#and this is not directed at the sender of this at all but fuck i hope y’all don’t think I say things for attention I swear that isn’t the

[lovegasmic]

  ִֶָ casualties ↪ part two of mafia boss sukuna.

⋆ mdni. semi public ( public place but no people around ) unprotected sex, mentions of guns and bribes, keep in mind he is literally a gangster, none of his behaviors are ‘normal’, mirror sex, slight stalking ( sending people to investigate you ), breeding kink and creampies, pet names used: princess, doll, my girl/love, sweetheart.

after your first encounter, it only took the man a flick of his wrist and your whole life was settled in a stack of papers on his coffee table, smirk tugging on the corner of his lip and a cigarette tightly held on his free hand. your address was the easiest part, with your father being an important member of the mafia, it was only normal for his men to get the direction in the blink of an eye, perfectly in time for Sukuna to start sending large bouquets of flowers with an unknown sender, although his scent was present on each petal, just for you to admire and your father to frown.

it was not too much work either to find your birthday, friends and places you often visit, after all you were a public figure as well, —that and a couple of bribes to your acquaintances it’s all it took.

the store of a luxury clothing brand stood in front of his car, tinted glasses concealing Sukuna’s half hooded eyes and knowing smirk, of course the princess would only shop at the most expensive places, perhaps using daddy’s black card. it’d be a lie if Sukuna said his cock didn’t throb at the idea of you using his black card next, to your heart’s content.

the pink haired man was not one to follow his impulses, to him everything was premeditated, carefully studied so things went smoothly like the fat wad of bills slipping into the retail’s clerk pocket, and much similar to the subtleness in his men’s loaded guns pressed against your bodyguards sides, who trembled in fear, so pathetic.

“tsk” Sukuna thinks, “i should get better guards for my girl” with a swift movement he fixes his cuffs, straightening the jacket suit and matching black half buttoned shirt underneath, allowing his tattoos to be seen.

and it takes his whole self control in not opening the dressing room door where he knows, you’re in, and sloppily make out with you, pants tightening at the memory of your fucked out and dizzy expression. fuck, he’s so hard already. but instead optes to sit on the large leather couch in the middle of the VIP space, his eyes scanning the quietness and luxury in ceiling high mirrors and marble floors.

“what are you doing here?” you ask, finally stepping out of from behind the wooden door and attempting not to let your surprise be seen, but considering the slight twitch in Sukuna’s lip, your attempts probably failed.

“it’s good to see you too, doll.” he almost purrs, eyes drifting up and down the sight of your body in a tight dress, “won’t you turn around for me?” he teases, licking his lips.

yet you remain still, raising a brow and crossing your arms, taking a peek at the now empty room.

“come on, sweetheart, just one turn, for me?” Sukuna grins, sliding a thumb over his bottom lip, “i’ll answer all your questions later” and you’re pliant enough to comply, twirling around with a slight burn in your face, questioning him once again.

his grin never falters, only increasing with your cute actions, deciding to stand up and calmly walk towards the clothing rack, humming in delight at the beautiful garments that would look absolutely stunning on his bedroom floor, “can’t a man shop freely now?” he teases, handing you a matching skirt and top set in an oddly similar color to his hair.

“yeah? i had no idea you liked to shop at an all women’s store” you tease back, allowing for Sukuna to rest his hand on your waist, his whole self made you weak in the knees, a whiff of his cologne and you wanted more.

he chuckles, deeply and rumbling on his chest, making you bite back a whine as his hand guides you to the dressing room, his voice dropping to an intimate level, yet he still bends down to breath against your ear, “then, would you believe me if I said I wanted to see you?” Sukuna whispers, pressing his lips against your nape; you’re not certain of what moment he made you get into the room and close the door softly behind him, only your reflection in the mirror bringing you back to reality, “you’re awfully hard to find, sweetheart” hands trail down your sides, squeezing the sides of your breasts just slightly, “has your daddy been keeping you away from me? did he find out about the lewd things I did to his precious daughter?”

you can’t help the soft moan off your lips at the sensation of the man’s bulge pressing on your lower back, the sight of his large, filled with rings and tattooed hands cupping your body made you dizzy, Sukuna having to bend down to easily nip on your nape, and gently brush your hair out of the way.

“he doesn’t know”

“he doesn’t?, that’s a pity, i’d love to see his reaction when he finds out i’m the one making you this wet and pliant” he chuckles, fingers dancing around the slit on the dress, so sensually your knees bucked, threatening to make you fall if it weren’t because of his arm around your waist.

you whine, “don’t... say that”

“it’s the truth, princess, there’s nothing else I want than having the world know you’re mine” Sukuna groans, raising the hem of your dress and maintaining it tightly under his arm, his other free hand gently cupping your jaw, tilting your head up so you meet his gaze through the mirror, “eyes on me, watch who’s making you feel this good”

with a last nibble on your neck, Sukuna roughly pushes your panties down, not wasting any time in sliding his digits through your drenched slit, coating your clit in your own scent. he’s rock hard at this point, breath coming out ragged in sheer desperation to be buried in your cunt, besides from the lewd picture you paint in the mirror, eyes glossy, lips parted and letting out the cutest sounds he has ever heard.

another trait of Sukuna, is that he’s not patient, in the slightest, so when a finger urgently slips inside your warm walls you shudder in response, hips bucking, almost flopping forward by the tremble in your legs, “good girl, so wet for me” he rasps, licking a fat strip down your neck and towards your shoulder, maintaining eye contact like his life depends on it.

“more...” you beg and his resolve crumbles, his initial plan of making you shiver and beg quickly by wanting to give you what you need, you make him go dizzy, you make him want to give you whoever you ask for, kiss the floor where you step.

“my greedy girl” Sukuna groans, rubbing his cheek with yours as another finger plunges in, messily fucking your hole that drips slick down his wrist, then another until your nails dig in his arm, “you’re ready for me, aren't you?” his voice is low and raspy, hidden lust behind each gasp. Sukuna is quick to undo his pants, cock bobbing in arousal, already dripping with precum as he guides the tip to your pussy, slowly sinking in with his breath hitching, “there we go”

if you weren’t looking at him, Sukuna would be very certain his rolls could have rolled back at the wetness and tightness of your cunt swallowing him inch by inch, his cock pulsing, “fuck, princess, it’s as good as I remember” he licks his lips, tightening his grip on your waist and slightly bending you further in the air.

“your body is begging for it, I can feel your count spasming around me” he smiles, thrusting in deeper, harder, making you take more of his incredible length until his heavy and full balls are nestled on your ass.

“’Kuna...!” you mewl, eyes hooded, threatening to fall shut but the explicit sight of Sukuna filling your hole made you resist, only fueling your desire and lust.

“yes, sweetheart, that’s right, it’s Sukuna the one making your pussy feel so good” he groans, hands grazing your sides in a tight grip before pulling back and forcefully slamming his cock inside, heart racing at the sound of your moans and sticky pussy squelching around his girth.

“o—ohh! fuck!” you moan, half scream at the rough pace Sukuna sets, forcing your body to jolt back and forth, tits about to fall from the low neckline of the expensive dress you tried on, you definitely had to buy it now, “too deep!

he groans in return, “the deeper the better” voice is slightly shaky, “i can reach your cervix properly” it’s a promise, to fill your fertile womb once again like he did weeks ago.

there’s sobs and moans echoing in the room, mixed with the sounds of your mixed juices, and Sukuna is only fueled by them, his hips pounding faster, most definitely leaving your ass sore from the brutal way his balls and hips slam against your soft skin. he holds no respect for your possible future uncomfortableness, only thinking of claiming your cunt.

“i’m close” Sukuna groans, sliding a hand between your drenched legs, pressing two fingers against your clit and messily rubbing in desperate circles, slightly embarrassed of the fact you’re going to make him cum so much and so soon, but how can you blame him when your pussy squeezes him like a tight grip, as if begging him for more.

leaning down he claims your lips, it’s as sloppy as his thrusts and wet as your slick dripping down his cock, “need you to cum with me” he murmurs.

“close!” you manage to cry out against his mouth, only for a brief second before his tongue plunges into your mouth again, swallowing your sounds but allowing the noise of your pussy to resonate, “oh, S-sukuna! i’m cumming” you cry, and there’s the precious and slutty expression he loves so much, eyes crossed as you shudder on his cock, trembling so much he would have been afraid you’d fall, but Sukuna is quicker, selfishly keeping you up to shoot his thick sperm deep in your willing pussy, a deep growl rumbling on the walls as he pumps you, a couple of times so he’s sure his cum would take.

“so gorgeous” he rasps, breathless, meeting your hazy eyes through the mirror while mindlessly rubbing your belly, “i’ll take care of you, my love, i’ll give you whatever your heart desires..., but in return, I just ask for one thing” he murmurs, “let me creampie your tight pussy every single day.”

that’s certainly Sukuna’s own way of asking you out.

🔖𖹭 @yuujispinkhair @valleydoli @hyeinwluv85s @sadmonke @ryomance @inzanekillian @emilymikado @r-ryuko09

[bunnys-kisses]

hiyaa!! may i order a banana bread and tres leches with a side of mocha coffee,a vodka shot and root beer for Charles Leclerc please 🤍

bakery menu

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! there's tons of items on there for your liking! i also accept prompts outside of formula one, so hit me with it! i'd love to hear from you! as for this sender, thank you for the lovely series of prompts! i really like what you ordered and i hope you like what i've cooked up! enjoy!

banana bread ("i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name.") + tres leches ("i wonder if your brother know i cum in you.") + mocha coffee (breeding kink) + vodka shot (rough sex) + root beer (filming/recording) served by charles leclerc (formula one)!

cw: smut/pwp, mean!charles, sainz!reader, filming/recording, breeding kink, unprotected sex, pregnancy, dirty talk

charles had pretty boy privilege. he was charming and funny. green doe-like eyes, a pretty smile and the kind of features that made anyone with a working set of eyes go crazy.

he had fans. he could honestly have anyone he chose, regardless of gender. charles leclerc had the world at his fingertips, and yet he always seemed to find you under him.

you knew the camera was on you as charles kissed up your body. you tried to hold back moans as you felt the throb between your legs. charles leclerc only yearned for two things; a win at monaco and the sister of his teammate, carlos sainz jr.

carlos should've been a little more worried about his younger sister going off for a night. he had trusted charles to look after you while he was busy, after all they were quite close after being on the same team.

but as you waved your brother goodbye before you got into charles' car to "pick up your friends", you could feel the hungry gaze of charles on your back side. it was like he was mentally undressing you. once in the car, drove like he was headed in the direction of your friend's apartment but when he was far enough from carlos' home, he took a sharp turn down a side road and ended up at his own home.

charles' hand was on your thigh the entire drive, even though his eyes were on the road. his fingers inched up your skirt. "i was always curious. i wonder if your brother knows i cum in you." he said it so casually.

you froze for a moment and said, "who i see isn't carlos' concern. i'm an adult." it was true, your brother didn't have to meddle in what you did from a day to day basis.

charles nodded, "i'm just curious. i wonder if he knew what we did, the little lies you told him over this time." he patted your thigh and pulled the skirt of your dress down to where it was, "that you're a whore."

you swallowed at his words and shifted in your seat. his words were tainted with venom as if their contents were degrading. you only ever really slept with charles. mostly because your older brother would scare off anyone who tried to romantically close to you. but charles slipped right into your life under the guise of wanting to protect his friend's sister.

"i said, he doesn't need to know about it."

charles pulled into the driveway, "one day he will have to, no? our luck is going to run out."

you knew charles was filming you, when he got you undressed. you could feel the lens of his phone on your heated skin as you laid out on the bed.

"i'm going to fuck that sweet pussy of yours until the only word your little brain can form is my name." he said, "i think leclerc is a little nicer than sainz." he teased as he ran his finger across your front. the sight of you was beautiful.

"i'd like to keep my last name thank you very much."

he laughed and took you by the face, "not forever, ma petite salope." then pressed a kiss right beside your mouth. you whimpered and felt the heat pool in your gut at his attention on you.

the relationship with had with charles was past purely sexual. there was something that lingered. it almost felt like a possessive curl of charles' hand into your soul. a promise that no matter how far you ran, he would find you.

when he pulled away. you admired his naked form. the sight of his moles across his body, the tanned skin and toned muscles. he licked the pad of his thumb slowly before he rubbed it up against your clit. you moaned an arched your back, your hands clutching on the pillow under your head.

"femme... mère... pute." he said softly.

you tensed at the words and gave him a look, which only made him laugh. he pressed a little harder on your clit and gave you a look that read 'don't worry'.

wife.

mother.

whore.

you were the thump in charles' chest. maybe that was why he needed you so deeply. it was like being separated from his heart. and even though it was all bathed in a sexual ecstasy you both craved. charles wanted to make sure that he stood out in your mind, and that you didn't go running off.

he eyed your expression as he sank his cock into your sweet pussy. he made a soft noise and felt the thrill of pleasure down his spine as he got himself inside of you.

his pace was heavy with, giving you little room to breathe as he kept his cock inside of you. you were less of a participating lover and more of a toy around his cock.

but don't worry, charles wasn't known to break his toys. after all, who else was going to be the mother of his children? you silly little thing, charles was worried about you getting away. so he had to make sure that he left you with something a little more permanent.

"tu es à moi." he said, his hands dug into the meat of your hips. he had to admit that your entire family was very beautiful. carlos wasn't smooth operator for nothing. so charles wasn't worried that the child you and him had wouldn't be beautiful like their mother.

the thought of it excited him. the knowledge that you'd be having dinner with your brother tomorrow. laughing over a homemade meal, but your biology was doing the heavy work to make sure that charles' seed took.

even when you were apart, you'd have a part of charles with you.

he continued to move against you, egged on by your moans as he felt the sea of lust in his gut. he panted heavily as continued to move. not letting his cock out of you for a moment. he could feel the heat down to his feet as he hit your insides just right with his cock.

"you are mine. no? you know what you are to me. my dirty little slut. i wonder how your brother would feel if he saw you right now. pinned under me, face in the pillows and your hips in the air. letting me breed you like the good girl you are." his words were filthy and burned into your mind. it made you need it more. every inch of him stuffed in your poor cunt.

over the last two years of sneaking around with charles, you had to become pretty resilient to deal with the barrage of fucking from the man on top of you.

you nodded and replied, "of course, only for you."

charles loved the sound of that. he pressed into you further and shifted your hips so he could get in deeper, really feel you inside and out. it was hot, it made him feel a little red in the face as he fucked you.

you held onto the pillow under you as he got his chest up against yours. you were squished against him, but the way he was bullying your cunt left you out of breath. you could feel the heat radiating through your body.

"such a pretty little thing." he chuckled as he pressed kisses along your jaw, "so soft, perfect for me." he dragged his tongue a little bit. which made you shudder. your core dripped with heightened pleasure.

"charles."

he smirked a little bit, "don't worry, my love. you just look nice under me. let me take it all." his words were softer than before and it made the pleasure more intense.

he continued to fuck you, rutting against you with a feverish demeanor. you soon came around his cock and held onto his tanned shoulders tightly for some semblance of support. you manicured nails were rug into the skin, you could feel the shifts in his muscles as he thrusted into you. you groaned loudly and clenched around his cock. a rush of euphoria hit you.

"that's it, that's a good girl." he groaned as he battered his cock up against your womb. letting the blunt tip leave your insides bruised and creamy. he finished inside of you with a promise.

he was going to get you pregnant and make it very well known to your brother that you were with charles. enough of this sneaking around.

-

carlos did find out. maybe not the whole truth of how you and charles 'got together'. you omitted the months of sneaking around and sex. when you got pregnant, charles only became more liked by your entire family.

he was already pretty integrated into the sainz family. so this little union between you and him felt almost natural. how he doted on his pregnant girlfriend, even going as far as to tell your mother that he was expecting to propose after the season and after your son was born.

"he's going to be a good husband." your brother said as he picked at his dinner, "good father too. but you'll let me know if starts causing problems, right?" always the protective one.

you nodded with a smile, the necklace charles had gifted you gleamed in the faint light of the restaurant. in all fairness the necklace was less of a dangly chain and more close to the neck. like a choker. like a collar. you rested your hand on your cheek and stared at your brother. you nodded, "of course."

