

"See, this is why you're my favorite," you teased, poking him playfully in the side.

"Flattery won’t get you anywhere," Spencer replied, his voice tinged with affection as he looked at you, his gaze lingering just a moment too long.

You caught it, your smile softening as you reached out to squeeze his hand. "You're the best, you know that?"

"Only because I have the best friend," he responded, squeezing your hand in return before letting go, trying to ignore the way his heart raced at the simple contact.

The night continued, filled with laughter and stories, but Spencer couldn’t help but feel the weight of his unspoken feelings pressing down on him. It was a bittersweet sensation, knowing that he would never be able to tell you the truth, that he would never be able to cross the invisible line that separated friendship from something more.

As the evening wound down and people started to leave, you lingered behind with Spencer, helping him clean up the remnants of the gathering. It was something the two of you often did, slipping into a comfortable rhythm as you worked side by side in silence.

Once the dishes were done and the living room tidied, you both collapsed into your car, a comfortable silence settling between you.

"Thanks for sticking around," Spencer said, his voice soft as he turned to look at you.

"Of course," you replied, meeting his gaze with a tired smile. "You're my person, Spencer. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Your words hit him harder than you could have imagined. He swallowed, forcing himself to smile even as his heart twisted painfully in his chest. "And you're mine," he whispered, more to himself than to you.

You rested your head on his shoulder, letting out a content sigh as you closed your eyes. Spencer remained still, afraid to move, afraid that the moment would shatter if he so much as breathed too loudly.

In that moment, Spencer allowed himself to believe, just for a second, that things could be different. That maybe, in another life, in another world, he could be the one you chose. But as your breathing evened out, signaling that you had fallen asleep, he knew that such thoughts were futile.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled back, his heart heavy with the weight of what could never be. 

And so, he continued to keep his secret, burying it deep within himself as he held onto the one thing he could have—your friendship. It wasn't everything, but it was enough. It had to be enough.

—

The briefing room was unusually quiet as Hotch laid out the details of the mission. The tension in the air was palpable, the seriousness of the situation evident in the way Hotch’s voice took on that hard, steely edge he reserved for the most dangerous of cases. You sat next to Spencer, your hands folded neatly in your lap, trying to keep your expression neutral as the reality of what was being asked of you sank in.

The unsub had escalated, and the BAU was running out of time. The only way to catch him was to go undercover, to insert yourselves into his world, to become the very thing he was hunting. And for this, Hotch had chosen you and Spencer to pose as husband and wife.

The room emptied out after the briefing, but Spencer lingered, his brows furrowed, a storm of emotions brewing behind his eyes. He looked at you, searching your face as if trying to find a way to convince you to change your mind before he even spoke.

“This is too dangerous,” he began, his voice low and urgent. “You shouldn’t go. We can find another way—there has to be another way.”

You reached out to him, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “Spencer, we’ve been through worse. We can handle this.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, his voice trembling slightly. “This isn’t just another case. This is… it’s different. If something goes wrong—if he even suspects for a second that we’re not who we say we are—” His voice caught in his throat, and he looked away, swallowing hard.

You squeezed his arm, trying to anchor him. “Spencer, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he turned back to you, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and desperation that broke your heart.

“We’re the best shot at stopping him,” you said gently. “You know that. If it were anyone else, I’d be just as worried. But it’s us. We’ve got this.”

His hands balled into fists at his sides, his knuckles white. “But what if something happens to you? I couldn’t—” He stopped, his breath hitching as he tried to compose himself. “I couldn’t live with that.”

You felt a pang in your chest at his words, at the raw vulnerability he was showing you. “Spencer,” you whispered, stepping closer, “I know it’s risky. I know you’re scared. But I’m scared too. And that’s why we have to be careful, why we have to trust each other.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, but the fear was still there, clinging to him like a shadow. “I do trust you. It’s just… I can’t lose you.”

The intensity of his words hung in the air, a confession of something deeper, something unspoken between you. You felt your heart twist, knowing how much he cared, how much he had always cared.

“You won’t lose me,” you promised, your voice steady even though your heart was pounding. “We’ll go in, do what we need to do, and get out. Together.”

He nodded slowly, though the worry in his eyes didn’t diminish. “Promise me you’ll be careful. No risks, no heroics.”

You smiled softly, trying to ease the tension. “I promise. We’re in this together.”

The days leading up to the mission were a blur of preparations, briefings, and final checks. Spencer was quieter than usual, his mind clearly racing with thoughts of what could go wrong. You tried to stay focused, knowing that you both needed to be sharp for this to work.

When the day finally arrived, you found yourselves in a small, nondescript hotel room that served as your cover. The ruse was simple: you and Spencer were a newlywed couple, traveling through the area, the perfect targets for the unsub’s twisted games.

The charade was almost too real, the way Spencer’s hand rested on the small of your back as you entered the hotel lobby, the way he leaned in to whisper something in your ear as you checked in. The familiarity of it all was both comforting and disconcerting.

The hotel room’s dim lighting cast a warm glow over the space, but it was nothing compared to the light in Spencer’s eyes as he looked at you. You had just finished getting ready for the final phase of the mission, slipping into the elegant dress that completed your undercover persona as the charming, newlywed wife. As you turned to face him, adjusting the last of your jewelry, Spencer’s breath seemed to catch in his throat.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he murmured, his voice low, almost reverent. There was a softness in his tone, a tenderness that seemed to seep into every syllable. His eyes, those expressive hazel eyes, were locked onto you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

For a moment, the world outside the room ceased to exist. The mission, the danger, the need to keep up the pretense—it all faded into the background. All that mattered was the way Spencer was looking at you, with so much love and adoration that it was almost overwhelming.

But then, as quickly as it had surfaced, Spencer seemed to reel it back in. He blinked, his expression shifting as he forced a small smile, trying to play it off. “I mean, it’s… it’s perfect for the mission. You look exactly like someone who would turn every head in the room.”

You could hear the faint waver in his voice, the way he tried to rationalize the emotion he had just displayed. He chalked it up to the nature of the mission, to the need to sell the story, but deep down, he knew there was more to it.

“Thank you, Spencer,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You could feel the tension between you, a silent acknowledgment of the feelings that were bubbling just beneath the surface, unspoken but undeniably present.

Spencer nodded, averting his gaze as he adjusted his tie, trying to focus on the task at hand. But the way his hands trembled ever so slightly, the way his jaw clenched as he fought to regain his composure, didn’t go unnoticed by you.

You took a step closer, reaching out to touch his arm, your fingers brushing against the fabric of his sleeve. “We’ll be okay, you know,” you said, trying to reassure him, to reassure yourself.

He looked up at you, his eyes once again filled with that same deep, intense emotion. “I know,” he replied, his voice barely more than a whisper. “As long as you’re with me, I know we’ll be okay.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, the air between you thick with unspoken words and hidden desires. It was as if the world had paused, holding its breath as you both stood on the precipice of something that could change everything.

But then, with a deep breath, Spencer forced himself to step back, his professional mask sliding back into place. “We should get going,” he said, his voice firmer now, though there was still a lingering softness in his eyes.

You nodded, trying to push down the emotions that were threatening to spill over. “Right. Let’s do this.”

And as you left the room together, hand in hand, the lines between mission and reality blurred just a little more, leaving you both wondering what would be left once the dust settled.

—

The situation had spiraled out of control so fast that it felt like a nightmare, the kind where everything you feared the most came true. One moment, you and Spencer were navigating the careful dance of your undercover roles, blending into the crowd at the lavish party where you hoped to catch the unsub off guard. The next, everything went dark—both literally and figuratively.

The unsub was smarter than they’d anticipated. He saw through the act, his twisted mind zeroing in on your every move, every glance exchanged with Spencer. And then, in an instant, the plan unraveled. The lights flickered, and when they came back on, you were no longer standing by Spencer's side. You were in the unsub’s grip, his arm around your throat, his gun pressed against your temple.

“Spencer!” you cried out, your voice filled with a terror that tore through him like a knife.

Spencer’s heart stopped in that moment. The blood drained from his face as he saw you, saw the fear in your eyes, the way you struggled against the unsub’s iron grip. His mind raced, every possible scenario playing out in rapid succession, each one worse than the last. He could feel his entire world crashing down around him, the panic setting in, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

“Let her go!” Spencer’s voice was raw, desperate, his hand reaching out instinctively as if he could pull you back to him by sheer force of will. “You don’t want to do this. We can help you. Just—just let her go, please.”

But the unsub only sneered, tightening his hold on you, dragging you backward toward the exit. “Help me? You’re the ones who need help. You think I didn’t see through your little charade? You think I didn’t know?”

Spencer felt his knees buckle as he watched the unsub’s every move, his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t. The thought of it was too much, too overwhelming. He tried to take a step forward, but the unsub jabbed the gun harder against your head, making you gasp in pain.

“Stay back, or I’ll blow her brains out right here!” the unsub snarled, his eyes wild with a dangerous mix of paranoia and rage.

“Please,” Spencer begged, his voice cracking, his eyes pleading as he tried to reason with a man who seemed beyond reason. “Don’t hurt her. You don’t have to do this. We can talk, we can—”

But the unsub wasn’t listening. He was already backing out of the room, dragging you with him. And then, before Spencer could react, you were gone—thrown into a nondescript van that peeled away from the curb, leaving Spencer standing there, frozen in horror.

The moment you disappeared from sight, something in Spencer snapped. He was a man undone, no longer the composed, brilliant profiler but a man in the throes of utter despair. He spun around, his eyes wild as he looked at the rest of the team, who had arrived just in time to witness the tail end of the horror show.

“We have to find her!” Spencer’s voice was a shout, laced with a hysteria that made everyone in the room tense up. “We have to find her now!”

“Reid, we’re going to do everything we can,” Hotch said, his voice calm and steady, trying to contain the situation, but it only seemed to fuel Spencer’s rage.

“You sent her in there!” Spencer roared, pointing an accusatory finger at Hotch, his voice trembling with fury and anguish. “You sent her in there, and now she’s gone! You did this!”