"and don't move too fast! you have to finish school!" he added, "you've only been with charles for less than a year."

the timeline for carlos was skewed, but it was for his sake. you didn't want to give the driver a heart attack. it was bad enough that you came home pregnant without a ring (for now). you just chuckled and said, "don't worry!"

you didn't want him to worry, especially if he looked too closely and found the faint appearance of love bits across your neck that had been carefully covered with make up. what carlos didn't know, wouldn't hurt him. <3

[emjayewrites]

Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton Fanfic)(7/15)

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @mauvecherie-writes @a-moment-captured @yeea-nah @lovebittenbyevans @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @certifiedlesbianbaddie @omgsuperstarg @httpsserene @peyiswriting @motheroffae @eugene-emt-roe @perfecttrashface @xoscar03 @saturnville @trentswrld @weetjy @pinkcatcus @lewlewlemon44 @cranberryjulce @chaoticcoffeequeen @vile-harlot @periodjosh @melanin-queen369 @destinyg237

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

CHAPTER 7: Who Want Smoke?

As the Qatar Grand Prix weekend kicked into high gear, Rorie and Lyric strolled the paddock, with fans waving excitedly. Lewis's popularity was stratospheric, but his family's place in the hearts of his supporters was undeniable.

They pushed through the throngs of fans and paparazzi, and Rorie was touched by the outpouring of support directed to them.

"You're an inspiration, Mrs. Hamilton!" "We love your little one!" "Hang in there, you've got this!"

One woman tentatively approached, a gentle smile on her face. "I just wanted to say, as someone who also struggled with infertility, your story gives me so much hope."

Rorie felt her throat tighten with grateful tears as she pulled the stranger into a fierce hug. "Thank you, that means so much to me."

The pit lane was abuzz with pre-race excitement as the teams made their final preparations. Rorie settled into the garage, handing a squirming Lyric over to Rosa's waiting arms. Their son, who proudly wore his custom Mercedes team romper, smiled happily at the woman.

"You're on auntie duty today," Rorie winked at Lewis's communications personnel.

Rosa grinned, cuddling the giggly toddler close on her lap. "My favorite job! We're going to have so much fun, aren't we, my little prince?"

Lyric gurgled happily, grabbing at Rosa's headset with grabby hands. With a chuckle, she gently redirected him to a Mercedes toy car instead.

"He's already a natural in front of the cameras," Rorie chuckled to herself, watching Lyric babble animatedly at the Netflix camera crew capturing footage of him playing with Rosa.

Her smile faded slightly as she scrolled through the latest flurry of emails from her legal team. Despite their relentless efforts, Julian's messages held little in the way of substantive updates on tracking down the anonymous sender of those malicious texts.

"Still digging," his latest read. "But this assailant knows how to cover their tracks."

Rorie worried her lower lip, her mind flashing back to the threats of those messages. But then Lyric's tinkling laughter drifted over, dragging her back to the present. She watched her son squirm excitedly in Rosa's lap, all smiles and unbridled joy.

As the race began, the tension in the garage was palpable. Rorie's heart pounded as she watched Lewis take his place on the starting grid, however, just seconds into the formation lap, her breath caught in her throat as she witnessed Lewis get knocked into the gravel by his teammate George, the front wing of his car destroyed.

"What the fuck is he doing?" she gasped, watching in horror as Lewis unbuckled himself and began walking along the far side of the active track back towards the pit lane.

A collective cry rose from the crew as Lewis narrowly avoided being struck by another passing car. Rorie's heart dropped to her stomach, panic gripping her.

Finally, he returned to the pit lane, jaw clenched and fists flexing agitatedly.

"What the fuck, man!!" he screamed, his fingers hurrying to take off his helmet. Rorie rushed to him, pulling his tense frame into a fierce embrace just as Lyric let out a wail of distress from Rosa's lap.

Lewis's fiery eyes softened instantly at the sound of his son's cries. He reached for the distraught toddler, cradling him close and pressing kisses to his head.

"Shhh, hey, it's okay…" he murmured soothingly. "Daddy's right here. I've got you."

Rorie wrapped her arms tightly around them both, grounding her two men with her steady, reassuring presence. Lewis melted into her embrace, the adrenaline and anger slowly seeping out of his body.

"It's okay, I'm right here," she whispered roughly into his neck, and Lewis breathed in her scent to calm his racing heart.

Rorie wrapped her arms tightly around them both, grounding her two men with her steady, reassuring presence. Lewis melted into her embrace, the adrenaline and anger slowly seeping out of his body.

"Lewis…" Bono's voice cut in tentatively. "The FIA stewards are issuing a non-driving reprimand and a 50,000 pound fine for the track incursion."

Lewis tensed, his jaw clenching as the anger flared again. "I don't give a fuck," he bit out harshly.

"Lewis!" Rorie admonished, slapping his arm chidingly before turning an apologetic look to Bono. "He doesn't mean that. We'll discuss it and work through it properly."

Once Bono had retreated, she fixed her husband with a stern look. "You don't mean that 'I don't give a fuck' nonsense."

To her surprise, Lewis simply chuckled, guiding them to a quiet corner of the garage. He set Lyric down to play with his toy car on the floor. "I mean, Toto looks pissed," he sang in a joking lilt, nodding towards his team principal's stormy expression.

Rorie rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched with amusement. "Of course you'll joke at a time like this."

"It's a better alternative than letting the anger consume me," Lewis said simply. "Now distract me with something, beautiful."

His wife's brow furrowed in thought before her eyes lit up. "Well, Julian did text some updates earlier…"

Lewis kissed his teeth dismissively. "Something better than that mess, love."

A sly grin played across Rorie's lips. "How about…I'm a week late?"

Lewis's eyes widened comically before crinkling with unfiltered joy. "You mean…?"

"We might be having another baby," she confirmed, beaming.

Sweeping her into his arms, Lewis kissed her deeply, reverently. "That's amazing. You know we've been trying…"

Rorie nodded, still glowing. "And, Lil Yachty reached out. He wants me to join him onstage in Austin to perform our song 'The Zone' together."

Lewis's eyes widened with delight before crinkling into a broad grin. "Now that's what I'm talking about! My superstar wife, sharing the spotlight." Pulling her into an embrace, he nuzzled her neck affectionately. "You're definitely doing it. I can't wait to watch you shine, love."

"You really think so?" Rorie bit her lip, a touch of apprehension creeping into her expression. "In front of all those people..."

On a whim, she recorded her parts of the song late last year and was lucky that no one had figured out that it was her singing.

"Of course!" Lewis cupped her face adoringly. "This is your moment. You're going to be incredible, I just know it." He pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling. "And after? Well, I've got a few ideas on how we can celebrate..."

Rorie's cheeks flushed hotly, but her eyes danced with anticipation. Giggling, she swatted him playfully. "Down boy. One thing at a time."

Laughing, Rorie pulled him close, reveling in the way their latest challenges had already transformed into cherished memories in the face of potential new beginnings.

The warm Malibu evening was made for intimate gatherings among friends. Rorie surveyed their patio, smiling as she watched KiKi dance provocatively against Miles, grinding to the pulsing beat of the music.

In the kitchen, Lewis observed the scene with a slight frown. "Does she have to be so…extra?"

Rorie rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her husband's protectiveness over his best friend. "Leave them be, babe. KiKi's just having fun." Abandoning the Mediterranean salad she was prepping, she wound her arms around Lewis's waist from behind. "Speaking of fun…have you checked on your wife lately?"

He turned in her embrace, eyes twinkling as his hands skimmed over her curves. "And how is my gorgeous girl feeling?"

"Mmm, can't complain," Rorie hummed. "But I still haven't taken that test yet."

"Rorie," Lewis groaned exaggeratedly. "The suspense is killing me! You gotta take that test." He stole a slice of cucumber from the salad bowl, grinning unrepentantly when she swatted his hand.

Their gazes drifted to the patio, where Andrew now held a giggling Lyric, the toddler's babbling laughter drifting through the open doors.

"Yeah, yeah...." Rorie murmured wistfully. "I hope he's going to be a good big brother."

Lewis brushed a kiss to her temple. "He might be a bit jealous at first, but he'll grow into it, you'll see."

"I had a good rehearsal with Lil Yachty yesterday for Austin," Rorie said, changing the subject. "Though I'll probably just keep it simple with the choreography."

"That's my wise wife," Lewis chuckled. "Oh, speaking of…I've got that tequila tasting in Mexico the day after tomorrow for Almave."

Rorie clicked her tongue in playful disapproval. "So you'll miss date night with the Biebers?"

"I'll make it up to you." Lewis backed her against the counter, his voice dropping an octave. "I promise…"

The searing trail of his kisses along her neck was interrupted by Spinz's pointed clearing of his throat from the doorway.

"The food's ready, you two. Save it for later, yeah?"

Grinning unabashedly, they reluctantly disentangled and headed outside, Rorie carrying the salad while Lewis grabbed plates and utensils.

As the group settled around the patio table, Lewis raised his glass. "To new adventures - hopefully with a little one on the way…"

He was met with hoots and hollers from their crew. Rorie beamed, shaking her head in mock annoyance at his antics.

"And to smoking out whoever's been playing games," she added, eyes narrowing slightly. "Because I'll personally beat their ass when we find them."

The group erupted into raucous laughter and dug into the spread of grilled meats and vegetables. Whatever storms awaited, they would weather them together - an unbreakable crew fortified by years of love, laughter, and unwavering loyalty.

__________________________________________

The morning light filtered through the gauzy curtains, rousing Rorie from her peaceful slumber. Before she could fully awaken, strong arms encircled her waist, pulling her back against Lewis's solid chest.

"Mmm, where do you think you're going?" he rumbled, voice still husky with sleep as his lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear.

Rorie couldn't stifle a breathy giggle. "Insatiable, aren't we?"

She turned in his embrace, pressing a tender kiss to his lips, but Lewis deepened the kiss hungrily, his eyebrows waggling with suggestive promise.

"Always for you."

A tiny cry from the nursery broke the heated moment. Rorie regretfully unlatched herself from her husband's roaming hands.

"Duty calls," she murmured apologetically, sliding out of bed.

"Tease…" Lewis whined playfully, whipping the covers off to reveal his morning wood with a roguish grin. "Come back to Daddy once you're finished."

Rorie chuckled, shaking her head in fond exasperation. "You're awful."

"Sometimes," was his nonchalant response. "Gotta make sure I put that baby in you."

"Boy, bye," she said as she rolled her eyes. Shrugging into a silk robe, she padded down the hall to Lyric's nursery. The toddler babbled excitedly as she lifted him from the crib, nuzzling his chubby cheeks.

"Good morning, little man."

"Hi Mama!" Lyric chirped, all bright-eyed innocence.

Downstairs, the faint sound of murmurs caught Rorie's ear as she settled Lyric into his high chair with a bottle. Peering out onto the patio, she spotted KiKi in an intense conversation on her phone.

"No…I'm not doing that anymore," KiKi hissed, her back stiff with tension. "I've had enough. Goodbye!"

Rorie's eyebrows shot up incredulously as KiKi spun around, nearly dropping her phone at the sight of her friend. A sickly sweet smile pasted itself across her face.

"Hey girl! Just dealing with some work drama…" KiKi blustered, waving a dismissive hand as she breezed back inside.

Rorie's brow furrowed skeptically. "Everything okay?"

"Oh yeah, totally!" KiKi replied a little too brightly. "Just a difficult customer, you know how it goes."

An uneasy prickle danced along Rorie's spine as recent events swirled in her mind. Shaking it off, she continued assembling a breakfast feast - mounds of fresh fruit, whole grain waffles, and tofu scramble for herself alongside Lyric's preferred avocado toast strips.

KiKi cleared her throat, clearly aiming to change the subject. "So…any thoughts on that test yet?"

Rorie paused, gripping the counter's edge tensely. "I don't know, Ki. Part of me wants to stay in blissful ignorance for now."

Her friend's eyes danced with both mirth and understanding. "Girl, you know that's not how it works. You gotta rip off that band-aid!"

Heaving a reluctant sigh, Rorie nodded. KiKi was right, as usual. She couldn't keep avoiding it. Just then, her phone began trilling shrilly from the other room. Rorie frowned, crossing the living area to retrieve it. The display showed Yael's name and headshot.

Answering with trepidation, she listened in growing disbelief as her image manager's anxious voice tumbled through the line.

"Rorie, you need to call your lawyer. The Sun is threatening to run another disgusting article - this time about your biological father's identity."

A bitter chuckle escaped Rorie's lips. So the rag was digging into her past yet again. She'd known the truth about her deadbeat sperm donor's identity since age twelve, his name the only paltry scrap of information her mother had given her.

"I'll look over the documents you forwarded," she assured Yael neutrally. "But I'm not concerned about that low-life's identity being made public. I've never known the man."

"I still think you should—"

A raucous clatter sounded from the kitchen, followed by Lyric's shrill giggles. Rorie's chest flooded with warmth, their call abruptly forgotten.

"Sorry, Yael but Mommy's messy boy needs me," she chuckled ruefully, hurrying back to the chaos and hanging up.

"He's such a messy eater," KiKi said with a half-smile, wiping at Lyric's face with a wet cloth. KiKi had Lyric halfway out of his high chair, his chubby limbs and cherubic face smeared with mashed avocado and fruit puree. Mother and friend shared an exasperated look as the toddler gurgled happily.

Rorie chuckled and scooped Lyric, peppering his sticky cheeks with kisses. "Oh yes, you are! Mommy's messy boy!" she cooed, causing Lyric to giggle and squirm. But then, reality intruded as Rorie glanced down at her son's soiled clothes. "Can you get him a change of clothes? I have to wipe him down," she asked KiKi.

"Of course, darling," KiKi replied, heading to the nursery. The air in Lyric’s nursery was thick with tension as KiKi entered, trying to maintain her composure despite the discomfort. Lewis was already there, his arms crossed and his expression guarded, as he paused unpacking his son's suitcase.

"Lewis," KiKi said, her voice clipped and formal.

"KiKi," Lewis replied, his tone just as cool.

They stood there for a moment, each sizing the other up, until KiKi finally broke the silence.

"Lyric had an accident so I need to get some clothes."

Lewis let out a long exhale as he walked to the chest of drawers and grabbed a onesie and a pair of shorts. He gave them to KiKi but kept his grasp on the clothes. "You've been acting weird since you got here. What's up?"

"I’m acting weird?" KiKi said, eyebrows furrowing. "Are you high or something?"

Lewis's expression hardened slightly as he released his grip on the clothes. "Just calling it as I’m seeing it."

KiKi felt a wave of anger wash over her at Lewis's accusation. She took a deep breath, trying to keep her cool.

"What exactly do you mean by that?" she asked, her voice laced with frustration.

"I mean, ever since you got here, you've been acting like you're on edge," Lewis replied, his own tone sharp. "So I just want to know what’s going on."

KiKi's jaw tightened as she processed his words. "I don’t know if crashing too many times got your head permanently fucked up, but Aurora’s my best friend, okay? I know that we don’t see eye-to-eye and y’all are knee-deep in an impending lawsuit but I’m loyal to a fault. I would NEVER do anything to mess up Rorie or Lyric."

Upon hearing his wife and son’s names, Lewis's face relaxed. "Fine," he conceded, moving out of KiKi's way. "But I’m watching you. And if I find out you’re doing anything, best believe I’ll take everything from you and have your ass deep in lawsuits you’ll never get out of."

KiKi felt a mixture of anger and hurt at Lewis's words. She knew she had made mistakes in the past, but she had never intentionally tried to hurt anyone. And for him to accuse her of such malicious intentions felt like a low blow.

"Trust me, I don't need your threats to stay in line," she retorted, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm here to help my friend, not cause any trouble."

Lewis gave her a cold look before leaving the nursery. KiKi took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down before she did or said something that she would regret. She left the nursery and returned downstairs, uneasy about her encounter with Lewis. Returning to the kitchen, she spotted Rorie wiping off an unclothed Lyric in the sink. Rorie’s face lit up as soon as she saw KiKi.

"Thanks, sweetie," she said to her friend as KiKi handed her the new clothes.

KiKi nodded, returning Rorie's smile. "No problem, I'm just glad I could help." She glanced around the kitchen, noticing that it was a bit chaotic with dishes in the sink and food left out on the counter. "Do you want me to help clean up?"

Rorie shook her head. "No need, we have a maid who should be coming now, but thanks for offering." She turned her attention back to Lyric and gently dried him off before putting on his new onesie and shorts.

KiKi watched the exchange between mother and son, feeling a pang of envy in her heart. She had always dreamed of having a child of her own one day, but with her career constantly taking priority, she wasn't sure if that would ever happen.

As if sensing her thoughts, Rorie looked up at KiKi and gave her a sympathetic smile. "You'll find someone who loves you enough to start a family with," she said softly.

KiKi managed a small smile in return. She wasn't ready to open up about her struggles with relationships yet, especially since Rorie already had a lot going on. "Thanks, girl."

Two days later, the Crypto.com Arena buzzed with anticipation as the Lakers faced off against the Warriors in a preseason matchup. Rorie settled into her courtside seat next to Hailey Bieber, both women drawing appreciative glances from nearby fans.

"God, I needed this," Rorie sighed, sinking into the plush seat. "A night out without any mama duties."

Hailey grinned, nudging her friend playfully. "And how's that test situation going?"

Rorie groaned, rolling her eyes. "Not you too. I swear, between Lewis and KiKi, I'm about ready to scream."

"Hey, no judgment here," Hailey said, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "But you know we're all rooting for you, right?" Hailey squeezed her friend's hand supportively.

Rorie groaned. "I know I should take that test, but… I don't know. Part of me is scared to know for sure."

"Because of how hard it was before Lyric?" Hailey guessed.

Rorie nodded. "Yeah. And I've been feeling off lately, but it could be anything, you know? Stress, my crazy schedule, whatever. I guess I'm in denial."

The roar of the crowd swelled as LeBron executed a flawless alley-oop, momentarily drowning out their conversation. Rorie found herself swept up in the excitement, her worries fading to the background as she cheered along with the rest of the arena.

As the game progressed, Rorie's phone buzzed insistently in her purse. She ignored it, determined to enjoy this rare night of freedom. But a nagging voice in the back of her mind wondered if it might be Nina, calling about Lyric.

During a timeout, Hailey leaned in close, her voice low. "So, what's the latest with that lawsuit against The Sun? Justin mentioned you guys were dealing with some heavy stuff."

Rorie's brow furrowed, a familiar unease settling in her stomach. "It's a mess, girl. They're digging into my past now, threatening to publish stuff about my biological father. As if I give a damn about that deadbeat."

"That's awful," Hailey sympathized. "How are you holding up?"

Rorie shrugged, her eyes fixed on the court. "I'm managing. It's just… exhausting, you know? And with everything else going on…"

She trailed off as the timeout ended, the thunderous applause once again filling the arena. Rorie's gaze drifted to the jumbotron, where she caught sight of herself and Hailey on the celebrity cam. They both laughed, striking exaggerated poses for the camera.

As the game entered its final quarter, Rorie found her mind wandering. The constant scrutiny of her personal life, the pressure of her career, the looming possibility of another child – it all swirled together in a dizzying whirlpool of emotion.

"Earth to Rorie," Hailey's voice cut through her reverie. "You good?"

Rorie said nothing, her silence speaking volumes.

Hailey raised an eyebrow, clearly concerned. "Okay, spill. What's really going on?"

Rorie hesitated, then sighed. "It's just… everything. The lawsuit, the baby stuff, and now KiKi's been acting weird. I don't know, maybe I'm just paranoid."

"Weird how?" Hailey pressed gently.

"I overheard her on the phone the other day, sounding all secretive. And Lewis swears something's up with her." Rorie shook her head. "I want to believe she'd never do anything to hurt us, but…"

The final buzzer sounded, signaling the end of the preseason game. As they stood to leave, Rorie's phone buzzed again. This time, she fished it out, her heart skipping a beat as she saw Yael's name on the screen.

"Everything okay?" Hailey asked, concern evident in her voice.

Rorie hesitated, then shook her head. "It's fine. Just some work stuff. Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."

As they made their way through the throng of departing fans, Rorie couldn't shake the feeling that something was brewing on the horizon. Whether it was the potential pregnancy, KiKi's strange behavior, or this latest message from Yael, she couldn't be sure. But one thing was certain – the calm before the storm was coming to an end.

"Hey," Hailey said softly, linking her arm through Rorie's. "Whatever's going on, you know you've got us, right? Me, Justin, your whole crew – we've got your back."

Rorie managed a genuine smile, feeling a rush of gratitude for her friend. "I know. Thanks, babe."

____________________________________________________

As Rorie drove home, her mind drifted to her upcoming show with Lil Yachty. She dialed his number, a smile spreading across her face as he picked up.

"Lil' Boat!" she exclaimed cheerfully.

Yachty's laughter filled the car. "Hey there, Ror-Ror! How's my sis?"

They chatted animatedly about their upcoming performance, bouncing ideas off each other and sharing their excitement. When Rorie turned onto her street, however, her good mood evaporated. A swarm of paparazzi clogged the road, their cameras flashing incessantly.

At first, she assumed they were there for one of her celebrity neighbors. But as she inched closer to her house, her stomach dropped. The mob was camped out in front of her own property.

"Oh hell no!" she shouted, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"What's the matter?" Yachty's concerned voice came through the speakers.

"I'll call you back," Rorie said tersely, ending the call.

Police officers were struggling to keep the paparazzi at bay. As soon as they spotted Rorie's car, the crowd surged forward, shouting questions and snapping photos.

"Rorie! How do you feel about The Sun's article on your mother's affair?" "Did you know about your father before this?" "What's your reaction to your father wanting a relationship?"

The cacophony was overwhelming. Rorie kept her eyes straight ahead as the police cleared a path for her to reach her garage. She parked quickly and practically ran into the house, her heart pounding.

She found Yael, Penni, and Lewis deep in conversation in the living room. They all looked up as she entered, their faces grim.

"What's going on?" Rorie demanded, her voice shaky.

Yael stepped forward. "Did you see my texts?"

"No," Rorie replied, looking to Lewis. "What's happening?"

Lewis sighed heavily before speaking. "The Sun published an article about your biological father."

Rorie shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "So what? I don't care if they know who he is. He was never part of my life anyway."

The others exchanged uneasy glances, which didn't escape Rorie's notice.

"What?" she pressed. "Why is it such a big deal?"

Lewis took a deep breath. "Your biological father… he did an interview with Piers Morgan. He's claiming your mother kept you away from him, and now he wants a relationship with you."

"That's bullshit!" Rorie exploded.

Yael jumped in. "That might be true, but the public doesn't know that. Worse, his wife was in the interview too. She said they were separated when he had the affair with your mom, and now she wants to meet you and Lyric. They're portraying themselves as victims and… well, they're putting all the blame on your mother."

Rorie felt like she'd been punched in the gut. "Has anyone talked to my mom?"

"We all have," Lewis said softly. "I just got off the phone with her before you arrived."

Rorie reached for her phone. "I need to call her."

Yael and Penni stepped forward, gently restraining her. "Wait," Penni said. "We're putting together a statement with evidence to counter their claims."

"We're also preparing another cease and desist letter for The Sun," Yael added. "And we're working on getting a gag order for your father and his family."

"My father," Rorie spat the word like it was poison, laughing bitterly. "And now he wants to play daddy? After all these years?"

Deemed the Black Bill Gates, Martin Edwards III is a real estate magnate and investor who cared only for himself. He never loved her mother - she was just a poor maid who got caught up in his web of lies. Of course, her mother should've never gotten involved with a married man, but Martin failed to claim Rorie as one of his children. He even had the gall to demand her mother get an abortion.

The room fell silent, the weight of the situation hanging heavily in the air. Rorie felt a mix of anger, confusion, and hurt swirling inside her. She'd spent her whole life not caring about her poor excuse of a sperm donor, and now he was threatening to upend everything.

"What do we do now?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain.

Lewis wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. "We fight back, babe. We protect our family and we tell our truth. That's all we can do."

Rorie nodded against his chest, drawing strength from his embrace. Whatever storm was coming, she knew she had her real family – the ones who'd always been there – by her side. And that, she realized, was worth more than any long-lost father's claims could ever be.

The oppressive Texas heat shimmered off the tarmac as Lewis Hamilton's sleek Mercedes-AMG pulled into the Circuit of the Americas. The sprawling track, with its iconic observation tower in the distance, buzzed with the frenetic energy of Formula 1 media day. Pit crews scurried about, the air filled with the cacophony of revving engines and the chatter of eager fans and journalists.

Lewis took a deep breath, steeling himself for the day ahead. He glanced in the rearview mirror, catching sight of Lyric's cherubic face in the car seat behind him. The toddler was blissfully unaware of the chaos around their family, his tiny fingers playing with a toy race car.

As Lewis opened the car door, the wall of heat hit him in full force. He rounded the vehicle, opening the back door to unbuckle Lyric from his car seat. "Come on, little man," he murmured, lifting his son and perching him securely on his hip. Lewis hiked the diaper bag higher on his other shoulder, adjusting his designer sunglasses as he surveyed the paddock area.

His bodyguard moved ahead, creating a path through the throng of people. "Some space, please," the guard requested firmly but politely. Fans pressed forward, waving items for autographs, while photographers' cameras clicked in rapid succession.

Lewis approached the paddock entrance, shifting Lyric slightly to free up a hand. He fished out his ID card, swiping it through the turnstile with practiced ease. The familiar beep and click signaled his official arrival for the day.

As he made his way through the paddock to the Mercedes garage, Lewis nodded to his crew members, his mind racing with thoughts of Rorie. She'd been so sick lately – more than just the usual pre-performance jitters. The constant nausea, her heightened sense of smell, the fatigue that seemed to cling to her... All signs pointed to pregnancy, but Rorie steadfastly refused to take a test. Lewis understood her hesitation, remembering the heartache they'd endured before Lyric, but he couldn't help the glimmer of hope that sparked in his chest. The upcoming Austin City Limits festival loomed large in his mind. Despite everything, Rorie was still determined to perform. He felt a surge of pride thinking about her resilience, her talent; and wanted nothing more than to see her conquer the world stage, to watch her dreams unfold even as they navigated this storm together.

His phone buzzed with a notification - the flowers he'd sent to Rorie's mother had been delivered. A small gesture, but one he hoped would bring some comfort. The media circus surrounding Rorie's biological father had been relentless. He'd done everything he could to shield his family – hiring additional security, considering legal action against some of the more aggressive paparazzi, and even arranging for Rorie's mother, stepfather, and sister to be relocated temporarily to their home in Denver.

Lewis's jaw set with determination. The Sun's underhanded tactics, and the sudden appearance of Rorie's biological father - it all fueled a fire within him. He was committed to bringing down the tabloid, to make them pay for the pain they'd caused his family. The lawsuit proceedings were set to begin next month, and Lewis was ready for battle. The support from their friends had been overwhelming. Just that morning, he'd received messages of encouragement from the Biebers, Beyoncé and Jay-Z, and Rihanna. Their united front against the media onslaught was a testament to the bonds they'd forged over the years.

Lewis spotted Nina, their nanny, making her way through the garage. He felt a mix of relief and reluctance as he prepared to hand Lyric over. Part of him wanted to keep his son close, a tangible reminder of what truly mattered amidst the craziness of race day and ongoing personal drama.

"Lewis," Rosa approached. "The press conference is in ten minutes."

Lewis nodded, giving Lyric a final squeeze before passing him to Nina. "Be good for Nina, okay?" he murmured, pressing a kiss to his son's forehead.

Lewis made his way towards the press conference area, his mind racing with thoughts of Rorie and the impending media onslaught. He knew the questions wouldn't just be about the upcoming race or his strategies for the circuit. The recent revelations about Rorie's biological father had become fodder for gossip columns and social media speculation.

As he walked, he nodded to a few fellow drivers - Valterri gave him a supportive pat on the back, while Charles offered a quiet "All's good?" Lewis appreciated their discretion and support, a stark contrast to the rabid curiosity of the waiting press.

_____________________________________________

Once the press conference was finished, which thankfully focused more on the upcoming race than personal matters, Lewis found himself surrounded by his fellow drivers.

"Hey, Lewis," Pierre called out, a grin on his face. "Is it true Rorie's performing at Austin City Limits tonight?"

Lewis nodded, a hint of pride in his voice. "Yeah, she is. You guys planning to come?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Pierre replied enthusiastically. Several other drivers chimed in with their interest as well.

Lewis spent the next hour with Lyric, cherishing the quiet moments with his son, and when he was about to head to get lunch, Toto approached.

"Lewis, can you come to my office for a moment?" Toto's expression was unreadable.

Handing Lyric back to Nina and Rosa, Lewis followed Toto, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach. As they entered the office, Lewis froze. Sitting there, looking far too comfortable, was Martin Edwards - Rorie's biological father.

Lewis's jaw clenched. "What the fuck is he doing here?"

Toto held up his hands. "He requested to speak with you. I thought it best to provide a neutral and private space."

Reluctantly, Lewis took a seat across from Martin, his posture rigid.

Martin leaned forward, a smile plastered on his face. "That boy of yours, Lyric - he's the spitting image of you. That's really your seed. Can't deny that baby even if you wanted to," he chuckled as if he'd said something hilarious.

Lewis remained stoic, his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. "What do you want, Martin? Haven't you fucked up enough?"

Martin's smile faded slightly. "I want to make things right. I've missed out on so much of Aurora's life—"

"Rorie," Lewis corrected sharply. "She goes by Rorie."

Martin nodded, continuing, "Rorie, then. I want to be a part of her life, of my grandson's life."

Lewis's voice was low and controlled. "You had years to be a part of Rorie's life. You chose not to be. And now, what? You think you can just waltz in because it's convenient for you?"

"I made mistakes," Martin admitted. "But I want to fix them. Surely you can understand that, as a father yourself?"

Lewis felt a surge of anger. "As a father, I understand being there for your child, no matter what. Something you know nothing about."

The tension in the room was palpable. Toto shifted uncomfortably, clearly regretting his decision to facilitate this meeting.

"Look," Martin said, his tone changing to one of barely concealed frustration, "I have rights. I'm her father—"

"No," Lewis cut him off, standing up. "You're the man who contributed DNA. I'm her family. We're her family. And we'll do whatever it takes to protect her and Lyric from this circus you've created."

With that, Lewis turned to leave. As he reached the door, he paused, looking back at Martin. "If you really care about Rorie, you'll respect her wishes. And right now, she doesn't want anything to do with you."

Leaving Martin and a stunned Toto behind, Lewis strode out of the office, his mind already racing with plans to further shield his family from whatever Martin Edwards seemed determined to bring.

That motherfucker had another thing coming if he thought he was getting close to my family. Nigga going to end up meeting nothing more than the barrel of my gun if he keeps fucking around.

For the rest of the day, Lewis shifted his focus away from what occurred in Toto's office, ultimately deciding against mentioning the impromptu meeting with Martin. Rorie was already stressed for a myriad of reasons, and Lewis would be damned if he brought more bad news to her. His wife needed to focus on her performance - nothing more, nothing less. He'd handle everything else.

That was what a husband and father did - properly lead his family and protect them, which wasn't something Martin knew anything about. An intrusive thought wondered how Martin could just weasel his way into speaking with Toto and demanding a meeting with him, but then Lewis remembered how having obscene amounts of money could always provide access to certain people.

His phone rang and Rorie's smiling face lit up the screen.

"Hey, babe," he answered.

"Hey," Rorie replied. There was a pause before she continued, "Is everything okay? You sound... off."

Lewis hesitated for a moment before responding, "Just race stuff, you know how it is. Nothing to worry about."

"Mm-hmm," Rorie hummed, not entirely convinced. "Can you bring home something sweet and salty when you're done?"

Lewis let out a laugh, the tension from earlier melting away.

"What's so funny?" Rorie asked, a hint of defensiveness in her voice.

"Nothing, nothing," Lewis chuckled. "It's just... the last time you asked for this exact combination, you were pregnant with Lyric. Still in denial, are we?"

Rorie huffed. "I just want that, okay? Don't make it a big deal."

"Alright, alright," Lewis conceded, grinning. "I'll bring something back for you. And you know what? I'll grab a pregnancy test too, so we can stop fucking around and know for sure."

"Whatever," Rorie grumbled, but Lewis could hear the smile in her voice.

"Love you too, babe," Lewis said, his tone softening. "I'll see you soon."

As the call ended, Lewis pocketed his phone, a mix of emotions swirling within him. The day's events - from the press conference to the unexpected encounter with Martin - seemed to fade into the background. What mattered now was Rorie, their family, and the possibilities that lay ahead.