“Spencer, we’ll find her,” JJ said softly, trying to step in, but Spencer wasn’t hearing it. His mind was a blur of panic, grief, and guilt. All he could see was you, the terror in your eyes, the way you had been dragged away from him.

“No! You don’t understand!” Spencer was nearly hysterical now, his voice breaking, tears streaming down his face as he continued to lash out. “She’s out there alone, and it’s our fault! We have to get her back! We have to—” 

“Reid, stand down!” Hotch commanded, his voice taking on a sharper tone, but it did nothing to calm Spencer.

“No!” Spencer screamed, his hands shaking as he pointed at Hotch again. “You don’t get to tell me to stand down! You don’t get to tell me to do anything after what you’ve done!”

Hotch exchanged a quick glance with Rossi, who gave a small nod, understanding that Spencer was too far gone, too deep in his emotions to be reasoned with right now.

“Reid, go back to the hotel,” Hotch ordered, his voice firm and leaving no room for argument. “We’ll handle the search. You need to stand down.”

But Spencer didn’t move. He just stood there, shaking, his eyes wild and red-rimmed, the pain etched so deeply into his features that it was almost unbearable to look at. He wanted to fight, to do something, anything to bring you back. But all he could do was fall apart, right there in front of everyone.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he finally gave in to the grief that was tearing him apart. “Please bring her back.”

“Go back to the hotel, Reid,” Hotch repeated, softer this time, but still with that commanding presence. “We’ll find her.”

Spencer didn’t want to go. Every fiber of his being wanted to stay, to fight, to tear the city apart if that’s what it took to find you. But he was too broken, too shattered to argue anymore. So, with one last, desperate look at Hotch, he turned and left, his heart heavy, his mind spinning with every horrible possibility.

Back at the hotel, Spencer was a man possessed. He couldn’t sit, couldn’t think straight. He paced the room, his thoughts running in endless circles, every one of them coming back to you and the unimaginable fear that you were out there, somewhere, hurt or worse. The room felt too small, too suffocating, and he found himself screaming, yelling out your name, cursing at the walls as if they could give him answers.

When the anger wasn’t enough to dull the pain, the tears came full force. He collapsed onto the bed, burying his face in his hands as he sobbed, the grief pouring out of him in waves. He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t. The thought of it was too much, and yet it was all he could think about.

Hours passed, though it felt like an eternity, and still, there was no word. No update. No sign of you. Spencer felt like he was drowning in the silence, the waiting, the not knowing. Every second that ticked by felt like another piece of him being torn away, until there was nothing left but the hollow shell of a man who had once been whole.

When the phone finally rang, Spencer lunged for it, his heart in his throat as he answered, his voice shaking with desperation. 

But it wasn’t you. It wasn’t even news about you. It was Hotch, telling him to stay put, telling him that they were still searching, still trying to find you. It was a command wrapped in reassurance, but it did nothing to calm the storm inside Spencer.

“Just bring her back,” Spencer whispered, his voice barely audible, broken. “Please, bring her back to me.”

And as he hung up the phone, Spencer curled up on the bed, clutching your jacket that still held the faintest scent of you, and prayed with every ounce of his being that you would come back to him, that this nightmare would end, and that he wouldn’t lose the most important person in his life.

—

Spencer was pacing the floor of the hotel room, his mind a whirlwind of fear, guilt, and desperation. The silence of the room felt like it was closing in on him, pressing down on his chest until he could hardly breathe. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, and the only thing keeping him from completely unraveling was the hope that the team would find you before it was too late.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he nearly fumbled it in his haste to answer. “Derek?” he gasped, his voice tight with panic.

“Reid        , we think we found her,” Derek said, his tone serious but laced with urgency. “She’s at an abandoned warehouse on the east side, just off of River Street. We’re heading there now.”

Spencer didn’t wait for another word. He grabbed his keys and bolted out of the hotel, the thought of you in danger propelling him forward with a speed he didn’t know he was capable of. The drive to the warehouse was a blur of speeding cars, red lights he didn’t bother stopping for, and the singular focus of getting to you as fast as he could.

When he pulled up to the warehouse, he barely threw his car into park before he was out the door, sprinting toward the cluster of agents and medics near the entrance. The sight of them only made his heart race faster, a mix of relief and dread coiling in his stomach.

“Where is she?” he shouted, his voice hoarse with desperation as he pushed his way through the crowd.

The sight of you nearly brought him to his knees. You were lying on a stretcher, your body bruised and battered, your face pale and drawn, as if the life had been drained out of you. The medics were working quickly, checking your vitals, hooking you up to an IV, but all Spencer could focus on was the faint sound of your voice, weak and trembling, as you mumbled incoherently.

“My love,” you whispered, your voice barely more than a breath. “Where is my love?”

The words broke Spencer’s heart into a thousand pieces. He rushed forward, ignoring the shouts of the other agents as he made his way to your side. You were so fragile, so small against the harsh metal of the stretcher, and all he wanted to do was gather you in his arms, protect you from the world, from everything that had hurt you.

The medics began to wheel you toward the ambulance, but as they moved, you caught sight of Spencer, your eyes fluttering open just enough to recognize him. Despite the pain, despite the exhaustion that weighed you down, you tried to sit up, your hand reaching out toward him as if he were the only thing that could keep you tethered to life.

“My love,” you said again, your voice cracking with emotion, your eyes filled with tears as you looked at him.

Spencer was at your side in an instant, grabbing your extended hand and squeezing it tightly. “I’m here, I’m right here,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held onto you like you were his lifeline.

The medics glanced at Spencer, recognizing the emblem on his jacket, the desperation in his eyes. “I’m riding with her,” Spencer told them, his voice leaving no room for argument.

The medics nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. They helped Spencer climb into the ambulance, making room for him next to you as they continued to work. Spencer never let go of your hand, his thumb brushing gently over your bruised knuckles, his heart breaking at the sight of you so weak, so vulnerable.

As the ambulance sped away, sirens blaring, Spencer leaned in close, his voice soft and soothing as he whispered to you. “You’re going to be okay. I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes fluttered open again, your gaze locking onto his as you tried to muster the strength to speak. “I was so scared,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks as you clung to his hand.

“I know,” Spencer said, his own voice cracking as he fought back his tears. “I was too. But you’re safe now. We’re going to get through this, okay? I promise.”

You nodded weakly, your eyes drifting shut again as exhaustion took over. But even as you slipped into unconsciousness, you kept your hand in his, holding on as if he were your only anchor in the storm.

And Spencer held on too, refusing to let go, refusing to let the fear, the guilt, the overwhelming emotions consume him. All that mattered was you—keeping you safe, getting you through this. He couldn’t think about anything else, couldn’t allow himself to imagine a world where you weren’t with him.

As the ambulance raced toward the hospital, Spencer pressed a gentle kiss to the back of your hand, his voice a quiet promise in the chaos. “I love you,” he whispered, the words slipping out before he could stop them, before he could overthink them.

But it didn’t matter now. There was no taking it back, no more hiding how he felt. And as the ambulance tore through the night, Spencer made a silent vow that he would do whatever it took to keep you safe, to bring you back to him—because losing you wasn’t an option. Not now. Not ever.

—

The antiseptic smell of the hospital was a sharp contrast to the warmth of Spencer's presence beside you. The sterile environment only emphasized how vulnerable and fragile you felt, lying in the hospital bed with a sling supporting your broken collarbone. The pain was manageable, dulled by the medication the doctors had administered, but the emotional whirlwind you were caught in was another matter entirely.

Spencer had been there since the moment you arrived, never leaving your side. His eyes, red-rimmed and exhausted, had stayed fixed on you, watching over you with a mix of concern and something deeper that you couldn’t quite name. He was a mess of emotions—fear, relief, and something bordering on anger, though you knew it wasn’t directed at you.

You were just beginning to doze off when a nurse entered the room, gently informing you that your partner had arrived. Your heart clenched at the words, not out of relief or comfort, but out of a confusing sense of dread. Spencer’s hand tightened slightly around yours, a small, almost imperceptible gesture, but one that spoke volumes. He was still there, still holding onto you, but you could feel the shift in the air, the way his grip loosened as the footsteps approached.

When your partner stepped into the room, their eyes filled with worry and love, Spencer immediately withdrew his hand, standing up to make room. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his jaw clenched as he forced himself to step back, to let go.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” your partner said softly, their voice sincere as they looked at Spencer with genuine gratitude.

Spencer nodded stiffly, the bitterness in his expression barely hidden. “Of course,” he replied, his voice tight. “It’s what anyone would have done.”

But you knew that wasn’t true. Spencer had done more than anyone else would have, more than your partner could even begin to understand. He had been your anchor in the storm, the person you had instinctively reached for when you were at your weakest. And now, with your partner standing there, all you could think about was how much you had wanted Spencer—needed Spencer—when everything was falling apart.

Your partner leaned down to kiss your forehead, their touch gentle, comforting. But it wasn’t the same. It didn’t ignite that spark inside you, didn’t calm the commotion in your heart the way Spencer’s presence had. Your mind kept replaying those moments in the ambulance, when Spencer had whispered those three words that had changed everything.

“I love you.”

The weight of those words settled heavily in your chest, making it hard to breathe. You couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t meant the world to you when he said it. But now, looking up at your partner, you felt trapped between two worlds—one where you were safe, where everything was familiar, and another where your heart was pulling you toward something deeper, something more complicated, something you weren’t sure you were ready to face.

Spencer stood there, watching the exchange with an expression that broke your heart. You could see the pain in his eyes, the bitterness that he was trying so hard to hide. He had given you everything he had in those terrifying moments, and now he was being pushed aside, as if all of that meant nothing.

But it did mean something. It meant everything.

“Spencer…” you began, your voice soft, uncertain.

He looked at you, his eyes searching yours, waiting for something—anything—that would tell him what you were feeling, what you were thinking. But you didn’t know what to say. You were too confused, too overwhelmed to put your emotions into words.