Lewis glanced at his watch, mentally calculating how long it would take to wrap up his duties at the track, find Rorie's requested snacks, and make it back to the hotel. He had a pregnant wife to take care of - whether she was ready to admit it or not.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over Zilker Park, Rorie stood backstage at Austin City Limits, her heart racing. The air was thick with anticipation, the distant roar of the crowd washing over her like waves. Lil Yachty's energetic performance was coming to a close, his last song echoing through the night.

Rorie closed her eyes, taking deep breaths to calm her churning stomach. She'd barely kept down her dinner, a combination of nerves and what she stubbornly refused to acknowledge might be morning sickness. The thought of pregnancy flitted through her mind again, reminding her that she had a test to take after the show, but she pushed it aside.

Focus, she told herself. The show comes first.

She silently thanked the universe for the unwavering support of her husband, friends, and family. Their love had been her anchor in the stormy seas of recent events.

The crowd's cheers swelled as Lil Yachty addressed them, his voice booming through the speakers. "Y'all ready for something special?" The response was deafening. "DJ, hit it!"

The opening beats of "The Zone" began to pulse through the air. Lil Yachty started his verse, the crowd singing along. Then, he paused, his voice filled with excitement. "Now, give a warm Austin welcome to the one, the only… Rorie!"

Taking a final deep breath, Rorie stepped out from behind the curtain. The sea of faces before her erupted in screams and applause. The energy was electric, palpable.

As she began to sing, her rich voice filling the night air, Rorie's eyes scanned the crowd. In the VIP section, she immediately spotted Lewis, his proud smile visible even from a distance. Beside him were Yael, Pierre, Charles, Valtteri, and Susie, all cheering her on.

"I never meant to make you feel alone," she sang, her voice carrying emotion with every word. "A non-chivalrous tone you've used since I got home. I feel wrong, deep down inside, I'm stoned. I feel cold and alone."

The lyrics seemed to take on a new meaning, reflecting the turmoil of recent weeks. But as she continued, Rorie felt a surge of strength.

"But now I know that you love me (Love me). Will you put anyone above me? Let me know, is this home?"

As she sang the last line, her eyes locked with Lewis's. In that moment, despite the thousands of people surrounding them, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. This was home, she realized. Not a place, but the people who stood by her through everything.

The music swelled, and Rorie threw herself fully into the performance, letting the rhythm and the energy of the crowd wash away her worries, if only for this magical moment under the Austin stars.

As the last notes of "The Zone" faded, the crowd's enthusiasm remained at fever pitch. Lil Yachty engaged with the audience, asking if they wanted to hear more. The resounding cheers and screams made the answer clear.

Rorie glanced back at the VIP section, catching Lewis's eye as he recorded the entire performance on his phone. The crowd began chanting her name, the sound washing over her in waves of adoration and support. Overwhelmed with emotion, Rorie felt tears prick at her eyes.

"You hearing this, Ror? They love you!" he shouted over the noise.

Rorie nodded, visibly moved. "This is incredible," she managed to say.

Lil Yachty addressed the audience. "Y'all want more from Rorie?" The answering roar was deafening. "Alright, alright!" Lil Yachty laughed. "Let's give them what they want, big sis!"

The opening chords of "Running Out of Time" began to play, eliciting another round of cheers from the audience. Rorie and Lil Yachty's voices blended beautifully, the lyrics touching on themes of time, connection, and staying together. The audience swayed and sang along, clearly familiar with the song.

When the performance ended, Rorie took a deep bow, her heart pounding with adrenaline and emotion. She lingered for a moment offstage, basking in the continued chants of her name from the adoring crowd.

Later, as she relaxed with Lewis and their group, enjoying the rest of the festival, everyone showered her with hugs and praise.

"That was incredible, Rorie!" Pierre exclaimed, giving her a warm hug.

Lewis pulled her close, kissing her with an intensity that made their friends playfully protest.

"Get a room, you two!" Charles laughed, shaking his head.

Lewis grinned, his eyes never leaving Rorie's face. "I'm just incredibly proud of my wife," he said, his voice full of love and admiration.

As the night wound down, Lewis and Rorie found themselves in the back of a car, heading back to their hotel. Lewis's hand rested on Rorie's thigh, his brown eyes fixed on her face.

"What?" Rorie asked, noticing his intense gaze. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"Because I love you, baby," Lewis replied softly. "I love you so much."

Rorie smiled, her heart swelling. "I love you too, Pookie."

Lewis leaned in closer, his voice low. "And knowing that you might be carrying another seed…fuck Rorie, you don't even know what's in store when we get back."

Rorie giggled at his enthusiasm. He could be such a dirty freak at times. "Lewis, we don't know if I'm—"

"You are," he interrupted gently. "I can smell it."

"Oh? And what does that smell like, Lewis?"

His eyes sparkled with mischief and love. "Smells like a woman strengthening my bloodline."

"Goodness, you sound like such a caveman," she teased, but his words only heightened her arousal.

"But you like that shit," he murmured, pulling her closer for a deep, loving kiss.

And do.

Lewis wasted no time in carrying Rorie inside the bedroom once they arrived at their hotel. He set her down on the bed and began undressing her slowly, taking in every inch of her body.

His lips trailed down her neck and onto her chest, Rorie let out a soft moan and arched into him, craving more of his touch. He knew every sensitive spot on her body, and it drove her wild with desire. Lewis moved lower, planting kisses on her stomach until he reached the apex of her thighs. His hands firmly held onto her hips as he teased her with delicate licks and flicks of his tongue.

Rorie's breath hitched as she felt herself becoming wetter with each passing moment. She reached down to tangle her fingers in Lewis's braids, urging him on. "Oooh baby, don't stop."

With a wicked gleam in his eye, Lewis obliged and began sucking on Rorie's clit, sending waves of pleasure through her entire body. Her moans grew louder as she neared climax, and she couldn't hold back any longer.

"Fuck!" Lewis’s tongue soon brought Rorie to an explosive orgasm that left her panting and trembling beneath him.

"Mmm, you taste so good," he murmured.

Rorie came down from her high, and Lewis crawled up her body to kiss her deeply. She could taste herself on his lips, and it only turned her on even more.

"I want you inside me," she whispered against his lips.

Lewis groaned and quickly positioned himself between her legs. Rorie wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer as he slid into her in one smooth thrust.

They moved together in perfect rhythm. It wasn't just about the physical pleasure for them; it was about the deep connection they shared. With each movement, they were both expressing their love and desire for each other.

Rorie ran her hands over Lewis's back, feeling the muscles flex beneath her touch. She loved how strong and powerful he was, yet how gentle and attentive he could be with her.

Their lovemaking became more intense as they both approached their release. Rorie cried out Lewis's name as she came once again, and he followed soon after with a deep grunt of satisfaction.

They collapsed onto the bed in a tangled mess of limbs and sweaty skin. Lewis rolled onto his side to face Rorie, pulling her close to him. As they cuddled in each other's arms, Rorie couldn't help but think about the possibility of being pregnant again. She knew Lewis would be overjoyed at the news, but she couldn't shake off the slight fear and anxiety that crept into her mind.

"Are you okay?" Lewis asked softly, sensing something was bothering her.

"I…I'm just thinking about what might happen if I am pregnant," Rorie admitted hesitantly.

Lewis's expression softened as he cupped her face in his hands. "Hey, whatever happens, we'll handle it together. We've been through so much already and have come out stronger."

Rorie's heart swelled with love for this man who always knew exactly what to say to comfort her. "I know…I just don't want to disappoint you if I'm not pregnant."

Lewis shook his head and pressed a gentle kiss on Rorie's forehead. "You could never disappoint me, baby. Our love is so much more than having another child."

She wrapped her arms around him tightly, feeling grateful for their love. "We should just take the test," she said firmly.

"You're sure?"

"Yeah, let's just get it over with." Rorie stood up abruptly and walked to the bathroom. The pregnancy test was sitting on the counter, and with trembling hands, she unwrapped it and followed the instructions carefully.

She then nervously paced around the bathroom as Lewis watched intently, waiting anxiously for the results. As the timer beeped, Rorie's heart raced in anticipation. She closed her eyes and prayed for a positive result.

Slowly opening her eyes, she looked down at the test and saw two distinct lines. A wave of emotions washed over her as she realized that she was indeed pregnant.

Tears of joy streamed down Rorie's face as she stepped out of the bathroom to show Lewis. He immediately wrapped her in his arms, knowing without words what the result was.

"We're going to have another baby," he whispered, his voice filled with awe and happiness.

Rorie nodded, unable to speak through her tears. They held each other in silence for a few moments before Lewis pulled back to look at Rorie's face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, wiping away her tears with his thumb.

"I'm just so happy," she managed to say before kissing him passionately.

The California sun hung low in the sky as the woman drove toward a discreet restaurant nestled off the Malibu coast. The sleek, modern lines of the Hamilton's mansion were barely visible from the road, obscured by sprawling trees and winding driveways. The ocean’s rhythmic crash played in the background, but all that resonated in the woman’s mind was the bitter truth she clutched like a weapon.

The restaurant’s parking lot was mostly empty, save for a lone car parked in a shadowed corner. The woman’s heeled boots crunched over loose gravel as she approached. The maid, nondescript and dressed in plain clothes, glanced up from where she leaned against the car’s door. Her eyes were wary, darting around as though expecting to see someone lurking.

"You’re late," the maid muttered, shifting nervously.

"Traffic," the woman replied, dismissively. "Do you have what I need?"

The maid hesitated before producing a small USB drive. She handed it over with trembling fingers. "I can’t be seen doing this. If Rorie finds out…"

"She won’t," the woman interjected sharply. "You just keep your head down and play your role. If she suspects anything, you’re done. But right now, I’m your best bet for protection."

The maid swallowed hard, clearly torn. "Why are you even doing this? Rorie has been good to me...she treats my kids like her own."

The woman’s expression darkened. "You think kindness and loyalty matter to people like her? She uses them as currency to keep you close until you’re no longer valuable. Believe me, I know better than anyone. And if you want any fucking help getting your husband to Los Angeles, you shut your goddamn mouth, okay?"

Silence fell between them as the reality of their situation settled in. Eventually, the maid nodded, wiping her palms nervously against her jeans. "Okay, but be careful. This game you’re playing—people get hurt."

The woman tucked the USB into her jacket pocket and turned on her heel. "People always get hurt. It’s just a question of who gets hurt first."

As she walked away, the wind picked up, rustling through the palm trees and carrying the distant hum of approaching cars. The maid stayed put, watching the woman disappear into her car before driving off like a bat out of hell.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

[beforeimdeceased]

WELCOME TO THE PARTY — ABBY ANDERSON ༄₊🫧➳

tlou2 is based on the israeli occupation of palestine, how you can help

pairing: ex!abby x reader

synopsis: you try to escape the thoughts of your ex with a little partying and she shows up to ruin it all.

content: oral (r!receiving)

author’s note: thank u so much for 1.2k i love this little community we’ve got on here! you guys make me so happy i can’t thank you enough <3

“I can’t even enjoy this stupid fucking party, Oh my god!”

You were currently spiraling in a far corner of the bustling house. Drink in hand with a scowl on your face. You take a sip of the liquid, letting it slide down your throat and settle into your stomach. You were waiting for the buzz to kick in and ease your nerves.

You’d just seen Abby, your ex, prancing in with another girl on her arm. A very pretty and smiley girl who you’d never seen before. You were wondering how they’d met and what they’d talked about when Dina came over to snap you out of your thoughts.

“You’re not gonna let her ruin your fun, right?” She gently rubs your arm and you’re so touch starved the gesture nearly makes you cry. It’s been a week since you’d parted ways with the blonde, and the lack of her presence was weighing down on you. You’d missed her smile, her kind eyes, and the way she always knew how to make you laugh.

But she wasn’t perfect. Neither were you, you couldn’t be. Tension grew in the relationship. You went from wanting to be around each other all the time, to avoiding each other at all costs. If you saw her post that she was at the gym, you were making an illegal u-turn in the middle of the road to avoid seeing her. That wasn’t a relationship, and it had to end.

Funny how you were still avoiding her.

“Dina I can’t dance, I’m gonna be sick.” You hold your stomach, tugging against Dina’s grip on your arm. She looks at you empathetically, placing a kiss on the back of your hand. “Babe, Are you going to stop functioning properly because of her? Forever?”

Before you can respond, commotion ensues. Ellie can be heard cursing following the sound of glass breaking and a crash. “Okay, hold on. I’ve gotta stitch up my girlfriend.” She rolls her eyes before rushing into the direction of the noise. A crowd of people swallow her, keeping you from following her.

You decide you need to just wash your face off in the bathroom, and get your ass out there. Abby is just another girl that got away. She’s clearly moved on, so why can’t you? You weren’t going to let her sour your night. Plus, Dina was your ride and you had to wait for her to fix Ellie up.

You can’t get the bathroom downstairs open, and after asking about 7 intoxicated people you find safety in the basement. There everyone was either high, tripping, or both. More importantly, they were not paying attention to who was going into the bathroom in the far left corner.

It was big, which was unsurprising considering how large the basement and the house was itself. Incredibly clean and it looked like the perfect hideout spot. You decided you’d stay in there scrolling through your phone until Dina sent her usual “where r u?” text.

The familiar sound of the ping on your phone interrupts you mindlessly moving your thumb. Out of the corner of your eye you catch the first letter of the sender, and nearly throw your phone.

Abby ❌: Where’d you run off to?

Was that meant for you? Did you want to find out? You stare at the message letting your eyes unfocus. Biting your lip you ready yourself to respond, but you’re stopped by the three dots indicating she’s typing.

Abby ❌: You in the basement?

You wish the window in there was bigger, because it would’ve made escaping a lot easier. Instead of responding, you look for the easiest solution to your new found problem, which happened to be the door. You open it, and a presently surprised Abby is on the other end smiling at you.

“Oh, you opened it for me?” You walk back as she walks in and watch as she closes and locks the door. “You’re still so sweet.”

“Where’s your friend?” You ask, arms crossed. It was upsetting you that you were so jealous, but it made sense. The end of your relationship was rocky, but you’d still only broken up a week ago. The wound was fresh, and she was poking her fingers in it.

“I don’t know, probably making out with someone upstairs.”

Realization hits you and you’d never admit it but you felt relief. Abby can read you though, she knows you better than anyone. A wide smile spread on her stupid cocky face.

“Were you jealous?” She tilts her head a bit and it makes you bite the inside of your cheek. She’d always tilt her head while she was deep inside of you. Chuckle and ask “You like that?” As if you could even fucking answer with how hard she was fucking you. The memory sends a shiver through your entire body, and it delays your response. She takes note of that as well and your body language. Arms crossing and uncrossing while her eyes trailed up and down your body.

She was looking at you like she was struggling to contain herself. You could almost see her thoughts projected over her head. “I miss you. I miss fucking you.”

“Would it be wrong for me to be jealous?” You back up towards the sink, catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Another memory of her with her hand over your mouth, pounding into you mercilessly, flooded your mind. She takes note of this before moving closer to you.

Her body is close enough that if you reached out, you would be touching her freckle speckled skin. You fear that if you don’t lean into her, you’ll tip over. That you’ll fall splat on the cold bathroom tile. That you’ll sink into the ground and disappear, if you don’t touch her right fucking now.

“I guess not.” She leans over towards you, and you think she’s moving in to wrap you in a hug, but she’s just pushing past to look in the mirror. She notices how your face falls at her movements, and turns to look at you.

“Someone has to be honest here. Want me to start?”

No was at the tip of your tongue before her lips crashed into yours. She cups your face and you almost don’t notice her backing you up against the sink. Your back hits the edge of it, causing it to arch and your head to lean back. Abby takes the opening, latching her lips onto your jaw and then your neck.

“I fucking hate you so much right now.” You close your eyes, body contradicting your words. You lean into her strong and firm arms. Pulling your body into hers. “I hate how I couldn’t go a week without you.” Is breathless and desperate as it leaves your tongue.

She’s on her knees now, positioned in between your legs. She struggles to remain composed enough to tease you. Lustrous desire causing her mouth to salivate. You help her get your pants off, kicking them to the side, before her fingers loop into the band of your underwear. “It wasn’t easy for me either.” She pulls them down in a frenzy. “I missed the way you moaned my name.”

She latches her tongue to your heat, swirling a harsh circle against your sensitive bud. You would’ve lost your balance if she wasn’t holding your legs open and up with her arms. fingers on the inner corners of your cunt, spreading you wide for her. There was no mercy, and no slowing down. Her mission was to make you see stars.