Your partner squeezed your hand gently, drawing your attention back to them. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” they whispered, their voice filled with relief.

You nodded, trying to smile, but it felt hollow, forced. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I’m okay.”

But as you looked back at Spencer, you knew that you weren’t okay. Not really. Because all you could think about was how much it had hurt to watch him leave, to see the pain in his eyes as he stepped back, knowing that he was walking away from something that had just barely begun.

Spencer took a step toward the door, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him. “I should go,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible. “You need time with your partner.”

The word "partner" seemed to catch in his throat, and you could see the way he flinched as he said it, as if acknowledging their presence hurt more than he could bear.

You wanted to call out to him, to tell him to stay, to tell him that what he had said in the ambulance had changed everything for you. But the words wouldn’t come. You were too afraid, too unsure of what any of it meant, or what it would mean if you acknowledged it out loud.

So you said nothing, letting him walk away, letting him leave the room with a heavy heart and a bitterness that you knew was only going to fester.

As the door closed behind Spencer, you felt a tear slip down your cheek, the weight of everything crashing down on you all at once. Your partner was still there, still holding your hand, still trying to comfort you, but it wasn’t enough. Because the person you needed most had just walked out the door, and you didn’t know if you had the courage to bring him back.

—

When you returned to work after your medical leave, there was a part of you that was eager to get back to a sense of normalcy. You thought that once you were surrounded by your colleagues, by Spencer, things would start to feel right again. But from the moment you stepped into the bullpen, you knew something was different.

Spencer was there, of course, as he always was—dutiful, courteous, offering you a small, polite smile as you walked in. He asked how you were feeling, made sure you had everything you needed, even went out of his way to help you catch up on what you had missed during your absence. But there was a distance to him, a careful politeness that felt foreign between the two of you. It was as if there was an invisible barrier between you, one that he had constructed with precision and intention.

He wasn’t your Spencer anymore. He was still the brilliant, kind-hearted man you knew, but the easy closeness, the spontaneous laughter, the silent conversations that you had once shared—those were gone. And as much as it pained you, you couldn’t bring yourself to confront him about it. You were too afraid of what you might find out, too scared that if you asked him what was wrong, you would only confirm your worst fears.

So you stayed quiet. You forced yourself to smile when he spoke to you, even though his words were measured and distant. You nodded along when he offered advice or assistance, even though the warmth you used to feel in his presence was replaced by a hollow ache. But the more time passed, the more you began to realize that this wasn’t just about Spencer pulling away—it was about what that distance did to you.

It felt like half of you was missing, like you were a shell of yourself without him by your side. You’d never felt this way with your partner, not even when they were out of town or during the rare arguments that led to hours of silence. There was something about Spencer, something about the bond you had shared, that had become an integral part of who you were. And now that it was gone, you were lost.

It was that realization that led to the end of your relationship. You couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when your heart was somewhere else, when the person you thought you loved couldn’t fill the void that Spencer’s absence had left. Breaking up with your partner was one of the hardest things you’d ever done, not because you were still in love with them, but because they were such a genuinely kind-hearted person. They deserved better than to be with someone whose heart wasn’t fully in it.

When you sat down with them, your voice shaking as you tried to explain, they listened with a quiet understanding that made you feel even more guilty. “I’ve known for a while that something was off,” they said softly, their eyes sad but not angry. “I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, tears stinging your eyes. “You didn’t deserve this.”

They shook their head, reaching out to gently squeeze your hand. “You don’t have to apologize. I’d rather you be honest with yourself—and with me—than stay in a relationship that doesn’t make you happy.”

Their kindness only made the pain of ending things more acute, but you knew it was the right thing to do. You couldn’t keep living a lie, couldn’t keep pretending that you were in love when your heart was somewhere else. And as much as it hurt, you felt a strange sense of relief when they walked away, knowing that you were finally free to face the truth.

But now that the relationship was over, you were left with an even bigger question: What do you do about Spencer? The very person who had unknowingly driven you to this decision was the one you felt you had already lost. The thought of telling him how you felt was terrifying, especially when you weren’t sure if there was anything left between you to salvage. Would he even care, or had he already moved on, content to keep you at arm’s length for the rest of your lives?

As you sat alone in your apartment that evening, the silence pressing in on you, you found yourself picking up your phone, your fingers hovering over Spencer’s contact. You wanted to call him, to tell him everything—to tell him that this whole mess had made you realize just how much you needed him, how much you missed him, how much you loved him.

But fear held you back. Fear that he wouldn’t feel the same way, fear that he would reject you, fear that you had already lost him forever.

In the end, you put the phone down, your heart heavy with the weight of your unspoken feelings. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to move forward. All you knew was that you couldn’t keep living like this, trapped in the limbo between what you had lost and what you could never have.

But as you lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, you made a silent vow to yourself: You couldn’t let things end like this. Spencer had meant too much to you for too long to let him slip away without a fight. And even though the thought of confronting him scared you more than anything, you knew that you had to try. You had to tell him how you felt, even if it meant risking everything.

Because losing Spencer without ever telling him the truth—that was something you couldn’t bear.

—

Spencer sat in his reading nook, surrounded by books that had once brought him comfort but now served as a distraction from the thoughts he couldn’t escape. The words blurred together as he tore through page after page, trying to keep his mind occupied, to drown out the memories of you, the sound of your voice, the way you used to laugh at his terrible jokes. It wasn’t easy, keeping you at arm’s length, but it was the only way he knew how to protect himself. He couldn’t endure watching you be with someone else, not when every part of him yearned to be the one you turned to, the one you loved.

The soft knock on the door startled him, pulling him out of the world he had tried so hard to lose himself in. His heart raced as he set the book down, a sense of unease settling over him as he stood up. He wasn’t expecting anyone, least of all you.

When he opened the door, the upper chain still in place, his breath caught in his throat. “Y/N?” he asked, his voice full of surprise.

You stood there, looking up at him with an expression that was both determined and vulnerable. It was clear you had made a decision, one that had led you to his doorstep on a Friday evening, one that had left you standing there, waiting for him to let you in.

“Spencer,” you began, your voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in your chest. “I think we need to talk. Can I come in?”

He hesitated for a moment, his mind racing with the implications of what this conversation might bring. But the sight of you, the sound of your voice, was too much for him to resist. He needed to hear what you had to say, even if it meant reopening wounds he had tried so hard to close.

With a sigh, Spencer undid the chain and opened the door fully, stepping aside to let you in. “Of course,” he said, his voice softer now, tinged with the familiarity of your presence.

You stepped inside, taking a deep breath as you crossed the threshold. The air in the apartment was thick with unspoken words, with the tension that had been building between you for weeks. You could feel it, the weight of everything you hadn’t said, everything you were about to say.

Spencer watched as you took a moment to compose yourself, his heart aching at the sight of you in his space, a place you had once felt so at home in but that now felt foreign, distant. He wanted to reach out, to close the gap between you, but he held back, reminding himself of the boundaries he had set.

“I’m sorry for showing up like this,” you said, turning to face him, your eyes searching his for any sign of what he was feeling. “But I couldn’t wait any longer. I have a lot to say, and I kept repeating it in my head. I was driving myself insane,” you laughed a bit at your own expense.

Spencer nodded, his throat tight as he gestured for you to sit on the couch. He took a seat across from you, his hands clasped together in his lap as he waited for you to speak, his heart pounding in his chest.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words, the ones that would convey everything you had been feeling, everything you had realized over the past few weeks. “Spencer, I know things have been different between us since I came back. And I know it’s because of me, because of what happened.”

He opened his mouth to protest, to tell you that it wasn’t your fault, that he had been the one to pull away, but you held up a hand, stopping him.

“Please, just let me finish,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve been thinking a lot about us, about what we had, and what we lost. And I realized that… I realized that I can’t keep going on like this. I can’t keep pretending that everything’s okay when it’s not. I miss you, Spencer. I miss my best friend.”

His heart twisted at your words, the pain of losing you sharper than he had expected. “I miss you too,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… it’s complicated.”

“I know it is,” you said, leaning forward, your eyes locking onto his with a determination that took him by surprise. “But that’s why I’m here. I need you to hear me out.”

Spencer nodded, his hands trembling slightly as he braced himself for whatever was coming next.

You took another deep breath, your heart racing as you finally found the courage to say the words that had been weighing on you for so long. “I ended things with my partner.”

His eyes widened in surprise, the words catching him off guard. “You did?”

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of relief at finally saying it out loud. “Yes. I did. Because I realized that I couldn’t keep lying to myself, or to them. I realized that the reason I was so unhappy, the reason I felt like something was missing, was because… because I was in love with someone else.”

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding as he tried to process what you were saying. “Y/N…”

“I’m in love with you, Spencer,” you said, your voice steady now, the weight of the truth lifting from your shoulders. “I’ve been in love with you for a long time I think, and it took almost losing you to realize that. I don’t know how you feel, and I’m terrified that I’ve already lost you, but I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. You deserve to know the truth.”

The room fell into a heavy silence as your words hung in the air, the enormity of what you had just confessed settling between you. Spencer’s mind raced, a thousand thoughts colliding all at once, but the one thing that stood out above everything else was the overwhelming relief, the joy, that came with hearing you say those words.

You loved him. You loved him.

“Spencer, please say something,” you whispered, your voice trembling now as the fear of rejection crept in.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with a mix of emotions—relief, love, fear. “I’ve loved you for so long,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “that I didn’t think it was possible for you to feel the same way. I’ve been trying so hard to protect myself, to keep my distance, because I didn’t want to get hurt. But all it did was hurt me more, because all I wanted was to be close to you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as his words sank in, as the truth of what he had been feeling all this time became clear. “Spencer…”

He stood up, crossing the room in a few quick strides, and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest as if he was afraid you might disappear. “I’m so sorry for pulling away,” he whispered into your hair, his voice choked with emotion. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was wrong. I need you in my life, Y/N. I need you more than anything.”