“Fuck.” Is all you can let out and she hums against you in agreement. The vibration sending a wave of pleasure straight to your core. You tangle your hands in her hair, grappling at it to keep her right where you needed her.

And she never fails to deliver. Tongue buried into your walls while her nose swipes against your clit. You bite back a moan which causes her to move her hand and squeeze your ass, pushing the sound out of you. It’s clear and melodic, music to her ears. If anyone happened to walk in she wouldn’t want to stop. She wanted to hear more from you. She needed to.

You can barely hold back your orgasm. With the way she has you spread completely open for her, entire face buried into you moaning against your cunt. You let the wave rush over you, eyes rolling back into your head as her name rolls off your tongue.

You shake a bit, overwhelmed from the high and her face still buried between your legs. Now is when you feel a bit disappointed in yourself. At how hard it was to stay away, how easy it was to give into her, and how you’re going to have to explain this to Dina.

Abby kisses up and down your inner legs, catching all of your juices on her tongue. It feels so good before you hear that damn ding from your phone once again. She reaches over to grab it out of your pants pocket and hand it to you. Speak of the devil.

Dina 💖: where r u?

[aswaki]

big mts [smt x reader]

seok matthew x reader | 1.5k word count | crack

“hanbin sets you up with his friend, ‘big mts’”

contains: short!reader, no gendered terms for reader, suggestive tone (at the end), cursing, blind date theme, family friend!hanbin, mention of choking, brief appearance of jiwoong

“sung hanbin, i am not going out with a guy called ‘big mts’,”

you gave the raven haired man in front of you a deadpan look. his phone was in your hand, a text notification displayed on the screen. it said, “i’m almost there!” and the sender’s name was indeed ‘big mts’.

okay— sung hanbin was a thoughtful person. you had never doubted that. not when he listened to your rants about how stagnant your life was on top of every other bullshit you’ve thrown his way. he made it his mission to be your guardian angel even when you didn’t ask him too. just like how he sent you to a string of blind dates.

it began when you were talking about how there was nothing exciting happening to you for the nth time. you had been so passionate in your rant; your face was flushed. your hands were moving as you talked. hanbin had been moved but jiwoong, who sitting beside him, was the opposite. he simply looked so done.

“you know what you need? you need to get fucked.” jiwoong had declared as he leaned forward. he put his hand on top of yours. a faux serious expression was painted on his features. you stopped ranting, obviously shocked at his words.

“hey!” hanbin slapped jiwoong’s arm. they did a slight stare off while you simply giggled at their antics.

“but you know… he’s not wrong. maybe you need to meet more people! not the fucking. do not listen to jiwoong. you don’t need to be fucking everyone.” his brotherly instincts coming out. his voice was almost far away. hanbin looked at you, deep in thought. you could almost see the gears working in his brain.

that was one random day a few months ago and then the rest was history. it led you to a series of hang outs and dates. you didn’t know hanbin knew that many people. most of these meet ups didn’t end well. you wondered if hanbin just had an ad of you on craigslist (especially with a date with that one person who you were sure you saw getting dogpiled on twitter before).

so it led you to today. earlier, you were over at hanbin’s apartment unit which was a few doors down from yours. you went there under the pretense of hanging out with him. when he opened the door at you, he merely declared, “you look terrible. go change.”

he pushed you out and led you back to your unit. you look down at your sweats. is it not acceptable to be in comfortable clothes on chill days? you opened your mouth to protest but he beat you to it, “you are going on a date!”

“not again!” you screamed.

you removed yourself from his hold and ran to your door. you were not going to lose a couple precious hours of your friday to go with a possible insufferable person you just met.

you felt victorious escaping hanbin. you sighed in relief as you put the key in your doorknob. the door opened with ease but before you could close it on hanbin, he caught up with you. he easily slid right in. oh, curse his long legs. you could only glare at him. the universe was unfair for giving him tall genes but skipped it on you.

hanbin called you by your full name and said, “you are going to change and go on this date. don’t you disappoint me.”

“do i have too? you know what happened the previous times. just give up.” you whined at him. seriously, you were convinced he was bored too, that's why he was trying to play cupid.

“go. change.” he told you as he placed his hand on your shoulders and directed you to your room. the both of you were really close, almost like siblings. you tried to be childish and put all your weight on your feet to stop you from moving. your attempts only failed.

“i swear, this time is different! he’s my friend. he’s really nice and adorable. you’d love him. he just came back from canada. that should be interesting enough for you. go talk about maple syrup or something.” you turned around and gave him a blank stare. 

“okay, maybe not maple syrup,” he backtracked, “but please, please. i showed my friend your photo already. he thought you were cute! if this doesn’t work out, i’ll lay off but he’s already on his way so you need to change!”

your eyes widened. this person thought you were cute? and already on his way? jesus, hanbin knew how to get you working. this person could be a freak but he did say you were cute. you knew hanbin could also be pulling things out his ass but hey, flattery works.

“fine. this is the last one.” you gave in. hanbin nodded excitedly. you went to your room to quickly change your outfit and prepare yourself. you wanted to exceed expectations. this was hanbin’s mysterious friend. you can’t afford to look stupid. plus, given the previous statistics, this could mean this would be your last blind date for a while. you weren’t hoping this would be it. you just wanted to get this over with. you didn’t think it was bad wanting to look good to celebrate the end of hanbin’s crazy project. an end of an era.

you looked at the mirror satisfied with your look. when you stepped out of your bedroom, hanbin wasn’t in your living room. his phone, however, was. it lit up signaling a message came in. you picked it up, scoffing at what you saw. he texted he was close by already but what got to you was the bold letters, ‘big mts’ that flashed on the screen above his message. you thought it sounded obnoxious. you didn’t want to be with someone obnoxious, even for a brief moment.

hanbin came out of the bathroom. before he could express approval at your outfit, you marched over at him and shoved his phone to his face. “wha-”

“sung hanbin, i am not going out with a guy called ‘big mts’. i draw the line here.”

he merely laughed at your words and at the look you sent his way. he knew you were going to give him another one of your rants.

you wiggled the phone in front of his face then you sucked in a deep breath before yapping, “he sounds repulsive. how could you be friends with him? what kind of nickname is that? who calls himself that? do you really want to send poor little me with a person who seems to be as ridiculous and egotistical as ‘big mts’? nevermind that he called me cute. are you even listening? stop laughing. i will call your mom.”

like a spirit drawn to the pleas of mortals, the doorbell rang interrupting your spiel. you sighed in defeat knowing ‘big mts’ is here. hanbin turned to walk over to your front door. you followed close behind him.

“seriously, hanbin, can’t we just ignore him? what kind of name is ‘big mts’?” you huffed as the doorbell rang again.

“you’ll see,” he cryptically replied. hanbin opened the door. he greeted his friend enthusiastically— “matthew!” —they hugged each other. when they pulled away from the hug, hanbin revealed someone who was not as repulsive as you thought.

you wish you could eat your words.

standing right there by your door was a man. he had a well bulked up build. a silver chain adorned his neck. his biceps were exposed by his sleeveless top. his chest stretching his shirt out. thoughts were racing in your head and none of them were pg rated. it wasn't your fault he had a very big... heart. you could only hope you didn’t look pathetic right now checking him out. you understood why he was ‘big mts’. you could see it with your own eyes. you wondered what else is big...

hanbin stifled a chuckle as he nudged you. well, shit, you probably did look pathetic right now.

“hi i’m matthew.” he said, looking at you with an amused smile. his adorable smile was a stark contrast to his body. holy fuck, you felt so shallow right now.

you looked down as he extended his hand at you. even his hands looked good. it would've looked even better if it was around your neck. (but what would be best if it was his biceps choking you.)

ah, you were about to cry. you were the freak, not him.

you grabbed his hand and shook it with no hesitation. you enjoyed his warm smooth skin. “you ready to go?” he asked after you shook hands.

“yes! i am! let’s go!” you replied with much eagerness that surprised all three of you. matthew nodded a goodbye to hanbin.

“jiwoong’s right,” you muttered to hanbin as you gave him a hug of thanks and farewell. hallelujah to the caring, determined (and nosy) sung hanbin for introducing you to his friend.

you gave a matthew a brief look, eyes moving over his handsome face and mouthwatering form, before whispering again to hanbin, “oh, i’m so going to fuck him.”

a/n: tgif! here's a silly little fic as dialogue practice because i truly feel my forte isn't with dialogues. i was actually writing another fic during my break earlier but then i decided to do this. when i remembered hanbin has matthew saved as big mts on his phone, it went downhill from that. i also didn't plan on posting this because i only wanted to put all my smut brainrot in this blog but then eh. sorry for my attempts at humour btw??? might do a part two if anyone wants???? smut???

divider credit: saradika-graphics

[allwaswell16]

All the One Direction fics I read and enjoyed in April 2024. You can listen to my podcast to hear me talk about each of these fics as well as an overview of what was posted on ao3 including the fics on this month’s fic roundup [ @1dmonthlyficroundup ] which you can find here! Please let the writers know if you liked the fics by leaving kudos and comments! Happy reading!

Fanfictional Podcast #61 |  ko-fi | fic recs

- Louis/Harry -

🌼 When the Lights Go Out by thelarenttrap / @antidotetogo

(E, 79k, F1 au) In its near eighty years of existence, Formula 1 has never had an out gay driver. In 2017, Harry Styles signs a contract with Scuderia AlphaTauri alongside his childhood friend and competitor, Louis Tomlinson. The next decade of their careers is some of the most tumultuous press--on and off the track--Formula 1 has ever seen.

🌼 Colorful Hearts by Larrysmomfics / @larrysmomfics

(M, 20k, humor) In a world where orgasmic emissions change color depending on the person’s mood, Louis Tomlinson’s semen has only ever been blue. At the recommendation of his doctor he attends a support group for people with similar conditions. 

🌼 In a swirl of flashing lights by @lunaticcat009

(M, 15k, friends to lovers) Harry taps on Louis' window with a sad smile and they sneak into a closed carnival. A starry night of them running around the abandoned premises with their fingers intertwined ensues.

🌼 Fuck You For Ruining New York City For Me by galactic_larry / @galacticlarry

(T, 11k, exes) Louis broke up with him in their New York apartment, so Harry left the city for good. Except now he’s back, visiting with his new boyfriend.

🌼 defying stars by localopa / @voulezloux

(T, 9k, high school) the marching band au only one person (and that was me) asked for.

🌼 Half a World Away by @silverstuff50

(E, 9k, omegaverse) Bothy: A bothy is a basic shelter, usually left unlocked and available for anyone to use free of charge. Bothies are found in remote mountainous areas of Scotland, Northern England, Ulster and Wales. 

🌼 Where All Roads Lead by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings

(NR, 7k, neighbors) Harry's Christmas takes an unexpected turn when he discovers a misplaced holiday card in his letterbox. He never thought that braving the snow to return the card to its sender would be so worth his while.

🌼 Does it Ever Drive You Crazy? (Just How Fast the Night Changes) by xx_soup_xx

(G, 7k, strangers to lovers) Baker Harry Styles takes it upon himself to get his mysterious grumpy customer, Louis Tomlinson, to like Christmas by taking him on a disastrous first date.

🌼 Girl Crush by Hopeless_blue

(T, 7k, strangers to lovers) He used to be so close to fulfilling his dreams when he participated in X-Factor. But that was four years ago, and now, on a rainy day, he wanders the streets looking for a pub where he could sing sometimes. Charming bartender Louis is ready to give him a shot...

🌼 Why Don’t We Start Writing The Story Of Us by red_panda28 / @red-pandaaa

(T, 6k, omegaverse) Alpha Louis and Omega Harry get off on the wrong foot, Louis has the worst timing, and Harry believes in second chances. Three times Louis asks Harry on a date and the one time Harry accepts

🌼 I Might Say Yes by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28

(E, 6k, established relationship) the one where Harry buys a wedding dress on a whim. And his very doting boyfriend, Louis, is more than happy to indulge him

🌼 now i'm tracin' all my steps to you by @alwaysxlarrie

(T, 5k, 5 times fic) Of all the things Harry was prepared for this summer, Louis Tomlinson and his wonderful, wonderful scent isn't one of them. It probably shouldn't be as shocking as it is that it makes Harry want to nest.

🌼 Crimson Clover by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt

(T, 5k, soulmates) Harry and Louis are soulmates, but one is already promised to another. When their plan to flee is discovered and they are separated, Harry falls gravely ill.

🌼 I’ll tell you something (I hope you’ll understand) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(E, 2k, girl direction) Louis insists that Harry stay off her phone and in the safety of Louis' room rather than risk moping in her own texting her ex-boyfriend. When Harry agrees on one condition, Louis' safe night in could become something else entirely.

🌼 All The Way Home I'll Be Warm by @justanothershadeofblue

(T, 2k, friends to lovers) Harry & Louis jokingly send out holiday cards together as friends, and now everyone is congratulating them for finally getting together. A 5+1 fic, for Christmas.

🌼 beech tree in autumn by @juliusschmidt

(E, 1k, summer romance) Louis walks forward. Harry walks back. And back. And back. Off the two track, through the brush, until his heel bangs against the trunk of a tree.

🌼 hey stupid, i love you by @enchantedlandcoffee

(T, 1k, omegaverse) The one where self-proclaimed Valentine's Day hater, Louis, surprises his boyfriend on their first Valentine's together.

🌼 skinny dip (in water under the bridge) by hazzahtomlinson / @itsnotreal

(G, 880 words, exes) It’s a Wednesday and nostalgia might just get the best of Louis.

- Rare Pairs -

🌼 Finally, You and I (Collide) by @lululawrence

(NR, 14k, Zayn/Louis) the five times Louis was accidentally wooed by cookies and the one time he was purposefully wooed by brownies.

🌼 I Saw Several Angels in the Self Help Section by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(G, 3k, ot5) Zayn and Louis are soulmates. They're also missing some soulmates. For extra flavour, it's Christmas.

[piscesvenus12h]

ASTROLOGY OBSERVATIONS: SUN THROUGH THE HOUSES - 7th-12th

7th house sun: relationship oriented. Doesn’t like to be alone. Probably a people pleaser. “If not it’s ok” - text message sender. Would rather do it themselves. Caretaker and homemaker. Maternal. Excellent fashion sense. Interior design. This is the friend you go to when you want to throw a party or have a big extravagant plan that you need help with. You’ll end up with a party or event planned with excellence. They strive to make you smile. To the natal owner: don’t ever forget that just as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside. People may walk all over you if you let them. Place boundaries where you need them and don’t feel responsible for other peoples emotions.

8th house sun:  magnetic. Alluring as FUCK. People either love you or they hate you and there’s no grey matter here. Mystic at heart. Sensitive. Connected with the occult. Manifests easily. Should definitely major in psychology or philosophy. Good with money. This is the friend you find when you need to express your power and need help establishing how to do that best. This friend will help you find who you truly are and help you express your fullest potential. To the natal owner: being a hermit is OKAY & NEEDED desperately by you. You cannot survive out in the open world forever, you NEED to retreat and care for yourself first and foremost.

9th house sun: SMART. Book and street smart. Creative in the arts. Idea giver. Divinely inspiration. Book nerd. Low key adrenaline junky. Excellent at languages. Probably doesn’t need a GPS much/remembers locations and directions really fucking good. This is the friend you study all night with for midterms and then hit spring break travels with! They know how to bust out an A+ then party their asses off. To the natal owner: pick one or two passion projects and pursue them with all you have! Anything you set your mind to will take effort and your undivided attention. Don’t get discouraged if you don’t succeed right away, persistence is key!!

10th house sun: girl boss/boy boss. Class president. Probably gets upset with themselves when they don’t get an A on a test they prepared for. random fact giver. natural born leader. Management. Color coding. Probably irons their clothes before work or school. This is the friend you want to seek if you have a new business or club or anything in that area. They will help you set everything up and even serve as a leader if you need one. To the natal owner: it’s ok to take a nap. Productivity does not make you a better person than anyone else. Don’t convince yourself otherwise.

11th house sun:  miss/Mr. popular. committed as fuck. Most people love you and if they don’t, it’s because of a projection. Chatty. Should be a podcast owner. Makes a new friend every week. Really good at social media. open minded. Wants to save all of the animals. “if we don’t have earth, we have nothing.” This is the friend you seek to help take your mission statement up a level. To the natal owner: you can’t save everyone!! Not everyone is worth your genuine love and support. Learn boundaries.