You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face in his chest as the tears finally spilled over. “I need you too,” you whispered, your voice trembling with relief, with love, with the overwhelming emotion of finally being in his arms again.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, holding onto each other as the weight of everything you had been through, everything you had felt, finally began to lift. 

“Please don’t ever pull away again,” you whispered, pulling back just enough to look up at him.

He shook his head, his thumb gently brushing away your tears. “I won’t. I promise. I’m done hiding.”

With that, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was long overdue, a kiss that spoke of all the love, all the longing, all the unspoken words that had been building between you for so long. It was a kiss that sealed the promise of a future together, a future where you didn’t have to pretend, didn’t have to hold back, a future where you could finally be with the person you loved.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and smiling, Spencer rested his forehead against yours, his arms still wrapped around you. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. And I’m never letting you go again.”

“I love you, Spencer,” you whispered, the words feeling right, feeling true.

“I love you too,” he replied, his voice full of conviction, full of the certainty that this—being with you—was where he was always meant to be.

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

tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303

[lukolathoughts]

Nicola loves the girls, the gays, and Luke Newton.

Dearest gentle readers,

Well! What an interesting few days. I'm not sure where to even start. I just want to let Jakeholes know, this isn't the blog for you, so it's best you move along now before you start foaming at the mouth.

In my first blog, I touched on subtext and reading between the lines. This is something I teach to my students and encourage their critical thinking skills. I will give out a photo and ask my students to 'infer' from what they can see in the photograph. 'Inference is a process of deriving logical conclusions from premises known or assumed to be true. It is also a guess or an opinion that is formed based on the information that you have.' In an exam, if I gave the students a photograph and they simply told me that all they could see was that the sky was blue, the grass was green, the lady is wearing a green coat and the man a hoodie and a baseball hat, they would not get very many marks.

However, if they described what they could 'infer' from the photo, such as that handhold does not look genuine and his fingers are stiff, their laughter seems over the top, the man isn't wearing a coat in January. They seem to be looking directly at the photographer, they never make eye contact in any of the photos. This would get them some more marks. Then if they went that one step further and asked WHY to all these points and backed it up with a statement explaining why - they would get even more marks. For example, why isn't the man wearing a coat in January? This could suggest the weather is not that cold in London at the moment, or the this picture might be from an earlier time period. They could look at the shop displays for evidence. Why does the lady never make eye contact with the man, could it infer that she is uncomfortable doing so or the thought never occurred to her? Why are they looking directly at the photographer? Could it possibly indicate they knew the paparazzi were there? And why would they want the paparazzi to take their photo's? What do you say to that class? Are they a couple happily in love? Write me a story on it, one, two, three go! They say a picture paints a thousand words.

Now since Deux Moi dropped the photos just as I was cooking the kid's tea (British slang for dinner) I have once again been glued to Twitter. I had to take a break for a bit and ensure my offspring didn't starve, but I thought oh god another shitshow and the day isn't even over. But I open Instagram and I swear I had the best laugh I have had all day really. I'm not sure when these photos were taken. The weather does look mild to be January and Jake is wearing a hoodie, but my husband is stupid like this and walks around in board shorts. In January. In Wales. When I tell you it's baltic cold, I mean it. But men apparently don't feel the cold especially if you're 24 and plastered to the side of your bestie or PR girlfriend, however you prefer. Us Brits love analysing the weather, probably because it's so shit here. So the timing is not really the issue for me. What made me laugh was was those two belly-laughing in some London alleyway looking like, 'look at us, we're so funny, everything is hilarious haha.' This was quite surprising to me as I genuinely did not realise Jake had a sense of humour, especially around Nic. What did she say that was so funny? We know she has the ability to make Luke belly laugh just by scratching her nose really. It was almost as if it was all a bit orchestrated for the cameras they were staring directly at. 'Smile and laugh for the camera Jake! You've been framed!'

So what was this? A PR set up that Nic and Jake were clearly aware of? Call me sceptical, but I've never seen anything so obviously fake and staged in all my life. Well except the motorbike segment on Graham Norton on the 13th of December last year. I have thought a lot about this and I know I might get some hate, but it's my opinion and I'm sorry Nic if you ever read this. Another thing us English teachers like to do is DESCRIBE things. Describe it to me Peter, or it didn't happen. Touch, smell, sound, taste, sight. Those are the five senses and if you write me a story, you bet your ass they better be in it or it's an F for you. So Nicola, describe to me how it felt racing through London on the back of a motorbike driven by a geriatric, Guinness drinking granddad (do you like my use of alliteration here fellow English teachers?). Graham Norton - 'we have a picture of you on the bike!' Erm, no you have a picture of Nicola stood next to the bike with her thumbs up. There was a video released by her PR company simultaneously that shows Nicola in a STUDIO sitting on the bike and it moving very, very slowly. We do not see her whizzing away up the road on the back of said bike into oblivion, screaming like Michelle Phieffer in Grease 2, clutching on to cool rider Guinness granddad for dear life. In fact, when asked about the experience she recalls literally nothing. If it was me, I'd have been like OMG Graham I almost died! The wind was howling, I was freezing, all I could hear was the rush of wind and the honking horns of cars. All I could see was the glare of lights and traffic and I tasted my own tears through fear.

Watch it if you don't believe me. There was nothing. Am I positive it didn't happen? Actually yes, show me the footage and I'll believe. Why did she go through this elaborate scheme? I have my theories and I will not share them here. I have said enough. But I did get an image in my mind of Luke in Rome rubbing his forehead and thinking, what is she up to now? He was probably secretly a bit proud.

Ok back to tonight's debacle. After the shit show that was Luke's disastrous family weekend than had more taps dripping than the Leaky Cauldron in Harry Potter, I find it highly convenient these photos drop today of all days. I know that Nicola HATES Deux Moi and the feeling I believe is mutual. Wouldn't DM have looked at these photos logically and thought, well these two look like besties out for a stroll? I suppose she does not care, whatever sells right? Was this to yet again spite Nicola?

Or was this Nicola who saw everything that Luke endured this weekend, and quietly told her PR team to 'drop' the photos of me with Jake to divert some attention away. Did she come charging in on her white horse (motorbike) to save the day? There is also the highly suspicious tanned photo of Nic at the WT premiere and then Luke's photo from the funeral, (I do not condone this by the way and I was upset for him this morning and his invasion of privacy) which also shows a bit of a red, sunburned face. Did Nicola once again panic and try to control the narrative? I am lately still picking up on her nervous, scared energy in my readings. She is very nine of swords in her head. Losing sleep etc.

I do love a good mystery and folks, I guess if you are reading this and nodding and not screaming obscenities at me through your screen, I guess you are stuck here with me on the ship for the long haul. I actually loved these photos tonight as it gave me a good laugh and and it proved to me even further that Jake is to Nic what Kurt Hummel is to Rachel Berry. Besties. It is also quite ironic that the first pap pics of them last October dropped the week his trailer for WT dropped and these photos land the week his film is released! What are the chances! Coincidence, Sherlock?

PS. No I do NOT believe Antonia was at Luke's family member's funeral. We have to stop treating this girl like the bogeyman. Let her go and live her life. Luke is living his I have no doubt.

PPS. It is not homophobic to recognise someone is gay. I INFER this from his own Instagram and his friends and partner's posts. I am fed up of being called homophobic when I have a lot of gay friends and two gay cousins.

PPPS. Luke and Nic sitting in a tree, KISSSING. I see you Nic, you savvy little mamma ;,)

[brynn-lear]

When Cuckoos Throw Ores [Yandere!Jing Yuan x Reader]

Questionable Overview: After transmigrating to Teyvat, you and Jing Yuan had lived like family on your shared apartment as getting-by descenders. But, you made an error too grave. You hid the anonymous love letters you received from the person you should’ve trusted the most— and now you’ve got yourself a broken mind. [Fic written for May June]

CWs/tags: yandere themes, isekai, moments where you wish Jing Yuan just committed murder instead so it would hurt less, mentions of failed childbirth, nadia & vlad are adorable, implied hysteria, cute n' wholesome beginning w/ found family to "man... man.", gaslighting gatekeep is JY's passion.

"I'm an adult, Jing Yuan! I think I have the right to leave as I please."

Have you ever been so incredibly fascinated by such a mundane object that all worldly noise drowns?

"The right to trample on my heart? To leave me to drown in my despair while you obsess over a single ore without a single thought for me? I must say, it doesn’t seem very sound. Stay put while I call for Doctor Baizhu."

Have you ever had your hand reach out ever so slightly without you realizing such? For your fingers to curl— for you to seize a trinket as though you were compelled by an existence— an idea higher than any mortal comprehension? As though it was fate? As though it was a fruit you weren't meant to take a bite off?

But the most mundane of all…

"There’s no need! Because great General and Emanator of the Hunt Jing Yuan—"

Have you ever lamented a life that "never" happened?

"— I have the right to mourn the happy ending you took from me!"

Though those uninitiated will rehash the root of events in your arrival to the chasm, the most knowledgeable would start the accounts from your arrival to Teyvat.

You did not step foot alone.

When your worldline was destroyed, so, too, was Jing Yuan's. 

Lady Ningguang greeted you both with a good measure of skepticism. You were both "descenders.", though it was soon made evident that your origins are different. He was from "Xianzhou Loufu," and you were from "Earth."  Course, despite your shared tragic circumstances, not everything shall be handed on a silver platter for unfortunate souls. Ningguang was kind enough to provide you both with a shared apartment complex near the fishing port and since then, you and Jing Yuan had a bond not so dissimilar from siblings. He got a job as a general, and your current position is a little more flexible than your previous one.

Whatever principles and studies were available in the previous realms you lived in, they were carried over in Teyvat. Each word circulating about Jing Yuan’s undefeated sword and lance techniques makes you smile; he, in turn, would enthusiastically applaud your sold artworks and STEM innovations. It makes you wholly embarrassed every time he makes what is supposed to be a celebration of his mission’s success into a congratulatory speech for what you’ve done in the same timeframe. Didn’t matter how minute it was. His comrades had already considered the long-standing tradition as a not-so-private joke.

His lack of personal praise worries you sometimes…

There’s a stark difference in your approach to this new life. You mourned for yours being gone; while he doesn’t speak much about his.

“No rush,” he'd say. “All truths shall reveal itself in due time.”

You know about his world, though vaguely. He has a striking resemblance to the character from Honkai: Star Rail. Course, that implies he had gone through similar ordeals as the character. 

“I am an old man, there is nothing for me to grieve.” He told you once. “I have… already witnessed comrades pass, and then some. Have you encountered the phrase: there are fates worse than death?”

Jing Yuan closed his eyes.

“I… find it easier to assume that it might be the only way to put old conflicts to rest.” He shook his head and downed his final shot of baijiu. Yuan sighed, tasting the aftermath in his breath.

“It’s better to put a permanence in death than another forced rebirth.”

He poured you a shot.

"Some memories are better left forgotten. And that applies to you, too."

Whatever he said felt untranslatable to you, hence, you gave up on making more inquiries. If the day comes and he wishes to open up, you'll be there for him anyway.

Or so you thought.

“Heard you’re planning to add another medal to your jacket.” 

Jing Yuan nearly halted from tying his long hair up. You watched his shoulders tremble, likely from trying to compose himself.

“Ha! You've heard a half-truth, I wasn't scheming on anything, it was merely handed to me.” His tone was calm, but you heard the well-hidden smugness.

You shrugged and sipped your coffee nonchalantly. 

… You seriously wish his uniform didn't hug his form that good. Just staring at him makes the room feel degrees hotter. 

You cleared your throat.

“I didn't say anything about schemes, Jing Yuan. Suspicious.”

“Oh?” He hummed, almost sultry for your ears.

…Curse him and his damn beatific smiles.

This playful banter is as natural as the dawn of day. Rather than spending the early morning getting ready for the day, you've both grown accustomed to teasing the other person. He, in his finely ironed uniform, and you, in your comfy pajamas. 

“Since when have I besmirched my name by squandering time? Rude of you to imply that slothfulness rules over my life.” Jing Yuan joked before he moved another piece. “You wound me, dear (Y/n).”

Due to the nature of the conversation, you hadn't thought of your next move much as you continued to probe him. “And what exactly are you doing right now instead of reporting to the Qixing, General?”

He smirked. “I am on-duty, am I not?”

“By talking to me?”

“I have been bound by mundane duties in both my past and current lives, and I must say, engaging with a Person of Interest such as yourself has not only been productive but also mentally stimulating.”

You paused. 

Person of Interest…?

Might as well curse him and his fancy cursive way of implying something too. 

Your nose scrunched. “Are you saying I'M on the Qixing’s watchlist?!—”

“Not in a bad light; don’t worry your pretty head over such menial matters,” he ruffled your hair as he craned over, gazing at your disgruntled morning expression with a loving vigor. “They have an eye for your talent. No Ministry would ever obsess over a clean criminal record.”

You grumbled as you attempted to fix your hair, despite lacking any energy. “Thanks, that calms me down. Especially with the talks about criminal activity on the rise and all.”

He laughed at your snarkiness.

“Is this your best attempt at prying information? I must say, your current occupation suits you. I can now place a finger as to why the thought of Lady Ningguang hiring you as a profiler put me in tremendous unease.”

“Oh don’t be a prick, Yuan.” You chuckled heartily as you gave him a playful slap— which he no doubt avoided. “But seriously, can’t you tell me more about what’s happening?”

There were no further words needed. Such rumors had been on the forefront of the people’s minds: a group of rogue “mercenaries” had found new temptations in banditry— and had the nerve to stew misfortunes on the main harbor itself. As a newly enforced general, Jing Yuan had, of course, been subjected to handling this situation under the ever-watchful gaze of the Qixing. A challenge, as he likes to label it. Whatever helps him sleep at night, you’d reply.

Although, it would certainly soothe YOUR insomnia better if he were to divulge even a hair-sliver of detail in regards to how “safe” this mission truly was.

“(Y/n), there is no cause for concern.” He pulled back, placing his hands on your shoulders. “You know my repertoire— else I wouldn’t consider you a close friend.”

Your heart ached for a second.

In small snippets from the multiple conversations you’ve had with him, you knew he kept his list of close friends few. There’s always a hint of guilt in his voice when he talks about those named Baiheng, Jingliu, Yingxing, and Dan Feng in passing. 

“And I’m just worrying over you,” you lightheartedly glared and waved your hand dismissively. “You know, like a real close friend.”

You both grinned in unison as if telling each other that neither would back down from this “argument” any time soon. He snorted and messed your hair up more. Over the time you’ve spent in each other’s company, your near-telepathic way of conversing has become quite an eerie issue for other mutual friendships. 

Not that either of you minded this. It’s always nice to be understood. 

“I know that look in your eye. Don’t add a part two from last night’s horror stories, please.”

“Then, I’ll take my leave,” he buttoned his jacket. “Last reminder before I go: you have arranged a meeting with Nadia this afternoon.”

“Thanks,” you huffed. “But unlike you, I don’t sleep in and forget my schedule.”

You swore that even after the door was closed, you heard him chuckle yet again. After that, he was gone.

Honestly, with someone with a “life-loving” temperament like him, you’re unsure if he’s easy to please— or too damn good at faking it for his good.

You heard soft knocks against your window.

Slowly, a grin forms on your lips.

“Hello, little man…” You cooed as you stood up and opened for not only the fresh Liyue morning breeze to enter…

But for a diligent little cuckoo bird to deliver its very special package as well.

You’ve always had a soft spot for animals…

“Hmm?”

Your eyes softened as it dropped its parcel and leaned its body against you, warming itself by sitting cozily on your window ledge. This little bird is quite the skilled messenger— always dropping by as soon as Jing Yuan takes his leave. As to why it suspiciously arrives as soon as he is gone, you’re unsure. Such a sneaky creature; you can’t help but adore it.

That’s not to say its deliveries are not as equally charming.

You chuckled as you elegantly unwrapped the ribbon. The letter was elegantly written in a scrawl you’ve familiarized even with eyes closed for the past months, yet it still holds an intensity that makes your heart flutter. 

There it was. The two words that keep you going better than any coffee brew.

“My dearest, (Y/n),….”

“Another letter from Vlad, I’d hope?” You sneaked from behind.

Nadia yelped, hitting you almost immediately. The delay was surely from being on a lovelorn cloud-nine, but her Fatui training that earned her last name definitely should’ve made you double-think.

You shriveled at the pain and she awkwardly cradled you.

“Oh shucks— I’m so sorry, (Y/n)! I-I didn’t realize it was y-y— Don’t scare me like that!” 

“Sorry! Sorry!” You hissed, blaming only yourself for the stinging aftermath. “I-I’ll get over it.”

Nadia guided you to the empty seat beside her. As soon as you were seated, she wasted no time to spill.

“The contents were far too adorable for my heart, oh, dear Tsaritsa, you NEED to read this.” 

An eyebrow was raised. Saying you had a suspicion that something like this would happen would be an understatement— when it came to Nadia, it was more like routine. It had been regular for you and her to get together at least once a month to chat over letters that you both received. Nothing about the time you spent with her was dull. She's the reason you adapted to the Liyue way of life so well. As you were both foreign to the culture— you and Jing Yuan are admittedly the extreme cases— you and her were eager to recount experiences in times of distress. And times of pure unbridled lovesick joy, such as this.

“C’mon, pass it.” You tried to say cooly, but the glimmer in your eyes betrayed your high school-like excitement.

“Same time.” Nadia huffed. "Can't have you gatekeeping your own letter!"

You pulled out yours from your purse.

Nadia wasn’t the only one with something to present to the class. This is just like a teacher forcing students to read their discreetly passed notes out loud. 

Nadia has her Vlad.

You have your Nay Jung I.

Instantly, you both suppressed a giggle in the abrupt exchange.

Nay Jung I. You know little about him, and that intrigue keeps the fire going. When you see a white cuckoo passing by the window, you immediately know it means well. A sight that makes your heart skip a beat. Instead of pushing eggs, it slips a love letter whenever Jing Yuan isn’t around. All coming from a man you can’t track down.

That’s right.

You have a secret admirer.

As you read through the middle of Vlad’s letter for Nadia, you heard your very-much-an-adult friend bite back a squeal in front of you. Nay Jung I may sound like a feminine name, but he was a man. You could’ve sworn you saw Xiangling laugh from the corner of your eye as Nadia tugged your sleeve around like a fool.

“Oh my God?! He wrote that?!” Her lips were akin to wobbly lines toddlers would draw when mimicking the sun’s rays. 

“I find myself constantly catching glimpses of you in my daydreams, my mind flooded with what could be— what should be. Forgive me for my selfishness, but I fear it won’t take long before I can no longer bear the thought of being without you… What?! That’s so SWEET?!” Nadia clutched your love letter tightly, eyes wide as though she was the recipient.

Xiangling, bless her soul, had to peek behind her.

“I wish I could have the courage to reveal myself to you. When I doubt myself, my thoughts turn to you… Aww… I wonder who Mister Nay is and what did you do to get him this in love?” Xiangling playfully pouted, which made Nadia grin wider, almost teasing her. “Geez. When will I get a boy to send me letters?”

“I’m sure you’re going to get one or two someday. A way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, right?” Nadia shrugged as she folded the paper and hid it. “Plus, I fear you’re too young for this.”

“Careful, Dia, she’s the one preparing our food.” You joked.

Nadia has grown more friendly to locals for the better since you started sharing meals here. Everyone knows the feelings between her and Vlad were mutual— but neither of them was willing to confess. With Nadia hoping he initiates, and him densely hesitant on whether she reciprocates. One of them can end this phase should they abandon pride or cowardice.

But Nay Jung I?