12th house sun: WWJD? Loner. Spiritual or religious. Sees in between the lines. You can’t get anything past these people. They intuitively know all. Fertile. Creative. Powerful when they put their mind to it. Day dreamer. This is the friend that you want if you to transcend and take some magical mushies. They will take you on an adventure of a lifetime. To the natal owner: be careful of escaping your reality too much. I know earth sucks, but you’re stuck here. Ground yourself and find your tribe. 

(Houses 1-6 also posted!)

[lostloveletters]

Next Time I See You (Bucky Egan x OC)

Summary: With plenty of time to think in Stalag Luft III, and not much else to do, Bucky's relationship with Holly is often at the forefront of his thoughts, the occasional highs and the increasing lows as her absence in his life echoes louder with each passing day.

Note: A lot of Bucky introspection and some of his friendship with Alex because I really love that! Do not interact if you’re under 18, terf/radfem, or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Inevitable historical inaccuracies. Angst involving grief, guilt, hopelessness, and insecurity (it’s a Stalag fic).

Bucky didn’t receive a letter from anyone besides his mother during his first mail call at Stalag Luft III, nearly a month following his capture, which meant Holly either thought he was dead or wished he was. She swore she wasn’t mad when he told her he was going after Buck, but she lied about how she felt all the time. Just usually not to him.

He thought he finally understood her then, when they shared the murky space of loving someone between life and death. Awed and terrified at the fact that she could go on in such a state for well over a year, he’d only had the feeling for a few days, a greedy little parasite that wanted all of his joy until he was left with nothing but grief. 

And it didn’t quite disappear when he saw Buck again, instead directing its hunger to Holly until he almost hated her. 

Except he didn’t. He could never. Despair and guilt intermingled, the ghastly combination fermenting in his brain as he lay awake through sleepless nights that bled together. As if being with him even did her any good—she loved him, and he had been selfish enough to make her go through that yet again. Buck told him he was being unfair to her and himself by thinking like that, and though Bucky knew he was right, he was too tired to do much but wallow.

After a month ruminating on his heartbreak and pretending he didn’t even care that some Kraut fuck probably had his pistol with her photo displayed on the grip, a thick envelope and a lumpy package were shoved into his arms. A glance at the sender, carefully written in neat, capital letters, made a grin break out across his face.

LT. HOLLY BECK DEAN

She was a Lieutenant. Long overdue. He’d been pushing for her promotion since his first week at Thorpe Abbotts. Bucky’s campaign had been taken with a large grain of salt by pretty much everyone he brought it up to. Probably thought he was just trying to impress Holly. Initially true, but as time went on, and the WAAC dropped an ‘A’ upon no longer being Auxiliary, he knew she deserved it.

His smile wavered, stomach sank when he read the first paragraph of her letter, nothing short of the apology he’d been greedily hoping for—that she hadn’t forgotten about him, certainly wasn’t mad at him, and desperately hoped he’d forgive her for taking so long to write to him. In the chaos and bureaucracy at the air base, some things were relayed to her and others weren’t. It wasn’t until Woody received a letter from Brady that Holly even knew Bucky was still alive.

Whoever told her she wasn’t good at writing letters was woefully mistaken, or simply an unappreciative audience. Reading her letters made him feel like he was talking to her, like she was sitting right beside him, her voice in his ear, each inflection and giggle and snicker loud and clear. She wrote about the Yankees’ trades and pre-season with the care of a fan. Drew funny little pictures and started an ongoing game of tic-tac-toe that he realized four letters later he was losing, so he started a new one which she went along with despite her protests of bad sportsmanship. She scrawled an ‘I love you’ somewhere on each page, even if it had nothing to do with anything.

Then, there were the packages, at one point neatly wrapped in bright paper before they were devoured by a foreign-tongued beast and spit out to him in haphazardly bundled shapes, the scraps from its cruel and insatiable jaw. Something was always missing, usually candy, but one time he was down a scarf, which especially pissed him off. He knew as much because her hand-written letters included a typed list of everything she sent to him, and he knew exactly how she did it.

The dozens of times he pulled a chair in front of her desk, leaning on his elbow, chin in his open palm as he watched her work—the gentle concentration on her face until Nancy or Leona made a comment that brought her into a conversation that somehow never affected her typing. Her fingers swiftly moving across the keys. The incessant clicks and dings of typewriters in motion amidst shuffling paper on desks and boots slapping on the floor. Her lips puckered whenever she was close to finishing a page, as if she were going to give each one a kiss. He dreamed about that before he even knew he was in love with her.

With plenty of time to think in the Stalag, and not much else to do, he decided he loved her when they bet on the Yankees at Nationals game. Crammed next to each other in the Jeep, listening to the radio on her lap, he had nearly kissed her that night. Even though he struck out and the Yankees lost, he returned to the barracks on cloud nine, unable to think of little more than her.

As months turned into years and he endured hellishly frozen winters and sweltering summers, it was hard to remain hopeful. He realized they’d been apart far longer than they’d actually been together. His stomach turned sour if he thought about it too much. She said something similar about Stan once, afraid of when she’d reach the point of having remembered him for longer than she knew him.

Holly was generous in sending photographs when he asked, which was often. On the back of most of them, he’d see Stan Bucky, and an inexplicable melancholy would wash over him. He understood. She didn’t have the time or resources to take new photos, and letting perfectly good existing ones (some of them really good) sit around in a box didn’t help anyone. It was still odd, a reminder of just how easily he could have ended up like Stan.

Of course he never knew Stan, but he caught his ghost lingering often enough to feel like he did. Bucky would stare at Holly’s photos, wondering if he was seeing the same thing their original intended recipient had. They must have been similar enough for her to have fallen in love with the both of them.

But would she even recognize him the next time she saw him—really took a good look at him? Would he be the same man she fell in love with? Certainly not. Maybe he’d be lucky enough that she’d fall in love with him a second time, that somehow this Frankenstein version of him, undead but hardly holy, would be deserving. He didn’t pray much, was never one for it except in the air, but on the occasions he could set aside his frustrations with God, he’d bargain, angry and demanding, the least You could do after everything. 

He knew it was showing in his letters to her, bleeding through the growing cracks. He tried to be funny, but came across as cynical. Cheerful was bleak, and hope was baseline survival. Everything he said was backward, living in a mirror of reality. He wasn’t sure how to tell her the truth. Inching ever closer to the forefront of his mind, the fear that soon enough, letters wouldn’t be enough to keep him from falling apart, that he wouldn’t be able to hear her voice in them anymore. The mirror would shatter, slice through him, leave him with scars he couldn’t reach.

For weeks, he wracked his brain for what to do, how to make sure she’d be able to see him and know he was still hers after everything, until he overheard Alex telling Macon about how another guy in the camp had given him a pack of cigarettes to draw a pin-up for him. And Alex was damn good. Could draw just about anything with little to no reference—maps, forts, women. Bucky reckoned that using some of what Holly had sent him for what he had in mind would even out in the end.

“Hey Alex,” Bucky said, late one evening, placing two packs of cigarettes and a candy bar in front of him. “This enough for you to draw something I could get tattooed?”

“Bucky, I don’t know the first thing about tattoos.”

“Neither do I, but my girl has one, so I figure if we get out of here…I just wanna do something big for her, you know?”

“Usually that involves buying a ring.”

“Yeah, I’ll get around to that,” Bucky gently tapped his knuckles against the wooden table. “Will you do it?”

Alex smiled. “What do you have in mind?”

“Her name in a heart,” he said. “Or something with roses. She likes roses. I’ll leave it up to you, just make sure her name’s there. That’s the most important part.”

“Holly, right?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, Holly.”

Though he was anxious to see the progress Alex made, he knew at the very least not to rush an artist. It’d be his first tattoo—his only. Hell, he wouldn’t have given it much thought if Holly didn’t already have hers. He was speechless the first time he saw it on her bicep—an anchor with ‘Stan’ written underneath it that she’d gotten in San Francisco the weekend before he shipped out. Like a real sailor, with the grit and guts to match.

A few times, he and Holly had joked about using a 48-hour pass to go to London and get them, but he wasn’t sure how much she was actually kidding. He certainly wasn’t, not anymore.

It gave him pause when Alex asked where Bucky was planning on getting the tattoo, as it’d influence the overall size of the design.

For a moment, he considered his chest, dramatic and personal, intimate. Then, he settled on his arm, more practical, mirroring her own existing tattoo. The thought made him nervous, excited. Wondered how she felt when she got hers. She’d told him it was the worst pain she ever felt in her life. Considering what he’d already gone through, he figured he could sit through a tattoo for her.

He decided he would err on the side of caution with the design and send it to her in his next letter. Not exactly the surprise he originally envisioned, but he realized she didn’t have many—if any—keepsakes of him. All she had was a strip from a photo booth they had squeezed into one weekend, a cheeky note he wrote her one drunken night, and the scar on her knuckle, just above her middle finger on her left hand, that didn’t quite heal right after he bandaged it up.

It’d be something for her to look forward to, keep her going. He wasn’t sure how she managed to keep her letters to him light and cheerful, maybe suppressing her true emotions to buoy his spirits.

Less than a week later, Alex presented him with the design. A heart, detailed and shaded with two carefully placed rosebuds—“One for you, and one for her”—with ‘Holly’ in pristine script in the middle of the heart. It was a hell of a lot better than anything he could’ve attempted himself. Certainly better than he imagined.

“Jesus, they should get you to paint the Sistine Chapel or something.”

Alex laughed. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“I mean it. Holly’s gonna think this is a million times better than a ring.”

“More permanent than one.”

“That’s the idea,” he said.

When it came time to write to her, he found himself frozen, pencil in hand, not sure how to explain, what to accompany the ‘Dear Holly’ he confidently scrawled across the top of the page before coming to a halt. He licked his lips, and began with his usual ‘I love you. I miss you.' which flowed into his retelling the whole story and ending with, ‘Keep this safe for me until the next time I see you.’

A month later, he received her response, the last one before they were ordered to march, and anything they couldn’t carry was burned to the ground, ‘You’re crazy! Certifiable even. I guess I am too, because I’ll be damned if I don’t get your name inked on me. It’s a date the next time I see you, Major.’

[topguncortez]

Hiii

Could u do [ PAINT ] while painting a room, sender starts a paint fight with receiver with Jake and shy wifey?💗

my favorite people:)

You're my Yellow

Jake & Shy Wifey masterlist | Opposites Attract Masterlist

prompts masterlist

She stood in the middle of the room, holding a paint brush in one hand and a tray of paint in the other. She tilted her head from side to side, squinting her eye, trying to decide on if the current coat of paint she had on the wall was spread equally.

They had waited until the very last minute to even start on building the nursery. The empty room before it had been cleaned out had become Jake's second closet, his expensive shoes, suits, dress clothes and cowboy hats were stationed nice and neat in the closet. But now, there was a tan tarp and opened boxes all around as they started getting it ready for their little boy to join them in a few short weeks.

Y/N was the one who picked yellow. She didn't want blue, and gray dampened her mood. She thought yellow was a happy, neutral color. It made her happy to stand in the middle of the room, even though it was a bit of mess and sent her heart rate beating a bit quicker, but she trusted that it would all come together. Hopefully.

"God dammit!" Jake cursed from behind her. Y/N looked over her shoulder to see him shaking his hand out, "Why the fuck is this so hard? Did we have to buy the fucking crib that Einstein invited or some shit?"

Y/N giggled, "It's a standard crib, Jakey."

"Standard my ass," He mumbled and looked at the directions again. He was working up a sweat. Who knew cribs could be so hard to put together. Jake shook his head and put the instructions down, "I gotta call Javy. I have no clue what I'm doing."

"Don't call Javy, let me help," Y/N said and went to grab the instructions but Jake snatched them from her, "Jake. . ."

"Nope! You are about to explode-"

"Pop."

"Same thing," Jake said, "You need to be resting and like. . . knitting or something."

"I don't even know how to-"

"I can do the building and the painting. You just need to sit and look pretty and keep the lil one cooking," Jake said and stood up from the ground. Y/N huffed and rolled her eyes. His overprotectiveness had gotten worse in these last few weeks, and although Y/N usually didn't complain about it, it was starting to drive her crazy.

"Jacob, I'm pregnant, not inept. I can help you build the crib! I'm good at this sort of stuff! I mean, I put our bedroom set together by myself!"

"You weren't eight months pregnant," Jake said, "Sit. Let me work."

Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, and before she knew what she was doing, she swiped the paint brush in her hand across his cheek. Jake's jaw dropped as he looked at her in surprise. But that only lasted for a moment as he walked over to the paint can sitting on the ground, and picked up the spare brush, and swiped it down her arm.

"Hey!" Y/N gasped and Jake held his hands up in mock surrender, "I'm gonna get you back."

"Try me, dear," Jake said, with that cocksure smile on his face. She shook her head and flung back her paintbrush, affectively getting paint all over him and the wall, "Oh it's so on!"

[trials-of-a-spirit-worker]

Witchtok can be Right...As a treat...

I know, I know, after all the bullshit I've been talking about witchtok, hear me out just once.

I'm sure we know about the Kendrick and Drake beef going on. Someone on witchtok said, that Kendrick's song Euphoria is going to be perfect for witches.

And they're absolutely fucking right.

It's always been about love and hate, now let me say I'm the biggest hater I hate the way that you walk, the way that you talk, I hate the way that you dress I hate the way that you sneak diss, if I catch flight, it's gon' be direct

Those lines alone are full of vitriol and unadulterated hatred and anger. You don't think those words so full of emotion and energy can't be used?

It's gonna be used.

For what you ask? Let me give you some examples:

Keep your name out of my mouth spell

General Hexes (the emotion giving your hex power)

General Curses (the emotion giving your hex power)

Return to sender (with a little smack of fuck you attached of course)

Intimidation Spell (In case you don't want someone to fuck you over and give you strength to remain strong)

Honestly, it's just a way to help you get the anger you may have out of you if you want to cleanse

And anything your creative minds can think of.

Witches aren't like the wizards and shit who come up with words on the dot. At least not all the time. We borrow words from others and each other all the time. That's completely valid and Kendrick's stuff is ripe for the taking at this point.

Kendrick done served up an incantation ready for the hex friendly while he was busy verbally beating the dog shit out of Drake.

That's all you'll get out of me about the Kendrick and Drake beef.

[kyoghurts]

TO KILL THE VIBRANT ꮼ lemon irvine.

it feels like i've fallen for you completely, maybe it's best that you can't be here. angst | gn reader | drabble.

vibrant is when you see lemon irvine gleefully rambling something about tomorrow being exciting and fun for her in this tired afternoon with soft rain gently making its presence known through the drum on your rooftop and coloring your windows gray. she holds your hand and clings to it every so often as she mentions a certain someone, his name on her tongue like a prayer; her eyes so bright that stars could never rival. and her wish to be with the name her mouth could ever so sweetly utter is bigger than that of your heart slowly writhing in pain.

vibrant is when there's hope that flicker and never fickle in the sun that is lemon irvine. hoping that someday you'll understand the spark that comes with her touches, leaving trails of herself on your skin like the syrup-soaked pancake she made for all of her friends and one for you softening around roof of your tongue. hoping that someday you won't have to curse out the certain someone whenever you see her with him. hoping that someday…someday, as if it would fall to you willingly, as if she would look in your direction at any point—which completely obliterates everything that she holds dear—someday she'll see the look that you have because it's the look that she gives to mash fucking burnedead and you know damn well it will never be you.

vibrant is when there is a surging impulse coursing your bloodstream once you see the book series she's been eyeing for months and you snatch it without hesitation, because you're sure she'd love it, because you're sure of your feelings that sit in your heart like a badge free from its burdens. because in lemon, everything else is elevated. and it's not like she'll know the existence of your feelings, for months you've emptied your lungs of the suffocating air you were subjecting yourself to breathe, for months you slowly accept that you will always be what you have always been:

"a very sweet & good friend of mine!"

her voice, god, you could listen to it all day. enough to lift off the weights pulling you down, enough to be the warmth like the sun to the moon (you). so what if you're just a friend? so what if she doesn't see you the way you see her? so what if the world doesn't place itself at your hands and you could've got what you wanted if things had been different? so what if you're not the reason that the vibrant exists?

so what if you could only admire but not touch the rays of sun because she's not yours?

the words written in a handwriting slightly twisted from its origin, preventing the receiver from recognizing them, is an act of protection. you are not capable of dimming the vibrant, you cannot kill the sun, you cannot risk lemon catching onto these wretched feelings of yours. so, you protect them instead, for both of you. this confession letter of yours doesn't disclose its sender; it is neatly tucked into her desk, alone, not for any eyes to see. only hers. only her soft citrine eyes.