You can’t find his records anywhere… And he had told you that it is a fake name by your fourth letter, much to your chagrin.

So, you’ve settled with this arrangement. For now, you are both friends, despite knowing he has feelings for you from the start.

“Mister Nay definitely has it bad for you, Mx. (Y/n).” She gave you a closed-eyed smile. “You need to write back immediately! The man’s probably starving for it!— Oh, right, the pot!!!”

As the chef rushed back after being distracted, you gave Nadia’s letter back to her.

“Any chance of rain?” You asked.

“Cloudy with negative one percent chance that I’ll run to Northland Bank and confess to Vlad.” Nadia spoke sheepish;y.

“That’s at least five percent higher than yesterday.”

“Well, this last letter was adorable.” She swooned.

“Mx. (Y/n), you seem incredibly free at the moment, care to have a chat?”

You turned to look at the new person who joined in.

Fur coat, a distinct mole placement, a sharp haircut, and eyes self-assured enough to conceal their need for urgent assistance, it has to be none other than—

“Miss Yelan,” you gave her a polite smile. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Nadia sat up straight, shifting to her work mode. “Is there some business you require from the Northland Bank?”

“I have no quarry with you, Madam Nadia, what I do want—” Yelan tilted her head, her eyes calculating. “Is to speak to (Y/n) in private.”

You paused, recalling the conversation you had this morning.

‘I have been bound by mundane duties in both my past and current lives, and I must say, engaging with a Person of Interest such as yourself has not only been productive but also mentally stimulating.’

Maybe this is what Jing Yuan was warning you about this morning.

“Fine, I concede.” You sighed, swiftly snatching your letter from Nadia’s hands and tucking it inside the pockets of your inner jacket.

“Lead me to where you most need me.”

Over the years you’ve spent on Liyue, you’ve had another habit you’ve been nursing on the sidelines.

Epigraphy.

Better yet, it’s for the sole purpose of decoding ancient artifacts. Before you were transmigrated into Teyvat, you found that inspecting artifact descriptions and reading through lore strewn in notes and dialogues were a great part of what made playing Genshin Impact enjoyable. You devoured theories whether they were from YouTubers like Ashikai or other CCs who were eager to unravel and analyze myths from different civilizations. To be inside THE sandbox was the greatest treat. If your friends were here, you have no doubt you’d have plenty who’d look and try to pick apart Mister Zhongli’s brain.

Unfortunately, you never managed to catch his eye.

And the biggest misfortune of all, you caught Miss Yelan’s instead.

“It’ll take me a few weeks to decipher and solve this puzzle…” You told her hesitantly. “And I can’t guarantee anything either.”

Yelan only tilted her head. Strands of her hair hid her expression, and the only body language to be read was the way she played with the die on her fingers. You wondered if she was deciding your fate by giving it a roll…

You looked at the inscribed walls.

A man with horns… and his partner wearing a long hanfu… His partner… Reminds you of a beautiful cuckoo bird.

You sighed.

When she bargained for a chat in “private”, the Chasm was the last location you had in mind. Even more, it did not occur to you that she aimed to use you as a translator. For a language you only learned a few years ago.

You knew you couldn’t exactly deny a member of the Qixing, especially with how much you carried a moral debt for Lady Ningguang, so you agreed under the condition that Yelan wouldn’t snitch to Jing Yuan.

He might just give you the silent treatment if he found out you were here.

But back on the walls and the puzzle mechanism in the middle of the room…

Both were seated under the shade of a tree… 

Each holding a cup of tea…

“Damn it, why me?” You cussed out loud.

You seriously want to tell her that she should’ve chosen Zhongli. 

Not that you’d know that Yanfei begged Yelan to hire you for the job.

Yelan made her dice vanish. “If you need further assistance, and by that I meant necessities such as food and water, call for Wenyuan or Shanghua. They’ll materialize right in front of you.”

On the next wall, the horned man tightly held his partner, with tears falling from his eyes… His tail was more apparent in this depiction, but there were crystallized ambers and statues all around…

Like they were running…

Away from him…

You faced Yelan.

“Yelan, can’t you call for someone else—”

You blinked.

She was gone.

You don’t like being here.

You don’t like this cave.

You’re not sure whether you liked the fact Yelan invited you here. On one hand, you were grateful for the opportunity, but at the same time, you thought yourself unqualified for whatever piece of ancient Liyuean history was waiting to bite you in the ass. 

It didn’t take a genius to know that whoever the drawn man was, he was a force to be reckoned with. You played enough Genshin to know that yakshas are not to be trifled. If this ended up as an Azhdaha scenario, you wouldn’t want to be the nameless NPC who died along the way.

Should’ve commissioned the traveler.

As you progressed in your decoding, the texts were beginning to gnaw you. 

“Have you heard the tale of Lady ███ ███?”

You trembled at the thought.

Curse Jing Yuan and his ghost stories.

The story wasn’t even that frightening.

What got you was how Jing Yuan sold them. He had preached it as though he had been a witness. It’s just a typical unnerving tale to keep children alert, but he had always been far more persuasive than you.

“When she and her husband were out exploring, her husband left her while she sired his heir. He left her there to die.”

Jing Yuan’s eyes narrowed. You quietly applauded his commitment to the bit. Should you not know any better, you would’ve thought he hated that man more than anything.

Like he was seething with jealousy.

“Some claim he hid her there to fight for a war, some say it was out of love… In my eyes, it was an unforgivable neglect.”

Jing Yuan claims sharing ghost stories was a common occurrence from when he used to teach his disciple. But you’re not an idiot. You can sniff out a reason why he loves to bring these stupid tales.

“Days felt like a prison tally. She had forgotten what it felt to live in the sun.”

“She lived only by fulfilling basic needs. No matter how thick the mud was, no matter what was within the soil— all she could do was bitterly swallow what was to come. She bit her tongue on the ever-growing famine— and wished that her child would survive.”

Jing Yuan does not want you anywhere near the chasm.

“So when it was time to give birth, she had no assistance. She pushed her child out as hard as she could, and laid an empty egg.”

Before you could even ask why a human would lay an egg, Jing Yuan continued.

“But they both passed away.” 

“Legends say, that’s the reason why the lumenstone ore glows. It contains the watchful gaze of a scorned mother and unborn child…”

“And if you aren’t careful, you too—”

“Could be trapped inside it.” 

You scoffed.

Was the tale stupid? Depends on who you ask. Was it sad? Sorta. Was the thought of two ghosts— possibly more— watching you as you were forcibly dispatched to read through The Chasm’s secrets terrifying? Given the dark and brooding atmosphere, it was a quiet yes.

“Hmm? I— I solved it…?”

You blinked.

Maybe you still retained your skills as a Genshin player. Anything for a luxurious chest is what you would’ve said. And yet, it still baffled you that one did appear.

When you unlocked it, you saw no “primogem” like you quietly hoped (it would be funny if you unlocked a wish function, but that’s unlikely…)

Instead, you found a dusty ore.

“Great.” You muttered dryly. “Just what I needed.”

It was amber in color, same as the clothes the man wore in the wall paintings. You’re at a loss on how you should report this to Yelan.

“Better than nothing.” You spoke, laughing slightly. That sounded like something Diluc would say. You should buy a dandelion wine after this hard work.

Quickly, you fished out the gloves in your pockets. It was made of nitrile, which should protect the ore from possible oil and moisture from your hands. Yelan was very insistent you wear it.

But as soon as you touched the ore…

Your consciousness slipped away.

There was a man in front of you.

But you couldn’t see his face. 

“Dearest ███ ███…” The horned man smiled delicately as he sipped his tea. “It has been centuries since our first wedding ceremony. Do be honest with me, do you still hold the same passion as before.”

These memories appear to you in a blur.

“No, I do not.” You heard your voice say as the man’s shoulders slowly deflated. His amber eyes looked down, and his smile began to strain.

With two fingers, you lifted his chin.

“If anything, my love for you has grown stronger,” you spoke. “For you and I shall never let our draconic instincts dull, and our union will be the greatest treasure we shall hoard in this never-ending flow of time.”

“…/n…!”

One hand took his scaley hand and the other held his cheek, caressing softly.

“Promise you shall return?” You heard yourself mutter, this time weak and hopeless.

He leaned against your palm, purring as though it might be the last time he’ll savor your warmth.

“You know I do not make promises, ███ ███.” He spoke firmly. “What I keep are contracts. And I have vowed to make you happy, for as long as I live.”

“…(Y… (Y/n…. snap… out…!”

“Contracts normally sound so cold, but your honeyed voice makes it sound so romantic.”

“You know well, my love, in all my years, I’ve witnessed endless contracts and agreements. Whether it was tangible or verbal— each one was a significant chapter to someone’s life.”

The horned man softly detangled your fingers from his long brown hair and kissed your hand.

“But only one brought forth complete change. Our matrimonial agreement. The contract we signed gave me the most happiness. I’ve never signed a happier contract than this one.”

“And I share the same sentiment.” You cooed, almost cheeky. “And I hope our future child shall feel our love as well.”

He rested his head on your shoulder and sighed.

“The day shall come, my love.” He spoke. “Just wait for me, until I fulfilled what the Heavenly Principles desires.”

“Of course,” you hugged him back. 

“I shall wait for you, my dearest…

“(Y/N)!!!”

You flinched.

Suddenly, you’re not in the mountains. You’re not hiding under the shade of a tree with warm-hued leaves. You were…

You were sitting on a patch of grass, just outside the chasm.

And Jing Yuan is mad.

He had a cold unmerciful glare. His built frame towered above you, casting a large shadow. It was already nighttime. Normally, only the moonlight and the lamps from afar should be the only source of light here, but his golden eyes seemed to glow. As though it was ready to call forth an entity you were not prepared to face.

You know the depths of his anger. Years of living inseparable from him has made every communication almost telepathic and that hadn’t changed. You can read it in his breaths, in his stiff and tall posture, in his unnerving gaze.