"woah! what's this?"

you hear her voice from the other side of the wall. you don't see it, but you can feel the smile forming on her pretty lips, her hands that flail around when she gets excited—that earns a quiet chuckle from you. cute, she's cute.

"oh my…its a love letter." your hands clench unconsciously, your teeth sinking itself on your bottom lip with harshness as if to punish yourself for doing this. everything about liking lemon feels so wrong. you need to stop.

you hear soft sniffs and crying feebly. "aaa, its…really sweet and genuine." your eyes start to feel melting hot, it glistens under the dusky room. its just you, all alone, not really for the eyes to see.

(not for hers to see, too.)

"i wonder who sent this. i wish they could at least give a clue."

you remove yourself from the wall, not wanting to hear beyond what you are only allowed. you walk out with your cheeks damp, a frown that signifies the death of the vibrant inside you.

"it seems like they know me a lot, too. hm…"

"…i can understand why they'd leave it anonymous."

"yeah, i…i think i get it. and they know my answer already. i'm sorry…"

"i'm sorry." she mumbles your name, hushed. "and thank you. i promise i'll keep this safe and hidden. because you're my sweet, sweet friend. always have, i don't want that to change."

tags. @seneon lawl surprise

notes. breaking news: @kyoghurts will now be at their angst writing season. goodluck handling the heartache. stay strong (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ) ੭

© kyoghurts. ★ reblogs & likes are well appreciated!

[raedas]

I reach out to you with a heart heavy with grief and fear. In the chaos of Gaza, my family faces an unspeakable tragedy after the loss of my father and my elder brother. Each day feels more treacherous than the last, and we are desperate to escape the looming danger. Your compassionate assistance is our only hope to evacuate my mother and siblings to safety. Your kindness, no matter its size, carries the promise of a lifeline in our darkest hour. Please, may your heart guide you to help us in our time of need

it is fucking SICKENING to see people use the ongoing genocide (!) in gaza for their own benefit to run scams like this one

i know it’s been said before, but it bears repeating: asks like this one are scams. every single ask i have gotten asking for donations in the past has been a scam (and there have been many, i just usually ignore and delete them)

if you want to double check whether or not an ask you received is a scam, a very easy way is to scroll through the senders blog. some are super transparent like this one, where their scam is the only post on the blog, but others often reblog a handful of posts before they post. if you scroll enough, though, you’ll see the blog isn’t any older than a week

please direct your love and support to actual palestinians: i’ll link a handful of posts with gofundmes below

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

Note: direct follow up to Halloween part 7! Previous chapters can be found in my modern masterlist.

Warnings: angst. mention of blood, violence, death, very lightly suggestive.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: Skade wasn't quite done with you and Sihtric...

wordcount: 3,3k

Masterlist

'Why aren't you dead yet?'

Day 2. 11:20pm.

While Sihtric gathered everything you had asked for you noticed how large bruises had formed on his body during the day, and it broke your heart. Your body didn't look any better after the spiritual assault earlier that morning, but you had covered it up by wearing one of Sihtric's shirts, whereas Sihtric had been sitting in his underwear and his untied satin robe all day, for your viewing pleasure.

Sihtric brought you three white candles, some dried rosemary, a few incense sticks, a big mirror and, since he hadn't been in his basement since the horrible night with Skade, he knew the piece of paper on which she had written her number was still there collecting layers of dust.

'Will that work?' he asked as he showed you the paper.

'Did she write it herself?'

Sihtric nodded.

'Then it will work,' you took the paper, 'thank you, my darling. Can you place the mirror against the wall?'

Sihtric did what you asked and you followed him with all your requested tools. You lit the incense and held all the items in the smoke for a few seconds, cleansing them to rid everything of unwanted energies, except for Skade's number, as you would need her awful energy for your spell to work.

After you had cleansed everything Sihtric had brought you, you twirled the incense stick around yourself and stepped through the smoke, and then you walked up to Sihtric to smoke cleanse him all the same. He watched you with a smile and stole a kiss before you told him to sit down. And as you held the burning incense, you drew a large circle with the smoke in which you, Sihtric and everything you needed were gathered.

'What are you doing?' Sihtric asked, curiously.

'I'm creating a smoke circle,' you said, 'to protect us. It keeps unwanted energies out of the circle and, if anything would go wrong, it also keeps unwanted energies from escaping into our world.'

Sihtric stared at you with his big eyes.

'What?' you frowned.

'Gods,' he smiled and whispered as he took your hand, 'you arouse me so much, sweet thing.'

'Now's not the time,' you chuckled.

You felt yourself blush at his words and you quickly sat down in front of the mirror.

'So, what happens now?' Sihtric pulled you close to sit in between his thighs.

'Now,' you said as you enjoyed his embrace for a moment, 'I will do a return to sender spell. I don't usually do dark magick… but it has to be done.'

'My love, are you sure-'

'Sihtric, please. I know what I'm doing. I ask you to trust me, we don't have time to discuss this.'

'And I trust you, little bat, but I need to know this will not come back to harm you. I don't fuck around with witches because of all your karma laws…'

'I'm not a witch,' you said sternly as you looked at him in the mirror, 'I am an occultist, and I do not believe in The Rule of Three. I rarely do spells, but I can perform them. I know more about magick and witchcraft than you think, and I need you to let me do what I do best. I didn't question or interfere with your craft this morning, or whatever the hell you did to open that door in the Willow house. Don't think I forgot about that, Sihtric, but I do not question you in the moment itself. I trust you will explain it eventually.'

Sihtric nodded and snuck his arms around your waist, 'You're right, I'm sorry, my angel,' he whispered, 'I'm just afraid to lose you. I don't know anything about this curse and I feel useless, because I have no way of helping here.'

'Well, you actually can help me by giving a few drops of your blood. Blood makes magick more powerful.'

'Okay. Just tell me when you need it.'

You gave Sihtric a nod and closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths before you started the ritual. Sihtric watched you carefully, his arms tightly wrapped around your waist and his chin propped up on your shoulder as you lit the first candle.

'As I light this candle, let cruelty, pain and wicked ways,

return to Skade for all her remaining days.

Reverse the curse she has create,

turn on her a more cruel fate.'

You sprinkled some rosemary into the flame and lit the second candle.

'Through this mirror I will break her every spell, hex, ritual and phrase,

let those fall apart and return her gaze.'

You took the piece of paper with her number and burned it, then you lit the third candle.

'Nothing Skade has ever read, said or done,

shall have a further effect on anyone.'

You sprinkled the last rosemary into the flame and looked in the mirror.

'Your blood,' you told Sihtric. 

He quickly took the dagger he had always strapped around his ankle, unless he was in bed, and made a cut on the palm of his hand. He clenched his fist and let his blood drip down into each flame.

You murmured something inaudible to Sihtric before he pulled his hand back from the candles, and he saw you had your eyes closed again, focusing on the spell. After a minute or so you opened your eyes again and said it was done.

'That's it?' Sihtric frowned.

'What do you mean that's it?'

'Well… I don't know,' he shrugged, 'nothing seemed to happen?'

You rolled your eyes.

'Sihtric, witchcraft in real life is not like what you see on tv. It will work, trust me, but it doesn't come with a full show that is amusing to watch.'

'No, I know,' he chuckled, 'I just expected… I don't know, at least a little something,' he looked disappointed.

You laughed and shook your head, 'I'm sorry that no flames erupted. I'm not talking to any demons unlike you…'

'Oh, shush,' Sihtric smiled and pecked your cheek, but then became serious again, 'I just hope it works.'

'It will work,' you reassured him, 'at least we should be able to sleep safely now.'

And you did sleep safely, in Sihtric's arms, leaving the mess downstairs for tomorrow, if you would still be alive.

Day 3.

The next morning you immediately felt there had been a huge energy shift. You both felt lighter, more clear headed and even more in love with each other than before, not knowing that was even possible. 

After you had made slow, sweet love while whispering filthy words and sweet nothings in each other's ears all morning, you finally dragged yourself out of bed, telling Sihtric that the mess downstairs really needed to be taken care of. He reluctantly agreed and followed you.

'At least my record player didn't get broken,' Sihtric said, relieved as he looked at the chaotic living room, and he put on a record.

You both cleaned up the mess from the day before while the music played. It took you almost the whole day before you helped Sihtric place the salon table back on the carpet again, which was the last thing to do. You actually could've been done at least an hour ealier, if it wasn't for the poor self control you both had, which seemed even poorer today than it had been before, resulting in various make out sessions on the floor, on the couch, in the kitchen, and eventually on the salon table too.

'Done,' you sighed, after getting up from the table, and you raked your fingers through his hair while Sihtric had his hands on your hips.

'All done,' he smiled and kissed your lips, 'gods, what is in the air today,' he chuckled and squeezed your ass, 'you seem to arouse me even more than ever. You didn't put a spell on me, did you?'

'No,' you laughed, 'you were already nearly too much for me to handle, I have no reason to put a spell on you,' you cupped his cheeks, 'and I believe in free will, so I would never do such a thing.'

'Good,' Sihtric kissed your forehead, 'help me take out the trash?'

'Mhm,' you smiled and followed him outside, carrying a few bags with broken stuff.

Sihtric kissed your cheek once all the bags were outside on his porch, 'Thank you,' he smiled, 'I hope everything will go back to normal now.'

'Me too,' you said and slapped his ass, 'then you can finally show me that basement.'

'Trust me, you're not ready yet,' he chuckled and picked you up, spinning you around before he kissed you again, 'but soon, my queen, I'll let you live your fantasy of being locked-,'

'Sihtric!' a shrill voice suddenly shouted, causing you to both snap your heads towards the noise.

'What the fuck,' you huffed upon seeing Skade walking up Sihtric's driveway.

Sihtric immediately shoved you behind him and towards his front door, 'My love,' he said, 'go inside and lock the door.'

'What? No! I'm not leaving you!'

'You thought you could curse me, bitch?' Skade yelled at you.

'Hey!' Sihtric shouted in a poor attempt to defend you.

'Shut the fuck up, you ugly witch,' you snarled.

'Why aren't you dead yet?' Skade asked.

'Clearly because I am God's favourite,' you taunted.

'Baby,' Sihtric said for only you to hear, 'don't provoke her. Go inside.'

But as stubborn as you were, you stayed outside, still shoved behind Sihtric while Skade came closer. She stopped a few paces away and gave you a threatening look.

'What is it, Sihtric?' she asked, 'what does she have that I don't?'

'A heart,' Sihtric scoffed and then shrugged, 'my heart.'

Skade looked hurt and even slightly embarrassed for a moment, but she composed herself again soon enough.

'You thought you could send my curse back? That I didn't protect myself against that?' she laughed at you.

'Protected or not, it still broke your curse,' you said.

'Perhaps,' Skade admitted, 'but it didn't break Sihtric's curse.'

'What?' you and Sihtric asked at the same time.

'I cursed you, Sihtric, the night I spat in your face. You just didn't know it,' she grinned, 'you never noticed how every woman you had after me got hurt... or scared? And then left you?'

'There haven't been any other women after you,' Sihtric said, agitated, 'you were so off putting that I didn't date or hook up with anyone else until last week.'

Skade grimaced, she didn't expect that answer. She scratched her forehead while her confidence slowly disappeared, and you loved seeing it.

'Well,' she cleared her throat, 'I'm sure the past few nights have been eventful.'

'They were,' Sihtric agreed, and suddenly made a connection, 'so you cursed me? For what? Wanting to chase any potential love interest away from me?'

'Yeah, that's basically it,' Skade shrugged, 'but I cursed that bitch of yours after we met at the party. You had such beautiful hair,' she smiled at you, 'very useful!'

You stuck your middle finger up to her, to which she made a face.

'Haven't you had some fun with my demonic friends?' Skade sneered at you, 'I could've had you killed, you know.'

'You stupid fucking bitch!' you snarled and suddenly ran to her. 

And before anyone could even react, you punched her in the mouth.

'It was you, wasn't it!' you yelled at her, then looked back at Sihtric as you suddenly made the same connection, 'the attack at the Willow house!'

Sihtric nodded and tensed up, he already figured that out a minute before you had. Because Skade hadn't cursed you directly yet at that time, Sihtric had been able to get you out of there rather unharmed, unlike the last attack in his house. Skade had been set on doing serious damage to anyone who Sihtric would be interested in.

Skade laughed while blood ran down her nose, and as you turned to walk away, she grabbed your arm and pulled you back, suddenly holding a knife up to your throat.

'No!' Sihtric shouted and attempted to run over.

'Stay back!' Skade hissed, pressing the blade to your skin and drawing blood, to which you winced.

Sihtric threw his hands up, 'Okay, just don't harm her, please. Take me. You can take me instead, I don't care. Just let her go.'

'Oh, I will take you,' she laughed, and her eyes suddenly darkened, 'my blood is yours, your life is mine. My lover, my heart, together a brand new life we'll start,' she chanted.

You wanted to laugh at her ridiculous spell, but then you saw Sihtric suddenly fall to his knees.

'Sihtric?' you gasped, 'Sihtric! Hey! W-what is wrong?' you yelled.

Skade gave you a hard shove. You fell to the ground and she walked over to Sihtric, who looked possessed and under her spell. You watched how she crouched down in front of him and took his face in her hands.

'Stay away from him!' you yelled as a sharp pain shot through your leg. 

You tried to get up but your knee got hurt badly when you were shoved onto the hard ground. And then you saw how Sihtric looked at Skade, the same way he's been looking at you ever since you met him, and you felt violently ill inside.

'I want you to kill her,' Skade whispered, and Sihtric looked at you, with eyes that didn't even seem to recognize you while he listened to Skade.

'Kill her for me,' the witch smiled.

'For you,' Sihtric whispered, and slowly got back up on his feet. 

He walked back into his house and came out moments later, holding an axe in his hand, and he returned to Skade who wrapped her arms around his neck while Sihtric looked at you; his target.

'We have to kill her,' Skade purred.

'We have to,' Sihtric smiled and looked at her, 'my witch,' he sighed as if smitten.

And you couldn't hold back your tears when you saw how he let her kiss his neck, to which he closed his eyes and let his head fall back with a smile, the same way he had done for you many times before.

'I want to watch,' Sihtric breathed hard with her hands in his hair, 'I want to watch you kill her,' he said, to which she smiled.

'I will kill her for you, and you'll be mine, forever.'

'I will be,' Sihtric smiled and kissed her hand like she was his queen, 'forever.'

Skade took her knife again and walked over to you, proud and confident as she had finally captured Sihtric, and you did not fit anywhere in their twisted love story.

'N-no,' you sobbed as Skade closed in, 'please…' but then you stopped begging.

You figured if you couldn't have Sihtric, your life would become dull and gloomy again. Empty. And you didn't want to go back to that life. It was better to just die than to live a life without him. So you tried to compose yourself, trying to find honour in your last seconds while you watched Death approach, disguised as a blonde witch with a knife in her hand.

'You've had your fun with him,' Skade snarled, 'now it's my t-,' she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks, frozen, and let out a sharp gasp as her eyes almost popped out of her skull.

You looked up at her, confused, heartbroken and terrified. Then out of nowhere you saw how blood started to spill out of her mouth while her body weakened slowly. She then suddenly collapsed and fell down right in front of you, revealing Sihtric's axe stuck in her spine. And you screamed in horror while immediately crawling backwards, away from her with your eyes fixated on her twitching body. You felt yourself become sick once again and you didn't even hear Sihtric approach.

'My love!' Sihtric shouted as he ran over.

He pulled the axe out of Skade's spine, causing her blood to gush out and splatter all over his face and arms, then he turned to you and reached out, but you flinched as he came closer.

'No, please!' you cried, moving away, 'don't!'

'No, my love,' Sihtric said quickly, 'I'm- I'm myself. I'm yours, my love-'

'What?' you sobbed as he took you in his arms, too startled to move away from him.

'I'm sorry, my love,' Sihtric whispered as he held you tight, 'I had to… I had to pretend her spell worked. I'm so sorry,' he pulled back to look at you, 'are you okay? Are you hurt?' his hands moved over your hands, arms and torso quickly, searching for any wounds.