He is threatening you to spill. Saying without words that:

There are fates worse than death.

But your pulse was steady. But your breathing was calm. But your expression was blank.

You weren’t terrified.

And you can read that deep down, that scared the General more.

“Nay Jung I…”

For a moment, Jing Yuan’s eyes widened— as though there was something he was the only one privy to knowing. His face had a mix of surprise and disbelief before he steeled himself.

“Nay Jung I?” He scoffed. 

“What of him?” Jing Yuan asked.

“He’s my soulmate.”

As soon as those words left your mouth, brief incoherent syllables sputtered out of his mouth. You evoked more emotions in him this time around. You saw flashes of shock, what seemed to be happiness, hope, and then utter confusion.

“...What?”

“I saw him.” You said, calm. “I saw him as soon as I touched that rock. My soulmate— he had long hair and eyes like a dragon— I think he was a dragon, and so was I. I think my soulmate is in Liyue and he’s hiding behind the name Nay Jung I.”

Jing Yuan opened his mouth, before thinning his lips.

This time, you were certain.

He was not only mad. Jing Yuan was sorely disappointed.

“I understand…” 

You know the expression on his face. You read him like a discipline you mastered in epigraphy. He thinks that… 

You have gone “cuckoo.”

He turned around, no longer facing you.

“I’m sorry then, (Y/n).” 

Jing Yuan does not sound sorry to you.

“What for?”

There was silence for a moment, before he spoke again, voice bitter and vile.

He was not sorry.

He was furious.

He was hurt.

He was jealous.

“Nay Jung I is the leader behind the past terrorist attacks.” He paused. “And I killed him.”

You haven’t recovered ever since.

Every medical “professional” you’ve encountered told you that you were hysterical. That you just hallucinated what you saw. It isn’t possible that the visions you saw were Nay Jung I anyway. 

Maybe they were right about the last part, you don’t want to believe it. 

It was in your instincts. That man had to be your husband in the past. Who cares if you came from another world? Maybe you were an Expy. You had to be. That person— the one who reminded you of a cuckoo bird in those walls— had to be you in another universe. 

It had to be.

Your real soulmate is out there.

And Nay Jung I isn’t dead.

But you’ve never been good at persuading others.

Soyourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveityourefusetobelieveit—

“General Jing Yuan, is (Y/n)…?”

Outside the apartment, Mister Zhongli and Jing Yuan stood by the window, peaking at your form. You were so engrossed by your inner conflicts that you couldn’t hear them.

“They’ll… move on from you, eventually.” Jing Yuan spat back coldly. “I’m not the God of Contracts, but I keep promises that do not fail.”

Zhongli’s face crumpled in anguish.

“May I ask a question? Just to sate a bit of curiosity, of course.”

Jing Yuan’s eyes narrowed. Zhongli took that as a yes.

“Are you Nay Jung I?” He asked. “I did not see his name on the list of the deceased criminals—”

“Yes, he and I are the same,” Jing Yuan silenced him. “Nay Jung I is an anagram of Jing Yuan. You can reorder the letters and confirm it for yourself.”

Originally, Jing Yuan had hoped to woo you with a romantic tale of an anonymous admirer. But, in your delirium, you had mistakenly believed that Nay Jung I was the same man in your visions. 

It was repulsive.

Never before had he wished to scream so loudly. He had not felt this much anger when he discovered the crimes his old friends had done. He had not felt as betrayed as when you claimed love for Nay Jung I, but it was not him.

He wanted to summon the Lightning Lord to destroy Liyue right then and there.

It was a frustration he had never felt before. Not when he was training with Jingliu. Not when he was scolding Yanqing. Not ever.

But Jing Yuan was not an impulsive man.

He prides his patience.

He prefers to scheme quietly rather than flashing bold moves.

Jing Yuan sucked in a breath between his teeth. 

“I suppose it’s my turn to ask.”

He shut the windows and Zhongli’s heart ached as he could no longer see you.

But then he turned to look at Jing Yuan.

And he knew…

Jing Yuan is much older and wiser than he looks.

“Tell me, Rex Lapis,” he spoke sharply. “Did you wed this world’s version of (Y/n) (L/n) and leave her and her child to die?”

…

…

…

That silence was enough.

Jing Yuan’s private investigations behind your back were right.

In the vast “multi-verse”, there is a version of you that married this dragon who descended from his Archon status.

“I... have wrought upon them great suffering. I am unworthy of their affections. Should a day come where (Y/n) enacts the fury of my wife and child on their behalf, it will be justly deserved.”

Zhongli did not further elaborate.

Whatever happened in the past, it still haunted him to this day. Lingering in the back of his mind, dulling his self-confidence and wits. Maybe it’s why Yanfei thought you should investigate the cave. Maybe she wanted the alternate version of ███ ███ to come back.

But she's gone.

Jing Yuan took a step closer.

“Your wife is dead, Rex Lapis. They are my (Y/n), not yours.”

“I-… I know.” Zhongli— no— Morax spoke, voice laced with grief. “I know she and (Y/n) are not the same, however, I…”

Another step.

“If you wish for their happiness, you will continue to not speak to them. You have done enough damage.”

Morax closed his eyes mournfully. “I am well aware of this”

Another step.

“Let me take care of (Y/n). Let me make them happy.”

And another.

Jing Yuan stared deep into Morax’s soul.

In all his years of living, it didn’t occur to Morax that he’d find another familiar cuckoo again.

But it wasn’t his wife.

Jing Yuan took another step.

This man in front of him was pushing and pushing…

“Let this conversation be a verbal contract,” he said. “That I, Jing Yuan, vow to make (Y/n) happy, and that you, Rex Lapis, shall step down as a final way to atone your sins of uxoricide and filicide. Do you accept?”

Like a cuckoo throwing an egg off the nest.

Forgive me, dearest ███ ███.

I am unworthy of you, let alone this alternate incarnation of yourself.

Morax inhaled deeply. He remains in his head, yet he can't escape the present. The more time he spent searching inside himself for solutions over his approximately 6000 years in Teyvat, the more evident it became what the sensible path of action was. With open eyes, Morax welcomed the return of the present. He observed the vivid hues of existence. In the vicinity, he heard Jing Yuan's pet cuckoo bird. But most of all, he felt his age.

Whatever time was appropriate to dream of a family— it had long passed him.

I am but an old man who deserves to fade away quietly.

And he…

Has the same vigor Morax once had.

That obsessed look.

That tight, suffocating hold.

Just like staring at a reflection of himself, centuries passed.

Jing Yuan, too, was a man depraved. Worse, he is a man who lost everything, clinging only to (Y/n) as his only solace in Teyvat.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan took a walk with you, with one arm draping around your shoulder to ward off those he deemed unwanted.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan brags about you with his men in each available opportunity, socially claiming you his.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan glares at someone who got too close when he thought you weren’t looking, pushing suitors away.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan rarely talks about his story and would rather talk about something you had done, making you a large part of himself.

Morax noticed the way Jing Yuan only cares about you, and not even a sliver for himself.

He would rather not see him destroy himself the way he had done long ago.

And just like that, the General got rid of his greatest rival— Liyue’s archon and your husband from another life.

He is out of the nest.

“I accept.”

May June can now message Jing Yuan

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Patience is a Virtue ⭑ (Domina Mea, Chapter Four)

Masterlist

A/N: Smut finally! We all chant in unison

Pairing: Geta & Caracalla x F!Noble!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, +18 MDNI, Macrinus is a rat fr, tensions rise, both the Emperors patience snaps, teasing, dirty talk, caressing, masturbation (M), making out, oral (f receiving), nipple sucking/breast sucking kink, pure infiltered want, caracalla being upset and pouty :(

Summary: Tension rises as you carry the heavy burden, when you tell the Emperors, they reward you for your good behavior.

Word count: 2.7k

A tingly feeling had spread across your skin, face still painted with a reddish hue, all evidence of the wine you had consumed an meager hour ago. Your eyes felt glossy as you stared at the Praetorians marching over to you, Macrinus was still posted at your side. Nerves and impatience knotted in your stomach, the information you had retrieved tonight was sensitive and you wanted to inform the Emperors immediately.    

“My Lady, come with us, we have been searching for you.” A taller Praetorian said, before he was joined by six others, all were ordered to take you to the palace. The fresh cooler wind of the night cleared your head a bit, something you were quite grateful for. The wine had been so potent, and as it had been your first and only cup, it had a strong effect on you. Macrinus followed you as you were escorted by the guards to Palatine Hill, not speaking a word along the way.

The thought of what you were about to tell the Emperors made your skin cover in goosebumps, you had no idea how they would react to this information, this insurrection. But you knew you had no choice but to tell them, it was your goal after all. From the start Macrinus had been off putting, a little too kind and serving. Now you know why, it was all to gain their trust, to distract them with a new toy so he could manipulate them. You just hoped that Macrinus fell for your trap. 

Upon arrival at the hall near the throne room it was eerily silent, and for a moment you wondered if anyone was there. However when you turned the corner, you were met with those four pairs of familiar eyes. “Where have you been?!” Your father stressed while he walked towards you with long strides, arms open to hold you close. “I’m so sorry-” Your voice got muffled when your face met his shoulder. 

“It’s all right, I was so afraid, but you’re safe- you’re safe.” Acacius whispered, his strong arms almost squeezing the life out of you. “I forgive you- for everything, just please don’t ever just leave again.” He continued. “I promise, I won’t.” You vowed, tears stinging your eyes. Mind now clear, you realised how stupid it had been, to just leave like that. But mistakes were made and now all that could be done is to forgive. 

“She had sought me out, General. For advice, although, perhaps next time it would be better done accompanied- and during the day.” Macrinus spoke up, stepping closer to the Emperors before bowing. “Daughter.” Lucilla murmured before embracing you as well. When she let you go, it was then you noticed the state of the Emperors. 