'I… I don't k-know,' you said, trying to understand what had happened, 'I… guess my knee hurts a little,' you then said, looking back and forth between Sihtric and Skade's dead body.

'Little bat,' Sihtric whispered, taking your face in his hands, keeping your eyes off the lifeless witch, 'look at me, I'm here, you're safe.'

'You… you faked being under her spell?' you stammered.

'Of course,' he pecked your lips, 'no spell is strong enough to keep me away from you,' he kissed you all over your face, 'I only love you. And I'm pretty sure you broke my curse when you broke yours, she couldn't hex me even if she wanted to.'

'Your blood,' you said, remembering you had asked for his blood during the spell.

At the time you simply hoped that his blood would indeed work to empower the spell, and it had worked, but it also broke Sihtric's curse which you both didn't know about yet. And Skade didn't know that his blood was used in your spell, or else she would have known that coming here today was a big mistake, as she had no power over either of you anymore. Sihtric had figured out he was no longer cursed shortly after Skade had revealed she had cursed him. He figured it out when he remembered how much more he seemed to be in love with you when he woke up that morning, and understood that Skade's curse was also meant to restrain his heart beating for someone else. But his love for you was already stronger than her curse, so he still fell in love with you, but after the curse was broken he felt such strong emotions for you, like he never experienced before. And he couldn't tell you about the plan he came up with on the spot to play along with Skade, he could only hope he had been right about it. And luckily, he had been.

'My blood,' Sihtric said, holding your face in his hands, 'is yours. Only yours, just like my heart,' he kissed your lips softly, 'as is my life and my soul. All yours, my love, forever, even in death.'

You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in his neck, and you cried some more. Sihtric picked you up in his arms, carrying you inside the house, while he let Skade's body lay a little longer near the trash bags, where she belonged, he thought.

And after you had thrown up, while Sihtric held your hair back, you took a shower together, washing away the horrors of the past few days. And once you got comfortable in his arms, on the couch, you finally dared asking him what you were to do with Skade's body.

'Burn it,' Sihtric said, without a care in the world, thanks to his former black ops career, 'we'll burn her body later, so she can't come back to haunt us.'

[DM to be added to/removed from taglist! & don’t be shy to like, reblog & comment!🖤]

[moreclaypigeons]

Mountain Goats fans how are we feeling

Jenny 2... I will put all my analysis about what these things mean under the cut. I would also like to note that after i took these screenshots the 11th (pirate ship sunset) just... disappeared? The post was gone for a fair bit but then came back. may have been a glitch. or maybe a ghost ship.

Here's what I'm getting story-wise:

Someone rode away on their custom Kawasaki with a stinger on the back, leaving the speaker there at the curb so they had to take a bus. But they never saw them again, no one did. Flaky yellow paint of the Kawasaki.. staying up late thinking about how the relationship ended. Time passes and it's winter and they have search parties out for this person. The person crashed while on their bike. And then the speaker realizes it. And the person is dead the end

Now in terms of allusions to the song Jenny:

"You roared into the driveway of our southwestern ranch style house": the house in the first image reasonably fits that description. "Our house faced west": based on the shadows here, the house DOES face either east or west because of the direction that the sun rises.

"on a new Kawasaki, all yellow and black, fresh out of the showroom.": It's the same bike! But, based on the line in the third post, "flaky yellow paint," some time has passed.

"the big orange sun" we see in the 11th image, where the pirate ship sails into the sunset. the image also alludes to "you pointed your headlamp toward the horizon," and "the pirate's life for me!"

post 10 is interesting because it too draws from the pirate's life line, but the imagery is different, and definitely connects/foreshadows the graveyard image. Here is an excerpt from the wikipedia page for jolly rogers: When the pirates' intended victim was within range, the Jolly Roger would be raised, often simultaneously with a warning shot. The flag was probably intended as communication of the pirates' identity, which may have given target ships an opportunity to decide to surrender without a fight.

Miscellaneous:

image 7, with the grecian vase imagery is reminding me of spent gladiator.

i have no idea what the fuck the water tower means.

image 12 depicts a music staff with some notes on it. i know nothing about music but i do know the internet does so i am currently trying to reconstruct it with a program. update mmaybe will follor?

other songs:

According to what John Darnielle has said in hit podcast "i only listen to the mountain goats," Jenny has appeared in 2 or 3 other songs.

"She calls on the phone in Night Light" and "she calls on the phone in Straight Six" and was the sender of postcards in Source Decay. He says, "She is defined by an absence, she has yet to speak. She's in the song Jenny; the other two songs she's in, she's already gone. …She's not there when things are going well, and she's not remembered when things are going well. Jenny is an emblem of more difficult times for people, of wilder times. But also times that they're pretty clearly romanticizing, right, that they're also remembering as the time when they were on a motorcycle with no responsibilities, livin' the pirate's life."

Of course I'm going to listen to those three songs <3

Night light: "Jenny calls from Montana/ She's only passing through / Probably never see her again in this life I guess" oh but we WILL see her again... And then never again. "I was a red dot blinking on a screen up overhead / And then the room went dark" and "Plug a night light in / Leave the porch light on" remind me of the bedside clock and the gas station.

Holy shit Straight Six. I didn't realize this was on Jam Eater Blues until I went to its page on the wiki, but- this is significant cause on their linktree, "stream jam eater blues" is at the top and i was confused cause they also released a bunch of other shit. this is foreshadowing...

Anyways significant moments of Straight Six:

"Dull powder blue paint job / earl scheib special" this could either be the auto station (#2) or the fact that the speaker's car has an earl scheib special paint job (had to research this), which maybe he got from the same auto shop. This song talks a lot about a car. "Rabbit skull hanging from the rear-view" "And I glide down the streets of this city / All night, uptight" "There's a crack in the windshield eighteen inches long / Evaporating snow forming crystals on the chrome" it's hard to tell from the drawing of the van whether there is a crack on the windshield or whether it's just stylized, but..this does intrigue me. And when I heard them mention SNOW immediately after... when the caption to the van post says "searching in the snow".......

Source Decay also mentions driving and cars a lot. Couldn't find anything more significant than what the other songs have though.

If anyone has any other thoughts to share or disagrees or like I missed something- PLEase share i am so eager to hear/talk about this!

[silverstonesainz-archive]

A. [safe] + Pierre Gasly pls! reminded me of the Japanese race :/

that man deserves so much love and hugs after that race. the japan race was such a mess. and also the prompt technically says that reader would be in the traumatic incident but i am reversing it.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

prompt: forehead touches - [ SAFE ]:     in an effort to prove to the sender that they’re safe after a particularly traumatic incident, the receiver gently rests their foreheads together in a gesture designed to be soothing and reassuring.

warning: i do talk about the start of the japan gp, and once again jules is mentioned.

the suzuka grand prix should've never started when it did. there should've been a delay, they should've assessed the spray from the formation lap, assessed the amount of standing water, listen to the drivers out on the grid when they were saying zero visibility into their radios.

and now two drivers have dnfed and a red flag has been called. you nibble on your finger, sitting back in your seat as you watch the live footage of the track. one by one, you hear and see cars pulling in to the pit lane, the teams rushing out to provide shade for their drivers as they wait for the word of when the race will restart.

it isn't long until pierre is also pulling in, quick to hop out of his car and stomp into the garage. his face is red, eyebrows tense and tightly knit.

"what the actual fuck was that? why was there a fucking tractor on the track while cars were still out there? have we not learned?"

"pierre, please. calm down." a female strategist says softly.

"calm down?! no i will not calm down! i couldn't see out there, i had some fucking board on my car that blocked my vision. what if i drove over standing water, what if spun out and i hit that stupid fucking tractor?! i could've fucking died. so no, i will not calm down!"

pierre is fuming, already walking in the direction of the pit wall. you grab his wrist, pulling him back.

"babe, you need to breathe before you walk over there. please." you whisper, squeezing him gently.

but he's stubborn as ever, face still beet red with rage. "no, i need to talk to them now."

he yanks himself from your grip, turning and walking away towards the engineers and his team principal who are seated on the opposite end of the pit lane. you watch his body, the way he moves as he assuredly repeats the same words he did just moments ago in the garage. he walks back not too long after, the same level of frustration on his face.

"un-fucking-believable." he mumbles going to the back of the garage and away from any and all cameras. you follow behind him, watching as he plops himself on a black foldable chair. "c'était si dangereux! je suis tellement en colère!" that was so dangerous. i'm so angry!

you nod, allowing your boyfriend to vent his frustrations. he sits in his chair, hands moving animatedly as he curses and yells and speaks angrily about the events that occurred on the track. the rage doesn't stay for long, and you watch as it turns into fear. he was no longer red, in fact the color was all but gone from his face. his leg bounces beneath him as he looks everywhere but at you.

"pierre..."

"we lost someone eight years ago, at this very track, for the same kind of stupidity. it was right there, chérie. it was right there, and i was so..."

he lowers his face into his palm, fingers rubbing his temples. you can hear his soft sniffles, the way his shoulders shake ever so slightly as he cries quietly. you frown, crouching in front of him as you lift his face to look up at you. your hands cup his cheeks, thumbs cleaning up the tears that have splashed on his cheeks.

"it should've never happened. it should've never been out there." he stammers.

"no, it shouldn't have." you agree, "it was dangerous and stupid."

"i'm so fucking angry and so..."

"scared. you're scared. i know that in all this anger, there's so much fear about what could've happened." pierre nods in agreement, tears still falling from his eyes. "its a fucked up situation, but baby you're safe. you're okay, everyone is okay."

your eyes search his eyes, hoping to find that maybe your words have calmed him in the slightest. you can still see the gears turning in his head, concocting nightmares of worst case scenarios.

"hey," you say softly, pulling him close enough so that his forehead rests on yours, thumbs rubbing the stubble-filled skin of his cheek. "don't let your mind go to those places, to all the what ifs."

he nods against you, leaning back so he can pull you onto his lap. he holds you, much like a child holding a teddy bear, with his head buried in your neck. your fingers massage his scalp, cheek resting at the top of his head. you whisper sweet nothings to him, reminding him that he's here, that he's safe, and that everything was going to be just fine.

a couple minutes pass before pierre removes his head from your neck, holding your jaw to give you a quick kiss. you rest his forehead against his, eyes boring into his vibrant blue ones.

"im so happy you're here. i don't think i'd be okay if you weren't."

you smile, kissing him once again. "i love you. i'm so happy you're safe and here with me."

"me too chérie, me too."

fluff party!

[sulky-valkyrie]

[ AWAKE ]:     the sender, unable to sleep, gets up to go for a walk, and finds that the receiver is also unable to sleep for Warden Anders and Warden Carver. What do you mean that doesn't make sense? I'm putting them in the same timeline you can't stop me

happy Friday! It's not romantic because they didn't feel like kissing, but here's some Warden!Carver in Vigil's Peak bonding with Anders somewhat against his will for @dadrunkwriting

Carver couldn’t sleep.  It hadn’t been a problem when he’d been walking miles every day across Ferelden; the exhaustion and worry had been enough to knock him out most nights, but now, when he wasn’t in fear of his life and had joined the order properly, he never could seem to get tired enough to fall into bed.  Either the darkspawn dreams woke him, or he stared at the ceiling for hours.  He’d taken to patrolling at night just for something to do.  Other Wardens seemed to have the same issue, and more often than not, they’d nod as he passed, lost in their own thoughts, or treating their sleeplessness with questionable remedies and variable results.

It was an unspoken rule that they didn’t talk about it.  Not during, and not after.

But, of course, there was always one.

"Fancy meeting you here."

Carver stifled a groan, then shrugged.  “Oh?”  

Anders stepped out of the shadows and sighed.  "You're supposed to say something witty.  Joke about the decor, pretend we’re in some grand fete, or something.  Or just insult me."

"What would be the point?" he asked gruffly, praying he’d get bored and find someone else to bother.  “You’d run circles around me no matter what I say.”

He cocked his head, like one of those strange water birds.  Maker knew he was tall enough, and, with the feathered pauldrons he’d taken to wearing, the resemblance was increasing every day.  “Is that a mage pun?”

Carver groaned inwardly.  “Not on purpose, and this is exactly what I mean.”

“You’ll never get better if you don’t try,” Anders said, voice somehow both encouraging and condescending.  “Why, when I was at the Pearl, we had all kinds of first timers there.  Education and thrills, all at once!  So try it, yeah?”  He beckoned at him with both hands then patted his chest, like he was trying to provoke a fight.  “Hit me with your best shot, big boy”

Did he ever shut up? It was like being stuck with Garrett again, only Anders wasn’t shouting.  Come to think of it, he never raised his voice, except in a fight, and even then, it wasn’t loud so much as it carried. A spell perhaps?  Regardless, no matter how annoyed he was, no matter how many gibes and jabs he threw out, they were never shouted.

Was it a Circle thing?  Wynne hadn’t spoken more than a dozen sharp words in the entire year she’d been with them, and nearly all of those had been directed at the dog.  Velanna and Morrigan were both strident and opinionated, but they’d grown up as far from the Circle and Templars as was humanly (elvenly?) possible.  Bethany had never been loud, even before her magic manifested; who could be, compared to Garrett?  And afterward, she’d tried to make herself as small and quiet and unnoticeable as possible.  

“You know a lot of apostates?” he asked, refusing to rise to the bait.

Anders pursed his lips in irritation.  “Other than being one?”

“You’re a Circle mage,” Carver sighed.  “You got out, but you’re still -”

“What, just a, just a fucking a pet?” he snarled, voice raised for the first time Carver had ever heard, then danced a tiny jig before taking a scornful bow.  “A bird singing a little tune, throwing pretty little lights for the amusement of all the rabble who’d rather see us dead than let us have a singly bloody moment of sunshine and peace?”

Carver took a shocked step backward.  “What?  No, my sister’s an apostate!  My –” don’t think about Morrigan “– father made himself one!”  He pointed toward the barracks. “Look at Velanna, for the Maker’s sake!  But you’re the only one who’s been both.”

Anders froze mid-tirade, all puffed up and indignant, then let a breath out, deflating against the wall.  "And?" He asked warily.  

Why had he asked that?  “Forget it.”

“You can’t - you can’t just throw that at me and not mean anything by it,” Anders retorted.

Carver glanced away.  “Bethany was – is a mage.  We had to move a lot.  After she threw someone into a tree.  And after she accidentally iced the mayor’s – it doesn’t matter.  She did her best to hide it, and Father did his best to teach her, but… there were mistakes.  A lot of them.  I’d be furious we’d need to uproot our lives again and Bethy’d cry and feel so guilty about it.”  He wiped his eyes; damn things always seemed to get dust in them or something whenever he talked about her.  “I just… it was hard.  I want to – I guess I want to make sure it was worth it.”

Anders’ sour expression melted into concern, then sympathy.  He pushed himself off the floor and rolled up his sleeves to hold them out in front of him.  “You tell me.”

At first, in the dim lamp light, Carver wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be looking for.  It’s just an arm.  A pair of them.  Certainly, the pattern of the shadows looked strange but - wait.  He squinted down at them as a sickening realization began to dawn.  “Is - are those manacle scars?”  He knew the answer already but still prayed there was another explanation.  The deserters at Ostagar had the same marks, but how could a mage get them?  Not just a mage, but a spirit healer?  Anders had damn near brought people back from the dead, Carver included; how could he have ever let something like that go… unaddressed?

“Unsupervised magic is discouraged in the Kinloch,” he said flatly.  “Forbidden among apprentices.  Learning to control powers you barely understand with a faceless suit of armor that you know has the authority to kill you for no reason at all standing over you and waiting for you to slip up.”  He tugged his sleeves down.  

“Sometimes, they’re ‘lenient,’” he continued quietly.  “A few nights down in the cells where they keep the maleficar before branding them.  To remind us of our place.  Sometimes, a few nights turns into a few weeks.  If you cast anything when you’re down there, you’re dead.  Doesn’t matter if it’s creation or primal or entropy.  And once it’s healed over, there’s no making it pretty again.”  He took a long slow breath and stepped back.  “So.  You tell me: was it worth it?”

What could he say to that?  How could he possibly convey the terror he felt at the thought of anything like that befalling his sister?  “I –” I’m sorry could never be adequate, and Carver had never been eloquent enough to manage anything more than the most banal of platitudes.  He met Anders’ eyes.  “How can we stop them from doing it to anyone else?”