Geta’s hair was messier, his robes as well, his makeup smeared and distraught. Caracalla did not look much different, both looked like they had been fighting. “Your majesties, I beg for your forgiveness. For just... leaving and not saying a word. I hope you too, can forgive me.” You pleaded, curtseying lowly. “Everyone out.” Geta ordered, he didn’t yell this time. No one opposed him as they all quietly left the room, leaving you with the twins.

“Did- did you try to escape? Our company?” Caracalla croaked. Immediately you rose, “No! No, not at all!” Your voice rose as well while you hurried over to them. “No?” Geta asked, he was clearly not very convinced. “No please, it is nothing like that.” You begged, accidentally getting closer to them then would be considered appropriate. “Then what? Why would you just leave us like that? We had a thousand Praetorians searching for you, we thought that you had been taken- or worse, killed!” Caracalla yelled, his voice breaking more with each word. 

“I cannot speak about it here, I don’t think. It is very sensitive information, where would the most secure and private room here be? Caesar?” You spoke with widened eyes. Geta looked at you as if you had gone as mad as his brother, perhaps he had infected you. “What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind?” Geta scoffed. You could feel defeat wash over you but you knew that for the sake of the Emperors, you had to push them.

“Please, Caesar, trust me.” You had a feeling you would be begging even more tonight, but if that was what it took, you would. Caracalla nodded at his brother, Geta looked from his twin to you, and your pretty pleading eyes- and gave in. They did not tell you where you were going, but as you passed doors and wandered through hallways, you could guess. The decorations turned more and more expensive and grand with every step. 

The hallway that led to a dead end was riddled with guards. There was one large gold double door that was opened for the Emperors, you behind them. As you stepped inside, the large bed chamber must belong to Geta, it was neat, organised and a large four-posted bed stood in the middle of the room, all kinds of fabric adorned it. Geta gestured for you to join them in the sitting area of the room, they each sat in a large cushioned chair, while you settled on a settee that matched them. 

“Speak.” Geta said a little too cold and curt for your liking. “The reason why I left so abruptly was not only because of the fight I had with my father, but also because I had to follow my gut. So I followed Macrinus to his estate. And I know it was stupid and ill considered but I was right. From the moment I met him, something about him seemed so sinister and so off putting. So when I had successfully followed him inside, there was a man visiting him. They talked about some plan Macrinus has, a plan to one day rule Rome- he did not give specific details as he didn’t want to involve the man, but he has definitely been plotting.” You rambled as the memories came back to you. 

Geta and Caracalla were speechless, both stared at you intensely. “However, on my way out. I ran into guards, so I lied to them that I was seeking advice from Macrinus so he wouldn’t suspect anything, hopefully that worked-” Geta suddenly interrupted you. “What kind of advice did you speak of?” He asked with narrowed eyes. “A-about you, Caesar. Both of you, I uhm...sort of told him or rather asked him how I could- charm you? All to make him believe that I was there for that of course, to make him think I’m just...a girl with an affection for the Emperors.” You mumbled, it was clear your face was flushing red again.

“Hm.” Was Geta’s only response. Caracalla bit his lower lip. As if they hadn’t heard you talk about the treason you had discovered. “What will happen to him now?” You decided to ask, breaking the ever growing silence. “I want to make sure that I have multiple sources that can confirm...some sort of conspiracy being formed.” Geta spoke while he ran a hand through his hair. “Exactly, for now, we might reward you. For your loyalty and devotion to your Emperors.” Caracalla added.

“I just wish to serve the empire- and my Emperors of course.” You smiled, adjusting the bracelet on your wrist. You were slightly afraid to look at them, even though you wanted to know so badly how they would reward you- how they would maybe touch you. “What do you think, brother?” Caracalla asked, looking to his side. “I agree, you are so very devoted, and you have our ear, and trust. For that we must thank you.” Geta grinned. 

Your heart sped up as Geta then stood from his seat, walking over to you. Caracalla was quick to join him, afraid of missing out. “Has a man ever kissed you?” Geta asked with a lowered voice. “Well yes,” You answered, the brothers both sucked in a breath, trying to hold in their anger, “on my hand. Is...that what you mean?” They almost both released it at the same time too before Caracalla laughed. “No, not quite.” Geta smiled. 

“Let me show you, show you how good we can make you feel.” Caracalla breathed heavily, each word dripping with want. Geta licked his lips, his stare was captivating but terrifying at the same time. You nodded at his words, you could feel your skin grow hot, breathing feeling more laboured. It was then Caracalla lost all resolve and surged forward, pressing his lips hard against yours. His tongue then forced open your lips and you couldn’t help but moan in both surprise and desire. 

Geta joined you on your side, letting his hand roam your body before settling on your breast. Caracalla put one of his hands at the back of your neck to keep you in place while he moved his tongue inside your mouth, he couldn’t help but let out groans of relief. Finally they had you alone, and finally they could take what they wanted. It was then you felt Geta’s mouth in your neck, his warm tongue licking your skin. His mouth sucking the flesh from time to time. 

Caracalla then was forced to come up for air, to which he pawed at your toga. You noticed how he now had a bulge at his groin and wondered if that was because of his excitement. Geta helped his brother with your clothes, unclasping it at the middle while Caracalla worked on the clasps at your shoulders. “What are you going to do?” You almost whimpered out, you still felt the need to know their next moves.

“Geta is going to make you feel very very good, for everything you’ve done for us. And then- perhaps you can make us feel good too. Would you like that?” Caracalla almost heaved out, finally he had undone the clasps and his hand was quick to tug down your toga to reveal your bare chest. Nipples hardening at the cool air that blew through the room. “Fuck.” Caracalla whined. “Gods I need to taste you-” Geta rushed out before he slid off the settee and knelt before you, forcing Caracalla to sit at your other side. 

Lust completely overtook your senses and all you could think about was them, more importantly their hands on you, what they looked like bare and what they would do next. “Please- I want more-” You confessed, forgetting all your manners. Geta chuckled lowly as he spread your legs, lifting up the skirt of your toga slowly as if to not tease you, but himself. Geta could feel how hard he was, something he hadn’t been around anyone but you ever since you met. You did not only just leave their company earlier, you left them aching, with full balls and unmet needs.

Caracalla turned your head to face him again, before he kissed you hungrily once more. It was now his hands that groped at your breasts. “Such, irresistible tits-” He panted between kisses, when he broke off, you could feel Geta’s hands caressing your now bare thighs. “An irresistible cunt too brother- so fucking wet and swollen-” Geta mumbled before he spread your legs further and dove in. A cry left your lips when he licked your folds with his tongue. “Yeah? Does that feel good?” Caracalla teased, still massaging both your mounds. “Perhaps I’ll have a taste of these while my brother feasts on your cunt.” He whispered in your ear.  

You nodded impatiently, you had no words for how Geta was lapping at your pearl. Strings of moans and cries left you, you felt like pushing Geta away while at the same time pulling him closer. Geta whined and shuddered himself, while his mouth sucked and licked at you, not wanting it all to be over too soon. Caracalla couldn’t resist anymore and kissed from your mouth down your neck. Sucking on the skin at your collarbone before he took your left nipple in his mouth.

A loud whine escaped you at the feeling of one brother between your thighs while the other sucked at your breasts. You didn’t even notice how Caracalla was touching himself over his toga, he couldn’t help it- all the excitement and teasing had made him so hard, his own arousal started to leak on his thigh. Caracalla sent vibrations over your skin while he moaned around your nipple, his own stimulation adding to his arousal.

“I can’t- I-” Your back arched and you instinctively gripped Geta’s hair, your breath stuck in your throat as your first orgasm sucked the life out of you. Your soul felt like it was departing with the way Geta did not cease his actions, instead he lapped at you faster. “No! Please-” You choked on air as your legs began to shake, Geta noticed then how overstimulated you were and ended his torment. His own scalp was aching from how you pulled it but he was desperate to feel it again. 

Caracalla was still suckling at your breast, his hand massaging his cock over the fabric covering it. Geta came up to kiss you now your lips had a break from his brother. Pausing before he spoke, “Do you taste yourself on my tongue? Such a delicious cunt you have- all ours- only ours.” Geta rambled. He didn’t even give you time to answer before he resumed kissing you, his tongue now lapping inside your mouth instead. Then Geta moved your hand to his bulge, encouraging you to squeeze it, massage it. He hissed when you did, whispering praises in your ear as you jerked him over his clothes. 

He was about to remove his toga to resume your activities when three heavy and loud knocks pierced the room. “What?!” Geta screamed, making you flinch as his voice penetrated your ear. Caracalla paused his movements too, looking up with ragged breath. “I apologise your majesty but General Acacius is asking for his daughter, he would like to take her home.” An unknown voice explained on the other side of the large doors, probably a Praetorian. “Not now! Fuck off!” Caracalla then screamed. They were both good at that.

“I’m afraid he is insisting, Caesar.” The voice continued. You had almost completely forgotten your father and Lucilla were still somewhere in the palace, waiting for you. “Perhaps, we could- continue... this, when we have more time?” You meekly suggested. Geta looked at his brother who shook his head no, but Geta knew better. He did not want his best General to know yet what he and his twin were doing to his precious daughter, if he decided to send you away or even leave with you, it would ruin everything. 

Geta knew the best course of action was to have you return later, to avoid suspicion and to keep you around. “You will come back later, perhaps tomorrow.” Geta decided, you nodded. “No, no, no! We have not finished yet!” Caracalla almost cried, he finally had you, and now you were being ripped away from him? “Brother, she will come back, now to avoid further suspicion, she should come back tomorrow.” Geta insisted. Caracalla let go of you and sat back with a scoff. 

“I’m sorry Caesar, I will come back, I promise.” You told him sweetly, before making the bold move to kiss him on his cheek. That little goodbye kiss was not enough for him, he turned you and kissed you on your lips before reluctantly letting go. Geta then helped you with your toga while Caracalla definitely pouted next to you, refusing to help. And you knew you were in too deep when Geta finished dressing you, helped you stand and kissed you softly before caressing your cheek and bringing you back to your father...